Chapter Twenty-Two

The Honeymooners

A strong cold front brought cooler temperatures Tuesday morning so I dressed warmly in a yellow turtleneck, brown corduroy jeans and boots and started out for the salon earlier than usual. Restless and fidgety from lack of sleep, I pulled in behind the shop, parked next to Deena’s Buick, and went inside to find her making coffee in the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” I commented, removing my leather jacket and draping it on the back of a chair. “I don’t suppose you heard anything from our missing parents?”

“Not a word,” she said. “But Billie Jo called. She’s on her way in. And Becky finally returned my call.”

“Does she have the memory card?”

“Yes and no. She misplaced it, but promised to call when she finds it. I stressed the importance of her locating it as soon as possible.”

At the refrigerator, I pulled out the cream and set it on the table along with the sugar bowl. “Well, hallelujah for some good news. I spent most of the night driving around town checking hotel parking lots for Daddy’s car.”

“Why didn’t you phone the hotels and see if they’re registered?”

I sank down in a chair across from her. “I did. No luck. Then I got to thinking. They could be using another name other than Tucker. We know they’re in Daddy’s car so I thought I might spot it.

“Where do you suppose they are? This isn’t normal behavior for them, and I’m worried.”

“We’ll find them, I promise.” I rose from the table to pour two cups of steaming coffee.

The back door of the salon opened and closed. Billie Jo came into the kitchen. “Any word?”

“Nothing,” Deena said. “You?”

Billie Jo plopped down at the table. “The same.”

I poured her a cup before resuming my seat. For a few minutes we sat staring down into our coffee.

Deena broke the silence first. “Bill dumped me in the middle of Stop and Go last night.”

Inside I wanted to shout for joy, but outwardly I showed no reaction to the good news. Instead, I patted her hand. “I’m sorry. Would it make you feel better to know that Bradford and I have called it quits too?”

“Not really. You and Sam are perfect for one another,” she said. “You should give him a call and patch things up.”

“Deena, why don’t you tell us about it,” Billie Jo encouraged.

A momentary grimace crossed Deena’s face. “I had stopped for gas on the way home from Mama’s last night. Bill just happened to come in and catch me cashing in my latest scratch-off tickets. He started making a big deal out of it. Then to make matters worse, he brought up Jolene’s and Daddy’s fight with Theo. He even shouted out for all to hear that Reverend Inman had questioned his association with me.”

“Mister Holier-than-Thou is at it again,” I said.

“I’m not all that upset about it.”

Billie Jo asked, “Then why the long face?”

“It’s because of what I did in retaliation.”

I grinned. “What’d you do?”

Deena cracked a weak smile. “I think I’m more like y’all than I ever imagined. I called him a hypocrite in front of a store full of witnesses and went on to tell him that he preached one thing, namely purity, and then, when we were alone on my couch with the lights out, his hands were in all the wrong places. Not that I minded, I told him, I am alive after all.”

Billie Jo and I burst out laughing. “Oh, sister, I bet he didn’t like hearing that,” I said.

“Oh, he didn’t. But he liked it less when I told him that he was right to break up with me because I wanted a real man, not a sanctimonious hypocrite. Then I collected my winnings and exited as gracefully as I could.”

I squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Deena, honey, I always thought you were looking for love in all the wrong places. You don’t go to a graveyard to find a live man. Even Jesus said that.”

****

The morning passed without word from our parents. By mid-morning, I tottered on the verge of calling the police to report my missing parents, but I held back, hoping they’d walk through the front door and scold us for worrying. For the hundredth time, I glanced over in that direction.

“Jolene, you’re burning my hair.”

Nancy’s voice penetrated my thoughts, and I unwound the curling iron from the section of singed brown hair. After soothing a drop of silicone oil through it, I reapplied the curling iron to reset the curl.

I smiled ruefully. “Sorry. My mind is a million miles away this morning.” I apologized for my mistake.

“Completely understandable under the circumstances,” she said. “I heard about the GBI accosting your father after church services. Your mother must be sick with worry.”

“She is,” I agreed. “When this is over, we’re taking them on vacation.”

“That’s nice, honey. And I hate to add to her worries, but I received a phone call from the director over at the Whiskey Creek Playhouse—well, with Arsenic and Old Lace opening tomorrow night, he can’t have one of his leads missing dress rehearsal, and your mother isn’t returning his calls.”

I hesitated. Obviously, I couldn’t tell her the truth so I repeated my earlier lie.

“Nancy, you’re right about Mama being sick with worry, but if there’s any way possible, she’ll be at the rehearsal tonight,” I assured her in what I hoped was a convincing tone of voice.

“Boyd will be relieved,” she remarked. “According to him, your mother is a good actress.”

“Oh, she’s an actress all right,” I said, then changed the subject. “I bet you’re glad the Pecan Festival is coming to an end. All the work.”

Her face mirrored conflicting emotions. After a moment, her eyes met mine in the mirror.

“It has been a difficult week,” she admitted. “And I’m as exhausted as I look, but it’s worth all the hard work. It’s my one claim to fame in this small town, and I can’t imagine giving it up.”

“What about the complaint Herrington filed against you? You were upset and threatened to go gunning for him.”

She waved her hand in the air. “A minor imposition. Mr. Big Shot Herrington had everyone jumping hoops on that Board. He had them ready to replace me with his wife. Said she’d held an important position on the Macy’s Day parade committee and could do a much better job as director than me.”

“Do you believe he created the diversion at the pageant to further his wife’s chances of getting your job?”

“That’s part of it. And his granddaughter acing the Miss Pecan Festival title iced the cake. Yes, that and all the other fabricated crap he brought before the Board. Fortunately, I still had a few friends left and kept my position. With Theo’s influence gone, the threat is gone.”

“So with Herrington dead, your claim to fame is safe?”

She went silent at the question. I smoothed down the teased curls with my comb, pinning them into place, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. Several seconds passed in tense silence. Finally, I lifted my gaze to the mirror.

Her eyes stirred from hurt to anger. “Are you implying that I had something to do with his death?”

A pertinent question for sure. Even to my ears it sounded as if I’d accused her of killing Herrington to hang on to her trivial position in the community. Shame washed over me at what I knew she perceived to be a betrayal of sorts, but desperation robs a person of logical reasoning. And mine had fled with my parent’s disappearance.

“Nancy, I’m only pointing out an obvious assumption based on your own words. I’m not accusing you, just stating that you had motive for wanting Herrington removed.”

“I wanted him removed from the festival board’s sphere of influence, not from life!” Ripping the cape from her neck, she bolted out of my stylist chair.

“Wait, I’m not finished with your hair,” I said, instantly contrite. “Please let me explain.”

She held up a quieting hand. “Yes, you’re finished with my hair, Miz Claiborne.” She slammed a twenty-dollar bill on my work counter and stomped out the front door.

Deena rushed up to my station. “What’s wrong with Nancy? I’ve never seen her so angry.”

A dozen interested eyes gawked nearby. “I insulted her,” I answered in a low voice.

“How so?”

“By implying that she had a motive for killing Theo.”

“Oh, Jolene, you don’t seriously believe she’s responsible for murder, do you?”

“I’m willing to believe anyone is responsible for Herrington’s murder but Daddy. Nancy had motive and opportunity.” I picked up my cell phone lying on my workstation counter.

“Who are you calling?”

“Bradford. It’s time to start trusting him with the truth…and to file a missing person’s report.”

****

I placed the call too late. I had just left a message with Bradford’s office when Detective Goodwin pushed through the front door, jingling the bells. I frowned at the petulant expression staining his boyish face. Geez. Did he lose his favorite toy?

“Ms. Claiborne, perhaps you and your sisters can help me with a problem. Seems a car matching your father’s description was reported leaving the county. He’s not answering his cell phone so it’s imperative he come back down to the station and clear this up.”

Worry came full circle. I forced myself to settle down, not wanting to show the detective the slightest sign of agitation and shot Deena one of my be-quiet-and-let-me-do-the-talking looks.

“Detective Goodwin, I think it’d be best if we moved this conversation into the privacy of the office.” I motioned to Billie Jo, and the four of us made our way through the curious stares and audible murmurings to the office.

“Now what’s this about?” I questioned once the door shut behind us.

“An APB has been issued for your father,” he replied.

Billie Jo bolted out of her chair. “That’s for criminals. Daddy’s not a criminal, however—”

A knock sounded at the door. Bradford pushed it open and let himself in. “Holly said I’d find you in here, Jolene.” His glance bounced from me to my sisters and then landed on Detective Goodwin. “Something going on I need to know about?”

His relaxed attitude had a calming effect on everyone in the room except the young detective.

“This is my case. I’ll have no interference from you,” he warned, half-seriously.

Bradford took an empty chair. “I may no longer be personally involved in this case, but let me remind you that I’m still your superior, Goodwin.”

Detective Goodwin’s cell phone buzzed, and he stepped away from us to answer it, giving me the opportunity to speak with Bradford. I scooted my chair closer to his.

“Bradford, Mama and Daddy are missing,” I whispered. “That’s the reason for my call.”

“What do you mean missing?” he inquired in an equally low voice.

“Their personal items are gone. Overnight case, clothes, toothbrushes, that sort of thing,” Deena whispered.

“And we haven’t heard from either one of them since Sunday night,” Billie Jo added.

“We’re getting awfully worried. And then this turkey shows up.” I flipped my head in Goodwin’s direction. “He’s put out an APB on Daddy.”

“Yes, I’m aware of it,” he said.

I frowned at him. “You could’ve given us some warning.”

“There’s no time to quibble, Jolene. Did you hire a good criminal attorney like I advised?”

The snap of a cell phone closing ended the conversation. Detective Goodwin stepped back over to Deena’s desk. Bradford climbed to his feet, facing him.

“Harland and Annie Mae Tucker have been pulled over by a patrolman on Hwy 82,” he informed us, a smug smile lighting his face. “They’re on their way to the station now so I’ll take my leave.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I bolted to my feet. “I’ve got to get down to the station. Deena, you stay here and reschedule my appointments. Billie Jo, you get on the phone and see if you can hire T.J. Pickens. He’s the best criminal lawyer in the tri-county area.”

Detective Goodwin disappeared out the door, and I turned to Bradford, my hand on his arm. “I know I have no right to ask but can you beat him to the station and watch out for Mama until I get there? She’ll be frantic.”

“I have a better idea,” Bradford said. “You ride with me.”

“What about your job?”

Bradford picked up his cowboy hat from Deena’s desk. “Let me worry about my job. Are you coming or not?”

“Go on ahead,” Deena added her voice to Bradford’s. “We’ll take care of the rest and meet you down there as soon as we can.

Not needing any further convincing, I ran over to my station, retrieved my purse, and dashed out the door.

Bradford drove with his lights and siren on and five minutes later we pulled into his assigned parking spot behind the station. I reached for the door knob, but Bradford’s strong grip halted me. I turned back to him.

His square jaw tensed visibly. “Are you carrying a gun in your purse?”

I shook my head. “No. I haven’t had a chance to buy a new one.”

He let go of my arm and swung out of the car. I followed suit and kept close behind him as we entered the station. I could hear Mama’s frustrated cries as we drew close to the holding cells.

The first thing I saw when we rounded the corner was Daddy, handcuffed, and Mama standing nearby. Her arms flailed about as she complained bitterly to a female officer about their treatment. How I wished Officer Diamond Presley could’ve been the one with Mama and not the hard-faced woman restraining her.

Once again Bradford’s strong grip kept me in place. I started to protest, my first inclination to rush to Mama’s side, but he cautioned me to stay out of the way until he could speak with the arresting officer. Only then would I be allowed to speak with my parents before Detective Goodwin arrived and whisked them off.

Mama spotted Bradford the instant he walked up. I could see her visibly relax when he gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement before turning back to the officer.

As the minutes ticked off, I grew antsy. Daddy had been escorted from the room by the tall officer Bradford had spoken with. I wrung my hands at the delay. Finally, after speaking with Mama, Bradford stepped back out into the corridor and to my side. I practically latched onto him.

“Tell me what’s going on with Daddy. Where’s that officer taking him?”

“He’s fine, Jolene. Settle down. They’ve taken him to the interrogation room. He’ll see a judge in the morning. We’ll have to wait until then to see what happens next.”

I tried not to frown at him. “What about Mama? Is she under arrest?”

“No, as a matter of fact, Officer Ballard is escorting her to my office as we speak. Boy, has she got some news for you.” He motioned and I followed him.

Mama bolted out of her seat and was at my side the second we entered the room. Bradford excused himself and shut the door behind him.

“Jolene, honey, you wouldn’t believe what your daddy and I’ve been through. I tried to explain that to the overzealous officer when he stopped us that it’s all a big misunderstanding. Harland and I weren’t trying to flee. We were on our way home when we were pulled over.”

I steered her over to one of the chairs flanking Bradford’s desk. “Mama, where have y’all been? We’ve been worried sick.”

She stuck out her hand, pointing to a diamond wedding band. “We’ve been honeymooning at a friend’s cabin in the woods.”

I collapsed into the chair beside her. “You eloped? Mama, how could you and Daddy get married without us? Deena and Billie Jo are going be happy of course, but disappointed, too. We could’ve had a nice ceremony at the house.”

“Harland and I couldn’t wait to be together again. We’ve both been celibate too long. The Bible says it’s better for a man and woman to marry than to burn with passion, so we took that advice and got married. However, it was a mite uncomfortable for me after thirty years, never imagined I’d be as dry as a bone.”

Heat flooded my face. “Whoa, Mama. Way too much information.”

She gave me a funny look. “Sex isn’t just for the young, you know. It’s like finely aged whiskey. Better with age.”

Thankfully Bradford saved me from any further sexual revelations Mama wanted to share when he came through the door and seated himself behind his desk.

“You’ll be happy to know, Jolene, that T.J. Pickens has been retained as Mr. Tucker’s counsel. I’ve spoken with him, and Mr. Tucker’s arraignment is scheduled for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Until then, there’s nothing else you can do here.”

“But I want to see Daddy.”

“He’s with Mr. Pickens at the moment, and your mother looks tired. Your sisters are probably waiting on word so go home and get some rest.”

Mama started to protest, but Bradford cut her off with a gentle reminder that her husband would be fine with the accommodations. Reluctantly we left with Officer Ballard, who’d been drafted into giving us a lift back to the salon. On the drive through town I kept Mama occupied with plans for a lavish reception, never voicing aloud the dreadfully real possibility that the honeymoon had ended with Daddy’s arrest.