“That record he didn’t like, it must be pretty bad, huh?” Tony winked.
I offered a small snort.
“Crazy thing,” Tony said, eyeing the turntable. “Frieze was making a big deal of how it was still turning when he got here.”
“The record was still on?”
“Guess so. Frieze said he heard a soft, thudding noise after he let the mechanic go. It took him a few minutes to figure it out. The noise. When he got it, here was this record needle, bumping against the paper. Said it spooked him.”
“Weird.”
“No kidding. He doesn’t spook easy.”
I pushed past him, into the living room. Touching the record carefully, I wondered half aloud, “Why were you playing this, old man?”
“Listen, Connor.” Tony stood directly behind me. “Not to hurry you, but I’ve got a hankering for a sweet roll before I have to get back to work.”
I turned. “Sure. I appreciate this. Bringing me over. See the place, you know.”
“Not a problem, Pard. I been there. Sort of.”
A picture book of the Parthenon lay on the coffee table. I stepped around him and picked it up. “Can I take this?”
“I don’t see why not. I’m supposed to do the paperwork to release the place today. Even though I’m only a lowly dep—”
“Wow!” I grabbed up a black Bible. “What the hell is this doing here?”
Tony leaned over my shoulder. “Yeah, wow. A Bible at Dixon Pierce’s place. Nobody’s gonna believe it.”
“It was under the Parthenon book.” Inside the cover, I found an inscription written in an expert hand.
Tony and I read aloud together, “Dixon: Directions for your new life in Christ. God bless.”
All of the room disappeared into that single page. “Holy shit,” I whispered. My father, the convert.
“This is definitely a holy shit,” Tony said.
The world came back into focus. “Who do you think gave it to him?”
“Somebody with damn good handwriting.”
“No signature. I’m going to keep this, too.” I looked at my friend. “If that’s cool. Find out if Renée knows anything about it.”
“Hey, if Chief Frieze didn’t think it was important enough to bag, it’s yours. Pretty strange, having a big orgy with a Bible lying next to you.”
I traced the writing with my fingertip. The red letters stood out. “Maybe Dixon the salesman had made one more deal before he left this world.”
“And a righteous deal, at that.”
We both chuckled at Tony’s conclusion.
“Let’s get,” I said, clapping the Bible shut.
We left the place like we found it, except for my two treasures. And the bit of personal cleaning I’d found necessary.
Someone needed to pick up the rest of Dixon’s stuff before the landlord trashed it. Renée didn’t need another burden. And Mother wasn’t going to care. I wondered if Dad’s angry brother was still around. Maybe he’d like some of this junk for his farm.
With that sarcastic thought in my brain, I realized I couldn’t depend on anyone else to solve Dixon’s mysterious death. Isolation crept over me like body armor, and I clenched my teeth in anger as I pulled the door closed. Someone had killed my father. I knew it. And I had to find them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Anger Becomes Us
We pushed through the doors of the 600 Café at 4:30, after nearly an hour in the frigid apartment.
Pans clanked in chaotic rhythm. Silver clinked a discordant melody. Odors of coffee, fried bacon and fresh bread raised the temperature twenty degrees. It was the kind of warmth you had to shudder into.
Tony stepped to the middle of the checkerboard tiles and stopped. “Like old times,” he said, glancing at two dusty cowboys leaning into their biscuits and gravy at the lengthy counter.
One turned his head and gave a nod.
Tony reciprocated.
I waited just inside the doorway, letting the thaw set. My head buzzed with memories.
Tony turned almost completely around and strode to an older couple sitting with their grandkids in the cubby overlooking the frozen street. He spoke quick and kindly words at them, gave a chuckle and a nod, and then headed for a red and grey booth further inside. His body slid into it with military precision.
A bustle of family activity filled the seating space stretching up the hallway to a dining room in the rear. An image of Nansi and the kids waving me back rushed in and gave my heart a tug.
“When you get a minute,” Tony said to a cute, twenty-something blonde.
Her long, twisted braids were rolled and piled high. She watched me from the galley kitchen at the end of the long stretch of red topped stools. “Be right there,” she chimed. “Coffee?”
Tony raised two fingers.
She disappeared into the noisy kitchen.
Walking from the door like a fresh-release convict, I took two steps past Tony’s booth.
A mysterious pair of swinging doors separated the café from a barroom situated in the building just east of us. Two or three men and a woman about Mother’s age stood around the horseshoe-shaped bar.
“Hole in the Wall,” Tony said.
“I see that.”
He chuckled. “You’re still funny.”
“They name it before the break-in?”
“A countrified business merger. Diner serves food, barkeep pours liquor. Hungry happy. Thirsty happy. Town happy.” He thumped his badge. “Deputy happy.”
“Sounds like Montana.” I took three backward steps and slipped across the smooth vinyl opposite him. “Keep drunks happy and leave the lawman open on all sides,” I said.
“Very observant. Sure you’re in the right business?”
The candy-striped blonde carried two cups and a carafe of steaming coffee to us.
“Excellent,” Tony said, grabbing a cup from her hand.
She kept her smile on me while she poured. “Hey Tony, who’s your handsome friend?”
Tony poked the side of her with a finger.
She jumped, slopping coffee over the rim.
“Don’t be in such a hurry to dump me, Sheila.”
With a gentle slap to his hand, she said, “You are my favorite family man, Deputy Ruiz.” She batted her lashes at me and bumped her hip.
The female attention warmed my chest. Mention of family forced my eyes down the hall toward my imagined wife and kids. I turned my gaze to the coffee stream splashing into my cup.
“This is Connor,” Tony said. “Dixon Pierce’s boy,”
I peeked from under my brow like a timid schoolboy. “Hi.”
“We were partners growing up,” Tony said.
Sheila the waitress squared her shoulders. “Nice to meet you, Connor. Dixon was the best of his kind. A cad, but I liked him.”
Her description stung with truth. I lifted my head to search for sincerity in those blue eyes.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she concluded.
I bowed my head slightly in honor of her miniature, but fitting, eulogy. “I appreciate that. I think my father would too.”
Sheila hoisted the carafe, and winked. “I’ll bring a couple of caramel rolls over.”
My stomach protested after our visit to Dixon’s apartment. But Miles City’s 600 Café was a landmark that provoked an appetite. I smiled at the offer.
Sheila left us.
Tony gave me a mock pout. “Still stealing the girls’ attention.”
Shame rushed up my neck. I bunched my shoulders toward my ears.
“What’s that? Embarrassment?” He puffed air through his lips. “Unbelievable.”
“People change.”
Confusion scrunched his face.
“Forget it, buddy. Made a couple of bad calls, is all.” I pushed the idea aside with my hand. “And anyway, I recall one little filly that had eyes for you alone, Pardner.”
Tony blushed. “Got me there.”
“She’s still around?”
“Not her. Married a guy from Malta.”
I gave him a wide-eyed, gawking grin. “You married a guy?”
“Smart. She, married. Lives in Malta. While I was in the service.”
“Sorry to hear it.” Something about this loss reconnected me with my friend. A glimpse of sunlight beamed through my personal cloud cover.
“It’s cool. I found a good woman.”
“A good woman is almost as important as a good horse.”
“A good woman with staying power,” Tony reminded.
We chuckled until Sheila returned with two fat caramel rolls slathered in butter.
Tony ogled his for a full second before shoving a thick slice into his face. “I love you, Sheila,” he mumbled around the fork between his teeth.
Sheila harrumphed, winked at me once more, and sashayed off.
My eye stayed with her for a moment. I thought of Dixon, his reputation, and how his unchecked desire for wayward females had torn his family into four tattered individuals. What drove men to chase a skirt into the allegorical badlands, oblivious of consequence? In that fraction of a second, I felt invulnerable to the wiles of women, and condemned my father heartily.
The grating sound of Sheila sliding the coffee pot back onto the burner made me realize I was staring.
“Eat up, Pierce,” Tony said between bites. “These things are best served hot.”
I cut into the sweet roll.
Layers of granulated caramel sauce oozed between the fork tines.
I shoved a thick piece into my mouth. The rich and homey texture triggered a cascade of memories. Me and Dixon, in a 600 Café booth just like this, before the accident, teasing Renée over her fear of worms while we scraped the caramel remnants into ropy lines and tucked them into our mouths. Mother laughing at Dixon’s imitation of a dancing circus bear in the newly finished living room. The warm squish of sand between my toes chasing Quentin and Penelope down Okinawa’s Gushikawa beach. Nansi snuggled against me in front of year-old reruns of the X-Files on the Air Force’s overseas military television network.
I chewed slowly, lingering on Nansi’s intrusion. Peeling back a curl of succulent pastry, revealing the tantalizing center, my own heart pined for her.
Tony scraped his fork against the plate. “Too good to waste.” He grinned like an indulgent cat. “This is our little secret, Connor. Juanita don’t know I stop by for a bonus round of an occasion.” His look commanded obedience. “Nor should she.”
“I hope you’re talking about the sweet roll.” I chomped my last bite down, pouring coffee in behind it.
He chuckled. “Touché, pard. Nope. No straying for me. Juanita’s a good woman.” He glanced over at our waitress Sheila. “And a hell of a shot.”
The coffee nearly came through my nose. I choked it back. Remnants of my earlier upchuck burned afresh. I leaned over the plate to keep the drippings from spilling into my shirt. Wiping my face with a napkin, I shook my head at the best friend I’d ever known.
We were back in high school, Tony’s broad smile and startled eyes disarming me. He elaborated with characteristic regard. “Sheila’s got enough trouble, anyways. Battling heart and mind over a house on the hill with a sophisticated gentleman lawyer, or a cottage in the flood zone with her unruly, high school sweetheart.”
“Sounds like an easy decision.”
“Lawyer doesn’t want kids. Sheila does.”
I tipped my head back in recognition. The move set off another recollection. A fateful bus ride that I believed had ruined our friendship.
“Dark days,” I heard Tony say. “A cloud is drizzling cold rain down your neck.”
I shook my head. “Not that. The night we drove to Billings to join the Marines.”
“Gonna see the world through a gun sight.”
I smiled. “You laughing at some prank you’d pulled around that campfire near Red Lodge.” My smile faded.
“It’s old news, cowboy.”
“I couldn’t leave Jasia.”
“Yesterday’s paper.”
“Irony is, six months later, I joined the Air Force. Left her, my Montana roots, all of it, without a backward glance.” Shame bent my neck lower. “I was a straight up boot heel.”
“Time to let it go, Partner.” His voice sounded as comforting as the melted butter on that recently devoured sweet roll.
I shrugged at the guilt and raised my eyes to look at my friend, this odd version of Johnny Law. “You’re right. I came to find out what happened to my father— how he died and am I just like him.”
Tony raised his eyebrows, surprised.
“I’m fine. Just thinking—”
“Hi, Tony!” Jasia voiced just over my shoulder.
An electric snake glided down my spine.
My old girlfriend squeezed her tiny, endlessly delightful frame in beside me. She wore a red leather coat lined with rabbit fur. “Our partner finally returned.” Her broad grin enhanced that wide, inviting mouth.
Tony pressed his lips together.
Tucking the edges of the coat behind her, she shoved her thigh into mine.
Arousal rushed to my chest. I pushed closer to the wall, feeling the Bible tucked in there like a concealed judge. “What goes around, comes back around.” It came out too loudly. I tried a laugh that came out sounding like a snort.
Jasia leaned sideways to assess me. “That’s not really funny, Connor.”
Tony laughed at that. Jasia snickered.
Looking past Jasia’s grin, I noticed Sheila fussing with something on the back counter. I decided against hollering into Jasia’s ear. If she wanted something she knew how to get it.
Jasia thrust her hip harder against me. “Don’t like me anymore, Cowboy?”
I could almost feel the steam rising from her leg. Her eyes held the same unpredictable glint I remembered from high school. That shine had awakened me from dreams after I first discovered Nansi’s gambling debt. Searching the inviting glow of Jasia’s gaze with thoughts of my wife’s failure dancing nearby threatened to open me up for trouble.
“You ever get to see your dad?” I asked.
Her irises transformed to cold rust. “I’ll find him.” She brightened, all in a blink. “I’ve almost got enough money together to take my business back to Raleigh.”
“He’s in Raleigh?”
“Yeah.”
“You talk to him?”
She turned and gave Tony a befuddled stare. “What’s with this guy?” Vocal strain was on the way to cracking her fruity tone.
Tony shrugged, keeping his head low.
I said, “Maybe your mother lied about him staying there.”
Jasia’s head snapped around, her eyes the color of molten brass. “She wouldn’t!” Eyelids red and swollen, tears pooled at the rims. Then she blinked and flicked her hair back.
“Don’t be offended,” I said. “My mother would lie about something like that.”
“I’m not offended.” Her voice turned flat. “I thought I could spend some nostalgic moments with my old pals is all.”
Tony cleared his throat. “We were actually just finishing our review of Dixon’s apartment.” And then he added, “I mean, I really need to get back to work. Before I get another call.” He tapped his walky. “Crime don’t stop for nostalgia, you know.”
“Oh?” Jasia said. “You’re going over there?”
I looked down the long hallway into the back room. A family jostled one another just inside the rear dining area. “Been. Tony needs to release it back to the owner.”
“I’m sorry,” Jasia said, lightly resting her fingertips on my forearm.
“I needed to see…, I don’t know, make it sink—”
“I shouldn’t have jumped in without asking. Forget it.” She lifted her hand. “It’s not my business.”
Her eyes, cooling back toward seduction, prevented guessing her sincerity. Those pupils had a way of sucking a man in, like she could see exactly what he needed. And, in my case at least, was willing
to provide it.
I turned away. “Forgotten.”
Jasia stood.
Her absence caused a sudden chill on my thigh. I inhaled sharply. “The catering thing?” I asked, trying to make my gasp a part of the question.
“Of course.” She grinned. “You want me to bring you something?”
My stomach sunk to the bottoms of my feet. Almost twelve years since I’d left her. Left her to pursue her ambitious life while I escaped. I’d been a coward. “No. I’m fine.”
“You should stop by and meet my daughter sometime before you go,” Jasia said.
My perspective swept backward, expanding my viewpoint so I was looking down at the three of us , Jasia peering at me, Tony sidelined. My head felt weightless. I watched from a disconnected, overhead camera. “Daughter?” Verbalizing the surprise shifted me back, and centered me in the café booth.
“Lindsay. You’ll love her. She’s the best part of me when I was young.” She winked. “I’m at 2175 Pearl. Stop over before you leave.” Her lips turned up invitingly.
It captured my heart for a second. “That mean girl going to be there?”
“Nicole?” She frowned. “Come on, Connor. I told you. She’s a sweetheart. Had some trouble with her dad, and I’ve been helping her deal with that.”
Guilt rushed into the bridge of my nose. I just kept kicking myself in the teeth today. Once I’d asked Jasia where she learned so much about sex. “Weird family,” was all she’d said. Nothing more.
“I’m sure she won’t bite.” Her wink sent another shot of adrenaline to my lower brain.
“I’ll try to come by.” I climbed out of the booth and faced Tony. “We better get ourselves out of here.”
“Stay steady,” Jasia said as she turned away.
Our high school send-off. We were three teenagers again, set against the big, bad world. My heart beat a little faster. “Steady,” I replied.
Tony slid out and stood beside me. We both watched Jasia saunter to the door. The swish of her red waist-length coat accented every step.
I couldn’t stop the swell of desire I felt for her dark, Mediterranean sexiness. In Okinawa, delicate Asian women surrounded me, while Nansi exuded a strong tenderness. But Jasia teased my secret desire for wild energy.
Murder of the Prodigal Father Page 5
