Текст книги "Last Resort"

Автор книги: Jeff Shelby

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“Yeah,” Carrie said. She leaned up against the sliding glass door. “Were you there?”

I shook my head. “No. Just heard about it. You didn't ask him about it? About the fight?”

“No, because Harvey told me if I came near him again, he was going to ban me from Windy Vista,” Carrie said.

“Me, too,” Mary said.

“But I overheard him,” Carrie said, a small smile appearing on her lips.

“You did?”

She nodded.

“What were they fighting about?”

Carrie's smile widened. “They were fighting about the medallion.”

TWENTY FOUR

“So you really don't think those two dimwits did anything to him?”

Jake and I were sitting at the table on our deck the next morning. We'd followed the girls to Delilah's place, made sure she answered the door, then let her deal with them and headed back to our cabin. We'd spent the rest of the evening parked on the couch. Jake had started a movie on Netflix and I knew the reason why: so I wouldn't hound him incessantly with my suspicions and theories. Even with a million thoughts swirling through my head, I'd managed to fall asleep with my feet propped in Jake's lap. Somehow, he'd persuaded me into my pajamas and into bed. But I didn't remember either.

Jake shook his head and shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. I'd made bacon and eggs and toast. “No.”

“That's it? That's all you have to say?”

We were sitting out on the deck, the morning breeze rustling the trees, the sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves.

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I don't know.” I bit into a piece of toast. “Discuss it with me?”

“Discuss or investigate?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

I smiled innocently. “Discuss.”

He scooped eggs on to his slice of toast and took a bite. “Fine. Discuss.”

“Why do you think they didn't kill Harvey?”

“Because they liked him.”

I took a sip of my coffee. “Well, duh. But people sometimes do stupid, irrational things when they're in love. Crimes of passion.”

“Those two are definitely stupid,” Jake commented.

I gave him a look and he sighed.

“Okay,” he said. He swallowed a mouthful of orange juice. “A couple of reasons. One, they seemed genuinely afraid he would ban them, so whatever he said to get them to stay away from him worked. And, two, I'm not sure those two would have been smart enough to hide his body if they'd been the ones that killed him. They probably would've propped him up on their couch and pretended he was still alive.” He shook his head again. “Because, as we both know, those two aren't all there.”

“No kidding,” I said, breaking my piece of bacon in half. “But they also give me kind of a Fatal Attraction vibe. Like they might try to take Harvey out so no one else could have him.”

He frowned. “Maybe, but I didn't get much of that from them. They're more troublesome than dangerous, I think.”

He was probably right, but when I felt like we still hadn't heard much about who might've killed Harvey, I was looking for anything that might help out Delilah.

“Do you believe the stuff about him and Delilah?” Jake asked, scraping the last of the eggs off the plate.

“No.” I poured orange juice into my half-empty cup. “I really don't. I just don't get that feel from her. I didn't even get that feeling from his mother at the restaurant, you know?”

He nodded. “Agreed. I think they might've been close, but people are always quick to whisper.”

“I'd really like to know what he and Hackerman were arguing about, though,” I said. “Now that guy totally seems capable of killing someone.”

Jake shrugged. “I don't know. The guy's a weasel, but what does a killer really look like or act like? There isn't exactly a type and he sort of strikes me as a coward. Lots of bluster, but doesn't do a whole lot to back that up in any way.” Then he shrugged again. “But who knows? All of these people seem to have brought a little of the crazy with them.”

I agreed with him that you couldn't know what a killer looked like. Rex, our home inspector, didn't want to recommend an exterminator for the mice that were living in our house before we moved in, because he was adverse to killing things. Yet he'd been the one to dump Olaf Stunderson's body in the coal chute. So maybe we couldn't tell a killer just by looking at someone. But Hackerman just gave me the creeps and I could see him getting in an argument with Harvey and doing something stupid. Hackerman seemed more than capable of doing a lot of stupid things.

We finished breakfast and cleaned up the table and did the dishes together. Jake was feeling sluggish and wanted to go for a run. Since I only ran when chased, I declined to accompany him. After he left, I walked down to the clubhouse and saw Delilah scurrying around the picnic tables on the pavilion, trying to move them all by herself.

“Do you need some help?” I asked.

She brushed the wisps of hair from her face and planted her hands on her hips. “I'd like to say no, but yes. I do.” She rubbed the small of her back. “I'm not in any shape to be moving these around by myself anymore.”

I walked over to the opposite end of the table she was standing at. “What do you have going on today?”

“Camper potluck,” she said, lifting her end of the table. “Everyone brings something and we provide burgers and hot dogs.”

“But the barbeque was just the other night...”

“I know.” She offered a tired smile. “We had a schedule goof-up and didn't realize we'd put both events in the same week. It was too late to change dates so we just had to go with it. Besides, people like the get-togethers.”

I picked up my end and we scooted it over to the empty space she'd been angling for. “I'm sure they do.”

She took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, they really do. And it's usually fun and low-key.”

There was something in her voice that made me think she was looking at it as something other than that, though. “Usually?”

She guided me toward another table, which we picked up and slid over near the other one.

She took another deep breath. “Just with everything that's been going on, I'm not sure who's coming or bringing anything or really anything at all.” She surveyed the picnic tables. “I'm not sure this is all worth the effort at this point.”

We moved a couple more tables into place and I offered to give her a hand with the plastic table cloths. We covered each table with a red-checked cloth, securing each in place with metal clips. By the time we were done, the entire pavilion had been transformed from a drab-looking eating area to something fun and festive.

Delilah eased her frame on to a bench. Her pink t-shirt was damp with sweat. “Thank you for helping.”

I sat down next to her. “Of course. It's a lot of work for one person.”

She nodded. “It is. Harvey was really good at helping me get things ready. He was far more organized than I am.” Her voice trailed off and she looked away.

“What did you end up doing with those girls last night?”

She rolled her eyes. “I wish I had the heart to call the authorities and have them locked up. But I don't, of course.” She shrugged. “I made them promise to stay away from Harvey's and they brought me a check for the cost of the window this morning.”

“So you don't think they had anything to do with Harvey's death?”

She stared at a crack on the concrete floor. “I don't want to think they did.”

“But you do?”

“Honestly?” She looked back at me and I saw the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I have no clue. They were always harmless when it came to him. Like puppies following around their owner. But after he broke up with them? They went a little crazy.” She offered a half-laugh. “No. Not a little. A lot.”

“The hammer and the fire?”

Delilah nodded. “They blew it off. Said they were accidents and what-not. And Harvey didn't give either incident another thought. But they just seemed to turn a corner after that. Like, if they couldn't have him, no one else could, either.”

I tended to agree with her and a tingle shivered up my spine as I thought about our encounter with them the night before at Harvey's camper. What if they'd freaked out when Jake confronted them? They'd had a potential weapon and it wasn't like they'd had a problem attacking someone before.

“Did he really like them?” I asked. “I mean...for more than just...?” I couldn't force myself to finish the sentence.

She smiled. “Harvey was a good person, but let's be honest. I mean, he was still a man and both of those girls are very attractive. Pickings are slim up here for relationships, and they basically threw themselves at him.” The smile faded. “But even with what they had to offer, they wore thin on him quickly. I think he ended up tolerating them more than liking him and that was because he knew it was his fault for becoming involved with them in the first place. But he certainly didn't dislike them.”

I believed her. As creepy, even sinister, as the sisters seemed, I could see how they'd be attractive to a guy in his twenties, particularly if they were the aggressors. I didn't fault Harvey for that, particularly if he wasn't running into other people his age at Windy Vista.

“You haven't asked me yet,” Delilah said.

“Haven't asked you what?”

“The one thing you probably really want to ask me,” she said. She tugged at the collar of her shirt. “The one thing people have probably been sure to tell you. About me and Harvey.”

“People talk and they like to create drama. It's none of my business.”

She smiled like she was grateful. “That's kind of you to say, but you wouldn't be normal if you weren't wondering, Daisy.”

I felt embarrassed by the fact that I was actually wondering.

“Harvey and I were not in a relationship,” she said, leveling her eyes with mine. “But everything you've probably heard is the result of one dumb thing I did a few years back.”

I wasn't sure what to say to that even though I was dying to know what the mistake was. I pressed my lips together and kept my mouth shut.

She sighed and clasped her hands together in her lap. “A couple of summers ago, I'd had a lousy day. Campers were complaining, we'd lost power for part of the morning, and the well went down for a bit. Just one of those days where everything went wrong. So after I got everything up and running and made sure everyone was semi-happy again, I cleared out of here and went into town to relax and have a couple of drinks.” She paused. “But a couple of drinks turned into a lot of drinks.”

I could think of a few nights where I'd thrown the kids at Jake, started a campfire out back, beer in  hand, ready to unwind. There was no shame in that and Jake would usually end up joining me after the kids were in bed. There might've been a night or two when I'd knocked back more than I'd intended but I didn't think there was an adult on the planet who couldn't relate.

“So I'm just ugly drunk at the end of the night and I know I can't drive back here,” she continued. “I don't know anyone at the bar. The few friends I did know had already gone home. So I called Harvey.” A thin smile crossed her lips. “I knew he was around and I knew he'd come get me. He told me he'd be there in fifteen minutes, so I went outside and waited and tried not to fall over.”

Delilah wrung her hands a little more and glanced back at the concrete floor. A trail of ants followed the seam in the pavement, disappearing into a tiny crack. “So Harvey shows up and loads me into his car. Tells me he'll bring me back to get my car the next day. I'm three sheets to the wind and just trying not to pass out in his passenger seat.” She sighed. “We drive back to Windy Vista and he helps me out of the truck. Because I needed help. I could barely stand.” She shook her head, clearly embarrassed at the memory. “So he's kind of shuffling me along toward my cabin and I stop and try to kiss him.” She cringed. “I tried to kiss him.”

There didn't seem to be any pleasure in the retelling at all and I didn't think it was because she was telling it to someone she didn't know that well. I thought she was cringing because she couldn't believe she'd acted like that.

“I don't know why I did it. He'd always been like a son to me, which just makes the whole thing creepy and horrible. But he was taking care of me and I didn't have a man in my life doing that sort of thing for me, you know? I just...I wanted to thank him somehow, and that was the way I thought to do it.” She sighed and shook her head, a disgusted look on her face. “Anyway, he stopped me before I could really make a fool of myself and helped get me into my cabin. He laid me down on the couch, covered me with a blanket and sat there until I passed out. Which was probably about two minutes.” She took a deep breath and scratched at her knee. “Next morning, he comes by to check on me and I can't apologize enough for making a fool of myself. Harvey being Harvey, he just blew it off, told me it was no big deal and said he wasn't giving it a second thought.” She paused and the corners of her mouth twitched. “And that was it. It was never awkward and he forgave me for acting like an idiot. I finally got over it, too, and chalked it up to just being one of those stupid things we do that we have to learn to live with.”

My list of stupid things included something far worse—marrying Thornton ranked right up there at the top—so I understood completely.

“So we were never together,” she said, glancing at me. “We were never a couple. We were never anything other than friends.”

“So how did it get so blown out of proportion?” I asked. “It doesn't sound like Harvey was the kind of guy who'd go around telling people what happened.”

“He wasn't,” she told me. “But several people saw him unloading my drunk self out of his car that night. They saw him take me in...and then stay for a bit. And they've seen us spend a lot of time together over the years. They all jumped to the conclusions they wanted to jump to.”

I nodded. I knew how easy it was for people to make assumptions.

She shook her head ruefully. “Even when Harvey went out with the twins, people were wondering why I wasn't angry that he was supposedly cheating on me. As if someone like Harvey would ever be interested in an old biddy like me.” She let out a soft chuckle at the thought. “I denied it for so long and then I just finally gave up even addressing it. I clearly wasn't going to change what people thought, so I  let people think what they wanted to think. There was nothing else to do.” She smiled at me. “So there's your answer.”

“You didn't owe me an answer, Delilah,” I said. “You really didn't.”

“I know,” she said. “But it feels good to be able to share the truth and know there's a shot that person will believe what you say.”

“Well, then I'm glad you told me,” I said. “And I do believe you.”

“Thank you.” She slapped her palms to her thighs and rubbed them on her shorts. “Alright. Now I really need to get things rolling here. Thank you for listening to an old lady.”

“Any time,” I said.

Delilah stood. “Well, I'll make sure there aren't more times. You're here on vacation. You need to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am,” I said. “Jake and I both are.”

“Good,” she said. She frowned then. “Oh. I meant to ask you about the tow truck yesterday. Something wrong with your car?”

It was my opening to tell her about the tire slashing but I decided to keep my mouth shut. She didn't need anything else to worry about. “Just a flat tire. We had it towed to a local shop and they're bringing it back for us. Today some time, I think.”

“Probably Clarence,” she said, nodding her head. “He's got a place in the next town over that does repair work. He'll have it fixed for you in no time.” She worried her lip. “I hope you weren't needing it to go do stuff. You can always borrow my car if you need to...”

“No, no,” I said, holding up my hand. “We're just fine right here.”

“Good,” she said.

As if on cue, a tow truck lumbered toward the front gate from the main road, our shiny rental attached to the back.

“That was fast,” I commented.

“Clarence does good work.” Delilah waved at the driver, a balding man with a handlebar mustache, and pressed the button on the remote. “And he doesn't get much work up this way.”

“Bringing this back to your place,” Clarence called from his open window. “Belongs to some gal staying there?”

Delilah nodded and motioned to me. “She's right here.”

I waved. “Thank you,” I called.

“You betcha,” he said. He shifted the truck back into gear and made his way up the hill.

“Guess you aren't stuck here, after all,” Delilah said, smiling. Her eyes drifted over me and toward the road and the smile disappeared. “Well, this is going to be fun.”

I followed her gaze. A silver Suburban was turning into the gravel lot at the end of the pavilion.

“You don't sound like you mean that,” I said.

Her lips pinched tight and her shoulders filled with tension. “The meat for the potluck. I have it  delivered. Steve from The Landing always brings it over and then helps at the barbecues.”

“Okay,” I said, still unsure what had changed her demeanor so dramatically. “Is he late or something?”

She shook her head. “No. That's not Steve.” She swallowed. “That car? That's Kat's.”

“Kat's?”

She stared hard at the Suburban. “Harvey's mother.”

TWENTY FIVE

Kat got out of the Suburban and shaded her eyes against the sun. She wore a pair of denim shorts and a red T-shirt that advertised The Landing. She spotted us, hesitated for a moment, then walked around to the back end of the Suburban. She lifted the window and pulled down the tailgate. She pulled a large box out of the back and made her way toward us.

“Where do you want them?” she asked as she approached. Her tone was curt.

“Table next to the grill,” Delilah said. She hesitated, then asked, “Where's Steve?”

Kat walked over to the table and dropped the box. “He's sick. He called me.” She walked toward the Suburban.

“See?” Delilah muttered. “Tons of fun.”

As nervous as Delilah seemed to see her ex-friend, Kat just seemed angry to be there. She grabbed another box and walked back toward us.

“Can I help you?” Delilah asked.

“No,” Kat said. “I've got it.”

“I can help you carry things.”

“I said I've got it,” she snapped.

She made three more trips to the Suburban and walked past us without saying a word. And each time, Delilah's anxiety grew. Kat slammed the tailgate on the Suburban on the last trip, her arms filled with one more large box. She dropped it on the table and started ripping the boxes open. Then she checked the propane on the grill.

“What time does thing start?” she asked.

Delilah checked her watch. “About half an hour.”

Kat nodded and ripped the rest of the boxes open. Stacks of frozen patties were stuffed inside of a large plastic bag.

“Are we just going to do it like this all afternoon?” Delilah asked.

“Do what?”

“This,” Delilah said, waving her hand in the air. “Not talk. Pretend like we're invisible.”

“Yep,” Kat said, pulling out meat patties and setting them on a tray. “I'm here to work, not discuss how you screwed up my son's life.”

Delilah's eyes grew round and she swallowed hard. “I did not screw up Harvey's life.” Kat didn't respond and Delilah continued. “Well, maybe if you'd been a more understanding mother, he might've spent a little more time with you.”

Kat flinched like she'd been tasered. She set another stack of patties on the tray and looked at Delilah. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Delilah said. It was like something had sparked inside of her. I'd never seen her lose her cool but she was spitting knives. “If you hadn't just cut Harvey loose and stonewalled him, then maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to spend all of his time somewhere else.”

I could almost hear Kat's teeth grind as she clenched her jaw and set her hands on her hips. “Well, if you had respected my wishes and not turned him into your pseudo-son, he would've left this second-rate campground and gone and made a real life for himself somewhere else.”

“Harvey was an adult,” Delilah said, enunciating the word. “The problem was you never figured out how to treat him like one.”

“The problem was this place kept him from being one.”

“Yeah, if only he could've done something more adult,” Delilah said, rolling her eyes. “Like run a crappy restaurant in town.”

Kat's eyes narrowed. “At least I'm not about to declare bankruptcy.”

“At least I didn't just give up on life.”

Kat's cheeks flushed, the anger boiling over. I stood there, helplessly, watching the train wreck unfold. I didn't want to see them fight, but I knew it wasn't my place to get in the middle of them, either.

“I didn't give up on my life,” Kat said. “I stayed here to make sure my son would be alright.”

Delilah shook her head. “Which shows exactly how little you knew about Harvey. He'd be fine anywhere.”

“But if he hadn't been here, he wouldn't be dead!”

Delilah drew back as if Kat had slapped her.

“Yeah, you don't have a reply for that, do you?” Kat sneered. “Because you know it's true.”

Delilah swallowed. “Harvey was here because he loved Windy Vista. He loved Minnesota. And he loved the outdoors. No matter how hard you pushed him away, he wouldn't leave.” She swallowed again and leveled her eyes on the woman in front of her. “And it's not my fault that you have to live with the guilt of never having apologized to your son. Because he's gone now. And that opportunity is gone now, too.”

Kat froze. Slowly, she extended her arm and picked up one of the frozen hamburger patties. She stared at it for a second, then fired it at Delilah. The patty sailed a foot over Delilah's head and slammed into one of the posts holding up the pavilion, hitting it with a thud before flopping to the concrete floor.

The sound ignited something inside of Kat. She grabbed two frozen brats and hurled them at Delilah. One missed, landing in the grass beyond the pavilion but the other hit her square in the chest. Delilah stumbled backwards, clutching her shirt where it had hit her.

“Ladies, please,” I said, taking a step toward them. “Please don't do this.”

But Delilah had regained her balance. She leaned down and picked up the frozen brat. She wound up her arm like a pitcher and whipped it in Kat's direction. It smacked her squarely in the forehead, leaving a long, red mark above her eyebrows. The other woman caught herself on the table, squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, and then opened them.

And then she charged at Delilah.

I did what any self-respecting woman would have done. I took a step back and got out of the way. She tackled Delilah and they tumbled to the ground in a pile of unintelligible screams. They rolled around on the concrete patio, back and forth, their arms locked together like two Sumo wrestlers.

“Ladies,” I began but I knew it was to no avail. They were focused solely on each other.

“You killed him!” Kat screamed, her hands groping at Delilah's ponytail.

“I did not!” Delilah screamed back.

“You killed my son!” Kat screamed.

Delilah clawed at her hands. “I did not!”

“You killed my son!”

“I did not!”

Kat let out a howl that sent chills down my spine. “My son is dead!”

They both stilled, like a magic spell had frozen them in place.

“I know,” Delilah's voice was softer. Broken. “I'm sorry.”

“He's dead!” Kat wailed.

“I'm sorry,” Delilah repeated.

Both of them were crying. Sobbing, really, unable to speak or catch their breath. The wrestling had morphed into an embrace, each holding tightly to the other as they cried, their bodies shaking with grief.

“I'm sorry he's gone,” Delilah said, her voice ragged. “I'd do anything to have him back.”

“Me, too,” Kat said.

They released one another and sat up, wiping at their faces.

“I miss him,” Delilah said. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks stained with tears.

Kat hesitated, then nodded. “Me, too.”

I stood there, wishing I was somewhere else. If they noticed I was still in the pavilion, they gave no indication.

“Did he really hate me?” Kat asked, her voice barely a whisper.

It was Delilah's turn to hesitate. But then she shook her head. “No. He didn't hate you. He missed you, but he was afraid he'd just make it worse if he tried to talk to you. I kept telling him he needed to make it right with you and he said he would. Some day.”

Kat nodded slowly. That had to be awful to hear, that her son had been planning to try and patch things up with her and now wouldn't have the chance. I thought of my own kids and how many times I'd gotten angry over simple things. Suddenly, I missed all four of them very badly.

“I'm sorry, Kat,” Delilah said, again wiping at her makeup streaked face. “I'm sorry he's gone and I'm sorry we aren't friends anymore. I'm really sorry.”

Kat stared at the ground for a long moment. “Just tell me one thing. Tell me you had nothing to do with Harvey's death. Promise me.”

Delilah paled and I saw her sharp intake of breath. Kat looked up, her eyes on her former friend's face.

“I had nothing to do with his death, Kat,” she said in a small voice. She hesitated, then added, “I...I promise.”