Last night had turned out OK. It was a little awkward at first, then Graham did something stupid, all attention turned to him, teasing became the name of the game, and we all fell back into our respective roles. A family counselor might have said that was a bad thing, but to me, at that moment, it felt good. Very good.
At nine, while we were all in the family room playing with the Wii, the doorbell rang. I went to answer it and found Berta on our doorstep.
‘Hey!’ I said.
‘E.J., I’m sorry, I had a taxi bring me over here. Things are very tense at Ken’s house, and I’m afraid my presence there may have precipitated that tension.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘They think Ken and I are having an affair! Like I’d do something like that to Kerry!’ She threw herself into my arms and bawled.
I brought her inside, more to close the door and keep the air conditioning in than as an act of kindness. You remember that old song, ‘He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother’? Well, she wasn’t my sister and she was getting mighty heavy.
‘You can stay here tonight,’ I told her, knowing that was what she expected, but unable to think of any alternative.
‘Thank you,’ she said, drying her eyes on a crumpled wad of tissues in her hand.
‘You can have my room and I’ll bunk with the girls,’ I told her.
‘Oh, I don’t want to put you out, E.J. I can sleep on the couch!’
‘It’s no problem,’ I said. Just in case there was even a shred of truth to my musing at the funeral home (the one about Berta/Rosalee being a con woman who killed Kerry – I know, there were so many, who can keep up?), I wanted to be upstairs with my children in case I need to protect them. Although with my kids, they might end up having to protect me.
We went into the family room. Willis, who had control of the Wii, turned it off when he saw Berta. ‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Oh, you’re back!’ Berta said with a big smile. ‘I’m so glad.’
There was a stone cold silence. I could see all four kids exchanging glances. Willis looked at me and I shrugged. He said, ‘Not yet. But probably this week.’
The kids fell on the couch and began nudging each other furiously.
‘But it’s getting late,’ Willis said, ‘and I should be getting back. I’m staying at my mother’s house,’ he explained to Berta, ‘and she gets antsy if I come in too late. She likes to have all her locks on just so and she can’t do it if I’m out.’
‘And I’m sure she worries,’ Berta said.
‘Well, it was nice seeing you again,’ Willis said, then, ‘kids, give me hugs.’ They obliged and then I walked him to the front door. We stepped outside, away from prying eyes and ears, and he kissed me. ‘I want to come home. I want to get clear of all that happened. I guess we’ve both – and Alicia – come to terms with the horrible thing I said—’
‘It wasn’t that horrible. I was just being sensitive—’
‘No, it was pretty damn bad. I’ve loved Bess every moment of the past ten years, and maybe before that. She was the adorable daughter of my best friend. My baby girl’s little playmate. How could I not already love her? Taking her in was never really an issue, hon, and I don’t know why I made it one. The only thing we could do, and the only thing we wanted to do was make her part of the family.’ He sighed. ‘But Alicia was different—’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I messed up.’
‘Yeah. And I messed up not telling you that you messed up right off the bat. We should have discussed it at the time. I know I would have said yes, but, sometimes, babe, I need to be part of the decision making around here.’
I nodded my head. ‘I know, I know.’
‘The rest of it,’ he said, waving his arm to encompass the yard, the street, the township, maybe the world, ‘I don’t know. We might need to set some ground rules,’ he said.
I nodded. ‘That’s a possibility,’ I said.
He kissed me again. ‘Gotta go,’ he said, and headed for his giant pick-up truck.
Back inside, I said to the girls, ‘Y’all need to pick a room and have a slumber party. I’m going to take one of y’alls rooms, so just let me know which.’
No way was she getting my room. I have privacy issues: like I like having some! Alicia – of course, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes – gave up hers and Bess, second in line for the title, said we could all sleep in her room. I’d rather stay in my bed, but Mom and Dad both were trying to be all ‘we’re a loving family,’ so I figured I better go with the flow. I’m a morning showerer, but Alicia and Bess both shower at night, so I stayed in my room while they took turns.
I called Azalea and D’Wanda on my cell phone to tell them about Keith – oh, and the new murder, of course.
‘He touched your arm?’ D’Wanda said.
‘Twice,’ I said.
‘Ooo, girl, he wants you!’ Azalea said.
I made a face they obviously couldn’t see. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘He’s kinda, well, not as strong as I want in a man.’
‘Oh, ’cause he snotted on you?’ D’Wanda said.
‘And because he cried like a little girl.’
‘Girl, that was his uncle!’ Azalea said. ‘You’d cry if you saw your uncle lying dead and bloody on a motel room floor! That’s disgusting!’
‘Ken vomited. I think that’s more manly.’
‘Hum,’ one of the twins said. I can’t tell them apart if they don’t actually talk.
‘You may be right,’ D’Wanda said. ‘It does seem a bit more manly. Disgusting, but manly.’
‘That’s all I’m saying,’ I said.
Then there was a knock on my door. ‘Hey, you coming to the slumber party?’ Bess called.
‘Be right there,’ I said. To D’Wanda and Azalea I said, ‘I gotta go.’
‘What’s this about a slumber party, and we weren’t invited?’ D’Wanda asked, her mad voice on.
‘It’s not a slumber party. Me, Bess and Alicia all have to sleep in the same room because we have company. My mom thinks calling it a slumber party will make it seem less torturous.’
‘Huh. Well, glad I wasn’t invited then,’ D’Wanda said.
‘Yeah, consider yourselves lucky,’ I said. ‘Bye.’ I hung up and sat there staring at the door. Then I thought, well, Bess and I can dissect the twins and what happened today. That would be cool. I jumped off the bed and headed to Bess’s room.
The next morning I tried getting to Luna before she headed to work. I caught her as she attempted to get in her car. We have side-by-side driveways, so it’s sort of hard for her to sneak out.
‘A moment, Lieutenant Luna,’ I said.
‘Jesus,’ she said, and sighed. ‘What?’ Her hand was on the driver’s-side door handle of the car. She didn’t move it as I spoke.
‘I would assume it’s a given that Mark Metcalf’s murder is somehow connected to Kerry’s. Have you found anything to connect them, other than the fact that they were siblings?’
‘And I would tell you this because . . .’
I smiled. ‘Because we’re best buds and you love me like a sister?’
‘I don’t think that’s it,’ she said.
‘Because I’ve helped you on numerous occasions with murders and you owe me?’
‘That can’t be it,’ she said.
‘Because I asked “pretty please?”’
She actually had the gall to laugh. ‘Pugh, if Mark Metcalf’s murderer was sneaking up behind you with a ball peen hammer, I’m afraid I might not tell you. So why would I tell you confidential police information?’
‘I just think there has to be a connection. And, in case you don’t know it, Mark hung around with Rosalee and the others that summer that the trailer caught on fire.’
‘Hum,’ she said. ‘Thanks for the information,’ and with that, she opened the door of her car, got in, and drove off. And I was left standing in our connecting driveways with absolutely no new information – with less than no new information – she’d actually gotten what little info I had.
I went back in the house, poured a cup of coffee and turned the air conditioning up. Five minutes outside at eight in the morning with the temperature at ninety degrees already had me sweating. I vaguely wondered if we had enough money – or credit – to put a pool in the backyard?
I sat down at the kitchen table and thought. Mark was one of the kids we’d seen in the pictures Kerry had kept. We had identified Kerry, Rosalee, and Mark. Hopefully, this afternoon, when we saw Vera’s friend, the school nurse at the now defunct Catholic school in Codderville, we’d find out who the other boys and the younger girl were. That could start us in a new direction, with any luck.
I heard my bedroom door open and Berta came out, hair mussed, wearing the clothes she’d had on the night before, all wrinkled from sleep.
‘Hey,’ I said. ‘Good morning. You should have told me and I could have loaned you something to sleep in.’
‘That’s OK. I’m used to sleeping like this. When I was at Kerry’s flip house, I never took off street clothes except to shower. You know, always ready to run, if necessary.’
‘Well, let me loan you something to wear today. You can’t stay in those wrinkled clothes.’
‘Oh, E.J., I could never get into any clothes of yours! You’re too small!’
OK, so she wasn’t so bad after all. ‘I think I can find something,’ I said, knowing I’d stashed some of my ‘fat’ clothes, just in case.
I got her some fresh towels, and while she took a shower I found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt that I thought would fit, then went into the kitchen to see about breakfast.
By the time breakfast was ready to serve, Berta was out and wearing the clothes I set out. The jeans were too long, but they fit her well everywhere else. She’d rolled the legs up so they weren’t dragging the ground. The kids came down in their classic stampede.
Graham ran for the back door. ‘Wait!’ I said. ‘Eat!’
‘Mom, I don’t have time. I’m supposed to meet that guy in Austin today who’s gonna be my roommate, remember?’
Bad Mother, I told myself. I’d totally forgotten. Graham was off to the University of Texas (the alma mater of both Willis and myself) in the fall, and he and his assigned dorm roommate were supposed to meet for lunch and then tour the campus together. He’d signed up for Dobie Hall, the same dorm I’d lived in for two of my four years at UT.
‘I forgot, honey, with all that’s going on.’ I grabbed a granola bar out of the pantry and a small bottle of orange juice out of the fridge. ‘Here,’ I said. ‘Your breakfast.’
He kissed me on the cheek. ‘Bye,’ he said as he headed once again for the back door.
‘Drive carefully and have fun!’ I called to his retreating back. ‘And call me when you get there!’ I’m not sure if he heard that, but I’d be calling him fairly often anyway. I do that. I’m a mother.
‘Where’s he going?’ Bess asked, yawning.
‘He has that meeting with his college roommate,’ I reminded her.
‘Oh, right,’ she said. ‘Cool.’
‘Who does what?’ Megan asked, sitting down and grabbing some bacon.
‘Graham’s on his way to Austin to meet his roommate,’ Bess told her.
Alicia was totally silent on the subject.
When Berta came in I introduced her to the girls, who she’d never formally met, and we all sat down to breakfast.
After, Bess’s co-worker from the dress shop in the mall picked her up and Alicia insisted on walking to the bus stop two blocks away to catch the bus into Codderville for her intern job with the D.A.’s office. Megan retreated to her room for whatever it is she does. I was cleaning the kitchen when the phone rang. I picked it up on the second ring.
‘Hello?’ I said.
‘E.J., it’s Vera,’ my mother-in-law said, as if I wouldn’t recognize her voice after twenty-three years.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Are we still on for this afternoon?’
‘That’s why I’m calling. Just wanted to make sure you remembered.’
‘I’ll pick you up at two forty-five,’ I suggested.
‘That should work,’ she said. ‘See you then,’ and she hung up.
The phone rang a second time before I’d put it back. I clicked on. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, E.J. Can you send Megan over here so I can come over there? I’m up to my ears in motherhood,’ Trisha said.
‘No problem. Berta’s over here too. So we can discuss some stuff, see what we can come up with. Did you hear about Kerry’s brother?’
‘No. He’s the younger one in that picture?’
‘Right. He came back from Belize for the funeral. And he got shot in his motel room.’
‘Oh my God, are you serious? That’s awful! Send Megan over right now!’ And she hung up.
I called upstairs. ‘Megan!’ It took two screams, each progressively louder, before she budged from her room. The alternative, of course, was climbing the stairs to get her. I prefer my stair climbing to be in the gym, thank you very much.
‘What?’ she said, standing at the top of the stairs, hands on hips.
‘Mrs McClure wants you to babysit. Right now.’
‘Jeez, will this never end?’ she whined.
‘Money, remember?’
‘Oh. Right. Be right there,’ my daughter said, ran to her room, and came back with flip-flops on her feet and pounded down the stairs. ‘I think I’ll charge her more for these impromptu baby sittings. I mean, I need a little warning!’
‘What else do you have to do? Just go!’
‘I’m going to the pool this afternoon, so y’all don’t stay out all day!’
‘Go!’
‘I’m going!’
Five minutes later there was a knock on the door and it opened, with Trisha sticking her head in. ‘It’s me!’
‘In the family room!’ I called back.
She came in, looking adorable in a pink terry playsuit with spaghetti straps and short shorts. I could learn to hate this woman easily.
‘So dish! Is he dead? The brother?’
‘Very,’ I said.
‘Y’all shouldn’t treat this so lightly!’ Berta said, a new wad of tissue in her hand.
Trisha patted Berta’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know him and I’m being callous. How are you holding up?’
‘Well, I didn’t know him either – well, not in this life, anyway – maybe when I was Rosalee I knew him, but Kerry’s family is really torn up about this. The twins found him.’
‘Oh, how awful!’ Trisha said.
It was a consensus: this whole thing was awful.
‘They were both very shaken. And E.J.’s kids were there too,’ she said, shooting me a look that I easily interpreted as, How can you be so callous when your own children witnessed this? OK, when she’s right, she’s right.
The phone rang yet again. I went to the kitchen to pick it up. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, E.J., it’s Ken,’ he said.
‘Hi! How’s it going over there?’ I asked.
He sighed. ‘Kerry’s family left. Not without, however, threatening to sue me for custody of the boys!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake! They can’t be serious!’
‘Probably not. The boys assured them that Berta spent her nights in the guest room upstairs, and I think they’ll believe that eventually, but right now, with losing two of their children at once, they’re just not being terribly reasonable.’ He sighed again. ‘And who can blame them? I know it probably looks bad, me letting Berta stay here. I thought I was doing it for Kerry, but I have to admit, the boys and I liked having a woman around. It . . . helped, I guess.’
‘I can see that,’ I told him.
‘I’m sorry, but can Berta stay with you for a while? I’m going to get some real furniture to go in the flip house. Let Berta stay there until all this mess about her mother’s death is cleared up. But it could take a couple of days to get it ready. Is that OK?’
Then I heard myself saying, ‘Ken, take all the time you need. Berta’s fine here.’
Shit, I told myself. Willis wants to move back in! Shit!
‘You’re going to see that woman from the Catholic school today?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Did you get those pictures of the kids?’
‘Oh, no! I think I left them on the coffee table—’
‘Berta cleaned that up. She’ll know where they are. Come on over and get them, OK? And bring Berta. I need to talk to her.’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘we’ll be there in a little while.’
I was becoming so immersed in this family’s business I was beginning to know more about them than my own siblings. It was one of the drawbacks of my penchant for finding dead bodies – although I didn’t find any dead bodies in this case! However, I did wonder, late at night, if my obsession with finding out what Berta Harris was doing in all those twelve-step groups had led in any way to Kerry’s death. Was I seen by the killer when I went to Kerry’s office? Did that set this whole thing in motion?
I moved back into the family room. ‘That was Ken. We need to go by there and pick up those pictures before I go see the nurse. Berta, do you remember where you put those yearbooks and snapshots when you cleaned off the coffee table?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Right back where Ken got them. I’m an excellent housekeeper,’ she said, in a way that reminded me too much of Dustin Hoffman in the movie Rain Man. Again, the woman was giving me the wigglies.
‘I want to come!’ Trisha said.
‘Well, duh,’ I said. ‘Of course.’
I was wearing jean shorts and a T-shirt. The shorts were snug, the T-shirt loose. I thought about changing into a cute shorts outfit to match Trisha, but unfortunately I don’t own any cute shorts outfits.
I called Megan to tell her where we were going, then called Graham quickly to see how his trip was going.
‘I’m fine, Mom,’ he said, using that tone they use.
‘Just checking,’ I said. ‘Where are you?’
‘Almost to Bastrop. Maybe another forty-five minutes,’ he said.
‘Make that an hour. Don’t speed,’ I said.
‘The only law I’m breaking at the moment is talking on the cell phone,’ he said.
‘Well, use the speaker button!’
‘Bye, Mom,’ he said and actually hung up on me.
I gathered my Scooby gang and we got in the minivan and headed for Ken’s.
The pictures were right where Berta said they would be, and we quickly found the one with the clearest shots of the three unidentified kids.
‘We’ll take this one,’ I said.
‘Here,’ Ken said, pushing the whole stack toward me. ‘Take them all, just to be on the safe side.’
Berta found a large manila envelope and we put the pictures inside.
One of the boys wandered downstairs. I had no idea which one he was.
‘Hey, Mrs Pugh,’ he said. ‘How’s Megan?’
Ah ha, I thought. It was Keith. I don’t eavesdrop, but I do hear things.
‘She’s fine, Keith. She’s babysitting right now for Mrs McClure’s little girls,’ I said, and Trisha gave him a finger wave to indicate that she was, indeed, Mrs McClure. ‘How are you doing?’
He shook his head. ‘This really sucks,’ he said, coming in the room and flopping down on one of Kerry’s beautiful tuxedo sofas.
I moved into the room and sat down on the same sofa. The others milled around in the dining room, where the yearbooks and snapshots had been stored.
‘I’m so sorry you and Ken had to witness that. I’m so sorry it happened at all.’
‘I don’t know if I could have gotten through it without Megan,’ he said.
Ah oh, I thought. Megan thought he wasn’t manly enough. Was she going to break this poor boy’s heart?
‘I’m sorry my kids had to be there to see it, too, but I’m happy Megan could help you.’
‘Graham was awesome,’ he said.
‘I heard your grandparents were pretty upset,’ I said.
He shook his head. ‘My grandpa has problems. A bad temper and control issues. He’s the one who decided he was going to sue Dad for custody of us, but I think we’re too old. Wouldn’t any judge in his right mind let us decide where we wanted to go?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but we can certainly find out.’
All of a sudden he leaned over and hugged me. ‘I don’t know what Dad and us would have done without you, Mrs Pugh,’ he said, then got up and headed back upstairs.
Good Lord, I hadn’t been hugged this much since my last time at Weigh In!
With Keith upstairs, the others wandered back into the living room.
‘Should I fix everyone some lunch?’ Berta asked.
‘Why don’t I take everyone out for lunch?’ Ken suggested. ‘But first, Berta, can I see you in the kitchen for just a moment?’
They left and Trisha turned to me. ‘OK, dish.’
‘He’s going to tell her that she has to stay with me for a while.’
‘In your house?’ Trisha asked, aghast.
I laughed. ‘Yes. She spent the night last night, and it was OK.’
‘But I thought Willis was coming home.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ I sighed. ‘I haven’t got a clue what I’m going to do.’
A red-faced Ken and a sullen Berta came back into the room. ‘How about O’Brian’s?’ he suggested, naming a Black Cat watering hole that made terrific sandwiches and soups. We all agreed and headed there in the minivan.
Seeing Berta in my old jeans was good for me. I had the soup and salad combo, instead of the Monte Cristo sandwich I really wanted. Afterwards, I drove Ken back to his house.
‘I’m going to Codderville to meet that nurse at three today. Anybody want to go with me?’ I asked.
‘I need to check in with my office,’ Ken said. ‘I better not.’
‘And I need to get home before my girls start calling Megan mommy,’ Trisha said.
‘Can I go?’ Berta asked.
‘Of course,’ I said, not seeing a way around it.
Once we got to my street, I pulled into Trisha’s driveway, took the house key off my key chain and handed it to Berta.
‘Why don’t you go on in my house while I gather up my wayward daughter?’
‘OK,’ she said, still dejected, I suppose, from Ken’s talk with her. She got out and started across the street.
‘Send Megan out, please,’ I said to Trisha as she opened the door. But instead of getting out, Trisha shut the door and turned to me. ‘You’re having a problem with Berta, aren’t you?’
I leaned my head back against the headrest. ‘Oh, God, is it that obvious?’
‘To me,’ she said. ‘Not to Berta, though. It would take a Mac truck to get anything negative through to her.’
‘She’s just so needy!’ I said.
‘I know, I see that,’ Trisha said. ‘Do we really want to do this? All this bother, for what? Maybe she did kill her mother—’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, surprised by Trisha’s doubt. ‘I really don’t. That’s why I’m doing this, Trish. She gets on my nerves, but that’s no reason for her to go to prison for a crime she didn’t commit. If that were the case, every committee chairperson of every committee at both the church and the kids’ schools would be in prison.’
Trisha laughed. ‘You’re right. I guess I’m just getting tired of this. I don’t see your fascination with these kinds of puzzles.’
I turned off the engine. ‘I’ll come in with you,’ I said, and went in search of my darling daughter.
Jeez, I thought, I didn’t take these girls to raise! I came over here at nine this morning, and here it was after one o’clock in the afternoon! The little one, Tamara, finally went down for a nap, which only meant Tabitha wanted my entire attention. I mean, the entire time I was on the phone, all she did was pester me. And I had so much to tell Azalea and D’Wanda! Little brat.
Finally I heard a car in the driveway and it was Mom’s minivan. Thank God for small favors! I told Azalea and D’Wanda, ‘Finally, my mom’s home which means the mother of the year’ (which is what I call Mrs Mc now) ‘is also finally home. Y’all get Donzel and come get me! I absolutely have to get to the pool today or I will die!’
I hung up the phone before Mrs Mc and my mom came in the front door. ‘Mommy!’ Tabitha said and ran to Mrs Mc and threw her arms around Mrs Mc’s legs. I was glad she wasn’t into full sentences yet or she would rat me out for being on the phone.
‘Hi, sweetie,’ Mrs Mc said, hugging Tabitha to her. And I thought, don’t try to prove what a wonderful mother you are now, lady, while I’m standing here waiting for my cash!
Speaking of which she said, ‘Megan, I’m so sorry I don’t have enough cash to pay you right now. Will you take a check?’
I was ready to say a bad word. I really was. Then Mom did something actually mom-like and said, ‘Trisha, make it out to me and I’ll go cash it and give it to her.’
‘Great idea!’ Mrs Mc said and wrote a check, which she gave to my mother! I wouldn’t even know if it was the right amount until my mother either let me see it or gave me the cash! And then even my own mother could stiff me by not letting me see the check and just give me any old amount of cash and say that’s all the check was for! I’d have no way of proving her wrong! And Mrs Mc would totally take her side! Gawd, I hate being cheated and robbed! How are you supposed to ‘look up to’ and ‘respect’ these people when all they did was take your money and lie to you?
We got to the minivan and I got in, fuming. Then Mom handed me the check. It was for double the amount I should have gotten. And in the memo section it said, ‘For above and beyond.’ That was nice.
I drove Megan to the bank, got the cash, gave it to her and headed back to the house. On the way, I told my daughter, ‘Mrs McClure is not having an affair.’
She actually turned her head to look at me. ‘Then what is she doing? And please don’t tell me she’s going to the hairdresser!’
‘I’m going to tell you, but this is not something you tell your siblings, or discuss with Mrs McClure or really anyone, OK?’
‘I’ll tell Azalea and D’Wanda. They’re my best friends and they already know something fishy is going on!’
I sighed but tried to remember what it was like when I was fifteen going on thirty. ‘Just them, OK?’
‘Got it!’ she said. ‘Now dish!’
‘Megan, this is serious. Please don’t treat it lightly,’ I said.
She nodded.
I decided to condense the story. ‘Mrs McClure’s brother has had a hard time with alcohol and is now in a rehab facility not too far from here. That’s where she’s going when she says she’s going to the hairdresser. She didn’t tell you the truth because she was afraid you’d need some lengthy explanation. I told her you were mature enough to understand and not judge.’ Good one, E.J., I told myself.
My daughter fairly preened next to me. ‘I understand,’ she said, her voice serious. ‘And maybe it is something I should keep strictly to myself,’ she said.
I nodded my head. ‘I think that’s a wise choice, honey.’
When we got to the house, D’Wanda and Azalea’s brother’s car was parked in front. Megan said, ‘Oh! I forgot to tell you! I’m going swimming with Azalea and D’Wanda. Donzel is taking us. I’ll be home by dinner,’ she said, jumping out of the car before I’d fully parked.
She ran inside before me and, while I was still putting my stuff down and wondering where Berta was, Megan came running down stairs in her bathing suit.
‘Where’s your cover-up?’ I asked.
‘Couldn’t find it,’ she said, heading for the front door.
‘Get a towel!’
‘I’ll use one of theirs!’ she said, and was gone.
I found Berta in my bedroom, lying on the bed, her eyes open.
‘Trying to take a nap?’ I asked.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Just trying not to give up all hope.’
I sighed inwardly. I tried to sympathize. It had to be hard, not knowing who you were, not knowing anything of your past, wondering if it was possible you’d killed your own mother. And I guess, in her eyes, her one friend, Ken, had rejected her. But there was something about Berta that was beginning to chap my ass. I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
‘You still want to go with me to see that nurse?’ I asked her.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘Yes. It’ll keep my mind off everything, I hope.’
I patted her arm. ‘It should. Go wash your face and we’ll take off, OK?’
She nodded and I went into the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water for the trip.
We pulled into Vera’s driveway twenty minutes later.
‘Y’all come on in,’ Vera said, leaning her head out of her back door. ‘We’re a little early and I got coffee and some cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven.’
Berta got out and I sat behind the wheel for a moment, groaning. Vera makes cinnamon rolls that could make an angel weep. If I ate one I’d weep too because of the actual poundage that would immediately adhere to my hips. I slid out of the van and ran up Vera’s back steps, hoping the running motion would negate the cinnamon roll poundage.
Vera’s kitchen smelled like heaven. There was the delicious smell of her freshly brewed afternoon coffee, and the spice of cinnamon and nutmeg and the undeniable scent of baked bread and sugar.
I blame Vera for most of the weight I gained the first few years after we moved here from Houston. Since Vera and I rarely spoke to one another, when we were at her house, I spent most of the time eating her food, which ran to country, fried, and wonderful. Mashed potatoes with real butter and heavy cream, gravy, chicken fried steak, handmade macaroni and cheese and thick-cut pork chops rolled in cracker crumbs and deep fried, fried chicken and corn on the cob slathered in real butter, chicken and rice with whole chicken pieces still on the bone, and a gravy so thick your fork could stand up in it. And, oh my God, the desserts! Red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting, fresh-picked blackberries in a cobbler with a crust so lovely it melted in your mouth, pecan pie with half pecans not pieces, and a filling that slid down your throat like a sweet song fills your ears.
I’d avoided eating at Vera’s house since I went on my diet. We’d shared meals together, but mostly at restaurants, ‘My treat, Vera!’ but here I was, in her kitchen, with cups of coffee set out on placemats, and a plate of still steaming cinnamon rolls, and to add insult to injury, a dish of dairy butter, in case there weren’t already enough fat and calories in the rolls. I sat down next to Berta and stared at the rolls. Tearing my eyes away, I watched while Vera poured herself a cup of coffee.
‘Vera, this is Berta Harris—’
‘She introduced herself, honey, while you were still in the minivan.’ Vera looked at Berta with her evil eye she usually reserved for my transgressions. ‘But she said her name was Rosalee.’
‘So she didn’t tell you what’s going on?’ I asked.
Vera sat down quickly. ‘No, she did not, and I can’t get a word out of Willis. So tell me!’
So I explained how I originally met Berta, how Trisha and I ended up at Berta’s ‘memorial,’ and how I’d visited Kerry the afternoon of her death.
I got that much out, talking fast and looking into Vera’s eyes to avoid looking at Berta next to me, who had gone for straight out gluttony and buttered her cinnamon roll, or Vera’s hands in front of me, picking small pieces of cinnamon roll off and putting them on the plate in front of her (Vera is five foot even and weighs maybe eighty pounds – she cooks, she doesn’t eat). I explained about finding Berta and finding out about her amnesia and finding out from Luna who Berta really was, which led us to the boys, which led us to why we were going to see Carolyn Gable, the former Bishop Byne High School nurse. Which I followed up with the explanation of the two names.
Vera smiled and patted Berta/Rosalee’s hand. ‘That’s OK, then,’ she said.
The Codderville Senior Center is located in a defunct church’s former fellowship hall. The entire church complex had been taken over by the city and included a thrift shop, classrooms for seniors and the unemployed where they taught everything from arts and crafts to computer and tech skills, secretarial skills, medical assistance training, etc. There was also an office to help people fill out the paperwork for unemployment, WIC, welfare, and food stamps, a gym for seniors, and a food bank. In this economy, the place was hopping.
Vera told me they were using the two senior center buses to pick up the elderly, both city and rural, who had no air conditioning, and bringing them to spend the worst hours of the day in the cool of the senior center. So far this summer we’d already had one death attributed to the heat, and several hospitalizations of elderly citizens of the county. The fan drive (people buying new fans and bringing them to the center for seniors without air conditioners) usually started running the beginning of August and lasted through mid-September. This year it started at the beginning of July.
When you walked in the senior center, you went directly into one large room divided into sections. The fellowship hall had an attached kitchen, which was now used to prepare hot lunches for the seniors who came there. For some, it was their only hot meal of the day; for others, it was their only meal of the day. It was also out of this kitchen that Meals on Wheels operated.
The area closest to the kitchen had long tables set out for lunch; there was another area of round tables stacked with games and puzzles. When we walked in that afternoon, there was a round table with five women who appeared to be closing in on the century mark in age playing canasta, and another round table with two very old men playing something that required them to beat the table with their fists a lot. In this area was a Ping Pong table with an elderly man playing Ping Pong with a teenage boy. Toward the back of the large room, bringing together the two sides, was an area of couches and easy chairs facing a stage with a large-screen TV. Volunteers were still clearing the lunch tables and we could see more volunteers in the kitchen cleaning up.
‘Carolyn will be in the kitchen. She’s a volunteer.’ Of course she was. As far as I could tell, no one under ninety actually used the facility. All the volunteers looked to be in their seventies or eighties. And seemed as fit if not more fit than either Berta or myself. Well, maybe me six months ago.
The kitchen was separated from the fellowship hall by a wall with a cut out for coffee service, and a doorway with only a saloon-style swinging door. Each was topped with a valance of western-style material – horses and cowboys and cows. We went through the swinging doors and into the kitchen.
A large woman was at the sink. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and knee-length shorts with very sensible shoes on her feet. She turned when she heard the swinging door, whose hinges definitely needed a few minutes alone with some WD40. She had steel-gray hair and a beautiful face. Being on the chubby side, her face was mostly devoid of wrinkles. If she lost a few pounds, believe me, they’d come rushing back. She had big blue eyes, a cherub nose, and a smile that made you want to smile back. This smile was now aimed at Vera.
‘Vera Pugh, how you doing?’ she said. She started to reach for my mother-in-law, but then said, ‘Now wait, I want a hug, but I’ve gotta dry off!’ She dried her hands while Vera laughed, and then the two hugged. ‘How come we never see each other anymore?’ she asked Vera.
‘You’re usually doing lunch and I don’t usually drive the bus anywhere ’til late afternoon or evening,’ Vera said.
‘Well, that’s the truth of it. This your daughter-in-law?’ she asked, showing me her hand. I shook hands with her and she said, ‘I know it’s you ’cause Vera’s mentioned your pretty red hair.’ She leaned in as if to whisper in my ear and said, ‘I love your smutty books! They remind me of my youth!’
‘It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,’ I said. Indicating Berta, I said, ‘This is my friend, Berta Harris.’
‘Y’all just call me Carolyn. Why don’t we go in the dining room so we can sit down.’ She turned her head and said, ‘Alice Ann, I’m taking a break.’
Alice Ann called back and said, ‘I’ll finish up. You go on.’
Carolyn Gable waved and ushered us out to the dining area. We took chairs on either side of the long table, Berta and me on one side, the older two on the other.
‘Now what can I do for y’all?’ Carolyn Gable asked.
‘I understand you used to be the nurse at Bishop Byne High School, is that right?’ I asked.
She grinned. ‘Yep. From 1965, straight out of nursing school, until the place closed ten years ago this past June.’
‘And I understand you’re one of those people with an incredible memory.’
She frowned. ‘More like total recall. You wanna tell me what’s going on?’
I pulled out the pictures of the four teenagers and younger kids. ‘Could you tell us the names of these two boys and the younger girl?’
She looked at the pictures, then up at me. ‘I could, but I won’t necessarily do so. Not until you tell me what this is about.’
I looked at Berta and she nodded her head. So for the second time in less than an hour, I was telling Berta’s story. ‘So we’re hoping to find one of these boys to find out what kind of relationship Berta here – or Rosalee, if you prefer – had with her mother.’
Carolyn reached out a hand to Berta. ‘I’m so sorry, honey. What a terrible burden.’ She pulled back and said, ‘The dark-haired boy is Ray Thornton. A real piece of work. Don’t know the girl he’s with,’ she said, pointing at Kerry. ‘Ray was in trouble a lot, drinking, wrecking cars, that sort of thing. Don’t know if any of his people are still around. His daddy died before I knew Ray, and his mama liked hanging out in bars and bringing men home, leastwise that’s what I heard. The younger girl there, that’s Ray’s little sister, I’m pretty sure. She went to Bishop Byne, too, but I didn’t know her much. What was her name? Betsy? Patty? Patsy? Something like that. The red-headed boy is Timothy Quartermyer. He was a very good student until his junior year when he met up with Ray and started hanging out with him. I don’t know this girl either,’ she said, pointing at Rosalee.
‘That’s me,’ Berta said.
‘Well, weren’t you the pretty thing?’ Carolyn said. ‘Now, Timothy did have a girlfriend at Bishop Byne – Cynthia Douglas.’ Carolyn Gable frowned. ‘Now that I think of it, maybe Cynthia became a nun.’ Then you could tell a light went on behind her eyes. ‘Oh my God! I just now put it together! I went with my daughter last week to her church in Black Cat Ridge! They just got a new priest! Last name Quartermyer! How many could there be? I think that’s why Timothy and Cynthia probably went together: both knowing they were joining the church and neither, you know, trying to, um, tempt each other? Know what I mean?’
We all knew what she meant.
‘So the red-headed boy may be the new priest at the Catholic church in Black Cat Ridge?’ I summed up.
‘That’s what I’m saying,’ Carolyn said. ‘Although I gotta say I don’t remember the priest having red hair.’
‘Red fades some when people get older,’ Vera said. ‘Except for this one,’ she said, pointing at me.
I sighed. ‘OK, Vera, I colored it. Are you satisfied?’
‘I knew it!’
‘What happened to the dark-haired boy?’ Berta asked, getting us back on track and again trying to take care of Kerry.
Carolyn shook her head. ‘He didn’t even graduate. Left school close to the end, just left town, no one, not even Tim, I believe, knew why or where.’
I looked at Berta. ‘Think we have time to stop by the church in Black Cat Ridge?’
She nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Vera beat her to it. ‘I’m going with y’all,’ she said, and by her tone there would be no arguing.
‘Well, y’all are gonna need me for introductions,’ Carolyn said. ‘After all, I’m the only one who knows him – except maybe Rosalee here?’
Berta shrugged. ‘I guess,’ she said, her voice timid.
I invited Carolyn and Vera to ride with me, but Carolyn said, ‘Ah hell, you’d just have to bring us all the way back to Codderville, when y’all will practically be home.’ She and Vera headed to an antique Shelby Mustang convertible, got in and peeled out. I could only hope to catch up.
I called Vera on her cell phone. ‘When you get to the church, don’t go in. I want to see Tim’s reaction to seeing Rosalee. I don’t want y’all telling him beforehand.’
‘OK,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think it’s fair!’
‘Vera—’
‘OK, OK! Jeez!’ she said and hung up.
Luckily I knew where the Catholic church was in Black Cat Ridge. Our Lady of the Vines was toward the back of Black Cat Ridge, well into the woods, and had the same funky parking lot as the Episcopal Church where Berta’s ‘memorial’ had been held. There were very few cars in the lot so it was easy to find the Shelby Mustang in front of a part of the complex that had a sign over it proclaiming ‘office.’ I parked next to the two old ladies and we all got out.
I moved in front as the two older women barreled toward the door. ‘Now, listen, ladies,’ I said, hands up like a traffic cop, stopping them in their tracts. ‘Please let me do the talking. Carolyn, you start by reminding him who you are, then introduce me.’
Hands on hips, head cocked, the formerly sweet lady from the senior center said, ‘And just who would that be?’
‘Someone investigating the death of Kerry Killian,’ I said.
‘Should she say Kerry Metcalf? He’d have known her by that name,’ Berta said.
I shook my head. ‘No, Kerry Killian.’
The three women looked at each other and I thought I was going to have a mutiny on my hands. Finally, Carolyn nodded. ‘OK, let’s do it.’
And we headed into the office, not unlike the Americans lining up to meet the German tank officer toward the end of Willis’s favorite movie, Kelly’s Heroes. I could hear the strains of the theme song to The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly in my mind.
I swear Donzel wouldn’t leave me alone. He told me a thousand times how good I looked in my swimsuit (and it’s not even a bikini, which is what I wanted, but my mother said no, I was too young! I have breasts! They need to be seen, for gawd’s sake!), and followed me around like a puppy dog. Actually I did look really good in this dumb one-piece. It shows off all the good parts, like my beautiful breasts, and my nice butt. And when I wear my hair down, guys do get a little weird, if you know what I mean. I can’t help it. It’s fun to make guys weird.
Then my phone rang. I made the mistake of not checking the caller ID before answering.
‘Oh my God, Megan?’
‘Yes?’ I said, stretching out the word because, really, who was this person calling me at the pool?
‘It’s Trisha McClure! I need you to come over immediately! I have an emergency!’
If I hadn’t been trained from birth to be ‘respectful’ of my elders, I would have said something like, ‘You need to wax your eyebrows?’ or something equally catty. Instead I said, ‘Mrs McClure, I’m not at home. I’m at the pool.’
‘The one on Taylor?’
I frowned. I didn’t like where this was going. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘I’m on my way to pick you up. You and the girls can come with me and you can watch them in the clinic lobby—’
‘But Mrs McClure—’
‘I’ll pay you a hundred dollars!’ she screeched.
‘Well, you better hurry up then.’ Now I sorta wished I had something to put on over my bathing suit.
We hadn’t made an appointment, so it was just luck that when I asked to see Father Quartermyer that the secretary said, ‘Have a seat.’
When he came out of his office to greet us, I could see the red in his hair. It had faded even from the old pictures we had of him, but you could still see red under the fluorescent lights of the office. He had freckled skin – face neck and hands – eyes as green as an Irish valley, and was tall and lanky. On seeing him, I felt like I do whenever I see a very appealing gay guy: girls, we lost another one.
‘Hi,’ he said, holding out his hand to Carolyn Gable, who shook it and said, ‘Father, may we speak privately?’
‘Certainly,’ he said and led us into his office. He pointed to his two visitor chairs, and Berta and I insisted the older ladies take them, then Carolyn spoke up.
‘Father, you may not remember me, but I was the nurse at Bishop Byne when you attended. Carolyn Gable.’
A smile broke out on the priest’s face. ‘Mrs Gable! I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you! You haven’t changed a bit! How nice to see you!’ he stood up from his desk and walked around it. ‘I’ve got to have a hug!’ he said. Carolyn obliged by standing and hugging back. Now more casual, the priest leaned a hip against his desk and crossed his arms. ‘To what do I owe this honor?’ he asked.
Pointing at me, Carolyn said, ‘This is my friend, E.J. Pugh. She’s investigating the death of Kerry Killian on behalf of her husband.’
Tim Quartermyer stood and again held out his hand, which I shook. ‘I heard about that tragedy, although I never knew Mrs Killian or her family,’ he said.
‘Oh, but you did, Father,’ I said. ‘You knew her as Kerry Metcalf.’
He was very still for a long moment, his face a blank. Then he frowned. ‘What is this? I haven’t seen Kerry Metcalf in fifteen years!’
‘Does this face ring any bells?’ I asked, indicating Berta.
The priest bent down and looked into Berta’s face. ‘Rosie?’ he said, incredulous. ‘Rosie Bunch?’
Berta raised her hand and fluttered her fingers. ‘Guilty as charged,’ she said, then grimaced. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t say that?’
‘Maybe not right now,’ I said. To the priest, I said, ‘Rosie has been charged with killing her mother the night before she disappeared. I have a feeling that you all were together that night, as it seems y’all were together a lot. Can you recall?’
‘What night was that? Rosie, do you remember?’ he asked.
‘That’s the problem, Father,’ she said. ‘I don’t remember anything.’
I then went into Berta’s story yet another time.
‘My God,’ he said, going back around his desk to sink into his chair. ‘You have no idea what happened to your mother?’
‘I have no idea what I had for breakfast the day I was run over,’ Berta said. ‘You seem to be the only one left around out of the old group. I was hoping you could tell me something about my relationship with my mother.’
His face turned red again and he looked to his desktop, his hands busy with a rosary sitting there. ‘Why hash up that old stuff now, Rosie? Let it lie—’
‘I can’t, Father—’
Timothy Quartermyer looked up at Berta/Rosie. ‘Please don’t call me Father.’ He smiled. ‘You used to call me Timmy. You’re the only one who ever did. You knew it piss— Sorry, made me angry.’
‘So we were friends?’ Berta asked.
‘Good friends. Not boyfriend-girlfriend, just friends. Sometimes that’s stronger – at least, it can last longer.’
‘Do you remember anything about the night Rosie’s trailer blew up with her mom in it?’ I asked.
He looked back at his desktop, his face turning red. ‘No, I sure can’t recall that. I found out through the grapevine that Mrs Bunch was dead and Rosie had taken off.’
I wasn’t a Catholic, didn’t know a lot about them, to tell you the truth, but the one thing I was pretty sure about was that, just like Protestant ministers and Jewish rabbis, priests weren’t supposed to lie. But it was pretty evident that Father Timothy Quartermyer was lying his ass off.
We got to the clinic where Mrs Mc’s big brother was drying out (I sure hope Graham never makes me come see him when he dries out), and she made us sit in the lobby and wait. There were some patients in the lobby – some not that old, like maybe late teens, early twenties – and most of them were guys. And boy, were they looking. For the first time I was a little bit grateful Mom didn’t let me buy that bikini – but don’t tell her I said that.
I got the girls situated with coloring books and colors and went up to the woman at the reception counter. ‘Do y’all have like a robe or something I can put on? Mrs McClure picked me up at the pool to watch her kids, and it’s kind of cold in here.’
‘Sure, honey, just a second,’ she said and left her station.
I looked around me, waiting for the great escape. Nothing happened. The reception lady came back with a terry cloth robe. It was puke gray. I put it on and cinched it up tight. Then I glanced at the inmates. I was wearing the same thing they were. ‘Ah, y’all aren’t going to confuse me with them, are you? And put me in a rubber room?’
The woman looked serious. ‘You better stay with the little girls, then we’ll know you don’t go back. Otherwise . . .’ As her voice trailed off, she shrugged her shoulders. Then she said, ‘Oh, by the way, you said you were with Mrs McClure, right?’
‘Uh huh,’ I said.
‘I just saw her going out the side door. She was moving pretty fast.’
‘What?’
‘Maybe you can catch her in the parking lot?’ she said as I ran into the lobby to get the girls, then dragged them out to the parking lot, only to see their mother turn the corner onto Birch. Birch only headed one way. Back to Black Cat Ridge.
I figured I wasn’t going to get much more out of Timothy Quartermyer with this whole gang with me, so we said ‘thanks so much’ and ‘see ya’ and headed back to our cars.
I hugged Carolyn Gable. ‘Thanks for the help, Carolyn,’ I said. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said. She reached out a hand to touch Berta’s shoulder. ‘Honey,’ she said, ‘I have a feeling this is going to work out. I know I’m gonna pray for you, and I’ll get my church prayer line on it. We’ve been able to pull out a few miracles.’
Berta moved in for a hug. ‘It may take a miracle,’ she said. ‘And thank you.’
Holding out her hand to Vera, she said, ‘And you too, Mrs Pugh. I don’t know what we’d of done without you.’
‘Just found another way, that’s all,’ Vera said in her pragmatic way.
I waved goodbye to my mother-in-law and she said, ‘Any message for Willis?’
It seemed my husband hadn’t yet told his mother he was moving back. I said, ‘No, not really,’ and we headed to separate towns in separate cars.
Alone in the car with Berta, I asked her, ‘Did that bring up any memories? Seeing Tim, talking with him?’
Berta shook her head. ‘No, nothing. I thought it would, E.J., I really did,’ she said, turning in her seat towards me. I looked away from the road for a second to see her face all red and splotchy, her eyes filling with tears. ‘What if I never remember?’
I reached out a hand to her. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘What if? Worst-case scenario: what if you don’t remember?’
‘Then I may be locked up for killing my mother!’ she said, the tears released.
I waved that away. ‘I meant once we find your mother’s real killer. That, my dear, is a given. We will find out who killed your mother, and I can guaran-damn-tee you it wasn’t you.’
‘Why do you say that? The trailer I lived in with my mom blows up and I run away. Sure seems to make me guilty!’
‘No, it makes you look guilty. So if you killed your mother, who ran you down? And who killed Kerry? You? Like I said before, there are definitely other scenarios that could explain what happened to your mother. One, you were terrified that whoever did it – presumably someone you knew – would come back to kill you; two, you were kidnapped by someone who blew up the trailer to cover his tracks; three, when the trailer blew up, you were thrown clear, hit your head, had amnesia, and wandered off—’
Berta laughed. ‘OK, I have amnesia on top of amnesia? Now that’s going to be hard to cure!’
‘It’s just a theory!’ I said defensively. ‘And four—’ I was silent for a moment. ‘I’m still working on four. But we have three pretty good ones.’
‘I’ll give you two fairly good ones,’ Berta said.
‘Back to my point—’
‘You had a point?’ Berta said. I smiled at her. She was actually teasing me, which was a good sign. The timid, obedient Berta might be taking a back seat to the more spunky (I hoped) Rosie.
‘Yes, I had a point! Worst-case scenario if you don’t recover your memory: you run into people you should know and embarrass yourself by not recognizing them. There. That’s it.’
Berta shook her head. ‘I wish it was going to be that simple.’
‘Well, it may not even be that bad. If you keep the name Berta Harris, and stay in Black Cat Ridge, added to the fact that you left Codderville fifteen or so years ago and as far as we know, didn’t come back until around the time you were run down, I doubt if you would run into anyone you knew.’
‘Wouldn’t there be a legal problem with me keeping an alias? Because that’s what Berta Harris is, right? An alias?’
‘People have their names legally changed all the time. You could do that.’
Berta nodded her head. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’
Unless, of course, I thought to myself, she and Ken decide to change it another way. And that would be such a bad idea!
Mom’s phone wasn’t answering. She must have had it on vibrate again! So I called my grandma Vera, since I was in Codderville. Both Tabitha and Tamara were crying and the little one kept trying to walk into the street, and I had to keep chasing her, and a hundred bucks was not going to cut it! Not by a longshot! Grandma Vera answered the phone on the second ring.
‘Megan?’ she said.
So Grandma Vera had caller ID. I also heard she has a Twitter account. ‘Grandma, listen! I’m babysitting for this lady, and she took us to the rehab center out on the highway? And then she ran off and left us here!’
‘You said “us,” honey. Who all?’
‘Me and her two little girls!’
I heard Grandma Vera talking to someone, then she said, ‘We’re on our way!’ and she hung up.
I took the girls back into the lobby, but the big one kept crying, and everybody was giving me dirty looks – like it was my fault – so I took them back outside and kept them busy singing songs. Then this really cool car, red and low slung and, well, sexy, pulled into the circle drive and stopped right in front of me. The tinted window rolled down and – believe it or not! – my grandma Vera’s head poked out.
‘Is this a nifty car or what?’ Grandma said, grinning.
‘Rad,’ I said, and immediately regretted it. That was something Graham would say. Ewww!
The driver’s-side door opened and a big lady got out – a lady much too big to have fit in that low-slung car, but she did nonetheless. (Don’t you just love that word? Nonetheless. Three words but you can put them together and then they’re one word! You gotta love the English language.)
‘Now you tell me what’s going on here, young lady!’ the big lady said. Like she was the boss of me or something. ‘The lady who brought you here: was she supposed to be going into rehab?’
‘Oh, no, ma’am. She comes here to visit her big brother, and for some reason she just ran out of a side door and left us here.’
‘Did the nurse’s aide at the reception desk call her?’
I shrugged. ‘I dunno.’
‘Did anyone call her?’
Again I shrugged. ‘I dunno.’
‘Where did her brother say she was going?’
I was getting a crick in my neck, so I just said, ‘I dunno.’
Turning to the open passenger window of the red car, she said, ‘Vera, you told me this girl was smart.’
It was Grandma’s turn to shrug. ‘She used to be.’
Grandma got out of the car and looked up at me. (Grandma’s very short and I’m very tall. You do the math.) ‘Girl, did you do anything?’
I was getting a little p.o.’d. ‘I ran after the car! And I took care of these kids! They’ve been crying and running around, and trying to get in the street, and you try taking care of two little girls who are spoiled rotten and see how you do!’ My hands were on my hips and I was breathing hard. Uh oh. Not good.
‘Little lady, are you getting snippy with me?’ Grandma said, hands on her own hips and a frown on her face.
I sighed. ‘Yes, ma’am, I did get snippy, and I apologize. I’m just upset.’
The big lady said, ‘Well, Vera, she’s not that stupid. She knew to apologize to you.’
Grandma Vera patted me on the back. ‘She’s a good girl,’ she said.
Then the big lady said, ‘Let’s go kick some nurse’s aide butt,’ and opened the door for us to go in.
She went right up to the reception desk and said, ‘I want to see the nurse in charge.’
‘In regards to?’ the girl behind the counter said.
‘In regards to you keeping your minimum-wage job, young lady. Where is she? I’ll find her myself!’ She walked purposely away with the receptionist following.
‘No, ma’am! You can’t go back there without an escort!’ The older lady kept walking. ‘Ma’am! Come back! Please come back!’
A door along the hall opened, and a woman in blue scrubs with Mickey and Minnie Mouse on them, stepped into the hall. ‘Sherry, what is going on?’
The girl, Sherry, I guess, said, ‘I tried to stop her, Nurse. But she just barged through—’
‘Go back to reception, Sherry. And don’t leave your station again. You know that red button under the counter? When this sort of thing happens, you push that button and big, burly men come to your rescue. Can you remember that, Sherry?’
The girl turned all sorts of red – who could blame her? That nurse lady was mean! – said, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and ran back to the reception desk.
‘And you are?’ she said to the big lady.
‘Carolyn Gable, R.N., UT class of ’fifty-five,’ she said.
‘Judy Pearce, R.N., UT class of ’sixty-five,’ she said, smiling at our nurse lady. ‘Please come in my office. I certainly hope you’re not applying for a job. That would be a bad first impression.’
‘Hardly,’ Mrs Gable said, turning back around and waving the rest of us forward.
We went into Nurse Pearce’s office and sat down, Grandma taking both girls and sitting them on her tiny knees. They were perfectly content.
‘This young lady,’ Mrs Gable said to the head nurse, ‘is my friend’s granddaughter. She came here with the woman she babysits for, as I understand it, and then, Megan, please tell her what happened.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said. Looking at the head nurse, I said, ‘I was at the pool when Mrs McClure called me with an emergency so that’s why I’m in my bathing suit,’ I said, opening the robe so all could see I wasn’t a patient. ‘The receptionist gave me the robe to cover up.’
‘Are you on point, dear?’ Mrs Gable asked.
‘Ah, maybe not. Anyway, Mrs McClure comes here to see her big brother, and she left me and her girls in the lobby, and went back and then we saw her leave through the side door and when I got outside, she was driving away.’
‘Hum, well, I guess I’ve been a little slow in putting two and two together,’ Nurse Pearce said. ‘I saw you in the lobby but had no idea you were involved with Ray Thornton.’
Mrs Gable stood up and Grandma almost dropped the girls. They seemed really surprised. ‘What has Ray Thornton to do with this?’ Mrs Gable asked.
‘Mrs McClure is his sister. Mr Thornton has been with us on mandatory drug and alcohol rehab due to DUIs, to reduce his sentence, but he escaped tonight. That’s why we called his sister.’
Grandma and Mrs Gable looked at each other. Turning to me, Mrs Gable said, ‘Which way did you say she was going?’
I pointed in the general direction of Black Cat Ridge. ‘Home,’ I said.
Mrs Gable pushed us all out of the room. Over her shoulder she yelled at Nurse Pearce, ‘Call the sister! Find out where she is!’
‘The younger girl in the photo?’ I heard Grandma say.
Mrs Gable said, ‘Got to be,’ and we all headed outside.
Mrs Gable stuffed me and the little girls into the back seat of her very small sports car. I mean, there was a back seat, but not much of one. ‘I had seat belts installed in the back for my grandkids,’ she said to my grandma. ‘Help Megan figure them out.’
We spent quality time pulling out the bottom seat cushion to find the various parts of the seat belts, then Grandma helped me clip the girls in. ‘They really should be in car seats,’ I told Mrs Gable.
‘Thanks for the information dear, but do you see any car seats?’
I swear that woman could be as sarcastic as, well, me.
We got everyone settled and Mrs Gable headed out of Codderville and over the river to Black Cat Ridge. It was already getting dark and the perfect day was turning into a perfect night. I’d left the robe at the reception desk and was in just my bathing suit, and with such a small car, the air conditioning worked really, really well. I was freezing.
‘What are you thinking?’ Grandma asked Mrs Gable.
‘Ray’s family was Catholic. Which means his sister probably is, which means, since she lives in Black Cat Ridge—’
‘That it’s possible she goes to Our Lady of whatever in Black Cat Ridge, which means—’
‘That she knows Timothy Quartermyer is the priest there, which—’
‘Means that maybe Ray might be headed there—’
‘Or at least his sister thinks he is—’
‘So we go straight to the church.’
‘Exactly,’ Mrs Gable said and stepped harder on the gas. The two little girls looked up at me with wide eyes and big smiles. Hey, who doesn’t like speed?
Grandma kept calling and recalling someone on her cell phone, so I finally asked, ‘You calling my mom?’
‘It’s going to voice mail,’ Grandma said.
‘She has a bad habit of putting it on vibrate then forgetting about it,’ I told her.
She hit another number and I heard her say, ‘Willis? This is your mother. Things are heating up.’ She listened for what seemed a long time and then said, ‘Well, I have Megan with me, and have no idea where the other three are. Your wife and her friend Berta are God only knows where and E.J.’s cell phone just goes to voice—’ A shorter silence, then, ‘Yes, I know – vibrate. Maybe she likes it. Which means you really should move home. Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know we think we know who the killer is –’ silence, then ‘– my friend Carolyn Gable and I.’ Silence. ‘Yes, you know her—’
‘Vera, cut to the chase!’ Mrs Gable said.
‘Cutting to the chase here, Willis. Meet us at the Catholic church in Black Cat. We don’t want to try to take this guy down with Megan and her two wards in tow.’ Silence. ‘She’s babysitting, Willis.’ Silence. ‘Yes, I’m serious.’ Silence. ‘Hush! Carolyn and I have to stop this guy before he kills again!’ Then she hung up on my dad. And I thought, what the hell is going on?
‘Grandma?’ I said.
She turned around and patted my hand. ‘It’s OK, honey. Your dad will show up and take care of you and the girls.’
‘But who killed who and what has a priest got to do with it and where’s Mom? Is she OK or is she in trouble?’ I asked, sitting forward in my seat, my hands in a white-knuckled grip on the back of Grandma’s seat.
Just leave it to my mother to get killed when I hadn’t been nice to her lately. I swear she hates me.
I dropped Berta off at my house and drove to the pool to pick up Megan. I found D’Wanda, Azalea, and Donzel, but was told Megan had been picked up by Trisha and was going to the rehab center.
‘In her bathing suit?’ I asked, eyebrows arched.
‘Yes, ma’am, she didn’t have her cover-up with her,’ Azalea (I think) said.
‘OK, kids, thanks,’ I said and headed out to my car. I picked up my cell phone to call Megan and saw I had eight calls and that my phone was on vibrate yet again. I put it on ring tone and checked the messages, thinking one had to be from Megan.
I hung up, did a 180 in the middle of Black Cat Drive, and headed for the church of Timothy Quartermyer.
We got to Black Cat Ridge faster than you’d think. And then we were at the church. ‘There’s her car!’ I said, seeing Mrs McClure’s Toyota hybrid right in front of the sanctuary. Mrs Gable made a quick, fast turn and slammed on her breaks, sliding in right beside the Prius.
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Grandma, shouldn’t we call the police?’
‘No time!’ Mrs Gable said, baling from the car. ‘You call them while we go in!’
Grandma baled with her, leaving me and the girls in the back seat. I got my cell phone from the leg of my swimsuit – it fits very nicely there, what with the elastic and all – and just as I was about to call 911, the phone rang. I saw it was my mother.
‘Well, you’re alive, at least!’ I said upon answering.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Mom asked.
‘We’re at the church. The Catholic one. Grandma and Mrs Gable have gone inside to confront Mrs McClure—’
‘Trisha? What on earth for?’ Mom asked.
‘I don’t know. Something about her brother,’ I said.
‘You’ve got Trisha’s girls?’ Mom asked.
‘Yes, they’re with me and they’re getting antsy, Mom. I think they’re hungry.’ One of them, the little one, was beginning to cry. This entire experience has convinced me that children are not in my future!’
‘I’m almost there, honey. Just hold on!’
‘Dad’s on his way too,’ I told her.
‘I know, he left me a message,’ she said.
We hung up and I considered whether or not I should call 911 as Mrs Gable had instructed. I mean, both Mom and Dad were on their way. Wasn’t that enough?
I saw Willis’s pick-up in my rear-view mirror as I turned into the church parking lot. In front of me, I saw Carolyn Gable’s Shelby Mustang, and pulled alongside it. I noticed Trisha’s Prius on the other side. The passenger side door of the Mustang opened and my daughter’s butt emerged.
‘Thank God you’re here!’ she said as Willis pulled in on the other side of me.
‘Help me get these girls out, Mom!’
I could hear them both crying. I helped unbuckle them and set them on the ground. One stopped crying, but the younger one continued to emit screeching howls. ‘Put them in the minivan—’ I started, but my daughter broke in.
‘No! Mom, I’m going in there! I’m worried about Grandma!’
‘No, young lady, you’re getting in the minivan now,’ Willis said from behind us,‘and taking these girls with you. Here,’ he said, handing the younger one his keys. ‘See how fun?’
For some reason the little one did see how fun and moved obediently into the minivan, along with her sister and a pissed off Megan.
Willis and I headed for the giant double doors of the church. ‘Maybe we should try a side door,’ I suggested, ‘just in case.’
He nodded and we moved to the nearest side, and found a door that led into the lobby in front of the sanctuary. The door opened and closed silently as we made our way through. We could hear voices coming from inside the sanctuary.
Mrs Gable was saying, ‘Trisha, dear, you really need to let me look at Timothy. I’m a nurse and he’s hurt—’
An exasperated Trisha said, ‘That was the point, for God’s sake! He’s supposed to be dead!’
‘God, Patti, what’re you doing?’
I peeked around the door jamb to see who was speaking. The man talking bore only a slight resemblance to the boy in the pictures, the first love of Kerry Metcalf Killian. Where Ray Thornton the boy had been broodingly handsome, the man was but a shadow of his former self. His hair prematurely graying, his skin sallow and loose, his stomach protruding over his belt buckle, he was barely recognizable. Unfortunately, Trisha was holding a gun, and I could see two black-clad feet sticking out beyond her. From what I’d heard Carolyn say, I could only assume that was Father Quartermyer.
I moved back into the lobby, over to a corner and called Luna. ‘Catholic church – Black Cat. Trisha’s got a gun!’ I hissed and hung up.
‘Still cleaning up your mess!’ the woman I knew as Trisha shot back. ‘The same thing I’ve been doing for fifteen years!’
‘Patti, I forgive you—’
‘Oh, shut up, Tim! I do not recognize you as God’s emissary, OK? You’re just Tim, and you’ve got to go!’
She aimed the gun at Tim, and before I knew what was happening, a large figure pounced from amongst the pews, knocking Trisha sideways, sending her gun flying. I looked around me where Willis had been. He wasn’t there. Instead, he was in the sanctuary, lying on top of little Trisha McClure, or should I say Patti Thornton McClure?
The gun landed near Ray Thornton. He bent and picked it up, holding it loosely in his hand.
I went further into the sanctuary. ‘Ray, why don’t you give the gun to Nurse Gable?’ I suggested.
He looked up and saw me, and shook his head. ‘No. God, I’m sorry, Tim. Has somebody called an ambulance?’ he asked.
‘I did,’ I told him. ‘And the police.’
He nodded. ‘That’s good.’
Willis had gotten up off Trisha and had her sitting on the front pew, holding on to her arm.
‘Patti, you shouldn’t have done these things—’
‘Shut up, Ray!’ she spat. ‘Just aim the gun at this asshole and let’s get out of here!’
‘Too much running, Patti. That’s all I’ve done for the last fifteen years,’ Ray said. He looked at Carolyn Gable. ‘You never did like me, did you?’ he said.
‘Like had nothing to do with it, Ray. You just had a wild streak and I was hoping you’d grow out of it.’ She shook her head. ‘Instead, looks like you just let it take you over.’
‘No, it wasn’t like that,’ he said, shaking his head, his hand gripping the gun harder. ‘Me and Kerry – we could have made it, ya know? She was helping me, calming me down. I just needed to get out of that house. Away from my dad—’
‘Shut up, Ray!’ Trisha yelled.
‘And you, too, Patti. I needed to get you away from Dad. So he’d stop—’
Trisha pulled away from Willis and ran at Ray. ‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!’ She flung herself on him, Willis right behind her. He grabbed her as she grabbed Ray. And the sanctity of the sanctuary was broken by the echoing sound of a gunshot.
I heard this loud noise come from the church, and since I figured there wasn’t a car inside backfiring – like they always say they think it is on TV – I figured it had to be gunshot. I told the girls to stay put, rolled the windows up high enough so they couldn’t fall out, but low enough for them to get some of the cooler night air, and ran inside.
At first all I could see was Mrs Gable holding a gun. Then Grandma sitting on Mrs McClure. Then I saw Mom on the floor with my dad, and blood all around.
‘Daddy!’ I screamed and ran over to them.
We all heard sirens coming into the parking lot.
‘Oh my God!’ I said, and started crying.
‘Go to the door and lead the cops and paramedics in here!’ Mrs Gable said. ‘Now, girl!’
I jumped up and ran outside. I was waving my arms for the emergency vehicles when I noticed the minivan was gone. Yes, I said gone. I got a head rush and sort of fell down. When I opened my eyes my future husband, the father of my children, was leaning over me. ‘How are you doing?’ he said, taking this plastic mask off my face.
‘OK?’ I said. ‘Oh! My dad—’
‘We’ve got him in the ambulance now. Were you missing something?’ he asked, grinning at me, and even though I was lying down, my knees got weak. I looked past him at Mrs McClure’s little girls. ‘Oh, God! I thought they’d been kidnapped!’ I said, sitting up.
The big one said, ‘Me drive, Meggie!’
That’s when I noticed my mom’s minivan on the other side of the parking lot wrapped around a tree.
‘Seems she moved the gear shift out of park into neutral,’ the man of my dreams said. ‘The natural incline moved the car.’
‘I shouldn’t have left them—’
‘You’re damn right you shouldn’t have!’ my mother said from behind me. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘I was thinking I heard a gunshot and that maybe you or Dad were hurt! And I guess I was thinking right!’ I said.
Then my mom hugged me. Well, that shook me up. ‘Is Dad OK?’ I asked her, peering around for my future husband who seemed to have deserted me.
‘Good thing he doesn’t wear earrings,’ Mom said.
‘Huh?’
‘She shot off his earlobe.’
‘Ewww!’