Dead Pile by Pamela Fagan Hutchins

Author:Pamela Fagan Hutchins [Hutchins, Pamela Fagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, women sleuths, Romance, suspense
ISBN: 9781939889829
Google: L1qGDwAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 43706914
Publisher: Skipjack Publishing
Published: 2019-05-05T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Seven

Two hours later, Maggie heads to the arena for the finals of the rodeo. Hank hasn’t shown up, called, or texted. She’s not going to miss seeing what she came for—the Double S stock in all their glory. But with Hank’s latest explosion, Travis’s words are haunting her.

Gene shouts over a line of people at the gate. “Maggie, wait up.”

She waves and does.

“Have you seen Hank?” he asks.

“Not since he almost beat a guy’s ass for flirting with me.”

“Shit. Then he’s probably half a bottle of whiskey down at a trailer somewhere out there, with an old-timer who doesn’t realize he needs to send him on his way.”

Maggie pulls Gene out of line, away from all the ears. “What’s with him, Gene? Is he always like this? He’s scaring me.”

Gene sighs. “Which question do you want me to answer first?”

“Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Let’s walk.” They head inside the arena, where the sounds of the “Star-Spangled Banner” begin and swell as the crowd sings along. He raises his voice in her ear to be heard over the music. “Okay, first, he’s not always like this.”

Maggie exhales, loudly. “Thank God.”

“He is occasionally.”

“I liked your first answer better.”

“You know about his brain injury? God—I hope you do, or I’ll catch hell for spilling it.”

“I do.” Maggie shows her contractor badge to the attendant at the entrance, as does Gene.

“Good. From time to time, he needs adjustments. The headaches start again. Mood swings. Loss of control.”

They head up a ramp toward the box with their reserved seats.

“But the adjustments work?”

“They always have before.”

Maggie balls her fists. “So he needs to see his doctor.”

“That’s the challenge.”

“Why?”

“By the time he needs it, he’s less rational.”

“Tell me about it.”

The two of them swim upstream against traffic in the corridor, weaving around clusters of people like salmon in a river full of boulders. Their box is on the exact opposite side of the arena from the entrance, so it’s a long swim.

“More emotional.”

“Um, yeah.”

“And less open to suggestion.”

“Completely.”

“But the jealousy—that’s a new thing.”

“Protectiveness.”

“What?”

“Hank is just trying to protect me.”

“Okay, protectiveness. That’s since you. Other women just haven’t mattered that much before.”

“That’s a backhanded compliment if I’ve ever heard one.”

“But the point is, I think you can get him there. To the doctor. Because you matter to him.”

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

Gene’s phone rings. “It’s Laura.”

Fear grips Maggie, along with a little guilt. Hank doesn’t need any more blows right now. Should she have gone easier on him, since she knows he’s having trouble? “Take it.”

Gene listens, frowns, paces, and finally says, “I’ll get on it.”

“Well?”

“Mrs. Sibley is threatening to slaughter your goats.”

Maggie barks out a laugh.

“They got out—”

“Again.”

“Again. And they left pellets all over the front steps and jumped on the hood of her car and dented it. She said to tell you, and I quote, ‘They’re meat, not pets.’”

Maggie enters the box. “Hopefully we can get back before she proves it.”

After she’s settled, Gene returns to the pens, and Maggie watches the rodeo alone, sipping a beer and dining on peanuts she buys from the beer guy roaming the stands.

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