Page 18 of Tex's Angel

“He was wearing gloves so we can’t get any prints off him. I get the feeling this might be someone your husband hired to harass y’all. The fact he kept his face hidden and gloved up suggests a professional.”

Clara’s expression turns fearful, and she glances at the door before returning to me. “I certainly hope not. God knows, I’m no match for a career criminal twice my size.”

“Y’all don’t have to worry. You’re staying with me at the clubhouse until we find out who’s doing this and neutralize him.”

Her mouth drops open but snaps it closed again, nodding. “Yeah, thanks for that by the way.” She pauses for a moment and then says, “Neutralize?”

I shrug, “Stop him.” Stop the fucker any way we needed to, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I think that next step is to speak with your ex. Reckon you’re up for a meeting with him?”

Clara is nodding her head again before I even finish the sentence. “Yeah, we can visit my sister’s place. They like to sleep in on the weekends.”

“Great. I’m looking forward to looking him in the eye when I question him. Do y’all think he’ll talk to us?”

“Probably, but there is only one way to find out. Chris has always thought of himself as a smooth talker, who can talk his way out of any trouble.”

I tell her pointedly, “I think that’s a lot easier when y’all only associate with people who are younger and more innocent about how the world works. It explains why he thought he could sleep with your sister and get away with it.”

Her eyebrows fly up in unison. “That theory makes perfect sense. It would explain why he was so shocked that I didn’t want to listen to all his lies and excuses. Going no contact with him clearly blew his mind, if the hundreds of texts and emails are any indication.”

***

We head out to her sister’s place, and I notice the grass wasn’t cut and all her flowers are dying. I ask, “Don’t they like to keep their yard looking nice?”

“My sister’s husband used to keep it looking really nice. Now that she threw him out for my soon-to-be-ex, I’m sure it’s not getting done because he’s never cut grass a day in life that I know of. That’s something we normally hire someone to do.”

“Tell me he’s a lazy fucker without telling me he’s a lazy fucker,” I mutter under my breath.

Clara just laughs. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

She rang the bell several times before her sister came to the door, she was wearing a robe and looks like she’s just woken up. “You finally came to see us.” The woman looks both relieved and pleased, like Clara had come for a social call or to patch things up.

“I was hoping to talk to Chris. Can you wake him up?”

Her sister’s smile is genuine. “Of course. We were hoping you would give us a chance to apologize properly. Give me five minutes.”

After showing us through to the living room she trots off upstairs, happy as a clam. We look around her house, which looks like a tornado had come through. There are shoes and kids’ stuff everywhere. The house isn’t nasty, nor does it smell bad. It’s just really messy. I guess houses get this way if you have a bunch of kids running wild instead of just one.

Chris comes stumbling downstairs almost immediately and rushes to Clara, like a man who’s realized he made a terrible mistake and thinks he can fix it with words. He’s like a stringbean, with scrawny white legs sticking out of the bottom of a pair of knee-length basketball shorts. His hair’s askew and he hasn’t shaved in days. Not that there’s anything wrong with a beard or five o’clock shadow, but in his case it’s clear it’s from laziness. When he catches sight of me his expression immediately turns suspicious. “Clara, what the hell is going on? Why’s our next-door neighbor here?”

Clara gestures for him to have a seat on the sofa. “Good morning, Chris. You look like death warmed over.”

He shoots a dirty look at her sister, not that she notices.

“Tex has been helping me discover who’s been harassing me.”

Chris rolls his eye, “Is this about whoever’s setting off your car alarm? It can’t be that difficult to figure out.”

I jump into the conversation at this point. “There have been other forms of harassment as well. So far, it’s been nonviolent, but it seems to be escalating. That’s the reason we’re looking into it.”

“What’s it got to do with you? She needs to call the fucking police, instead of our fucking neighbor.”

I look him right in the eye and say, “She did call the police and I’m here to investigate.” Technically, I’m a trainer rather than a regular police officer but he doesn’t need to know that.

His mouth falls open and I ask, “Can y’all tell me where y’all were last night between the hours of eleven and three in the morning?” It’s that question that all cops ask when they want to catch the perp off-guard and see the moment they realize they’rea potential suspect. Though in Chris’ case, he just sits there with his mouth open like he’s catching fucking flies.

A short silence spins out in the room before her sister speaks. “He was here with me, like he is every night.”

Something about her demeanor doesn’t ring true. “Y’all sure about that, ma’am. If we pull the footage from your doorbell camera which I see you have, we’d find that he came home like a good little boy after working hard all day?”

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