Money Creek

by Anne Laughlin

  Evan smiled and started sweeping up the rolling papers, pipe, and mirror. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Henry didn’t smile back. Evan took the paraphernalia away and grabbed a beer on his way back. “What did Clare say?”

  “I think her main concern was whether my being her boss’s son meant she can’t buy drugs from me anymore.”

  “I think she’s pretty desperate for a connection. Who comes on campus without knowing anybody, randomly looking for a student to buy from?”

  “And you were the first scruffy student she saw.”

  “I guess.” Evan drank down half his bottle of beer.

  “What I find interesting is now Clare and I both have something on each other. If I tell my mom about Clare, she’s in big trouble.”

  “As in, her ass is fired.”

  Henry nodded. “Yes. And she hopes I’d be in big trouble if she tells her about me.”

  “Will you be?”

  “Not much, I don’t think. My parents already know I’ve been involved with drugs. If they heard I still am it wouldn’t shock them.”

  “They’d be pissed off, though.”

  “Very pissed off. But what are they going to do? They’re not going to turn me in to the cops. They want me to graduate from somewhere.”

  At Princeton he’d hung around some of the most well-connected young men in the country, people so rich they’d spend more in a weekend than most students spent all year. He wanted to keep up with them, but it was impossible, at least until his roommate hooked him up with a compromised physician who started to write prescriptions large enough for Henry to sell to others. The addled doctor drove a pickup truck bearing the sign: Ernest Jeffries: Neurosurgery and Light Hauling. He was not hard to manipulate. Henry discovered he was very good at growing a business. He expanded his product line to include cocaine, which solidified his new role as one of the most popular members of the group he was so desperate to be a part of. He was invited into one of the elite dining clubs, taken home for weekends in Newport and the Hamptons. Returning to life in Money Creek had been crushing.

  Evan rolled his neck around until it popped. Henry scowled. Evan was a great right-hand man, but sometimes he annoyed the hell out of him. He cracked his knuckles and burped. “I kind of like Clare.” Henry kept the scowl on his face until Evan looked at him and noticed. “What?”

  “Don’t get any ideas about Clare. She’s not going to give you the time of day.”

  “Hey. I almost had her talked into sleeping with me if I introduced her to you.”

  Henry looked at him coldly. “You’re disgusting.”

  Evan shrugged. “I thought better of it once we got here. But I’m pretty sure she would have done it.”

  “And that reflects well on you how? You really are a fool.” He got up from the table and picked up the textbooks. “I’m going to my room. I’d rather not see you for a while.”

  Evan looked hurt and confused. “I didn’t do anything, man.”

  “You tried to coerce a woman into having sex. That makes you a predator in my book.”

  “Predator?”

  “Look it up and let’s see how well you sleep tonight,” he said as he left the kitchen. He heard Evan mutter, “I sleep fine.” He got to his room and threw himself on the bed. The idea of Clare being coerced into sex disturbed him, but if he was honest with himself, he knew it was because it meant Clare would be with someone else. She interested him, and that was rare in Money Creek, where he’d known most of the people his whole life. He wondered whether she could return these sudden feelings of his, how he could encourage it.

  Chapter Nine

  Clare finished doing the dishes after her dinner of roast chicken thighs with rosemary, lemon, and new potatoes. She’d sautéed some spinach on the side, being convinced she’d been lucky to not contract scurvy the way she used to eat.

  She sat on her couch and turned on the TV to watch a couple more episodes of Orange Is the New Black. She’d power-watched the first season over the weekend, and by Wednesday was well into the second. It was woman-centric, which was so refreshing. She popped a Valium and sipped at a bourbon and snuggled down. Life wasn’t too bad. Sometimes boring, but she could also feel surprisingly content. The shock from the week before of discovering Henry was Elizabeth’s son had worn off. As long as he kept her supplied she could deal with the rest. Who said you have to like your drug dealer?

  Her phone rang and she took the call.

  “Clare, it’s Henry Nelson.” She wasn’t upset to hear from him. Maybe he had news on the shipment of speed.

  “Hello, Henry. I was going to call you soon.”

  “Good. Now that we have this special connection through my mother, I hope we can be friends.”

  “Don’t you think your mother would be suspicious of a friendship between us? I must be five years older than you.” Henry seemed surprisingly mature for his twenty years, but at that age a five-year difference was huge. “But you have what I want, so I’m stuck with you.”

  Henry laughed. “You wound me. I thought you’d like me a little more than that.”

  “I don’t know you well enough to like you. You’ll have to earn that.” She knew she was being hard, but she didn’t want to let him feel in control of the relationship.

  “Maybe this will help. If you come over to my place now, I can offer you a special deal on a few products.”

  “Are you having a Mary Kay party?”

  “You’re a riot. It’s Tupperware, not Mary Kay. Sheesh.”

  “I’m all settled in for the night. Does it have to be now?”

  “I have other customers, you know. I’m doing you a favor giving you an early peek.”

  She couldn’t yet feel the Valium in her system, but that would be a matter of a half hour or so. If she didn’t have any more to drink, she should be okay on the road. “Okay. Can you give me the address? I don’t remember it from when Evan walked me over there.”

  Henry gave her the address and hung up. She changed out of her sweats and then pulled out her pillbox, where she saw her dwindling supply. Ten minutes later, she was sitting in his neat living room, watching as he reached into a leather bag and pulled out several baggies full of pills. He tossed them on the coffee table.

  “What’s your pleasure? I got some Valium for you.” He picked out one bag and put it in front of her. It contained small yellow pills with Roche imprinted on one side, the real pharmaceutical five milligram Valium. This was a vast improvement over the supply she usually ordered from online pharmacies. The bag was filled with at least a hundred pills. She tried to act cool, but her insides were jumping with excitement.

  “Nice. I’ll take what you have.”

  “Sold.”

  “What else?”

  He showed her the bag of Adderall and a few ounces of marijuana. She took as much as he’d sell her, but passed on the weed. It had never been her thing. When he told her the price, she blanched. A thousand dollars was all of her ready cash. But she couldn’t bring herself to pass up any of the quantity that now sat in a neat pile in front of her. She pushed aside the thought that she was supposed to be quitting. She asked Henry to let her pay the next day and he readily agreed, something that Casey rarely did. Her salary had gone from $175,000 a year to $70,000, but living in Money Creek was cheap and there were few things to spend her money on.

  She put the plastic bags in the big pocket of her deep green coat. It was a coat built for Chicago winters, but she was discovering the weather was even harsher in this part of the state. It was five degrees out and windy, the sort of cold that froze her sinuses and hurt her eyeballs. She took a drink of the beer Henry had poured for her.

  “This connection with your mother gives us both something to use on the other.” She looked at him for confirmation.

  “Maybe. Or it’s something that binds us. It’s all in how you look at it.”

  “True. But if it came out that you were dealing drugs, your parents would be devastated.” />
  “Certainly. But my parents would still love me. They’d fire you.”

  “Bad for both of us, but there’s no reason either of us would tell, is there?” she said.

  “None at all. But you’re right to bring it up. I look at you as a new and valued customer. I hope you’ll never give me cause to tell my parents about you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” A prickle of fear came over her. Underneath Henry’s polish and charm was a hard streak she’d need to be wary of. Should this even be surprising in a drug dealer? “I’m not planning on saying anything about you to anyone.”

  “Then we understand each other,” he said, a smile back on his face.

  “You’re the only dealer I have.”

  “There are others, but they’re not people you want to buy from. You’re better off with me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t cover the huge area around here. I’m not big enough. There are other dealers who share the same territory. They’re not all upstanding individuals.” Henry put the remainder of the drugs into his bag. “Most of them deal in crystal meth. I cover the college and town, so meth is far less in demand.”

  He stood up to end the meeting and Clare rose to put her coat on. She couldn’t quite get a handle on Henry. His tone was friendly, but he carried a big stick to whack her with if he had a mind to. It hung like a threat over her head, like Carlton Henning’s voice. As she drove home she noticed the Valium starting to flow through her system, a feeling of well-being so calming she stopped thinking of the problem of Henry Nelson altogether. She decided to stop at the Shell station to pick up a six-pack of beer. When she reached the door of the store, Freya walked out and stopped short when she saw her.

  “Clare.” Freya seemed almost shocked to see her.

  “Hi, Freya.” She was shuddering inside her coat but didn’t want to break away from her.

  “Are you filling up?”

  “Pardon me?” Clare said.

  “Filling your car up with gas.” Freya sounded awkward, as if she’d never made small talk before.

  “No, I was stopping by for some beer.” She looked at Freya a moment. “Would you like to have one with me?”

  “Sure. As long as we get out of the cold.”

  “How about my car?”

  “I don’t know how it will look for a cop to be drinking beer in a parked car.”

  “The car’s not moving. We wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. Come on in with me and I’ll get the beer.” She was surprised she made the invitation. But she liked Freya, and she didn’t want to miss an opportunity to be with her without Jo around. They went into the store, and when they came out Clare led the way to her car, taking some files and empty bags off the passenger seat so Freya could sit.

  “At least leave the parking lot and pull over on a darker street. The store’s cameras are pointed at us right now.”

  Clare pulled into a residential street a block away and parked between streetlamps. “This isn’t how I imagined our first time out together,” she said. “We could go to my house.”

  Freya raised an eyebrow. “You were imagining us out together?”

  “You brought it up—that we might see if we could be friends. I tried to imagine what that would look like.” Warmth flooded her cheeks and she hoped Freya couldn’t see her blush.

  Freya smiled and took a beer from Clare, who put the rest of the six-pack in the back seat. “How did you imagine it?”

  Clare cracked open her beer. “Maybe sitting at Abe’s for a few drinks or out to dinner. I’d lean on you for restaurant suggestions.”

  “There aren’t many to choose from. But I’d be happy to be your guide.” She clinked her beer can against Clare’s and relaxed against the car door. “Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

  What to say? She wanted to give a good impression, but the whole truth would make Freya either run or arrest her. For a fleeting moment she thought how it would be if she had nothing to hide. Would that be the freedom she was after? “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “How about why you moved to Money Creek?”

  “Practicing law in a big Chicago firm almost did me in. I wanted a complete break, and the job at Nelson & Nelson sounded perfect for me. I’m not sure what they think, but I’m really glad I’m there.”

  “I think it was clear at the dinner party Elizabeth thinks highly of you. I wouldn’t worry on that score,” Freya said.

  Clare shrugged. “What about you? Is the drug task force where you want to be?”

  Freya took a long drink before answering. “Technically, I’m a detective, which is what I’ve always wanted to do. Solving murders was the ultimate high in police work. But then I got transferred to the task force and I’m glad I was.” She sat up straight and looked at Clare. “I hate drugs, and I hate people who sell drugs, and I kind of hate the people who use drugs.”

  She tried not to wince. “Sounds like you’re in exactly the right place.”

  “For now, anyway.” She tilted her head back and emptied her can of beer.

  “Do you want another?” Clare asked.

  “No, I’ve got to go. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

  She really should be running the other way from Freya, who would hate her if she knew the truth about her drug use. But there was something about her passion for her work that attracted as much as alarmed her. What an idiot she’d be to let herself be drawn into Freya’s orbit.

  “I’d love to get together for dinner, though. Can I call you?” Freya said.

  Clare didn’t know how to say no, nor did she particularly want to. They could be friends. Maybe she’d be able to keep hiding her drug use until she quit. She dropped her off at the gas station and drove away smiling. The evening had been productive. She’d replenished her supply and possibly made a new friend. She didn’t dwell on the irony of it.

  Chapter Ten

  Clare arrived early to take the deposition of the fence manufacturer’s quality control manager. She was in Carbondale, about a three-hour drive south of Money Creek in the southern tip of the state, at the law firm of the manufacturer’s attorneys. A receptionist led her back to a conference room and she could see the sleek design of the offices, the bustle of lawyers and paralegals walking about.

  She was coming to love the freedom she had at the Nelson firm to actually practice law. Elizabeth was trusting her with more responsibility, and so far, she’d been up to the task. It helped to not have a dragon breathing fire down her back all the time. The witness she was going to depose was a potentially significant one and she didn’t want to let Elizabeth down. It was her first deposition and she was more than a little nervous.

  As she put her briefcase on the table, a young man entered the room. He flashed her a killer smile as he offered his hand.

  “I’m Dane Michaels,” he said. “I’ll be sitting in the deposition with you for the manufacturer. Can I get you some coffee?” He pointed to a thermos on the room’s credenza, along with a plate of bagels and donuts.

  “Where would you like me?” Clare said.

  “Anywhere is fine. The witness is here, but we’re still waiting on the stenographer and the plaintiff’s attorney. It’s still a couple minutes early.”

  Clare made herself comfortable at the table. “I see both our firms have passed this deposition off to younger lawyers.”

  “Not really. I take depositions all the time.” Wonderful. Experience versus complete innocence. In depositions the rules of evidence are treated loosely, so she wasn’t too worried that any mistakes on her part would prove fatal. Her job was to get as much as she could from the witness.

  Bob Highsmith, an associate at the plaintiff’s attorney’s firm arrived, followed by the stenographer. The witness, Robert Lyons, was sworn in. He was a big-bellied man who wore a suit that clearly had been purchased in earlier, thinner days. His dress shirt looked like it would pop a button at any minute.

  “Mr. Lyons, I’m Clar
e Lehane, counsel for Peterson Agriculture. I’ll be asking you some questions today about the equipment sold to my client by your company.”

  Lyon’s eyes were a bright blue, a feature nearly overwhelmed by his puffy cheeks. He nodded.

  “You’ll be required to give audible answers to my questions so the stenographer can record them. And I want to also remind you that you are under oath, required by law to answer truthfully and completely. If it is found that you’ve given false testimony, perjury charges can be brought against you. Do you understand these things, Mr. Lyons?”

  “I understand.” For such a big man, Lyons had a tiny voice.

  Clare began the deposition by having him describe his duties and responsibilities at Ogden Lagoons. She had to ask him to speak up several times. He described a typical day on the job, the process of quality control, and the amount of times incidents occurred when the department failed to discover a problem in one of their products.

  “Mr. Lyons, are you familiar with the fencing system that’s designed to cordon off methane lagoons?”

  “I am.” Lyons looked relaxed and confident. The questions had been easy.

  “Did that system include a gate that would allow access to the lagoon should that become necessary?”

  “Yes, but as a practical matter there shouldn’t be any reason to access the lagoon.”

  “And does that system, including the gate, fall within your responsibilities as a manager? Were quality control procedures followed for that product?”

  Lyons took a drink of coffee. “Yes.”

  “Had you at any time been made aware that there was a safety problem with that fencing system?”

  “Objection,” said Michaels. He was leaning back in his chair and seemed barely interested.

  Clare looked at him. “Are you going to state the nature of your objection, Mr. Michaels?”

  “I’m preserving the objection for the record.”

  “You can answer the question, Mr. Lyons.” She was fantastically alert and focused.