by Jeff Abbott
“No way. I’m staying free and clear.”
I heard Sister’s muffled voice at the front door, and she walked back into the kitchen frowning. “Your father is here,” she said coldly.
I couldn’t blame Sister for not particularly warming up to Bob Don Goertz; after all, our mother had had an affair with Bob Don. And her adjustment to Bob Don’s presence in my life had not been smooth. However, she was at least grateful to him for saving us all during that last bit of unpleasantness in town and for helping with Mama’s care. Bob Don paid Clo’s salary.
I went out into the living room and found Bob Don talking gently with Mama. He knelt by her, a big blond man with a small-town haircut. He was dressed in his usual uniform of short-sleeved shirt, tie, khaki slacks, and brown, weathered cowboy boots. He was holding Mama’s hand and using a soft voice he didn’t use out on his car lot: “How you doin’ this morning, Annie? Sure is a nice morning and you look real pretty today. Clo must be taking good care of you.”
“She is, Bob Don,” I said so he’d know I was there. He stood up, absently patting Mama’s hand. She’d hardly looked at him. She doesn’t always register presences. “How you feeling today?”
“Fine, son, fine.” He calls me son every now and then, but I’m still not used to it. “I understand you had a helluva night.”
I shrugged and indicated my arm. “Between the semimad bomber, an ex-girlfriend coming back to town, and a murder, I don’t know why people say they get bored in small towns.”
Bob Don shook his head and sat on the couch. I offered coffee, but he declined. I could hear that the chatter in the kitchen screeched to a halt; no doubt Clo and Sister were more interested in other folks’ conversations. We won’t have to send Sister to old-biddy school to get her ready for her golden years.
“You heard about all this?” I asked.
“Yep. Got a phone call early this morning from Junebug. Wanted to know if I’d heard from this Greg Callahan fellow about selling him my land.”
“Had you?”
“Hell, yes, he came by the other day, offering good money for my stretch of riverfront property. I figured he’d come see you, too. I was gonna call you about it, but then you got hurt and I didn’t want to mention it to you while you were in the hospital.”
I shrugged again. “He sent in reinforcements.” I told him about Lorna’s visit and last night’s events. I had discussed Lorna with him a few weeks back, during our first attempted father-son dinner at the Sit-a-Spell. “Were you going to sell to Callahan?”
“I wanted to, but Gretchen thought we should hold out for more money,” Bob Don said.
Let me digress for a moment about Gretchen Goertz. Gretchen is Bob Don’s wife and they’ve had about as happy a marriage as the Royals. Gretchen used to drink pretty heavy, but after it came out that Bob Don was my daddy I guess she decided to clean up her act so Bob Don wouldn’t leave her. She’d checked herself into a clinic in Austin, dried out, and had been sober for the past several weeks. She’d also been cloyingly sweet to me. I didn’t believe for a second it was because she’d been dying for a stepson and was just showing her appreciation for my debut in her life. I couldn’t tell, though, if her kindness was because she was finally sober for the first time in years or because she wanted to stay on Bob Don’s good side. Either way, I avoided her as much as I could.
“Well, it doesn’t look like Gretchen will get any money now,” I said. “Who even knows if Intraglobal will still be interested in building here after this mess?”
“Good morning,” a voice came from the stairs. It was Lorna, her hair a bit disheveled, dressed in some old pajamas and a robe of mine. God, I hoped Candace didn’t see her in that. Bob Don leaped to his feet.
“Hello, there, darlin’, you must be Lorna. I’m Bob Don Goertz, Jordy’s daddy. It sure is nice to meet you, but I’m just sick that it’s under these here unfortunate circumstances.”
Lorna wasn’t quite awake yet and in full command of her etiquette. She stared, I mean stared, at Bob Don. From the helmet of carefully coiffed hair to the scuffed tips of his well-worn cowboy boots. “You’re—you’re Jordan’s father?”
“Yes, ma’am, proud to say I am. He’s just the best boy a man could hope for, you know, he is as smart as a whip and got his mama’s good looks and of course he’s all educated—”
I didn’t want Bob Don quoting my résumé for the remainder of the day, and he will do so given the opportunity. “Bob Don, I bet you Lorna could use some coffee. Lorna, that sound good?”
“Wonderful.” She wiped sleep from her eyes, regarded Bob Don anew, and offered her hand. “Forgive my rudeness, I’m not quite myself this morning. I am delighted to meet you, Mr. Goertz. Jordan told me all about you last night and it’s obvious he thinks you’re a remarkable man.”
Bob Don’s eyes lit up like he’d won the lottery and his mouth worked as he smiled at me. All right, so I’m not the most affectionate soul around. He knew I cared, didn’t he? I frowned and fled, going to get Lorna her coffee.
Sister crossed her arms and grimaced at me as I came in. “Well, those two ought to get together like a house afire. They’re both into trying to bust up relationships.” Clo quickly excused herself to go use the rest room.
I poured a fresh cup for Lorna and turned around. “Let’s get this straight, Sister, right here, right now. I don’t care if you like Lorna. I don’t care if you hate Lorna. But she is a guest in this house, and I think Mama would be ashamed of you for talking trash like you are.”
Sister opened her cavernous mouth to respond, but I didn’t give her a chance to spew further venom. “And as for the other side of that little crack, I will remind you—once and just once—that you are talking about my father. Now his presence in my life may not set well with you, but this is my house, too, and I will not have him bad-mouthed in it.” She shut her mouth and I paused for breath. I’m not really used to giving my big sister that much sass and I waited for the imminent explosion.
I’d miscalculated. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she sounded it. “I’m mad at him, and I don’t know how not to be mad at him. I appreciate what he’s done for us. I do. But when I see him, I don’t think about the good things he’s done, I think about all those years ago when he must’ve tried to steal away Mama from Daddy—”
“Daddy is dead. Mama is dead in nearly every way. You have me, you have Mark. We aren’t going anywhere, okay? And enough craziness is going on without you and me bickering.”
She nodded, unable to look at me for a moment. I could’ve hugged her and had a real Kodak moment. It got spoiled, though, by another ring of the doorbell. I patted Sister’s hand, went through the kitchen, and out to the front door.
It was Junebug, which wasn’t a surprise. The surprise was that he was accompanied by a dark-haired woman I didn’t know, a smiling Gretchen Goertz, and a frowning Billy Ray Bummel, Mirabeau’s pride and joy of the legal system.
CHAPTER SIX
“JORDY, DARLING!” GRETCHEN SQUEALED, throwing her arms around me. It was so unexpected I sniffed her neck, wondering if I’d smell a daub of bourbon.
“Junebug just told me about what happened last night, you poor angel.” Gretchen pulled back and patted my cheek. “You must’ve been through hell, but of course, you’ve seen a dead body before. Still, one just couldn’t get used to it.”
“What’s going on here?” I managed to say.
“Well, Jordy darling, I was trying to track down Miss Wiercinski because I understood she might be continuing to represent Intraglobal’s interests. I thought she might still want to make an offer at our land—Bob Don’s and mine.” It was actually Bob Don’s land, not hers, but Gretchen’s always been a big believer in community property. She glanced over at Bob Don’s white Cadillac. “Chet Blanton told me she was staying with you. I had no idea Bob Don was already here. Is he meeting with Miss Wiercinski?”
“Not exactly.” I smiled. “I think he came to see how I was.”
&nbs
p; She smiled back so she wouldn’t look irritated. “Of course, Jordy, you would be his first concern.”
“Excuse me,” Billy Ray Bummel interrupted. “Just where is this woman?”
I looked down on Billy Ray with as much disdain as I could muster, which in Billy Ray’s case is a great deal. He’s the kind of prosecutor who’s an embarrassment to the legal world. If Billy Ray had been prosecuting the Nazis at Nuremberg, there’d be even more old men speaking German in Uruguay today.
He puffed out his very small, unimpressive chest and lifted his briefcase. (I would lay odds the only briefs it ever contained were Fruit of the Looms.) He ran a hand through overoiled hair and adjusted his glasses so he could scowl at me better. We’ve never been friends. “I’m here to see Ms. Wytryski and I don’t aim to put up with interference from you, Jordy.”
“It’s Wiercinski, Billy Ray, and I wouldn’t dream of interfering. I don’t need to. You always manage to shoot yourself in the foot just right.”
“Jordy, please,” Junebug said, sounding tired. “We do need to talk to Lorna.” He indicated the dark young woman standing next to him. She was short, a little heavy, and had a look that hinted at deep intensity at whatever she did. “This is Sergeant Teresa Garza, from the Austin Police Department Bomb Squad. She’s assisting us in dealing with the bomber. She wanted to talk to you, too, Jordy, about the mailbox incident.” Sergeant Garza shook my good hand.
I surrendered quickly. “Fine. She’s in here.” I brought the entourage into the house with me. It made for quite a crowd. Gretchen made a beeline for Bob Don, doing her best not to glare daggers at Mama. Clo quickly whisked Mama upstairs and stayed with her. I don’t believe I’d leave Gretchen alone with Mama, not with all the pillows in the house.
Against my will, I introduced Billy Ray and Gretchen to Lorna. At hearing that Billy Ray was the local prosecutor, Lorna flared. “Good. Have you talked to Nina Hernandez yet?”
“Not yet,” Billy Ray purred, walking in a circle around Lorna. She shot me a quizzical look and I just shrugged. He turned to Bob Don, who was sitting on the couch with Gretchen.
“And how convenient that you’re here, Mr. Goertz. I’ll be wanting to have a word with you as well.”
Bob Don looked surprised. “Me?”
“You knew Greg Callahan, didn’t you?” Billy Ray asked. “You had business with him.”
“Well, yes, I’d met him. He wanted to buy my land. He came by the car dealership day before yesterday, told me about the development plans he had, and offered me a price. I told him I wanted to wait and see if Jordy was selling his land, too.”
Billy Ray rocked back on his heels. “Well, Mr. Goertz, I just find all that highly interestin’.”
I wasn’t about to stand mute while Billy Ray auditioned for Lear’s fool in my own living room. I also didn’t care for the accusatory stare he was favoring Bob Don with. “Do you have a point, Billy Ray?” Other than the one on your head, I added to myself.
Junebug said, “Hey, Jordy, why don’t you go outside with Sergeant Garza and talk about—”
“That’ll keep,” I snapped back. I don’t usually bark at the local constabulary, but I wasn’t about to leave Bob Don or Lorna to Billy Ray’s tender mercies. Sergeant Garza looked pissed, but I didn’t care. This was about murder, not blowing up mailboxes or canine châteaux.
Junebug harrumphed. “Listen, Billy Ray, I think that—”
Billy Ray didn’t give Junebug a chance to cogitate. Undoubtedly our local paean to jurisprudence thought he was hot on the trail of a career-boosting case, and he wasn’t about to let common sense or decorum get in his way. Billy Ray’s what folks around here call book-smart. He must’ve had one lobe working to get through law school (even if he got his certificate by mail, as it was rumored), but he didn’t have enough common sense to fill a thimble. He’s the type of fellow that’d poke his finger between a cottonmouth’s fangs to see if the mouth really was all soft inside.
“You keep some of your land over by the river fenced off, don’t you, Mr. Goertz?” Billy Ray continued, holding up a hand to fend off Junebug’s protest.
“Excuse me!” Gretchen stood and looked down on Billy Ray imperiously. “Are you interrogating my husband? Or accusing him of a crime? Because if you are, you haven’t informed him of his rights and I will not stand for it!” I could have kissed the old battle-ax.
“Gretchen, for God’s sake,” Bob Don interrupted. “Billy Ray’s just asking questions. He doesn’t suspect me. I don’t have a solitary thing to hide.”
“Not anymore,” I thought I heard Sister mutter behind me, but I didn’t turn around to check.
Bob Don nodded at Billy Ray. “Yes, I keep barbed wire on that property to keep out Dee Loudermilk’s cows. I don’t have fencing on the side of the property that’s next to Jordy’s.” He beamed at me. No fences between this father and son, I thought to myself.
“That’s highly interestin’.” Billy Ray loved that pet phrase. “Thin barbed wire, ain’t it?”
I saw where this was going and felt myself go pale. Bob Don shrugged. “I guess. Why?”
“Because, Mr. Goertz, the wire that was in Greg Callahan’s neck matches a length of wire that’s missing from your fence. Same length, same type.”
“Wait a second!” I said. “How do you know this?”
“The wheels of justice move quickly, Poteet.” Billy Ray Bummel smirked. “The lab over in Bavary identified the type of wire that killed Callahan last night. And this morning, Junebug got a call from the mayor, complaining that Dee’s calves were getting loose because Bob Don hadn’t fenced correctly on one section. We checked out that section and there’s a big old yank of wire missing. Isn’t that a coincidence?”
“Probably not,” I retorted. “Maybe the killer cut that wire, maybe he didn’t. But Bob Don didn’t cut that wire and he didn’t kill Greg. It’s ridiculous! What motive would he have?”
“Jordy, you stay out of this—” Sister began, but she hushed when I scowled at her.
“Well, a little bird told me that Miz Goertz here was seen having lunch with Mr. Callahan yesterday. Maybe Mr. Goertz didn’t appreciate having his wife wined and dined by a good-lookin’ young feller like that.”
Gretchen gave Billy Ray a glare that would’ve frosted a fire-ant mound. “I don’t know who your little bird is, Billy Ray, but it’s chirping the wrong song. Yes, I did have lunch with Mr. Callahan yesterday, at his invitation. He wanted to talk to me about the land purchases. He hoped I would be able to convince Bob Don to sell to him. It was purely a business lunch and he conducted himself like a gentleman the entire time.” Gretchen took Bob Don’s hand. “And I ought to whack you one for suggesting different, Billy Ray Bummel. Why, I’ve half a mind to call your mama and tell her how you’ve been treating decent folks, with your snide accusations!”
Billy Ray Bummel did for once look a little pained. Probably no one he’d tried to browbeat had threatened to call his mother on him—and if you’ve ever seen Mother Bummel, you know that’s not an idle threat.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bummel.” Lorna had finally decided to get involved in the fracas. “I don’t see what motive Mr. or Mrs. Goertz would have. You know that Nina Hernandez loathed Greg. Why aren’t you off questioning her?”
Billy Ray, repulsed by Hurricane Gretchen, turned his own bluster on Lorna. “It’s real easy to keep pointin’ fingers at Ms. Hernandez, when you’re the one who knew the deceased best. I’d like to know more about your relationship with Callahan, Miss Whychintzy.”
“Wiercinski,” Lorna corrected. A nervous tongue darted out over her lips. “I don’t know what you mean about a relationship. I worked for Greg. He was my employer and that was it.”
Know when someone you know intimately is lying? There’s that subtle shift in the air, like when the air-conditioning comes on in a house that’s been closed up too long. You can’t always tell when a loved one is lying right to your face (because you want to believe whatever garbage they
’re feeding you), but it’s a damned sight easier to tell when they’re misleading some other fool. I caught my breath, sure that Lorna was fibbing.
Billy Ray wasn’t deterred. “Mr. Blanton seemed to think that perhaps there was a bit more to it.”
Lorna iced. “Mr. Blanton is mistaken.” She glanced over at me. Her eyes played along my face.
“Just what is the purpose of all this, Billy Ray?” I demanded. “Are you just spending your time going around blindly accusing people of charges? How industrious of you.”
“I’ve got to ascertain the facts of this case, Poteet,” Billy Ray answered, a sudden odd pleasantness in his tone. “I want to know just what Mr. Goertz, Mrs. Goertz, and Ms. Wiercinski know about this case, and I don’t intend to put up with interference from you.” His little eyes (they don’t need to be big because his brain can only handle limited information at any given moment) focused on me. “You knew the deceased as well. Care to comment on that?”
“I met him once, last night, very briefly. He never called me or contacted me about my land. He was letting Lorna handle that.”
“Did you think he and your ex-girlfriend were having an affair?”
“Good Lord, of course not,” I stormed. Would I have cared? I wasn’t sure. I wondered if the sudden pang in my stomach was what Lorna had felt when she’d learned about Candace and me.
“So you say.” Billy Ray smirked again. “But I already know what kind of temper you have, Poteet.”
“Junebug, put him on a leash,” I said. “I’m not going to have him come into my home and make totally unfounded accusations against my friend and my”—I nearly said father, but some internal editor cut me off—“other friend.” I tried not to look at Bob Don. I didn’t want him to think I was ashamed of him, but I also didn’t want to share my paternity with a trashmouth like Bummel.
“I told you, I wasn’t having an affair with Greg.” Lorna shot me a look. “Is this what your judicial system is like down here? They’ll never catch Greg’s killer.”
