A Deadly Affair at Bobtail Ridge (21 page)

It's a couple of days before I get to Temple, determined to talk to Eddie's first wife, even if I have to wait for her to get off work. But she's home, and she's a surprise. She's several years older than Eddie and fifty pounds overweight. Her shorts and skimpy tank top are meant for someone a good bit smaller. Rolls of belly fat pooch out the tank top, and the shorts have her tree-trunk legs in a death grip. Her brown hair, streaked with gray, tumbles to her shoulders as if she has a fantasy of still being a fetching young woman. She's holding a cigarette down by her side.

I introduce myself and tell her I'd like to ask her some questions about Eddie.

She takes a drag on the cigarette. “Why don't you ask Eddie?”

“I've had a conversation with him. I wanted to get your take on a couple of things.”

“Joyce told me you were here last week and that Eddie wasn't too happy that she talked to you.” She chews on the side of her lip.

“You're not married anymore, so what difference does it make if he's happy about it?”

She shrugs. “Not a damn bit of difference. I can take care of myself. But I can't add anything to what Joyce said.” Her apartment is on the second floor, and she sticks her head out the door, glancing left and right as if she's worried somebody will overhear.

“Maybe we should talk inside,” I say.

“Can't do it. My house is a mess.”

I suspect the real reason is so she can tell Eddie she didn't invite me in. They may not be married anymore, but he's still got a hold on her. “That's all right. I won't keep you long anyway. Tell me, when did you and Eddie get married?”

She looks up at the overhang of her apartment as if the date might be written up there. “It was around four or five years after he left college.”

“How'd you meet him?”

She snorts. “How does anybody meet anybody? We met at a bar. I'll say this about Eddie. He knows how to turn on the charm.” She lifts her eyebrows in a suggestive way.

“How long have you been divorced?”

She shrugs and takes another drag, blowing the smoke up toward the sky. “Ten years give or take. We're still friends, though. Eddie's all right as long you don't have to put up with his b.s. twenty-four seven.”

“When you say b.s., what do you mean exactly?”

She takes one last puff of the cigarette, steps over to the rail, and throws it over the side to the pavement below. When she comes back, she leans against the door with her arms crossed. “I mean he has kind of a quick temper. He gets these moods where you feel like you're walking on eggs around him.”

“Did he ever hit you?”

“Oh, hell no! He knows I would have done a Lorena Bobbitt on him.” She smirks.

“His temper ever cause him problems on the job?”

She ponders her answer. “Doesn't help any. It's hard enough to make a living in the building business. All you have to do is look at somebody funny and next thing you know, you're fired.”

“I thought he was an independent contractor.”

“He is. He wouldn't be able to stand working for anybody else. But even with your own business, you have to suck up to the general contractor to get hired, and then you have to make sure not to piss him off.”

“Is Eddie working now?”

“He sure is. Things are looking up in the building trade and Joyce said Eddie's got plenty of work. She said he's trying to get a contract on a big mall project in Bobtail.”

“Why would he want to go all the way over there to work?”

“Hold on a minute.” She disappears inside and comes back with a fresh cigarette and leans against the doorjamb again. She's relaxed a little since we started talking. “I asked Eddie the same thing. I know he's from Bobtail, but it seemed like a long way to go when he can work right here. Turns out he helped build that subdivision they're tearing down to put up the mall. He said he happened to know the houses were shoddy to begin with and it'll give him satisfaction to see them come down.” She laughs.

“How did he know they were building the mall?”

“I don't know. I expect the same way he finds out about any job, through the grapevine.”

“You know Eddie's mamma passed away a short time ago?”

“Yeah, I knew his mamma passed. Far as I'm concerned that's no big whoop. She always treated Eddie like dirt. Broke his heart. I think that's one reason he's so moody all the time.”

“His mamma left him her house, so maybe he plans to move back there.”

She raises her eyebrows. “First time I heard of that. But I'd be surprised if he plans to move back. He never had much good to say about the town.” She glances down the hallway again, and I know she's getting restless to be rid of me.

“Did Eddie ever talk about his daddy?”

She frowns. “Just that he walked out on the family.”

“Did he tell you he was supposed to get a football scholarship to SMU?”

“Oh, yeah. To hear him tell it, that was his one big chance and he blew it. Not that it was his fault. He was still a kid, and he was upset because his daddy had abandoned them.”

“He ever try to get in touch with his daddy that you know of ?”

“It wasn't a topic of conversation.”

“Did you ever meet his mamma or his sister?”

“No way. He didn't have anything to do with them. They had some kind of falling-out and he said I was better off not meeting them.”

“You know what they fought about?”

“Not really. Eddie said his mamma didn't approve of his first wife because she was a Mexican.”

“He was married before you?”

She smirks. “Like I said, Eddie could turn on the charm. Problem is, it doesn't last. His first wife ran out on him.”

“Did you ever meet her?”

“No, she wasn't around.” Marlene straightens up and takes a step back. “I think we're about done here.”

“What do you mean she wasn't around?”

“She was gone. Eddie told me he was off in Austin and when he got back she had left him a note saying she was leaving him and heading out to west Texas. Never saw her again.” She eases back into her apartment, preparing to close the door.

“If he didn't know where she was, how did he get a divorce so he could marry you?”

“He got an annulment.” She snickers. “At least he said he did. Hey, maybe I'm a bigamist and didn't even know it. I'm sorry, I can't talk to you anymore.”

I thank her for her time, but I'm talking to a closed door.

Driving home, I try to read between the lines of what Marlene told me. Despite her bravado, I think she's a little afraid of Eddie. The more I heard what she had to say, the more I think Eddie is the kind of guy who always feels like people are picking on him and blames others for his problems.

I'm almost home when my cell phone rings. It's Jenny.

“You feeling any better?” I say.

“Not particularly. But I figured since I hadn't heard from you today, I'd better call and find out if you're still speaking to me.”

“Of course I am. I've had a busy day is all, and I didn't want to disturb you too early.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm almost home. I'll stop by a little later.”

“You don't have to. In fact, it's probably not a good idea. I'm probably going to spend tonight the same way I did last night.”

“You mean with a bottle?”

“Yeah, that's what I mean. Drunk.”

“Doesn't sound like much of a plan to me. Try to lay off a little. I'd like to talk to you and I can't come over right now.”

“I'm not promising anything.”

CHAPTER 27

I get home in time to feed Zelda, who is barely speaking to me these days except to tell me she's half starved. I consider taking food over to Jenny, but she still has a refrigerator full of casseroles. I argue with myself about whether to take over a bottle of wine. I don't want to encourage Jenny's affair with the bottle, but at the same time, I usually do bring wine. I'd like to look like things are normal, even if they aren't. “Zelda, I'm thinking you ought to come with me,” I say as I'm walking out the door. She doesn't think much of the idea and stays right where she is on her favorite chair.

Jenny has already started on the Jack Daniels. I open the bottle of wine and take two glasses out to the living room, hoping I can ease her into wine instead of the hard stuff. There is a wealth of Jell-O salad and casseroles in the refrigerator, but I rummage around and find some Jarlsberg cheese and a box of crackers.

When I bring out the plate of snacks and the wine, she says, “Cheese and crackers and wine! That's more like it. If I eat one more pimiento cheese sandwich or noodle casserole, I'm going to lose it.”

“That bruise on your face is a fetching shade of yellow,” I say. “Looks like you've been in a bar fight.”

“Don't try to butter me up with compliments.” I'm glad to find out that she's got some sense of humor back. We talk a little and drink a glass of wine, and then I decide it's time to leap. “Jenny, I've got something to say, and I'm going to come right out with it. It's about your brother.”

Her face and body freeze. Her lips form a thin line, and I can tell she's doing all she can to resist lashing out at me.

“Hear me out. I don't need to know the particulars of why you had a falling-out with him. That's your business. But I do need to know a few things.”

The doorbell rings, and we both look at the door as if we're the only two people left alive and we're suddenly confronted with the idea that someone else may be around. “Shall we ignore it?” I say.

“No. I think it's Will. He told me he wanted to drop by and I told him not to, but I expect he came anyway.”

“I'll get the door.”

It is Will Landreau, his face almost hidden by an imposing potted plant. He peers around it, and when he sees me he takes a step back. “Have I got the right house?”

“Yes, this is Jenny's place. I'm over here having a chat with the patient. Come on in.”

I take the plant from him so that he doesn't have to negotiate greeting Jenny and wrestling with it at the same time.

“Will, that's awfully nice of you,” Jenny says, eyeing the plant, a dieffenbachia with shiny leaves, as if it might have hidden thorns.

Will's eyes dart from Jenny to the plant and back. “I didn't think that this might be more trouble than it's worth,” he said.

“No, it's pretty. Very thoughtful.” I've never heard Jenny speak in such a conciliatory voice. She doesn't have any plants in her house, but I don't know if it's because she doesn't want to take care of them or if she is afraid she'll kill them. “Sit down over here.” She pats the sofa near her. “Samuel, do you mind getting Will a glass so I can pour him some wine?”

His hands spring up in front of him. “Nothing for me, thanks. I've got a lot of work to do tonight. I only came by to see how your recovery is going.”

The three of us try hard to make it a pleasant twenty minutes of conversation, but it's obvious that Jenny feels the effects of the booze she downed earlier. Will seems puzzled that she's slurring her speech. He keeps giving her speculative looks.

By the time Will leaves I know that Jenny has drunk too much for me to go back to the question of her brother. As jumpy as she is regarding him, I expect I'll only have one chance to bring up the subject again before she shuts me down for good. I'd better choose the time wisely.

I'm yawning more or less nonstop, and Jenny insists that I go on home. “I'll be fine. Waking up with a nasty hangover isn't the way I'd like my life to go. The reason I drank too much last night is that I had a sort of shock.”

I remember the box with the torn letters around it. “What kind of shock?”

She leans over and pours herself another glass of wine, looking like she's on automatic pilot. “If I told you, it probably wouldn't mean much to you.”

“Let's test it out.”

She takes a sip of wine, and I'm glad that at least it isn't a gulp. “My mamma told me . . .” she cocks her head and squints up at the ceiling as if looking for cobwebs. “No, that isn't true. I don't think she ever actually told me outright. . . . I got the impression that she had not stayed in touch with Eddie. I don't mean that she didn't know where he was, but I thought they weren't on speaking terms. And then I found all these letters he sent her and it shook me up, thinking she had let me believe one thing when something else was actually going on. I mean the fact that she kept the letters. See, I told you it wouldn't mean much.”

“Did you read the letters?”

“A few. I couldn't stand to read them. He's such a whiner.”

“What was he whining about?”

She thinks for a few seconds. “He complained that she would barely answer his letters—that she was polite, but nothing more.”

“That should make you feel better, knowing she kept him at arm's length.”

“I guess. But why did she keep the letters?”

Same question I asked myself. I ease back down onto the sofa. “I'd like to know why you and your mamma were on the outs with Eddie.”

She doesn't reply, but she also doesn't bite my head off, so I plunge ahead. “I've done a little nosing around and I know Eddie was arrested for assault the summer after he graduated from high school. He seems to have a clean slate since then, but a few people I talked to told me he had a mean streak.”

“You don't know the half of it.” Her voice is strangled. She reaches for her glass of wine and gulps the rest of it down. Here we go again.

“No, I don't know the half of it. That's why I'm asking you to fill me in. Did you know he's been living over in Temple for a long time?”

“Why would I know that? With the possible exception of you, everybody who knows me knows the less I hear about Eddie the better.”