Lethal Lineage (12 page)
Keith had been a captain in the Army. He was used to giving orders. Having people snap to.
“Josie, I want you and Tosca gone the first thing in the morning. If you’re in good enough shape to drive. If not, I’ll drive you myself and take a bus back.”
Josie said nothing. I didn’t either.
“And you, Lottie. It’s time to call a halt to this whole charade. Sam’s pissed as hell and I am too. You’re going to resign first thing in the morning. In fact, I’ll go with you.”
I said nothing. Knowing the reason he wanted to go with me was because he didn’t trust me to do it on my own.
It dawned on me that he couldn’t be with us both simultaneously.
He’d thought of that too. “We’ll all go to the sheriff’s office tomorrow morning before I head out with Josie.”
We said nothing.
He wrung his hands, stared at his white knuckles, clasped them, and leaned forward, his forearms on the table, the tendons in his neck taut, his mouth a straight line.
“Goddamn, Lottie honey, I’m sorry that it has to be this way.” His voice softened. “I know how much this job means to you, sweetheart. Really, I do.”
I said nothing. We said nothing.
“And I know we’ve had this discussion before.” He turned to my sister. “Josie, I’m sorry to sound like the kind of man who orders women around. Lottie can tell you I’m not that way.”
Oh god
, I groaned inwardly. Deeper and deeper and deeper, with no concept at all of the depth of the pit he was digging.
Josie, my twin, my best friend, my other heart. We didn’t need speech or signals. We just knew.
She turned to me. “Can you keep Tosca again for me tomorrow? I still have a couple of sections to cover.”
My heart thumped. “Yes. But we’re going to have to make different arrangements when I’m working at the historical society. Margaret doesn’t like her. But I’ll be on duty tomorrow anyway, so Sam can get some rest.”
Keith jumped to his feet. He looked hard at me and then Josie. Then he swept his mug off the table. It crashed into little pieces on the tile floor.
Face flushed, he stomped up the stairs.
When he was out of sight, I took a couple of sips of cocoa but my mouth trembled. I reached for a napkin and wiped tears from my eyes.
“He does have a point, you know,” I said.
“Yes, he does. But tonight he’s pure reaction. Not thinking about the larger picture. Your resigning as undersheriff won’t solve the problem.”
“Someone wants to scare me. I think.”
“But why? There has to be a reason.”
I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes. “I don’t know. I guess to stop me from doing something. The most obvious would be to stop circulating the petition to recall Sheriff Deal.”
“But you’re not doing the circulating. It’s Keith and I.”
“Anyone who knows Keith well, knows the quickest way to get to him is through me.”
“I agree, but we don’t want to fix on the petition before we consider other motives. Someone may want you to stop delving into Mary Farnsworth’s murder.”
“I can’t think of any reason why anyone would want to stop me from doing that.”
“I can. The murderer.”
We stared at each other.
“Just to make sure we’ve covered all the bases, are you working on someone’s story at the historical society with something hidden? Again?” she added. “We know where that can lead.”
“None relating to Mary.”
“I’m going up to bed.”
“Me too.”
I slipped out of my clothes and pulled on a nightgown. I glanced at the dark motionless shape of my husband’s body, on his side, back toward me, feigning sleep. I sighed. This was going to be another difficult time in our marriage.
***
The phone woke me up about fifteen minutes before my alarm went off the next morning.
“Morning, Lottie.”
“Sam.” I sat upright. “Has something else happened?”
“Nope and nothing else is going to either. Not to you, at least. I’m going on duty today so you can recuperate from last night.”
“I’m fine.” Or would be if a couple of men would stop trying to take care of me. “Just fine. Really.”
“Maybe so, but I might as well be here worrying about you as home worrying about you.”
“All right. I’ll be at the historical society. Call if something comes up.”
I got up and went out to the balcony to check the weather. It’s the very first thing we do in the morning in Western Kansas. Our whole day is determined by the weather. The outside temperature gauge said 48, but that could change. No wind, so I didn’t have to worry about power lines snapping. In fact, with any luck at all, I might be able to get in a decent day’s work.
I dressed in my best khaki pants and pulled on a coral lightweight cotton turtleneck and twisted my hair into a French roll. A little make-up, a little attention to my eyelashes and I looked like a casual competent professional woman on top of her game. In fact, I was surprised at how well I felt.
Keith was gone. Josie sat at the table half listening to the morning news.
“What time did Keith leave?”
“I don’t know. He was gone before I got downstairs.”
“Well.”
“Yes. Well.”
I scrambled a couple of eggs, grabbed a slice of toast, and carried the plate to the table. She did not expect me to talk before I got coffeed up.
“About Tosca,” I said. “No one boards dogs around here. I’ve been trying to think of someone she can stay with while I’m at work and you’re out running around.”
“No need. I have her little kennel with me. She can just stay in it and I’ll leave a note for Keith to take care of her when he comes back.”
“If he comes back.”
“Oh come on. He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it.”
“I know. And he does mean well. Really.”
“I know that too. He’s a smart man. After he’s had a chance to think he’ll know that whoever took a shot at you last night was probably some of Deal’s relations and we can’t just quit. We’ve got to get that man out of office.”
“Something has to be done about that whole family. This chain has to be broken.” I told her about the files, the crimes that had been overlooked in the twenties.
“That’s a long time ago. Are you saying ‘bad seed’? That some families have murderous hearts?”
“That’s your territory.” I picked up my keys and headed out the door. Then I paused and looked back at her. “I’m afraid you won’t be safe driving up to folks’ houses. I don’t know what we were thinking.”
“Don’t worry. This morning I’m going to businesses. I’ll talk to the owners when there aren’t any customers around.”
“That should be doable. No customers around is a fact of life out here.”
***
Mrs. Rodney Howarter came in about ten o’clock. She lived next door to Edna and brought her tapes.
“So soon? I expected these to last her for a couple of weeks.”
“You’ve given her a new lease on life. She says she wants to get all kinds of things off her chest.”
“Well, they say confession is good for the soul.” I doubted that my little mouse murderer had many sins on her conscience, but I was glad she was enjoying the project. “Here. Take her two more. Do you know how to insert the cassettes?”
“Yes. And she nearly talked me to death when I went over. I give her the morning paper when I’m done with it.”
Elmira Howarter wore blue polyester pants with a coordinating long-sleeved multi-colored top. She always looked neat and put together. Her sharp eyes behind her thick glasses didn’t miss much. Edna was lucky to have Elmira checking on her. A kind woman, she was an informal cheer committee of one to a number of elderly neighbors.
“Is she doing all right?” I knew full well it was all over town that Edna was the last person to receive communion from that poor preacher woman who had just dropped dead. No wonder it had just about put Edna under, too.
“Yes, really well considering the shock.”
She didn’t linger. I composed an ad for a housekeeper, and another for a deputy. I put everything away, and headed down the street for the sheriff’s office so Sam could check the copy for our newest help-wanted ad.
We had set up a makeshift desk for Troy. Mostly to make him feel official. It was scarred green metal and I think Sam had found it at a used office supply store. One of the drawers didn’t work and the top was chipped. It took up too much room and I wanted Sam to haul it off to the landfill.
I breezed through the front door.
Sitting at Troy’s desk wearing a shiny deputy badge pinned to a dark blue shirt with a pistol strapped to his side and a Stetson pushed back on head without a trace of a smile was Keith.
My husband, Keith Fiene.
“You absolutely, positively cannot, cannot do this.”
“I can. All it takes is a sheriff’s signature to appoint a deputy. I would like to remind you that this is how you got to be one.”
“We should have discussed this. Talked about it.”
“I would like to remind you that you didn’t talk a damn thing over with me when you became one.”
“That’s different.” But I flushed, knowing it wasn’t. He’d learned the hard way, through the coffee shop, that I had become a deputy sheriff without so much as my saying “boo” to him. Because I was afraid he wouldn’t like it. Make a fuss.
All this was going through my mind, but if someone had taken my temperature, it would have been dangerously high.
“Keith, you can’t do this.”
“I can and I will.”
His eyes, his mouth, his muscles, everything about him did not show a bit of humor. He was dead serious. There wasn’t a trace of spite. He wasn’t a petty man. But I simply couldn’t imagine a worse situation. It would be like Godzilla and Tyrannosaurus Rex working together. He watched my face but refused to smile, nor did his eyes soften. A rock. A mountain. Unmoving.
Speechless, I whirled around and left. On the way home I pounded the steering wheel and began to cry. Blinded by tears, I pulled over to the side of the road. How could Sam do this to me? How could Keith do this to me? I tried to get a grip on myself, but failed. I sobbed and hiccupped, then blew my nose and drove on home.
Once there, I headed for my leather chair and curled into a sodden lump. Hating Keith, Sam, God, Western Kansas, the impossible collection of quarrelsome people out here, my Dogpatch existence, the rabbits that devoured my tulips, the wind, the goddamn wind, and wildly yearning for civilization—something pretty—I cried until there were no tears left.
I dozed and woke with a start when Josie came through the door.
“What’s wrong, Lottie?” By her tone I knew she thought something had happened to Keith. Not yet, I thought, but something would. And soon. Very, very soon.
I shoved my quilt from across my face. “My husband is now my new deputy sheriff. And they didn’t even to bother to talk it over with me first.”
I couldn’t look at her face. If she thought this was funny, she would quickly join my list. She sat Tosca on the floor and the little dog immediately sprang into my chair, reached for my face and began licking my tears. I pushed her down onto my lap and began petting her.
“I’ll make some tea,” Josie said. “Then we’ll talk.”
I was past the hiccupping stage. Josie came back with a steaming cup of chamomile, handed it to me, then went into the family room and put on a soothing symphony. She had more sense than to choose anything country that would accentuate my sense of tragedy. She came back and lit a candle. The tea, the music, the scent of lavender began to sooth me. She sat down in the chair Keith usually used and leaned forward.
“Don’t even think of playing shrink with me!”
“OK. How about playing grown-up?” She pulled out her cigarettes and lighter and eyed me coldly.
“That’s not fair.” I sat bolt up-right. “So not fair. I have a right to…to…take umbrage at the arrogant son-of-a-bitches…goddamn high-handed dismissal of my abilities like I’m some kind of a teenage dilettante trying out new adventures.”
“No one sees you as messing around, Lottie. I haven’t heard Keith accusing you of that. And I suspect Sam doesn’t feel that way either or he wouldn’t have promoted you to undersheriff.”
I sipped my tea.
“And as to Sam and Keith not talking to you about it in advance, I would like to remind you that Keith was absolutely furious when you took your deputy job without so much as a word to him.”
“That’s different. It would have been like asking for his permission.”
“Oh, Christ.” She blew a smoke ring and called to Tosca, who immediately jumped from my lap. They both haughtily left the room. Too mad to cry, I got up and went outside and started pulling weeds from my neglected pitiful little patch of tulips and jonquils. I threw a rock at a bunny peeping out of the cedars. Then I went inside and laid out some hamburger patties for supper. I fixed a large salad and stemmed strawberries, mixed a passable shortcake and whipped some cream.
That evening, from our bedroom, I heard Keith’s Suburban pull into the drive. He whistled as he came into the kitchen. After I judged enough time had passed for him and Josie to have eaten, I went downstairs.
I paused at the bottom of the steps. Keith and Josie were playing music in the family room. Although her best instrument is the piano, she plays the violin beautifully and Keith was on his guitar. Their laughter pealed through the air, then I heard Keith gently instructing her on some of the finer points of bluegrass. At first, Josie had been condescending in adapting to this genre. She was strictly classical, but to her credit, she was beginning to understand. Surprisingly, she noticed the parallel between bluegrass ballads and opera. “It’s all high melodrama,” she had said.
Tonight the two of them were playing an early George Jones recording, “White Lightning.” Josie abandoned the frenetic violin accompaniment and I saw her double over with laugher. “I can’t keep up. I can’t.”
“Sure you can. Here I’ll show you.”
He went over and took the violin from her and she stood by his side as he demonstrated the difficult fret work. An orphaned feeling swept over me. Not as strong as envy of their easy camaraderie, but lonely, left out.
I could be standing there, appreciating his wonderful music, enjoying being the focus of his attention.
If I weren’t married to the bastard.
I stomped outside and lined up beer cans on the fence lining the back of my garden. I paced off twenty-five yards, the maximum sensible distance for self-defense although I was a crack shot and sure of my accuracy at thirty-five. Most real world shooting was a lot closer.
I sent the cans reeling one by one. Between shots, I heard the back door open. I turned. Keith came out and sat on a chair at the edge of the patio. He watched silently as I continued my assault on the beer cans. I heard the door open and close again, and turned back to my practice. Then he stood by my side holding the .345 magnum he’d had in his holster at the sheriff’s office.
In his other hand was a sack of cans. Wordlessly, he walked over to the fence and lined them up. I shot first. He shot second. I looked at him hard and we coldly continued alternating down the line. The moon went behind the clouds and a sudden splotch of light caught my eye. Josie had come out on her upstairs balcony to watch. Her form was as black as a specter with only the tip of her cigarette breaking the dark.
My hand and wrist was tiring from the weight. His wasn’t, but he finally missed.
“Rifles?” he said.
I shook my head. No comparison there. He would win hands down. I glanced at the balcony. Josie had gone inside. I started to tremble. I carefully laid my gun down on the nearest patio table and covered my face with my hands. He set his gun beside mine and reached for me.
“Bastard,” I whispered as I buried my face in his chest.
“I know,” he murmured. He kissed me and then walked off and left me alone.
He’s a seasoned husband and knows many things from having had two wives.
I arranged pillows in a patio recliner and watched the moon for hours. I watched the rabbits play in the moonlight and heard frogs set up a dreadful clamor from our pond. I pondered reality. Facts. Between fitful dozing.
There was no changing this man. And I knew good and well he had not done this to spite me or because he thought I was incompetent. I thought about different stances and attitudes because at thirty-eight, I knew it was possible to simply adopt a different attitude. A nice trick, which had come to me late, but it was possible. My options were not pretty.
I could continue to rage and pout, thwart Keith at every turn and make his life miserable, try for a cutsie husband and wife combo, a kind of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, or act coldly professional toward my brand new deputy when we were working together.
I settled on the last option.