Looking Through Darkness (16 page)

“No, it'll be fine by early next week. Give me a call?”

“No problem.”

Walking out, Leigh Ann could feel Pierre's eyes on her. Despite all his kind words, she could sense the man didn't trust her one bit. Maybe, like the cops, he also thought she'd been in on Kurt's embezzling scheme.

She took a deep breath as she got into the car. She'd stirred up a hornet's nest, all right, but she wouldn't back away from this fight. She'd see it through to the end.

She'd switched on the ignition and put the Jeep in gear when she heard the smartphone tone that signaled an incoming email. Shifting to neutral, she checked the phone's display and smiled. It was from Melvin. He had a Braille keyboard hooked up to his computer and often sent her short messages.

When she finished reading, she called him. “Hey, I just got your email,” she said. “You're really ready to begin the new sculpture?”

“Yeah, but I need you here to help me get started. This time what I'd like you to do is sit on a sheepskin rug, so you'll be comfortable, and just talk to me.”

“I can do that,” she said. “Should I come over right now? I don't have to be at work 'til noon today.”

“Great! I'll be waiting.”

“Why the floor, though?”

“You know that I see dark figures and outlines but few details. I've learned to let my imagination fill in what I need. Having you sit on the floor will give me an idea of proportion without having to guess when you're in a chair or on the sofa. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I'm comfortable wherever.”

Placing the phone on the console beside her, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed west. She was really looking forward to these sessions. It would be nice to spend time with Melvin.

Today, while he worked, at first she'd keep the conversation light and not distract him, but then she'd try to find out what was bothering him, starting obliquely by talking about what needed fixing at his house. She knew he was short on cash and she was a pretty good handyman, handywoman, handyperson? She didn't know the politically correct term, but if it leaked, chipped, or bowed out, she knew how to fix it. At the same time, maybe he'd open up a little to her.

 

— TEN —

Leigh Ann was almost at Melvin's when her phone rang. She normally didn't get that many phone calls during the day. Seeing it was Regina and suspecting it was trading post business, she answered.

“Hey, Regina, what's going on?” Leigh Ann asked.

“I need a favor. I want to switch around my hours so I can take off an extra day next week and Jo suggested I work something out with you or Esther. I'm scheduled for half a day, but since you already have this morning off, I wondered if you could use the entire day? I could stick around, and trade with you next month to even things out.”

Leigh Ann considered it.

“Leigh Ann, I know things have been a bit crazy for you lately, so if you can't don't worry about it. I can ask Esther.”

“Actually this works for me, too. Let's do this, but please let Jo know, okay?” She'd wanted a chance to talk to Melvin about everything that had happened to her, as well as what was bothering him. Maybe if she opened up first, he'd do the same, and together they'd find new insights.

As she pulled up at Melvin's, she saw him step out the front door. Of course he'd heard her Jeep. Only the stone deaf could miss it.

“When are you going to fix that rattle? Do you even know what it is?” he asked, his forehead furrowed.

“It's nothing. The Jeep still runs fine and that particular noise isn't coming from the engine.”

He nodded, though she could tell she hadn't convinced him. “So tell me more about your new sculpture,” she said, changing the subject.

“I don't want to talk about it 'til it's done. Be patient,” he said, then gestured inside. “Come on, it's already warming up here. Do you want something cold to drink?”

“My mouth's dry, but it doesn't have anything to do with the weather.”

“You're nervous? Why? All you have to do is talk to me.”

“You may have lost your sight, but you see the real me more clearly than anyone I've ever known.”

“I hope so. That's the ability I'll need to rely on most now. I'm trying to give form to your inner self, your wind breath, as my people would say. It isn't meant to be a duplicate of what you see when you look in the mirror.”

“That's scary,” she said, then chuckled nervously.

“Your voice is filled with uncertainty—but hope as well. That's all part of what I want my sculpture to reflect. If I do my job right, our combined spirits will define the figure and breathe life into the clay.”

“I know your work. There's nothing you can't do. I'm curious. Why haven't you attempted a human figure before?”

“For the same reason I don't do just any animal. Something has to whisper to me and compel me to create it.” He led her to the sheepskin rug he'd laid out in the middle of his den. “Last call. Do you want something to drink?”

“Water would be fine,” she said.

“You sure? I have the Mexican Cokes that you like—with real sugar, not corn syrup. They're phasing them out, so this might be the last one you'll ever have.”

“One of those would be great. And don't bother with a glass. In the bottle's fine.”

He brought it to her, then moved across the room to a table with a folded up wing that blocked her view.

“You picked that particular table so I couldn't see?”

“It does keep the work from being seen, that's true enough, but the back is up so nothing falls. I've already begun a wire armature to give the piece internal support, but until I get the pose just right, the internal frame won't stand securely on its own. If you hadn't noticed, I sometimes misjudge distances and bump into things.”

She made herself comfortable on the floor. “I love sheepskin rugs. They're so soft.”

“Describe the way you're sitting,” he said. “Cross-legged?”

“No, I have my right leg straight out and my left leg tucked underneath my right thigh. I'm leaning back a bit, with my left arm behind my back, supporting me. My right upper arm is to my side.”

“Hmm. I get the picture. Makes my knee hurt just thinking about it.”

She laughed. “It's real comfortable for me.”

“If you say so,” he said, and chuckled.

“What are you doing now?” she asked after several quiet minutes had passed.

“Kneading the clay,” he said, “but I don't want you focused on me. Tell me about you, your day, and what's been happening in your life.”

She told him about her visit to Total Supply. “It went smoothly enough, I guess, but I don't know any more than I did before, except that they lied to the detectives about Frank Jones.”

“Yeah, but you already knew who Frank Jones really was, so what exactly did you hope to find out?”

“Just how far they were willing to go to continue the lie,” she said. “They not only told the detectives that they'd never heard of Frank Jones, they also said that no money had been stolen from the company. What's interesting is that when I brought up the name, Wayne tried to get me to give up whatever I had on Jones. Then Pierre heard what was going on and sent Wayne away before he could make things worse.”

“Pierre sounds like the brains of the two, which makes him the most dangerous. So be careful. Letting them know you're onto them is like playing with fire,” Melvin said.

“I know, which is why I'm carrying the .38 revolver in my purse right now.”

“You have a concealed carry for that?”

“No, but I have more important things to worry about, and as long as it helps me fight back and stay alive, I'm willing to take the risk. I'm more worried about them than I am about getting caught with a weapon.”

“Hope you never have to use it, Leigh Ann,” he said. “Now let's think a little farther ahead. Say that a year from now, you have all the answers you've searched for and you're ready to move on. What would you like to see in your life then?”

Him, but she couldn't say that. “A house that's finally all fixed up,” she said with a thin smile.

“No, tell me about
you—
where do you see yourself in a year?”

“Are you asking where I'd like to be, or where I'd see myself realistically.”

“Answer both,” he said.

Although she couldn't see his hands working the clay, exertion tightened the cords on his neck, and angled toward his shoulders. What she wouldn't have given to see him working shirtless. She bit back a sigh.

“And tell me what made you sigh under your breath like that.”

She laughed. “Hey, you don't miss much.”

He grinned. “Does that bother you?”

“Bother, no, wrong word.”

“Then what is?”

She took a deep breath. “You make me feel as naked as a jaybird sometimes.”

“And you want us to be on more equal footing,” he said with a nod. “Navajos believe in balance. So, shall I strip and work naked?”

She'd just taken a sip of Coke and instantly choked. “Good gravy, Melvin! That's not what I meant.” She'd thought about it, sure, but she'd go to her grave before she admitted it.

Hearing him laugh, she realized he was deliberately teasing her.

“We should still strive for balance, so how about I strip off my shirt,” he said.

“You don't have to do that,” she said, but as hard as she'd tried, her voice lacked conviction even to her own ears.

He grinned. “No problem. I'll volunteer. It's warm in the house anyway. In fact, let me turn on the swamp cooler. Adding moisture to the room will help the clay.”

“If you're going to be lowering the temperature, you'll want to keep your shirt close by,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment.

“It won't cool off that much. There's something wrong with the unit.”

Leigh Ann watched him tug off his shirt and toss it aside. Though he hadn't seemed to be aiming, he obviously knew precisely where the closest chair was. The garment fell neatly over the arm.

“Nice.”

“Me, or the throw?”

“Both.”

As he continued working, she could now see the muscles on his upper arms and chest ripple. The light dusting of hair that arrowed downward from the center of his chest and disappeared into the nether regions below teased her imagination. With effort, she forced her breathing to stay even—well, almost.

“That's what I want to hear—temptation, a touch of longing, the struggle.”

“I haven't said anything!” she protested.

He laughed. “It's your breathing … It changes, though you're fighting it. And when you paid me a compliment, there was a tiny hitch in your voice.”

“I think you should definitely consider a second job as a CIA analyst—or a psychic,” she said.

The house stayed warm, just as he'd predicted. Uncomfortable, she shifted in place, feeling sweaty. “When you're ready to take a break, how about letting me buy you lunch?” she asked, thinking that he needed to save money for a new evaporative cooler. Going without wasn't an option. Summers on the Rez could be brutal. Fans just moved the hot air around. Without a cooler, a home out here in a basically shadeless environment would rival the hottest corner of hell.

“You're modeling for free, so lunch is my treat,” he insisted.

Pride. She could hear it echo clearly in his voice. “How about if we split the bill? You need funds for a new cooler, and my Jeep's going to need tires and a tune-up, so I have to watch my spending, too.”

“No deal. Lunch's still on me,” he said, checking his back pocket for cash.

“How can you tell one bill from another? That's got to be tough.”

“I put a little fold on my fives, two on the tens, and so on,” he responded.

“Smart guy.”

“Nah. Just someone who knows about survival.”

“I hear you,” Leigh Ann answered. Maybe his mention of survival was a sign he might be open to discuss whatever was keeping him awake at night. She tried to figure what to say next to move in that direction.

“Come on. I'm starving,” he said, covering the figure with a sheet of black plastic, setting it on a shelf, and then reaching for his shirt.

“We'll come back here afterwards, and you'll work some more?”

“Maybe. Let's see how it goes.”

Spending the morning watching Melvin sculpt shirtless … It didn't get better than that. Since she'd given her hours to Regina, she had the afternoon to look forward to also.

They were just getting into her Jeep when her cell phone rang. She recognized Rachel's tone. “What's up, sis?” she asked, answering the call.

“They came to my work, Leigh Ann. I'll be surprised if I still have a job tomorrow.”

“
Who
came to your work? Calm down and make sense,” she said, her heart beating in quick time.

“The detectives. They asked me all kinds of questions. They wanted to know about my job, and how much bookkeeping it entailed. I was in the break room, but I know Charlie was listening.”

“They're just fishing, Rachel, following up on my interview, maybe hoping to get something new. Don't worry, they can't touch either one of us because we've done nothing wrong.”

“No one wants someone suspected of embezzlement working for their company. Ever since they left, Charlie's been asking me all kinds of questions about Kurt's business and why the detectives came to talk to me.”

“Just tell him you don't know what's going on.”

“I did, but I don't think he believed me any more than the cops did.”

“Calm down, Rache. The more nervous you appear, the guiltier you look.”