He checked his wrist, which didn’t have a watch but he hoped Jett didn’t catch it. “We’re late for the O’Fallons, yep, really late. They’ll be looking for us. Have a nice evening, folks,” he said to Thelma’s guests and escorted Jett out the front door, closing it soundly behind him.
She pulled up short on the front porch and stared at him. “What the hell was that all about?”
He shrugged. “Burnt scones. Come on, baby, the O’Fallons are waiting for us.”
Blind Boy Fuller’s “Lost Lover Blues” blared in the background as Sally took the plate Cynthia offered to her. Sally aimed at Demar’s smiling picture duct-taped against the back wall of Slim’s, did a windup pitch and let go, smashing the china to pieces.
She smiled hugely, cupped her hands together and held them up in triumph to half the female population on the Landing—who had booted the non-female population out an hour ago. They cheered. The women then saluted with shots of bourbon or Kool-Aid or whatever, and gulped them down. Sally said, “I got the big stinking weasel right between the eyes with that plate. I think I need another: I’m getting the hang of this.”
Cynthia passed another plate as Sally asked, “You sure you don’t mind me smashing your wedding china against Demar’s thick head? It’s Chantilly, it’s really a beau…beau…” She couldn’t get her tongue around the rest of the word so she went with, “nice pattern.”
“Every time I look at it I think of Aaron. When I found out the scumbag bankrupted my loft, I smashed our everyday china and downed two bottles of peach schnapps. Better and cheaper than a shrink and since he picked out that china I didn’t mind. That’s why I suggested this. His mother—who thinks her son is the baby Jesus—picked it out.” Cynthia nodded at the photo. “Go for it, you’re doing us both a favor.”
Sally took a swig of Johnny Walker Red, aimed and let another plate fly across the room. It crashed, a chunk of the picture ripped, and the women cheered again and did another round of shots.
Sally hiccupped and hurled a cup, the fragments blasting into the air.
Sister Ginger said, “You’ll find a great guy, Sally, someone who appreciates you. Ida found her Beau and couldn’t be happier, though I honestly think Preston is a much better match. He’s so in love with her, and Beau…well Beau’s in love with Beau.”
Sally shook her head. “You sure know a lot about men for being a nun.”
“Sometimes men come to us for…therapy. Our sisterhood is real big on therapy.”
Sally said “Well, I’m done with men and this time I really mean it. I’m heading off to Seattle. Got a good job offer with an investment firm that I can’t pass up. And I’ll be back to visit but I can’t stay here.” She smashed another plate, feeling sad to the bone.
Thelma said, “You should call into that new radio show down in Memphis, “Southern Spice,” ask what to do about Demar. That woman, Tennessee Tess, has great advice.”
Sally nodded. “She’s all about pleasing your partner in bed and keeping marriage and relationships fun and exciting, and not letting things get stale. I was listening to her last night. Never knew there was such a thing as Bare-ass Bingo and I lived in New York for years.”
Jennifer Webster said, “She does Bedroom Blog every day. Scorched my monitor, burned up right there on my desk, had to get a new one.”
Her cousin, Betty Ann, added, “And she has that sex position of the week web page. Tried it with my Harry. I think I’m pregnant.”
Effie said, “Good grief. Thought I left all this stuff behind in California. What happened to living in the Bible Belt?”
Sister Candy laughed. “‘Southern Spice’ deals with what’s below the belt, girl.”
Sally tossed another plate. “Wonder if she has any suggestions on what to do with a big bastard who’s cheating on you?”
Sister Ginger got the phone from behind the bar. “Let’s find out.”
It was a little past midnight as Demar headed to the O’Fallons’ dock after dropping Jett at Hastings House. Quaid, Ryan, and Keefe sat on pilings, Rory with Bonnie in his arms sat on a log washed up from a flood, the chunk of wood that now served as a bench.
They all nodded and Keefe said, “That was damn quick. I’m surprised Jett didn’t insist you come up to her room for…whatever. So, why’d you have Thelma call us and say to meet you down here?”
“It’s safe to talk here.” He nodded at Rory. “Your house really is bugged.”
“I knew it,” Rory hissed. “Christ in a sidecar, a man can’t even have the privacy of his own house.”
Demar stuffed his hands in his pockets. “The reason I know is that when I was going through Jett’s room she came back early. I hid in the closet and overheard a phone conversation. She mentioned your house being bugged and told the person on the other end she was going to the O’Fallon house and she’d look around for something that might lead them to Mimi. So, I gave her something. I left a note by your phone that said, Hastings dry dock, Thursday, 7. I put ‘M’ under it.”
Keefe said, “She asked me where the bathroom was when she was here.”
Ryan grinned. “Well damn. Think whoever she’s working with will go to the dry dock looking for Mimi?”
“Sounds too obvious,” Quaid said. “She’ll never buy it, might even tip her off that we’re on to her. She is a cop after all.”
“I agree.” Demar nodded. “Except it’s the best I could come up with on the fly and Jett doesn’t know we’re on to her so she’s not suspecting anything. Inviting her here was a good idea. We lured her exactly where she wanted to go, to your house. There’s no reason for her to think we’re laying a trap for her, more like we’re dumb hicks.”
Bonnie fussed and Rory stood and paced with her. “So now what? We wait at the dry dock and see who shows up?”
Demar said, “I made it seven, left out the A.M. or P.M., so we’ll have to keep watch both times. I figured that was before and after the dry dock crew’s working day, so it should be easier to spot someone snooping around. We’ll have to tell Conrad we’re using his place.”
Ryan gathered Bonnie from Rory and took his turn at pacing as Demar added, “There’s an apartment at the dry dock, right over the office and it’s suitable for a meeting or maybe hiding out, so it fits the note that Mimi could be there. Conrad stayed there for a few weeks before Thelma made him come back to Hastings House and warm her bed. Can’t believe they’ve been married three weeks now. Took them a while to get together but once they did they didn’t waste much time.”
Rory said, “When this is all over we’ll throw them one wing-ding of a party. Right now we’ve got to finish up things here. We’ll wait till Jett’s contact shows his ugly mug and we have one of the bad guys for sure. We keep tabs on him and he’ll lead us to the other two.”
“What is Jett’s connection?” Ryan asked. “I don’t get that part.”
Demar said, “I don’t either. Why would she risk everything to get involved in this?”
Keefe said, “Take a look at her clothes, her makeup, her hair; that is one high-maintenance woman. A cop’s salary can’t touch it.”
Demar added, “We’ll find out soon.” He nodded up the road. “What’s going on at Slim’s? I heard a lot of hooting and hollering on the way down here.”
“That’s where the women are and why they aren’t down here with us. Sally’s throwing dishes.” Keefe took his turn with Bonnie. “At your picture. I believe the woman’s a little pissed. She told Cynthia what happened at Hastings House, who told Thelma, who called here, and Effie and Callie took off to lend moral support. Every female within a five-mile radius is there. They all think you’re dog dirt, by the way. What the hell did you do to cause a dish-throwing party?”
Demar moaned, and he wasn’t a moaning kind of guy unless in the sack with Sally with a hell of a lot to moan about. “I was sneaking out of Jett’s room and Sally showed up, my hand still on the door. She suspected I was with Jett since I wasn’t in my apartment or at the b
ar.”
Laughing, Quaid took Bonnie. “Oh man, you are so totally screwed. It’s going to be great to see you two get back together.”
Demar grumbled, “I’m glad to supply you with evening entertainment.”
Rory put his hand on Demar’s shoulder. “When this is over we’ll get you squared with Sally. The sheriff here is useless as tits on a bull. The town’s growing and you are the man for the job, we all know that. Don’t you worry about Sally. There’ll be some groveling involved and jewelry…always jewelry, but we’ll make it work.”
Rory glanced at his sons. “Can’t have you be the only one not married after all this.”
Ryan and Keefe grinned then stopped and looked wide-eyed at Quaid. Ryan said. “You’re marrying Cynthia Landon? Holy shit, when did that happen?”
Quaid opened his mouth but nothing came out. Demar chuckled because it felt a hell of a lot better than contemplating his mess with Sally. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Quaid shook his head. “Wait a minute, I didn’t say I was marrying Cynthia.”
Rory reclaimed Bonnie. “You are so in love with that woman. You forget to eat half the time, forgot to tell your brothers you and Demar were on the same side, and you walk around with that glazed look in your eyes like you don’t know if you’re coming or going. Either you’re in love or you got a serious case of gas.”
Rory started up the road toward his house. “Let’s call it a night, I’m bushed. Quaid can take the first watch at the dry dock tomorrow. I’m betting the farm all this marriage talk has killed any chance of him sleeping tonight.”
Chapter 16
Quaid sat on the front porch of the O’Fallon house, rocking, worrying, sweating his ass off and it had nothing to do with a hot August night on the Mississippi. What the hell was he going to do about Cynthia? Could he really ask her to marry him? He couldn’t believe he was considering such a thing. They’d been back on the Landing a whopping two weeks. Her divorce was barely final. For a man who’d never contemplated marriage for more than thirty seconds this was a little sudden.
Rory came outside in the old ratty robe that Thelma had been trying to throw away for the last twenty years. His gray hair stood out in all directions and his eyes were still the kindest Quaid had ever seen.
Rory plopped into the wicker rocker with a soft grunt. “Going to sit out here all night, worry yourself into a lather, or you going to ask her to be your wife?”
“But—”
“Here’s the way I see it, boy. You don’t have much of a choice. There’s a smart kid involved who doesn’t miss a trick. You are going to have to either fish or cut bait with his mama. Not right to do otherwise.”
Quaid raked back his hair in total frustration. “I should just break it off with her. I can still see Lawrence once in a while and—”
“The real trouble is, you don’t think you’re good enough for Cynthia Landon.” He tossed a paper into Quaid’s lap. “Maybe this will help give you a boost of confidence.”
“I can handle things, Dad, you have enough on your plate right now without worrying over me.”
“Hell, boy, you can handle anything, but a nudge up the ladder once in a while doesn’t hurt any of us. That’s what family’s for.”
Quaid unfolded the official looking blue-backed paper. He held it up to catch the light from the old porch lamp that had been on since the first night he got here, lighting the way then just as it was now. Quaid read, sat up straighter and shook his head. “You can’t just give me O’Fallon Transport.”
“That there paper doesn’t say boo about giving, it’s business. I’m selling it to you, some paid out each year from the profits. And before you go rambling on like some fishwife, hear me out. Ryan, Keefe and I talked this over. They don’t want to run the business. Ryan and Effie are setting up their architecture firm here and a branch in Memphis. Keefe is teaching theater at the high school, doing summer productions on the showboat, and there’s talk of him picking up some summer stock gigs in Memphis. Callie’s already doing research on her book.”
Rory put his hand on Quaid’s shoulder. Quaid remembered the first time Rory O’Fallon had done that, twenty-years-and-two-months ago, and had said, Boy, you’re coming home with me.
“We want you to have the business, keep it in the family. I don’t want the headaches anymore, I’ve got me a baby and wife to tend to. I’ll help with the office, your brothers will run barges from time to time, but the operation is all yours. You got the feel for it, Quaid, the knack. You got river running in your veins just like I do. You’re my son.”
Quaid couldn’t talk, a lump the size of Tennessee lodged in his chest. “I…”
Rory’s hand gripped a little tighter. “You just go into Memphis tomorrow and pick that gal of yours out a pretty little ring and make her and her son and yourself real happy. Hellfire, you all deserve it.”
Rory pushed himself from the chair and ambled his way back inside, the only real home Quaid had ever known. He leaned back and stared into the darkness, the sounds of the night and the Mississippi drifting his way. He had no idea what lucky star he’d been born under to wind up in this very spot, but he was damn thankful…real damn thankful.
He drifted off, till the first rays of sun zapped him in the eyes. He gazed across the dewy grass, through the trees to the river…always the river. And now he was part of it. He folded the deed neatly, slid it into his back pocket and made for Hastings dry dock, slipping in through the small stretch of woods that separated Conrad’s place from the O’Fallons’ dock. A little shiver crept up his spine…make that his dock.
Crouching behind a mulberry tree, he ate a few berries, mulberries being his favorite. He had a good view of the parking lot in front of the dry dock office and boats bobbing in the river: some pleasure craft like his Sea Ray waiting for repairs today, and one big tow. A cabin cruiser hung in midair, suspended from a lift, another rested in a cradle. A big tow occupied a dry dock waiting for the welders. Conrad’s business was good. The man was working like a maniac to make it that way.
Quaid suddenly spotted Beau Fontaine. He kept to the trees on the other side of the parking lot and peeked into the windows of the weathered frame building. The brass top of Beau’s cane caught the early morning sunlight.
Quaid inched forward into the clearing then walked toward Beau. “Looking for something?”
Beau spun around. “Why…why Quaid.” He forced a smile. Quaid knew one when he saw it. “You sure as heck know how to scare the bejeebers out of a man,” his southern drawl more southern than ever.
“Conrad doesn’t come here till nine. You looking for something…like Mimi?”
Beau’s eyes rounded. “That missing woman? My, my why would I ever do a thing like that?” He shook his head slowly as if considering the question, then stroked his chin, covered in a neatly-trimmed graying beard. “But now that you mention it, that does make a lot of sense. You see, the reason I came down here is that I was out for my morning constitutional as I always do and I spotted someone sneaking around. I followed him down this way because he seemed secretive. I must have lost him or he saw me and just took off.” Beau held up his cane. “I don’t move as fast as I used to.”
“Did you get a look at who the guy was?”
“I do believe it was Preston. Couldn’t imagine what he was doing here. He’s kind of a strange duck. He puts on this Magnum front and acts kind of eccentric and I personally don’t think he’s that way at all. He’s kind of sneaky. I’ve heard him on the phone talking about your family and Mimi. Now I know he’s working for you and all, but maybe he’s not, if you get my drift. I’d keep my eye on him if I were you. He’s not what he seems.” Beau tapped his cane to the ground. “I best be getting back to Ivy Acres. Ida’s getting real good at making coffee.”
Beau sauntered back up the gravel road, using his cane more than when he came down. Maybe he was just tired or maybe he wasn’t what he seemed. Or, maybe he was right about Preston not being what he s
eemed.
A retired schoolteacher could always use cash, and the three executives hunting for Mimi had lots of it to keep them out of the slammer.
What was true, what was crap?—that was the question.
Cynthia propped open the door to Slim’s, letting in the early morning breeze and letting out the smell of beer and barbecue. Both were fine but needed refreshing from time to time. A low moan came from the bar. Sally warbled, “Ice, I need ice, my kingdom for an ice cube.”
Cynthia found a baggie behind the bar, dumped in ice cubes and put it on Sally’s head. That she was still in the same horizontal position, face-up on the bar where Cynthia had left her the night before, helped keep the baggie in place.
“I think I’m dying.”
“You sort of smell that way but mostly it’s wishful thinking. You should have let me get you upstairs last night. There’s a pitcher of stuff here marked the hair of the dog that bit you—love, Dad. Says to chug it and you’ll feel better.”
“Remember those guns the nuns fetched from Rockton…get me one.”
Cynthia parked on a stool. “For you or to use on Demar?”
“I’m deciding. You know what I’m also deciding is we need a party around here. Conrad and Thelma eloped three weeks ago and we’ve all been so caught up in the Mimi situation that we didn’t celebrate. We need to celebrate and it would get my mind off you-know-who.”
“Girl.” Cynthia gazed down at Sally as she stared up at the ceiling, bloodshot eyes, baggie on her head, face the color of the wicked witch. “You are so not in a condition to celebrate anything. You celebrated enough last night to last all this year and next.”
“That was a wake, now I need a party.” She cut her eyes to Cynthia. “Come on, help me out here. Make a sign and put it on the door. Seven o’clock tonight. We’ll get Preston to cook.” She burped. “I’m leaving anything f-o-o-d to you. This is not my day for that. Heck of a way to curb an appetite. Wonder if Fat Fighters knows about this?” She again cut her eyes to Cynthia. “You can’t refuse a dying girl’s wish.”
I’ll Be Seeing U Page 20