“I guess because you’re going to all that trouble just for me.”
Mary put the gravy on the table and said, “I like to cook for people. There’s no joy in cooking for myself. And you really seem to enjoy a home-cooked meal.”
As Mary set the table Floyd thought but couldn’t bring himself to say, “I enjoy your company even more than the meal.”
CHAPTER 10
The next morning Floyd sat on the one clear spot on his desk and read through Sandy’s report while sipping coffee, both from the overnight shift. After rereading the report he decided to drive to Tucker’s Garden Center to interview Kathy Tucker. The morning traffic on I-35 was moderate, consisting mostly of semi-trailers originating in the Twin Cities and Chicago bound for Duluth and the Iron Range towns beyond. The flag hung limp at the post office and the cars parked along Main Street were covered in dew. Next to the interstate, four golfers were putting on the third green of the Pine City Country Club, their golf balls leaving trails in the dew.
Floyd took the first highway 23 exit and turned onto old highway 61, a road made famous by Bob Dylan. Tucker’s Garden Center was housed in a pole building barely a hundred yards from the interstate exit. The metal gate hung open in front of a parking lot filled with potted annuals in a kaleidoscope of colors. Virginia Tucker stood in the gravel parking lot spraying water on the potted plants with a hose. Floyd and Ginny had been two years apart in high school, and they’d met several times after that when he’d arrested her daughter, Kathy, for drunken driving.
“Hi, Ginny,” Floyd said as he climbed out of the car. “I suppose keeping all these plants moist is a real problem in this heat.”
“Actually, it’s not so bad. The high humidity really slows down the evaporation. Now if we get a wind and this humidity drops, then we’ll be in trouble.” Ginny stopped the spray and walked to Floyd’s unmarked car. “Is that dwarf cherry tree leafing out for you? I warned your wife that it was a little late in the season to be planting. On the other hand, it had to go into the ground or it’d be dead in last summer’s heat. I gave her quite a bargain just to save its life.”
Floyd diverted his eyes to the gravel in the parking lot. “The cherry tree leafed out but it died after her funeral. I let a few things slip.”
“Oh, Floyd, I forgot that your wife passed away.” Ginny leaned into Floyd’s shoulder and hugged him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I came by to talk to Kathy,” he said, patting her back. “Is she around this morning?”
“Kathy and Brian are in the back rearranging the bushes. Is something wrong?” Ginny searched Floyd’s face for a hint about his inquiry, then added, “As far as I know she’s still on the wagon and attending the AA meetings.”
“I need to talk to her about some friends from years ago,” Floyd said with a weak smile. “She’s still on the wagon as far as I know, too.”
Kathy was in the back loading five-gallon pots of arborvitae bushes into a wagon. Floyd had forgotten that the former all-conference women’s basketball player was nearly six feet tall. She had been a lanky high school athlete who had stayed in shape doing the heavy lifting at the garden center. Her dark hair was tied back tightly in a short ponytail. She wore a bright green T-shirt over a pair of flowered shorts and it appeared that she had smeared potting soil on her limbs and clothing in the few minutes the nursery had been open.
“Hi, Kathy. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
She hadn’t noticed Floyd approach in her concentration on the loading project. She pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face with a wipe from her bicep. “Sure, Floyd,” she said, pulling the work gloves from her hands. “What can I do for you?” Her body language showed discomfort, possibly the result of the time he’d taken her to jail for a DWI.
“I’ve got a picture to show you,” he said, holding the group photo out for her. “I hope you can help me clear up the mystery that goes with it.”
Kathy wiped her hands on her shorts. She took the picture, carefully holding it by the corners. Floyd saw her eyes go wide for the briefest fraction of a second before she gathered her composure. “Looks like I’d had a few too many drinks, doesn’t it?” She handed the photo back.
“Do you remember the night this was taken?”
“I was drinking pretty heavily back then. I don’t remember a lot of nights.” Kathy blotted perspiration from her forehead with the neck of her shirt. “People tell me that I used to be a lot of fun.”
“Do you recognize the other people in the picture?” Floyd asked.
“Yeah, there’s Mike, Aaron, Melissa, Betsy, and me.”
“You don’t seem very happy about seeing the picture. I thought it might bring back some happy memories.”
She took a deep breath. “I was drinking, partying, and making a fool of myself. As you know, I was picked up for driving drunk a couple times and after I lost my license I had to rely on Mom and Dad to drive me to work and the grocery store. Those weren’t the happiest days of my life.”
“Do you remember the night this picture was taken?”
“Not really. I ran around with those guys a lot back then. I suppose it might’ve been almost any Friday or Saturday. Does it make a difference?”
“I think Ken Solstad took it the night before he died.”
Kathy frowned and nodded her head. “I remember. He probably hadn’t sobered up before he took off for Missouri. He fell asleep at the wheel. Sometimes I’m surprised we all weren’t killed back then.” Her comments were made without emotion.
“You’re sitting on Aaron Roberts’ lap. Do you remember what happened with him that night?”
“You know, Floyd, I was delivered home falling-down drunk without any panties so many times that they all run together. I’m surprised I haven’t got eight kids and that I’ve got enough brain cells left to function.” Kathy tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “On that particular night, I remember sitting in the bar, and I remember waking up on my parents’ front doorstep. A deputy stopped by that afternoon and I almost peed my pants, figuring that someone had reported something that I couldn’t remember doing. I ran to answer the door before my dad got it. The deputy asked if I knew where Aaron was. He told me Aaron had never shown up at home. I told him Aaron had dropped me off at home and that was the last I’d seen of him.” She paused and closed her eyes. “That was partially a lie. I was too embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know who’d dropped me off. I assumed that Aaron had because he’d picked me up.”
“Seems like I opened an old sore,” Floyd said. “Sorry.”
“Hey, I’ve got my life together. I’m thankful every day for the Carlton County deputy who arrested me for the DWI and for the judge that threw the book at me. If either had fallen for my fake tears I’d still be out there trying to keep my car on the road by straddling the centerline. It took me awhile to get here mentally, but it’s a much better place.”
“Hey, Floyd,” Brian Tucker called as he walked toward them. “What brings you out so early in the morning?” Brian was wiry and a few inches shorter than Kathy. He wore a John Deere cap and a dirt-stained white T-shirt over bluejeans.
“Kathy and I were reminiscing about old times.”
Brian threw Kathy a curious look and asked, “What old times?”
“Floyd wanted to know what I remembered about the night before Ken Solstad was killed in the car accident.”
“Oh,” Brian said. His pained expression said more than a million words.
Floyd found Dolores “Dottie” Smith, Melissa’s mother, working at the Postal Credit Union in downtown Pine City. She was the teller, looking professional in her pink rayon blouse and dark slacks. Her carefully applied makeup and trim figure made her look younger than her age. She and Floyd had been classmates in high school, and Dolores had dated Floyd’s best friend junior year. He waited in line behind two customers for a few minutes. The manager gave him a questioning look from the office, and Floyd motioned that everything was all right.