Natalie's Revenge (11 page)

The next weekend I made a picnic lunch, and Gabe and I went to this beautiful spot on a bluff high above the Pecos River. Gabe and I are still Best Friends, but not lovers. I think he would have liked us to be, but after I told him I wanted us to be Best Friends for Life, he seemed to understand. Besides, he knows I'm not dating anyone else.

After we ate lunch I told him about Randy and Ellen.

Gabe was shocked and disgusted, like I knew he would be. His face got tight and he clenched his jaw and his dark eyes looked very angry. Then he asked if Randy ever bothered me.

I said no, and told him I had a lock on my bedroom door.

Then I asked Gabe to get me a gun.

CHAPTER 8

Monday, 28 July    Pecos, Texas 

At eleven-thirty Frank parked in front of a modest sky-blue ranch house and got out of his rental car. Hot air hit him like a blast furnace. By the time he rang the doorbell he was sweating. Clarisse Conroy opened the door, clutching a tissue in her hand. Her thin face was careworn, her skin wrinkled and brown, like she spent a lot of time in the sun.

“Detective Renzi?” she said, dabbing red-rimmed eyes.

He’d called her an hour ago from the airport in Odessa. She was eager to talk to him, grief-stricken about her boy. The Pecos police had done the notification on Saturday after NOPD called them.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to trouble you at a time like this.”

“I still can’t believe my boy is gone. Come in and sit down.”

He stepped into the living room and stopped, appalled by the odor. The house reeked of cat piss. A flowered-print sofa faced a wide-screen television. Three calico cats lay on the sofa. Clarisse shooed them off and gestured for him to sit down. How many cat hairs would cling to his pants, he wondered as he perched on the edge of the sofa.

Clarisse plucked a fresh tissue from a box on an end table and sank onto a well-worn wingchair beside the sofa.

“Do you know who killed my boy?” she said in a querulous voice.

“That’s why I’m here, Mrs. Conroy. I’m hoping you can help us.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “Why would anyone want to kill my Tex?”

Two black cats appeared in the kitchen doorway, stared at him and disappeared. How many cats did she have? Judging from the smell, a lot. He tried breathing through his mouth. It didn’t help.

“Losing Eugene was bad enough.” She pronounced it
You
-gene.

Going with it, he said, “When did you lose
You
-gene?”

“Five years ago. He had a heart attack.
You
-gene was the police chief and that could be very stressful. Tex was all tore up when he lost his daddy. Two months later he moved to New Orleans. I didn't want him to go, but ...”

“He lived here with you then?”

“Yes. He fixed up a room in the basement, put paneling on the walls and whatnot. It's got a private entrance.” Her gaze shifted and settled on a mewing calico cat that prowled the room.

“Did Tex have a girlfriend?”

“Oh, Tex had lots of girlfriends. All the girls loved Tex.” But she didn't seem happy about it, clamping her thin lips together.

“Did he go to college after high school?”

“Tex had no interest in college, no interest in being a policeman like his daddy, either. After high school his best friend got a job at the federal prison, but Tex wasn’t interested in that, either.” She gave him a plaintive look. “Tex never found himself, you know what I mean?”

Frank said he did, and waited. Silence often elicited better results than questions.

“He thought about being a park ranger. For the National Park Service? But he failed the test. I told him to take it again." Clarisse smiled for the first time. “If at first you don't succeed, try try again. But he wouldn’t. Tex was stubborn, like his daddy.” Her blue eyes welled with tears.

“Did Tex ever mention a man named Arnold Peterson?”

"Not that I recall. When he came to Pecos, he stayed with one of his high school friends.” Her lips tightened. “He didn’t like my cats.”

For the hell of it, he said, “How many cats do you have?”

“Lordy, I don't know. A couple dozen? I just feed ‘em and take care of the little ones when they come. They keep me company now that I’m alone.”

Dozens of cats. He tried not to shudder. “Did Tex have any enemies?”

“Of course not," she said indignantly. "Ev’body loved Tex. Why would he have enemies? My boy wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Except for slapping his girlfriend around
. “Did he like to gamble?”

“Not that I know of. He liked to have fun with his friends. And his girlfriends.”

“I’ll need names. Do you have his high school yearbook?”

“Of course! Tex was co-captain of the football team. Him and Randy. Lordy, that class was jinxed.”

“Jinxed? In what way?”

Clarisse rose from her chair. “Let me get the yearbook.”

She left the room and he heard her calling the cats by name. Dozens of them. It gave him the creeps. Cleaning the litter boxes, feeding them. Cat hairs everywhere. The overwhelming stench. No wonder Tex moved out.

She returned with the yearbook, sat beside him on the sofa and opened the book to the page with Tex’s picture. An average-looking kid, confident smile, open face. The motto beneath the photo said:
Winning beats losing any day
.

“You said something about his class being jinxed?”

“Sure did seem like it. Right before graduation Tex’s girlfriend committed suicide. And then the night of graduation ...” She sighed. “Tex drove his date home from the party and the car went off the road and hit a tree. Lordy, it was awful. Tex was okay, but the girl died the next day."

The police chief's son hits a tree and his passenger dies? Worse than awful. “Did they charge him?”

“Soon as he heard,
You
-gene went over there and drove Tex home. The girl's parents said Tex got drunk at the party.” Her lips tightened. “But I don't believe it. My boy could hold his liquor." She lapsed into silence, staring into space.

“So they didn’t charge him?”

“Well, yes, they did. Negligent driving, death resulting, I think it was. The judge put him on probation for a year. That made it hard for him to get a job.”

“Sounds like he had a tough year."

“He sure did. And then his best friend died. Randy and Tex were co-captains of the football team." She flipped some pages and tapped a picture. “That’s Randy.”

He studied the photo. Randolph Brixton, aka Randy. Unlike Tex, Randy's face had a hard look, no smile, dead-fish eyes. “What happened to Randy?”

“He was having a picnic with his family near the Pecos River. Somehow or another he slipped and fell over the bluff.” Her lips pursed. “Randy’s friends figured his cousin pushed him.”

“His cousin?”

“Natalie. That girl was trouble, I can tell you that. She came to live with the Brixtons after her mother was murdered. In New Orleans.”

Stunned, he said, “Murdered in New Orleans? When was this?”

“Years ago. Natalie was ten when it happened. Back in '88, I think it was. That girl was strange. Tex told me her mother was a prostitute.”

Surprises galore in Pecos. “Is her picture in the yearbook?”

“Maybe. She was in the drama club.” Clarisse flipped to the Drama Club page. “That's her there.” Tapping her finger on a group photograph.

Natalie stood beside a short Hispanic boy. Attractive girl, tall and slender with long legs. Nice smile. “Does she still live in Pecos?”

“No. After Randy’s funeral she left, hasn’t been heard from since.”

“I’d like to borrow the yearbook. The photographs might be helpful.”

Clarisse looked at him, horrified. “You're going to take it?”

“Just for a few days. I’ll get it right back to you. Do Randy’s folks still live in Pecos?”

“Well, his mother does. I’m not sure about the father. Faye lives over near the bus station now.”

“Can I use your phone book? I’d like to call and see if I can talk to her.”

Clarisse rose and went in the kitchen, cooing to her cats. A calico cat tore through the room pursued by a big black cat, their claws scratching the wood floor as they disappeared around the corner. Clarisse returned with a phone book. “Faye should be home. She watches soaps most every afternoon.”

The only Brixton listed in the phone book was a Jerome Brixton. He wrote down the number and rose to his feet. “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Conroy.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “You’ll find whoever killed my boy, won’t you? And punish him? The coroner’s office called this morning and said they're ready to release the body. One of Tex’s friends is going to drive to New Orleans and bring him home.” She mopped her eyes with a tissue. “Thank you for coming, Detective Renzi. Will you be in Pecos at dinnertime?”

For an instant he had the horrible thought that she was going to invite him to dinner, with her dozens of cats.

“There's lots of Mexican places, but Longhorn Jack's is the best restaurant in town.” Her lips tightened. “Natalie used to work there.”

He thanked her again and went out to his rental car, wondering if the rumors about Natalie were true. After he talked to Faye Brixton, maybe he’d stop by Longhorn Jack’s and see if anyone could tell him more about Natalie. The tall slender girl with the long legs and the nice smile.

_____

Unlike Clarisse Conroy, Faye Brixton lived in seedy part of town. Clarisse looked careworn, but Faye looked worse, a gaunt haggard face, sallow skin. She let him into the living room and muted the television set. A soap opera was on. He had no clue which one. To him, they all seemed the same: beautiful people arguing and bed-hopping like crazy.

But he didn't smell any cats, for which he was deeply grateful.

“Thanks for taking time to speak with me, Mrs. Brixton.”

He sat on an easy chair with faded brown upholstery. No cat hairs.

Faye sank into a well-worn depression in the couch next to an end table with a tall glass of what appeared to be orange juice. “You said something happened to Tex,” she said, her voice flat and expressionless.

Her hair, dyed platinum blond, was styled in a '60s bouffant. She had a hard look about her, like her son Randy, and her pale-blue eyes seemed glazed. Maybe there was more than OJ in the glass.

“Yes. Someone shot him in New Orleans. He's dead.”

Her mouth gaped open. “Someone shot Tex? Who’d want to kill Tex?”

“I understand your son was a friend of his.”

Emotion worked her face, emotions he couldn’t identify. Grief wasn't one of them.

“Him and Randy were co-captains of the football team."

“Mrs. Conroy said your son had an accident.”

Faye Brixton took a long pull from the glass of OJ. “Randy fell off a bluff near the Pecos River. As I’m sure Clarisse told you.”

He detected a slight slur in her speech. Definitely not just OJ in the glass. “Can you tell me what happened?"

“I didn’t see it happen,” she said quickly. Too quickly.

“But you were there?”

“Ellen and I were at the picnic table.”

“Ellen?”

“My daughter. Randy’s sister.” She took another swig of OJ. “Natalie wanted to take Randy’s picture so they went around the bend to find a good spot. That’s where it happened.”

“Where
what
happened?”

Faye gazed at him, expressionless. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

“Mrs. Conroy said Randy fell off a cliff.”

“Onto some rocks. Yes.”

Her demeanor seemed odd. No grief, just matter of fact statements about the death of her son. “Was Natalie with him when he fell?”

“She told the police that Randy was drunk and he slipped and fell over the bluff. That’s what she said.”

“What do you say?”

A muscle worked in her jaw. “I say she's right. Randy brought a six-pack of beer to the picnic and drank the whole damn six-pack himself.”

“Where’s your daughter? Does she live here with you?”

“No.”

“And Mr. Brixton?”

Her lips tightened in a grim line. “We're divorced. I had to sell our house and move into this dump. I don't have a clue where the rat-bastard is now.”

“Does Ellen live in Pecos?”

“Yes.”

“How old is she now?”

“Old enough to get herself a boyfriend and get pregnant. Ellen is a very unhappy person.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know. She’s always been unhappy. Then she met this guy and they started dating and she got pregnant. The asshole split, of course.” Faye grimaced. “Men.”

It seemed like Faye was the unhappy one. Or maybe this was just one big unhappy family.

“Do you have Ellen’s phone number? I’d like to speak with her.”

"She lives two streets over.” Faye checked her watch. “If you hurry you might catch her before she goes to work. She’s a waitress at Longhorn Jack's.

Faye gave him the directions to Ellen's place. Before he got to the door, she hit the clicker and a cacophony of voices spewed from the TV set.

Soap time! Soap and OJ, and whatever else was in the glass.