by K. C. McRae
Harlan stood at the edge of the platform, gazing out at the horizon beyond the edge of town. He turned in response to the sound
of her footsteps behind him.
“Merry! What can I do you for?”
“Something’s been bothering me. Thought you could help me out with it.”
“Well, shoot. I’ll sure try.”
“The other day when I was in here and asked if you knew Clay Lamente, you acted like he was the scum of the earth. You want to tell me what that was all about?”
Harlan reddened and turned away. “Not really.”
She waited.
After a few moments he turned back, determination on his face. Still he didn’t speak.
“What?”
“Merry, did your mama tell you about us?”
“About you?”
He toed a wooden plank. “We were seeing each other.”
Her mouth opened in surprise. “No … she never mentioned it.” Why hadn’t she? “You didn’t say anything when I was in here before.”
“I thought about it. I did. But, well … it would have been awkward right then.”
Like it wasn’t awkward now.
“I guess I just had to think how to handle it.”
“There’s nothing to handle. You had a fling with my mom. Big deal.”
His voice was gentle. “It was a little more than a fling.”
Merry blinked. “How long?”
Harlan looked miserable. “Since not long after your father died, actually.”
“What?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “You sure it wasn’t before my father died, Harlan? Were you having an affair when he was still alive?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Really.” Unsure whether she believed him or not. “So. How did you two meet up?”
“Oh hell, you know we’d known each other forever. We went to junior high and high school together, for God’s sake.”
She waited for a better answer. Eventually it came.
“I just called her up and asked her out. It was a few months after the funeral. You were at college, and I knew she was all alone out at the ranch. I thought she might like some company, maybe even have some fun.”
“It was right after the funeral, Harlan!”
“I said it was a few months after. Maybe four. But I didn’t really call her for a date or anything. We were just two old friends getting together for dinner and an early show at the movie theater. All we did was pal around for a year or so before things started getting serious.”
“She could have told me.”
“She could have, sure. She didn’t, though. You were so busy, you hardly had time to talk to her in those days. It just didn’t come up. And then she didn’t know how to bring it up later, after it had been so long.”
She stared, her face flushed. “So it’s my fault?”
“It’s nobody’s fault.” He met her gaze. “Doesn’t it help to know your mother wasn’t alone when she was sick? I really loved that woman. I still do. And I miss her.” His voice broke.
Merry walked to the edge of the platform. When she turned back, Harlan was gazing out toward the horizon again.
“What about Clay?” she asked.
“One evening me and your mama were in Chewie’s Bar. She was hungry for a hamburger. I would’ve flown in Maine lobster if she’d wanted it, her appetite was so poor from the chemo, but she only wanted a hamburger. So we went to Chewie’s.”
He turned and looked at her. “All her hair had fallen out, but she wasn’t one to wear a wig or one of them turban things. She had on a baseball cap. So she’s sittin’ there in the booth, and I’m up at the bar getting us something to drink when I hear someone say, ‘Hey, Kojak.’ I turn around and it’s that little prick Clay Lamente.”
Merry paled.
“She was so embarrassed, I could see her getting red from clear over where I stood.”
“Oh, God.”
“So she turns around and looks the sonofabitch in the eye. Well, then he starts getting all red in the face. He’s mumbling and fumbling around, and I go up to him and tell him he’d better apologize to the lady or I’m gonna hand him his nuts on a platter.”
“Did he?”
Harlan gave a little shrug. “Well, yeah. He did. All over the place. Said he was supposed to meet some buddy a’ his in there, and the guy didn’t have any hair. Said the guy’s nickname on the rig was Kojak.”
“So it was a mistake, him calling her that.”
“That’s what he said. I didn’t buy it. Your mama did, though. Told him not to worry about it. Actually laughed, thought it was kinda funny.” His expression said Harlan still didn’t find the incident the least bit amusing. “Next day he comes in here looking for a washer to fix his faucet, but I wouldn’t sell it to him. Told him to get himself gone and not to darken my door again.”
“I don’t suppose you went to visit him the other day, did you?”
Harlan looked puzzled. “Now, why on earth would I do that?”
Merry knew Chewie kept the light in his bar down low, and it sounded like Clay had been contrite about the misunderstanding. She found it oddly touching that Harlan still hated a man he thought had insulted the woman he loved, even after both of them were dead.
But he wouldn’t have killed Clay over it. Sighing, Merry thanked him and left.
So who had argued with Clay the morning before he’d been murdered? It had to be Bo. Denny’s nice neighbor had said she’d seen him several times. It could have been anyone, of course, but it made sense if the “older man” had been Clay’s own father. But why had they argued? She remembered Shirlene mentioning Bo and the woman in the Hungry Moose. The more Merry found out about Clay the more sanctimonious he sounded.
Could this whole mess have started because Bo Lamente had been having an affair? With Anna Knight?
The thought made her brain hurt.
———
The next morning Merry picked up Shirlene and they drove to the courthouse. Another squall had passed through during the night. The sunlight swooped through the freshly washed air and glinted from the wet pavement.
Her aunt wore a linen suit the color of lime sherbet, with a crisp white blouse. She fidgeted on the short ride, pulling her hem down, fussing with her cuffs.
“Olivia is holding a memorial for Clay and Bo this afternoon at two thirty. I know Lauri would like to go.”
Merry glanced over, surprised. “That seems fast.”
“Not really. Your mother’s funeral was two days after she died. They haven’t released the, you know, bodies yet, but Olivia wanted to go ahead with the memorial.” Shirlene tugged at her hem again.
“You can smoke if you want to.”
Her aunt began rummaging through her purse. By the time they pulled into a parking space, she seemed calmer.
Inside the building, they went through a metal detector, and the guard indicated the day’s court schedule posted on the wall. There was only one courtroom, though it looked like both judges worked out of it. Lauri’s name was third from the top of the list. Merry turned and saw Kate approaching them.
“When is she up?” she asked, not bothering with a greeting.
Shirlene turned worried eyes on her. “She’s third. What time will that be?”
“It all depends on how quickly the other two cases go. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.”
“Good. I saw her this morning, took her the clothes you gave me.”
“Is she okay?”
“Well, she’s not very happy—the morning sickness didn’t help—but she seems better than when I finally got in to see her yesterday afternoon. She was pretty upset about the other women they put her in with when they first arrested her. By the time I talked to her, she’d b
een moved into a more private cell, so at least she managed to get some sleep last night.”
“Will she be able to come home with me this morning?”
Kate shot a glance at Merry. “If we’re lucky we can pay the bail today.”
“But you said …”
“I said this was our chance to get bail, Shirlene.” Kate’s voice was kind. “We drew Judge Magnuson. He’s usually pretty reasonable, though a little, um, unpredictable. He’ll grant bail, but even so it’s bound to be a lot of money. It’s not something you can just write a check for and take her home.”
“So I’ll call a bail bondsman. I won’t let her stay in jail.”
Kate nodded. “I know a good bondsman. But let’s focus on this step for now. Are you ready to go in?”
“Is there time for me to go outside real quick?” Shirlene was already fumbling her cigarettes out of her bag.
“Sure,” Kate said.
When Shirlene was out of earshot, Merry asked Kate, “What’s the deal with the bail? How much are we talking about?”
Kate looked grim. “It’ll be at least eighty thousand, could be as much as a million.”
“Jesus! Does Shirlene know that?”
She nodded. “I told her, but I don’t know if it registered. And by law he has to set ‘reasonable’ bail, and most people around here don’t make that much money.”
Her aunt walked back in, chewing on a breath mint. Kate gave her an encouraging smile and they moved toward the courtroom.
Merry had expected a starkly lit, functional space. Instead, they walked into an old-world atmosphere. Dark paneling lined walls that stretched up three stories. High windows rimmed the room, and incandescent fixtures along the walls augmented the abundance of natural light. The Montana state seal took up much of the back wall, and the state and U.S. flags hung in the rear corners of the room. On the right, an old-fashioned recessed gallery looked over the courtroom. Around them, the seats held a sprinkling of observers. People spoke to one another in muted voices, and Merry breathed in the smell of wood oil.
The judge entered, and everyone popped to their feet. A door to the left opened, and two men and Lauri walked in and sat in the plastic chairs. Merry heard Shirlene’s intake of breath and saw Kate reach over and take her aunt’s hand in her own. All the defendants wore street clothes. Lauri’s modest sundress and fresh-washed face projected youth and vulnerability. Merry realized with a shock that her cousin was quite beautiful under all the pancake makeup she usually wore.
The first case was a drunk driver, and it was soon obvious this wasn’t his first trip to court. Judge Magnuson’s questions showed common sense, and his ego didn’t constantly peek around the edges of his statements. A good sign. He sentenced the man to jail time—not such a good sign. The next defendant had beaten the crap out of his wife. He had a mild face, pale with a scrubby beard, and was obviously wearing the same clothes he’d slept in. His wife threw a wrench into things, denying he had roughed her up. She said the bruise that ran all along one side of her face was from a spill she had taken down the back steps of their home. The judge took the couple back into his chambers.
Voices raised in conversation while they all waited. Shirlene waved to Lauri, who smiled painfully back. Her aunt popped another breath mint, and Merry knew she wanted to bolt outside and smoke a quick cigarette, but didn’t dare leave. Then the judge returned without the couple, and the bailiff called Lauri’s case.
Kate hurried up front as Lauri was led out of the enclosure. They spoke a few moments, and then the judge banged his gavel. Kate argued hard for Lauri’s bail to be low, and the county attorney asked for three hundred thousand. Kate spoke of Lauri’s ties to the community and the fact that she lived with her mother.
“Bail is set at three hundred thousand dollars,” Magnuson said and rapped his gavel against its wooden block.
“Your Honor,” Kate said. “I ask you to reconsider—”
“We’re done here, Ms. O’Neil.”
Kate pressed her lips together, but didn’t argue.
The county attorney began shuffling papers while the judge took a break. Lauri was taken back through the side door to return to her jail cell. Shirlene watched her go, then left the courtroom. Kate and Merry followed her out to the sidewalk, where two other people stood smoking.
Shirlene took a deep drag. “You did a great job. Thank you.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” Kate said.
“So who’s this bail bondsman?” Shirlene asked.
“He’s in Missoula. We have to go up there to see him.”
“Can you go right now?”
“Hang on. Let me call him first. You’ll need some collateral.” Kate shot a look at Merry. “And cash.”
“How much?” Merry asked.
“Ten percent is the going rate.”
“I need thirty grand? I don’t have that kind of money!” Shirlene looked like she was going be ill.
“Do you have any equity in your house?”
Shirlene gave a slow nod. “And I know the president of the bank,” she said. “Worked with him on the committee for the new library. He’ll light a fire under the loan officer.”
Kate agreed and headed back to her office to call the bail bondsman. She told Shirlene to call when she had news.
———
Standing in line at the teller’s window, Merry could see Shirlene talking with a tiny guy in an outdated blue suit behind the window of a glassed-in office. He was wiry and hyper, and his head bobbed constantly as her aunt talked and gesticulated.
“May I help you?”
Merry stepped forward to the teller and told the woman what she wanted, praying Shirlene wouldn’t pick that moment to turn around and see her.
———
That afternoon they met at Shirlene’s again. The bank president had pulled some strings to get the second mortgage approved and she already had a check in hand. She could use her dry cleaning business as collateral, but even with the equity she had in the house Shirlene was still short of the cash required to post Lauri’s bail.
“I wonder what my truck would sell for?” she said.
They were sitting at the wooden picnic table in her back yard. A gray squirrel chattered at them from the neighbor’s tree. Kate had her briefcase open again out of habit, but she hadn’t touched any of the papers it contained. They didn’t even need a yellow pad to add together the chunks of money they were talking about.
“Don’t do that, Aunt Shirlene,” Merry said, and handed her a rectangular piece of paper.
“What’s this?” she asked. “Oh, no. No, no, Merry, I can’t let you do this.”
She held a cashier’s check. Merry had cashed out her mother’s savings account.
“The hell you can’t. If it makes you feel any better, it’s not really my money. It’s Mama’s. And you know damn well she would have insisted on giving it to you.”
Shirlene started to cry.
Kate gently took the check and looked at the amount. “This takes us over the top,” she said. Shirlene nodded, unable to speak.
“Shall we head up to Missoula and take care of this? If we hurry, we can still make it to the courthouse in time. Lauri will be glad to sleep in her own bed tonight.”
Shirlene took a deep shaky breath and wiped her face. “Let’s go.” Together they walked around to the front of the house.
“You need me to go with you?” Merry asked.
“No, of course not. Kate’ll take good care of me.”
Merry looked at Kate. “I’m going to let her, then. I think I’ll go to the Lamentes’ memorial.”
“That’s good. You tell Olivia I’m thinking about her,” Shirlene said.
“I’ll do that.”
Shirlene slid into Kate’s Volvo. Kate said, “That was a really nice thing you did.”
Merry shrugged. “No big deal.” She limped across the street and climbed into the Blazer, glad she hadn’t told Shirlene about Frank canceling his leases. Her aunt would have never taken the money then.
———
Small groups clustered on the lawn in front of the Methodist Church. Merry parked across the street, still wearing the black slacks and beige silk blouse she’d worn to court that morning. She’d been comfortable enough in the air conditioning, but the old church boasted no such convenience.
Inside, mourners shuffled into pews, talking in low voices. She slid onto a seat with a pang of angry regret as she thought again of missing Mama’s funeral. Up by the podium an easel held two enlarged photos of Clay and Bo Lamente, both candid grinning shots. The family resemblance was obvious. In the afternoon heat, a profusion of roses overwhelmed the intense odor of more traditional lilies.
The murmuring quieted, and Merry looked up to see the pastor mounting the step behind the pulpit. The man, youngish and pale, adjusted the height of the microphone as if from long practice and turned it on. A horrible whine erupted, and he hurried to turn it off. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the congregation.
“I think we can do without the added volume, don’t you? Can everyone hear me?”
No one spoke, but heads nodded.
Later, she couldn’t remember the specifics of what the pastor had said. It seemed to be the same formulaic, memorized script. When they stood and sang, she did the best she could with the unfamiliar hymn.
Olivia delivered a eulogy. She choked up, but continued despite her tears. She spoke of Bo with deep affection, recounting how they had met at a livestock auction in St. Onge, South Dakota. He was managing a cattle ranch over by Spearfish and was looking for breeding stock for the land he owned outside Hazel. She was looking for breeding stock, too, in hopes of starting her own horse farm, but in those days it was still a pipe dream for Olivia.
“Despite our age difference, we knew right away we belonged together. Clay was just thirteen then. He loved the horses, and he was a hard worker.” Her voice broke and she took a few minutes to regain her composure. “He grew up to be a fine young man. We started the training stable and bred thoroughbreds. In another couple years we would have finally been in the big leagues, supplying horses to champion riders all over the U.S. I don’t know how I’ll manage to do it without Bo, but I’m going to try. Because that’s what he would have wanted me to do.” She ended simply, “I miss them both so much.”