Read Online See Also Deception by Larry D. Sweazy - Free Book Online Page A

windows, including the door, were blacked out from the inside. It was a dark place even on a sunny day. There was no way I was going to catch a glimpse of Herbert Frakes unless I went inside.
    I glanced down at my watch, fully aware that if I stopped I was going to be away from Hank longer than I should be, but I couldn’t keep a growing thought from overtaking my mind: Calla would want you to check on Herbert .
    And then, as I steered the Studebaker over to the curb to park, I felt the first hint of anger erupt in the deepest part of my stomach. “If that were true, she wouldn’t have killed herself. Calla would still be here to look after Herbert like she always had,” I said aloud to no one but myself.
    I let my angry words dissipate inside the cab of the truck as I brought it to a halt, put it in park, and shut off the engine. The engine shimmied and protested like it had developed a cold, but I knew better. The Studebaker needed its points and plugs changed. I was behind on everything.
    I sighed and suddenly felt ashamed of my anger toward Calla. But I was angry with her. If she had just ended her life without reaching out for help, without calling me, then I had a right to be angry. At least I thought I did. I didn’t even know if she’d left a note explaining her reasons, what had led her down the path to do such a thing. No one—no one being Delia Finch, the only person I’d talked to who might know such a thing—had said whether she’d communicated anything. And I hadn’t asked. That woman had left me unnerved.
    Regardless of Calla’s unknown wishes, I needed to see if Herbert was inside the Wild Pony. If he was, maybe he’d have some information that would make sense of everything. Maybe he knew why Calla Eltmore had killed herself. If anyone knew, it would be Herbert.
    I took a quick second to put aside everything I was thinking and feeling. I peeked at myself in the rearview mirror and wondered if I was presentable enough to walk into a tavern. My face was pale and my lipstick, what there was of it, had nearly vanished. My lips looked like a newborn’s instead of a lady about town. I was embarrassed by the state of my hair, by my appearance as a whole, but I wasn’t sure that it mattered. I had never been a regular visitor to taverns. I hoped the inside was as black as the windows were on the outside.
    I straightened myself up the best I could, squared my shoulders, and pushed out of the truck. Hank Trumaine would be furious with me if he knew what I was about to do, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was as worried about Herbert as much as I wanted to find out what had happened to Calla.
    I hurried to the door of the Wild Pony, ignoring any traffic that passed by. I hunched down, hoping that no one would see me, recognize me. In a town where everyone seemed to know everyone’s business, the last thing I wanted to get around was that I was frequenting the Wild Pony while Hank lay paralyzed and blind in his bed.
    I stepped inside a closed vestibule, and garbled music met my ears. I recognized the song immediately—“I Guess I’m Crazy” by Jim Reeves. It was the number-one song in the nation, even though poor Jim had died in a plane crash in July. You couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing that song.
    Airplanes and musicians seemed like a deadly combination to me. I remembered the Buddy Holly tragedy in Clear Lake, Iowa. Death and wreckage in a cornfield. The fates had no sense of decency as far as I was concerned, but the irony that I was hearing a ghost singing a love song was not lost on me.
    I stopped before pushing through the second door that led directly into the tavern. I could smell thick cigarette smoke and the yeasty smell that came from the ancient presence of beer. I figured the drains were alive with the stuff. The Wild Pony served food, too, so there was a mixture of grease and burned meat in the air that did