Champagne for Buzzards (9 page)

“You haven't a selfish bone in your body.”

She wasn't convinced. “I go back and forth, wanting to be with David and wanting a different life than the one I'll have with him. What do you think I should do?”

“Get a haircut and lose the glasses.”

“No, I meant about David.”

“So did I.”

After we stopped at a paint store for a color chart, I dropped Marley off at Riverwood. Memory is a tricky thing, at least my memory. Lucan's murder and the sheriff's comments about April Donaldson brought back the ache of losing Jimmy, and I was flooded with a sense of pain as fresh and as new as if it had just happened that day, not nearly two years ago.

I wondered how April was handling the fact that Lucan would never walk through the door again. Was she adjusting to this new reality? She'd never hear him laugh again, never even get angry with him or be able to make love to him again.

I went to visit Lucan's common-law wife, the lady the county didn't think much of. I figured April Donaldson and I shared a whole lot. Turned out, so did she.

She looked like an unmade bed in a cheap motel — faded, grubby and sagging. Not a place to stretch out unless you were really desperate.

“What you staring at, Miss Uptown Gal?” she said.

“I'm sorry if I was staring.”

She was all elongated bones and hard angles. Her face, long and narrow, was a road map to unhappiness and was dominated by sunken, red-rimmed eyes. She took a deep drag on her cigarette and said, “You and I ain't so different.”

And that was what was so frightening. She recognized me right off. Some instinct told her we were sisters.

It wasn't just the loss to violence of the men in our lives that we shared. We both lived on the edge of financial disaster. The Sunset looked like it was rolling in dough, but the truth was it was only a real good thing if breaking even excites you. There were still months I took no salary, months when the busboys took home more money than me. The pitiful monthly check I sent to Ruth Ann said how close survival lived to failure.

It would take only a few small calamities to have me on the same track as April Donaldson, but good God, couldn't this woman at least comb her hair? It hung in long strings around her face, except for one side where it appeared a nest of rodents had set up home.

“My name is Sherri Travis.”

“Sheriff told me about you and I recognized you from town. What do you want?”

“I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for your loss.” She snorted. “Oh yeah? Knew Luc real well, did you? Liked him even?”

“No, I didn't know him but I can see you loved him and that you'll miss him. I'm sorry for that. I know what it is to lose people.”

Her face crumbled. She put up the hand with the cigarette to hide her grief and cover her mouth to stop its sounds. The knobby shoulders shook under the thin cotton blouse. I stepped closer and put my hand to the shoulder blade sticking out under the faded pattern, wanting to offer human comfort. She gave an animal wail of pain and turned to me, moving into me and grabbing hold of me as if I might be her only salvation from drowning in a sea of hurt.

When she pulled away from the damp spot on my shoulder, she was angry again. “I know what people think of Luc. Probably saying it's the best thing that could have happened. Well, not for me it isn't.” She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

I stepped on the burning cigarette that dropped from her fingers. The scorch mark wouldn't be visible on the battleground of the lino.

“He was good to me,” she said with an anguished wail. She dropped onto the couch, knees together and her elbows dug deep into her gut. Her tears started again.

I went to the sink and picked up the least dirty glass I could see. The pipes clanged as I turned on the water. I let the water run over the glass, rinsing it out before filling it and taking it to her.

She looked up at me, holding in the hurt. I offered her the glass and she took it silently.

I went to the living room window and pushed aside the thin bed sheet draped over the window. A thin brown dog, at the end of a heavy chain, was going around and around a stake in the middle of the yard, retracing over and over again the perfect circle he had worn into the earth. The chain itself had dragged over the soil within the circle and torn out every living thing. The merciless sun beat down on the thin spiked grass that spotted the sandy soil outside of the circle. Only about four feet of the dog's journey went through any shade at all. He'd exhaust himself in his endless circuit, fall down in the shade until he recovered, then get up and begin his restless journey again. I'm a pack animal myself, need human company the way I need air, so the sight of the dog staked out like a sacrifice did things to me.

I watched him through two full cycles before April said, “Damn Breslaus. They're the ones that killed Lucan or had someone do it for them.”

I let the sheet drop back over the window. “He worked for them, didn't he?”

“Off and on. Used to be their foreman; these days he did their dirty work. That's all they thought he was good for.”

“Lots of dirty work on a farm. Just what kind did Lucan do?”

“The kind they pay cash for.”

“Orlin Breslau, he's the owner of the Oxbow Ranch, isn't he?”

She gave a quick nod. “Nasty piece of shit, him and that grandson he calls Boomer, meanest bastards you ever going to find. Luc was pretty scared of them when he was sober. Drunk, nothing scared him.”

“Did he say what he was doing for them?” For the first time there was an emotion beside anger on her face — fear maybe, caution certainly. “Why you askin' all this?”

“Born nosey.”

“Yeah, that can be a real disability.” Her mouth stretched in a smile, making the sadness of her eyes more unbearable.

“Look, can I bring that dog inside?”

“What for?”

“It's hot as Hades out there, must be ninety, ninety-five, and who knows he might just be a comfort to you.” She looked confused but I didn't wait for her to agree. Only when I jumped over the broken bottom step did she holler, “Careful, he bites.”

Shit. But there were no signs of food and the metal water bowl had been turned upside down by the chain. He probably hadn't had water since Lucan left. He couldn't be left there to die. The dog, straining at the end of the chain and stretching his body out towards me, teeth bared and jaw up, started barking. He was a pretty impressive sight. I edged towards him, talking nonsense and walking slow. My good intentions were fading fast with each attempt at a lunge he made for me before the collar, thick and tough, called him up short.

“Good dog,” I crooned. My knees creaked and cracked as I sat on my heels and slowly put out my hand. The barking turned to a low growl. He sat and watched the hand ease forward. White flecks of foam sprayed on my hand as he yelped and jerked towards it.

“You're slow,” I told him, holding my hand into my chest protectively. “Maybe you don't really want to bite me.” I moved my hand out towards him again, talking to him and watching him closely. This time he growled but didn't snap. Under the mottled browns of his stretched skin, his ribs showed. I rubbed his ear. He sank down to his haunches and then eased to the ground.

Slowly, slowly I crept forward and unsnapped the chain from his collar, laying it on the ground and sliding back from him without touching him, moving slow.

“Well, you can run away now if you want. I would. Just keep going, miles of nothing for you to live in, but watch for gators, won't you?” I said and backed away. He stayed there, hunched down, waiting for the blow and watching me. I covered ten feet before I turned my back on him.

I heard him move behind me and braced for the attack. It didn't come. At the steps, I climbed gingerly, staying away from the cracked and rotting boards in the middle, easing up the outside where the steps were firmly attached at the edge.

I heard the click of his nails on the broken concrete behind me. I stopped. He stopped.

I stepped onto the porch. The paint was peeling back off several layers of color, white over sage green over bare gray boards. I looked back and he lowered himself, not quite lying down but certainly not upright. I opened the door, nudging a stray shoe in front of it to block it open. I went in. His nails went click, click, as he climbed the stairs. April Donaldson was where I'd left her, the empty glass on the floor beside her. I went to the sink and washed out a bowl and filled it with water. The dog retreated down the steps as I came through the door. “You look like you can use this,” I said to him as I set the bowl on the stoop. I went back inside to the click click of his nails climbing up the steps and then the frantic lapping of the water. I went to the fridge and opened it.

“You make yourself at home, don't you?” April said, but she didn't seem unduly disturbed by my rudeness. In the fridge there was a package of gray hamburger still covered in the plastic wrapper from the store. I checked the date and sniffed the package. It wasn't the freshest but the dog would starve before he died of bad meat. Animals seemed to be immune to things that would kill us. I stuck my nail in the end to open the wrap and plopped a good fist-sized glob onto a plate from the sink. Best to start easy. He'd eat whatever I put out and then throw it back up if I was overgenerous.

The dog growled again as I approached him but drool was running over his snarling lips. “Good dog,” I started to say as I reached out to place the plate on the bare wood. He lunged and gulped the meat down before the plate made it to the floor. “All righty,” I told him. “Looks like that takes care of dinner. You all come in when you feel up to it.” I took the plate back inside.

April watched all this without comment and I was starting to think she might have a wheel or two missing from her wagon so I asked, “Will you be all right here alone?”

“Say, what are you, a bloody social worker or something?”

“More like a concerned neighbor.”

She snorted. “So that explains why you let me cry on your shoulder.”

I ran water over the plate and then put the plug in the sink and searched for dish soap. I twisted around to look at her as the sink filled. “Tell me about Lucan.”

She shrugged and stayed silent. Minutes passed and the sink filled. At last she said, “We grew up together, me and Lovey and Lucan.”

I turned off the water and looked at her. She considered her hands, saying, “Lovey Sweet was the girl all the boys loved, specially Lucan. Her father didn't think Lucan was good enough for Lovey, caught them together once, and threatened to kill Luc if he didn't stay away from her.”

She got out of the chair as if every motion pained her and went for her Winstons. “Lovey is beautiful. You seen her?” She looked at me now with gray eyes that might never shine again.

“Can't remember.”

“Oh, you'd remember. She's like one of those old time paintings, lush, you know? Round and sensual, not like those skinny women you see in magazines today, not like me. Luc is Kelly's daddy only he didn't know it for the longest time 'cause Lovey told him he wasn't, said some other man had sired Kelly, but you only have to see Kelly to know she's a Percell, and besides, Lovey was never that sort of girl, you know, the sort that would go with more than one man at a time. No, there was never anyone but Luc for her in those days.”

I set a dripping plate in the dish rack and asked, “Why didn't Lovey marry him?”

“I think she was afraid her daddy really would shoot Luc. Mr. Sweet's a good man but when that wife of his gets talking and doing his thinking for him, there's no telling what's going to happen. Besides, back then, seventeen, eighteen years ago, well we were more inclined to do what we was told.”

“Wasn't having a child out of wedlock a huge deal?”

“Yup, but then Mrs. High and Mighty Sweet Pants could heave a sigh and say it was her cross to bear but no way was she going to have Luc for a son-in-law. Lovey wasn't but fifteen or sixteen. Not easy to stand up for yourself then.”

“But she kept the baby.”

“Baptist you know, no abortion and you didn't give away kin. She stayed at home for a few years then she got out of there. From what I hear, she hasn't been back since and old Pearl won't hear her name mentioned.”

“Do you think it was Mr. Sweet who killed Lucan?” But April wasn't listening. “Well look at that there, will ya.”

I turned to see what had put the animation in her voice.

The dog crept into the house on bent legs, nose almost to the floor, waiting inside the door to see what would happen before he melted down, head on his paws and his eyes watching us.

“Luc said that was one mean animal but he don't look so bad now, does he?”

“He looks quite normal there,” I agreed. “He'll be good company for you. You won't be all alone now.”

“Dog doesn't make up for a man.”

“Well,” I said, stirring the water in the sink with my hand, considering it, “there've been one or two men in my life that a dog would have been a whole lot better than.”

She gave a hic and then a rusty laugh, as if she was using vocal cords that hadn't performed in a long time. “That's sure enough true. Some men in my life, well, living with a dog would be a whole lot better.” She came to the counter and took up the dish towel, hanging on a drawer knob, and began to dry the dishes in the rack, hip against the counter and one bare foot resting on the other.

I asked, “What do you think, is Howard Sweet capable of murdering Luc?”

She gave a shrug, watching the towel go round and round the plate. “He always seemed like his name. Don't think he'd have made a fuss if Lovey and Luc had married, but not that wife of his.” Her hands stopped and her eyes met mine over the towel. “Pearl, Mrs. Sweet, she could do it.” She nodded her head in agreement with her words. “She could kill someone, especially Luc. Cruel woman, always hurtful, I remember once coming out of class at the end of the day, I must have been about eleven or so, Mrs. Sweet was at the door giving out invitations to Lovey's birthday party. She gave one to the girl in front of me, was smiling and everything, and when I put out my hand to get my invite she just snatched it up to her chest, gave one to the girl behind me though. She just thought me and my family were no good and never would be. She's real good at passing judgment like that.” She opened the cupboard door and put the plate inside. “Lovey saved me some cake. Brought it to school the next day and told me how sorry she was her mother hadn't let me be at her party. Lovey's a nice person.”

I rinsed a glass and asked, “What about now, how did the Sweets get along with Luc?”

“Mrs. Sweet still believes he'd ruined their family, and the mister pretty much follows her lead. Mrs. Sweet once told me at the grocery store that she thought Lucan and I were going straight to hell for living together without being married, but then everyone 'round here pretty much agrees with that. They don't hold with living in sin.”

“Yeah, I got the same reception. How does Lovey feel about Lucan now?”

“Lovey just didn't want Lucan around, didn't have feelings for him anymore, although his never changed for her, nor mine for Luc.” She picked the glass out of the rack. “Funny, seems the person whose life was most ruined by Kelly's birth was Luc's. Never was no saint but he dropped out of school and started drinkin' after Lovey got pregnant and told him it was someone else's child. He done some bad things, sure, but he never stopped loving her. And when he knew Kelly was his child he loved her too. He used to go and watch her play baseball, kind of hide behind the stands where no one could see him, and watch her play. Sit outside her school and that sort of thing. And he gave Lovey money for her.” She looked around the room. “Think we just like livin' this way? Every spare cent went for that girl or into a college fund for her.”

“He wouldn't even spend a cent on a gallon of paint for the house, never mind anything for me. I work cleaning up at the Blue Haven retirement home, cleaning up pee and worse so we could stay alive and he could give it all away. He'd do anything for that child, and when Boomer Breslau started bothering her, I thought Luc was going to kill that boy. See, Luc never got over spying on Kelly, and he seen Boomer trying to kiss Kelly and Kelly trying to get away. Luc stopped his truck in the middle of the street, got out and slugged Boomer. Fortunately some men broke it up, but Luc was sure mad.”

“Did he get fired?”

“Nope.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Luc said they couldn't fire him because he knew too much.”

“About what?”

“Don't know but something's going on over there. Luc never said what, but it's happening and it's bad. Once, when he was drunk, which was just about every night, and we were watching TV he said that what we was watching on television was nothing. Said that worse things were happening right here in Independence.”

I handed her the mug I'd just rinsed out. “But you have no idea what?”

“Nope. Don't want to know either and neither do you.”

When I left April's the dog started to follow me out the door. April's face fell but she said, “You can take him if you want. I'm not much for animals.”

Clay had talked about getting a dog and a mutt like this seemed to be part of every ranch yard I passed. Lord knows, I needed the early warning system. I looked from the dog, gazing expectantly up at me, to April. She crossed her arms over her flat chest and hunched her shoulders. “All the same to me,” she said.

“Naw,” I replied. “He's your dog; just remember to feed him, won't you?” I wasn't at all sure she would even remember to feed herself.

Her face lit up and she nodded vigorously. “Sure, Luc always fed him, but I can do it.”

“I'll drop back in a day or two but you know where I am if you need me.”

There was no answer but I got a slight smile with the nod.