Con Law Part 44

'Doesn't everyone?'

Carla shook her head. Nadine grunted as if surprised.

'Well, someone forgot to tell me to pack for a week. And I don't like this commando thing.'

'Over-share.'

'I'll take care of it,' Carla said. 'I know a store open on Sundays. What kind? Thongs?'

'G.o.d, no. I don't like a string up my ... bikinis. All cotton. No lace. Any color.'

'What size?'

'Four.'

'Four? You eat like that and wear a four? That's not fair.'

Nadine waved them away. 'Hurry. I'm hungry, and I need those underwear. And before you leave, Professor, would you empty my bedpan? I really gotta pee.'

Book eyed the bedpan. 'Uh ...'

'I'll get the nurse,' Carla said.

She went outside to find a nurse.

'I like her,' Nadine said.

'I need you to research her dad. He was killed in an oil rig blowout six years ago. Find out what you can-on him and on her.'

'Why?'

'I don't know.'

'That ain't evidence of a murder,' Sheriff Munn said.

Book had called the sheriff with the information about Billy Bob's shady past and his current financial problems.

'Professor, before I can arrest the second-biggest employer in Presidio County after the Border Patrol and charge him with murder, I need a smoking gun.'

Book did not tell the sheriff about his and Carla's unauthorized entry upon Barnett Oil and Gas Company's well site the night before.

'That's good work by your gal, but it's not enough.'

'I'll talk to Carla at dinner, see what we can do.'

'Carla? You working with her?'

'We teamed up.'

'I asked you to team up with me.'

The sheriff grunted.

'Now, don't take it that way, Sheriff, it wasn't personal-'

d.a.m.n. Now he was answering the sheriff's grunts.

'Course, she is a mite better looking than me.'

'Just a little.'

'You figure her out yet?'

'I'm working on her.'

'I bet you are. Taking her to dinner, huh?'

'I am.'

'Where?'

'Reata.'

'Good place.'

'A smoking gun? Any advice, Sheriff?'

'First, the most desperate creature on earth is a cornered bear or a man about to lose everything. Be careful, Professor. And second, order the pecan pie for dessert.'

With six thousand residents, Alpine is like a major metropolitan area compared to Marfa. It has a doctor, a pharmacy, a hospital, a country club, and Reata on Fifth Street in downtown.

'My favorite restaurant in the whole world,' Carla said.

They ate on the back patio, which featured a Giant mural painted on the exterior wall of the adjacent building and country-western music playing on the sound system. The clientele was not a hipster artist crowd; it was a cowboy crowd. Deputy Shirley sat at one table wearing her uniform and gun across from a strapping young cowboy. She gave Book a smile and a wink as they walked past. When they sat down, Carla glanced over at Deputy Shirley then back at Book.

'You didn't go for the snow cone, did you?'

'Not yet.'

She sighed. 'Men.'

Their waitress was an authentic cowgirl attending Sul Ross on a ranch horse team scholarship. She wore a belt buckle the size of Montana.

'I won that at a cutting horse compet.i.tion,' she said.

Carla ordered the jalapeno and cilantro soup and fried poblano chile rellenos stuffed with cream cheese, corn, and pepper served with a corn chowder; Book went for the tortilla soup and grilled salmon with Boursin cream sauce. Book took the sheriff's advice and ordered the West Texas pecan pie for dessert; Carla had the Dutch Oven apple crisp with cajeta. And he placed Nadine's to go order. They had already stopped and picked up her underwear.

'So what brought you to Marfa?' Book asked.

'Fracking. That's my mission in life, to stop fracking.'

'Well, good to have something to do each day.'

'Are you mocking me?'

'No.'

'Aren't you pa.s.sionate about your work?'

'I am.'

'Me, too. I'm a very pa.s.sionate person.' She gave him a coy look. 'Who knows, if you play your cards right, you might find out how pa.s.sionate.'

'You want a beer? Or six?'

She smiled. 'It'll take more than that, cowboy.'

'Beers?'

'Charm.'

The waitress brought gla.s.ses of water and b.u.t.termilk biscuits with pecans and soft b.u.t.ter. Carla held up the water gla.s.s.

'That water,' she said, 'it's from the Igneous Aquifer. That's the aquifer Billy Bob's punching through to frack.'

'The aquifer Nathan thought he was contaminating?'

'Yep.'

'How do we prove it? The samples came back clean.'

'They came back legal. The shocking thing about fracking isn't what the industry does-s.h.i.t, they thought it was brilliant to put diesel fuel down a well hole-but what's legal. Between the trillions of gallons of drinking water used to frack the wells and the billions of gallons of toxic chemicals put down into the earth, ten years from now we'll end up with lots of natural gas but no drinking water. Lots of jobs, but more people with cancer. Lots of energy, but more global warming ...'

The waitress brought their dinners, but Carla was on a fracking roll.

'Which is so stupid when the answer is staring at us: green energy. Solar, wind, hydro. Over time, green energy would create a lot of jobs, too, and no cancer, no carbon footprint, no global warming, no groundwater contamination, no earthquakes. If the people knew the truth about fracking, they'd rise up against it. But the industry hires New York PR firms to run disinformation campaigns to confuse the public, same thing they did with cigarettes. They say steel-and-cement casing prevents groundwater contamination, but they don't mention that the failure rate for casing is six percent immediately upon construction and fifty percent over thirty years. They say gases released into the air like benzene are safe, but they don't mention that breast cancer rates spike among women living above frack fields. They say fracking's been around for sixty years, but they don't mention that the amount of chemicals and pressure down hole for horizontal fracking is way more than for those vertical wells drilled back then. They learned from the tobacco companies: lying works. And the media says, "Well, there's a big debate about fracking." And the people hear that and believe it. And as long as there's a debate, the fracking continues ...'

Which continued into dessert.

'... And the industry touts the jobs. That's the big sales pitch. Jobs. Jobs to keep the ma.s.ses pacified. Politicians need to create jobs to get reelected, so they take the billion dollars a year the industry spends to lobby them and give the industry free rein to destroy the environment. Because politicians are inherently corrupt and evil. Like the G.o.dd.a.m.n oil and gas industry.'

Book listened attentively and ate the pecan pie then sipped his coffee throughout her impa.s.sioned plea. He had sat through many such pleas from environmental groups in Austin trying to save the springs, the river, the wilderness ... but no one had brought more pa.s.sion to the table than Carla Kent. She finally paused to take a breath; he waited to see if the lull were temporary or permanent. Her eyes danced with pa.s.sion, which made her even more attractive. She drank her beer and smiled.

'I'm done ranting.'

'Good.'

'I feel better now.'

'Good.'

'So, Professor, how do you feel about s.e.x after dinner?'

'Good.'

Chapter 31.

'Being gay in West Texas, that wasn't an easy thing for Nathan. It's a hard land with hard people.'

Brenda Jones knew about her husband's double life. It was the next morning, and Book and Carla had stopped off at Brenda's house to bring her up to date. They had called ahead; she had called Jimmy John. He wore his red jumpsuit; he had just gotten off the night shift. He recoiled when he saw Carla on the front porch.

'We were more like brother and sister. Best friends. But I loved him, and he loved me, I know that. And we had been together since grade school, I couldn't imagine living without him. He was a sweet man, Professor. He took good care of me. He would've been a great dad. He saw on TV that babies in the womb could hear voices, so every night at bedtime he'd put his head close to my belly and read children's books to our baby.'

She looked down at her belly; when she looked up, her eyes were wet. She seemed to have aged ten years since Book had last seen her.

'Brenda, are you taking care of yourself?'

'I can't sleep without Nathan next to me.'

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

'After law school, he wanted to live in Austin, but I knew he'd have to face it every day, fighting his demons with so many gays there. Out here, there was no temptation. Until the artists came to town. I saw him weakening, and I knew he had given in to his demons.'

She paused.

'Why would he choose them over me, Professor?'

'Nathan didn't choose to be gay any more than you chose not to be. That's who he was. It's hardwired, like your blue eyes. Brenda, he tried not to be himself for you. But he didn't choose to be gay over you.'

She jerked and grabbed her belly.

'Whoa, he kicked me hard. He must want out.'

She blew out a breath and pondered her belly a moment then looked up at him.

'Professor, you don't think he'll be gay, too, do you?'

'Brenda, he's your son. You'll love him no matter what he is.'

Book turned to Jimmy John.