About That Man (18 page)

“Why are you here?” she asked suspiciously even as she poured more batter onto the griddle.

“Is that any way to greet your father?” King grumbled.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she said, and went over to give him a kiss on his cheek.

“She's having a bad morning,” Tommy offered as he stuffed the last bite of pancakes into his mouth. “She got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Her father regarded her curiously. “Is that so? Any particular reason?”

“Nope. Just one of those days,” she said, but she could tell that he wasn't buying it.

“I guess I'll go work on the boat till Uncle Walker comes back,” Tommy said, pushing his chair back from the table.

“No,” Daisy said hurriedly. She did not want to be left alone with her father. Whatever his mission was this morning, she wanted no part of it. “You haven't finished your breakfast.”

Tommy gazed at her, looking puzzled. “Yes, I have. See, my plate's all clean. If I eat any more, I'll pop.”

“Let the boy go,” King said as he poured maple syrup all over his pancakes. “It'll give you and me a chance to catch up.”

Which, of course, was precisely what she was afraid of.

Tommy seized on King's permission to take off and was about to hit the door at a full run, when Daisy reminded him to go upstairs and change out of his pajamas. It took him all of five minutes before he clattered back down, tore through the door, then let it slam behind him.

Her father shook his head. “Doesn't that boy know better than that?” he complained.

“Tucker and Bobby never did. Must be a male gene,” Daisy commented, pouring herself a large glass of orange juice and settling nervously across from her father.

“You slammed your share of doors, too, young lady. Never did understand why.”

Daisy grinned. “It was the only way to make a point without getting into more trouble for sassing you.”

“When did you ever get into trouble with me? You could always wind me right around your little finger. Besides, until lately, you never gave me a minute's worry.”

“You don't have anything to worry about now, either,” she told him.

“Of course I do. You're crazy about that boy, and it's going to break your heart when he leaves. Then there's his uncle.” King shook his head. “People over at Earlene's were talking about him again just this week, wondering what he's doing here and how long he's going to keep hanging around you.”

Daisy regarded him skeptically. “
People
were wondering this?” she repeated. “Or was it you, Daddy? You and Pete and Donnie and Will and all the other old gossips you hang around with?”

“Other people asked,” he insisted. “I didn't know what to tell them.”

“Try telling them to mind their own business.”

“Wouldn't do any good. People talk. Always have, always will. Only way to stop it is not to do anything that'll attract their attention.”

Daisy stood up and started slamming dishes into the sink and filling it with sudsy water. “So you've said. I am
not
having this conversation again,” she said emphatically.

“Then I'll have it with Walker. When's he getting here?”

“He's been here already.”

“Then where is he? Why has he left the boy with you? I thought the whole point of these weekend visits was for the two of them to spend time together.”

“He didn't just go off and abandon him here. Tommy lives here, Daddy. I wish you'd accept that.”

“Mighty cozy arrangement from Walker's perspective. You've got all the responsibility. What's he got? He shows up, says howdy and takes off again.”

Daisy bit her tongue. She was not going to explain that Walker had taken off because he regretted the fact that they'd shared a kiss so steamy that it would have fogged up all the windows if they'd been indoors.

“Leave it alone,” she said tersely.

“Blast it all, girl, how can I do that? You're my daughter. The man's taking advantage of you.”

“I'm not complaining, so why should you?”

“Your thinking's gone all daft because of the boy. If you'd married Billy Inscoe…”

Daisy whirled on him. “I wouldn't have had Billy Inscoe if he'd come with a million-dollar check and a bow tied around his neck. And even though you refuse to admit it, you know he was the one who walked out on me, not the other way around, so don't go acting as if he were some prize catch that I stupidly threw back in the river.”

“Okay, okay, settle down. I shouldn't have brought up Billy,” King admitted. “The man didn't have the character I thought he did.”

“Amen to that.”

“But he could have changed,” King said stubbornly. “He was from around here. I've known his mama and his daddy for years.”

“In other words, even a lousy, low-down skunk of a Southern man is better than a Yankee.”

“Damn straight,” King said. “Every relationship has its share of bumps in the road. If you'd wanted him back—”

“I didn't want him back,” she said with an amazing display of patience. This conversation was her own fault for never having explained the whole story to her father. Maybe that would have put the subject of Billy to rest once and for all.

“That's nothing but your pride talking.”

Daisy would have laughed if she hadn't been so outraged. He actually believed what he was saying. “Daddy, you are my father and I love you, but you are crazy as a loon.”

He stared at her indignantly. “Is that any way to talk to your father?”

“It is when you deserve it. Give it up. Billy Inscoe was scum. And, just so you know, there is nothing going on between Walker and me that you need to concern yourself with.”

“Maybe not yet,” he said, his tone dire. “But you can't predict what kind of liberties a man like that will take.”

Thanks to an all-too-recent experience, Daisy had a pretty good idea. In fact, Walker's unfortunate rein on his hormones was what had pretty much ruined her morning. Now her father seemed determined to destroy the rest of the day.

She reached for a dish towel and dried her hands.
“Daddy, I've got things to do. You can stay here and keep an eye on Tommy. If I'm not back by noon, take him to the park. He has a baseball game at twelve-thirty.”

“You're leaving me here to babysit?”

“I'm sure you can handle it. Just try to steer away from talking about the war. Tommy's expressed a lot of interest lately in Ulysses S. Grant. I don't want to discourage him.”

She managed to hide her smile until she got outside. She could still hear her father's indignant curses echoing through the house.

“Sorry, Tommy,” she murmured, stopping to give him a hug.

He stared at her, startled. “For what?”

“Leaving you here with a crazy man.”

His eyes widened. “You mean your dad?”

She glanced toward the house. “That is exactly who I mean. Don't be surprised if he comes out here and starts lecturing you about Robert E. Lee and the army of the Confederacy.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I might have given him the idea that you were partial to the Yankees.”

“Why?”

“Because he was annoying me,” she explained, then kissed his cheek. “It was better than bopping him over the head with a cast-iron skillet.”

Tommy stared at her. “Grown-ups,” he muttered with heartfelt derision. “I sure am glad I'm still a kid.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“Who's gonna take me to my game?”

“If neither your uncle nor I is back, my father will take you.”

“But you're coming, right?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn't miss it.”

“And Uncle Walker knows where it is?”

“He knows,” she assured him. “We'll be there.”

“Okay, bye.” He turned back to the boat.

Daisy marveled at how simple it was to make a boy happy. If only her own needs were as easily met. She wasn't even sure anymore that she could adequately explain what they were.

I
t took most of the morning before Walker cooled off enough to risk going back to Daisy's. Discovering that she'd taken off and left King babysitting Tommy didn't do a thing to improve his mood. Not that there was anything at all wrong with King taking care of Tommy. It was just that Walker recognized that look in the old man's eyes and regretted that he'd come home before King was long gone.

“Been wanting to talk to you,” King said, herding him onto the deck and away from Tommy's hearing.

“About?”

“What do you think?” King retorted with a scowl. “This situation, that's what.”

For one wild second, Walker had the terrifying thought that maybe Daisy had told him about what had happened that morning, about what had happened on a few other occasions. Or maybe even about what Walker had wanted to happen, what he'd been thinking about for weeks now, which was getting Daisy into his bed. The blasted woman knew it, too. Had she tattled to her father, told him Walker had inappropriate designs on her?

Hardly, Walker thought. Daisy wouldn't breathe a word
of that to her father. She had to know that would fire King up and make him insist on getting Walker and Tommy out of that house. Walker didn't understand a lot of what was going on lately, but he did know that Daisy didn't want Tommy to leave under any circumstances. She wouldn't do or say anything that might precipitate that. What she felt about Walker beyond an undeniable physical reaction was a little less clear.

He considered all of that in a split second, then decided he'd better proceed with caution until he understood exactly what was on King's mind.

“Maybe you'd better spell things out for me,” he said slowly to King. “What situation?”

“You staying here under my daughter's roof all the time. Hanging around town with her. Making eyes at her in public. People are talking.”

Making eyes at her? If only King knew. “I'm sure Daisy can handle a little idle gossip.”

“Well, of course she can. But she shouldn't
have to,
if you see what I mean. It's time to put a stop to it before things get out of hand. This isn't D.C., where anything goes. We have certain standards here in Trinity Harbor, especially where our schoolteachers are concerned.”

Walker warned himself not to get into a fight with King that would accomplish nothing. Telling him that this was Daisy's decision to make would only exasperate him. He suspected that Daisy had already told him that, anyway, assuming King had dared to approach her, rather than simply sneaking behind her back to address his concerns to Walker.

“What would you suggest?” he asked mildly, determined to behave as if he were ready to listen to anything reasonable King wanted to propose.

“Well, since asking you to move out and go back to Washington would just upset my daughter, I have another proposition,” King said, a calculating glint in his eyes. “Marry her.”

If King had suggested that Walker submit to tarring and feathering, he couldn't have been more stunned. “Excuse me?” he said, his blood running cold. “You want me to marry Daisy?” Didn't that fly in the face of everything he'd been told about King violently objecting to any and all Yankees?

“What's wrong with you, son? Are you deaf?”

“I just couldn't believe what I was hearing. You don't even like me. You hate Tommy living here. Why would you want me to marry your daughter and turn this into a permanent arrangement?”

“Because we have a situation,” King repeated. He shook his head. “I thought I was making all this pretty clear. Maybe you're not as smart as I thought.”

Suddenly King's strategy sank in. “You sneaky old fox,” Walker said admiringly.

King regarded him with a disgruntled expression. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“You thought the idea of some sort of quickie wedding being forced down my throat would terrify me so badly, I'd be out of town before nightfall, didn't you?”

“No, no, you've got it all wrong. I think marriage is a perfect solution,” King said, clearly not ready to give up the game. The man was probably a crack poker player. Not even an eyelash twitched to give away the blatant lie.

“Okay,” Walker said, calling his bluff. “Should I get Anna-Louise over here?”

For the first time alarm flickered in King's eyes. “Why would you want her over here?”

“To talk about when the church is available, of course.”

King regarded him evenly for several long minutes, then sighed heavily. “Dammit, Walker, you don't scare easy, do you?”

“Afraid not,” he said. “But I have to admit, it was a darned fine bluff.”

“I don't suppose we have to tell Daisy about this little talk, do we?”

Walker allowed himself a little time to enjoy King's obvious discomfort, then shook his head. “I won't say a word.”

“That's that, then,” King said with a sigh of relief.

“Not quite,” Walker said. “I think maybe we ought to agree to let Daisy handle this so-called situation from now on. You might be surprised to know that your daughter's a pretty tough cookie. I don't think you need to worry so much about her.”

“Tough cookie or not, a father never stops worrying. You take on that boy, you'll see what I mean.”

It was Walker's turn to sigh. “I imagine you're right.” In fact, he suspected Tommy could get into more trouble than Daisy and her brothers combined ever dreamed of. Sadly, most of the time he had no idea at all how much trouble his own boys managed to get into. Laurie's calls tended to focus on the timeliness of his support payments, not the behavior of his sons. Maybe it was about time he insisted on changing that.

 

Walker saw precious little of Daisy over the rest of the weekend. Even at Tommy's ball game, she managed to
steer clear of him. He went back to D.C. on Sunday night feeling oddly disgruntled, as if he'd left something important unspoken. Or maybe left something important behind. He spent a restless night trying to figure out which it might be.

When he got to the station Monday morning, he was tired and cranky and in no mood to deal with finding Rodney sitting at his desk scattering peanut butter cracker crumbs all over the place.

“What are you doing here?” he asked irritably.

“You don't want me here, I can go,” Rodney said a little too eagerly.

Walker studied him. Underneath the bravado the kid looked scared, but determined. Walker looked into his eyes. “If you've got something to say to me, Rodney, I'll listen. Have you got something to say?”

“I'm here, ain't I? It's not for the food.”

“Mind telling me what made you change your mind about talking?”

“We was coming home from church yesterday and something happened,” he said, looking as if he might be near tears.

“What happened?” Walker asked quietly.

“These guys, the same ones who shot Keisha, they drove up next to us.”

“And?”

“They said some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Just stuff.”

“Did they threaten you? Or your mom?”

Rodney shrugged. “Not exactly. I mean, my mom didn't get what they were saying or anything, but I knew.
And when she wasn't looking, one of 'em pointed his finger, just like a gun, straight at her.” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “I don't want nothing to happen to my mom, okay?” he said, his lower lip trembling.

Walker nodded. “Then let's do what we can to make sure it doesn't.”

Walker nodded and reached for a tape recorder. Rodney stared at it uneasily.

“Why you got that thing?”

“To record your statement.”

“Oh, no. I ain't making no statement, not so you can play it for anybody to hear.”

“I thought you said that was why you were here.”

“I'm here to tell
you
what I know. Nobody else.”

Walker sighed. This was tricky territory. Unless Rodney were willing to testify in court, they were probably spinning their wheels bringing in the people responsible for Keisha's death. Then, again, anything that would positively ID the creeps would be a start. Walker would just have to do some fancy footwork to get them to admit to the crime or to start fingering each other.

“Okay,” he said finally. “This is just between you and me. What did you see that day?”

“You know Jermaine?”

“Keisha's uncle?”

“That's the dude. He's old, twenty-five at least, and he hangs with some real bad people. They doin' drugs all the time.”

“You've seen them?”

Rodney nodded. “They don't notice I'm around, 'cause I'm just a kid.”

“Okay, what else?”

“They was hangin' that day, when a car—one of them old classic convertibles, you know what I mean?”

Walker nodded.

“It was bright red. Man, it was something,” he said with awe. “Anyway, it came flying 'round the corner on two wheels. I thought that thing was gonna flip over, but instead, I saw this guy lean out and holler at Jermaine. Pointed a gun right at him, but Jermaine, he fast. He took off running. The guy shot just as Jermaine passed Keisha. The bullet…” His voice trailed off and huge tears tracked down his cheeks as he confronted a memory he'd been determinedly blocking out for weeks now.

Walker put his hand on Rodney's shoulder. “It's okay, son. It's okay.”

“I didn't know the guy,” he said, staring up at Walker with watery eyes. “I swear I didn't. That's why I didn't think it would matter if I didn't tell.”

“But Jermaine knows,” Walker said grimly. “And I think I know who can get him to talk if
I
can't get through to him.” Keisha's mom would tear that man from limb to limb for putting her baby in jeopardy and for keeping silent about the guilty party. And Walker wouldn't be the least bit inclined to stop her.

“Nobody's gonna know I told you, right?” Rodney asked, his perpetually worried expression etching deep lines on his ten-year-old face.

“They won't hear it from me,” Walker promised. “But you might want to lay low for a bit, just the same. In fact, I think I'll talk to your mom about sending you away to camp for the summer. How would you like that?”

Rodney's eyes lit up. “A real camp, with cabins and horses and swimming and stuff?”

“Absolutely,” Walker said. “You stay right here, and I'll make the arrangements.” He wanted Rodney out of town before he picked up Jermaine.

“What's happening with the kid?” Andy asked when Walker came into his office. “Did he finally give you something?”

Walker filled his boss in on everything Rodney had said and his own idea for getting him away from Washington for the summer. There was a camping program for inner city kids. It was usually for a shorter term, but he was pretty sure his boss could pull some strings.

“If there's no budget for it, I'll cover it,” he added. “I don't want Rodney anywhere near here when things start to happen. Plus I think he needs a chance to see that there's more to the world than what goes on in his neighborhood.”

“Done,” Andy said. “You call his mom. I'll call the camp and get one of the plainclothes detectives to drive him out there. Once he's safe, I'll let you know, and you can bring in Jermaine and get this case moving.”

It took three round-the-clock days to wrap things up. Jermaine was a tough nut to crack, but once he had to look Keisha's mom in the eye, it was all over. He named names so fast, the words were spilling over each other.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” he kept saying, his voice choked with sobs as Keisha's mom beat her fists against his chest, her own heartbroken, anguished sobs echoing through the precinct.

Walker hoped he would never hear sobs like that again in his life, but he knew he probably would. By the time they brought in the low-down sleaze who'd actually fired the shot and the men—teenagers, really—who'd been in the car with him, Walker was totally drained.

“Get out of here,” Andy ordered, when the accused had been booked and charged by midmorning Thursday. “Go on down to Trinity Harbor and relax. You did great work this week.”

“Then why do I feel like such a failure?”

Andy regarded him sympathetically. “Because a little girl is dead. You couldn't have prevented it, Walker. Nothing any of us could have done would have prevented it. But at least these creeps will be off the streets for a little while.”

As consolation went, it wasn't much. Walker envisioned years and years of the same overwhelming sense of sadness, the knowledge that no matter how much he did, it would never be enough.

“Go,” Andy said again. “Something tells me you need to spend a little time with Tommy and Daisy. Get your perspective back. A long weekend away from here will do you good.”

 

Daisy was standing at the kitchen counter, up to her elbows in dough and flour, when she realized that Walker was standing at the back door. Her heart slipped into over-drive just as it always did.

“Where did you come from? It's only Thursday, and it's barely four o'clock. I just got home from school a half hour ago.”

He stepped into the kitchen without a word. Daisy took one look at his haggard face and wiped off her hands.

“Sit,” she said. “I'll get you some lemonade.”

“A beer would be better.”

“Start with the lemonade, then we'll discuss the beer afterward.”

He scowled at her. “Do you always have to be the boss?”

“I spent a lot of time around three mule-headed men. My temperament comes naturally.”

His lips curved slightly at that. “Yes, I can see how growing up around King could do that to a person.” He nodded. “Fine. I'll take the lemonade.”

She handed him the drink in a glass filled with ice, grabbed the tray of cookies she'd just taken from the oven and put some on a plate. Walker's smile spread when she set those in front of him.