Chapter Eighteen

Cleo

“You saw Jonas?” My voice sort of squeaked his name. “Why didn’t you say something? Where? How’d he look? Any bad-guy contact yet? Is he doing okay? How long—”

“Whoa! One question at a time!” Lily held up her hand, interrupting me. “I thought you wanted to sketch on the walk home. So, start sketching!”

“Okay, okay, but give me all the details, while I do.”

Before she could answer, a pimped-out, poison green Cadillac with sparkling chrome spinners on its wheels, and windows tinted so black I wondered if the driver could even see through them, rumbled around the corner toward us. The bass was turned up loud enough to make the ground tremble and my teeth vibrate.

“Jeez!” I complained. “And their windows are rolled up! Imagine how it sounds inside that car!”

“Rap is to music what etch-a-sketch is to art.” Lily shouted to be heard.

I burst out laughing and yelled back, “I’ll have to remember to tell that one to Professor Hudson. He absolutely abhors rap.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, here’s another one for him, then. You know what rap is?”

The car paused at a stop sign, then crept forward. It was as if the driver knew he was annoying us and was trying to drag it out as long as he could.

I shook my head and screamed, “You mean, besides being an insult to music?”

“R-A-P,” she spelled loudly. “Retards Attempting Poetry!”

I giggled, quickly scrawling both sayings on my sketchpad so I wouldn’t forget them. The car finally moved out of earshot, making the street seem extra quiet in comparison. “Now, you were talking about Jonas…?”

“He’s fine. He looks like a homeless person. He thinks one of Spencer’s men was watching him. He asked about you.” She counted off on her fingers.

My heart had screeched to a stop at the mention of Mark Spencer’s goon, only to jolt back into action upon hearing her final point. My fingers went numb. I didn’t even notice that I’d dropped my pencil. It rolled to the edge of the sidewalk, and Lily bent to pick it up.

“Cleo? Yoo hoo…” She waved it in front of my face, then snapped her fingers. “Earth to Cleo. Come in, Cleo. Houston…we have a problem.”

I shook my head, clearing the stars away and gave her a beatific smile. “He asked about me? He really asked about me?”

Lily rolled her eyes and handed my pencil back to me. “The human brain is the most amazing organ. It works twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, from birth until the moment you fall in love.”

I ignored her, hugging my sketchpad to my chest, still wearing a thousand kilowatt smile, and dreamed of Jonas a couple more seconds, before sighing. “So what did he say…exactly?”

She chuckled. “He said—and I quote—“where’s Cleo?””

I felt like she’d punched me in the stomach. “Is that all?” I pouted.

Her gray eyes gleamed mischievously. “That’s all I’m saying for now.”

“There was more!”

Lily kept her face deadpan. “Life is between the trapeze bars.”

“Ugh! You’re killing me, Lily! I can’t believe I said I missed hearing those quotes.” I reluctantly turned my attention to the pad I held. “Fine!” I groused. “I need you to put your hat back on so I can get a few more sketches, and I wish we had your cart.”

****

I called Minnie to check on Raymond. She’d just taken him some lunch and he was napping again. Since we didn’t have to hurry, we decided to rest for a few minutes at one of the little tables on the sidewalk in front of the Mellow Mushroom. Well, Lily was resting; thoroughly enjoying a glass of sweet tea, from the looks of it. My glass was pushed to the side, untouched and getting watery, while I drew like a maniac. It was a close-up of her face.

Suddenly she gasped, “Oh, no!”

I was instantly alert, searching around in a panic. “What?”

“Don’t turn around,” she murmured in a deceptively calm manner through lips that barely moved. “Be as inconspicuous as possible. Mark Spencer is just inside the restaurant.”

I tried to keep my eyes from bulging and my heart from galloping out of my chest. Casually picking up my glass of tea, I took a sip, using the process as a chance to turn my head and peer through the window, without looking obvious. And there he was.

He definitely looked better in his airbrushed campaign posters or heavily made up on TV. In real life, he couldn’t hide the bags under his eyes that made him look permanently hung over. His hair usually had that carefully manicured, but very hard-hattish look, a sure indication that it’d been hair sprayed and gelled to within an inch of its life, but right now it appeared shaggy and unkempt, and his stretchy golf shirt couldn’t hide the paunch that a sports jacket usually covered up. Seeing him now and remembering the end he’d intended for Raymond, was enough to make me sick to my stomach.

Then I saw who was with him.

“Ellie,” I whispered, numbly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I started throwing my gear into my backpack. “Lily, we need to leave…now!” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mark and Ellie moving toward the door. I did not want her to see me. She couldn’t see me…no, no, no!

“Well, well…look who it is!” The familiar voice sang out behind me.

I squeezed my eyes shut and ground my teeth together. Too late! I glanced toward Lily’s chair and wasn’t even surprised to discover it empty. She was an expert at her disappearing act. Taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, I turned to face my enemy. Thank goodness Jonas wasn’t here.

“Ellie! What a surprise!”

Her jaw tightened, and she struggled not to correct me. “Yes, isn’t it?” She trilled, linking her arm through Mark’s, leaning into him while giving me a “drop dead” look. She was barely wearing a little black dress—emphasis on little—and on a side note…wasn’t lunchtime a bit early for that kind of attire? It sure didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, no matter what time of day it was. “I’m sure you recognize Mark…or you probably know him by the title Commissioner Spencer. Mark…meet Cleo Davis. Her great-aunt was the late Patricia Davenport. You remember her, right? She owned the Brantley house, faces Forsyth Park? Now our little Cleo owns it.” Ellie wrinkled her nose, smiling in a cutesy, pouting sort of way.

I clenched my teeth tighter and smiled. I hoped it didn’t look as sickly as it felt. I reached out to grasp the hand Mark held out, wishing I had some hand sanitizer with me.

“Glad to meet you,” he boomed, ever the politician, giving my hand a brisk shake. “Knew your aunt well. Quite a lady. Pillar of Savannah society.”

It took some effort, but I kept from rolling my eyes. He knew Aunt Patricia “well,” according to him. Why didn’t that surprise me? I forced my mouth to say the expected words. “Nice to meet you, Commissioner Spencer.”

Saying it, almost made me gag.

“Oh, please, call me Mark,” he replied a little too jovial for my taste. “Any friend of Elle’s is a friend of mine.”

Not in this lifetime, buster, I thought to myself, while forcing my lips to stay curved upward.

Ellie glanced at the table where I’d been sitting, and her eyes narrowed when she saw the extra glass of tea. “Where’s your date? Did we interrupt something? Maybe someone you weren’t supposed to be with?” she asked suggestively, and actually gave me a wink.

I sent her my “death stare.” I wanted to grab a fork from the neighboring table and stab her in that winking eye. Probably not a good idea, right in front of the Police Commissioner. “No,” I answered as calmly as I could. “Just a good friend. She had another appointment and had to run.”

Ellie pursed her lips, clearly disappointed that I hadn’t given her some juicy bit of gossip to gnaw on. “Oh…well, it was good to see you again. We’ve got to run. Things to do, people to see, you know. Take care, now.” She tilted her face up to Mark and dimpled. “Ready, babe?”

He squeezed her waist, then nodded my direction. “Cleo.”

My return nod was a little stiff. “Mark.”

They turned right, hurrying toward the DeSoto Hilton. Not much of a surprise, there.

I waited…I knew it was coming, and she didn’t disappoint. Ellie half-turned and called back airily, “Next time you see Jonas…if you see him again…tell him to call me. He has my number. TTFN!”

I was breathing heavily, gripping the back of my chair so hard, that the edge of it dug into my palm, nearly cutting me. I ignored the pain, almost welcoming it, so angry my blood was boiling. TTFN? As in ta-ta for now? Really? Did people still even use that acronym? Well, obviously one person did.

A familiar, gravelly voice spoke behind me, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else. You are the only one who gets burned.”

“Thanks,” I growled through clenched teeth before turning. “Nice vanishing act.”

Lily lifted her chin toward Ellie and Mark who were just entering the hotel’s doors. “Didn’t want him to see me with you. Guess I was afraid he’d somehow know I saw him shoot that man in the alley…that he’d be able to read it on my face. If he knew…if he had any idea, it wouldn’t be safe for you to associate with me.”

I waved my hand impatiently, like I was shooing a fly, exclaiming without thinking, “He doesn’t know you saw him. If he did, you’d probably already be in the river.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. “Sorry, Lily,” I winced. “I need to work on my tact.”

She shrugged. “Here’s a quote your floozy friend should remember.”

“She’s not my friend!” I snapped.

“Even so…” Lily patted me on the arm in a soothing manner. “It’s something I remember my mother telling me: “your dresses should be tight enough to show you’re a woman and loose enough to show you’re a lady.”” She pointed toward the Hilton. “She’s no lady!”

“Agreed.” I drew a deep breath, my blood pressure working its way back to the normal range. “Let’s go home.”

****

Everyone, but me, was tucked into bed, probably taking a long winter’s nap, but I couldn’t sleep.

I couldn’t stop thinking about something Lily had shared with me after we left Mellow Mushroom. She’d been engaged once! Back when she was about my age. His name was Michael, and he’d broken her heart with another woman, at least that’s what she’d thought at the time. Apparently, her ghost sister, Rose, was a real piece of work. She’d told Lily back then, about Michael having an affair—that she’d actually seen him with the other woman—and poor Lily had believed her. She’d broken things off with Michael, never giving him a chance to tell his side, and had transformed herself into a homeless woman, effectively shutting herself off from another chance at love. The real heartbreak, though, was that Rose had lied about the whole thing. Lily had just found out about it, almost fifty years too late.

I wasn’t sure why she’d shared this tragic tale with me. Maybe she just needed to get it off her chest, but I couldn’t shake the sad image of a much younger Lily giving up on true love all because of a lie. It was such a waste. If Rose hadn’t already been dead, I’d scratch her eyes out.

And if all that drama wasn’t enough, I couldn’t seem to shake a strange sense of foreboding, some sort of ominous undercurrent lurking just beneath the surface. It was how wild animals must feel right before a bad storm or an earthquake…like nature was holding its breath, a waiting period right before everything hit the fan.

Whatever it was, it had me wired and I couldn’t relax. I sketched some more, read for a while, soaked in a warm bath, tried some deep breathing…nothing worked. As a very last resort, I headed downstairs to the exercise room. To my knowledge, I was the only one who ever used it. Which begs the question…why? Why did we have it? Why did Aunt Patricia go to the considerable expense of having a room full of state-of-the-art equipment put in? Had there been a man in her past? Someone who’d been really into exercise?

Ha! Yeah, right!

Re-sale value?

Hardly! I could never sell this place. Who could afford to buy it? And if I ever tried to sell, she’d probably come back and haunt me.

From any angle, it made no sense to me. It certainly wasn’t for my benefit. I generally tried to avoid exercise, the same way I would the Bubonic plague, and of course, Minnie and Tobias never darkened its doors. That left…nobody.

I gazed around pensively while I jogged on the treadmill. Well, maybe calling it a jog was a stretch, but I was doing my best. There was a lot of interesting stuff in here…if someone happened to like working out. It was sort of a shame that it never got used.

Slowing to a stop, I grabbed my towel and wiped my face. Enough! That was all the exercise my poor, non-athletic body could stand.

After a quick shower to get rid of the sweat, I was back at square one: lying in the bed, staring at the ceiling and worrying. I flung an arm across my eyes, trying to squelch the feeling of doom that swirled around all the people in my life. Jonas, Lily, Raymond, and…Ellie. Ellie? Why was she included? The thought was appalling. After all the things she’d said and done to me over the years…? Why was I worrying about her?

The truth was, as much as I disliked her, the fact that she was keeping company with a sleaze-ball like Mark Spencer scared me. I realized that she was probably just adding another notch on her bedpost with him—maybe his position of power gave her a rush or something—but she couldn’t possibly care for the guy. No way! That was too low, even for her. Maybe, I should try to warn her, hint at what kind of a person he was without giving too much away. Would she believe me? Maybe not, but I had to try. Even Ellie didn’t deserve someone evil.

****

The decision to warn my nemesis must’ve been the sleeping potion I needed, because when I opened my eyes again, the morning sun was shooting pale, yellow stripes through the slats of the window shutters. I reached for Tut, but ended up patting a cool pillow. Hmmm. No Tut. He was probably with Raymond. For whatever reason, my cat had taken a liking to sleeping upstairs at the foot of Raymond’s bed. Who knew why?

Some slight movement caught my eye and I jerked my head to see what it was. Tut was sitting at attention, right by the door, staring at me.

That was weird.

I sat up and studied him, holding out my hand and calling, “C’mere, Tut. Come see me, boy.”

He was as still as a sphinx, eyes unblinking. I frowned. Something was wrong. “What is it, boy?”

He just stared, his eyes fixed on mine, like he was trying to drill something into my head.

I scrambled from bed and took a step toward him. He turned quickly and squeezed himself through the door.

Was I supposed to follow him?

I yanked the door open and looked both directions. He’d stopped at the foot of the stairs to the third floor, glancing back over his shoulder at me. As soon as we made eye contact, he zipped up the stairs. My stomach dropped.

Raymond. Something was wrong with Raymond!

****

I was out of breath when I burst into his room, crashing into Lily who stood just inside the door.

“Ooof…sorry. I just wanted to check on Ray—” I broke off when I saw that Tut was the only one on the bed. He sat by the empty pillow, and turned wild eyes toward me. “Lily, where is he? In the bathroom? Does he need some help? Is he hurt? Tut—”

I broke off when she wordlessly handed me a piece of paper, and I knew he was gone without looking at it.

I sank to the floor, clutching the note. “Why? Doesn’t he know he’s not safe out there? If Spencer or his men see him, he’s toast. If they catch him again, he won’t be so lucky. We won’t be able to help him! What is he thinking?”

Lily’s voice was filled with ultimate sadness. “Read his note, Cleo, just read the note. You’ll understand.”

I unclenched my fist, smoothing the wrinkles out of the paper as best I could, and slowly unfolded it. Tears filled my eyes. “No!” I threw my head back and cried, “No, no, no!”

The page was completely filled with curlicues.