At that moment the outside spotlight that shone on the front stained-glass window popped on. Mandy jumped, surprised at the sudden bright colors that lit up the figure of Christ standing with a lamb in one arm, the other outstretched in welcome.
The figure sitting ahead in the center of a pew was also caught by surprise. The male voice let out an expletive as he, too, jumped at the sudden light.
Mandy recognized the voice and the figure. “Mr. Gibbons? Is that you?”
Able now to see, she moved toward him, coming to a stop at the pew where he sat. “Mr. Gibbons, what are you doin’ here?” she asked sternly.
Zach didn’t look at her. Instead he stared blankly toward the altar. “He was my only friend,” he whispered hoarsely.
It took her a moment to understand. “You’re talkin’ about Mr. Seegler.”
“Owen…Owen was a good man.”
Though she could smell the liquor on him from ten feet away, Mandy decided not to kick him out. The scarecrow-thin man was an interesting character, and he probably knew more about the shady side of Wilks than most. “Yes, he was.”
“I’m…” He stopped short, swallowed, then said, “I’m goin’ to miss him.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your friend, Mr. Gibbons.” Had she ever thought of them as friends? Drinking partners, certainly. Most nights lately when she went to the Fire and Ice House to play trivia, she’d seen the two of them huddled over beers. Maybe that was as close as Zach Gibbons could get to friendship. Lord knew his ex-wife couldn’t stand to even hear his name. She’d changed back to her maiden name as soon as she could. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s goin’ to be a visitation tomorrow night at the Paradise Funeral Home in Dannerton. The funeral will be here, Friday mornin’.”
He was silent for a moment, then said softly, “No, I hadn’t heard.”
His grief was real, she thought. She could almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
“You can’t stay here all night, Mr. Gibbons. Maybe it’s time you went home.”
“I can’t,” and this time it was a wail.
“Why not?”
“I can’t remember where my truck is. I’ve had a few, I guess. Woke up in here.”
“You need to go home,” she repeated.
“I don’t have my keys,” he said, sobbing. “What if I left ‘em in the truck? Somebody might steal it.”
“Mr. Gibbons—”
“You don’t understand!” he shouted suddenly. “I can’t let anybody in that truck!”
“All right, calm down.” Taken aback by his outburst, Mandy tried to come up with a plan. “Where’s the last place you remember bein’?”
“Here.”
“Before you got here, I mean.”
“I dunno. The park, maybe?”
“Tell you what, Mr. Gibbons. I’ll drive around town a little bit and look for your truck. If I find it, I’ll lock it up, bring you the keys, and then you can go home.”
He looked at her hopefully. “You want to do that for me? Now?”
No, she thought tiredly. I want to go get supper at the Ice House, play a game of trivia or two and chat with Chelsea. The barmaid always had something interesting to say.
Instead duty called. “Sure. It’s no problem,” she said. “What kind of truck do you drive?”
***
It was closer to nine-thirty that night when Matt finally made it back to the Ice House. He’d had to pull over to take a call from the Vraneks in Houston. Pneumonia had set into their son’s lungs. It looked like the volunteer fireman wasn’t going to make it through the night. Matt had offered to come to Houston to be with the family. They’d insisted that Matt not come so late at night and they’d keep him informed.
When he got back on the road, Matt shook his head. It always seemed that death came in threes. Now, it was Melinda and Owen and the Vranek boy. A few years ago, it had been his father, his brother and an innocent bystander.
Please God, don’t let Owen have been another innocent bystander.
A streak of white split across the dark sky in front of him, pulling him from his thoughts. Then another strike rolled through the clouds to the left. His skin crawled as the heat lightning danced back and forth within the tumult. When the thunder rolled so loud he could hear it through his closed car windows, he gave a quick prayer of hope that there was rain in those clouds. The dry Texas land needed a downpour, not a lightning strike.
When Matt finally walked into the Fire and Ice House, he was tired and hungry. Then he saw Angie. His heart did a small flip, and her smile said hers did the same. She motioned to the corner booth where James W. waited. “What can I get you?”
Matt looked up at the chalkboard over the kitchen doors. “Meat loaf on Wednesdays, hunh? I’ll have one of those and a tea.” He started toward the booth, then turned back and caught her watching him. “And extra gravy,” he grinned.
Doggone, he felt like he was back in high school.
Shadow padded up to him, and Matt gave his ears a scratch. The warmth inside of him grew. He was home.
James W. motioned for Matt to sit down. “Lots to go over, boy,” he said. “First things first. Tell me what the insurance man had to say.”
Matt settled in, Shadow at his feet, and he filled James W. in on Sid Davis’s visit.
James W. was surprised. “Didn’t know about that double-indemnity clause. That family is set.”
“I don’t think the family had anything to do with Owen’s murder,” Matt said plainly.
“Includin’ Dufus,” James W. agreed.
“Dufus?”
“My new name for Duke Hayes, the fiancé.” The sheriff shook his head. “He’s the type of man that owns a twenty-dollar horse and puts hundred-dollar saddle on it.”
Matt chuckled in agreement, but mentally made a note that he had to be careful not to use Dufus instead of Duke when he was around the family.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Matt said. He pulled from his pocket the plastic sandwich bag in which he’d placed the attendance card and handed it to James W.
“What’s this?”
“When I was at the funeral home with the family today I found this in my Bible.” Matt went on to explain the significance of where it had been placed.
“Follow the suitcases,” James W. read aloud. “What the hell does that mean?”
At that moment Angie came to the table and placed a tea in front of Matt and a Coke in front of James W. “I won’t be makin’ much money on y’all tonight,” she observed.
“Gotta talk business,” James W. said, putting the bag into his pocket.
She sat down beside Matt, forcing him to nudge aside. He obliged but didn’t move too far. He liked being close to her. Shadow settled on both their feet.
“I might have somethin’ to add to your discussion,” she said. “I’m missin’ a Colt .45.”
“What?” James W. demanded.
“I keep a revolver in case of trouble. As of Monday, it wasn’t where it belonged.” She gave a sideways glance at Matt. “Dorothy Jo was afraid I might use it on you, and she wanted to make sure it wasn’t loaded.”
Matt swallowed. “Remind me to never tick you off again.”
“Apparently, the last time we know for sure that the gun was where it should be was Monday a week ago when Bo used it to scare off some snakes.”
“Scared the rest of us, as well,” James W. said, remembering. “He’s quite a shot.”
“Well, anyways, I thought you ought to know.”
“Can you narrow it down any more than that? That’s a whole week.” James W. was not happy.
“I’ve been thinkin’ on that,” she answered. “I can only speak for Tuesday on, but the Fire and Ice House has been pretty full. Except for last Friday night.”
“Friday? That’s one of your busiest nights,” James W. scoffed.
“Not when there’s a fire that you call half the folks in town to help fight,” she pointed out. “I’ve been goin’
over it in my mind. Durin’ the days, Dorothy Jo’s always in the kitchen—except Friday, which is her day off. In the evenin’s, Bo is always tendin’ bar, but he’d gone to fight the fire. I’d had a bad day—” She angled a glare at Matt.
He smiled weakly.
“So when Chelsea came in, and based on the glowin’ references she had from the community, I let her handle the place while I went upstairs for a nap. I didn’t come back down until midnight to start cleaning down the bar.”
“Is there any chance that someone could’ve broken in while you were closed?” James W. asked.
“Like in the middle of the night?” Angie shook her head. “I lock this place up tighter’n a prison. Ain’t no one gettin’ my liquor while I’m asleep upstairs.”
“So no sign of breakin’ and enterin’.”
“None. Besides, Shadow would have gone wild if someone came in after hours.”
All three nodded at that. Shadow was one heckuva a guard dog.
“Did you ask Chelsea if anything odd happened Friday night when she was runnin’ the place by herself?” James W. continued.
“Ask her yourself.” Angie called to the bar. “Hey, Bo, get Chelsea over here.”
Bo looked out into the gaming area. “She’s takin’ an order. I’ll send her over when she comes back.”
“Speakin’ of alarm systems,” James W. said, stirring the ice in his Coke with a straw, “Shadow and all, I’ve been workin’ with Patton Security this afternoon. I’m havin’ two new security systems put in.”
“At your house?” Matt asked.
“No. At yours.” James W.’s tone was one that would brook no argument. “And Dorothy Jo’s. I’m sick and tired of Zach Gibbons comin’ in the Ice House and threatenin’ that he’s gonna do somethin’ to her unless Angie keeps lettin’ him in the door. After Tuesday night and that newspaperman, I’ve had it with Gibbons.”
“Dorothy Jo didn’t say anything to me about it,” Angie said, surprised.
“I think she’s a little overwhelmed by it all. She’s got two cameras and motion detectors—the whole nine yards.”
“I’m overwhelmed,” Angie said. “Who paid for it?”
James W. took a sip from his Coke.
“You did all that for Dorothy Jo?” Angie asked.
“And for my little sis.” James W. looked at her fondly. Angie reached across the booth and patted his hand.
Matt was not listening to the discussion about Dorothy Jo, however. “Why my house?”
James W. leaned forward and looked Matt straight in the eye. “‘Cuz you live there. It’s goin’ to be installed tomorrow in the parsonage as well as in the church. Norm Krall gave the okay. It’s a big job, so they had to go to a place in Austin to get all the equipment. Discussion over.”
At that moment Chelsea cleared her throat, and the three turned to find her standing behind them. “You wanted to see me?”
James W. slid over on the booth’s seat. “Got a few questions for you, Chelsea.”
Tonight Chelsea’s hair was back to coal black, but her Cleopatra eye shadow was as heavy as ever with little gold stars trailing down her cheeks. She sat down next to James W., looking wary. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re fine,” James W. assured her. “We just want to talk about last Friday night.”
“The place was deader than a doornail.”
“Can you be a little more specific?” the sheriff prodded.
Chelsea shrugged. “Angie went upstairs, I don’t know, around seven, I guess?” She looked to Angie who nodded in agreement. “I don’t think we had more than two or three customers the whole night. Angie came back downstairs around, I dunno, one o’clock? Maybe a little before.” She narrowed her eyes at Angie. “That cash register was spot-on when I closed out with you.”
“Absolutely,” Angie said. “We want to know if you heard or saw anyone where they weren’t supposed to be. That’s all.”
Chelsea thought for a moment. “I had the cash register in sight the whole time. I didn’t even go out back for a smoke—I had a coupla cigarettes on the porch. I know we’re not supposed to smoke in the customer areas, but no one was here, and I thought it would be okay.” She looked at Angie defiantly. “I figured it was more important to watch the cash register than go out back for a smoke when no one was here.”
Matt craned his neck over the booth and did a check of sightlines. “You can see the cash register from the porch,” he nodded, “but not the kitchen.”
Chelsea waved her hand. “The money ain’t kept in the kitchen. The safe’s upstairs, and Angie was up there.”
“So nothin’ different happened on Friday.” James W. confirmed.
“No. You need anything else? I got customers.” Chelsea made to get up when her foot shoved against Shadow’s paw. She grinned and looked under the table. “Sorry, boy, I didn’t know you were down there.” Again, she started to get up but stopped. “Friday night, Shadow stayed down here with me.”
“Yes,” Angie agreed. “I always like to leave Shadow downstairs when there’s only one staff member here.”
Chelsea frowned. “Well, Friday night, he did get upset about somethin’.”
“Upset?” Matt asked.
“Yeah, I was out on the porch havin’ a smoke. He was with me. Then he started barkin’ somethin’ fierce and ran into the bar.”
“What was he barking at?” Matt pressed.
“Nothin’. Like I said, I never took my eyes off that cash register, and no one was comin’ in the front door.”
“But you couldn’t see the kitchen from the porch,” Matt said.
“Who’s gonna steal a pot from the kitchen?”
“Was the kitchen door unlocked?” James W. pressed.
“Course. We go out there all the time for takin’ out garbage and gettin’ stock. What’s this all about, anyway?” she demanded. “Heck, if you’re gonna ask about somethin’ strange, you’d do better to ask me about Thursday night when I was waitin’ on Zach and Owen.”
Angie, James W. and Matt shared a look.
“Tell us about it,” James W. said.
“I’ve got tables waitin’.”
Angie called out to Bo. “Take care of Chelsea’s tables for a minute, wouldja? I’ll keep my eye on the bar.”
Chelsea settled back in the booth. “The two of them came in around supper time, and looked like they were plannin’ to have a night of it. They sat at that table on the porch, y’know, that backs right up to fence?”
James W. nodded. “Know it well.”
“Well, the two of them have been comin’ in regular like for a week, so I didn’t think much about it. Until I took a cigarette break out back and saw a puddle by the fence right on the other side from where they were sittin’.”
“A puddle,” Matt repeated.
“Oh, geez,” Angie said with disgust.
“No, I thought the same thing,” Chelsea said quickly. “But it wasn’t piss. It was fresh beer.”
“Beer?” James W. wasn’t sure he heard right. “One of ‘em spilled his beer?”
“That’s what I thought, so I took another round to the table. But as soon as I’d bring ‘em beers, someone was pourin’ it down by the fence. I’m pretty sure it was Owen who was doin’ the pourin’, ‘cuz Zach was gettin’ stewed as prunes.”
“Why would Owen do that?” Angie wondered out loud.
“They were talkin’ about some weird stuff. Throwin’ a girl in the back of a truck or somethin’.”
Matt and the sheriff shared an alarmed look.
“I must admit, they did have my attention,” Chelsea said. “All that beer goin’ in the dirt.”
“Chelsea.” James W. leaned forward. “This is very important. Tell me everything you remember about their conversation.”
Chelsea sighed, trying to remember. “Somethin’ about you,” she looked up at the sheriff, “comin’ around and askin’ questions. One of ‘em wanted to make sure they had their stories stra
ight.”
“Which one?” Matt pressed.
“Couldn’t tell. They were on the other side of the fence.”
“Go on,” James W. said.
“Anyway, some girl slipped and hit her head. One guy threw her in the back of the truck. Said that ‘if you woke up maybe you could have some fun.’ Sounds nasty.”
“Was her name Melinda?” Angie pounced.
James W. and Matt glared at her, and she shrunk back into the seat.
Chelsea didn’t notice, however. She was too busy trying to remember. “No. Debbie? Delia?” She shook her head, not able to come up with the name.
Matt looked at James W., and they immediately shared a look that said, Diane.
“They did mention a Melinda though,” Chelsea went on.
“You’re doin’ good, girl,” James W. encouraged her.
“By this time Owen and Zach had downed a bunch of drinks, and Zach was startin’ to slur his speech, so I could tell their voices apart. Zach said somethin’ about Melinda needin’ to know what she’d been missin’. And that he was a gentleman so he didn’t tell the police about that.” Chelsea rolled her eyes.
“Anything else?” Matt asked.
“That was about it. I went to the table to check on them, and Owen stood up real fast and knocked me over. I spilled beer on Zach, and that’s when he hit me.”
Angie leaned in. “Remember, James W.? I called you to come and arrest Zach, but you said you couldn’t ‘cuz the fire was bad.”
James W. nodded. “Yeah, I remember that.”
Matt leaned forward. “Chelsea, do you remember why Owen stood up so fast?”
She thought for a long moment. “Somethin’ about luggage?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I Didn’t Do It!
Mandy Culver pushed through the front door of the Fire and Ice House, exhausted from a day of cleaning and a night of Zach Gibbons.
She’d finally found his truck—it was parked in front of his own house. She’d opened the door of the cab, found his keys, took a poke around the mess, then came up for air.
The things Zach kept in his truck were…interesting, to say the least. Mandy returned to the church, where Zach was sleeping on the front cement steps. Not really happy about it, but seeing no other alternative, she drove him home.
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