Hallowed Ground (39 page)

I stifled the urge to snap off a salute. “Crys-tal clear, sir.”

To Kim, he said, “Shove painkillers and sleeping pills down her throat, whatever the hell it takes, to make sure she stays put today and isn’t out gallivanting around.”

Kim nodded, face somber.

After Martinez had shut the door behind him, she burst into giggles.

“Gallivanting around? Oh my God. Where’d he come up with that phrase? It’s so . . . quaint for such a badass.”

“Beats me.”

I reached for my cigarettes. The first puff made me feel sick. The second did too. By the third, my body had quit protesting and gave in to the inevitable poisoning.

Kim had sprawled in the recliner, feet up, my
Days of ‘76
mug in hand. “Does Kevin know?”

“What? About the accident?”

“No. That you’re sleeping with Tony Martinez.”

I choked when I exhaled.

“Don’t bother to deny it. The fact he came
gallivanting
in here, ready to rip off my limbs to get to you today was a dead giveaway.” She thoughtfully blew on her coffee. “But the hickey really clinched it.”

Automatically, my hand flew to my neck.

“Not that one. The one above your right breast.”

I froze.

“Didn’t know about that one, huh?”

“How did
you
know about it?”

“I helped you get undressed last night, remember?”

I shook my head. Dammit. I had to stop doing that. It hurt. “Last night was pretty much a blur.”

“So. How long has this been going on?”

My first inclination was to hedge. Except, I needed to talk to someone about this thing going on between Martinez and me. Was he another bad choice in a long line of my bad choices?

If he was completely wrong for me, why didn’t it feel wrong?

“Jules?”

“Umm. Only one time.”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

I admitted, “Okay, more than one time, but it was only one night.”

“When?”

“The night before last. After Harvey ...” I ground out my smoke. “I’d never seen Tony like that.

We were both pretty screwed up by it. This whole thing is screwed up. I’m screwed up.”

“Are you going to tell Kevin?”

“That I screwed up? He already knows. Will I tell him about Martinez? I don’t know.” I groaned.

“Who am I kidding? I won’t have to tell him; he’ll find out and then we’ll have another big goddamn fight.”

“
Another
fight?”

I didn’t respond. With all the crap that had transpired in the last thirty-six hours, I’d hardly thought about Kevin at all.

Where was my guilt? Used up because we’d fought and I was mad at him even though I knew he’d been right?

Kim’s cell phone chirped.

I popped a painkiller, chased it down with cold coffee.

Her brief conversation ended.

“What’s up?”

“The hair dryers blew a fuse again. Jenny is freaking out. She’s such a ditz, she can’t even change a light bulb let alone find the fuse box.” Worry creased her perfectly plucked brows.

“Sorry, but I should check it out before she burns the damn shop down.”

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

I swung my feet up and snuggled into the couch. “I’m tired. I’ll be out in about two minutes and won’t know if you’re here or not anyway.”

“Glad to be appreciated.”

Say thank you, Julie Ann,
a voice strangely like my mother’s prompted.

“Uh, so thanks for coming up and rescuing me last night, and for, umm, staying with me. You’re a real North Carolina peach.”

She blinked, startled by my gratitude. “You’re welcome.”

Before the door closed I’d fallen asleep.

My head was pounding. I sat up too fast and grabbed the coffee table to keep myself from passing out.

The pounding continued. Not only in my head. Someone was beating on the front door.

I wrapped the quilt around my shoulders and shuffled to the foyer. Throwing out a welcome mat without knowing the identity of my guest? Maybe that wasn’t the smartest option.

“Who’s there?”

“Don Anderson.”

What? Why was he here?

I’d barely cracked the door when he pushed it open and bolted inside.

“Whoa. Don. What’s going on?”

“I, ah . . . need to talk to you.”

He tossed an apprehensive glance over his shoulder. I suspected he wanted to peek out my curtains before he jerked them shut.

“Let me guess: You don’t want anyone to know you’re here talking to me, right?”

“Right.” His milky gaze took in my less than stellar appearance. “You look terrible. You okay?”

“Car accident. I’m fine now.”

“Does your daddy know?”

“No. And let’s keep it that way, shall we?” I motioned for him to take the recliner in the living room while I sank into the couch. “So, Don, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Arthritic hands crushed the bill of the vintage Zip Feed cap; he aimed his eyes at the pointed tips of his cowboy boots. “Doug said he tried to hire you to find who killed Red Granger.”

“I’m hoping he also told you I can’t do that because of the legal restrictions.”

“That’s a pretty smart rule. But you can follow somebody, right?”

“Usually. Mostly it depends on the situation. Why?”

Don glanced up. “Does it cost a lot?”

I kept my impatience in check. “Again, it depends. Who do you want followed, Don?”

He didn’t answer straight off.

A strange thought struck me. “Is it my dad? Did he do something wrong?”

“No! He’d never do anything like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like, mebbe killin’ someone.”

My headache roared back with a vengeance. “Stop beating around the bush and tell my why you’re here or leave.”

He blurted, “I think Dale Pendergrast might’ve killed Red Granger.”

“What?”

Don slumped back in the chair. “You heard me. I think Dale might’ve killed Red and I want to hire you to follow him and see what he’s been up to. I’m worried ’bout him.”

This was beyond bizarre. “Okay. Why don’t we start with why you think Dale is responsible for killing Red?”

“Ever since they started building that casino, Dale and Maurice have been actin’ mighty strange.

Both been complainin’ that Red isn’t doing his job, and if he was, accordin’ to them, that

‘abomination’ wouldn’t be there.”

“Dale might’ve killed Red because he thought he was a crappy politician? Seems a pretty slim motive for murder.”

“Not when you consider a coupla things. Dale is a real boot-licker when it comes to Maurice.

And Maurice ain’t made no bones ’bout the fact if
he
was on the county commission, he’d see to it that casino would be gone. With all the hullabaloo going on, I’m afraid Dale decided if he shot Red, it’d get blamed on one of them other groups.”

He slid me a sly glance. “Didn’t you tell us that Indian fella got shot? Think it’s a coincidence Red got shot right after that? I’m bettin’ that might’ve been what gave Dale the idea. Red wouldn’t think nothin’ of it if Dale pulled up while he was fixin’ fence. And boom. Right in the ticker.”

I opened my mouth, but now that Don was on a roll he’d forgotten I was in the room.

“With Red outta the picture, Maurice could get that seat on the commission he’s been eyein’ for the last few years.”

With my head throbbing it took a second to organize my thoughts. “But county elections aren’t held for another eighteen months.”

Don beamed at me, the star pupil. “That’s why the head of the commission would have to appoint someone to fill Red’s seat. Know who’s the head of the commission?”

“Hark Taylor.”

“Maurice’s huntin’ buddy. So who do you think old Hark’s gonna appoint to fill Red’s seat?”

Maurice. “But what would Dale get out of it?”

He slanted forward, eager to gossip. “Oh, he wouldn’t have done it just for Maurice. No. It’d give him a chance at buyin’ Red’s land. Ain’t no secret Red and his wife Viv have been having problems. She told my wife last year she was tired of ranching, been buggin’ Red to retire so’s they could move to Arizona and be closer to the grandkids. Guess Red flat out refused.”

“That gives Viv a pretty solid motive.”

“I know. Them deputies have been out to talk to her twice. Confiscated all of Red’s guns. The minute she ain’t a suspect, she’ll sell that land and Dale will be the first one in line.”

“Dale’s a little old to be turning into a land baron. Why’s he want that ranch land so bad?”

By his look of horror, I figured I’d just tarnished my star pupil badge. “How could you live in this county for so long and not know nothin’ about grazing rights?”

I held up my hand to stop the lecture. “Because I don’t care.” I fished out a cigarette but didn’t light it. “I fail to see how following Dale is going to disprove anything. Sounds pretty cut and dried to me.”

“But—”

“But what I want to know is why you haven’t taken this information to Sheriff Richards.”

Don folded his lips. They stayed that way.

“Not talking now, huh?”

“I’ve said too much already. Besides, everybody knows—”

“Don’t give me the crap argument that everything you’ve told me is common knowledge around these parts. For the last three years
nobody’s
kept this county’s secrets better than me, and I couldn’t have put this together with a map.”

His hands twisted his hat.

“Don?”

“I didn’t go to the sheriff because Dale is my friend, okay? He’s been my friend and neighbor for more’n forty years! I’m jus’ s’posed to forget about that and turn him in like he’s some kind of common criminal?”

“Yes.”

He vehemently wagged his head. “I cain’t do that.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come here.” My brain protested the shift forward. “You not turning him doesn’t absolve Dale of
his
crimes, Don. It makes you an accessory after the fact for withholding information from the authorities.”

“But—”

“I don’t give a damn if he’s right up there with the friend you have in Jesus, because he
is
a common criminal if he killed Red Granger.”

I was breathing so hard and fast I didn’t need to smoke.

Don stared at me, misery etched in the lines of his worn face. Lines that seemed even more cavernous than when he’d arrived. “You gonna tell the sheriff?”

“No.”

His hangdog expression brightened until I said, “You are. I’ll give you until tomorrow morning.

If you haven’t marched your butt into Sheriff Richards’ office by then and shared this information with him, I will.”

“I’ll deny I ever said anything to you.”

I shrugged. “Won’t matter. With the basic outline, the sheriff is smart enough to connect the dots.”

“I never shoulda come here,” he mumbled.

“Then why did you?”

“Because I thought you could help.”

“By covering up a murder? I don’t think so.”

But hadn’t I done that once before? By taking the blame for Meredith Friel? Why couldn’t I do that now?

Because this time it was wrong.

He stood; his hunched body shook with anger. “Maurice and your dad was both right. You ain’t got no loyalty.”

Startling, how much that comment didn’t sting.

“Wrong. I just don’t give my loyalty to people who don’t deserve it.”

When he reached the foyer, I said, “Tomorrow morning, Don.”

He slammed the door.

Made my head scream.

I swallowed a painkiller. Chased it with a sleeping pill. As I drifted off I wondered if the day would ever come that my life wasn’t one fucked up mess after another.

AS IT TURNED OUT, DON ANDERSON DIDN’T HAVE TO rat on his friend.

Sheriff Richards called the next morning to check on me, since Deputy Tschetter had blabbed to him about my car accident. After the inevitable discourse on my risky behavior, he told me there’d been no change in Donovan’s condition. Then he filled me in on the really big news in Bear Butte County.

One of the guns confiscated from Red Granger’s place, a Ruger mini-14, commonly referred to as a “varmint rifle,” matched the ballistics of the bullets taken from his body.

They’d arrested Viv Granger and were holding her in the Bear Butte County Jail. No bail. She didn’t have an alibi and swore up and down she was innocent.

That’s what they all said.

But the strange thing was the sheriff, who assumes everyone is guilty, seemed uncertain about Viv Granger’s guilt. He wouldn’t give me additional details. In truth, I was amazed he’d told me as much as he had.

I wasn’t feeling well enough to go into the office. I called and checked the messages. Seven from clients, one from Kevin.

Yay. We were now communicating through voice mail.

He’d informed me yesterday that Lilly’s funeral was tomorrow. Which meant today.

I couldn’t go. Not that I wanted to. Lilly’s family didn’t need me there. Besides, Kevin hadn’t asked.

What did it mean that Martinez had asked me to accompany him to Harvey’s service?

Further, what did it mean I seriously considered going?

I debated on leaving Kevin an equally dispassionate response about my car accident, but I didn’t want to fight with him. I missed him. I missed us.