Here Lies a Wicked Man Snippet 8
“Not many people in a fit of anger would snatch up a bow and let an arrow fly. Even fewer would hit their target.”
“Why a fit of anger? Why not cold, premeditated murder?”
Booker shook his head. In a big city newspaper, he’d scarcely notice the term, but in a retirement community of fewer than a thousand homes, murder took on different proportions. Someone you passed on the road or the lake or the golf course, schmoozed with at the lodge, counted as a neighbor if not a friend…was a killer. The thought chilled him. He hadn’t mentioned to the sheriff that he’d seen Ms. Larkspur that morning, rushing away from the same area where they’d found the arrow shaft. She might’ve come from farther down the road, of course, but what had she been doing in Lakeside Estates so early? Her bed-and-breakfast inn was nine miles away, a heck of a long jog.
He scooped up the package and clicked off the light. Outside, Emaline waved him toward her Jeep Wrangler. “We’ll make it faster if I drive.”
“I hope that’s only because you know where we’re going.”
“Right now we’re going to the Masonville Bed and Brunch. While I drive, you call Roxanna and find out the fellow’s name.”
“The guy with the Cessna? I thought you knew him.”
“Roxanna knows him. Heard her talking to him last time I stopped at the inn for dinner.”
“So this could be a wild goose chase! We should’ve called.”
“Don’t get your drawers in a knot. It’ll work out.”
The thought of dinner made Booker’s stomach rumble. He’d skipped two meals today, and had eaten his biscuits-and-coffee breakfast way before dawn. The thought of seeing the innkeeper again awakened a different appetite, along with his curiosity. “Does Roxanna own property at Lakeside?”
“If she did, it’d be up for sale. She dumps every penny she can wangle into that business. Never met a woman more determined to make a go of it. Now, Booker, you’re not going to embarrass me, are you?”
“Embarrass you? How?”
“I know how silly men can get around a woman like that.”
“Woman like what?” He squirmed on the Wrangler’s seat. Roxanna was the sort of woman that brought out a man’s randy nature.
“Booker Krane, it’s all right to be dumb, but don’t make a career of it.”
“You left me back at the last turn, Emaline. What sort of woman is Roxanna, besides being easy on the eyes and a heck of a good cook?”
“If you don’t know, it’s not for me to say. I never give away other people’s secrets.”
“Since when?”
Emaline skewered him with a scowl. He scowled right back. She steered too wide on a sharp curve, bumping hard on the gravel shoulder before reclaiming the blacktop. Booker’s head smacked the Wrangler’s roll bar.
“You did that on purpose!” When she didn’t respond, he figured she hadn’t intended it but didn’t mind taking credit.
They rode in silence, Booker deciding to ignore her aggressive driving and enjoy the gentle hills of Grammon county. Situated roughly a hundred and thirty miles from three major metropolitan areas, Houston, Austin, and Dallas-Ft. Worth, between the West Texas plains and the East Texas Big Thicket, Grammon offered everything a rebellious city-dweller could want: clean air, well-stocked lakes and plenty of shade trees. The rapidly setting sun washed the landscape with strong contrasts of light and shadow. Brahman and Beefeater cattle lazed behind long stretches of rail fence. Booker’s mind played with the notion of cattle as a subject for his next photo project, until Emaline jarred his thoughts to a less enjoyable topic.
“Why are you single, Booker? You’re smart, ambitious and presentable enough. Seems to me you’d make a good catch.”
“You’d have to ask my ex-wife about that.”
“Venus in Virgo. Husbands like you get all wrapped up in work and don’t give a wife what she needs.”
“Lauren had everything plastic could buy.”
“Since when did money make a happy marriage?”
“All marriages are happy, Emaline. It’s living together that gets tedious.” Come to think of it, tedious didn’t go nearly far enough in describing life with Lauren. “That woman woke up every morning and sharpened her tongue.”
“Nothing wrong with speaking your mind. I do, and I lived with my husband thirty-two years, happy every minute.”
“I’m sure you were.” Emaline’s husband wasn’t around to comment on his own happiness, but Booker didn’t feel crass enough to mention it.
“Everybody needs a mate, Booker Krane. There are some things in life you can’t blame on weather, the government or the zodiac. You could do a lot worse than Roxanna.”
“I’ve only met the woman once, when I stopped at the inn for lunch.” He’d never quite gotten over that first look, though, the sassy walk, the heart-shaped face, the way she tossed that tumble of auburn hair. “She does have a nice profile.” Al-l-l-l the way dow-w-wn.
“Marrying a woman for her looks is like buying a house for the paint.”
“Marrying? Emaline, I’ve met the woman ONCE.”
“Too bad she’s got that big honker.”
“I wouldn’t call it big. Substantial, maybe. Proud.”
“The girl could drown in a tea glass.”
“Thirty seconds ago you were marrying us.” Anyway, he liked Roxanna’s face. Her whole face.
Emaline shot him a look. Even in the feeble waning light he knew it was her sly I’ve-got-a-secret glance. “If you think Roxanna looks good in person, you ought to see her pictures.”
