The Last Death of Jack Harbin (13 page)

I don't know why I haven't thought of it before, but I wonder if Marybeth knew Jack was going to marry Lurleen. “Sit down a minute longer. I have something to talk to you about.” And I tell her about Jack and Lurleen.

“Who is this girl? This waitress! Somebody who wanted a meal ticket?”

“Now hold on a minute. If that's what she had in mind, she would have agreed to marry Jack a long time ago. He asked her, but she wanted to take things slow. But when Bob died, she knew Jack would need somebody to take care of him. I saw the two of them together. She really cared for Jack. She made him happy.”

Marybeth is quiet for several minutes and I keep still, letting her absorb this new information. When she finally does speak, she says something I don't expect. “Did Curtis know about this?”

“Somehow I can't see Jack telling him, and I don't know how else he would have known. They only decided after Bob died.”

Marybeth goes over to the sink and splashes water on her face. She leans against the counter as she mops her face with a paper towel, and when she speaks it's as if she's talking to herself. “I wonder how it would be if I talked to her?”

“I think you'd like her. She's a sweet girl. She has three kids. Good kids.”

Marybeth nods. “I'll have to think about whether I should meet her.”

She finds a paper sack to hold the few things she wants to take with her—photos and a signed football and other mementos from Jack's childhood. She doesn't even glance at the box with the uniform or the papers on the table. After she's gone, I find a plastic bag and place the uniform in it. She may want it later. I put the papers in with the uniform to take the whole lot home with me. I suspect if I left it to Curtis, he'd pitch them in the trash.

I take another look around Jack's bedroom. Even though Marybeth has been through Jack's things, I won't feel like I'm off to a steady start on the investigation until I go back to the beginning, where Jack died.

I try to lock all the doors so that I can hear Curtis when he comes in and I won't be surprised, but the back door leading from the kitchen into the backyard won't lock. The mechanism is jammed. I wonder if whoever killed Jack jimmied the lock to make sure he'd be able to get in, or if it's been that way a long time. I remember Dottie Gant saying Jack never locked up after Bob died. But I wonder if they did before. If so, then it must have been broken since then.

Jack's bed has a cover thrown over it to hide the stains. His clothes have been taken out of the closet and piled onto the bed. My guess is that's Curtis's doing. There isn't much in the way of clothing. I rummage through the pockets for oddities, but they're all cleaned out.

The smell in the room is a sickening blend of stale cigarette smoke, rancid blood, and bleach. Unless some realtor has sense enough to get rid of the bed and air the place out, Curtis may find it harder than he thinks to sell the house.

The closet is bare. The pills have disappeared from the bedside stand. I peek into a big plastic bag sitting next to the clothes, and the vials of pills are there. The top drawer of the bedside stand is empty. Curtis hasn't wasted any time.

But he hasn't gotten to the chest of drawers yet. The big drawers yield nothing but T-shirts and underwear. The clothes are so neatly arranged that I figure Jack probably never opened them. He wouldn't be able to see the things anyway. I feel around under the clothes for anything that would yield a clue, but come up empty.

I don't know a man who doesn't keep oddities in the top drawer of his chest, and Jack is no exception. There's a cracked old leather wallet, empty, a hard leather case containing medals, and a collection of items that look to be from his teenage years, before he went off to the army. This includes a number of yellowing articles clipped together from the weekly Jarrett Creek newspaper that was alive and well back then, but has since folded. The articles are all about the football games Jack was in. I'm surprised Marybeth didn't take them. I lay them on the bed to take home with the other things she left. Finally I come to a zippered pouch. Inside there's a rabbit's foot, a faded photo of Taylor from high school, Jack's army dog tags, and a cross on a silver chain.

I almost neglect to look in the bottom drawer of the bedside table. The knob is missing from it, and it looks like a false front. Inside, there's another wallet. It contains Jack's military ID, his social security card, a long-expired credit card, and a photo of Taylor and Woody in their wedding regalia. Inside, where money would be carried, is a newspaper clipping two paragraphs long about a homeless man found dead in a dumpster—in San Francisco. The bizarre thing is that someone has drawn a smiley face in the upper right hand corner of the clipping.

I check Bob's bedroom, but one look tells me that Curtis has been thorough in ridding the room of all vestiges of his dad. Drawers and closets are all empty. A single suitcase sits on a chair. Curtis's suitcase. I expect if I looked in it, I'd find at least one gun, but I don't look.

What interests me most is what I don't find—like any of Bob's or Jack's financial papers. No stack of bills paid or outstanding, no medical or insurance records, no bank statements. I look everywhere, but they aren't to be found.

Tonight's football game would be away, but the opponent's town is so small they can't afford a stadium. The players' parents carpool to bring the team because they don't have a school bus. But they're a scrappy bunch that always gives a good game, even if they don't win often, so a crowd has shown up.

I've brought Jenny with me. She's not big on football, but says she's had a hell of a week and needs some diversion. She's from Bobtail, but she's got sense enough to wear a Jarrett Creek Panthers T-shirt, the one with Gabe LoPresto's advertising on the back. I don't get a chance to pay much attention to the game because she bends my ear about a woman client who is driving her crazy. She can't name names, but I know exactly who she's talking about and I get a kick out of her description of the problems that the woman has brought on herself by her stinginess and sharp tongue.

At halftime, there's a hastily arranged memorial tribute for Jack. They trot out Jack's old coach, who now has a cushy job at Blinn Junior College. It's clear that he doesn't remember much about Jack, but he does his best with platitudes. Coach Eldridge also speaks, talking about Jack's love for the game and his special place as a booster for the team. He gets emotional, which strikes me as crocodile tears, since he was never Jack's coach and they had some differences of opinion about the way the team ought to be run.

The event wouldn't be complete without Gabe LoPresto horning in, but at least he keeps his remarks short.

I see Taylor in the stands with her mother and a few of her friends, so I go over to say hello. When I start back to my seat, Taylor says, “I'll walk over with you.”

I introduce her to Jenny, who is friendly enough, but suddenly reserved. “I'll be right back,” she says. “You want anything?” She includes Taylor in her question.

As soon as she leaves, Taylor says, “Curtis called me this morning.”

“How did that go?”

“I wish you could have heard him. He couldn't have been sweeter.” She rolls her eyes. “He apologized for snapping at me at Bob's reception. He said he hadn't realized how worried I was about Sarah until he found out you and I went to the compound.” She narrows her eyes. “He could have charmed the wings off a butterfly—a stupid butterfly.”

“So you're not buying the apology?”

“Hell, no! Listen to this. He said as soon as Jack's funeral is over, he'll see to it that I get to spend an afternoon with Sarah and the girls.” Her voice is prissy.

I laugh. “I'm guessing you acted like you were going along with it.”

“I can charm the wings off a butterfly as well as he can.”

“Did he say whether Sarah was coming down for Jack's funeral?”

“He said he'd have to see about that.”

I expect it will be a cold day in hell before Curtis lets his wife and children see Taylor.

“I know what he's thinking,” Taylor says. “He probably thinks that if he sweet-talks me, I'll sit around and wait for him to arrange a meeting, and then I'll forget about it.”

“If that's what he's thinking, he doesn't know you.”

Jenny is back with popcorn. She eases past us and I suddenly have an idea.

“Taylor, Jenny and I are going to have a glass of wine at my place after the game. Why don't you come by? Jenny's a lawyer. Maybe she has some thoughts about how to help your sister.”

Jenny gives me the dead eye, but Taylor jumps up and grabs Jenny's hand. “Oh, it would be so great if you could help. Do you mind? I don't want to butt in.” She shoots a glance between Jenny and me.

“I don't know that I have any advice, but I'll be glad to talk to you.” Taylor doesn't know that Jenny has her formal voice on.

Taylor leans down and kisses my cheek. “I have to go back to Mamma. I'll take her home after the game and then come over to your place.”

After the second half of the game starts, and we've got a comfortable lead, LoPresto finds me. He's heard that I'm investigating Jack's murder, and he wants in on the action. Or, at least, he wants to give me instructions on how I ought to proceed. I wiggle the conversation around so that it seems like I'm asking his advice, which he is only too happy to oblige with.

“Seems to me you're looking for somebody with a grudge against Jack.”

“I expect you're right.” It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. “You talked to Jack a lot. You ever hear anything I ought to look into?”

“Well, there's Woody. I hear he and Jack got together last week. Maybe Jack said something he didn't like.”

“I don't know what that might have been. It's hard for me to see Woody killing Jack.”

“Well, you know best.” We pause while the crowd hollers about a touchdown that seals the game. After things have quieted down, he says, “Maybe it's somebody from way back when, like somebody he played football against who's still mad because they lost the game.”

That's the silliest idea I can imagine. Jenny pokes me and makes a small, strangled sound. I have to force myself to keep a straight face. “If that were the case, why now?”

“Well, I don't know,” LoPresto says in a testy voice. “That's what you need to find out.”

“I do have a question for you, Gabe. You remember last week those two fellows I pointed out to you at the game? The ones you said might be scouts?”

LoPresto nods, and his expression brightens. “I never heard any more about that. Maybe you ought to ask Boone Eldridge. If they weren't scouts, it'd be good to know what those strangers were doing here.”

Like me, LoPresto would love to pin Jack's death on somebody we don't know.

I'm glad Taylor won't be at my house right away. It gives me time to settle Jenny down. “I knew I wouldn't like her,” she says.

“You haven't said three words to her. Give her a chance. Anyway, you don't have to like her. But she does have a sticky problem and it would be nice if you could at least listen to her.”

“Well, that won't kill me,” she grumbles.

“I'll sweeten the deal for you. I was going to drag this out on a special occasion, but maybe now is a good time.” I go into the cabinet and bring out a good bottle of Cabernet that I bought last time I was in Houston. Jenny and I have a friendly competition about who buys the best wine without spending too much.

“You're at least singing the right song,” she says.

I didn't eat before the game, so I bring out sausage and cheese and crackers and the good wine glasses.

By the time we sit down, I hear Taylor's footsteps coming up to the door. I notice the way Taylor breezes in as if she lives here.

I jump up to greet her. “Would you rather have a beer or some wine?”

“Oh, fancy,” she says. She grins at Jenny. “This has to be your influence.”

“Samuel isn't lacking some of the graces,” Jenny says dryly.

I'm embarrassed because Taylor assumes something is going on between Jenny and me, but I don't know any good way to set her straight.

“I hope this wine is as good as the man who sold it to me said it was.” I pour the wine, and notice I'm bustling around like a nervous hen so I sit down abruptly and take a sip.

“This is nice,” Jenny says, sipping the wine. I guess it makes her feel magnanimous because she says to Taylor, “Why don't you tell me what you two have gotten yourselves into.”

Taylor describes our foray to the Marcus compound. When Taylor says she wants a court order to see her sister privately, Jenny gives a regretful shake of her head. “I wish I could be more encouraging, but the courts haven't been too inclined to rein in folks like them. The law is on their side. Unless you have proof that your sister is being held against her will or that she or the children are being physically or sexually abused, there isn't much you can do.”

“My sister used our old signal to let me know things aren't right there.” Taylor beats her fist into her palm. “I know she meant it. Why can't she and her children at least be given protective custody while the police figure it out?”

Jenny shakes her head. “It's all about religion. Most courts bend over backwards to give them the benefit of the doubt. You remember the Yearning for Zion thing from a while back?”

“Yes,” Taylor perks up. “That place out in west Texas. Several of those people got convicted.”

“Hold on,” I say, “Remind me what this was.”

Both of them look at me like I've been living in the back woods for ten years. “Don't you remember all those poor women and children being bused in from west Texas?” Jenny says.

“This was how long ago?”

“Two years? Three? Something like that,” Jenny says.

I'm not surprised I don't remember the details, although I do remember seeing pictures on TV of the women stepping off the buses.

Taylor is watching me. “That's when Jeanne got sick, isn't it?”

“I see.” Jenny looks embarrassed. Emotions always seem hard for her. She clears her throat. “Let me tell you what happened. Some poor sixteen-year-old girl from the Yearning for Zion group managed to phone local police and tell them she was being forced into marriage. Authorities had known for years that something was wrong, but they couldn't do anything until this girl said she'd testify.”

Taylor has a fist to her mouth and she's looking like she could be sick to her stomach.

“Turned out those old men were marrying girls as young as fourteen. Several of the men went to jail. Most of the women went right back to the ranch so they could be reunited with their kids, but a few of them took the opportunity to leave the cult. Warren Jeffs, their leader, was convicted of rape in Utah.”

“Good! Those men are so disgusting,” Taylor says.

Jenny waves away Taylor's comment. “Hold on. His conviction was overturned in Utah.”

Taylor is so agitated that she jumps up. “Those damned Mormons!”

“You can't really blame the Mormons. The Mormon Church disavowed him. The reason he got off is because he's rich. And money talks. At least, it did in Utah.” Jenny's eyes are lit up. She's enjoying this story.

“Wait a minute. Didn't a guy named Jeffs get convicted here in Texas a while back?” I ask.

“That's the one,” Jenny says. “The state of Texas extradited Jeffs so he could stand trial here. Some of the crimes he committed were in west Texas. We may not be the last word in justice, but Jeffs isn't as well connected here as he is in Utah. So he was convicted, and this time it stuck.”

Taylor stops in front of Jenny, hand cocked on one hip. “That's good news. But I don't see how that's going to help Sarah.”

“I'll tell you how. Jeffs's conviction brought up all this cult stuff again. People here are religious, but they don't like that kind of sex stuff with young girls. I'll have to talk to some lawyers who know more about it. Maybe they can come up with a way to get your sister some protection.”

Taylor is shaking her head. “It won't matter unless we can get her children out, too. She'll never say a word as long as she's afraid she'll lose them.”

Jenny rises. “I understand. Let me poke into it a little bit. I'm no expert, but I know how to ask the right questions.”

When I finally get to bed, it takes me a while to fall sleep. I can't forget what Jenny said about those children being married off so young. Neither Taylor nor Jenny brought it up, but I wonder if the same thing is going on out at True Marcus Ministry. And if so, how would Curtis feel if his daughter was one of those girls?