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Hard Row dk-13

Page 25

by Margaret Maron


  252

  HARD ROW

  like they think we cut it so we could charge ’em for a

  new one.”

  Jimmy snorted. “That’s when we tell them they need

  to go find theirselves a new mechanic.”

  I glanced at all the cars lined up around the yard and

  said, “Looks like you’ve got more work than you can

  handle anyhow.”

  He nodded with satisfaction. “I’m just glad I listened

  to you and bought them two acres next door and let you

  do all that paperwork about the zoning. We’re gonna

  break ground next month, finally build that fancy new

  garage James here’s been planning and we probably

  couldn’t do it if we were starting fresh today. Not with

  all the big money houses going in on this road.”

  I had handled some of their legal matters before I

  ran for judge. Seven years ago, Jimmy hadn’t seen the

  need to have his property legally zoned for business.

  He’d run a messy, sprawling garage out there in what

  used to be the middle of nowhere for twenty-five years

  and he’d expected to run it for twenty-five more. It was

  the typical rural land owner’s mind-set: “It’s my land

  and I can do what I want with it.” But when the plan-

  ning commission started getting serious about zoning,

  I had encouraged Jimmy to get a proper business per-

  mit so that he could expand if he wanted to without the

  limitations often imposed on businesses that have been

  grandfathered in. I’m not saying the planning commis-

  sion takes race into consideration, but a lot of black-

  owned shops like this one have either been denied the

  right to expand or have been zoned out of existence in

  the last three or four years.

  “We’ll put a berm in front, plant it with trees and

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  evergreen bushes so you can’t see in from the road,”

  said James. “There’s a Mexican across the branch with a

  nursery that does landscaping. Diaz. We’re gonna trade

  work. Make it look pretty. Enough folks know we’re

  here that we don’t need to put up but just a little teeny

  sign.”

  “Now don’t y’all get so upscale you can’t take care of

  my car,” I said as Dwight turned into their drive.

  Jimmy laughed. “Girl, anytime you need a new fender,

  I’ll fix you up. ’Course, now that you went and married

  Dwight, I reckon you don’t drive too fast no more.”

  “You think?” said Dwight who’d rolled down his win-

  dow in time to hear Jimmy’s last remark. “I’m gonna

  have to write her up myself to slow her down.”

  James opened the passenger door for me and as I

  stepped up to get in, his comment about the nursery

  finally registered. “Diaz,” I said. “Miguel Diaz?”

  “Mike Diaz, yes,” James said. “You know him?”

  “We’ve met. I just didn’t realize his nursery was

  nearby.”

  “Just across the branch. They’ve made ’em a right

  nice place over there.”

  Jimmy promised that my car would be ready by mid-

  afternoon and as we headed for Dobbs, I said, “Mike

  Diaz, Dwight.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “Mayleen Richards’s new boyfriend, according to

  Faye Myers.”

  “Yeah? How do you know him?”

  “He came to court last week to speak for that guy

  that took a tractor and plowed up a stretch of yards,

  remember? Back in January?”

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  Dwight shook his head. With all the violent crimes he

  had to deal with, he misses a lot of the lesser ones that

  make it to my courtroom.

  “I thought I told you about him. Palmez or Palmirez

  or something like that. One of my freaky Friday cases.”

  “You told me about the guy who tried to steal one of

  the old lampposts off the town commons and how Dr.

  Allred ticketed a man who parked at a handicap spot

  without a tag and then let a three-legged dog run free.

  I don’t remember a tractor.”

  I briefly recapped. “Diaz took him on at the nursery

  after he got fired from wherever he stole the tractor and

  he promised to see that the damages were repaired. I

  forget if I gave the guy a fine or a suspended sentence.

  I’d have to look it up. Anyhow, when Faye was telling

  me about Mayleen’s new boyfriend, she said I’d met

  him and that this Mike Diaz was the one.”

  “Diaz,” Dwight said reflectively. “Why’s that name

  seem familiar?”

  “Faye said Mayleen met him when she was working a

  case back in January.”

  “That’s right. I remember seeing his name on one of

  the reports she filed. He had some sort of connection

  to J.D. Rouse’s wife.” Rouse was a rounder whose free-

  wheeling arrogance had gotten him shot. “So Richards

  is hooked up with him?”

  “According to Faye she is. Remember?” I said smugly.

  “I told you she was looking different.”

  “Is this where I have to listen to you brag about femi-

  nine intuition?” he groaned.

  I laughed.

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  “So what does your day look like?” he asked. “You

  gonna be able to cut out before five?”

  “Unless something unexpected comes up, this could

  be a light day. Four of the cases I was supposed to hear

  today settled yesterday afternoon and I have good vibes

  about another one, so I may be ready to roll by four.

  You going to leave on time?”

  “I sure hope so. Robert had some seed potatoes left

  over. It’s getting a little late to plant them but—”

  “Potatoes? And cabbages yesterday? I thought you

  were just going to tend a few tomato plants.”

  “Yeah, but I forgot how little kids love to scratch

  around and find potatoes.”

  I patted his arm. “Big kids, too, right?”

  He gave a sheepish nod.

  Faye Myers was coming on duty when we entered the

  basement lobby, so I said I’d catch up with him later

  and stopped to chat. There had been a bad wreck last

  night, she told me. Two highschool girls killed outright

  and another in serious condition at Dobbs Memorial

  Hospital. Alcohol and no seatbelts were thought to be

  factors.

  They were from the eastern part of the county and

  unknown to me, but I could still imagine the grief their

  families were feeling today. That sort of news always

  gives me a catch in my throat until I hear the names and

  can breathe again, knowing it’s not any of my nieces or

  nephews. Thank God, it’ll be another eight years be-

  fore we have to worry about Cal behind the wheel of a

  car. Dwight’s already told me that Cal’s first car’s going

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  to be a big heavy clunker, an old Grand Marquis or a

  Crown Victoria. He keeps saying that he wants a lot

  of steel between his son and another car until he’s had

  four or fiv
e years of experience. “No way am I handing

  a sixteen-year-old the keys to a candy-red sports car,”

  he says.

  We’ll see. I remember the T-Bird I’d wheedled out of

  Mother and Daddy. The exhilaration of empowerment.

  Free to hang with my friends, to cruise the streets of

  Cotton Grove on the weekends, or sneak off to the lake

  with Portland. I guess my brothers had given them so

  much grief when they first got wheels that they didn’t

  realize girls would take just as many chances. As long as

  we met their curfews, we were considered responsible

  drivers.

  Faye leaned closer and I was suddenly awash with a

  feeling of déjà vu as she lowered her voice and said,

  “I might not ought to be telling this, but Flip said he

  almost got high himself from the smell of beer in that

  car when he pulled them out. He says all three could’ve

  blown a ten or twelve.”

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  C H A P T E R

  29

  With ideas of false economy, some farmers employ only about

  one-half the hired help that is necessary to perform the work

  in the proper time and manner and by working this force to

  the utmost, early and late, they endeavor to accomplish all

  the work for the season at a much less expense than would

  ordinarily be involved in accomplishing it.

  —Profitable Farming in the Southern States, 1890

  Dwight Bryant

  Wednesday Morning, March 8

  % Wearing one of his trademark bow ties—today’s

  had little American flags on a blue background—

  and a starched blue shirt, Pete Taylor appeared in

  Dwight’s doorway promptly at nine and held it open

  for his client and a younger woman. “Major Bryant?

  Detective Richards? This is Mrs. Harris and her daugh-

  ter, Mrs. Hochmann.”

  Dwight and Mayleen Richards immediately stood to

  welcome them.

  Mrs. Harris was what kind-hearted people tactfully

  call a “right good-sized woman.” She was easily five-

  ten, solidly built, with a broad and weathered face and a

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  handshake as strong as most men’s. She wore a maroon

  tailored suit that looked expensive but did little to flat-

  ter or hide the extra pounds on her frame. Her wavy

  hair was cut short and was jet black, except where the

  roots were showing a lot of salt and not much pepper.

  Her large hazel eyes were her best feature.

  Shrewd eyes, too, thought Dwight as he watched her

  glance around his office, taking in his awards and com-

  mendations, appraising his deputy. Eyes that didn’t miss

  a trick.

  Her daughter appeared to be in her late twenties. She

  was equally tall and big-boned, but so thin as to almost

  appear gaunt. Unlike her mother, her eyes were an in-

  determinate color, set deep in their sockets, and her

  cheekbones stood out in relief. Her dark hair was pulled

  straight back from her face in a single braid that fell half-

  way down her back. No jewelry except for a loose gold

  band on her left hand. Her black pantsuit looked like

  something that had been bought at a thrift store. Not

  exactly the picture of a New York heiress now worth at

  least three million, he thought. More like a nun who

  had taken a vow of poverty. He remembered what Mrs.

  Samuelson had said about her concern for the less

  fortunate since her husband’s death.

  “Thank you for coming,” Dwight said after they were

  all seated and had declined coffee or tea. He offered

  condolences to both women and set a mini-recorder on

  the desk.

  “This is strictly informal,” he told them, “and any

  time you want me to turn it off, just ask.”

  “Now,” said Mrs. Harris.

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  MARGARET MARON

  The daughter started to say something, then shrugged

  and leaned back in her chair.

  “As you wish,” Dwight said. He switched it off and

  pulled out a legal pad instead. After noting the day’s

  date, he addressed the younger woman.

  “I don’t want to upset you, Mrs. Hochmann, but do

  you know what was done to your father?”

  “That he was dismembered and his parts dumped

  from one end of Ward Dairy Road to the other?” Her

  eyes filled, but her voice was steady. “Yes. Mr. Taylor

  says that everything’s been found now?”

  “All except one arm, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ve been in touch with the medical examiner’s of-

  fice,” said Pete Taylor. “They’ll release his body for

  burial this afternoon.”

  “But they won’t tell us when he died,” Mrs. Harris

  said. Frustration smoldered in her tone. “All they’ll say

  is sometime between the afternoon of Sunday the nine-

  teenth and Wednesday the twenty-second. That’s not

  good enough, Major Bryant.”

  “What Mrs. Harris means,” Pete Taylor interposed,

  “is that we don’t know whether or not he died before

  their divorce was final.”

  “I know,” Dwight said. “And I’m sorry you’ve been

  left hanging, ma’am. Despite all those forensic programs

  on television, unless we can find a witness or the killer

  confesses, there’s no way to say with pinpoint accuracy

  when it happened. I understand you were out on the

  farm that Monday morning? The twentieth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see him that day?”

  “No.”

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  “When did you last see or speak to him?”

  “I have no idea. If we needed to communicate, it was

  either through our attorneys or by email. I don’t think

  we spoke directly to each other in almost a year.”

  “Yet you went out to the farm where he was stay-

  ing?”

  “Until everything is divided, that farm is as much

  mine as his and it’s my right to see that our workers are

  properly housed and treated.”

  “Does that mean Mr. Harris mistreated them?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  She glared at him and clamped her lips tight.

  “Who hated him enough to kill him like that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Any mistreatment of the workers?”

  “Not that I heard anything about and I believe I

  would have. The crew chief, Juan Santos, knows their

  rights. Besides, we only keep a skeleton crew during the

  winter and they’re free to hire out as day laborers when

  things are slow.”

  “I understand that Harris Farms was cited for an

  OSHA violation six years ago?”

  Her hazel eyes narrowed.

  “I believe you were fined a couple of thousand dol-

  lars?”

  She gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “Who was responsible for the violation? You or Mr.

  Harris?”

  There was no answer and she met his steady gaze

  without blinking.

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  MARGARET MARON

  Pete Taylor stirred un
easily, but it was the daughter

  who caved.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, Mother! Tell him.” She turned

  to Dwight. “I loved my dad, Major Bryant, even though

  I hated the way he ran the farms. But OSHA and EPA

  and yes, law people like you not only let him get away

  with it, it’s as if you almost encouraged him to break

  the laws.”

  “Susan!” her mother said sharply.

  “No, Mother. I’m through biting my tongue. From

  now on I’m going to speak the truth. You think I don’t

  know the real cost of growing a bushel of tomatoes?

  That I don’t know how Harris Farms shows such a good

  profit year after year?”

  “Harris Farms sent you to school, miss! Gave you an

  education that lets you look down on your own par-

  ents.”

  “Not you, Mother.” She touched her mother’s hand.

  “Never you. I know you did your best.”

  She turned back to Dwight. “Growers like my dad

  cut against the market every way they can. They ignore

  the warning labels on chemicals, they ignore phony

  social security numbers, they turn a blind eye to how

  labor contractors take advantage of their people, and

  they don’t give a damn about a migrant’s living con-

  ditions or whether or not the children are in school.

  My mother does. When Harris Farms finally got cited,

  Mother got involved. She checks the paperwork and

  makes sure everyone’s documented, she doesn’t let lit-

  tle kids work in the fields, and she made Dad get rid

  of those squalid trailers he had down there in the back

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  HARD ROW

  fields of the Buckley place. No decent plumbing and no

  place to wash off the pesticides. My mother—”

  “Your mother’s a bleeding-heart saint,” Mrs. Harris

  said sarcastically.

  “Well, you are, compared to Dad.”

  “Only because it’s cheaper in the long run to do the

  right thing,” her mother said gruffly. “It’s all dollars

  and cents. I don’t want us shut down or slapped with a

  big fine.”

  “Slapped is the right word,” Susan Hochmann told

  Dwight. “There aren’t enough inspectors to check out

  all the camps and farms and follow a case through the

  courts, so a slap on the wrist was all they got. A puny

  two-thousand-dollar fine. Nothing to really hurt.”

  “You don’t know that’s where it would stop next

  time,” said Mrs. Harris, “and I don’t want to find out. I

  don’t want to wake up and see Harris Farms all over the

  newspapers and television like Ag-Mart. I don’t want

 

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