He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"You always clam up, and I need details."
"Mind your own business." He took another swig.
"You're impossible. Hard ass. So," she looked at his glass, "is that hair of the dog or what?"
"Yeah. It bit me once now it's kicking my ass again. I'd offer you some, but that would mean less for me."
She sat on the chair next to him and lifted her feet onto the porch rail. Spence admired her long expanse of tanned leg, before she said, "So, back to Meg. She's too sweet for you. You're a bad boy. You need more fire, more energy. A little experimentation...no wait, lots of experimenting."
Spence knew the liquor was loosening his tongue. "What makes you think we don't experiment?"
She laughed. "I don't know if it's in you or not, Spence." Slowly, she edged up her skirt. Soon, he could see glimpses of black lace panties. She said, "Gotta cool off, I'm getting wet as hell."
Spence felt himself grow hard. He fought it and swore under his breath.
"Meg ever wear these?" she continued, as she hiked her skirt up even further.
"Don't know. They're off her before I can even look at them," he replied truthfully. He finally managed to shake his gaze away from Tammy.
"Hear you got some trouble, Spence."
"Yeah. What of it?" He thought he saw the barn door open a bit.
"I could help you with that. I know some people."
"Who, the Red's Bar crowd?"
Spence watched Harv edge out of the barn door now. He said, "Cover yourself. We've got company."
She followed his gaze. "Harv? He's one of the pitiful. Destined to do badly in life." But, she rose, pulled down her skirt and picked up her jacket. "When Spence? Will you let me help you, then screw my brains out?"
A smile quirked at his lips. "Reserved for Meg. Sorry."
"Damn. You're tough." But then she bent down and kissed him hard. Her tongue came out and played with his, before she thrust it around the outside of his lips.
"Tequila sunrise," she said breathlessly, before she strolled down the steps.
Harv walked up to the porch, and looked at him questioningly. "Everything okay, Spence?"
Spence watched her leave. "Yeah, Harv. She's gone. Everything's cool."
The sun came up, Maria made him some strong coffee and he still sat on the back porch. Willie came out with his coffee half-hour later.
"Hey, Spence."
"Willie. How goes it? Still wearing the brace?" Spence observed the boy. Not only did he look physically uncomfortable, but depressed as well.
"Yeah."
"Going to school today?"
"Fuckin' A."
"Language, Willie."
"A."
Spence laughed. "Thought you might want to stay home. I think your shoulder just hurts you so much, you'll have to stay home from school."
A smile spread across Willie's face. "No sh-, I mean, cool. Yeah? You're sure?"
"Fuckin' A," Spence replied.
After tip-toeing in the room for his boots and t-shirt, he loaded up Jake's spare truck with items from his car trunk, then he and Willie took off.
Spence turned down a narrow desert trail and stopped the truck. "Your turn," he told Willie.
"I'm there," Willie replied as he hopped out of the passenger seat and into the driver's seat.
They drove for half a mile, and Spence smiled as he watched Willie carefully maneuver the truck over potholes. The boy didn't seem to be hurting now.
"Over there, make a right and go in back of the cactus."
They arrived at his old target shooting range and Spence unloaded the cased guns. Tin cans were scattered on the ground, and Spence lined them up on rocks, six in a row.
He got the rifle out. "Winchester, 30-30," he told Willie, who admired the polished rifle and ran a hand down the stock.
"Okay, stand behind me a bit, and put on the earphones. Bring me a pair, would you?" Spence told him, before he loaded six long bullets and pulled on the earphones.
In a flash, the gun came up in Spence's right hand, by his right shoulder, then down again, and blam! One can blown to bits. Willie whooped.
Spence repeated up, down, blam, one handed, five more times quickly and hit each can. Willie whooped again.
"Can I try?" Willie asked.
"You might blow your head off."
"Then you can say you were right. Tell me how to do it."
Spence laughed. "Just don't hurt your shoulder any more or your mom will hogtie me and have me for dinner."
"It's the other shoulder anyway."
Willie caught on quickly and they did more target practice with Spence's forty-five.
"Break," Spence said. He fished two sodas out of a cooler in the truck and threw one to Willie. They sat on large boulders facing each other. A lizard skittered out of view.
"So, do you have a girlfriend?" Spence asked him.
Willie shook his head. "Not right now."
"How about sex?"
"What about it?"
Spence smiled. "You use protection?"
Willie coughed and studied his soda can.
"I got it," Spence said. "I was untested at your age too until..." He realized his mistake.
Willie looked at him. "Until my mom, I know. Honest, I know more than people think I know. You probably used protection back then. Guess mom forgot with that other guy. The university guy. My father."
Spence nodded. "Your mom was on the pill back then. But we were close and we discussed it. What about drugs Willie?"
"Well, they're always around. I mean, if I wanted to I could be a stoner."
"What do you want to do Willie?"
"You mean in life?"
The temperature was sizzling now, the sun merciless, beating down on the two of them. "Yeah," Spence replied, "in life."
Willie took his time answering. "Well, what I really want to do is study dinosaurs."
Spence looked at him questioningly. "Dinosaurs?"
Willie laughed. "Yeah. I know it sounds weird, but I've always liked dinosaurs. Since I was a kid."
"You going to the university then? How are your grades?"
"They're good, mostly A's and B's. Don't know about the university though. I'd like to go to a different state for college. I'd hate to run into my real dad or something over at the U."
"So," Spence said after a brief silence, "you find some new friends at school? Not hanging with that Joe anymore?"
"Shit, he keeps texting me. CID it says."
"Which is?"
"Crying in Distress. What a laugh."
"You believe him?"
"Nope. Just text him back. KMA."
Spence laughed. "Even I know what that means."
Willie shifted and looked like he was in pain.
"I'll drive back," Spence said quietly.
Willie looked him in the eye. "You scared, Spence, goin' to court and all that?"
"Yeah," Spence replied, "I am, Willie. That I am."
*****
"Mark Moorehouse!" Jake exclaimed as he opened the front door. "God almighty it's good to see you. Didn't know you were coming."
Mark grinned as he entered the house and hugged Big Jake. "Didn't know either until yesterday. Knew it was serious when Spence called, drunk in the afternoon. He said he'd only had a few but I could tell he was upset."
They walked into the living room and sat across from each other.
Jake clasped his hands and sat back. "Yeah, I'd have a few drinks too if I was in his position. Glad he called you. We need you to help him out."
"Yeah, he said they're thinking he murdered Oscar and June. Of all the goddamn lame things I've ever heard."
"Well, son, it was the money. That tipped it for them."
Mark frowned. "He never knew about it. I never told him until he turned eighteen. I can testify to that."
Meg came in the room dressed in jeans, a shirt and cowboy boots. She squealed when she saw Mark. "Oh, m
y, it's been so long Mark! And you're still so handsome. A dark-haired Spence."
He laughed, gave her a hug and sat again.
Jake filled him in on the arrest the day before and the bail and Rushburg detectives. "If they haven't called you yet, they will. Might as well be forewarned. They'll be in your fucking face. The charges will never stick, with your testimony."
Mark nodded. "That's why I'm here."
*****
Pap sat sucking his oxygen tank at the dining room table while Davey had the Moorehouse file opened up in front of him.
"We need a profile, Pap. Let's start with height. The Moorehouse woman was five-foot four."
Pap looked at a picture of the woman's slit neck. "Wound doesn't come straight across. Straight up instead. He was taller by at least four inches."
Davey nodded. "Taller than five foot eight."
"Weight."
Davey perused the pictures again. "He's no light weight. These are some deep cuts. I would guess the woman died almost instantly. Even cut a bone in the throat."
"So, someone over one-seventy, maybe closer to one-eighty?"
"Yeah. Gotta be."
Pap took another deep breath. "State of mind?"
"Mad as hell. Furious, even."
"A grudge maybe. Festered in him then came out in a single rage. Haven't had a murder like that since in Lacene."
Davey nodded again. "Not exactly frenzied, though. More careful and precise."
"Call Rushburg. Ellison or Smith. Ask if they went through VICAP either now or back then. If there's a similar murder somewhere, we're looking for a serial-killer. If it comes up empty, we're looking for a local boy."
"Yeah. No news yet on the handwriting analysis for the love notes. Think Rushburg is sitting on it. I'll check the computer when I get to work." He stopped to gather up all the file paperwork.
"Heard Mark Moorehouse is back in town."
"Pap, how in hell do you find out all these things?" Davey rose and looked down at Pap affectionately.
"I got my sources. Keep in mind, he'll probably blow D and D out of the water. They'll be scrambling now. Keep that shed item I told you about to yourself for the time being." He pointed to his own head. "I'll just say it slipped my memory."
"Sure, Pap," Davey laughed, "the one that got away."
*****
"Got a call from the mayor over in Lacene," Ellison told Smith across their desks at the station house.
Smith grunted a reply, while he continued playing solitaire on his computer. Seeing Martinez headed their way, he quickly shut the thing down. "Just when I was winning," he muttered.
Martinez grabbed a chair, turned it backwards and sat with his arms on the seat back, next to Smith's desk. "You get a call from Mayor Cowell in Lacene?" he asked them both.
"Yes, sir," Smith said quickly.
"Then you know our problem? With the arrest?"
"Ummm," Smith began, as he looked at Ellison.
"Yes, we know," Ellison said, before he smirked slightly at Smith. Turning to Martinez then, "What are your ideas, sir?"
"Well," Martinez began, "you've got the fact that the kid was covered with blood. Weak. You've got the five million inheritance, and the brother is claiming he didn't tell the kid about it for two years after the killing. Again, weak. I need something strong. Give me something I can sink my teeth into."
Ellison said, "I have an idea, sir. What about the mayor's daughter? I think she's a pushover and we could get some additional info out of her if we press. After all, she was there that night. An eye witness."
Martinez sighed and stood up. "Okay. See what you can do. But right now, the case looks flimsy to me. And the DA agrees. Give me something solid."
When he was out of hearing range, Smith muttered, "I'll give you something solid, you--"
His phone rang. "What? Who? Oh, yeah, yeah. What's up?" Then after a minute, he replied, "VICAP? Hell kid, VICAP was just a gleam in someone's eye in 1982. Didn't actually get legs until 1985, and this case was long closed by then." He paused. "Sure, Ellison can do that for you. And we'll bring you Gace's handwriting analysis when we come to town later today." Pause. "Yeah, we're interviewing the blonde, the mayor's daughter Meg Cowell. Yeah, okay." He hung up the phone.
"So what have you volunteered me for now?" Ellison asked dryly.
Smith smiled. "VICAP for the Moorehouse murders."
"You dickhead SOB. You know how much work that is, you pea-brained--"
Martinez headed their way again, cutting off Ellison's tirade. "I heard you mention VICAP," the man said, eyeing the two detectives sharply, "send me copies on that."
"Yes," Smith responded, "Ellison will do that, sir."
Ellison gave Smith a scathing look before he searched his desk for the file. "Actually, boss, I have another idea."
Martinez nodded, as he looked down on the two.
Ellison stared levelly at Smith. "Exhumation. Smith can get the court order on that."
"Excellent idea," Martinez replied, "get DNA or whatever you can get. May take a little bit to go through the FBI Lab at Quantico. But it would be more solid."
After he'd left, Smith said, "Great idea, Ellison. That town isn't creepy enough without bodies falling out of coffins."
"Coward," Ellison replied, while smiling to himself, "come on, let's go.
*****
As Spence and Willie were packing up to head home, Spence's cell phone rang. He flipped it open. "Yeah?"
"Spence, it's Davey. Listen, Pap says your brother Mark is in town. He's probably somewhere around Jake's house now. But that's not why I called."
"Okay. I haven't been there for a while, Willie and I were target practicing."
"You should probably get back to Jake's house now. Meg called me in a panic. The Rushburg guys are there."
"Shit. Dumb and dumber."
"Yes. She's getting upset, Spence. Really upset."
"Thanks Davey."
Spence looked at Willie. "We've got to haul ass. Your Mom's in trouble."
Meg watched the two detectives, and her eyes darted back and forth. She was on her own. Lila was out back, Jake had gone to work, Mark went for a burger, Karl was in Rushburg, and she didn't know where everyone else was. But, she hoped they'd come back soon.
The mistake she made was letting the detectives in. She'd called Davey but he couldn't help her. And Simon wasn't in his office. She returned slowly to the living room where they sat.
She stood, looking at them, hoping standing up would give her an edge, before Ellison gestured to the chair across from them.
She sat nervously. "I'm not sure what information you want to get from me. I gave a statement to the police the night of the murders."
"It was incomplete," said Smith smoothly, "you left out the part where Spence was covered in blood. As a matter of fact, everyone left that little detail out."
"I didn't see him," she responded, "until afterwards at our house. We were in separate patrol cars. And, we were separated at the station house."
Ellison thought for a minute. "Did you know about his inheritance? Ever rummage with him in the parent's files? Would have been pretty easy to find that information."
Meg blanched, and her hand came up to her throat. "I don't know what you're implying."
Smiling, Ellison said, "I'm not implying anything. I'm just saying right out loud that you and Spence Moorehouse teamed up to kill the parents and get their money."
Meg took a deep breath. But she remembered Spence's words from the day before. "Either charge me with something," she said, "or get out."
"Hang on a minute," Smith quickly interjected, "we're just trying to get information here. I'm sure Detective Ellison is wrong in his assumptions. What can you tell us about that night?"
"As I told you, detectives, read my statement. It is very clear. And it was long ago. A lifetime. I have a son younger than that murder."
Smith nodded. "But," he said, "what were you really doing from ten to ten-thirty
that night Meg?"
She shot him a dirty look. She didn't like him using her name. "Ms. Cowell to you."
"So," he continued, "from ten to ten-thirty you ate fries? Come on, Meg. You didn't park and get a little yay-hoo or sit somewhere to plan the murder of his parents?"
Meg's jaw clenched.
An end table next to Ellison bounced up and down. Twice.
Smith stared at it. The room was silent, but for the ticking mantle clock.
"As I told you before," Meg said tiredly, quietly, "either charge me or get out." But, fear shook her. Was she really not remembering right? She was confused and her thoughts muddled together.
Ellison leaned across and clasped his hands together, his elbows on his knees. "You may be able to fool the local yokels with your tricks but don't forget, and we are one mind on this, we will get Spence Moorehouse for the murder of his parents."
Immediately, a heavy glass ashtray rose, circled around his head and struck him repeatedly in the eye before smashing to the ground.
*****
In the stable, Lila held the reigns on her horse Brandy while Harv brushed the stallion out.
"I really want to thank you, Ms. Lila," he began, "for all you've done for me."
She stroked Brandy's nose. "I did nothing that you couldn't have done for yourself Harv. God helps those who help themselves."
"Well," he replied with a chuckle, "guess I was helping myself to a little too much liquor there for a while."
She observed him thoughtfully. "You really have a way with horses, Harv. Ever thought of working with animals?"
"Nope. Guess I figured I was too dumb."
"A worthless man, a wicked man, is one who walks with a false mouth. A Proverb, can't remember which one. You've got a lot going for you Harv. You're honest and true. Don't sell yourself short."
"Hey, here comes the lawyer man."
Simon Litsky strolled up, suit jacket in hand, loosening his tie. "Harv. Lila."
"How goes it?" she asked.
"I spoke with Mark on the phone. He was on his way here. With his testimony, they're sunk on the murder charge. They've got nothing."
Lacene Lords Page 13