Death at the Black Bull (22 page)

“I was told a ruptured appendix.”

“If you have money, there are ways. My biggest problem was Micah. He was the only one who knew the truth here in Hayward, and it took all my powers of manipulation to get him to keep the secret. He was so overwhelmed with his wife and son and trying to salvage this place, that he was vulnerable, and I took advantage of that.”

“So why now? After all these years?”

“I'm still who I am, Virgil. When I leave this earth, I still want the name Hayward to mean something in this place. And I want you to protect it. You see, I'm still capable of manipulation, and now you're invested here because of your daughter. These killings are coming a little too close to home. I want you to know that if this family is destroyed by whatever is going on, your daughter is likely to be one of its casualties. I'm hoping you won't let that happen. Micah got the short end of the stick from his father and me, but I know now that if it hadn't been for him we wouldn't have survived. I'm trying in my own feeble way to acknowledge that fact, and to help him while I can to hold on to what he has built and accomplished.”

Virgil felt like a wrangler who had just survived a stampede. Now he was trying to come to grips with reality while clouds of dust obscured the world he thought he knew.

“Here.” Audrey stood in front of him with a glass in her hand. “You might not have wanted a drink before, but you need one now.”

He took the glass.

“Drink up.”

He raised it to his lips, in almost pure reflex to her command. When he drained the glass, he saw her through its bottom. She was still standing in front of him, strangely distorted by the thickness of the glass.

She filled his glass again. This time he took a sip without prompting. The burn in his throat felt good.

“You know, I thought I'd go to my grave with this secret,” she said. “But I'm glad I didn't. I suppose you hate me right now. I understand that, but if it's any comfort to you, know I hate myself even more.”

The liquid continued to burn in his throat, displacing the numbness. He felt the velvet texture of the chair he was sitting in, saw the woman who had returned to her seat, and at last found his voice.

“Does she know?” To his ears the words sounded like they had come from someone else.

“She doesn't even know you exist. I'm sorry.”

The feebleness of her words came in a voice almost unrecognizable. Thin and reedy, they didn't go with the Audrey Hayward he knew. He looked at her. The knuckles of her hands gripped the arms of the chair so tightly the veins showed blue against her skin. The hair on top of her head was snow white, her face heavily lined, the remnants of youth and past beauty just about gone. Her breathing seemed labored and Virgil realized that their meeting had taken its toll. An unexpected sadness for her overtook him. He rose from his seat and stood looking down on her. She didn't attempt to stand.

“What are you going to do?” Her voice barely a whisper.

“Honestly, I really have no idea, but like you, I will do what I have to do. There has to be an accounting. I'm not going to walk away from that. Now that you've told me about a daughter I never knew I had, well . . . You brought her out like a poker chip when it suited your purpose. Now, I'll have to play the hand you dealt me. When it's all over, I guess the chips will fall where they may.”

*   *   *

Micah Hayward watched from an upstairs window as Virgil Dalton left the house. He saw him running, head down, to his car through the driving rain, then watched while he drove the long driveway until he reached the county road. He wondered why he had come to the house on such a day. Then he saw the path of light coming from the door of the picker's dining hall and knew someone else had been watching Virgil leave. In that instant, he knew there was going to be a change in his life.

When he walked into the living room twenty minutes later, his mother was still sitting in her chair, her eyes wide open, staring at a fire she could not see. He saw one hand hanging to the side of the chair and noticed the slight sag to one side of her mouth. Before he crossed the room to her chair, he knew that whatever else he did from here on it would be as the head of Hayward Ranch and that Audrey Hayward would no longer be there to censure or endorse his decisions.

J
immy was making his final loop of the night when he passed by Virgil's ranch. From the county road, even in the darkness, he could see the light on in the ranch house. He turned off the road without hesitation, even though when he glanced at the digital on the dash it read two thirty. He could see Virgil sitting at the kitchen table as he stepped onto the porch. Virgil seemed to be fixed as he sat staring into space. Jimmy saw the empty glass on the table in front of him. He knew Virgil wasn't much of a drinker, so that surprised him. A cold beer at the end of the day, a glass of wine with dinner, especially during the winter, but that was about it. Hard liquor in the middle of the night, that was something else.

Virgil hardly reacted when Jimmy knocked. Then when he knocked a second time, he barely averted his eyes, then raised his hand and waved Jimmy into the house.

“Having trouble sleeping?” Jimmy knew the answer when he asked the question because Virgil was still in his uniform. His hat was on the table in front of him alongside the phone, an empty bottle, and a glass with maybe a swallow left in the bottom. His gun belt and gun hung on the back of the chair next to him.

“Audrey Hayward is dead.”

Jimmy said nothing because he wasn't quite sure how to react. From the talk around town, he knew that there was some history between Audrey and Virgil and Virgil's father, but Virgil himself had never mentioned any of it.

“Sit down, Jimmy.” He said it in a voice that Jimmy had not heard before.

“Is there something wrong, Virgil?” Jimmy rarely called him by his first name.

“Wrong? Yeah, I guess. Or maybe right. Maybe right for the first time in a long time.”

“Something you want to talk about?”

Virgil turned and looked full on at Jimmy. Then seeing the concern in Jimmy's face, he smiled.

“No. I'm good, Jimmy, but thanks for the offer. Have to sort everything out in my own head before I can talk about it with anyone else. But when that time comes, you'll be at the top of my list. Guess I just need some sleep now.”

The moment passed and Jimmy saw that the man he always knew was back. Virgil got up from his chair a little unsteadily and grabbed Jimmy's shoulder. He looked at what remained in his glass, but left it there.

“That's enough damage for one night,” he said. “See you later, Jimmy.”

Virgil headed toward the stairs. Jimmy watched until he saw him switch on the light. Then he left the house.

A few minutes later, as Jimmy was pulling out onto the hard surface, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the ranch house go dark.

*   *   *

“Well, you look well rested,” Rosita said as Virgil came into the office. “I guess you didn't visit your new girlfriend last night.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks.

“C'mon now,” Rosita said, “did you think that you were gonna keep that a secret?”

“Damn small towns,” he said with a wince.

“Heard about Audrey Hayward, too.”

“Did you happen to hear who's doing these killings while you were at it?”

“No. That's on you. You gotta justify all that money this town's paying you somehow.”

“Yeah, pretty soon I'm going to have to open one of those Swiss bank accounts. By the way, is there anything going on related to what this office should be concerned about?”

“Not much. Hiram Potts is in one of those cells back there, sleeping it off. Guess he heard there was a vacancy for town drunk since Harry died and he's applying for the job. Third time in the last month.”

“Anything else?”

“No, it's been quiet. Everybody staying home, enjoying the rain.”

“Yeah, thank God,” Virgil said as he glanced at the steady rivulets running off the roof and down the window.

“You making any headway on this thing?”

“I think I am. Couple of things I've got to check on. I'll be out of here for a while, but I'll stop back before you're gone.” He got up and headed for the door.

“You weren't here long enough to take off your hat. Where are you going?”

“Can't tell you. If I did, I'd have to kill you.”

“Nothing I want to know that bad.”

Virgil hesitated before he walked out. “Anything on the arrangements for Audrey?”

“Would you believe the service is tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yep. It's what she wanted. Everybody thought she'd want to go out with a bang, not a whimper. Hell, I thought she'd want to lie in state for at least a month. Just goes to show you. Think you know somebody then they go and surprise you. All her life she was leading the parade, now at the end . . .”

“People change, I guess.”

“But Audrey Hayward?”

“Yes, even Audrey Hayward.”

*   *   *

The roads were slick, the rain relentless. A couple of times he had the windshield wipers on full. The one plus was that the weather was mean enough to keep people indoors. There was no traffic. Rosita, Dif, even the boys down in Redbud maybe caught a break. He thought of Hiram sleeping it off in one of the cells. The night's sleep had been restorative for him, too. He felt better, had woken up with a sense of direction. What Audrey had told him, he was forced to put on the back burner. He knew that there would be a time to sort it out, but that time could not be now. That's why he was headed for his grandfather's. He needed to talk to Carlos. Maybe he was getting a little paranoid but he didn't want to call him. That's why he didn't even tell Rosie where he was going. He wanted that family safe. That's why he kept looking in his rearview mirror even now. His gut had told him last night, when he had left Hayward Ranch, that there were eyes on him. After three bodies, he was pretty sure that a fourth or more was not out of reach for the people responsible, even if it was a sheriff, a mother, a father, three small children, or even his own grandfather.

He hesitated for just a second when he got to the turnoff, then gunned the engine onto the dirt road, sure no one had seen him. The tires spun a little in the wetness, but he made it to the top of the plateau without incident. He took a deep breath as he got out of the cruiser. Everything looked right. For a second, the clouds broke and he saw a figure on the high tabletop, overlooking everything, sitting in the mist with a rifle in his lap. He would have to remember to thank Billy Three Hats.

Virgil could hear the children before he opened the door. The double-wide that had seemed overly spacious for just his grandfather had become a lot smaller. There were toys on the floor, scattered randomly and temporarily abandoned. He could see his grandfather in his favorite chair with a baby in his lap and the two other children on either side of him. They were all looking at a book. The children were jumping up and down pointing at the pages as he turned them. Virgil looked to his left and could see most of the kitchen. Carlos was seated at the table with a cup of coffee, reading a paper. He could hear the voices of two women. One of them came into view, carrying a steaming tray of food which she set on the table in front of Carlos. When she turned, their eyes met.

“You must be Virgil.” She was small but ample, with dark eyes and a ready smile. Her mixed gray and black hair hung in a long braid down her back.

“Chato!” she shouted over the noise of the children. “Your grandson is here. I'm Teresita. Teresita Hoya.”

“Yes. Grandfather has spoken of you. Good to meet you.”

“You're just in time for dinner. Come.”

He followed her into the kitchen. Carlos put the paper aside and stood to greet him. Consuella came to the table carrying more food. After she set her burden down, she came to Virgil and wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you for protecting my family,” she said. When she stepped back, he could see the tears in her eyes. Virgil stood mutely until he felt the strong hands of his grandfather.

“I was wondering when you were going to come to see us.”

“I was tired of eating alone. Guess that's not a problem here.”

“No, but there's always room for one more. Come, sit, have a piece of fry bread. I'll get you a beer.” Virgil slid into the chair that was pulled out for him.

“No beer, just a tall glass of ice water.”

The rest of the food was placed on the table. The baby was put in a high chair and the other two children were sent to wash up. During the momentary lull, Virgil was mesmerized by the activity. It had been a long time since he had been witness to a busy family getting ready for the regular nightly ritual. He was amazed at how his grandfather seemed to take it all in stride. He had wondered after the fact if it would be too much for him, the children and the noise, but he sat next to him and he saw the smile on his face as he reached out with a gnarled hand to make a little dancing motion with his fingers on the baby's high chair tray.

“You and the children were reading a story when I came in,” Virgil said. “Looked like you were having a good time.”

“Not really reading. More like looking for someone.”

“Looking for someone? Who?”

“Waldo. A man named Waldo who is hidden in the pictures. I'll show you later.”

“You are all right? I mean, this is a good thing you are doing and I . . . I'm sure they appreciate it. I don't know how long . . .”

“It has been good. I'm fine. It reminds me of long ago. Mrs. Hoya has been a great help.”

“Yes. I can see. That is working out well for you?”

The old man hesitated, looking at her as she was taking milk from the refrigerator. Then he answered.

“I think, when they all go back to their home, she will stay.”

For the next half hour, the room was filled with the sounds of eating and the exchange of ordinary conversation. At the end, Carlos and his wife brought the children into the living room while Virgil and Mrs. Hoya cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. Grandfather sat at the table, his eyes partially closed, a smile on his lips.

“He is really happy to see you,” Mrs. Hoya said to Virgil. “I hope you will come more often.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you for all . . . all of this.”

She nodded. Then she went into the living room with Grandfather. Carlos returned to the kitchen and Virgil joined him at the table.

“I thought maybe you wanted to speak to me about what's going on.”

“I do,” Virgil said. “I need some information about Hayward Trucking. Carlos, how are the containers for the semis kept track of? I mean, one from another? They all look exactly alike.”

“Each is numbered.”

“The particular one that Buddy pulled . . . I guess you would have to look that up in some kind of computer list to know which one it was, right?”

“Normally, that would be the case because there are a dozen or more on the lot at any given time, but I know the one that Buddy pulled.”

“You do? Why? Is there something different about it?”

“No, it's just the numbers. I've always remembered. 010883. It's the date Connie was born. I don't know any of the others, but I know that one. Besides, that's pretty much the only one Buddy pulled, which is strange. The other drivers pulled different containers all the time. Only Buddy pulled the same one. He told me that after that breakdown he had.”

“Is that container in the lot now?”

“Probably. There's no reason why it shouldn't be. I mean it's just a box on wheels. It's not like they need regular servicing. Besides, harvest hasn't even started.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, until harvest starts, only an occasional trailer load goes down to Juárez. As a matter of fact, the plant is in a shutdown for the next two weeks because it's slow at this time of the year. Once it starts up again, we'll pretty much send down the last of the inventory for processing and we'll be ready for the new harvest. Those containers are pretty much sitting there till then.”

“What about maintenance?”