by Gemma Bruce
Cas was surprised to see his mother step into the library behind him. Reynolds gave her a look so cold that Cas almost felt sorry for her. “There are a few things I need to discuss with Charles. We’ll join you in the parlor in a few minutes.”
Marian’s long fingers touched her helmet of hair. She hesitated, then lifting her chin, a gesture that marked her as Melanie’s mother, she left the room.
Cas watched the door long after it closed behind her. Years ago, she would never have put up with such a dismissal. He unconsciously put a hand to his forehead.
“Sit down.”
Cas turned at the peremptory tone in his father’s voice. He took a deep breath. “You might ask me to sit,” he said, continuing to stand.
“It’s that woman.”
Cas clung to his temper. He should have known Reynolds would find a way to blame Melanie’s fingernails, Cas’s disobedience, his wife’s presumption, on Julie. He sank into the chair out of sheer weariness.
“The whole goddamn town knows you’re sleeping with her. Just because you park down at Tilda Green’s and skulk up the hill for your liaisons, doesn’t mean you’re fooling anybody. Do you know how that makes us look?”
“It makes me look happy,” said Cas and mentally kicked himself for not thinking before he spoke. Melanie must be rubbing off on him. “And I’m sure most of the town is happy for me, too.”
“And then,” Reynolds continued as if Cas hadn’t spoken. “To have Nanette Nesbitt call your mother this morning and tell her you’re driving her car all over creation and in the middle of the night. It’s disgusting.”
Cas didn’t bother to defend himself. It just didn’t matter anymore.
“I saved you from her once. You were too young to know what she was up to then, but you could at least have the good sense to stay away from her now.”
“She wasn’t up to anything then or now. It’s all in your mind.”
Reynolds shook his head, slowly, a look of pity in his eyes. “She tried to ruin you.”
Cas’s fist came down on the desk. He looked at it, almost as surprised as Reynolds. “We were kids, playing a kid’s game. You turned it into something dirty. Your reaction led the town; they got over it. But I didn’t and Julie didn’t. You drove her away. You won’t do it again.”
“Wes threw her at you to corrupt you and get back at me.”
“Oh god, Dad. Stop it. Wes took us both in when no one else cared about us. Not her father, not you, not my mother. He taught us about life, taught us how to laugh and to dream. We were children.” Cas wound down, feeling sicker than he had ever felt in his life. He took a breath that seared his lungs. “You’ve let this thing with Wes take control of your life. He’s dead now. Let it go. The feud is over.”
He leaned across the desk and was dismayed to see his father edge back in his seat.
“Dad,” he said in a calmer voice that took all his strength. “You’re sixty-three years old. You have years ahead of you. You need to find something to do with your life. Go back to work, get a hobby, take mother on a cruise. I’ll pay for it. Volunteer at the Henryville Y and do some good. But don’t try to carry on the feud.
“Because Julie won’t be here to fight with you. We’re leaving. So anything you say or do to hurt her, we won’t know about it. And we won’t care.”
“We? What do you mean, we?” Reynolds had reached an unhealthy shade of red, but it was too late for Cas to stop.
“We. I’m going to marry her, if she’ll have me.” He stopped, shocked at his own admission. “I wouldn’t blame her if she refused me, but I’m going to ask.”
“Over my dead body. If you run off with that woman, I’ll disinherit you.”
“There’s nothing to inherit, but hatred.”
“You’ll no longer be a Reynolds. I’ll disown you.”
Cas threw up his hands. “Listen to yourself. You’re like some character in an old novel. Give it up.” He stood up and started toward the door.
“There’s something you don’t know about her,” said Reynolds. “I knew you’d end up doing something stupid like this, so I had her investigated.”
Cas stopped, his hand on the door knob.
“She’s a police detective.”
“I—I know.” Or at least he suspected. Slowly he turned back to face his father. “Is that why you’re frightened? Was Wes holding something over your head? Are you afraid Julie will find out? What did you do?”
“How. Dare. You.”
“If I’m wrong, I apologize,” said Cas, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. “But Wes left me a ... message. About thieves stealing gold. Is that why the Savings and Loan closed?”
Reynolds clutched the edge of the desk. “After you were caught on the river, Wes Excelsior took his money out of the Savings and Loan. Every red cent of it. Paying me back for stopping that little piece of white trash from seducing you. It ruined the bank.”
Cas lowered his head to his hand, rubbed his eyes. “Everything is Wes’s fault.”
“Yes, godamn it, it is. Even when he was dying, he had the effrontery to bring that—that—”
“Don’t,” Cas warned.
“His niece back here. And you, Mr. Hot Shot, let yourself be taken in by a couple of swindlers.”
“Enough.” If he stayed they would run on this treadmill forever. There was nothing he could do for his father. “I have to go.”
Reynolds stood and jabbed his finger at Cas. “She was fired for misconduct.” He spit out the words. “She was taking bribes from drug dealers. What do you think about your Ms. Excelsior now? Ah, yes. She’d be an addition anyone would be proud of to a family tree.”
Cas’s world went dark for a moment. “I don’t believe it,” he said. He opened the door.
“Drug money,” his father yelled.
Cas shut the door on his words. The hallway was empty. No Marian, no Melanie. Not even Larue to see him out. He walked toward the front door, each footfall echoing off the marble floor.
Outside, the air was still. Cas cranked up the old truck and headed down the drive. He’d never felt more alone in his life.
Julie stood at the window looking out. It was nice to have someone to expect, but it was kind of pitiful that she was so eager for Cas to return. The sky grew dark, first with clouds, then with the onset of night, and still she watched.
“I guess we’ve been stood up,” she said finally and stepped away from the window. She looked at the clock on the mantel. “Six-thirty. He isn’t coming.”
Well, to hell with him. She checked the phone, just to make sure it was working, and got a big healthy dial tone. Maybe there had been an emergency and he didn’t have time to call.
But by nine o’clock, she had to admit that something else had prevented him from coming and that something had to be Charles Reynolds.
“Fuck it. I’m not sitting here like I had nothing to do but wait for him.” She gathered up her keys and drove down to the Roadhouse.
Terrence stood up when Julie got to the bar. “Take my seat,” he said, then turned to Tilda. “I’ll pick you up after closing.”
“Where’s he going?” asked Julie as she sat down.
“To the garage to hitch up his snow plow,” said Tilda, setting a Foster’s in front of her.
“We’re expecting snow?”
“End of the week, but it pays to be ready.”
The door opened, bringing in a draft of cold air and several men. “Buds all around,” one of them called to Tilda.
“Coming up.” Tilda went off to serve them their beers.
The door opened again, and again, and soon the Roadhouse was filled with people.
“Business is hopping tonight,” said Julie.
“Yeah. Everybody’s coming in for the final fuel-up before getting stuck at home.”
“Stuck? Exactly how much snow are we talking about?”
“A couple of feet toward the end of the week. Then it’ll all melt and we’ll live knee deep in mud t
il the next freeze.”
“Shit,” said Julie.
Tilda dipped two glasses into sudsy water and put them on the drain to dry. “That about covers it. I wouldn’t mind having a couple of days off, except that Terrence will be busy plowing people out, so I might as well be working.” She washed two more glasses. “What are you gonna do?”
“Huh?” Then Julie realized it was a rhetorical question. But what was she going to do? She’d meant to be gone by the first snow, and here she was sitting at the Roadhouse like a regular. So much for Sell and Bail. She hadn’t even approached a realtor.
“You know,” said Tilda. “Maybe you should stay down at Cas’s until it’s over. He’ll get plowed out first and Terrence won’t make it up the hill for days.”
“I have my chickens,” said Julie. She decided not to mention that after two nights of the best sex of her life, Cas had dropped off the radar.
“Yeah, I forgot about your chickens. Where is Cas anyway?”
“Beats me,” said Julie trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
The door opened, bringing in another gust of wind. Henley and Bo squeezed up to the bar between Julie and the next bar stool.
“I told you two not to came back in here,” said Tilda.
Henley slapped his hand on the bar. “That ain’t no way to treat a good customer. I’ll have a Bud and a bourbon.”
“Not from my bar, you won’t.” Tilda leaned over the bar until their noses almost touched. “Now, get out.”
“Shit, my money’s good as anybody else’s.” Henley reached in his back pocket and brought out a money clip with a huge wad of bills in it. Tilda’s eyes widened. He pulled a fifty off the top and dropped it on the bar. “Now can I have my beer?”
Bo pulled out an identical money clip with a slightly smaller roll of bills. “Yeah, beer.”
Tilda pushed the fifty back at Henley. “I don’t want your money—or yours either, Bo. I don’t want to see your sorry asses in here. Go over to Henryville and have a blast.”
“The hell I will.” Henley picked up Julie’s mug and drained it. “She’ll have another.”
“I was just leaving,” said Julie.
Henley stepped closer and stuck a beefy thigh between her knees. “No you’re not. You were just going to order another beer. You can afford it from what I hear.”
Julie eased her legs away. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble for Tilda. Henley moved with her, crowding her space until she thought she might throw up.
“We all wondered why Cas was sniffing around you like you was a bitch in heat. Of course, then we didn’t know that old man Excelsior had left you a bundle.”
Julie stared at him. “You don’t know jack shit.”
Henley leaned closer, pushing her back against the bar. “Your money’s wasted on him. Come with me and I’ll show you what a real man can do.”
“Gee,” said Julie. “Think you can find one?”
Henley snarled and reached for her.
Julie knocked his hand away. “Ease off, bulldog. If I have to swing at you again, I won’t miss.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tilda reach under the counter.
Henley laughed. Bo snickered.
Tilda straightened up and aimed a sawed-off shotgun at his chest. “Out,” she said and jerked the shotgun in the direction of the door.
Henley eased away from Julie. “Guess money talks if you’re an Excelsior,”
“Now.” Tilda waved the shotgun again. Several people ducked.
“Don’t get crazy, Tilda. We’re leaving.” Henley stepped back and bumped into Bo. He shoved past him, and Bo was left looking at Tilda’s shotgun. Without a word, he scrambled after Henley.
“And good riddance,” said someone from the other side of the bar.
Tilda uncocked the shotgun and slid it beneath the counter. “It only shoots salt,” she said, pouring out another beer for Julie. “Won’t do any real harm if you don’t aim at the face. But it stings like the devil. Makes them remember why they don’t want to mess with Tilda Green.”
Julie let out her breath. “Pretty impressive.”
Tilda handed her a fresh beer. “Hear you carry some pretty hefty hardware yourself.”
Julie nearly dropped the beer mug.
“Cas told Terrence and Terrence told me. Don’t ever tell a man a secret unless you want the whole world to know it. And they talk about women. Sheesh.” She beetled her eyebrows and her face took on a demonic expression. Her maroon hair framed her face like the flames of hell. “Makes you wonder.”
“Wonder what?” asked Julie apprehensively.
Tilda leaned over the bar and lowered her voice. “A Glock is standard police issue.”
Julie’s stomach turned over and went into freefall.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell. Are you here undercover? Does Cas know?”
Julie laughed and knew it rang false. “You’ve got some kind of imagination, Tilda.”
Tilda looked hurt. “I won’t tell.”
Impulsively, Julie reached out and touched her wrist. “I’m not undercover. I’m here because of Wes. That’s all. But I’d rather people didn’t know. I’m enough of a freak show already.”
“That’s a kick,” said Tilda. “Half the men in this bar start drooling into their beer the minute you walk in, and the other half would, but their wives would kill them. And it isn’t because you’re a freak.”
Julie laughed, this time for real. “I’m waiting for a man who wants me for my mind.”
“That’s a good one,” said Tilda. “Honey, men are like hound dogs, they only want one thing. And I’m not talking about kibble.” She propped herself on her elbows and settled in for a talk. “But with good training and a gentle hand, you got a companion for life.”
“I think I’ll stick to chickens.”
“You and Cas have a fight? Cause his truck has been parked in my driveway all weekend, and I was beginning to think that the Reynolds-Excelsior feud was finally gonna end.”
So had Julie. She shrugged. “I think we have ... issues.”
“Man oh man. Stay away from anything that goes inside quotation marks. Trip you up every time. Just be happy. That’s what I say.”
Julie sipped her beer while she thought about that one. “Are you happy?”
Tilda pulled in her chin and looked hard at Julie. “Well, hell yeah. I own my own house, my own business. I’ve got Terrence half trained. Not bad for a girl who started life in a trailer park. And besides, what’s the alternative?”
“Hmm,” said Julie. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Well, think about it. You want another beer?”
Several beers later, Julie brought the Volkswagen to a stop in front of Excelsior House. She shouldn’t have been driving. If she had pulled herself over, she would have given herself a breathalyzer test. And she would have failed it.
She rolled out of the car and nearly jumped out of her skin when Smitty barreled out of the dark and nearly knocked her down.
“What are you doing out?” Julie looked around, disoriented. She would never leave him outside while she was gone.
Smitty jumped at her, then trotted toward the house. He turned to look back at her when he reached the front porch. And Julie began to run.
She raced past him and threw herself against the wall next to the door. Listened but heard nothing from inside the house. Her keys were still in her hand, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t need them.
She turned the doorknob and the door opened. Smitty bolted past her and ran inside. She followed more cautiously. The parlor had been ransacked. Pillows were cut open and feathers spewed out of them. Books were thrown everywhere, their spines broken, the pages bent. But the only thing that was missing was Wes’s riddle.
“Goddamn it,” yelled Julie. “We’ve been robbed.”
Chapter 20
The burglar had jimmied the kitchen window to get in and had left by the front door. She deliberated for a
long time about calling Cas, but since the riddle was the only thing stolen, she decided against it. He’d stood her up and she didn’t want him to think she was chasing him.
And she knew that he wouldn’t be able to find any clues she might have missed, so she cleaned up the mess and went to bed.
The first thing she did the next morning was call the police station. Lou Turnbull answered the phone. “That’s just awful,” she said when Julie told her about the break in. “Are you all right? The sheriff is on another call right now, but I’ll get him over there as soon as he’s finished.”
“No,” said Julie. “Nothing was taken and I’m fine. I just wanted to file the report. Really, there’s no reason for the sheriff to make the trip. He has more serious thefts to investigate.”
“Well, he does have that. So many all at once. It doesn’t seem right. If you’re sure ...”
“I’m sure. Thanks, Lou.”
“You looked real nice at the dance Friday night. Everybody said so.”
Julie looked at the phone. “Uh, thank you.”
“It’s awfully nice to have an Excelsior show an interest in the town again. You take care.”
Julie hung up, wondering why Lou was always so nice. And then she thought of all the people she’d met since returning. Shit, I’m making friends here.
Which was not good, because she was planning to leave again. But first ... She grabbed her car keys and drove into town.
Dan Pliney looked up when she walked into the Hardware and Feed Store. “Morning, Julie. Don’t tell me. You’re here to buy a shovel.”
“What?” asked Julie, frowning at him. “I need a new lock for my kitchen window.”
“Oh.” Dan scratched his head. “That’s good, ‘cause I’m almost out of shovels. Oddest thing. Seems like everybody that’s been in here today needed one.” He stepped out from behind the counter. “Come on over here and let’s see what kind of lock I can fix you up with.”