Dinner with the Blakemores (The Blakemore Files Book 5) (3 page)

There were so many changes and challenges occurring with Odessa’s family.  As Big Sarge secured the front door, she watched her father’s movements, which had begun to get slower over the past few months as the pain in his right hip increased. Her mother, however, had not lost a step.  It still confounded her to no end how the woman had an outfit for every occasion. 

Dora was dressed smartly in camouflaged pants, black boots, and a black pea coat.  The true eye catcher was the scarf she wore around her neck. Before she could comment on it, Dora slid into the backseat of the truck, pelting Saxton with a million questions.

“Saxton, what has happened?  Is my baby okay?  Did she shoot Dwight?” Dora asked.

Big Sarge was struggling to climb up into the truck as Saxton’s eyes went to the rearview mirror.  On the steering wheel he pressed a button, and an extra step lowered from the running board, giving Big Sarge some additional footing to climb up and prop his good hip on the seat.  Odessa’s hand went to her husband’s arm. “So that’s what that button does.”

Saxton winked at her as Dora turned to her husband, grabbed him by the back of the coat, and pulled hard. Big Sarge landed on his back in the seat, his face almost in Dora’s lap, as she looked down at her husband. “Would you stop playing around, man, our baby may be in jail! Saxton, is she in jail?”

“We don’t know that, Ms. Dora,” he told her.

“Well, did she kill the bastard?” Dora implored.

“I have no knowledge of the status of Dwight,” Saxton told her as he kept his eye on Big Sarge, waiting for the rear truck door to close.

Dora was trying to remain cool. “Has she been arrested, Saxton?” she asked, her voice rising an octave.

Big Sarge was secured in the seat as Saxton put the big Ford into gear. “I am not aware if she has been arrested.” 

He remained cool as his mother-in-law formed a face he had never seen before on the woman.  Dora’s brow was furrowed, her mouth was tight, and she stared him down through his rearview mirror. “Well, what the hell do you know, Saxton?”

Saxton mumbled under his breath, “Now I know why Ryanne called me.” Odessa rubbed at his arm, while her other hand rubbed her belly trying to calm his son that was either turning in her womb or playing soccer.

Big Sarge was doing his best to calm his wife. “Dora, compose yourself.  I am certain that when she called Saxton, he made some calls and she is going to be okay until we get there.”  He patted his wife’s hand as he made eye contact with Saxton through the rearview mirror.  Saxton nodded his head in agreement.  Understandably, he too was worried and Dora wanted more details.

Saxton had none. She opened her mouth to say something that Big Sarge was certain would make Saxton want to climb in the backseat and throttle the woman, so he held his wife’s hand. “Dora, she will be safe until we get there.”

With his other hand, Big Sarge reached along the side of the seat to nudge Odessa’s arm.  She picked up on his cue and turned in her seat, as much as she could with a small watermelon-sized belly restricting her movements.  “Mom, that is an interesting scarf,” she said.  This of course changed the subject a bit. “Are those little dots on it?”

Dora used one hand to free the scarf from her neck so she could take a closer look at it. “No, those are Army ants.”

“You have a scarf with Army ants on it …” Odessa said and then she thought about where it could have come from and she got quiet.  Her mother would do the rest.

“Mary Jean sent me this for my birthday last month.  It is rather warm and of course it matched my outfit,” Dora said with pride.

Saxton’s eyes went to the rearview and looked at his in-laws in the backseat. They were exceptionally loving people and even better parents.  Some Saturdays, Saxton felt guilty for enjoying his fishing time alone with his father-in-law, because he could not remember the last time he had fished with his own father. As he drove to the airstrip, his eyes would periodically glance into the rearview mirror as Odessa soothed and occupied her mother by talking fashion.  A pang shot through him as he got a flash of a memory of his mom helping him pick out a tie for Easter morning service for church.
When this is all settled, I am going to head home for a few days.

“That’s nice, Saxton.  But it would be nicer if you could tell us where we are heading now.  You missed both exits to the airport,” Dora said loudly.

He had not realized he’d spoken the words aloud.  Then Big Sarge wanted to know the same thing as Saxton turned the truck down a dark road entering a landing field that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. “Saxton, son, where are we going?”

The crow’s feet around his eyes crinkled as he smiled into the rearview at Big Sarge.  “We are going to meet our ride.”

Odessa remained cool as the truck bumped along an unevenly paved road. Big Sarge’s mind was in overdrive. “Who are we meeting in a back field, some drug dealers?”  A wayward thought struck him as he grabbed the back of Odessa’s seat and leaned forward.  “Awww, hell naw! Are we using your Mexican drug dealer friend’s plane?”

“His name was Rentería, honey,” Dora chimed in.

Big Sarge wasn’t hearing any of it. “I don’t care if his name is Pancho Villa. What if we get shot down flying over US airspace?”

“Daddy, stop overreacting,” Odessa said softly.

“I don’t care if he borrowed the plane from Kay Zee, as long as we get to my baby,” Dora said with an uncharacteristic neck roll.

Saxton chuckled, giving his wife a sideways glance, “Odessa is she trying to say Jay Z?”

Odessa stared out the window as if she didn’t hear any of them.  In the distance, the bright lights of the runway seemed to be cranked up.  In the early sun of the morning, the lights of a plane could be seen as Saxton maneuvered the pick up to a small office.  In less than five minutes the plane was on the ground and turning.  It did not escape anyone’s notice that the side of the plane read Blakemore Oil.

“Saxton?  You have your own plane?” Dora asked with her eyes wide.

He shook his head as he opened his door, then his mother-in-law’s to help her out of the vehicle. “No, ma’am, it’s my brother’s plane.”

Big Sarge was mumbling as he opened his door and watched Saxton walk around the truck to assist Odessa. “You mean to tell me I bought all those commercial tickets to Puerto Rico when we could have been flying all high class like Kay Zee?”  Big Sarge said.

“Daddy, we flew commercial to Puerto Rico as well.  This is a favor Saxton called in for us … for Ryanne,” Odessa said as she took her husband’s hand.

The past hour and a half flew by so fast that the plane was not really the main issue; not knowing is what was bubbling to the surface.  As close as the Trodats were to Saxton, this was a part of his life that he never spoke about. The plane proved it and raised more questions; none of which he was ready to discuss or answer.

The stewardess opened the door to welcome them aboard the plane. The carpeting held the Blakemore logo with the oil rig in the center.  The leather seats of the plane were embossed with the same logo; so was the stewardess outfit.  The whole scene reeked of Blakemore money and pride.  Saxton seemed uncomfortable with all of it. The pilot came across the loudspeaker to offer an early morning greeting as the plane taxied and was back in the air.  “We are airborne to Corpus Christie.  Our flight time is a little over an hour.  Jeanine is back there to make you breakfast, get you coffee, and make sure you folks are comfortable during the flight.”

Big Sarge shifted in the seat but his eyes remained focused on his son-in-law. “At some point, Saxton, when you are ready, I would like to know why you gave all of this up.”

Saxton’s hand was interlaced with Odessa’s as he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. Over the years he had given up a lot. He, too, knew it was time to reclaim a great deal of it, not just for himself, but also for his son.

Puente Piedra, Colombia

When the call came in, Mariana wanted to turn the phone off and pretend she had not heard it ring. This was not good news.  Further, it was going to put her boss in a really bad mood for the remainder of the day.  Yet he needed to know.

Eduardo was not a man prone to violence.  In truth, it brought him more pleasure to be in his fields, checking his crops and caring for his workers.  However, he liked power.  He wanted a great deal of it, but he never could seem to get there.  Each two steps he gained, he was knocked back four.  Of the four Delgado brothers, only two were still alive, and Eduardo was without question the smartest of the lot.

Hugo, the eldest, a soldier for hire, was the one who craved power like an addict for chocolate.  Each day, each minute of his life, he aligned himself with powerful men, waiting for an opportunity to take over their lives and steal what they had earned. Andres, the second oldest, was a fool.  He supervised the production facilities for the farms that harvested the coffee and the coca.  For some damned reason, Andres decided he knew a better method to extract the cocaine from the coca leaves.  It is a delicate process of balancing the acids and solvents, but to test the product on himself was foolish.  He was found in the production house with a grotesque smile on his face.  Under Eduardo’s direction, Andres was given a closed casket funeral.  Their mother did not need to remember her son in that way.

Eduardo was the third son.  The keeper of the name.  The carrier of the line.  The father of the four children he was training to take over the family business.  However, the business was not nearly enough to put four children through school and he needed to branch out. Initially, he had no qualms with Rentería, and he respected the man, until he decided to go legit.  This cut Eduardo’s income by a fourth. It was a fourth too little.  There were many branches in his business; he could not allow a single leaf to hit the ground without directing its path. Rentería had ventured from the footpath.  Worse than venturing off, he didn’t take anyone with him on the new journey.  This is what truly irritated Eduardo.

Mariana joined him on the lanai as he read through a periodical on harvesting techniques.  He looked up when she walked out. “You know, Mariana, it is a sad day when you cannot even trust the bad guy to stay bad.”

She froze in her steps.  Eduardo knew she had a bad update. “Don’t be shy, my dear, tell me more information that is going to ruin my day.”

She was trying to remain strong as she delivered the news. “Dwight Dobbins has been shot.  He is in Mercy General in Corpus Christie. I do not know, Seńor, if he is going to make it.”

Eduardo rose slowly from the seat.  He inhaled deeply and exhaled with purpose. These were the times which frightened Mariana the most, when he seemed very calm.

“Who put the bullet in him?”

Mariana stepped back before delivering the news. “His wife.”

The silver tipped boot came up and out with force as he kicked the wood post that held up the roof.  It hurt his toe as he balanced on one foot, hopping about the patio, swearing like a sailor in a whorehouse. “
Ay Dios Mio
!  What does it take to kill those damned people?”

He flopped down in the chair, raising his leg to rest on the footstool.  The fight seemed to have left him.  Mariana spoke softly. “Is there anything I can do for you, Seńor?”

His fingers were over his eyes, rubbing softly, trying to hold back the pain. “
Sí, por favor
.  Please call
el doctor
.  I think I have broken my toe.”

Corpus Christie, TX

Ryanne watched the mouthpiece that Saxton had hired to speak with the police as she sat clutching her purse.
Great, I grabbed my purse with my phone but didn’t put on any panties
. Photos were taken of her face, the side of her head, her ankles, and the bruises to her back where she had fallen on the floor in her attempts to escape Dwight’s assault.  What she could not escape were his words. Mean words.  Nasty words.  Ugly words that kept coming at her face like hard blows crushing the bones that supported her smile.
I thought he loved me.  All of that.  All of it was to get to my sister
?

A ruckus was taking place in the lobby and she knew her parents had arrived.  She checked the clock on the wall. 8:15. Four hours.  Just like he promised. Saxton had brought the cavalry, but for Ryanne, it was too late.  The herd was already out of the fence and her faith had been rustled by sidewinder that had sunk his fangs deep into her psyche. She had known better than to kill him, but there would be several things he would never be able to do again.  At the top of that list was hurt another woman; following in a close second was the ability to be a father. Dwight was physically broken but so were her spirits.

Odessa walked through the door first.  Her rounded belly pointing at Ryanne, reminding her of something else she was not going to have with her husband. She was only older than Odessa by a year, but her sister was more like their father.  She had a quick wit and an outgoing personality.  Everyone who met her instantly liked her and men all wanted to be with her.  It wasn’t as if she was the prettiest girl in the room. She was just always in the damned room.  Filling it up with her
Odessaness
.

It wasn’t as if she was jealous of her sister, but secretly, she coveted her confidence.  There was no doubt that Ryanne was the smartest of the three children. She was proud of the two master’s degrees she had earned, as well as a doctorate in finance, but relationships had never been her thing.  When Dwight came on so strong, then asked for her hand in marriage, Ryanne was overjoyed.  She was going to be married, have a family, a career, and be happy.
Happy
. Right now, she was happy she had put a bullet in him.

Her parents burst through the door, startling the large lawyer.

“Baby, what happened?” Dora implored.

“Are you alright, Pumkin’?” Big Sarge wanted to know.

Odessa only held her sister’s hand as Saxton stood in the corner watching the family rally around his crumpled sister-in-law. The bruises on her face took him back to a memory that he often tried to forget.

“Oh my God, look at her face,” Dora was crying as she pulled her child into her bosom, trying to rock away the pain. Ryanne’s eyes were glazed and trying to connect to her family.

“What do you need, Pumkin?” Big Sarge asked.

Through dry lips and a quivering tongue, the only words that Ryanne uttered since calling 911 were spoken now. “Take me home, Daddy.”

Big Sarge leaned in to whisper in Ryanne’s ear, “Sure thing, sweetie, but I have to know, did you kill that mutherf-…”

Odessa called to him, “Daddy!” 

He wasn’t hearing it.  “Aww hell!  Y’all wanted to know, too, but just didn’t want to ask.  Saxton, all over in the corner with that plausible deniability shit. I want to know did she kill that rotten mutherf-…”

“Daddy!” Odessa called again.

Big Sarge was muttering under his breath, “I’m just saying, ‘Dessa.  You gonna pull the trigger, you need to drop him like a sack of shit ... that low down, conniving mutherf-…”

“Daddy, please. She is upset and traumatized.  You are not helping,” Odessa implored.

Saxton was speaking with the attorney, making sure they would be able to take her home. Bertha Stollings handed her business card to every member of the family. “Just make sure when she comes back to get her belongings and anything else from that house, you call me first.”

Saxton handed her a business card for Blakemore Imports and Collectibles. “Will do.  Make sure you send the bill to this address and I will take care of it.”

Ryanne, still clad in a nightgown and robe, was covered with Big Sarge’s coat as they all headed out the door, back to the airfield.  Technically, they could not take her from the city, but right now, Ryanne needed to be home. 

Saxton was feeling the same way. It was time to head home for minute to reconnect with his own family.