The Last Death of Jack Harbin (14 page)

It's going to be hard on Lurleen to have to answer questions so soon after Jack's death, but she probably knows more about him than anybody else, so I have to push it. She has Saturday afternoon off, but she declares that there's no way we can have a reasonable conversation at her place with her three kids hanging around. I pick her up from her trailer and we drive out to the lake to talk. A vicious Indian summer has taken hold after the rain, and the air is so hot and thick you could choke on it. At least at the lake there's a little breeze.

We sit at a picnic table drinking sodas. I ask her how long she and Jack had been dating.

She grimaces. “There wasn't much dating about it. We spent some time talking in the afternoons after I got off work. Every few weeks I'd pick him up and we'd drive down here to the lake and have a picnic.

“You had good times together?”

She nods and wipes her eyes. “He had a wicked sense of humor. Lord, he could make me laugh.”

“But you didn't decide to get married until Bob died?”

“My kids take up a lot of my time, and there wasn't any hurry. It isn't like we were going to run off to a tropical island, or have a whole batch of kids or anything like that. But after Jack's daddy died, he needed somebody to do things for him—otherwise he was going to have to move to a VA facility. So we decided it would be good for all of us.”

“Your kids, too?”

She nods and can't speak for a minute. “Bless their hearts, Jack's death has been hard on them. He got along with them real well. I didn't know how my kids were going to take finding out that we would be moving in with Jack, but when we told them, they were really happy about it.”

“Even your oldest?”

“Especially him. But he's got it in for his daddy. Being close to Jack would be a way of getting back at Darrell.”

“Does Darrell spend time with them?”

“No, sir. He's not much for kids.”

“Lurleen, I'm trying to get a handle on who might have killed Jack. I was hoping you might help me with a little insight.”

She crosses her arms on the table in front of her. Away from the frazzle of her job at the café, she looks younger. Her deep brown eyes are sad and soft. “Mr. Craddock, I've been thinking and thinking about it, and I don't know what to tell you. It was a cowardly deed. I know Jack could be cranky sometimes, but I don't know anyone who disliked him enough to do something like that.”

“Did he ever talk about anybody in particular who he had problems with?”

“You know how Jack was. Everybody got under his skin at one time or another. And he surely annoyed more than one person himself.”

A family with about a hundred kids pulls into the picnic area next to where we are sitting. They pile out of their big van like midgets out of a clown car in a circus and go barreling down to the lake. Lurleen watches them with a little smile on her face.

“How about those vet friends of Jack's? Any ongoing problems?”

“Oh, they argued about little things, football stuff mostly, but nothing serious.”

The mother of the brood next to us hauls picnic goods out of the car while her husband fires up the grill. They're both hefty people, and there seems to be a lot of food involved. For some reason, it makes me think about how skinny Lurleen and her kids are. I wonder if Darrell leaves them to fend for themselves financially. “Darrell live around here?”

“Over in Burton with some floozy. That's why he moved out, he couldn't keep it in his pants. Excuse me, I know that's crude, but it's the truth.”

“And he didn't want any custody of the kids?”

Her mouth twists. She gazes out across the water. “No, he didn't want them or me, but he didn't want anybody else to have us either. He would have kicked up a shit storm if he'd found out I was marrying Jack.”

“Do you suppose he did find out?”

She shrugs, but then realizes what I'm getting at. She makes a sound like a bus releasing its brakes. “He wouldn't have it in him to fight for me, much less kill for me. He'd have just made my life miserable trying to get his support lessened—not that he pays it very often anyway. Or he would have made noise about taking the kids away, even if he didn't want them.”

“Jack ever talk to you about Curtis?”

“Only after Bob's funeral. I never saw any two people more different. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Why somebody brave and strong like Jack goes off to war and gets himself wounded, while his coward brother stays home and plays like a big man with his guns.”

I remember what Taylor said about Jack being something of a coward. Lurleen had some romantic notion of Jack that escapes me, but I'm glad Jack had her to care about him and I tell her so.

“He never once raised his voice to me or my kids. We had nice times together. Could have had more.”

“Lurleen, do you know if Jack made out a will?”

“We talked about it when we decided to get married. He said he'd want me to have everything if anything happened to him. But we hadn't gotten around to it. You know, we thought we had plenty of time.”

We're both quiet for a minute, staring out over the lake. What a slippery thing life is. It can get away from you awfully fast. “Taylor said she was going to call you. Have you talked to her?”

She nods. “She was real nice. Always was. I remember when we were in school some kids teased me because I was so poor I only had one pair of shoes. Taylor put up a fuss and made them stop.” She swallows. “She was real sad about Jack. But she said she liked knowing that at the end he was full of hope since we were going to get married.”

I think about Jack asking Taylor to help him commit suicide. That must have been before he and Lurleen talked about marriage.

Lurleen props her chin on her hands, blinking back tears. She looks over at the neighboring campsite, where a couple of the kids have now come back, screeching for food like a couple of hawks. Their clamor doesn't faze the mother, who tells them to get on back down to the water; she'll call them when the food's ready.

“Did Jack tell Curtis or his mamma that you two were getting married?”

“I don't think so. We'd only just decided. And we knew it would take a while for my divorce to come through. Besides, Jack hardly talked to either one of them.” She wipes away a tear with an impatient gesture. “Well, crying won't do me any good.” She stands up. “I better get on back. Damn! I wish they'd release Jack's body so we could get the funeral over with. I'm hoping I'll feel better after that.”

Saturday afternoon I talk to Jack's neighbors to find out if they saw or heard anything suspicious the night Jack was killed. Becky Geisenslaw, next door, goes on about her insomnia, and says she's pretty sure she heard somebody sneaking into Jack's house that night. But she admits that she didn't get out of bed, so she never saw anything. And neither did anybody else.

Curtis's truck isn't at Jack's place, which is just as well. I'd like to look around outside without having to mess with him. I walk all around the outside of the house, not checking for anything in particular, just making sure the guilty party didn't leave anything incriminating, like a nice, waterproof note saying,
I killed Jack
.

I poke around in Bob's work shed. When I first looked inside right after Bob died, it was full of toasters, blenders, lawn mowers, TVs, radios, and other small appliances. But apparently people have come and taken them away. There are just a couple of TVs and a few unidentifiable gadgets on the workbench, and one lonesome lawn mower that looks like it might have been the first one ever made.

As I emerge from the shed, Curtis steps out onto the back patio. He doesn't see me at first, and he puts his hands on his hips and looks around the yard with a critical eye, like he's master of all he surveys. But then my movement catches his eye. “What are you doing back there?”

I step onto the patio. “Sorry, I didn't know you were here. I didn't see your truck.”

He walks over to me, his expression stern. “You didn't say what you're after back there.” He nods toward the shed.

“Nothing in particular. Just looking around. I've been handed the job of investigating your brother's murder. I'd appreciate your cooperation.”

“Handed the job? By who?”

“The mayor and city council.” I give him the short version of Rodell's situation.

“So the Jarrett Creek City Council begs help from their famous lawman. I'll bet that makes you feel like something special.”

“I'd like to help out.” I can't do anything about the flush that creeps up the back of my neck.

He sneers. “Well, if you're going to investigate, you better step on it. Mamma and I are going to sell this place real fast.”

“You mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Be my guest.” He spreads his legs wider and crosses his arms.

“Did your daddy ever say anything about having problems with anybody?”

“Daddy? What does that have to do with Jack?”

“Did he?”

“Couple of people fussed because they didn't think he'd repaired their appliances properly. He told me people could be pretty particular, especially if their stuff was worn out. Seems like a lot of poor people want a handout, if not from the government, then from anybody who makes an honest living. They don't take care of their things and then expect somebody to be a miracle worker.”

I expect this is mostly Curtis's notion. Bob didn't strike me as a man who would blame people if their stuff was old and they were trying to make it last. “Anybody ever complain to him about interactions with Jack?”

He shrugs. “We didn't talk too much about Jack. He knew I didn't think he ought to be spending his life slaving over somebody who wouldn't do for himself.”

“Did Bob ever consider putting Jack in a veteran's home?”

He snorts. “Oh, hell no! That would have made too much sense.”

“I take it you're going through Jack's finances. You find anything unusual?”

He stares at me for a few seconds and then shakes his head.

“I'd like to go through his papers, if you don't mind.”

“I do mind. Everything looks straightforward to me. I don't see that there's any reason for you to snoop into my business. I think we're done here.” He heads toward the house.

I follow him, silently cursing my damn knee that holds me back. “It's Bob's and Jack's business I'm interested in, not yours.”

He turns, barring the door to the house. “Well, it's mine now. And I don't take to government interference. You say you're a special investigator for the mayor's office, and by my reckoning, that makes you part of the government.”

Oh, Lord, deliver me from paranoid citizens. “Curtis, what the hell do you think I'm going to do with the information? Sell it on the open market? Hand out copies of it to the neighbors? Try to steal your money? Besides, whatever there is, it's half Marybeth's. And she seems more interested in finding out who killed your brother than you are.”

“I just don't see what Jack's finances have to do with . . .”

There's a flicker of confusion in his eyes. I believe he's run across something that he doesn't understand. I take the opportunity to press him. “You can be in the room with me while I look through things to make sure I don't sneak off with anything.”

He hesitates, measuring his options.

“You know, I can get a court order. Judge Herrera will give it to me in no time. It's an integral part of the investigation.” I don't know Judge Herrera from Adam, and have no idea if he'd give me a court order, but someone like Curtis, who fears the all-seeing, all-knowing government, will no doubt think I've got the judge in my pocket.

“Let me get the box.”

We head into the house. Curtis goes into his room and comes back carrying a banker's box. I don't remember seeing it when I checked the room earlier. He must carry it around with him for safekeeping. He sets the box on the kitchen table, sits down, and folds his hands in front of him, his posture ramrod straight. “Go at it,” he says.

Bob has kept tidy records. I pull out Jack's medical file and the bank statements and set them aside to concentrate on later. I quickly go through the records of car and house insurance and repairs. There is a folder for life insurance, but it appears that Bob cashed it out several years ago. There is also a file of papers pertaining to Bob's old construction job. I can't imagine why he kept them, but my personal papers wouldn't bear scrutiny either.

Finally I open the fat folder of Jack's medical affairs. By the date on the last form, I can see that Jack hasn't gone for a physical checkup for some time, so I suspect it won't be worthwhile for me to contact his doctor, but all things are on the table at this point.

Curtis gets himself a Coke and me a glass of water. He has begun to relax, but when I get to the bank statements, he sits forward like a hunting dog on point. I pause and look him in the eye. “Curtis, I'm going to tell you something that you can count on. No matter what these bank statements tell me, you'll never hear it spoken about anywhere. It's confidential information, and I'll treat it that way.”

“Just see that you do.” He's back to the rigid posture.

As soon as I get a look at the balance, I can see why he's worked up. Twenty years of veteran's benefits has added up to a significant sum. But it doesn't take me long to find something odd. A few months ago, $20,000 was taken out. A couple of weeks later, $10,000 of it was put back. I show it to Curtis. “You have any idea what this is about?”

“It's a mystery to me.” For the first time, he looks at me with something like acceptance. He nods toward the file. “Look back through and you'll see some other ones.”

Six months prior, I find another transaction, this for $8,000, the whole amount put back within a few weeks. There are others, going back two years, with varying amounts from $5,000 to $15,000.

“If the money was just taken out,” I say, “I'd wonder if it was some kind of blackmail. But it's all been put back. All except that $10,000 at the end.”

“It doesn't make any sense to me, either.”

“Maybe Jack or your daddy had some kind of health emergency they needed money for. Maybe when the insurance money came in, they put it back.”

“I didn't see anything like that in the medical record.”

“Have you talked to Hitch Montgomery at the bank?”

His face reddens. “I didn't think of that. I'll do that first thing tomorrow.”

“Let me take care of it.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. “I do know Jack liked to gamble. He and his friends would go off to that casino in Louisiana—Coushatta. But $10,000 is a lot of money to gamble. Your daddy ever mention worrying about Jack spending too much money gambling?”

“Like I said, Daddy and I didn't talk much about Jack.”

I put the files back into the box. “I won't take anything with me, but I may need to look at them again.”

“We'll see.” He's back to being suspicious. “Are we done here?”

“Just about. Let me ask you about something that goes back to when Jack got injured. I think you were still in high school.”

“Okay, I wasn't around much then, but go ahead and ask.”

“Do you remember how you found out about Jack's injuries?”

Curtis chews his lip, which is unusual. He works hard not to show any nerves. “How could I forget? Mamma just plain went to pieces, and Daddy was madder than I ever saw him. I don't know if you knew, but my daddy was against the war. He didn't speak out about it because he knew most people wouldn't like it. So he was double mad about what happened to Jack.”

“It must have been hard to be a teenager and find out your brother was coming back from the war seriously injured.”

He shrugs. “We weren't ever close.”

“Did you and Jack ever talk after he got back?”

“Talk about what? If you mean a heart-to-heart talk, that wasn't our way.” His voice is hard with disdain.

“Did he ever tell you if he was in California?”

“Jack? When would he have been there?”

I tell him that Bob came to see me about losing track of Jack and that I found California brochures in Jack's belongings.

He frowns, trying to remember. “I do remember Daddy saying he couldn't find Jack. I didn't know exactly what he meant.” He gets up and paces the kitchen and then halts in front me. He points a finger at me. “Wait a minute. I never put it together, but one night I came home and Taylor was here. She and Daddy were in the kitchen and Taylor was crying. She always was one to stick her nose in where it didn't belong.”

“You know what they were talking about?”

He sits back down. “No, but I heard Taylor say she'd do what she could. I don't know what she meant. Tell you the truth, I didn't care what they were talking about. I tried to stay out of the house as much as I could around that time. Seems like everybody was always either crying or yelling.”

“Bottom line is, your daddy lost track of Jack for a while. You don't remember that?”

He shakes his head. His leg starts bouncing up and down, so I know he's impatient to get me out of here.

“Just a few more things. Did Jack tell you he was about to get married?”

“You're just full of information, aren't you? Yeah, I knew, but not until yesterday. Me and Walter Dunn got into it, and he told me Jack was planning to latch onto somebody else to take care of him like Daddy did.”

At that, I can't contain myself any longer. “How come you're so spiteful about your brother?”

He gives me a hard look. Most bullies don't like to be confronted. “We were just too different. What kind of man would let his daddy take care of him like that?”

I bite my tongue to keep myself from asking him how come he didn't go into the service if he was so all-fired manly.

But he reads my mind, or at least my expression. “Fact is, I thought Jack was a fool to join the US Army. The military is nothing but a political tool. Republicans are just as bad as Democrats. All of them out for a buck. They don't care about America. They're willing to sell out to foreigners and bankers. Those of us who know anything about the real world have sense enough to organize so we can take care of ourselves.”

His face reddens as he speaks, and in the end he brings his fist down hard on the table.

“Be that as it may, you're going to be coming into money that Jack saved from his disability payments. I imagine you won't say no to it, even if it did come from the government.”

“Damn right, I won't.” His face is fire red. “They take my money in unlawful taxation, and I'll get it back any way I can.”

The phone rings. Curtis jumps up and answers it, his voice a snarl. He goes still, listening. “Okay, thank you. Yes, Landau's.” When he puts the phone down, he rests his hand on the receiver for several seconds before turning back to me. His face is without expression. “They're releasing Jack's body. That means we can get on with the funeral.”

I get up as casual as I can, having to use a cane. “If you need any help with funeral arrangements, you let me know.”

His lip curls. “Why would I need your help?”

He truly has no feel for the usual kindness between people. “I thought you could use help letting people know when the funeral is, that kind of thing.”