Temptation Ridge (Virgin River #6)(93)

The man kept an even expression. “You’re right, you’re looking for Stan. That’s his project. His sister has some kind of home and he gives work to a lot of them. But you might want to think twice about that idea. If they get slow or confused, it can be frustrating. I work real well with them, but…” He shook his head almost sadly. “It bothers some people.”

“My younger brother has Down’s,” Luke lied. “I’m up to speed on the problems.”

“You have the patience for that, then?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “He’s got a real good job now. Makes him so happy to be managing his own life. The guy has never missed work, does his chores around the house, always has money in the bank… He’s a dream come true.”

“The work has to be uncomplicated to start—like bagging. Opening boxes. Cleaning up. Even stocking shelves can get too complicated for some of them.”

“Everyone has a different level of competence, but I understand what you’re saying. So, where’s Stan?”

“Follow me,” he said. And Luke followed.

The surprises started immediately. First of all, Stan was a young guy, probably not thirty. He was slight—way smaller than Art—but scrappy-looking. He met Luke with a curl to his lip and furrowed black brows, suspicious at once. There weren’t a lot of reasons for a man to be suspicious right off unless he was expecting trouble. His size only confused Luke for a second; Stan was the one in charge and knowing Art, he would never hit back, never strike. Art also wouldn’t lie. He knew right away—Stan had punched Art.

Luke went through his spiel about the imaginary grocery store again, as convincingly as possible. He skipped the part about having a brother with Down’s and concentrated on the hard work, minimum wage, reliable attendance, his need to stay low budget. Stan did a lot of head shaking and shrugging. “I can’t help you, buddy,” he said. “Eureka is a long way from Clear River and these kids don’t drive.”

They aren’t kids. But Luke kept a smile on his face. He offered to buy Stan a beer to talk a little bit about the grocery business, since they weren’t competitors. Stan warmed up at the suggestion of a beer and he agreed—it was time for a break. When they were leaving the grocery, Stan never told anyone where he was going and he glared at everyone. The employees here didn’t seem happy, not even the good-natured assistant manager. To just peg Stan as an abusive jerk could be accurate, but it might be too simple. What Luke really wanted to know was what had happened to Art and why Stan hadn’t reported him missing.

A glimmer of understanding came with a beer. “My sister has a group home for these retards. I help her out by giving her kids some work,” he said. “Keeps ’em busy and out of the house.”

“They ever give you trouble?” Luke asked.

“They bug the shit outta me. How many times you gotta show ’em something? Tell ’em? But you’re right about one thing—they’re cheap and they keep coming back. Maybe you could get someone in Clear River to start up a home. It’s not like it’s hard. Just has to be clean and pass inspection.”

Luke had an instant image of someone completely unqualified to run such a home, doing it for the money, and it made him feel angry and ill. But he said, “That might be doable. I have an ex-wife whose always hurting for money….”

“There’s an idea. Get the ex off your payroll.”

“Maybe I could talk to your sister? Think she’d tell me how a person goes about that?”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. What else has she got to do while all her kids are at work, huh?” He gave an address and some directions, not far from the store. “Just tell her I sent you over, huh?”

“I appreciate it, man. You’ll never know.”

Luke dropped Stan at the store and immediately followed the directions he’d been given. When he knocked on the door another surprise almost blew him over. Shirl was even younger than Stan. She was maybe twenty-eight at a stretch, dressed in a tight, short skirt, V-neck sweater that showed off her boobs, ultra-black hair with a pink strip framing her face. This was not Mother Teresa. And, of course, she was chewing gum. He could barely get a glimpse, but behind her appeared to be a very small, tidy house with old, worn furniture. That was the first time he considered that the couple of challenged employees he’d seen in the grocery were wearing clean but well-worn clothes. Art had looked as if he’d been homeless forever, but he was merely dirty and his clothes had already been threadbare. Shirl didn’t waste a lot of cash clothing them.

She opened the door cautiously. “Hi,” he said, pulling out his wallet and flipping it open fast, shut again just as fast, officially. “I’m looking for Art.”

“Art?” she asked, stepping back. “Who?”

“Art Cleary.”

“Um… I think he’s at work…”

“I’ve been there. He’s not at work,” Luke said.

She frowned. “Are you the guy with the new grocery store?” she asked in confusion. “My brother called me and said—”

“Well, that was kind of a story.” He shrugged. “I’m with the agency. Looking for Art. Just a follow-up visit, that’s all. The paperwork on him shows it’s been a while since he’s had a visit.”