“You know, we’ve been neighbors for five years now. When I first came around here you had a Sam Elliott thing going on. Now you look like Sam Elliott’s granddad.”
“Gee thanks, Margo. Maybe I should go get a dog so you can kick it,” Buddy Lee said. Margo shook her head a few times.
“That’s not an insult. It’s an observation. You drink too much and you don’t eat enough. You look like you get an hour of sleep every couple of weeks. You need to get that cough checked out. Those are just facts. My first, he had a cough he wouldn’t check out, then he checked out,” Margo said. Buddy Lee wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The world wasn’t spinning but it was doing a little soft shoe. The bourbon and the beer were having a bar fight in his guts, and his stomach was threatening to kick both of them out. The last thing he needed to do was throw up in front of his well-meaning but nosy neighbor. It would probably be more red than brown, and that would just invite a lot of questions he wasn’t in any kind of mood to answer.
“I told ya, I’m fine, Margo. Just been a long week. Hell, it’s been a long year,” Buddy Lee said. Margo’s face softened just a bit.
“I know. I’m sorry about your boy. I’ve buried four husbands, but I don’t know what I’d do if I had to see one of my girls go in the ground. It should be against the law for parents to see that shit,” she said. Buddy Lee felt his eyes moisten without any warning.
“Yeah. Yeah it should. Well, I’m gonna go on inside now and go in a coma,” Buddy Lee said.
“Alright. But you need anything, just holler. I’m out back in the garden.”
“Didn’t Artie tell you to dig that garden up?” Buddy Lee asked with a wink. Margo’s lips curled up at the corners.
“Yeah, and I told him if I had to dig up my tomato garden I might be so depressed I might let it slip I’d seen him sneak into that Carson girl’s trailer while his wife was at work at the nursing home.”
Buddy Lee whistled.
“You drive a hard bargain, don’t you?”
“Hey, he shouldn’t be dipping his wick in that girl’s wax. He ought to be glad I caught him instead of his wife or that Carson girl’s boyfriend. I just can’t for the life of me figure how she can stand the smell of him.”
Buddy Lee laughed.
“Me neither. Well, like I said, I’m gonna get some sleep.” Buddy Lee stepped up onto the cinder block and grabbed his doorknob.
“I’m making spaghetti tonight. Gonna use my big beef tomatoes for the sauce. You more than welcome to come over and get a plate,” Margo said.
“You not gonna poison me like you did your husbands, are you?” Buddy Lee asked. Margo rolled her eyes.
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“That seems to have been the general consensus most of my life,” Buddy Lee said. Margo grunted.
“The sauce probably be ready around seven. I know you miss your boy but you gotta eat. He wouldn’t want you go to seed,” Margo said. She strolled back across the driveway and disappeared around her trailer. Buddy Lee stared after her for a few moments. Margo wasn’t a bad-looking woman. He pegged her at fifty or fifty-five. A few years older than him but she was in way better shape. She worked down at the Lowe’s as a lawn-and-garden specialist. For most of the five years they had been neighbors she’d had what she termed a “friend with some benefits,” who sometimes spent the night. Buddy Lee had seen him through his kitchen window a few times. A big ol’ hoss with a crew cut who drove an old Jeep Wagoneer with a faded MITT ROMNEY FOR PRESIDENT bumper sticker. Crew Cut hadn’t been around much these past few months. He wondered if that had anything to do with Margo inviting him over for dinner?
“Get your head out of your ass. She was just being nice. That’s all. That’s all you gonna get nowadays,” Buddy Lee murmured. He went inside his trailer and kicked off his boots before peeling off his shirt. The AC sounded like someone had tossed it in a washing machine. It clanged and wheezed asthmatically, but at least it seemed to be actually working today. The cool air made gooseflesh pop up all across his back and chest.
Buddy Lee’s eyes had just closed as he sprawled across his couch, when someone began pounding on his door. He groaned as he sat up and his feet hit the floor.
“Damn it, Margo, I said I was fine,” he mumbled as he opened the door.
Det. LaPlata was standing on his bottom cinder block. He was alone except for his shield and his gun.