“Maybe because it all happened the same night.”
“And maybe you’re not telling me everything?”
Quint smiled. In spite of all his crude language, Buster was no fool. Quint wished he could come clean with the man, but it was too soon. There were too many dangling pieces.
“Ralph Sampson said you thought Jimbo had something to do with Jamie breaking up with Clay. Why do you think that?”
Buster concentrated on loading his coffee with cream. Quint thought for a moment he wasn’t going to answer.
Finally Buster lifted his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “I just do, that’s all.”
“Is it possible you know something about Clay and Jimbo that you aren’t telling me?”
Again Buster shrugged. “It’s possible.”
“Are you going to tell me what it is?”
“No.”
“Are you protecting someone?”
“In spite of what went on between Clay and Jamie, Clay’s father, Kent, and I have been friends since grade school. I don’t hold Kent responsible for his kid’s erratic behavior.”
“And you know something about Clay that would hurt his father?”
“You might say that.”
“Can you tell me who else knows this thing about Clay?”
“I doubt anybody does, except maybe Jamie. Anyway, I shouldn’t have spouted my mouth off to that detective. I was just irked at Clay for the way he’s been treating Jamie on the track and it’s irrelevant anyway so let’s just drop it.”
Quint didn’t see the need to press Buster. Obviously he’d seen Clay and Jimbo together somewhere. As long as nobody else knew, it was a dead end for the time being.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll let that one go but I do have another question on a more personal level. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Buster grinned. “That goes without saying. Go ahead, try me.”
“Why did you give T-Roy a Corvette for his graduation and Jamie a fifty-dollar guitar.”
Buster snorted. “I’m sure that’s exactly how she sees it.”
“Is there any reason she shouldn’t see it that way?”
“Yeah, but she wouldn’t have believed the truth anyway.”
“Maybe it’s time to start leveling with her.”
“That would hurt her more than getting a cheap guitar. She had stars in her eyes where T-Roy was concerned from the time she came to live with us.”
“Maybe because she didn’t have anybody else she thought cared about her.”
“Yeah, well, I kinda got off on the wrong foot with her. I was just so damn irritated with her mother.”
“So tell me about the guitar,” Quint said.
Buster took a bite from a piece of toast, chewed, and swallowed. “Jamie really liked music, and she could sing better than most of those country western singers you hear on the radio. I thought maybe if she had a guitar she would take up singing rather than racing. I gave T-Roy two thousand dollars to get her a good electric guitar. He spent the afternoon at the horse races. When I got home he had already given that cheap-assed guitar to her and told her it was from me. Telling her that T-Roy had blown her money on gambling would have hurt her worse than hating me. I’d just as soon she never know T-Roy wasn’t the hero she thought he was.”
“I think it’s more important for her to know that her father loves her.”
“Yeah, well, I do love her, but I’m not an educated man. Words don’t come easy for me, especially when it comes to sentimental things. The last time I told a woman I loved her, she took me for a merry spin, then dumped me like yesterday’s garbage. I know a daughter isn’t the same as a cheating wife, but you might say I’m a little gun shy when it comes to mush words.”
Quint smiled. “That’s understandable.”
Buster chuckled. “I suppose a good looking, well-read fellow like you spouts those words all the time.”
Buster’s statement hit Quint like a gut punch. He had a brother, a sister, and four cousins, not to mention an aunt and uncle who had taken him into their family and raised him like their own son. He loved them all dearly, but never once in his thirty-two years had he ever said the words I love you.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Early the next morning Quint saw Jamie off on a plane heading back to Chicago. Twenty minutes later he was on another plane to New York. He settled back in his seat, allowing himself a few minutes to remember how Jamie looked waving at him as she boarded. Her strained smile made her look sad and alone. He knew she wasn’t happy with him for not revealing all the details of his visit with Buster. “I have a right to know everything,” she’d insisted. “But I don’t have the right to tell you any more,” he’d pointed out. At first he’d tried to evade her inquires, but she was too quick to read his face. He was keeping something from her, and she knew it.
Actually, he’d kept a lot from her. He hadn’t mentioned the paternity tests because he’d promised Buster. He really wanted to tell her about T-Roy and the guitar but it wasn’t his place. Buster needed to do that himself. He’d also left out any information Buster had shared about Katherine, like the fact that she’d left Buster practically bankrupt.
Jamie was as surprised as he’d been to learn about Charlie Jones, but she’d agreed to let Quint do the questioning. Charlie would be in New Hampshire by Friday with the rest of the crew, and Quint intended to question him on Saturday.
He had a lot of work to do in the meantime.
Setting aside thoughts of Jamie, Quint pulled out his notes and started to organize them. He needed to combine what he’d learned from Jamie with the information Buster had given him.
He started with Tim Andrews and Hal Waller. Neither one had ever been a driver. Tim had just celebrated his twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Hal was twelve years into his second marriage, his first wife having died of leukemia. Both appeared to be happily settled with their mates. Likewise, Sergio Briggs had never been a driver, but unlike the other two, he’d never married. The fact that he didn’t enter the NASCAR scene until eight years ago made him an unlikely suspect.
Quint put those three on his back-burner list. Charlie Jones moved to the top.
Charlie had been married at the time of his unfortunate crash but divorced shortly thereafter, never to marry again. His ex-wife had since died. Buster swore by the man, but it wouldn’t be the first time a friend betrayed a friend.
Also on that list was Talon Davis. Davis was in his third marriage. Apparently the first two divorced him after taking him to court for mental and physical abuse. Talking to his ex-wives was on Quint’s list of things to do.
The other two drivers in the right age group, Mitch Grady and Bernie Yates, were low on the suspect list. Mitch was married to a woman nineteen years his junior, but he seemed to hold no animosity toward Jamie. Yates, on the other hand, openly despised Jamie, but since he tailed the pack he would gain nothing by eliminating one driver—even a female he disliked. Quint took him for having a harmless case of envy, and unless he could find a link connecting Yates to Katherine, Quint would not pursue the man.
Quint was convinced that Buster was not a suspect at all, but Ray Bentler, who did clear the fingerprint check, still warranted an investigation. Though Bentler had nothing to gain and everything to lose by eliminating Jamie from racing, he had the kind of money that could buy and pay for anything, including a hit man.
That left Kent Riker along with three men on his crew. Jamie had supplied Quint with the names and personal information on the crew members, and from everything he’d gathered, none of them had been involved in racing for more than twenty years. They were low priority.
Kent Riker, on the other hand, had been around as long as Buster. Even though Buster trusted him to the fullest, Quint intended to launch a full-scale investigation on the man.
He recapped what he already knew.
Kent divorced shortly after Katherine left Buster. Clay was six months younger than T-Ro
y and, like T-Roy, was raised solely by his father. Kent never remarried and, with the exception of his friendship with Buster, Clay seemed to be Kent’s entire life. Kent and Buster had worked on the same crew at the time of Katherine’s death, and they remained steadfast friends even after they became competitors on the track. The only thorn in their relationship happened when Jamie broke up with Clay. Kent’s former wife, Betsy, was living somewhere in Minnesota, and Quint intended to have Hunter pay her a visit. Hunter and Nicole would be back from their honeymoon by the end of the week.
That reminded Quint that he hadn’t called Hunter’s sister, Corinne. The last he heard she was on bed rest because her baby was trying to make an entrance a month early, and Delta and Hank had gone to be with her. He checked his watch; the plane was still an hour out of New York.
Using the phone embedded in the seat in front of him, Quint dialed the number in northern Minnesota.
Delta answered. “Hello, Hunter and Nicole Douglas residence.”
Her voice brought a smile to Quint’s face. “Hello, how is my favorite mother today?”
“I’m just fine, Quint. It’s good to hear from you. Are you back in New York?”
“I will be in about an hour. I thought I’d check on Corinne. How is she doing?”
Delta sighed. “No change. The doctor said maybe another week or two. She’s not looking forward to it. You know Corinne, she doesn’t handle lazing around too well.”
Quint laughed. “I guess I wouldn’t care for that either, but I would look forward to having the baby.”
“My, my—does that mean things are getting serious with you and Jamie? You’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”
“Don’t be planning any showers just yet. I’ll keep you posted. Is it possible for me to talk to Corinne?”
“You bet. She’s right here. Hold on.”
Corinne’s excited voice came on the line in a matter of seconds. “Quint, you big lug, where are you?”
“In the sky somewhere over West Virginia. How are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Totally bored. I have bedsores already, and the doc said I have to stay on my back until the baby’s born. I hear you have been busy. Stephen talked my ear off telling me about Jamie LeCorre. According to him she walks on water.”
“Stephen tends to get a little dramatic. She is pretty special, though.”
“Did you know Hunter and Nicole are coming to watch her race this weekend?”
“No, I didn’t, but I’ll look forward to seeing both of them. What about the kids?”
“They’ll be staying here. Mom and Dad are insisting on some Grandma and Grandpa time. If I wasn’t laying here like an incapacitated blimp, I’d come too.”
“Maybe another time. You take care of yourself. I’d like to talk to Delta again before I hang up.”
“Sure thing.”
A second later Delta was back on the line. “Hi, Quint. Before I forget, be sure to invite Jamie to our house for Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll do that,” Quint said. “I know she’d enjoy it. She hasn’t had much of a family life. Without you and Hank, I wouldn’t either.”
“You’re one of us, Quint, you always have been.”
“I know. Thanks for that. And just in case you don’t know—I love you, Delta. You’re the best mother a guy could have.”
There was a long silence. When Delta finally spoke her voice quavered. “Thank you, Quint,” she said. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
At four o’clock Thursday afternoon, Jamie reached up with a trembling hand to sound the doorknocker on Clay’s house. It had taken two days to gather up enough nerve to pay him a visit. For all she knew he would slam the door in her face, but she had to try. He might know something about Jimbo’s death. Something he hadn’t told the police. It was important that she talk to him. Plus, she hoped for a chance to slip his tape back into its spot before the association requested it. She’d already had numerous calls, not only about the screwdriver but the nude pictures as well. Mostly it was friends chiding her about the pictures. There were also a few hang up calls and some heavy breathers. Per Virgil’s instructions, she documented everything. The more he could prove the disruption in her life, the better his case against Cynthia Harman would be.
One call was from Ray Bentler. He was ecstatic. Whether the photos were fake or not, he believed her fan ratio would double. Just what she needed, she thought morosely, perverted fans.
When Clay answered the door she was in for a shock. Reeking of yesterday’s whiskey, he stared at her through haunted, watery eyes. She suspected he hadn’t bathed or changed clothes in a couple of days; his gaunt belly looked like it hadn’t had food in that amount of time either. A two-day beard shadow added to his haggard look.
This was a man who ate health foods religiously and ironed his underwear, for God’s sake.
She stared at him, temporarily speechless.
“Hello Puddin’head. Welcome to hell.”
He hadn’t teased Jamie with that endearment since she was sixteen. “My God, Clay, what’s happened to you?”
His laughter was weak and toneless. “I’m trying to drown myself in Jack Daniels, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I think I’m still alive.”
“Just barely, I’d say.” She glanced past him trying to determine if he was alone, though she doubted he’d allow anyone to see him in his present condition. “Do you mind if I come in?” she asked.
He moved aside, with the doorknob still gripped in his hand. “Why not?”
Jamie stepped past him and looked around the room. The mess from the break-in had been cleaned up, but a new accumulation of beer cans, empty bottles, and uneaten pizza left clutter everywhere.
She turned to stare at him. He looked like he was ready to collapse. “You better sit down before you fall down.”
“Would you care?” he asked, dropping into a lounger.
Jamie sat across from him. “Of course, I care. What’s going on here?”
“What do you think?” he replied.
“You’re missing Jimbo. That’s what I think.”
He gave her a sad smile. “More than you could ever know.”
“I do know, Clay. Before we messed up our relationship by dating we used to be best friends, you and T-Roy and I. I know you better than anybody. I should have known about Jimbo too, but you were both so good at hiding it.”
“It seems we weren’t good enough.”
“You think Jimbo was killed because somebody found out he was gay? That’s preposterous. This is the twenty-first century, for Pete’s sake.”
Clay’s fists clenched, his eyes flashing with anger. “No, he was killed because he hung around with me.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Why else would somebody bash in the head of a man who never harmed a soul in his life?”
“I don’t know, Clay, but it wasn’t your fault.”
Clay shrugged but said nothing.
“Why did you go on that Harman show?” she asked.
“I agreed to appear because I wanted to make some waves. I wanted to see who would try to talk me out of it. Make somebody nervous. It didn’t work. Then that irritating bitch started attacking you. I had no idea she was going to do that.”
“Her entire show is based on causing trouble. You must have known that.”
“But why trouble for you? What the hell does she have against you, anyway?”
Jamie didn’t hesitate telling Clay the truth. He’d seen Quint with her at the track and had probably heard enough gossip to fill a stadium. Then there was the incident with the pictures at the church. “She was Quint’s girlfriend. He dumped her just before we met. She’s trying to get back at him through me.”
Clay ran a hand through his already mussed hair. “I’ll be damned. That certainly explains a lot. Particularly why she called me in the first place. And those pictures she had of you—”
“At least they were fake. But
what about you? Weren’t you concerned that she knew about you being gay?”
“No, I guess I should have been.” Clay grinned. “As it turns out I didn’t need to worry about it; she was far more intent in bashing you. When did you take up jogging in the nude?”
When Jamie rolled her eyes, Clay’s laughter turned into a grimace of pain. He doubled over holding his stomach. “Man, I feel like crap.”
“Would you like me to fix something for you to eat?” she asked.
“For old times sake?” he asked.
She smiled. “You might say that. Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll see what I can scare up in the refrigerator.”
When Jamie heard the shower running, she took the Indianapolis tape from her purse and hurried to Clay’s den. Thankfully the blank tape she’d left the night Jimbo was killed was still there. She quickly exchanged them and tucked the blank one back in her purse.
Twenty minutes later Clay walked into the kitchen with damp hair, wearing a clean but wrinkled t-shirt and jeans. Although he hadn’t taken time to shave, he looked considerably better.
“Smells good in here,” he said, taking a seat at the table.
“All I could find was bacon and eggs. Your bread is moldy and there are some unidentifiable green leftovers in the refrigerator. I’d recommend a trip to the grocery store. Being the health nut you are I’m surprised you even had bacon.”
“I didn’t. It was Jimbo’s.” When she gave him a commiserating look, he added quickly. “But I’ll eat it, I can’t believe how hungry I am all of a sudden.”
When she set the food in front of him, he looked up at her. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me why you’re here? I’d like to believe it’s to offer condolences, but somehow it seems a little late for that. What’s on your mind, Jamie?”
Jamie sat down. “You’re right, I am a little late for condolences. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how receptive you’d be. Especially after the stunt you pulled at Darlington.”
“I tried to make up for that at Richmond.”
Secret Sacrifices Page 25