Dead Even (16 page)

Audra thought of the last two years she had spent with Gerald.
Nothing
they did could have ever been described as just
fun!
She grabbed her coat. “Okay, guys. Let's do it!”

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later the telephone began ringing in Audra's apartment. On the fifth ring, the answering machine switched on. The caller listened until the beep, then broke the connection without speaking. Almost immediately, the phone rang again. This time a message was left. “Hi. This is Butch Jinkins, Mike's partner. I need to get hold of him this evening. It's important. If you see him, would you ask him to call me? Thanks.”

Chapter THIRTEEN

Bess walked over to the fireplace, picked up a poker, and stabbed at the smoldering logs. A fresh flame flared, and she tossed in more wood. On nights like this, she was glad she had installed the fireplace in the office of the motel. She knew firsthand what it felt like to stand by a blazing fire after being so cold you thought you'd never be warm again. How many hundreds of people had warmed themselves by this fireplace?

There would be more in tonight. Old Fred, who wasn't so old, but who had walked the streets of the city picking up cans to sell for so long that his back was stooped. Everyone knew him, with his old clothing, long beard, and plastic bag full of cans slung over his back. They were his only source of income. She had tried to help him years ago, but he liked his life the way it was. He slept wherever he happened to be at the end of the day, but on nights like this, with the temperature dropping and the snow coming down, he would show up at the motel. Most of the time, he would just sit by the fire drinking coffee and chatting with whoever was around. If the night was really wicked, he would allow Bess to talk him into staying in one of her rooms.

There would also be people coming in off of the interstate—afraid to go on because of the weather, and too broke for the larger motels. Somehow they always found their way to her place. And the regulars; policemen on night duty, stopping in for a quick cup on their break; nurses getting off the eleven o'clock shift, wanting a little bite to eat and some conversation before heading home; or just some poor soul in need of a friendly spot to hang out for awhile.

Bess walked over and checked the coffee level in one of the two large percolators she always kept going, then went back into the back room and removed several plates of cookies and homemade rolls from a small freezer. She wasn't much of a hand in the kitchen, but she always hit all of the local bake sales, and used the catering services of the two local hospitals.

She carried the plates out to the front and arranged them on the table by the coffee. There was a hand-printed sign on the wall behind the table. PLEASE HELP YOURSELF. ANYONE WELCOME.

Satisfied that she was ready for the evening crowd, she went over to the old registration desk. The years had given a dark glow to the wood and the top was charred by the many cigars and cigarettes that had been rested on the edge. It would have looked appropriate in a turn of the century saloon in Deadwood. The thought occurred to Bess that both she and the old desk had a lot of mileage but could probably hold up for a while longer. She reached for her drink. Her arthritis had been kicking up more these last few years, but she had found a little nip or two helped her ignore the stiffening joints and aching legs. What was she now? Seventy-five? Seventy-six?

She picked up her package of Camel's and shook out the last cigarette, automatically tapping it against the countertop before lighting up, a holdover from her unfiltered days. She noticed a slight tremor in her hand. What was the matter with her tonight? She had been on edge all evening, ever since leaving Audra and the boy. Was it that they both just looked so young and vulnerable? Or was it hearing that the police hadn't been able to find anything on that man? They'd only had a few minutes to talk, when Jason went to use the bathroom, but Bess could see that Audra still thought she was right about her identification. What had she said? Something about proving it herself. What the hell had she meant by that?

Bess took a deep drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. And there was the boy. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but that youngster was up to something. It was obvious he thought the sun rose and set with his mother, but yet when Bess had offered to make a quick call to the hospital to see how she was doing, he had invented all kinds of reasons why she shouldn't. It didn't quite gel. And he didn't miss a trick, that young'un. He seemed to be scrutinizing every man who walked in the place. Watched them all, real close like. Almost as though he was memorizing their faces.

Maybe it was this business with Gerald that had her fretting. Somehow she suspected Audra's decision to break off the engagement had something to do with her. It wasn't any secret that she and Gerald had never hit it off. She had tried to get along with him, for Audra's sake, but he had always treated her with an air of contempt—barely concealed when Audra was present, and blatantly out in the open when she was not. Well, she wasn't going to worry none about Audra's reasons for the breakup. Hearing that little bit of news had been the high point of the evening as far as she was concerned. And seeing Audra all dolled up had only heightened her pleasure.

The door to the motel office opened, and Bess looked up, startled to see Gerald shaking snow from his coat onto the hooked rug she kept by the door.
Speak of the devil!

“Evenin', Gerald,” she said. “Somethin' I can do for you?”

He finished stamping snow from his shoes before answering. “Is Audra here?”

Bess shook her head. “No. Far as I know, she's home.”

He eyed her sharply, as if finding her answer suspect.
Crazy old bat!
“Well, she isn't. I was just there. No one answered the door, but her car was parked in the driveway. I thought perhaps she left with you.”

“No. I left her and the boy at Pizza Hut shortly before seven. She said they were going home.” She had no intention of informing him that they were expecting Mike, and had probably left with him.

“The boy?”

“Yes. One of her students. Miller, I believe it was. Jason Miller. She was watching him while his mother's in the hospital.”

Gerald rolled his eyes to the ceiling and emitted a long sigh. Maybe it was best the wedding was off. Audra was well on her way to being thrown out of William's, and he certainly didn't need
that
kind of notoriety.

“Taking a student home with her? For God's sake, is she crazy? It was bad enough she drove that boy home two or three times a week! I have tried and tried to tell her she could get in trouble with the school for such actions, but she never listens!”

Bess ignored his pretentious speech. “Was there somethin' else you wanted, Gerald?”

“Yes,” he snapped at her. “You can tell her I have just spoken with my parents about the cancellation of our wedding, and we see no reason why Audra should not pay all of the expenses for the cancelled plans, since she is the one backing out.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the band—they will have to be paid anyway. And the invitations, the silk flower arrangements, the caterers, the hall—all those people have to be paid since we are cancelling at such a late date. And
I
have no intention of paying them!”

Bess stared at him a few seconds, barely concealing her loathing. “How much you think it'll run?”

“I'm not certain. Probably three or four thousand at the least. And I'll tell you right now, my parents are furious over this. They said I should not have to pay a dime of it. Not one dime! And I'll tell you something else,
Miss
Truman. I'm
glad
this wedding is off! When I heard Audra wanted
you
to go as her mother, I was beginning to have a few doubts myself!”

Bess smiled at him, knowing she was now going to fully enjoy the next few minutes. She unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk and rifled through a pile of checkbooks until she came to a large business-sized one. She pulled it out and laid it open on the desk in front of her. “How about five thousand for Audra's share of the wedding? Does that sound fair to you?” She filled in the amount and tore the check from the book.

Gerald laughed, and shook his head derisively. “I suppose you're going to tell me you have five thousand in the bank.”

She handed him the check. “Take a look at it, son.”

Across the top of the check was printed: B&B OIL OPERATIONS. Gerald looked confused. B&B Oil was the largest oil operation in the state. Their fields ran through several counties, and the company was rumored to have a single owner—richer than God—who, among other philanthropies, endowed the local college to the tune of two million a year in scholarships.

“What do
you
have to do with B&B Oil?” he asked.

“Son,” Bess answered him simply. “I
am
B&B Oil!”

Gerald felt weak in the knees. “I don't believe it!”

Bess knew she was blowing her long-held anonymity, but decided the moment was worth it. “Believe it, Gerald. B&B—Billy and Bess! My Billy and I, we hit one of the largest lodes of gold to come out of Alaska. After that, seemed like everythin' we did turned into money. We bought land in Kansas, and damned if it didn't turn out to be loaded with oil. Son, I got more money than I could spend in twenty lifetimes—and every cent of it is goin' to that little gal you let get away from you!”

Gerald stood there, and judging from the stricken look on his face, Bess figured he was finally believing her.

“Oh, and one more thing, Gerald. You're fired!”

He looked at her, aghast. “What?”

“You're fired—axed—canned! Is that plain enough for you? William's Academy is mine—named after my Billy, God rest his soul. And I'm firin' you. Right here. Right now. I would have let you go two years ago, 'cept for Audra.”

The look on the old woman's face was enough for Gerald to realize the truth of her words. “You can't fire me,” he blurted, when it finally sank in that he was losing his job. “I'm under contract!”

“And you'll be paid for that contract, son. You just won't be teachin' in one of
my
schools again!” She went over and opened the office door. “And now if you don't mind, I'm expecting Old Fred any minute. We're going to talk over the aluminum can business! So long.”

*   *   *

“Choices,” Bess thought, as she returned to her seat behind the old desk. “Where your life takes you simply boils down to the choices you make along the way.”

Gerald, choosing not to stay with Audra when she needed him, choosing to dislike an old woman dressed in scruffy clothing. Now his life would be altogether different from what it would have been had he chosen otherwise.

She and Billy, choosing to stay in the mountains after all the others with good sense had given up and headed back down for the winter. They had stayed to help an old prospector, too sick to make it down from the mountain. They had nursed him back to health, then the three of them had stumbled on the vein of gold when they were digging into the side of the mountain for shelter. They had brought what they could carry down on the backs of their mules, staked a claim, and hired a large crew to finish the job.

She and Billy had always chosen to keep their wealth a secret. They enjoyed doing things anonymously, and by seeming to
be
one of the poor, they could tell in a minute who really needed their help, and who didn't. Of course some people knew: her banker; the board at William's; her accountant; certain ones at the college, but they knew Bess did not want it generally known, and they kept her secret. She had never even spoken of it to Audra—the girl just liked her for who she was. But it was time. She needed to be assured that her work would be carried on after she was gone, and she knew Audra would be willing to do that.

Bess thought of the young Miller boy, and what he had said about his mother. She went to the phone and called her banker at home. “Seth, I have a couple of jobs for you to take care of for me,” she told him.

“Certainly, Bess. How can I help?”

“There is a woman in the hospital, Katherine Miller, and I want all her expenses billed to me. I'd like for you to let her doctors know everything will be paid for.”

“I'll take care of it first thing in the morning, Bess. Anything else?”

“Yes. I'd like for you to find a nice house for her and her eight children, and give her a check for fifty thousand dollars. See if she wants to finish her schooling, or if she wants to get a job. Either way, just try and help her.”

Seth Coleman was not surprised by the request. He had been helping people on Bess's behalf for many years. “I assume you want this handled the same as always—anonymously?”

“That's right, Seth,” she answered him. “Just tell her someone was impressed with the way she was raisin' her children, and wanted to help out a little—sort of an investment in the future. Oh, and one more thing. Would you see to it all those young'uns have new clothes, shoes, and coats? And I don't want that to come out of what I'm givin' their momma.”

“Okay. Will do. Which hospital is the lady at?”

Bess hesitated. “I'm not certain. Her boy first said Saint Anthony's, then said maybe Hadley. I guess you'll just have to check.”

“No problem, Bess. I'll get on it first thing tomorrow and call you when I know anything.”

“Thanks, Seth,” Bess said warmly. “You're the best!”

“No,” he answered her. “I think that distinction belongs to you.”

Chapter FOURTEEN

There were small drifts of snow forming in the parking lot at Wal-Mart as the trio walked hand in hand toward the car, their purchases tucked tight in the crook of Mike's arm. Jason was sliding his feet through the drifts, enjoying the warm snow boots Mike had purchased for him. He couldn't ever remember having new shoes before. That was one of the disadvantages of being the youngest of eight.