The Mortal Groove (23 page)

Jane assumed this wasn't the kind of place that ran a tab, not that it mattered. She took a fifty out of her wallet, set it on the bar, then covered it with her hand. “I'm hoping you can help us.”

The guy's eyes dropped impassively to the fifty.

“I'm looking for Bob Nelson.”

“Why?”

“Are you Bob?”

“It's possible.”

“I need some information. I understand your father used to own the bar.”

“He did.”

“Ever heard the name Sue Bouchard?”

He bent over, rested his elbows on the counter. “Yeah. Went to school with her as a matter of fact.”

“Was your father here the night she died?”

“I imagine. He was usually around back then.”

“I'd like to talk to him.”

“About what went on in here with the ‘Turk Party of Five'?” She nodded.

“Then you should ask me. I was the one serving drinks that night. I knew Turk, too, in case you were wondering. He was a year ahead of me in school.”

Jane pulled her hand away from the fifty.

Nelson didn't pick it up.

“Can you tell me what you remember? Anything would be helpful.”

“You cops?”

“We look like cops?” asked Cordelia.

He shrugged. “I'll tell you the same thing I told the investigators. Turk's two army buddies came in first. They ordered beers and played a round of pool. Ethan came in a few minutes later. He seemed kind of nervous to me, but that might've been my imagination. Anyway, Turk waltzes in a while later with Sue. They all order beers and sit at a table in the back.”

“How much did they have to drink that night?”

“They stuck with beers until around eleven, then started in on boilermakers.”

“Sue, too?”

“Nah. She wasn't that stupid.”

“What did the five of them do all evening?” asked Jane.

“They talked, played some more pool, fed the jukebox. I think Sue might've danced with the black guy, but I'm not positive. They seemed pretty friendly. Around eleven thirty, Turk got up. He was so pissed, I thought he was going to put the black guy through the front window, but his brother broke it up.”

“Do you know what he was angry about?”

“It was a busy night, lady. I had better things to do than keep track of their bullshit.”

“You didn't like them?”

“After Turk got back from Nam, he acted like he was too good for his old pals. Didn't have time for us anymore. I wasn't going to bow down to him just because he'd been some army grunt. I didn't even agree with the war. If my number had come up, I would've run. Canada seemed like a better choice to me than fighting and dying in a rice paddy for God knows what reason.

“That night,” said Jane, trying to nudge him back on track, “who left first?”

“The black guy and Sue walked out together. A while later I saw that Turk and Wilton had left. Didn't actually see them go. Ethan stuck around until closing. Sat by himself at the table and drank a bunch more beers. He was in bad shape when he left. He fell off the curb outside. I helped him up, dusted him off, asked him if he wanted me to call someone to come get him, but he just staggered away. And that's the sum and total of all I know,
lady.” He picked up the fifty and crushed it in his fist. “Anything else?”

“Thank you, no,” said Cordelia. “You've been an immense help, but we have to leave now. Places to go, things to do. I'm sure you understand.” She yanked Jane off the stool.

“You aren't gonna drink your beers?”

“No, but thanks,” said Jane.

The guy watching TV at the end of the bar pushed his beer bottle away and looked over at them with disinterest. He motioned for Nelson to bring him another, belched, then went back to watching the game.

 

On the way back to Conner's Mills, Jane didn't say much. She was thinking about Sue. She knew, of course, that there were people who could take a human life and not lose a minute's sleep over it, but neither Randy nor Del seemed like that kind of man. The only one in the group who might fit the profile was Larry Wilton, but nobody had pointed a finger at him. In fact, Gus had said he liked him, that he was friendly, even funny. The only red flag Gus had raised was his drinking.

Twenty minutes later, Cordelia turned off the highway into a gas station at the edge of Conner's Mills. While she was filling the tank, Jane talked to the attendant inside, asked him if he could recommend a place to have dinner.

The guy suggested the pizza shop over in Waldo. Jane said pizza wouldn't work.

“What about a roadhouse or a supper club?” she asked. “Someplace where we can get a drink with our meal.”

“There's a nice supper club just outside Hollandale, but that's a good forty miles away.”

“Do we stay on the highway?”

“Yup. All the way. You can't miss it. It's on your right as you come into town.”

She thanked him, paid for the gas, and then trotted back out to the car. “You up for a drive?”

“If it means dinner, yah, you betcha.”

“Stop it.”

“Sorry. It's the hat.”

 

By the time Jane and Cordelia returned to the motor court that evening, a purple twilight had settled over the countryside.

“I like getting out of the city,” said Jane as she flipped back the front seat so Mouse could jump out. “Breathing a little fresh air doesn't damage our city lungs.”

“It's just too friggin' dark out here. Gives me the creeps.”

“Kenzie seems to thrive on it.”

“Then go down to Chadwick and thrive on it with her.”

“I will. I'm supposed to be there for the Memorial Day parade.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “You know, Cordelia, I've never seen this side of Kenzie before. She's so anxious about the party. She's usually so laid-back.”

They stood on the sidewalk in front of their room, neither one of them all that anxious to go inside.

“Has she ever done a big party before?” asked Cordelia, swatting away the mosquitos.

“Don't know.”

“Well there you have it. She's nervous, and for good reason. In my mind, entertaining ranks right up there with other sacred rites. It takes skill, experience, and a certain reverence for the form to do it right.”

“I suppose.”

“You think she's anxious about something else?”

“She has been leaning on me pretty hard lately about my erratic work schedule.”

“You
are
the boss.”

“True, but that also means there are times when everyday personal matters have to take a backseat to business. The kind of life she leads is very different. It's regimented. She knows in advance what her day—her month, her year—will be like. I have to go with the flow, wherever it takes me. When she wants to nail things down, it makes me feel a little crazy because I know I might have to disappoint her.”

“That kind of stuff always causes stress. But you'll figure it out. True love conquers all.”

“You actually believe that?”

“Nah, but it sounds like something I'd say. Let's put it this way. I wish I believed it.”

Jane opened the door for Cordelia, but instead of going in, she bent over and clipped Mouse's leash to his collar.

Cordelia flipped on the overhead light and stared bleakly at the room. “Ah, our little hovel away from home. Think I'll take a shower and then call the hospital again. God, wouldn't it be fabulous if Mel was awake?”

Jane squeezed her hand. “We have to hang in there for her.”

“Are you going for your nightly run?”

“Are you kidding? I just ate a prime rib dinner. No, we'll just do a short walk.”

“Don't be gone long. I generally don't
do
intimidated, but this Larry Wilton has me worried.”

“We only have one more person to see in the morning and then we can head for home.”

“Home,” said Cordelia. Staggering over to the bed, she struck a dramatic pose. “ ‘Though it be but a dream—'”

“Don't quote Shakespeare,” said Jane. “When you start, you never stop.”

She held the pose. “ ‘If it were done, when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done quickly.' ”

“I'm leaving. Bye.”

“ ‘Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump—' ”

Jane shut the door.

 

There were times when Jane thought beds asked too much. If you took off your clothes and got under the covers, the deal was, you had to fall asleep. That's why she sometimes slept on her living-room couch at home. It wasn't such a big commitment.

When she finally returned to the motel, later than she'd expected because the night air was simply too sweet, the town too peaceful, Cordelia was already asleep, snoring softly, lying on her stomach. Jane gave Mouse some fresh water, then lay down on her bed fully clothed. She knew her mind was unlikely to shut down long enough to give her any rest. Mouse seemed to be as restless as she was. Maybe he was picking up her vibe. She patted the bed, but he seemed to want to stay by the door. She'd just closed her eyes, which she felt, under the circumstances, was a bold act of faith, when he began to growl.

“It's okay, boy,” she said, patting the bed again. There were lots of noises outside that were new to him. The growling deepened. He seemed so upset that she got up and walked over to him. She squatted down and stroked his fur. “We'll be home tomorrow,” she whispered, giving him a hug. “You can come sleep with me if you want.”

Just then, the window exploded inward and the bedspread on Jane's bed erupted in flame. Mouse dug at the base of the door. She held him tight, watching in stunned horror as two more
burning balls crashed through what was left of the glass, one landing on the floor between the beds, the other hitting Jane's suitcase dead center.

“Cordelia,” she screamed, holding on to Mouse's collar with one hand and shaking Cordelia's leg through the blankets with the other. “Wake up! Move it!” She yanked the covers off to the side. “Come on!”

Cordelia twisted around. As soon as the fire registered, she recoiled to the other side of the bed.

“There's glass on the floor,” said Jane. “Be careful.” She turned and cracked the door just as the rusted Silverado pulled past the room and roared out of the lot. She opened the screen, still holding on to Mouse.

“I gotta get my bag,” cried Cordelia.

“Forget it,” called Jane, but Cordelia had already grabbed it.

They rushed out to the car.

“Back it up,” said Jane. Flames were starting to shoot out the broken window. “Hurry!”

Cordelia pulled a piece of paper out from under the wind-shield wipers, jumped in, cranked up the motor, and then put it in reverse.

Jane yanked Mouse a safe distance away from the building. His barking had alerted the other two people staying at the motel. Two middle-aged guys came out of their rooms, looking frazzled, sleepy, confused. They each stood by their cars to watch.

A woman rushed out of the office. Jane hollered to her to call the police and the fire department.

“Look at this,” said Cordelia, coming up beside Jane. She was wearing her nightgown, but had wrapped the car blanket around her shoulders. “It's a note from guess who.”

Jane tore her eyes away from the burning building long enough to read:

 

You get one warning.

This is it.

 

“I'd say we're in deep shit,” said Cordelia, shivering under the blanket.

“I'd say you're right.”

 

Conner's Mills didn't have a professional fire department, but the volunteers did their jobs like they'd been at it all their lives. The sheriff's department sent two cruisers and an ambulance, but when it was determined that no one had been hurt, the ambulance left.

One of the deputies talked to Jane and Cordelia for a few minutes, took a statement, then excused himself. He said he needed to call it in.

For the next hour and a half, Jane sat on the ground, hugging Mouse against her and watching the scene. A crowd began to gather as soon as the town's fire whistle had gone off. By two, it was pretty much over. Three of the motel rooms were a total loss. Several of the others had been damaged by smoke and water.

Jane whispered in Mouse's ear, thanking him for growling, for getting her off that bed. “You saved my life, boy. I'll never forget that.” It was hard for her to isolate a single emotion, so many feelings were coiled and twisting inside her. Mainly, she was just glad that they'd all made it out safely.

Cordelia had put on some jeans and a jacket, but looked no less bedraggled than she had when she'd been wearing nothing
but a nightgown and a blanket. She was walking around the parking lot like a bird unsure where to land. She'd left her hunting cap on the car's dash. With her spiky hair, she got a lot of pitying looks. There wasn't much that was funny about what had just happened, but Jane found herself almost laughing, her mouth pressed to Mouse's neck. She was pretty sure that people thought Cordelia's unfortunate hairdo was a direct result of the fire.

Just as the firemen were finishing up, another cruiser pulled into the lot. She watched a tall guy with a jock's build get out. From the way the other cops treated him, he was apparently the man in charge.

“Boy, that's one hefty side of beef,” said Cordelia. She was standing, leaning against the hood of the car.

One of the deputies pointed in their direction, and the jock walked over.

“Ms. Lawless?” he said, looking at Cordelia.

“That's me,” said Jane.

“By process of elimination, you must be Ms. Thorn.”

Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest and nodded.

“I'm Sheriff Lang. I've got the statement here that you gave one of my deputies. You mention a name that interests me. Larry Wilton. You say you have no proof that he was the one who set fire to your room, but he's the one you suspect.”