Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(38)

As they approached the docking station, Jason glanced off in the distance and saw the Hampton Inn, thinking of his sister’s tryst there on the night of the Fourth of July with Tyson Cade. Guntersville was a small town, but the lake made it seem bigger, more mysterious.

Fifteen minutes after docking, they were seated in the upstairs dining room of the restaurant, which smelled like pine trees and fried catfish. It wasn’t unlike the feeling of stepping into the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama. The vibe was comfortable, and Jason had to admit that he was surprised to feel his stomach rumbling, his hunger piqued. When a waiter brought them a tin plate covered with corn bread, slaw, and onions, Jason and Burns dug in.

With his mouth full, Burns took a long swallow of Miller Lite and pointed at the plate. “This is the best part. The catfish is good, but this right here sets the tone, you know? Kind of like ordering the sausages and cheeses at the Rendezvous in Memphis before they bring out the dry ribs.”

Jason had to agree. The food was delicious, and he washed it down with a sip of cold sweet tea. “Burns, you said you know some things about Waylon Pike.”

Burns’s face was now puffier than when they’d first met, and his eyes had grown redder. Definitely on his way to being three sheets. “I know a lot about him,” he said.

“Tell me.”

“Well, I know he met Jana at Fire by the Lake, which is a little dive off Highway 69. Good fried shrimp, decent bar. Anyway, they must’ve had a couple drinks together, and Pike told Jana he was a handyman and voilà. Next thing you know he’s doing some fixer-upper projects for them.”

“Was Pike’s relationship with Jana anything more than professional?”

Burns rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “Son, I don’t want to speak ill of your sister.”

“Speak ill. It’s fine. I want to know everything I can about Pike.” He paused. “Did they have an affair?”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure I’d call it that. A bartender I know at Fire by the Lake. I think his name is Keith, but it may be Kenny, said that he saw Pike and Jana fogging up the window of Jana’s Mercedes after closing time.”

Jason thought it was odd that Burns also had a hard time remembering whether the barkeep’s name was Keith or Kenny. Isn’t that exactly what Jana said?

“Next thing you know, Pike’s working on the Waterses’ boathouse,” Burns said, holding out his hands. “Turns out that Pike did good work, and Jana spread the word about how ‘handy’ he was to have around to the other folks on the island, including yours truly.”

“Did Pike do any work for you?”

“Yes. Put a new roof on my boathouse. Built some shelves for my office and bar. And once my divorce was final and the boys were out of the house, he did some yard work for me.”

“Sounds like you were around him a lot. He seem like a killer to you?”

Burns’s mouth curved into a drunken smile. “Whoever seems like a killer? I mean, to me, Waylon was a good ole boy. Showed up on time. Did his job. Kept his mouth shut. Wasn’t a bit of trouble. He worked for several of my other neighbors, and he was fine for them too. No problems. No complaints. Now . . . did he enjoy tying one on when he was through working? I suspect he did—in fact, I joined him a couple of times myself at the Brick—but there’s nothing wrong with that. Hell, I’m tying one on right now.”

Jason thought about that. Burns was getting pretty loose. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you drink like this every day?”

He considered his glass. “No, but since Shandra left me, I probably drink more. As a car salesman, I’m on all day long. Seven in the morning to ten at night. You gotta do something to unwind, you know what I mean?”

Jason did. It was one of the reasons he’d ended up in the PAC. But Burns’s comment brought up an interesting question. “Why aren’t you working today?” he asked.

“I’ve taken a good bit of time off since Braxton’s murder. Had to answer a lot of questions from the sheriff’s office since I was next-door neighbors and knew Pike pretty well. And Braxton and I were best friends.” He looked out the window. “We’d been best friends for thirty years.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said.

“It’s just, you know, Braxton and Jana and their girls. I mean, they weren’t perfect, but they were kinda like my family once Shan took off. I ate dinner over there a lot. Saw somebody in that family almost every day.”

“Did you see Jana much in the last six months?”

He stared at the table. “No. She was gone a lot.” He glanced up at Jason. “I know she and Braxton were having problems.”

“How?”

“Braxton told me.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That he was worried about her drug use.”

“Did he ever say he was thinking about filing for divorce?”

“Yeah,” Burns said. “The last time he mentioned that was the Sunday before he was killed. We played eighteen holes over at Goose Pond. Took my boat. When we finished up, we had an early dinner at the Docks.” He took a slow sip of beer, then eyed the bottle as he began to peel the label off. “That was probably the last time I saw him.”

“What did he say?”