Redneck's Revenge

by Joan Livingston

“Want some?” he asks.

  “No, thanks. I had a really bad cup of coffee at the store a few hours ago. It’s still giving me the jitters.”

  “You visited those old guys again? What do you call them? The Old Farts?”

  “Uh-huh, but please don’t go spreading that around. They don’t know. And I don’t want to lose them as a good source.” I laugh. “I see you built those dogs a pen.”

  “Yup, Fred and I got it done this weekend. Neither of us wants to have to come home to let them out.”

  “They still bark their heads off when they see me.”

  “It might take those dumb mutts a while.” He downs the rest of his coffee. He’s up and dumping the mug in the kitchen sink. “We might as well get down to it. I appreciate you helping me with this.” Then he surprises me by leaning in for a quick kiss on the lips. “I really, really appreciate it. Maybe later I can show you.”

  There I go giggling again. Damn it. That Jack can get me going like some silly girl.

  “You might be tuckered out from all this packing.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m not,” he says grinning like the happy man he is right now.

  Eleanor’s side of the house is neat but filled with things that belong to a child, such as the immense collection of stuffed animals and tiny figurines that cover every available space in her living room. Except for a comfy-looking couch covered by a blanket with Disney characters, the furniture, with its ornate carvings, must have belonged to Jack and Eleanor’s parents or rather grandparents. They are definitely antiques.

  Jack shakes his head.

  “I dunno what to do with all of this stuff,” he says. “Fred’s not gonna want ’em when he moves in.”

  I pick up a stuffed dog that resembles one of Eleanor’s mutts.

  “Do you have space in your attic?” I ask. “The antiques are worth putting in storage. Or you could sell them although I imagine they’ve been in the family for a while.” I point toward the couch. “I’d pack up the stuffed animals and the clothes. The figurines are interesting. Some of them look old. They could be worth money. Maybe you should save them until you figure something out.”

  Jack nods.

  “Yup, that’s what I’m gonna do. But let’s do her bedroom first. Fred wants to start sleeping here.”

  I smile at the Holly Hobby print on Eleanor’s bedspread. My daughter, Ruth, wanted one so badly when she was a kid.

  “I guess it all goes,” he says.

  For the next couple of hours, Jack and I just do that, filling garbage bags with clothes, an extraordinary amount of overalls and sweatshirts, and stuffed animals. We move into the bathroom, which doesn’t have much except for soap and shampoo, and then the living room, where we box up the figurines. Jack says he and Fred will haul the furniture up to the attic.

  Of course, we talk most of the time. Jack tells me stories about his sister, like the one where she begged him to take her to the beach for her fortieth birthday. She wore their mother’s old bathing suit that was a little big on her. She couldn’t swim, so Jack walked out with her until they were neck-high in the water. He says she held on for dear life whenever a big wave swept over them.

  “It was a lot of fun. I kept asking her if she wanted to go again, but she told me once was enough.”

  “You were a good brother.”

  “I suppose I was.” We move back into the bedroom. He ties up a black garbage bag of clothes we missed. “Hey, where were you last night? I thought for sure you’d show up.”

  I was wondering if our conversation would drift in this direction, and here it is. I don’t plan to lie, of course.

  I take a breath. “I got the Subaru’s oil changed at Annette’s place. Last night, I went to Baxter’s.”

  Jack squints a bit as if he didn’t hear me right, but he did because he says, “Baxter’s? How come?”

  “Dave Baxter had some info he wanted to give me for that case, but he insisted I meet him at his place.”

  Jack grunts.

  “That’s awfully clever of him.”

  “Huh, that’s what I thought, too, but he actually gave me some useful tips.” I’m trying to interpret the expression on Jack’s face. Jealous? Maybe. Curious? Oh, more than that. “For your information, I was out of there by eleven.”

  “You two dance?”

  “We did.”

  He’s quiet for a moment.

  “What’s going on between you and Dave?”

  I smile but not too hard.

  “Ha, he asked the same question about you and me.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “That we’re figuring things out.”

  Jack nods.

  “Fair enough. Now what about you and Dave?”

  I shrug.

  “I honestly don’t know. He’s a lot of fun and very attentive. But I kinda had my heart set on another guy.”

  Jack’s got that happy as a pig-in-you-know-what grin. His fingertips graze my chin before he moves in for a kiss, a big kiss, and then another, and another. We fall together onto the mattress, and I’m thinking this is a bit crazy, doing it on his dead sister’s bed. But I don’t have to worry because Jack’s cousin Fred hollers our names as he enters the front door. Jack and I disengage and sit up.

  “We’ll have to continue this some other day,” he says.

  “But maybe a different location,” I say.

  Jack chuckles.

  “Oh, yeah, I see your point.”

  Fred steps through the doorway.

  “Am I interrupting something?” he jokes.

  Jack has his arm around me.

  “As a matter of fact, yeah. What are you doin’ here?”

  “Nice to see you, too, cousin. Uh, look at the time.”

  I check the alarm clock beside Eleanor’s bed. Shoot, I’ve been here for hours.

  “We’ve been doing this most of the day,” I say.

  “Doin’ what?” Fred jokes.

  “Never mind.” I stand. “Everything is packed up and ready to go, except for the furniture.”

  “You really gotta leave?” Jack asks.

  “My mother’s going back home for a couple of weeks, and I’m meeting my brother halfway tomorrow morning. I want to spend some time with her tonight.” I muss Jack’s hair. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Hmm, your mother’s gonna be gone?”

  Fred groans.

  “I dunno if I can stand being around you two.”

  I spin toward Fred.

  “Hey, I have a question for you, Fred,” I say. “What can you tell me about Annette’s boy, Abe?”

  His eyebrows flick upward.

  “Abe? Good question. He was only a boy when I was married to Annette. She got knocked up when she was in high school. Ended up dropping out. I think it was her senior year.” He pauses. “He wasn’t a bad kid, just a kid, let me put it this way, who couldn’t sit still. Drove me nuts his hollering and running around. He probably had that AD-whatever they talk about now.”

  “Attention-Deficit Disorder?”

  “That’s it.”

  He raises his hands palms out.

  “I will admit I wasn’t much of a father to the boy. He never warmed up to me either.”

  “Annette doesn’t talk about him much.”

  “I’m not surprised. He hangs out with a crowd of local boys. I see them around. None of ’em seem the ambitious type. I think Abe pumps gas somewhere. His mother probably helps out.”

  “What was his relationship with his grandfather?”

  “Chet? The old man didn’t have a lot of patience for the boy. Then again, he didn’t with his own sons, or me, for that matter. I suppose Annette filled you in there.”

  “Who’s his father? Annette was kinda vague about it. All she told me was that it wasn’t you. She said I wouldn’t know the guy.”

  “That sounds like Annette.” He makes a soft noise deep in his throat. “If I tell you, do you promise not lettin’ her know I told you?”

&nbs
p; I glance at Jack, who is attentive to this part of the conversation.

  “I can keep a secret.”

  His eyes flick from me to Jack and back to me.

  “She admitted it to me one night but then regretted ever sayin’ it. She said she’d kill me if I ever told anybody, and I kinda believe her.”

  My hands are on my hips.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Gary Beaumont.”

  “What!”

  “You heard me.”

  “Shoot, she had a kid with that bum.”

  “I guess he was hot stuff in high school. So was she. She still is if you’re into that kind of woman. I sure was back then.”

  Wow, I am pondering this bombshell. It would have been helpful if Annette had told me the connection. All she did was finger Gary as a suspect for her father’s death. She even told me I wouldn’t know her son’s father. Wrong.

  “One last question. Does Gary know?”

  Fred’s head bobbles a bit.

  “Haven’t a clue. Good luck, Isabel, finding that out. Promise you’ll tell me if you do.”

  “I sure will.”

  Dropping Off Ma

  Of course, I tell Ma that Gary Beaumont fathered Abe. It’s part of our conversation that evening and the next morning when I drive her to our rendezvous with my brother, Danny, which sounds a lot fancier than the fast food restaurant off the Mass. Turnpike where we are meeting. Ma is excited about the trip. It’s definitely more spring-like where she is going than it is here. Of course, we brought along the dog, Maggie, who’s conked out in the backseat.

  I go over my list of interviews tomorrow with her. I’m meeting Chester Waters at his school and the nosy newcomer, Anthony Steward, at his home. I want to look into this case involving Lin Pierce, just to satisfy my nosy self. And I need to check out Mike Waters’ alibi. Of course, I plan to confront Al Sinclair about his run-in with Chet at the Rooster. If I’m brave enough, I will ask him about his sister. Was his last fight with Chet enough to send him over the edge? I have my doubts, but I’m not ready to rule him out just yet. Then there are his boys, Junior and Roy. Everybody keeps saying they’re good guys.

  “I still can’t get over Gary Beaumont is the father of Annette’s son,” I tell Ma.

  She nods.

  “It seems an important detail to leave out,” she says.

  “Actually, she purposely misled me about that. Maybe she’s embarrassed she had a kid by that loser.”

  “What are you going to do with the information?”

  I decided as soon as Fred shared that piece of news I would tell Ma even though I swore to keep it a secret. After all, we are confidants. I need her input. And, frankly, who would she tell? My brother hasn’t expressed any interest in my investigations. Neither have my sisters.

  “I’ll see Annette again soon to get your car’s oil changed. I’ll have to figure out my approach.”

  “Yes, the Tough Cookie needs special handling.”

  “You’re right about that, Ma.” I laugh. “I also want to check out how much snow has melted in that junkyard of hers. You might’ve noticed it’s warmed up a bit. My reporter’s instincts say there’s something on the ground that will help solve this case.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, but it could be something Chet’s killer left behind. We know there was blood on the ground away from the house. I’ve got the photo to prove it.”

  “Don’t forget to call me when you find whatever it is.”

  “Ma, you’ll be the first to know. Maybe the second if I have to call the cops.”

  She hugs her purse.

  “Fine. Will you be going to Baxter’s again? Those were very nice flowers Dancin’ Dave sent to the house.”

  Ah, yes, the flowers. I came home from Jack’s yesterday to find a big bouquet delivered from a florist in the city. It must’ve cost him a bundle. Of course, there was a note: Isabel, I hope to see you very soon. Dave.

  Very soon, eh?

  I called Dave to thank him for the flowers. It was the polite thing to do although I’m afraid my call only encouraged him.

  “When can I see you again?” he asked over the phone. “I could come to the Rooster again, but you’ll be working. I get the feeling Jack was a little put out when I asked you to dance. We wouldn’t have to go to my joint. I prefer to make it a night out. Just you and me.”

  Just you and me, yikes. And what did I tell him? “You’re so sweet, Dave.”

  Gee, Isabel, you can’t do better than that?

  “Well, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m sweet on you,” he said next.

  I sighed. I have never, ever, ever had two boys or men interested in me at the same time.

  “Can I get back to you on that?” I asked.

  “I’ll be waiting,” he said. “I should warn you though. I’m not a man who gives up easily.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I told him.

  I hit the Subaru’s directional to take the pike’s exit.

  I tell Ma, “I don’t know what I should do about Dancin’ Dave. You met him. What’d you think?”

  “He’s definitely a charmer.”

  “Charmer. That’s a good way to put it.” I slow the car for the tollbooth. “Who do you like better? Jack or Dave?”

  She snorts.

  “I was a fan of Jack from the start. But Dave confuses me.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel.” I hand the ticket and the correct amount to the woman in the booth. “I guess I’ll see how this plays out. And, yes, you’ll be the first person I call.”

  “Good girl.” She glances over her shoulder at Maggie in the backseat. “And please take care of my dog and cat.”

  “You bet, Ma.”

  Jack

  “How about I come over?” Jack asks.

  “Sure, the coast is clear,” I joke over the phone. “I dropped my mother off this morning.”

  “I thought she liked me.”

  “She does. I guess I’m a bit shy about having a man over with her here.”

  He chuckles.

  “I hope you get over that.”

  Jack arrives around seven with a bottle of a good red and a big smooch at the door. We’re laughing as I shut the door behind him.

  “Hello to you, too,” I say.

  “Just happy to see you, Isabel.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I hope the feeling is mutual.”

  I playfully pinch his cheek.

  “Of course, it is. Here, let me take your jacket.”

  Jack wears a button-down shirt and black pants. I smell aftershave. He’s combed his hair back. All for me, I suppose.

  “You look real nice,” I say.

  He glances down.

  “Oh, this old thing,” he jokes.

  I giggle, yes, giggle, as I grab his hand.

  “Come on. I made us something to eat.”

  Actually, my mother made the chicken soup. I doctored it up with a little bit of red chile powder and sliced some bread. I even light candles and dim the lights. I let Jack open the wine and fill our glasses. He tells me about his day, about dropping off bags of his sister’s things at the Goodwill store.

  “After you left yesterday, Fred and I hauled most of the furniture up to the attic. He’s sleeping at the place, but he expects to fully move in this weekend.” He lifts his wine glass. “Am I wrong, or do you like him better?”

  “Sort of. I think we’ve reached an understanding. He seems to have accepted the fact I’m not interested, so he’s stopped being a dick around me.”

  “Yeah, I set him straight about that.”

  “You did, huh?”

  “Now I have to do the same with Dave Baxter.”

  Ah, I was wondering if we would get around to Dancin’ Dave.

  “Dave’s just being friendly since this case is in his neck of the woods.”

  “Friendly? That’s what you call it? He shows up at my place, and then he lures you to his.”

&n
bsp; “Lures me? He gave me some useful information.”

  “You admitted dancin’ with him.”

  Wow, Jack is jealous. He’s not being a jerk about it, but he’s definitely on the offense.

  “Yeah, we danced a bit.”

  He nods toward the bouquet of flowers on the kitchen counter. I wish I had stashed it upstairs in my office because I’m guessing what Jack’s going to ask next.

  “Did he send you those flowers?”

  Bingo.

  “As a matter of fact, he did.”

  Jack sets down his glass. His lips form a straight line.

  “Seems like he was grateful for somethin’.”

  I sit back. I like Jack, a lot, but the man has no claim over me and vice versa. I could get pissed, really pissed at him for jumping to conclusions, but I laugh instead.

  “Yeah, it’s a bit over the top for dinner and a few turns on the dance floor. The note said he wants to see me again soon. When I called to thank him for the flowers, I told him I’d think about it.”

  Jack makes a stuttering laugh.

  “Think about it? I believe I’d better step up my game.”

  I cross my arms.

  “How are you planning to do that?”

  He pushes back his chair and slaps his thigh.

  “Why don’t you come on over here for starters?”

  When I come on over here, he grabs my hand and pulls me onto his lap. His arms are around me as he starts in on those deep kisses. He’s feeling me up. I feel him back. I know where this is going fast, upstairs and into bed. We ignore the ring of his cell phone. Twice. He reaches into his pocket and places the phone on the table.

  The cell rings again, and then minutes later my landline. Fred’s voice comes next over the phone’s speaker.

  “Isabel, real sorry to bother you, but I need to talk with Jack.”

  I get to my feet and grab the phone.

  “What’s up?”

  “The dogs got out and I can’t find ’em.”

  “Here he is.”

  Jack groans as takes the phone.

  “Those stupid mutts,” he tells his cousin before he hangs up.

  “You need to go?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. Real sorry. Those dogs won’t come to anyone but me.”

  “I understand.”

  Jack shakes his head. He apologizes again.