02-A Book to Die For (2014) Read online

  The endless construction on the C-470 interchange had traffic backed up for miles. My old Wagoneer didn’t like the stop and go traffic and began to overheat. I had bought the Jeep soon after returning home from Missouri last year. It had seemed like a good choice at the time. The price was right and it had tons of room for all my tools, but it drank water faster than a hippo on diuretics. Its temperature gauge had been pegged for miles and so much steam was coming from under the hood that I had to pull over on the shoulder to let the beast cool off.

  Luckily, I carried plenty of water, so I pulled over to the side of the freeway as far from traffic as I could get without rolling the Jeep down a steep embankment. I had to wait nearly an hour before I could refill the radiator. Adding cold water to an overheated engine is a sure recipe for a cracked block. It gave me plenty of time to think of who Lonnie was blackmailing.

  Alec had never crossed my mind until Bonnie brought him up. It was true the kid didn’t have any money, but his father did. The rumor was Jonathan was losing his shirt in his roofing business, but he always seemed to have money nonetheless. Whoever the poacher was had to have access to the barbeque and its propane tank. I couldn’t think of who that could be other than Alec and his father. Then again, maybe I had let my imagination get the best of me and there was no connection whatsoever to the poacher and the accident.

  Once I satisfied my Jeep’s thirst, I squeezed back into traffic and headed straight for the hospital. A get well card or balloon wasn’t in my budget. It took another thirty minutes to find the hospital’s front desk. All the up-front parking spaces were in a paid lot. I had parked half a mile away and came in the back entrance to save a few bucks. That turned out to be a bad idea.

  The path to the front was worse than a labyrinth. The colored lines that represented breadcrumbs led me down the hallways to doors that needed a badge to enter. I must have backtracked a dozen times before discovering the path to the front desk. This was one time I wished I wasn’t so cheap. A couple dollars for parking didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

  “Are you family?” the woman behind the counter asked, when I requested Lonnie’s room number.

  “No, just a friend. He’s probably in the burn ward, or wherever you put someone with bad burns.”

  She took it in stride and punched a few keys on her keyboard. “Two oh five. The patient elevators are down the hall on the left.”

  I wasted no time making my way to the second floor, then began to have second thoughts about coming when I saw his estranged wife. I recognized Shelia the moment I stepped out of the elevator. I had never met her; I only heard stories about her from Lonnie. He was one of those guys who couldn’t keep his love-life to himself. The pretty brunette being consoled by none other than Reverend Johnson had to be her. She was plump, but far from the Weight Watcher reject Lonnie had described. I found her terribly sexy. What a fool Lonnie had been to leave her.

  Shelia was wearing tight pink pants and a pink blouse that did nothing to hide her assets, of which she had plenty. For some reason she made me think of the movie, Pretty in Pink. Even the book she was carrying had pink bookmarks. I couldn’t help but wonder if she would be interested in an unemployed computer programmer now that she had left him.

  She turned toward me when the reverend looked in my direction and said something to her. “Bastard! You have some kind of nerve coming here.” She was in my face before the doors closed on the elevator. Now I knew why deer stared at headlights. I was helpless to react.

  “You killed my husband, you bastard! You’re going to pay for this. I promise I’ll make you pay.” Then she slapped my face and stormed down the hall.

  “Are you okay, Jake?” The Reverend asked. I had my hand to my face where she had slapped me.

  “Yeah. More shocked than hurt, but what’s this about Lonnie dying? The last I saw him, he had a few first and second-degree burns. Nothing they couldn’t take care of in the ER.”

  “Let’s go back into the waiting room. I think you need to hear this sitting down.”

  Reverend Johnson led the way and held the door while I went inside. It felt like we had passed through a wormhole into another dimension. The colors were a light yellow and antique-white with table lamps instead of the harsh fluorescents in the hall. It even had a real coffee maker in the corner with what looked like fresh coffee. I went over and poured myself a cup when the reverend excused himself to check on Carlos, who was watching cartoons on TV.

  The homey ambience broke when I saw the cups were Styrofoam. “Coffee, Reverend?” I asked as an afterthought.

  He hesitated as though I’d asked a Jeopardy question. “Sure, why not? I’m supposed to be cutting down on the caffeine, but what the heck. Is there any artificial sweetener?”

  I picked up a couple packs of sweetener and a creamer, and then went over to him and Carlos. “So what happened? Why does she think I killed Lonnie?”

  “The shock of the burns was too much for his heart,” he continued after taking a sip and speaking into the cup.

  “A heart attack? How is that my fault?”

  “Not a heart attack, Jake. Heart failure. His blood pressure dropped so low that his heart just stopped working.”

  “Whatever. I still don’t see why Shelia thinks it’s my fault,” I said, trying not to show my anger at being accused of something I didn’t do.

  The reverend stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. The gesture was probably meant to calm me down. “Chuck was here earlier. I don’t believe it myself. He’s been telling everyone you should be arrested for manslaughter. What did you do to get him so riled up?”

  His big paw had its intended effect, but it made me uncomfortable, so I moved back a step, forcing him to remove his hand. “I don’t even know the man, Reverend. All I know is he thinks I’ve been taking advantage of Bonnie by doing unnecessary repairs on her house and he didn’t want Margot paying me to fix the manuscript.”

  Reverend Johnson looked me straight in the eyes. I’m six-two, but he was taller and made me feel ten years old again. Memories of fifth grade Catholic school came flooding back.

  “I better go find Shelia,” he said. “Watch out for him, Jake. Call me if you ever feel the need to talk.”

  “As long as you promise not to make me say the rosary ten times,” I said and began to leave. Then I had a flash of déjà vu. Could this be another black-widow murder?

  “Reverend, do you know if Shelia needs anything? You know, financially?”

  He had already begun to open the waiting-room door and stopped to answer. “No. She should be fine once the insurance comes through.”

  Chapter 4

  The traffic going back up the mountain was a lot better than coming down earlier. My old Wagoneer breezed up the hills without once overheating. The normal hour drive seemed to fly by, though I was too engrossed in my thoughts to notice. Only last year my sister had been accused of murdering her husband for his insurance. That little episode had cost me my entire summer when I made the trip to Missouri to help her prove her innocence. There was no way this could be happening again; besides, how could Shelia know Lonnie would be doing the cooking at the barbeque?

  Bonnie was standing in her front yard when I drove up the road to my cabin. We both lived on Columbine Circle; she at the bottom and me at the top. I had hoped to give her a wave and get on home. Hope is for the hopeless, or so they say. She waved for me to stop.

  “Jake, did you hear about Lonnie?”

  “Just came from the hospital, and I’m still in shock. Shelia is blaming me and I think she’s going to have Chuck sue me too.”

  “I hope they don’t try to sue me.” Bonnie never was a fan of Lonnie’s, so her remark didn’t surprise me.

  I shut off the Jeep before it overheated as I could see this conversation would take some time. “If Shelia sues anyone, it should be your nephew. Didn’t you say you borrowed the barbeque from Jonathan and Alec set it up for you?”

  “Oh, you must thin
k I’m terrible, thinking about myself when his poor wife can’t even get alimony now.” She had her head in my window and her hands on my door frame. I wasn’t going anywhere soon unless I could think of a good excuse to escape.

  “Speaking of that barbeque, Bonnie, there’s something about it that’s been bothering me.”

  “Now don’t go blaming yourself, Jake. It’s not your fault. How were you supposed to know it was defective? That reminds me, don’t leave. I’ll run in and get those leftover hamburgers for Fred. Nobody had much of an appetite after seeing Lonnie’s face all burned the way it was.”

  She released my car and started toward her house without waiting for me to answer. I saw my chance and started my Jeep. “I’ll come by after I check on him, Bonnie. I need to talk to you about your father’s book anyway.”

  Bonnie was back in a flash; once more holding onto the doorframe so I’d have to drag her with me if I wanted to leave. “I’m glad you reminded me, Jake,” she said while looking at my door like she was studying its paint. “Margot would like her manuscript back. She said she would pay you whatever time you put into it.”

  It didn’t take a genius to know why. “Chuck?” I asked.

  She finally looked up from Jeep’s faded paint. “How did you know?”

  “I’ll tell you when I come back, but I really need to check on Fred.”

  She let go of my Jeep for the second time. “Bring him with you. I’ll fix us a little something and he can have some of those hamburgers.” I took off before she could hold me and my car hostage again.

  Fred repeated his act from the barbeque when I opened the door by jumping up to give me a big kiss. When an eighty-pound dog jumps up to greet you, it’s enough to knock you over if you’re not ready for it. He had me down on the floor and was licking my face while beating the open door with his tail.

  “Whoa, Boy. Don’t kill me. I’m happy to see you too.”

  Once I was able to get back on my feet, I went over and checked on his water, and then took a beer from my cooler. It was warm, but after the day I had, I didn’t care if it was boiling. Fred had already forgotten about me and gone out to relieve himself, so I followed as far as the front porch where I sat down in my favorite chair to keep an eye on him and quench my thirst. The rocking chair had been a gift from Bonnie, who thought every writer needed one.

  Fred checked every tree and rock in the front yard before deciding on which one to water. I was on my second beer when he finally joined me on the deck. “Any more deer out there?” I asked and poured him a little sip on the weathered deck boards.

  He lapped it up before it had time to soak into the deck, then looked at me and started barking for more. My sister had thought it was funny when she saw him do it last summer, and my mother thought it was animal cruelty. Whatever it was, it was too late to stop. Fred had been sharing my beer since he was a puppy.

  I finished the last of my beer and poured the dregs for Fred and grabbed Ray’s manuscript. “Want to go for a walk, Freddie? Your Aunt Bonnie has a special treat for you, and no, it’s not alcohol, but I promise you’re going to love it.”

  He answered the only way he could. With a bark, then ran to the path between Bonnie and me.

  Bonnie saw us coming and met us at the door. She looked grateful when I gave her the manuscript. “Thank you, Jake,” she said while holding out some money in her other hand. Margot said this should cover your time.”

  I stuck the cash in my pocket without counting it. Margot had plenty; she married into a very rich family, so it didn’t bother me in the least.

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in. Dinner’s getting cold.”

  She looked at Fred, who had been sitting quietly next to me like a trained guide-dog. It was a first — he must have known what was coming. “You too, Freddie. I have a special treat just for you.”

  “At least he should get off my back now,” I said while picking out the broccoli and setting it aside. It was probably delicious, if one cared for the smelly vegetable. The dinner she put together was getting cold. Neither one of us had barely taken a bite despite the fact I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

  She played with her salad, then put the fork down and replaced it with a half empty bourbon glass. “He actually offered you five thousand for it?”

  I followed her lead and opened another beer. They taste so much better when they are cold. “Yeah. Then he accused me of taking advantage of you. Said I was some kind of hustler. Not his exact words, but that’s what he meant.”

  “I hope you don’t think he got that idea from me, Jake. I’ve always told everyone you don’t charge enough for the wonderful work you do.” Bonnie acted shocked, but her expression betrayed her. I knew in an instant she must have said something to her sister that she regretted.

  “Can I get you something else, Jake? I’ve got some of that delicious casserole left over that Lonnie brought to the picnic.” Her smile faded. “Oh, that poor man. A heart attack?”

  “No. Heart failure. The good reverend made sure I knew the difference. Lonnie’s heart just stopped because of low blood pressure. It must have been the trauma from his burns.” I automatically glanced out the window to where the barbeque had been.

  “I see you got rid of the grill already.”

  “Jonathan came for it this morning; he’s such a sweet man. I offered to pay him for it and he refused to take a cent. Said he could write it off as a business expense.”

  I quit pretending to be interested in my broccoli and pushed the plate aside. “Not much of an appetite today. I’m sorry you went to so much trouble.” I fought the urge to save my dinner for Fred. He was the best garbage disposal a person could buy, but Bonnie might be offended.

  She chuckled and then took a long sip from her glass. “Greg hated it too. What is it with men and food that’s good for them?”

  Greg had been her husband for forty years until he died from lung cancer. Her eyes still glazed over when anyone mentioned his name. “Give a guy a greasy hamburger or pizza and you eat like pigs, or should I say dogs?” She was staring out the window where the grill had been as if in a trance. “I wonder what he’s eating now?”

  I thought she was referring to her husband until I saw Fred chewing on something. “That’s not a burger. I wonder what he’s got?”

  Bonnie put on the glasses that she kept around her neck on a chain. “It’s a snake, Jake!” she shrieked.

  “Couldn’t be, Bon, I’ve never seen a snake up this high in all the years I’ve lived here,” I said calmly, trying to quiet her nerves. “Let’s go see what Fred has found.”

  She followed several feet behind me, ready to bolt at the first sign it might be a snake. “It looks like it’s from the barbeque,” she said when we got closer.

  “Let me see that, Freddie,” I said and reached for the hose in his mouth.

  Fred let me get close enough to grab it, then got into his tractor pulling stance with his rear-end higher than the front and his front paws dug into the ground. He started shaking his head back and forth, daring me to try and take it from him. I reached for a nearby stick and threw it down the driveway. Fred let the hose drop and took off like a jackrabbit after the stick.

  “Looks like the hose from the grill,” I said after picking it up. I wiped off the dog slime on my pant legs before handing it to Bonnie. “This was cut with a knife. Fred’s teeth didn’t do that, and the explosion would have ripped it from the tank, not cut it.” The hose had a small cut, not enough to sever it, but enough to cause a slow leak.

  Bonnie put on her glasses to get a better look. “Are you telling me, the explosion was deliberate?”

  “Looks that way, Bon,” I answered while watching her flex the hose back and forth to get a better look at the cut.

  “Margot said that’s what you told her right after it happened. She said you thought Lonnie knew who the poachers were and that’s why he got killed. You don’t really believe that, do you? This hose could simply be defective o
r cut when Jonathan unpacked the grill.” She held it out for me to see for myself.

  “Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I think I’ll hold on to this for a while. Margot said Chuck was going to sue me and the reverend said nearly the same thing at the hospital.” I answered without looking up from my examination.

  I probably would have let the whole business with the hose go if not for the sheriff’s deputy serving me a week later with notice to appear in court. Shelia had hired a lawyer and I was being sued for the wrongful death of her husband. I immediately got on the phone and called my new brother-in-law back in Missouri. He was not only the best lawyer I knew, he was the only lawyer I knew.

  Ira advised me to seek local council as he wasn’t licensed to practice in Colorado and couldn’t recommend anyone. However, he did manage to remind me of OJ Simpson and the consequences of losing a civil wrongful death suit.

  The hose was the only lead I had to prove sabotage, so after hanging up with Ira, I went to my shed to get it. I realized it sounded like I was making excuses again, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized any quick lawyer would claim it had been cut by a sharp edge of the grill during the explosion. For some reason I thought of Mark Twain, or was it Lincoln, who said, “The man who defends himself has a fool for a client.”

  “How the hell can I afford a lawyer?” I asked Fred after finding the hose behind a pile of garden tools.

  Fred must have thought I wanted to play. He grabbed the hose out of my hand. “Give me that, you mangy mutt,” I yelled and chased him out to the yard.