Read Online Big Red Tiquila - Rick Riordan by Rick Riordan - Free Book Online Page A

sorcerers in medieval
times."
    White looked pleased. "Is that so?"
    He carefully placed the verbena into its new home and
patted down the dirt. The little clusters of flowers were cotton
candy blue. They matched Mr. White’s ensemble perfectly.
    “ This is the first year the Blue Princess variety
is available," he explained. “From England. It’s only being
offered commercially in South Texas. Quite an opportunity."
    I wiped the back of my neck. “You always do your
planting in the middle of the afternoon?"
    White laughed. When he sat back on his heels I
realized for the first time what a large man he was. Even with me
sitting and him kneeling we were almost eye eve.
    “ Verbena is a hearty plant, Mr. Navarre. It looks
delicate but it demands full sunlight, aggressive pruning,
well-drained soil. This is the best time to plant it. Many people
make the mistake of pampering their verbena, you see—they’re
afraid to cut the blooms, they over-water or overshade. Treat verbena
with gentleness and it mildews, Mr. Navarre. One can’t be afraid to
be aggressive."
    “ Is that your business philosophy too? Is that the
way it was ten years ago?"
    Not a wrinkle marred Guy White’s face. His smile
was the smile of the Redeemed, of a man with no troubles in this
world or the next. "I think, Mr. Navarre, that you may be
operating under some faulty assumptions."
    I spread my hands. “It wouldn’t be the first
time. Maybe you could set me straight?"
    “ If I can." His digging had uprooted a
six-inch earth-worm, and when White stabbed his trowel into the dirt
it cut the worm neatly in half. White didn’t seem to notice. He
removed his leather gloves and took a long drink from his glass of
ice tea before speaking. “I had nothing to do with your father’s
death, my boy."
    “ I feel better already."
    White shook his head. "I’m afraid if you’ve
inherited Sheriff Navarre’s stubbornness there’s little point in
our talking."
    “ He made your life uncomfortable for several years.
There are plenty of people who still say you got away with his
murder."
    White pulled his gloves back on and started troweling
the second row of Blue Princess. Under the shadow of his hat brim,
his pleasant smile didn’t waver at all. "I’ve been the
convenient answer for many criminal questions in the past, Mr.
Navarre. I’m aware of that. "
    "In the past."
    “ Exactly. Would you hand me the 19-5-9, please?"
    "Pardon?"
    “ The fertilizer, my boy, next to your foot. You may
not know that in recent years I’ve done my best to give back to the
community. I’m pleased to be thought of as a good citizen, a patron
for many causes. I’ve been actively cultivating that role, and I
much prefer it to the undeserved reputation I had in my younger
days."
    "I’m sure. Murdering, drug dealing—hardly
the sort of thing you can talk about at the Kiwanis Club."
    White stabbed his trowel back into the dirt, up to
the handle this time. He was still smiling when he looked up, but the
lines around his eyes revealed just a bit of frayed patience.
    "I want you to understand me, Mr. Navarre. Your
father never made my life as difficult as it was after he a died,
when I was subjected to all sorts of scrutiny, all sorts of
witch-hunters looking for someone to blame for I his murder. I’ve
worked for many years since then to build back my position in the
community, and I am not anxious to have that position compromised
with groundless speculation that should have been put to rest long
ago. I hope I’m being clear?"
    While White was talking, Lubbock had ambled across
the lawn. He was now standing respectfully a few yards away, holding
a cell phone and waiting to be summoned forward. White let him wait.
    “ Do we understand each other?" White asked me,
very quietly.
    I nodded. "How was it you used to kill your
rivals, anyway—bullets through the eyes? I forgot. "
    For an instant White’s face froze. Then, slowly,
his smile rebuilt itself. He let out his breath.