Page 17 of Thick as Thieves

Ledge looked at Rusty with repugnance. “She created? She didn’t choose the timing or the place to lose her baby.”

“You know what I mean. It was a scene.” He proceeded to describe it to Ledge. When he finished, he nudged Ledge’s arm with his elbow. “I have the nitty gritty, all the details, on good authority. But even if someone hadn’t reported it straight to me, word of it spread faster than the clap.”

“You would know,” Ledge muttered.

Rusty grinned, took another drink, and with see-through casualness checked a loose cuticle on his thumb. “Her big sister showed up at the hospital later that evening. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Oh, yeah. Ordering everybody around. Pushy bitch. Just like she always was.”

“I didn’t really know her.”

“No, guess not. Y’all didn’t run in the same crowd.” Rusty made a point of taking a look around the bar, ending on the strand of colored Christmas lights draped along the back of the bar. “Around town, Lisa Maxwell was always a golden girl.” He paused. “You, by contrast, were raised in the back room of this pool hall.”

This was the type of goading at which Rusty Dyle excelled. Ledge had expected it, but he was damned if he’d let Rusty get a rise out of him.

Instead, he looked at his wristwatch. “I’m off.”

“Hold on.” Rusty clamped his hand around Ledge’s forearm. Ledge looked down at the restraining hand and kept looking at it until it was removed. But his silent warning didn’t dissuade Rusty, who hissed, “We need to talk about this.”

“No. We don’t.”

“How come you think she came back here? Why now?”

“I have no idea.”

“Just seems peculiar,” Rusty said. “In this great big free country of ours, wouldn’t you say it’s odd she picked here to nest?”

“She wanted her kid to grow up in the same house she did. What’s peculiar about that?”

“Nothing. Except that she’s no longer having a kid. So why’s she sticking around?”

“I guess she likes it here.”

“Guess she does. She’s planning on fixing up the place.”

Despite his determination not to react, Ledge’s heart rate hitched. “How do you know?”

“She’s been calling around. Getting estimates.” Rusty winked. “I’ve been keeping tabs on her goings-on.”

The thought of Rusty keeping tabs on Arden Maxwell chilled Ledge to the bone. This afternoon, she’d stood her ground with him when he was being his most contrary self. She was no pushover. But he knew Rusty’s character. Or rather, his lack of it. He knew the treachery Rusty was capable of.

“Twenty years ago, she was still in grade school,” Ledge said. “If you’re thinking she knew anything about where her daddy got off to with that money, you’re w

rong.”

“Am I?” Rusty leaned in again. “Think on this. The woman hasn’t held a job since she left Houston—six, seven months ago—and moved here. She’s got no visible means of support, but she’s going to renovate that big ol’ house, which will take some serious coin. Makes me wonder where she’s getting the financing.”

“Her sister.”

“Could be. She married up. Way up. Big shot in Dallas. Then he croaked a couple years ago, leaving her not only his fortune but the reins to his company. Which is why I can’t see her funding a reconnection to our little burg over here in the sticks.”

In order to try to dismantle Rusty’s interest in Arden and her unexpected return to town, Ledge groped his mind for other explanations. “Maybe Arden did so well at her former job, she doesn’t need to work. Not for a while, at least.”

Rusty shook his head. “Not likely. She sold fancy clothes at the Neiman Marcus in the Galleria. Top-dollar goods, but she worked on commission only. She didn’t cash out as the retiring CEO.”

“Generous alimony.”