Cold Black Earth (22 page)

22    

Somebody had put up decorations in Aunt Helga’s room: a nativity scene on the dresser, a string of lights around the window, a tiny Christmas tree with needles made of foil on an end table. Steve was in attendance today, lounging in a chair by the window, one leg crossed over the other and tapping his fingers nervously on the arm of the chair. “Matt waited too long to crack down on the kid,” he said. “I always thought he was too easy on Billy when he was little. Seemed like whenever there was a tussle, Billy always got his way. And then when Matt tried to rein him in, it was too late.”

That was met with silence from Helga and Rachel, who was not getting the solace she had hoped to find here. “I’m not in a position to judge,” Rachel said after a moment.

“Matt didn’t spoil that boy any more than your daddy spoiled you,” Helga said, peering at her son. “You got your way plenty.”

Steve shrugged. “OK, whatever. I’m just saying.”

“I think Billy’s hurting,” said Rachel. “I think he blames Matt for his mother’s death. So he’s trying to get back at Matt.”

“How in the hell can he blame Matt?” said Steve.

“For moving back to the house after our mother died. Margie didn’t want to leave the house they’d started out in when they were married. Matt thinks that made the depression worse. He’s still second-guessing himself about it.”

“A woman likes to take pride in her home,” said Helga. “It’s like a farm. You put work into it, build it up, it’s something you can call yours.”

“Still, to kill yourself because you had to switch houses? That’s a little extreme.”

“I think there was a little more to it than that,” said Rachel. There were times when her cousin Steve irritated her; he was one of those men whose views were as unshakable as they were unreflective. “She was depressed. She was on medication for it. The move was just a precipitating factor.” She was dealing with a couple of skeptics, she could see. “Anyway, you don’t have to be a psychologist to recognize pain. And Billy’s in pain.”

After a silence Steve said, “Well, I’m sorry for him, then. But he’s still got to straighten up and fly right. You don’t get any points with the law for being in pain.”

“Of course not. I think Billy’s going to be OK. He’s got some growing up to do, that’s all.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t have to do his growing up in jail.”

That brought conversation to a halt. Rachel was on the point of taking her leave when Helga said, “She made a lot of trouble, you know.”

Rachel blinked at her. “Who, Margie?”

“That’s right. Did you know the sheriff took Matt in and questioned him about it? There was a lot of talk for a while about how he could have shot her and made it look like she killed herself. Anybody that knew him knew it was ridiculous, of course. That sheriff’s a fool.”

“Poor Matt. That’s horrible.”

Steve said, “They had to at least take a look at it. Something like that, it has to at least cross your mind the husband could have done it. Out there, no witnesses around, he could get away with it, easy. I bet it happens all the time.”

“Steven. How can you even think such a thing?”

“Jeez, Mom. I’m not saying Matt did it. I’m just saying the cops had to be suspicious. They had to take a look at the possibility. They wouldn’t be doing their jobs if they didn’t.”

“It’s ridiculous.” Helga waved the notion away, handkerchief clutched in her knobby hand. “That poor girl wasn’t strong enough for the burdens she had to bear, and she killed herself. That’s all there was to it.”

Except for the pain she left behind her, Rachel thought, but chose not to say.

The sheriff’s department cruiser was parked next to Matt’s pickup when Rachel got home, and her heart sank a little. She sat in the Chevy for a minute before going in, telling herself there was no reason her conscience should be uneasy with regard to Roger just because she had wound up in bed with Dan. She didn’t owe anybody any explanations.

She did, however, owe Roger a word of thanks. When she came into the kitchen Roger and Matt were sitting in silence, coffee cups in front of them, as if waiting for her. “Hello there,” said Roger, smiling. “Tires holding out OK?”

“So far. Thank you so much for helping me last night.” To Matt she said, “Did Roger tell you how he rescued me?”

“Yeah,” said Matt. “Who says chivalry’s dead? I’d have let you change the damn thing yourself.”

“I didn’t want to chip a nail,” Rachel said, playing along.

“I was happy to do it,” said Roger. “It was something to do on a boring shift.”

Rachel hung up her coat and got a mug from the cupboard. Matt said, “Roger’s just filling me in on what to expect with Billy.”

Rachel poured herself a cup of coffee. “And what can we expect?”

“Probably probation,” said Roger. “Nobody’s gonna put him in jail for a bar fight.”

“Not even for hitting a cop?”

“Not unless he went after the cop on purpose. Which it doesn’t seem like he did. But he’s gonna need a lawyer, for sure.”

“I’ll take it out of his college fund,” said Matt.

Rachel sipped coffee. “He says he’s willing to go with the public defender.”

Matt and Roger traded a look. “That could work,” said Roger.

“Suits me,” said Matt. “Maybe a little jail time would be good for him, who knows?”

“I don’t think it does anybody much good,” said Roger. “But probation’s been known to get a kid’s attention.”

Matt scowled at him. “Man, that’s a great credential to have when you’re applying for a job, a criminal record.”

“Could be a lot worse,” said Roger. “If he gets probation it won’t look all that bad on paper. Of course, he’s got to stay out of trouble from now on.”

“I wish I could guarantee he would.”

“He’s not your responsibility anymore. And like I keep telling you, you could have done a lot worse. There’s successful prominent citizens in this county that raised more hell when they were young than Billy has.”

Matt sighed. “You been a good friend, Roger. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“I just try and look out for my friends.” He looked across the table at Rachel. “How are you?” There was no smile today, crooked or otherwise.

“I’m fine, Roger.” He knows, she thought. Matt told him. “Anything new in the investigation?”

“Which one?”

“The murder investigation. Otis Ryle.”

“Well, there’s two investigations. There have been two murders.”

She blinked at him. “I guess I’ve been assuming they were done by the same guy.”

“And they probably were. But they’re still two different murders and two different investigations. You start assuming things, you can assume yourself right up a blind alley sometimes.” Roger took a drink of coffee, frowning as if he were framing the opening words of a lecture. Then he grinned. “Not that the detectives ever tell me what they’re thinking. They still got us out beating the bushes for Otis Ryle, that’s for sure.”

Rachel waited a second or two and said, “You never answered my question.”

“What, whether there’s anything new?” He waved a hand vaguely. “Like I said, the detectives never talk to me. The task force is set up in a room over at Warrensburg PD, and they go running in and out of there like they know what they’re doing. Last I heard they were waiting on fingerprint results from Carl Holmes’s truck. And they had talked to everybody that was at the bar with him that night. But I don’t know that they had anything they were really excited about. I think they’re going on the assumption that Ryle, or whoever, is still out there, armed and dangerous.”

Outside the sun was getting low in the sky, the light starting to go. The three of them sat not looking at each other. Rachel shuddered. “I want it to be over.”

“It’ll be over before too long,” Roger said, pushing away from the table. “Whoever it is, he’s got too many people looking for him and too much that can go wrong for him. He’s just about done.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Matt.

“Gotta run,” said Roger, standing and reaching for his cap. “Keep the doors locked.”

“Go ahead and do something with Dan tonight if you want. Don’t hang around here on my account.” Matt popped open a beer and tossed the cap into the trash can.

Rachel set the skillet on the stove. “I already told him I was staying in tonight. I’m making
côtes de porc à la moutarde.
”

“More frog food, huh? What is it?”

“Pork chops. With mustard sauce.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“Because then it would be just pork chops. We’ll have a feast and settle down in front of the TV. Or we could play Scrabble if you want. There’s something we haven’t done in a while.”

Matt stood with his head slightly aslant, looking at her. “Trying to make sure poor old Matt doesn’t get too gloomy?”

Rachel opened the refrigerator and pulled out the pork chops. “We’re all pretty gloomy these days. It’s as much for me as it is for you.” She slapped the meat down on the counter and turned to face him. “I’m looking for my family, Matt. I’ve been home for two weeks, and I still feel like I’m a stranger. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

He thought about that for a while and then nodded. “OK. Want some help?”

“I’ll let you do the dishes.”

“Oh, yeah, I get the fun part. All right, call me when it’s ready.”

Rachel set to work, making a production of it; she needed something to absorb her. Along with the pork chops she made potatoes
boulangère
, potato and onion layers baked in the oven; she sautéed green beans with garlic and made a green salad, and she opened a bottle of a good California pinot noir she had found in Warrensburg.

“Nice,” said Matt, once they were installed at the table. “I love these potatoes. Margie used to make something like this.”

They ate in silence for a while. Finally Matt said, “I miss her. I miss her a lot sometimes. But I’m over the guilt. I can be philosophical about it.” He drank some wine. “Mostly.”

“Billy says it was just brain chemistry.”

“Well, I’m glad he understands that now. He told me after it happened it was me that killed her.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t much fun. I even had the cops in my face for a while.”

“That’s what Aunt Helga said. I went and saw her today. Steve was there.”

“He goes to see her, does he? I thought he’d written her off.”

Rachel gave him a sharp look and Matt waved a hand. “I shouldn’t talk. Steve and I have had our issues, that’s all. Not my favorite cousin, but he’s OK.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing much happened except that we had a difference of opinion.” Matt poured himself more wine with great concentration. “Steve got on the ethanol bandwagon a couple of years back, went around trying to get everyone to sell their land to DAE or contract to sell them all their corn. And I’m not convinced ethanol’s not a house of cards. Right now a lot of it depends on federal subsidies and mandates. It’s not completely economically viable. But these companies that get the subsidies are putting up plants all over the place, selling towns on the jobs they create and all that. And the next time Congress monkeys with energy policy or gas prices go down, the plants will close and the jobs will disappear. But Steve wasn’t having any of that. I think he had some kind of financial stake in it somehow, he never really told me. And you know Steve, he’s always right. So we don’t get the families together for dinner too much anymore.”