* * *
Ermeline felt his presence before she actually saw him. Something about Hector Ransom had given her the creeps ever since the first time she was alone with him when they were fourteen. She scolded herself for the millionth time: if only she had listened to her feelings back then. Sure, if only. But tonight wasn’t a night for “if onlys,” tonight was a night to make an apron full of cash in tips. She fastened the smile back on her mouth, ignored the creepy feeling, and went back to waiting on the rear booth.
An hour later she brushed by Bronco, who was going the opposite direction, four Buds in each hand. “Guy at the bar. I think you know him.” Ermeline looked. She certainly didn’t recognize the guy from the back. All she could see was a rumpled blue parka and the heels of two cowboy boots hooked on the bar stool. The hair was shaggy and long but unwashed. Gross, she thought. But there was something about the guy’s size—and smell—could she actually smell him? She decided to take a closer look. She went around the bar, flipped up the entry guard, and worked her way along to the other end, filling mugs, mixing drinks, keeping her head down while sneaking looks in the man’s direction. The closer she got the worse she felt. “I think you know him,” Bronco had said. Bronco knew his faces and he rarely forgot one, especially those that had given him trouble in the past.
Finally she was right in front of the man and he raised his face to look at her. “Hello, Erm,” he smiled.
She lost it. “Damn!” It was him, Hector. She felt faint and awash in the old creepy feeling. Still she pulled herself together and managed to spit out, “What do you want, Hector?”
“’What do you want, Hector?’ Is that any way to treat our son’s father?”
“What do you want, Hector?”
“I want to spend Christmas day with my son. Divorce papers say I get him Christmas Eve one year, Christmas Day the next year. I want my Christmas Day with him.”
Ermeline thought about this. The son of a bitch was right, he had been granted holiday visitation. Legally he could probably have the boy all day, if he really pushed it. Her heart sank. Of all times for Hector to show his ugly face. Now what?
“I have no problem with you coming by for an hour on Christmas Day. That would be fine.”
“Uh-uh,” he said, and pulled a battered sheaf of papers from his pocket. “Read the divorce decree. All day. Not a minute less.”
“But you haven’t been around in months.”
“That’s because I’ve been off earning child support. So I could catch up.”
“Catch up?”
“I’ve got it all right here,” he smiled, and produced his wallet. “Fifty-five hundred bucks.”
“It’s sixty-five hundred now. Three more months to add on.”
“I’ve got that, too. I’m ready to get current and exercise my visitation.” He smiled ear to ear. He was saying exactly what Johnny Bladanni had told him to say. He had Johnny’s money in his wallet and Johnny had made him go by the court and get copies of the divorce paperwork. He had come prepared and—it was working.
“Come by in the morning around ten. It’ll just be Jaime, me, and my mom.”
Hector vigorously shook his head. “No, no. I wanna be there when he wakes up. I want him to see what Santa brought him.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ve got my pickup full of toys and presents for my son.”
“Sure. Like what, for instance?” She figured she had him. He wouldn’t have a clue what five year old boys would want for Christmas.
Then he floored her. “We’ve got a boys’ superhero costume set. A compound archery set—with rubber-tipped arrows but a real metal target. We’ve got the oldest standby of all, the Lionel Electric Train. The Polar Express, which cost me over $250. An electric excavation truck, sort of like what his old man operates in Louisiana. And there’s more.”
“I got my break in fifteen. We can go out and talk.”
“Sure. I’m not going nowhere.”
She leaned across the bar and whispered. “Go on out. I don’t want to be seen leaving with you. What you driving?”
“Ford F-150, Louisiana plates. East parking lot.”
“Meet you there. Have it warmed up.”
“Will do.”
“And no more drinking. Or I don’t even sit down to talk.”
He finished his beer and left, while she was down at the other end of the bar, pouring drinks with both hands.
* * *
Ilene Crayton’s’ house occupied five acres and was set back behind a circular drive that swept in from the highway east of Orbit. It was a large, sprawling Victorian, white with a green porch surrounding three sides. Thaddeus parked the Buick near the entrance to the drive and set off walking. The place was packed. As he got closer he could see the Christmas tree boughs encircling the front door, the giant wreath, and the stained glass windows on either side of the front door. Two fireplaces were pouring smoke into the sky, one at either end, and the air smelled of wood smoke, a great smell, and he was happy to be there, happy to be alive, and happy that his law practice was finally getting off the ground. Thanks to the case of Ransom v. Harrow, filed by his firm. He liked thinking of his practice as a “firm.” Many lawyers who wrote to him—even from mere partnerships—signed their letters “For the Firm.” He thought it had a nice, substantial ring to it and he wondered whether sole practitioners might seem overboard if they signed “For the Firm.” That was a Killen Erwin topic, TBD. He climbed the three steps to the porch and stood before the front door, where he gathered himself and drew a deep breath before knocking. He was a little nervous and he hadn’t stopped to ask himself why. But deep down he knew: there was something about her skin tone and her black hair, the aristocratic nose and bearing, and the great, warm smile. There was something about her that, frankly, was a huge turn on. He hated to admit it because he wasn’t looking for anyone at the moment because dating took money and he was always low on funds. He still had in mind his ideal—the English major-sometime-author who enjoyed discussing Faulkner and Raymond Carver and Michael Chabon. Those were the people Thaddeus loved to read and they were where his ideal woman dwelled in thought and in writing. As he rang the bell he found himself wondering who Ilene Crayton read.
He didn’t have time for much wondering. Ilene herself answered the door and greeted him with a huge smile. When she saw he was wearing an apron under his blue blazer she folded her hands down on her knees and laughed with full force. “You are a bartender,” she cried. “You remembered!” Thaddeus spread his blazer so she could read the writing on the apron. “Don’t Fiddle, Heat the Griddle?” she read. “Not exactly bartender-ish,” she declared.
“It’s all I could find at the last minute. But sentiment’s there. I really will help tend bar if you need.”
She took him by the arm and walked him to the coat closet. “Not at all. We’re catered tonight, including the bar. We’ll just get you something to drink and introduce you around. My roommate from college is here. Let’s start with her. C’mon!”
* * *
At break time, Ermeline joined Hector outside the Silver Dome. It was just beginning to snow but it wasn’t all that cold. The cloud cover had kept the air warm, and Ermeline took a deep breath when the Dome’s side door closed behind her and locked.
He rolled down the window of the F-150 and waved. “Here’s my truck. It’s warm in here.”
“Okay,” she said.
She settled into Victor’s truck which, to Ermeline’s surprise, was a somewhat recent vintage, maybe a 2010 or even later. Within minutes she was warming up and she removed her hands from her coat pockets. She next removed her mittens from her hands and lit a Salem.
“When did you start smoking?” Hector asked, a surprised look in his eyes.
“I don’t smoke. Just sometimes.”
“You nervous?”
“Seriously? I’m very nervous. I don’t much trust people anymore.”
“Yeah, I heard someone cut you.”
“Really, who told you that?”
“My sister. I stopped by her house and paid her $1000 I owed her.”
“From last time you left town. I thought that’s where you got the money to disappear.”
“That’s what family’s for.”
“To help you disappear when the sheriff’s after you?”
“Sure, why not? But not to worry.” He pulled the wallet from his coat pocket and counted out sixty-five one hundred dollar bills. He placed them in her hand and closed her fingers around them. She was stunned. Never in her most outrageous dream would she have ever imagined Hector Ransom actually catching up his child support. Never. It made her feel much happier than she had been in a long time. She swiftly went through the mental inventory she kept of the items Jaime needed: New winter coat, new Nikes, new bicycle—the list went on and on, all the things five year old boys need to keep up with their buddies. She was at once surprised and very grateful for the money. “Thank you, Hector,” she managed to say, her voice faltering. “I’m shocked, I guess you know.”
“Figured you would be. But Erm, I’m not a bad guy. I just don’t have any education and finding work in this economy has been tough. Really tough.”
“So where are you working?”
“Louisiana for BP. We’re still collecting oil balls.”
“What’s that?” She took a drag on her cigarette and wished she had something to eat. Her stomach was rumbling. This was the time of day she usually had her dinner—a late, ten o’clock dinner after work. Except tonight she was on until midnight. Food would just have to wait.
“Oil mavericks, they call them. Oil that’s broke loose and still clogging up the Gulf.”
“Good money—obviously.”
“Good enough. At least it lets me get caught up with what I owe in support,” he lied. Johnny Bladanni had provided the money to catch up. It was all part of Johnny’s instructions to him. “So here’s what I need. You let me stay over tonight—I’m not talking about making love, nothing like that—and I’ll watch Jaime open presents in the morning. You’ll make the usual Christmas morning breakfast. We’ll eat. Then I’ll split. Gone from your life until next time I come back to see him. Maybe another three months, if that’s all right.”
She thought about this. Actually there was no room for him to stay over. Her mom had the couch and Jaime had a single bed in his room. The only other bed was her own, and there was no way he was getting in bed with her.
He seemed to read her mind. “Tell you want. We go to your place, you get in bed. I come in fully dressed and get on top the covers. We turn our backs to each other and sleep for six hours, then we get up and I unload Jaime’s toys from the truck and put them under the tree. You make coffee, we talk to your mom until Jaime jumps up and comes running. What do you say?”
She was tired. She just wanted to get it over with, the whole visitation thing. And she was still in shock: she had $6500 in her pocket and would knock down another $200 in tips tonight. That was almost seven thousand dollars. That was almost enough for a down payment on an FHA loan—in Florida! She knew this; she had wanted for three years to get into something, to give Jaime a permanent home to grow up in. Another three grand and they would have their dream. Maybe her mom could loan the difference. They could even get a three bedroom so her mom could stay with them—at least until Jaime started school. Plus she could stay over on nights when Ermeline had to work late. More and more that was happening lately. The Silver Dome drinking crowd was expanding as the economy got worse.
She sighed. “But no touching. Not even holding hands.”
He made the Scouts’ sign. “I promise.”
“It won’t ever happen again. We’re divorced.”
“Next time we’ll plan it out better. I get him the night before, you get him Christmas Day. Like it says in the papers, we trade off.”
“All right. Follow me home when I get off. Midnight.”
“This will be great for Jaime.”
“Maybe so.”
Hector Ransom smiled to himself. It looked like he would be keeping his foot after all.
12
Thaddeus had been introduced to Marvis Michelmann, Ilene’s roomie at Bennington; to Justin and Eustice Loveland, her older sister and brother-in-law from Iowa City; to Ilene’s mom and aunt; to Rex Howe, a dashing commercial pilot out of Saint Louis who, Thaddeus feared, probably already had something going with Ilene; to Father Emil Pritchard, the priest who would be conducting the Midnight Mass at Ilene’s church; and many others, too many to remember all at once. The house was bright and noisy and small children were scampering and retrieving presents from under the seven foot tree and holding them up and shaking them and listening for clues. Two white English sheep dogs wound their way back and forth through the crowd, seeking handouts and begging when ignored. They were both plump and looked well-fed to Thaddeus, as did most of the guests.
At eleven o’clock they all became aware of a huge commotion and much stamping on the front porch. Thaddeus watched as Ilene went to answer the bell. She swung open the door and was greeted with the curious head of a horse, poked just inside and peering around, while outside could be heard Killen Erwin’s laughter. “C’mon Illie,” he cried, “I’ve got your Christmas present with me.”
“Sister Andromeda!” Ilene shouted at the horse. “On my front porch!”
Killen had parked the horse trailer right outside the front door and his brother Johnny had helped him back Sister Andromeda out of the trailer and up onto the porch. The Quarter Horse was wearing a warming blanket and being led around by a white halter. She was calm and unruffled, as if she went visiting on Christmas Eve every year.
Killen explained to Ilene that Sister Andromeda was, indeed, her Christmas present. “Let me grab my coat.” Thaddeus grabbed his too, and tagged along. If it was about horses, he was definitely in. They steered Sister Andromeda out back. They turned on the exterior and interior lights to the horse barn, and opened the corral to make their way back. Thaddeus, along with several others, followed the procession. Johnny Erwin led Sister Andromeda back through the corral and inside the barn. Ilene chose the horse stall closest to the house and turned on its overhead. The stall was empty.
“Not to worry,” said Johnny Erwin. “We’ve got thirty bales of hay in the trailer. You all go back inside and I’ll get Miss Andromeda bedded down. We’ll leave the blanket on her until the barn warms up in the morning.”
Thaddeus could see the tears in Ilene’s eyes as Sister Andromeda was tethered to the bar outside the stall. “I haven’t kept horses since—“
Whereupon Killen Erwin, Jr. hugged her to him and patted the back of her head. “We know, we know.”
At that moment Killen’s wife, Donna, pulled up in the Range Rover and began carrying riding tack inside the barn. “English saddle,” she said, “the one you like. And all the rest. You can come out and get what else you might need.” Ilene hugged Donna and thanked her. Next she hugged Johnny and thanked him. Thaddeus was stunned when she next approached him and threw her arms around his shoulders and gave him a huge bear hug. “Thanks for coming,” she whispered. “This is really nice.”
* * *
Ermeline and Hector Ransom arrived at Ermeline’s home at 12:22 a.m., early Christmas Day. She had had to stay a few minutes and help Bronco and Bruce close up. The tills had been counted and the night deposit made by Bruce. The Orbit square was now buttoned up and ready for a holiday. The only light on the entire square was on the northeast corner outside the sheriff’s office. Interior lights were on as well, but it was impossible to tell how many deputies were on duty. Hector had guessed not that many, since it was Christmas Eve and everyone wanted to be home with the family. Ermeline led Hector around to the back door; Ermeline’s mother was asleep in the front room. They wanted to avoid waking her if possible. She owned the couch for the night, and that was fine with Hector, he didn’t plan on staying all that long anyway. Without turning on any lights Erme
line led him into the bedroom. “Now turn your back. I’m getting into my jammies.” He watched as she set her purse on the dresser and glided up to the head of the bed where she retrieved her pajamas from under the pillow. He turned his back to her and waited for her whisper. His eyes quickly became adjusted to the dark. There was the closet, there the door into the bathroom, there the dresser with the purse, there the door back into the hallway. It was a moonless night as it was still snowing outside, but the light reflected up from the snow bathed the room in soft blue light. Good enough to find my way around, he thought. Finally she whispered. It was okay to turn around. She quietly pulled back the covers on her side of the double and slid under. He waited until she was settled and then laid down on his back beside her. He was at her side but fully clothed, complete with cowboy boots. “Lose the boots,” she hissed. “I don’t want those clod-hoppers on my bedspread.” He did as he was told and lay back down. It was all right; the boots would slip back on quietly with no effort at all. It was all part of the plan Johnny Bladanni had laid out for him.
She was asleep, lightly snoring as she always had, within fifteen minutes. Hector didn’t move. Johnny had told him to wait a full hour and he would. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her chest rose and fell under the covers about fifteen times each minute. He was counting and keeping track of the minutes on his fingers. Plus he had his watch. They weren’t to meet until 1:30 so it was all good. He closed his eyes, certain that he would not fall asleep. There was too much to do and he had switched over to coffee anyway, after leaving the Silver Dome. The Phillips 66 on the west end of town had had fresh coffee in huge canisters and Hector had helped himself to a thirty-two ouncer, while filling with gas. He paid with cash; no paper trail. His only other option was a prepaid MasterCard, which he kept for those rare occasions where he might have to rent a car. The plastic remained in his wallet the entire trip.
The Defendants: Crime Fiction & Legal Thriller (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 1) Page 9