Steven Havill - A Discount for Death

“Chemistry,” Estelle said.

“I suppose. I don’t see it. And Perry doesn’t see it, either. He knows what kind of thug Rick is. He knew what would happen if Colette went back to Cruces with his brother.”

“What do you think was going to happen?”

Barbara leaned her head to the left until her hair just touched Mindi’s. “Do you know what FAS is, Sheriff?”

“Fetal alcohol syndrome? Yes, I do, Mrs. Parker.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, that’s Rick Kenderman’s gift to Mindi. I know, I know. Nobody held the bottle to Colette’s lips and forced her to drink while she was pregnant, but you know what I mean.” She shook her head helplessly. “She was doing so well , Sheriff. And now all of a sudden he’s back into her life.”

“That’s what the argument between Perry and Colette was about last night?”

Barbara nodded. “Perfect timing, I suppose. Colette’s been at the deli now for almost six months. The newness has worn off. She’s looking for something, although what I don’t know. The kids are doing well, but I guess that’s not enough for Colette. Rick comes back into her life, and off she goes. She’s supposed to pack everything in that awful little truck he brought up. Rick took her old Chevy back over to Las Cruces. It needs all kinds of work that he promises to do…and never will.”

“Perry tried to talk her out of going?”

“Yes. He came over, still on duty, I guess. They were arguing out in the front yard, putting on a good show for the neighbors. Something about the truck set him off-I haven’t seen him so angry in a long time. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him raise his voice until last night. I tell you, long suffering is the term invented especially for Perry Kenderman. But he got angry this time, and I think it was the sight of his worthless brother’s truck. Then she got angry. You know how it goes. She got on her bike, with Perry trying to talk some reason. She kicked him, actually kicked him. I was watching from the window. Then she slammed her boot into the taillight of his patrol car. Oh, boy.”

“And then they took off?”

“Yes.” She reached over and stroked a strand of hair from Mindi’s eyes. “It was just one thing leading to another,” she said. “Just so stupid.” She ran a finger lightly down Mindi’s cheek. “And I just know that if they hadn’t had a fight, you know what Perry would have done? Eventually, I mean? Colette would have talked him into helping her pack that stupid truck. And he would have done it.”

“When was Rick here, Mrs. Parker? The last time.”

“Friday night. He brought the truck up Friday night.”

“Did you talk with him at that time? Did he say what his intentions were?”

“No. And if I never talk to him again, it’s too soon. I’m sure he’ll figure out a way to come over and get his truck.” She wrapped her arms around Mindi. “That’s all he’s going to get, Sheriff. I’m fifty-one years old. However many good years I’m blessed with are going to these two. I don’t care what it takes.”

Estelle drew a business card out of her pocket and slid it across the table. “Will you call me, Mrs. Parker?”

“I don’t know what you can do.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have another voice when you’re dealing with custody issues.”

“Richard Kenderman has no custody, Sheriff. Let me tell you that right now.”

“If he’s the father, yes he does, ma’am. Because there was no formal marriage involved, and Richard wasn’t actually living here, the court might order paternity testing…if he’s the father, he has a legitimate claim of custody, whether he lives here or not. That’s something that you’re going to have to deal with, I think. In the meantime, our concern is with his brother, Mrs. Parker. There’s one more thing I need to ask you. Last night, you told Sergeant Mears that Perry and Colette had been ‘going together’ for six months. “That’s not really the case, is it?”

“From Perry Kenderman’s view, it might be,” Barbara Parker said.

“And you told the sergeant that you didn’t hear what the argument was about?”

Barbara flushed. “I was trying to keep things simple for a few minutes, Sheriff. I wanted time to think. I know how stupid that sounds, but it’s the truth. And I really didn’t hear them…I’m assuming that they were arguing about Colette’s wanting to go to Cruces. Perry will tell you.”

Estelle nodded. She pointed at the card. “Use that, Mrs. Parker.” She got up and pushed the chair back in place. “I promised to look at Ryan’s car.”

“Oh, you don’t have to waste time on that,” Barbara Parker said. “He’s on to something else by now.”

“I don’t think it’s a waste,” Estelle said.

Out in the living room, Ryan Parker had indeed moved on to something else. He was curled up on the sofa, a large red cat stretched on its back across his lap. The cat’s front paws were poised like a boxer, waiting for the imminent attack of a tiny stuffed bear advancing over the top of a pillow.

Beyond the battle scene, the front window looked out on the street. Estelle saw an older-model pickup truck parked behind hers. Perry Kenderman, dressed in civilian clothes, was leaning against the front fender of Estelle’s county car, obviously waiting.

“Ay,” Estelle whispered to herself. She crossed to Ryan, bent down, and stroked the massive cat’s belly. The animal squirmed and purred. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“That’s Franklin. He’s lazy.”

“I see that.” She stroked the cat’s chin, and the animal closed his eyes, turning up the volume until the purr became a rattle. “Hello, Franklin. You take care of Ryan for me, okay?”

“Are you coming back?”

“Yes, I am.” She reached over and ruffled the stubble on Ryan’s head, then let her hand rest there motionless for a moment. The boy blinked, and Estelle felt the slight nod.

“That’s good,” he said.

Estelle straightened up and turned to Barbara Parker. The woman stood by the front door, Mindi in her arms.

“You know who’s waiting out front, don’t you?” she said.

“Yes,” Estelle replied. “I saw him.”

“I hope things work out for him. You know, I really like him. And none of this is his fault.”

Estelle nodded. “We’ll just have to see,” she said. “I need to ask you to stay inside with the children.” She stopped short of the front door and pulled out her cell phone. “Brent,” she said when Sutherland answered, “I’ll be talking with Perry Kenderman at the Third Street address. Have a unit circle around that way, code one.”

“I hope you’re not expecting trouble,” Barbara Parker said as Estelle put the phone in her pocket and reached for the door.

“I sincerely hope not, ma’am. But I’m not feeling particularly heroic just now.”

As the undersheriff approached, Perry Kenderman drew himself up so that he wasn’t slouching against the car. One hand rested on the fender, the other was thrust into the pocket of his jeans. That pose didn’t work, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Estelle walked up so close she almost stepped on Kenderman’s feet. Her face was less than twelve inches from his. He stood a little straighter and tried to meet her gaze, but looked away after a few seconds.

She leaned even closer, and when she spoke it was no more than a husky whisper. “I’m testifying before the grand jury in fifty-five minutes, Perry. That’s enough time for you to tell me what happened, don’t you think?”

“I…” he started to say and bit it off.

“No, you didn’t,” Estelle said, finishing his thought for him. “You’ve lied to me since minute one.”