by Cora Brent
“My mom texted,” Cassie said. “She wants to know if we’re still stopping by the house.”
“You still want to?” I asked, forgetting about the mysterious funeral cop for the moment. I put my blinker on to make a right onto the street, aware that I’d been an extra cautious driver since the accident.
Cassie rubbed her eyes. She looked tired. “Yeah, we should go hang out there for a little while.”
“Not a problem.”
“Will there be food?” Brecken asked hopefully from the backseat.
Cassie turned and smiled at him. “You know my mom lives for any excuse to feed hungry teenagers.”
“Sweet,” Brecken said.
Cord and Saylor were already home by the time we pulled up. This was the house Cassie had grown up in so she had no qualms about going right through the front door without knocking. Saylor and Cadence were sitting on the couch and looking depressed, although Saylor brightened when she saw us.
“Anybody hungry?” she asked, already off the couch and on her way to the kitchen. “I’ve got some macaroni salad and cold cuts in the fridge.”
“I’m always hungry,” announced Brecken.
Saylor turned and smiled at him. “Come on then, Breck. Help me get the food set out.”
Cassie sank onto the sofa beside her sister. The loyal ancient mutt known as Angus the Dog slept soundly in a ball on the corner of the couch. Cassie absently scratched his ears.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked.
“He’s out back with Uncle Chase,” Cadence said. She glanced my way as I took a seat in an overstuffed armchair.
“Did you guys talk to Dalton at the funeral?” Cadence asked and then made a face. “I didn’t know what to say to him. I just mumbled “I’m sorry” and wandered away like an idiot.”
“I’m sure he appreciated that you were there,” Cassie assured her.
Cadence was still frowning. “This just sucks. They’re supposed to be on their honeymoon right now.”
Angus the Dog let out a loud snore.
“I know,” Cassie said. She checked her watch. “Did anyone go visit Izzy today?”
Cadence nodded. “I know Uncle Creed and Aunt Truly were going. And Jacob went too. He wanted to see her again before he goes back to Portland tomorrow.”
“How is she?” I asked and listened carefully for the answer. Izzy’s appendectomy had been routine but two days later she’d developed an infection and required more surgery. She was still in the hospital. We’d stopped by yesterday to bring her a big pink teddy bear and even though she was far too old for stuffed animals she’d reached for the thing, hugging it with a smile. She looked so small and pale in that hospital bed. As for Deck, he was sick with worry and his wife Jenny confided that he had barely left the hospital since their daughter was admitted.
“Mom talked to Aunt Jenny this morning,” said Cadence. “Izzy’s fever is down and the doctors are hopeful she might be released in a day or two if there are no further complications.”
“Thank god,” I said, thinking that the family sure could use good news like that right now.
Saylor and Brecken laughed in the other room. My kid brother loved Saylor Gentry like a second mother. Back when we found ourselves in a rotten situation and sleeping in a car in the parking lot of Cord’s tattoo parlor, Saylor stepped in and opened her home to us until I could sort things out. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Cassie had such a heart of gold. Her mother was practically a saint in my book.
“Oh, did you hear the news about Derek yet?” Cadence said.
Cassie shook her head. “No. Do I want to?”
“A traffic camera confirmed that Hale was speeding when they crashed. He also ran a red light. Derek’s not off the hook. But his attorney thinks since it’s his first offense he may be able to plead it down to DUI, which is a hell of a lot better than vehicular manslaughter. No guarantees though.”
Cassie blew out a breath and leaned her head back. “Why did he do it? Why the hell didn’t he just let Kellan drive?”
Cadence shrugged. “I really don’t know. He’s not saying much these days. I did talk to Kel and he said he didn’t even realize Derek was drunk at the time. You know Derek, he was always a chronic partier, especially now that he lives over by the college. I’ve watched him knock back a bunch of drinks before and it never seems to have any effect on him.”
I was thinking of Derek and the look on his face when I took his bottle away.
“Does Derek have a drinking problem?” I asked.
Cadence was startled by the question. “No, of course not. He’s just a typical twenty-year-old idiot who doesn’t know his limits. I’ve run into more than a few of those.”
But Cassie was looking at me with curiosity. “Why do you ask?”
This probably wasn’t a good day to have an in depth discussion of Derek Gentry’s habits. “No reason. Just wondering.”
Saylor poked her head out of the kitchen and ordered us to come in and get some food. Cord and Chase were presumably still out back while we stood around in the Gentrys’ cheerful yellow kitchen and ate sandwiches while keeping the conversation limited to happier topics than funerals and DUI charges. Cadence would be leaving in a few weeks to return to school. She was following in her Uncle Chase’s footsteps and planned to be a teacher.
“Maybe you can teach at my school,” Brecken suggested. He had some mayo on his upper lip.
Cadence handed him a paper napkin. “I’m sure you’ll have graduated by the time I get my teaching credentials.”
Brecken wiped his mouth. “Are you sure you want to hang out with high school kids every day? I mean most of the guys I go to school with are raging assholes.”
“Language,” I reminded him. Breck rolled his eyes as usual.
Cadence snorted. “Don’t worry. I know how to handle assholes.”
We were still eating when Cord and Chase returned from the backyard. Chase greeted us in a normal tone of voice but he looked tired, distracted. He hugged Saylor and his nieces but declined the offer of food.
“I’ve got to get going,” he said, rolling his key ring around his index finger. “We’ve got a meeting with Derek’s lawyer in an hour.”
Cord watched his brother depart with a sad expression. Saylor slipped her arms around her husband’s waist and squeezed. “How are they doing?”
“Worried.” Cord frowned. “Sad. They’re anxious about Derek of course but they’re also sorry as hell about Hale’s death.”
“I’ll call Steph later,” Saylor said and kissed his cheek before starting to collect the food in Tupperware containers. Brecken jumped in to help, always eager to lend a hand where Saylor was concerned although getting him to clean his room at home was another story.
Cassie took the dog out back, Cadence following, and a few minutes later Cord and I found ourselves alone in the living room.
Cord stood by the large bay window, staring out at the sprawling mesquite tree in the front yard.
“I should go into the office for a little while,” he said. “I’ve missed too much time this week and I don’t want Deck to worry about anything while he’s with Isabella in the hospital.”
“I can come with you,” I offered. “I was supposed to work today anyway.” That was accurate. I’d only missed work because of the funeral.
Cassie wanted to hang out at home with her mother and sister while Brecken was more than content to remain close to the Gentrys’ kitchen, eating everything that wasn’t nailed down.
Cord and I enjoyed a companionable silence on the ride over in his truck. He’d insisted on driving and since he was the boss I didn’t argue.
Things appeared to be running smoothly at Scratch, the tattoo parlor Cord and Deck had opened together many years ago. I wasn’t surprised to see how the staff had stepped up in a time of crisis. Most of Cord’s employees had been with him for years and he always treated people right, inspiring a fierce and enduring loyalty.
While Cord heade
d to his office in the rear of the building to check out what kind of paperwork had piled up on his desk, I paused at the reception desk. Cassie occupied the post on the days she worked at Scratch but since Cassie was off today the desk was being staffed by Marian, the alternate receptionist.
“Has it been busy?” I asked after greeting her and asking about the two Saint Bernard dogs that she loved like children.
“It’s been steady,” Marian said in her gruff voice that always sounded like she was recovering from a sore throat. “What’s the word on Deck’s baby girl? Lord knows I’ve been praying for that sweet child six times a day.”
“Izzy’s doing better,” I assured her and Marian broke into a relieved smile that showcased her two missing front teeth. Like most of the staff, including me, she sported a colorful collection of ink. In fact Cassie might be the only Scratch employee who didn’t have a single tattoo and as much as I thought she’d look sexy as fuck with some ink it was her choice.
Marian’s smile faded and was replaced with a look of sympathy. “You went to the funeral?”
“Yeah.”
“I remember seeing him at Cami’s wedding. Damn shame.”
“That it is.”
“How old was he?”
I did the math in my head. “Thirty five.”
Marian clucked. “Too young for it all to be over.”
I coughed. “Indeed.”
I didn’t know what kind of story was floating around but I wasn’t going to talk shit about Hale for being too drunk to drive. What happened had already happened. There was no way to undo it. Derek would likely still pay a price for his role but I wasn’t willing to gossip about that either.
“The man who was here a little while ago asked about him.” Marian was frowning now.
“Asked about who?”
“Dalton’s brother. His name was Hale, right?”
“Hale Tremaine. Who was the man asking about him?”
“He said he was a cop but he didn’t show me a badge. I just told him I’d never really known the man and had never seen him around here.”
I chewed on that information. “So this guy wanted to know if Hale had any business hanging around Scratch?”
Marian shrugged. “I guess.”
A bell sounded at my back, signaling the arrival of a customer. I half expected to see the possible cop we’d just been discussing but instead a laughing young couple walked in, probably university students who were looking to get yin and yang tattoos or some shit.
I left Marian to deal with the couple and conducted a casual inventory of the shelves devoted to products adorned with the Scratch logo. I was the merchandise manager and was proud of the growth of the product line. Sales on site were pretty good but online sales were far superior and growing every quarter.
Cord’s voice reached me and I headed down the hall, noticing that his door was open. Zack, one of the tattoo artists, was just leaving.
“You can count on me, boss,” he called to Cord and greeted me with a nod before ducking into the nearby break room.
Cord was sitting behind his large desk and sighing as he signed off on invoices. He looked up when I closed the door behind me but returned to his signatures as I took a seat in one of the chairs. Cord was a talented artist himself, though the demands of running a business had cut into his artistic time. Still, the walls of his office were covered with his sketches and paintings. Sitting in the middle of it was like being inside Cord’s mind.
“Something wrong?” he asked as he scrawled his initials at the bottom of a yellow invoice to approve payment.
“I just had a chat with Marian,” I said.
Cord looked up. “And?”
“She says there was someone here asking questions. A cop, or at least some guy who said he was a cop. He wanted to know if Hale Tremaine was ever seen around here.”
A wrinkle deepened between Cord’s brows and he sat back in his chair. “Why the fuck would Hale Tremaine be hanging around here?”
I shrugged. “He wouldn’t. He wasn’t in the ink business.”
“I thought he owned a bar or something.”
“Did he? I never got a straight story on what he did.”
Cord was watching me intently now. He knew me. He knew my history involved running around with the worst gangs down in Emblem. “What are you trying to say, Curtis?”
I shifted in my seat. “I liked Hale. I really did. From what I knew of him he seemed like an okay guy and he was devoted to Dalton. But I also got a certain vibe off him.”
“What vibe?”
“I’m not saying he was dangerous. But I’d guess he operated under his own set of rules and while that’s sure as fuck none of my business, it might have been catching up with him. Did you notice the guy hanging around the funeral with the ferret face and military haircut?”
Cord shook his head.
“He was keeping an eye on everybody who was coming and going. Maybe he’s Marian’s cop or maybe he’s something else altogether. Just thought it was weird that’s all.”
Cord was thinking. “I should give my daughter a call and find out if the cops or anyone else has approached her or Dalton.”
“Wouldn’t she have said something already if that was the case?”
“Maybe.” He smiled. “But remember Cami is a reporter. She notices everything and she can keep secrets when she wants to. It could be that she’s looking into things on her own.”
“You worried?”
“Nah. We’ve got enough real situations to worry about without chasing down fictional ones. Let the cops sniff around if they want to. They won’t find any link here to whatever Hale had gotten wrapped up in.”
I didn’t think the cops were the ones we needed to be concerned about if Hale had been neck deep into something bad. The criminal underworld didn’t concern itself with fairness. Hale was dead but if he owed money or whatever that wouldn’t stop someone without a moral compass from going after his family.
Still, Cord was right about one thing. There was no sense jumping the gun when there might not even be a problem.
“How’s Dalton doing?” I asked. “I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to him much.”
“He’s been busy taking care of his mother, dealing with the funeral. Cami says he’s hurting but Dalton’s not the type to let it show for long. His mother’s leaving today and Cami thinks he’s planning to be back at work at Dream Fields tomorrow.”
“So they’re not going on their honeymoon at all?”
“Not now. Cami said they agreed it should wait until this cloud of grief fades a bit.”
“I should go see him,” I said. “Breck spends a few afternoons a week down at Dream Fields so it’s no hardship to stop by.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that,” Cord said. He looked down at his pile of paperwork and made a face of distaste. “This shit can wait until tomorrow. Let’s get out of here and go home to our ladies.”
That sounded good to me. I rose from the chair.
“I’m ready when you are.”
CHAPTER SIX
Dalton
I stood at the window watching a family of quail dart across the courtyard. They ran very fast toward a row of sagebrush and were soon out of sight while soft arms hugged me from behind.
“Are you sure you’re up for going back to work today?” Cami asked, her voice muffled from pressing her face into my back.
I set my coffee cup down on the kitchen table and turned so I could hold her better. “Yeah. It’ll be nice to see the kids.”
Cami tipped her face up and accepted a kiss. “Call me anytime today. I’ll keep my phone with me during meetings.”
Her long brown hair was tied back with an elastic band and she looked excellent in her crisp white blouse and flared skirt. I ran the back of my knuckle over her delicate left cheekbone.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry we didn’t get to have our honeymoon.”
She shook her head. “We’ll get our
honeymoon.” She leaned up on her toes to kiss me again. Then she glanced at the wall clock and groaned. “I’ve got to leave in a few minutes if I want to make it downtown at a reasonable time.”
I tightened my arms around her waist. “Your boss never shows up before ten.”
“True. But I like some time to catch up at my desk before he arrives and starts bellowing a myriad of unreasonable demands.” A shadow swept across her face and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, a sure sign that she was troubled.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I reassured her. “How about I pick up some Chinese takeout for dinner?”
She smiled but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That sounds great.”
“But… what?” I prodded.
Cami hesitated. “But I’ve been debating on a good time to give you some bad news.”
“You may as well spit it out. It couldn’t be any worse than what’s already happened over the last week.”
Cami gave me a sad smile and withdrew from my arms to fill a travel mug full of coffee. “Two days ago I got a call from Anita Hernandez. She’s on the Investigations team.” Cami took her time adding sugar to her coffee.
“Big new story?” I guessed.
She stirred the sugar with a teaspoon. “No. She wanted to give me a heads up about something.”
“What’s that?”
She stopped stirring and looked me in the eye. “Hale’s name had come up in connection with some rather despicable characters.”
I tensed. “I don’t get it.”
Cami placed the teaspoon in the sink. “Did he ever talk to you about being an investor in a chain of tanning salons?”
“Tanning salons? No. I mean, I knew he wasn’t exactly a nine to fiver. But getting Hale to talk about what he did for a living was like trying to pull the teeth of a tiger. He said he helped his buddy start a steakhouse up on Camelback but I know that wasn’t his only venture.”
