Jeff Abbott - Only Good Yankee

“Jordy, darling!” Gretchen squealed, throwing her arms around me. It was so unexpected I sniffed her neck, wondering if I’d smell a daub of bourbon. “Junebug just told me about what happened last night, you poor angel.” Gretchen pulled back and patted my cheek.

“You must’ve been through hell, but of course, you’ve seen a dead body before. Still, one just couldn’t get used to it.” “What’s going on here?” I managed to say. “Well, Jordy darling, I was trying to track down Miss Wiercinski because I understood she might be continuing to represent Intraglobal’s interests. I thought she might still want to make an offer at our land-Bob Don’s and mine.” It was actually Bob Don’s land, not hers, but Gretchen’s always been a big believer in community property. She glanced over at Bob Don’s white Cadillac.

“Chet Blanton told me she was staying with you. I had no idea Bob Don was already here. Is he meeting with Miss Wiercinski?” “Not exactly.”

I smiled. “I think he came to see how I was.” She smiled back so she wouldn’t look irritated. “Of course, Jordy, you would be his first concern.” “Excuse me,” Billy Ray Bummel interrupted. “Just where is this woman?” I looked down on Billy Ray with as much disdain as I could muster, which in Billy Ray’s case is a great deal. He’s the kind of prosecutor who’s an embarrassment to the legal world. If Billy Ray had been prosecuting the Nazis at Nuremberg, there’d be even more old men speaking German in Uruguay today. He puffed out his very small, unimpressive chest and lifted his briefcase. (I would lay odds the only briefs it ever contained were Fruit of the Looms.) He ran a hand through overoiled hair and adjusted his glasses so he could scowl at me better. We’ve never been friends. “I’m here to see Ms. Wytryski and I don’t aim to put up with interference from you, Jordy.” “It’s Wiercinski, Billy Ray, and I wouldn’t dream of interfering. I don’t need to. You always manage to shoot yourself in the foot just right.”

“Jordy, please,” Junebug said, sounding tired. “We do need to talk to Lorna.” He indicated the dark young woman standing next to him. She was short, a little heavy, and had a look that hinted at deep intensity at whatever she did. “This is Sergeant Teresa Garza, from the Austin Police Department Bomb Squad. She’s assisting us in dealing with the bomber. She wanted to talk to you, too, Jordy, about the mailbox incident.” Sergeant Garza shook my good hand. I surrendered quickly. “Fine. She’s in here.” I brought the entourage into the house with me. It made for quite a crowd. Gretchen made a beeline for Bob Don, doing her best not to glare daggers at Mama. Clo quickly whisked Mama upstairs and stayed with her. I don’t believe I’d leave Gretchen alone with Mama, not with all the pillows in the house. Against my will, I introduced Billy Ray and Gretchen to Lorna. At hearing that Billy Ray was the local prosecutor, Lorna flared. “Good. Have you talked to Nina Hernandez yet?” “Not yet,” Billy Ray purred, walking in a circle around Lorna. She shot me a quizzical look and I just shrugged. He turned to Bob Don, who was sitting on the couch with Gretchen. “And how convenient that you’re here, Mr. Goertz. I’ll be wanting to have a word with you as well.” Bob Don looked surprised.

“Me?” “You knew Greg Callahan, didn’t you?” Billy Ray asked. “You had business with him.” “Well, yes, I’d met him. He wanted to buy my land.

He came by the car dealership day before yesterday, told me about the development plans he had, and offered me a price. I told him I wanted to wait and see if Jordy was selling his land, too.” Billy Ray rocked back on his heels. “Well, Mr. Goertz, I just find all that highly interestin’.” I wasn’t about to stand mute while Billy Ray auditioned for Lear’s fool in my own living room. I also didn’t care for the accusatory stare he was favoring Bob Don with. “Do you have a point, Billy Ray?” Other than the one on your head, I added to myself.

Junebug said, “Hey, Jordy, why don’t you go outside with Sergeant Garza and talk about-” “That’ll keep,” I snapped back. I don’t usually bark at the local constabulary, but I wasn’t about to leave Bob Don or Lorna to Billy Ray’s tender mercies. Sergeant Garza looked pissed, but I didn’t care. This was about murder, not blowing up mailboxes or canine chateaux. Junebug harrumphed. “Listen, Billy Ray, I think that-” Billy Ray didn’t give Junebug a chance to cogitate. Undoubtedly our local paean to jurisprudence thought he was hot on the trail of a career-boosting case, and he wasn’t about to let common sense or decorum get in his way. Billy Ray’s what folks around here call book-smart. He must’ve had one lobe working to get through law school (even if he got his certificate by mail, as it was rumored), but he didn’t have enough common sense to fill a thimble. He’s the type of fellow that’d poke his finger between a cottonmouth’s fangs to see if the mouth really was all soft inside. “You keep some of your land over by the river fenced off, don’t you, Mr. Goertz?” Billy Ray continued, holding up a hand to fend off Junebug’s protest. “Excuse me!” Gretchen stood and looked down on Billy Ray imperiously. “Are you interrogating my husband? Or accusing him of a crime? Because if you are, you haven’t informed him of his rights and I will not stand for it!” I could have kissed the old battle-ax. “Gretchen, for God’s sake,” Bob Don interrupted. “Billy Ray’s just asking questions. He doesn’t suspect me. I don’t have a solitary thing to hide.” “Not anymore,” I thought I heard Sister mutter behind me, but I didn’t turn around to check. Bob Don nodded at Billy Ray. “Yes, I keep barbed wire on that property to keep out Dee Loudermilk’s cows. I don’t have fencing on the side of the property that’s next to Jordy’s.” He beamed at me. No fences between this father and son, I thought to myself. “That’s highly interestin’.” Billy Ray loved that pet phrase. “Thin barbed wire, ain’t it?” I saw where this was going and felt myself go pale.

Bob Don shrugged. “I guess. Why?” “Because, Mr. Goertz, the wire that was in Greg Callahan’s neck matches a length of wire that’s missing from your fence. Same length, same type.” “Wait a second!” I said.

“How do you know this?” “The wheels of justice move quickly, Poteet.”

Billy Ray Bummel smirked. “The lab over in Bavary identified the type of wire that killed Callahan last night. And this morning, Junebug got a call from the mayor, complaining that Dee’s calves were getting loose because Bob Don hadn’t fenced correctly on one section. We checked out that section and there’s a big old yank of wire missing.

Isn’t that a coincidence?” “Probably not,” I retorted. “Maybe the killer cut that wire, maybe he didn’t. But Bob Don didn’t cut that wire and he didn’t kill Greg. It’s ridiculous! What motive would he have?” “Jordy, you stay out of this-” Sister began, but she hushed when I scowled at her. “Well, a little bird told me that Miz Goertz here was seen having lunch with Mr. Callahan yesterday. Maybe Mr.

Goertz didn’t appreciate having his wife wined and dined by a good-lookin’ young feller like that.” Gretchen gave Billy Ray a glare that would’ve frosted a fire-ant mound. “I don’t know who your little bird is, Billy Ray, but it’s chirping the wrong song. Yes, I did have lunch with Mr. Callahan yesterday, at his invitation. He wanted to talk to me about the land purchases. He hoped I would be able to convince Bob Don to sell to him. It was purely a business lunch and he conducted himself like a gentleman the entire time.” Gretchen took Bob Don’s hand. “And I ought to whack you one for suggesting different, Billy Ray Bummel. Why, I’ve half a mind to call your mama and tell her how you’ve been treating decent folks, with your snide accusations!”