do something about that goddamn cat.” Ambush was now up, back arched at Earl’s loud voice. “If it was up to me, I’d nail that damn cat to a tree.”
* * *
Which Ambush did. She jumped lightly to the floor and sped from the room.
“I’d watch running my mouth about nailing things to trees,” Jolene said under her breath.
“You know what they say?” Earl grinned. “To a man with a hammer everything looks like a nail.”
“I’d watch my mouth if I were you,” Jolene repeated, louder.
“Or what?”
“You said you were going to
“I did
“So you got mad.”
“Jolene, whatever I did I did for you. We’re in it together. You told me all about his cutting hangups because he talked about them in AA. How the cops had to come unnail him from the bathroom door in the basement. Same wrist. I used the scar for a guide.”
“You didn’t have to waste the guy, goddammit.”
“Me? He fucking
“It was dumb and wrong and unnecessary,” Jolene said. “Milt will be into the trust in a month. .”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Earl countered. “Hank’s got an ex-wife in Michigan and one in St. Paul. They could tie it up.”
“We’re just lucky no cops have been going around interviewing all Stovall’s clients,” Jolene said.
“Hey”-Earl stabbed with his finger- “if I ever have to do any explaining, I’ll explain the part about you feeding me his cutting habits first. Maybe we don’t make it anymore, honey, but we’re still linked at the hips-just like NoDak.”
North Dakota. As always, Jolene recoiled from the memory of the ice age cold and that cowboy clerk’s scuffed boot soles doing their backward flip. So she changed the subject. She took out a fresh diaper, a baby wipe, and talcum powder. She said, “How could you grow up and never change a diaper?”
Earl made a face. “That isn’t a baby’s butt; that’s a rude old guy’s.”
Efficiently, Jolene peeled away Hank’s gown, removed the diaper and, as she carried it to the diaper caddy, she wrinkled her nose. “Something’s different,” she said, weighing the sodden weight in her hand.
“Yeah, him out there, he’s different,” Earl said, jerking a thumb toward the muffled sound of splitting oak.
“He’s handy,” Jolene said. She dropped the diaper into the can and let the top fall. Then she swabbed Hank with a wipe and dusted him with talc. Then she scooted an arm under the small of his back and levered him up to slide the new diaper under him.
“The Yellow Pages are full of guys who are handy,” Earl said.
“I kind of like this one,” Jolene said, pulling Hank’s gown into place.
“Hey, look,” Earl said, “you’re almost a rich widow. You have this big house and you’re surrounded by these guys who want to get into your pants. Allen for sure, maybe Milt, now this Broker guy. .”
“Yeah, so, tell me something I don’t already know,” Jolene said.
“How about you need some protection. And guidance.”
“Earl, what I’m trying to tell you is I don’t need your kind of protection.”
“Hey, wait a minute here,
Jolene smoothed wrinkles out of Hank’s sheets. “True. I was. But now I’m better. And I don’t need your protection,” she repeated firmly. “That’s why I have a lawyer.”
Her last remark clearly alarmed Earl. “Hey, Jolene, word of advice. You try going from Wal-Mart to Nordstrom too fast, you’re going to get the bends.”
“Oh yeah? How’m I doing?” Jolene asked, sticking out her chin.
Now Earl threw his change-up and became genial. “Jolene, honey,” he said, coming forward, arms wide as if to embrace her, “who’s always been there for you?”
She moved in swiftly and poked a stiff finger into his sternum. “Right. And I appreciate it.” Another poke. “And I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” she said.
“Taken care of?” Earl slapped her hand away, his expression curdled. “That sounds on the minimal side.”
“Not at all. I kept track and wrote it all down in a notebook, the amounts you spent putting me through treatment and what you gave me the last few weeks. We’ll come up with a figure we agree on. See?” And she let him have another sharp poke.
“Ow.” The annoyance on Earl’s face quick-fused to anger. He reached out and grabbed her hand below the wrist before she could poke him again. His knuckles blanched white and purple as he powerfully wrenched her toward him.
“You’re hurting me,” Jolene said between clenched teeth.
They glared at each other, Jolene up on her tiptoes, yanking her hand to free her trapped wrist.
Earl pointed out the window with his other hand, in the direction of the woodpile. “Cut the shit, Jolene. Now you get rid of him or I will. And if I do, it won’t be pretty.” He released her hand.
Jolene stepped back and triumphantly massaged the bruising already evident on her wrist. “You know what? I think you better watch yourself around this guy.”
An awkward amount of time passed. Too long for a simple bed check. Broker had finished the wood and now waited, sitting on the chopping block with the maul across his knees. When Jolene left she’d been breezy and confident. When she finally stepped back out onto the deck and approached him she had washed her face and put on lipstick. And her posture and gait were guarded. She held her right arm tucked close, protectively.
“I think you better go,” she said. Her eyes did not quite rise to his. “It’s got a little tense around here.”
“Uh-huh.” Broker got to his feet.
“I don’t know exactly how to put this.” She glanced back at the house. “I’m afraid you could get hurt.”
Broker ignored her last remark and tugged at the cuff of her right sleeve and saw the bracelet of blood bruising on her wrist.
“That’s going to show,” he said.
“I’ll wear long sleeves.”
“I owe your husband a big favor, more than chopping wood can repay,” Broker said slowly.
Jolene shook her head. “Earl’s my problem. And I have to learn how to handle him.”
He could still walk away. But maybe this was his entry into the curious dynamics of this house. So he said it and went over the line. “How about I just teach him some manners.”
After another of their loud silences, he reached in his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed a card on which was printed:
The card was history-an artifact of his undercover persona. He was following his reflexes but he was working in midair, without a badge, without authorization.
But it felt good.
He took a pen from his jacket pocket, crossed out the old Stillwater address, and wrote down J.T.’s phone number and handed her the card. “I’ll be at that number for the next two days. You think about it.”
Jolene looked at the card, then at him. “You sure?”
Broker nodded. “Like I say, you think it over. Now, I’m going to put this away and leave.” He hefted the
