Рита Браун - Nine Lives To Die

“I hate her for all that and more,” said Flo. “He didn’t make her happy. It’s not Al. He’s okay. It’s her. She can’t stand that I know who and what she really is. She scared me so much I hid at the Valencia farm and then Deputy Cooper found me. Fair Haristeen was with her, and Harry too. They were the ones who figured out where I was. They thought they were helping. Esther had everyone in an uproar.”

Cletus wanted to say that it was Flo who appeared to have everyone in an uproar, but instead he said, “Did Esther threaten you?”

“She says if I don’t behave she’s going to put me away. A lot, she says it a lot.”

“That’s a mean thing for her to say.” He poured himself another cup of coffee and one for Flo, too. “Look, your little fellow is curled up next to mine.”

“They can keep each other warm.” Flo smiled, a rare event.

“Why did you come here?”

“We always got on, you and me. Sometimes I’d stop by and we’d remember the old days, the days before everything went haywire. I thought you’d hear me out.”

“You want to stay here?” His eyebrows and voice raised.

Flo nodded. “If you help me hide my car when she drives by, I should be safe.”

Cletus didn’t answer that straight up. “We never had bad words, Esther and I. But she’s like everyone else, doesn’t want to waste time on a drunk.”

“She doesn’t want to waste time or money on me either. She doesn’t need me anymore. Tonight, I’ll prove to you that Esther wants to kill me. You’ll understand everything then. We’ll need to go out, but not far.”

“Supposed to snow.”

“I know.” Flo held the coffee cup in her hands. “You have to promise me not to drink.”

He shrugged. “Easy promise. I’m all out of hooch.”

“And whatever I eat, I’ll replace. I have money.” She pulled forty dollars from her pocket, slapping it on the table. “I can’t go out and buy food because someone might see me. I don’t think Esther knows I’m gone yet. She calls in and checks every day. If I don’t call back after a couple of hours, she drives over.”

He put his hands in his lap. “Keep your money. We can get by on the canned food.”

“Well, I’ll pay when I go, which will be tomorrow at the latest because when you see what I have, I’ll be in the right. I can go up against Esther before she finds me. She will eventually. She’ll call the sheriff’s department again. The fact that it’s New Year’s Eve helps. Everyone’s busy. Take the money now.”

“No. I’ll buy bourbon. I don’t trust myself. I’ll want to buy food for both of us, but I don’t trust myself. Especially on New Year’s Eve.”

“Then I’ll give you the money later.”

“Flo, don’t worry about it. Let’s go hide your car. First, I have to move my truck. You drive your car. I’ll push if you get stuck.”

“Where are we going to hide it?”

“Only place I really have is behind the woodshed.”

Going slow, Flo steered her dilapidated vehicle around the back of the house, the domicile’s curl of smoke from its chimney the one sign of habitation. Behind her, Cletus kept his hands on the car’s trunk. Once she did slide out a bit. The right rear wheel spun, but he gave a hard push and the car straightened out. Cletus made Flo drive around so the car nosed out the way it had come, just in case. Then he moved his truck back in place in the driveway.

From the state road, a person wouldn’t see the tracks to the side of the house unless they looked carefully. And if it did snow, that would somewhat cover them. The woodshed behind the house did the rest.

Back in the house, they stomped their feet. Both dogs woke up. The Terminator barked. Buster followed suit, but neither dog moved off the pile of old towels they’d burrowed into.

Back in the kitchen, Flo bent down to pet her dog and Cletus did the same. He opened a can of soup, poured it in a saucepan.

“Made me hungry, and I know you are, too.”

She didn’t deny it. “Cletus, you’ve tried to stop drinking. I didn’t help in the past, bringing a bottle. I thought I was being sociable.”

He nodded. “Longest I went was a year. I stopped and then I don’t know. Just started up again. No reason.”

“Does it make you feel good?”

“Used to. I crave it sometimes. Can’t explain it. Then I’ll take a drink, next it’s two and I don’t know. When I wake up, the bottle’s empty.”

“So you get these cravings, the booze doesn’t make you feel good anymore, but you still drink it?”

He thought a long time as he stirred the soup in the saucepan. “Well, kills the pain.”

“Maybe I should try it.”

“Don’t.”

Standing in her cowboy boots at the fund-raiser, Harry felt the hot flush of embarrassment creep onto her cheeks. The usual: She’d spoken before thinking, or as Susan would put it, “No edit button.”

“How can I ask her that?” Father O’Connor, also in cowboy boots as well as his clerical collar, demurred.

“Well, I hadn’t gotten that far yet,” Harry stammered.

In front of them, on the other side of the solid low wall, people danced on a raised wooden floor built specially for tonight’s event.

Financed by the de Jarnettes, the affair for the Youth Riding charity was held in their indoor riding arena. The arena, heated at God knows what cost, was filled with people, all in western wear, dancing to a country and western band. So many people attended at $150 a pop that latecomers would have to sit in the bleachers. And while $150 per person paled before the $10,000- and $100,000-a-plate political campaign dinners, it meant a married couple needed to cough up $300. For many, that wasn’t easy.

However, unless one moved in only UVA circles, a resident of Albemarle County sooner or later had to attend some form of equine activity. If nothing else, it eased social life, and in this and other cases, it raised monies for worthy causes.

“I’m sorry, Father, I know you’ve been under great stress,” Harry apologized. “I’m trying to find answers and am not doing a good job.”

Placing his hand under her elbow, he escorted Harry to a quieter place, which meant the enormous feed room. There was a covered walkway between the barn and the indoor arena so Darlene and students could ride from the barn into the huge arena without facing bad weather.

Placed at the corner of the barn, the feed room was filled with sweet feed, crimped oats, dried molasses. It smelled heavenly.

Father O’Connor hit the light switch. “I don’t think Max and Dar will worry that we’re stealing feed.”

“No.” Harry wondered why he had taken her away.

“You suggested the missing checks were taken to throw law enforcement off the track. I can’t say I’ve thought of that, Harry, but you may not be far wrong. Since the Silver Linings checks haven’t been cashed, it seems to me they were taken by someone who had no intention of cashing them. It’s puzzling, disquieting, especially given the deaths of two of the church’s most generous members.”

She took a deep breath, then launched into her theories. “Father, I don’t think it’s just the checks. I think it’s a message, someone who can’t speak up out of fear.”

He leaned against a large built-in feed bin. “But I can’t imagine where uncashed missing checks would lead.”

“Tyler knows his mother’s schedule. If she left him in the office for a time, she wouldn’t worry about him stealing.”