Dead Broke in Jarrett Creek: A Samuel Craddock Mystery (Samuel Craddock Mysteries) (9 page)

“I have to ask you: Were the two of you involved sexually?”

She jerks back as if I’ve slapped her. “No!”

“When you talked, did he seem worried about anything?”

The momentary light in her eyes flickers out. She shakes her head. “No, and… he wouldn’t have told me anyway. We just goofed around. My roommate was in her room, so…”

I can’t help thinking she was lucky her roommate was here.

She glances over at the TV screen. The sound is muted. On the screen a man and woman are standing too close together for real life, and by the look of it they are angry with each other.

“Did Gary flirt with other girls at the bank?”

Jessica pulls her attention back away from the TV. “He was friendly to everybody. Everybody liked him.”

Somebody didn’t. “Were you jealous of him flirting?”

She picks at her nails, catches herself again, and balls her hands into fists. “Why would I be jealous? It wasn’t like we were dating or anything… like, you know, he was married.”

Marietta Bryant is walking out the door when I pull up at Grange Realty. “I’ve got to drive out to look at a lot ten miles outside of town. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll talk on the way?” I’ve never seen her dressed anyway but “up.” Today she’s wearing a white blouse with the collar turned up and a modest black skirt and high heels. She always wears gold jewelry: chains and small button earrings.

She drives a big SUV that she has to hoist herself up into, and she looks like a doll behind the wheel. “My husband usually drives this. It’s a gas hog and he had to drive to Houston today, so he took my Toyota.” She says she’s gotten used to the big car. She and her husband live on a little farm on the outskirts of town and they need a big car to haul things around in.

I tell her it’s hard for me to imagine her mucking around on a farm. She turns sparkling eyes to me. “Oh, I can wear jeans and a sweatshirt with the best of them. But mucking around? Forget it! I told my husband when we got married that I wasn’t doing anything that would break my nails.” The glee in her eyes tells me she’s probably teasing.

She’s equal to the task of driving the SUV, wheeling out of the lot like it’s a sports car. We head across the railroad tracks and into pastureland studded with the occasional rustic home. Before we’ve gone half a mile, her cell phone chirps. She glances at it, pushes a button, and slips it back into the holder between the seats like a gunslinger.

It’s relaxing to be in the passenger seat for a change, and Marietta points out various lots for sale and talks up plans people have for upgrading the area.

I ask her the same thing I asked Reinhardt. Did she hear or see anything suspicious when she left the night of the meeting?

“It seems like I’m always in a rush, and that night I left there like I was driving to a fire. I had to meet a client and sign some papers before it got too late. There could have been twenty extra cars there, or none at all, and I wouldn’t have paid any attention.”

“Fair enough. Now let me ask you something. Did you see this thing coming with Alton Coldwater?”

She glances over at me. She’s driving fast, but she knows what she’s doing. “No way I could have. I only got my hands on the books a few months ago and by then the damage was done. Alton kept dancing around, putting Rusty and me off until Rusty insisted he turn over the books. When I got them in front of me, I realized why he was reluctant.”

She slows down and turns onto a gravel road. There’s a lot of scrub brush here and few trees, but farther up the road I see a stand of post oak.

“Anyway, I tried juggling numbers every way I could, but last month I had to tell Rusty the town was going under.”

“Some people think we should be charging Coldwater with a crime,” I say. “What do you think?”

The road is rough, so she slows down. She glances over at me again. “We could probably make a case that he was negligent, but nobody has the heart for it. What good would it do? It’s not like Alton is rolling in money. Do you really want to see him go to jail?”

“I guess not. But I want to know why Coldwater put the town’s money in such a cock-eyed idea as a water park.”

She slows down and pulls over to the side of the road, then puts the car in idle. Turning to face me, she says, “That was my first question, but it’s pretty clear what happened. When tax revenues got so bad, he was looking for a way to make some money.”

“Why did he think a water park would help? Seems to me it was a big gamble.”

“The only thing I can think is that Alton was running scared and he ignored the risk because the possible returns seemed big enough to take care of our problems.”

“Whose idea was it? And how did he persuade the city council to go along with it?”

“I don’t really know. You’ll have to ask Alton.”

“Can you tell me who handled the sale of the land?”

“I did. I’ve got all the contracts back at the office, if you want to see them. Now let me look at this property so we can get on back. I’ve got an appointment in a little while.”

She takes a hand-drawn map out of the side pocket of the door and studies it. “I think that’s the gate right there.” She points a hundred feet up the road and slowly pulls up to it. “We’ll see if the combination I have opens this lock.” She hops out before I can offer and within minutes she swings the gate open. When she drives through, I get out to close the gate, glad I don’t have to favor my knee like I used to.

We drive down a rutted road. “Would you look at that!” She points to the right of the car. “These oil companies come in here like they own the whole world. They drill test wells and say they’re going to put in roads and clean up after themselves. And they leave a big mess.”

I wouldn’t call it a big mess, but there is a pile of scrap metal and PVC pipe. And the road is not much of an improvement over bare ground.

“What do you think of this acreage?” she says. She tells me it’s thirty acres that’s never been farmed or had cattle run on it.

There are a lot of trees on the land, and it would take some clearing if somebody wanted to use it. “I don’t know why somebody would want it,” I say. “You sure wouldn’t be able to feed cattle on it. Goats, maybe. And it’s pretty far from town.”

“My thinking exactly.” We get out and walk around. The soil around these parts has a lot of clay in it, not the best soil for farming. To put in any kind of crop at all, you’d have to haul rocks out and supplement the soil. After fifteen minutes she says she’s seen all she needs to see. “The old man who owned this died last year. I expect the son will be disappointed that it isn’t going to be worth as much as he thought.”

“I thought there were going to be some homes put in out here. That could make it worth something.”

“Could be.” She smiles. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Are you holding out on the seller?”

Now she laughs. “Everybody thinks we realtors have something up our sleeve. For ten years or more I’ve heard rumors that a development is going to be built out here, and nothing has come of it yet. It goes to show you, everybody’s always trying to make something out of nothing.”

When we’re back in the car and on our way, I say, “I have one more question about the water park. It seems to me the state would have to okay something like that. Did you run across any information about permits or licenses?”

She frowns. “I don’t remember anything like that, but I was going over the financial end of things. It’s probably in separate folders. I expect Rusty can find that for you.”

Marietta glances at her dashboard clock. “Oh, shoot! That took longer than I thought it would. I’m supposed to meet a client for a signing. It’s kind of exciting. She’s moving here from Houston to open a store in that new block downtown. I guess poor Alton was right to put money into street renovations. She’s the third new business that’s coming in.”

“You mean Ellen Forester? I met her at the bank this morning. She seems excited to move in and get started.”

“Yes, but I’m worried she’s picked the wrong town for her store.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she’s doing some kind of arty thing. I don’t know how much business she’ll have here. But you’re right—being in real estate, I ought to be happy for new business of any kind. Between you and me I’m not sure she’s in it for the money anyway. Seems like she has plenty.”

A small Honda ahead of us pulls into the Grange Realty parking lot. “There she is,” Marietta says.

Marietta parks and starts to open her door but pauses and looks back at me, her sudden good cheer gone. “Samuel, I don’t know if I should tell you this, but Jim Krueger has been talking behind your back.”

“He’s mad that James Harley is out of a job,” I say. “Can’t blame him.”

“I suppose, but he seems to have built it into some kind of personal grudge. You might want to tread softly there.” Then her smile lights up again. “Listen to me! Telling you how to do your business. You let me know if you want to see the contracts on that land deal.”

Marietta’s words send me straight to the high school to nose out Jim Krueger’s complaint. When you’re investigating a crime, you don’t let sleeping dogs lie. A police chief is obligated to poke sleeping dogs.

It’s after hours, but I suspect that high school principals don’t keep banker’s hours. Krueger’s receptionist is packing up for the day, but she buzzes him for me. Being in this office gives me a touch of nostalgia. Jeanne worked here for twenty years as a receptionist while also being a sounding board for kids who needed an ear.

At least Krueger doesn’t play the game of keeping me waiting. I’ve barely sat down in one of the uncomfortable straight-backed chairs designed to intimidate wayward students when two hangdog teenage boys come slinking out of Krueger’s office and he motions me inside.

Krueger’s shorter than his son, with thinning hair that he wears a little too long. James Harley already has a bowling ball gut, and when you look at his daddy you can see who he inherited it from. Jim’s gut pokes out over his pants and strains the buttons of his shirt. He peers out of his dark-rimmed glasses like he’s lost his way. Although he looks like somebody teenagers would make fun of, people say he’s popular with the high school kids. That probably means he’s fair. He points me to a chair and sits down behind his desk.

Normally, I’d lead in with a little small talk, but Krueger’s tight manner with me discourages chat. As soon as we’re seated, I say, “Jim, I wanted to follow up on our conversation yesterday. I’ve taken this position as police chief as a temporary fix to the financial situation. I have no intention of beating your son out of his job.”

Krueger’s shoulders slump. “I know that. I had a good, long talk with myself last night when I got home. It wasn’t right for me to take it out on you. Like everybody said, we’re lucky to have you. And quite frankly I’m not sure James Harley is cut out for police work anyway. I think he ought to look into other jobs.”

I can’t put up a big argument to that. “He’s young. He’ll find his place before too long.”

“Not that young. He’s over thirty.”

“Knowing he was going to lose his job, James Harley’s ego is probably a little scalded. If you think it might help, I’ll be glad to talk to him.”

“I doubt that would work out, but I appreciate the offer.”

I nod. “Down to business: I’m trying to get to the bottom of what happened to Gary Dellmore.”

Krueger sits back. “And you think I can help you?”

“I’m questioning everybody who was at the meeting the other night.” I ask if he remembers hearing or seeing anything notable after the meeting.

He shakes his head. “I had James Harley’s situation on my mind and I wasn’t thinking about anything else.”

“I heard Dellmore talking to someone around the side of the building when I was leaving, but I don’t know who it was,” I say. “Any ideas?”

“Hold on a minute.” Krueger leans back and looks at the ceiling for a couple of seconds, smoothing his belly with his hands. “As I was walking out, I heard Rusty Reinhardt say he’d like a word with Dellmore. But whether or not they went outside to talk, I don’t know. Have you talked to Reinhardt yet?”

Reinhardt didn’t mention that he met Dellmore after the meeting, so I dodge the question. “I’ll have to ask him whether they talked. If you think of anything more, let me know.”