Dead Broke in Jarrett Creek: A Samuel Craddock Mystery (Samuel Craddock Mysteries) (15 page)

“I heard that Gary was involved in the deal out at the lake for the water park.”

“Oh, yes. He was very proud of that. He thought it was going to be great.”

“Did it bother him when the deal went south and the town lost money?”

“It wasn’t Gary’s way to regret things. He said it wasn’t his job to coddle people, and that Alton Coldwater knew it was a risky deal. Gary got his commission on the loan, and that’s all he cared about.”

Alton Coldwater may have known it was risky, but he was still angry at Dellmore. “Do you know if anybody ever threatened Gary?”

“You mean threatened to kill him? He never told me if they did.”

“I don’t like asking this, but were any of Gary’s affairs serious?”

She stands up abruptly, glaring at me. “What’s serious? Do you mean did he ask me for a divorce? Did he tell me the details of his little side activities?” Her face is dead white.

“Did he ever ask for a divorce?”

“We considered splitting a couple of times, but neither of us really wanted to. I’ll bet it surprises you that I wanted to stay with him.”

I shrug. I don’t know why she’d care what my opinion is. “That’s your business.” She seems reckless, throwing out all this talk. And her anger is free-floating, as if now that her husband is gone she can let it loose.

“We both had our reasons for wanting to stay together. Mine were practical. I like a quiet life. If we had split up, I’d have had to get a job again. I like being at home and working in the garden. The only reason I hired out to do it before was because one of us had to have an income. So if getting to do as I please meant I had to put up with Gary fooling around, then so be it. Let people say what they want to—I was a perfectly good wife to Gary and if he felt like he had to go with other women, that’s on him.”

“I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you…”

She interrupts me as if I hadn’t said anything. “And what made Gary stay with me? I think he wanted to be able to play around and use me as a convenient excuse not to get too involved with anybody.” She stops as if she’s run out of gas. “I guess none of that matters anymore.”

“Let me change the subject. Did Gary ever have any dealings with Gabe LoPresto?”

“Dealings? You mean besides flirting with Gabe’s girlfriend?”

“What makes you think he did?”

“Cookie Travers and I are friends. At least I think we are. Sometimes I think she takes too much pleasure in telling me every little thing Gary is up to. She told me Gary and Darla had a lot of little private discussions—by that I think she meant they were flirting. She doesn’t like Darla. Thinks she’s a troublemaker.”

“I understand that Gabe LoPresto’s company was going to get some of the building business when the water park went in. Did Gary ever mention that?”

“If he did, I don’t remember.”

I stand up to go. “Can you give me the names of Gary’s hunting buddies?”

“You should talk to Annalise. Her husband is the one who knows those men.”

“One more thing. Do you keep a gun?”

“I do, but it hasn’t been cleaned or fired in so long that it would probably blow up if somebody tried to use it. I’ll go get it. I keep it in the utility room.” She’s back in a few minutes with a shoebox. Inside is a tiny little Smith & Wesson and a box of .22 shells.

“You can put the lid back on that box, and if I were you I’d either get rid of the gun or have somebody clean it and make sure it works.”

She follows me to the door, and on the porch she suddenly says, “Samuel? What do you suppose Gary’s car was doing out there at the dam?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll do everything I can to answer that question.”

My cat Zelda tells me in no uncertain terms that I’ve been away too much the last few days and she doesn’t appreciate it. It’s a good thing she’s small, because if she were any bigger, she’d stomp holes in the floor as she storms over to her dish and points out to me that it’s empty.

Up the road I hear cars honking at each other and kids yelling. Being Friday night, there’s a basketball game. Although football is king, the basketball team is doing well this year and enthusiasm is high. I enjoy watching professional sports on TV, but there’s nothing like going to a hometown game with the people you’ve known your whole life. I had planned to go to the game, but I’m too tired.

Before I can stop my thoughts I’m doubting myself, thinking I might be too old to carry out the duties I’ve signed on for. But then I remember I was always this tired on the job at the end of the day, even when I was younger. It was one of the reasons Jeanne wanted me to bow out of running for police chief again after I’d put in a dozen years. “You’re always on call,” she said. “I want to see more of you.”

Now she’s not here, and I have all the time in the world to stretch myself every which way for the job. I get a beer out of the refrigerator and sit down to watch whatever happens to be on the TV. I don’t even have the energy to change channels. I wake up sometime in the night with the half-drunk beer sitting on the floor next to me, and the TV showing an old episode of
River Monsters
.

Alvin Raines moved Dellmore’s Crown Vic into the service station garage last night to keep it safe, and this morning he’s brought it out into a side parking area and put sawhorses around it so nobody will mess with it. He gives me the keys in a paper bag and tells me he did like I said and only handled them with gloves on.

I pull on latex gloves from our crime scene kit and open up the doors and trunk to have a good look. I won’t have time to do the tedious job of fingerprinting. That will have to fall to the Rangers’ crime unit.

There are food containers and wrappers from McDonald’s and Dairy Queen, and beer cans on the floor of the car. We don’t have a McDonald’s here in town, but I know they have one over in Bryan-College Station. We do have a Dairy Queen. It’s always possible that some of the trash was here before the kids took it joyriding. I can’t picture Dellmore eating at the DQ and throwing the wrappers in the back, but I have no way of knowing exactly what happened with the car around the time Dellmore was killed—who rode in the car or what they might have done. All the trash has to be left as is to be dusted for prints and tested for DNA.

In the glove compartment I find some country music CDs: one by Robert Earl Keen, a Ryan Bingham, and a T Bone Burnett. When I come to the fourth one, a familiar face, younger, stares back at me. It’s Angel Bright’s greatest hits CD. The picture on the front shows Angel on stage, head thrown back, body arched as if she’s prepared to be pulled up into the sky.

In addition to the usual road emergency stuff you find in a trunk, Dellmore has some gardening tools and a box of files. I thumb through the files and see that they’re job orders for some kind of building project. The crime unit will need to dust the files for fingerprints, but it’s possible they contain evidence pointing to whoever wanted Dellmore dead, so I want to go through them myself before I turn them over. I’ll make a note of what’s here for Alan Dellmore in case there’s urgent business that needs to be taken care of. I move the box to the trunk of the police car. The Rangers’ crime team won’t be happy with me taking it out of Dellmore’s trunk, but I have my own investigation to see to.

I arrange with Raines to have the Crown Victoria locked up in a shed in back of his service station until the crime unit can get to it.

On the way back to the police station I stop by Patty Skinner’s house to find out what fresh complaint she called about yesterday.

There’s a gleam of triumph in her eye when she answers the door. “Well, lookie who’s here. I guess you need some help.”

I can’t begin to imagine the kind of help she thinks she can give me, but before I can hazard a guess she opens the door wide. “Come on in and lay it out for him.”

A feeling of foreboding comes over me. I think I know who “him” is. Sure enough, Rodell Skinner is propped up on the couch in the living room. Patty flings her hand out to present him as if I ought to genuflect. Rodell struggles to sit up and makes an attempt at a smile. His skin is yellow and slack and he’s lost a good bit of weight.

“Rodell, I’m glad to see you’re back.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Patty says.

“Patty, don’t be that way,” Rodell says. His voice sounds strange. He’s always been full of beer and bluster, and now his voice sounds thin, like he’s lost his punch. “I need to talk to Samuel, Patty. Will you let us have a moment?”

“I don’t know what you have to say to a traitor like him, moving in on your job the minute your back is turned.”

“Patty, it’s not like that,” I say.

“Go on now,” Rodell says in that new voice that gives me a bad feeling. “Let us have a few minutes.”

As soon as she’s gone, Rodell lets himself fall back on the sofa with a groan. “She’s trying to be loyal, that’s all. She always was loyal.” He says it like it’s a trait that has less to recommend it than you might think.

“How are you feeling?” Normally I would have said he’s looking good, but that’s way too big a lie.

“How do you think I’m feeling? I feel a little worse than I look.” He gives a short laugh and then coughs. “Patty’s got this idea that I’m going to jump up from here and go roust you out of my job. But you can see that’s not going to happen.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“Says my liver isn’t holding up.” He snickers and I see the old rascal in him. “Not hard to believe, is it?”

“Rodell, you’ve given your liver every reason to rebel.”

He beckons me closer. “Listen, I’ve only been home a day, and I’m already going crazy here. I need you to help me.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Take me down to the station with you. Patty is a good woman, but I know her, and she’s not going to give me a minute’s peace.”

“I’ll be honest, you don’t look like you’re in any shape to be doing any work.”

“If we’re being honest here, we might as well say it right out: You’re right. The doctor says if I stay off alcohol, I’ll last a while, but I’m never going back to work. Not to do real work. But I tell you, Samuel, if I have to stay around here and have Patty hover over me, there’s no way in hell I won’t get back to drinking.” This speech exhausts him and he seems to shrink right in front of me. He closes his eyes.

I’m having an unexpected reaction to all this. Rodell has always irritated me, but as much as I didn’t like him doing a bad job as chief of police, I hate seeing him frail and needy. I prefer the bluster to the pleading.

“Rodell?”

He opens his eyes. “Will you do it?”

“Not today. You’re in no shape to get up. But I’ll tell you what I’d like to do that would be of benefit to both of us. I suppose Patty told you that Gary Dellmore was killed. I’m going to come over here once a day and discuss the case with you. You’ll have a chance to think things over and give me advice.”

He cackles. “Me giving you advice?”

“It never hurts to have an extra mind working on things.”

“Not much of a mind,” he mutters.

“Your mind will work fine. It was the alcohol that kept you from being at your best.”

“You really think so?”

“I think you’ll be surprised.” I don’t know whether I’m right or not, but Rodell can use the encouragement.

“Samuel, I’ve got to get out of here, though.”

“Look at you, Rodell. You can’t even sit up. Wait until you’re a little stronger, and then we’ll get you down to the station.” I stand. “How is all this medical care getting paid for?” Although he looks like an old man, he’s several years shy of Medicare.

“That’s one thing about having a wife like Patty. She had sense enough to keep good medical coverage over and above the disability the job provided. Patty’s trying to find a part-time job, too.” He closes his eyes again. “That’ll be a blessing.” And I know he means more than just having money coming in.

“I’m going to leave you alone now. But I’ll come back in the morning and we’ll talk things over.” Rodell has put himself where he is, but that doesn’t make it any less pitiful. Seeing someone take the consequences of abusing their body has never done much to satisfy me.