White Hot (31 page)

“I want to talk to you.”

His eyebrows lowered into a scowl. “By your tone of voice, sounds more like you want to chew my ass.”

“Did you sic your thugs on Clark Daly?”

He stuck the cigarette back in his mouth and turned into the room. “Come on in. We’d just as well have this out now as later.”

She followed him into the room, which also had undergone a redecoration. While Sayre had lived here, the master suite had remained much as it had been when her mother was alive. But at some point during her absence, Laurel’s frills had been replaced with more tailored drapes and bedcoverings.

Huff motioned toward a small serving cart. “Pour yourself a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink, I want an answer. Did you give the order to have Clark beaten?”

“I didn’t know it would be Clark.”

“But you turned your dogs loose.”

He sat down in a large easy chair and inhaled deeply on his cigarette until the tip smoldered red hot. “I have some boys who’re loyal to me. I told them to stop any talk of a strike, and I wasn’t particular about the way they did it.”

He pointed the cigarette at her. “I won’t have men taking my money and picketing me at the same time. If they want to join ranks with that Nielson character and his agitators, fine. But not on my clock and not on my dollar,” he said, raising his voice.

“They almost killed him.”

“But they didn’t, and I’ve been told he’ll recover.” He ground out his cigarette. “Frankly, I’m surprised Clark Daly had the guts to inspire a spelling bee, much less a labor strike.”

“He might not have…if I hadn’t urged him to.”

He reacted with a start. Then after several seconds of stunned silence he began to laugh his wheezing chuckle. “Well, I’ll be god-damned. Should’ve guessed that. Clark Daly hasn’t got the balls to undertake a project like that himself. He’s been on the skids for years. Spineless as they come.”

“That’s what you thought, Huff. But you were wrong. Clark was a leader. You beat him down, robbed him of his scholarship, and consequently any chance of a college education. You trampled his hope and his confidence.”

“Oh, Jesus, sing me another song. Haven’t you gotten tired of that one? All the bad that’s happened to that boy, he’s brought on himself.”

“He’s not a boy any longer, Huff, he’s a man. And he’s proven again that he’s a natural leader.”

“Yeah, he could lead you straight to every bar in the parish.”

“Men listened to him, Huff. Beck said Clark’s friends were ready to walk off the job tonight in order to go find him. That sounds like a person who inspires the confidence of others.”

Huff came out of his chair angrily. “What did Clark Daly ever inspire you to do except disobey me?”

“I was eighteen. We didn’t need your permission to get married.”

He went to the serving cart and sloshed whiskey from a decanter into a glass, then drank it down in one swallow. “Damn good thing I got word of your elopement and stopped it.”

“Oh, yes, you were quite the hero, Huff. Chasing us down like criminals and then threatening to fire Clark’s father if we went through with the marriage. You terrorized his parents, terrorized me and Clark. Very courageous.”

“Would you rather I have shot that kid?” he bellowed. “I had a right to shoot him stone dead.”

“The
right
? What right?”

“The boy defied me. He deserved—”

“None of it, Huff! The only thing he did to you was love me.”

“He was wrong for you.”

“Only in your selfish, self-serving opinion.”

“He was fine for a high school sweetheart, but when it came to marriage material, you needed somebody from a family more like ours.”

She threw back her head and gave a bitter laugh. “Huff, there
is
no family like ours.”

“Don’t play word games with me, Sayre. You know damn well what I’m talking about,” he said querulously. “You needed to marry into a family with clout. Money. Not a family of wage earners.”

“That’s crap. It was crap when you used that excuse to separate Clark and me, and it’s crap now. Money wasn’t the issue, Huff. The only reason you didn’t like Clark was because you didn’t choose him.”

“I’m tired of getting blamed for every goddamn thing,” he said, making a broad sweep with his arm. “What did I ever do except want the very best for my children?”

“No, what you wanted was your way,” she said, matching his voice for volume. “It had to be
your
way. You would not tolerate a single idea or a solitary plan that wasn’t of
your
devising.” She took a deep breath, and when she released it, her voice was lower and gruff with emotion. “Otherwise, you destroyed it.”

He glowered at her as he poured himself another shot of whiskey. He carried it with him back to the chair, where he lit a fresh cigarette. He was breathing with effort. She could smell the whiskey fumes on his breath even from the distance that separated them.

“Yell at me all you want, girl. Rant and rave and stamp your foot, you’ll never get an apology or an excuse out of me. When I was just a kid, this high, Sayre,” he said, holding his hand parallel to the floor, “I swore I was going to begin a line of Hoyles where the name meant something. Where nobody was going to ignore or forget the name Hoyle.” He wagged his cigarette at her. “And that line of Hoyles was not going to include Clark Daly’s bastard baby.”

She drew a shaky breath. “So you had it cut out of me.”

“I did what any father would do who—”

“Who didn’t have a soul.”

“Who saw his daughter destroying—”

“
You had my baby cut out of me!
” Crossing the room in three strides, she struck him as hard as she could across the face.

He shot to his feet. His drinking glass fell from his hand and rolled across the carpet. He threw down his cigarette and balled his hands into fists, raising them threateningly.

“Go ahead, Huff, strike back. You hit me in the face the night you dragged me out of your den, kicking and screaming and begging you not to do it. Did you know that the floor still shows dents where my heels gouged it while I was trying to stop you that night? Go look at them. They’re a testament to just how evil you are.

“When you couldn’t get me in the car, you knocked me unconscious. I woke up in Dr. Caroe’s back room. My feet had been tied into the stirrups, and my arms were bound to the table.” She extended her arms from her sides, feeling again the restraints that had held her immobile.

Her face, she realized, was wet with tears. She licked them from the corners of her lips. “And that unscrupulous bastard scraped my baby out of me. How much did you pay him to end that sweet little life, Huff? How much did it cost you to prove your dominance over me?”

She was sobbing now on every word, but she pressed on. “It was put in a plastic bag and thrown out with the garbage.” She flattened her hand on her chest and screamed, “My
baby.
”

Following the outburst, the room became as quiet as a tomb, save for the ticking of the clock on Huff’s nightstand. She wiped the tears from her face and shook back her hair.

“It’s recently been observed that you’re the motivation for everything I do. That’s true. Hating you sustained me through depression and two unwanted marriages. And to this day, to this moment, I thrive on hating you for what you did to me that night.

“But…” She laughed lightly. “But, the joke is on you, Huff. You and your fucking dynastic ambitions. All your scheming to marry me off to Beck? Funny. Hilarious. And futile. Because, see, when your inept friend Dr. Caroe took my baby, he also ruined any chance of my having another.”

He staggered back a step. “What?”

“That’s right, Huff. I can’t perpetuate your goddamn line of Hoyles, and you’ve only yourself to thank.”

She turned and ran from the room, drawing up short when she saw Beck standing in the hallway.

S
ayre faltered when she saw him, but without a word, she walked swiftly down the hallway and disappeared into the shadows on the landing. Seconds later he heard the front door close behind her.

He didn’t go after her. She wouldn’t have wanted him to. He was tainted by his association with Huff, and now he understood the reason for her animosity.

He knocked once on the bedroom door. “Huff, it’s me.”

Huff was sitting down, although Beck got the impression that he’d dropped into the chair without consciously deciding to. He was balanced on the edge of the cushion, staring at the floor, oblivious to the cigarette that was burning a hole in the carpet inches from his feet.

Beck picked it up and ground it out in the ashtray on the end table beside Huff’s chair.

Huff seemed to notice him for the first time. “Beck. How long have you been here?”

“Long enough.”

“You heard what Sayre told me?”

He nodded. “Are you all right? Your face is flushed.”

“I’m okay. She hasn’t killed me. Yet.” Frowning down at the spilled bourbon, he added, “Could do with another drink.”

Beck poured him a glass of water and brought it to him. “Start with this.”

Huff made a face of displeasure but drained the glass. Then, leaning back in his chair, he released a sigh. “This has been a pissy twenty-four hours. Started last night with a picket line outside my foundry. Fine way to end it is learning that Sayre’s barren.”

“That’s what’s bothering you?”

“Pardon?”

Beck sat down on the ottoman that matched Huff’s chair, facing him. “With everything the two of you talked about…I mean, when your only daughter…”

Huff gazed back at him as though waiting for him to stop stammering and get to the point.

If Huff didn’t comprehend his point by now, he never would. “I don’t know what I meant. It’s a private matter between you and Sayre.”

“Yeah, it’s been a
matter
between us since the night it happened.”

“ ‘Happened’? She didn’t lose her baby by happenstance, Huff. You forced an abortion on her.”

“She was just a girl,” he said, gesturing impatiently. “I wasn’t about to let her ruin her life before it got started, especially by saddling herself with a kid sired by Clark Daly. You know why she got pregnant, don’t you?”

Although Huff didn’t really expect a reply, Beck said, “To ensure the marriage.”

“Exactly. I had stopped the elopement. Daly’s parents folded quick enough, once I put his daddy’s job on the line. They sent Daly to spend the summer with relatives in Tennessee. I thought distance would put an end to the romance.

“But Sayre defied me again. Sneaked off and met up with Daly for a weekend, then sashays in one day about a month later and announces that she’s pregnant, says now I can’t stop them from getting married.”

“Only you did.”

“You’re damn right I did. No baby, no marriage.” He snapped his fingers loudly. “I took care of two problems in one night.”

It was such an appalling statement, Beck could think of nothing to say in response. “What about Daly? Did he know about the baby?”

“I don’t know. I never asked Sayre, and even if I had, she wouldn’t have answered me. She went for months without speaking to me. I thought she’d snap out of it, forget it in time.”

Beck remembered the shattered expression on her face when she left Huff’s bedroom. She’d looked as though she had lived through the experience only days ago rather than years.

“I don’t think she’ll ever forget it, Huff,” he said quietly.

“Doesn’t appear that way, does it? She’s picketing, you know. Carrying a sign denouncing me. And she’s the one behind this business with Clark Daly. Stood right there and admitted it. If he doesn’t pull out of this, there’ll be hell to pay from her, and you can bet I’ll catch most of it.”

“He’s going to pull out. I called the hospital as I was driving over. No skull fracture, but several broken ribs. They’re still looking for internal bleeding, but it’s a good sign that none has been detected so far.”

Huff rubbed a hand over his flattop and laughed with chagrin. “Guess the boys went a little overboard.”

“It was a dumb move, Huff.”

His laughter abruptly ceased. He looked at Beck sharply and angrily, which was rare.

“Don’t get your back up,” Beck said calmly. “You pay me to counsel you. If you don’t appreciate my candor, get a new attorney. I’m telling you that drawing first blood was a bad idea. You said so yourself last night.”

“I didn’t know things were going to get out of hand as fast as they did. I wasn’t going to stand around and do nothing.”

“Attacking one of your employees was the wrong thing to do. All you accomplished was to prove our opposition’s argument and provide them with more ammunition to use against us.”

Grumbling, Huff levered himself out of his chair and went to the serving cart. “Everybody’s on my case tonight.”

“I realize my timing is bad,” Beck said. “Having just gone through the meat grinder with Sayre, the last thing you want to hear from me is how badly you’re handling the situation at the plant. But you are, Huff.

“I tried to impress upon you the other day that you cannot solve labor problems now like you did in the past. Nielson isn’t as easy as Iverson. He isn’t going to retreat.” He paused strategically, then added, “And you can’t make him disappear.”

Correctly inferring his meaning, Huff came around slowly, holding an empty glass in one hand and several ice cubes in the other. He seemed unaware that they were dripping through his fingers onto the carpet.

Beck didn’t flinch from Huff’s quelling stare. “I’m not going to ask you, Huff, because I don’t want to know. But I would be stupid to think that you, and probably Chris, had absolutely nothing to do with Gene Iverson’s disappearance. A subtle suggestion to some of your men, with a word or even a look, would have been all it took to solve that problem.

“Chris must have played at least a small role in it. Logically, if there was no truth to the charge against him, you wouldn’t have been worried about the outcome of his trial. You wouldn’t have ordered McGraw to bribe those jurors.

“And despite that little song and dance Chris and I put on for Sayre at McGraw’s place, we all know he did it and that he was well compensated for doing it. Whatever happened to Iverson, you and Chris walked away clean. History repeating itself.”

“Meaning?”

“Sonnie Hallser.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Is it, Huff? I didn’t know until recently that Chris was at the foundry the night Hallser died.”

Huff cursed beneath his breath as he finally plunked the dripping ice cubes into the glass, then turned back to the cart to finish pouring his drink. “He wasn’t supposed to tell anybody he was there that night. He swore to me he wouldn’t.”

Beck didn’t correct Huff by informing him that it had been Sayre, not Chris, who had told him. “What did Chris witness that night?”

“An argument between me and Sonnie.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” he said, raising his voice. “That’s all there was to see. The man and I had an argument.”

“A
heated
argument.”

“That’s the only kind I know how to have. We each blew off steam. I went home with Chris. Later that night Sonnie had a fatal accident.”

“Terrible coincidence.”

“That’s right, it was. Why bring it up now?”

“To illustrate a point.” Beck stood up and circled the ottoman, then turned to face Huff again. “You have a reputation for solving your labor problems with brute force. Short of outright violence, you’ve been known to apply muscle. Those tactics are as obsolete as doctors using leeches to cure patients.”

Huff took a gulp of whiskey. “All right, maybe I’ve bent rules and crossed lines, but I never hesitated to do what was necessary to protect myself, my family, and my business. You gotta be tough—and I’m talking as nails—if you want to come out on top.

“Chris understands that. I don’t think Danny ever did, or Sayre ever will. I took a mediocre foundry and turned it into a thriving one,” he said, clenching his fist. “You think that would have happened if I’d been a pushover, pandering to labor unions and granting every demand put to me by my employees? Hell, no!

“I wore big boots and I kicked ass when I needed to, and I’m going to keep on doing it that way until they’re shoveling dirt over me. Nobody is going to shut me down. Not Charles Nielson, not even the government agencies. And it’ll become a union shop over my dead body.” He finished the speech by shouting the last three words and punctuating them with a jabbing index finger.

“Let’s avoid dead bodies if we can,” Beck said quietly.

Huff relaxed his stance. He even laughed. “I’d prefer it. Especially if it’s mine.”

“Sit down before you blow a gasket.” Once Huff was back in his chair and some of the color had receded from his face, Beck said, “Huff, please, no more rough stuff until I can at least try to negotiate a peaceful resolution to this mess. The Pauliks might reconsider filing suit if we offer them a significant cash settlement.”

“How significant?”

“Significant enough to pacify them, not so significant that you’ll have to start drinking cheaper bourbon. And I strongly urge you to shut down the conveyor that injured Billy.”

“It’s been repaired and is running fine now.”

“Repaired, not overhauled like it needs to be,” Beck argued. “It’s another disaster waiting to happen. Do you think we can afford another accident right now?”

“George has given it a green tag. So has Chris. Those are their departments, Beck. You stick to keeping us out of a lawsuit.”

Beck conceded, albeit grudgingly. “I’d better leave before Selma comes up here and throws me out for keeping you up so late.”

“Are you on your way home?”

“Actually, I’m spending the night on the sofa in my office. One of us should be there in case of real trouble.”

“Where’s Chris?”

“He no longer has to confide in me. I’m not his attorney anymore.”

“You talked Red out of keeping him in lockup over the weekend.”

“That was my last official duty for him.”

“So I was told. Can’t say as I’m happy about this new lawyer.”

“With all that’s going on at the plant, it’s best, Huff. I’ve got my hands full.”

“The guy Chris has retained, is he any good?”

“I made a few calls today, asked around. He’s reputed to be usurious, ambitious, egomaniacal, and obnoxious. Everything you’d want in a criminal lawyer.”

Huff smiled wryly. “Let’s hope Chris won’t need him. That detective, that Scott, is drilling a dry well. Bible stories.” He snorted. “As told by Slap Watkins, no less.”

“He frightened her.” Beck didn’t even realize he’d spoken his thought aloud until he noticed Huff looking at him strangely. “Sayre.”

“Oh, right. Watkins breaking into her motel room. Serves her right for staying in that rathole.”

“She was more disturbed by it than she let on. I don’t think she told us everything that he said or did to her.”

But Huff’s mind was moving down another track, and it didn’t include concern for Sayre’s safety. “In light of her barrenness, you’re off the hook, Beck, my boy,” he said with a light chuckle. “The pressure is back on Chris to father me a grandchild. He’s my one and only shot at immortality now.”

“Knock knock.”

Beck pried open one eye and saw Chris grinning down at him. With every muscle protesting, he sat up. “What time is it?”

“Going on seven. Have you been here all night?”

Beck swung his feet to the floor and painfully stood up. “Most of it.”

“You look like hammered shit,” Chris remarked. “Something the matter with your back?”

“I slept on a sofa two thirds my height. My back feels like a herd of buffalo has stampeded across it. While you…” He looked askance at Chris. “Fresh as a daisy.”

“Huff ordered me here early this morning. I reminded him that today is Saturday and how I feel about working on weekends, but he was adamant. He wanted us to be here by the shift change. So here I am. Hungover, but showered and shaved, which is more than I can say for you.”

“Give me five minutes.” Beck took a Dopp kit from a drawer in his credenza and a change of clothes from the closet. “I brought these from home a few days ago in case I had to pull overnight duty.”

Together they left his office and walked toward the men’s restroom, where they’d had the foresight to install a shower. “Where were you last night?” Beck asked.

“Back at the club in Breaux Bridge. It’s a happening place. You should go with me next time.”

“If you can go nightclubbing you must not be worried.”

“About what?”

“Well, for starters, about a pending labor strike. And if that isn’t enough, how about being a prime suspect in a homicide investigation?”

“Huff says you’re going to negotiate us out of the threatened strike. As for the other, I talked to my new lawyer yesterday afternoon. We were on the phone for over an hour. I told him everything, starting with the day Danny’s body was discovered.

“He said I didn’t have anything to worry about. They’ve got nothing linking me to the scene except a lousy matchbook, which for all they know could have been carried there by a raccoon.”

“That would’ve been my first guess.”

Chris shot him a look. “Pessimistic
and
droll. You’re becoming no fun at all. Anyhow, this lawyer is going to make hash of Wayne Scott. Any news of Slap?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“The attorney said that Cain and Abel nonsense was a desperate move by a desperate fugitive.”

“I agree.”

They went into the restroom together. Chris moved to a urinal, Beck stood at a sink and inspected his reflection in the mirror above it. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. He had a heavy scruff, and his hair was standing on end, but at least all his features were intact and in place, which was more than could be said about Clark Daly. He asked Chris if he’d heard about that incident.

“Huff was still up when I got in last night. He told me about it.”

Reaching into the shower stall, Beck turned on the faucets, then began to undress. “Daly was worked over pretty good.”