Сандра Браун - Thick as Thieves

“Nothing, thanks. I’m driving.” He said it unctuously.

“Working late tonight?” Don asked.

“Working late every night. Daytime, too.” He added a wink and gave Ledge a sly grin. “Anyhow, I saw Ledge’s truck outside. Been a while. Thought I’d drop in, say hi, see what he’s up to these days.”

Taking the hint, Don said, “Let me know if you change your mind about that drink.” After shooting an apologetic glance toward Ledge, he moved to the far end of the bar and made himself look busy.

“How’re you getting on, Ledge?”

“Fine.”

“Your uncle any better?”

“No worse.”

“Well, I guess that’s good.”

“Not really.”

Rusty’s red hair had been dulled by gray at his temples, but his insufferable, superior attitude hadn’t mellowed a whit. Ledge couldn’t bear to be in his company. He stood up and reached toward his back pocket for his wallet. “I gotta shove off.”

“What’s your hurry?”

“It’s late.”

“Not that late. Sit a spell.” Rusty tipped his head down toward Ledge’s barstool. “I want to talk to you about something.”

He didn’t need to ask Rusty what was on his mind, because he already knew. This confrontation had been inevitable since the day Arden Maxwell had turned up in Penton. He was surprised Rusty hadn’t ambushed him sooner. Now that he had, at least he no longer had to dread it. He sat back down, not in concession, but in order to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible.

But Rusty seemed in no hurry to commence. He swiveled around toward the group of young men who’d wrapped up their tournament and were counting out currency to the winner.

Rusty called out, “You boys having fun over there?”

They ceased what they were doing, but none answered.

Rusty homed in on one of them. “Well, lookee who we’ve got here. Hawkins. I thought you were in Huntsville. Dogfighting, wasn’t it?”

“Got screwed over by the system.”

“The system, huh?”

“Lousy public defender made me take a plea bargain. I got two years.”

“You’re already out?”

“Paroled for good behavior.”

“Good behavior, my ass,” Rusty said. “Won’t last. You’ll go back.”

Before the young man could retort, one of his buddies grabbed him by the arm and towed him out, the others hot on their heels.

As the door shut behind them, Rusty came back around on his stool, chuckling. “He ran a chickenshit operation out of an old barn belonging to his twin brothers. Whole tribe of white trash. Probably inbred. Name of Hawkins. Know them?”

“No.”

“Well, anyway, Dwayne there was born to be wild. Reminds me of somebody else I know.”

Ledge said nothing and kept his gaze forward, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rusty’s deliberately provoking grin as he called to Don, “Maybe I’ll have a Dr Pepper after all. And be generous with the ice.”

With smug amusement, he continued to stare at Ledge’s rigid profile while his drink was being poured. Don delivered it but didn’t tarry. Rusty discarded the straw and drank directly from the glass.

He emitted a honking burp without covering it. “Well? What about it?”

Ledge didn’t say anything.

“Don’t play dumb. You know what, or rather who , I’m talking about.” He leaned toward Ledge and lowered his voice. “They’re baaaaack. At least one of them is. Unfortunately, it’s not the old man.”

Rusty leaned in a little closer. Ledge recognized the transparent attempt to intimidate him and didn’t move a muscle. “What do you think about her coming back here to roost?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“No?” Rusty angled back and took another drink of his Dr Pepper, eyeing Ledge over the rim of the glass. When he lowered it, he said, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe whatever the hell you like. It’s a free country.”

Rusty barked a cynical laugh. “Nothing comes free. Who would know that better than a war hero?”

Ledge glanced down the bar toward Don, who’d been polishing the same highball glass for the past several minutes, shooting furtive, worried glances in their direction.

“Must say,” Rusty continued as his finger drew a trail in the condensation on the outside of his glass, “that was quite a scene she created in the supermarket.”

Ledge looked at Rusty with repugnance. “She created ? She didn’t choose the timing or the place to lose her baby.”

“You know what I mean. It was a scene .” He proceeded to describe it to Ledge. When he finished, he nudged Ledge’s arm with his elbow. “I have the nitty gritty, all the details, on good authority. But even if someone hadn’t reported it straight to me, word of it spread faster than the clap.”

“You would know,” Ledge muttered.

Rusty grinned, took another drink, and with see-through casualness checked a loose cuticle on his thumb. “Her big sister showed up at the hospital later that evening. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Oh, yeah. Ordering everybody around. Pushy bitch. Just like she always was.”

“I didn’t really know her.”

“No, guess not. Y’all didn’t run in the same crowd.” Rusty made a point of taking a look around the bar, ending on the strand of colored Christmas lights draped along the back of the bar. “Around town, Lisa Maxwell was always a golden girl.” He paused. “ You, by contrast, were raised in the back room of this pool hall.”

This was the type of goading at which Rusty Dyle excelled. Ledge had expected it, but he was damned if he’d let Rusty get a rise out of him.

Instead, he looked at his wristwatch. “I’m off.”

“Hold on.” Rusty clamped his hand around Ledge’s forearm. Ledge looked down at the restraining hand and kept looking at it until it was removed. But his silent warning didn’t dissuade Rusty, who hissed, “We need to talk about this.”

“No. We don’t.”

“How come you think she came back here? Why now?”

“I have no idea.”

“Just seems peculiar,” Rusty said. “In this great big free country of ours, wouldn’t you say it’s odd she picked here to nest?”

“She wanted her kid to grow up in the same house she did. What’s peculiar about that?”

“Nothing. Except that she’s no longer having a kid. So why’s she sticking around?”

“I guess she likes it here.”

“Guess she does. She’s planning on fixing up the place.”

Despite his determination not to react, Ledge’s heart rate hitched. “How do you know?”

“She’s been calling around. Getting estimates.” Rusty winked. “I’ve been keeping tabs on her goings-on.”

The thought of Rusty keeping tabs on Arden Maxwell chilled Ledge to the bone. This afternoon, she’d stood her ground with him when he was being his most contrary self. She was no pushover. But he knew Rusty’s character. Or rather, his lack of it. He knew the treachery Rusty was capable of.

“Twenty years ago, she was still in grade school,” Ledge said. “If you’re thinking she knew anything about where her daddy got off to with that money, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Rusty leaned in again. “Think on this. The woman hasn’t held a job since she left Houston—six, seven months ago—and moved here. She’s got no visible means of support, but she’s going to renovate that big ol’ house, which will take some serious coin. Makes me wonder where she’s getting the financing.”

“Her sister.”

“Could be. She married up. Way up. Big shot in Dallas. Then he croaked a couple years ago, leaving her not only his fortune but the reins to his company. Which is why I can’t see her funding a reconnection to our little burg over here in the sticks.”