John Miller - Smoke and Mirrors

“Okay,” Brad said. “But he would be their guardian.”

“I have made arrangements for my attorney to handle my estate, and to handle my children’s financial interests if I die.”

“Jacob would fight that, and he is their father,” Brad said.

“This is very personal,” she said crisply, finally taking a sip. “If Jacob fights my will, my attorney has certain papers that prove he is as crooked as a wisteria trunk.” She patted the side of her cheek and frowned.

“That’s fairly common knowledge,” Brad said.

“Anyway, although I certainly don’t believe Jacob hired a hit man, I may have some idea why someone shot Sherry. A few years ago I once again paid off a collection of Jacob’s debts, and I made him sign over some land he inherited from his father. I paid him three times what it was worth because it was the only collateral he had. Six hundred and thirty-six acres of bottomland that isn’t good for a damn thing except duck hunting, which is what Jacob’s father and then Jacob used it for. I made him a loan secured with that property and when he didn’t repay me or make any attempt to do so, I foreclosed on it, figuring I’d leave it to the children, since it was the only way to ensure he would leave any legacy, even if I paid for it.”

She took another sip of her coffee. “A few months ago Jacob mentioned that he wanted to buy it back from me. I told him to go piss up a pole. Since then, he has become more and more insistent, whining that it was his sole inheritance from his father, and he wanted it back. His father actually left him a small fortune that he went through in a matter of months. When I pressed him, he said he wanted to duck hunt on it and I said he could shoot ducks there until there wasn’t one left on the face of the earth, but I’d never sell it to him under any circumstances.”

“You don’t think it’s sentimental?” Winter asked.

“Jacob is as sentimental as a hungry possum. I told him that he’d had ample opportunity to pay me off, and didn’t, and if his children wanted to sell it to him after I was gone, fine. But I said as long as I had air in my lungs, I was keeping it.”

“And he dropped it?” Brad asked.

“No. He didn’t. Last night he told me that some corporation was interested in buying it for four hundred thousand with a plan to turn it into a duck-hunting club along with the land around it, saying I could use the profit to make things right with Sherry’s family.”

“So,” Winter said, “do you think it’s possible Jacob hired someone to kill you?”

A look of concern crossed her features. “It’s more likely the potential buyer would. Mr. Massey, did you know Tunica before the gambling joints came here?”

“I know it was the poorest county in the state.”

“It’s the richest now,” Brad added.

Leigh continued, “Which made it the poorest county in the country. You know what’s happened around here since those casinos came in? We’ve gotten the absolute dregs of humanity, political corruption, crooked cops and highway patrolmen. The last sheriff and deputies were caught protecting drug dealers-and there’s been all sorts of rumors about people not getting the money they won and being threatened by employees of the casinos when they made waves. In exchange we get cheap license plates, new schools, low taxes, paved roads, and a fancy golf course for visitors. It’s been a deal with the devil.”

“Do you think mobsters are interested in your land?” Winter asked.

“That land is worth zip.”

“Is it near the other casinos?” Winter asked.

“Not at all,” she said. “Way south of them. The improvements they’ve made for the casinos have caused even more flooding down there than there was before. But Jacob Gardner would sell the gold out of our children’s teeth and blow the money before their gums quit bleeding.”

“I’ll check it out,” Brad said. “Where is Jacob now?”

“He stayed at my house last night. He’ll sleep until sometime this afternoon.”

“More coffee, Leigh?” Brad asked.

“Can’t do it. I have to stay busy, and I’ve got plenty of work to do.” Leigh stood and started for the front of the house. “By the way, some press people have been on the road this morning filming the house. And one of your prowl cars is obviously tailing me.”

Brad shook his head. “I meant to tell you. We thought it was a good idea to have deputies watching you and the kids until we get this solved. I’m sorry for any inconvenience, but it’s something Winter and I felt was necessary.”

“You decided to have me followed without telling me,” Leigh said, frowning.

“You can’t be too careful. I think it’s absolutely necessary, since we have no idea who we’re dealing with,” Alexa lied.

“Then you can tell them to follow closer, because I’m afraid if they miss a light and run through it someone might be killed,” Leigh said.

“Not much I can do about the press,” Brad said. “As long as they don’t trespass.”

“‘Not much I can do’ seems to be your mantra,” she said. “Finish your Wheaties. I’ll show myself out.”

After Leigh left, Brad said, “Cyn’s always doing this.”

“But with everything that’s happened…” Alexa said.

“Cyn is…well, she more or less has to be the center of attention,” Brad said. “I’ll put through a description of her car, and make sure the Memphis police get it. Leigh is right. She’s done this ‘meeting a friend’ thing since she was fifteen or so.”

Winter could see that Brad was troubled, and offered the only reassurance he could think of. “Well, she did send that text message, at least.”

Alexa volunteered to go to the courthouse to check the records on the parcels surrounding Leigh’s land while Brad and Winter drove out to Six Oaks to interview Jacob Gardner.

Estelle opened the door and looked out, smiling broadly. “Brad Barnett again! I remember back to a time when every time I opened this door you was standing right where you standing now.”

“Any word from Cynthia?” Brad asked Estelle.

“Lordy. That child! All the advantages she has and she shows her butt like she do. She is unresponsible and always has been. I told her a million times that proper young girls don’t chase after boys like she do, but do she listen? No.” Estelle shook her head sadly. “People gone think she a loose woman who don’t have a heart, the way she torture her mama. Miss Leigh ain’t home.”

“We’re here to see Jacob.”

“Come on in. He’s layin’ up in the guest room bed like he the king of the world. He wakes up, he gone commence to ringing that little bell.” Estelle stepped aside. “Like having a invalid in the house.”

“Thanks, Estelle. I know the way,” Brad said, stepping into the entrance, Winter shadowing him up the wide stairway.

Without knocking, Brad opened the door to the guest bedroom. The interior was made cave dark by thick curtains. As Brad flipped on the light, Winter was treated to the sight of Jacob Gardner lying on his back with his mouth open, the bed linen twisted around his feet like a binding. His comb-over stuck straight up, flying from his head like a flag. On the nightstand sat an almost empty bottle of Glen Salen and a glass partly filled with light brown water.

“Rise and shine, Jacob!” Brad hollered.

Like a doll, Jacob’s eyes rolled open, and he stared up at the ceiling for a solid three count. He then sat bolt upright and looked at Brad and then Winter before gathering the sheets to cover himself. He tamped down his brown hair and blinked rapidly.

“What the hell are you doing barging in here?” Jacob asked.

“Investigating a murder,” Brad said.