Dead Peasants (6 page)

16

Jacob Yates had risen to sales manager of a Buick dealership in Oklahoma City. Yates took an early retirement some twenty years ago when his wife developed ovarian cancer. As did most women with ovarian cancer at that time, she fought and lost. Jacob had few ties left to Oklahoma City; so he moved to Muskogee to be near his daughter, her husband and grandkids. He was a great babysitter, sang baritone in the church choir and volunteered at the community hospital. He lived in an older brick house on a tree-lined street where he managed to win “Yard of the Month” at least every year or two. He was so comfortable with the quiet life of Muskogee that he rarely locked his doors at night.

Hawk checked into a Ramada Inn. He spent a week following Yates to learn his routine. He parked down the street from Yates’s house early in the morning and watched him tend his flowers before it got too hot. He followed Yates to the hospital three afternoons and parked in the front while Yates manned the volunteer desk just inside the entrance. He attended the First Baptist Church on Sunday. Even sitting on the back row he could see the joy in Yates’s face as he sang
What a Friend We Have in Jesus
. He watched as Yates took his grandkids to the park and felt a pang of regret that they soon would no longer have their grandfather.

Jacob had returned from babysitting, warmed up some pot roast for a sandwich and popped open a Coke while he watched the ten o’clock news. He had no way of knowing that Hawk was watching from behind his garage.

Hawk waited thirty minutes after the last light was out and approached the back door. As expected, he found it unlocked. He blew the pilot out on the gas stove and turned the four burners to high. Next he walked around the stove to a closet that housed the gas water heater. After confirming that the pilot light was on, he left the closet door open and crept out the way he came, silently closing the door behind him. Hawk circled the garage and walked three blocks up the street to his pickup. He lighted a cigarette, lowered a window and waited. Before he finished his cigarette, he saw and heard the explosion as the house erupted in flames. Satisfied that no one could live through that inferno, he started his pickup and slowly drove away. As he did so he said a silent prayer for Yates’s family.

17

Colby greeted Ruth at the reception desk and hurried back to the room. She had an appointment to show a house in an hour but had not stopped by the nursing home in a week. When she entered the room, she found the same sterile, antiseptic environment. The smell told her that someone had scrubbed down the room that morning, something that was very important to prevent infections from attacking Rob’s weakened immune system. As usual, she kissed Rob on the cheek and received no response.

“Hi Rob. It’s me. You doing okay?” She didn’t expect a response but continued to try to treat him as a human being. “You know that big house I sold in Rivercrest, I got hired by the new owner to decorate it. He’s a nice guy. Maybe one of these days you can meet him. I’m occasionally seeing him for coffee or lunch or something like that. Nothing serious you understand, but I don’t have a lot of friends these days. I can’t stay long. Let me check you over before I go. It’s been a couple of weeks, and I want to make sure they are doing their job.”

Colby pulled back the cover and evaluated his body. Next, she unfastened his diaper. “Okay, I’m going to turn you over on your side just to check your buttocks. The last thing we want is another ulcer forming on your butt.”

Colby gently turned Rob to his right. When she looked at his buttock, she gasped in horror. A decubitus ulcer was forming, at least a stage two. She mentally kicked herself since she hadn’t checked in a couple of weeks.
Dammit
, she thought,
I got too comfortable with this facility.
She stormed out of the room to the nurses’ station.

“Dammit all, Irene,” she yelled. “Rob’s got an ulcer forming on his butt. You guys haven’t been doing your job.”

Irene was taken aback, but quickly recovered. “Ms. Stripling, you know that we turn him every two hours. Sometimes these things can’t be avoided. Please try to calm down.”

“I’m not about to calm down. Let me see his chart.”

Irene reluctantly turned to retrieve Rob’s chart and handed it to an irate Colby.

Colby flipped through the pages until she found the page she was looking for. The staff was required to turn Rob every two hours and document that it had been done. If they didn’t do their job, ulcers could form that mushroomed into ugly open sores that were breeding grounds for multiple infections, including MRSA, one that was immune to nearly every known antibiotic.

“Shit,” Colby said. “He’s only been turned three times in the past forty-eight hours.”

“Ms. Stripling, please calm down,” Irene said. “I’m sure that he was turned and someone just forgot to chart it. We’ve got a lot of patients and care is more important than charting.” Irene failed to add that all too often charting was done at the end of a shift even when patient care had been ignored.

Colby pitched the chart on the desk. “You know that’s bullshit! You’ve been here since seven and you’ve done so little for Rob that I had to be the one to find the ulcer. And, I bet you pulled a twelve hour shift yesterday and never spotted it then. I’ve been dealing with Rob’s care for ten years. This is the fourth nursing home I’ve moved him to. I thought you guys were the best. If this is all I can expect, he’s better off dead. Now, you get his doctor over here this afternoon. I want cultures done and I want Dr. Winston to figure out what kinds of antibiotics we need to fight this. Mark my words, if this happens again, I know a damn good lawyer.”

Colby stormed from the nurse’s station, not even going back to Rob’s room.

Irene watched her go.
This woman is going to be trouble
, she thought.
Damned if I’ll get fired because of some pissed off relative.

When Colby got to her car, she remembered that she had not told Rob goodbye. She started to go back in and then thought better. Telling him goodbye was for her benefit, not his. She started her car and drove slowly away, trying to get her temper under control before her appointment.

18

Jack joined Rivercrest and found golf with old men boring, even though he always won a couple of hundred bucks. Poker in the men’s grill was the same. He got no kick out of taking five hundred or a thousand dollars from the same old men. His life as a trial lawyer had been a high stakes poker game. Winning in the men’s grill didn’t compare with winning in front of a jury. And the first home game was still two weeks away.

He called on Colby to fill the void. Having established that their relationship was nothing more than platonic, Colby accepted his invitation to be his tour guide of the new Fort Worth.

Colby called him early one morning. “Jack, you awake? Here’s what I propose. You and I are going to the museums today. When I’m not working, we’re going to start visiting all the tourist attractions in this town, museums, zoo, stockyards, botanical gardens, nature trails. There’s a lot to see. In case you didn’t know it, Fort Worth has some of the most famous art in the world. The Kimbell Museum and Amon Carter Museum are world class. There’s a ton of money among the rich in Fort Worth and they constantly try to one-up each other as civic benefactors.”

One of the great things about Fort Worth was that nearly everything was within fifteen minutes. He walked out to the garage and started the Bentley, Colby’s choice. He drove the five minutes to Colby’s house, and ten minutes later they were parked across the street from the Kimbell. Jack was not about to tell Colby that he’d rather take a swim in the Arctic Ocean than pretend to be interested in the works of the old masters. On this day he got lucky. The museum had a traveling exhibition of Mayan art, something that Jack found fascinating. He explained to Colby that he had visited Mayan ruins several times over the years. If he had another life to live, it would be as Indiana Jones.

After lunch at a small café in the museum district, they drove a few blocks to the Amon Carter Museum, formerly known as the Amon Carter Museum of Western Art, but changed a couple of years ago when they expanded the museum and chose not to be limited to Western paintings and statuary. Still, the museum was filled with original Remington and Russell paintings and statutes of cowboys, Indians, western landscapes and buffalo herds. Colby noticed the smile on Jack’s face as they walked slowly through the halls, stopping to admire nearly every work of art. When they got to the museum store, Jack filled a large bag with books about the displays.

Over the next two weeks Colby took Jack to every place of interest in the Fort Worth area and to even a couple in Dallas. Still, even after her working hard to play local docent, Jack was bored. Fortunately, the first home game was in three days.

19

Boss stopped at the entrance to the Fort Worth Zoo at eight o’clock in the morning. He wondered why Hawk couldn’t have found a more convenient place at a more convenient hour. The attendant was just opening up when he paid his admission and entered. He stopped and studied a sign before turning to his right in the direction of the tiger exhibit. As he approached the tigers, he saw a lone man on a bench, feeding peanuts to pigeons. It was Hawk.

Hawk didn’t look up as Boss took a seat on the bench beside him. “You ever spent much time here at the zoo, Boss? It’s one of my favorite places. I don’t like seeing animals behind fences, but if that’s how it’s gonna be, this is one of the best. They take really good care of their animals. Look at those tigers. See that male, walking up and down along the back fence. Magnificent specimen. He’s waiting for his keeper and breakfast. If I didn’t like the kids in the stockyards so well, I might get a day job out here. And, by the way, thanks for that last wire transfer.”

Boss interrupted. “Look, I’m pleased that you like our zoo. I’ve even contributed to it myself. Only, that’s not why we’re here. I’ve got another job for you.”

Boss looked around to make sure that no one was in sight as he reached into his pocket and handed Hawk a folded piece of paper. The target this time was in Brownwood, a hundred miles or so southwest of Fort Worth.

“I know the area. Used to go to church camp on Lake Brownwood when I was a kid. What’s my bonus on this one?”

“Sixty thousand.”

Hawk stood to face Boss. “Let me understand something here. My fee varies from victim to victim. What’s the deal?”

Boss stood to face Hawk, not wanting to give up the position of control and dominance. He had a good four inches on Hawk and wanted to take advantage of it. “Let’s just say I have a financial interest in each of our projects. I made the very generous decision to reward you with ten percent of what I recover. In hindsight, I probably should have made it a flat fee, but I figure I’ll keep your attention with that ten percent.”

“I get it,” Hawk said. “There’s some life insurance involved somehow, right?”

“I’ve said enough. I want this one done in ten days. Once you’ve accomplished your mission, it’s still about four to six weeks before I get the money.” Boss lowered his voice. “I may appear to be successful, but the swamp is rising and I’ve got alligators snapping at my ass.”

“Understood. Okay, you just get up and mosey on out of here. I’m going to wander around among the animals for a while. Mornings the best time to see them frisky and acting up.”

Boss nodded and walked back toward the gate. Hawk resumed feeding the pigeons until he saw the tiger handler starting to toss meat over the back fence. He laughed as one tiger ripped into the beef, tearing off large chunks and then having to fight off the other tigers as he devoured his breakfast.
Damn tough world
, he thought, whether you’re behind bars or not.
The fittest survive to eat another day.

20

Jack had the Bentley washed and polished the day before the game and arrived at Colby’s door at five o’clock for the seven o’clock kickoff. The time was dictated by the start of the season in late August when temperatures were still regularly hitting a hundred and five. Jack walked up the sidewalk to Colby’s door, rang the bell and stepped inside to get out of the heat. He was wearing black slacks with a purple jacket over a white shirt. He waited in the entryway and hollered; “I’m here.”

“I know.” Colby’s voice came from the back. “I’ll be right out.”

Colby stepped into the foyer, wearing her own purple and white, purple slacks and a white short sleeve shirt.

“Perfect,” Jack said as he kissed her on the cheek, noting that she did not push away. Jack opened the door and gestured for Colby to go first. Colby saw the Bentley and asked, “Why the Bentley. Is Lucille sick?”

Jack hesitated. “Well, I’ve heard that a lot of these TCU alums have money. We’re parking in the reserved lot. I didn’t want anyone to think that J.D. came from the wrong side of the tracks.”

Colby paused when she heard Jack’s comment and turned to face him. “Jack, you’ve got a chip on your shoulder, and you need to get rid of it. You resent the fact that you were born poor and some of your classmates were rich. So what? Now you’ve made it. We’ve got a lot of poor folks in this town. Are you going to treat them as second class citizens?”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “No. Of course, not. But I hear what you’re saying.” Jack paused. “And you’re right.”

They parked in the place reserved for
Jackson Bryant
and made their way to the Frog Club, now big, modern and newly remodeled with giant windows looking down from the south end zone. Expecting to go up and down steps, Jack carried his cane, this one with an antler for a handle. They found a place to have coffee as the club filled with alums as excited as if it were Christmas day and they were six years old. A few of the alums greeted Colby and commented that it had been years since they saw her at a game. One of them stopped to visit.

“How’s Rob faring these days?”

Colby glanced at Jack to see if he had heard the question. He had.

“Rob’s fine. Thanks for asking. Now if you’ll excuse us, I see one of my former clients on the other side of the room.” She took Jack’s arm and led him through the crowd until they were at the windows overlooking the field.

“Wow, look at that, Jack. We could watch the game from here.”

Jack nodded. “Now, where’s that client?”

Colby looked around the crowd. “Must have lost her. I’ll catch her another time.”

She breathed an inward sigh of relief when the crowd started applauding. Albertson Reed was making his entrance. He was the oldest living letterman, having played on Sammy Baugh’s team back in the thirties. When Jack saw someone talking to Reed and nodding in his directions, Reed made his way over. Jack shook his hand. “Jackson Bryant.”

Reed was stooped in the shoulders but still had a firm handshake and piercing blue eyes. “You’re J.D.’s dad?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve watched some of the practices. Mark my words. It may take a while, but he has a chance to be something special.”

Jack beamed as he thanked the old man and then noted that people were starting to leave the club. He and Colby followed, making their way to padded seats on the forty yard line, twenty rows up. The TCU players drifted onto the field, wearing purple jerseys and white pants. Jack spotted J.D. wearing number 81. The Baylor Bears came from the other end.

After warm-ups, the teams retired to their locker rooms, and the TCU chancellor introduced various dignitaries, thanking them all, the fans and the city of Fort Worth for making the new stadium possible. Then the players returned to the field as the TCU band played the Star Spangled Banner and four fighters from the Air National Guard flew over in formation. After a prayer and school songs, it was time for kickoff.

The score at halftime was Horned Frogs, 24; Bears 17, a little closer than the Frog fans wanted. The second half was better with the final score Horned Frogs, 57; Bears, 38. J.D. rode the end of the bench even when the game was in the bag.

Jack and Colby followed the crowd to the parking lot. As they approached the Bentley, he put his arm on her shoulders. Pleased that she didn’t pull away, he asked, “The night’s still young. You want to recommend a place for a nightcap.”

Colby stopped and turned to look at Jack. “You understand we’re not dating, right?”

Jack nodded.

“Then my favorite place for a drink is the Library Bar on Houston Street downtown. They’ve got a piano bar and the best martinis in town.”

Downtown was full of revelers, most of them celebrating the Horned Frog victory. Jack had to pass by the Library Bar to find a parking place two blocks away.

Just like the streets, the bar was packed. Jack slipped the girl at the front a twenty to get the last two person table in the place. The piano player/singer played a medley of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. hits. Jack thought for a minute that he was swept back to Las Vegas thirty years ago as he ordered two double Tito’s martinis on the rocks with olives, just a little dirty. Colby smiled her agreement.

They listened to the singer until the waitress brought their drinks. Jack lifted his for a toast. “Here’s to what I learned tonight.”

A puzzled look crossed Colby’s face. “I don’t understand.”

“I learned your boyfriend is named Rob.”

Colby took a large sip of her martini before speaking. “Yeah, I was worried that might happen.”

Jack sat his drink down and leaned over the table. “I don’t understand. I’m okay with you having a boyfriend. You’ve established the boundaries and I’ve accepted them. Only, why aren’t you ever out with Rob? Believe me, I’d rather have you out with me, but I’m confused.”

Colby took the olive spear from her drink and plucked one off, chewing it slowly before she spoke. “He’s a driller. Works in Alaska up on the North Slope. He’s usually there two months and back here for two weeks, sometimes less.”

“And you’re okay with that kind of long distance relationship?”

Colby refused to meet Jack’s eyes. “Yeah, for now anyway. They’re opening up more rigs out in the Gulf. He hopes to land one of those this next year. We see each other on Skype two or three nights a week. That’ll have to do for now.”

Jack finished his drink and ordered a second. He knew that he was not getting the real story from Colby, but decided not to push it. It would come out sooner or later.