by Liz Adair
Spider nodded.
“Well, this fellow came in.”
“The one you can’t talk about?”
“Yeah. He came in and asked me to write letters to people and act as his agent in some transactions. He offered me a really, really good salary for doing that. And,” Leona paused, her cheeks growing pink, “he was very suave, very persuasive.”
“And you can’t tell me his name?”
She shook her head. “He’s a lawyer, and he knows how to write a contract that ties you up in knots. I can’t tell you his name.” She patted a stack of files on her desk, and her hand still trembled.
Spider eyed the stack of files. The label on the top one said Frank Defrain.
“When I read about Mary’s suicide, I realized that I had a part in it, and I’ve spent a tough two months.” She laughed, a short humorless bark. “I even resorted to prayer, something I haven’t done since my son was diagnosed.”
“What did you pray for?” Spider’s voice was gentle.
“There’s a monster loose out there,” she said. “I prayed for someone to stop him.”
Spider grimaced. “That’s a pretty tall order when you won’t tell his name.”
“I think you’re a resourceful man.” Leona picked up her keys.”I have to go down the street for about fifteen minutes. Can I ask a favor?”
“You want me to wait here?” Spider eyed the stack of files.
“Yes. Can you mind the shop for me?” She stood. “If anyone wants to make copies, let me show you how it works.” She grabbed a paper out of her inbox and walked to the copy machine. After waiting for Spider to join her, she demonstrated. “You can put a whole stack in and it will feed it through. It’s very quick.” She opened a door at the bottom. “There’s plenty of paper. You shouldn’t have any problems.”
She walked to the door. “I’ll be gone fifteen minutes. I’m leaving the place locked, so when you go out, you won’t be able to get back in.”
“Trust me. I’ll take care of everything.” Spider waited for Leona to leave, and he watched her walk to the end of the block before he picked up the folders and carried them to the copy area.
Leona was right. The machine was fast. It took him only about five minutes to duplicate the five folders, doing them one at a time and crisscrossing the resultant piles, so he could keep them separate.
When he was finished, he looked at his watch and debated whether to wait for Leona to return, but in thinking about how she had described the door locking behind him, he figured she intended for him to go. He took a moment to make a copy of the newspaper article, gathered up his stack and his hat, and left.
Back in the Yugo, he drove to a Maverick service station and got a thirty-two-ounce Pepsi. He asked the clerk if there was a park nearby and got directions to a cool-looking city block of green with lots of shade trees. Since it was before noon, the thermometer hadn’t yet hit a hundred degrees. Spider found a picnic table by a patch of lawn that was still damp from the morning’s watering and settled in with his drink and file folders. He spent the next hour reading through the pile and making notes. When he was finished, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Brick Tremain’s number.
Brick picked up on the second ring. “Spider,” he boomed. “Good to hear from you. Have you taken care of the problem at the Red Pueblo?”
“Not yet. What I’ve found out is that Martin Taylor has fallen foul of a developer who preys on landowners. He gets them in a tight box of some sort, so he can buy prime real estate at a distressed price.”
“So these lawsuits are bogus?”
“They’re to bleed money away, so he’ll have to sell the ranch rather than lose the museum.”
“Do you know who this developer is?”
“I’ve got a suspicion; that’s all. I wondered if you could have someone in your office do some investigating of a company called Texas Capital Investment, Inc. I need to know who the principal shareholder is.”
Brick was obviously writing it down. “How soon do you need this?”
“I’m going to go get some lunch. Could you have something for me in, say, an hour?”
“I don’t know. I’ll put someone on it right away and call when I have anything.”
“Thanks. By the way, you got any businesses in St. George?”
“One or two. Why?”
Spider pulled Leona Rippley’s card out of his pocket. “I got some help from a lady here, has a bookkeeping service. This lowlife shyster has been her main client. She’s going to need some other work if you could put something her way.”
“Got it. Give me her name.”
Spider gave him the information and then put the phone and the card in his pocket. He gathered up his papers from the picnic table, carried them to the Yugo, and set them on the backseat. Then he drove down the street, looking for a fast food place.
He had just pulled into a parking space at Smashburger when his phone rang. He let the motor run to keep the air conditioning on as he answered. The voice was unfamiliar, but the woman on the other end identified herself as Wendy, Brick Tremain’s assistant. Was Spider ready to receive information?
“Boy, you’re fast.” Spider pulled out his pen and reached back for a paper off the backseat. “Shoot,” he said.
Wendy confirmed his suspicions. The person behind Texas Capital Investments was Austin Lee. “He has an office in St. George,” she said. “Would you like me to give you the address?”
SPIDER TOOK HIS notes into the restaurant with him, and as he ate, he pored over them in light of the fact that he was going to be talking to the author of all this misery. What would he say to Austin Lee? According to Leona, what he did wasn’t illegal. But how did she know for sure? The so-called accident in the Red Pueblo bathroom smacked of fraud. And the Defrain suicide— what would drive a woman to kill herself if not horrible guilt?
Spider gathered up the remains of his lunch and threw them away on his way out to the Yugo. He started the engine and turned on the air before he reread the newspaper article. Then he sat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he contemplated his next move. His first inclination was to go directly to Austin Lee’s office and confront him, but he’d like to know more about how he operated first.
He pulled out his phone and redialed Wendy at Brick Tremain’s office, asking her to find an address for Frank Defrain. She obliged, and when he arrived there, it turned out to be an economy retirement subdivision of modular homes.
Spider drove down the narrow lane between the neatly kept postage-stamp yards looking for Number 375. When he pulled up, a gray-haired slip of a woman was shaking a rug on the front porch. He quickly got out and called, “Mrs. Defrain?”
She stopped flapping the rug and looked first at the Yugo and next at Spider. “Yes?”
He walked around to her sidewalk. “My name is Spider Latham. I’m a deputy sheriff over in Lincoln County, though I’m not here on county business.” He pulled out his wallet and opened it to his badge.
The sun was in her eyes, and she squinted at him. “Why’d you say you were a deputy if you’re not doing deputy business?”
“I guess to introduce myself. Instill some confidence.” Spider pocketed his wallet and moved to a place where she could see him better.
She glanced again at his car and then began rolling up the rug. “Well, it’s good you’ve got the badge because that car doesn’t say anything good about you.”
Spider smiled wryly. “No, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “Um, would you mind if I talked to you about your daughter?”
Her hands stopped moving, and her eyes met his. “Why?”
Spider moved closer, so his words wouldn’t carry to the nearby neighbors. For the first time he noticed the porch had a ramp instead of stairs. “I’d like to talk to you about Austin Lee, see if you think he figures into anything surrounding your daughter’s death.”
Mrs. Defrain was very still for a moment. “It was definitely suicide,” she said.
“I didn’t say that.” She finished rolling up the rug. “You’d better come in.”
Spider walked up the ramp and followed her into the house, stepping away, so she could put down the entryway rug. He took off his Stetson and looked around the open area of the kitchen-living-dining room, noting how neat it was and the way the furniture seemed too fine for the economy-model home. Something about the place felt solemn and grave. He took out his phone and put it on vibrate, so nothing could intrude on this meeting.
“Mr. Latham?” The lady was standing in the living room area. “I have a feeling we’re going to get to know each other better, so you’d better call me Annie. Come and meet my husband.” She held out her hand indicating a recliner facing the TV in the corner.
Spider realized that someone was sitting there so still that he hadn’t noticed before. He followed her around, so he was facing Frank Defrain, and he froze at the sight before him.
Though the man’s eyes were bright, the left side of his face seemed frozen. The outside point of his left eye, his cheek, and his mouth all drooped like wax that had heated and run. His left arm was slack as well, lying at an awkward angle in his lap.
“Frank,” Annie said. “This is Mr. Latham. He’s come to talk to us about Mary.”
Frank said something unintelligible out of the right side of his mouth and raised his right hand.
Spider shook it, noting the grasp was firm. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Defrain.”
Frank asked a question that Spider couldn’t decode. He looked questioningly at Annie.
She translated. “What do you want to know?”
Spider ran his thumb across the grosgrain ribbon of his hatband and thought. “I didn’t come with any questions. I just need you to tell me the story as you know it. I’m trying to find out if there’s anything illegal that Austin Lee did, not just immoral.”
Frank gestured to his wife and said something that sounded like a request. She nodded and left the room.
Frank pointed toward an adjoining armchair and said something that Spider interpreted as, “Please sit down.”
Spider sat, holding his hat on his knees and trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t need an answer. At that moment Annie entered with an envelope in her hand. She pulled a dining room chair with her as she came by, and Spider jumped up to insist that he sit on it, so she could sit in her armchair.
When they were settled, Annie held up the envelope. “This is the note that Mary left. It will answer a lot of questions for you, but first I’d like to tell you the story as we saw it leading up to this.”
Spider nodded.
Annie took a deep breath and paused a moment as if marshalling her thoughts. “I think it began when we got a letter from someone here in St. George wanting to buy Defrain Estates.” She shot a questioning glance at Frank, and he dipped his head to the right.
“And Defrain Estates is?” Spider asked.
“It’s a housing development. Our first try at something like that. Up until then we had concentrated on our construction company.”
Spider took Leona’s card from his pocket and held it up. “Was the offer from a place called Earnest Endeavors?”
“Yes.” She opened her hands, palms up. “The thing is, with the housing downturn, we were really hurting. We had several units built on spec that were unsold, and the sale of lots was a lot slower than we had anticipated when we set up financing.”
Frank slurred something, and Annie nodded agreement, only remembering when Spider raised his brows that he couldn’t understand. “It was an upscale development,” she said. “A gated community.”
Spider leaned back and crossed his legs. “So were you looking to sell?”
Annie and Frank both shook their heads. She answered. “No, because we thought we were going to be all right. The construction company was staying above water, barely. We were set to bid on a huge project. We had an edge, and it was going to save us.”
Frank mumbled a short sentence. Spider thought he understood but ran it by Annie. “That’s when Austin Lee came on the scene?”
She grimaced. “Yes. I don’t know how Mary met him, but they started going out.” She touched the name on the envelope with her forefinger. “She wasn’t a looker, but there was so much to her. She was smart, so smart. And funny.”
Frank added some information, and Annie conveyed it to Spider. “That was about the time we bid on the job. Mary was head of our estimating department, and she worked up the bid herself. It was due at eight o’clock the next morning, and she stayed late working on it.” She held up the envelope. “You’ll find out when you read this that Austin was there that night with her. She explained the process to him and told him what Defrain was bidding.”
Spider looked from Annie to Frank. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Austin told our competitor what our numbers were. Their bid was fifty dollars less than ours. They got the job, and we were going under.”
“Let me guess,” Spider said. “You heard from Earnest Endeavors again. Offering less this time.”
“It just about killed me,” Annie said. “What we got for the development didn’t cover what we owed. We had to close down the construction company and sell off all the equipment.”
Frank said something, and Annie reached over to pat his knee. “Yes, Love. It came closer to killing you than me.” She pulled the note out of the envelope and gave it to Spider.
He opened it and read.
Dearest Mom and Dad,
By the time you read this I’ll be gone. I’m sorry to do this, but you won’t need me anymore in the company. What you don’t know is, I’m the reason you lost Defrain Estates and Defrain Construction. I was so head over heels in love with Austin that when he asked what we were bidding on the Black Canyon job, I told him. He told the other bidder, and that was that. He left the information as an anonymous tip— he didn’t know the people he told, so it wasn’t like he did it for a friend. He was only interested in gaining an advantage.
The thing is, he never was interested in me. He was bent on getting our development at a bargain basement price. It doesn’t matter whom you think you sold Defrain Estates to; I know in the end, he’ll be the one that owns it.
I think I could survive the shame of ruining my family financially. I could probably survive the mortification of being made a fool of by a smooth-talking man. But the two of them coming together are too much to bear.
My one small consolation is that I know he wants our house for himself. He plans to live here, so if I die here, I’ll be able to haunt him for the rest of his life. That’s my plan.
I’m sorry. I could say it a million times, and it wouldn’t be enough. Please don’t hate me.
All my love,
Mary
Spider looked up at Annie. “How did she kill herself?”
Frank answered, and Spider understood. “Carbon monoxide.”
“So you had a house in Defrain Estates?” Spider handed Mary’s note back to her mother.
“Yes. It was beautiful. Up on top of the cliff with windows all along the western side.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I wish I had taken the chance to tell her that the house didn’t matter. Defrain Construction didn’t matter. She was what really mattered in our lives.”
“Was she your only child?” Spider asked gently.
Mary nodded. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose.
“Was Frank’s— was it a stroke? Was it tied up in all this?”
Frank took the floor then, explaining what had happened to him. Spider nodded and made conversational noises in what seemed to be the proper places, but in the end, he knew no more than he had at the beginning. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he reached over to touch Frank’s paralyzed arm.
Looking at Annie, he asked, “Could you give me the address of your house in Defrain Estates? And maybe your phone number here, in case I ha
ve some more questions?”
“Certainly.” She stood and went to the kitchen. Taking a card from the phone stand, she wrote on the back. “This is one of the business cards for the development,” she said. “I’m adding the address and phone number you wanted.”
Spider stood as well. “Thank you so much for talking to me. I’m sorry to bring back painful memories.”
Frank mumbled something and reached out his hand. Spider grasped it and said, “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Annie stood near the entryway. “I’ll see you out.”
Carrying his hat, Spider held it up in salute to Frank and then crossed to the door. Annie gave him the card and followed him out, pulling the door shut behind her. “Did you understand the last that Frank told you?”
He shook his head. “Afraid not.”
She smiled. “You’re very tactful. He was explaining that Austin moved into our house the day of the funeral. It may have been coincidence or not, but when Frank found out about it, it hit him hard. That night he had the stroke.”
Spider put on his Stetson. “So, when did all this happen? Was there a span of time between when Mary told Austin about the bid and when she died?”
Annie strolled with Spider down the ramp to the sidewalk. “Yes. It took several months for everything to wind down. Austin stopped calling right after the bid opening, and the combination of losing both him and the project sent Mary into a tailspin. She seemed to obsess about him, and she was constantly angry and depressed. It’s almost like—” Annie looked over Spider’s shoulder, as if she’d find the phrase she was looking for there. “—like someone had to die to make everything right for her, and she chose to kill herself rather than him.” She shook her head. “That sounds so horrible, but that’s the way it seemed. At least she’s at peace now.”
Spider took her hand. “How are you doing?”
She shrugged. “Oh, you know. I survive because Frank depends on me.” She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for coming by. I hope we’ve helped.”
“You have. I’ll be in touch.” He walked around to the driver’s side.
