started a Julie Collins fan club. They’d rather be protecting you than me, because apparently, you’re more trouble.”
“What?”
He faced me. “I know you can take care of yourself. That’s why I’m pissed off. You take chances you shouldn’t.”
“You trying to protect me from myself?”
“Always.” He threaded his fingers through my hair and brought my mouth closer to his.
My breath quickened in anticipation of a kiss he denied me.
“Paybacks are a bitch, blondie.”
“Yeah? Bring it.”
“Let’s see if that ‘fuck you’ attitude holds after we have dinner with your dad.” He teased his lips across mine. “Don’t forget to clean your gun tonight.”
Before I responded, he slid out of the booth, handed Misty a twenty, and stormed out into the storm. Head to the office and fight with Kevin? Go to the ranch and fight with Dad? Choices, choices. I finished my smoke and was about to leave when Don Anderson and Dale Pendergrast stomped in. They looked around, spied me, and—yippee! new 262
companions joined me for the third time.
“Julie, girl, how you holdin’ up?” Don asked as he sat across from me.
“All right, I guess.”
“Shore was a shock that Doug ended up in a heapin’ pile of trouble yesterday.”
Misty brought more coffee.
Don said, “I still can’t believe he took a swing at BD.”
Dale snorted. “BD had it comin’. Actin’ all holierthan-thou, deacon of the church shit, after he’d been caught knockin’ boots with the church secretary.”
“What?”
“Big scandal, surprised you din’t hear about it,”
Don said.
Recently I’d spent way more time in bars than behind stained-glass ones. “I’m a quart low on county gossip. What’s going on?”
“You know your daddy and BD go to the same
church? A month or so back, Doug stumbled on BD
and Beth McClanahan doin’ it in the vestibule.”
“No.”
“Yep.” Don leaned forward. “Doug demanded BD get tossed offa the church council. BD pulled the whole Jimmy Swaggart ‘I’ve sinned’ line of bull; told everyone if God can forgive his trespasses everyone else oughta, too. And they did.”
Stupid self-righteous religious bastards oughta swing from the rafters themselves.
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“Which means, BD dropped extra cash in the collection plate and got off scot-free,” Dale said slyly.
“What happened to the secretary?”
“Fired.”
“How’s that fair?” I demanded.
“It ain’t, but it was Doug’s idea she get canned. Take it up with him.”
“So you think the fight between Dad and BD at Bevel’s had something to do with that?”
“Prolly. ’Course, it don’t help matters none that your stepmom and BD had some words a month back
’fore your daddy caught BD with his pants down.”
These guys were gossipy as old hens. I considered how I could use it to my advantage. I sighed dramatically. “That doesn’t clear up anything.”
Don’s ears perked up. “Anything we can do to help?”
Act reluctant.
I glanced around. “Promise this won’t go any further than us?”
They both nodded vigorously.
“Didn’t you guys tell me the day of Brittney’s accident that few people would be upset because Melvin was dead? You have any idea who?”
Don and Dale exchanged a look.
“My dad’s stubborn and figures if he’s done nothing wrong he doesn’t have nothing to worry about. We know the legal system doesn’t work that way.” Felt shitty to lie, but I did anyway. “Especially not in this county.”
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“She’s got a point, Dale,” Don said.
Dale refused to meet my eyes and clammed up. I soldiered on, hoping to shake loose the pearls of wisdom from his tongue. “Anyone could’ve put that body on the Collins Ranch. What I’d like to know is who had a reason to.”
“And if your daddy is guilty? What then?”
“Then I’ll do the right thing.”
“Even if the right thing’s already been done, but it ain’t the legal thing?” Dale asked cagily.
Did I look as confused as I felt?
Misty refilled coffee cups and coerced them each into ordering a piece of rhubarb crumble à la mode. I gathered my stuff and handed them each a business card. “You think of anything, call me. Or stop by if I’m home. I’m not like my dad, guys. I don’t know if you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it is a true thing.”
I paid for their snack and tipped Misty big, hoping it would pay off in the long run.
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I skipped a trip to the ranch and drove to the office.
No Kevin—just a note:
Jules—tried your cell earlier, no answer. I’m going to Pierre. Be back in a couple days. Need anything, call me on my cell—K
Pierre? What the fuck? I tossed his file folders for new contracts or deposit slips but found nothing. As long as I was in Kevin’s office, I used his computer. I opened the Bear Butte County Gazette online and scoured the obituaries for preliminary information on Melvin Canter. Survivors included his mother, Mary, and brother, Marvin. Huh. Pretty scant info. But I knew where to look for more.
Shoes off, coffee in hand, I typed the pertinent info and waited for the machine to do the work. 266
I don’t know what I expected to turn up. Few people had endless enemies sworn to vengeance. Most fatal acts were impulsive, which didn’t bode well for my father.
The program was taking forever to load. Damn cold weather affected everything. I stood to refill my coffee and the scent of Shalimar preceded Kim through the reception area.
“Hey, hot mama, long time, no see. You look good.”
No lie. Without makeup her creamy skin had an extra glow, and her auburn hair held a mirrorlike sheen, even clamped in a messy bun. Kim defined Earth Mother and dressed the part in hunter green corduroy pants and a tan woolen sweater, which covered her baby bump. Kim grumbled, “Why is it that even the smell of coffee makes me have to pee? I’ll be right back.”
“I’m working in Kevin’s office.”
Kim sagged into the chair. I might kid her, but she wasn’t to the waddling stage. Yet.
“How you feeling?”
“Tired. I hate being tired all the time. The Lamaze coaches tell me it’s in preparation for after the baby arrives. Guess I won’t get much sleep then, either.”
“Bummer.” Since I couldn’t smoke around Kim my need increased exponentially. “How’s business?”
“Slow. I’m beginning to think hair doesn’t grow in South Dakota in February. Nails, either. The only person making any money is the masseuse and that’s mostly because I’m her biggest customer. Damn back 267
pain. I’ll probably have hours of back labor.”
“How’s the heartburn?”
“Like an inferno. If I never eat another Tums it’ll be too soon. But enough about me. What’s new with you, sugar?”
Sugar. Reminded me of Martinez and I gritted my teeth. “The usual. Finding dead bodies, trying to shoot my problems, problems meaning situations with my dad, Kevin, Martinez, Brittney, and … am I forgetting something?” I paused. “Nope. That must be it.”
Kim rolled her good eye; the glass one stayed in place. “You could’ve just said nothing, Jules.”
How I wished to merrily smile and say nothing. Instead, I zoomed off on a tangent about what’d gone down on the ranch with Doug, and then Trish demanding my help.
“You aren’t considering helping him, are you?”
I shrugged. Didn’t count if Trish asked for my help, right?
“He deserves jail time.”
“Given the chance, would you put your dad in jail, Kim?”
“In a New York minute.”
“This isn’t the same. He shouldn’t go to jail now for what he did to me then. I’m not so sure he’s guilty.
“They’re always guilty.”
A strange silence descended.
“So you came here to fight with me?” I asked with 268
saccharine sweetness.
“No. Murray said when you dropped by my place you mentioned you were due for a haircut.”
“A lie I made under duress. I’m surprised he even remembered.” I sipped coffee. “Maybe you should’ve bought him a robe for Valentine’s Day instead of golf clubs.”
She flapped her left hand. In dim light the gigantic diamond on her ring finger flashed like a beacon.
“He’s confident in his masculinity.” She granted me a catlike grin. “As he should be.”
“You set the big date yet?”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here. We’re flying to Vegas the end of this month. His best man will meet us there, and we’ll hold the ceremony on the twenty-ninth.”
“Please tell me you haven’t chosen an Elvis impersonator to marry you?”
“Lawd, Julie. We do have some class. We’re getting hitched at the Star Trek Experience.”
I choked on my Folgers.
Kim laughed. “Gotcha. We’ve narrowed it down to the Venetian. Better book your plane tickets and hotel room soon.”
“Good idea. Hey, I’ll talk to Kevin’s new fuck buddy. She’s a travel agent. Maybe she can get me an I’m-shagging-your-partner discount.”
“Fuck buddy? That’s crude, even for you.”
So, I blasted her eardrums on what constituted 269
crude office behavior. When I finished, she wasn’t leaping on the Julie’s-always-right bandwagon like she normally did.
“Is this Amery person in Pierre with him?”
“I don’t know.” Why didn’t I? As his business partner, wasn’t I supposed to know?
Kim’s palm made continual circles on her belly.
“Is there a chance Martinez will come with you to the wedding?”
“I dunno. I’ll ask.”
“How are things going with him?”
“Shitty. He’s mad at me. Again.”
“Why?”
“Between his obligations and mine, we just can’t seem to come to terms on where we’re supposed to be together. Lately it’s been hit-and-miss on us spending any time together at all. I get angry; he gets angry. Seems all we ever do is fight.”
Kim didn’t say anything; she just rubbed the magic ball that was her belly. Why was that so annoying? Almost like she constantly drew attention to the fact she was pregnant.
Christ. I needed a Marlboro in a bad way.
“What else is new with you?”
“I finally decided on a dress.”
“Which one?”
“The ivory with the sweetheart neckline, the empire waist, and the layer of tulle down the back.”
“I don’t remember that one.”
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“It was next to the tangerine-colored strapless I liked for your dress.”
My eyes narrowed. “Tangerine? As in orange?
Eww. You aren’t going to make me wear some buttugly bridesmaid’s dress, are you?”
“No.” She pushed out of the chair. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you forget the whole thing? You know, sharing the happiest day of my life? I’ll find someone else to stand up for me in Vegas.”
“What? I was kidding, Kim.”
“No, you weren’t.”
She sighed. And rubbed her belly some more. She’d improved at the “pat your head and rub your tummy” exercise since she polished that bulge all the goddamn time—not that I’d comment since her sense of humor had vanished with her waistline.
“Lighten up. You can joke about Elvis but not a dress?”
“It’s more than just a dress.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning … do you miss hanging out with me, Julie?”
This was not headed in a good conversational direction. “Every damn day. Why?”
“You have any idea why we haven’t spent much time together recently?”
Because everything changed when you knew I
killed someone.
Kim didn’t wait for my response; she answered, 271
“Because you are negative, cynical, and crude.”
“You used to like that about me.”
“You weren’t like that all the time, Jules. You are now. You find something wrong with everyone and everything around you, no matter what it is.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. Defensive?
Yeah. So?
“Kevin’s girlfriend died and instead of being happy he has the balls to start a new relationship, you’re jealous as hell. And we both know you will go out of your way to sabotage it.”
Wrong. But she was on a roll so I let her go.
“Why have you been hanging out at the ranch so much? You’re kidding yourself if you think it has a damn thing to do with Brittney. She’s using you, Julie, to test the boundaries with her parents. You’re trying to prove you’re worthy to both her and your father.”
“I don’t have the same daddy issues you do, Kim.”
“Yes, you do. You just pretend you can handle it. I cut my dad out of my life like the cancer he is. You haven’t. Do you really believe that if you help your father it’ll erase all the horrible things he did to you? It won’t. Nothing will.
“But rather than telling him to fuck off, like you’d do to anyone else who beat you like a dog, you run to the rescue, drowning in guilt and self-hatred for it. And then you turn your bitterness on the people who really do love and care about you. Kevin. Me. Martinez.”
“That’s not fair.”
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“It’s the truth. Tony would do anything for you. What have you done for him? Besides keep him at arms’
length? Why don’t you believe he—or anyone else—
could possibly love you? You sit up here, wallowing in worthless shit, dealing with dark aspects of human nature that don’t allow you to believe in basic human happiness.”
Wow. Those were some megadoses of self-righteousness in her prenatal vitamins. I waited; I knew she wasn’t done. She’d probably saved the best for last.
“Are you ever gonna allow yourself to be happy?”
Kim asked in her lilting Southern accent.
Count to ten, Julie. Think before you speak. Fuck that.
“Yes. I’ll be extremely fucking happy when I don’t have to hear Zen happiness lectures from you, Kim. Jesus.”
She flinched.
“And since you don’t want me, the little black cloud of doom, sullying your perfect wedding day, maybe you oughta see if Kathie Lee Gifford will beam sunshine by your side as you float down the aisle. She’s performing in Vegas. Bet she’d even sing some sappy tune.”
“Julie, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. Accept me for who I am, Kim. Accept that I’m not the one who’s changed; you are.”
I lit up. That’d get rid of her fast.
Kevin’s computer beeped, signaling my records search ended. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some worthless shit to 273
wallow in.”
I spun in the office chair, hoping this insipid conversation was at an end, too. I didn’t hear her leave but I knew she was gone. I suspected I’d have lousy concentration but the information on the screen was disturbing enough to make me forget yet another argument in my life.
Pertinent info on the dead guy. Melvin Canter, forty-four, born in Sturgis. Graduated from Sturgis Brown High School. Joined the U.S. Army at age twenty. Honorably discharged four years later. No marriage certificates. Spotty employment records, mostly janitorial work. The long stretches between employments usually meant incarceration.
I kept reading. Yikes. Melvin Canter wasn’t just a registered sex offender; he was a convicted sex offender. Three counts of sexual assault over a
twenty-year period, filed in three states. None in South Dakota. Melvin did five years in Nevada for the last conviction. He’d moved back here in November. As far as I could tell, he’d registered in Meade County, not Bear Butte County. That was a no-no. But why hadn’t Sheriff
Richards said anything to me or Dad about Melvin’s sex offender status?
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It appeared Melvin used his brother’s address to register, when in fact, Don and Dale told me Melvin lived with his mother in our small county.
Could it be that Dad hadn’t known about the
convictions when he’d hired Melvin? And later he’d found out? Was that why they’d fought in Chaska’s Feed Store?
How was I supposed to get answers to what’d gone down, if I couldn’t ask Dad about it? I picked up the phone anyway and dialed the ranch.
Brittney answered. “Hello?”
I hadn’t spoken to her since her accident. “Hey, girl.”
Pause. “You’re really mad at me, aren’t you?”
Yes. “That was a stupid stunt you pulled.”
“I knew you’d say that. I knew you’d chew me out first thing instead of being nice and understanding.”
Another count-to-ten moment in my life. The fact she wasn’t the least bit sorry for all the trouble and worry she’d caused not just me, but everyone else, bothered me. “Is Dad around?”
“No, he and DJ went someplace. Did you wanna talk to my mom?”
“No, actually, I’d like to talk to you.”
“I should’ve known the only reason you called was to lecture me.”
Talk about surly. “This isn’t about lecturing you. This is about the hired hand, Melvin Canter.”
Her immediate silence was disturbing. Now that I 275
thought about it, she’d been unnaturally quiet the last time I’d brought up his name.
“Britt?”
“I know you found him after I wrecked the tractor
… and I …”
“What?”
“I’m glad he’s dead.”
A shiver ran up my spine. “What? Why?”
After a ten-second hesitation, she blurted, “I might go to hell for saying that, but I was so happy when he didn’t show up for work. I didn’t like him. At all. He was creepy and icky and had these weird googly eyes that would follow you around all the time. Me and DJ
hated doin’ chores with him. Hated it.”
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