Jeff Abbott - Only Good Yankee

But he was shoving something into his pockets as he left. I couldn’t see what it was.” Gloves, I thought. Maybe a pair of work gloves to protect his hands from the prick of the barbed wire. Parker would have had time to drive out to Dee’s land, cut the barbed wire (or even take the barbed wire from Dee’s studio), go to Greg’s room, kill him, tie up Lorna, and leave. Parker Loudermilk was at the murder scene about the time that Lorna had gotten grabbed and locked up-and a time that fit for Greg to be murdered. And Jenny Loudermilk, reading the account of her lover’s murder in the paper, must’ve felt crushed under that knowledge. What had Dee told her when Jenny found out Greg was dead?

Keep your mouth shut about where your father was last night? What could Jenny have thought about her erratic father, except that he was a killer? Alcohol hadn’t made her pain go away, so she’d supplemented it with something stronger. I felt a surge of pain for Jenny Loudermilk, and indignation toward Greg Callahan and the Loudermilks.

It didn’t answer one question, though: why had Freddy Jacksill been blown to bits outside of Greg’s room? “Becca,” I made myself ask, “how did you find out that Greg was dead, and what was Jenny’s reaction to his death?” “I saw it in the paper. And as soon as I heard, I called Jenny. She sounded like a dead girl on the phone-tired, like her mind had been shut off. I tried to give her comfort, but she didn’t want to talk to me. She didn’t want to talk about Greg.” She stared down at the table, embarrassed by her emotion. “I tried to tell her that I was at the Mirabeau B. that night, but she hung up on me when I mentioned Greg and her father. I guess she just wanted pills and booze.” Becca buried her hands in her face. “And when Junebug came to talk to you-”

She looked at me through her fingers, tears streaming down her face.

“I-I don’t like Mr. Loudermilk very much, but I couldn’t think he was a killer. My God, I’ve known him practically my whole life, and he’s the mayor! He’s Jenny’s dad! I figured it had to be… someone else.” I leaned back against the creaky plastic of the chair and closed my eyes for a minute. Dee must’ve known that Parker killed Greg when she heard about Greg’s death. I tried to imagine her response: cover the precious Loudermilk ass. She’d sworn Jenny to secrecy. Then why had she shown me the barbed wire in her studio? Showing me the wire pointed more fingers at her family, not fewer. I opened my eyes and made myself swallow past the heaviness in my throat. Unless she was sending us a signal. Maybe she was afraid of that vaunted temper as well, but wasn’t willing to risk herself-or her daughter-by coming forward. If the police fingered Parker, she wouldn’t have to-at least not until the trial, when he would safely be in jail. I could understand Dee’s fear, but I thought she’d taken the wrong tack. The tough, cool Dee might be able to keep a horrifying secret, but Jenny, pulled between loyalty to her father, terror over what she thought he’d done, and grief over her dead lover, hadn’t coped with the pressure. “Okay, Becca. I know this has been tough. Is there anything else that you can tell me? Did you see anyone else around?” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I was just glad there hadn’t been a scene on the front lawn. I went straight home.” She wiped sweat from her palms on her faded jeans. “You really think he did it, don’t you?” “It’s possible, Becca. I won’t kid you. I think Jenny must know. Did she ever have a problem with booze or pills before?” Becca shook her head.

“Not really. I mean, we drink beer every now and then at a party, but neither of us is much of a drinker. I don’t like having to pee as much as you do when you drink beer and I don’t think Jenny likes it. She just drinks to be cool.” Suddenly tears filled her heartbreaker eyes.

“God, I don’t want to lose her.” I took her hand and she squeezed my fingers. “I think you just did a lot to help get her back. Let’s go see how she’s doing. Then maybe you and I can go see Junebug Moncrief together.” She wiped her eyes and nodded. We left the cafeteria; she walked with perfect posture. She wasn’t going to show weakness, not in this case. A doctor I didn’t know was with Dee and the others in the waiting room. Dee’s eyes went to Becca as we walked back in and then fastened on me. Her eyes, reddened by tears, stared into mine. Parker was nowhere to be seen. “Mrs. Loudermilk, please, how’s Jenny?” Becca attempted, but Dee cut her off. “Jenny’s not doing well. Hello, Jordan.” Dee’s voice had a forced calmness to it. “Dee. Do you know where Parker is?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t.” “Why has he left town, Dee?” I forced myself to ask. She took my arm and steered me away from everyone else, to the water fountain. I saw Becca and the gathered parents watch for a moment, then turn away to talk in quiet tones. She sagged then, a little of the Loudermilk pride seeping out of her. “God, I’m a stupid bitch. Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I placed cautious hands on her shoulders. “Look. I know you saw him at the Mirabeau B. that night.” She stiffened under my palms but didn’t look at me. “I guess you think I was protecting him,” she said in the most toneless of voices. Her shoulders shuddered and I steadied her. “No, I think you were trying to protect yourself and your daughter. But for God’s sake, why didn’t you just tell the police you’d seen him there?”

“He’s-my husband. And he’s a dangerous man when he’s crossed. I thought the police would figure out he’d killed Greg on their own, and that way-he’d never blame Jenny or me. We wouldn’t be the ones to turn him in.” “Has he beat you, Dee? Or Jenny?” She looked up at me with old, old eyes. “Oh, no. He’s not the type to beat. He’d just kill us straight out if he wanted to.” I went downstairs to the main hospital lobby; Becca didn’t want to leave while Jenny was still in bad shape and I was loath to try to convince her to do so. And after my talk with Dee, I felt sick and shaky. I could only imagine the guilt she felt over Jenny’s suicide attempt. I found a pay phone and called Bob Don; but there was no answer. I called Junebug. He sounded exhausted.

“No one’s seen Parker. He’s vanished. I’ve got everyone looking for him to try and let him know about Jenny. You sure you don’t want to press charges against him?” “Yes, I do, and you might want to as well.” After eliciting a promise that he wouldn’t be mad at Becca for not immediately coming forward, I relayed her and Dee’s stories. I heard Junebug’s breath hiss out in a long sigh. “What a goddamned mess. And him being mayor, too. This is just the sort of crap that those tabloid shows love to gobble up.” “Well, if you decide to run for mayor, I guess it would help if your opponent was serving time,” I quipped. Humor seemed out of place, but I needed to avoid thinking about Jenny, even if just for a moment. “Honestly, Junebug, who cares?

We just need to find him.” “Let’s say, Jordy, that you’re right and Parker killed Greg. Still doesn’t explain about what happened to Freddy.” I took a slow breath. “Look, I’ve wondered-and don’t say that I’m crazy-if Parker might have something to do with these bombings.”

“Yeah, I made that joke about him owning the construction company, but-” “Listen, Junebug. I saw that man watching the Mirabeau B. burn.

The look on his face was downright eerie, like he was getting nearly sexual pleasure from it. And his daughter told me he has a love of fire.” “Then he ought to be setting fires, not exploding bombs. And why kill Freddy?” “I can’t explain everything right now,” I answered in a huff. “You’ve got to find Parker to get all the answers.” “God,”