A Deadly Affair at Bobtail Ridge (15 page)

When we finally get into the car and on our way, Jenny still hasn't said much. But as soon as I turn out of the parking lot, she says, “Do you mind if we go by Mamma's house on the way home?”

“You sure you feel up to it?”

“I need to go by there,” she says. “Unless you have somewhere you have to be.”

“No, I cleared the deck. I'm at your service.”

There's no question that Jenny is tense. The air feels charged around us. The only comment she makes as we drive to the house is to complain about the odor of the squad car. “You ought to have it cleaned,” she grumbles.

“I'll get right on it,” I say, trying to put a little smart aleck in my voice, but if she picks up on it she doesn't respond.

When I park in front, she sits still for several seconds, as if mentally steeling herself for the ordeal of climbing out of the car.

“You want me to go in and check on things so you don't have to get out?”

Her only reply is to open the car door and ease her legs out onto the sidewalk.

“Wait a minute. Let me come around and help you,” I say. I fling my door open, but by the time I get around to her side, she's pulled herself upright and is standing with her hands on the side of the car, panting.

I wait while she catches her breath and then walk beside her to the house. She's so pale that I'm worried she'll faint. At the door, she suddenly looks at me, her eyes stricken. “I forgot I need a key.”

“Is it in your bag? I'll get it.”

I know better than to scrabble around in a woman's purse, so I bring it to her. She finds the key right away and slips it into the lock and opens the door. And then she surprises me by calling out, “Hello?”

For a second, I wonder if she's having a bad spell and has forgotten that her mamma is gone. But then I see the grim look on her face. For some reason, she thinks somebody is in here. “Who do you think is here?” I say.

She ignores me and walks gingerly through the living room back into the kitchen. I follow her, my eyes darting this way and that, looking for signs that somebody has been in the house. To me the place looks like it did the last time I was here. In the kitchen nothing seems to be disturbed. Jenny stands for a couple of minutes looking from the counters to the little table and to the back door.

“You want me to check the bedrooms?” I say.

“I doubt you'd notice if anything was out of place,” she says. At least I've gotten that much out of her.

We walk through the rest of the house, and she seems to relax with each room we go into. And then, just as we get back to the living room, someone pushes the front door open wide.

In steps Eddie Sandstone.

“You!” Jenny snarls. “Get out of here!” She steps over to the sofa and grabs the back of it in a death grip.

“Jenny, don't be that way. Mamma wouldn't want you to be nasty to me. She'd want us to make up.” Up close, Eddie Sandstone doesn't look much like a demon. He's only two years older than Jenny, but from the lines on his face, it appears that the years haven't been all that kind. He's wearing jeans and a Western-style shirt faded from its original black to a washed-out gray.

“You don't know what Mamma wanted,” Jenny says. “Now get out.”

He flushes as he struggles with his temper. “Jenny, I hate to tell you, but it turns out you don't have a right to throw me out.”

“I most certainly do. Mamma left this place and everything in it to me.”

“That may be the way it was a while back, but before she died she changed her mind.” He fishes in the back pocket of his jeans and comes out with a folded paper that he opens up and thrusts at Jenny. “I went to talk to her while she was in the hospital and she agreed that it wasn't fair for you to inherit everything. You can have the contents of the house—but the house is mine.”

Jenny doesn't make a move to touch the paper. “I heard you pulled something like this. What did you do to her to make her sign that?”

“Come on, Jenny I didn't do anything.” His tone is injured. “You know it wasn't fair for her to leave you everything. When I told her how much it hurt my feelings, she was real contrite and said since you had a house, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if she left the house to me.”

Jenny snatches at the paper and looks at it. “You know I'm going to fight this in court,” she says. “Mamma wasn't fit to be signing anything like this.”

“She seemed perfectly competent to me.” Eddie points to the document. “And to the nurse who signed as a witness.”

Jenny's shoulders sag in defeat as she reads the document. I recall the nurse, Monica, asking Jenny if the man who came to the hospital to see her mother got what he wanted. I wonder which nurse signed the document. “We'll see,” she says.

Eddie looks Jenny up and down. “What happened to you? You've got a big bruise on your face.”

“None of your business.”

He shrugs. “That's okay. But it looks like you're healing from something. If you need time to pack up everything, don't worry. I'm not in any hurry. You take all the time you need getting stuff out of here. I won't need it for a couple of months. It'll take that long for me to wrap up things in Temple anyway.”

“You're planning to move in here?” she asks.

He hesitates. “I haven't decided exactly what I'm going to do. I may decide to live here, or rent it out, or even sell it. I'll keep you posted, though.”

“I'll be out of here before the month is over,” she says. “And I don't need to know your plans.” She's leaning heavily on the back of the sofa, and I can tell she's shaky.

“Jenny, I ought to get you home,” I say.

Eddie turns his attention to me and extends his hand. “I don't believe we've been introduced. I'm Jenny's brother, Eddie. I imagine she hasn't mentioned me.” He smiles ruefully. “Jenny is one to hold grudge. Are you Jenny's boyfriend?”

I shake his hand. “I'm Samuel Craddock, Jenny's friend and neighbor.” Jenny looks daggers at me, but I have no reason to be rude to her brother. “Jenny was in an accident a couple of days ago and I just picked her up from the hospital. I think I'd better take her on home.”

“Accident? What kind of accident?”

“Maybe she can tell you another time.”

“Or maybe I'll tell you about it when hell freezes over,” Jenny says.

“Fine.” For the first time since he walked in, a cloud crosses his face. “I'll be seeing you,” he says, and strides out the door.

When Jenny and I walk out the door, he's standing next to his car, looking at the house. I'm holding onto Jenny's arm and I feel her flinch. The car is a little white Toyota that looks too small for him. Not the dark car I saw him in at the hospital.

“This your car?” I say.

“No, it belongs to my ex-wife. I borrowed it while mine's in the shop.”

My antenna goes up, wondering if that black car might be in the shop to have a big dent removed from running Jenny off the road. But he's given me no reason to suspect him of that. In fact, he's been downright cordial.

Jenny doesn't have any fight left in her. She's pale and shaking. I adjust her seat back so she's reclining and can rest. I try to talk to her on the way home, but she's gone somewhere I can't reach. I keep remembering that the coach, Stubby Clark, said Eddie was cruel. I saw no evidence of that today. But I'm on Jenny's side, and whatever he did has to have been pretty bad for her to carry such a grudge against him.

CHAPTER 20

There's no way I have a chance to get close to Jenny for a few days. Once Loretta finds out that Jenny's home from the hospital, she takes over, declaring, “She doesn't need to be by herself except when she wants to rest.”

Although I know Jenny will complain that people are hovering too much, I think it will be good for her, especially after the shock she got from her brother's announcement. She's had too many hard things happen lately.

I've been neglecting my duties as chief of police, so I spend a couple of days catching up on paperwork and going to see people who need a follow-up. Bill Odum is on duty on Thursday and he seems to like taking care of the day-to-day business of police work, so I take off for the two-hour drive to Temple. I want to have a private chat with Eddie Sandstone. I hope he can give me some indication of what happened to the family around the time his daddy disappeared, and what led to his being shut out by Jenny.

At ten o'clock I pull up in front of the address I have for him, which turns out to be a dreary, two-story brick and wood apartment building without much in the way of amenities. It's built in an “L” shape and might even have been a motel at one time. It hasn't been painted in a while, and the green trim is flaking. The carport doesn't have many cars in it at this time of day, but the ones that are there look as shabby as the building.

The address I have for Eddie doesn't include an apartment number, so I don't know which one he lives in. I see a small sign that says “manager” pointing to the back of the building. Around back I find an office closed up tight, with a handwritten note on the door giving a phone number in case of questions. I dial the number and am not especially surprised to find that it's disconnected. I'm trying to figure out what to do next when I spy a maintenance man wheeling a garbage bin into a big enclosed area.

“Excuse me,” I say. “Can you tell me how I can find the manager?”

The man is a light-skinned black man around fifty years old, wearing blue coveralls and a bandana around his neck. He parks the garbage bin and squints at me. “I guess that would be me,” he says.

I introduce myself. “I'm looking for a man by the name of Eddie Sandstone. Can you tell me which apartment is his?”

“He doesn't live here, but he visits his wife a good bit.”

“Do you know where I can find her?”

He jerks his thumb toward the building. “Apartment 8. Name is Joyce. She's a nice lady.”

I mount the wooden stairs up to the second floor. Joyce Sandstone opens her door dressed in a T-shirt, knee-length shorts, and no makeup. She's a skinny woman with a pasty complexion. Her dull blonde hair is held back by a rubber band. She's holding a cleaning rag in her hand. “If you're one of those Jehovah's Witness people, forget it. I'm not interested.” She starts to close the door.

“Whoa,” I say. “Mrs. Sandstone. I'm chief of police in Jarrett Creek. I'm looking for your husband.”

“Jarrett Creek? Where is that?”

“It's over by Bobtail, where Eddie grew up.”

“Why are you looking for him?”

“I want to have a word with him. This is the address I have for him, but the man I talked to downstairs said Eddie doesn't live here. Is that right?”

She peers over the railing, frowning, and then looks back at me. “Me and Eddie aren't living together at the moment.”

“Can you give me his address and phone number?”

She hesitates. “Has he done something?”

“I need to talk to him, that's all.”

She can't seem to come up with an objection, so she gives me his phone number and address, which I enter into my cell phone.

“How long have you two been married?”

“A couple years.”

“When did you split up?”

“I don't know that we're split up. We're trying a trial separation.”

“Yeah?” Sometimes just looking like you're interested will get you more information.

“Eddie's not the easiest person to get along with.”

“Really. In what way?”

“I told him he has anger management issues.” She smirks. “That's the newest term for a bad temper.”

“Is he violent?”

She screws up her face. “Not exactly. But he's been in a bad mood for a while, and I got tired of feeling like he was on the verge of getting violent. You know what I mean?” Suddenly she looks guilty. “I'm not telling you something that will get him in trouble, am I?”

“No, nothing like that.”

She looks behind her. “As long as we're talking, you might as well come on in here and get some coffee and I can sit down. This is my only day off this week and I'm trying to clean this place up.”

Over sizeable mugs of good coffee, she tells me that she met Eddie when he was in the hospital after he broke his foot on the job. “I've never been good at picking men.” She's already stirred three teaspoons of sugar into her coffee, and she adds another one, not really paying attention to what she's doing. “Eddie is a brooder . . . I always go for the brooding ones, for all the good it does me.” She takes a sip and frowns. I can't believe what she's done to a perfectly good cup of coffee.

“You said recently he'd been in a bad mood. Anything in particular upset him?”

“I wouldn't know. He keeps things to himself. Always has. It didn't bother me so much when we were first together, but I don't know if he's gotten worse or if I'm more impatient. I told him he ought to see a therapist to help him perk up. You know, not always be thinking somebody's out to get him or out to put something over on him.”

“Is he paranoid?”

“I wouldn't go that far. Just suspicious.”

“He ever talk about his sister?”

“Oh, boy, don't get me started on that sister of his. I think she's the source of his problems. He said she never liked him and was always out to get him, and that she eventually turned his mamma against him.”

That's a different slant on things. “Did you know his mamma died recently?”

“Yeah, he told me. Called me one night and told me she passed. He was pretty cut up about it. Eddie almost didn't go the funeral because he said his sister might pitch a fit. Now I ask you, what kind of sister doesn't want her own brother at their mamma's funeral?”