CHAPTER 44

I awoke to the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking, the sound of dishes clattering, and the murmur of muffled voices.

It was all coming from the kitchen. I must have slept for about sixteen hours. I got out of bed, slipped on a pair of sweat pants and a Hastings University T-shirt, and headed in my bare feet for the kitchen.

The gang was all there--Tim, Denny, Dom, Bob, who I hadn’t seen since before Tim and Denny and I were caught in Stevie’s place, and the ever-present Stacey. They were gathered around the kitchen table eating, except for Stacey who was at the kitchen range cooking up the eggs and bacon.

“Hey, it’s Wes Byrne, crime stopper,” Tim said as I entered the kitchen. The others all greeted me warmly.

“Hi, guys,” I said, still wiping the sleep from my eyes. “Don’t you have jobs?” I asked.

Tim and Dom were all dressed casually, in khaki pants and polo shirts. Bob was wearing a pair of dress slacks, collared shirt, and tie. Stacey was in a sleeveless muscle shirt and cut off sweat pants.

“School’s still out,” Tim answered.

“I pretty much set my own hours,” Bob said. “I’ve got an appointment later today, but I thought I’d swing by here first.”

“I’m on vacation. The family’s still at the shore, but I had to come back for this,” Denny said, getting up and offering me his seat, which I took.

Tim reached over with that morning’s edition of the Chronicle folded so that my article was prominently displayed with the front-page headline Killer Murdered After Daring Escape and a picture of the overturned state trooper van.

“Man, Wes, you did it. You got Tina’s killer. You must feel awful good,” said Dom.

Stacey came over and placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of me.

“Well, actually, I didn’t exactly--” I started.

“Did you really think he was going to kill you?” Tim interrupted. “He looks like one scary dude, judging from his picture on page two.”

“And how about that mother?” Dom added. “Damn, she’s sounds like a regular Ma Parker.”

“Barker,” said Denny.

“What?” asked Dom.

“It’s not Parker, it’s Barker,” Denny answered.

“Barker? She sure is. Did you see her picture? AOOOOO, ruff ruff,” Dom howled.

We all groaned good-naturedly at Dom’s bad joke. The mood was light. I think they were really concerned about what almost happened and glad nothing too bad had, though none of them would come out and say it.

“Hello! Where is everybody?” It came from the front door and sounded like Sue Ellen.

“We’re back here,” I called out.

Sue Ellen came through the hallway and into the kitchen. She was wearing beige shorts that fit her rather nicely with a brown belt, a faded blue chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up her forearms and thin-soled wedge sandals.

She had a thick collection of those color strips you find in paint departments at hardware stores in one hand and some swathes of fabric draped over her other arm. When she saw me, the relief was apparent in her eyes and bright smile.

“Oh, Wes I am so glad you’re all right. I read the paper this morning. It must have been terrible,” she said.

I know that the only thing keeping her from hurrying over and giving a big kindhearted hug was the presence of the guys.

“Terrible?” Denny asked. There was a trace of facetiousness in his voice. “He was tied up in a chair and someone poured whiskey down his throat. If the person doing it was named Bambi and not Bones, he would have been in heaven.”

“Very funny,” I said to Denny. “What have you got there?” I asked Sue Ellen.

“Well, I decided to fix this place up a bit and Stacey agreed to help me pick out some colors for the walls and fabric for curtains.”

I turned to Stacey. “You’re an interior designer too?” I asked.

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m good with colors, what can I say?” he answered.

“Um, Sue Ellen--” I started, rising and moving over toward her. I took her by the elbow and led out of the kitchen and earshot of the guys, down the hallway. “I hope you’re not doing this on my account. You know I haven’t said anything about staying and--”

We’d reached the living room. She turned to face me, tilted her head, and gave me a slightly disapproving look. “You know, Wes, not everything is about you. I’ve been wanting to get in here and brighten this place up for quite a while, but Stevie wouldn’t hear of it--said he liked it just the way it was, the way Momma had it.” She turned and scanned the walls, the pictures, the furniture. “Besides, I--I--really should collect his things up and decide what to do with it all. Probably just throw most of it out, just junk, most of it.”

She looked up at me, just the smallest trace of tears forming in her eyes. She still had trouble talking about him, though it seemed to be getting a little easier. I knew it would never be too easy. She dabbed at her eyes as if brushing a stray eyelash away.

“She was a prostitute. You do know that, right?” Sue Ellen said, as much a matter-of-fact statement as a question.

“What?” I asked, knocked a bit off balance by Sue Ellen’s abrupt shift in tone.

“Tina Sanders. She really did sleep with men for money--rich men, granted. She wasn’t the type to proposition men in their cars, but she was a whore, nonetheless.”

I could only smile. There was no beating around the bush with Sue Ellen, and it could never be said that a person didn’t know exactly where they stood with her. “Um, I think I’d prefer to think of her as a ‘good time girl,’” I answered. “But yeah, I did figure that out.”

Sue Ellen snorted softly. “‘Good time girl?’ Wes, that’s you in a nutshell, such a sweet romantic,” she said, patting me on my forearm. “But good, I’m glad you know. She had an effect on men...and...well, after that article you wrote about her, I just hope you haven’t forgotten about Stevie while being her knight in shining armor.”

“No, of course not,” I said, hoping I sounded convincing.

“Good. What you did was a good thing. You gave her family a little comfort...closure.” She looked me straight in the eyes. “That’s what I want. That’s what you promised me.”

“Sue Ellen, I said I’d try,” I answered.

“You’re gonna try as hard as you did for that whore?” she responded sharply.

She turned her head away from me and began absently looking at the pictures on the wall. I know people change, but this didn’t seem like Sue Ellen.

“Um, this might be a personal question, but Tony wouldn’t happen to be one of those ‘rich men’ you referring to?”

She turned to look back at me. There was just the faintest flash of anger in her eyes. “I couldn’t say for absolutely sure. I told you I knew about the other women, but yeah, I think he was on her dance card once or twice.” Her eyes softened. “But I don’t--didn’t--hate her. She wasn’t the first or the last, I’m sure. I told you things weren’t great between me and Tony, but this isn’t about that. It’s about my brother and some bastard who stuck a knife in his back.”

I really didn’t know what to say. There was no way I could tell her what I really believed, that there was about as much chance of me finding Stevie’s killer as me flying to the moon. I could see she still needed some hope to hang onto, and I guess, while I was working to prove Hoppy wrong, there was no point in taking that away from her.

“Listen,” I finally said. “I haven’t given up.” It was a bit of a white lie, but not completely false. “In fact, I’ve been meaning to really go over this place to see if Stevie might have hid anything away around here--something that, you know, might make somebody...you know...want to...” I let that thought trail off before coming to my point. “I’ve already started in the garage and you wanting the place cleared out gives me a great opportunity to really do it right. Let me pack up his things, empty the place out, sort everything out for you in boxes, while I search every nook of this place.”

“Wes, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s something family should do,” she answered, but I could see relief on her face.

“No, really, I insist. In fact, I’ve also been meaning to ask you, do you have any idea if Stevie had a favorite hiding place, maybe from when you were growing up here, an old standby that he trusted no one could find, someplace I should start?” I asked.

She let out a small laugh. “You kidding me? Ever since we were kids, if Stevie wanted something hid, even a bloodhound wasn’t going to sniff it out. He was like a packrat that way. I remember when we were in our teens when Stevie first started smoking dope. Mama would say she knew he had it in the house, and she turned the place upside down but never found nothing. Drove her crazy. Stevie would just smile that smile of his and tell her it was no use, there was nothing to find. Make her even madder.”

“Well, it’s a long shot anyway,” I said. “Just a theory Hoppy and I thought we’d pursue.”

Damn, the lies just kept coming.

“I wish I could help, but in a lot of ways it seems like Stevie and I had become strangers. I know it was my fault--mostly--between Tony and raising the girls, still...”

“Sue Ellen, sometimes life takes funny turns and we always think there’ll be plenty of time--” I began.

“Hey,” a call came from the kitchen, interrupting us. It was Denny. “Are you going to come in here and give us all the hairy details or not. I didn’t drive all the way back from the shore to watch Dom get egg yolk all over the front of his shirt.”

“It’s not my fault. Stacey made the eggs too runny,” Dom answered.

“My eggs ain’t too runny. You just eat too fast,” Stacey said.

“Actually, Stacey,” I heard Bob chip in, “you could have made the bacon a little more crispy--at least that’s the way I like mine.”

“This ain’t no restaurant I’m running here. You guys don’t like the way I cook, nobody said you had to eat it.”

Sue Ellen smiled at me. “I guess we better get in there before the dishes start flying.”

“Guess so. I might have been safer at Puddy’s.”