“Mad as a mean bull at rodeo time.” Lila put down the coffeepot. “And pissed off at him for taking it. See, he’d inherited a bunch from his dad and his grandpa. But with his habit, he was goin’ through money like it was water and he was a broke faucet. There was more in stocks and bonds and stuff like that, but his dad had fixed it so he couldn’t get it for a while. The old girls had plenty, so he figgered he could get them to loan him some. Or he could sell the house.”
“Sell the house?” I asked sharply.
“Well, that’s what he said, anyway. I never got the straight of it, but somehow or other, seems like it was his. He was thinkin’ it would bring in enough to keep him goin’ for a while, until . . .” Her voice died away, and she shook her head sadly. “Until he was dead, I reckon. He was skin and bones then. Big tall guy and skinny as a fence post. And crazy. You know how people get when drugs is all they think about. Little bit crazy.” She sighed. “A lot crazy, maybe. He was always lookin’ to score—not so easy in Pecan Springs, leastwise, back in those days.”
“So what happened to him, Lila?”
“Dunno.” She shrugged. “One day he was there, and the next, he was just . . . gone, that’s all. Florence told me they got a letter from California, but I never heard from him.” There was a silence, as Lila scrubbed an imaginary stain on the counter. “People do that, you know. They just up and disappear, and you never hear from them.”
The words were matter-of-fact, but there was sadness in them. I wondered how many other people had disappeared from Lila’s life. I thought of Andy, too, craving the release that drugs gave him, desperate to ease old pains.
“And when was that?” I asked gently. “When did he disappear?”
She pushed her cherry-red lips out, pulled them back in. “Oh, about this time of year, I guess. October. But I couldn’t tell you when.” She sighed. “It all blurs together, doncha know? That’s been a lotta years ago.”
“1976, maybe?”
“Coulda been.” She considered. “Yeah, I’d say that’s about right, maybe. How’d you know?”
I gave a vague wave of my hand. “As I said, I was talking to Florence. She must’ve mentioned it.” I pushed the plate back. “That’s good pie, Lila. You ought to give it a name, though—something that tips people off to what’s coming.”
She wiped the counter. “How about Hot Apple Pie?”
“I don’t think that would quite do it,” I said. I reached for my purse. “How much do I owe you?”
“You gonna write up Docia’s pie in your column?” Lila understands tit for tat, too.
I grinned. “Well, I might.” Maybe what I ought to do was write up Maria Zapata’s all-purpose jelly, if I could get her to give me the recipe.
“You put it in your column, pie and coffee’re on the house. Lunch, too.” She paused. “Say, speakin’ of Florence, what’dya know about Jane shootin’ Hank? I heard you showed up with the chief right after it happened.”
I told her what I had seen, adding the caution that it was for her ears only. That was pure foolishness on my part, of course, since that story, with embellishments, would walk out with the next customer. But most of it had already been in the newspaper. And it made her feel good to think there was something secret about it.
“Well, my goodness gracious,” she said when I had finished. “Andy allus usta say that Jane had a mean streak in her. She hadda figger that Hank was liquored up, or he wouldn’t a come bustin’ in that way. All she had to do was pick up the phone and call nine-one-one.” She pursed her lips. “Somebody said it was legal, too. Shootin’ him like that, I mean.”
“The law says you can use deadly force to protect yourself,” I said, feeling called upon to defend Jane. “He had a butcher knife.”
“Mebbe.” Lila looked doubtful. “But you know Hank. He never woulda used it. Leastwise, not on them. Why, his dad worked for them for years. Gabe was their driver, their yardman, ran their errands, did ever’thing he could for them. He was good to Andy, too. Tried to help him out best he could.” She shook her head, perplexed. “I just dunno why Jane thought she hadda go and shoot Hank, when all she had to do was go up to him and grab that butcher knife outta his hand.”
I went back to something she had said a moment before. “You mentioned a mean streak. What was that about?”
“Oh, I dunno. Just that Jane wasn’t what you might call a nice person. Allus givin’ her sister a hard time. Florence didn’t dare look cross at her for fear of makin’ her mad. Jane got her meanness from that old dad of hers. All he cared about was the family name. He was real ugly to their mother, Andy said. That bidness about Cynthia jumpin’ off the roof—truth is, Andy said, she never jumped, she was pushed. He said Jane did it, but he never would say how he knew, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. Guess it was family talk. Maybe something Florence made up.” She grinned, showing crooked teeth. “Lotsa skeletons rattlin’ around in them Obermann closets, is my guess.”
I glanced at the clock and stood. This had taken longer than I expected. “Listen, if I’m going to mention the pie in my column, it’s got to have a name. How about ‘Docia’s Devil-Made-Me-Do-It Apple Pie’?”
In the kitchen, there was a raucous laugh and a loud banging of pots. Docia was back, and from the sound of it, she approved of the name.
Lila nodded. “Okay by me.” She paused, wiping her hands on a towel. “Hey. You wanna stay for lunch? We got meatloaf and fried okra.”
I shook my head. “I promised I’d go over to Ruby’s.”
“Ruby won’t feed you fried okra,” Lila said.
“I know,” I said.
Chapter Sixteen
A number of plants are good for your bones. Dark green leafy plants, such as broccoli, kale, bok choy, collards, and turnip greens are high in absorbable calcium. Beans—soy, white, navy, great Northern, black—are also good sources of calcium. Tofu, a cheeselike product made from soybeans, is a valuable source of both calcium and plant protein.
China Bayles, “Bone Food”
Home & Garden Page, Enterprise
When you first come into Ruby’s kitchen, it takes a little while to adjust. Ruby loves bright colors—oranges, yellows, and reds—and she especially likes them in the kitchen, she says, to liven up the monotony of kitchen work. The wallpaper is red-and-white stripes, and there’s a watermelon border above the yellow-painted beadboard wainscot. A green lamp hangs over a red table and four green-and-red chairs, and there’s a green-and-red watermelon rug under the table. Vintage tea towels hang at the window, and the sills are filled with red and green bottles that glow like rubies and emeralds in the sun.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said penitently, as Ruby answered my rap at the kitchen screen door. “I took a couple of detours.”
“Not a problem,” Ruby said. Barefoot and without makeup, in jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, she looked as young and vulnerable as a teenager. A teenager having troubles with her love life. “Sit down. Lunch is just about ready.”
Oh, gosh. I sat down at the kitchen table as Ruby went to the stove. She had set the table with watermelon place mats and her favorite green pottery luncheonware. “I have to confess, Ruby. I’ve just had a plate of Bob Godwin’s grilled goat, a piece of Docia’s hotsy-dandy apple pie, and a cup of Lila’s coffee. It took the edge off.”
Ruby turned and gave me a puzzled frown. “But you knew you were coming here for lunch. Why did you—”
“Because I got snookered into it,” I said. “I’m ashamed of myself, and I apologize. It was base and contemptible of me. I am a despicable person. Have you gone to a lot of trouble?”
“I made a salad. And I’ve come up with a new soup recipe for my mother, and I wanted to try it out on you. It’s called ‘Bone Soup.’”
“Bone soup?” I asked, keeping my tone carefully neutral. “Beef bones? Chicken bones?” Surely not goat bones. And it had better not have Maria’s jelly in it.
Ruby laughed. “It doesn’t have any b
ones at all, silly. It’s supposed to be good for your bones, which is why I’m giving the recipe to Mom. If we have any extra, I’ll give you some to take home.” She paused thoughtfully. “Maybe I ought to call it ‘Better Bones Soup,’ just to be clear. It’s made with kale, bok choy, and tofu—and it proves that you don’t have to eat dairy to get lots of good calcium in your diet.” She picked up the ladle. “You can skip the salad if you want, but how about a cupful of soup?”
Ah, veggie soup. “I can manage that,” I said. “I knew I shouldn’t be eating all that stuff this morning. But I was on the trail of something, and I guess I got carried away.” I suppressed a burp that tasted like Bob’s goat.
“On the trail of something?” Ruby ladled soup into a cup.
“Remember the bones Brian found in the cave? I’m wondering if they might belong to Andrew Obermann.”
Holding the cup, Ruby turned to stare at me. “Andy Obermann? You’re kidding, China!”
I shook my head. “It’s only a guess, but it’s possible.” Possible, heck. I was already convinced. I tried to make the story as concise as I could, starting with Alana Montoya’s description of the bones and dental work (I deliberately didn’t mention Alana’s trip to the hospital, feeling that this was Alana’s private affair). Then I reported Max Baumeister’s revelation that six foot something Andy had a gold front tooth; the photo I had found in an October 1976 issue of the Enterprise; Bob Godwin’s remark about Lila and Andy; and finally, Lila’s tale about Andy’s abortive attempts to borrow money from his aunts and his idea for selling the house.
“And that was the last Lila saw of him,” I concluded. “She said that he just . . . disappeared.”
While I was talking, Ruby had put the salad and soup on the table. She sat down across from me and helped herself to salad. To be polite, I took a little.
“You know what it sounds like to me?” Ruby said. “Like a drug deal gone sour. Maybe Andy went out to that cave to meet somebody and buy drugs. Something happened and he got shot, instead.”
“That’s as good a guess as any,” I said. The salad was ordinary, but Ruby’s soup was tasty enough to make me forget that I’d already had both the meat course and dessert.
“Well, can you come up with anything else?” Ruby asked.
“No,” I admitted. “I guess I’ll go out to Blackie’s office this afternoon and tell him what I’ve found out. Max Baumeister will be more likely to hunt for those X rays if the sheriff asks him to do it.”
“Probably,” Ruby said. She frowned. “So long ago. There’s probably no way to find the killer.”
“Likely not,” I agreed. “But Alana mentioned an exit fracture in the skull. If Blackie searches the cave where the skeleton was found, he might locate the slug. And the cartridge case.”
“But that wouldn’t do any good unless the gun turns up,” Ruby said in a practical tone. “And after so many years . . .”
She was right. Identifying the skeleton might bring a measure of peace to Miss Florence, although I doubted that it would matter much to Jane, one way or another. From what Lila had said, it sounded as if Jane wouldn’t have been too upset if her nephew got himself wasted in a drug deal, as long as he didn’t dishonor the Obermann name. And even if Blackie was lucky enough to find the bullet that had killed Brian’s caveman, it wasn’t likely that this very cold case would ever be solved.
Ruby was frowning. “You know,” she said, “I have the oddest feeling about Florence and Jane. I stopped at the nurses’ station yesterday on my way out of the hospital, and Helen Berger checked Florence’s chart for me. There wasn’t a word about visitors. Why do you suppose—”
There was a tap at the door, a light “Yoo-hoo!” and Amy Roth came in.
“China!” she said brightly. “How nice to see you. Hi, Mom. Don’t get up.” She went to stand behind Ruby, put her arms around her mother’s neck, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
With her cider-colored curls, her freckles, and that delicate diamond-shaped face, Amy looks like Ruby must have looked twenty years ago—although she’s pierced in a few places that Ruby isn’t. She is Ruby’s eldest, now twenty-six, but with a childlike fragility that makes her seem much younger. She came back into her mom’s life a couple of years ago, and into my life, too, with a bang, waltzing into the shop one day and announcing that she had found her long-lost mother: me. It took some effort to convince her that I wasn’t the one she was looking for, who turned out to be Ruby. Ruby had given birth to her out of wedlock and was forced by her mother to give the baby up for adoption.
Recently, Amy jolted us with another couple of big-bang declarations. She announced that she was pregnant, and then it turned out that the father was dead—one of the victims of a double murder that unsettled Pecan Springs earlier in the year. We were still dealing with that when Amy declared that she was going to live with her friend and lover, Kate Rodriguez.
If you’re thinking that Amy sounds wild, I don’t blame you. She’s impulsive and sometimes her judgment is questionable—both of which are fairly normal for young women her age. But her relationship with Kate seems to have settled her down, and the two of them obviously care deeply for one another. Kate owns her own accounting business, and Amy has a good job at the Hill Country Animal Clinic, with insurance to cover the baby’s birth. She and Kate recently bought a house together, and it looks like they’re planning for the long term. The baby, by the way, is a girl, and Ruby is thrilled, in spite of herself. (Ruby’s mother and grandmother, of course, are another generation, and another story. They are definitely not thrilled by any of this.)
“Help yourself to soup and salad, Amy,” Ruby said, with a wave at the pot on the stove. “There’s plenty.” To me, she said, “I’m taking Amy for her checkup this afternoon.” Amy is seven months along; the baby is due around Christmas.
“How’re you feeling?” I asked, as Amy put her soup bowl on the table.
“Great,” Amy said. She patted her belly. “And so is Charity. She’s getting feisty, too.”
“I forgot to tell you,” Ruby said, beaming. “Kate and Amy have decided to name the baby Charity. Isn’t that a beautiful name?”
“It is,” I said, with real feeling. “With a name like that, she’s bound to have a good life.” Well, maybe. I once defended a woman named Faith, who was charged with arson. Nice names don’t always make for nice people, but I was willing to give baby Charity the benefit of the doubt.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Amy said, “but I’d better go pee before I sit down to eat.” She shook her head, bemused. “Seems like I’m always running to the bathroom.”
“Goes with the territory.” Ruby sounded like an expert, which she is, having had two babies. I kept silent, having had none, by design. I’m always thrilled to hear that someone who wants to be pregnant has gotten her wish, but as for me—well, let’s just say that I’m glad that my biological clock is winding down. Pretty soon, I won’t have to worry about accidents.
When Amy had gone, I sat back in my chair, feeling delinquent. “I haven’t asked what’s going on with you, Ruby. Your eye looks a lot better.” Actually, I thought she looked pale and tired, but maybe it was just because she wasn’t wearing her usual Cleopatra the Colorful makeup. “Everything else okay?”
She shrugged. “Ups and downs.” A smile ghosted across her mouth. “I was pretty low yesterday, but Colin called this morning and suggested we drive to San Antonio on Sunday and take a walk along the river.”
It occurred to me that it would be healthier if Ruby’s ups and downs were her own, rather than being triggered by somebody else. But the thought of Colin reminded me of Sheila, and that made me think of the scene McQuaid had walked in on Saturday, in Colin’s shop, and what McQuaid had said afterward. I’d already made up my mind not to mention Sheila, but that didn’t keep me from saying, “McQuaid thinks he might know Colin. Has he mentioned where he’s from?”
“No, not really,” Ruby said. She leaned on her elbows, her chin in
her hand. “He doesn’t like to talk about the past. He says he’s starting over.”
I fiddled with my soup spoon. “Do you know what he did for a living before he started Good Earth Goods?”
Ruby gave me a narrow look. “Colin has a new life, China. He says he wants to leave the old one behind. So I haven’t questioned him.” Her voice became firm. “Whatever he’s done, I don’t want to know. I don’t even want to guess.”
In my experience, when somebody wants to start a new life, it’s because there’s something in the old one that they’d like to forget. And I couldn’t believe that Ruby didn’t want to know what it was. Everybody’s got unfinished business, and by the time you get to be thirty-five or forty, there’s a trainload of it. How could she be in love with someone who doesn’t have a past? How could she hope to understand someone who only has a present?
But I kept all this to myself, feeling that my misgivings wouldn’t do Ruby any good. Instead, I said, “Well, I’m glad it’s working out for you.”
“I didn’t say that,” Ruby said. She looked away. “To tell the truth, China, I’m having a lot of trouble dealing with this. I want Colin—not just physically, I mean, although there’s certainly that. I love him, and I want him to love me. I’m ready to make a commitment.”
“But he’s holding back?” The image of Sheila came into my mind.
She nodded miserably. “It was a lot worse this weekend. He seemed remote, withdrawn. Like I wasn’t there.” She turned back to me, her eyes dark. “Maybe . . . oh, I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a case of commitment-phobia. Maybe he’ll never be ready for a real relationship. But he’s sweet and gentle and caring, and he seems to like being with me. We’re good together—in bed, I mean.” Restlessly, she got up and began moving around the kitchen. “In fact, that part is great. But the rest of it is making me crazy, China! I try not to show that I’m hurt, or that I feel needy.” Her mouth twisted. “But I do. And I am!”
I felt helpless. How could I comfort her? Short of being a smart-mouth, there’s nothing much you can say to your best friend when she is stuck in a relationship that looks to you like an extreme dead end.
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