Author's Note: Hello! A few words to reviewers: I love the German review! Anyone wanting to share your reaction in your own language, please know I don't mind translating it online and I'm pretty excited people in different countries read my story :) Also to Mary asking for the update, that was absolutely delightful. Sorry for the delay!
*This chapter contains brief adult language and some mature themed content.
"You did what?" Lucy asks Boone as he pours her wine on their backyard deck, the late afternoon sun dappling her long blonde hair with golden light.
"I resigned. I had to," he says. "And I'm lucky they let me."
Lucy listens for the next hour as Boone tells her what he did with that officer's glove Sue Ellen found in the road and how Candy the lab tech tried to blackmail him with it.
He leans back in the adirondack chair and sighs when the story's over. Lucy looks at her husband slumped in his chair and a familiar fire ignites in her.
"I can't wait to tell John Ross about this mess," she says. "His parents are still ruining people's lives as they climb their own mountains."
"No, uh uh, we're not gonna do that," Boone says. "What I did was my choice, mine alone."
"But Sue Ellen jumped the gun," Lucy says. She blabbed to the press about having evidence proving that DUI stop was staged when you told her to keep quiet about that damn glove. This is her fault, not yours."
"I did what I did, no one else is to blame. Don't get caught in that trap, baby. Let's just own up to my mistake and move on down the road with a clear conscience."
"Yeah, that's exactly what we'll be doing, moving," Lucy says. How will we pay for this place without your income? I know what we'll do. I'll sell some of my shares and I don't want to hear any of that preaching about Ewing money buying our way out from you - "
"Already took care of things," Boone says, "so holster your pistol girl, though you sure light my fire when you get bossy."
He leans across the table and kisses the worry off her face.
"I got me a new job that pays twice a policeman's salary," he says. "Some nice benefits too, like travel."
"Oh let me guess, you're gonna haul oil across this State like the half the men around here. You'll be gone weeks at a time, Boone. And someone's fooling you about the pay. There's no way truckers make that much money, hazardous material or otherwise."
"Nope. Ain't gonna be truckin'. Guess again."
"I'm not in the mood for a guessing game right now," Lucy says but Boone's charming smile and warm hand on hers makes her humor him.
"Fine. My next and last guess is a rodeo bookie. That's the only way you could make that kind of money," she says and empties her wine in two swallows.
"Wrong again," Boone says. "Seems your Aunt Sue Ellen ain't as cold-hearted as you would have me believe, little lady. She hired me as her private investigator and personal body guard."
"What? Investigating who?"
"First rule of private investigations, it's private," Boone says. "The less I tell you the safer you stay, just like police work, baby. Now pack your bag, I already got an assignment. We're going to Vegas and staying in the penthouse at the Wynn Hotel on your Auntie's dime."
Candy holds her breath on her sagging couch as she brings up her banking page online, something she hasn't dared to do all weekend. Damn that righteous Boone Ellis. Where were his prized morals when he asked her to print that glove on the down low? And what's wrong with her coming out ahead for a change? She pounds her fist on the cushion and her old laptop bounces to the floor, the sharp corner smashing her toe.
"Dammit! Dammit!" she shouts.
At two hours past the deadline to email the money man her photos of her and Boone at her sister's lousy wedding, Candy logs on to the website knowing what she'll see. But even the internet is against her, the progress bar pulses so slowly as the page loads. She almost cries when her checking account balance appears on the screen, the $5,000 blackmail deposit was removed at exactly 4:01 p.m. That creepy asshole didn't waste any time taking his dirty money back, did he?
She curses herself for already mailing the registration check for the University of Texas forensics program. Just another thing she'll have to cancel. Maybe she should cancel her entire life.
Three loud knocks at her front door make Candy jump. Two police officers stand on the other side of it, hands on holsters. Her heart pounds hard. They knock again.
"Dallas Police, please open the door."
"Yeah alright, save the dramatics," she says trying to look irritated instead of terrified.
The younger officer looks her over, his eyes stopping at the length of thigh exposed between her worn knee-high boots and black miniskirt. Maybe she has a chance here.
"Candy Wells?" the older officer says before she can take it.
"Yup."
"Consider yourself served," he says handing her a letter in a Dallas Police Department envelope.
"Consider this!" she says holding up her middle finger and slamming the door.
She instantly regrets that bravado and sinks to the floor, ripping the envelope open. The one-paragraph letter of transmittal orders her to report to Internal Affairs at 8:00 tomorrow morning.
"What did you do Boone, you stupid fuck?" she says crumpling the letter and tossing it across the room.
Her words come out in a high-pitched whine and she slaps her own face, disgusted. She lights a cigarette with a shaky hand and dials the money man's number on her cell.
"We're sorry, this number has been disconnected or is no longer in service," says the automated voice.
"I'm fucked!" she yells. "Fuck me! Fuck everything! Fuck!"
More knocks at the door. Candy whips it open, eager to unleash fury on whoever is there. A flower deliver man smiles sweetly at her tear-stained face.
"Hello honey," he says. "Maybe this will make you feel better?"
Puzzled, she signs the receipt form on his clipboard and takes the long thin box inside. Under the fancy box top lined in white satin is a single black rose with its stem snapped in half.
Harris Ryland spends this Sunday afternoon online learning about Christopher Ewing. Endless photos and articles about him and his prize winning thoroughbreds scroll by. He screen captures a picture of the Southfork stallion with the highest stud fee and smiles a twisted grin.
His mind wanders back to Annie; she loves horses so very much. He remembers buying her first one with the condition they have sex on it. Such a beautiful look came over her face, equal parts excitement and disgust. But she'd agreed, as he knew she would. So up on the saddle they went at dusk that day in the stable, the smooth leather and bristly horse hair against their nude bodies. He'd entered her very roughly and her cries spooked the horse. Harris can still see her white knuckles gripping the horse's mane with each thrust. How she clung to him so tightly when he slapped the horse out of the stall and across the field in the dark of night at full gallop, the two of them riding naked together under the bright moon, entwined lovers bouncing in rhythm with the horse. He gave her the ride of her life and she'd never look at horses again without thinking of it, of him.
He relishes the thought of giving nosy Christopher Ewing a special memory he can't forget either.
The Ewings begin Monday morning in the organ donor office at Fort Worth Memorial Hospital. John Ross, Christopher, Bobby, Ray, and Ann sit filling out forms.
"Where's Lucy and Boone?" Christopher asks. "They said they'd test too."
"They registered yesterday," John Ross says. "They had to be somewhere today."
"Really? What timing," Ann says, not looking up from her form.
"Oh you don't believe it?" John Ross says. "You think they're trying to avoid being donors?"
Ann continues writing.
"Well you're wrong," John Ross says. "They want to help Daddy just like we do. Lucy wouldn't lie about something like this."
"You right about that, cousin," Christopher says. "If she didn't want to she'd come right out and say it. Lucy's got the least amount of tact in the history of Ewings, god bless her."
Bobby and Ray laugh hard among the others' giggles.
"Lord," Ray says, "years ago I'd cringe every time Lucy opened her mouth."
"Oh I don't know about every time from what I've heard, Uncle Ray," John Ross says.
Now John Ross and Christopher have a big laugh. Bobby elbows John Ross and Ray looks down, embarrassed.
"Where's Sue Ellen?" Ann says interrupting the joking. She hopes the question sounds as innocent as it is malicious.
"What?" John Ross says.
"Where's your mother?"
"At her office, I guess."
"Oh. Well, isn't that something."
"What do you mean?" says John Ross, putting his form down and looking squarely at Ann.
"Annie?" Bobby says.
"Obviously she can't be a donor," Christopher says with more annoyance than he meant to.
Ann looks at the group with big green eyes on the verge of tears.
"Why are you all barking at me?" she says. "Just because I dare ask where the queen of the family is this morning as we all sit here ready to carve out a kidney to save the love of her life? The least she could do is be here and support the effort."
"She doesn't know," Bobby says.
"What? What?" Ann says.
"She doesn't know JR needs a kidney, at his request," Bobby says. "She still thinks his will recover. He was afraid she'd drop out of the campaign if she knew he needed a transplant. And I think he's right. He'll tell her when he's ready. So please, everyone, let's honor that."
"I see," Ann says. "Well forgive me for not keeping up with all the secrets in this family."
"Annie, I'm sorry, I should have told you," Bobby says. "I just didn't think about it - "
"No, you didn't," Ann says. "At least you thought of JR and Sue Ellen's feelings. That's the most important thing, isn't it?"
"Good morning Ewings!" the nephrology charge nurse says walking into the waiting room. "It's so lovely to see a family united this way, it really is."
She smiles brightly at the quiet group.
"Well! Shall we get started? Let's take all this positive energy to the lab, get your blood and tissue tested, and hope for the best. Follow me, please."
Everyone walks down the hall to the lab in silence.
Sue Ellen pours a coffee at her office for a little boost in the late afternoon. Her computer dings with a notification. She walks around her big glass desk clicks on the email icon:
"Hey Sue Ellen, I think I got what you need. Five still shots attached from the hotel's video surveillance system. No record of a cash out either. Bam! Please confirm receipt and advise if you want anything further.
Boone
PS, the penthouse is some kind of magic castle and Lucy is a girl gone wild up in here, so thanks for that."
Sue Ellen laughs at Boone's candor, glad their new partnership feels right so far. She opens each photo and prints them before deleting the email.
"Hello Boone," she says into her cell. "I got your message and it's exactly what I need. I'm very pleased you did this so quickly. Good information is worthless if it's too late to use. Time is of the essence with this, so thank you. I'd like to extend your stay with Lucy in the magic castle, as you say. How about two more nights?"
"Uh, yes, yes please," Boone says.
"Good," Sue Ellen says. "Now you treat my niece nice, you hear?"
"Absolutely will do, thank you ma'am."
Sue Ellen hangs up invigorated, feeling like a chess master, mob boss and the queen of hearts all in one. She looks at her desk clock, only 3 p.m., plenty of time to play hard ball and still make it to the Wichita reservation by sundown.
Bum gets up from his bar stool when Sue Ellen walks in and pulls one out for her.
"Let's get a table," she says.
"Oh Christ, Sue Ellen," he says. "What is it? What's happened? Is it JR?"
"What?" Sue Ellen says over her shoulder on the way to a table in an empty corner of the bar.
Bum pulls her elbow.
"Is JR dead? Is that why you called me here all urgent and mysterious?"
Sue Ellen smiles.
"No," she says, enjoying how Bum tries to read every inch of her face for clues.
She sits down and motions the waiter over.
"Lime tonic," she orders. "From the looks of things, you're still drinking whiskey?" she asks Bum.
"Yeah, yeah, whiskey on the rocks," he says.
"How about something to eat," she asks him. "Hungry?"
"What? No, no. Now go on get our drinks son," Bum says shooing the waiter away.
"Just a moment, please," Sue Ellen says to him. "I believe I'll have a cup of soup, minestrone?"
"Sure ma'am. Be right back with that."
Bums nails dig a little further into his jeans.
"Come on, Sue Ellen, let's have it. What's going on? Does JR know you're meeting me like this?"
"Like what?"
"Well you know, like he and I do, when he…..uh…..has something for me. Hey is that it? Did JR ask you to give me a job?"
"No."
"No?"
"No," she says tapping her purse.
Sue Ellen reaches into it just as the soup comes.
"Oh, thank you," she says and pushes her purse to the side of the table.
Bum looks back and forth between the big leather bag and Sue Ellen.
"Let me have a few bites first, Bum. Been so busy today I haven't eaten anything yet. Talk to me for a minute. Tell me, what have you been up to?"
"Up to? Why do you say that?"
Sue Ellen takes her time chewing her minestrone and opens a cracker packet, crumbling them on top.
"How have you been?" she finally says. "Everything okay?"
Bum takes a long drink of whiskey.
"Yeah," he says. "Been worried about JR, but I'm doing alright myself."
Bum feels like he is in orbit around the sun. She's pulling him somewhere and he can't stop it. He's afraid to look her in the eye. Does she know?
Sue Ellen is touched by Bum's sincere worry for JR's health but she pushes the tender feelings down along with her last swallow of soup. Sentimentality is not on the menu today. Revenge is.
"What's this, Bum?" Sue Ellen says handing him a photo from her purse.
He winces slightly.
"This? Well, JR sent me to Vegas on a job a couple weeks ago. And that's me buying some chips to play cards when I was done, that's all. I am over 21, you know," he laughs.
Sue Ellen laughs too.
"Why do you have this picture of me? You disapprove of gambling or something?" he says.
"I disapprove of you gambling with JR's money," she says. "I bet he would too, pardon the pun."
"What? What are you saying?" Bum asks as his face turns a darker shade of red.
"Oh don't, Bum. Don't embarrass yourself further. Those are pink and black chips in that rack you bought from the cashier, 500 and 100 dollar denominations. That rack must be, what, $10,000? I know JR pays you well but not well enough to be that kind of high roller," Sue Ellen says flicking the picture.
She waves the waiter back over.
"Ma'am?" he says, looking curiously back and forth between raggedy Bum and elegant Sue Ellen.
"Another whiskey for my friend. He's having a bad day."
"I don't like what you're implying, Sue Ellen," Bum says.
Sue Ellen can almost physically feel him trying to turn the table, grasping at anything to knock her off her game. But that slight shake in his voice, his eyes all scrunched up with guilt only makes her dig her high heels in deeper. There's nothing uglier than a man lying to a woman.
"I don't like it either," she says. "But why are we discussing how we feel about it. JR's the only one that matters here. He trusts you, very much. How's he going to feel when he finds out you gambled away most of the money he gave you for the job and lied to him about your expenses?"
Bum looks like he's drowning on dry land. Sue Ellen throws him a lifeline.
"Well, JR doesn't need to know about this if you promise me two things," she says tapping her nails on the table.
Bum's eyes snap up and lock with hers. His desperation sweats off his face in thin streams running down his leathered neck.
"One, you don't misuse JR's money ever again, and two, you tell him you've got nothing on who tried to murder him. You close the case. You can't find anything, understand?"
"You don't want to find out who's responsible for JR's accident?" Bum says.
"I already know. And I'm taking care of it," she says.
Bum opens his mouth to laugh but the look in Sue Ellen's eyes closes it. He drains his whiskey.
"Come on Sue Ellen, I never come up empty on JR. You know that."
"Well there's a first time for everything, Bum. If you don't do as I say on this, we'll get to know each other a whole lot better and you won't like what you see."
"You're really threatening me?" he says.
"Yes. But no hard feelings, alright?" Sue Ellen flashes a winning smile, picks up her purse and walks out of the bar.
Bum watches the woman who used to hang on JR's every word part a sea of cowboys, young and old, as she glides to the exit. What happened here? He is both amused and humiliated. And to think he assumed Sue Ellen was going to ask for his help to solve the case. He obviously brought a knife to a gunfight. He won't make that mistake again.
