Surest Poison, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

City.
    “What was the company’s name?” Estes
asked.
    “Auto Parts
Rehabbers.”
    “Ah . . . I remember them well. As the
saying goes, that was a tough nut to crack. Come on over and I’ll tell you
about it.”
     
    The street was
in an upscale area of Old Hickory,
a northeastern suburb once known for its major industrial facility, the
Dupont plant. The original factory produced gunpowder in World War I. After
turning out a succession of products like cellophane and rayon that required
large numbers of employees, the mix changed to an operation almost wholly
automated. At night its illuminated towers loomed as a prominent landmark
from the Old Hickory Boulevard bridge over the
Cumberland River. Since the drive through the area took him past a station
with cheap gas, cheap being a relative term, Sid took his truck. It needed a
fill-up after the trip to the cabin.
    He found the address among a row of
large, fashionable brick homes fronted by well-manicured lawns. The Estes
name appeared on a mailbox at a two-story house with windows and doors that
reflected Georgian influences. Sid pulled into the driveway and parked
beside a tan SUV.
    A gray-haired man opened the door. He had
heavy jowls and stooped shoulders and wore a yellow wool cardigan over a
white dress shirt. Though a bit tall for the traditional image, he wore a
mischievous grin that made Sid think of a
leprechaun.
    “Mr. Chance?” he asked in a lilting
voice.
    “Right. You must be Murray Estes.”
    Sid shook the outstretched hand. Estes
led him into a living room crowded with comfortable-looking modern
furniture, where they sat in soft chairs, their backs to windows with drapes
pulled to block the morning sun.
    “Were you interested in anything specific
about Auto Parts Rehabbers?” Estes asked.
    “Any specifics you can give me. I’m not
even sure what they did. It sounds like they remanufactured used auto
parts.”
    “That’s my understanding. I called on
them a few times to try and recruit them for the Chamber. My efforts were
about as effective as Bill Clinton trying to explain the meaning of ‘is’ to
the Grand Jury.”
    With an election coming up, Sid figured a
little political humor was to be expected. “I believe you called it a tough
nut to crack.”
    “Indeed. I never managed to penetrate
that hard shell. They were what I called unfriendly business neighbors. I
encountered very few of those during fifteen years with the Chamber.”
    “In what way were they unfriendly?”
    “The manager was a tall, thin fellow
named Decker. He had slicked-back brown hair and a face out of a Viagra
commercial. Maybe he was a ladies’ man. He sure didn’t cotton to me. He
showed no interest in cooperating with other business people on anything.
And he didn’t want any part of community activities. When I asked to see
their operation, he told me very plainly that visitors were not welcome.”
    Estes picked up a meerschaum pipe from
the small table beside his chair. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to smoke it,”
he said. “My daughter-in-law would have a hissy fit. I quit smoking sometime
back, but I like to chew on this now and then.”
    “Chewing shouldn’t cause any lung
damage.”
    Estes laughed. “Don’t suppose you smoke?”
    “I have enough vices without that one.”
    “How’d you avoid it?”
    “We lived with my grandfather when I was
growing up. He was a Nashville cop and went around with a cigarette dangling
from his lips most of the time. I don’t know how he missed getting lung
cancer. I suspect he was too ornery. Anyway, my mother detested the smoke
and convinced me it was something I should avoid.”
    “Just as well. Not many places it’s legal anymore.”
    “About this Decker,” Sid said. “Do you
remember his first name?”
    He looked down as he tapped the pipe bowl
against his hand. “It was twelve or fourteen years ago, and the old memory
isn’t what it used to be.