[To Die For 01] - A View to Die For (2012) (15 page)

It was only three o’clock, and I had three hours to kill before picking up Linda. I decided I’d stop by and see Rosenblum to take care of my motor home. Before I managed to make it two blocks down the road, I saw the flashing red and blue lights in my mirror. It was a sheriff’s car, and I didn’t have to guess who.

“Please pull over now,” said a voice from the loudspeaker in the sheriff’s car. Luckily, there was a turnout on the shoulder ahead, and I pulled into it. I watched in my rear-view mirrors as the deputy got out of his car and headed my way. Sure enough, it was Sergeant Bennet.

Bennet stood just behind me on the driver’s side, so I couldn’t face him without breaking my neck. “What did I do, Sergeant?” I asked.

“Can I see your license and proof of insurance, please?”

He had to move forward in order to take the documents. He must have smelled my breath. “Have you been drinking, Mister Martin?”

“Just a couple beers, but that was a while ago.”

It was all he needed. The breath test was close to the legal limit for Missouri, so he decided I needed a blood test. Refusal would be akin to admitting guilt, so he put me in his cruiser and hauled me off to jail – in cuffs. It wasn’t an arrest; but it was several hours by the time he did the blood test, and they released me. Once outside the jail, I called the Pig’s Roast from my cell phone.

Sam, the bartender from the other night, answered. “Hi, Jake, where are you?” he asked.

“I got tied up at Rosenblum’s office,” I lied. I had chosen to make my call from a bench in the city-center across from the jail. An older couple, in a bench across from me, stopped talking when I mentioned my lawyer. I lowered my voice then continued. “Is Linda still there? We, sort of, had a date.”

“Sorry, Jake. She left with Ron Nixon over an hour ago,” he answered. “Get off that stool, Tonto, and let a paying customer sit down.”

“Ron Nixon? Mike’s friend, the security guard?” I asked, forgetting to lower my voice.

“That’s him. Sorry, Jake, but I’m really busy. Stop by sometime, and I’ll fill you in.” Then he hung up.

Next, I tried to call Meg but got her voice mail instead. I left her a message anyway. “Hey, Meg. I got shanghaied by your favorite cop, and I need a ride back to my car. Call me if you get this, or I will have to ask Mom for a ride.”

The gray-hair lady across from me said something to the old guy sitting next to her. Then he got up and approached me. “Jake Martin?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered, shocked that he knew me. “Have we met?”

“I’m sorry,” he answered back. “My name’s Harley Maguire. We saw you with your family the other day at the Rusted Kettle. I don’t mean to intrude, but Sharon, she’s my wife over there, insists I offer you a ride.”

Had this been Denver, or any other big city, I would have refused the couple on the spot. But this was Truman, Missouri. Unless this was Bonnie and Clyde grown old, I didn’t think I had to worry about being robbed. “Well thank you, Harley,” I said. “I could use a ride back to my car. My mother has her hands full with my father. I’m glad I don’t have to ask them.”

Sharon had joined us by now. “That’s what I was telling Harley. Your parents go to our church, and I know what she goes through just to get him there. So I told Harley here to give you a ride. I knew it was you because you look so much like Marvin. Especially in …”

Harley cut off his wife in mid-sentence. “We don’t have all day to stand here and chatter, Woman. Let’s get this boy to his car sometime this year,” he said. Then he pointed toward an old Ford Crown Victoria. “Our car is right over there, Jake.”

The ride back to my car was what I expected. They insisted I ride ‘shotgun,’ and Harley drove along at twenty-five miles an hour. Sharon never stopped talking. I had blocked her out almost completely, until she mentioned Nixon. “Bad news he is, Jake” she said. “I couldn’t help but hear you mention his name. You take my advice and stay away from him. He’s been nothing but trouble since he was a kid. He and that Bill Atkins were always getting into one scrape or another.”

My car was in view when she woke me from my trance. “That’s my car over there, Harley,” I said and then turned around to answer Sharon. “Thank you, Sharon. I never met the guy, so I’ll be extra careful if I ever do.”

Harley pulled in behind my car, and I was out the door before the car came to a complete stop. “I can’t thank you guys enough. I’ll be sure to tell my parents how helpful you were.” My phone rang before Sharon could reply.

I reached for my phone and waved goodbye. “Hello,” I said without having time to see who it was. It was Megan, and she was crying. “Jake, Daddy’s dead.”

Megan and Mother were a mess until after the funeral. Even Kevin surprised me when he broke down at the service. I held up fairly well, until the eulogy. Being the only son, I had the honor of summarizing my father’s life in fifteen minutes. Luckily for me, Amy was in the church with Hal and Taylor, and I didn’t want her to see a grown man cry. She had gone back home, and back to Hal, the same day my father died. Once my mother took over the guest room that had been vacated by Amy, Taylor followed shortly thereafter.

My father was buried the following Thursday morning in a cemetery overlooking the Osage branch of Lake of the Ozarks. The local chapter of the VFW gave him a twenty-one gun salute and presented my mother with a military flag for his service during the Vietnam War. I had been searching the crowd for Amy when I noticed the footprints left by two of the honor guards. They were nearly identical to the print Fred had found just a week earlier.

Because Meg’s house was too far away, the reception was held at my mother’s church; Mom wouldn’t step foot in her own house yet. I noticed Amy and Taylor in the crowd and started to work my way toward her, but I stopped when I bumped into one of the VFW honor guards. It was Harley, the old guy who had given me a ride a few days earlier.

“I’m really sorry about your father, Jacob,” he said while trying to balance a plate of food on top of his drink. “He will be missed at the meetings.”

He was still dressed in his uniform from the funeral. “Thank you, Harley,” I replied as I scanned the room for Amy. “I’ll miss him too.”

“Are you looking for someone?” he asked.

“Just checking on my mother,” I answered, trying to focus on the old veteran. “I didn’t mean to be rude. In fact, I wanted to ask you something. I’m glad I ran into you.”

Harley put his food down on a nearby table and started to do the same with his drink. I could now see had hot coffee. It must have been burning his hand; it was starting to shake. “Let me get that for you, Harley,” I said and reached out to steady his hand.

“Thank you, Jacob. The Parkinson’s is acting up again,” he said, letting me take the coffee before sitting down. “What is it you wanted to ask me?”

I saw Hal approach Amy out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t dare turn to look; I didn’t want to offend Harley again. “It’s those boots you’re wearing,” I answered. “What brand are they. I don’t recall ever seeing those at Wal-Mart.”

Harley grinned like I had just told a joke. “That’ll be the day when Wal-Mart sells these,” he said, lifting a foot a few inches off the ground. “You have to special order Bates in these parts.”

Then it hit me. I felt so stupid. I should have realized the print would be in reverse making the S and E in BATES look like a 2 and a 3. “Where can I get a pair, Harley? They look comfortable.”

Before he could answer, his wife came over carrying two huge plates of food. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said as she sat down across from us. “That was such a nice eulogy you gave your father, Jacob. He would have been so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Sharon,” I said, looking past her while watching Hal and Amy leave. I was trapped. I couldn’t run after Amy without offending the good Samaritans who had given me a ride when I needed it.

Sharon took a spoonful of potato salad and had it half eaten it when she looked up. “Isn’t that the judge?” she asked in a muted voice. I didn’t know if it was the food or if she was trying to be discreet.

“Hope that lawyer don’t break his nose,” Harley answered. “Makes me sick the way he’s always kissing up to him.”

I looked over just in time to see Rosenblum leave his friend and head our way. “I think he wants to see me,” I said to the couple. “Thank you for coming, and thank you, Harley, for telling me about those boots.” Then I left them and headed toward Rosenblum.

“Jacob, I’m so sorry about your father,” he said and held out his hand when I met him halfway.

“Thanks, Ira,” I replied while accepting his handshake, and I led him out of earshot of the Maguires. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been wanting to ask a favor of you.”

Rosenblum’s expression changed immediately. “If it’s about the will, Jake, your father put it all on tape. Your mother has a copy and will show it to everyone later.”

Now I was the one caught off guard. I didn’t think my father had anything worth putting in a will. “No. I was wondering if you could run a DMV check for me. Someone with a Tracker boat has been up to no good, and it occurred to me you might have the connections to run a check on Tracker boats in the Truman area.”

A smile started to return to his face. “That search shouldn’t turn up more than a few hundred boats.”

“You’re probably right,” I answered. “Seems the only good idea I had since I got here was buying that motor home. Which reminds me, I think I’ll call the son and see when I can pick it up. My insurance company won’t pay for my rental any longer.”

Rosenblum told me to stop by his office for the motor home title when I had a chance and promised he would have a friend get me the DMV search if he could. I didn’t tell him what I was going to do with the search results once I had them. I didn’t want to implicate the lawyer in the crime I was about to commit. All I had to do to find Mike’s murderer was cross reference that data with Hal’s email contact list. And that would require some shady hacking.

We didn’t get a chance to see the tape until later that evening. My mother wanted to stay after the reception to help clean up, and I had to find a VCR. It was a pain, but eventually, I found one in a second-hand store just before they were ready to close.

It was weird watching him on the tape so soon after the funeral. He was sitting in his favorite chair with his feet resting on a worn-out footstool and talking into the camera. “Rosenblum suggested that your mom and me consider a reverse mortgage in case this should happen. The mortgage was finalized last week, and I used some of the funds to pay everyone’s legal fees and get Megan’s house out of foreclosure. The rest has been invested in a trust fund that will be used to pay the taxes and insurance on the house, as well as help cover some of my lost Social Security benefits.”

All this was news to me, but my mother and sister didn’t act the least bit surprised. Then my father cleared his throat and continued. “I’m sorry, Jake, if you feel left out. The house is all I had, and I had to make sure your mother wasn’t evicted after I died. I hope you understand.”

He finished with a plea for Kevin to quit smoking. Whoever was running the camcorder must have accidentally tipped it to turn it off. I got a close-up view of Dad’s boots. They were made by Bates.

* * *

As we sat on the lower-level deck later that afternoon, Fred and I discussed my dilemma. We were once again relegated to the walkout basement until Mother went home. “Well, old boy, do we go home or stick around and help Megan?” Neither choice appealed to me, so I thought I’d ask Fred. I had nothing but bills to face back home, and after getting cut from the will, I was not in the mood to help my sister.

Fred barked twice. His answer could have been a yes or no, but I had a feeling he just wanted more beer. We spent the rest of the night drinking the last of the six-pack. I should have been thinking of how I was going to hack into the Hal’s computer once Rosenblum got my Tracker list, but my mind kept drifting to the night I spent talking with Amy only ten feet above. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy or talked so much.

Once the beer was gone, Fred tired of my conversation and fell asleep. I resisted the urge to pet him before going back into my room. His legs were twitching and his eyes were going back and forth. He must have been dreaming. How I envied his ability to fall asleep at a time like this. I spent the rest of the night in the kitchen, drinking coffee, trying to figure out how to get access to Hal’s computer.

Mother was the first to rise, unless you consider not going to bed at all making me first. “Good morning, Jacob. Did you sleep well?”

“As well as could be, Mom. How are you doing?” I said as I poured us both a cup of coffee and popped some bagels in the toaster.

Tears were forming in her eyes. “It’s so strange waking up without your father.” She wiped her eyes with a napkin then fished through her purse for her compact. “Jacob?” she asked. “You’re not upset are you?”

“You mean about the will? No. I understand.” I lied.
How could it not bother me
, I wanted to ask, but I held it in and lowered my eyes to study my coffee cup.

Mother had finished fixing her face and reached for a bagel. “I know it sounds like Megan is our favorite,” she said in a softer voice I rarely heard. “But it’s not true. Your father loved you just as much. He only did it to keep her from losing everything until the insurance comes through. She has promised to give you your share then.” She was holding her bagel dangerously close to Fred.

“It’s okay, Mom. Really.” Fred couldn’t resist any longer and grabbed for her bagel; he swallowed it in one bite.

“Jacob! He nearly took my fingers!” she yelled as she stood up. “I don’t know why you don’t get rid of that mangy mutt.” Fred gave her his best smile and waited for more.

Mother left in a huff before I had a chance to respond. I felt like running after her and telling her how I really felt about the will, but I just held on to Fred for fear that he should follow her for more bagels.

Megan must have heard us in the kitchen. She had been heading toward us when she saw Mother leave upset. “What’s wrong, Mom?” I heard her say. Mother said something to her I couldn’t hear and then went on her way.