Stay At Home Dad 03-Father Knows Death (12 page)

She finally opened her eyes. “George had a secret.”

27

Matilda pushed herself off the sofa, and peered through the blinds. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.”

She let the blinds settle and returned to her seat. “I swore to him I wouldn’t tell anyone. Because I knew he was in danger. That’s why I was crying, you see. I didn’t want him to do anything.”

She wasn’t making sense, but I didn’t want to interrupt her.

“George was out here at the grounds one day, maybe a month or so ago,” she said. “I don’t remember the date. But it was early morning and he was coming to fix one of the sheds, I think he said. He liked to get up early and get here while it was quiet.”

I nodded.

“There was a truck here,” she said. “And he thought that was odd, because no one was ever here that early, not even Mama.”

“Whose truck was it?”

“It belonged to some company,” she said. “I don’t remember the name. But no one was in it. So George took a walk around the grounds and found this guy out where the midway is.”

She was killing me with her lack of ability to get to the point, but she had momentum and I didn’t want to get in the way, so I just nodded again.

“He was from a gas company,” she said. “And he told George that he was doing some marking or something. For when they could start digging.”

“Digging? On the grounds?”

Matilda nodded. “Yep. He was from a company that was going to dig for gas. Though I don’t know how you dig for gas. There was a funny word for it.”

My mind flashed on the conversation I’d had with my dad and with my Wizard of Oz friends. “Fracking?”

She snapped her fingers. “Yeah, that’s it. I made a joke about it, but George didn’t think it was funny. Anyway, this guy said his company was going to dig on the fairgrounds. George, of course, didn’t believe him.”

“So what did he do?”

“Well, the guy told him they were going to start digging in May,” Matilda said. “As soon as fair week ends. George told him he was crazy, that he didn’t have no right to do that, that it was private property. And the guy just laughed at him and told him to get lost.” She sat up straighter. “But anyone who knew George knew you couldn’t just talk to him like that. So he told the guy to get off the property, but the jerk said no.”

I waited.

“So George told him again to leave and the guy just walked off, still measuring or doing whatever he was doing,” Matilda said, anger in her eyes. “George grabbed him and told him to leave. And the jerk punched him in the face.” Her eyes watered again. “Knocked my George out.”

I was trying to put it together in my head, but was having trouble fitting the pieces together. “So were you crying because he knocked George out? Because he hurt him? I’m still not clear on why you were upset that night.”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, I did cry when he told me about getting punched. But not that night at the restaurant.” She wrung her hands like a wet washcloth. “He woke up on the midway and the guy and his truck were gone. The guy left a business card on George’s chest, like he was being funny or something. So George went to tell Mama about it. He called her, told her to come right over.”

“Did she?”

“Yeah,” she said, anxiety returning and her eyes flitting to the window. “And he told her. And she told him it was none of his business, to forget he ever saw the guy and keep his mouth shut.”

I waited for her to continue.

“George was mad and confused,” she said. “He didn’t understand how she could tell him to forget it. It was like she didn’t care.”

I thought it was more than that, but didn’t say anything.

“And then he figured that maybe Mama was going to let him dig on the fairgrounds, but he didn’t see how that was possible,” she said. “I mean, it’s the fairgrounds, not somebody’s yard or something. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like that at all. So he decided to do something about it.”

“What was he going to do?” I asked.

The tears came again. “I begged him not to. I knew how angry Mama would be and I knew he’d probably lose his job if he went against her. But George was stubborn.” She smiled through the tears. “My George was stubborn.”

“What was he going to do?” I asked again.

“He was going to tell everyone what happened with the gas guy and tell them that Mama knew,” she said. “At the next fair board meeting.”

“Which was when?”

She wiped at her eyes. “It would’ve been the one last night.”

28

Matilda made me wait until the coast was clear before I could leave.

The early afternoon sun was in full effect, baking the entire fair and its inhabitants with more unseasonably warm weather. I shaded my eyes against the sun as it burned into my skull, which was trying to digest everything I’d just learned. Not an easy meal in any way.

My dad waved at me from a bench in the shade near the entertainment stage and I sat down next to him.

“I snuck away from your mother,” he said. “And, you look confused.”

“I think I am.”

“Not the first time. Probably why I recognized it so fast.”

“Ha.”

“You should probably go home and check on your wife,” he said. “She might be having a baby.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. No missed phone calls or texts. I’d been smart enough to turn the volume all the way up just in case.

I put it back in my pocket. “She would have called. She’s fine.”

“So what are you confused about now?”

“The fracking thing,” I said. “At your house. Tell me about that again.”

He looked at me, puzzled, then shrugged his shoulders. “They called me first. I told them to buzz off. Then a guy showed up at the door. Young guy, nice looking, all friendly and salesy. He knocked on the door and I was ready to push him off the porch. Until he told me the kind of money he was offering.” His mouth twisted in thought. “I looked at the paperwork and it looked pretty legitimate. A whole load of cash to do a little digging on the north side of our property. We talked for a few minutes. Told me to call him when I’d finished thinking it over. I haven’t done that yet.”

People were walking by, water bottles in hand, waving at the air with fairground maps and programs, trying to cool themselves off.

“Remember the guy’s name?” I asked.

He shifted on the bench and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through it. “He gave me his card. Told me he was the rep for all of Rose Petal. Made some crack about how he was going to be the fracking king of Rose Petal.” He pulled out a card. “Here it is. Corey Stewart.”

He handed me the card. It was a simple rectangle made of white cardstock. His name was on there, along with a simple logo for Taitano Resources, a phone number, and an e-mail.

“Mind if I keep this for a while?” I asked.

“Why? You gonna see if he’ll check out your backyard?” my dad asked.

I smiled at him. “Yeah. Think I will.”

29

Victor pointed the neck of his beer bottle at me. “You are actually becoming an investigator.”

We were on my back deck, under the trellis, the grill warming, drinking beer. I’d called him when I left the fair after talking with my dad, told him what I’d learned, what I wanted to do and, surprisingly, he’d agreed to come over, as long as I provided some dinner and beer.

“I think that was a compliment,” I said.

“I think it was, too.” He glanced at the bottle. “I better not have any more or we’ll be kissing.”

“Kissing my knee, maybe.”

He ignored my insult. “When’s this guy supposed to get here?”

I glanced at my watch and sipped from the beer. “Any minute.”

On cue, the doorbell chimed inside the house.

“Punctual,” Victor said with a smirk. “Friggin’ sales guys.”

“Feel free to jump in if you think it’s necessary,” I said.

“Gee, thanks for your permission, Dick Tracy. You ain’t
that
good yet. Don’t let your empty head swell.”

The glass slider slid open and a guy in his late twenties with slicked-back hair wearing a bright green polo shirt and khaki pants and an obnoxious smile stepped out in front of Julianne, who was munching on a giant pickle wrapped in aluminum foil.

“I’ll scream for you if the kid falls out,” she said in between bites, patting her belly.

“Perfect,” I said, smiling at her.

She closed the slider and the guy’s smile brightened even more. “What a great lady. You are very lucky.”

I stood. “Yes, she is and yes, I am. I’m Deuce. And this is my friend, Victor.”

“Corey Stewart,” he said, shaking my hand enthusiastically. If he was taken aback by Victor’s midgetness, he didn’t show it, smiling just as broadly at him and extending his hand. “Corey Stewart.”

Victor slid out of the chair and shook his hand. “Yeah. Hey.”

Corey surveyed the backyard. “Man, this is a great layout. Love the deck and the trees are terrific. Bet your kid loves playing out here.”

Victor rolled his eyes and slid back into his chair.

“Oh, thanks,” I said, then gestured at the empty chair next to Victor. “Yeah, she does. Have a seat. Get you a beer?”

“Ah, can’t, on the job, but thanks.” He set down his leather shoulder bag and eased into the chair. “When’s your wife due? Julianne, was it?”

“Yeah. About a week ago.”

He chuckled. “Whoa. She wasn’t kidding, then, about screaming, was she?”

“She rarely kids about anything.”

“Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, then,” Corey said, setting his hands on his thighs. He smiled at Victor, who returned a fake smile. Corey looked back at me. “You said on the phone you were interested in a lease estimate and analysis.”

“Right,” I said. I wasn’t, but he didn’t need to know that quite yet.

He opened his bag, pulled out an iPad and started tapping away at it. “Mind if I walk the yard for a minute?”

“Have at it.”

He hopped down the stairs and walked slowly along the fence line.

“Watch out,” Victor whispered. “You’re not careful, you’ll end up buying a used Buick from him or something.”

“He’s pretty good,” I whispered back.

“Salespeople always give me the creeps,” he said, frowning. “All that fake happiness and crap isn’t good for anyone.”

“He’s just doing his job.”

“Well, his job is lame.”

Corey hopped back up on the deck and sat down again. He nodded at the yard and then smiled at me. “You live in a good spot.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, most of the Rose Petal area is built over shale rock, which is a tremendous source for natural gas,” he explained, looking from me to Victor and then back to me. “Taitano Resources has made a commitment to help reduce energy costs by extracting as much natural gas as possible from the shale in order to help preserve other resources.” He smiled at me. “And when you own land where shale is present beneath the surface, we feel obligated to compensate you more than fairly to use your land.”

I doubted Corey or his company felt any obligation other than to make as much money as they possibly could, but I didn’t say anything.

He tapped away at the iPad again. “Your entire property appears to rest on shale, so we’d be interested in exploring the entire subterranean area of your property.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

He grinned. “You a baseball fan?”

“Sure.”

“Favorite team?”

“San Diego,” I said. “Makes no sense, but we went on vacation there as a kid and my dad took me to a game there. Padres have been my team since then. Probably to spite my dad, who’s a big Rangers fan.”

Corey chuckled. “We might not be able to do business then. I’m a Dodgers fan.”

“Ugh. Now I really don’t trust you.”

He laughed harder than was necessary. “Now, now. We can do this peacefully. But, in baseball parlance, your home is like a grand slam.”

“How’s that?”

He smiled again at me. “Well, it’s a bit complicated. But the simplest way to explain it is that we do some digging, squirt a little water down there, and see what comes up. My guess is that a lot is going to come up. A grand slam.” He tapped at the iPad, then spun it around and showed it to me. “And this is what we’d pay you to explore your land.”

I started to say something, but then did a double take at the number on the screen. It was at least three times what I was expecting to see. I looked at Corey. He was smiling, having noticed the double take.

“Taitano Resources wants you to know that they appreciate your permission to use your property,” he said, grinning. “Like I said, we know it’s an inconvenience to temporarily turn your property over to us. We believe in repaying your generosity with fair financial payment.”

No wonder my father was having trouble saying no. If my little suburban house and lot was worth the number Corey Stewart was showing me, I couldn’t imagine the figure they’d given Dad.

“So, do you pay per acre?” Victor asked, glancing at me, annoyed that I’d gotten sort of lost in the dollar signs. “The bigger the plot, the bigger the dollar amount?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Corey said, nodding thoughtfully. “A larger parcel of land means more shale for Taitano Resources to explore, which means the owner of the land should be more compensated, as well. It all depends on what’s below the ground, but in a shale-rich area like this? Absolutely, the bigger the plot, the bigger the dollar amount.”

“So a huge hunk of land might bring in a pretty good haul?” Victor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Corey upped the wattage in his smile. “For sure. Are you the owner of a huge hunk of land, Victor? Because I’d love to come take a look at it, if you’re interested in working with us.”

Victor yawned and waved a hand at me. “Can we get on with this, please?”

Confusion settled on Corey’s face, but he didn’t lose the smile.

I handed Corey back his iPad. “I think the huge hunk of land Victor is talking about is the Carriveau County fairgrounds.”

The brilliant smile flickered. “I’m sorry?”

“I think we may have forgotten to mention this when you sat down,” I said. “But Victor and I are business partners.”