White Hot (16 page)

“Well,
fuck you,
I ain’t filing workmen’s comp tomorrow or any other time, and I ain’t taking your piss-ant handout, either. You can’t buy a clean conscience from me, and you sure as hell can’t buy my silence.

“Write this down, Mr. Smooth-talking Ass-kisser with the pretty smile. Write it down in my Billy’s blood. I’m gonna make myself heard about what goes on in that stinking foundry. The Hoyles and you are gonna get your comeuppance. Just wait and see if you don’t.”

Then she spat in his face.

“Have you been calling me?”

“Chris. Where the hell are you?”

“The diner.”

“On my way. Order coffee.”

Beck had just left the hospital when Chris returned his call. He was headed for home but made a U-turn and arrived at the diner a few minutes later.

“I’m brewing a fresh pot for you, Beck,” the waitress called to him as he walked in. “Give it two minutes.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say.”

He joined Chris in a booth, propped his elbows on the table, and wearily dragged his hands down his face. “Will this day never end?”

“I just called the ICU. Huff’s sleeping like a baby. Heart’s ticking like a Swiss clock. So what’s the big emergency?”

“Why wasn’t your cell on?”

“It was. On vibrate. Problem was, the cell wasn’t on
me.
” Chris smiled lazily. “A gentleman removes not only his boots but his cell phone when he joins a lady in bed. Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

“Billy Paulik nearly had his arm ripped off tonight.”

Chris’s grin faded. The two men stared across the table at each other while the waitress refreshed Chris’s coffee and filled a mug for Beck. “Something to eat, Beck?”

“No thanks.”

Sensing by their solemn mood that banter would be inappropriate, she left them.

“On the job, I assume,” Chris said.

Beck gave a grim nod.

“Jesus. On top of everything else, this is all we need.”

“That’s why I feel like this day has lasted a thousand years.” Beck then told him what had happened and brought him up to date. “The helicopter lifted off minutes before you called me. They wouldn’t let his wife fly with him. Her brother-in-law is driving her to New Orleans as we speak.”

He omitted the spitting incident. What purpose would it serve to tell Chris except to make him think badly of Mrs. Paulik? Beck didn’t. He sympathized with the fear and anxiety that had led her to do it.

Even upset, she’d had the presence of mind to realize the irreversible impact this night would have on her family. Her husband might not survive. If he did, he would never be the same. Their economic future was in jeopardy. Tonight had changed their lives forever. No wonder she’d felt contempt for the platitudes, the cash, and the one who offered them.

With as much dignity as possible, he had come to his feet and wiped his face with a handkerchief, then moved away from her and her children. Fred Decluette had been mortified by her behavior. “No need to apologize for her, Fred,” Beck had told him when he began stammering apologies. “She’s scared and upset.”

“I just want you to know that not all of us share her opinion, Mr. Merchant. I’d hate for it to get back to the Hoyles that we’re ungrateful for y’all’s generosity when something like this happens.”

Beck had assured the nervous foreman that the incident would be forgotten. So he kept it out of his account to Chris.

“Billy will undergo surgery, but the ER doctor here told me that his arm is so mangled, it would take divine intervention to successfully reattach it, much less make it useful, and that they’d be doing Billy a favor if they didn’t even try.”

He paused to take a sip of coffee and glanced up as another customer came in. It was Slap Watkins, exuding the same belligerent arrogance as he had the night before. “Is he paying rent here?”

Beck continued to watch Slap as he paused just inside the door and glanced around. When he spotted him and Chris, his chin went back a notch as though surprised to see them there.

“Well, well, Slap Watkins,” Chris said easily. “Long time no see. How was prison?”

Slap divided a calculating look between them, then said to Chris, “Anything beats working in your foundry.”

“With an attitude like that, I guess it’s a good thing my brother didn’t hire you.”

“Yeah, speaking of your brother…” The grin he flashed raised the hair on Beck’s arms. “I bet Danny Boy is getting real ripe by now.” Raising his nose in the air, he inhaled deeply. “Yep, I can smell that fucking corpse from here.”

Chris moved to leave the booth and attack, but Beck laid a restraining hand on his arm. “That’s what he wants you to do. Let it go.”

“Good advice, Merchant.” Fixing his gaze on Beck, Slap leered. “You been in his sister’s pants yet? She as hot as she looks?”

It took supreme willpower for Beck to remain where he was.

The waitress came from behind the counter and approached Slap. “I won’t stand for dirty talk like that in here. If you want something to eat or drink, take a seat.” She handed him a menu.

Slap pushed it aside. “I don’t want nothing to eat or drink.”

“Then why did you come in?”

“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I was supposed to meet a partner here to talk some business.”

Unintimidated, she placed her hands on her hips and eyed him up and down, taking in his greasy blue jeans and the ratty tank top that left his arms bare. There was an array of tattoos. All of them were lewd, some outright obscene. Most appeared to be the work of amateurs.

The waitress said, “I can see you’re all dressed up for an important business meeting. But we’re not keeping this place open so you’ll have free office space. Order something or leave.”

“Good idea,” Chris said tightly.

Slap looked at them with malice. “Coupla fags. Can’t even tell which one’s the bitch.” Then he turned and swaggered out.

Through the window they watched him climb onto his motorcycle and speed out of the parking lot.

“I told you he was trouble, Beck,” Chris said.

“Waiting to happen.”

“Or already has. You heard what he said about the foundry. Did you see his reaction when I mentioned Danny? His arrogance slipped. Just a fraction and for just a second. I think we should discuss it with Red.”

“All right. Tomorrow. But right now we’ve got an immediate problem. Do you think we should wait a day or two to tell Huff?”

“About Slap Watkins?”

“About Billy Paulik, Chris,” Beck said impatiently. “The guy was maimed for life in your foundry tonight. He’s got five young kids. He’s worked for Hoyle Enterprises since he was seventeen. We don’t have any jobs for one-armed men. What’s he going to do now?”

“I don’t know. Why are you upset with me? I didn’t stick his arm into that machine. If he’s worked for us since he was seventeen, he’s well aware of the dangers and should have been paying better attention to what he was doing.”

“Billy was trying to do some minor repair while the conveyor was running.”

“He took it upon himself to do a repair he wasn’t qualified to do.”

“Because it needed to be done. He was thinking of production first, not safety, because that’s what he’s been ordered to think. The machine should have been stopped before anyone worked on it.”

“Take that up with George Robson. He’s the safety director. He sets the criteria for shutting down a piece of machinery.”

“George does what you and Huff tell him to do.”

Chris sat back against the booth and looked at him closely. “Whose side are you arguing here?”

Beck placed his elbows on the table again, and this time he pressed his thumbs into his burning eye sockets. “You didn’t see his blood,” he said softly. After a time, he lowered his hands. “Fred Decluette said that Billy was working that machine tonight in place of a guy on vacation. He also said he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to fix the damn thing.”

“You see?” Chris said blithely. “We’re clear of all blame.”

Beck wondered how the hell Chris could be smiling. Then he sighed and said, “Yeah. Right.”

“His medical expenses will be covered by workmen’s compensation insurance. That’s why we pay out the nose for it.”

Beck nodded, deciding not to bring up Alicia Paulik’s threats. He would save those for another conversation. And perhaps, once Mrs. Paulik had had time to think about it, once she realized the extent of Billy’s medical bills, she would change her mind and choose the easier of the two options available to her, which would be to file an insurance claim and, by doing so, forever lose her right to sue Hoyle Enterprises.

“Look, Beck, I know you feel terrible about what happened. So do I. But what else can we do?”

“We could send a bouquet of flowers to his hospital room.”

“Absolutely.”

Beck laughed, but not with humor. Chris had missed his sarcasm. “I’ll see to it.”

“Think you can keep it out of the media?”

Remembering the vehemence behind Mrs. Paulik’s threats, he hedged. “I’ll do my best.”

“Which is usually good enough.” Chris drained his coffee mug. “I’m bushed. As if being questioned by the sheriff and Huff’s heart attack weren’t enough excitement for one day, Lila was feeling particularly amorous tonight.”

“How did you avoid George?”

“She told him she was visiting a sick friend.”

“And he fell for that?”

“She’s got him wound around her little finger by a string that’s attached to his dick. Besides, he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“No, just our safety director,” Beck said under his breath as he and Chris left the booth and moved toward the door.

Before they parted in the parking lot, Chris asked, “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“He won’t be
all right,
Chris. Losing a limb—”

“Not Paulik. Huff.”

“Oh.” Sayre had said that Huff had been playing one of his sick games when he summoned her to his “deathbed.” That sounded typical of Huff. “Yes,” he told Chris with confidence. “I think he’ll be all right.”

Thoughtfully, Chris bounced his car keys in his palm. “Do you know what he told me today? I guess he was feeling mellow, thinking that he’d come close to dying. He was a bit maudlin, but sincere. He said he wouldn’t know what he’d do without his two sons. I reminded him that he’d lost Danny. But he was referring to you. He said, ‘Beck is like another son to me.’ ”

“I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. Being a son of Huff Hoyle comes with a few disadvantages.”

“Like what?”

“Like you can be the one who tells him about Billy Paulik.”

“I
s Jessica DeBlance here?” Sayre spoke in the hushed tone that one reserves for the library.

The gray-haired lady at the desk smiled at her. “Jessica is working today, but she went down the street to get us some muffins from the bakery.”

“So she’s coming back?”

“Shouldn’t be more than five minutes.”

Sayre moved to a reading area where a window overlooked a small, landscaped courtyard. Sparrows were splashing in the shallow bowl of a birdbath. Hydrangea bushes were loaded with blue and pink blossoms as large as birthday balloons. Fig vine and lichen clung to the brick wall enclosure. The serenity of it was inviting.

She hadn’t enjoyed a moment of tranquillity since she’d ordered Beck Merchant from her motel room last night.

Liar,
he’d whispered.

The incriminating word had stung because it was true. She had denied having any intuition that something like that would happen between them. She’d also denied that she had wanted it to. He had canceled her denials with that one word:
liar.

It echoed in her mind now as it had all through the night, even during her fitful sleep. She woke up still smarting with humiliation, still infuriated with him, but even more so with herself. He’d known that, too.

Liar
also applied to her in a way Beck didn’t know or couldn’t guess. She had explained her reason for staying in Destiny as an obligation to her mother, as wanting to see to what extent if any Chris had been involved in Danny’s death. But the underlying reason was her guilty conscience. Days before his death, she had rebuffed Danny. Her guilt over that was as omnipresent as the humid Gulf air. She couldn’t escape it. It had brought her to the library this morning.

“Sayre?”

She looked up to find Jessica DeBlance standing beside her chair.

“I seem to have a bad habit of sneaking up on you,” Jessica said by way of apology for startling her.

“My fault both times. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“I’m surprised to see you. I thought you were leaving town yesterday.”

“Change of plans. I tried to call you at home earlier this morning. Then your cell phone. When I couldn’t reach you, I remembered that you’d met Danny in the library. I took a chance that you still worked here.”

“I heard about Mr. Hoyle’s heart attack. Is that why you stayed?”

“That and…” Sayre glanced at the other library visitors scattered about. “Is there someplace we can talk privately?”

Jessica led her into a cramped workroom filled with books, some boxed, others piled in uneven towers on the floor and every other flat surface. “Donations,” she explained as she removed a stack of books from a chair and motioned for Sayre to sit down. “To most people it’s a headache to inventory and catalog the books, so I volunteer for the job. Even in this age of computers, I still enjoy the smell of old books.”

“So do I.”

The two women smiled at each other as Jessica sat down on a padded stool. “Would you care for a fresh muffin? Some coffee?”

“No thanks.”

“Everyone in the bakery was talking about Mr. Hoyle. Is his condition serious?”

“Early indications are that he’ll be fine.” After a short silence, Sayre said, “Something happened yesterday that I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t know how significant it is, but it’s one of the reasons I postponed my trip home.”

“What happened?”

“Chris was questioned by Sheriff Harper and Deputy Scott in connection to Danny’s death.” While Jessica sat stunned, Sayre recapped what Beck had told her. “It’s nothing more than a matchbook. As Beck pointed out, a defense lawyer could make a dozen cases as to how it got inside the fishing cabin with no help from Chris. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“But it’s made the sheriff’s department wonder if Chris was out there with Danny that afternoon.”

“I’m wondering that, too. Jessica, do you know if there had been any strife between them recently?”

“Hasn’t there always been strife between them? Their personalities and interests couldn’t be more dissimilar. Danny knew that Chris was your father’s favorite, but he seemed comfortable with that. Chris is Huff made over. Danny wasn’t. He knew it, accepted it, even preferred it. He had no desire to be like either of them.”

“Did he compete for Huff’s attention?”

“Not especially. It didn’t seem that important to him. He wasn’t jealous of Chris if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Was Chris jealous of Danny?”

The question took Jessica aback and she laughed. “Why on earth would he be?”

“I don’t know. I’m shooting in the dark.” Sayre got up and moved to the window, which afforded another view of the pretty courtyard. The sparrows had left, but now bees were buzzing around the pink blossoms on the Rose of Sharon bush. A fat black caterpillar inched across the cracked flagstones. “I don’t know what I’m after, Jessica. I thought perhaps Danny had mentioned an argument or some recent disagreement between them.”

“Chris is seeing a married woman. Danny disapproved. But from what he told me about your brother, adultery wasn’t anything new. Morally, the brothers would always be at opposite poles. Something tells me…”

When she stopped, Sayre turned away from the window and looked back at her. “Something tells you what?”

“It’s just a feeling I have. I can’t be sure.”

Sayre returned to her chair and leaned toward the younger woman. “You knew Danny better than anyone. Far better I think than even his own flesh and blood knew him. If you have a feeling about something, I trust that instinct.”

“The thing that had been weighing heavily on Danny’s mind…”

“You think it related to Chris?”

“Not specifically. They didn’t have that much interaction.”

“They lived in the same house.”

“They shared an address but spent very little time at home together. When they did, it was in the company of Huff and often Beck Merchant. They saw each other at work, of course, but they had different responsibilities and they reported to Huff, not to each other.

“They didn’t move in the same social circles, especially since Danny became involved in our church.” She paused. “And I think that was at the crux of what was bothering Danny. He was struggling with a spiritual matter.”

“Like what?”

“I wish I knew, especially if he died because of it. I hated seeing him in that kind of spiritual quandary and urged him to discuss it with me, or our pastor, or someone else he trusted. He refused. All he would say was that he couldn’t be the Christian he should be or was supposed to be.”

“His conscience was bothering him.”

Jessica nodded. “I told him there was no sin or shortcoming that God wouldn’t forgive. He made a joke of it and said that maybe God hadn’t met the Hoyles.”

“As far as you know, he never reconciled whatever was troubling him?” Sayre’s hope was that, after she declined to talk to him, Danny had found a sympathetic ear elsewhere, that someone had counseled him. But Jessica dashed that desperate hope with a slow shake of her head.

“I don’t think he could reconcile it. I hate that he died without making peace with it.”

“Perhaps he found peace at the end,” Sayre said, again hoping in vain that it was true.

Jessica looked over at Sayre and gave her a gentle smile. “Thank you for saying that, but I don’t think he did. The more we talked about marriage and our future, the more he seemed to dwell on this problem. I would be guessing, but—”

“Please. Guess.”

“Well, he was constantly bothered about the working conditions at the foundry. He wasn’t proud of its reputation, violating OSHA standards, all that. Yet he hired people to work there. He placed them in jobs that he knew were dangerous and with only minimum training. Maybe he couldn’t live with that any longer.”

The lady who’d been manning the desk tapped on the door and after apologizing for the interruption told Jessica that the nursery school class had arrived for story hour. “About twenty of the little darlings are asking for Aunt Jessica,” she said. “I don’t know how long we can keep them corralled.”

As they were leaving the workroom, Sayre asked Jessica for a favor. “I’ll do anything that might help us learn what happened to Danny. What do you need?”

“Do you know anyone who works at the courthouse?”

The general mood was as glum, dark, and oppressive as the shop floor itself.

Beck noticed this immediately as he made his way toward the pipe conveyor that had caused the grisly accident the night before. Each worker was going about his job, but with a discernible lack of enthusiasm and in total silence. None made eye contact with him, but he could feel the resentful stares aimed at his back.

George Robson and Fred Decluette were in discussion near the machine and looked surprised when Beck joined them. “Morning, Mr. Merchant,” Fred said.

“Fred. George.”

“Hell of a thing.” George shook his balding head remorsefully, then mopped sweat off it with a handkerchief. “Hell of a thing.”

Beck looked down at the grimy floor. Last night there must have been a lake of blood on the spot where he now stood, but someone had made it disappear before the morning shift reported to work.

“We took care of the mess,” Fred said, as though reading his mind. “Bad for morale. No use reminding them of what happened.”

“Maybe a reminder would be good,” George offered. “Make them more cautious. Not so careless.”

To keep himself from hitting the insensitive idiot, Beck moved closer to the machine. “Show me what happened,” he said to Fred.

“He’s already gone over it with me.”

“I’d like to see it for myself, George. Huff will want to know the details.”

George, he noted, remained at a safe distance as Fred pointed out the faulty drive belt and explained what had gone wrong when Paulik tried to repair it. “We’ve got somebody coming out tomorrow to fix it proper,” Fred told him.

“I made arrangements for that first thing this morning,” George said.

Beck looked up at the cast pipes moving along the shaky conveyor overhead. “Is it safe to operate as it is?” He directed the question to the foreman, but George answered.

“In my opinion, yes.”

Fred looked less convinced, but he nodded. “Mr. Robson here seems to think so, and he ought to know.”

Beck hesitated, then said, “All right. Just be sure everyone knows what happened and caution them—”

“Oh, they already know, Mr. Merchant. Word of something like that travels fast.”

Of course it would. Beck gave George Robson a cursory nod, then turned and went back the way he’d come. His shirt was stuck to his back. He could feel rivulets of sweat sliding down his ribs. He’d been on the shop floor less than five minutes and was drenched with perspiration. His lungs were laboring to expel the hot air he inhaled. These men withstood these conditions for eight hours, unless they worked a double shift to earn overtime.

As he walked past the machine with the white cross painted on it, he paused, wondering if George Robson had ever thought to ask what that cross signified. Or if he had ever even noticed it. Sayre had.

Beck slowed his pace and then came to a complete stop. He pondered the emblem for several seconds and thought about the tragedy it commemorated. Then he did an abrupt about-face and quickly retraced his steps to Fred Decluette and the safety director.

“Christ, this will make news.” Huff moved his lips as though clamping a cigarette between them. “The media will have a field day just like they did the last time someone got hurt on the job.”

From across the ICU room, Chris said, “Beck should have waited a few more days before telling you.”

Huff practically snarled. “Of course he should have told me. He should have told me last night, and not waited till this morning. It’s my foundry. It’s got my name on it. Would you rather me read about it in the newspaper? Hear it on the five o’clock news? I had to know, and Beck realized that.”

Chris noted that Beck had remained silent while Huff ranted over the news of Billy Paulik’s accident. Although Beck had had to break the bad news to Huff, Huff wasn’t ready to shoot the messenger. Rather, Beck had his wholehearted approval and trust, and to Chris that was a bit galling.

“Paulik’s medical bills will be through the roof,” Huff said. “The premiums on our workmen’s comp insurance will go up because of this.”

“Mrs. Paulik may not file,” Beck said, speaking for the first time. “She told me she wasn’t going to.”

Huff reeled off a stream of vulgarities. He knew what Alicia Paulik’s failure to file an insurance claim portended for Hoyle Enterprises, and so did Chris. He was perturbed with Beck for springing this on them. “Why didn’t you tell me this last night?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I shouldn’t have had to ask, and I resent the omission.”

“We were both exhausted, Chris. It had already been a hellish day. I didn’t feel like going into it.”

Huff cut their argument short by asking, “You think she intends to sue us, Beck?”

“That was her line last night. She may have changed her mind by now. I hope so.”

“If she sues, how much do you think it’ll cost us?”