This is Part V of a seven part series that will conclude on Sunday.

“You look good. It’s been too long.” Perry Silverman looked his friend upon and down and tried to contain the shock of seeing just how many pounds he’d put on since the last time they got together.

“I look fat.  No two ways about it,” Braxton said.  “Susan can cook.  Takes after her mother.  In more ways than one, but that’s another story.  She’s added a few pounds herself.  Calls it ‘baby weight’, but Jax is going on four now, so it’s about time she quit blaming it on the kid, I say.  Anyway, you don’t look any different than you did when we were in high school.  Maybe just a little wiser.”

The fact that Braxton Tyler had made off with Perry’s girl while Perry was away for nearly a year before his mother passed somehow didn’t completely end their friendship, but it changed the dynamics to be sure. They still got together once or twice a year for a couple beers at the Lucky Lady Lounge to catch up, to talk about everybody else they went to school with. Fort Stockton was a small town where it didn’t take long for everybody to find out everybody else’s business. That was the main source of entertainment before cable TV made its way to southwest Texas.

Perry had taken over the family business as soon as his mother passed, which was only a few days after he got back from the cross country journey she’d sent him on in order that he might be tutored and she might deal with her illness without his knowledge. He was wiser, but at the cost of missing out on what most other young men his age had enjoyed. He felt like he had gone from being 19 to 40, but those were the cards. “Nobody gets to choose the cards they’re dealt,” he used to tell folks, “but you play the hand you get.” He’d played his well.

Perry had taken pity on his former best friend, trying to help him where and how he could. He’d long since forgiven him for winding up with Susan, his high school sweetheart he’d been convinced was “the one”. With the benefit of time, he realized his mother had been right and that Susan would not have been the ideal mate. He secretly thanked Braxton for helping him avoid that fate, but knew if it hadn’t been Braxton it would have been somebody else to catch Susan’s eye. There was no way she would have waited for him to come home. Braxton was just there at the right time. Or the wrong time, depending on how one looked at it.

Braxton had gone to work for Bridges Funeral Home driving the ambulance as soon as Susan got pregnant and they marched quickly down the aisle of Second Baptist to make everything legal and proper. Babies are never cheap, and neither was Susan. It seemed like between the two of them it was always paycheck to paycheck for Braxton. He was handy, a quick learner, and found plenty of ways to make extra cash to help make ends meet. He even had some left over to keep his ’49 Oldsmobile running and in tip top shape. Perry’d had Braxton out to the house to do some light remodeling work. He employed Braxton’s services to rewire the company offices in town, and put in some extra equipment to try to keep up with the changing technology of the times, such as it was. He paid him more than the jobs were worth to help out and Braxton was grateful for the extra cash, and the continued friendship, considering some of the history.

“Is this purely social, or have you got something you’d like me to take care of?” Braxton asked.

“Yes and yes,” Perry replied.  “I did want to catch up, but there is something about the timing that’s important.”

“Shoot, big guy.  What’d ya need?”

“You picked up the body when Theodore Crane was shot a couple days ago,” Perry said.  “I’m just curious about what happened.  What you saw at the scene.”

Braxton looked at him, surprised at the question and wondering why Perry had any interest in the shooting, although it was the talk of Fort Stockton.

“Looked like the Black Widow shot him at pretty close range four of five times.  There was more blood on the floor than if she’d shot a wild pig.  Come to think of it, she kinda did.”  They both laughed.

“You’d done work out at the Crane place, hadn’t you?” Perry asked.  “I mean before you loaded up the old man and carted him off.”

Braxton stiffened up at the question and looked around to see how close anyone was that might could hear the conversation.  “Quite a few times.  Off the books.  Always had to be when the Black Widow wasn’t going to be there.  Course that’s before she became the Black Widow.  Damn that is one fine lookin’ woman.”

“What kind of work?” Perry asked, signaling the bartender to bring over a couple more beers.

“A few years back I converted a closet off the master bedroom to a dark room.  Built another room out in the carriage house for equipment.  The ol’ dude was into photography.  Just like he was into cars.” Braxton explained.

“And a few other things!” Perry said, egging more information out of his handyman friend.

“Yeah, if it was expensive, he collected it. Don’t know how many people knew it, but there’s surveillance cameras in every nook and cranny of that whole place. A person damn near couldn’t drop a deuce in there without it being recorded by one of the cameras. Either audio or visual, though nobody needs a visual of that!” Braxton laughed as he finished off the remains of the first beer and half the second. “Why you askin’ all these questions about the Crane place?”

“Just curious.  You know they live just down the road from me.  Practically neighbors.” Perry wanted to keep the whole thing as casual as he could.  “You still driving the Oldsmobile?”

“Hell yeah!” Braxton chortled.  “‘Bout the only luxury I can afford.  If you want to call it a luxury.  Susan keeps after me to get something newer.  It’s about the only thing I have control over and I intend to keep it.  Had it since we ran together in high school.”

“Remember those trips out to Lake Leon with a cooler full of longnecks in the back?”  Perry asked.  “Good god we were full of piss and vinegar!”

The talk turned to classmates they’d graduated with. Who was already divorced. Who was running around on who. What teachers had retired since they graduated from high school. Which ones hadn’t but should. When there was a pause in the conversation, Perry said, “So everything is recorded out at the Crane place?”

“Pretty much.  I put the equipment in myself.  Still have a key to the room in the carriage house to get in and service it every so often.  Probably ought to give it to the Black Widow.” Braxton said.

“Hold off on that for the time being.  She’s still grieving, and all.”  Perry said, attempting to be convincing.  As he looked around Perry noted that the place was filling up with people and it was getting harder to speak with any degree of privacy.  “Let’s get out of here.”  Perry put down enough cash for the beers, a good tip for Hank behind the bar, and they walked out to the parking lot.

There sat Perry’s white ’54 Kaiser Darrin convertible, top down and as immaculate as ever, right next to Braxton’s ’49 Olds 88 two door sedan.  The two of them side-by-side couldn’t have been a better metaphor for the young men that drove them.  “Still driving the Darrin?  Thought you might have ditched it by now for something even newer and better,” Braxton said.

“A lot of sentimental value in this,” Perry said as he glanced into the cockpit of the convertible. “What do you say we get in the Olds, stop by the Eggs & Ammo for a cold six pack and head out to Lake Leon. It’s been years.”

Braxton looked at his friend with a look of surprise.  It had been years.  Glancing at his watch, he shrugged and said, “There isn’t anything waiting at home that won’t still be waiting an hour from now.  Hop in.”

Perry looked around at the Olds, once seated inside, and remembered all the trips they’d taken in it a lifetime ago.  The sheer size of it was incredible after driving the Darrin for so long.  It wasn’t two minutes before the Olds 88 wheeled into the convenience store, Perry ran in and came back out with a six pack of Lone Star longnecks.  “Still have a church key in the glove box?”

“Somewhere in there. Under all the other crap,” Braxton replied. Perry found it and popped open two beers, handing one to Braxton. While they drove to the lake Perry asked his old friend about marriage, having a son, and what his life really looked like now. It was one that was completely different from his own. More conventional. “Sometimes I envy you,” he told Braxton. “I mean, I know you have struggles. We all do. Everyone’s are different.” What he really meant was he envied his friend for the pressures he didn’t have, but knew he’d never be able to explain that, so he didn’t even say it.

At Lake Leon, Braxton pulled the big Olds under the shade of a big oak tree down near the water. They finished the first two longnecks, tossed the empties into the floorboards of the backseat and popped open two more. The two of them were silent for a bit as they watched some ducks fly in and come to a noisy landing on the lake, splashing and gliding to a smooth rest on the surface.

“Tomorrow’s the old man’s funeral.  Everyone will be there,” Perry said.  “You working at the funeral home?”

“No.  My day off.”  Braxton looked over at Perry.  “And I never drive the hearse.  Only the ambulance.  They probably think I don’t clean up good enough to drive the hearse, and that’s okay by me.”

“While everyone is at the church and cemetery, I need you to go out to the Crane place and get the tapes,” Perry said.  “You should be able to get in and out without anyone seeing you.”

“I don’t know Perry,” Braxton said.  “Isn’t that breaking and entering?  Or at least tampering with evidence?”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a key?” Perry asked.

“Yeah.  So I could get in and service the equipment,” Braxton said.

“Then it’s not breaking and entering.  It’s fulfilling a prior agreement.”  Perry seemed to have thought it out.  “In terms of evidence, the only time there’s evidence is when there is a trial.  I’m hearing there isn’t going to be one.”  Perry let the first two facts sink in and settle in his friend’s mind.  “And for your time, I’ll pay you a thousand bucks cash.”

“Good gawd almighty!” Braxton shouted.  “That’s more than I make in three months driving the meat wagon!”

“And you don’t have to lift anything other than boxes of tapes,” Perry noted.  “Easiest grand you’ll ever make.  Susan will never know.  You can spend the money on whatever you want to.  Or take her and Jax to Disneyland, if you want to.  Your call.”

“I’ll do it.  What if I get caught?” Braxton asked.

“You won’t.  The place will be empty.”  Perry looked his friend in the eye.  “But if anything goes wrong, I’ve got your back.  And if this all works out, we’ll look at you maybe going to work for me full time.  Leave the meat wagon behind.”

“I’ll come see you tomorrow night with the tapes.  Pop open those last two beers.”

Out at the Crane estate, the shadows by the pool were growing longer.  Danbury’s patience was growing shorter.  It was time for him to have the full picture of his client’s complicity in the death of her husband so he could know exactly how to proceed with the case.  “Let’s cut to the chase, Mrs. Crane.  I need the full picture.”

Angela Crane looked at her attorney, then out towards the pool and the grounds surrounding the estate she’d called home for the last five years.  The home she planned to have for the next five.  Or fifty.  “The cars in the carriage house.  The priceless books on the shelves of the library.  The wine collection.  All the things of extraordinary value you see around you, what do they all have in common?”

“Expensive.  Rare.  Sought after,”  Danbury said off the top of his head.  “To be envied.”

“Exactly.” Angela let the word hang in the air for a moment. “And the envy of others is what some men enjoy more than the experience itself. Knowing they possess that which others want, but can’t have. You see, that was my husband. He enjoyed the Dual-Ghia because there were only 127 made, and no one else in his sphere could attain one. The same thing for his Mercedes. Do you see my point?”

“Don’t you fall into that same category, Mrs. Crane?” Danbury asked.

“I do indeed, Mr. Danbury,” Angela replied.  “Or did.  You see, the only thing that creates more envy than letting others see what you have is actually giving them a taste of it so they want more.  Let them experience and  briefly enjoy for just a moment what you can enjoy anytime you wish.”

“Like allowing them to drive your Mercedes around the block, just to make them wish they could drive it cross country?”  Danbury suggested.

“Ah.  You’re catching on.”  Angela closed her eyes and let the afternoon breeze waft over the parts of her that were exposed, which was nearly all of them.  “I was no different than his Mercedes.   Or his books.  Or his wines.”

“The envy is what he enjoyed the most?” Danbury asked.

Angela didn’t answer directly.  She closed her eyes again in thought and smiled slightly.  “I was complicit at first.  Even encouraged it.  What woman doesn’t want to be admired and envied?  The photographs put me in the very best light.  Made me flawless.  The fact that they were erotic just made the whole thing titillating.  When he shared them, I was taken aback, but secretly flattered.

Danbury knew not to say anything, not to ask anything.  He just let her speak freely in a stream of thoughts and words that had been trapped for some time.

“Envy is an animal, Mr. Danbury,” Angela said.  “An animal that must be fed.  And the more the animal is fed, the hungrier he becomes.  Pictures were no longer enough.  Men tire of looking at a beautiful Mercedes.  They want to drive it.”

“And your husband found a willing market for men who wanted to experience more than pictures of his beautiful wife?” Danbury asked.

The slight smile on Angela’s face faded completely.  “Those who could afford the experience first hand paid dearly.  Those whose pockets were not as deep could enjoy the video taped encounters.”

Danbury again fell silent.

“You see, Mr. Danbury, it really was self-defense.  Just not the type you’d normally think of.  Proof of that is in the library of photos and tapes of myself and some of the wealthiest, most powerful men in Fort Stockton.  Some from Austin.  Some from beyond the borders of Texas.”  Angela took a breath.  “The case will never come to trial.  The men featured in those photos and tapes would never allow it.  Careers would be lost.  Marriages destroyed.  Political offices forcibly vacated.  Mayor Goodman, himself, will make sure charges are never brought.  You were brought on to facilitate the details.  The end result has never been in doubt.”

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