Silver Arrow Ch. 10-12

"How did it go?" I asked.

She shook her head sadly and sat quietly at the table.

"I don't know what I saw in that man, so help me," she said forlornly. "In his mind, we should be getting back together now that I've gotten over his little mistake. I couldn't believe his arrogance. He hasn't changed at all. I wanted to give him his check and send him on his way, but he just wouldn't shut up. According to him, I should be begging him to take me back.

"I don't think I could have made it any plainer that I was never going to take him back and that was final. We must have argued about it for fifteen minutes before he changed his tune and told me I wasn't any good in bed anyway and no wonder he was out looking for 'strange' as he called it. If I'd just gone along with his version of an open marriage, everything would have been fine."

Now I was shaking my head, wondering how he could come to that conclusion.

"I said something about this being a bad time for me," she continued, "what with divorcing him and losing my best friend. That's when he started in about Diane and you. He said something about Diane being a 'stuck up bitch' married to a bus driver. How happy could she have been anyway? She needed a man like him to look after her. He said some very nasty things about you, Doug. I told him to shut up and get out but he couldn't resist badmouthing you."

"Don't worry about that, Christie," I said. "Just consider the source and forget it."

"But it hurts, Doug. You and Diane are my friends and no one wants to hear that kind of thing about their friends ... especially when it isn't true."

"His comments about me don't bother me in the slightest, Christie. But I have to admit, if he'd said something about Diane in front of me I'd have gone after him ... no matter how much bigger he is than me."

"He's a bully, Doug. A bully and a drunk. He'd had more than one drink before he came over here. I could smell it on him. I wonder if that's why his alimony payments are getting so erratic."

"Do you think he needs a warning letter from your lawyer?" I asked.

"No ... at least, not yet. But if it doesn't get any better, that's probably the route I'll go."

We sat in silence for a few minutes while Christie gathered herself. I could see that she was a bit shaken by the encounter with her ex-husband although I didn't get any sense that he'd laid his hands on her. Verbal abuse was bad enough. I would not stand for physical abuse.

"He said something odd when we were talking about Diane and you. I get the impression he tried to seduce Diane, maybe more than once, and got a flat rejection. He said he could have 'swatted you away like a fly if he'd really tried to get Diane.' She was 'easy to control.' I don't know what he was thinking, but it sounded evil the way he said it."

"Don't pay any attention to him, Christie. You said he'd had a couple of drinks and you know how he likes to brag. He was just shooting off his mouth to make himself feel better about being rejected by you."

"Yeah. I suppose that's so. I didn't know he made a pass at Diane, though. I thought she would have told me. She knew how I felt about his cheating."

"May she felt you had enough pain dealing with him every day that you didn't need any more? That would be like Diane."

"Yeah, you're right. It would be just like her."

Three days after Christie came to live in the suite, my mother left to go home, satisfied that the household was back in good hands and that we would all be okay. My father had left ten days earlier as he had appointments with his doctor and dentist. We promised to come north and see them sometime during summer since we would be headed up that way to visit Diane's parents anyway.

We held a yard sale to get rid of a lot of furniture that neither Paul nor Christie wanted nor had room for. By my order, the downstairs was now off limits to the children and me without an invitation from Christie. She seemed to be happy in that environment, but I noticed that the door from the kitchen to her suite was never closed, even at night.

She often spent the evenings after supper upstairs with the children and me. She no longer had to work at night since she was able to keep up with the billing business during the day. She had quit her job when the decision to move in with us was confirmed. Christie and Debbie were sharing other household duties, including cleaning, vacuuming and making meals. I began to feel we were taking advantage of her.

"No, Doug. I'm fine with what I'm doing. Debbie and I make a good team and it's nothing I wouldn't be doing in my own home or apartment. You take care of the outside of the house and I'll do the inside," she grinned.

I had bought a riding mower the previous winter through an ad in the Buy and Sell magazine. An older couple was moving into a townhouse and no longer needed it. It was in great condition and I got it at a much reduced price. With the big lot we had, it was a real benefit, especially during the hot summer days. Bill, of course, immediately volunteered to become the official lawn cutter.

"Okay, I'll give you a trial run, Bill. However, part of the deal is you have to weed-eat around the shrubs and driveway before you cut the lawn."

"Okay, no problem," he said, anxious to jump on the machine.

I went over the usual safety things with him, hoping he was listening to me. I would be watching him like a hawk for the first couple of times to make sure he observed my rules.

"I think that's the first sign of enthusiasm I've seen in Bill since ... well ... since you know," Christie said.

We were standing on the back deck, watching Bill operate the mower.

"It is. I'm pleased to see it. Maybe this will break him out of his funk. Pop Warner season is just around the corner and I want to see him continue with that. He needs the camaraderie and the discipline that team sports promote."

"He'll be fine, Doug. He's a nice young man and he'll make you proud of him," she smiled.

I put my arm around her shoulder instinctively when she said that before I realized it wasn't Diane and I shouldn't have done that. I yanked it away immediately.

"Relax, Doug. I'm not untouchable. I know you didn't mean to be forward. It felt very natural, in fact."

"I'm sorry, Christie. It was out of line. I apologize."

She was shaking her head. "Doug, we're going to be living in close quarters here. It's unavoidable that we will have some contact with each other. I'm not offended and you shouldn't be embarrassed. It was a very nice response to a nice moment. Don't be afraid to do things like that."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. I was embarrassed, but I was also thinking just how comfortable it felt. She was someone I enjoyed sharing that moment with.

I had a surprise visit from Detective Etchevarry one morning.

"Come in. Would you like some coffee?" I asked, curious about the reason for his appearance.

"Yeah, that would be great. I'm sure it's a lot better than the battery acid we make at the station."

I handed him a mug and poured. He took a sip and nodded appreciatively.

"That's good. Thanks."

"So, what's the occasion? Have you made some progress on Diane's death?"

"Not much, to be honest. I'm reluctant to let it go to the cold case file yet, though. There are some things that are nagging me about it. For instance, no one seems to know why she would have been at the motel that night. Everyone I interviewed, including your neighbors, relatives, babysitter, and so on ... all said the same thing. She was the ideal wife and couldn't possibly be having an affair.

Your baby sitter, Juliet Fiddler, said she went out about two or three times a month while you were on your trips. Your wife said they were business meetings, so Juliet didn't really question her about them. We talked to a few of her customers, though, and none of them said they had any night meetings with her. So, where did she go?

"I didn't know she was going out while I was gone," I said, surprised at this new information. "She never mentioned any meetings at all."

"Did you phone her or did she call you when you were away?"

"I usually called her every second night. I called around eight o'clock so I could talk to the kids too. She was always there."

"Not surprising. Miss Fiddler said she didn't go out until almost nine o'clock and got back between eleven and midnight. Did she ever go out for any reason when you were home?"

"No ... not that I can think of. She would go across the street to see Christie now and then, but that was usually just an hour or so and certainly not that late."

"Okay, then, we have a pattern of behavior that is unexplained except it leaves us with a suspicion that she was meeting a person or persons that she chose not to tell anyone about."

"I can see how you would come to that conclusion, but ... who? Why? How the hell do we find out what was going on?"

"That's the sixty-four dollar question, all right. We've been canvassing the motels and hotels to see if anyone recognizes her. So far, no luck, but we'll keep at it."

"I guess there doesn't seem to be much doubt now that she had a secret life, does there?" I said, deflated.

"That's sure what it looks like. Sorry, but I thought you'd want to know we haven't given up and we will do whatever we can to bring her killer to justice."

I nodded. "I appreciate you're keeping me informed, even if it isn't good news."

"Thanks for the coffee and I'll be in touch if we turn up anything new"

I watched him walk briskly to his car and leave, heading back toward his office, I assumed. I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut. I suppose I knew that something wasn't right about Diane's life, but it was quite another thing to discover just how mysterious her activities were. Where did she go when I wasn't home? I was beginning to put two and two together and I didn't like what it was adding up to.

Friday I was due to take one of the buses from Jeffersontown to Lexington, transporting a college baseball team, their coaches, cheerleaders and staff for an overnight stay. I left the house just after my lunch and drove to the Silver Arrow depot. I would take the bus to the college campus and pick up our charges at three that afternoon and get them to Lexington in time for their night game. There would be an afternoon game the next day, then back to Jeffersontown and the depot that evening.

The players on this trip were college boys and I planned to watch the night game and forgo the day game on Saturday. I had become a bit of a baseball fan in the past few years, first with the Twins and now the Louisville Bats, a minor league team in the International League. They played in the West Division with Columbus, Indianapolis and the now-famous Toledo Mud Hens.

I had an early evening meal before the game as usual, planning on a late snack before I went to bed. I tried to convince the waitress to make sure I got smaller portions for my meal, but apparently the cook was hard of hearing and I got a meal big enough to last a couple of days. It kind of turned me off to be honest, and I didn't eat nearly a third of it. Oh well, it was covered on the per diem so I left what I didn't want and went on my way.

Our boys put a licking on the Lexington kids, and they were in high spirits when we went back to the motel. I imagine there would be a few beers consumed that night, but the coaches and managers would probably keep a lid on any really noisy high-jinks. I was ready for my late snack, so I headed for a local diner and tavern I noticed just down the block.

I had a little talk with the waitress and she understood that I didn't want a big meal, just a snack. She promised she'd take care of that for me. I wondered, after my earlier experience, just what I would get, but this time, she was as good as her word. She brought me a half-Rueben, steamed and not grilled, a small pile of potato chips and a scoop of coleslaw. It was perfect and I told her so, getting a nice smile in return.

I was sitting, working my way slowly through the food when I heard a familiar voice. It was coming from the tavern and, since I was sitting in a booth up against the dividing wall, I didn't have any trouble hearing what this person had to say. It was Paul Wilson, and he was going on about what it took to "keep a woman in line."

I slid around in the booth so that I could look into the tavern. When I did, I saw him sitting at the bar talking to another man. It looked like this wasn't Paul's first beer that night and the way he was going, probably not his last. I slipped back out of sight and listened.

"You can't be afraid to smack 'em around now and then. They gotta know who's in charge ... you know what I mean?"

He wasn't slurring his words too much, but he wasn't very careful about his volume. I couldn't make out what the other fellow was saying, but I had no trouble hearing Paul.

"The biggest mistake I made was not puttin' my hands on the ex-wife and lettin' her know which way was up. If'n I'd done that, she'd still be around, beggin' for it ... you know what I mean?"

It was fairly noisy in the tavern, but Paul was right near the passage into the diner and his voice stood out among the others.

"I don't have no trouble with the women I take. Once they know who the boss is they either get with the program or get lost."

I'd had about enough of listening to his macho bullshit, so I paid the check, left a nice tip and headed out the diner entrance and back to the motel. As I walked, I remembered Christie telling me he had changed jobs again and was living in Shelbyville and working in Frankfort. Christie was of the opinion that Paul had been fired from his other job. She thought it might be because of his drinking, but didn't know for sure.

One thing for certain, he hadn't learned anything from his mistakes. He was still an obnoxious jerk and couldn't seem to help but prove it to anyone he came near. I wondered for the hundredth time what attracted Christie to him, but gave up trying to figure it out. Maybe, like she admitted, she was just young, dumb, and horny. I had a hard time fitting that description to her.

Christie was a very different looking woman when compared to Diane. Diane was small, but still had a very womanly figure. I thought she was beautiful in a smaller scale to most women. Her body was in perfect proportion to her size. Her eyes were bright and lively, her nose small and perfectly sculpted. Her hair was short, and for the wont of a better description, I called the color mahogany.

Christie was bigger, about my height, five-foot-seven. She was what my mother called big-boned. That was my mother's description of herself, meaning she was a sturdier build than many women. Christie was very attractive without being beautiful. Her hair was dark blonde. I refused to call it dirty blonde because I liked the look of it just the way it was. She gathered it up into a bunch and tied it into a knot on the top of her head. I thought it looked great that way.

She was also wider in the hips and bigger in the breasts than most women her height. But probably because of her bone structure, it seemed to be in proportion to the rest of her body. Her hands and feet were maybe a little bigger than normal, but not so much that it drew attention to them. It was hard to describe just what made her attractive, but all the parts seemed to fit and as a whole I could see why men would be attracted to her.

Our boys won the afternoon game as well and the group was in high spirits as we began the trip back to Jeffersontown. We unloaded just after six pm and I was back at the depot before seven.

I filed my log and checked for my next assignment. I would be on the road on Monday morning early with a blue rinse tour to Virginia Beach. It was a four-day trip and the first day was fairly long to Covington, Virginia. Then on to Virginia Beach for two days before retracing our steps back to Louisville. Not too tiring, I expected.

It was a quiet Saturday night at the Hansen house. Debbie was out visiting a couple of her girl friends. Bill was "hanging out" with a couple of his buddies down the street. Sandy was home watching some TV just before her bedtime. She got a little extra time on Friday and Saturday, which she tried to extend into school nights as well. Not until summer vacation, she was told. That was another three weeks away.

I found Christie on the back deck, a sweater keeping the night air from chilling her. I sat beside her. When I glanced at her I thought I saw the drying tracks of tears. I chose to say nothing.

"How was your trip?" she asked after a silence.

"Fine. Typical one-night-wonder."

I debated telling her about seeing and hearing Paul.

"Did you tell me Paul was living in Shelbyville, now?" I finally asked.

"Yes. He's working at a building supply company in Frankfort, but is renting a place in Shelbyville. Why do you ask?"

"I ran into him last night. I mean, I didn't talk to him and he didn't see me, but he was in a tavern in Lexington when I was having a late snack."

"Was he alone?"

I shrugged. "He wasn't with a woman, if that's what you're asking. He was shooting his mouth off about ... well ... the usual, and I recognized his voice."

"The usual being his suave and debonair command of women, I suppose," she said with a noticeable sneer.

"Something like that, but I wouldn't call it suave or debonair. More like crude and thuggish. He expressed regret that he didn't quote 'put his hands on you' to make sure you knew who was boss, or something to that effect."

"Yeah, well if he'd have tried, he'd be wearing my cast iron skillet where his face was."

"Ouch ... that would hurt," I chuckled.

"He's a mean drunk, Doug. You don't want to be around him when he's like that. He beat the hell out of a guy in Cleveland one time he thought was getting too friendly with me. He ended up in court, got fined and a conditional sentence to keep the peace. That was the first time I'd ever seen him act that way and it scared the hell out of me. When he got drunk, I steered clear of him. No telling what he might have done if I'd pissed him off."

"So, I gather his drinking has gotten worse in the last little while."

"Yeah ... after I caught him banging that bitch New Years, he's been going down hill. Sure as hell he's going to do something stupid one of these days. I just don't want to be around to see it."

"I can understand that," I said, wondering just how long it would be before Paul self-destructed.

Chapter 12 A Breakthrough

The summer came and went. I was busy on my trips ... mostly tours of four to six days. Six days or forty-five hours was the maximum I was allowed to drive before I had to be relieved. I worked as a relief driver a couple of times, but most of my trips started and ended here in Louisville.

We took the kids to see both sets of grandparents on my vacation. I was really surprised when Christie agreed to come along. I didn't expect that, but I was grateful she did. She was always good company and she helped with the children, so it worked out really well. I hadn't been back to St. Cloud for some years and I was surprised at all the changes that had taken place since I'd left for the big city of Minneapolis, and now Louisville. Minnesota is a pretty state, especially in the summertime, and I missed the seasons that were less evident in Kentucky. When I thought about it though, I didn't miss the winters.

I had traded in the Outback for a two-year-old Dodge Durango with seating for six comfortably and seven in a pinch. I only needed five spaces, so it was plenty big enough. The V-6 wasn't a gas guzzler and it looked like the vehicle had been kept in good condition. Just to be sure, I asked Seth Miller, our head of maintenance, to give it a once over and he pronounced it to be in good shape. No more trying to squeeze five of us into the Subaru on a long trip.