Heat

Chapter 19

Jesse sat on the hood of his truck, which was parked in deep woods outside St. Clair, and talked to Kip Fuller on the scrambled cellular phone.

“I’m moving up in the world,” Jesse said. “Making nine bucks an hour, now, and I expect to get raised to ten any day.” He told Kip about the promotion.

“Glad to hear it, Jess.”

“Not everybody is as happy as you are about my advancement,” Jesse replied. “Fellow called Partain took exception.”

“And what did you do about it?” Kip asked, sounding worried.

“I hit him until he got over it,” Jesse replied.

“Listen, Jess, I know you’re good at that sort of thing, but it can only draw attention to you. I hope you stayed away from anything they taught us at Quantico.”

“I did that; I wasn’t anxious to look like a federal cop in a fight.”

“Good.”

“I think it was a setup.”

“Oh, shit.”

“It’s natural that they’d be very wary. I think they wanted to see how I’d react.”

“So you reacted by beating the shit out of the guy?”

“Not at first; I let him push me some, first. From the reaction of my coworkers at the plant, I gather he wasn’t the most popular guy around.”

“So you won a few admirers?”

“Maybe.”

“Has there been any reaction from the opposition since this happened?”

“Not so far; it’s been a couple of weeks, so I wonder if they’re going to react at all.”

“I hope you’re not going to make a habit of this, Jess.”

“Depends on whether they make a habit of it.”

“You getting any ideas about where Coldwater is getting his money?”

“I gather the church has a piece of a few businesses around town. He’s apparently tried to hustle Herman Muller into selling out, but so far, Herman is standing pat. I hope he goes on doing that; it’s hard not to root for the guy.”

“No evidence of big money behind Coldwater, though?”

“Nope. It’s hard to see how any big money could get generated around here. It’s not a big place, and Muller’s business has got to be the important earner in town. So far, I can’t see that Coldwater is spending any big money, either.”

“Let’s not make that judgment, yet,” Kip said. “You haven’t really had a chance to look around, have you?”

“I’ve deliberately not done any looking around, just traveling where my life here leads me. Snooping could get me burnt.”

“I’m glad you see it that way; I don’t want you burnt.”

“That’s sweet of you, Kip; I know Dan feels that way, too.”

Kip laughed. “You always did have a sense of humor, Jess.”

“Well, I’d better get back to town. I’m supposed to be running an errand for Jenny, and I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“No need to call me too often, until something happens,” Kip said. “Next week will do.”

“Right, see you then.” Jesse broke the connection and crawled under the truck to put the phone away. As he closed the safe, he heard another vehicle approaching down the dirt track. He crawled out from under the truck in time to see a police car pull to a stop and Pat Casey get out.

“Hey, Pat,” he said, brushing off his clothes.

“Howdy, Jesse.” The chief of police watched him warily. “What are you doing out here?”

“I turned down this road to take a leak, to tell you the truth, and what with the bumps, I thought my muffler was loose. I went under there to have a look at it.”

“You should have taken it down to the filling station and put it on the rack.”

“Not while I’m making nine bucks an hour, I won’t,” Jesse replied.

Casey grinned. “Guess not. How’s it going out at Wood Products?”

“Pretty good; I got promoted. I’m running a press, now.”

“That means Herman likes you, I guess.”

“I guess.”

“I hear you and Phil Partain had a little rumble.”

“A little one.”

“I’m impressed you came out of it with your ears on your head,” Casey said. “Partain’s messed up more than one fellow around here.”

“Partain’s a schoolyard bully, that’s all.”

“I guess that’s true, but he can be dangerous, especially if you’ve made a fool of him, like you have. I’d watch my back.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“I wouldn’t take it hard if you killed the son of a bitch,” Casey said.

“I’m not out to kill anybody, but I’m not going to let him kill me,” Jesse said.

“That’s a reasonable attitude,” Casey said.

“Well, I’ve got to go to the drugstore for my landlady,” Jesse said, digging for his keys.

“You do that; never keep a woman waiting.”

Jesse got the truck started, turned it around and headed back toward the highway. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Casey starting to look around the clearing where he’d been parked. He was going to have to find a better place to use the telephone.

Jesse stood at the magazine rack in the drugstore and waited for Jenny’s prescription to be filled. He flipped through a home improvement magazine, taking care not to be seen reading the New Yorker or Esquire. He had been there only a moment, when a tall, thin man wearing glasses and a full beard walked into the store and past him. Jesse tensed, but tried not to show it. He knew that man, but he couldn’t remember from where, and he hoped to hell the man didn’t recognize him. Who was he? Jesse racked his brain.

“Jesse, your prescription is ready,” the druggist called out.

“Thanks, Mike,” Jesse called back, returning the magazine to the rack and keeping his back to the visitor. Then, as he was about to turn toward the counter, a computer magazine caught his eye; the cover photograph was of the same man who had just entered the store. Melvin Schooner, Jesse realized. Head of one of the fastest-growing software companies in the world. Jesse had read about him half a dozen times in the business section of various newspapers. Schooner departed the prescription counter as Jesse approached, and Jesse got another good look at him. No doubt about who he was.

“There you go, Jesse,” Mike said. “I put it on Jenny’s account.”

“Thanks, Mike. Say, that fellow who just left looks familiar.”

“Sure, that’s Mel Schooner, the computer guy; hometown boy, he is.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen him on TV, or somewhere.”

“Mel’s done real well, but he still has time to come home and see his mother,” Mike said. “Real nice fellow; belongs to the church here. Been real generous with local contributions.”

“That’s nice. Take care, Mike.”

Jesse went back to his truck with a new thought in mind. Just which contributions had Schooner been so generous with? He got into the cab, and peeked into the bag at Jenny’s prescription. Was she ill? He smiled. Nope. Birth control pills. He was glad to know she was taking those.

He drove back toward the house, wondering about Melvin Schooner and his software company. The papers said he was fast gaining on Bill Gates at Microsoft. The guy wasn’t forty yet, and he was supposedly a multibillionaire. He wondered if Schooner was acquainted with Jack Gene Coldwater.

As he drove toward home, it began to snow, and Jesse, who had spent nearly all of his life in the South, felt excited, like a schoolboy. The snow was one more indication of how far from Atlanta Federal Penitentiary he had come.