House on the Wrong Side of the Tracks, page 16
Kristy says, “Hey! I like this song!” She starts humming along, throwing in the occasional words.
End of conversation.
When we’re in the Husky lot, we thank him and bail out. As we hurry to the entrance, Kristy turns around to wave to the guy.
“For God’s sake, Kristy!” I hiss.
Judging by the number of rigs in the lot, the restaurant is busy, and as we step inside, the truckers and oil patch workers look away from their meals long enough to gawk. Kristy smiles at everyone. Although she would be open to it, I need the toilet badly enough that I don’t want to stop and chit chat with random men, so I herd her into the ladies’ bathroom.
“Damn! I hate to think of how cold and tired we’ll be now that we have a couple of miles to walk back to my truck,” I say.
From the cubicle next to mine, Kristy says, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For saying I didn’t trust Colin.”
“It was okay, but did you have to give him a name?”
“I just thought it made it more real. And why wouldn’t we take him up on his offer? We needed a reason not to, or why would we go to BBB’s shitting house?”
“Good point. But now we’re a lot farther away from the truck than we would be if he left us at The Pioneer House. My fault. I’m the idiot who mentioned we might get a ride with a trucker that gave him the idea to bring us here.” I’m done, finish up, flush and go to the sink to wash my hands. Kristy is beside me at almost the same moment.
“For future reference, Kristy, the first rule of being a successful liar is to make it as close to the truth as possible, and the second rule is not to say too much. But you are definitely a gifted actress.” I chuckle, and now even though we have a long, cold walk ahead of us, we have a laugh.
“So, you’re not mad at me?”
“No.”
“Good,” she says. “BBB was decent, after all. He’s not much to look at, but he was nice. He doesn’t even have that big of a beer belly.”
“You haven’t seen him in a T-shirt.”
“Well, it’s no worse than half the rich guys in three piece suits I deliver drinks to at the Ranchmen’s Club. He doesn’t seem like a killer.”
“What does a killer seem like?”
“I don’t know, exactly. Just not like him.”
“Serial killers are often very charming. It might’ve been a different story if I was there alone, or maybe we were just lucky his partner wasn’t with him tonight.”
“He has a partner?”
“Well, no. I mean, maybe. I’ve never seen anyone with him, other than his wife that one time.”
“Do you think maybe K.C.’s right, and you’ve just let your, um, imagination run away with you?”
I bite my bottom lip, and with a sigh, admit, “I really don’t know anymore.”
She takes her jacket off, removes her pullover, stuffs it in her bag, puts her jacket back on, but doesn’t zip it up. “Anyhow, we might not have to walk. Maybe we can get a ride at least as far back as The Pioneer House.” She checks her look in the mirror and gives her breasts an upward nudge. Satisfied her scoop-neck T-shirt displays her cleavage to advantage, she smiles and says, “There!”
IF WE THOUGHT TRINA was going to let bygones be bygones and invite Kristy into her house, even just to shower, we misjudged her ability to hold a grudge.
It’s Monday morning. Kristy and I are at Jesse’s for our secret meeting.
“I thought I’d be in like Flinn after that party,” Kristy says. “We all had such a good time. I got along so good with her biker friends. You’d think she’d be happy about that, but from the looks she gave me, I don’t think she liked it much at all. Mark thinks she’s jealous. So, unless something changes, Mark’s the only one welcome in her house. Which is okay, because if I did find her books, I wouldn’t know what I was looking at anyway. He’s the one who knows what to look for.”
“True. So, has he been able to find anything?”
“Not yet. I’m telling you it’s a good thing I got on at Billie’s. The customers tip way better than the Bistro customers. Besides great tips, if it wasn’t for having someplace to go, I’d be bored out of my mind. You know how small the lab is. Almost like living in a jail cell. You won’t believe it, but I’ve been so bored I’ve started helping out with the barn chores.”
“What? You? You’re kidding!”
“Nope, not kidding. Imagine that! Me, shovelling shit! Well, that’s not true. I don’t shovel shit. But there’s an orphan calf in the barn that’s really cute. I like feeding her. That’s my job, getting her formula ready and then bottle feeding her. I even brush her and take her for walks. I wish you could come and see her.”
“I’m allowed to go in the barn, you know. It’s not Trina territory. But you’re right, it’s not a good idea for me to go visit you. I’d sure love to see that, though: you in the barn, feeding a calf! Last time you lived here, I don’t think you went into the barn more than once or twice, and now you’re taking care of a calf?”
“I know! Crazy, huh? It’s just, I’ve been thinking, Mark has been talking about getting his own place. Like, his own ranch, as big as Wacasko-Wâti, he says.”
“Really?”
“Dreaming, right? But what if this thing with Mark is permanent? If he does get his own place, or even if his job at the Rocking R keeps on, like if Felix doesn’t want to come back full time, will he want me if I’m not, um, more like you? Like, no makeup, no manicures, no monthly hair appointments?”
She’s never been able to understand my lack of interest in those areas, so I don’t take offence. “You really like him enough that you’d want to stay here with him?”
“I do. Crazy, huh? So, I have to learn how to do ranch stuff,” she says, and gives her head a little shake. “It’s awful, Lindy. I think he might not want me to stay. For the first time, I like a guy more than he likes me.”
“Don’t be silly, Kristy, I’m sure he likes you.”
“He does. Just not enough. He’s never said he loves me. He hasn’t even asked me to be his girlfriend. Like that might make it too official. He introduced me to the hay delivery guy as Kristy. Not my girlfriend Kristy, just Kristy. Like I’m a ranch hand or something.” An expression of misery crosses her face, then she laughs and says, “Anyway, I’m still working on him. That’s why I’m taking care of the calf.”
“He doesn’t stand a chance,” I tell her.
“That’s right,” she agrees. “Say, I meant to ask you, were you out on some P.I. assignment yesterday?”
“Yeah. Just for a couple hours in the afternoon. Why?”
“Remember that time we were surveilling K.C. and he went into Billie’s, but only stayed a few minutes? Well, he came in yesterday and all he did was use the payphone.”
“The payphone?”
“It’s out in the vestibule, so I only saw him when someone came through the doors. But he must’ve been on the phone for ten minutes. Then he was just gone.”
“Well, now it makes sense. He doesn’t want that unlisted number to keep showing up on the phone bill.”
“Yeah. But he must of knew I might see him on the phone, and that I’d tell you.”
“I haven’t told him or anyone else that you’re working there or that I’m meeting you here. Not even Red. That way, there’s no chance of anyone letting something slip. He knows we talk on the phone, but if he shows any interest at all, I just say there’s no news.”
“And Mark didn’t tell him?”
“I guess not. Since Felix hired Jonesy, our guys don’t work over there so they’re not interacting with Mark much either. He still comes in for a cinnamon bun like before, but if K.C. doesn’t know you work at Billie’s, I guess Mark hasn’t told him. They’re not exactly close. It’s like, unless K.C. has a job for him, he avoids him. And the fact is, since I know K.C. will lie to me, I don’t trust him. We seldom talk about anything other than what TV show we’re going to watch.”
“I’m sorry, Lindy,” Kristy says. “Is it because he wants kids? Would it help if you had a baby?”
“Have a baby now, when our relationship is in this sorry state? No thanks! I may be crazy, but not that crazy.”
“What will you do?”
“Just ride it out, I guess. What else can I do?”
“Well, you could kick him out.”
“Yes, I could. And don’t think I haven’t thought of it. But it’s not like we fight or anything. We’re just going separate ways together. And, he has an investment in Wacasko-Wâti. I don’t have the resources to pay him out.”
“An investment?”
“Yeah. His money built the indoor.”
“And you put his name on the title or something? Is there something legal, you know, forcing you to pay him something?”
“No, but I want to do what’s right. Besides, we’ve lived together long enough he’s legally entitled to a share of the ranch and the business.” I sigh and click my tongue. “I sure never thought it would come to this.”
“I’m as pissed at him as you are,” Kristy says. “I think I’ll stick some gum in the coin slot, so he has to go somewhere else for his phone fuck.”
Chapter 16
Next morning, Mark has his usual coffee and a cinnamon bun, but I’m surprised to see he’s at a window table instead of the staff table. I get a coffee and join him there.
“How come you’re sitting over here?” I ask.
“Just thought I was too late, and everyone’s already had their break. If I sat there, no chance anyone would join me.”
“So, random customers join you often?”
“Er, no, but I guess it was more that I didn’t want to sit and stare at the wall.”
“Not much to see from here either, other than an empty parking lot and a pile of snow,” I say. “You should’ve sat over by the fireplace so you could see the barn and the corrals, at least.”
“Turns out it didn’t matter where I sat, since you’re joining me now.” He removes his hat and sets it on the window ledge. “Kristy is pissed because I can come here but she can’t, so I’ll take a couple cinnamon buns to go, so she won’t feel left out.”
“You’re very thoughtful,” I say. “So, I hear she’s feeding—” I’m cut off mid-sentence by the roar of a diesel engine. I turn in time to see an explosion of shattered cedar panelling at the entrance. The glass in the door and the nearest large window shatters, sending glass tinkling to the floor.
Mark and I jump to our feet and race to the door, but although we can see it’s a truck that hopped the curb and hit the building, the door is wrecked, and we can’t open it. We run to the wine-tasting room and exit through the patio doors there. Mark is faster than me, but neither of us gets around the corner in time to see more than the truck backing away.
“Hey!” I shout, “don’t you dare drive away!”
Mark is nearly even with the back bumper when the driver floors it, spinning the wheels and spraying snow and gravel our way before he races out of the yard and onto the road.
OTHER THAN THE ENTRANCE area being cordoned off, the wall temporarily closed in with plywood and plastic, and a sign on the sidewalk directing customers to access the Bistro through the patio doors in the wine tasting room, it’s business as usual. The cops and insurance people have all been and gone. Now all we have to do is wait.
We moved the staff table to the farthest reaches of the wine tasting room to make up for the loss of space for regular customer tables thanks to the repair area. It has the added advantage of being more private. At present Stu, Red, K.C. and Mark are with me, enjoying a coffee break. Naturally we discuss the latest catastrophe.
“So, if we do the work ourselves, the insurance company will pay us?” Stu asks.
“That’s right.”
“How come SGI doesn’t pay?” Mark asks.
“They will, but not up front. Our insurance company pays and then gets the money back from them. Thankfully they’ve waived our deductible, but it takes time, and we can’t wait that long for the repairs to be made. As it is, the doors are a special order item and won’t be here for weeks.”
“Gerard says the truck was stolen,” Red adds.
“Cops won’t do anything anyway. And, of course, the dirty bastards stole a truck to do it. They wouldn’t want to wreck one of their own. I hope they rot in hell! Grrr!” I growl. “Every time I think of it, my blood boils. I don’t get mad often, but I swear, if I get the chance, I’ll beat the living shit out of every last one of them!”
“Big tough Lindy,” Mark says, and chuckles.
“You really think you don’t get mad often?” K.C. says. “Seems to me you’re mad a lot.”
I glare at him and say, “I am not!” Although with him accusing me of it, I’m starting to get mad at him right now.
“Like you were going to beat the shit out of Bart, right?” Mark says.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“When you confronted him that time at the Powwow. Practically had smoke coming out of your ears.”
“Oh. That guy’s name is Bart?” I ask. Then I think back. The Powwow incident was before the flood. “How do you know about that? It was before you came.”
“Um, sure, but the guys still laugh about it. You know. Proud of how they got you wound up.”
“Well, isn’t that nice. I give them something to laugh about,” I say, and add a snort. “Anyhow, more recent entertainment: I felt like punching his lights out when he made that remark about Rocky over at Felix’s rodeo, too. And I’d bet dimes to donuts he’s the one who shot the horse. There must be something the cops could arrest him for. I bet he’s behind our latest catastrophe.”
“You say you didn’t see enough of the driver to make out who it was?” Stu asks. This is probably the tenth time he’s asked that question.
“You just asked me that,” I reply. Then I’m sorry for being sharp with him. In a softer tone, I say, “No, I saw him all right, but only for a second, and all I remember is that he was wearing a hat and sunglasses. And maybe had a little beard.” I reach across the table and give his arm a rub, a sort of apology for snapping at him. My reaction was partly that I was already halfway fuming, thinking about the attack, and partly that Stu’s forgetfulness is getting worse, and I worry he might have dementia.
“Oh,” he says. Thankfully, he doesn’t appear offended.
“I didn’t get a good look at him either, Stu,” Mark says. “All I could tell the cops was that it was a white Dodge one ton dually. Didn’t get the whole plate number.” This is also about the tenth time Mark has told Stu this. I’m grateful he’s kinder to my old friend than I was.
“It was kind of funny, though. Mark damn near trampled me, trying to get out the patio door ahead of me,” I say. “You know you have to wait until the door’s open before you go through, right Mark?”
“Any excuse to grab you,” Mark says. He grins. I look at K.C. He isn’t grinning.
“Anyhow, it’ll work out,” Red says. “We move the door over so we can have a proper cashier desk there like we talked about, and the cash register can be moved off the pastry case. Some good will come of it.”
“Trust you to come out with the glass half full view, Red. Main thing is, no one was hurt,” I say, and sigh. “He chose the slowest time of the day, the lull between the early birds and the lunch rush, so there was no one in that area. Imagine if he did it when the seniors were on their way out.”
Everyone agrees the timing was about as good as it could have been. And then I wonder if it was deliberate, and if so, how he knew. It’s not like any of them ever hang around here to scope it out.
“Would have to happen so close to Christmas when we have parties booked. And when it’s so damn cold! Going to cost a fortune to heat the place, what with that big, uninsulated section,” I say. “On the weather side, too. There’s already been some snow blown in.”
“Why don’t we put up some temporary insulation?” Mark suggests. “Stuff some in the cracks where the snow came in. Cover it with vapor barrier. Wouldn’t look any worse than it does now, and you’ll need the insulation anyway, so when the door arrives, take it down and re-use it. One bale should do it.”
“Excellent idea,” I reply. “Would you have time to go buy some and get that started today?”
“I would,” Mark agrees.
“Good. I’ll call Home Hardware and let them know you can put whatever you need on our account.” I draw a deep breath and add, “Should we put bollards on the sidewalk all around the building so the assholes can’t do it again?”
“Probably a good idea,” K.C. says.
Great. Another expense we have to incur, thanks to Trina. It seems like we’re always reacting instead of being proactive and taking the fight to her. So much for cutting the head off the snake.
I ANSWER MY OFFICE phone. It’s Kristy. This is unusual. “Hey, girlfriend!” I say. “You have news that couldn’t wait until our meeting Monday?”
“No, it can’t wait, ‘cause I’m totally freaked out, and I have to talk to someone,” she replies. There’s a catch in her voice as if she’s on the verge of tears.
“Oh? Why? What’s wrong?”
“Beer Belly Boy was at Billie’s last night. Well, I think it was him, anyway. You know he’s got those big teeth? He smiled at me.”
“Don’t all the men smile at you?”
“Well, sure, but it wasn’t just the usual. I’ve been thinking about it all night. I think he recognized me.”
“Really? You mean from when he caught us breaking in? How could he? You know, it was dark, and he didn’t shine his flashlight on our faces for long. And since I was doing the talking, mostly my face. And we were wearing big clothes. And if I remember correctly, you had your hair tucked up into your toque. Plus, he wouldn’t be expecting to see you at Billie’s.” I want to remind her this is at least an hour’s drive from his usual watering hole and who goes that far out of their way for a beer? But there was that time I thought I saw his truck in the parking lot. And I’ve definitely seen it in town. Instead, I say, “So, supposing it was him. Was he with anyone?”
