Bitch Factor (34 page)

“That wobbly porch rail. But he actually sells heavy equipment. You know, cranes, backhoes.”

A high-pitched buzz sounded from the hallway. Everyone looked up as Ryan taxied the Cessna model across the rug, between their feet and into the dining room, where Carl was opening a bottle of Piesporter. The airplane crashed into Dann’s shoe.

“What’s this?” He picked the plane up and examined it.

“Ryan,” Amy said, “apologize to Mr. Dann for bumping into him with that thing.”

“Sorry.”

“No harm done.” Dann smiled graciously at Amy, then turned back to Ryan. “Model 185. Classic.”

“You know about airplanes?” Ryan rushed to take it, the remote in his other hand.

“Sold Cessnas for a while,” Dann said. “Long time ago. The 185 was top of the line in single engines.”

“Wow! Did you ever ride in one?”

“Had to get over being airsick first. Can’t sell an airplane sitting on the ground. Later, I got my pilot’s license and flew one occasionally.”

“Cool!”

Carl handed around glasses of wine. “About that waterfront property,” he told Dann. “What I’m saying, you’ll find some good investments along the Texas coast.”

“Seabrook, Galveston?”

“Rockport. Nice little town farther south,” Carl said. “You should check it out.”

“You’re thinking about moving?” Dixie asked.

Dann shrugged, his face inscrutable. “My neighbors aren’t as friendly as they used to be.”

Dixie wondered if he was about to drift on, now that his future didn’t include prison. The thought of it bothered her. Maybe he’d drift back to Louisiana, back to Heather Burke.

“Waterfront lots can be risky,” Carl said. “What I’m saying—”

“Dinner’s ready!” Amy announced. “Let’s sit down before it freezes over. Parker, take this chair beside Dixie’s.”

Dann pulled out Dixie’s chair at the round table and waited for her to be seated. Amy beamed at the conspicuous courtesy, while Ryan claimed the seat on the other side of his new airplane buddy. It seemed Dann knew how to win hearts of all ages.

“Do you have a real airplane?” Ryan asked.

“We could rent one for a couple hours. Want to go up some time?” Dann looked at Carl for approval.

“For real?” Ryan’s eager gaze grabbed Dixie’s as if seeking assurance that Dann wasn’t pulling his leg.

Dixie shrugged. “Better pray he flies airplanes better than he fixes porch rails.”

Amy passed a heavy platter, which Dixie almost accepted with her lame arm. When she hesitated, Dann took it for her.

“Look at this—baked yams!” He forked one onto Dixie’s plate. “I love these things. How about you, Ryan?” He helped Ryan’s plate, then his own, before setting the dish down. “Your mom sets a heckuva fine table.”

Amy’s proud smile was enough to make Dixie glad Dann had come to dinner, despite a growing uneasiness. Her family had warmed quickly to his easy charm and directness. But behind his charming demeanor lay a past with more twists than a pretzel factory.

“How did you two meet?” Amy asked, passing the cranberry sauce.

“A friend of Parker’s,” Dixie blurted. “Heather Burke.”

Dann’s wineglass clinked as he knocked it over, catching it just before it hit the table.

“Sorry.” He dabbed at the spilled droplets.

Amy’s eyes had widened, heart undoubtedly skipping a beat. The cut crystal was a family heirloom.

“The glass was… nearly empty,” she stammered. “Carl, open another bottle, would you? I’ll refill Parker’s glass with what’s left in this one.”

While they bustled around with the wine, Dixie looked up to find Dann staring at her, a twinkle of malice in his blue eyes.

“How’d you happen on the name of Heather Burke?” he murmured.

She riveted her attention on cutting a bite of turkey. “Open a can with no label and you never know what will pour out.”

“Mr. Dann,” Ryan piped, “can we go flying before school starts? That’s Monday.”

“Don’t pester him, Ryan,” Amy said. “Parker, you don’t sound as if you were born around here. Where did you grow up?”

“Montana. Until I graduated college. Then I traveled to northern Florida to sell time-share condos. Sold cruise packages in Maine. Indian art in Arizona, ski equipment in Colorado.” He dropped a casual hand on Dixie’s bad shoulder. “Texas is my favorite, though. Met some friendly, interesting people here. Stubborn as crabgrass, but friendly.”

Under the table, Dixie gouged her salad fork into Dann’s leg. She turned to smile at him sourly. Flinching, he lifted his heavy hand from her shoulder and slid a glance at her. His blue eyes were as teasing as a small boy’s.

“Where’d you sell airplanes?” Ryan piped.

“Montana, Canada.” Dann’s smirk disappeared before he turned to Ryan. “Crop dusters, mostly. Ranchers up that way use a plane to get around. Especially the Hollywood ranchers.”

“That’s right!” Anything to do with movies always sparked Amy’s interest.
“People
magazine said a number of actors have bought ranches in Montana.”

“Wouldn’t mind going up myself,” Carl said. “I’ve flown in your commercial puddle jumpers, sixteen-passenger jobs,
and a charter jet once, but never a private plane like Ryan’s there—what I’m saying, a real one.”

“Haven’t taken one up in a while,” Dann said. “But my license is still good. We could make a day of it.”

“Sounds like fun,” Amy said. “Carl, are you going to pour that wine or just hold it?”

Dixie watched her family grow more and more enthralled as Dann described the difference between high-wing Cessnas and low-wing Beechcraft. They liked him, had opened their big hearts and scooped him right in. There was something warm, vital, and electric about Parker Dann. Watching how easily he talked to Carl about investments, complimented Amy on her cooking, patiently answered Ryan’s unending questions about flying, Dixie could see how he’d made all the money in those various bank accounts. Damn him, her family could no more resist his piratical charm than a fly could resist flypaper. He was one hell of a salesman.

Today he cut a particularly dashing figure, in blue flannel slacks and a crisply pressed white shirt. His hair waved over his ears, slightly longer, she imagined, than was normal for him. He looked like everybody’s favorite hero. Dixie found herself wishing that Smokin had never uncovered the disturbing trail to Dann’s past.

“Those little planes aren’t dangerous, are they?” Amy asked. “Oh, I suppose they
have
to be, but… so
many
people fly them these days. I feel so adventurous!”

“You’ll go up in the plane, won’t you, Aunt Dixie?”

“Well…” Her earliest heroine had been Amelia Ear-hart. But that was before Dixie’s first air travel, a flight to Disneyland with the Flannigans.

“Your aunt spits in the eye of danger,” Dann said, lightly brushing Dixie’s bruised shoulder. “Isn’t that right?”

Dixie bit down on a curse. “Maybe we should wait till spring, when the weather’s better.” She
hated
flying, even in first-class splendor on a supersafe 747, with earphones, relaxation music, and movies to take her mind off the fact that she was hovering miles above the earth in a sardine can with wings. She
wanted
to love it. But she truly
hated
flying. “Anyway,
since Parker hasn’t flown in a while, maybe he should go up alone first.”

Ryan looked like someone had stolen the goodies out of his Christmas stocking. Carl, seeing Dann finish his dinner roll, handed him the bread basket.

“Not something you’d forget, I imagine,” Carl said. “Like riding a bicycle. You get on, and it all comes back.”

“Except when you fall off a bicycle, the buzzards don’t circle.” Dixie snatched a roll for herself.

“Now, Dixie,” Amy said. “Stop being a wet blanket and pass Mr. Dann another piece of turkey.”

Dixie took the plate and shoved it at Parker. He grinned at her with bland, mocking impudence.

New Year’s Eve morning, four days before Dann’s trial date, Dixie awoke late with a gripping ache at the back of her head and a talking bear clutched in her arms, two good indications she’d enjoyed more than a fair share of wine at Amy’s dinner party the night before. The stuffed bear, a gift from Ryan, said things like “Hug me, I hug back.”

“Take me with you,” it pleaded now as Dixie stumbled to the bathroom.

Parker Dann had made such an impression that Amy and Carl had invited him to dinner on New Year’s Day. Dann insisted on bringing dessert. Everyone assumed Dixie would be pleased with the arrangement. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

Pain shot through her shoulder as she opened the medicine chest to look for aspirin. Her whole body couldn’t feel worse if it’d been used for a hockey puck.

The rich smell of bacon wafted from the kitchen. She pictured Dann at the stove, Mud standing guard, and wondered how long it would take to resume her normal routines—burnt toast for breakfast, junk food for lunch, salad greens for dinner. Mud would never forgive her when his bowl offered only dry dog food. Maybe she could find an exotic brand for special occasions.

She swallowed the aspirin with water from her tooth cup, then decided to brush her teeth. Rinsing her toothbrush, she eyed the dental floss, reasoned that wounded people deserved some exemptions, and picked up the hairbrush.

Belle had left a message saying she couldn’t talk to the ADA until Monday about withdrawing the charges against Dann. The ADA wouldn’t be happy about reopening the investigation—especially against two such upstanding citizens as Jon Keyes and Travis Payne. After coming so close to a conviction, pure cussedness might keep him from dropping the case. But Belle Richards wasn’t dubbed “Texas’ hottest defense lawyer” for nothing.

In any case, except for delivering Dann to court and collecting her fee, Dixie’s job for Richards, Blackmon & Drake was finished. Yet, truthfully, it didn’t feel finished at all. Possibly because Dann was still living in her house.

There was something distinctly disquieting about that. She remembered falling asleep last night with a tingling realization that he lay just across the hall, as alone in his bed as she was in hers. For a swift, wine-induced moment, a sweet madness had swept over her. She’d thrown the covers back and put her feet on the cold floor before regaining her senses—how would she feel if she cuddled in his bed and he rejected her?

Worse, what if he responded to her sexual overtures, then later drifted on his way? Except for the brief moments of tenderness when she came home wounded, Parker had never expressed any emotional interest—she didn’t count his obvious moves on the drive to Houston, when he was trying to romance her into dropping her guard.

Not that she was totally opposed to relationships based strictly on physical needs. Hadn’t she always been the one to keep men at an emotional distance? Now she wasn’t sure how to get close.

Perhaps they’d both feel different after he was no longer her prisoner. If Belle was successful in her talk with the ADA, Dann would be a free man in four days. Surely he wasn’t crazy enough to skip town now that his case stood a good
chance of being dismissed. Dixie could reasonably send him home, let him spend the weekend in his own digs.

On the other hand, this was New Year’s Eve. The bars would beckon. After a few drinks, Dann might feel panicky and, even with his acquittal practically in the bag, might convince himself he’d never walk out of the courtroom a free man.

Dixie flipped a strand of hair forward to cover her bandage. It wasn’t Parker Dann that made the job feel unfinished. It was six-year-old Ellie Keyes. Freeing Dann wasn’t enough if Ellie was still in danger, or was right now being molested by her father.

Fortunately according to the visitation schedule, Ellie would be spending New Year’s weekend safely at home. Dixie planned to resume her investigation of Jon Keyes first thing Monday, but maybe she should just drop by the Garden Cafe today and see how Ellie was weathering the flu. Exchange a few knock-knock jokes. If she went early enough, Rebecca would be busy in the kitchen.

“You’re an old softie,” the bear said when Dixie elbowed it off the commode lid.

“And you’re a blabbermouth.” Dixie gingerly pulled on clothes and scooped up the bear, parking it in the breakfast nook when she entered the kitchen.

“Only two eggs,” Dan reported, standing over the stove. “So I made French toast and bacon. How’s that?”

“Smells great. I’ll pick up more eggs when I go out.”

“Out? Did you see the weather?” He turned off the burner under the toast. “Is this another dangerous assignment?”

“No. Just wrapping up a few loose ends.” She plucked a slice of bacon off the platter and halved it with one bite. “How do you get this to cook so evenly? Mine’s always burned on one end, raw on the other.”

“Vigilance,” he said. “Vigilance and patience.”

She could hear frustration in his words, along with something she didn’t recognize until she looked up to see the worry in his eyes. The chattering voice in Dixie’s mind abruptly went quiet.

“Nothing dangerous today” she said. “Honest.” He could go with her, she supposed, except then she couldn’t visit Ellie. Dixie took the pot from him and poured the coffee. “Maybe I’d better get used to waiting on myself now.”

They sat down to breakfast with a huge silence between them. Dinner at Amy’s had muddied their relationship. No longer were they merely jailor and jailee.

“Guess you didn’t believe in me as much as I thought,” Dann said. “Since you know about Heather.”

“I know you won the paternity suit. I know she was eighteen and you were thirty-five.”

Another silence.

“Dann…”
Parker
. Since he was no longer a prisoner, she didn’t need to distance herself further by using his last name. “Parker, my instincts about people are good but not infallible. I had to check you out.”

He moved his toast around the plate, soaking up honey. He hadn’t eaten much, she noticed.

“Heather was a very
mature
eighteen.”

Dixie didn’t know what to say to that. Eighteen was eighteen.

Parker pushed his plate aside. “Guess men don’t look at age the same way women do. A few drinks, a warm, willing female.”