Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery (5 page)

Del waits until Reena vanishes, then collapses in
his chair. “Paul treats her like dirt.” He checks the stairwell,
then says, “He’s been seeing some gal from Laredo for over a year.
I hear he’s just bought her a place in town.”

Susie shoots him a murderous glance and hisses,
“Yeah, I can imagine how it hurts to know Paul’s cheating on
her.”

At that Del jumps up. “That’s it. I’m sick and tired
of your suspicions.”

He must see the shock on my face, because he
smoothes the anger out of his voice. “Sorry about that, but I’m
sure Susie’ll be more than happy to fill you in on what she thinks
is going on. I’m going home and work on Darrell’s pitching
game.”

Susie holds up her hand for help, then lets it fall
to her lap. “I really wanted to talk for a while, but...”

Del looks at the two of us. “Okay, okay. I realize
it’s been a long time since you two have gotten together. So, gab
away. I’ll come back in a couple of hours. Will that be long
enough?”

“
No,” I say. “But, thank you for
letting me have Susie to myself for a while.”

He bends to give me a small hug, glares at his wife,
and vanishes.

Adelena serves coffee. When she leaves, the silence
between Susie and me lies heavy. She loses herself to an intense
study of her coffee until I finally break into the quiet. “Do you
really think Del is sleeping with Reena?”

Susie looks up from her cup, as tears come. “It’s
been going on a couple of years, maybe longer. Dammit. Don’t you
think he’d remember how badly she treated him?”

She shakes her head. “Del’s never gotten over her. I
get laid three or four times a year and always seem to end up
pregnant. Reena gets him three or four times a week and all his
damn sympathy.”

The pain in her face is devastating. I silently
curse Reena and change the subject. “What’s going on between Del
and Paul?”

“
Del’s father claimed his family
once owned the tract where the oil was discovered. Way back then
they didn’t have a clue about what was under the ground. They’ve
been cattle ranchers for generations.

“
In the late forties Mister
Carpenter found some old boundary markers that he said belonged to
his family and took Mister Darden to court. Seems nobody could find
any real paper on the property or records at the courthouse. Since
neither family paid taxes on it for years, Carpenter stepped up,
paid all the arrears, and took the property.

“
According to Del, his father
swore there was some sort of hanky-panky going on. He said there
were missing ledgers at the courthouse and the judge who ruled on
the case knew about the oil and got part of the play when the field
was tapped.”

“
That’s terrible. Didn’t the
Dardens try to fight it?”

“
They never had an extra dime.”
Susie shook her head. “The issue died with Del’s father, but Mister
Carpenter put Del through high school and helped supplement his
football scholarship.”

“
That’s one way to soothe a guilty
conscience.”

“
Maybe so. After Mister Carpenter
died Paul did the best he could to keep on making up for it. He
gave Del the foreman’s job at Anacacho when Dawson was born. So,
the oil issue only comes up when our ranch has a bad year and Del
has a few pops.”

“
I’m so sorry. It must be awfully
hard on you.”

“
Oh, we’ll make it. But trying to
feed four growing boys is expensive.” She caresses the heavy bulge
of her coming child. “I’m having a girl at last.”

“
Oh, Susie, how
wonderful.”

“
And I’d like to name her Allie.
Is that okay?”

My answer is to hug her tight. Then I look away to
hide the painful stab I feel over my long-ago loss.

Susie puts down her cup and takes my hand. “So,
what’s with you and Paul?”

“
What are you talking
about?”

“
Oh, Allie, you’ve never been able
to hide things very well.” Susie lowers her voice. “Please be
careful. Paul’s changed a lot in the past few years.” She sighs. “I
suppose living with Reena would do that to a man. She’s never
played it straight.”

I come to attention. “What do you mean by that?”

“
The way she set Paul up. There
wasn’t any pigeon shoot. It was Reena who left the message for Paul
the minute Del’s dad called him back to Dewey on some emergency.
Don’t look so shocked. You know she’d do anything to get her
way.”

“
Does Paul know this?” “Del
doesn’t even know.”

Before I have time to assimilate that news, Susie
drops an even bigger stone in the pond. “Did Reena tell you Paul’s
been seeing another woman for some time and he’s not trying to hide
it?”

That confirms everything. Susie has no reason to
lie.

The distant rattle of the cattle guard beneath Del’s
pickup pulls us from the tower and Susie and I say our
goodbyes.

“
Call me often. Please?” she
whispers. “You make the day brighter when you do.”

“
You bet I will. And you call me
when my namesake arrives.”

I climb the stairs to my room and throw myself
across the bed as Susie’s two pieces of news occupy my
attention.

Paul is an innocent lamb compared to the conniving
Reena. Then I realize there has to be some reason for my visit. But
what? What do I have that Reena wants?

I try not to add the “other woman” to the equation,
since my head is already engaged in mortal combat with my heart.
Part of me regrets refusing Paul’s invitation to bed. The other
lists all the sensible reasons why re-establishing a relationship
with Paul spells doom. Finally, I escape by falling asleep.

It’s dark when I awaken. Voices and footsteps coax
me downstairs. The living room is empty, but from behind the dining
room, pots clank, plates clink, and pleasantries pass among the
help on the other side of the kitchen door.

As I start toward the noise, Reena’s voice floats
from above. “Wait for me.”

She glides down the stairs and pulls me toward the
bar. “Cocktail time. Name your poison.”

“
Wine is fine.” I settle on the
stool and watch her deftly uncork the bottle.

My hostess shows no sign she over-served herself at
lunch. In fact she looks fantastic. Every hair is in place and her
makeup is flawless. I bet she still wears the same dress size she
did in college.

Reena sported the best pair of legs this side of the
Sabine River and came to Texas with a pedigree of sorts, being
Smiley’s head cheerleader and homecoming queen two years in a
row.

In contrast, I was Valedictorian of my class and
Lampasas’s only female varsity golfer, but I was too tall to take
part in the homecoming court and didn’t even try out for
cheerleader.

The sound of ice knocking the sides of a glass
distracts me from my dreary tick list as Reena splashes a generous
amount of vodka, pours my wine, then lifts her glass. “Salut.”

I remember the old college routine. It was a joke
among the three of us. We knew we wanted the wealth, but never
worried about our health or the time to enjoy it.

I raise my glass and gently touch hers. “Pesetas.”
After a sip, I say, “Mmmm, that hits the spot.”

Reena points to the sofa in front of the glowing
fireplace and heads for it. Once we’re seated, she raises her
glass. “Guess you’ve figured we’re eating alone.”

“
Suits me fine. I came to see
you.”

She starts to say something, then heads for the bar
and a quick refill.

Reena slowly turns toward me, glass raised. “Is Paul
still as good in the sack as he used to be?”

At that, needles of adrenaline course my body as
spots spire before my eyes. To my horror I feel as guilty as if I
actually committed adultery. I concentrate on relaxing my grip on
the stem of my wine glass before I say as nonchalantly as I can
muster, “What do you mean?”

She plops on the couch. “You might as well know, I
asked Luke Hansen to follow you two up to Paul’s little lair.”

I almost faint from relief. Maybe he saw us kiss,
but that was all he saw.

I take a few seconds to gather myself before I
speak. When I do, my reply is a surprisingly steady, “Sorry to
disappoint you, but I’m an old-fashioned girl. No married men for
me. Paul and I were just catching up. After all, seven years is a
long time and we had a lot of ground to cover.”

“
Oh c’mon, Allie, don’t tell me
Paul didn’t at least try to make a pass at you.”

The proverbial lightbulb blinds me. I was her last
ditch. Pictures of Paul and me in flagrante would certainly help
her case in the divorce. Luke Hansen was probably the ugly man at
the stables talking to Reena when Paul and I rode up. Well, too
bad, Reena, you lose. I relax and take a sip of my wine, grateful I
kept my wits about me.

Reena continues the attack. “Don’t think Paul has
been saving himself for you, my dear. Goodness, no. He has his
little routine down pat. First, he asks his target-of-the-moment to
go for a ride.” She laughs to herself. “It doesn’t matter whether
the ladies can ride or not. I’ve seen Miguel tie them to the
saddle.

“
Off they go into the sunrise,
high noon, or sunset. When they stumble onto Paul’s little retreat,
he leads the lady to the very convenient platform bed, tells her
she’s the only woman that’s ever shared his special hideaway.
Aaand, as they say, the rest is history.”

I start to speak, then remember the only way to
Paul’s retreat is on horseback. Not even a four-wheeler could make
it. How does Reena know these minute details when she claims she’s
too scared of horses to ride?

Reena pours another drink and smiles through tears.
“I know it’s over. It’s just a matter of time. Paul has never
forgiven me for lying about being pregnant.”

Adelena saves the moment by announcing dinner and we
move into the dining room.

Over delicious broiled striped bass in a sweet
pepper sauce, we chat about the good old days at the sorority
house.

When Reena makes a few oblique references to Paul’s
abrupt departure, I take the opportunity to ask about his shifting
his business from San Antonio to Laredo.

“
In the past few years the air
traffic into San Antonio has become so congested that even though
Laredo is about twenty miles farther, it’s a shorter shot. I
engaged a CPA for Paul and he found us a bank. Too damn bad the
bank found Fanny.”

“
Fanny?”

“
The next Mrs. Paul Carpenter.” We
finish the meal in silence.

Reena doesn’t mention Paul again except to announce
that Miguel has informed her the plane will fly me back to Houston
first thing in the morning.

We down our coffee, mount the stairs, and part.

I sigh relief once the door clicks shut behind me.
Relief that Reena didn’t insist on an after-dinner drink. Relief
that Paul won’t be returning to tempt me.

I BREAKFAST ALONE, then Miguel drives me to the
waiting jet. There are a dozen questions I want to ask this quiet
man who seems not only loyal to his boss, but very protective of
Reena.

I get home just after ten and head to the basement
to do a load of laundry. When I get off the elevator, I hear a
dryer running. I’m not much in the mood for idle chat with one of
my neighbors, but my blues dissolve when I see Duncan hunched
before the window watching the laundry whirl.

He waves and I wave back, dump my clothes in the
washer, feed it the required quarters and join him on the
bench.

He puts his arm around me, plants a friendly kiss on
my cheek, and says, “When did you get back?”

“
Minutes ago.” Duncan is glad to
see me. That’s all that matters. So I apologize. “Sorry about the
other evening. Nothing personal. I was just venting.”

“
I know. But it’s obvious you’re
not happy with your present situation. Maybe the private side of
the law would be more enjoyable.”

“
Maybe so. But I’m not hurrying
into anything.”

We sit there for a while, neither speaking. Watching
laundry dry is a lot more interesting than one would imagine. For
one thing, I discover Duncan has a yen for plaid boxers. I’m about
to make some flip comment about that when he says, “How about a
movie?”

When I reach my apartment, there are four messages
on my machine. The parents’ usual Sunday call, followed by one from
my sister, Angela, Duncan’s info on a one-thirty viewing of some
foreign film at the Greenway Three, and Paul.

“
I’m sorry about Saturday, but I
knew if I didn’t leave Anacacho I wouldn’t be able to honor your
wishes. I have to see you, Allie. I need to be with you. I’ll call
this afternoon. Please be there.”

I erase the messages and return the phone calls.
Angela is out as usual, but the parents are in. After I give a
brief rundown of my week, Mom rhapsodizes over Angela’s latest
modeling gig while my stomach crimps with envy.

I was five when I learned I would never be the
“star,” no matter what I achieved. I’m sure Mom would have cut her
tongue out if she discovered I was hiding behind the couch when she
told a friend, “Angela’s our beauty and Alice is our brain.”

Even at that young age, I knew my mother spoke the
truth. Angela inherited Dad’s high cheekbones, Mom’s perfect nose,
and a tawny spill of wavy hair. A package that would later pull in
a hefty six-figure income.

Despite all this, I love Angela and we have always
been close. Though she’s fifteen months older than I, somewhere
along the way, I became the big sister.