“How come you’re always late when I fix chicken enchiladas?”
She quickly sealed the foil. “I am?”
“You come in here sniffing like a bloodhound. You don’t like the smell, do you?”
“I’ll get some in a minute. Thanks for cooking.”
“I’m getting to bed in a few minutes. You know I start doing hair at the old folks’ home tomorrow. They’re desperate for me.”
I should have thought of that a year ago.
“That’s right, Miss Bea.” Steely lay back on the sofa, across from Bea. “You seem kind of excited.”
“It’s no wonder the old folks are depressed. Their hair looks like doo-doo. There’ll be a smile on those old crinkly faces when I get done with them.”
Steely laid her head on the armrest and briefly shut her eyes. “They could call you a pooper scooper.”
Bea chuckled.
Steely shot up. “You laughed at my joke?”
“First time one was funny.”
“One out of a thousand.”
Steely relaxed. Bea put a crease in the paper, folding it in half.
Steely cracked open an eye. “Why do you read the obituaries every day?”
“To see who departed.” Bea looked distressed. “Eee…too bad about that Fitzpatrick man.”
“What Fitzpatrick man?” she said casually.
“You know. My old neighbor. He passed over the weekend.”
Steely sat up. “Not Erin’s father? I just saw her on Friday.”
Bea pointed at the paper. “Survivors: one daughter, Erin. Weren’t you friends with that girl?”
Steely bent forward and folded her hands. “We sort of grew up together. We were very close at one time. May I see that?”
“Huh. He was so young—still in his fifties.” Bea passed the paper. Steely stared in disbelief.
“His visitation is tonight. Miss Bea, do you want to go?”
“Nuh-uh! I don’t want to see any more dead people. No, ma’am. I’ve seen enough dead people to last until the day I die.”
“I’m going to run over there.” Steely grabbed her keys and opened the door. “I’ll be back in an hour. Maybe sooner.”
The Santa Maria Funeral Home had two viewing rooms. Steely had seen both. Her dad had been in the large one, her mom in the smaller. The small room was locked. Fitzpatrick had to be in the large room, farther in. She turned a corner and saw a few people bunched together, all appearing thirty years or more her senior. Rose and carnation sprays displayed on stilts stood by a closed casket flush against a front wall. Floral couches lined the perimeter of the room, along with a few scattered chairs. This could be a formal living room in any nice home, minus the casket and flowers.
Erin was propped up in a corner between two couches. She fidgeted when she caught a glimpse of Steely coming up on her left.
Steely moved in precision toward her, watching for any indication that she was welcome or not. She hoped not to be the first person ever thrown out of the Santa Maria Funeral Home. She bravely put one foot ahead of the other and moved forward.
Erin hadn’t budged. Steely had reached the point of no return. Erin couldn’t deny she saw her. If Erin didn’t respond right away, she was going to give her condolences to Mrs. Fitzpatrick and leave. Either way, she would have no regrets for coming. She’d been in Erin’s shoes. Two more steps, and Steely was within an arm’s reach of Erin. If she didn’t react in about two seconds, Steely would go to plan B. She softly said, “Erin, I’m so sorry about your father.”
Erin grabbed Steely, leaned on her shoulder, and wept. Steely cried too. The same way she had when it was her dad lying there.
“Steely, I didn’t think you’d want to come.”
“Of course I was coming.”
Erin held on to her as they moved to a couch and sat. Suddenly, they were in a time warp. It was as if they’d never parted.
Erin opened up. “Father was filing for bankruptcy and restarting his business. He lost his biggest client. He barely had any other business since they took so much of his time. It really freaked him out when the secret service started investigating him.”
“For what?”
“Organized crime.”
“Your father wouldn’t be involved with organized crime.”
“I know!”
They nodded.
“It’s very scary to be questioned by law enforcement,” added Steely.
“He was a stinking number cruncher. That’s it. He was scared even to talk about it. But he didn’t do anything wrong. It just doesn’t seem right that he committed suicide.”
“I’m so sorry, Erin.” Steely guessed he’d had a sudden heart attack. He had avoided one with a stent a few years back. The last thing she wanted to do was ask the wrong question. Listening was the safest route.
“He just told me he was going to get a clean start and build his business back up. He already had two new clients. He only needed a few more to replace the big one he lost. I just don’t know what to think. It was just awful, finding him like that.”
“You found him? That’s a tough thing to deal with…”
“He was at his office, working late. He wasn’t answering the phone. Me and my mother got worried, so we went to check on him about midnight. Mother waited in the car while I went in. There he was, in his office, sprawled out on the floor. An empty pill bottle and a bottle of whisky beside him.” Erin whimpered. “I’ve never seen my father drink whisky. Maybe a beer or two…”
“I’m so sorry, Erin.” Steely held tightly to her hand.
“Why would he delete his hard drive? I’m so confused.”
She had to ask. “Erin, who was the client he lost?”
“Flash Away.”
For a few seconds, Steely saw Erin’s mouth move but didn’t hear a word she was saying. It wasn’t the time to tell Erin that her father’s largest client was involved in racketeering, murder, and money laundering. Just not the right time to send her emotions on another wild ride.
“Are you OK, Steely?”
Steely opened her eyes widely and took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m listening.”
“We don’t have the autopsy report yet. I don’t even know if I want to see it. I tell you, I’d gladly give up everything I have if I could have my father back.”
“Erin, I loved your father. He was always so kind to me.”
“He loved you too. I was too busy thinking about myself to pick up on Father’s desperation.”
“Your father was crazy about you. He was so proud of you. Try to focus on that.”
Erin agreed, looked at Steely, and sincerely confessed, “I wish I was more like you.”
Steely scrunched her face. A few minutes earlier, she’d worried about being a visitation crasher. “Me?” she breathed.
“You took such good care of your mother…and now Mrs. Hunter.”
“Oh, Erin…”
“Remember how mean I was to you?”
“No, I don’t remember.”
“I hate the way I acted. Will you forgive me?”
Steely glanced at the casket and then back to Erin. “Maybe we should talk about this later.”
“I need to know.” She grabbed Steely’s arm. “Please, will you forgive me for all the mean things I did to you?”
“Erin, I forgave you long ago. I don’t think about it. You could say I have offense amnesia.”
Erin used her sleeve to dab a few straggling tears. “What’s that?”
“I don’t remember being offended. It’s a condition I like having.”
“Then you might not remember most of high school,” Erin whimpered. “I treated you just terribly.”
“Here’s what I remember. We rode our bikes to school together, played kickball in the park, and then went to get ice cream. I remember when we went roller-skating for the first time. I fell down and spit my knee open. I remember you ran home and found some medical tape—practically wrapped up my whole leg because you didn’t want
it to hurt anymore. That’s what I remember.”
Erin laughed through the tears. “I used that whole roll of medical tape on your leg.”
“Yeah, I had to walk stiff-legged all the way home.”
“Remember when we made those mud pies in your backyard?”
“Yeah, they tasted terrible!”
Erin giggled. “Why did we eat mud?”
“’Cause, Allen, the teenager who knew everything, told us they tasted like chocolate.”
“Well, he found out they didn’t when we threw them at him!”
“Hey, I still have our rock collection in my attic.”
“I want to see them. We had some beautiful rocks.”
For the next thirty minutes, they remembered the past. The good times overshadowed the not-so-good times. Steely made sure of it. She gave Erin just what she needed most on the night of her father’s visitation.
Forgiveness.
Chapter fifty-two
Bea ran out of her bedroom in a frenzy. “Steely? Where are you?” she yelled.
“I’m out here,” Steely hollered from the garage. “You having a nightmare again?” She climbed down from the attic and came inside. “I got up early to look at some old—”
“How do I look?” Bea twirled.
Beatrice’s twenty-four-hour muumuu had been replaced with a dress. Nicest dress Steely had ever seen her wear that wasn’t black. It was pleasantly pink. Her flea collar had been replaced with a string of pearls and matching dangly earrings.
“You look great. Aren’t you going to work?”
“Yes. When Alice called last night, she said it’d cheer up the old folks. They need hope. I’m giving them a vision. I forgot to ask her how she got my number.”
Steely cleared her throat. “What does it matter?” She circled around Bea. “You look stunning. I don’t know how else I can put it. I’ve never seen you look so good. The people at Star of Light will be thrilled you’re doing their hair.”
“And doing their makeup.”
“You giving them a pedicure too?”
“I have boundaries.”
“Just seeing if you had lost it.”
Bea was almost jolly. “They’ll look ten years younger after I sand them down and polish them up.” Bea rushed to the bathroom. She checked herself out in the mirror, touched up her makeup, and came back giggly. “You sure I’m OK?”
“Really, I’ve never seen you look better.”
Bea was radiant. “Do I look forty?”
Steely stepped back. “How old?”
“Fifty. Do I look fifty?”
Steely rubbed her chin. “Do you feel fifty?”
Bea eyed herself in the living-room mirror. “I do. Do I have a youthful glow?”
“You’re glowing, for sure.”
“I took your advice and called Nancy Dichiara. I should’ve called her months ago.”
“Really?”
“Nancy’s trying to reach Nick. Tell him to call her when you see him. She doesn’t want him to do something that will get him arrested. Most everybody has been arrested, at least once.”
Steely leaned a shoulder down. “You’ve been arrested?”
Bea winked. “Just one of those misdemeanor things—total misunderstanding.”
The doorbell rang.
Steely flashed her head suspiciously toward it and then back at Bea. “You expecting someone?”
“Pepe’s picking me up.”
“Pepe Martinez from Grey Canyon?” Steely said with an escalating pitch.
“Yes, he moved here a few days ago,” Bea said with a twinkle.
Steely lit up. “He’s here for you?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, and go let him in. I have to check my face.” Bea trotted around the corner to the bedroom. Steely never saw Bea trot before. If the house was on fire, Steely doubted Bea would trot.
“Check your face?”
Bea hollered from the bedroom, “Get the door!”
“I’m going.”
Steely unlocked the door for the only person Bea had ever invited in. Bea and Steely were more than antisocial. They were nonsocial.
Martinez held flowers wrapped in green paper. He was Latin charm. Perfectly peppered silky hair, in a comb back, with a splash of aftershave.
“Mr. Martinez, I’m so glad you’re here.” She pulled him in.
“Gracias, Steely.” He kissed her on both sides of her face.
“Please, have a seat. Miss Bea will be right out.” They sat adjacent to one another. Steely quizzed him. “What brought you to Houston?”
“Bee-Bee.”
“Bee-Bee?” She looked over at the bedroom, leaned down, and whispered, “You’re living dangerously, calling her Bee-Bee. She hates nicknames.”
“She likes my pet name.”
“She does?”
“I waited a year to call on her. I wouldn’t disrespect Jack. Now I’m going to vigorously pursue her until I catch her.”
“Catch her? May I help?”
“I missed out on that foxy lady forty years ago.” He grinned.
“Foxy?” Steely straightened up. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“She isn’t slipping away from me again. There’s no one like Bee-Bee.”
“Agreed,” Steely said, with one brow raised higher than the other. “So you’re not going back home without her?”
“No way. I’ll stay in Houston and sell my house in Grey Canyon, if needed. I have money. I can take care of her.”
Steely moved in closer, putting her hand on his arm. “Mr. Martinez, stay here. Take my room. I’ll sleep on the sofa, in the garage—I don’t care. Just stay.”
Martinez patted her hand. “Thank you, dear, but I’m staying with my cousin, a few blocks away. Bee-Bee doesn’t want us to cohabitate.” He inched up a little higher. “Bet I’ll have a ring on her finger in thirty days.”
“Ring?” Steely said hurriedly. “Thirty days? Really, let me help.”
“Thank you, señorita.” He winked. “But I got this.”
Steely stuck out a hand. He shook it. “Let me know if there is anything I can do.”
Chapter fifty-three
The closet light seemed to have lost a few watts. The desk had accumulated another layer overnight. Steely had shut herself up studying spreadsheets until her cell jiggled. “Hello?” she answered.
“Mrs. Hunter, this is Sheriff Tucker.”
Her face became serious. “Yes, Sheriff?”
“We retrieved the truck. The axle was wedged so deeply in the rocks that the fire didn’t get to most of it. This was no accident. We’re certain of it.”
Steely visualized the fireball. The frantic calls she and Bea made to Jack and David. The panic that grew every second they didn’t answer. Then the knock on the door the first time she heard Tucker’s voice.
“Mrs. Hunter, are you there?”
“Murder? Sheriff?”
“Yes. There was an electrical device attached to the brake line. Someone remotely signaled it to explode and bust the line. Hunter couldn’t stop because he had no brakes. This must be a shock to you. It sure is to me. I’m working with HPD to scour the remaining pieces. We’re going to find out who did this. I’m sorry to tell you over the phone, but I can’t get to Houston tonight. I didn’t want this to wait.”
“Sheriff, we needed the truth.”
“I would have never guessed this. Mrs. Hunter, will you tell Bea? You’ll do a better job than me.”
“This may not be the best time. She just got on her feet. I’ll tell her as soon as Nick gets back.”
“I couldn’t reach him,” said Tucker.
“He’s kind of busy right now.”
“He wanted us to review the surveillance tape from the Energy Oil parking lot. It shows Warren Dupree appearing to change a tire on Jack’s truck. He and David were out all day on the tractor, so he had easy access to the vehicle. On the day of the service, I got two strange calls. One about someone prowling
around the Hunter farm and the other about the Dupree vehicle, almost completely submerged in a creek off Highway 90, less than fifty miles away.”
“Dupree?”
“Yes. Dupree, his wife, Jacqueline, and their young son have been missing ever since.”
“Sheriff, I need to go now.”
Steely closed the phone and pushed a trash basket between her legs. The smell of rancid dumpling soup was strong. She pushed it back, wiped her face with a tissue, used her arms as pillow, and laid her head on her desk. Two minutes later, someone opened the door.
“Pauper?”
“Please stay out of here.” Steely didn’t look up.
Cricket came closer. “Nick’s phone goes straight to voice mail. Where is he?”
“Get out.” Steely pulled the receiver from Nick’s desk.
“Everyone’s looking for him.” Cricket inched in. “Pauper, what is he doing?”
Steely poked numbers in the phone. “I need a security officer on five, please.” She closed the receiver and laid her head back down.
Cricket taunted, “So you don’t feel like talking? I bet you’d talk about what happened the night your dad died. You tell me where Nick is, and I’ll give you every last detail.”
Steely turned her head toward Cricket.
“Nick and Vince Dichiara met up with him. Your dad accused them both of defrauding the company. See, Mr. Dichiara set up the LLCs. Nick’s the one who siphoned millions from JHI. Can’t believe the self-righteous Nick Dichiara could do such a thing? Why do you think his dad brought him to a business meeting? Mr. Dichiara roughed up your dad. Nick tossed him against the wall. Looks like Nick’s the green-eyed monster. Where do you think he is right now? He took off with over two hundred million. Do you really think he’s coming back? He’s a criminal, just like his parents. And you’ll be charged as an accessory.”
“You know so much. Yes, my dad hit the wall. Everyone knows that. But what actually killed him?”
Cricket blurted, “A headless nail. Now, what do you know about Nick?”
“You want to know what I know? You’re a sociopath.”
“Maybe so, but I’m a really good one.” Cricket’s mouth opened, teeth and gums showing, like a vicious dog, ready to bite. “You’re going to lose Nick, the assets, everything. You’re nothing but a Pauper, and you always will be!”
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