“Who’s George?” Megan asked, sitting back in her chair.
He snuck another look at her cleavage. Then averting her eyes, he answered her question. “Sorry. I assumed your brother had told you the judge is an old friend of mine.”
I had completely forgotten that Rosenblum had mentioned George during our initial phone conversation back in Kansas. I was about to make some excuse for my lapse of memory, but he spoke first.
“I’ll get to Bennet’s misguided murder theory in a minute, but first I need someone to tell me what happened out there to get Bennet so mad?”
“Maybe it was the ticks,” I answered, trying to add a little humor to show I wasn’t upset.
“Ticks? What are you talking about?” He asked while thumbing through some papers he had on his desk.
“Well, after fishing the body out of the lake, Bennet and his deputies did their forensic search. They made the mistake of leaving the path and going into the brush, so I assume they got covered in ticks the way Fred did,” I answered.
Rosenblum put down the papers he had been scanning. “I don’t see any mention of anyone named Fred in this report. Who the hell is he?”
“My brother can be a little obtuse sometimes, Ira.” Megan answered while adjusting her skirt. “Fred is his golden retriever. He’s the one who found the sock.”
Rosenblum just stared at us, and then picked up the report again. “I give up. There’s no mention of any socks either. Would one of you mind bringing me up to date? And please don’t leave out any details.”
Megan was still making a show of playing with her skirt, so I jumped in to tell the story. It took over half an hour to relate the events of Bennet’s search. Megan only interrupted once. That was when I mentioned Kevin’s claim that he and Taylor knew nothing about the drugs.
“Except for the sock, it’s all old news.” Then he turned toward Megan.
“And don’t worry too much about the drug charge, Mrs. Carver. I ran a carfax on that truck just to see its history. Taylor’s father bought it at a police auction after it was seized in a drug bust. I doubt if the DA will even take the case to trial. But if she does, I’ll make the Fremont County Sheriff’s Department look like school crossing guards.”
“Thank God,” Megan said, slowly crossing her legs. “But why does the creep think I murdered Bill?”
He started to answer her, but his voice failed him; all he could do was cough.
“Are you okay, Ira?” Megan asked.
“Just need a drink,” he answered in a whisper and reached for a coffee cup that had been sitting on his desk before we arrived.
He shifted his attention to the coffee and made a sour face. “I need to ask you something personal about this, Megan,” he said, still studying his coffee. “Do you want your brother to leave?”
“No problem. I was ready to leave anyway,” I said. It was the first time I heard him call her anything other than Mrs. Carver. It sounded like the personal question might really be personal and have nothing to do with the case.
“Stay put, Jake,” she said before I could get out of my chair.
Now I was really confused. All this time she had been hitting on the lawyer, and now that he wanted to get her alone, she wanted me to stay? I sat down like a good little brother and shut my mouth.
“Okay, but stop me if there’s something that gets too personal.” Rosenblum put his coffee cup down and looked directly at Megan. “Were you having an affair with Bill?”
She nearly knocked over her chair when she stood up. “Bill Atkins! You’ve got to be kidding. I’d rather sleep with Pee Wee Herman!”
Then she placed both her hands on his desk and lowered her voice. “I loved my husband, Ira. It’s no secret that we hadn’t been getting along. But I swear, I wasn’t screwing anyone. Who would even think I was messing around behind Mike’s back?”
“Sorry, but I had to ask.” This time his eyes never wavered from hers. “Bennet thinks you were having an affair with Bill, so you could get him to kill Mike.”
“Go on,” she said without taking her eyes from his. It made me think of one of the staring matches Fred and I would get into when he wanted something.
Rosenblum lowered his eyes and continued. “Bennet couldn’t get his first murder charge to stick because of his handling of the suicide note and lack of any real evidence. But now he thinks Atkins is all the proof he needs to connect you to Mike’s murder.”
“That doesn’t make sense, Ira.” I cut in without getting out of my chair. “Bill Atkins must have been dumped in the lake long before Mike was killed. And besides, you said the new warrant was for Atkins’ murder.”
“I was thinking the same thing, Jake,” Megan said and sat back down.
The lawyer adjusted his glasses and leaned back in his own chair. “An anonymous witness called the sheriff’s office when he heard about Atkins on the news. He claims Bill was bragging about getting you into bed by playing along with a murder plot. Supposedly, you would split Mike’s insurance if Bill would make it look like an accident.”
I could see Megan turn red. “What? That’s an f-in lie. Why would someone make up such a lie?”
The lawyer didn’t seem surprised with Meg’s sudden foul mouth as I was. “But unless they can find the witness and get him to testify in court, they don’t have a case. George wouldn’t issue the warrant on hearsay.”
I jumped in before Megan could show us any more of her new vocabulary. “He called the sheriff’s office. Wouldn’t they be able to trace his call?”
“You’ve been watching too much television, Jake. That kind of equipment is way beyond the budget of Fremont County. But they do know the call came from a phone at the Pig’s Roast. The caller never turned off caller ID.”
Megan rose from her seat without trying to act sexy. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Ira. I would appreciate it if you keep us in the loop on any news. I’d really like to have a talk with this anonymous witness.” She then headed for the door.
Rosenblum rose to say goodbye, but Megan was already gone.
“It’s been a tough week for her, Ira. And we do appreciate all you’ve done,” I said and then ran after my sister.
“What was that all about, Meg,” I said when we were back on the road to her house.
She had been staring out her window in a daze, the way she use to do when we were kids on a road trip. “What do you mean?” she asked, turning her head toward me.
“Hey, none of my business,” I answered without looking at her. “I mean it was kind of obvious you were upset when Rosenblum brought up the witness.”
She went back to her window. “I need a drink, Jake. Pull in over there would you?” The sign on the tavern read, “Pig’s Roast.”
I pulled close to the front entrance into an empty parking space between two pickup trucks. The only other car in the lot was parked several yards from the front door, toward the side of the building. Before I had a chance to set the parking brake, Megan was headed for the door. It didn’t take me more than a millisecond to realize this was the infamous bar from where the anonymous witness had called in his false report, or so Bennet claimed. I didn’t say so at the time, but I had wondered if the deputy had made it all up. Maybe that was just paranoia on my part, for surely all incoming calls at the station must be recorded.
“Hold up, Meg,” I called out. “I’m sure they won’t sell all the beer before we get inside.”
She stopped short of going in and pointed at the other car in the lot. “That’s Linda’s piece of crap. Looks like you’re in luck, Porky.” Her pause gave me the time I needed to catch up with her.
I had visions of walking into a dingy bar with Linda serving drinks in a skimpy uniform. I couldn’t have been more mistaken. The place was as bright as a solarium, and the bartender was a bald guy who looked to be in his forties – not exactly my type. Megan spotted Amy, sitting alone at a table by a window that overlooked the lake. The entire lakeside wall was mostly windows allowing
the sun to light up the bar. She must have been crying. Her eyes were slightly swollen, and her mascara was in streaks.
“Jake, would you get me a double anything?” Megan said and headed toward her friend.
“And ask Sam for another of whatever Amy is drinking.”
I assumed my sister was referring to the bartender. He was wiping down the bar with a dish cloth as he watched me approach. On closer inspection, I could see the telltale marks of a shaved scalp and an earring in his left ear. “You’re Megan’s brother, aren’t you?” he asked.
“That’s what our mother says. So, you must be Sam.”
He put his towel aside and offered his hand. He seemed to have a worried look about him. “Glad to meet you, Jake. I’m the owner of this sorry place.”
“Glad to meet you too, Sam. Although, I was hoping Linda would be in. Isn’t that her car out in the parking lot?” I asked and returned the handshake.
“Yeah. You just missed her. She couldn’t get her car started and got a ride with one of our regulars.” Sam let go of my hand and went back to wiping the counter. “Speaking of which, I hope Meg’s okay with all the shit that’s been coming down on her. Her and Mike were some of my best customers.”
“Thanks. Nice to know someone who isn’t out to get her because she’s not from around here.” All this patronizing was starting to get to me. I couldn’t help but imagine what he really thought of my sister and her late husband.
“I can empathize. I’m from the big city myself. My dad bought this place after he retired, and I came to work after losing my job in Saint Louis when the economy tanked. It keeps me busy until the market comes back, and I can go back to selling mortgages instead of beer.” He picked up his towel and began wiping some glasses that had been sitting in a rack next to a sink under the bar. “Well I doubt you want to hear my troubles. What can I get you?”
“How about a couple of Bud Lights. I’d really prefer a Coors, but when in Rome…” I thought better of ordering Megan a mixed drink after seeing how the glasses were cleaned. “And let me have another of whatever Amy is drinking.”
He smiled and said, “Two Coors and a Jack Daniels on ice. Anything else? The grill’s not open for another hour, but I can serve some snack food if you’re hungry.” Then he pointed to a hot dog machine at the end of the bar. The hot dogs looked like they had been cooking since last Christmas.
“I’ll pass on the snacks. We just came from McDonalds,” I answered while watching him mix Amy’s drink.
Sam opened two bottles of Coors and wiped off the condensation before placing them on a tray alongside Amy’s. “That doesn’t sound like the Meg I know. Mike used to say she wouldn’t go within fifty yards of there.”
I made a mental note to re-wipe the top of the bottles with a clean napkin. “Sounds like you knew Mike pretty well.”
“He used to stop by almost every afternoon with his buddies Bill and Ron. Everyone got to calling them the three amigos. Hard to believe both Mike and Bill are gone.”
The mention of Bill triggered a memory about the anonymous phone call made from here, and I looked around for a phone. There wasn’t one I could see. “Speaking of Bill, did you know Bennet tried to arrest Meg and me for his murder?”
“News travels faster than a rabbit at a greyhound track in these small towns, Jake. The whole town knows that, but I didn’t feel I knew you well enough to mention it.”
“Do you know why Bennet thought we did it?”
Sam looked around the place before answering. The only other customers were a couple of guys in their fifties at the far end playing pool. Then he reached under the bar and brought out a half-filled glass of what looked like whiskey and took a sip. “Bennet sort of told me already. He came by this morning and said someone called in a tip from here. Asked me if I had let someone use the phone yesterday.”
I was afraid to say anything. The wrong response and he might remember that bartenders are supposed to keep gossip to themselves. He was acting like someone who was revealing top-secret plans on the B-2 bomber to the Russians. I waited for him to continue.
“I told the sorry SOB it could have been anyone. The phone is right here under the counter. And besides, Monday’s are slow, and I let Linda run the place herself on Mondays. I wasn’t even here.”
I picked up my Coors and took a drink, forgetting about the thousands of germs that had jumped off his bar-rag. “Do you think it was Linda?”
He bent closer and spoke in a near whisper as though the pool players might be listening. “My thought too. So I checked the call list. I’ve got one of those newer models that store the last twenty calls coming in and going out. I don’t know who made the call, but I know who didn’t.”
Sam grinned like he just lost his virginity. “There was a call from Hal and another call to Ron Nixon only minutes before the call to the sheriff. So, we know it wasn’t Ron or Hal.”
“Hey, Sam, how about a couple more beers?” It was the pool players.
“Thanks for your help, Sam,” I said, handing him my last twenty. “I better let you get back to work. And keep the change.”
Amy was doing better when I joined the girls at their table. She must have made a trip to the restroom when I wasn’t looking. She had washed away the black streaks, but she hadn’t replaced her makeup. She was more beautiful without it. “What took so long, Porky?” We were about to get our own drinks.” Megan said.
I winked at my sister and said, “Went on a fishing trip and caught a big one.”
Megan gave me her blank look. “What does that mean?”
“A stupid metaphor,” I answered. I realized this wasn’t the time to tell her it looked like Linda was our anonymous tipster.
She rolled her eyes and looked at the tray. “Where’s my drink?”
I slid Amy’s drink over the table and proceeded to wipe the necks of the beer bottles with a napkin from the dispenser in the middle of the table. “I’m sorry, Meg. I thought you were kidding about the double. I got you a beer instead.”
“Whatever,” she answered. “Amy needs a ride home. That bastard just left her here and drove off.”
Amy took her drink and downed half of it, then she looked at me. “Do you mind giving me a ride, Jake? It doesn’t look like Hal is coming back to get me.”
“Sure, no problem.” Other than asking her to run away back to Colorado with me, it was all I could think of to say. I kept the vision of her in Daisy Mae shorts and a halter top at my cabin to myself.
I spent the next hour listening to my sister and Amy talk about men as though I wasn’t one. I guess brothers are invisible, or eunuchs, in the world of female gossip. Sam didn’t give me an excuse to leave the table. My tip had insured table service whenever he saw an empty glass. When it finally came time to pay up and leave, I tried using my credit card. It didn’t clear. Amy jumped in with a hundred-dollar bill before I could try my debit card.
I was too embarrassed to say much on the short drive home, and I just let the two girls talk. I had tuned out most of what they were saying until Megan offered her friend my room. “You can’t go home tonight. That creep might beat you again. You can have the guest room. Kevin’s staying the night at your house, so Jake can take his room.”
I ended up sleeping on the couch in the family room. Kevin and Taylor were at the house; Hal had started in on Taylor about cleaning up his act. Amy took the guest room, slash office, where I’d been sleeping, and Fred and I got the couch. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but somehow he had managed to squeeze in at my feet.
* * *
Fred woke me around two in the morning having to go. It was a ritual he started about a year ago, and I attributed it to a shrinking bladder as he got older. I should know. I was wide awake anyway, so I let him out on the back deck where he could use the stairs to get to his bathroom. I fetched a beer from the refrigerator and, while enjoying the full moon reflecting off the water, waited for him on the deck.
“Can I join you?” It was
Amy wearing only a bathrobe.
“Sha shure,” I muttered after getting a glimpse of her naked breasts. “Can I get you something to drink?”
She realized it was open, and she quickly closed the robe before sitting down. “Sorry about that. I just took a shower, and Meg’s robe seems to be missing a few buttons. One of those beers would be great,” she answered with a smile.
While I was getting up to fetch the beer, she let her hair fall from the bun it was in and flung it behind her. The moonlight bounced off her wet hair and lit her face.
When I returned a few minutes later, I found Fred was getting a massage I could only dream of. He must have heard her on the deck and cut his tree watering short to join her.
“I’ve been meaning to ask how your headache is. You must think I’m pretty self-centered not to have asked sooner,” she said.
“Thought never crossed my mind,” I lied.
Amy stopped massaging Fred and reached for one of the beers. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she smiled. “You are so different from Hal. He would not only agree, but gone on to call me a narcissistic gold-digger.”
“Hal didn’t strike me as a man who knew any ten dollar words,” I tried to joke, all the while gazing into her eyes. Her pupils were large in the dim light of the moon and hid the beautiful violet I remembered.
She laughed at my remark nonetheless. “You got that right. He probably thinks a narcissist is one of those drugs he pushes.”
I didn’t let on the fact that I wasn’t too sure of the meaning either. I was already feeling embarrassed for getting caught looking past her open robe. I didn’t want to look stupid, too, so I quickly changed the subject. “Meg mentioned you might be staying awhile. You’re more than welcome to keep the guest room, and Fred and I will move downstairs.”
“But that room’s unfinished, Jake. I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she answered, no longer smiling. “God only knows how long I’ll have to stay before he goes on another sales trip.”
[To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) Page 10