Hot Enough to Kill (20 page)
"The zoning board, you see," Lucille continued, "was just a front. BigJohn learned about it first somehow, but Merline and I confirmed it kind of sneaky-like. Anyway, the way Fletch set it up, if you wanted to put in a building in this county, you had to get it approved by this board first, which was easy to do as long as you greased the right palm. Darn near impossible if you didn't. We knew this for a fact because Merline's daughter and son-in-law wanted to build a house out on the road to the lake and it took almost six months to get approval." She blinked at the detective. "Dewayne Schuman got approved for six houses all in the same day. Now what do you think of that?"
"Is that so," I muttered, trying to link Dewayne to Fletch. I could, but only through Leroy or maybe Gifford and neither of those roads were paved with any real facts. "Interesting."
"Now, this is a different permit program than what the mayor instituted, correct?" Rick asked.
Lucille nodded. "BigJohn had a city permit. This was through the county, and it started up maybe a year ago. Like I said, dirty, dirty. It's like there's this big old bucket of mud and every one of them is seeing who can get their hands in the deepest. It seems to me they were all just trying to out-do one another."
"If you don't mind, Miz Jackson," Rick said to Lucille. "I'd like to go back over some of your statements and make sure I have a clear picture of the various situations you're familiar with."
"Why, of course, young man," Mother said sweetly. "That'll be just fine. I'm happy to help."
Since when? Lucille was being entirely too gracious, and that worried me. I wasn't exactly sure why, but it did. Maybe it was because it had taken Jerry three "chats" to get to the truth about where she was the night BigJohn was killed, or maybe it was just because Lucille was involved in general. Whatever the case, when she started animatedly retelling everything she knew about Dewayne and the garage/carport thing as well as the water scandal, I knew it was time to leave and stood.
"Jolene, honey, don't run off. I know you must be hungry." Lucille pointed to the refrigerator. "I believe there's some pimento cheese spread in the icebox and a whole fresh loaf of bread in the cupboard. How many deputies and police people do you suppose are out on the porch?"
I didn't know how many official types we still had lurking about, but I knew darned well I wasn't going to be making pimento cheese sandwiches for them, and that was exactly where Lucille was headed. My mother was about a nail click away from saying, "Jolene, honey, why don't you fix these nice men a sandwich?" And she didn't intend for me to answer the "why don't" part either. Besides the fact that I'm not the Betty Crocker type, her beloved pimento cheese is not my favorite sandwich--spread or otherwise. "Thanks, Mother, but I'm not really hungry," I said, then scurried from the kitchen and into my room before she could catch me.
I actually hated to miss learning any new details on the cases that Lucille might impart, but I had heard these stories before and sometimes you just have to make hard choices. Besides, I had another source of information that could update me on the shootings and then make me forget I even cared. In fact, he had a lovely way of making me forget about almost everything but the sound of his voice.
After settling myself on my old bed with two pillows propped behind me, I relaxed a little. I couldn't help the smile that curved my lips as I grabbed the phone, dialed up the Redwater Falls General Hospital and asked for Jerry Don Parker's room.
In the old days, two hours on the phone was just getting started. I hoped he felt like talking even a little more today. I was still smiling when he came on the line.
When he said my name, I was pretty sure he was smiling, too.
After a long and pleasant chat with Jerry, I hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling. There was no way this could work out--no way--but darned if it wasn't fun pretending it could.
The phone rang, jumping me out of my musings and my skin. By the fourth ring, I had to assume that Lucille was still enthralled in storytelling and couldn't be bothered, so I picked up the receiver. "Hello."
"Is this Jolene Jackson?" a steady feminine voice said.
I didn't recognize the voice, but I scooted up in bed to clear my ears, my voice and my fantasies. "Yes, this is Jolene."
"You don't know me, but I'm Amy Parker's friend."
She paused and let that information sink in. It did, like a floating fifty-five-gallon oil drum shot full of holes. As various interesting thoughts and questions trickled in, the biggest one bubbling to the top was: Why would Amy's lover be calling me?
"My name is Susan Miller, and I take it you've heard about me."
"Well, yes," I said, always quick with the clever replies. I mentally stuttered for a few seconds, but nothing tactful leapt to my tongue, so I just blurted out, "Why are you calling me?"
"I realize this seems odd, but there's something I hope you can help me with."
Odd? You think? And why did she think I could help her--or would? Getting involved in the personal affairs of Jerry Don's ex-wife's girlfriend did not seem like a good plan, and more than a little weird on any level.
"Amy said you'd be the best person to contact," Susan said, unperturbed by my silence. "I couldn't very well ask Jerry Don for help, even if he wasn't in the hospital. Under the circumstances, I don't have too many options."
I mumbled in a noncommittal way and waited for her to get to the point.
"I know this is awkward," she said, stating the obvious yet again. "But I'd like to meet you in person and talk about a few things."
This was becoming stranger by the second. I certainly didn't want to meet Amy's girlfriend, but what was I supposed to say, "No, go away and leave me alone" or "Sure, I'm happy to do whatever I can for the woman who broke up my best friend's marriage, not that I'm all that sorry he's divorced?" Geez.
"I really don't know what else to do," she said. "I can be there in fifteen minutes."
Now? She wanted to come now? "Well, I'm not sure the guard dogs out front would let you in. This place is swarming with cops at the moment."
"Really? Did something else happen?"
"Well, it seems--" I caught myself. The shootings were common knowledge now, but the reappearing shotgun was not. "It seems the deputies and other law officer types just can't get enough of us over here. I've answered the same questions at least thirty-five times, and yet they keep asking."
"I know you've been through a lot, but I really do need your help. Do you think they'll be leaving soon?"
I leaned over to the window by the bed and pulled back the curtain. Most of the Redwater officers were already gone or in the process thereof, including Rick, who was just pulling away. Two deputy cruisers were all I could see left in the area, one blocked by Lucille's car, the other out front. Another stellar investigation finished in record time, I supposed. "Looks like things are calming down, only one or two deputies left. Nevertheless, I can't leave the house without an escort, and nobody gets in without being frisked and fingerprinted."
"I'll be right over. Just tell them I'm a friend."
She hung up before I could say anything, specifically that I didn't want her heading right over now or ever, but it was too late. She was coming to chat about something, whether I wanted her to or not.
I slid my feet over the edge of the bed and into my sandals, figuring I'd better warn my mother and the deputy of her arrival.
Lucille's frown deepened with every sketchy detail of the impending visit I relayed. "That's just plain odd, her calling you out of the blue like that and then inviting herself over. Why on earth would that woman want to come out here and talk to you? She has to know about you and Jerry Don, not that I can see how that matters to her, she's got Amy...." Her voice trailed off, obviously as confused as I was about the whole thing.
"I can't make any sense of it either. I guess we'll just have to wait until she gets here and see what she wants."
"I just don't know about this, Jolene." Mother shook her head and rubbed her bandaged arm. "I just don't know about this at all. You really think we ought to let her just come barging in over here?"
No, I really didn't, but for different reasons than what were probably flitting through Lucille's mind, such as if lesbianism was contagious. "Granted, this is weird, but I'll just meet her outside, let her say whatever is she wants to say and be done with it."
Lucille looked highly relieved. "That would probably be best."
"I guess I'll go inform our latest guard. Do you know who's been assigned to watch over us this time?"
"No, but Stalker Bob and that Deputy Marshall woman both left. I don't know who's out there and don't much care," she said, wandering to the living room.
I didn't much care either. I also wasn't so eager to leave my little air-conditioned haven. I opened the fridge, pushed aside the Dr Peppers, grabbed a jug of water and poured myself a cool glass of Ozark spring water, which Mother purchases by the case as she now refuses to drink what flows from the tap. After chugging the water, I decided to treat myself to another small inoculation against the god-awful heat and stuck my head in the freezer until my nose froze. Blinking frosty lashes, I marched outside into the furnace to look for the guard.
Only one official vehicle remained so I suspected my selection of deputies was limited as well. It took me a minute, but I finally spotted a lawn chair in the shade of the big pecan tree by the garage. And in the chair sat a sweaty deputy in an equally sweaty brown uniform, sipping on an extra large drink from the DQ and looking less than pleased with his assigned duty. As I walked toward him, the face began to look familiar--in a sickening sort of way. Then it registered. It was a Harper face parked under that tree in the lawn chair--but not the most familiar one. This had to be Leroy's younger brother Larry. Great, there were two of them with guns and power.
"Hi, Larry," I said, rather chipper-like, considering the person, the heat and the mission. "Didn't know you were a deputy, too."
"Off and on," he said, not bothering to stand. "Leroy called me in since they were short-handed. Most of the time I'm out in the oil field."
Which might explain why he looked like such a grease ball--or not. I smiled and mentally chastised myself for my ugly thoughts. "Well, I figured I should let you know that I have a friend coming over in just a few minutes. Nothing you need to worry about. We're just going to have a quick chat out here and then she'll leave."
Larry Harper grinned, his brown teeth stained as badly as Leroy's although there were definitely fewer of them. He had a big wad of chewing tobacco stuffed inside his lower lip, which made him look like a slobbery old bulldog.
As he spit into the grass, I considered going right back in the house to get my mother and her purse so she could give him a good whacking. Lucille would not tolerate spitting in her grass.
Larry stretched his bulky legs out in front of him, but didn't attempt to stand, which was a good thing since is the chair would have probably stayed attached to his big butt and come off the ground with him. "Don't matter what you say, Jolene. Still have to check out anybody setting foot on the place," he said, spitting again. "Them's Leroy's orders."
I started to argue with him, but heard gravel crunching as a car slowed out front. Susan Miller had arrived.
"Man, oh man, would you look at that!" Larry said, jiggling this way and that as he dislodged himself from the folding chair. He whistled as a bright and shiny, cherry red Corvette pulled to a stop in front of the house. "That is one fine looking Vette!"
I don't know what I'd expected Susan to be driving, but definitely not that. "You stay here and I'll go up there and talk to her."
"Hell, no, Jolene, I done told you I have to check out everybody. Besides, I'm going to look at that car. Ain't every day somebody drives one of those babies right up in front of me."
There was no stopping him so we walked--I walked, he lope-jogged--up toward the car. He was considerably more eager than I was.
The low-slung door opened and a slim, muscular woman in shorts and a T-shirt unfolded herself from behind the wheel and got out. She had black curly hair that just touched her shoulders and her face was make-up free, but reasonably attractive, although not by Texas standards.
Relief Deputy Larry Harper stopped dead in his tracks and swung himself around toward me. "Her? She's the one you're so all-fired hot to trot to talk to? Well, you're on your own," he said, huffing and puffing as he marched back to his spot in the shade. "You and the dyke have yourselves a real good time."
Well, that was just great. Harper number two had made what already promised to be an unpleasant situation all the worse by his bigoted antics. And what was I supposed to say, "sorry, he's an idiot"? That was pretty obvious.
Susan strode toward me, a wry smile on her face. "Don't sweat it, Jolene. I'm used to it. As you can see, the Harper boys aren't real fond of me."
"Yeah, well, I can relate to that."
Susan nodded toward Mother's front porch. "Could we sit for a moment and talk?"
"Sure," I said, relieved she didn't ask to go inside.
We each selected an old-fashioned solid-metal yard chair, green for me, yellow for Susan, and settled ourselves down on the striped plastic chair pads. The thing about the heat in these parts is that you can't really hide from it. It's still plenty hot in the shade. I was guessing somewhere around 146 degrees. Okay, maybe a 108 was closer to reality, but it felt darned hot, stifling even, more so since I was supposed to have a normal conversation in a highly abnormal situation.
"I know you're curious as to what I want," Susan said, seriously understating the issue. "It's my brother. I'm very worried about him. I've tried all the regular channels, but as you might guess there's no one at the sheriff's department who will even talk to me about it, much less do anything."