by Teresa Trent
"He sure is, and I'll just bet the citizens of Pecan Bayou and the surrounding area are tickled to have him on their television sets in the morning." Jeanette Burress, Stan's administrative assistant said. She pulled her gray wool jacket closer around her maroon frilly blouse that showed a generous amount of cleavage. Her gray pencil skirt hugged her hips and the whole outfit was accented by her silver stiletto heels.
"Thanks, but believe it or not when I trained to be a meteorologist I didn't really see myself on people's televisions. I don't mind doing this to fill-in, but I sure wouldn't want to do it on a regular basis. Besides that my name doesn't go well with any sort of weather pattern."
I laughed as I rose from the chair that Stan had given me during the filming. I was so glad Zach was feeling well enough to be home alone for a few hours this morning. I couldn't miss Leo's first on-air forecast. "We'll just have to come up with some sort of weather system that goes with the name Leo. Hmmm, how about Lake Effect Leo?"
"No, somehow that just doesn't have the same kind of ring to it like Hurricane Hal."
"You could always change your name to Stormy or maybe Rocky," Stan said, straightening his rust colored bow tie. A silence fell between us. "Sorry, there's only one Rocky in this town, I guess."
"That's for sure." I said.
"Have you heard anything new about the fire?" Jeanette said as she cleared up some copy off of the anchor desk.
"No, nothing this morning. They were going to try to investigate further once it cooled off. The fire marshal is supposed to be faxing over his official report."
"You know he called me the day of the fire about something, and I didn't have time to talk to him. We were doing a special on deer season. Rocky told me there was nothing like a hunting show in a state full of Texans with firearms to boost ratings. To tell you the truth, though, I'm not sure if that's what he wanted."
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
"He was talking about some tax guy here in town. Rocky was always doing investigative reporting even if there wasn't anything to investigate. Something about somebody cheating on taxes I think. It was going to be quite a big exposé. Maybe he was thinking about using some of my services to do some sort of undercover sting. "
"Did he give you the tax guy's name? "
"No, he didn't. Now I just wished I'd taken a little more time to talk to him. Who knows? Maybe this is the guy who set the fire at the Gazette."
"Now, they're not even sure that it's arson yet," Leo said.
"You're right, but we all can pretty freely admit that Rocky ruffled a lot of feathers in this town."
"Yes, and arson is the kind of thing that someone hot under the collar might do to cause significant damage to another person, but not hurt them," I said.
"Pecan Bayou is such a small town, that if there was some sort of a corrupt tax accountant, we could probably look them up in the incredibly thick half-inch of yellow pages," Jeanette said.
"Let me think," I said. "There's a little tax place down off of Main Street on Elm. I've never been inside, but a lot of people go there during tax time. You can see it from Main Street."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about that place. It's one of those taxes while you wait joints. I could never use a simple service like that. Running the station I have some pretty unusual tax considerations. My accountant, Bob is a wizard at tracking all those deductions I need," Stan said.
"Okay, so Rocky might have been on the wrong side of a 5 guy. Anybody else you know about? I mean, if it were to be ruled arson?" I asked.
"Not right offhand, but who knows." Jeanette glanced down at her nails for a minute, and then with a realization she looked up at me. "Hey, you had some trouble with Rocky a while back didn't you?"
"I guess so, but that's way in the past. That was when Charlie Loper's ghost kept appearing, and Rocky took my picture with ..."
Leo interrupted, "A man you were out to dinner with that wasn't me..."
"I went out with our district attorney to get information on a charge against my father..."
Jeanette looked at both us as a slight smile curled on the corner of her lips. "Okay," she said slowly as an awkward moment settled between us.
I walked over to a desk pushed up against the wall and picked up a local phone book. "Taxes ... tax preparation." I ran my finger along the page. "Have you ever heard of this West Agency?"
Stan shook his head no. "Maybe I need to give Mr. West a visit."
"Better yet, we could share this information with your father, and you could stay out of trouble," Leo said.
Stan laughed. "You know Betsy I think being married is going to be remarkably good for your health and safety."
As he spoke I felt my stomach lurch. That was funny, I usually had a cast iron digestive system. I didn't have time to come down with the flu.
Leo looped his arm around my waist and squeezed. "Safe and sound and body discovery free."
CHAPTER FIVE
A few hours later as I stirred some chicken soup on the stove that I had planned to serve Zach for lunch, I jumped at a knock at my front door.
My dad stuck his head in, and a gush of cool air made its way to me, something always welcome in Texas. "Hey there Betsy, am I here in time for lunch?"
"Come on in Dad. I was just making some soup if you would like a bowl."
"Homemade or canned?"
"Canned."
He looked a little disappointed. Aunt Maggie would have had homemade. "I guess it won't kill me. Dish me up, and I'll make myself a sandwich to go with it. So what's the galloping weatherman up to?"
"Oh, he's busy. He's filling in for Hurricane Hal over at NUTV."
"That idiot? Good. We'll finally have someone with some common sense giving the forecast. Did you know Hal put the town in a panic during Hurricane Ike? Half the people were preparing for the crazy folks from Houston, and the other half was sure we would be hit by a storm surge. Do these people even have a map? We're over a hundred miles from the coast."
"Gee, I thought everybody liked Hurricane Hal."
"After that delightful experience, I started calling him Hurricane Hell because that's what that polyester suited Ron Burgundy of weather caused."
"I'm sure he meant well."
My father pulled out two pieces of bread from the loaf on the counter and looked in the refrigerator. "Where is the mustard?"
"Middle shelf."
Dad looked down his nose into the bifocal part of his lens and pulled out the yellow plastic bottle. He turned around with sandwich makings in hand and came to the table.
"As delighted as I'm sure you are to see me, I need to talk to you about something and didn't want to do it over the phone."
"Is it about Rocky?" I said hoping that my gut feeling was wrong.
"Betsy, maybe you should sit down, you're looking a little pale." I slid a chair out and lowered myself into it.
"We found a body when we went through what was left of the Gazette building."
My stomach churned, and I rose from the table making a dash for the bathroom. This couldn't be happening. I had been so sure that Rocky had gotten away. Leo had almost convinced me he was off fishing somewhere or eating some lonely old lady's casserole ... anything, but being found dead. I felt the dry heaves pulling up the contents of my stomach. I had tried to eat very little today, but still my stomach insisted on attempting to empty itself.
"Betsy are you all right?" It had been a long time since my father stood outside the bathroom door trying to check on me. I was reminded of Zach just a day ago.
"Yes, I'm fine. I think I just might have picked up Zach's flu."
"Then what are you doing up and around? You need to be in bed." He said through the door.
"I know, You have to understand that this just isn't a good time right now. I'm trying to get Zach through it first."
"If you don't take care of yourself, it doesn't do anybody any good."
I came out of the bathroom so suddenly that my father stepped back. "
Oh darlin', you don't look so hot."
"Thanks for telling me; I feel even better now." I returned to the kitchen fighting the queasiness as the smell of the soup reached me. It hadn't seemed to bother me before... "I'm okay dad, really. I must be fighting it off because the flu just seems to come and go. I can deal with that." I took a deep breath. "I'm ready. Tell me about what you found in the Gazette building. Are you sure it's Rocky?"
"No, we're not absolutely sure, but dammit who else could it be? Rocky ran that paper with a bare-bones staff, and everybody we know that worked for him or has ever worked for him has been accounted for. The only person that's missing is Rocky. Hate to say it, but it just has to be him."
I sat down at the table feeling exhaustion sweep over me. Growing up a cop's kid, I had been around plenty of death, but this one hit me harder than anything I had experienced. I tried not to think of the agony Rocky must have been in as the fire reached him. I don't know when I started crying, and I felt my father's hand on my shoulder.
"Betsy, if Zach's symptoms have settled down, put him on the couch to watch TV all afternoon, and you go upstairs and take a nap. He'll be okay. If he needs anything I'm sure Zach will be knocking at your door. Art is doing everything he can to try to identify the body. To be perfectly honest we're still not sure that the mass of charred remains we found is even Rocky."
"We can always hope it isn't him," I said but still thinking to myself if it isn't him, then who would it be? "There was something I needed to tell you that I learned this morning when I went with Leo to film his weather segment. Did Rocky say anything to you about exposing some guy?"
"What guy?"
"I don't have a lot of details; Stan called him the tax guy. We did find a West Agency in the phone book. No one there had ever used his services."
"A tax guy?" My father scratched his head. "You know Rocky did mention he was working on something, but he didn't tell me what. He didn't say anything about a tax guy. Did he have anything else to go on?"
"No, sorry. That's all Stan knew. Everybody keeps saying that there might be several people who would be angry enough to set a fire…"
"You're telling me. I'll look into it. Maybe it'll lead to something, but then again maybe old Rocky will show up, and we won't have to worry about anything, right?"
"Right." I said.
"So now, what do you need to do?"
I remembered Rocky opening and closing his Zippo lighter as I struggled to answer his question, but then stifled a yawn. "I think I'll go lie down for a while."
CHAPTER SIX
When I finally stole the chance to sink into bed, I fell into another deep sleep. I felt myself drifting into a dream. I was walking into the Pecan Bayou Gazette office and found Rocky with his feet propped up on his desk. He was paging through his latest paper and didn't look up when I drew close to him.
"Rocky?" My voice sounded hollow, like I was speaking to him down a tunnel. He didn't move an inch. The paper remained in place.
"Rocky?" Still nothing. I walked across the office, my footsteps echoing on the tile floor. He shifted slightly to thumb through the pages as if he wanted to check a ball score near the back. I reached out and pulled the paper away from his face gently. As the paper crunched down my breath caught in my throat. Globs of skin melted off of his cheek bones, and his nose was slightly off-center. His eyes bugged out of his skull as the remaining patches of his cheeks formed a smile.
"Well if it isn't Betsy, the Happy Hinter." He broke into a wheezy laugh as smoke poured out of his malformed lips. I turned and ran from the office with his laughter resonating in my ears. Jolted into consciousness, I sat up in a cold sweat pulling the covers up around my knees. It was just a dream. A very bad dream. I needed to clear the image of Rocky's face out of my head. I rose from the bed to check on Zach. Looking up at the clock I could see that I had slept for two hours.
He was stretched out on the couch with the remote in his hand.
"Did you get your report done?"
"Mostly."
"How are you feeling?"
"Better, I guess."
I reached over and felt his forehead. "Your fever seems to be gone. That's a good sign. I think you can go back to school tomorrow."
"I don't know, Mom. Let's not rush my recovery."
"You'll be fine."
"What's for dinner?"
"See, better already." I think I was feeling better myself. Maybe I just had a light case of the flu and had already overcome it. As I looked in the refrigerator thinking about dinner, the dream crept back into my thoughts. Flu or no flu, I needed to find out what happened to Rocky.
The front door opened with a bang. "Betsy, guess what? We had basketball tryouts after school today, and coach wants me for point guard. Isn't that exciting? I couldn't even get on the team in Dallas."
"Just another joy of living in a small town," I said.
Tyler dropped his backpack by the front door. He ran into the living room and repeated his story to Zach. Tyler had grown an inch taller than Zach in the last year, and it seemed that most sports came to him naturally. Zach, although he liked sports hadn't yet found his niche. He picked up his notebook.
"That's great Tyler." He muttered.
"Practices start during Thanksgiving week. Coach says we should try to get there if our families aren't on vacation. We aren't going on vacation are we Betsy?"
"No, we'll be here."
"Excellent. We have a lot of work to do to get our team in shape. I can't wait to tell my dad." Tyler turned around and ran back to pick up his book bag. "Have to get working on my homework. Coach says I can't let my average go below a C or he'll cut me from the team."
"Better get to work then."
"Oh yeah, and one more thing. They had a vote at school for the Harvest King, and guess what? They picked me! Isn't that wild?"
Zach sat quietly on the couch his fingers playing with the edge of the afghan he was under. Could anything else good happen to his stepbrother in one day?
"Mrs. Hamlin says you need to call her because the royal families help with the refreshments. We're a royal family. Bet you didn't know that!"
"Not until right now. I'll be sure to give her a call, Tyler. Congratulations," I said. I really was happy for him, but I'll admit I was feeling Zach's pain.
As he started to head to his room, he turned back. "Oh, and I need lots of protein for dinner. Have to build those strong muscles for the weight room, you know."
"Got it," I said. Tyler bounded up the stairs. I looked back at Zach who now stared at the TV with a blank expression.
"Are you doing okay?"
Butch, our Weimaraner rested his chin on Zach's knee. Butch always seemed to have an instinct when someone needed him. Zach reached down and petted him. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know, maybe because Tyler seems to be finding everything so easy in middle school."
"And I'm not?" Oh boy, I had stepped in it now.
"I didn't mean that Zach. I just wanted to say if there's anything you ever want to talk about I'm..."
"I know, Mom."
I waited for him to say something else, but his gaze returned to the television.
"So if there is anything..." I repeated.
"I got it, Mom. There's nothing I want to talk about right now."
"Don't forget--Live for today, hope for tomorrow..."
"Yeah, whatever." He pulled the pillow around his ears, his eyes never leaving the screen.
Maybe I could get Leo to talk to him. I texted him from the kitchen.
Betsy: Need your parenting skills. You on the way?
Leo: Sorry. Have to work late. Was going to call. Be home around 9. Xoxo
Then again, maybe not.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Does this tie look okay?" Leo was putting the finishing touches to his on-camera outfit for his second day filling in for Hurricane Hal. He had come in last night and fell into bed, exhausted. I walked over and straightened the top not on t
he tie and then stepped back to take a look.
"No, I think I like the silver one better."
"Really, because I liked the blue one."
"It's your choice, but you already have a navy blue shirt on, and it might look way too dark on camera." He turned and looked at himself in the full-length mirror one more time. He held up the silver tie to the navy blue shirt. Then, he took it away and tried the shirt with the dark tie.
"I guess you're right. It's so great to have a woman's opinion on what I wear. When I work at a computer all day nobody really cares about clothes; they mostly care about clouds."
"You're in the big league now. Who knows where this will lead your career? Maybe they'll let you pull the bingo balls over at the Catholic Church."
"I suppose people I don't know will say 'Hello' to me when I walk down Main Street."
"You're a celebrity now."
"Even if I am, I will never be as famous as the Happy Hinter," He sat on the end of the bed and put on his shoes.
"Not only are you becoming a celebrity, but your son is now the Harvest King."
"The kid's barely been in school here for three months, and they make him king. Pretty impressive, if I do say so myself."
"Along with that wonderful title comes the mother's job of providing some sort of refreshments for the Harvest Dance. I'm sure Phyllis Hamlin is not too pleased that Tyler beat out her precious offspring for his chance at royalty. Did you know she was complaining to Rocky about the placement of her son's picture in the paper?"
"Better get your dad to do round the clock protection on Tyler. I've seen what happens in this town. So what are you going to do about refreshments?"
"Okay I'll admit I've had a few disasters in the past, but that's behind me. Now I'm the stepmother of the Harvest King. That's no small accomplishment. You know, I think I might just whip something up in my own kitchen. I mean I'm constantly writing recipes into my columns. Surely there's something that I can pull out with a harvest theme." Secretly, I considered putting a call into the bakery right away.