A FATHER’S LOVE, Chapter 8

This is Chapter 8 in a series of ten stories.

Months went by. Large blue tarps covered the Impala and trailer in the barn, not that there was ever anyone in the barn other than Duke or Dusty, anyway. Just an added precaution.

A month or so later a third vehicle was added to the collection. Duke drove home a 1946 Chevrolet 3600 Dually Flatbed he’d picked up for next to nothing from an old guy selling it from his pasture outside Alpine. He brought it home after dark and slid it into the barn with the Impala and the trailer. It was covered up as well. Nothing was said.

The 1946 Chevrolet 3600 ¾-ton truck was fitted with a steel flatbed. It was finished in green and black, and the 235 cubic inch inline-six was paired with a three-speed manual transmission and a dually rear axle. Additional equipment included 16.5″ steel wheels, a split front windshield, a headache rack, a gooseneck trailer ball, a step-bumper tow ball, towing mirrors, side steps, and a green bench seat. That’s about all Dusty could tell before the thing was covered up.

For months after that, things seemed relatively normal. Normal for Fort Stockton, anyway. Except for the fact that Duke De Kalb seemed to be traveling more for business than usual. Sometimes it was just over night. More often, it was for days at a time. Dusty never asked where he was going, or where he’d been once he got back. He figured it was none of his business, and it wasn’t.

It was nearly a year since Abigail’s tragic death that Parker McHale found her way back to town. Arrangements had been made for her to have dinner with Duke out at his place again. Like last time, he cooked the meal, sending Bella home early. They both ate more this time, enjoying a couple good bottles of wine with dinner before moving out to the patio by the pool for after dinner drinks and conversation.

“So it’s confirmed. Beyond any shadow of a doubt?” Duke sipped his scotch as he posed the question that was the whole point of the dinner.

“Propofol.” Parker said. “Three times the amount it would take to kill someone. It took me a little while to track down the right guy to confirm that, but once I found him, it didn’t take long for him to spill the beans.”

Duke was grateful he’d made the call to Parker, and even more thankful for the results she produced. The woman knew her stuff.

Parker went on. “He was a third tier doctor in the Harris County Medical Examiner’s Office. Last in his class in medical school. And a douchebag.” Duke chuckled.

“He’d heard of me from the books and movies. Didn’t take much to have him trying to impress me with his forensic skills and homicidal know-how.” Parker was taking pride in her efforts, as well she should have.

“I told him what I was looking for to base my next book on. A murder hidden in plain sight. He said he might have one that could be worked into a pretty good story. A doctor murders his wife for whatever insurance she had and so he could be free to pursue his new mistress.” Parker took a long sip of scotch and felt it burn her throat all the way down. “Of course he didn’t share any details at first. But he wanted to impress me and he filled in all the blanks over time.”

Duke had to acknowledge Parker’s beauty. He’d never get over the age difference, nor the fact that she’d been his daughter’s school girl friend for years. But he fully understood how someone could fall under her spell.

“The first two meetings were in his office, right across the hall from the morgue. The third one was at a bar around the corner. That’s when I told him he might deserve some screen credit for the movie his information could lead to. That set the hook.” Parker had talent, to be sure. Duke almost felt sorry for the poor son of a bitch. Almost.

“A phone call two days later upped the game. Considerably. The poor bastard said he’d like a fee of $10,000 for his contribution to my work. And he’d like to meet me at the Four Seasons to go over the details. Upstairs. In a suite.” She threw her head back and laughed. “I’m a better actor than I thought. He thought I wanted to bang him for the information I needed.”

“How’d that work out for him?”

“I got there early. I’ve got a killer little black Dolce & Gabbana number on. Champagne on ice.” Parker set the scene for her host. “There’s a knock at the door. The lights are low. I go to the door and let the little turd blossom in. He’s on me like a chicken on a June bug. I have to tell him to back off and slow down.”

“Did he follow instructions?” Duke asked.

“What do you think?” Parker seemed to be actually enjoying telling the story. That’s what made her a good author, Duke surmised.

“I give him a glass of champagne. Tell him to hit the shower. I wanted him cleaned up and ready for what was to follow. He almost trips crawling out of his Dockers khakis on the way to the bathroom.” Parker gazed out at the sunset that stretched over the entire horizon. That was one of the things she missed about Texas.

“While he’s in the can, I use a little micro camera to photocopy the documents he brought with him to convince me of his value. After I’ve got everything, I get out the real camera. I’m waiting for him to come out of the bathroom.” Parker seemed to relish this part of the story more than the rest. The bastard already has the poorest excuse for an erection I’ve ever seen. He’s beet red and in a full sweat. As he walks over to me, I get some full color shots of the bastard at half mast with a look of shock on his face that would be worthy of a LIFE magazine cover. Top notch stuff.” She took a long sip of scotch. “So much for the erection, right?”

“I’ll just have to trust you.” Duke pretty much understood the scene and its significance, but wasn’t going to keep his guest from being able to share the lusty climax of her tale.

“I tell him I’ve got the goods on his part of the cover-up of Abigail’s autopsy. He’d already told me her husband had paid $10,000 for the altered records. I told him my attorney would have copies of everything along with a full report detailing what he’d done. Should anything ever happen to me, those details would be shared with the Houston Chronicle. As for the pictures of him naked and ready for action in a suite at the Four Seasons? Those would find their way right to his wife if he ever tried to contact me again.” The story was finished at the exact moment Parker finished her scotch. Like she’d planned it that way. But then, she planned everything to be just the way she wanted it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date.” Parker stood, smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, and gathered her small handbag. “Thank you for dinner. And thank you for justice, which I assume is what we’ll find at the end of this.”

Duke walked her out to her Mercedes and opened the door for her. As she pulled away from the house and down the driveway, he wasn’t at all surprised when she turned left, towards the barn. The light was on upstairs in Dusty’s room. It only made good sense for her to have a cover story for being out at Duke’s place, anyway. “More power to you,” Duke muttered under his breath.

He was surprised at the headlights coming up the driveway from the highway. As the Cougar convertible drove slowly by, he noticed the McCullough kid behind the wheel, driving slowly towards the barn, as though he was hoping not to be seen.

Much as he’d tried to convince himself there was nothing Parker could do to surprise him, she continued to prove him wrong. “Hope she brought enough rope,” he said as he went back into the house.