Chapter Forty-five
Angel kissed Grams on the forehead and then smoothed her hair. She wasn’t sure if it was her own mood or Grams, but they had had a difficult day. Grams had been extra frustrated by everything today; even Ella Mae couldn’t make her smile. Ella Mae had mentioned that her grandmother might experience depression from time to time. She was progressing well, but too slowly for the feisty Fredricka.
Angel said, “If you need me, I will be in my room. I’ll come check on you before I go to bed.”
She got up from the bed, but Grams grabbed her arm with her left hand, which seemed to be remarkably strong. Angel looked at Grams. “Are you okay?”
“Where’s Jacob?” Grams asked slowly.
Angel didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t the first time Grams had asked about her son, and Angel was not sure what to say about her uncle. It seemed like Jacob had gone off the deep end. Angel was really worried about both Jacob and Eddie. She was hoping Wes would call to update her, but she realized she might have blown it with him on Sunday. He was a reporter, doing what he did best, asking questions. If it wasn’t for him, she probably would have never taken the plunge to meet her father.
Angel patted Grams’s hands. “I don’t know. I’m sure he’s fine.”
She wished Jacob would come clean about what was going on with him. Maybe he was out looking for a job, although she doubted it. His appearance seemed to grow worse each time she saw him. The clean-cut businessman had disappeared and had been replaced by a man who seemed lost and unsure of himself. Angel reassured Grams again by rubbing her hand. She took one last look at her before she left the room. Despite her condition, Grams seemed more worried about her son than herself.
Angel went to her bedroom and decided to check on the talent show videos. Angel pulled up the VidTube Web site on her laptop. With the fire and everything that was going on, she hadn’t been able to check on the talent show results. Did it even matter anymore?
There were well over fifty thousand views to the page. Wow! She scrolled through the playlist, and so far it looked like the competition was between the Christian rapper Shadrach and one of the female singers. Angel liked both of them.
She noticed a video had been uploaded this morning, but it had not been included in the contestant playlist. The funny thing was, it had half as many views as the videos that had been uploaded on Saturday, almost twenty-five thousand. Did Daniel upload this other video? She thought they had added all the contestants.
The video was titled simply Southern Soul. She opened it. Oh no! Angel sat up, feeling panic rise in her chest. This was her singing with the band. Now she wished she’d never let Eddie talk her into singing in public. Her eyes scanned below the video, and she saw that there were comments. Lots of them. She read through the comments. The more she read, the more her nerves calmed down. Many of the comments were from well-wishers who loved both the Southern Soul band and the restaurant.
It brought tears to her eyes when she thought of all the history lost in the fire, but trying to look on the bright side, she remembered all the footage of the café she’d captured on Saturday morning. She’d spent a considerable amount of time there gathering B-roll for the documentary she was putting together as a tribute to her mother. Angel had managed to capture the photo of her mother that hung on wall near her favorite booth in the café and several of the band members on video. She’d derived a bit of comfort from watching the footage today. The phone interrupted her thoughts on what she might do to share these glimpses of the café’s interior with the fans.
Angel reached for her phone on her nightstand and looked at the screen. The caller was Wes. She answered the call on the third ring. “Hello.”
“Angel. Man, I’m so glad you answered the phone. I’m so sorry about Sunday.”
“Don’t be. I probably overreacted. I can do that sometimes.”
Wes laughed softly on the phone. “Well, I tend to ask too many questions. Look, I called to let you know some news. It’s not been released to the public, but since you were there on Sunday, I thought you should know.”
Angel held the phone tight. “You’re going to tell me they found someone in the fire.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t Eddie.”
She blew out a sigh of relief. “That’s great, but who was it? One of the employees?” Angel didn’t hear anything on the phone. “Wes, are you still there?”
“The body was identified as Larry Stowe.”
“What? Wait, you said Stowe.”
“Melanie’s dad.”
Angel reached up and grabbed the back of her head, which had started throbbing. “What does this mean? Why was he in the restaurant?”
“I’m not sure of the details, but you remember we have been talking about the past and the present, how some dots seem to be connected?”
“Yes.”
Wes sighed deeply. “I don’t know how well you knew Eddie, but something is not right here. Did you know he was your mother’s manager?”
Angel shook her head, forgetting she was talking to Wes on the phone. She responded, “No. I didn’t know he was her manager.”
“Look, I don’t want to upset you again. We will get together and talk later. I’m still trying to put bits and pieces together, and there are some people I plan to talk to tomorrow. Why don’t we plan to meet later tomorrow?”
“Okay, fine. We can meet tomorrow.” After saying good night, Angel clicked the phone off. Eddie was my mother’s manager, she thought. She sat back against her pillow. That meant he would have helped her get the record deal. Angel looked at the clock on her phone. She started to call Denise but then thought that wasn’t a good idea. What would she ask her? She’d set out to find out more about her mother’s life, but now Angel was feeling more confused and no closer to the truth of why Elisa disappeared.
A noise jolted her. Grams. Angel got up from the bed and walked down the hallway toward Grams’s room. She entered the room and walked over to Grams. Her grandmother was sleeping soundly.
Maybe she was just hearing bumps in the night. Angel left her grams’s room and headed down the hallway toward the living room. There weren’t any lights on in the front. It was so quiet, though. A lot quieter than usual, at least that was what Angel thought. Her overactive imagination was inching toward paranoia.
She stepped into the living room and stopped. Her entire body tensed. Due to the light coming through the window from the street and the porch lights, Angel could see a figure sitting on the couch. Out of the darkness, a voice called out her name. “Angel.”