Hollow Road

by H. P. Bayne

  Dez forced himself to study Hackman for a response, taking his temper down another few notches as he fell into investigator mode. All-business. That was the way to handle this.

  At least, that’s what he would tell himself.

  Hackman’s brow furrowed. Just for a fraction of a second. “Sure, I remember Lonnie. We were buddies.” His voice sounded a little too relaxed, particularly for a man talking about a long-missing friend.

  Or maybe that was just Dez putting his own mental spin on this. He’d have to play this carefully, do his best to take Lachlan’s advice on the taking-a-step-back thing.

  He tried another tactic, one designed more to further settle himself than to placate Hackman. “I didn’t ask, and I should have. How’s Emory doing? Any updates?”

  “He’s doing good. I wouldn’t have come back to work otherwise. They’re keeping him in hospital another day or two just to ensure everything’s healing up okay from the surgery. After that, he’ll head home with his girl.”

  “Takara.”

  “Yeah. Just met her. Seems nice. A little weird, but nice. I think she used to date your brother. I’m told Emory met her at Lockwood back then.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she told me. I ran into her at Loons Hollow. I’m glad she’s moving on. Emory seems like a decent kind of guy.” Dez left the thought unspoken: sometimes apples fell far from trees. In this case, a tornado had swept through the orchard and scattered the apples into the next field. “Anyway, the reason I came: I’m working on a case involving Lonnie’s disappearance, and I was digging through some old photos. You’re in some from his university days, and it looks to me like the two of you were pretty tight.”

  Hackman leaned back on the iron railing. “We were. We hung out a lot. Went to high school together, and we were both on the football team. We were pretty much inseparable.”

  “Lonnie went to public school? I had him pegged as a private school type.”

  “Nah, not his parents. His dad was rich, but he lived in the real world. He wanted his kids to grow up that way, not like spoiled, rich brats.”

  “So what happened?” Dez asked. “Did the two of you stay friends?”

  “More or less, yeah. I mean, a few things happened that led us in different directions, but we still hung out and everything.”

  “What happened, exactly?”

  “Lonnie was smart. He got into university all on his own. I got a ride on a football scholarship. They wanted me on the university team, and I was more than happy to take them up on it. I didn’t have any real interest in school, but I was hoping some big-league agent might happen by and notice me. What happened instead is I blew my knee during a bad tackle. Boom.” He made a motion with his hand to resemble an explosion. “Dreams over. Just like that. My grades were tanking, and even with tutoring, I was barely staying afloat. Once I realized I wasn’t going to get what I wanted out of the university deal, I dropped out. Lockwood was hiring, and I took a job here as an orderly. Figured it would be temporary, just till I could find something better, but I found out I liked it here and stayed.”

  Dez hadn’t really been asking for Hackman’s life story, but it didn’t come as a great surprise the man was happy to talk about himself. “So Lonnie?”

  “Right. Well, he stayed in university, obviously. Then he got himself hired at his dad’s bank and was working his way up there. He started hanging around more with his rich friends—ones he met through all these social events his parents would go to. His dad wanted him to start making a few connections so he was better set up for promotions down the road. It helps to know people in the business community, and a lot of his friends back then were like him—kids riding their parents’ coattails to high-paying, management-type gigs.”

  “Did that piss you off, what Lonnie was becoming?”

  Hackman stared at Dez a moment before breaking out in a sneer. “I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re about to suggest.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting anything. Just asking. The two of you were close, and he was going somewhere you couldn’t follow.”

  “I didn’t want to follow him,” Hackman said. “I hate those people. They really think they’re something, all of them. Look down their nose at anyone not on their economic level. I’ve got better things to do. Anyway, Lonnie and I still hung around together. We just did it most of the time without his other friends around.”

  “What would you do?”

  “You know, usual guy stuff. Go to the bar mostly, check out women. My bars, mind you. Not the kind he went to, the ones with multicoloured drinks that cost a day’s wages.”

  “He was married by then, wasn’t he?”

  “No, but he met Carlene one of the nights we were out. We actually almost duked it out over who was going to ask her out. In the end, we tossed for it. He won. He always won.”

  Dez wondered if Carlene knew her marriage started out as a coin toss.

  “I didn’t see as much of him after that,” Hackman continued. “He fell hard for her, kind of disappeared from the world for a while. But once they got married and had their kids, he decided he wanted to have an outside life again. He called me up and we were hanging out a bit again. I’m sure Carlene would tell you all about it.”

  Hackman’s tone had changed, no longer one of fact-sharing and reminiscing, but of bitterness.

  “You don’t like her,” Dez said.

  “She doesn’t like me,” Hackman said. “Never did. Stuck up bitch, quite frankly. Good in bed, apparently, but that’s about it. And I guess she was good with the kids. But other than that, I never had any idea why Lonnie stayed.”

  “Sounds like some sour grapes. You sure you’re not just pissed off she didn’t pick you over him?”

  Hackman’s brows lowered. “No, that’s not it. Maybe I was a little jealous at the start, but that ended pretty quick when I discovered what she was like. She wasn’t born rich or anything—her family was a bunch of working slobs just like mine. But she acted like she had money. I think her radar honed in on Lonnie within all of ten seconds that night. Once she found out who he was—or who his dad was—he couldn’t have got her hooks out of him if he tried.”

  “Carlene didn’t mention you when we were talking to her about Lonnie.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “She did mention, though, he was really off for about two months before he disappeared. Distant and depressed. Did you notice anything unusual about him?”

  “I didn’t notice anything about him, period. Not then. I didn’t see him those last couple of months before he went missing. He just went right off the radar.”

  “You didn’t try to find out why?”

  Hackman was quiet, watching Dez. Studying him. Dez could see the gears turning, and waited to see what would come out the other side.

  “I didn’t have to ask,” Hackman said at last. “I knew why. We had a fight. I said something like what I just told you about Carlene, which was true but stupid of me to say to him. Of course he defended her and said some shitty things about me. Neither of us wanted to see the other after that.”

  “Took you a few seconds there to decide to tell me.”

  “You came over here looking to make me on a murder. Why would I jump at the chance to tell you Lonnie and I were on the outs when he went missing.”

  “You’ve said a couple of times now you’re worried I’m trying to pin something on you. You know, I never used the word ‘murder.’ For all I know, Lonnie went into the woods around Loons Hollow and fell in a hole like Emory, or went out there to kill himself. You’re the one who keeps suggesting something different. Why is that?”

  “Because I know you, Braddock. I know you blame me for what happened to Sullivan, and I know you’d like nothing more than to see me behind bars. And if you can’t get me for whatever I supposedly did to your brother, you’ll bury me on something else. Newsflash: I loved Lonnie. We went back years, and when we fought, we made up eventually. That’s how we were. Sure, we ha
d it out before he disappeared, and I’ll always regret that. But we would have been buddies again at some point. That’s how we were.”

  Hackman dropped his head and shook it before once again meeting Dez’s eye. “I know this won’t mean much to you, but I’m sorry about what happened to your brother. I don’t know how many times you want me to say it, but there it is again.”

  “That’s the problem, I guess,” Dez said. “It isn’t the sort of thing ‘I’m sorry’ is going to fix.”

  Dez decided to contact Carlene before calling it a night, see what she had to say about Hackman.

  She didn’t want to talk on the phone, insisting he come over to see her in person.

  Dez’s anxiety, not so good at the best of times these days, skyrocketed. He was no expert in women, by any means, but he was sure he’d read her tone correctly.

  It meant trouble.

  He couldn’t take Sully with him, and Lachlan would be of no help, needing to go to bed early to nurse a headache.

  Dez thought about Eva, and put in a call to her cellphone.

  “You busy?” he asked.

  “I’m on shift tonight. Why?”

  Damn. “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “No. Why? What’s wrong?” There was no arguing that tone, no way he could avoid answering now.

  “I’ve got a client interview, and I’d rather not go alone.”

  “Why? You expecting trouble?”

  “Not of the duck-for-cover variety,” Dez said. “It’s a woman. And she’s… well, a little, um….”

  “She wants to jump you. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  Dez rubbed a hand down his face. “Uh, yeah. Kind of. I guess.”

  “Right. Are you attracted to her?”

  “Nope. I’m a one-woman guy. You know that. But I’m worried she’ll try something, and it’ll put me in an awkward spot.”

  “And Sully obviously can’t go.”

  “Nope. And Lachlan’s having a rough night.”

  “So take Bulldog.”

  “Bulldog? Evie, this woman’s got some money. She’s society. Bulldog’s… not.”

  “He’s still backup. I mean it. Take him along.”

  It seemed a bad idea. But a worse idea was going alone to Carlene’s, so Dez tracked his buddy down at the house he was currently sharing with a friend.

  Bulldog’s face broke into its usual grin upon seeing Dez.

  He reached out and pumped Dez’s hand enthusiastically. “Copper! How the hell are ya?”

  “Fine, Bulldog. Up for a drive?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. Had plans tonight. Was going to check out that new French restaurant downtown. Took me three months to get in.”

  Bulldog’s humour was deadpan, but the subject matter made it clear he was joking. Dez would have been surprised to hear Bulldog had ever set foot inside a proper sit-down restaurant in his life. It just wasn’t his scene.

  “Good one, man,” Dez said. “So how about it?”

  “I’ve never said no to a drive.”

  With Bulldog in the passenger seat, Dez steered them toward Carlene Debenham’s. It was a good half-hour from the run-down Riverview area to the neighbourhood Carlene called home—plenty of time to catch up.

  “You know, I’m making some money again,” Dez said. “I could—”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t even heard what I’m going to say.”

  “I heard it. I heard it before you said it. You’ve said the same thing over and over in the past. And my answer’s the same. I don’t need charity. I’m happy with my life.”

  “You’re happy couch-surfing? Going from one friend’s to the next with all your possessions?”

  “First of all, possessions tie people down. I live free, no crap to worry about getting lost in a flood or fire. Second, I like crashing with friends. I don’t gotta pay rent, and I’m fine as long as I pay for whatever booze and smokes they want.”

  “Some of your friends are losers,” Dez said.

  “By most people’s standards, all my friends are losers. Of course, those standards also make me a loser.”

  “You’re not. Anyway, that’s not how I meant it. I meant you and I are both doing well staying on the wagon. The people you hang out with, they might make it tempting for you to jump back into that old life.”

  “You and me, we were never alcoholics. We had a drinking problem because we chose to drink too much. Neither of us did it full-time or long-term. I don’t have a problem staying sober. Do you?”

  “No, but then, I’m not hanging around with your buddies anymore.”

  Bulldog smirked. “Hey, if they peer pressured you, I’m sorry.”

  Dez backhanded Bulldog in the gut, drawing from him a coughing fit punctuated with laughter.

  “Forget I brought it up,” Dez said.

  “So where are we going exactly?”

  “A client’s house.”

  “So why am I coming? You need a street translator?”

  “I need backup in case she gets handsy.”

  “Got a thing for big, strapping redheaded men, does she?”

  “No idea. But she seems to have a thing for me. Eva’s working tonight, or she probably would have come with me herself.”

  “I guess she wants me along, too, then.”

  “Yeah, she suggested it, actually.”

  “Okay, fine,” Bulldog said. “I’m happy enough to act as your bodyguard, though the idea of it seems kinda silly. I mean, next to me, you look like Mount Etna.”

  “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Dez said. “Just someone else there so she doesn’t feel inclined to act on anything she might be thinking. It would be awkward, having to refuse a client, especially a wealthy one like her.”

  “Is she pretty? If she’s wanting some company, and doesn’t mind dialling it down from you to me, I’d have no problem helping her out.”

  “Shut up.”

  Bulldog chuckled.

  They made it to Carlene’s in less time than Dez had hoped, the traffic having cooperated exactly when it was most inconvenient.

  Carlene was waiting at the door in a long, blue silk robe, and Dez didn’t like to think what, if anything, she had on underneath. She pulled the tie a little tighter as she saw Dez had brought company.

  “Who’s this?” she asked.

  “Billy Bird,” he said, shooting out a hand to shake. “But most people just call me Bulldog.”

  Carlene took the hand as if she’d been asked to hold a dead carp. Bulldog was sober, but Dez realized belatedly he likely hadn’t washed this particular outfit in a couple of weeks.

  “Bulldog,” she repeated. It was unlikely, based on the tone, she intended to ever say the name out loud again. “Nice to meet you.”

  “And you, ma’am.”

  “Bulldog helps me out sometimes on jobs,” Dez explained. “He’s got an ear on a part of the world I can’t always navigate on my own.”

  She didn’t comment, instead standing aside to let them pass—after they’d removed their boots. Dez expected they’d talk in the living room again, but she instead showed them toward the kitchen at the back of the house. The reason was clear. Bulldog’s jeans were less likely to leave stains on a wooden chair than a plush white one.

  “Nice digs,” Bulldog said as they passed the large sitting room Dez and Lachlan had been ushered into last time.

  “Thanks,” came the muttered response as she finished leading them into the kitchen.

  Dez knew his read on Carlene had been spot-on—as had Eva’s suggestion to bring Bulldog as backup—when the woman tugged again on the tie around her waist and announced she was going to go put on something more appropriate for receiving guests.

  “You weren’t kidding about her,” Bulldog said. “She expected she was going to get her some Copper lovin’ tonight.”

  “Shut up,” Dez repeated as Bulldog laughed.

  Carlene returned a couple of minutes later, more appropriately clad in jeans a
nd a button-down shirt. “So what was it you wanted to speak with me about?”

  Dez had brought Lonnie’s university photos along, and he pulled them from his pocket now, pushing one across the table to Carlene. “Do you know this man with Lonnie?”

  “I do,” she said. “I wish I didn’t. Larson Hackman. He was Lonnie’s closest friend.”

  “Why didn’t you like him?”

  “He was a jerk. Drank too much, partied too much, didn’t respect women. He was your typical ‘bro.’ Lonnie adored him, and I always worried about the influence Larson would have on him.”

  “I hate guys like that,” Bulldog agreed.

  Carlene offered only a tight, humourless smile in response, so Dez followed up with another question.

  “Did he have any influence on Lonnie, do you think?”

  “No, not really. I mean, Lonnie would come back from nights out with Larson a little too intoxicated for my liking, but there was never any real harm done. What worried me was all the other stuff. Larson liked the ladies. His marriage split up over an infidelity, and I was scared he might set Lonnie down a similar path. Maybe he did, if it turns out those rumours are true, that Lonnie left us to go be with another woman.”

  “He’d have to be a nut job if he did that,” Bulldog said.

  Dez drove an elbow not so subtly into his friend’s side.

  “What?” Bulldog complained. “It was a compliment.”

  Dez took a chance at bringing up today’s meeting. “I talked to Larson earlier this evening. He seems to think you married Lonnie for his money.”

  Carlene’s chin dipped, brow sinking low over heated eyes. “He would say that, wouldn’t he?”

  “It’s not true?”

  “Of course, it’s not. I loved Lonnie. Always did.” She sat back in her chair, folding her arms lightly across her chest. “I won’t deny I was pleased to learn Lonnie was wealthy, and I won’t say I didn’t want to lose the security money provides. I had our children to think of, Mr. Braddock. I grew up poor, the daughter of a single mother who had to work three jobs just to support us after my father left us. The thought of going back to living like that scared me to death. But Lonnie was far more to me than a meal ticket, like Larson seems to think. He was my husband, my lover, my best friend. We supported each other through some very difficult times. Larson wasn’t there for all of that. Lonnie more or less dropped him after we got together, and Larson couldn’t handle it, that his friend had grown up when he hadn’t. He still can’t handle it, apparently. Can’t say it surprises me. Larson Hackman is the kind of man who won’t ever grasp he left his twenties behind long ago.”