Music to Die For (12 page)

Carrie nodded. She had noticed the missing knife.

“We made throwing knives, and we practiced with them. We could split apples, hit circles drawn on the side of the barn, stuff like that. Tracy was better at it than Farel or me. She could aim better. She has a good eye and could throw where she looked, straight as an arrow; but,” Bobby Lee’s chest swelled again, “not as hard as Farel or me, of course.”

He paused for a moment and smiled—a real smile—then went on. “You should have seen what we did to the pun’kin at Farel’s house one Halloween. His sister had just carved it and put it on that stump in the front yard. We used it for throwing practice, and there wasn’t enough pun’kin to pray over when we got through. We were sure in trouble for that one. I wasn’t allowed to go to town on weekends for a month.

“Well. When Farel and me were seniors in high school, things began to change. Tracy didn’t act like she could see it, maybe because she was a year younger, but I could. Farel was in love with her, and it was pretty hard on him. ’Course he was her cousin... but I wasn’t.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I wasn’t, and I loved her too.”

He shook his head. Carrie didn’t know if it was in simple regret or because he was trying to shake off unhappy memories.

“Farel and me used to play around makin’ up songs for Tracy. One he wrote was special, a song he called ‘Lying to Strangers.’ It was the prettiest song he’d ever wrote. It was about how people loved each other and couldn’t tell it to the outside world, a real sad song. The three of us used to sit in a clearing in the woods and sing it together, but we never sang it in public. It was our private song, you know. Can you see that? Our special song.”

He looked at Carrie and, slowly, she nodded.

“Our special song, and we never sang it before anyone else. I wish to God now that we had.

“Then, one night, Tracy met Chase Mason at a performance in the auditorium. Farel and I weren’t even here that night. We’d gone off to some big deal event in Harrison. It was such a big deal I don’t even remember what it was—do you believe that? They began performing together, and she hardly spent time with us anymore, and when she did, she was kind of... distant... you know? Before we understood what was happening, she’d run off to marry him, and the two of them were singing our special song. Oh, they changed it some, but it was still our private, special song.”

Bobby Lee’s face grew hard again, and the pain and fury returned to his voice.

“They told people everywhere that the two of them had written the song,
our special, private song
, and since few had ever heard us sing it, we had no way to prove different.

“Have you heard it?” he asked.

She nodded.

“So has most everyone else in the world by now. Well, like I said, they changed it a bit, but it’s still our song, the song Farel wrote for
her
!

“Farel, he wouldn’t do anything about it at first because he still loved Tracy, y’see, and that was the saddest thing I ever knew. It was tearing him apart. He didn’t care about life anymore. Tracy and Mason had gone off to Branson. Her part of the family, as well as Farel’s sisters, had already moved away. There was just Farel and his dad. His dad had debts, was about to lose the farm. That man never was smart about money, and neither was Farel for that matter. After his dad died, Farel got in with some bad folks who promised money...”

Bobby Lee lifted his chin and said, defensively, “Well, what would anyone expect? All the good had gone out of his life, the way he saw things. All he’d had left was his dad. He had me, too, of course, but he didn’t want anything to do with me at that time. I don’t know why. I guess Tracy had been the glue that held the three of us together. Maybe he was ashamed or something. I just don’t know, I don’t know.”

Again, Carrie nodded and hoped Bobby Lee didn’t realize she felt like crying.

“And after Farel’s dad died, y’see, he needed to go over papers in his safe deposit box. Farel found things put there from Tracy’s folks too, found out he and Tracy weren’t related at all. She was adopted. He could have married her.”

Carrie remembered Tracy’s words, “Uncle Teddy

died last year.”

She asked Bobby Lee, “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes, Farel came to me. He showed me the papers.”

“And that was just last year?”

“Yes.”

“In that case you made up the story about Dulcey being Farel’s child. It isn’t true, is it? You made it up after you learned Farel was dead.”

“Well, so what. Anything to hurt that scum Mason!”

“Did Farel tell Tracy they weren’t related by blood?”

“Yes. He called her, then went to see her about six months ago when Mason was off in Nashville making some special recording deals. I’m not sure what happened, but whatever did happen made Farel worse. He came home tore to pieces. After that all he could think about was leaving the state, going maybe to Dallas, trying to start over. By then we were friends again, and I encouraged him to get away from here—thought it was a good idea. But he didn’t have money, and he still owed for special care his dad had needed at the last. Of course he’d inherited the house and land, but there wasn’t much to that house...you saw it, and the land had already been put up for his dad’s debts. It’s poor land anyway.”

“Was Farel still in with the bad folks you mentioned?”

“Yes, he had to have money to live on, and they had a pretty tight hold on him anyway. You’re smart enough to know how that goes. But he swore to me he wanted to get out of that and just leave here, leave it all behind, if he could find enough money for a new start.

“You see? That song is worth money, big money. If Farel took Dulcey, it was probably to get Chase to admit he stole that song, or at least force him to pay royalty for using it. And, he wouldn’a hurt Dulcey. They got along like real kin...
like
father and daughter. Tracy used to let Dulcey spend some time with Farel when they were in town on a visit. Chase didn’t like it, but what could he say? Farel was Tracy’s kin, remember?”

Anger hit her. “Even if Tracy and Chase did steal that song, anyone who would use an innocent child in a scheme like Farel’s is despicable. And, look at the result.”

She wasn’t sure Bobby Lee understood despicable, but he sure understood her tone.

‘‘Farel wouldn’a let anyone touch Dulcey or hurt her. He wouldn’a!”

“But what happened then? Don’t you have any idea who took Dulcey?”

He looked at the tabletop. “Nah. Nothin’ more than what I said. I never saw Farel yesterday.”

They sat in silence, eating popcorn. She could hear him chewing. It sounded so ordinary. Two people sitting in a picnic pavilion sharing popcorn. It was such an ordinary thing to do.

She said, “What was in his house that you wanted to destroy? And how did you know Farel wouldn’t ever need that house, or what was in it, again?”

“I overheard your 911 phone call. I had a bad feeling about it and went to the dressmaker’s shop. When I said I never saw Farel yesterday, I meant I never saw him
alive
.”

“What in that house needed to be destroyed?”

“If you can’t figure it out, I’m not saying. If I told you more now, I’d have to make it up, because I will never talk to anyone about it. Not ever. Farel’s dead. What’s past in his life is dead too. I saw to that. It’s over.”

“No, it isn’t, Bobby Lee. Someone must pay for Farel’s murder. Unless you killed him yourself, you must agree to that. And what about Dulcey? Who has her? Are you sure you don’t have any idea about that? Can’t you help?”

He got to his feet and stood over her, so big that his body shaded hers. “I’d look in the hills behind here if I was you. A family lives there. Stays to themselves. You just ask around. Look in the hills. I can’t say more. I like my life too much. I’ve even got a special girl now. I may just get married some day. Anyway, I can’t say more.”

“Well, Bobby Lee, for the sake of your special girl, I hope you learn to handle that temper of yours. If you don’t, there’s good in your life that may not last either.”

“Yeh, mebbe, but I didn’t kill Farel. I’m sure you know that now. As far as someone paying for his murder? That’s on Mason’s ticket. I figure the two of them had a face-off and Farel lost. But maybe it’s better left to settle in the dust of these hills. How’d you like it if Dulcey’s daddy was a killer? As for temper, well, Chase Mason’s got one too.”

Carrie didn’t respond for a moment. Then she said, “And there is nothing more you’ll tell me?”

“You just think about what I said. I’m gonna eat lunch now and go back to work. Lots of tourists today. If you want to buy a knife you can come see me at the blacksmith’s shop. If two hundred dollars is too much, I have some cheaper. If you want anything else of me, forget it. We never had this conversation— you’ve been asking about having a knife made, and now, you’re outta my life. I wish you luck in finding Dulcey, I do.”

She watched Bobby Lee Logan stride out of the pavilion and disappear among the people on the sidewalk, then turned back to the picnic table, rested her elbows on it, and put her chin in her hands. She sat silently for a few minutes, ignoring the sounds behind her as tourists began to line up for the snack shop lunch buffet.

Suddenly she remembered Bobby Lee Logan’s voice saying, “She has a good eye...could throw... straight as an arrow.”

Carrie jerked her head up and pounded her fist on the table, bouncing popcorn in all directions.

“Whoa there, my girl,” said a rumbling male voice.

Carrie got up so fast she almost fell backwards over the picnic bench. She turned and held out her hands, but Henry ignored them. In a minute she was leaning over the bench with her face mashed against his chest. The bench began to topple, but fortunately it had no place to topple to. It, like Carrie, was caught against Henry’s massive form.

The hug lasted a long time. Then Henry moved back, set the bench firmly in place, and said, “Well, it sounds like we’re putting broken things back together again. So, what’s the plan, Detective McCrite?”

She couldn’t help it. She began to laugh.

“I get the idea,” said Henry, studying her face, “that wood carving and herb growing are no longer our main interests here. I brought the things you asked for, but what are we going to do with that stuff?”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No.”

“Have you checked in?”

“No. I meant to, but I took a wrong turn and ended up out front instead. I came in to ask directions and decided to see if the lady at the information desk knew where you were. She remembered that you had gone through into the craft area an hour or so ago.”

So much for trying to remain anonymous, Carrie thought. I might as well have worn my badge and saved the entrance fee.

“Well,” she said, “it’s lunchtime, and we need privacy so I can tell you all that’s been happening. If we keep our voices down, I think the restaurant across the way is the best place. Food’s great, and I don’t want to take time to drive into town. Is that okay?”

“Sure, lead the way. But shouldn’t I go check in before we eat?”

“Um, no, let’s talk first, we may need to change our plans a bit.” To avoid further discussion about room arrangements until Henry fully understood what was going on, she asked, “How’s FatCat?”

“Happy at Shirley and Roger’s. Probably stretched out on the back of their couch enjoying the sun from that south window. I took her down there this morning.” He hesitated, looking at her sideways as he opened the entry door to the administration building. “While she was at my house, I let her sleep with me so she wouldn’t be too lonely.”

“Lonely, phooey! That cat loves attention and doesn’t care where she gets it as you know quite well. She’s just as happy with you or with Shirley and Roger as she is with me...probably even happier, since you spoil her, and I make her follow house rules, or at least
my
house rules. No sleeping on human beds, and especially no getting on a bed when I’m in it. She purrs too loudly for one thing. Sounds like a motor scooter with a bad muffler. When her motor goes on, I wake up.”

“Purr doesn’t bother me, it’s kind of soothing, and of course she misses you. Besides,
you
weren’t in my bed. She knew that as well as I did, so we didn’t break your rules.”

“Hmpf,” said Carrie, not looking at him as she led the way into the dining room and asked the hostess for her favorite window table.

She pointed Henry into a chair facing the windows so he could see the forested hilltop and bird feeders. As soon as they were both seated, he asked, “What happened to your face?”

Surprised, she touched her scraped cheek. “I thought my make-up pretty much covered it. Beth and I had breakfast together and she didn’t notice or comment.”

“Does that mean I’m supposed to notice and comment, or I’m not? Even after one failed marriage, which should have taught me something, and all these years around women, I’m not sure I understand.”

“What if I were a man?”

“I’d probably say, ‘Hey, who’ve you been fighting with?’”

“Hmmm. I’m curious then, a male friend or me... which one would you have more sympathy for over a scratched face?”

“Is this one of your trick questions? I’d have more sympathy for you, of course, make of that whatever you will. I don’t want you hurt, and I don’t want this discussion, either, so it stops here. Now, how
did
your face get scratched?”

She laced her fingers together and looked down at them, realizing that, after all, Henry’s concerns about her welfare always touched and comforted her. She thought of how the Bible frequently mentions God comforting His children. Perhaps Henry’s concern was one way the promised comfort was being shown. She’d have to think more about it, but, for now, she guessed she should show she was grateful.

Still, it was hard to say anything aloud. Finally she managed, “I do appreciate the concern.”