CHAPTER 32

It was Ronald. His arms were full with three grocery bags and he held a fourth, a reusable red and blue striped shopping bag, in his right hand.

“Good afternoon,” he said, moving past me to the kitchen. “I see Stacey’s here. Good. I’ve come to take you over to visit Mrs. A, soon as I put the cold stuff away. The rest can wait,” he said over his shoulder.

I looked out through the still open door and saw my weary-looking car parked alongside a sparkling maroon Ram quad cab pickup that I assumed was Stacey’s. There was also a blue Honda Pilot with East Hastings Animal Hospital in a logo with a dog and cat on each side of the lettering painted on the front passenger door. I couldn’t make out the driver.

Stacey came up beside me. “Where did you drive that car from to get here?” he asked.

“Rhode Island. I was working in Providence,” I answered.

“I can’t believe you made it. That thing needs a tune up real bad. I could tell that just by turning the ignition and listening to it while I waited for the tow truck. When’s the last time you had a mechanic look at it?”

“Hard to say. I did a lot of walking in Providence--”

“Don’t they have car inspections in that state?”

“Well, I knew a guy who knew a guy--” I began to answer sheepishly.

“Well, that car is not safe to drive, no matter if some guy slapped an inspection sticker on it,” Stacey said. “I’ll start working on it once I’ve finished with the security system.”

“You fix cars too?”

“There ain’t much Stacey can’t do,” Ronald answered as he joined us at the door.

“Except answer doors,” I muttered.

“What?” Ronald asked.

“Nothing. But speaking of Stacey, whose idea was it to hire me a bodyguard, anyway?”

“Well, he’s not exactly a bodyguard, more like a...a...

“Babysitter,” I said.

“Well, Mrs. A and Mr. Weatherly thought it might be a good idea if--” Ronald answered.

“Mr. Weatherly? Hoppy? How the hell--”

“Mrs. A called him this morning.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Mrs. A--er--Sue Ellen called Hoppy about me?”

“Yeah, the dry cleaners is a big advertiser with the Chronicle and she wanted to make sure the paper wasn’t going to let the story about her brother fade away. I don’t think she trusts the police will stay on it.”

“So Hoppy suggested she hire Stacey so I won’t be afraid to poke around?” I said.

“I don’t know what Mr. Weatherly said. I only heard Mrs. A’s side of the conversation. I only know that, when she hung up, she asked me to give Stacey a call,” he answered.

“And you know Stacey how?” I asked.

“We go a little ways back. He did the security out at the Augustino place, and he’s got what you might call a unique skill set.”

“Yeah, it seems so,” I answered. “Okay, well, I haven’t had my coffee or any breakfast yet. I’m not much good before I’ve had my first cup.”

“We talking coffee or--”

“Coffee,” I answered, skipping over his implication.

“Actually, I stopped at the WaWa in town and picked up a cup for you,” Ronald said. “It’s waiting in the doc’s car. I wasn’t sure how you liked it, so I just took some sugar and creams and figured you could make it how you like it.”

“Black’s fine. I haven’t had my breakfast though.” I asked.

“Well, it’s a little late for breakfast, but Mrs. A had me set out some food before I left,” he answered.

“She seems to have thought of everything.”

“She usually does,” Ronald answered. “Hope you don’t mind, but it was taking a little longer running errands than I expected, so I left the truck in town with one of the other guys who work for Mrs. A to finish up, so I called up Doc Andrews. She was coming out to the place to look at Mrs. A’s horses anyway, so we could hitch a ride with her. I’ll bring you back in Mrs. A’s car.”

“Seems like you think of everything also,” I said.

Ronald smiled at the compliment. “I try.”

“Okay, hold on a second--and hold onto this for a moment, please,” I said, handing him the coffee back. I went back into the bedroom where Stacey was just finishing up securing the window. I took my wallet off the dresser where I’d left it the night before. “I’m going out. Thought you should know,” I said to Stacey.

“Well, you’ll probably need these when you get back,” he said, handing me a set of keys. “They’re for the front door and back doors, which I’ll have finished by the time you get back. Small one’s for the doors, larger one for the deadbolts. I’ll wait to program the security system until you get back and I can show you how it works.”

I put the keys in my pocket. “Thanks.”

I walked with Ronald out to the vet’s vehicle.

“I’ll ride in the back,” Ronald said, opening the rear passenger door. I climbed into the front. The vehicle smelled of animals. Sitting in the driver’s seat was an attractive woman, probably in her early thirties, with brown hair cut in a long bob that framed her face. She had blue eyes with specks of brown and a small, petite nose. She was dressed in dark jeans and light blue denim shirt that had the same logo as on the side of the SUV sewn over the left breast pocket.

“Wes, this is Doctor Andrews. Doctor Andrews, this is Wes Byrne,” Ronald said from the back seat.

“Call me Jackie, please,” she said, holding out her right hand and smiling warmly. “Only my patients call me doctor.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said reaching out, turning toward her to shake her hand. I had a sudden twinge pain in my side from the motion and lurched a bit--the gift from Puddy that just kept giving. My left hand, which I hoped to place on the console between us for support, went a little long and it slid off the other side of the thing, so that I fell awkwardly toward her. She quickly raised her right hand from an offer of a handshake to a defensive, palm-up position and caught me firmly above my left breast. I was suspended over the console for a moment, my face very close to hers and rather than that familiar look of terror that I seemed to inspire in women when alarming them with my complete lack of coordination, I saw an amused sparkle in her eyes. She kept her hand on my breast as I regained my balance and sat upright in my seat. It might have been my imagination but she seemed to keep it there for a brief moment before pulling it away.

“Do you fall for every woman this way?” she asked, smiling.

“Actually, no,” I answered, feeling the heat of embarrassment on my neck and knowing that my face was a bright red. “Usually, there is also the spilling some type of liquid involved as well. I’m very sorry.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t hand you your coffee yet,” Ronald piped up from the back seat. “Should I risk giving it to you now?”

Jackie pulled up one of the doors on the console, revealing two cup holders.

“Here, why don’t you hand it to me?” she said, turning to Ronald. She took the cup from him and placed it in the cup holder nearest to my side. Then she turned to me. “And why don’t you buckle in before we get started, just in case?”

Again she gave me a disarming smile. I think she was actually enjoying this.

I did as told. She started the SUV and we were off.

Jackie and I made small talk during the drive, and I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was. I tried to include Ronald in our conversation, but he kept himself busy texting on his smart phone in the back seat.

It seems Jackie got her undergraduate degree at the University of Delaware and went to the University of Pennsylvania’s School of Veterinary Medicine. Then she started working with old Doc McClaren, here in East Hastings after graduation.

I remembered him because there was a stretch, early grade school maybe, where I had an assortment of small pets--hamsters, guinea pigs, parakeets--that never seemed to do too well, and I took them to the doc for healing. Wasn’t much he could really do, and now as an adult, I realize he had more important things to do, but he was always kind and always patient. He was a nice man.

When he retired a few years ago, she took over his practice, which was basically geared to family pets, and grew it to include a lot of work on horses and other livestock, as in the case of Sue Ellen’s horses.

Jackie asked me about my college experience and what it was like in Boston, about how I knew Sue Ellen. It wasn’t until we reached Sue Ellen’s place that I realized she was the first person who didn’t ask me about Stevie or mention anything about my old story that exposed the dumping of waste in the river.

We had been driving along property bordered by a three-foot-high stone wall for a little while when we came to a wide driveway with tall stone pillars on each side that matched the wall and had bronze pillar lights mounted on top. We turned in through the pillars. In the distance, I could see the house, as well as a horse barn with a small, horse-fenced paddock. As we neared them, I saw Sue Ellen standing at the fence, one foot resting on the bottom rail as she watched a young girl, presumably her daughter, leading a horse around the paddock.

Sue Ellen turned and walked over to meet us once we parked. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and although she was as beautiful as ever, her face showed a strain. She wore an untucked white baseball undershirt with yellow sleeves and an East Hastings Cleaners logo on the front, blue jeans, and green Mudrucker mid boots.

“Hi, Jackie,” Sue Ellen said, giving Jackie a hug as she climbed out of the driver’s side. “Thanks for coming out. Cherokee seems to be favoring his left front leg a bit--won’t seem to put any pressure on it. I haven’t noticed any swelling, but thought I’d let you look at as soon as possible. You know how Anne is about that horse.”

Jackie smiled at her and answered her in that calm, reassuring manner common among medical people who work to manage the uncertainty as much as the ailment. “It’s probably just an abscess. Nothing to worry about. I’ll take a look.”

She went to the back of the Suburban and pulled out her own pair of Mudruckers, only these were taller than the pair Sue Ellen wore. As Jackie slipped them on, I noticed the way they contoured to and accentuated the shape of her calf. She grabbed a medical bag from the back as well and headed off toward the paddock.

“Nice to have met you,” she called over her shoulder.

“Yeah, me too,” I said, but I don’t think she heard me. She was now all business.

Ronald had headed into the house after taking a carry bag out of the back of the Suburban as soon as we arrived, leaving me and Sue Ellen alone. We both stood there looking awkwardly at each other for a moment or two.

“Um...I...um...I really appreciate you coming back to town for Stevie’s funeral. It was nice of you,” she said, breaking the silence, tapping her left hand on her left thigh and taking a few tentative steps toward me.

I took a few tentative steps forward of my own.

“Well, I wanted to pay my respects. Stevie--and you--were such good friends--once. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, Wes,” she answered, rushing to me, tears welling in her eyes. “I miss him--and I’ve missed you so much.”

She put her arms around me and her head against my chest. I could feel her gentle sobbing and the warm tears through my shirt. I was never good in situations like this, and I slowly and tentatively put my arms around her.

“It’s okay, Sue Ellen, it’s okay,” I said.

I looked up and noticed that Jackie was watching from the paddock. She was smiling. When she saw me looking at her she quickly went back to tending the horse’s leg.

“No,” Sue Ellen said into my chest. “I’ve been such a jerk--to Stevie--and to you. I’ve never felt so alone. I just don’t know what happened.” Sue Ellen took two deep breaths and pulled herself up and away from my chest. She rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt then rubbed her cheeks dry with her hands. She looked up at me with a sad smile. “That’s the first time I cried since I first got the news about Stevie. But enough of that,” she said. She hooked her arm under mine and led me toward the house. “Ronald is laying out a real East Hastings spread for us, and we can talk while we eat.”

We walked through the door Ronald had entered moments before. After pausing in a mud room while Sue Ellen swapped her Mudruckers for blue canvas boat shoes, we walked through a large clean kitchen, down a hallway, and into a large den.

The room was bright, a result of two rows of large windows, stacked and separated by a panel of wall, that looked out over the property and down to the road we had traveled on to arrive. Along the far wall was a fireplace with a white mantle and, above that, a recessed cove within which was mounted a landscape painting of an idyllic Hasting County farmhouse and property. In the center of the room hung a magnificent bronze ribbon chandelier.

A large silver tray topped with a plate holding two halves of a roast beef hoagie sat on a large coffee table that was between two leather couches. Also on the table were small bowls of sweet peppers, hot peppers, and lemon slices beside the plate holding the hoagie. Two empty plates, silverware, and napkins were beside the tray. There was also a glass pitcher with iced tea and two tall glasses and several coasters sitting on a smaller wood tray.

“I thought we’d eat in here,” Sue Ellen said, indicating that I should sit down on one of the couches. “The hoagie is from Jerry’s.”

My mouth watered at the sound of the name--Jerry’s--the best sandwich shop in town, possibly the world. My friends and I had spent countless chow downs on Jerry’s hoagies, debating how he could take the same rolls, meat, and cheeses found in every deli in East Hastings and create the most unbelievable hoagies and cheesesteaks known to man. I realized that the only thing I’d lacked more than sleep since arriving in town was food, but it was all worth it for one bite of a Jerry’s hoagie.

“Wow, this is really nice, Sue Ellen,” I said, moving toward the couch that faced the window.

“Yeah, almost as big as the entire house by the river.” She pointed to the table. Her voice still had a little of the Tennessee coal mine twang, a remnant of her childhood before she moved to East Hastings. “Help yourself. I’ve already had my lunch.”

“This is very kind of you,” I said. As hungry as I was, and as much as that sandwich was calling out to me, my long-ago instilled manners dictated that I wait for Sue Ellen to sit down. She remained standing.

“It’s the least I can do,” she said.

No, I thought. The least you could do is sit down so I can devour this hoagie. Rude, but I felt like one of those dogs that have a treat balanced on their nose and have to wait for their master to give the command to flip it into the air so they could eat it.

“How about some iced tea?” she asked, reaching for the pitcher and filling a glass. “There’s lemon and I can get you some sugar if you’d like.”

“Thanks, this is okay,” I said.

I noticed her hands were shaking slightly as she poured the tea, and, after she put the glass down she began rubbing them together nervously. The treat would have to stay balanced a little longer.

“Sue Ellen, what’s going on?” I asked.

“Um...Wes...Oh, God, this is so hard and I don’t know how to start...um...I...um...I want to apologize for the things I said and the way I treated you...before.”

“Listen, it’s okay,” I answered. “I understood. I pissed a lot of people off--and I hurt some people you cared about. I didn’t want to, but--”

“No, it’s not okay. You only did what you thought was right, and you were. I see that now. I blamed you for everything and it wasn’t your fault. I--I found out--the truth,” she replied, looking down and avoiding my eyes.

“What truth? What are you talking about?”

She moved quickly, sitting down on the couch opposite me and leaning forward. The words came flooding out. “It was Tony. I’ve seen the contracts. He hired the company that dumped the waste in the river. He took the low bid for the job. It wasn’t Dad Augustino, it was Tony, and he knew what the company was doing but he didn’t care. He just wanted to save money and show Dad Augustino that he could run the business, but of course he couldn’t--”

The words were just flowing out. She had been staring off a bit, over and above where I sat. She turned her eyes on me.

“--and when you uncovered what was happening, he let Dad Augustino take the blame. He says Dad Augustino insisted, but Tony was just being a coward. He didn’t want everyone to know what a cheap conniving bastard he is, how he didn’t have what it took, how he was--is--nothing like his dad. I blamed you for everything, and it was Tony.”

She was breathing heavy. This must have been pent up for quite some time.

“One night, he was drinking a lot because the television station was failing, and he had sunk everything we had, even the dry cleaners, as collateral for the loan to start it. Of course, he didn’t seem to care that everything would be gone. Oh, no, not Tony. He only cared about what people would think. He was feeling sorry for himself, and he started talking about what a failure he was--had always been--and he talked about what happened to Dad Augustino, and...well, he didn’t quite come right out and admit what he’d done but he said enough that I knew what he was talking about.”

She looked me hard in the eyes. “I hate him, Wes. Hate him as much as one person can hate another. And I hate myself for being so goddamned blind.”

I stood up to go around and comfort her, but of course, being the clumsy oaf I am, I banged my knee hard on the coffee table as I rose. The pain was excruciating, and instead of being chivalrous, I gave out a high-pitched yelp. If nothing else, it seemed to trigger a change in Sue Ellen and her eyes went from angry to caring.

“Oh my God, Wes, are you okay?” she asked. She walked over and gently pushed me back to the couch. “Sit down.” She smiled as I did as I was told. She sat down on the sofa cushion next to mine. “You always were a little bit...um...”

“Ungraceful,” I said.

“Yeah, ungraceful,” she said, and her smile widened. “Do you remember that time we--you, me, and Stevie--were doing flips off the dock behind the house into the river, and you just couldn’t seem to get it right. You kept crashing into the water flat on the back of your head. I thought you were going to break your neck.”

“Yeah, you and Stevie were having no problems. You were naturals. I think that’s when I realized I’d never be an acrobat.”

The bright moment of that shared memory was brief, however. She grew serious and looked at me with such sad eyes. “Wes, what am I going to do? I can’t leave him. It would be terrible for the children. And he’d get the dry cleaners--and that’s my life. I kept it going after Dad and Mom Augustino passed. Tony wanted nothing to do with it.”

“I really don’t know what to say, Sue Ellen. I...um...guess you could talk to an attorney,” I answered weakly.

She sat up straighter. “I’m so sorry, Wes. Here I haven’t seen you in so long, and all I can do is unload all the crap in my life on you. I’m responsible for all this. It’s not your concern. As Momma used to say, ‘You make your bed, you lie in it.’” She pulled at her ponytail to straighten her hair a bit and messaged her checks below her eyes gently. “Besides, I must look a mess--all this crying and such.”

I smiled warmly. “Sue Ellen, you look great,” I said, and I really meant it.

“Yeah, well here I am chattering away like a jaybird, and you haven’t touched your hoagie. I remembered you liked roast beef. Jerry’s son took over the business. Of course, the debate rages in town over whether his sandwiches are as good as his father’s. I think they are, but you be the judge,” she said, sliding the bowl holding the peppers closer to my plate.

“Well, it certainly looks fantastic,” I said, opening the roll and using a spoon to lavish some of the hot peppers on top of the lettuce and tomatoes that covered the plentiful meat.

Sue Ellen must have seen something out of the corner of her eye. Her head jerked to look out the windows.

“Shit,” she said.

I turned to follow her gaze and, through the window, saw that a recent model salsa red F-Type Jaguar convertible had driven through the gates and was approaching the house. Sue Ellen stood, walked over to the window, and nervously stroked the window curtain.

Ronald gently knocked on the door frame and came into the room. “Mrs. A, I think you should know that--” he began.

“I see him, Ronald. Thank you,” she said, turning back to the room.

Ronald gave her a brief, concerned look and left the room.

“Wes, I was hoping we’d have more time to talk. See, there was something else, besides apologizing to--” Sue Ellen began.

“It’s about Stevie, right?” I said, getting up off the couch and walking over to her. “Listen, I appreciate all you’ve done for me, with the police and a place to stay for a few days. And I understand you’ve been talking to Hoppy, but I’m not a reporter any more. Those days are over,” I said.

“Wes, I’ve just got to know the truth, what really happened to him. No one else will give me any answers and...well, I know you will, no matter what the truth is, even if it hurts.”

“Sue Ellen, I’d like to help but--”

She took my hands in hers and held them tightly. “Please, Wes. I know I probably don’t have the right to ask you after everything, but not knowing--that’s the hardest part.”

“Sue Ellen, just because of something I wrote about years ago...well, I’m not the same person.”

“Please? Talk to Kenny, that’s all I ask. He knows something but he wouldn’t tell me. I think he thinks it’s too dangerous for me to know.”

“Kenny? How’s he wrapped up in this?” I asked.

That’s the second time this morning someone mentioned Kenny Burton. Back in the day, he was sort of the unofficial mayor of East Hastings, probably still was. He knew everybody, and I mean everybody. Politician, biker, police officer, college professor, black, white, Hispanic, rich man, poor man. He also knew everything that went down in East Hastings. A lot of the knowledge came from the bar he owned, the favored watering hole of the old money, new money, and dirty money. He was a lot of people’s father-confessor, someone everyone trusted for his discretion and advice. He’d also been my main source back when I uncovered the waste dumping scandal, sort of my Deep Throat, tossing out breadcrumbs and leaving it up to me to follow them.

“Just talk to him, that’s all I’m asking. If he tells you there’s nothing there--that it’s just what the police are saying, just some random crime--then I won’t ask you to do any more.”

What the hell was I supposed to say? She needed me, although I didn’t like the “too dangerous” part.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Kenny and see what he has to say. If there’s something, I’ll follow up. If not, we drop it, okay?”

“Oh, Wes, thank you.”

She put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.

“Wus Byrne, what the hell are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I didn’t want you anywhere near my house--or my wife.”

It was Tony, standing in the doorway.

Sue Ellen stepped back from me quickly and moved toward him and between us. “It’s my house too. I wanted to see him,” she said.

He pushed past her. I took a step back. It seemed instinctive.

“Don’t you dare touch him, Tony. If you do, so help me--” Sue Ellen said from behind him.

Tony turned to look at her then looked back at me with a furious sneer. “So this is what it’s come to, eh, Wus? Having a woman do your fighting for you? Shouldn’t surprise me. You never had the guts to fight back,” he said.

“Listen, Tony, we’re not kids anymore. This is stupid,” I said. “You want me to go, I’ll go. I know you told me not to come here, but I wanted to pay my respects to Sue Ellen, and I’ve done that.”

I took a step forward to move past him, and he reached out his left arm and pushed me hard in the chest.

“Oh, yeah, I saw you ‘paying your respects.’ I know you always had a thing for her. That’s why you did that whole story about the river, to impress her and get back at me because you couldn’t handle it that she was going out with me. You don’t make a play for my wife and just walk out of here.”

“Oh, please, Tony,” Sue Ellen said with a trace of weariness in her voice. “You know Wes and I are old friends--and don’t give me any of that wronged husband crap.”

“Was I talking to you?” Tony answered her, turning his head slightly and talking over his shoulder before turning back to stare hard at me.

“Get back at you?” I said to him. “I had no idea you were involved with that waste being dumped--”

“Who said I was involved?” Tony said. He swiveled his head quickly to look at Sue Ellen.

“Isn’t that what you just implied?” I answered, drawing Tony’s attention back to me. “I mean, how was I getting back at you? I don’t remember pointing a finger at you--or even at the dry cleaners and your father. I exposed the crime and the people doing the dumping. They were the only people I wanted to get back at.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth. That’s what you do, isn’t it, big time reporter? You just make stuff up. I understand you’re writing a story about that whore Tina Sanders. I’m sure that will be jam packed with the truth. She was just a stupid whore, and you’re probably going to make her out to be some kind of damaged angel.”

“How do you know she was a whore?” Sue Ellen said from behind.

He turned his head to look at her again. “Everybody knew. I could name a dozen guys who banged her.”

“Really,” I said. “You think any of them would want to kill her--and how did you know I was writing a story?”

Tony turned back to look at me. The two-front attack was keeping him off balance.

“What? You think I’m going to point a finger--I’ve had enough of you,” he said, pushing me hard in the chest again, driving me back a step.

“Tony, I told you to leave him alone,” Sue Ellen said, loudly and with a bit of menace.

We both looked at her. She was holding a poker that she must have picked up from the fireplace in her right hand. I don’t know about Tony, but I had little doubt she was prepared to use it.

“Mrs. A.” It was Ronald. He was standing in the doorway, looking entirely nonplussed. “Dr. Andrews is finished treating Mr. Twaddle. She’d like to speak with you about what to do next.”

Sue Ellen lowered the poker, but her eyes still burned at Tony. “Tell her I’ll be right there,” she answered.

Tony stepped back from me.

“Wes,” she said, “let me walk you to the door.”

I moved past Tony, who stood motionless, his back to us as we left the room. Sue Ellen handed the poker to Ronald as we passed him in the doorway.

“Thank you, Ronald. I won’t be needing this. I think the fire is out--for now.”