Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 04 - Vicksburg (7 page)

“My truck? Nothing. Why?”

“Nothing?” He grunted. “You got a strange idea of nothing,
pal.” He headed for the door. “You better come take a look.”

A brick had been thrown through the window on the passenger’s side. It lay on the floorboard surrounded by slivers
of glass. On the seat, neatly placed on top of the shattered
glass, was a sheet of paper.

Cursing to myself, I jerked open the door and grabbed the
paper.

Keep your nose out of business that don’t concern you.
Last warning.

“What does it say?”

Without a word, I handed it to him. The hackles on the
back of my neck rose. The bag of cement earlier in the day
had been no accident.

Jack whistled and handed me the note. “What’s going on?”

I ignored his question. “Have you told anyone about me?”

“About my suspicions? No.”

“What about earlier when I went down to the parts
house?”

He nodded, frowning. “Yeah. Just after you left, I was
headed for the john when WR asked where you were going.
I told them. Stewart asked what kind of business you were
in, so I told them.”

“That I was a PI?”

“Yeah. Was that wrong?”

I shook my head. “Well, it’s too late to worry about it now.
How long were you gone, to the john, I mean?”

He glanced sidelong at his cast. “Five, maybe ten minutes.
With this thing, it takes time. You ever try buttoning your
pants with one hand?”

“Not lately,” I replied, considering his words. If one of
them had called as soon as Jack left the room, the construction worker would have had twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes to get into position to drop the cement.

Jack spoke up. “You don’t think one of them was behind
it, do you, Tony?”

I shrugged off his question, but I told myself it could be
any of the three, or all.

A gust of wind swept the drizzle under the umbrella. I grimaced. “I’m going to pull the truck in the garage so I can
patch the window.”

Jack stared at the shattered window. “How are you going
to do that?”

“Tape some plastic over it.”

“Tape?”

I climbed in the truck and grinned at him. “Duct tape” I
hooked my thumb to the toolbox in back. “Always carry it, and WD-Forty.” From the dome light, I saw the puzzlement
scribbled across his face. “WD-Forty for the things that are
supposed to move, but don’t, and duct tape for the things
that are not supposed to move, but do. Cajun’s toolbox.”

Fifteen minutes later, I had a patch on the window and the
glass brushed from the truck. “Well, not as good as new, but
it’ll work until I get another one in tomorrow.”

“Okay. If you’re finished, let’s go up to the house. WR is
calling in some pizza.”

I declined. “I’ve got some thinking to do. I’ll find me a
steakhouse around somewhere, then get me a motel.” I
glanced at the house and shook my head.

“I’ll go with you”

“No. I told you, I’ve got some thinking to do”

“About my old man?”

“About a lot of things, Jack. For example, did you know
your father had riverside property down below Vicksburg?”

His forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Yeah. Some
swampland not worth a plugged nickel from what WR said.”

I decided against telling him the truth at that moment. The
less he knew, the better off I was with the investigation.
There was no question in my cynical mind that the other
three siblings already knew the property was far from
worthless.

Jack waved from the front porch as I drove away.

I glanced in the rearview as I drove away, and with a
mixed sense of relief and guilt, spotted his rotund silhouette
standing forlornly under the hazy glare of the porch light. I
don’t know why, I just did. Maybe it was because I hated to
leave him behind with those three vultures. For all Jack’s
misadventures, he was basically a harmless guy.

My tires hissed on the wet streets as I headed back toward
Washington. I’d noticed a motel, the Riverside Inn, on the
levee.

It was reasonably priced and clean with cable and the
other amenities. My eyes were drooping, and my stomach
was growling. I eyed the bed hungrily, but my rumbling
stomach won out. Across the street was Casper’s Steak and
Shrimp House. I dashed across the busy street to the restaurant and slipped into a booth near a window so I could watch
the passing cars in the rain.

“Yes, sir,” a bubbly voice said as a hand slipped the menu
in front of me.

I glanced up and froze.

Staring down at me with an equally surprised look on her
face was my ex-wife, Diane Mays.

For several seconds, we just stared at each other before I
jumped to my feet. “Diane” We were both too flustered to
speak. Instinctively, we just hugged each other before awkwardly pushing away. “Well, how are you?” I managed to
stammer out.

Nearby patrons stared at us curiously.

Blushing, she glanced at them, at the same time pushing
her hair back from her forehead. “Fine. I’m fine. I, ah..”

Suddenly, we both broke into laughter. I looked around at
the onlookers and threw out my arms. “Sorry, folks. We, ah,
well, we were once married, but we haven’t seen each other
in years.”

From a nearby table, a man quipped, “That must be the
secret of staying friends.” He laughed, and his wife glared
daggers at him. Looked like someone was in for a chilly
night.

Finally, we managed to get my order in and arranged to
meet next door in the bar after the restaurant closed at
midnight.

I couldn’t help watching her throughout the meal, and she
must have felt the same, for she kept glancing at me with a
big smile. I remembered that smile the first time I saw it
back in high school. She was attractive then, and attractive
now. Her shiny brown hair and flashing black eyes brought back the days when those features played flip-flop with my
heart.

After paying the bill and leaving her a generous tip, I
reminded her of our date.

“I won’t forget,” she replied with a coquettish smile on
her lips.

Back in my room, I flipped on the TV and plopped down
on the bed, wide awake. I opened the visitors’ brochure on
the Vicksburg Battlefield and skimmed over the sixteen-mile
route and the various sites along the way, but Diane was too
much on my mind.

She and I were high school sweethearts in Church Point.
We started college together, but she dropped out, and we drifted apart. Several years later, we got back together, legally.

Unlike most of our friends who made one baby after
another because they believed God had placed them on earth
to procreate the entire world all by themselves, Diane and I
had no offspring, and within two years, the thrill of lust and
passion quickly faded when we woke each morning and
faced each other at our worst.

Somewhere along the way, something died between us.
I’m not smart enough to know what. I wish I did. Maybe that
was the same problem now facing Janice and me.

All I can say about our divorce is that we parted amicably.
Diane took her clothes, the furniture, the car, and I took my
clothes, a ten-gallon aquarium with Oscar, his swimming
mates, and a taxi cab. Like the words in an old country song
from way back, “She Got the Gold Mine, and I Got the
Shaft” But I never regretted the split at all. I was satisfied
with Oscar, a tiny Albino Tiger Barb, and his cohorts, a few
Tiger and Checker Barbs.

Once I put some Angelfish in with the Barbs, but the little
Barbs chased the docile little Angels around the aquarium,
nipping at their fins. The Angels would probably have died
with heart attacks if Jack Edney hadn’t come along.

On a drunken spree, he urinated in the aquarium thinking, well, I don’t know what he was thinking. Next morning, all
the little exotics except Oscar were floating belly up, and
Oscar just swam in circles. Some kind of brain damage, I
surmised.

Naturally, Jack, like all murderers, showed great remorse
and regret when he sobered up, but the damage was done.

In the bar, Diane and I took a table near the dance floor.
Diane ordered a draft beer, and I ordered a Coca-Cola.
When she arched an inquisitive eyebrow, I explained. “AA.
Three years now.”

She nodded. “My beer going to bother you?”

I grinned mischievously. “It’ll drive me crazy, but I can
manage.” I laughed and shook my head. “Don’t worry about
it. It won’t bother me” That was a tiny lie. It did bother me,
and that was one of the reasons I did not frequent bars any
longer. But tonight was an exception. I could handle one evening of temptation, I hoped.

As we reminisced, I told myself she hadn’t changed
much. Oh, her skin wasn’t as tight as it had been, but then,
whose is once you get into the late thirties? Despite my random exercises, I was sagging in more places than I cared to
admit.

At least, we hadn’t reached the point in life that even if we
did throw caution to the wind and let it all hang out no one
would pay any attention.

After our divorce, Diane moved to Houston, married,
divorced, moved back to Church Point, and finally landed a
job at the Vicksburg National Battlefield with the National
Park Service.

The job at the steakhouse was part-time, helping out her
friend, Jaybird, who owned the restaurant. “Besides,” she said
with a sly grin, “the tips are fantastic.” She lowered her voice
and glanced around. “And you don’t have to report them”

I brought her up to date with me.

“So, you drove your friend over here for his father’s
funeral?”

“Yep. Jack Edney. You didn’t know him. After we broke
up, I moved to an apartment complex on Travis Street. He
and his wife moved in later.”

I thought I saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes, but I
passed it off as the reflection of the jukebox from the other
side of the dance floor.

As I walked her to her car later, I suggested getting
together the next night.

Diane hesitated. “Well, I had plans, but-” A broad smile
played over her lips. “I enjoyed tonight, Tony. And it has
been a long time. Give me a call. I’ll see what I can work
out”

I dreamed of Diane that night and woke next morning
with the feeling I had betrayed Janice.

Next morning, I called Tom Garrett at the police station to
inform him of the brick that had been tossed through my
window and the note left on the seat.

“Too bad,” he said with a chuckle. “For your information,
Chief Herrings told me why he was giving you some freedom around here. Personally, I don’t care what he owes anybody-just don’t you do nothing that’ll put you crossways
with me. I don’t like playing nursemaid to nobody.”

I didn’t argue with the man. I just didn’t want to give him
the opportunity to claim I had not kept in touch with him.
“Well, I was going to ask you to set up a time I could visit
with the medical examiner. But, if it’s going to be a pain, I’ll
take care of it myself. I can get his name from the chief.” I
paused. “Actually, I think I’d prefer that.”

He hesitated. He was probably debating Hemings’ reaction to whichever decision he made. He muttered a curse.
“Give me a telephone number. I’ll call the ME and have him
get in touch with you”

The suggestion did not appeal to me. On the other hand,
maybe the jerk would follow through just to keep Hemings
off his back. “All right, but I need to talk this morning.”

Testily, he shot back, “All right, all right. What’s the
number?”

I gave him Jack’s number, thanked him, and hung up
before he could reply.

Jack was the only one at the house. Annebelle was on her
bread run; Stewart was curling hair at his hair salon; and WR
was at his hardware store.

“You’ve got to stay here with me, Tony,” Jack said over a
cup of coffee, which he abruptly sat down, and grabbed for
the emu feather. He frantically went to work on his arm.
“This house is too big for one man,” he added, grimacing.
“Man, this itching is driving me nuts.”

I had spotted an elderly housekeeper when I came in.
“What about domestic help?”

“Day help.” With teeth clenched against the itch, he nodded to the kitchen. “That’s Alice. She’s been with John for
years. Comes in about seven, leaves around three or four.
That’s how John wanted it.”

“What about his supper?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “John never ate supper.”

Whatever, I thought. Eyeing the elaborately engraved cornice molding in the high-ceiling room in which we sat, I
asked, “What about your brothers and sister?”

Still pumping away with the feather, he muttered, “They
got their own places. We’re all getting together this afternoon to divide the property.”

“Wasting no time, huh?”

Jack shrugged. “As I understand the process, probate
takes some time. If we can settle all our differences and
make our decisions early, the probate will go faster.” Finally,
he stopped scratching and, leaving the emu feather projecting from his cast, took another sip of his coffee. “What
about you? Come up with any ideas last night?”