Smoke (21 page)

“What about Rusty? Where was he?” Immy asked.

“After he dropped it off at the vet’s? He went back to work.”

“And that was you leaving Jerry’s Jerky the next day, the day I found Rusty.”

“I went to see Rusty about...something.”

Something like, your affair?
“Did you find him?”

“Rusty was, just, just hanging there.” Betsy’s eyes widened in what seemed like genuine horror to Immy.

“You saw his body in the smokehouse?”

She nodded, the terror spreading to the rest of her face, to her trembling body. “I looked around for him and....”

“And you left and you didn’t tell anyone?”

“You can’t blame me, Immy. I’ve been so afraid someone would say they saw me. They might think I killed him. I could tell somebody had killed him. You don’t put yourself on a meat hook. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t kill Rusty.”

Immy believed her. She didn’t think Betsy had the strength to get Rusty’s body onto the meat hook.

“I’m not guilty. I swear I’m not.” Betsy was shaking so hard her fringe danced at the edge of her jacket.

The only thing Betsy was guilty of, besides sleeping with a married man, Immy decided, was stupidity. “You need to tell Ralph or the chief what you saw.”

“I can’t do that. Oh HI, Kyle Joe. Aren’t those boys NASTY?”

“What can’t you do?” he asked.

“I could NEVER hit an ANIMAL with a rock. Or mistreat them in ANY way.”

“Remember what I just said,” said Immy. “I will if you don’t.”

She heard Kyle Joe ask Betsy what in the hell that woman was talking about as she walked away.

When she found Drew and Hortense, they were pointing to one piglet after another and squealing about how adorable they all were.

“Have you picked one out?” said Immy.

“Not yet,” said Drew. “They’re all too cute. Oh!” She looked across the pen. “There’s Zack!”

Immy was surprised to see Tinnie looking over the piglets with her son. Drew scampered around the pig pen to greet Zack and Immy trailed after her, wondering what to say to Tinnie.

“This must be a difficult time for you, surveying piglets so soon after the most unfortunate demise of your own dearly beloved pet.”

Immy hadn’t realized Mother had followed her.

Tinnie gave Hortense a wan smile. “These aren’t really anything like potbellies,” she said. “They’re okay, but potbellies are so much cuter.”

“We getting new one, wight, Mommy?” Zack turned his eager, shiny, irresistible eyes to his mother.

She gave a doting-mother smile to her son. “We’ll see.”

Sonny Squire appeared behind Hortense, bearing corn dogs for his daughter and grandson from the food wagons near the arena. “Time for chow, kids.”

He handed a dog to Zack and one to Tinnie, then almost dropped his. “We gotta go back for drinks,” he said. “Or we can get a table and I’ll get ’em.”

Sonny, swaying slightly, had already had a few drinks, Immy thought. His group headed for the picnic tables set up under the dappled shade of a half dozen spreading live oaks at the edge of the grounds, just beyond the vendors. Immy and her crew headed in the direction of those vendors to seek lunch.

Rodeo goers were already lining up in front of the food trailers beside the arena. Immy’s family took a place in line and contemplated the goodies. Hortense and Drew both wanted corn dogs, but Immy chose corn on the cob and some cole slaw. She didn’t feel like eating something that might have pork in it right now. With corn dogs, you just never knew what might be in there.

Drew wanted to sit by Zack, but all the spaces in that row of tables were taken, so they found a place to sit two rows from Zack’s family. Immy went to get cokes and soon returned with sweating waxed cups brimming with crushed ice and sugary, caffeinated goodness. They never drank cokes at home, so this was a treat for all three of them.

Hortense and Drew swizzled their dogs in paper cups of mustard and Immy went back to the vendor trailers for napkins, and a fork for her slaw. On an impulse, she got in line for a funnel cake for the three of them to share. With a pang at the sight of how little cash she had left, Immy paid for the cake. Mother’s pension check from the library would not arrive until the fifteenth of the month and there was precious little left to tide them over. Immy would have to job hunt in earnest next week.

She turned from the funnel cake trailer, bearing her precious treasure before her, balancing to keep it level on the paper plate so none of the powdered sugar would slide off.

Her only warning was a whiff of whiskey breath. Then Sonny Squire’s hefty form lurched into her side. The paper plate flipped and the cake fell to the ground.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Then Immy squatted to retrieve her cake, but it had landed in trampled dirt. A tear splashed to the ground beside the confection. She couldn’t buy another one. Money was too tight. She looked up into Sonny’s hangdog expression.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Immy.”

“Oh, you’re sorry, are you?” That loud voice was familiar. “So what are you gonna do about it?” Louise Cotter stood a few feet away. She probably thought she was muttering, but that squawk of hers cut through the noise of the crowd.

“Mother,” said Amy JoBeth, hurrying onto the scene, carrying lemonade cups. “Calm down. It’s only a funnel cake.” She thrust a cup at her mother.

Immy was glad to see Amy JoBeth out of the storm cellar. This wasn’t the place to ask, but Immy wondered what had drawn her out.

Louise lowered her voice somewhat, but she couldn’t speak as quietly as most people could. “Well, the lousy bastard should buy her another one.”

“Mother, come on.” Amy JoBeth pulled her mother’s arm.

But Louise sidled up to Immy and whispered to her in the softest tones she’d ever heard the woman use, “You ask that uncle of yours about that Squire family.” She did a double-take at Immy’s face. “That’s a nasty bruise, Immy.”

“Mother, come have some lemonade.” This time Amy JoBeth succeeded in pulling her mother away.

Immy watched them go, fingering her sore cheek. She turned at a nudge from Sonny.

He stuck a five dollar bill at her. “Here. Get another one.”

She took it and he hauled a flask from his pocket, took a deep swing, recapped it, and staggered toward his family who were waiting in the shade.

This time, when Immy carried the funnel cake to Hortense and Drew, she kept track of her surroundings. A PI should never walk with her head down. She could, obviously, get side-swiped that way.

Chapter 19

Louise’s words didn’t hit Immy until she was sitting at the picnic table, half done with the funnel cake she was sharing with Hortense and Drew. Louise had said to ask her uncle something. Oh yes, to ask him about the Squire family. That sure sounded crazy.

“Do you have a brother?” she asked Hortense.

“What an odd question. You know I don’t. I am an only child, born of only children. I’ve reiterated that numerous times.”

“Yes, you have,” said Immy. And her Uncle Huey was dead, murdered in the spring of this year. So what uncle was Louise talking about? Immy shrugged. The woman was nuts. She finished her meal so they could go to the arena and watch the parade that kicked off the rodeo.

Hortense and Drew went on ahead while Immy scooped up their paper waste and found the trash barrel at the far edge of the picnic area. The Squire family had left a few minutes before. While they’d been eating, Amy JoBeth and her mother had arrived. They took places at this end of the area, sitting off to themselves at the end of the row of redwood tables and benches. Now they sat across from each other, apparently finished drinking their lemonade, but staring down at their empty paper cups in silence.

Immy wondered what it must be like to be a member of a family that wasn’t constantly talking. Between Hortense and Drew, there wasn’t much mealtime silence in the Duckworthy household, either when they ate at home or, like today, dined out.

How was Immy going to get Amy JoBeth by herself to ask her if she knew what her mother was talking about? Louise still looked angry and Immy didn’t feel like talking to her while she was in such a snit. Besides, Immy usually ended up doing something she didn’t want to when she talked to that woman. But Louise’s words hung in her mind. Did Immy have an uncle she didn’t know about?

Louise Cotter shoved her cup and napkin at her daughter, got up, and left. Amy JoBeth, still almost as dejected as she had been in the tornado shelter, picked up the trash and headed toward the barrel where Immy still stood. They were playing right into Immy’s hand.

“Oh hi, Immy.” Amy JoBeth pitched her trash and dusted her hands off.

“Hi. Enjoying the rodeo?”

“It hasn’t started yet.”

“Well, lunch is part of it, I think.”

Amy JoBeth looked so sad.

“Are you missing Vern?” Immy had to ask.

That sparked some emotion. Anger flared in her eyes. “That louse! How could I have been so stupid? No, I’m not missing him. He’s a horrible person. He killed Rusty.”

“Oh, that’s right. He says he killed him. Do you think he really did?” No more Vernie Wernie at least. Immy was glad of that.

“He said he did it because he loves me.” Amy JoBeth shook herself like a wet dog. “Even if Rusty did kill Gretchen, he didn’t deserve…well, Vern Linder is just as bad as Rusty Bucket.”

Amy JoBeth waved away a fly that was intent on the trash barrel’s contents and they started walking slowly toward the arena.

“Your mother whispered something to me back there when Sonny knocked my funnel cake on the ground. She said something about asking my uncle about the Squire family. Do you know what your mother was talking about?”

Amy JoBeth gave her a blank stare. Did Amy JoBeth not know or was she stonewalling?

“Do you have any idea what ‘uncle’ she was talking about?”

“Nope.”

Now what? There was the matter of The Case of the Missing Clippings, the clippings about the Squire family. That case was still unsolved. Was she a detective or not? Well, not really. But did she want to be one?

She stared Amy JoBeth square in the eyes. The intimidation method of interrogation. “What’s with you and the Squire family?”

“With me? Nothing. It’s Mom. She’s obsessed. What did you do to your face, Immy?”

The Cotter women were not very observant.

A male voice, distorted by a loudspeaker, floated across the grounds from the arena. A crowd swarmed around the two slow-walking women, jostling to get to the ring before the parade began. People streamed into the arena through the wide arches and Immy could see the matched palominos that would lead the parade lined up outside an entrance near the rear of the structure.

Immy faced Amy JoBeth and folded her arms, blocking her way. “I want you to give me the straight dope, Amy JoBeth. What gives with your family and the Squires?”

Amy JoBeth halted and frowned too much. “What do you mean?”

If she was trying to look puzzled, she didn’t make it. Immy knew she was playing dumb.

“That won’t cut it, Amy JoBeth.” Immy tried to snarl like a tough interrogator. She longed for a small room and a bright light. “I know about all those newspaper notices you saved. They were all about that family.”

“That’s not true. Some of the things I cut out were recipes.”

“But why did you save all that stuff about Tinnie’s family?”

“I didn’t know it
was
Tinnie’s family. Until much later. I never would have sold Gretchen to her if I’d known she was a Squire.” Anguish tinged Amy JoBeth’s wails.

“But why not? What did Tinnie’s family ever do to you? Your mom hates Sonny Squire. I’m not sure he even knows why.”

“Oh, he knows why.”

Wild cheering erupted from the stadium.

“The parade must be starting,” said Immy. She waited for Amy JoBeth to elaborate, but Amy JoBeth turned away and walked into the arena.

It would have worked better if she’d had that small stuffy room with a bright light and an uncomfortable chair. And a locked door so the suspect couldn’t walk away.

Immy hurried through the gate to catch the rest of the parade.

A quick scan showed her Hortense’s formidable form in a second row seat. Being large made her easy to spot in a crowd. Drew and Ralph were sitting by Hortense. Immy made her way down the row to the empty seat they’d saved for her beside Ralph.

“Were you detained?” asked Hortense.

“I talked to Amy JoBeth for a minute.”

“How is the unfortunate breeder of porcine animals faring?”

“Well, she’s over Vern anyway.”

“That’s good,” said Ralph. “He’s a bad one.”

“Look, clowns!” Drew stood on her seat to see the rodeo clowns better.

Immy lowered her voice to speak to Ralph. “Did he really admit he killed Rusty?”

“After you spotted the confetti on him, he did. After several hours of questioning. He finally ran out of excuses and explanations and told us the truth.”

“The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” She spied Amy JoBeth and Louise across the way, about a third of the way around the circle. They sat watching the parade, not speaking to each other.

“Probably not. But part of it. Enough to hold him and probably to get at least one conviction.”

“You want more than one?”

“We want him for Poppy Jenkins, too.” Ralph sucked his breath in. “Hey, I shouldn’t have told you that. Forget I said it. Okay?”

“How can I do that? I can’t forget stuff I heard.”

Ralph groaned. “Well, just don’t tell anyone I told you.”

Maybe she was better at interrogation than she thought. She’d gotten some inside dope on The Case of the Dead Poppy without even trying.

“So, Vern killed Poppy Jenkins, too?”

“Sh!” Ralph looked around, then brought his face close to hers. “Don’t tell anyone, I said. Don’t talk about it.” He drew away. “Does your face feel okay? Look, do you want me to get you some cotton candy?”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. My face feels fine and I’d like some cotton candy.”

The prancing palominos led the parade out of the arena, after which the wranglers set up for the first event, barrel racing.