“So what do you suggest? I just let him go against everything I believe in?”
Kent leaned toward her. His words were gentle but firm. “I suggest you go where your conscience leads you and give Barry a chance to go where his takes him. After all, if your way is as virtuous as you’d have us believe, Barry will come around to it on his own. He’s a smart kid.”
“Is that supposed to be a challenge?”
“I suppose it is. Of sorts.”
“Why the hell does Barry like you, anyway? What does he see in you?”
Kent shrugged. “I think it’s Lucinda he likes.”
For a long moment she stared at him, through him, eyes probing, trying to figure out what made him tick.
Kent watched the rigidity gradually go out of her body. A faint sparkle flickered in her eyes.
“There’s more to the pair of you than just Lucinda,” she said.
Kent held that thought for an instant, celebrating the prospect that such a beautiful woman could be intrigued by him. He took the safe route. “While you’re not screaming at me, can I change the subject for a minute?”
“If you are careful.”
“Remember Tammy Mays, the waitress at the Groggery? She was there when the guy came to you about setting a fire at Copithorn?”
“Yes.”
“She works here too. Days.”
Aubrey glanced around the diner nervously.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t seen her today. Must not be her shift. Anyway, the first time I talked to her she denied everything.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Wait a minute. Then yesterday, right here in this very booth, she admits to me that, in fact, it really was her husband, Maylon, who talked to you about pets and a fire at Copithorn.”
“It’s about time.”
“Yeah, well. Then she goes on to hint that there may be something happening out at their place.”
“Their place?”
“They have a small farm.”
“What sort of something?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Why’d she have the change of heart?”
“All she said was she was letting me know because she doesn’t like seeing animals suffer.”
“What’s that mean?” Aubrey weighed the information for a moment. “So what are you going to do?”
“I was going to call Merrill, but I changed my mind.”
“Who’s Merrill?”
“My brother, who incidentally, is Jefferson’s police chief.” Kent paused. “Remember? You met him the day of the Copithorn protest.”
“That was your brother?” Aubrey’s face broke into revelation. “I’ll be damned. Your brother is the cop who tried to roust us when we were picketing?”
Kent nodded.
“That explains a whole lot of things. No wonder we can’t make any headway in this town.”
“It doesn’t matter. I decided I’d check it out myself.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing yet. I haven’t had time to get out there. But since you and I were going to meet today, I figured I’d see if you wanted to come along. After all, FOAM ought to be interested in who started the fire. Right?”
Aubrey’s brow drew into a series of deep creases. “I’m supposed to go check out some woodchuck’s dump up in the hills, on a tip from his wife, who lied once already, with a weird veterinarian who’s trying to mess up my kid?”
“Well put.”
The corners of her mouth drew back in confusion, deepening her dimples. “There’s something about you that grows on a person. I haven’t figured it out yet.”
Kent fixed on her gray-blue eyes. “I’m telling you, I’m as loyal as an old hound dog if you give me a chance.”
“I’m against pet ownership. Remember?”
“Are you coming, or not?”
“I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. Might as well add a trip into the boonies with you to the list.”
Chapter 15
Ten minutes outside of Jefferson, Kent turned down an unmarked dirt road that crossed a muddy creek then twisted its way up a wooded slope. At the top of the hill, it broke out of the trees and ran alongside a series of semi-abandoned farm fields, mostly overgrown and crisscrossed by thick hedgerows.
Aubrey studied the terrain. “When you get here, you’re at the end, huh?”
“You mean of the road?”
“Whatever.”
“Not much going for it,” Kent said, scanning the tired acreage. “Better for deer hunting than farming. Nice view of the valley, though. That’s about it.” He pointed off into the panorama beyond the windshield. “Looks down on the Indian reservation.”
“I’m thinking that would appeal to May-May’s type.”
On their right, they passed the remains of a large vegetable garden. Decimated by frost, its withered spires of tall weeds rose above blackened tomato plants and beheaded cabbages. Beyond, a gaunt gray donkey searched already close-cropped grass along a circumference formed by his tether.
“Where are all the junk cars?”
Kent pointed left. “You can just catch the tops of them along the hedgerow over there.”
“Whew. I was worried.”
Aubrey’s humor was lost on Kent. He was awash in memories. Bad ones. Of coming home from college to this dreary place. Of seeing his mother degraded by an overbearing husband. Of watching May-May stealing away what should have been the best years of her life with his incessant run-ins with the law.
They pulled to a stop in front of the farmhouse. It was almost as large as the swaybacked barn and sat among a bevy of canted outbuildings like a mother hen surrounded by her chicks. Years ago when Kent had spent time here, it needed painting. It looked like no one had bothered to take a brush to it since. Patches of bare wood were exposed where the chalky white paint had flaked away. Many of the clapboards were askew or missing. In the dooryard was the green skeleton of a John Deere 3020 tractor, its engine long ago eviscerated.
“Dammit,” Kent said.
“What?”
“May-May’s truck isn’t here. I was hoping to talk to him.”
“That might not be so bad. It’ll give us a chance to look around.”
“Remember,” Kent reminded Aubrey of the story they’d concocted while driving. “If he is here, you figured out that he was the guy from the bar by asking around. You just wanted to ask him a few questions. I agreed to bring you out. Okay?”
“Right.”
“Don’t push him.”
“Me? Push?”
“I’m not kidding.” Kent knocked on the door several times then thumped it hard enough to rattle the loose panes of glass. No response.
“No one home.”
“Good. Can you see anything inside?”
They both put their faces to the window and explored the expansive country kitchen. A mound of dirty dishes and old magazines covered a grimy metal table with a Formica top in the center of the room. More dishes rose out of the sink. Along the far wall was a gun rack bristling with weaponry of many lengths and calibers. Empty cereal boxes and papers littered the floor.
“Your average dump,” Aubrey said.
“Nice gun collection.”
“Ah, yes. I forgot who I was with.”
“Silk purse from a sow’s ear.” Then, “Well, would you look at that?”
“What?”
“There’s a pair of scissors and some tape on the table. And some of those magazines have been cut up. Looks like old May-May has been making anonymous threat letters.”
He turned and looked at Aubrey just in time to see the blood drain from her face as she realized the level of danger had just increased. “We going inside?” she asked.
“No. Tammy said
it had to do with animals. If there’s anything to see, it’ll be in the barn.” Quietly, watching in all directions, he guided her around behind the house.
“What are all those hutches?” she asked, pointing to half a dozen tin-and-plywood boxes next to the barn.
Kent had already stopped. His eyes were also fixed on the cubicles. “Doghouses. For pit bulls.” Under his breath, he said, “May-May, you damn fool. You can’t be serious.”
In response to strange voices, a dark-colored resident came slinking out of each domicile dragging a heavy chain. Lifeless canine eyes studied the intruders. None made a sound.
Aubrey took an involuntary step backward and then squatted for a better view. “Those dogs look awful. They don’t even bark.”
“Don’t get them stirred up.”
“They are so thin. God. They don’t even move like dogs. They must be starved.”
When Kent did not reply, she ripped her eyes from the dogs and turned to him. His attention had shifted to a wooden-spoke wheel fixed horizontally two feet off the ground by an axle that was anchored in a drum of cement. He gave the folk-art helicopter a push. It spun freely.
“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he said. “After all these years. I can’t believe he’s at it again.”
Aubrey rose from the ground. “At what?”
Kent tugged on a heavy rope that hung from a nearby tree limb. A gnarled piece of inner tube dangled from its end, waist high. “I’d never have thought it.”
“You going to let me in on this?”
Kent strode away without answering.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to look inside the house.”
She caught up with him as they stepped onto May-May’s front porch for the second time.
“I thought you didn’t want to go inside.”
“I changed my mind.” He tried the worn latch.
Kent raised a finger to his lips, signaling Aubrey to be quiet. But the door chattered loudly across warped floorboards when Kent pushed his way into the kitchen, louder than her voice. The air inside smelled faintly of wood smoke, but the quaint country fragrance was overpowered by a musty, unkempt smell.
“Get some of those magazine clippings,” he said, pointing to the heaped table. “We’ll look for a match with Sally’s note.”
While Aubrey worked at the table, Kent rummaged through a wicker basket of bills and miscellaneous mail. Most of the bills carried past-due messages.
He was studying the names of the addressees when he heard a sound. A distant cow bellow? From the way Aubrey looked at him, she heard it too.
Then it came again. From inside the house. A moan? It was coming through a closed door off the kitchen.
Aubrey was closer. She reached to open the door. Kent lunged to stop her, but his foot caught in the tangle of debris on May-May’s floor, and he fell forward. His shoulder crashed against the door, throwing it open. He ended up sprawled inside the room from which the sound emerged.
On all fours, he scanned the room and saw nothing threatening. He looked up at Aubrey. She was braced in the doorway staring at a sagging brass bed along one wall. There was a horrified look on her face.
Kent shifted his eyes to the bed, but from his low vantage point he could see only the ratty gray pinstriping and ticking of a worn mattress. There was no sheet or blanket.
The moan came again.
He wished he’d brought his .38. He raised his head high enough to see the surface of the bed and instantly recognized the cause of Aubrey’s horror. There was no need for a gun. Huddled on the bed like an abandoned kitten was Tammy Mays. She was shivering violently. Eyes wide, revealing the whites. She moaned again.
Kent crawled to her. She lurched back when he touched her arm. Gently, Kent pushed back a lock of hair pasted with sweat to the tiny woman’s forehead. “Jesus, Tammy. What happened?” he asked in the tone he had perfected for soothing distraught animals.
Tammy maintained her mix of terror and disorientation.
There was a purple bruise covering her left cheek. Her lips were cracked and swollen, coated with dried blood. Her cotton dress was torn loose at the shoulder, exposing her left breast. A grotesque red welt spread from near her nipple to her ribs and armpit.
Aubrey slowly sat on the edge of the bed. The level of fear in Tammy’s eyes rose. Aubrey eased the torn dress back up over Tammy’s chest and gently straightened the skirt that had ridden up to the top of the battered woman’s thighs. There were more bruises on her legs. The gesture seemed to calm her. She took a faltering breath and exhaled through chattering teeth.
“What happened, Tammy?” Aubrey said.
Still she did not answer.
Kent stood, stepped toward the door to the kitchen. “I’m going to call an ambulance. She’s in shock.”
Tammy reached out for him with both hands. “No, Kent. No doctors. No police.”
“You’re hurt. You need a doctor.”
She drew a second breath. Deeper. Winced as it caught on her ribs. Exhaled slowly. “Just get me a glass of water.”
Kent hesitated, questioning the wisdom, then honored her request. When he returned, he handed Aubrey a threadbare washcloth and gestured for her to wipe Tammy’s face with it.
He handed Tammy the glass of water, which she downed completely without looking up. It revived her. Grunting, she pushed herself into a sitting position as Aubrey fluffed a flimsy pillow behind her.
Kent asked the obvious. “This is May-May’s doing, isn’t it?”
Tammy’s cracked lips curled into a painful smile. “You think I fell in the bathtub?”
Kent didn’t laugh. “Why? What the hell is going on?”
“He’s big, I’m little. What more can I say?”
“A lot more!”
Tammy adjusted the cold compress Aubrey had put on her forehead. “Take it easy, Kent. You’re making my head hurt more than it already does.”
“Okay.” He backed off. “But I want some straight answers.”
Tammy flashed him a look that signaled she had been bullied all she was going to be bullied. “Hey, brother, or brother-in-law, whatever. Any information I give you is because I want you to have it. Got that?”
“We can’t help you unless we know what’s happening.”
She looked back and forth between her nurses, registering uncertainty. “I doubt you can help me anyway.”
Kent pointed out the window where he could just make out the pit bull hutches through the smeared glass. “You must have figured I could do something, or you wouldn’t have told me to come up here in the first place.”
“What do you think is going on? You’re the amateur detective.”
“I don’t think, I know. I was just out by the barn. May-May’s got dogs. He’s got a cat mill greased and ready. Hell, there is fresh spit on the jaw rope. The dumb son of a bitch is going to find himself in the hoosegow again if he’s not careful. Before it was a misdemeanor—now it’s a felony. And this would be his second fall.”
Tammy patted her lips with a fingertip and then puckered them, testing the discomfort level. “Don’t think I haven’t tried to tell him that. But he hears what he wants.”
“Why? Fifteen years ago, that was good ol’ boy stuff. Find a dog, rough him up a little to make him mean, put a few bucks on him, and get drunk watching him get chewed up on a Saturday night. I can’t imagine anyone doing dogfights anymore. People don’t put up with that stuff. Makes them sick. Makes me sick.”
“It’s different this time, Kent!” Tammy leaned toward him, winced, and eased back.
“What’s different?” Aubrey asked, lost at the edge of their conversation. She was amazed that the two of them seemed to know what the other meant.
“I’ll tell you about it later, when we’re out of here,” Kent said.
Aubr
ey gave him a cool look but sat back to listen.
“It’s not just an evening’s sport like it used to be,” Tammy said. “Now it’s big money. Serious money.”
Kent shook his head. “You know? That makes it worse. It was a revolting pastime even when it was a so-called sport. At least someone got some sadistic pleasure out of it. But for plain old money? To let dogs do that to one another? That’s about as low as you can get.”
“We’re not talking ‘plain old money,’ Kent. This is big! Real big.”
“Yeah, right. How big?”
“Across the United States, Canada, and Mexico. There’s a good chance the Mafia is in on it. Lots of white-collar types.”
“Sounds like May-May’s giving you a crock of shit.”
“This is no shit,” Tammy said. Her voice took on a pleading quality. “The whole reason I told you what was going on is because he’s in over his head. Believe me. If he gets himself killed, that’s his own damn bad luck and his own business. But he’s dragging me down too.”
“You’re a part of this?”
Tammy spread her arms wide, displaying her battered body. “Does it look like I’m part of it?” She accepted Kent’s apologetic look. “The whole idea of it makes me want to puke. He’s spending every cent of his money, and mine, on dogs. Buying training stuff or gambling on them. Shit, we’ve never been very solid, but now we’re about to lose the farm. He’s peddling marijuana he grew out back just to make ends meet, and I think he’s doing a little street work for some penny-ass dealer friends of his. I’ve just had it. I want the hell away from it all. And I don’t give a shit if he does get pissed off.”
“Why don’t you take it to the police?”
Tammy spread her arms again. “I just mentioned the police, that’s all, just mentioned them, and look at me. I’m telling you, Kent, he’s crazed. May-May was always a little quick to fly off the handle, but never like this. He beat the hell out of me.” She carefully eased the front of her dress open enough to peek at her bruised bosom.
Tammy’s confirmation that May-May had done this to her made Kent want to tear into town, find him, and clench both fists around his half brother’s throat. He’d watch May-May’s eyes bulge as he strangled the life out of him. He’d watch spit dribble down the bastard’s beard and listen to the gurgle of his swollen tongue stifling his last scream.
Taking On Lucinda Page 13
