Harry Mann In The Tangled Web

by Bo Drury

  Driving the fifty-odd miles to Sutton, he kept his eye peeled for deer on the road. The abundant white rock and dark green of the live oaks made for a pleasant view and a perfect hiding place for the plentiful deer population in that part of the country.

  Following the directions he had been given, he drove through the picturesque town and turned right at the second light, drove past the golf course and hung a left at the first caliche road.

  Leaving a trail of white dust behind, he drove down the winding trail to the rock gate posts where an ornate S was embedded in the center of the iron gate.

  Pretty fancy place, he decided as he drove up the curved drive and spotted a rambling rock and stucco ranch house nestled in the hills among the heavy oaks. Everything about it said ‘old money.'

  A slender man looking to be in his forties stopped his work in the yard to watch him approach the front door. Harry nodded; the man gave a brief nod and turned back to his work. If he was the gardener, he had a way with plants. The landscaping was outstanding for this arid part of the country.

  Harry rang the bell and listened to the melodious chimes on the inside. The heavy plank door opened and Harry found himself looking into the big brown eyes of a Mexican woman who motioned for him to enter. Jeb Stockton met him in the foyer with a hearty handshake.

  “Come on in, Harry.” Turning, he led him through a long hall to a large glassed-in room on the back of the house. He found young Scott mixing a drink at the bar.

  It was quite a layout. Very masculine; he hadn't seen any signs of a woman's touch in the decor so far. It was strictly a man's house; heavy dark furniture with lots of leather, wood, and the smell of rich fragrant tobacco.

  “Scott.” Harry offered his hand.

  Taking it, Scott acknowledged Harry's presence but said nothing. It appeared this was not his first drink of the day. Jeb shook his head in disapproval but said nothing.

  “I just drove in from Junction. There wasn't much I could find out there.” For the benefit of Scott's uncle, he added, “She was well thought of; came from a very nice family. From what I found out they left her fairly well off, financially.” He continued to tell them all he could. He could see Scott was pleased to have his uncle find out she wasn't some gold-digging tramp he picked up.

  Though Scott had left the impression at their initial meeting he was on the wimpy side, he was young, and the uncle appeared controlling and too overbearing to suit Harry's taste. He was glad to help the boy out.

  Getting right down to business, he went on, asking, “Who would have come in contact with the girl the night she was here? I need to talk to each of them.”

  Offering Harry a drink from the bar, Jeb talked as he busied himself with the mixing.

  “As far as I know, Marie would be the only one. Cook had shut down the kitchen for the day before Scott came in with Melody. Marie is the woman who let you in. She showed the young lady to her room and helped her get settled in. Other than that, I don't believe she saw anyone.”

  “Who was around who might have seen anything—ranch-hands, gardener...”

  “No... No one that I can think of.”

  Taking a sip of his drink and walking to the window, Harry asked, “Who is the man working in the yard?”

  “That would be Hub. He wouldn't know anything.”

  “You won't mind if I nose around on my own?”

  “No, not at all. Anything you need to do is fine.” Coming from behind the bar, Jeb started from the room. “If you will excuse me, I have some calls to make. Scott can show you around.”

  “Scott, why don't you tell me again how you met Melody and how it was you invited her to come over for the weekend? Try to remember anything that was said that could give us an idea why she would leave or what her plans were.” Harry hung a hip on the bar stool and settled down to listen as Scott began to talk about her.

  During the conversation, Harry noticed Jeb walk across the back yard to the poolside as he talked on the phone. When he finished he called to the gardener, who was working around the pool. He appeared to be giving him some instruction, as Hub nodded several times then shook his head and walked away. Jeb glanced at the window as if suddenly remembering his guest inside. He waved and left.

  Harry turned his attention back to what Scott was saying about Melody. As he described her, he was looking at a photograph on a sideboard. The description he gave was of the woman in the picture. The photo was old, according to the dress and hairstyle, probably made in the sixties.

  Scott grew silent and walked to the window looking out over the garden and pool. The gardener was still there repotting plants.

  Getting up, Harry walked to the table and studied the photo. The hair was soft brown, long and straight surrounding an oval face. A flower had been put in her hair over her ear. Large soulful eyes looked out on at the photographer and a half smile turned up the corners of full lips. Her dress was floral of some soft fabric that hung loose in folds on her slim body. Strands of beads adorned her throat and wrists. A lacy shawl trailed from her arm to the ground. Typical ‘hippie’ dress, a flower-child, he thought, remembering phrases from the past.

  “Who is this in the photograph, Scott?”

  Turning, he looked at the figure in the silver frame. With a slight gesture of his hand he dismissed it with: “That's my mother, Rebecca.” Nursing his drink he turned back to absently watch the gardener.

  “She's lovely. Melody looks a lot like her from your description,” Harry remarked, watching for Scott's reaction to what he said.

  “Oh?” Puzzled, Scott came closer and studied the photo. With surprise, he answered as he reached for the silver frame, “I guess she does...I knew she reminded me of someone; I just never made the connection.”

  “Where is your mother, Scott?”

  “She left when I was young. My grandmother raised me. In fact, she adopted me.”

  “Oh, is she still living?”

  “My mother? I really don't know. I assumed she was dead; she didn't come for my grandmother's funeral.”

  Scott set the frame down and headed for the bar to freshen his drink. Lifting the bottle, he looked at Harry and asked, “Need a refill?”

  “No, I'll pass until I've had something to eat. Show me around the place, Scott. Where was her room? Who was the last person to see her?”

  Taking his glass with him and staggering slightly as he left the bar, he led Harry to the bedroom wing.

  “I walked her to her room that night,” he explained as they walked down the hall.

  “Did you hang around?”

  “It wasn't that kind of relationship,” he answered quickly.

  “You mean it was a strictly platonic relationship?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised skeptically.

  Scott's face reddened but he went on. “I can't explain it...but...she was different. It was like I had known her for a very long time. I couldn't wait to be with her but I had never done more than hold her hand.” After thinking about it for a minute, he added, “It seemed she avoided any physical contact.”

  “How did your Uncle act toward her?”

  “He was very cool; she didn't think he liked her and it made her nervous.”

  They entered her room. Harry looked around and checked the French doors. They opened out onto the pool area. She had been in the wing across from the master suite. The house was U-shaped and appeared to wrap around the pool and patio. It reminded Harry of an upscale motel.

  Opening the door, they walked out onto the patio. Stepping out, Harry noticed peanut hulls on the floor; feeling his pocket he satisfied himself he had not dropped them there.

  The gardener looked up as they came out, then quickly looked away. On impulse, Harry walked to him. Scott wandered to a lounger and sat down.

  “You have a green thumb.”

  Surprised, the gardener looked up. “I'm sorry...”

  “You seem to have a way with plants...it's very nice.” Harry made a sweeping gesture around the yard.

&
nbsp; Appearing pleased, Hub thanked him and went back to his chore.

  “Did you know the young woman who disappeared?”

  For just a moment he stilled. It was only for a fraction of a second but Harry saw the hesitation.

  “No.”

  “Did you see her at all?”

  “No.” He never looked up.

  Instinct told Harry he was lying. Why would he lie about it?

  “How long have you worked for the Stocktons?”

  “Two years.”

  “You knew the grandmother?”

  “It was the grandmother hired me.” He picked up his tools and moved to a new bed, ending the conversation and glancing toward the house as he went. Harry looked up to see Jeb standing in the window watching them.

  Looking around for Scott, he spied him lying back with his eyes closed. Looking again toward the glass wall, Harry strode in that direction. It appeared Scott was through for the day. It was getting late and Harry was hungry for more than peanuts and needed to get a room before it got any later. He wanted to stay over and talk to Marie and probably the gardener a bit more tomorrow. He had a feeling they both might know more than they were willing to tell.

  Calling out as he entered the house, he found Jeb back at the bar and told him of his plan. Jeb insisted he stay there as their guest for the night. Dinner would be ready soon. He called for Marie to show Harry to a room so he could freshen up before dinner, then excused himself again on the pretext of a business call. Harry got the distinct feeling Jeb didn't really want to talk to him, finding the whole situation distasteful and unnecessary.

  Following Marie to the guest wing, he decided now would be a good time to ask her some questions.

  “Marie, do you speak English?”

  Stopping at the door to his room, she looked up with those big dark eyes he found so appealing. She appeared nervous.

  “Si.”

  “Do you know why I am here?”

  “Si, about the young senorita that disappeared?”

  “That's right...can you tell me anything?”

  “No.” She shook her head as she opened the door to the room. Walking quickly to the bath, she laid out towels then turned down the bed. She was younger than he had first thought and extremely attractive. She avoided his gaze. Pointing to a buzzer by the bed, she explained, “If you need anything, ring this bell. Someone will come.” She started from the room.

  “Marie...”

  She hesitated at the door.

  “If you think of anything that may help us in finding the young woman, you will tell me?” She nodded and softly pulled the door to behind her.

  He walked to the window and studied the gardener still at work. “They both know something. I feel it. The old man has put the fear in them about talking to me. Why? Why would he hire me and then not cooperate?”

  After washing up, he lay across the bed to rest till dinner was ready. It was impossible to relax as questions kept bouncing around in his head. Deciding to go out and talk to Scott again, he found the lounge chair empty. Going back inside, he waited, reading titles in the vast library of books housed in massive bookcases along the wall of the den. He was impressed but wondered if anyone ever read them.

  Impatient with waiting for someone to appear, he started in search of the kitchen when Marie entered the room to tell him he would be eating alone. Scott had retired for the night and Jeb had gone into town to a meeting of the Ranchers’ Association.

  She had set up his dinner in a small dining alcove off the kitchen. Harry could hear her and the cook talking in low voices in the kitchen. Although he didn't speak Spanish, he caught a word now and then; they seemed to be arguing. He wished he had made more of an effort to learn the language.

  Soon he realized the house had grown quiet. He was alone except for Scott, who evidently was sleeping off the booze he drank earlier. Harry wondered if this was a habit or if he was just mourning the loss of his friend.

  He was out of peanuts and felt the need of a cigarette. Though he had kicked the habit, he still had the yearnings now and then and this was a strong yen. Deciding to go for a walk to work off the meal and the desire to smoke, Harry let himself out the front door, making sure it didn't lock behind him. He didn't know if Marie had rooms in the main house and he felt sure Scott would never hear a doorbell.

  The light of the full moon shone bright. The shadows cast beneath the trees seemed even darker because of it. Thinking of the events of the day, he was absorbed in thought when he heard a swishing noise behind him.

  “What the—” Before he could finish, he felt the blow to his head. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground.

  Waking, he felt disoriented. His head ached. Opening his eyes, he froze. The shining green eyes of a big wolf were watching him with what Harry thought were hungry intentions.

  There were three of them. Harry didn't know whether it was safe to move or even breathe. Were they friendly? The one nearest him stood up and wagged his tail. Okay, they were friendly. Moving slowly and with caution, he stood. He put his hand to his head; it came back wet. His hair was matted with blood. He brushed at the dirt on his clothes and discovered he had been ‘marked’ by the alpha male.

  “Great.” He didn't have any extra clothes with him.

  “Who the hell hit me?”

  The dogs followed him to the house. “Some watchdogs you guys are,” he said aloud. They hadn't made a sound so far. Would they let him enter the house?

  Keeping an eye on them, he pulled open the heavy door and stepped quickly inside, closing it behind him. Leaning on it briefly, he wondered what to do about his slacks. He still felt woozy and needed to lie down. First he had to shower and wash away the blood. “I suppose I can wash my pants in the shower, too.” He headed down the hall to his room.

  The hot water pounding against his aching head and body was soothing. He wondered what time it was. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he hung up his wet clothes in the shower to drip dry and walked into his moonlit room. Through the window he saw two figures by the poolside. Peering into the dark shadows, he made out Marie as the moonlight filtered through the leaves. Further observation exposed the face of Hub, the gardener.

  Were they responsible for Melody's disappearance? Was it one of them who hit him in the head earlier? Was he about to stumble onto something or someone? Why else would they knock him out? His head hurt. There was nothing he could do right then, with no clothes. He fell across the bed and closed his eyes.

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  * * *

  Chapter 3

  A soft but insistent knock at his door woke him. It was Scott, looking shamefaced.

  “Man, I'm sorry about last night. I had a little too much to drink and it knocked me out.”

  “I know what you mean, Scott. I was knocked out myself last night.” The hidden meaning in the words meant nothing to Scott.

  “I'll meet you in the breakfast room for coffee and a bite to eat,” he said, looking at Harry's lean figure. “Looks like you could stand some fattening up.”

  As Harry dressed, he recalled the couple he had seen at the poolside the night before. It could have been a romantic tryst; Hub looked too old to be Marie's lover, but then, who knew? He would ask Scott about Hub.

  After a big breakfast of ham and eggs they moved into the den to drink their second cup of coffee.

  There was Hub, working around the pool again.

  “He stays busy,” Harry said, indicating Hub at the pool. “What do you know about him?”

  “He showed up here a couple of years ago. Grandmother seemed to take a liking to him. Uncle Jeb felt it was a waste of money to hire a full time yard man, but Grandmother insisted. It was her money that paid him, so she could do as she pleased whether Jeb liked it or not.”

  Harry caught the pleased smile on Scott's face as he said it. Things must not be too smooth between the two of them, he decided.

  “He pretty much sticks to himself,” Scott went on
as he watched Hub through the window.

  “If Jeb didn't like him, I wonder why he still has him here?”

  “I think he has changed his mind; Hub does a great job with the yard and the pool.”

  “What about Marie? Are they friendly?”

  Scott looked at him in surprise. “I don't know. I have never seen them together except to speak in passing. Why would you think they might be?”

  “I'm just trying to cover all the bases, Scott.” He decided to leave that alone for now.

  The front door opened and they heard a commotion in the entry and Jeb's angry voice.

  “You tell Orlando to get rid of those damn dogs or keep them penned up. I'll not have them running loose and jumping on my car. I'll shoot the next son-of-a-bitch that growls at me. This is my house. Do you hear me?”

  “Si...Si.” They heard Marie's frightened voice.

  Scott hurried from the room and out the front door. Jeb had disappeared into the right wing of the house. Was he just coming in? Or had he gone out early? He must be talking about the three dogs Harry met last night. They growled at him. That was odd. Wonder who they belong to?

  Scott came back noticeably upset. When Jeb came into the room saying, “Good morning,” as though nothing had taken place earlier, Scott seemed to have a difficult time restraining the resentment he felt toward his uncle.

  “Hope you slept well, Harry. Have you had breakfast?” He pushed the buzzer by the bar and, speaking into the intercom, ordered fresh coffee.

  “Uncle Jeb...” There was a tremor in Scott's voice.

  “Not now, Scott,” he ordered.

  “Those were Grandmother's dogs,” he said accusingly.

  “Now is not the time, Scott,” he said threateningly.

  “You have no right—”

  Losing his temper, Jeb turned on Scott. “If they jump on me one more time, they will be buried alongside her!” he shouted and slapped the bar with his open hand, rattling the cups on the counter.

  There was a strained silence and Scott left the room.