Seduced

SEVENTEEN

Lonnie already suspected Reggie had told me what happened on that New Year’s Eve night long ago. Perhaps she also suspected he’d shown me the cement weir where she’d left a handprint and signed her name. I had neither confirmed nor denied what the chauffeur had confided, but she would know if I appeared too eager to talk.

I said, “Like every woman, I’ve had experiences I don’t feel comfortable sharing. I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

Her glare accused me of playing dumb. “A traumatizing event. The kind most women don’t have to deal with, thank god. What happened to you made the news, for christ’s sake. Does that help?”

I let down my guard in a visible way by unfolding my arms. “It’s not an easy subject,” I said, “but I figured that’s what you were getting at. This has to do with the man who attacked me. You read about what happened.”

“The man you shot, yeah, but only wounded. Thank god. I was starting to think you’re one of those Xanax twits who needs to be coaxed like a child. I want to ask you something, and there’s a reason. Did you shoot the guy-I forget his name-did you shoot him after he…? What I mean is, did he get his hands on you first?”

“He tried,” I said, aware of what she wanted to know.

“But he didn’t…?”

“No,” I said. “Never touched me. I didn’t give him a chance.”

A glossy fingernail tapped another cigarette from the pack. “It must have been close, though, if you’re reluctant to talk about it. Consider yourself one of the lucky ones. Rape is a hell of a sad way for a girl to lose her virginity. I’m not talking about you, by the way. From the stories-you were never quoted in the articles-but they gave the impression you were so scared, you might have pulled the trigger accidentally. Is that true or just some bullshit they fed the jury?”

She was seeking an ally regarding her own attacker, I realized-an event that had taken place decades ago. “Every person has a right to defend herself,” I said. “Guilt doesn’t apply when you have no choice.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I hoped that’s what you wanted to hear.”

Lonnie Chatham’s arrogance vanished, replaced by a surprising sadness and vulnerability. “What I was hoping for was, someone who’d talk openly. We get so few chances, but it’s obviously none of my business. I guess I’m as wrong about you as you are about me.”

I reconsidered, while she reached to gather her purse and cigarettes. “Hold on a minute,” I said. “My attorney told me to never discuss it, but I’ll tell you this much: pulling that trigger was no accident.”

This earned her attention, and a wilted smile. “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy. I hate to press, but are you willing to tell me a little more?”

I said, “Most of what happened was in the papers. The guy we’re talking about had assaulted several women. I’d been hired to track down a girl who was still running from him. He caught me in an open area-my boat had broken down and… well, it’s a long story. When he came at me, I aimed for his thigh, hoping to knock him down. The pistol was new to me; I’ve spent a lot of time at the range since then. Anyway, I shot high and the round clipped his pelvis. Afterward, I could’ve killed him. Maybe I should’ve.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t a matter of having no choice, although I didn’t, I suppose. That’s not the way my mind processed it at the time. He came at me; I shucked a round, took aim, and fired. No… Truth is, that’s not the way it went. First, after I got the gun up and steady, I told him I would count to five if he didn’t back off.”

“You actually did that? Counted out loud?” She lit the cigarette and sat back, enjoying herself.

“He had to be warned,” I said. “Yes, I counted. Well… I started at five but skipped to the end because he said something so crude, I won’t repeat it. That’s when I shot him.”

“Skipped some numbers, you mean? Like what? Five, four-bang? That’s so damn cool.”

“I think I made it to three. Then I had to make another decision when he get got up and hobbled off. He was yelling things; threats, mostly. I could’ve shot him in the back, but… I don’t know, it didn’t seem right. On hindsight, I’m glad. I might be in jail now.”

“Jesus, Hannah, that is so very, very ballsy. Five… four… three, and you did it.” Somewhere in the woman’s mind, the scene was playing out as if in a theater. “Hold on, tell me the truth-you aimed at his thigh? The chest area, center mass, that’s what I was taught. Are you sure you weren’t aiming at his crotch? I can see a girl like you doing that. First, make the bastard wait while you count down from five, then pow. You shoot his balls off.”

“I threatened him,” I said, not smiling, “but I didn’t do it to be cruel. I was as scared as I was mad. I just wanted him to go away.” Before she could ask more questions, I said, “Was it the same for you when you shot Raymond Caldwell?”

The question surprised her, but not as much as I’d hoped.

“Who told you that? Was it Martinez, or that little worm, Reggie? No matter, they weren’t there that night. They don’t know a damn thing about what really happened. But I am curious about how you came up with Raymond’s name.”

“I started to tell you,” I said. “My uncle opened an investigation agency for his wealthy clients-they had to be careful about hiring part-time help. He was a detective in Tampa before he went into fishing and was good enough at both to open a small office. I worked for him all through school, so it wasn’t hard to narrow down what might’ve happened. You, a college cheerleader; him, a football star who was about to stand trial for sexual assault, but the football star disappeared. The timing seemed about right. Can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.”

“Was a drug of some type involved?”

“In those days? Always.” Her smirk suggested I was naïve. “You know Harney was in the pot-hauling business. They brought in all sorts of stuff on those boats. Your mother was, too, from what I’ve heard.”

I refused to take the bait. “This is different. The typical date rape drugs didn’t come along until later, but I found articles on a dangerous one called Devil’s Breath. There are other names. It’s a powder; tasteless, and looks like cocaine. If that’s what happened, you-no woman, I mean-has a reason to feel guilt for what she might have done to get away.”

She gazed at me while her mind worked on how to respond. “You do your homework, I’ll give you that. Okay… okay. I’ll tell you what happened-not all of it, but some. First, we need to come to an understanding about our business matters.”

She opened a drawer and brought out an expensive-looking ledger, several notebooks, and some papers bound in a folder. “If I’d actually been blackmailing Harney, I did a piss-poor job of it. Judge for yourself. He left an estate worth close to a hundred million, but all I got was a chunk of his life insurance and the remainder of the citrus grove he didn’t give you and your mother. Oh, and Reggie-he’s so easy to forget.”

“A partnership between just us,” I said. “Is that what you’re proposing?”

“I’ve got to find some way to provide for my future. Any idea what a hundred acres of dead orange trees are worth in this part of Florida? Not jack shit, compared to what I have here”-the ranch, she meant-“which all goes to his kids. Me? I’m out in the cold. How old are you, Hannah? Ten, maybe fifteen years younger than me? I know you’re single, that you have no children, and you have to hustle to pay bills at the end of the month. Isn’t that right?”

She was closer to twenty years older, but I let her talk.

“Almost all women end up alone. That’s just the way life is. Sooner or later, we have to look out for ourselves, and I’m not going to end up some sad old woman in a roach-infested nursing home. Think about that while I show you what I have in mind.”

She continued talking while I glanced at a plat map, and a couple of other documents. It was difficult to separate the woman’s bitterness from her attorney’s advice, which was to fight her husband’s last will and testament in court. Equally difficult was gauging her sincerity when she said, “If I drag this through the legal system, it’ll take years, Hannah. Do you know what that means to you and your mother? You won’t see a cent. None of us will-except the attorneys. Do you really want that to happen?”

It was a mild threat, I assumed, to be exchanged for confidentiality regarding the missing football star.

I was wrong.

She opened a folder, saying, “That’s why I hired an expert to comb through every asset I can legally claim. My hope was, he’d come up a brilliant idea about how to turn what Harney left me into real money. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Either way, you and I are better off working together. Here, I’ll show you.” She flattened more papers on the desk and waited for me to scoot my chair closer.

“Mind putting out that cigarette?” I asked. “It’s hard to get the smell out of my hair.”

She complied, but not without saying, in her subtle, superior way, “I remember girls like you in high school-not many, but a few. I bet you played in the band, and dated nice boys. I always wondered what they did for fun.”

I was tired of her condescending manner. “The clarinet was more enjoyable than some instruments I can think of. Being a cheerleader, Lonnie, you’re probably an expert on the subject.”

She glared, then decided, “I guess I deserved that. How about we call a truce until we get things sorted out?”

I agreed, and moved closer to the desk. I was looking at an aerial photo of the citrus groves, the pasture, and Mr. Chatham’s cabin hideaway-Salt Creek Gun Club. A yellow highlighter divided the property into hundred-acre parcels.

“Harney wanted to give you the cabin, plus the river frontage and Reggie’s little shack. All the highway frontage is mine, except for this narrow little ingress-egress, which we’re somehow supposed to share.” She ran a finger along the access lane to illustrate, while I noted her careful phrasing. She’d said “wanted to give” instead of “Harney gave you.” Already, her mind was made up. She was not going to honor her late husband’s wishes.

I played along, and paid attention.

“My expert knows real estate,” she continued. “More important, he knows the citrus business. At first, he suggested we package our two hundred acres, get the zoning changed to commercial, and quietly offer it to some big-money developers he knows. Half the trees are dead anyway, so it made sense until he saw this.”

The leather-bound office ledger was placed in front of me. Two spiral notebooks were added. “This might be the real game changer,” she said. “When I told my guy-this expert-I’d almost thrown these books in the trash, he nearly had a fit. That was two weeks ago. He’s had time to do the research, to contact the right people and check everything out. Take a look. I had no idea of the potential value of what’s in there-but I’m fairly certain you do.” She tapped the notebooks for emphasis.

I opened the ledger instead. Inside, on the cover page, was a man’s bold handwriting in ink. I leafed through a few pages, seeing diagrams and notes, all related to citrus greening disease. “This belongs to Kermit Bigalow. His name and phone number, all his personal information, it’s right here plain to see.”

“So what?”

“I’ve got no right to be looking at the man’s personal papers. You don’t either, as far as I’m concerned.”

The woman stared with feline intensity. I got the impression she had been waiting for this moment. “Not according to my attorney. Kermit was contracted by Chatham Enterprises, L-L-C. Every scrap of work he did was proprietary. In other words, the company owns all his research and everything else he produced on our time. What’s the problem, dear?” Her smile lasted through a silence that forced me to make eye contact.

“I don’t care what your attorneys say. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fair?” she chuckled. “At your age, if you believe life is fair, you’re in for a shock. The law doesn’t give a damn about fairness-or justice, for that matter. Are you sure it’s not something else?”

I closed the book and pushed it away. “This is between you, your lawyer, and Kermit. It’s none of my business.”

Her eyes moved to the ledger, then the notebooks. “Open one of those and you’ll change your mind. In his notes, you’re scattered all through there, including a diagram of your house and citrus grove. What tree is located where, even their approximate ages. He used your initials quite often. Come on, Hannah, do you still think this is none of your business? I know Kermit has the hots for you. That’s the real reason you’re upset, isn’t it?”

I looked away from the notebooks, worried about how much personal detail they contained. “I barely know the man,” I said. “We talked about citrus trees, mostly, but-”

“That’s not how I know,” she interrupted. “It’s the way he lit up when your name was mentioned. That Chatty Cathy kid of his couldn’t shut up about you and your boat. It was Captain Hannah this, Captain Hannah that, until I finally took him aside. Kermit claimed I was imagining things. But from the look on your face right now, I’d say…” The woman nodded as if she’d just confirmed something. “Why, you poor little fool. That was just one of many lies the bastard told Harney and me. God knows how many he told you. I hope you at least had some fun while it lasted.”

I got to my feet and collected my purse, saying, “His wife has no reason to be jealous. You don’t, either, if that’s your problem. This conversation’s over.”

Truth is, I felt numb and needed air.

“Jealous?” she said, sounding genuinely puzzled. “I don’t give a damn about a man like him. He was trying to steal your idea for a biotech patent. That’s why I kicked his ass off my property. Well, one of the reasons. Don’t you get it? You, your idea, all the research Kermit did-it all belongs to me now.”

Yes… she had been waiting to say those words. It was in the controlling way she motioned for me to sit down.

I remained standing. “Lonnie, what do you want? Just tell me, so I can be on my way.”

“Be sensible,” she said. “We have too much in common to be enemies. That’s all I’m asking. Kermit was in the process of filing a provisional patent. Do you know what that is? Of course you don’t. It’s a bunch of complicated forms neither one of us would understand.” She reached for another folder, then decided the evidence could wait. “He would’ve done it, too, if I hadn’t locked him out of his office. Be thankful for that, at least. If you don’t believe me, I can arrange a meeting with my attorney.”

“I’m still waiting to hear what it is you really want.” This I said calmly despite the tension I felt.

“If your patent idea works out,” she said, “we’ll split the profits, minus whatever expenses I pay out of pocket. In exchange, I want the property Harney left you; the cabin, and everything else that’s rightfully mine. And one other thing”-her eyes locked onto mine-“it’s not important to me, but my citrus expert is the obsessive type. He’s convinced you know the location of a very special orange tree. The mother tree, he called it. Is that true?”

This is what I’d been waiting to hear. “I knew it,” I said, pointing a finger at her. “You hired a crazy man to follow me. He almost killed me the other day. Is that what you want?”

The woman started to get up, then decided it was wiser to stay where she was. “What in the world are you talking about? This is business, for god’s sake. Calm down and listen. I don’t give a damn about orange trees or some damn disease, but I do care about my financial security. When an expert I’m paying talks about millions in potential profit, I’m going to take his advice. You should, too.”

“Answer my question,” I said. “You hired Larry Luckheim to bully and intimidate-”

“Larry who?” The woman shook her head as if confused. “If you’re being followed, it’s because the word’s out, Hannah. People in the citrus industry talk. I guarantee, Kermit’s not the only one willing to steal your idea, or anything else, if there’s big money in it. How many people you think are combing this state right now, looking for some damn old tree? And not just your tree. Keep that in mind. There have to be others.”

I maintained eye contact. “Are there?”

Lonnie and her icy smile-I could picture her practicing in front of the mirror. “The two most dangerous animals on earth,” she said, “do you know what they are? I’ll tell you: stupid men and smart women. Hannah, the smart thing for us to do is to cooperate, join forces. You and your mother will never see one goddamn cent of Harney’s money if you don’t. Is that what you want?”

Her phone, which she had turned back on, rang. She looked, and said, “Oh shit, I’ve got to take this. Do you mind?”

She wanted privacy. Fine. The temptation was to put the ledger and the notebooks under my arm and march out the door. I could’ve done it. How would she stop me?

I didn’t, but she stopped me anyway by stepping in front of my SUV as I was leaving.

“Reggie’s dead,” she hollered, the phone still to her ear.

My window was down. I heard her plainly enough but demanded that she repeat what I didn’t want to believe.

“One of our Mexican guys just found him,” she said. “Suicide. He hanged himself. I thought you’d want to know.” She covered the phone and demanded, “Hannah, come back inside. We have too much in common-”

That’s all I heard before I drove away.