But I wasn’t going to.
Not until this thing with Scott was finished. And probably not even then.
We made some small talk and drank our beers until Scott and Donner rose and shook Skeet Brookings’s hand. The men all took their leave, Skeet, carrying a handful of brochures, jetting off before the other two. Five minutes after they’d all pulled out of the parking lot, Griffin and I climbed back on the motorcycle. Ten minutes later we pulled up in front of a modest brick house set against the choppy gray waters of Caddo Lake. Cypress dressed in Spanish moss clustered in the shallows, and an old pier stretched into the embrace of the lake, a single johnboat rocking against the weathered wood. A shiny orange tractor sat to the side of the house, a grown man’s toy for playing in the dirt. The grounds were clean, the flower beds freshly planted, and the view amazing. Like taking a deep breath just looking at it.
Skeet sat on the front porch amid five hummingbird feeders. Oddly enough, he didn’t look surprised to see us.
“Come on up and get some iced tea. Martha just made some, and it’s getting hotter than two rats making whoopee in a wool sock,” Skeet said, petting an old dog that rose up and gave a long stretch before settling back down at his feet.
For one thing: it wasn’t that hot. For another, this man didn’t seem like someone who had much money. But I knew that looks were deceiving. And last, that dog looked to be on its last leg, bless it.
“How are ya, Skeet?” Griffin said, hanging his helmet on the handlebars and setting the one I was holding on the seat of the Harley. “Been a minute.”
“A-yup,” he said, eyeing me with interest. “You been catching any lately?”
“Haven’t been in a few weeks. Busy.”
Skeet raised his bushy eyebrows. “I remember the hustle.”
Griffin stepped back as I climbed the steps. “Uh, this is Mad—”
“Catherine Ann Crosby,” I said, electing to not lie to this man. Something seemed very wrong in that, even though I appreciated Griffin’s attempt to keep my identity a secret. “You just met with my husband and Donner Walker at the Channel Marker.”
“I figured that’s why you were here. Saw you both there.” He tapped the brochures, giving a smile that showed nice dental work. The teeth always told the tale. Skeet Brookings had a mouthful of crowns and veneers. “I ain’t so much a fool that I can’t spot what those two were up to. But I’m polite-like, so I took the meeting. Been doing banking with your husband and his daddy before him for years.”
I sank into a rocking chair just as a woman came out, wearing an honest-to-God frilled apron and carrying a tray with iced tea and shortbread cookies.
“Well, now, it’s so nice to have company. I saw y’all comin’ up the road and put out some cookies I just baked. Lord knows Peter doesn’t need all of them. His cardiologist would appreciate y’all helping him out by taking some.” She set the tray on the small wooden table between the rockers and brushed her hands. “I’m Martha Brookings, Peter’s wife of nearly sixty years. Can you believe that? Sixty years. Can’t get rid of me now, you old coot. I know your secrets.”
Skeet slapped her behind. “Don’t matter. I keep you for your cookin’， woman.”
Martha looked pleased about that. “I hope y’all will excuse me. I got a roast in the oven, so I’ll just leave you to your business.”
She disappeared, and Griffin immediately dug into the iced tea and cookies.
I looked Mr. Brookings in the eye. “You’re right. What my husband and Donner are up to is exactly why I’m here, Mr. Brookings.”
“Skeet, please.”
“So, Skeet, my husband is either having a midlife crisis, he’s fallen into a pile so deep he can’t get out, or he’s just a total butthole, pardon my language. And honestly, it could be all three. That being said, since he and I will be severing our relationship soon and I’m trying to protect myself and my daughter, I’m hoping you will help me out. I’m asking for your discretion, please. If you can’t give me that, I’ve probably already said too much. But Griffin trusts you.”
“For good reason. I’m what they call ‘good people,’ Mrs. Crosby. Spent my whole life trying to choose right over wrong. Jesus is my Lord and Savior, and I regard him as my ultimate authority.”
I assumed that meant he wasn’t going to go squealing to Scott about this little visit. “That’s admirable, Skeet. So what exactly are Scott and Donner up to?”