Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery) (9 page)

I nodded.

Susie gestured to a tall chair behind the counter, next to her own. “Have a seat. I don’t know how much time we’ll have before the next customer, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

“When I was talking with Eddie last week, he mentioned needing a lawyer. Jannine thought it might have had something to do with your uncle’s business.”

‘‘I doubt it. That’s pretty much wrapped up. Eddie had the documents all prepared and everything.”

“You’d worked something out with your uncle then?”

“I guess.” Susie crossed her legs and contemplated the toe of her left shoe. “The whole thing was a real mess, actually. My uncle was furious at both of us, and for awhile there, Eddie and I weren’t speaking to each other either. I’m sure glad we got things resolved before he died.”

“What was the trouble?”

“Money.” She sighed. “Dad and my Uncle George owned this place called The Mine Shaft. They both worked there until Dad’s heart attack a couple of years ago. After that, my dad got a percentage of the profits, but it was my uncle who actually ran the place. The arrangement suited everybody just fine. Dad didn’t get much, but he didn’t need much to live on, either. He was content to fish and putter in the garden. And for his part, George was just as happy to have Dad out of his hair. My uncle is the kind of guy who wants to do things his own way, at his own pace. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone who interferes. Before Dad retired, George was always fuming at him about something.”

I nodded to let her know I understood.

“When Dad died last year, he left his share of the business to Eddie and me. That’s where the problem started. George wanted to buy us out, fifteen thousand each. I was all for the idea. A1 and I are sort of strapped for cash at the moment.”

“Al’s your husband?” I figured he must also be the Mr. Personality I’d spoken to on the phone.

She nodded and began folding the stack of advertising flyers on the counter. “He’s disabled. Hurt his back about a year and a half ago. We still haven’t paid off all the medical bills.” Susie stopped folding for a moment. “This is a great place.” She gestured to the walls lined with books. “But the owner can only use me part-time, and the job doesn’t pay much anyway. So when my uncle offered us cash, well, it seemed like the answer to all our problems.” She laughed halfheartedly. “Well, some of them anyway.”

“But Eddie didn’t want to sell?”

“No. In fact, he wanted to take an active role in running the place. Claimed George was a great bartender, but a lousy businessman. He lacked vision, was what Eddie said. The bar is kind of a good old boys hang-out now, but Eddie had plans to expand. He wanted to serve light meals, bring in live bands on weekends, that sort of thing. Said we’d all come out money ahead.”

I picked up a stack of mailers myself and began folding with her. There was an odd appeal to the steady routine of lining up edges and setting a crease with your thumb. “Couldn’t you have sold George your share,” I asked, “and let Eddie keep his?”

She shook her head. “It didn’t work that way. Once George got a majority interest, he could buy the remaining share at a price he and my dad fixed years ago. George actually offered more than he had to.”

“No wonder you and Eddie almost stopped speaking.”

“I really didn’t want to stand in Eddie’s way. Even though we’ve never been close, he was all I had left in the way of family. On the other hand, it didn’t seem right that I should have to go along with something just because it suited
him
."
There was a sharpness to her voice that hadn’t been there earlier. “Eddie’s always had it easy. Things have a way of working out for him in a way they never do for me.”

Except that, ultimately, things hadn’t worked out so well for Eddie after all.

“You finally got it resolved though?”

Susie nodded. “Well, almost. Last week Eddie came up with a compromise. He’d give me ten thousand right now for my share of the business, and a percentage of the profits for the next five years. The cash wasn’t quite what Uncle George was offering, but Eddie convinced me I’d come out ahead in the long run. He’d get what he wanted, and Al and I would have the money we needed.” It was a good plan; everybody got something, except maybe Uncle George.

 
“How did your uncle react?”

“He increased his offer, a couple of thousand each.”

I’d already folded the flyer in front of me, but I ran my finger down the crease again. “You weren’t tempted to take him up on it?”

Susie sighed. “No, I finally agreed to go along with Eddie. He was going to bring the papers over for me to sign this week. He said he’d try to come up with an extra thousand, but I would have signed even if he didn’t.”

The gray cat ambled out of his spot in the front window and jumped up onto the counter, taking an obviously familiar route over a stack of boxes. Susie pulled him into her lap and began scratching his ears. “A1 thought it was stupid not to take my uncle’s offer, but Eddie
was
my brother after all. A pain in the ass sometimes, but that’s part of being an older brother I guess, isn’t it?”

My own brother John had definitely been a pain when I was growing up, but I’ve since realized there was a bond there, too. I knew what she meant.

“Your uncle must not have been any too happy. It sounds like he was pretty intent on keeping the business to himself.”

“Yeah, he was. He claimed there wasn’t enough money in the place to warrant more than one owner, but I think money was just an excuse. If you ask me, it was a case of there not being room for more than one ego. Especially where George and Eddie were concerned. They’re both as bullheaded as they come.”

We lapsed into silence, folding our flyers almost in unison. “I suppose Jannine will be as eager to sell as you are,” I remarked absently. “It’s going to be a struggle for her financially with four kids to support.”

Susie stopped her folding. “Jannine won’t get anything. Eddie’s share reverts to me.”

I looked up. “So you’ll get the whole thirty thousand plus?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but I didn’t succeed.

Susie’s eyes met mine, briefly. Then she turned her attention back the stack of flyers. “I doubt George will follow through with his offer of the extra money, now that he doesn’t have to.”

“Still, you’ll end up with more than you would have.” This time her eyes met mine and held. “Yes, I suppose I will. But I didn’t kill Eddie.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

She smiled. “No, but you were thinking it.”

Not
thinking it
exactly, but close enough. And the smile didn’t entirely convince me otherwise.

“Where was Eddie going to get the ten thousand to buy your share?”

“I have no idea. He and Jannine were always short of money. Eddie was taking some business classes at the university, and they gave up going out to the movies just so he could afford the tuition. That’s why I was surprised, and a little suspicious I admit, when he called with his proposal. But I figured as long as he came up with the money, it was really none of my business where he got it.”

I added that to the list of things I wanted to run by Jannine. She’d seemed fuzzy on the details of Eddie’s deal with his sister, yet if they’d had to borrow money or dig into their bank account, Jannine would have known about it.

“Seems like Eddie was setting himself up for misery,” I commented, “forcing himself into a situation where he wasn’t wanted.”

Susie smiled. “That’s what I told him. But he said not to worry, he could handle ‘old George.’ ” Just then the door chime jangled, and a group of sprightly, gray-haired women entered the shop. “Here comes the Tuesday group,” Susie said, with a twinkle in her eye. “We spend an hour and a half discussing new books, and they leave with one paperback among them, which they share.”

“At that rate it’s a wonder the store makes any money at all.”

“Money isn’t everything,” she said, laughing. “Which is a dam good thing for those of us who have none.”

I didn’t point out that she had considerably more now than she’d had a week ago.

Chapter 7

Susie wasn’t the only one better off. For whatever reason, George Marrero had wanted to keep the tavern to himself. With Eddie dead, he would be able to.

I figured it would be easier to meet with George now rather than waiting until later in the evening when the tavern was busy. I was halfway there anyway, and I could loop back home by way of Route 3, which would bring me in near Jannine’s place.

The drive over to Crystal Falls took me through apple orchards, open pasture land, and a cluster of newly constructed ranchettes, a fancy developer term for modest, unimaginative houses set on oversized lots. As I approached town, the ranchettes gave way to a tightly packed development of equally bland town houses. I was used to such signs of suburban blight around the Bay Area, but it brought me up short to find the same signs of frenzied progress in what I’d always referred to as “the middle of nowhere.”

I found The Mine Shaft on the north edge of town, set back under a couple of gigantic oaks. It looked like something straight out of an old
Gunsmoke
set — pitched roof, wooden plank porch, weathered hitching post, and by the front door, a brightly painted, life-sized wooden carving of an Indian. The large screen television inside didn’t do much to sustain the atmosphere, but I suspected the sour smell of beer and stale cigarettes was pretty authentic.

There were only a few customers in the place that time of day, an old guy propped against the far end of the bar, and a middle-aged couple engaged in the sort of public display of affection Ken calls disgusting.

The bartender, who looked barely old enough to drink, had the blond, bronzed good-looks of a California surfer. Since we’d only just left winter and were miles from the ocean, I figured his came from a tanning lamp and a bottle of bleach. It was clear he wasn’t Uncle George. I took a seat at the bar anyway, and did my best not to blush when he flashed me a big, lady-killer grin. “What are you drinking, darlin’?”

“I’m not I’m here to see George Marrero.”

“He’s not here.” A wink. “Guess you’ll have to make due with me.” The grin stayed right there, plastered on his face like it was cut out of cardboard and glued tight “The name’s Seth.”

“When
will
he be here?” I asked, ignoring the come-on. I could probably track George down at home if necessary.

“He won’t be back till Thursday.”

“Back? You mean he’s gone somewhere?”

“Tucson. His wife’s relatives are having some big shindig at the family ranch.”

“When did he leave?”

Seth shrugged. A shank of straight blond hair fell across his eyes, and he brushed it back with a practiced gesture. “Last Saturday.”

“Morning or evening?”

Seth gave me a curious look. His eyes were a bright, almost startling blue. Tinted contacts, I was willing to bet. “Morning, I think. What is this, he stand you up or something?”

“I wanted to talk to him about his nephew, Eddie Marrero.”

“Awful, wasn’t it?” The grin faded, but only slightly and only for a moment. “You another cop?”

Another.
That was good news. At least Benson’s men had been talking to someone besides Jannine. “No, I’m
a...”

“Wait, I know.” Seth tossed the dishrag he’d been using into the sink, basketball style. “You’re a reporter, right?”