Dangerous Inheritance

by Shirley E. Watson

  Dangerous Inheritance

  by Shirley E. Watson

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Shirley E. Watson

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter 1

  The man that lay sprawled over the bar emitted a high snorting noise interspersed with grunts. He gave no sign he heard footsteps passing him to the outside door. The bartender unlocked and opened the heavy plank door, allowing sunlight to hit the sleeping man’s closed eyes. This roused him enough to raise his head slightly but he squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to will the pain away. He lowered his head again but a cascade of icy water soaked his face and pooled under his head as the bartender chuckled. To the man, it seemed as though demons with pitchforks were battering the inside of his skull trying to get out. With a scream, he jerked upright. Then held his head, moaning. A tangle of long glossy brown hair swirled around his face, while water dripped from the end of his nose.

  He lurched into speech. “What the…? Was that necessary, you benighted cretin?”

  Dan, the bartender, replaced the water pitcher behind the bar. “Always the poet, Derek? Is that what that expensive education did for you? Lets you abuse me in more than four letter words? Save that for the songs you write. When you write them.”

  Derek blinked through a haze at Dan, who looked at him and shook his head, before taking up a cleaning rag and wiping down the bar. “Why don’t you go home, Derek? I’m not gonna let you stay here any more like this. I could get in trouble.”

  Derek’s voice was hoarse. “Weeeel….got to tell you. Don’t have a place any more. The landlord said that’s it. Too far behind in the rent. Say, don’t you have anything for a hangover, Dan? This head’s gonna kill me.”

  Dan laughed. “OK, let me make you my Special. Should help.” He peeled a banana, added honey from a jar, poured in some milk, then blended it all with ice, looking up as a shadow cut the bright sun from the door. Against the bright light, a woman’s shape appeared for a moment. Before the bartender could inform her they were really not open yet, she advanced rapidly into the dim room, nose wrinkled at the reek of of stale beer and smoke. She strode up to the man leaning on the bar and raised her hand.

  Derek instinctively leaned away. “Oh, darlin’, don’t hit me. I’m just too weak.” He turned his head and retched. The woman stepped back and frowned.

  “Listen, Derek, I had to walk to the bus last night, all through these dark streets. You promised to drive me home, and then you got so dead drunk I had to leave you here. I would never get into a car with somebody pissed like you were, anyway.”

  In spite of the pain in his head, Derek’s lips turned up in an almost grin. “Oh, yeah. That’s not what you said last week, honey bun.” He dodged the punch she aimed at him and cried out as the pain of moving hit him. He stumbled off the bar stool and ran, crouching, for the men’s room.

  The woman, an attractive brunette, shook her head. “I don’t know why I bothered. I’ve had enough of liars and drunks to last me a lifetime. He’s good-lookin’ but he’s not worth it.”

  Dan grinned. “Suit yourself, Mandy. He sings pretty though, don’t he?”

  The woman stamped a delicate foot encased in a cowboy boot. “Well, he can sing to some other fool. I’m out of here. See you, Dan.” Her feet beat a tattoo on the wooden floor as she hurried to the door and slammed it behind her. The bartender shook his head and went across to open the door a crack again.

  Derek returned from the men’s room. He sat stiffly on the bar stool with the movements of an old man, as though everything hurt somewhere. His white, ill reflection mocked him from behind the bar. “Where’s that drink you made me? I’ve got to get something in my stomach before my head falls off and rolls away.” He looked at the glass.

  “What’s this, a milkshake?” His stomach was already protesting.

  The bartender pushed it towards him. “It will do you good. Shut up and just drink it. You need it.”

  Derek grasped the glass and downed the drink in two swallows. Then laid his head on the bar again. “Mandy left?”

  The cool surface of the bar felt so good. Maybe the hangover remedy was working. He almost dropped off again but he could hear the clinking as Dan straightened the glasses on the rack behind the bar. The bartender asked, “I guess there’s no use telling you to change your evil ways?” He began to hum, “You gotta change your evil ways, baby.”

  Derek mumbled, “What, and miss all this fun? Please don’t sing in that loud voice.” He belched.

  “Are you going to be all right to play tonight?”

  Derek raised his head, his dark blue eyes beginning to clear. “Am I not always? Of course. But I’ve got to get out of here. I need to stop by the PO to make sure they hold my mail there. Not that I get much except junk, but who knows, might hear something about a new gig. And, unbelievable but possible, maybe a check.”

  “So stop talking and get going. Where are you going to live now?”

  “Well, that my friend, is the question, ain’t it?” he ran a hand carefully through his tangled hair and shoved it back off his face. “Guess I can scratch Mandy off the list.” He looked so hangdog the bartender suddenly let out a snort of laughter.

  Dan leaned against the bar and stared at Derek, who had his head down on the bar again. “I like my hair short. I could never wear it as long as you do. And by the way, get your mangy locks off my bar.”

  Derek grinned shakily at him as he raised his head again. “It’s a rock and roll style, Dan. You’re not a rock and roll kind of guy.”

  The bartender looked offended. “Works for some, I guess. At least I’ve got a steady job. How about you?”

  Derek groaned again and clutched his head. His voice pleaded. “Sure, hit me while I’m down, buddy. I’ve got some talent, right, Dan?”

  Dan came around the bar into the room and picked up a broom that was leaning in the corner. He began sweeping.

  “I guess. Yeah, you do. But where are you going with it? Have to tell you, a lot of guys with talent have come through here. And then they’re gone. Never returned, never heard of ‘em again.”

  Derek didn’t answer. The bartender shrugged, apparently losing interest, and went to the back of the room.

  Derek said, lowering himself carefully from the stool. “I guess I’d better get going, Dan. I’ll see you later. Thanks for the drink. It worked.”

  “Oh, yeah. Later, Dude.” The bartender fiddled with a light fixture in the back but didn’t turn around.

  Derek winced as he emerged into the bright sunlight. The hangover remedy had helped but it usually took a while before he could function fully. He thought he’d grab something to eat later, when his stomach stopped dancing. He walked away from the tavern down the dusty street. His head hurt with every step but it seemed to be helping to get into the fresh air even though the temperature was climbing. He inhaled the sharp scent of the ponderosa pine across the street and the earthy smell of the sandy soil. It must have rained last night. Poor Mandy! She’d have been soaked as she walked. He felt briefly sorry he’d let her down like that. Oh, well, they had nothing in common, really. He knew tons of women and the loss of one was not all that upsetting. Mandy was a big girl. Better without him, anyway.

  Derek drew in another lung-full of the rain-washe
d air and walked on. He jerked open the screen door of the tiny Post Office and fumbled for the key to his box. Pulling out a heap of junk advertising and catalogs he took the pile over to the trash bin. As the unwanted bills and circulars cascaded in, he noticed an envelope that was stuck among the junk mail. He gripped it before it disappeared into the can. “Damn, I wish they wouldn’t give me so much crap. I could have lost this and it could be something important. Like a check.” He dropped it in a pocket and left the Post Office, the door banging behind him and startling a gecko into darting behind the adobe wall.

  Next stop: Doreen’s. It wasn’t much farther. Being so close to the main street where the bar was located was a major point in her favor. He knocked on the green-painted door of her condo. It crossed his mind briefly how he must look dressed in yesterday’s crumpled khakis and plaid shirt, hair wild on his shoulders, bloodshot eyes (he surmised) and (probably) foul breath. For once, he looked pretty good, hah!

  He could hear Doreen’s heels tapping to the door. She opened the door a crack and looked out. Looked like she wanted to close it again.

  “Derek. What do you want?”

  “Doreen, we’ve been friends for a while now, right?”

  “If you call a year a while, that’s correct.”

  “Can I ask you a humongous favor?”

  “This doesn’t sound good. Have you been thrown out of your apartment again?”

  “You know me too well, Doreen. But you’re my best friend.”

  “Are you kidding?” Doreen rolled her green eyes.

  “Honey, can I come in for a while?”

  Grudgingly, she opened the door wider. “Well, you don’t look good. You can come in. We’ll talk.”

  Derek pushed through the door before she could change her mind. “Doreen, you’re my angel.”

  “Yeah, uh huh. We’ll see about that.” She recoiled from him as he leaned near her. “I see nothing has changed, Derek. Why don’t you go in and take a shower? You obviously need one. I’ve got some clothes you can use. I’ve got things to do, like get to work. So be quick.”

  Derek gratefully went into the bathroom and turned on the water. The warmth trickled down his back and he closed his eyes. He was landing on his feet again. This guy knew how to live, didn’t he? He even hummed a few bars of the song he’d been working on.

  He was shocked out of the dreamlike state by Doreen pounding on the door. “I’ve got to pay for all that hot water, Derek. I think you’ve had enough time in there.”

  Derek yelled back. “OK, OK, I’m coming out.”

  “Women,” he thought, as he toweled himself dry and pulled on the clean clothes Doreen had given him. They must belong to her new boyfriend. He transferred his few possessions and his unopened mail to the pants pockets and threw the dirty clothes on the floor. Doreen would take care of it. She’d always had a thing for him, hadn’t she? He rinsed out his mouth and scrubbed his teeth with a finger. There was mouthwash on a shelf and he swilled it around and spit it in the basin. That was a big improvement.

  Doreen glanced up as he came into the kitchen. She was loading her dishwasher and wiping down the counter. She poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him.

  She smoothed her dark hair back from her face and frowned slightly. “I don’t know if you think you can just waltz back in here, Derek, but you can’t. I’m seeing a super nice guy and he’ll understand I want to help out a friend, but it stops there. I’ll let you stay here for tonight if you need to, in my spare room, but you’ve got to make other arrangements.”

  Derek set down his cup for a moment and went over and tried to put his arms around her. She pushed him away angrily. “I mean it, Derek. You really need to grow up.”

  He gulped his coffee and threw himself on the sofa. “What fun would that be?” He rolled over and felt paper rustling in his pocket. He pulled it out, hoping somehow there was a $10 bill there. Instead it was an envelope of heavy cream colored paper, looking official somehow. Oh, yeah, the mail. Better open it. He slit it with a finger.

  “What’s that, Derek?”

  “It beats me. It’s from some lawyer or other up in Massachusetts. Who could be suing me up there?”

  “Read it and find out.”

  Derek read silently. “OK, this must be a joke of some kind. It says I have to go up there and see this guy next week.”

  Doreen’s eyes widened. ‘How are you going to get there? In that old junker you call a car? You just got thrown out of your apartment. Where would you get the money to fly?”

  “Down at the bottom of the letter, it says there are etickets waiting for me at the airport. This guy must have money. I wonder if he’s going to give me any of it?”

  “Why would he do that? Who is he?”

  Derek looked at Doreen. “I have no clue. My grandparents did come from New England, but I never met them. My Mom went out to Tennessee when I was little. She split from my Dad and she kind of indicated her own Dad had no use for her. Bastard. Her Mom had died and she had no place to go to. We never had two nickels to rub together, she used to say, but we’ll survive. She always thought she’d get that big singing contract. Poor Mom. She never lived long enough to do it.”

  Doreen studied him. He’d never talked that much about himself before. His real self, not the crazy rock and roll image he tried to create.

  “So you don’t know anything about her life beforehand?”

  “She didn’t like to talk about it. I used to see my Dad once in a while before we came down to Texas. He sent me tuition money for college. But I haven’t heard anything for a long time. Guess he doesn’t care, either. Guess he thinks he bought me off and I’m off his hands now. So I have no idea. In fact, I think if any of them heard she was dead, it must have been later, because nobody but me and her friends came to her funeral. Maybe that’s the way she wanted it.”

  “Do you think this has something to do with them – your grandparents or your Dad?”

  “I wouldn’t know. Maybe they heard I’m some kind of famous singer. That would have been something my Mom might have told them. She loved to imagine me on a stage with thousands of people screaming. Her son the rock star. I hope they don’t think they can get money from me!” Derek frowned.

  Doreen laughed and laughed. “I’d like to see them try. If you had any, I’d be first in line!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Cassie scanned the book handed to her by a library patron and piled it with the others, then lifted the pile of books and then with a shy smile, put it in the arms of the customer It was 10 AM on Saturday, and the patrons were streaming in to get their books, videos, attend programs, everything this modern library had to offer. She glanced back at the librarian who was coming forward to assist with the influx. Barbara was gray haired and plump, with gold glasses perched on her nose. Cassie thought you might have guessed her occupation if you met her in the street. She had a wise, bookish air. Cassie, just an assistant, admired what she thought of as Barbara’s sophistication. One of her daydreams was to visualize her own name, Cassandra O’ Connor, Librarian, on a brass plate. Somewhere. It would signify that she had got her MLS degree.

  She pushed her reading glasses up her nose and peered at the slip handed to her by the next customer. The man was requesting a hold on a current thriller. “Sir, I know we still have these slips around, but they’re outdated. Did you know, you can reserve that online now?” She added hesitantly. “I can reserve it if you want, though.” But the man had snatched the slip back and went off without looking at her or even saying thank you. Cassie twitched her sweater in place where it hung loosely on her slender body and fixed a smile on her face for the next patron.

  Her sister Lee had commented on how thin she looked and she responded that she didn’t feel much of an appetite these days.

  “Running out to see Dad almost every night – and don’t say anything, I’m glad to do it—well, I just don’t feel like eating a heavy dinner. I’d have indigestion. A sandwich is fine most of th
e time.”

  The phone beside her rang and she picked it up. “Stanton County Library, may I help you?”

  “Yes, you may, sweet thing.”

  “Oh, Rob, hello. I’m at work. Of course, you know that, you called me here. I mean it’s pretty busy today. I don’t have much time to talk.” She paused, wondering if this was too rude. “How are you?”

  “Just fine, darlin’ There’s a concert tonight. Like to go? It’s that Country Western thing where different bands sit in. Do you remember we talked about it and we always said we meant to go, so why not tonight?”

  “Well, I don’t know. Not much time to think about it right now. Let me call you back. Maybe you could ask somebody else if you’re really anxious to go?”

  “No, honey, I need to know now. I’ve got to see if they have seats left and reserve a couple. C’mon, live large.”

  “Well, all right, Rob, count me in. What time?”

  “Let me pick you up at six and we’ll go from there, have a bite to eat first.”

  “That’s fine. Now I’ve really got to run.”

  “Bye, babe. See you later.”

  Cassie hung up and served the next customer who wanted to renew their library membership card. She thought it was funny Rob called her a babe. She was anything but.

  Another aide, Mary Ellen, came over. “Talking to that cute Rob again, huh?”

  Cassie nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Well, you don’t seem too excited about it. I’d kill to get a date with him.”

  Cassie looked at her. “Well, Rob is nice, that’s true. He’s a great guy. I just….well.” How could she explain that it was hard for her to imagine someone being really interested in her? “Sometimes I think he just feels sorry for me. That’s why he asks me out. I don’t think of it as a date.”

  Mary Ellen rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t care why he asked me out. I would seize the day, Cass. Seize whatever I could.” She laughed. “That dark curly hair, those brown eyes like chocolate syrup, those muscular arms, that cute behind. Oh, my!”