“Our car was vandalized last night,” I blurted out, waiting to see his reaction.
“Vandalized?” he repeated.
I nodded. “Someone slashed one of the tires.”
I didn't think he could fake the shock that appeared on his face. “Did you call the cops? Tell Delilah?”
“Not yet,” I said, shaking my head. “We just want it fixed.”
“You need to report stuff like that,” he told me. “We don't need any more trouble up here.”
“Any more?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
He stared at me like I was an idiot. “Harvey?” he said, his eyebrows raised. “Finding a dead body on the property isn't trouble enough?”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Yeah, that just seems different than having your tire slashed.”
He untied his bandana and mopped his forehead. “Trouble is trouble,” he said. “And we don't need none of it.”
“You've been coming here for a long time, right?” I asked.
He eyed me suspiciously, then nodded. “Yeah. Long time.”
“Do you know anything about a development nearby?” I asked. “Like condos or homes or something?”
He stared at me, trying to process my rapid change of subject. I didn't even know what I was doing but Wayne Hackerman seemed like someone who might know things. And I was desperate for information, especially when my husband wasn't around to prevent me from doing a little digging.
“Here?” he said. “No.”
“Were you friends with Harvey?”
He wiped at his forehead again. “What's up with all these questions, little lady?”
“I don't know,” I said. I decided to play to his ego. “I'm just curious. And you seem to know a lot.”
He nodded, as if this was the absolute truth. “I knew him, if that's what you're asking.”
“But were you friends?”
He scowled at me and I saw visions of his son making that same face. “I don't even know what that means.”
I hesitated, then said, “I'm just curious why you would've been arguing with him.”
His mouth puckered up. “What the hell are you even talking about?”
Jake emerged from the bathroom and stopped short of the sofa I was sitting on. He folded his arms across his chest and stared down Hackerman.
“I was just waiting to use the restroom,” Hackerman said. “Don't get your panties in a wad.”
“Panties. Little lady,” Jake said, repeating some of Hackerman's favorite words. He tossed a crumpled paper towel into the waste basket. “I feel like you may have some masculinity issues.”
Hackerman's face flushed. While I agreed with my husband, I was a little tired of seeing them fight.
“I heard that you were fighting with Harvey,” I said, ignoring Jake. Then I held up my hand. “Sorry. Not fighting. Arguing with him.”
The corners of Hackerman's mouth twitched. “Harvey and I got along just fine.”
“But were you arguing with him?” I asked. “Recently?”
“Listen, little lady, I don't have to tell you anything.”
“The sheriff thinks Delilah might have had something to do with Harvey's death.”
Hackerman froze and there was no mistaking the surprise on his face was genuine. “What? That's a load of crap!”
“I know,” I said. “So I'm just trying to figure out what was going on with Harvey before he died. For Delilah.”
“She ask you to do this?” His voice was gruff.
“No,” I admitted. “But I consider her my friend. And I'd like to help her.”
Hackerman stuffed his bandana in his pocket and cleared his throat. “Harvey and I, we ran into each other around the campground. I helped him out sometimes, moving stuff, setting things up. We watched a couple of ballgames together.” He shrugged. “I guess we were friends.”
“And friends sometimes argue,” I said.
His eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you getting at? If you've got something to say, then say it.”
“Were you arguing with Harvey recently about money?” Jake asked before I could.
The color returned to his face and his hands started fidgeting. “Where'd you hear that?”
We both shrugged.
“I didn't do anything to Harvey,” he growled.
“We didn't say you did,” I said.
He made a face. “That's exactly what you're asking me. If I killed him. You're trying to pin his death on me so the sheriff can look at me instead of Delilah. Well, I'm telling you I didn't do it! I didn't do anything!”
“But you still didn't answer the question,” Jake pointed out.
Hackerman stiffened. “Because I don't need to. What was between me and Harvey was between me and him and none of your business.” His scowl deepened. “And last time I checked, neither of you was wearing a badge. So maybe you need to keep your nose out of business that doesn't concern you.”
I stood from the sofa. Hackerman was pissed and he was right. We weren't police. He didn't have to answer our questions. And I'd sort of tricked him into answering them. I felt a twinge of guilt.
Jake, however, did not. “Good point,” he said, nodding. “We'll let the sheriff know that you and Harvey were having a fight. Because he does have a badge.”
Hackerman's jaw locked and for a moment, I thought he might charge Jake and we'd be right back to square one. But then he seemed to think better of it, whether it was because he didn't think he could take Jake or because he didn't want to fight.
“You do that,” he said, stomping past us toward the bathroom. “You just go right ahead and do that.”
TWENTY TWO
“I will not sell!” Delilah yelled.
After our run-in with Hackerman, Jake went back to the cabin to shower and I went to check on Delilah. I knew she'd been rattled by the sheriff's visit but I also wanted to ask her about Copper's comments regarding Harvey and Hackerman. If there had been bad blood between the two of them, she would have known about it.
So I walked down the hill toward the main office and right before I reached the screen door, I heard her yelling.
I stopped in my tracks, unsure what to do. There was an old red pick-up truck that I didn't recognize parked in the small lot next to the office.
“So you can just forget it,” she said, her voice still raised. “I'm not selling.”
“Delilah, be sensible,” a familiar voice said.
“I am not in the mood to be sensible right now,” she said. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Feet shuffled against the floor and the screen door swung open. Davis Ellington came out, his hands in his pockets, a sad expression on his face. He stopped when he saw me, then nodded in my direction.
“Ms. Savage,” he said. “Nice to see you.”
“Hello,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
His shoulders were slumped forward, almost rounded, like someone had kicked his dog.
“Should I not go in there?” I said, pointing at the office.
He looked over his shoulder at the office, like he'd forgotten it was there. “I'm probably the wrong person to ask. But if you do go in, try and talk some sense into her.” He shook his head. “Have a good day.”
He trudged toward the pick-up, lumbered into it and drove away.
I waited a moment, then knocked on the screen door. “Delilah?”
“I'm here,” she huffed.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside of the cramped office. She was behind her desk, leaning back in her chair, her arms folded across her chest, staring straight ahead. Her gray hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, wisps of hair framing her face like a tarnished, old crown.
“Am I interrupting?” I asked.
She looked toward me as if she'd just realized I was there. “Oh. No. I'm sorry. Just...a little out of it today.”