Champagne for Buzzards

by Phyllis Smallman

  One day I was going to go too far. Or one day I was going to push back at the wrong guy. I knew it as sure as I knew night followed day. It was a great big black dog slinking towards me. The question yet to be answered was, was Boomer Breslau the one? Was he the mad dog who would go for my throat?

  Even though I’d told Tully that Boomer wasn’t going to be a problem, we both knew I was lying. Sooner or later Boomer was coming after me, coming to put me in my place. He wasn’t going to back off and he wasn’t going to let it lie.

  I needed to start taking precautions right that moment and not wait until it happened.

  I looked around real good before pulling out of the lot, kept an eye on the rearview as I turned left and drove along Main Street. Tully was watching the side mirror, but trying not to show it.

  “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

  “I was leaning over putting the groceries in the trunk when he grabbed my ass.”

  “Thata do it.”

  “I swear to God if I’d had a gun, I would have used it.”

  “Time we got you a new one.”

  I tried to laugh. “Best not. We both know how that’s worked out in the past and Boomer’s probably in too much pain to come for his revenge.”

  “That won’t last. He’ll come another day.”

  “By then I’ll be gone.”

  But Tully was right. There was only one way back to the ranch, one way in and one way out, a road that I was going to travel every time I left Riverwood, a road that Boomer would be traveling too. He’d be watching.

  Boomer and I were going to meet up sooner or later, and more likely sooner. When we did, when we met again, it would just depend how crazy he was, or maybe it would depend on how crazy I was, how it came out.

  Either way it wasn’t over yet — not nearly.

  CHAPTER 29

  Marley didn’t give me any time to fret about Boomer. She had a plan. By four o’clock all the painting was done and the red velvet drapes were up. We were all as pleased as punch with ourselves.

  The phone rang. Marley was closest to it so she picked it up but I reached for it when I saw her eyes grow round and her mouth open in shock.

  When I put the receiver to my ear, filth spewed out at me. I hit End and set the phone down.

  “What?” Tully asked.

  “Boomer,” I replied.

  “He was saying—” Marley began. “Well…” she couldn’t finish. She looked at me in alarm, her freckles standing out like a rash on her pale face.

  “He was describing in lurid detail what he was going to do to me,” I finished for Marley. “That boy has quite an imagination.”

  Marley covered her mouth with her hand and whispered, “Oh Sherri, what are we going to do?”

  “He’s all mouth,” I told her. “Forget him.” But we both knew we weren’t going to forget that call anytime soon. “Come on, let’s get rid of all the paint junk and then I’ll make us a great dinner.”

  While Marley and I cleared up, Tully and Uncle Ziggy held down the porch…at least I thought they were, but when I went out to water the flowers, the two of them had disappeared on me.

  I was sitting on the railing and still thinking about watering the flowers, when my mobile rang. Was Boomer going to become a real pain in the ass? I was unlikely to get any help from the sheriff, and getting a new number was going to be another hassle. How bad was it going to be? “Shit,” I said and picked the phone up off the wicker table. But it was Clay. “So what exciting thing are you doing?” he asked. I walked down the steps and sank down onto the last one. “Well, at the moment I’m watching a whole mob of ants devour a palmetto bug.”

  “Now that’s exciting,” Clay said.

  “Damn right. The action never stops out here. I can see why you love it.”

  “Did you ride Joey today?”

  I had no intention of going out in the back of beyond and letting Joey dump me in Boomer’s or the swampman’s lap. The thought made me shiver. The guys in the woods could stay in the woods and I’d stay in the house.

  “Nope and it’s all Marley’s fault. She’s had us all getting ready for the furniture coming tomorrow.”

  “What’s to do? I thought Laura had redecorated, thought everything was done except for bringing in the furniture. She charged me enough. What’s left?”

  “Measuring and stuff.” I turned the conversation to Howard Sweet. “Do you have any idea where he is?”

  “Not a clue,” Clay said and then added, “maybe Howie knows something about Lucan’s death.”

  “Perhaps no one will ever be held accountable for Lucan’s death. Years from now it will be one of those pieces about unsolved crimes they put in the Sunday supplement on a slow weekend. In the Gator Hole the locals will talk about the murder of one man and the disappearance of another to entertain newcomers and give that tired town an aura of mystery.”

  “Well, you’re downright depressing, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. I don’t think much is happening. Sherriff Hozen has his own agenda and he doesn’t think Howie’s disappearance has anything to do with the murder.”

  “Maybe you should go back into Jacaranda until this is settled, until they arrest someone for Lucan’s murder.”

  “What? And miss all the action what with the bugs and things, which is, by the way, the only action I’m seeing these days.”

  This led to a more interesting conversation. We were just getting to the best bits when Tully and Ziggy drove in.

  “I have to go, Clay. Looks like Tully’s been in a little accident. The driver’s side fender of Tully’s truck is crumpled. I’m surprised the front wheels are still working. I’ll call you back.”

  The passenger door screeched open on the rusted truck and Uncle Ziggy lumbered out. He was looking real worried and holding onto the door of the truck while keeping an eye on me as if he might want to bolt right back in. Tully followed Uncle Ziggy out the passenger door. Tully pulled the door out of Ziggy’s hand and slammed it shut. He headed for the porch, not a care in the world. There was a large red welt on his forehead with a small cut at the center.

  While he was sauntering past me I asked, “Little problem?” “Not hardly,” Tully said, patting my shoulder. He climbed the steps and went on into the house.

  Uncle Ziggy came warily forward, staring at me like I was a rabid dog.

  “You might as well tell me now and save yourself some bother,” I advised him. “What’s he done?”

  “Ask him.”

  “I’d rather ask you.”

  “Oh, it ain’t fair,” he wailed. “You always pick on me, it just ain’t fair, you should ask Tully, he’s your pa, don’t always be asking me things, and then Tully, he get’s all upset with me, then no one’s happy with me, why you always picking on me?” I had to smile. “Just tell me and get it over with.”

  “Well,” he took off his peaked cap and scrubbed his forehead with it. “Just tell me.”

  “Don’t suppose you’ll give me any peace ’til I do.”

  “That’s a given.”

  “Well, Tully wanted to speak to that young man you had a little problem with, so’s we just waited for him at the end of their lane, didn’t have to wait too long either, and when he came out, well, old Tully, he just puts the young bastard in the ditch and then he tells him, he says, ‘You have trouble with one of us, boy, you have trouble with all of us. You may be able to take my daughter, wouldn’t bet on it though, and you may even be able to take me, but that leaves this big bugger here, he’s gonna finish you. He’s gonna wipe you out.’” Uncle Ziggy settled the cap back on his head. “Then Tully just kind of slammed the little bastard’s head back, the way you do, you know, and said, ‘So just remember, what you do to one of us, you do to all of us and if one of us is left standing, that’s the one that’s going to kill you. You
got to take us all out or leave us all alone,’ that’s all Old Tully had to say, only told the sorry piece of shit the truth, maybe he could take you two, but not me, no way, not ever, now I suppose you goin’ to be mad with both Tully and me.” He gave the cap another tug, waiting for the ax to fall.

  “So how did Boomer’s hand look?”

  “Like he broke some fingers, all wrapped up and everything, won’t be writing no bad checks anytime soon.”

  “You think there’s any chance of getting Tully to go to the hospital with me?”

  “T’ain’t hardly likely.” And it wasn’t.

  CHAPTER 30

  Monday morning Marley was going to meet the movers at the storage sheds. I offered to do it but she insisted on going herself. Claimed it was her car and she would drive it, wasn’t going to trust me because I picked up dead bodies and wouldn’t let Tully because he ran into trees, his explanation for the fender. I hopped in with Tully to go into town for breakfast at Lovey’s café. Tully was going to leave his truck in town to get it fixed so Zig drove behind us. Our convoy didn’t get far coming out the drive.

  A sheriff’s vehicle was parked at the end of the lane. A deputy, someone new to us, held up his hand to stop Tully and came back to speak to us.

  “Morning, sir.”

  “Morning, son. What’s the problem?” Tully asked.

  “We’re looking for a fella that’s been seen hanging about out here. You seen any strangers?”

  “Son, I’m new to these parts. You’re all strangers to me — some are just more strange than others.”

  The deputy smiled and leaned sideways to check out the bed of the pickup. “Well you just call the sheriff’s office if you see anyone you figure shouldn’t be here.”

  “Okay,” Tully said. The deputy started back to Marley’s car but Tully called out, “Say, what does this man look like?”

  “I understand he’s Guatemalan, dark and not very big.”

  “What’s he wanted for?” The deputy frowned. “Sheriff didn’t say.”

  “Think he murdered Lucan Percell?”

  “Sheriff didn’t say, but maybe.” He made his way to Marley’s car, checking inside and then to Zig’s four by four.

  “Does he think we’re smuggling someone out of here?” I asked Tully. “Maybe.”

  “If the sheriff wants this guy for Lucan’s murder, wouldn’t he be saying so? And why would we be taking a murderer anywhere?”

  Tully watched the cop in the side mirror. “Well, the sheriff wants this guy for something, that’s clear. He’s willing to sacrifice a man from other duties just to check out who leaves Riverwood.”

  I turned in the seat to see if the deputy was within earshot. “I bet Boomer was looking for this Guatemalan too when we met him out back. Why would the sheriff and Boomer both be looking for someone and why on Riverwood?”

  Tully kept his eyes locked on the side mirror and said, “Boomer must have found something in the woods that told him the guy was out there. Or maybe he saw him, like you did, and that’s why they think he’s on Riverwood.”

  Tully raised his hand off the side mirror to wave at the deputy as he went by the truck and said softly to me, “You so sure Boomer was looking for a man out there in the woods?”

  “Well, either that or he was hunting, but why hunt on Clay’s land when he’s got a couple of thousand acres of his own? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Guys like that just go where they want. They don’t care about private property and they just shoot at anything that moves.”

  “Well, I think they were after human quarry.”

  “You may be right.” Tully turned to me. “Think you and Marley should head home?”

  “No. As long as they stay well away from the house, I’m cool.” We watched the deputy drive out the lane. I asked, “How is Boomer getting onto Clay’s property? I thought there was no way onto it but the lane from the house.”

  “We’re in the height of the dry season; water is low this time of year and especially this year.” We followed the deputy onto the highway. “They’re probably coming in by going along the stream bed or running up the side where it’s dried up. They could go right up to the lake and onto the trail.”

  The police car pulled to the side of the road and then reversed into the lane when we’d gone by. Tully said, “I got a bad feeling about this.”

  Every seat in the café was filled, most of them by men. The reason wasn’t haute cuisine but Lovey Sweet, a sensuous lush piece of walking art, a Rubens with a coffee carafe in her hand. Alabaster skin and clear dark violet blue eyes, innocent of pride, and perfect features were all worth looking at. And though her figure might be a little fuller than was popular in Vogue, no one here was complaining. Heads and eyes swiveled as she walked by and a sigh, a trembling reverberation of lust, followed in her wake.

  I’m not really used to being invisible but with Lovey in the room there wasn’t another woman who was going to get a second look. With eyes that smiled and laughed, she called each customer by name and made him feel special, almost blessed, as she leaned over and refilled his coffee cup and patted his back or arm, almost always touching them. All of this was as natural as breathing for Lovey. She wasn’t coming on to anyone.

  When she reached our table, I asked, “Have you heard from your father?”

  She set the coffee carafe down on our table as her smile faded. She folded her arms over her chest and said, “Not yet. He’s gone off for a few days here and there, just taken some downtime without telling Ma where he was going, but in the past he’s always got in touch with me. Not this time. This is different. I’m scared. I’ve been calling the sheriff morning, noon and night. Can’t figure out why the sheriff isn’t taking it seriously. He keeps telling me that Dad has to be gone forty-eight hours before the sheriff’s department is supposed to get involved.” She worried her lip with her teeth while both Tully and Uncle Ziggy gasped for breath, making fish-out-of-water strangling sounds.

  Lovey wrinkled her forehead and said, “The sheriff just makes soothing sounds but I don’t think he’s doing anything.”

  “Do you think your dad’s disappearance has anything to do with Lucan’s murder?”

  She looked away, considering her answer, and then said, “I don’t want to, but Dad wouldn’t go away right now. He knows…well, he knows it’s a bad time. I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to him.”

  Someone called Lovey’s name. She picked up the coffee carafe and touched my shoulder. “Thank you for caring about Dad.”

  “Let us know when you hear from him,” I said.

  “Sure. I’m real sorry you’ve been let down. Do you need any help out at Riverwood? Maybe I can find someone for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We can cope ’til Howie gets back.” Lovey gave us a small smile and went off to refill more mugs and cause another couple of coronaries. “Do you think Howie is dead?” I asked.

  Neither Tully nor Uncle Ziggy looked at me but at least Tully answered. “Lovey’s got a point; it’s a strange time for Howie to go off.” Tully’s eyes never left Lovey’s undulating backside. “He loves his daughter and knows she needs him. Why’d he go off on a toot now?”

  I had the answer to that. “Because Pearl was about to find out he’d snuck off to the Gator Hole. I can see him going away to avoid that party, but won’t it just be worse when he gets back?”

  “Lord knows,” said Tully. “If I was married to Pearl I’d run long and fast.”

  “Uncle Ziggy?” I asked just to see if he was on the same planet as us but was not really expecting an answer. None came. Uncle Ziggy could only deal with one thought at a time and the one thought that had him in its grip was Lovey. A million dead bodies stretched out end to end wouldn’t have caught his attention. He was definitely in love.

  Uncle Ziggy wasn’t ready to leave whe
n breakfast was over, claimed he needed more coffee, even though he’d already had Lovey fill his cup four or five times. When the debris of our breakfast had been cleared away, and with it all reason to stay, Ziggy moved over to the counter for one more refill, one more chat, one more small contact with Lovey to see him through his day.

  “Can’t you get him to take it easy on the coffee?” I asked Tully when we left the diner to go check on Tully’s truck. “All that coffee, it’s just not good for him.”

  “Never mind the coffee. When a man falls in love at Zig’s age it can be dangerous for his health, period. Last night he was cutting the hairs in his nose to look pretty for breakfast and he damn near took his schnoz right off.” “Think he’s going to remember us?”

  “The fog will clear when he gets out in the fresh air. He’ll be along to pick us up as soon as he gets over mooning over Lovey Sweet, or sweet Lovey as he likes to call her. It may take some time though.”

  The news on Tully’s truck wasn’t good. Seems it wasn’t worth fixing. In fact, the mechanic refused to let Tully drive it off the lot, which got Tully pretty excited. I could have told Tully it was a piece of junk and dangerous to everyone on the road but he wouldn’t have listened.

  We sat outside the garage on plastic chairs with three elderly men who seemed to be permanent residents of the garage and waited for Uncle Ziggy. Apparently these three spent their mornings sitting there in the sun and considering the world. Their daily routine was recognized as one of the things that made Independence interesting, and everyone driving by acknowledged them with a wave or a honk of the horn.

  We introduced ourselves, although they knew exactly who we were. They seemed quite interested in getting a close-up look at the woman who drove around with a dead body in the back of her pickup. When I’d told them all about the buzzards they were more than eager to talk about Lucan Percell and the town of Independence.