Thick as Thieves(66)

Being the coward that he was, he passed his daughters’ bedrooms without looking in on them. If Arden woke up, he could ease her back to sleep with a white lie and a reassuring pat.

But not Lisa. She would see straight through any malarkey he tried to put over on her. The truth would come out. And then what would he do? What would she do?

In any case, he didn’t risk an encounter. He descended the stairs, avoiding the treads that creaked, and left through the back door. He started across the field behind the house. It was a moonless night, sultry and still with the heavy scent of rain, which Lisa had forecast. He hoped it would hold off for a while longer.

The ground was uneven, and he wasn’t that sure-footed because of the whiskey he’d drunk, so the walk to the cypress grove took him longer than expected, and when he reached it, he was leaking sour-smelling sweat from every pore.

He was glad to have the cover of the trees, although their density, and the darkness it created, made him claustrophobic. He didn’t dare risk a flashlight.

Stumbling around in the marshland, feeling his way in the dark, he didn’t find the rowboat right away, and, ever aware of the time constraints, his search for it became frantic.

His pants legs got soaked. More than once, he banged his shins on cypress knees. He walked into a clump of ghostly moss hanging from a low-lying branch, and smacked his forehead on another.

The discomforts did help to sober him up, however, and, eventually, he located the boat. It was a wonder he had, because vegetation had overtaken it, and it took some effort to pull it free.

Like everything else in his life, the craft had been neglected. As a family, they had taken it out on the lake frequently. “Nature excursions,” Marjorie had called them. They’d competed to see who could spot and name the most species of birds and wildlife. Whoever caught the first fish got the largest chocolate chip cookie from the picnic basket. Like that. How had his family deteriorated from that idyllic example of harmony to this?

Tonight, the boat looked as hopeless as regaining those happier days. He wasn’t even sure that it was still watertight. He wouldn’t trust it, except that going by car to the designated place would mean taking the long way around. Weaving through the intersecting bayous of the lake would take less time, but only for someone who had grown up doing it.

Joe had. Even in the dark, he would have no trouble navigating the swampy labyrinth. The future of his family depended on it.

He dragged the boat into the water and clambered aboard.





Chapter 26



Following her conversation with Lisa, Arden had determined that if she wanted to learn more about the ongoing feud between the smarmy district attorney and Ledge, a good place to start would be with the woman at the core of it.

Arden recalled Ledge telling her about his “friend” who owned the hair and nail salon where the errant squirrel had done damage in the attic. It hadn’t been difficult to link his Crystal with Crystal’s Salon on Main Street, a house that had been charmingly converted into a business. It was a white frame structure with pale blue shutters and purple petunias in window boxes.

Arden had planned to arrive just as the salon was closing for the day, and her timing was perfect. As she pulled into the shallow parking lot in front, a woman was locking the front door. Arden got out of her car.

The woman turned and smiled. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Arden continued up the walkway toward her.

“I’m sorry, the salon is closed,” she said. “But I’ll be happy to make you an appointment.”

“Are you Crystal?”

“Yes.”

It was easy to understand Ledge’s enduring attraction. She was stunning. Her long, dark hair was as sleek as a seal’s pelt. Her eyes were captivating, both in color and shape.

“I’m Arden Maxwell.”

“I thought you might be.”

“You’ve heard talk?”

“Around here, gossip is the number one pastime. I was hoping you would come into the salon one day so I could form my own opinion.”

“What’s your impression so far?”

Crystal smiled. “You’ve got great hair.”

“Thanks. The humidity makes any attempt at control futile.”

“I’ve got product that could help.”

“I’m sure.” Arden looked aside, then came back to her and said, “I was hoping I could talk to you about a private matter.”

“Ledge?” When Arden reacted with shock, she added, “He told me you had consulted him about doing some handiwork.”

“I did, but this isn’t about that. It’s about the bad blood between him and Rusty Dyle.”

Arden sensed the other woman’s subtle, cautionary withdrawal. “What do you know about that?”

“Not enough.”

Crystal considered it for several moments before seeming to come to a decision. “That discussion calls for at least one glass of wine. My house is directly behind the salon.” She pointed. “You can walk across the lawn with me, or drive around.”

“I’ll take my car.”

By the time Arden had driven around the corner to the front of Crystal’s house, she was standing on the threshold of the open front door. Arden hadn’t expected her to be this agreeable to talking about Ledge. She’d even feared that when she stated her business, Crystal might tell her to get lost. She had envisioned the “hot ticket” being coarse and blowsy. Not as refined, or cordial, or overall appealing.