Running on Empty (7 page)

No Frat Pack? It was unthinkable. Not that it should matter to AnnaLise. You don't
live here any longer, she reminded herself. Still...

'I just saw Joy and she didn't say anything about this being their last year here.'
A suspicion crept in. 'Are they going to Asheville instead?'

Lying southwest off the Blue Ridge Parkway, Asheville touted its '
arts community, diverse outdoor adventures, a vibrant and inviting downtown, numerous
historic and architectural attractions, and unique shopping options'.

Let's just say that if Sutherton and Asheville were siblings, the latter would be
the one mom liked better.

'Never.' Sheree was aghast. 'This is Joy and her gang we're talking about.'

True. Imagine the damage the women could do to the art galleries of Asheville. And
what it would cost them to make restitution.

'Joy's planning to stay in Hart's Landing,' Sheree continued. 'Free of charge.'

AnnaLise found that hard to believe. 'Does her ex know yet?'

'I doubt it. But Joy usually gets what she wants from Dickens. Makes you wonder what
she has on him.'

Echoing what AnnaLise had thought earlier. That didn't stop her, though, from saying,
'Maybe he still loves Joy.'

Sheree threw her a look dripping with pity. 'You really
are
still five, aren't you?'

'Because I'm not jaded and cynical?' Or am, but try not to show it?

'Exactly. Dickens Hart loves Dickens Hart. He created one empire and now he's building
another, zoning it mixed-use and naming it for himself. Along the way, Hart's destroyed
plenty of people and will destroy more. And I'm betting Joy knows just which of his
closets are holding the skeletons.' Sheree sniffed. 'Frat Pack weekend was eighteen
"room nights" I could always depend on. I just hope this isn't the start of a slippery
slope.'

'You've never had a problem with Hotel Lux or the mountain rental properties, have
you?' Fact was, the 300-room hotel and assorted mountain chalets and cottages were
essential to Sutherton's tourist business. Joy's thirteen rooms couldn't accommodate
every one of the area's visitors.

'That's different. The Lux is mountain, as are the other private rentals. Discriminating
guests, if they wanted to lodge on the lake itself, had to come here.'

'Except those who stayed at the White Tail Lodge, back in the day.'

'I said "discriminating".' Sheree growled. 'Now there are condos — one and two bedrooms,
with kitchens — right in Hart's Landing. "Where the mountains meet the lake and the
finest in shopping, dining and entertainment are right outside your door."'

Sheree said the last as if she was parroting a booming-voiced television announcer.
Or Dickens Hart. AnnaLise had to see this place for herself. It sounded... well, it
sounded wonderful.

She felt like a traitor for even having the thought. If the new development was all
it was trumpeted to be, Hart's Landing could well sound the death knell for not only
Sheree's Inn, but all of Main Street.

Including Torch and Mama Philomena's. 'What kind of rest―'

But Sheree was preoccupied with the housing. 'Dr. Stanton's already bought three of
the condos. He's living in one, Tucker in another, and I understand he's renting the
third to that Ichiro guy.'

'Bobby Bradenham's business partner?' As if there could be more than one 'Ichiro'
in a town the size of Sutherton.

'Yeah.' Sheree slowed down. A good man could do that to a woman. 'You've met him?'

'Bobby introduced us this morning. Nice guy.'

'Handsome guy. Those eyes are to kill for.' A thought seemed to strike Sheree. 'Hey,
speaking of which, did you hear that bastard Rance Smoaks finally got what he deserved?'

'Speaking of killing, you mean?'

'Well, yeah.' Sheree slowed down another notch. A
dead
man can do that to you, too. 'Though it sounds kind of harsh when you put it that
way.'

AnnaLise didn't point out that
she
hadn't put it any way. 'It should. There's a difference between wanting someone dead
and doing it.'

'Yeah. Courage.'

At a loss for what to say to that sociopathic revelation, AnnaLise settled for, 'What's
he been doing since he lost his position as police chief?'

'Drinking.' Sheree said. 'Honestly, I don't know how Kathleen and he have managed
to keep their place on the lake this long. It must be mortgaged up the ying-yang.'

'Certainly is a lot of house.'

Sheree shrugged. 'Familiar small-town tradition. Rance was a Smoaks and so the "good
ole boys" down at the bank let him borrow more than he could afford.'

'I never understood the Smoaks' mystique,' AnnaLise said. 'Rance's nephew River was
in our class, remember? Girls were always ga-ga over him.'

'For one thing, he was the only eighth-grader old enough to have a driver's license.'

'And need a razor.'

'Even without being held back three times, he'd have been shaving. The male Smoaks
practically come out of the womb with dark beards.'

'And the females, big boobs,' AnnaLise agreed.

'Maybe that's the allure,' Sheree said. 'The whole family is hyper-sexual. They exude
pheromones.'

Luring the unwitting. 'Poor Kathleen.'

'Actually, lucky Kathleen. Believe it or not, Rance's father might have been a Smoaks,
but his mother was Nanney Estill.'

'Estill? Like the road?' Estill Trail was a major route on the other side of the interstate.

'Like the trail. And the mall. Even the golf course,' Sheree said. 'The Estills, my
girl, have real money.'

Smarts, too — at least enough to divorce Rance's father. Though, admittedly, Nanney
Estill had married Roy in the first place.

'Are you saying some of the Estill estate came to Rance?' That might explain why Kathleen
and Rance seemed to feel they could live beyond their means. 'I didn't realize Rance
and his mother were close.'

'You kidding? Nanney wanted nothing to do with her husband Roy after the divorce.
Or Rance.'

'Her own son?'

'We
are
talking about Rance Smoaks, remember?'

True. 'But―'

'Anyway,' Sheree continued, 'Nanney married against her family's wishes and apparently
it didn't take long for her to see the error of her ways.'

'Meaning her family disowned her.'

'I couldn't say.'

Which meant Sheree could, but wouldn't. A rare show of restraint. AnnaLise tried to
pick up the threads of the story.

'So Nanney divorced Roy and functionally abandoned little Rance,' — who'd once set
the middle school on fire — 'yet left him money when she died?'

'Not on purpose, silly.' Sheree was preoccupied with a rough fingernail. 'Apparently,
there was this insurance policy she'd forgotten.'

'With her son being her nearest relation and therefore her beneficiary, unless she
stipulated otherwise.'

'Bingo,' Sheree said. 'And now it all goes to his widow. I understand it's a bundle.'

'Lucky' Kathleen, indeed. A little too lucky? 'Are you sure she lacks... "courage",
as you put it?'

'Oh, yeah. Kathleen didn't kill him.' Sheree gave up on the nail. 'Apparently he was
out shooting with a friend.'

'Smoaks had a friend?'

'Of sorts. Joe Palooka.'

'You're kidding.' But AnnaLise knew that while Joe Palooka was a joke, he was a sad
one. Born with the distinguished name of Stewart Chapel, going overboard on alcohol
and food had turned the man into a caricature — an overinflated, misshapen punching
bag that had gone way too many rounds. But a man who, like the old balloon that was
his nick-namesake, kept popping back up for more punishment. Especially from fair-weather
friends like Rance Smoaks. Fair-weather, meaning anytime there was no one else available.

'Where were they shooting?'

'At Rance's lake house. Trying to hit liquor bottles at twenty feet.'

'Let me guess, Rance was drinking straight from one such.'

'No, but close. The way I heard it, he'd set up a row of empties on the dock so they
could shoot toward the lake and not hurt anyone.'

'Safety first. I'm impressed.'

'Yeah, except one bottle wasn't quite empty. Rance leaned over the line of them to
remedy the situation and...'

'Joe didn't see him?' Lovely. Drunken target-shooting.

A shrug. 'It was dark.'

Night-time drunken target-shooting? Doubly lovely. 'And Rance just toppled into the
lake?'

'Seems so. Joe's not absolutely clear on the sequence of events.'

Poor, pathetic Joe Palooka. With friends like Rance...

But speaking of friends, AnnaLise checked her wristwatch. 'Gotta go. I'll catch you
tonight at Sal's.'

'You still wear a watch? I use my cellphone to tell time.'

AnnaLise was standing. 'I use a watch to tell time and a cell to make calls. So sue
me.'

Sheree was tsk-tsking as she followed her to the door. 'And I suppose you still have
a camera, too.'

'With actual film inside, believe it or not.' AnnaLise turned. 'Call me old-fashioned,
but what's wrong with that? Look at Mama's: the clunky cash register, the cushioned
booths, the comfort food. That's why we love it.'

'Maybe that's why
you
love it. I love the view.'

'The view?'

'Sure. The lake, the beach and the bodies.' Sheree Pepper held open the door and shrugged.
'You know what they say: "eventually, every body comes home to Mama's."'

Sheree and her 'Pepperisms'. Though prone to the sweeping overstatement and occasional
outright lie, she'd been accurate this time.

Things
did
come home to roost on Main Street. Or, more specifically, on the public beach across
from Mama's, where the constant Lake Sutherton currents deposited everything from
wayward flip-flops to sodden advertising flyers blown off the mailboat.

Bodies, at least the human variety, were still infrequent. In fact, AnnaLise had long
maintained that Sutherton's widespread reputation for bizarre accidents and untimely
deaths was greatly exaggerated.

However, she did concede her having trouble convincing people of that in the future,
given Daisy's recent phlebotomy flub and Rance Smoaks's even more recent actual demise.

Passing the cinched waist of Lake Sutherton's figure-8, AnnaLise slowed her Mitsubishi
Spyder convertible so as not to miss the turn-off for White Tail Island. Especially
since Daisy, in the passenger's seat, was hanging her head out past the windshield,
eyes closed, but otherwise enjoying the breeze like a cooped-up collie.

Good thing the top wasn't down or Mother Griggs would be standing up like a beauty
queen in the homecoming parade. Not that AnnaLise would mind. She'd been both delighted
and relieved when Daisy agreed to make the short trip with her.

Approaching by water, the fifty-acre island dominated Lake Sutherton's smaller northern
loop, but from the road, it never seemed that obvious. AnnaLise needn't have worried
about overshooting her mark, though. Always low-key and increasingly overgrown since
the lodge had closed, entry to the island was now boldly announced by massive brick
pillars, anchoring an overhead wrought-iron banner reading 'Hart's Landing'.