by CJ Birch
His giant shoulders heaved. “Couple days, I guess. You?”
“I live here.”
“Well, shit. I heard you’d left for Chicago.”
It was Elle’s turn to shrug. “Shit happens.”
“We should get together before I leave. Catch up and stuff.” He swayed toward his car.
“You weren’t planning on driving yourself, were you?”
He put a finger to his lips. “I bet I make it to the motel in Mason without seeing a single cop.”
Elle smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Too late.” She raised her arms and let them drop.
“Too late for what?”
She sighed. Holt had never been too bright. “You’ve already run into the sheriff and a deputy.”
“Where?” He looked around, spooked.
She jerked a thumb toward Neil. “Deputy.” Then pointed to herself. “Sheriff.”
His eyes bugged out. “No fucking way.” He laughed followed by a small hiccup. “You’re shitting me.”
Neil stepped down the stairs. “I’ll drive him, Elle. I was about to leave anyway. Tully can follow us in our car. I’ll go grab her.”
“Thanks, Neil.”
“You’re not kidding, are you?” Holt still hadn’t grasped this concept. “Who the hell was stupid enough to vote for you?”
“It’s a long story.” She guided him to the passenger seat and helped him in. “Maybe when we catch up, I’ll fill you in.”
Neil came back outside, followed by Tully. He grabbed Holt’s keys and opened the driver’s door.
“You know, Neil, I can take care of myself.” She grabbed the driver’s door as he arranged himself, moving the seat back a couple feet.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second, boss. But it’s been a long day and an even longer week.”
“Tell me about it.” Elle waved as they pulled out of the drive.
By the time she reentered, the mess had been cleared. Guests were back in their clumps. The men huddled in the kitchen swapping football stories from high school, swigging bottles of beer. Elle recognized most of them from the team. At the time they’d been like brothers. She wondered how many had kept in touch with each other. Or why none had gone out to see Holt off.
The women tucked themselves around the refreshment table, stuffing handfuls of baked goods into their mouths. As if filling their stomachs with food would hold their grief down, buried beneath snickerdoodles and low-fat blueberry muffins.
Elle found Cindy mixing herself a drink in the dining room. She was helping herself to the stiffer collection tucked away in the back of Janice’s curio cupboard. When she saw Elle approach she waggled her glass, clinking the ice together, as if to say, you want? Elle nodded.
They slipped out the back door onto the deck. The sun had dipped below the tree line, offering shade and a bit of respite for the first time all day. They stood in bare feet, leaning against the rail, sipping their bourbons in silence. Neither woman seemed to want to be the one to start the conversation off.
Cindy had chosen a dark blue pantsuit—she’d since discarded the jacket. Her loose camisole blew in the breeze. It made her look like she’d been attending a business meeting instead of a funeral.
“Can I ask you something?” Cindy jiggled her glass and swallowed the last of the liquor in one gulp. She paused, the question on her lips. “When you were dating Jessie, did you ever get the feeling you were just another one of his trophies? Like if he could, he would’ve placed you on his shelf and left you there?” She pointed her now-empty drink at Elle. “And I don’t mean any offense. I’m sure you’re quite intelligent, but you look like you would’ve made a great trophy.” Cindy’s slight drawl elongated the end of “trophy.”
“That wasn’t the question you were going to ask, was it?”
“The real question wasn’t any of my business. I was curious because Jessie had a way of reworking his past so it painted him in the best light. When I was younger, I ate it up. But now…” She shrugged. “Now, I’m more cautious. Hold that thought.” Cindy grabbed Elle’s glass and scooted back into the house, leaving Elle alone with her thoughts.
These days, when people mentioned Elle and Jessie, they always talked about the engagement, but she’d never said yes. He’d asked her the night of the Beer and Berry festival that last summer he spent in Turlough before moving away to college. He’d given her a ring and everything. It was black onyx—all he could afford—with a thin sterling silver band. She knew he’d only asked because he’d wanted to claim his territory when he left. He wanted to let all the other guys know that she belonged to him.
But she handed it back to him and told him to keep it until they were both ready.
Elle often wondered what would have happened had she married Jessie. What kind of life would she have? Like Cindy, would she have a big house and fancy cars? Would she be facing financial ruin or would she have had enough sense to keep an eye on Jessie’s spending? She certainly wouldn’t have ended up at the University of Chicago studying criminology. Or sheriff. As much as she loved her job, this road had been paved in tragedy and heartache. And she certainly wouldn’t have been happy. She’d known that even at that early age. Eventually she would’ve left him because as much as she loved him, she would never have been in love with him. She loved what he brought to her life, comfort and acceptance. But in the end it wouldn’t have been enough.
Cindy stepped back out onto the deck carrying the entire bottle of bourbon with her. “It’ll save us time in the long run.” She set a full glass down in front of Elle.
And that’s where Robin found them, an hour later and half a bottle emptier.
Chapter Sixteen
Elle popped two Advil and washed them down with a bottle of V8 in the parking lot of Earl’s Gas and Gulp on her way out of town. After that first glass of bourbon, the rest of the night was a blur, but she clearly remembered Robin tucking her into bed.
Dressed in civvies, she climbed into her Ram pickup, pressed the clutch, and turned the key, and it sputtered to life.
She grabbed her radio. “Hey, Neil. You copy?” She pulled at her skirt, trying to hide the expanse of thigh. Perhaps she’d tarted it up too much.
“Yeah, boss, what’s your ETA?” More static than voice came over the radio.
“I’m heading over to Mason to check out a lead. I shouldn’t be more than two hours.”
There was a long pause before Neil came back. “You think that’s a good idea, going up there by yourself?” Another pause. “You packing?”
She had her service pistol in the lockbox of her truck. But that wasn’t going to do her much good. Looking down at her barely there skirt and the extent of boob showing from her tight shirt, she wasn’t sure where she could put her gun. “I’ll be fine. Just hold down the fort while I’m gone.”
“Will do, boss. Be careful.”
“Will do.”
Dressed like this, she could handle men. It was the reason she’d chosen this outfit over her uniform. Holt had always been sweet on her and she was hoping this outfit would help loosen his tongue a little. Plus, people had a way of clamming up when they saw the uniform. While the feminist in her cringed, the cop in her was okay with anything that got results.
She was only going on a hunch. Something Holt had said piqued her curiosity: This wasn’t the first time Jessie had asked him for money.
The Motel 6, with its whitewashed walls, rose stark against the green of the grass. The second-floor corridor wrapped around the outside of the building. Leaves floated on the surface of the pool out back, and geese poop lay at the bottom. A giant sign out front advertised $69.99 per night.
She parked the pickup near the stairs leading up to the second floor. The last time she’d been here, a little over a week ago, she’d felt just as nervous. She’d been in civvies then too. Jessie had been waiting for her, leaning over the balcony, smoking a cigarette.
“You smoke now?” she asked, stopping a few feet away from him.
He’d aged since she’d last seen him eight years ago, but in a good way. From the tightness of his shirt she could tell he still worked out. His skin was smooth and tanned. He looked good.
He shrugged. “Only when I’m nervous.” He flicked his cigarette over the side. It bounced once, then rolled to a stop, a lone glow of red against the dark parking lot.
“What do you have to be nervous about?”
“I’ve been standing out here for the last hour wondering if you’d show.”
She almost hadn’t. When he’d called her earlier at the station and asked her to come meet him here she’d gone home, changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, determined to ignore her curiosity. But thirty minutes later, she’d been dressed and out the door again.
“Why did you call?”
“Let’s talk in here.” He guided her into his room. The bed was unmade. The garbage overflowed with fast food wrappers and a six-pack of empties lined the wall next to the TV, which was bolted to the dresser. He’d been there more than a day.
“You want a beer?”
She shook her head and leaned against the dresser, the only other place to sit besides the bed. “So what are you doing here? And why aren’t you staying at your parents’?”
He opened a small fridge disguised as one of the cupboards in the dresser and grabbed two beers. He handed her one and opened the other for himself. Elle placed the beer next to her, unopened.
He took a long pull from his. “My parents brag about you all the time, you know.”
“I haven’t seen your parents in years. How are they?”
“They’re good. Over the moon about you, though.” He laughed. “Who’d have thought you’d replace old Bailey as sheriff. I bet Withers is beside himself.”
Elle laughed at that. “Yeah. That man’s a prick, though.”
“How’s EJ?”
Elle sighed. “You asking because you care or because you want to make it look like you care?”
“That’s not fair.”
Elle shrugged. She twisted the cap off the beer sitting next to her and took a sip. “Neither’s calling me out of the blue and asking me to meet you at a motel.”
“Look. I’m sorry about that. It’s just I can’t go to my parents with this. Even coming to you with this…” He stood and walked over to her. He placed his beer on the dresser next to hers. He smelled like cigarettes and beer. She wondered if maybe he hadn’t been here more than a day. What if those beers were from earlier?
“Back up.” She placed a hand on his chest, keeping them arm’s length apart. Her mind screamed in warning. “If you had it in your mind that you were going to call me over here and charm me into sleeping with you, then you need to replan your seduction model.”
Jessie didn’t say anything, just watched her, like he was examining her for the first time.
“Tell me why you’re here,” she said.
“No bullshit, all right? Things haven’t been going so well for me.” His chest heaved suddenly, gulping in a big lungful of air. “I did something stupid a couple of weeks ago and I need your help. I know I don’t have any right coming here after all these years asking you for this, but I don’t trust anyone else.”
“What do you need?”
“I need to borrow some money, just for a little while, to get back on top of things.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“Jesus!” Elle scoffed. “What makes you think I have that kind of money?”
He just stared at her, not wanting to say it.
“What makes you think I still have that kind of money?”
“I called your house before I called the station, so I know you still live in your parents’ old home. And I just saw the piece of shit you pulled up in. Unless you developed a really expensive drug or gambling problem, I’m guessing you set a chunk aside for EJ’s education and the rest has just been sitting there.”
“What could you possibly need twenty-five grand for?” She’d won over five hundred thousand dollars in a civil suit against Sid Derry. A small consolation after the prosecution had failed to win their vehicular manslaughter case. Jessie had been right. Apart from paying off her student loans and setting up a fund for EJ, which looked like he’d never use, she hadn’t done a thing with the money. It had been sitting there for the last five years, tainted.
“It’s not like I wouldn’t pay you back.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
He took a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “It’s not what you think. I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips.
She pulled back. “Don’t.”
“You know, it makes sense, you becoming sheriff. You always did want to protect people from themselves.”
She’d just never been any good at protecting herself. Elle crossed her arms and retreated to the other side of the room.
“So nothing’s changed, huh?”
“Yeah, a lot’s changed. You’re married, for one.”
“And you’re still into chicks.”
Elle didn’t say anything. Her stomach knotted itself in the silence. It dragged on. The only sound was the soft sips of beer from Jessie’s side of the room.
“You could’ve told me. Before I bought a ring and proposed.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know you were going to propose? We were kids. You were going off to college. I figured it would take care of itself.”
“So you are, then.”
“Why do you need an answer? Because then the rejection won’t be because of anything you did? Is that why? How about this, I don’t sleep with married men.”
He plopped down on the bed. “Hell, I’m not asking to be judgmental. I just want to know is all. Are you seeing anyone? Are you happy? Am I not allowed to want to know these things?” He lay back on the bed, resting the beer on his stomach. “You know the first time I came home with Cindy, all they could do was talk about you. Wanted to know what I’d done to fuck everything up.” He laughed. “I wanted so bad to tell them. And I almost did. So many times. But Cindy told me not to.”
Elle closed her eyes, mortified.
“She’s a good person. I don’t really deserve her. Didn’t really deserve you either, did I?”
“Did you call me over for a pity party? Stop being such a boob.” She dropped down onto the bed next to him. “What do you need the money for?”
“I made some bad investments and I need to replace some bonds I borrowed against before Cindy finds out.”
“Twenty-five grand worth?”
“I’m sorry. Everything’s just gotten so out of hand.”
He passed out soon after. On her way out she wrote her cell number on a notepad. Two days later she would find him lying dead in the Maverty house.
As she climbed the stairs to the second floor, she wondered if this was a good idea after all. Sometimes Elle couldn’t tell if her ideas were brilliant or stupid.
She knocked on Holt’s door. He opened it after several seconds with the same giant smile he’d had the night before. “Didn’t think you’d show. You know how people are always saying ‘we should get together.’” His eyes roved up and down. Elle cringed. It’s what she’d wanted. If she was being honest with herself, it was to dispel anything Jessie might have told him.
He waved her in. “It’s a shit hole, but then I guess you already know that.”
Like Jessie’s, this room also had nowhere to sit except the bed. She settled for leaning against the dresser. “So how are you?”
Seam took a seat on the bed. It sagged into the box spring. He picked up a pack of Marlboro Lights and waved it at Elle. “Do you mind?” he asked. Elle shook her head. He waited until he’d lit one and inhaled before answering. “I’ve been worse.” He laughed suddenly. “Which is saying a lot.” Sitting on the bed, his feet didn’t even touch the ground, they wiggled as he laughed.
“About two months ago I bumped into Jessie at
a friend’s party. We started talking about real estate. Did you know Jessie was in real estate?” He didn’t wait for Elle to respond. “He said they were eating up those tiny houses all over the country. It’s a novelty, but they’re not that bad. My brother and I make ’em. Not sure if you knew that. Jessie said he knew a guy who would help us expand.” Ash from his cigarette dropped onto his light blue polo shirt. When he brushed it off, it left a faint trace of dark gray. “So that’s how I joined up with Jessie again.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m sorry about the wake. I didn’t mean to cause any drama. Not too many people were happy to see me.” He turned away, peering out the window at the parking lot. “That’s the other reason I was surprised to see you.”
Elle heaved a huge sigh and sat down on the bed next to Holt. “What’d you do this time?” Holt was always getting in trouble back in school. It was never anything he meant to do, but it had a way of happening anyway. Jessie and Elle had gotten him out of a few jams. They usually had to do with too much drinking and his big mouth. Holt had no filter. He also had no social etiquette.
He spread his hands. “Who knows. All I know is that no one was talking to me after Rob and his wife’s tenth anniversary party. So I probably said some stuff I shouldn’t have.”
She wanted to give him a big hug, but decided it might give him the wrong impression dressed the way she was.
“I’m sorry, Elle. I don’t know who would’ve killed him. If that’s what you wanted to know.” He might not have been too bright about social situations, but sometimes Holt was perceptive beyond reason. “That’s a nice top, though.”
“You said it wasn’t the first time he’d asked to borrow money. When was the first time?”
“A couple months ago. But I didn’t have it to give then.”
“How much was he looking for?”
“Fifty grand. I mean, if I had that kind of money lying around I wouldn’t be living in my brother’s basement, right?” He pulled out another cigarette, rolled it between his fingers, then put it back in the pack. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. My life isn’t that bad. Brad’s wife’s a good cook. I get a nice cool basement with my own entrance and get to see my niece and nephew any time I want. I have a pretty decent life considering. Honest. Things have been going better lately.”