Dark Waters (15 page)

‘Pinko-liberal' was a misnomer, Emmett decided. This guy was pure ‘crunchy-granola.' Remembering Jasmine during her pregnancy, he figured Grady would be a dead man the first time he complained of back pain.

Trying to keep Grady on tract, he asked, ‘Any of your kin that you've talked to before or after Darby Hunt's death – did any of them seem overly upset? Like they might want to cause him harm?'

Again, Grady laughed. ‘Well, yeah! They all did! And they all wanted to cause him harm. Or,' he said, finger on chin, ‘to be more specific, wanted harm to come to him. We are not a violent family, Emmett.'

‘And yet your brother is a cop. As one myself, I know an understanding of violence in others, as well as ourselves, is necessary. Have you seen Steve in town recently?'

Grady was shaking his head before Emmett got all the words out. ‘No. It's been a while. I haven't talked to him about this at all. Steve and I don't have a lot in common. He may have talked to our cousin, Beth. They were much closer growing up than Steve and I ever were.'

‘So who's been calling you?' Emmett asked.

‘My mom, mostly. She and I are pretty tight. And my aunt Lisa, and her son Malcolm.'

Shit, Emmett thought, I forgot all about Malcolm. Early twenties, still young enough to be a hothead. ‘So tell me about Malcolm.'

‘Well, let's just say I'm not the only one in the family who doesn't subscribe to the “USA – Love it or Leave it” philosophy.'

‘So Malcolm is also what your father would call a pinko-liberal?'

‘Jesus. Is he still referring to me as that?' Grady shook his head. ‘Well, better than what he called me last election. That doesn't bear repeating. But no, Malcolm isn't exactly political. He's just gay.'

‘And that bothers them?' Emmett asked.

‘Of course. They are true blue Oklahoma assholes. The men anyway. And not just the McDaniel men. My aunt Lisa's husband, Roger, Malcolm's dad, is a homophobe, too.'

Emmett wondered about that. Seemed like Beth Atkins was tight with her adopted father, and yet Emmett would be surprised to find out she wasn't gay. It wasn't just her clothes but her demeanor – everything about her. Had she not come out of the closet? Should he keep his mouth shut? Yep, mouth shut, he decided.

‘Does your cousin Malcolm seem like he could have done this?'

‘Malcolm?' Grady said, shaking his head. ‘Malcolm came out when he was ten or twelve. I mean, if somebody wants a case study of nature vs nurture when it comes to homosexuality, they should look at Malcolm. I think he knew he was different way before he talked to his folks about liking boys more than girls.'

‘I take it that didn't go down well?' Emmett asked.

Grady shook his head. ‘Roger moved out after that. Took about a year for him to come to grips with it, and the fact that Aunt Lisa wasn't going to throw Malcolm out. He moved back in, but he and Malcolm have been estranged ever since. Malcolm and his boyfriend live together, and Roger refers to Jeff as “Malcolm's roommate.”'

‘Just because Malcolm's gay doesn't mean he can't be violent—' Emmett started, but Grady, as was his habit, interrupted.

‘Oh, no, I didn't mean to imply that. It's just that Malcolm's very small – average height, I guess, around five-eight, but very slight of build. He got beat up a lot in high school.'

‘It doesn't take a lot of strength to pull a trigger,' Emmett said.

Grady laughed. ‘My dad took Malcolm hunting when he was about twelve, after he'd come out to his parents and his dad had moved out. Aunt Lisa hadn't told the family about it, so my dad just felt sorry for the kid not having his dad around. He took him hunting. Dad shot a rabbit and Malcolm burst into tears. Dad said he'd barely hold the rifle and refused to shoot it. So no, I don't think Malcolm could have shot Darby Hunt.' He was shaking his head and laughing. ‘Jeez, my dad was pissed about that. “Ruined a perfectly good day of huntin',” he said. Then he found out Malcolm was gay, and it was like, “I told you so. Told you that boy was queer.” Which, of course, he didn't. He never would have accused his own nephew of something so “terrible!”'

Emmett noted that the aforementioned was accompanied by a plethora of finger air quotes.

‘Do you know where I can find Malcolm during the day?' Emmett asked.

Again Grady laughed. ‘Yes, actually. He works for my father in the paint department.' Leaning in to stage whisper, and again with the air quotes, ‘“You know, them gays are good with colors.”'

Emmett couldn't help it – he laughed. Standing up and heading for the door, he said, ‘Thanks, Grady. I appreciate your time and the information.' He stopped and turned back. ‘Off the top of your head, who do you think killed Hunt?'

‘Off the top of my head? His mother. Of course, she should have done it in utero and saved us all a lot of heartache.'

Dalton had been thinking about it a lot. The whole gun thing had put the house of his dreams on the back burner, but now that he had his service revolver back, it was time to think about the future again. Him and Holly, and their home. Of course, she hadn't seen it yet, and he wasn't about to buy a house without her seeing it first. It was going to be her house too, after all. But he had a lot to think about before he did that. Like, did he do that first, then go buy a ring and propose? Or did he buy the ring first, show her the house and propose to her there?

He was so ready for his life to begin. And he knew it was going to be great, now that he'd found Holly. He'd never met a woman like her. She was what they called a free spirit, and he couldn't think of a better mother for his children than a free spirit. Not that he was saying anything bad about his own mama. She definitely wasn't a free spirit, but she'd still been a good mother. He didn't blame her for him not getting out on his own, or not having a girlfriend, or any of the other stuff. If he was to blame anyone, it would be his daddy, for up and dying on them when Dalton was only fourteen. He'd had to be the man of the house after that. And the man of the house just didn't get up and walk out.

But his mama had been talking about selling their house, about moving in with her recently widowed sister who lived in a big, fancy house in Bishop. His mama had been going to his aunt Martha's church every other Sunday now for about two months, so she was meeting new people and making new friends over there. His angel was definitely looking out for him, having all this come together at the same time. And his aunt had a live-in maid, so his mama wouldn't have to suffer, not having him around to do the cooking and cleaning and the laundry and such. She always made a joke that he'd make a good wife someday, but he figured with these skills he would make an
excellent
husband!

Now all he had to do was get up the nerve to take Holly to the house.

‘There's the most obvious question,' I said to the two boys sitting side by side on the twin bed I'd been sleeping on during the cruise. Jean sat on her twin bed while I loomed in the small space between the two. ‘Why did you leave the children's pavilion without calling us first?'

‘Ah . . .' Johnny Mac started, then looked at Early, who said, ‘Ah . . .'

‘Spit it out, boys. It's obvious you did it. You were caught, in a manner of speaking, on the staircase at the other end of the ship. You said you were going to Janna's cabin. Who told you that you could do that? Did Janna call her mother?'

‘Ah . . .' Johnny Mac tried. Early just shook his head.

‘Ah ha!' I cried in make-believe glee. ‘I have a negative response! Janna
did not
call her mother. Did Lyssa call hers?'

Again Early shook his head while my son glared at him.

‘Now I call this progress. Two negative responses!' I turned to my wife. ‘Aren't my interrogation skills amazing?' I asked her.

‘Indeed,' she said, giving the boys her stone-lion-outside-the-library stare.

‘And I think we can all agree that neither you, Early, or your friend Johnny Mac called either of his parents. Can we agree on that?'

Since I was speaking directly to Early, he said, ‘Yes, sir. We didn't call.'

‘Now back to my first question: why didn't you call?'

My son stood up, almost knocking me down. ‘Because you woulda said no! That's why!'

Well, that stopped me in my tracks. So I said a rough, ‘Sit down!' Johnny Mac obliged and I sank onto the bed next to Jean.

‘What was your plan, John?' Jean asked. ‘Were you going to rush back to the children's pavilion when I called you to say we were on our way?'

Johnny Mac looked stonily at the wall. Early said, ‘Yes, ma'am, that was the plan.'

Johnny Mac glared at Early. ‘You have betrayed me for the last time!' he said, stood up and walked into the other part of the suite, climbing to the top bunk.

‘Johnny Mac, get your ass back down here now!' I said, ready to rush into the other room and try some of my daddy's belt therapy on him. Jean saw me loosening said belt and said, ‘Not on my watch.' To Johnny Mac, she said, ‘Right now, John McDonnell Kovak.' Whoa, three names. He knew he was in trouble.

He sighed and climbed down. ‘Early is not betraying you,' Jean said. ‘He's actually acting responsibly, although, like you, he hasn't done so until now. Did the girls talk you into this?'

‘Don't you dare blame Janna!' Johnny Mac all but shouted.

‘Watch your tone, boy!' I said, trying to think what other punishments my parents used: the belt, a switch, a hairbrush, all used unsparingly on my backside. Looked like Jean was gonna put the kibosh on any of that.

‘Was this the first time you've done this – left the children's pavilion – or have you done this before? Like the night you said the pavilion closed at one a.m. but the sign says it closes every night at ten p.m.?' Jean asked.

Neither boy said anything.

‘I hope you realize that neither of you are going anywhere without your dad or me with you,' she added.

Johnny Mac sighed. Under his breath I heard him say, ‘That sucks.'

‘I heard that,' I said.

He just sighed again. He gets that from his mother. ‘I'm wondering, though,' I said to Jean, ‘if we checked the pavilion records if we would see whether they ever checked in?'

‘Should we look into that, John?' Jean asked.

Our son stood up again. In a defeated voice, he said, ‘Do what you will. I'm going to bed and I'm not getting up until we reach Galveston.' And with that he was off to his part of the suite, climbing the latter to the top bunk.

‘May I be excused?' Early asked. We said yes and he crawled into the lower bunk.

We forced the boys into nice clothes and made them eat dinner with us in the dining room. They went with the steak and French fries again, while I basked in the glow of an appetizer of bacon-wrapped, goat-cheese-stuffed scallops, a Caesar salad and a main course of lamb kabobs with pearl onions, button mushrooms and yellow peppers with a side of risotto. For dessert Jean and I split something called a chocolate volcano (a three-inch-high chocolate cake with a chocolate ganache in the center, vanilla ice cream on the side, and all of it drizzled with a dark chocolate sauce and topped with brandied pecans). The boys both had just plain ice cream, although I don't think that was coordinated since they didn't speak during the entire meal.

Then we forced them to go to a kid-friendly Vegas-style show in the big auditorium. Afterwards I let Jean and the boys go in our suite while I stayed outside to call home. Emmett picked up on the second ring.

‘'Bout damn time you checked in!' he said by way of a greeting.

‘I'm on vacation,' I said for what seemed the umpteenth time.

‘OK, I've only got one more person to interview and he doesn't look promising. Everybody has a half-assed alibi and the same half-assed motive.'

‘Hell, Emmett, revenge is always a strong motive.'

‘Yeah, but there's not one of them that stands out, know what I mean? They
all
hated his guts, they
all
wanted him dead, and most of 'em had the means and the opportunity. I mean, how hard is it to get your hands on a rifle in Oklahoma?'

‘Did you ever find out what caliber?'

‘Yeah, thirty-thirty Win.'

‘Hell, that could be anything,' I said.

‘Yeah, lot of rifles use thirty-thirty.'

I sighed. ‘Don't know what to tell you, Emmett. Just keep plugging away. That's the only way to do it. At least for me.'

‘Yeah, you always were a plodder. Me, I like the more effective miraculous brainstorm.'

I laughed. ‘Yeah, well, you hold your hand over your ass and wait for that, 'k? I'm gonna join my wife,' and with that I hung up.

We made an early night of it and were all in bed by ten p.m. At around eleven there was a knock on the door. Jean and I had both been reading but the boys didn't move, which was a good indication they were actually asleep.

I got up, put a robe on over my shorts and T-shirt and went to the door. Mike Tulia stood there. ‘What's up?' I asked him.

‘Step outside?' he said, making it sound like a question. I did. When the door closed behind me, he said, ‘Josh Weaver is missing.'

‘Who?'

‘Vern's oldest kid,' Mike said. ‘Vern just called me. Said he couldn't find him anywhere. He called security and they're looking for him, but I told Vern you and I would help too. That OK with you?'

I was tired but I had to admit I also had a little cabin fever. Our cabin was so small it didn't take long for the fever to take hold. ‘Sure,' I said to Mike. ‘Let me get some clothes on.'

I went back into the cabin where Jean lay on her bed, pillows stacked behind her as she read, although the book was now on her lap. ‘Who was that?'