Chapter 17
“… all I can say is that he was a loser, okay?” Robert Huber’s voice was raspy over the wireless connection.
Seated in her Subaru and sipping from a to-go cup of sweet tea, Nikki had pulled onto a side street a few blocks from the river.
With the sunroof open, she felt the heat of the day seep into the car.
She’d put in several calls to people who knew Billy Huber, and finally his brother in Atlanta had returned the call.
Robert continued. “I would never have loaned him a dime, but he was my brother, and hell, I liked his wife. I felt sorry for him about their kid dying and then the accident with Linda-Sue, but it was a mistake. Terry told me not to do it, but I guess I’m a soft touch, and Billy promised me that when the life insurance on Linda-Sue came in, he’d pay me back.
Like that ever happened.” Robert Huber’s voice was raspy over the wireless connection.
“And now he’s dead, and I’m out ten K. Not counting interest. Unless I can get it back from his estate, but I’ve seen his place.
It’s gonna cost more to clean it up than it’s worth, if you ask me. ”
Nikki didn’t argue.
“When is the last time you saw your brother?” she asked.
“I can tell you to the day. Christmas Eve eight years ago. That was when the first payment was due. I went to that hellhole he called home, and he wasn’t there.
I waited. He came back near midnight drunk as a skunk.
We got into it, and he promised he’d get me the money the next week.
Of course, that was the end of it. I mean, what can you expect from such a lowlife?
Merry Christmas and screw you, that’s all, excuse my French. ”
“And after that you never came back?” Nikki asked, staring out the window and watching a bicyclist weave in and out of traffic.
“Nope. I was afraid of what might happen. Billy had a temper, fought with just about everybody he knew aside from Linda-Sue, and I’m not proud to say that I’ve got one, too.
So I thought it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, though I was about to take him to court, even go on one of those TV judge shows if I had to.
Well, that won’t work now, will it? Guess I waited too long.
Seems like Billy pissed off someone who took it a step too far. ”
“You have any idea who that might be?” The biker turned a far corner as shadows stretched across the street.
A bitter laugh erupted. “Anyone who came across him. Just go through his phone contacts, and go down the list. I’ll bet the son of a bitch is someone he knew.”
She asked a few more questions, got no more information, and ended the conversation with Robert Huber promising to call her if he thought of anything else that might help.
As for his suggestion about checking Huber’s contacts, she was certain the police had that covered. The same went for Mavis Greenlee. A shame the two victims didn’t run in the same circles. It would have made her job, and Pierce’s, a lot easier.
She drove to the newspaper office and grabbed an open desk, where she called Billy Huber’s daughter, but Janelle McGowan was just as unpleasant as she had been when Nikki had met her at her father’s place.
“I don’t see why I would bother with a funeral,” Janelle told her. “Who would come? It’s not like Billy had any friends.”
“I just thought people might want to pay their respects to your father,” Nikki said as she’d hope to attend and see exactly who would show up.
Janelle barked out a laugh. “Who would that be? Huh? Tell me who respected Billy Huber? Not even his own damned brothers. In fact, I heard Uncle Bob once call him a jerk-off on steroids. How’s that for some kind of epitaph? Maybe I should put that on a tombstone.”
Nikki tried another tack. “It seems to me your dad was religious. He had a lot of Bibles.”
“Oh. Well. I’ll bet you dollars to donuts he got them on some kind of super sale somewhere or found them in a donation bin.
Or even stole them from the local church’s aid society, the one my mom belonged to.
What was it? Birds for Christ or something?
But, come on, religious? My old man? Not much.
Mom—yeah, she was a true believer, even after my brother died, maybe even more so, I don’t know.
I wasn’t there. But, Billy? No way. Whatever deal he had with God was …
let’s just say ‘unique.’ Okay? Oh, I know he claimed to believe the whole Christian thing, you know.
Jesus being the son of God and all that, but he sure didn’t live his life in Christ’s footsteps, if you know what I mean. ”
Nikki did. The one thing that Billy Huber seemed to have in common with Mavis Greenlee was living a pretty non-Christian life and yet displaying the trappings of faith.
“Just ask Reverend Stark how many times he saw Billy in church,” Janelle went on.
“I bet it wouldn’t be more than a three-fingered lumberjack could count on one hand.
” She laughed at her own joke. “So, no funeral. Instead, I’m having the old son of a bitch cremated, and I’ll probably spread his ashes over all the crap he collected, just before I sell it or have it hauled off to the junkyard.
And don’t try to sell me on an obituary for your damned paper.
Okay? Not interested.” With that, she ended the connection, but it wasn’t a total loss, as Nikki was left with one new piece of information.
Not only were Mavis Greenlee and Billy Huber mutually despised by just about everyone, but they both were connected to the All Christian Church, where Reverend Westin Stark was the pastor and where her own mother attended services.
“Good to see you again, Nicole,” she murmured, sarcastically repeating the pastor’s quiet rebuke earlier, as she searched the Internet and newspaper archives for more information on the pastor.
She quickly learned he’d gotten into trouble in high school, serious trouble that had landed him in juvenile detention.
It was no surprise that his elementary school bullying and harassment had continued; the court records had been sealed, but she knew enough about his misdeeds to read between the lines.
And, while serving his sentence, lo and behold, Westin Stark had found God, which led to his current career.
Once he was a free man and an adult, apparently he’d discovered preaching and that he was not only good at it, but there was money to be made and social status to be gained.
The newly reformed sinner had gone on to school and joined the clergy, and now not only had he returned to Savannah and accumulated an adoring flock, he’d also begun his own podcast, which provided counseling, prayer, and religious guidance to thousands of people all over the country.
“Impressive,” she said under her breath as she tried to equate the preacher with the kid who had pushed her into the boys’ restroom in elementary school and forced her head into the grossest toilet she’d ever seen.
He’d paid for that particular sin by being expelled. Rumors were that he’d gone on to stealing cars and breaking into houses.
All before finding Jesus. Hallelujah and praise the Lord! Nikki thought unkindly, as that particular childhood trauma could hardly be forgotten or forgiven.
“No luck?” Roy asked, breaking her out of her nightmarish reverie as he breezed past her desk.
Seeing her expression, he backpedaled to pause and drape an arm over the panel separating her cubicle from the next.
His striped shirt was pressed, white collar starched, and he was wearing horn-rimmed glasses for a very studious and put-together look.
“Luck?” She shook her head. “Not today.”
“Any day?” he teased.
She smiled. “It’s not that bad. Some days are better than others.”
He leaned down and whispered, “Be careful. Fink is in a really bad mood.”
“When is he not?”
Roy’s voice lowered even more. “Someone messed with his baby.”
“What?” she whispered, heart clutching. Tom had three kids, a daughter who was around Nikki’s age from his first marriage and two other children now in junior high. “Oh, God.”
“Oh, no,” Roy was quick to interject when he saw her reaction. “His kids are fine, far as I know.” He lowered his voice even more. “It’s worse than that.”
“What could be—”
“Someone keyed his car.”
“The Corvette?” she whispered and saw Roy trying to smother a smile.
“Yep.” He nodded and managed to mold his lips into a frown. “It’s sad.”
“You know who did it,” she accused.
Roy held up both hands, palms out. “I do not. But”—giving a shrug—“I can’t help appreciating the sentiment.”
“Someone left a message?”
He leaned closer. “Yes.” His eyes glinted with a deliciously evil light. “They wrote: Man-whore. Along the driver’s side. Scratched all the way through the paint.”
“Oh, dear God.” Fink loved his car. Drove it around town with the top down in all weather.
“If you ask me, it’s his wife. You know they’re split, right? D-I-V-OR-C-E. Gasp!” he said theatrically.
She had heard.
“Or maybe it was Celeste. She’s been waiting for years, and he’s just strung her along. So maybe she’s had it,” Roy mused. “Who would blame her, and even if he is getting a divorce, she might have decided enough is enough.”
“And vandalized his car.”
“You know what they say about hell’s fury and a woman scorned. So … just a reminder: Fink’s on the war path.”
“Not PC,” she said, as Roy straightened.
“I know. I’m not. Gotta run. Forewarned is forearmed. Right? But just be careful. Who knows what Fink will do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, Nikki, you know he’s had it in for you for years.”
“You think he would fire me? He can’t. I’m freelance.”