Authors: Jude Pittman
Krystal leaned back in her seat and Kelly concentrated on his driving until he pulled off Jacksboro highway onto the access road that followed the lake.
“Do you like seafood?” he broke the silence.
“Of course. I’m from Houston.”
“That’s what I figured.” He grinned. “Martini’s has the best seafood around these parts.”
When Kelly pulled into the parking lot it was full and he drove around the lot and backed into a spot against the fence.
“I hope you don’t mind a little hike,” he hopped out of the truck and circled around to meet her on the other side. “Old Blue’s sensitive to nicks.”
“Of course not. I don’t blame you for being careful. It’s a beautiful truck. What year is it?”
“It’s a ’76. I’ve spent a fair amount of time patching and polishing.”
“It shows,” she assured him then turned to gaze at the spectacle of Martini’s framed against the glistening lake. “I’d no idea they had a place like this in Fort Worth. It’s more what I’d expect to find in Houston.”
“It does look a bit like it belongs on the ocean,” Kelly took her hand and led her toward the long, low structure spread gracefully along the lakeshore. The soft, gray building with its white trimmed base suggested whitecaps beating against a rocky cliff.
“I’ve reserved a table by the windows,” Kelly smiled down at her. “I figured it was too chilly for an outdoor table but it’s nice the way they’ve set it up inside. Gives you the feeling you’re sitting on the water. The architect was probably from Houston.” He chuckled and released her hand to let her precede him through the front door.
A hostess escorted them to a small alcove set off from the main dining room. A bank of greenery secluded the table that stood beside an aquarium stocked with tropical fish.
Krystal’s eyes sparkled approval. “This is really charming.” She pointed to the seamless pane of glass overlooking the lake. “I feel like I could reach down and trail my fingers in the water.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Kelly opened the menu and scanned the entrees. “Do you want me to order for us?”
“Yes, please do. I love seafood. Anything you choose will be fine with me.”
“Okay. We’ll start with hot, spiced shrimp and Margaritas but we’ll wait a while before I order the main course. Does that suit you?”
“Perfect. It’s so peaceful here. It’ll be easy to talk. I do want to hear about my mother. My grandmother never allowed me to mention her and Uncle Andrew was just as bad. Stella used to bring her up sometimes—when nobody else was around. She’d say things like ‘blood will tell,’ and ‘you’ll probably turn out just like your mother’, but she was just being nasty.”
“Stella’s your aunt?”
“Well, she’s Uncle Andrew’s wife, so I guess she’s my aunt but we definitely aren’t close. She was a barmaid when she met Uncle Andrew and as far as I’m concerned, she’s still a barmaid.”
“Then she married your uncle after you went to live with him?”
“No, before. I lived with my grandmother until I was fifteen. We moved in with Uncle Andrew when Grandmother Davis developed Alzheimer’s. She didn’t approve of Stella but toward the end, she didn’t know who any of us were.”
“I guess it was tough being raised without a mother.”
“My grandmother was definitely not the motherly type.” Krystal’s tone had an edge of bitterness and Kelly figured her life with the grandmother must have been pretty grim.
“Doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Oh, I got used to it.” Krystal smiled but her eyes were empty.
“I’ve heard that in the early stages of Alzheimer’s a person is often confused between the past and the present. Did your grandmother mention your mother after she took sick?”
“Well, sort of.” Krystal frowned as she recalled her grandmother. “Sometimes she thought I was my mother. She’d say things I didn’t understand. She wasn’t a nice old woman, you know.” Her eyes flashed with strong emotion, and then she blinked and shut it down. Kelly changed the subject.
“Tell me about your Uncle Andrew. Are you close to him?”
“No. I’ve never been close to my family but I like Uncle Andrew better than Stella. He’s never been mean to me and he doesn’t dig at me the way she does. Of course, he does resent me owning stock in the company.
“When my father died, all his shares went into my trust and my grandmother left me hers. That surprised me as much as it did Uncle Andrew. He’s never said anything to me but I heard him talking to Stella after Grandmother Davis’ will was read and he was furious.”
“That means you control the business, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose so. I own most of the stock but it doesn’t matter. I don’t have any interest in the company, so Uncle Andrew runs everything anyhow.”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you finish school.”
“I doubt it. I’m going to work with emotionally disturbed children. I couldn’t care less about the business. We’ve gotten off the track, though. You were going to tell me about my mother. Please do.”
“Of course.” Kelly smiled and took a sip of his drink. “I’m trying to think where to start. I wasn’t exactly on intimate terms with Anna. Nobody was except Bubba. He was her special friend, you know. He knew her better than any of us.”
“That dirty, little man?” Krystal wrinkled her nose.
“Well, I suppose he might look that way to an outsider but he’s really an okay guy. Oh, he drinks too much—so did Anna—but you had to know them to get beyond their drinking problems.”
Krystal flinched and Kelly regretted his words. She’d never had the chance to know her mother and he hadn’t meant to rub it in.
“What I mean is, they had their own charm. Anna was cantankerous and ornery, especially when she was drinking but she was also remarkably kind and understanding. She didn’t wear her good deeds like a badge the way some folks do but she did plenty of them.
“I know several families at Indian Creek who won’t eat near as well now Anna’s not around to stock their cupboards. Then there’s Cam—the fellow who owns the Hideaway. He would’ve lost his business a couple of years back if Anna hadn’t come to the rescue.”
“Where did she get the money?”
“I don’t know. I suspect your uncle can tell you more about that than I can. I’m not really supposed to say anything but you’ll be finding out soon anyhow. Anna had a lot of money when she died and she left it to you.”
Krystal stared at him. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. I don’t know why Anna took off when you were a child but I don’t believe it was because she didn’t care about you. She left you everything. In her own way, she must’ve loved you a lot.”
Krystal’s eyes bored through him. “She didn’t look to me like she had any money.”
“Well, she did. And the only people mentioned in her will were you and Bubba. He’s the alternate heir—in the event you didn’t survive Anna.”
“That man,” Krystal snapped.
“I can see that I’m going to have to introduce you to Bubba,” Kelly said. “You’ve only seen his bad side. Bubba could charm the stinger off a hornet if he put his mind to it.”
Krystal attempted a smile but it wasn’t very convincing.
“Anyway, your uncle seems like the logical source for all this money Anna’s been getting,” Kelly said, changing the subject. “And the fact that he won’t tell you anything about why she left the family has me puzzled.”
“You think he had something to do with her death, don’t you?”
“No. I just think he knows something about Anna that might point toward her killer and I’m trying to figure a way to find out what it is.”
“I don’t think I want to talk about it anymore.” Krystal turned her head toward the window.
“I’m sorry. What say we order and I promise, no more questions.”
Kelly lifted his arm and signaled the waitress to take their orders. “We’ll have the blackened redfish with crawdad
etouffé
and a bottle of Llano Estacado cabernet sauvignon,” he said when she approached the table.
“Thank you.” Krystal turned back to Kelly. Her eyes shone with an unnatural brightness but the tears were under control.
Kelly reached for her hand and stroked her fingers. “That was thoughtless on my part,” he said. “We all have our hot buttons. After we get to know each other better—and I hope we will—you’ll find I’ve got a few of my own.”
“I’d like that.” She smiled, her eyes adding promise to the words. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself. We’ve talked enough about me.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’m what they call a homegrown Texan. I was born in Fort Worth—lived here all my life. I married my high school sweetheart and joined the police force. Lynda, that was my wife’s name, died a few years back and I kinda lost interest in things. I quit the force and took a job as security guard out at Indian Creek. I’ve been there ever since.”
“I’m sorry about your wife. That must’ve been really hard.” Her fingers, still resting in his palm, tightened around his hand.
Her soothing voice brought a lump to Kelly’s throat. Even after all this time, he still had trouble sharing the pain. “It took me a long time to come to terms with losing her. I don’t talk about it much.” He mumbled the words, his voice gruff with emotion.
“I’ve never loved anyone, so I can’t imagine that kind of pain.” A wistful note of longing shaded her voice and Kelly saw the loneliness reflected in her eyes.
“You’re a beautiful woman,” he pulled his thoughts away from his own pain. “One of these days, some lucky guy will come along and teach you all about love.”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head and locked her eyes with his. “I wonder if I’d even know how to share that kind of love.” She dropped her eyes and her face clouded. “I don’t really feel anything about my mother, you know.
“Oh, I’m sad because she’s dead but it’s a selfish sadness. I’m mainly sorry because I never got to ask her why she went off and left me. I keep thinking I ought to feel some kind of personal loss but I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t. You were just a child when she left and you were deeply hurt. As the years went by, you built up walls to protect yourself. You can’t be expected to grieve for her when you never had a chance to reconcile the abandonment.”
“Why do you think she was killed?”
Kelly picked up his glass and took a sip of wine. He kept his eyes on Krystal, studying her and wondering how to word his answer without causing her more pain. Finally, he put the glass down and spoke in a gentle, soothing voice.
“I don’t know why she was killed, Krystal. I think the police believe my friend, Cam, killed her because they had a falling out over the note she had on his bar. They had a fight about it the night Anna died, so it looks bad for him but I don’t believe he did it. Actually, I was going to ask for your help in finding out some things that might lead to her killer—that is, if you feel up to talking about it.”
“Yes. I want to know the truth,” she lifted her eyes to meet his watchful gaze. “But how can I help. I don’t know anything about my mother except what I read in Mr. Boscon’s report and what you and Detective Graham have told me.”
“I know you don’t but you know about your uncle and your family in Houston and I can’t help feeling Anna’s past has got something to do with her murder.”
“But nobody except Penny even knew I’d found my mother until after she was dead.”
“What about the detective you hired to find her?”
“Mr. Boscon? But what would he have to do with my mother’s death?”
“Probably nothing but the Davis family is pretty well-known around these parts. It’s not impossible Mr. Boscon might’ve called your uncle and told him that he’d found your mother.”