Dead Broke in Jarrett Creek: A Samuel Craddock Mystery (Samuel Craddock Mysteries) (8 page)

“There he is,” LoPresto says under his breath, “the head crook himself.” LoPresto’s company was slated to build some of the structures for the water park before the project went belly-up. No wonder he’s mad at our former mayor.

With Coldwater standing in the doorway surveying the room, there’s no mistaking the hush that falls. Everybody knows he’s saddled Jarrett Creek with crushing debt. He should know he’s not too popular right now and should have stayed away. But Coldwater never was known for being perceptive. He comes over to our table, grinning like a fool. He sticks his hand out to shake mine. “I understand we’ve got ourselves a dollar-a-year man.”

It’s just like Coldwater to make a public spectacle of the fact that I’m not getting paid. It makes it seem like the only reason I got the job is that I don’t need the money. I can’t begin to think what to say to him. Lundsford saves me by pushing his chair back and saying to nobody in particular, “I’ve been sitting around here too long. Better get back to work.” All the other men at our table get up, including me.

“I’ll catch up with you boys later,” Coldwater says. His voice is pleasant enough, but his face has hardened as he gets the message. I don’t have the heart to leave him to swing in the wind.

“Alton, can I have a word with you?”

“Why sure!” Louder than it needs to be.

“Outside?”

“Okay, let me tell Lurleen what I want to eat.”

When Coldwater comes outside and it’s the two of us without an audience, he’s deflated and looks at me with hangdog eyes. “You don’t have to say a thing,” he says. “I know what people are saying. But I can’t just hide at home. I’m not built that way. I’d go crazy. I figure if I keep showing up, people will get used to seeing me and eventually they’ll forget what happened.”

His assessment strikes me as being too optimistic, but I feel sorry for him. Everybody makes mistakes at one time or another—his happened to be public. “I understand, but everybody is on edge right now, Alton, not just about our financial situation but because of what happened to Gary Dellmore.”

He glares at me. “Everybody thinks I played fast and loose with the town’s money, but I really believed in that project out at the lake. I put up a lot of my own money. It wasn’t only the town that lost out; it was me, too. And let me tell you something else: everybody can cry crocodile tears over Gary Dellmore, but if they knew the way he pushed for the deal out at the lake to go through, they might have second thoughts.”

I thought I could eliminate Rusty Reinhardt as a possible suspect until I heard that his daughter had a public flirtation with Gary Dellmore. No telling what a man will do if he thinks his daughter is being interfered with.

I track Reinhardt down at his grocery store, the Qwik Mart, the biggest grocery store in town. He’s stocking cans of tomatoes, and as I walk up he hoists another box off the pallet with a grunt. He’s dressed in blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and you wouldn’t guess that he was the owner of the store.

“Rusty, seems like you could hire somebody a little younger to do this job.”

“You find somebody, I’ll hire him! Boy walked off the job this morning like he had a whole pack of jobs lined up. They say the economy has gone bad, but these kids think they can get another job just like that.” He wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to have a word with you.”

“Come on to the back room. I need a break anyway.” He pushes the pallet to the end of the aisle and against the wall.

I follow him through the swinging metal doors, across a cold concrete floor stacked with boxes of goods, and into a cramped office. He parks himself behind a desk strewn with receipts and bills and points me at the chair facing him.

“Rusty, I guess you know why I’m here. I have to question everybody who was at the meeting the other night.”

“You mean to find out if I heard a gunshot?” he says dryly.

I give him the benefit of a laugh and then continue. “From my end, I can tell you that I overheard Dellmore having an argument with somebody after the meeting. But I didn’t see who it was. You have any idea who he was talking to?”

Reinhardt frowns and shakes his head. He rears back in his chair and folds his hands over his belly. “I don’t know what I could say to help you. I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.”

“You know Dellmore’s car is missing. Did you see it when you left?”

He thinks it over. “That’s the damnedest thing. You’d think I would have noticed if the car was there, wouldn’t you? Krueger said he saw it, though.”

“Couple of other things.” I tell him that I ran into Coldwater at the café. “He implied that Gary Dellmore pushed the city’s involvement in the water park investment. Citizens Bank did the loan on that project. Is that right?”

He ponders my question. “Marietta and I went through the numbers and I think it was Citizens that made the loan. Marietta is the bookkeeper, so she knows more than I do. Coldwater didn’t mention that Dellmore was involved. Bottom line is, Dellmore didn’t force Coldwater to make that investment. I expect Coldwater is looking for somebody to take some of the heat.”

“There’s one other thing, and it troubles me to have to bring it up. Did your daughter tell you she got in trouble at work because she and Gary Dellmore were carrying on?”

His face darkens. “She mentioned it, but she said he was just flirting with her—that it was nothing more than that. Needless to say, I was pretty put out with him. After all, he’s her boss, and married besides. But if you’re suggesting I killed Gary Dellmore because he was making improper advances to my daughter, think again. I would happily have horsewhipped him in public, but my daughter said she’d be humiliated if I made a fuss over it.”

It’s no surprise that, unlike Cookie, Reinhardt put the blame for the flirtation on Gary Dellmore. I need to dig a little deeper and make sure it was only a flirtation and that Dellmore didn’t pursue her after banking hours. “Cookie Travers said Jessica was really upset when she heard that Gary was dead. Do you think there was anything more to their relationship?”

“What are you suggesting? That my daughter would date a married man?”

“It wouldn’t be a reflection on your daughter, Rusty. Like you said, he’s her boss, and she might’ve worried that her job was at risk if she didn’t go along with him.”

He brings his chair forward with a sudden jerk, glaring at me. “My daughter was brought up right. If Dellmore tried anything with her, she would have put a stop to it right off. She knows there’s no job worth a sinful relationship.” He stands up. “I’ve got things to do. Is that all?”

I rise. “Rusty, you understand I need to clear this up. It’s nothing personal.”

“I understand. But it’s hard to think of that man putting hands on my daughter and then having you question her morals.”

He sees me to the door of his office but is still huffy, and we part awkwardly.

Reinhardt has given me two new perspectives. People have suggested that Alton Coldwater be prosecuted for mishandling the city’s funds. But with Dellmore dead, he can shift the blame. Would he have been desperate enough to murder Dellmore to do that?

The other thing is that, according to Reinhardt, his daughter made light of her flirtation with Dellmore, while Cookie seemed to think Jessica was partly to blame in the matter. I have a feeling that Jessica Reinhardt isn’t telling her daddy the whole story.

I’m walking across the parking lot to my truck, not paying attention, and nearly run straight into Sandy LoPresto. She’s a lanky woman with a wide-mouthed smile and a significant bosom. I’ve never seen her dressed like she is today, in a low-cut sweater and a tight skirt just above her knees and high-heeled boots. She has a wild look in her eyes that’s a little dangerous. She glares at me as if I’m partly responsible for her husband running off with Darla Rodriguez.

“Sandy, how are you doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing?”

“Probably not too happy at the moment.”

“I imagine you’re like every other man in town, wishing he could be in Gabe’s shoes screwing around with that little hussy.”

I hold up my hands. “Don’t look at me! That’s the last thing I need.”

“You’re the only one then.” Sandy comes by her feisty disposition honestly. Her dad, Carl Filson, always had a ready temper.

As wound up as she is, I know it’s best for me not to tangle with her. “What do your kids have to say?” Her kids are both in their thirties. Their son is a dentist who lives in Bobtail with his family. The daughter has proven to be something of scholar. She’s getting her PhD at the University of Houston.

“They think Gabe has gone off his rocker. I told them I’m ignoring him, and they should too.”

I almost laugh when she says she’s ignoring Gabe. Sandy has been stalking Gabe since they split up. She sits outside the little house he rents and follows him to his girlfriend’s place, sometimes sitting in the parking lot if Gabe takes Darla out to eat.

“I assume you at least talk to Gabe.”

She casts a critical eye at her bright-red fingernails. “Our conversations are strictly business. And if his friends had any respect for me, theirs would be, too.”

Her glare at me is so intense that I have to tamp down an impulse to take a couple of steps back.

“Well, I hope things work out.” I tip my hat and scoot out of there.

Cookie Travers gives me Jessica Reinhardt’s address and tells me she rents a house with another girl. When I arrive at the house, Jessica comes to her door barefoot, wearing baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Her face is blotchy and her eyes red and weepy. Her limp hair is pushed behind her ears.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” Her voice is dull and hopeless.

“I understand that you worked for Gary Dellmore. I’m hoping you might be able to give me a little background.”

She shrugs. “Come on in.”

The living room is a girl’s lair, the coffee table strewn with fashion magazines and dirty dishes. An open box of cookies sits next to paraphernalia for doing nails. Jessica plops onto the sofa, reaches over, and closes a bottle of nail polish. The TV is turned to a soap opera, and she grabs the remote and turns it down.

“What do you want to know?”

I take a saggy armchair near her. I suspect most of the furniture is cast-offs from the girls’ families. “Tell me what Gary was like as a boss.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I could never imagine a nicer boss. He was so wonderful.”

“Cookie Travers said you had a problem with him.”

“What? I didn’t have any problem at all! He was really sweet to me.”

“But there was a question of him harassing you?”

Outrage wipes away her pain. “That’s ridiculous! Cookie seems to think she’s my mother. Gary didn’t harass me. So what if he paid attention to me? I don’t see what the big deal was.”

“Cookie told you that your behavior wasn’t suitable for the office, though.”

Her eyes widen. “God! I can’t believe she told you that. She’s such a frustrated old maid.”

“Did you and Gary see each other outside of work?”

Her eyes are suddenly guarded. “No. I mean… like, okay, once, but nothing happened.”

She doesn’t even realize how inappropriate it was for Dellmore to see her outside work. He had at least twenty-five years on her and was married to boot. “Did he come here?”

She presses her knuckles to her mouth and nods.

“Did you invite him or did he show up?” I keep my voice gentle.

She starts to chew a nail and then grabs it away from her mouth with her other hand. “I don’t want to get Gary in trouble.”

He can’t be in any worse trouble. “He came by here?”

She nods.

“He was friendly.”

“Yes, he was so sweet.” Her lips are trembling. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

“What did you two talk about when he was here?”

“Nothing. Work. He asked me if I was happy at work, if I liked it there. He was always interested in what I had to say.” She sits forward, eager to convince me of his good intentions. “He liked to kid around, you know? He made me feel… valued.” In that moment, I see what appealed to Dellmore. Animated, her face is pretty, her blue eyes round and innocent.