Flash Flood

by Susan Slater

  “Probably right.” Dan thought of Eric. Convenient for him that Elaine would go along with his duplicity. Was he seeing a side of her that he hadn’t known was there? Or was she being threatened?

  “Nothing more I can do about it. But it sure galls to think someone’s enjoying fifty grand just because he read the obits and took some action. Could have been someone in the slammer with Eric, knew a little something about his money, had a copy of his signature. Could have been in for forgery.” The judge’s laugh sounded lame, lacked his usual wall-bashing gusto. “Guess we’ll never know.”

  “Maybe not.”

  Dan rose to go. Today didn’t seem like the right time to ask about the Masons. He’d come back. He still had to prove how Iris killed the cattle—if, in fact, she did.

  “Am I gonna see you at the Bar-B-Que tonight?”

  Bar-B-Que. It was ringing a bell. Damn. Tonight at Carolyn and Phillip’s. The big campaign kick-off. Carolyn had sent an invitation. Was he going? Judge Cyrus was looking at him expectantly.

  “I’ll be there.” Then just before he reached the door, he turned back. “You think Phillip has a chance to be governor of New Mexico?”

  “A chance? You sure don’t know the politics in these parts. I’d just about bet the bank that your brother-in-law will be a shoo-in. Between lobbying for the Bureau of Land Management grazing rights, and his ties with the labs, both Sandia and Los Alamos, there isn’t an interest group in this state that doesn’t want him elected.”

  Dan hadn’t thought about Elaine’s being at the party until he found himself looking for her car and realized he was relieved when he didn’t find it. What would he have said? What hurt was how much he wanted to see her. But not here, in a crowd. He wanted to talk her into getting away from the craziness and go off somewhere, the two of them. Then, as always, he thought of Eric.

  There were no dead chickens in front of the door; that was promising. Someday it might be interesting to talk to Dona Mari about her Voodoo priest husband. She was standing just inside the front door as he walked up. She was taking coats and depositing them in the study before ushering people out to the pool area. He followed a group of well-wishers looking for Phillip and saw the guest of honor standing over an open pit supervising the unearthing of a singularly aromatic roasted pig. There was loud clapping and cheers as it was lifted above ground.

  Dan looked at the crowd. Billy Roland hadn’t arrived yet, but Judge Cyrus was deep in conversation with two men by the pool house. The half-acre backyard had been groomed to perfection. Paper lanterns swung from draped electrical wiring ending at the edge of the pool, a half-dozen insect torches burned along the edge of the patio. A decorated platform took up space beyond the pool; must plan on speeches later judging by the sound system with speakers poised on poles around the yard. Cardboard cutouts of elephants ringed the podium. Party affiliation was plainly displayed, as if it took any guessing, Dan thought.

  Chairs had been strategically placed in intimate groupings of three or four around small tables with red, white and blue checked cloths—convenient for the constituents to have that friendly chat, or just get to know one another while fawning over the candidate. Nothing had been left to chance.

  “I invited Elaine.”

  Carolyn was at his elbow, smiling out at her guests but obviously not finished with what she had to say to him.

  “I’ll never understand you. This is another example of running away from a situation that could be perfect for you. You’re afraid of love, of giving anything remotely smacking of emotional support to someone else.”

  Dan didn’t interrupt. It wouldn’t do any good. She was on a roll.

  “You’re a cripple. Mother agrees. Those bimbo wives when you were younger. We both thought you were mature enough for a relationship now.” She paused long enough to kiss a woman on the cheek who was gushing on about how perfect Carolyn would be as the state’s First Lady. Dan watched his sister graciously accept then turn back to him as the woman moved on.

  “I feel invested in this. I’m the one, for God’s sake, who encouraged poor Elaine to go out with you. If I had known you would use her, get her hopes up, then be unavailable—isn’t that what you’ve been? Or do you have a better word for it? Maybe that all-important work seventy-five miles away just keeps you overwhelmed.”

  She stopped and looked up at him sweetly. “Aren’t you just a few miles from the Ranch? Maybe it’s just easier to buy it. That’s certainly a non-investment of emotion.”

  This last surprised him. He almost laughed. Was that a taunt of some sort? The idea that he needed to pay for a little sexual pleasure made Carolyn seem out of touch. Archaic, even. Certainly out of touch with what he was about. But was this Carolyn’s interpretation or Elaine’s? They were friends. Maybe, they talked. He missed his chance to question Carolyn as Phillip walked up to claim his wife to help him serve.

  Dan followed and put off questioning Carolyn until later. He joined the line and piled a plate with roast pork, baked beans, and potato salad, grabbed a beer from a tub of ice and accepted the judge’s invitation to join two other men in one of the groupings of four chairs and table by the pool.

  “Don’t know who you know, and who you don’t. This here’s J.J. Rodriguez, attorney, and Bob Tyler, president of the Stockmens Association.”

  Dan acknowledged seeing J.J. again, and shook hands with the six-foot-tall burly man beside him in an ill-fitting western shirt that strained across a beer gut.

  “I hear some of our good citizens are talking you into believing the stories about aliens.” Bob chewed with his mouth open. Not a pretty sight. Dan tried not to notice.

  “Don’t want to overlook any leads.”

  “Well, don’t let ’em pull your leg. Any good vet could have done what was done to old Shortcake Dream. You get my drift?”

  Was Mr. Tyler implicating Hank? Or another vet at the Double Horseshoe? Not that that hadn’t crossed Dan’s mind.

  “You ask old J.J. here what he thinks and he’ll tell you the bruja did it. Cast some spell to ward off evil. That was one hell of an expensive spell, wouldn’t you say, J.J.?”

  Dan noticed that J.J. looked uncomfortable; he was bent over his plate and appeared preoccupied. Mr. Tyler seemed to think he had just said something immensely funny and bits of pork sprayed from his mouth as he laughed. J.J. chose not to comment. Dan wondered about Bob’s using bruja, the feminine for witch. Was he referring to Dona Mari? Did she have a following? Or was there another local into witchcraft?

  “Bob, let Dan get away from his work for awhile. This here’s a celebration. His brother-in-law’s going to be number one someday.”

  Funny. Being related to Phillip gave him some kind of stature. Hadn’t the judge just given Bob a veiled warning, sort of a verbal kick under the table? A reminder of whom he was talking to? Small town dignitaries, all of them. Power politics in the burbs. He couldn’t believe it.

  Dan finished his plate and rose to get another beer. He had just knelt down to fish a Budweiser from the bottom of the tub when he saw her, alone, in the doorway. The sleeveless high-necked dress was classy, casual with sandals, adorned by one long rope of gold beads. Her hair was drawn back, away from her face, and tied with a silk scarf.

  And so much for being an emotional cripple. He should call his mother; she’d be happy to know that his heart was racing and he wasn’t sure he could trust his legs to stand. He wanted this woman. But it wasn’t just lust. And he would get her, but not if it put her in danger. He had to be careful. But he had to know if she felt the same way, could overlook the orchids on the expense report and realize that he was telling the truth when he said he was in love with her. That what had been business was now personal.

  He stood, and the motion caught Elaine’s attention. She stared at him, started to take a step forward, then abruptly turned back into the house just as he pushed, not too gently, through a throng of people directly in front of him and half ran across the lawn to the back door. S
he was leaving.

  Dona Mari glanced up as he ran through the kitchen and dining room then continued down the hall, across the foyer to the study. From the doorway, he saw Elaine reach for her jacket on the couch. He stepped inside, closed and locked the door, and leaned against it.

  She didn’t turn around. Just held her jacket close to her body and waited.

  “We have to talk.” It wasn’t the romantic thing he’d hoped to say, but it was the truth.

  “I don’t think we have anything to say.” Her voice was low, flat without feeling.

  “Elaine.” He was by her side, turning her to face him, brushing her neck with his lips, finding her mouth, kissing, crushing her to him, fleetingly wondering how long it would be before someone would need a coat, try to open the door…. She turned her head away and said, “No.” He was surprised by her strength. Both forearms were against his chest pushing him away.

  “Why?” He’d never thought that he suffered from a lack of eloquence, but he seemed to have a problem now.

  “I shouldn’t have to explain.”

  “Eric…?” Another monosyllabic reply. But wasn’t that it? More than the orchids and the expense report? She took a step toward the door; he caught her arm.

  “Don’t leave.” His voice sounded choked, barely audible. “Don’t throw away what we had. Trust what we felt together. It was real. It’s our lives that are unreal.” Good. She was looking at him. Did she agree?

  “I don’t know whether I can trust you. I don’t think I know you anymore. You were using me to get information.”

  “I don’t deny it. But I didn’t expect us…to be so good together.” What had he wanted to say? I hadn’t expected us to fall in love? That was the truth. But this wasn’t the time. He prayed there would be a time…later, when the craziness was past. “I came out here to look into possible insurance fraud. I didn’t anticipate the rest. I didn’t want to get mixed up with Eric.”

  Elaine put a finger to her lips. “I don’t want to talk here. I need time. I’ll get back. No promises, though, things may not work out.”

  And then she stepped close, took his head in her hands, and pressed her mouth to his, hard, tongue searching, pulled back an inch and whispered, “I promised Simon I’d give you a couple wet puppy kisses if I saw you. He misses you.”

  She wasn’t talking about Simon. They both knew that. And the puppy kisses were probably the best he’d ever had and she pulled away just as another part of his anatomy woke up to say hello. She smiled, a little sadly. That she couldn’t stay? Couldn’t pile on top of a hundred coats and jackets and screw his brains out? He wanted to think that.

  “Elaine….” He took her arm again, but she gently pulled away and unlocked the door.

  “I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I need to help Eric.” She had lowered her voice which accentuated its throatiness.

  “Need to help him?”

  “It’s hard to understand. Maybe I don’t understand it myself. Duty?” She shrugged. “Some father-of-my-child link to the past? I don’t know. But he stands in the way. Our way. I don’t want anyone hurt.”

  She opened the door just as a guest knocked inquiring about her coat, and was gone before Dan could follow. But didn’t he have to let her go? Too many unanswered questions. And didn’t he have to find some of the answers, make some of the decisions? And what did she mean by not wanting anyone hurt? Was she protecting Eric?

  Dan walked back out to the party and ignored Carolyn’s inquisitive looks. He found a beer and wandered toward the miniature grandstand, might as well listen to the speeches. In fact he found himself a little curious about the kinds of promises that politicians in New Mexico might make to their followers. And, it would keep him from thinking, from dwelling on what he had to do.

  ***

  The party broke up about one. Carolyn seemed to have forgotten to interrogate him about Elaine in her attention to visiting dignitaries. The honored guests included a senator and congressman from that district. He watched Carolyn, transformed into the perfect hostess, flit from table to table. This was her element.

  A select group stayed past one. Some pre-campaign caucus that included the judge and Billy Roland and a handful of others. Dan left as Phillip moved the group into the study and opened his liquor cabinet. Must be getting ready to talk money. Dan left after thanking Carolyn. He’d stay in town tonight at the apartment he seldom used and catch up on sleep and laundry. Not too exciting. Had he hoped when he saw Elaine that the evening might have turned out differently?

  As usual, there hadn’t been any warning that he had a visitor, but Dan wasn’t surprised to see Eric sitting at the kitchen table in the dark. In fact, he was hoping he’d show up pretty soon.

  “I was just guessing you’d spend the night here. Glad I was right. But I didn’t think you’d stay for the whole frigging thing.”

  Eric had helped himself to the last beer in the fridge.

  “Don’t turn on the lights,” he said as he pushed a chair out from the table. “I prefer to talk in the dark.”

  “I’m taking for granted you haven’t dumped any more surprises on the feds.” Dan was still angry about the crystals showing up on Roger and Tom’s doorstep.

  “Not this week. But you have to admit it was a hell of a good idea since you’re fucking off.”

  Dan didn’t answer. He’d promise himself he wouldn’t rise to the bait.

  “I got something better for you this time,” Eric said.

  Dan waited while he finished the beer.

  “You know that lawyer I met with? The one who set everything up seven years ago, more or less said he represented Billy Roland?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, he was there tonight.”

  “He was where?”

  “At the party, Carolyn and Phillip’s.”

  Dan tried to untangle his thinking—was Eric there with Elaine, lurking around outside, while…? He made himself concentrate on what Eric was saying.

  “What’s his name?”

  “I may not know his real name but he used Jon, without the ‘h’.”

  “And that’s all you have? Just a first name?”

  “Jonathan James Reynolds. Law firm out of Dallas. Byers, Northmore and Reynolds.”

  Something was nudging his memory. J.J.R. Initials awfully close to Juan Jose Rodriguez.

  “Describe him.”

  “Dark hair, combed straight back. He sat next to you. Across from Bob Tyler. Course when I knew him the hair was curly, fell forward over his eye, and it was blond.”

  “Juan Jose Rodriguez. Are you sure that’s the man? It’s been seven years. You could be mistaken.”

  “I wouldn’t forget.”

  “You’re right about one thing, he is Billy Roland’s lawyer.”

  Eric had gotten up to lean against the sink.

  “The fact that he’s using a different name should tell you something.”

  “I only have your word for it.” That seemed to slow him down, Dan thought, then added, “That’s probably our biggest problem in all this, your insisting on staying undercover.”

  “Got to. I have more leverage this way.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t last one day without protection. You forget I was shot at? That someone wants me very dead. I’d need round the clock protection. And nobody’s going to give me that until I have the evidence and it would have to be big time. And if I have the evidence, I’ll be able to put a little pressure on Billy Roland myself, get my money and be out of here and won’t need anyone’s goddamned protection.” He kicked back against the sink with the heel of his boot.

  Utter frustration, not that Dan could blame him; didn’t he feel the same way? He waited a moment and then asked for what he should have demanded their first meeting: a play by play account of what happened seven years ago.

  “I know you’ve heard this before, but don’t leave anything out. I’ll be the judge of whether it’s u
seful information.” Then Dan lowered his voice. “And don’t fucking lie to me.” He knew there wasn’t any hope of using a tape recorder, so he got a couple legal pads out of a drawer, put the date and Eric’s initials in the top right hand corner, and sat back down at the table.

  “Ready?”

  Eric hadn’t moved, just stayed standing by the sink. He nodded in the light from a streetlamp that came through the open miniblinds above the sink.

  “Give me the circumstances around the bust. What you were doing, and for whom.”

  “I was returning from Venezuela. I had flown three yearling heifers to Senor Enrico Garcia, stayed two nights on his finca outside Caracas, and returned with an empty plane on a Friday afternoon.”

  “Did you ever check the plane before takeoff?”

  “I kept an eye on mechanical things, personally checked gauges, that sort of thing. I handled the refueling.”

  “Did you file a flight plan?”

  “Not always.”

  “I mean that trip.”

  “No.”

  “I take it Mr. Garcia had an airstrip.”

  Dan looked up as Eric nodded, then continued, “Was there anything that made that trip different?”

  “Nothing. I’ve thought about it a lot. It was routine. I’d probably flown down there a dozen times over a four-year period. Nothing. Absolutely like any other trip.”

  “Was there live entertainment provided the last night you were there?” Dan thought Eric hesitated before he answered.

  “The usual. Girls, a few drinks, just the fringe bennies of working that kind of job.”

  Dan bit back a comment about the wife and eleven-year-old waiting for him at home.

  “So, you didn’t bring anyone back with you that trip?”

  “No stowaways, if that’s what you mean.”

  Dan let the term go. If that’s what Eric called his occasional imports, that was his business. “Would it be safe to say you were a little hungover on the flight back?”

  “Maybe. What are you getting at?”

  “That anyone could have had access to the plane before you took off. You wouldn’t have necessarily noticed anything.”