Cold Tea on a Hot Day (27 page)

“Come on in.” Tate waved toward his office. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you any coffee. I got an Orange Crush, in a can. It’s hot, though.” He had not gotten the six-pack into the refrigerator. What he needed was a good private assistant.

The sheriff, wisely declining the warm Orange Crush, lowered himself into the leather chair across the desk from Tate. He produced a toothpick from his breast pocket, stuck it in his mouth, wet it well and then began. “I got those Tell-In folks buggin’ me from one side, and my wife chewin’ at me from the other.”

“Oh?” Curiosity swept Tate, improving his mood.

“Here it is from the start. What these Tell-In folks put forth is that this Dan Kaplan stole a computer chip he had invented for them. Something for increasing memory…I don’t understand all this computer stuff. Anyway, he turned around and sold it to some Japanese outfit, and that’s where the money comes from. Those Tell-In folks therefore claim that the money is theirs.”

“That seems to be reaching a bit far.” Tate found himself rather fascinated by Neville’s use of a toothpick, which he chewed on even when speaking, whipping it from one side of his mouth to the other, as if to emphasize certain points.

“That’s pretty much my opinion.” He shifted the toothpick again and chewed rapidly. “What they’re also claimin’ is that this chip, or plans for it, or what-have-you, was in Dan Kaplan’s possession and could still be in his things.”

“I imagine it’s small and hidden,” Tate offered.
Watching the sheriff’s mouth maneuver the toothpick, he tensed, ready for action, in case the man choked. He was not certain what he would do, though; likely normal procedures would be ineffective with a toothpick that might have to be surgically removed if stuck.

“So they say. What I gather is that they had some sort of informant who leads them to believe…
hope
is probably a better word…that Kaplan had only partially been paid and was in the process of deliverin’ the chip and full plans, at which time he would receive the final payment. Fayrene does say that Kaplan told her that he was supposed to meet some people in Dallas, that he was headin’ there, and was stoppin’ here on his way down, and wantin’ Fayrene to go down with him to Dallas.” He slid the toothpick to the left.

“Anyway, to my mind, just because the chip once belonged to these Tell-In folks—and they haven’t really proved that part, yet—I don’t see how they can lay claim to the money. And I’m sure not givin’ it over to these two yahoos on just their say-so, nor am I givin’ over Dan Kaplan’s stuff. That’s what I told ’em, too.”

“I imagine they were not too happy about that.”

“No…no, they weren’t.” The toothpick went back and forth at a rapid rate. “That woman offered me five hundred dollars, if I’d give over the case and the money.”

“Huh.” Now here was a story stirring.

“Yep, and when I turned that down, she offered me a thousand.”

Tate, who was not surprised, shook his head. The big man shifted in his chair, broke the toothpick in half with his tongue and spat it out.

“I just about threw her butt in jail, but I didn’t have a witness…and besides, I wanted rid of them.

“I’ll tell you what…those people do not understand that money doesn’t call the shots around here. Justice and legality call the shots, and I uphold them, as is my sworn duty. The money and the briefcase and all of Dan Kaplan’s effects are evidence in my jurisdiction, and until this is all sorted out, and with them producing some proof of their claims, what I got is a man who died clean of a heart attack, no report of theft from anywhere, besides what these Tell-In people are sayin’, and everything paid up and no relatives, so his ex-wife has right to inherit by virtue of she was his only wife, and he left some letters stating plainly his intention to legally marry her again.”

“Will that stand up in court?”

“Well, I don’t know. But that’s how I see it, and I figure until some judge tells me different, I’m in charge. My sworn duty is to protect and serve the people of this town, and that means Fayrene, not some strangers from outta state.”

Tate nodded. They didn’t make a lot of dedicated sheriffs like the one sitting before him.

The next instant the big man’s shoulders slumped. “My wife isn’t happy about any of this.”

“She isn’t?” Another wrinkle.

The sheriff shook his head and, in an obviously nervous habit, brought another toothpick from his breast pocket, as he said, “Maybe I am goin’ out on a limb for Fayrene, but she’s a good friend. When I was just a kid, seventeen, Fayrene sixteen years older, she and I…well, she showed a boy a big part about bein’ a man.” A softness
came over his face. “Man, I was scared for my first time, and she showed me all about it. I guess she was my first love, but there wasn’t anything either of us could do about it—you know, another time, another place, maybe.”

The big man’s face was filled with emotion that he obviously revealed to few people. Tate felt humbled.

He also thought about how still waters hid surprising matters. And about how for some reason people had always confided in him the deeply private details of their lives. Even as a teenager, other boys and girls would seek him out and confess all this stuff that he would rather they had kept to themselves. Back in his hometown he had known whose parents beat who, who was pregnant and unmarried, who was cheating whom out of what. His mother had said it was his demeanor and that he was meant to be a preacher; his brother had said he was perfect for journalism, that all the stories would seek him out.

He recalled overhearing the women gossiping yesterday at the grocery store.

Neville jerked him out of his wandering thoughts by saying, “My relationship with Fayrene was never anything like how I love my wife, and all of it was years ago, anyway. The only way it pertains to today is my friendship for her. A man doesn’t leave his friends just because he gets married.”

“No, can’t do that.”

“My wife can’t seem to see it any other way than that I’m strayin’, though.” Back and forth again went the toothpick. “Ever since she found out about Fayrene and me, she’s been jealous, even though it happened years before
she and I ever met. I’ve explained my head off, but nothin’ I say can seem to change how she takes it.” He shook his head. “I tell you, women can make a mountain out of a molehill.”

Tate figured that each person viewed a molehill from a different perspective. If said molehill was in a neighbor’s backyard, it was never so important as when it was popping up in your own backyard. Mighty hard to be unconcerned with your own backyard torn to pieces.

He had just seen the sheriff out the door when Charlotte came blowing in, and she looked madder than a wet hen.

Without a word, she slammed her purse on her desk and, still standing, proceeded to sort through the stack of mail she had brought with her.

Tate debated whether or not to ask her what was wrong. He did not feel up to handling another confidence or problem. He did, however, want his coffee, and he did not see that Charlotte had brought a can.

“Where’s the coffee?” he asked.

“What?” She paused in her mail sorting to frown at him. “Oh, shoot. I went to the post office to get the mail first, and I got to talkin’ to Julia and clean forgot I had gone out for coffee.”

She had spoken to Julia Jenkins-Tinsley. He wasn’t going to question that.

“I’ll go get the coffee,” he said and walked out the door.

He wondered if the main secret to life might be minding one’s own business, and if this might not be the hardest thing in the world for a human being to do.

That evening Marilee experienced certainty in her decision to marry Parker. She was, in fact, finding her effort to love him worthwhile, because he was responding with equal effort to be agreeable. He got them both Coca-Colas, pouring hers into a glass, and brought the drinks to the dining room table, where together they discussed wedding plans.

Actually, it was not a discussion. Parker asked Marilee what she wanted to do about getting married. Marilee, wondering at the expression, cocked her head.

“Do you mean what to do about the wedding?”

“Yes,” he said, and she noted the positive yes.

She wanted a small church wedding, with Pastor Smith officiating, and the children and her Aunt Vella present, and her mother would want to be included, of course. She got carried away with hopeful thoughts that maybe Anita would come up for the ceremony. And she would like enough time to get a new dress for herself, and new clothes for the children. And flowers.

“Whatever you want,” Parker said.

“Well…I think it will take a couple weeks, at least, to get it together. We’ll have to work around Pastor Smith’s availability.” She began a list, putting contacting the pastor first.

Then there was the question of a honeymoon. Marilee thought it would be a good idea for them to get away, and Parker exhibited more eagerness for this idea than for the wedding. The first question was where to go.

“Wherever you want,” Parker said.

She wasn’t certain where she wanted to go. “Charlene and Mason went to Cancun. They liked it.” However, the
prospect of distance and time between her and the children unnerved her. She did not say this, however.

“If that’s where you want to go, that’s where we’ll go,” Parker said. Then he added, “I’ll have to see if Morris can come down from Lawton, or maybe get Dr. Swisher to come out of retirement. I’ll let you know what week one of them can stand in for me, and we’ll go anywhere you want. Your call.”

Later, with the children in bed, they sat on the couch. Parker kissed her deeply and suggested that he stay the night.

Marilee pushed his hands from her breasts and told him gently, “I would rather we not go sleeping together until we are married. I think this is best for the children. We need to take one step at a time, Parker. I want to present the children with a secure environment.”

Parker was quiet, and then he said, “All right.”

Having focused on the children, which was easiest, Marilee said she was concerned about having to leave their garden behind. They all enjoyed it so much. It was too late to plant an entire garden in Parker’s yard now, but she and the children could plant flower beds. Then there was the combining of their households to be considered.

“It’ll take me time to sort through all our stuff. We can move over to your house gradually. Okay?” She was suddenly struck by a great reluctance to leave her cottage, no matter how small and cramped.

Parker said, “Sounds good.”

“I’d like to buy Corrine a four-poster bed and make her room up really pretty.”

Parker nodded and said, “Fine.”

He kissed her and pushed her down upon the couch and began slipping his hands up beneath her shirt. Marilee felt the great confusion of desire and restraint. She wished she could explain to him how she felt about her position as a mother of small children. She could not speak to other times of her life, neither years before nor years ahead, but only to that particular time right then, when her choice was to wait. When, in fact, she felt a panic at the thought of sex. She fairly pushed him on the floor.

He did his little-boy frown, and she stroked his temple hair back around his ear with her fingernail. “I’m tired, anyway…and you said you were, too.”

“Yep. Got a dog I need to check when I get back.” He got to his feet.

She closed the door after him and went to clear away their coffee cups and clean up the sink. She paused, staring at her reflection in the night-black windows.

Parker had been most agreeable all evening. Why, then, did she feel such dissatisfaction?

She wished he wouldn’t keep going after her body like a wildcatter determined to bore for oil. And that he would have been more forthcoming in making mutual decisions. He seemed unwilling to take part in planning, content to leave it all to her.

She sighed deeply, feeling as if she were a very hard woman to please.

Maybe that was the correct answer to
a woman like her.

Marilee was just slipping into bed—and almost guiltily glad of having it all to herself again—when the telephone rang.

It was Belinda, who said, “Well, you are gonna have to do somethin’ about Mama and Daddy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now I have got Daddy up here in my apartment, in front of my television, sleepin’ on my sofa, and strewin’ his stuff all over my bathroom. This is just not gonna work. You are gonna have to do somethin’. You have got to talk to Mama and get her to take Daddy back home.”

Marilee said she had talked to Aunt Vella and had gotten nowhere. “I talked to your daddy earlier, too, and didn’t get anywhere. I’m sorry, Belinda, but there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do.” Marilee was also thinking that Belinda should have been more concerned before everything had gotten to this point.

“Well, somebody is gonna have to do somethin’. I can’t stand this,” said Belinda, as distraught as Marilee had ever heard her. Then the line clicked dead.

With thinking up things to do to get her aunt and uncle back together, worrying over how the upheaval of moving from their house to Parker’s would affect the children, and trying to work up enthusiasm for leaving the children to go on a honeymoon, Marilee lay awake a long time.