Part 13 (1/2)

'They killed Nathan, Professor.'

At half past seven, Book and Nadine rode over to Nathan Jones's house on Austin Street north of the railroad tracks. It was a neat frame house with a black 44 Ford pickup truck parked out front. The large young man with curly blond hair who had stood next to the wife at the funeral met them at the door. His name was Jimmy John Dale. He and Nathan had been best friends since childhood. He smelled like a brewery.

'Why do you say that, Ms. Jones?'

'Brenda. Because they said he was speeding, but Nathan never drives fast.'

Only five days after her husband's death, she still spoke of him in the present tense.

'He was a boy scout?'

'Eagle.'

She was due in three weeks; it was a boy. She sat uncomfortably in an armchair. Book and Nadine sat on the couch; Jimmy John paced the wood floor with a beer in his hand and a frown on his face, as if he had something on his mind and that something had irritated him. A wedding portrait of Nathan and Brenda hung on one wall of the small living room. She wore a white wedding dress, he a black tuxedo.

'Wow,' Nadine said. 'He's James Dean's identical twin.'

'That's what everyone says,' Brenda said.

Several other photos of Brenda and Nathan showed them walking a beach, lying on a picnic blanket, and dancing at a party. They were an odd couple, physically. Brenda was a cute girl with a round face who would struggle with the baby weight after giving birth, the same as Book's sister was now struggling. Nathan Jones looked like a male model in one of those glossy fas.h.i.+on magazines; his features were sharp, his eyes dark, and his body lean. He seemed almost too perfect to be a real man, just as he had seemed too introverted to be a lawyer; next to him, Ms. Roberts seemed like a talk show host. He made an A in Con Law; he often drew in a small sketchbook he carried.

'Check out his crazy photos,' Jimmy John said.

On another wall were framed black-and-white photos, all of the stark West Texas landscape. One showed cowboys on horseback herding cattle across the dusty plains, but in the foreground as if observing the scene was a perfectly clothed Barbie doll, its vivid color a sharp contrast to the black-and-white scene. Another was of the open land and a low mountain range in the distance with a tall red rose stuck in the dirt in the foreground. A third showed a drilling rig standing tall above the land, roughnecks working on the deck, and in the foreground pink lacy lingerie. Nadine stood and examined each photo as if she were an art critic.

'I know,' Brenda said. 'They're weird. I didn't get them either. But Nathan loves to take those photos. It's his pa.s.sion.'

'He had an eye for the landscape,' Book said. 'Did he ever try to sell his photos?'

'No. It's just a hobby. He's happy being a lawyer. Was. Which was good, because he works ... worked a lot of late nights.'

'What else did he do? When he wasn't working?'

'Nothing. He works at the firm and spends the rest of his time with me. And Jimmy John.'

'What did you and he do?'

She shrugged. 'Normal stuff. Sundays after church, we'll pack a lunch and drive the desert looking for landscape for him to shoot. We'll put out a blanket, and he'll take hundreds of pictures from different angles. He's got some great photos from up in the Davis Mountains.'

'Did he hang out with anyone else?'

'He doesn't have a lot of friends in Marfa.'

'But he grew up here.'

'He wasn't a cowboy,' Jimmy John said.

'Any siblings?'

'He's an only child,' Brenda said.

'So how'd you two meet?'

'We all grew up together, here in Marfa. Nathan and I, we've been sweethearts since grade school. After high school, we went to Tech together. I got a degree in education, he majored in English. I came home, been teaching kindergarten in the public school seven years now. Nathan went to UT for law school. You were his hero, Professor. He talked about you a lot. We always watched you on TV.'

'You really got a black belt in kung fu?' Jimmy John said.

'Taekwondo.'

'When he got his law degree,' Brenda said, 'he came home, we got married, and he hired on with the Dunn firm. That was right when they opened the office here.'

Book addressed Jimmy John. He had a red face and a thick body. His jeans dragged the ground in the fas.h.i.+on of cowboys. Given his obvious state of inebriation and irritation, Book decided not to pepper him with questions but to just let him talk-and he seemed anxious to talk.

'So, Jimmy John, what's your story?'

Jimmy John took a swig of his beer then swiped a sleeve across his mouth.

'My story?' He snorted as if amused by the question. 'My story is, Brenda and Nathan went off to college, I stayed here. I only got a high school education, so I was low man on the totem pole for jobs around here, right below the Mexicans 'cause they'll live twenty to a trailer so they can send money back home to Mexico. You know they send thirty billion dollars back home every year? But they ain't taking money from American workers. Yeah, right. So I worked the cattle, dug holes and laid asphalt for the city, whatever work there was. Then this place becomes some kind of hot spot for art and all of a sudden every G.o.dd.a.m.n h.o.m.os.e.xual in New York City is moving to Marfa, artists with more money than sense, paying too much for homes, driving up the prices, now locals like me, we can't afford nothing but trailers on the Mexican side of town. Biggest employers in town were the tomato farm and Border Patrol. I applied, but they want agents who can speak Spanish.'

'You could learn.'

'We shouldn't have to speak Spanish to work in America, Professor, especially not for our own government. But we speak English on the rigs.'

'Who do you work for?'

'Billy Bob Barnett. He don't hire wets.'

'You like the work?'

'I like to work. Never had a regular job till fracking came to town. Give people like me a chance.'

'For what?'

'A life.'

The economy had left the Jimmy Johns of America behind. Manufacturing jobs had gone offsh.o.r.e to Mexico and Asia, and the oil and gas business had gone to the Middle East. Twenty-three million Americans were unemployed; most felt betrayed by their country. Bitter. Angry. Most had no hope for a steady job. Ever. Until fracking came along. But it came with a price. Jimmy John pulled out a white handkerchief from his back pocket and blew his nose. Blood stained the white cloth.

'He gets nosebleeds,' Brenda said. 'And headaches. From working the rigs.'

Jimmy John shrugged. 'Lot of chemicals and gases coming up the well hole.'

'You have a doctor check you out?'

'No doctor in Marfa.'

He dug in his s.h.i.+rt pocket and pulled out a small container and swallowed two pills then chased them with the beer.

'He takes Advil like he's eating candy,' Brenda said. 'Nathan begged him to go to Alpine, see a doctor there.'