Lead-Pipe Cinch

by Christy Evans

  I cranked up the stereo and let twenty-year-old rock music fill the car. It made conversation nearly impossible. Sue didn’t object. We both were avoiding the discussion we knew was coming: my confessions about Blake and Samurai Security, and Sue’s relationship with Fred Mitchell.

  We needed to talk. We both knew it. Ever since I’d returned to Pine Ridge I had maintained a distance, even with the people I was closest to like Sue and Wade. I was starting to relax a little, but the Blake situation was pushing things along.

  I’d grown used to keeping secrets. Attending one of the most competitive schools in the country had required me to be self-sufficient, but it was nothing compared to working in an industry that ran on trade secrets and innovation. Secrecy and security were the standard, and nondisclosure agreements accompanied every move.

  Paranoia was a survival tactic that pervaded the industry, and as a security firm it was the foundation of our business. After a while keeping secrets just came naturally.

  Sue pulled into the nearly empty parking lot and braked to a stop in a Saint Doris parking place. It was a designation we had learned as kids watching Doris Day movies on TV with Sue’s mom. Doris never had to look for a parking place. There was always an empty spot right in front just waiting for her. Sue’s mom had started invoking the name of Saint Doris when she drove us anywhere, and we had carried on the tradition.

  The restaurant was as empty as the parking lot. The food was great, but lunch was several hours past and the dinner crowd was at least an hour away.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. We could talk in private.

  We settled into a booth with menus, a basket of chips, and a bowl of salsa. The waiter appeared a moment later with water and an offer of drinks.

  Sue gave me a quick look and ordered a margarita and a diet soda, then sent the waiter away. I furrowed my brow. She never had so much as a sip of wine if she was driving.

  “The margarita’s for you, girl. You look like you could use it. I’m having soda.”

  I was tempted to argue with her, but I’d tried that already today and it didn’t work very well. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She laughed. “I never have to twist very hard when there’s tequila involved,” she said.

  It was an old joke. I seldom drank anything stronger than microbrew, but when I did it usually did involve tequila. Sue knew my weaknesses.

  “Thanks. I think maybe I could use one.”

  Our drinks arrived, Sue’s in an ice-filled tumbler and mine in a saucer-shaped glass with a rim of rock salt. I think I liked the salt as much as the drink.

  The waiter took our order and disappeared, leaving us facing the conversation we’d been dancing around for the last several days.

  “Sooo,” Sue said, drawing the word out. “Just what did Fred Mitchell want with you? I mean, you hadn’t seen this guy in several years, right? Then he has a stupid accident in your hometown. Not much to tell.”

  “That’s what I thought, but there is more.” I sighed and sipped the margarita, tasting the sharp bite of lime and the tang of salt, feeling the warmth of tequila hitting my empty stomach and spreading through me.

  I relaxed a little and set the drink aside. No more tequila on an empty stomach.

  “Sue, I have never talked to anyone about everything that happened down there and I hoped I’d never have to. It was an unhappy time, and I just wanted it to go away. I really hoped it would stay in the past.”

  She nodded. “Understood.”

  “Now it looks like I have to tell somebody and try to figure out how much I have to tell everybody else. But I have to have your word that you won’t repeat this to anyone, including Fred Mitchell.” It was my turn to give her a hard look. “Especially Fred Mitchell.”

  “What is this fixation with me and Fred Mitchell?” She tried to sound like injured innocence, but I didn’t believe her.

  I ticked off the clues on my fingers. “First, you blush every time his name is mentioned. Second, he just happens to drop by and talk to you at home. Third, you’re calling him by his name instead of sheriff. And fourth, you act guilty every time I ask about him.” I waved a hand. “Do I need to go on?”

  She shook her head. “No. We’ve gone out a couple times is all. He did stop to ask me about you, what I knew about San Francisco. That was when I realized how little I did know.”

  She drew a deep breath and went on. “And when have I ever snitched on you for anything? Did I tell anybody about you kissing Eddie Monroe in fifth grade? And that kegger our senior year, even after I got caught? Not a word. So why would I do it now?”

  “Because you have a thing for the sheriff,” I shot back.

  I held up my hands in surrender before we could escalate into another argument. “But I get your point. You don’t snitch.”

  “Try to remember that.”

  “Ouch. You’re right. But I know what kind of dumb moves you can make when there’s a guy involved.” I swallowed hard. This was it.

  “Let me tell you how I know.”

  Our food arrived. Sue took a bite of her enchilada and waited patiently for me to go on. I picked up my taco but I didn’t eat. Instead I tried to figure out where to start.

  “It’s hard to admit a failure, Sue—even harder when you’re the person who always succeeded, the kid that got straight As and went to the best university.

  “San Francisco was a spectacular failure.”

  I took a bite of taco and stared at my plate as I chewed. The worst was over. I’d said the f-word. Now all I had to do was explain how stupid I’d been because of a guy.

  Piece of cake.

  The taco seemed to stick in my throat and I swallowed hard to force it down. “When I graduated the computer industry was booming. There were jobs everywhere and my degrees put me in high demand.” I took a sip of margarita, letting the frigid liquid soothe my tightening throat.

  “That’s not bragging—it’s a fact. I had offers from all over the country. But I wanted to be in the middle of it, and I decided to take a job in the Bay Area.

  “It didn’t take me long to realize I wanted to be the boss. So I started my own company. It was just me at first, and I named it Samurai Security.” I saw Sue’s mouth twitch with the hint of a smile.

  “I know.” I grinned just a little. “But I loved the martial arts I’d been studying since college and somehow the idea of an ancient samurai warrior protecting a client’s computer appealed to me.”

  “It fits you,” Sue said.

  “Yeah. Well, I had some early success and my clients started recommending me to their friends and pretty soon I had more work than I could handle. I went looking for a partner to help share the workload. Word got out I was looking, and people started coming to me, recommended by friends, and friends of friends.

  “That’s when I found Blake.” I shrugged. “Or when Blake found me.”

  Sue’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh. Even after all that happened I have to admit he was impressive. Ivy League degrees, good dresser, charming, and—I have to say—gorgeous. Not my usual type, but I’m not sure I actually had a type at the time.”

  Sue gave me a questioning look, which seemed to shout “What about Wade?”, but I waved it away. “Which is beside the point right now. Anyway, he was gorgeous in a suave, man-about-town way. Not a rugged alpha-male-I’m-the-sheriff way.”

  I grinned at Sue, and she blushed. There was definitely something going on there. There wasn’t time right now, but I would eventually get the truth out of her.

  “Long and short of it, Blake had all the qualities to be an excellent salesman and company rep. Plus he was scary smart and he knew his way around a security design.

  “In a word, perfect.”

  I ate a couple bites of my now-cool food before I went on.

  “We worked together—long hours, no breaks, take-out lunches and dinners, and way too much coffee. It was an intense atmosphere. We spent most of the time together, and there wasn’t a
week that we worked less than a hundred hours.”

  Sue’s expression was stunned. “Hundred-hour weeks? That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it fun, but it was exciting. We were creating a company out of nothing but our brains and energy, we were being successful, and it was moving fast.”

  I took another sip of my margarita. It was partially melted, the lime not as tart, the tequila less intense.

  “Too fast, it turned out. We grew as much as we could with just the two of us. I had every penny tied up in the company, and that was when my dad died.”

  “I remember you coming home for the funeral. You looked terrible. At the time I figured it was losing your dad, but it sounds like there was more to it.”

  “Gee thanks,” I said sarcastically. Then I smiled. “You’re right, I was exhausted and I was afraid to be away. Every day I was gone cost Samurai money. Blake was working too many hours already. He couldn’t cover his work and mine, too.

  “And then it turned out Mom needed money.”

  Sue nodded. “That was one thing I never understood. I mean, we all hear how rich doctors are.”

  “If they’re getting paid, maybe. But if they’re treating patients for free . . .”

  “For free?”

  “He wasn’t billing the loggers who were laid off, or their families. It’s a long story.

  “Anyway”—I went back to my confession—“she needed money, and I had every penny tied up in Samurai. Blake and I talked it over and decided we needed investors to be able to expand—and maybe I could get some cash out of the deal to help my mom.”

  Sue pushed her empty plate away. “It sounds like there is a but at the end of that sentence.”

  I sighed. “There is. We found some venture capital that came with several strings. We ended up with a board of directors who wanted to run things, and we let them. Even so, by the time I actually had some cash in hand, Mom had started working for Gregory and was determined not to take charity from her daughter.”

  “That explains a whole lot about your mom,” Sue said.

  I nodded. “It certainly does. It makes her crazy that I volunteer at Homes for Hope. But that’s another story.

  “Things in San Francisco were good for a while. We had people to take care of the business stuff, and I could concentrate on the actual computer and security issues. I did some work that I’m still proud of.

  “At the direction of the board, we went through the process of selling stock, and Blake and I got some very lucrative stock options.” I grinned. “That’s where the convertible came from. Cashed some of my first stock options and bought it. We were on top of the world for a while. Even had time for a social life, sort of. That was when Blake and I got to be a serious couple.”

  The waiter appeared, whisking away the empty plates, and bringing Sue a refilled soda. I waved away his offer of a second drink, and slid my half-eaten lunch his direction.

  “I don’t know when it all went bad, exactly. We were too busy playing hard and working even harder to notice.

  “The board wanted to move away from our core business, add a retail security division, and a hardware development group. They insisted we could expand without losing our market. I disagreed with them and Blake disagreed with me. I thought we should focus on what we were good at, and we were already grossing several million dollars a year, but Blake kept saying we had to grow or die. We argued about it a lot.”

  “Is that what broke you up?”

  “I really don’t know,” I admitted. “I just know he called me late one night and left a nasty message on my voice mail. I tried to call him to find out what was wrong, but he wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “A breakup over voice mail? Yow. That’s cold.”

  “It gets worse. Stan Fischer called me early the next morning. He was a real hands-on member of the board, and he said he had to see me before the board meeting. He offered me the opportunity to resign before the board fired me.”

  “But it was your company! That’s not right.”

  “Remember what I said about those stock sales? The board was in control. Not me. Blake had always been better at the office politics than I was, and I figured he’d known which way to jump.

  “I can take a hint. Eventually. Stan was giving me the chance to salvage a little dignity out of the situation, so I signed the resignation letter and went home to pack. I let them steal the company out from under me.”

  Sue had picked up the check. When I reached for it to figure my share she held it out of my reach. “After that,” she said, “I’ll get the check. Besides, I’m the one who ordered the margarita. You can get the tip.”

  I looked at the margarita glass, still half full of melted ice that turned the drink a pale anemic green. I left the glass on the table and walked out.

  chapter 15

  All the way home Sue kept glancing over at me. I knew she had more questions, but I was drained. I had poured out the long, sad story of Colossal Failure Georgiana Neverall and I had nothing more to say.

  Sue parked her SUV in my driveway and shut off the engine. “Is there anything I can do, Georgie? I can only imagine how awful this is for you.” She turned to face me in the dark car. “Besides, I don’t think you failed. Look at it this way. You built a successful company, hired good people, and attracted investors.

  “I mean, the company had to be worth stealing, didn’t it?”

  I had no answer for her. I had never looked at the events in that light. It didn’t make the loss of Samurai any less painful, but it did ease the cloud that hung over all my memories of San Francisco. Just as long as I didn’t think about Blake.

  That was the ultimate betrayal, and it still hurt.

  I leaned across and gave Sue an awkward hug. “I don’t know why that should make me feel better, but it does. I just never thought of it that way.”

  “Well start,” she said.

  I climbed out of the car and headed inside. I heard Sue back out and pull away as I locked the front door behind me.

  I was exhausted.

  I let the dogs out, and dumped a load of coveralls and heavy socks into the washer. No matter how stressed out I was, I still needed clothes for work.

  By the time the clothes were ready for the dryer I was ready for bed. I ignored the rest of the housework, thankful I lived alone. No one would check if there were dust bunnies under the bed when I fell into it.

  I knew there were more ghosts lurking, and more revelations would be necessary. But for tonight I was just too tired to worry about any of them.

  When I woke up the next morning I felt great. For about fourteen seconds. Then I remembered that Blake was dead, Stan Fischer was coming to Pine Ridge, the sheriff was asking prying questions, and I’d told Sue the ugly truth about my years in San Francisco.

  It was not quite daylight but I couldn’t get back to sleep—the downside of falling asleep at nine o’clock. There was nothing to be done for it but crawl out of bed and stagger to the bathroom.

  Maybe things would look better after a hot shower.

  At least they looked brighter, if only because the sun was coming up.

  The message light was blinking on the answering machine. It was always blinking lately. I didn’t want to talk to anybody, and I let the messages stack up until they threatened to fill the memory.

  I started a pot of coffee and pushed the message button. My mother had called multiple times, each a little more perturbed than the last. She was genuinely concerned, although there was a part of me that always wondered if it was me she was concerned about, or how I reflected on her.

  Wade had called, just to check in. He apparently didn’t know about my second visit to the sheriff’s office. I added him to the list of people I had to tell before they heard it somewhere else.

  Barry had called about the time I’d gone to bed. He’d had a call from Sheriff Mitchell, and the McComb site was still off-limits. He said to call him in the morning and h
e’d let me know if there was work. He didn’t sound optimistic.

  Paula had called, too. And Richard Parks again, just to make sure I wouldn’t rat him out to Stan. By then I was listening to just a few seconds before deleting each message.

  I almost missed the one I’d been dreading.

  “Hey there, Georgie Girl,” a familiar voice boomed from the speaker. I hated that name—something about a pop song from before I was born—but Stan always used it. When I protested, he told me it was all about a girl who needed to lighten up. “Written just for you,” he’d say.

  I figured Stan to be about sixty, but it was hard to tell. He had been a kind of father figure at Samurai—if my father had lacked education and social skills—and he knew how to make money. I was still grateful to him for allowing me the chance to resign instead of getting fired and I suspected he’d done it without the board’s knowledge.

  I still didn’t want anyone from Samurai in Pine Ridge, but after my talk with Sue I felt better about the fact that someone was going to pick up where Blake left off.

  The booming voice surprisingly brought back good memories and I decided it was probably better that it was Stan. I knew Stan, I could talk to him. I let myself feel a tiny ray of hope.

  I made note of Stan’s cell phone number and the name of his hotel in Portland. There wasn’t anywhere in Pine Ridge that was appropriate for someone like Stan to stay.

  I waited for the sun to climb above the horizon before I called Barry, and considered what to do with the day, if I didn’t have to work.

  The plumbing was finished at the Homes for Hope house, though I could help on other parts of the project. I looked around the kitchen. There was a backlog of housework that would keep me busy.

  First, though, I had to find out whether Barry needed me.

  Barry answered on the second ring. “I don’t know when we’ll get back out to McComb,” he told me. “The sheriff isn’t telling me anything about how long he needs to have the site closed.”

  I heard a heavy sigh on Barry’s end. “I have a couple other little jobs, but they’re already fully staffed. I don’t really have anything for you. You might as well take a three-day weekend.”