[To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) (14 page)

“Are you okay, Jake?” she asked as she started to crack up.

She came over to help me up, but I was already to my feet. “I’ll live,” I answered.

“How about I make some fresh coffee and throw together some breakfast,” she said in-between laughs. Then she went back into the house, holding her hand to her mouth.

It was just the four of us for breakfast, if you want to call coffee and burned bagels a breakfast. No matter how much Fred barked, the boys wouldn’t be up for hours. It would take a direct hit by an asteroid to get those two out of bed before noon. It was just Megan, Amy, and me, sitting around Meg’s glass-top deck table with Fred standing next to me waiting for someone to feed him. I threw him another one of the burned bagels then turned toward Amy. “Can I give you a ride to work this morning?” I asked.

She smiled when she saw Fred devour the bagel in a single gulp. “Well thank you, Jake, but I really need my own car. Meg said she’d take me home to get it.”

“Won’t Hal be there?” I asked, watching my traitor go beg from Amy now that my food was gone.

“He’s gone already. I’ll be OK,” she answered and gave Fred her un-touched bagel.

“How do you know that?” I asked, trying not to show my disappointment at not being her chauffeur.

“I have an app on my phone that tells me when the security alarm is armed, and another that can pinpoint the location of his Mercedes,” she answered while picking through the plate of bagels. “No one can be in the house when the motion detectors are on, and the GPS shows his car headed toward Springfield.”

My sister didn’t act surprised, so I guessed Amy had already said the same to her. Then she threw Fred her half-eaten bagel. “These are really bad,” she said, and got up to leave. “Looks like you’ll have to make yourself a real breakfast, Porky. Amy and I need to get going, or she’ll be late.”

Amy was already out of her chair, but she stopped and looked at my sister. “Why do you call him Porky, Meg? He’s got a body most women would kill for.” She said with a wink in my direction.

I wanted to say something clever in return, but my mind went blank. Then Megan spoke before I could recover. “Is there something going on here I don’t know about?” she asked with a big smile on her face.

“No. I’m afraid your brother is too much of a gentleman to take advantage of a damsel in distress,” Amy answered my sister but was now looking at me. She winked again and went inside.

Fred ended up with most of the so-called breakfast, and I was trying to think of an excuse to run into town and get a couple of Sausage McMuffins, but I had better things to do now that the girls had left.

“Come on, Freddie Boy, let’s go see what our fisherman was fishing for.” Fred and I got on the tram, and I pushed the down button. We took the tram all the way to the dock instead of stopping off at the path. I was assuming that our intruder had been searching for treasure, and I’d be able to track him back toward the cave. I was also hoping the trail wouldn’t be through the brush where I would surely be joined by my bloodsucking friends, the ticks. My luck failed on both accounts.

The army of deputies from the other day had trampled every weed and bush growing on the hillside. They would have done the same to the tick-infested cedar trees had the trees been short enough to walk on. Without crumpled grass and weeds, it was impossible to see where our fisherman had been. I was going to have to backtrack under those damn trees if I had any hope of finding a freshly-dug hole. I was wondering if I should have brought the metal detector when nature supplied me with one that didn’t use batteries. This detector was running on burnt bagels.

Fred jumped off the short bank to the rocks below. The water level of the lake was constantly changing depending on the electrical demands in Saint Louis. This part of the shore had been under water when the deputies had searched the area two days ago, but the summer air conditioners two hundred miles away had drawn the lake down at least three feet, exposing the rocky shore.

Fred led me straight to where our fisherman had been digging.

Several boulders had been set aside and a small hole dug in the muddy soil. As soon as the demand for electricity in Saint Louis eased, the water would reclaim and cover the hole. Whatever had been in the hole was gone now – supposedly taken by my mysterious fisherman, without a fishing pole. Even his footprints would be washed away with the rising water. I wished I had brought my cell phone, so I could get a picture of them.

One print stood out in particular. I could barely read the muddy imprint of ‘2 3 T’. There were more numbers or letters to it, but they quickly dissolved before me.

When Fred and I got off the lift, Kevin was leaning over the deck railing, a cigarette in one hand and a can of soda in the other. “What you doin’ down there, Uncle Martin?”

“Fred and me were fishing,” I answered, trying my best not to nag him about cigarettes and wild fires.

He took another drag, and then dropped the cigarette in his soda can. “Without a pole?” he asked. “Were you noodling catfish?”

“Not that kind of fishing, Kevin. We were fishing for clues.”

He picked at the infected hole in his nose where there had been a diamond stud. “That’s good. My friend got busted for noodling. Don’t let no water cops catch you doin’ that.”

I was beginning to think about a vasectomy. The thought that we swam in the same gene pool made me want to avoid more children at all costs. I got lucky with Ally, but she probably had her mother’s genes. Fortunately, Taylor was just getting up, and Kevin went to join him. I’d much rather talk to Fred, who never once, that I could remember, made a stupid remark. And it seemed he always understood my metaphors, no matter how obtuse they could be. But, alas, I needed to ask Taylor a question that had been bothering me for some time.

“Morning, Taylor,” I said after joining the boys in the kitchen, where they were sharing the last energy drink. Fred elected to stay outside and catch up on his sleep. “I’ve been thinking about that truck of yours ever since Meg and I saw the lawyer yesterday. Rosenblum said your father bought it at a police auction. Is that right?”

Taylor passed the drink over to Kevin before answering. “Sure is, Mister Martin. Dad thought it would be a great way to save some money. He had promised me a truck for my eighteenth birthday, so he took me to the auction. I really had my eye on a cool four-by-four Chevy, but he insisted I buy that piece of crap – said it was all he could afford. He makes over two hundred thousand a year and couldn’t spend more than a couple thousand on my graduation present.”

I was afraid Taylor would keep talking all morning. He was the complete opposite of my taciturn nephew. Luckily, Megan had returned from dropping off Amy, and Taylor stopped long enough to greet her. “Good morning, Mrs. Carver,” he said when she joined us in the kitchen.

She went straight to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup of cold coffee before answering. “Good morning to you too, Taylor. I hope you slept okay on that trundle of Kevin’s,” she answered as she sat down at the table.

Kevin ignored his mother. It was plain to see she was waiting for him to greet her too, but he just stared at the label on his energy drink. I could see the disappointment in Megan’s face.

“Taylor was just telling us how Hal bought his truck, Meg,” I said before she had a chance to say anything to Kevin. “You didn’t miss much. It’s basically what Rosenblum told us yesterday.”

Fred barked at the sliding door to come in just as the phone began to ring. When Megan got up to answer the ring, Kevin must have seen his chance to escape. He was out of his chair and heading for the front door before she could reach the phone. “Hi, Ira,” she said, glancing at the caller ID. “Hold on a sec.” Then, holding her hand over the receiver, she yelled, “Kevin, where are you going?”

Kevin didn’t stop to answer. Taylor looked over at Megan, shrugged his shoulders, and went out the door too. I, in the meantime, had been standing at the sliding door, watching it all until Fred got impatient barking and started scratching the door to be let in.

Megan acted like nothing had happened, removed her hand from the phone, and gestured for me to leave by pointing toward the sliding door. “Sorry, Ira. Kevin was just leaving. What’s up?” After a short pause, she said, “Sure he’s right here,” and held out the phone for me to grab.

“What’s up, Ira?” I asked. “Don’t tell me the DA changed his mind, and we need to head for Mexico.”

Now it was Megan’s turn to try and follow a one-sided conversation. She tried to get close enough to hear Rosenblum, but when he said it was about a motor home, I waved her off. I could see her expression change from curiosity to concern in response to my short answers. As I hung up the phone, she went over to the sink and tore off a paper towel from the dispenser hanging nearby. “Is that a tear I see?” she asked, handing me the towel.

“Must have got a bug in my eyes while letting Fred in,” I answered. Then I turned away from her and walked over to put the phone in its cradle. It was more a move to avoid looking at her than to put the phone back where it belonged.

“It’s the guy I bought the motor home from. He died and left it to me, free and clear, along with some prospecting tools. Ira said to drop by his office, and he would give me the title and fill me in on what I need to put it in my name.”

“Why would he do that?” she asked as she tore off another paper towel. “Here, you missed a bug.”

“I guess he felt sorry for me – I don’t know,” I answered while trying to avoid direct eye contact. “He was terribly lonely after his wife died. But I know he’s happy now that he’s with her. Damn, Sis, he was such a nice old guy. It sure makes you realize how short life can be.” I sat back down at the table and began telling her about my encounter with the old man. Fred wanted out about halfway through the story, so we grabbed a couple of beers and went out to the deck. It was quite early for our afternoon libations, but the beer was necessary now that I had Megan on the verge of tears, too.

I stopped off at the Pig’s Roast on the way to see Rosenblum. Not that I needed another beer; I was hoping Linda would be working the bar. There was always the chance I could charm her into telling me why she made the call to the sheriff. Considering how charismatic I can be, I guessed my chances were about the same as winning Powerball.

“Hi, handsome,” she said when I took a seat at the bar. She was wearing shorts at least two sizes too small and a halter top made for a teenager. Maybe her skimpy outfit was because the air conditioning wasn’t working, but I wasn’t complaining on either account.

I turned on my barstool, pretending to see who she was talking to, then came back full circle. Except for an overweight cat sleeping in one of the booths, the place was empty. “Hi, Linda. Did you lose a contact, or are you talking to your cat?” I answered.

She giggled then continued wiping down the already spotless bar in front of me. It gave me a great view of her ample cleavage. “Sorry to hear about your nephew,” she said. “What can I get you, Sweetheart?”

I almost forgot why I had stopped by. “Can I have a Coors?” I said, quickly raising my eyes from her chest.

She reached for a bottle from under the bar and wiped it off the same way Sam had the day before. “Here you are, Sweetie,” she said as she placed a small napkin on the counter for the beer. “Sure has been a lot of shit goin’ on at Meg’s lately. First, they find Bill’s body; then, they arrest Kevin, and now I hear Amy’s moved in with you.”

I tried to look her in the face, but my eyes wouldn’t cooperate. When she had bent down to fetch my Coors, her right boob had popped out of her halter-top. “Wow, word gets out fast around here,” I said as I re-wiped the bottle with the napkin she had put under the beer.

“Faster than a tick can jump on a dog,” she answered while she put her breast back like it happened all the time.

I took a quick swallow to regain my composure. “I doubt that Amy will stay long, but did you know that bastard deputy tried to pin Atkins’ murder on Meg?”

She quit playing with her halter top and went back to wiping down the bar. “Really?” she answered without looking in my direction.

“Seems someone made a call from here saying they saw her dump the body at her dock. Whoever it was tried to block the caller ID, but that doesn’t work when you call 911.” The part about blocking the call came to me out of the blue. I was hoping she might be dumb enough to say she didn’t try to block the call.

“Must have another customer,” she said, looking at the cat. “Tonto hears them before anyone.”

I could hear several voices coming through the front door. “Tonto?” I asked, following her gaze. “That’s a funny name.”

“He was named after the movie.” She went to greet her new customers while I sat wondering what movie she was talking about.

When they took a booth next to his, Tonto decided he didn’t care much for the newcomers, so he came over to me and started to rub against my leg. I reached down to pet him, and before I knew it, he was up in my lap, purring like the kitten he once was.

“Well if that ain’t the cat’s meow,” Linda said when she returned to the bar. “He don’t usually take to no strangers.”

I smiled and continued petting him. “You were telling me something about a movie?” I asked.

“
Harry and Tonto
. The old man who used to own the place was named Harry,” she answered while mixing some drinks. “Said it was his favorite movie, so when that old Tom kept coming around, he decided to call him Tonto.”

I made a mental note to rent the movie someday, but decided to get back to the reason why I had come here in the first place. I just had to figure out a clever way to pick her brain.

She handed me another beer before I could say anything. “On the house, Catnip. Hey why don’t you come back after six when my shift is over? You could get us some Chinese takeout and a six pack. I’ve got a tape of that old movie, and we could watch it together at my place.” Then, before I could answer, she was off with the tray of drinks.

Linda didn’t return before I finished my beer. It seems she knew the people at the booth and wouldn’t stop talking to them. “Sorry, Tonto,” I said to my new friend while putting him gently on the floor. “It looks like I need to get going.” I glanced once more at Linda and headed for the door.