Ask a Shadow to Dance (8 page)

Lisette promised to come to the Peabody tomorrow at noon. He had no intention of allowing her to disappear again. He’d insist on meeting her father,
then be sure Jacob Morgan was fully informed about Westmoreland. If he was ill—she’d mentioned something about an affliction—David would offer his services. So many questions. And not one reasonable answer for any of them.

He settled into his favorite chair for a few minutes, a recliner aptly labeled a
Catnapper
when he’d bought it. It was so comfortable he often fell asleep there and spent most of the night catnapping. Tonight, though, he couldn’t seem to get comfortable and couldn’t relax. In the winter a fire in the fireplace was extremely relaxing. With overnight temperatures hovering in the fifties, it was still too warm for a fire, and he didn’t want to listen to music. His mind raged with the memory of Lisette’s bruised flesh.

He realized, suddenly, he was out of the chair, pacing from one end of the den to the other, from the bookshelves on the far end to the desk piled high with files he’d brought home, all the way to the kitchen door and back again. This was getting him nowhere. He had to pick Candy up in half an hour. He went to the bedroom to change clothes and wash up a bit before leaving again. Tonight he’d get Joe into the study and tell him everything. David had to confide in someone.

Candy was dressed in blue—his favorite color—wearing Chanel No. 5—his favorite perfume. They made small talk until Joe’s house. Once there, David left her talking to Shawna and tried to get Joe alone. Before they could get away, though, Greg and Lana arrived with the grand announcement.

“We’re getting married!” Lana’s wide grin spotlighted David and Candy. He refused to look at Candy, knowing what he’d see. They congratulated them and held out their glasses for champagne. David took one sip then traded it for scotch and water.

Marilu and Phillip disappeared into the den to listen to what Joe called “their music.” David didn’t think it half bad, and Joe admitted he didn’t, either, but he couldn’t let Marilu think her old man liked the same music. She’d be mortified and would find something else he might not be able to tolerate.

The barbecue was great. Joe had grilled sirloins, Polish sausage, and chicken. There was so much pork barbecue in Memphis that the other meats were a welcome change. Shawna had fixed potato salad, slaw, red beans, a
green salad and homemade rolls. Everyone ate until stuffed. When apple cobbler was brought out, David begged off for at least an hour. Joe’s recliner would have felt wonderful, but Candy suggested they take a walk. Shawna piped her approval and dragged Joe away to the kitchen for a trumped up chore. David doubted Joe would burst her bubble with news of David’s breakup with Candy. He’d leave that little task to David.

It was a beautiful night for a walk. In the spring every yard would be resplendent with azaleas and dogwood and a dozen other blooming plants, but there were plenty of fall flowers to complement the yellow
ginkgoes in November. Joe’s barbecue perfumed the neighborhood.

Candy took David’s arm. He hadn’t thought of it as a possessive gesture until tonight. He had to put a stop to this now. Candy beat him to it.

“David, I think we need to talk about our future.”

“I agree.”

“You do? You’ve never wanted to talk about it before.”

“I think
it’s best we understand each other.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“I didn’t mean for it to sound ominous. I just think we need to take a breather, that’s all.”

“A breather?
You said that before. We did. You think we need another one?”

She wasn’t going to take the news gracefully. If there was one thing about Candy he could bank on, it was honesty, with no punches pulled. At this particular moment, though, he would’ve preferred calm acceptance. She didn’t let him answer.

“You want us to take a breather from what? Each other? What’s that supposed to mean, David? I thought we had something special here.”

“We do. We did. I’m just not comfortable going any further with it right now, though.”

She pumped her chin up and down a few times and pulled her arm out of his. “I see. In other words, you’re dumping me.”

“I didn’t say that. We ought to look at things carefully before
we … that is, before I’m ready to—”

“I get it, David. There’s no need to spell it out for me. You aren’t ready to get married because you’re still mourning your dead wife after five years.
Fine. Do you have any idea how many more years you’re going to mourn before you’re ready to commit yourself to a new relationship?”

Her remarks about his “dead wife” were uncalled for, in his opinion. He clamped his mouth shut so he wouldn’t say something he’d regret later. She saw she’d gone too far.

“David, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I thought … I guess I was wrong. Let’s go back to the house.”

“I really need to get home.”

“I’ll get Shawna to take me later.”

They walked back to the house in silence. The minute they came through the backyard gate, onto the patio, David could see in Joe’s eyes he knew it was
done. Candy disappeared into the house.

“Ready for dessert, David?”
Shawna was oblivious to anything but her own agenda.

David declined the cobbler, even though it smelled good, excused himself after asking Shawna if she’d take Candy home later, and left without seeing Candy again.

At home, he realized he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Joe and dialed his number.

“What’s up, Bro?” He wasn’t asking any questions or volunteering any information. David reminded himself to thank Joe sometime.

“Listen, Joe, I have to talk to you. It’s important. Remember the woman I told you about—the one I met at Marilu’s dance?”

“Have you seen her again?”

“Today. In my office. With her face swollen from her stepson using her as a punching bag. I wanted to talk to you at your house tonight, but—”

“No problem. What can I do?”

“There are some really odd things about this woman. I haven’t told you everything, but I want to. I can’t find any trace of her, her father, her father’s company—she said it dates from 1850—or the stepson who hit her. She said she’d meet me tomorrow at noon at the Peabody. I need to sort things out before I see her again.”

“Do you know where she lives?”

“On Adams Avenue, past the Neely House, in the Victorian Village. Must be on the other side of Fontaine House too. It isn’t the house in between. I checked. Ring any bells?”

“What’s the exact address?”

“Adams Avenue is all she gave me.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find.
I assume you’ve looked in the phone book.”

“No listing.”

“Been to Adams Avenue?”

“No one by that name in any house for blocks.”

“I’ll be right over.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

“Uh, would you mind if I bring Candy with me? I have to take her home anyway. Her thesis was done on Memphis and the Peabody Hotel. I think she went back to the time when the first Peabody was built after the Civil War. If anyone will know this Morgan family, she will.”

David thought for a minute. Seeing Candy again so soon could give her the wrong impression, that maybe he was sorry and wanted to make up. He didn’t want to do that. “Uh … Joe, I don’t know—”

“Look, if you’re really stuck on this woman from the dance—what was her name again?”

“Lisette.”

“Candy will pick up on it. What did you tell her tonight?”

“That I wasn’t ready to get married. She wasn’t happy.”

“Did she cry?”

“Not a tear.”

“Then she can’t be that hooked on you. She’ll get over it.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“And, happy or not, Candy can help with the history stuff. We lawyers only know about the history involved in lawsuits. She’ll be a lot of help, David. If I know you, you’ll want to keep things friendly between the two of you. Whadya say?”

He was right. The last thing David wanted was bad feelings between
himself and a woman he once thought he might be in love with. “All right. But take her with you when you leave. I don’t want any more ‘discussions’ tonight.”

“No problem. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

After hanging up, David mulled it over.
Stuck on this woman from the dance.
He hadn’t actually come to that conclusion, but now that it had been expressed, he deemed it accurate. Since he’d met Lisette, he’d been taken with her beauty, her grace, her innocence. Yet there was something tough about this lady, too. She wasn’t a Dresden doll, to be set on a shelf and admired. There was more to her than beauty or charm.

She’d insisted she would take care of the problem with Westmoreland herself. That took courage, even if it was naive. Surely, with all the publicity about battering in recent years, she knew she didn’t have to put up with anything like that.

An hour later Joe and Candy arrived. Candy was polite, but that was all. David had to assume she was still angry but she didn’t show it overtly. Maybe she was embarrassed for Joe to know that they’d split up. On the way over, he’d filled her in about Lisette.

“I hope you don’t mind my coming with Joe.” Candy seemed cool, reserved.

“Not at all,” he lied. “I’d forgotten your thesis was on Memphis and the Peabody.”

“I’ve been in love with the Peabody Hotel since I was a little girl. We went by my house on the way to get some of my research sources and information on the important families in Memphis history and the reconstruction of the city after the yellow fever epidemics in the 1870s.” She opened a small case and produced a laptop computer David had seen her use a hundred times. “I think I remember a plug on that wall. I hate to use my batteries if there’s electricity around.”

“End of the couch.” The last time she’d been in this house was barely a week ago. She knew where that outlet was. He swallowed his retort and plugged in the cord for her.

Candy booted the notebook-sized computer. It beeped and buzzed, then settled on an island landscape scene. Candy typed for a minute. She typed some more.

While waiting for her to find what she was looking for, David wondered how he was going to tell her tactfully that history wasn’t exactly what they needed in this case. Straight out was probably best.

“The family I’m trying to find lives in Memphis now. Maybe I’m slow, but
how is history going to help me find the Morgan family?” He tried hard to keep sarcasm out of his voice, but didn’t have much luck.

Candy answered, still staring at the screen. “If Jacob Morgan is as important as his daughter seems to believe, and his company has been around since 1850, it might have another name now. We’ll work backward until we pick up the name.”

“Good idea.” It couldn’t hurt. And it couldn’t hurt David to make nice either. “Thanks, Candy. I’ll appreciate anything you can dig up.”

Candy hesitated. “Joe told me about her being abused. I’m really sorry, David.”

The memory of Lisette’s bruises flashed through David’s mind. “Let’s find out who she is. The more information I have, the better my chances of helping her.”

With Candy serving as guide and narrator, they delved into the sources she’d brought,
then dialed a library network to see what else might show up. For more than an hour, they found nothing within the past ten years to correspond to the information David had. Working backward in time, he was ready to give up when they reached the forties. Nothing in the past sixty years—then seventy-five. When they got to the turn of the twentieth century, David was ready to quit.

“If we haven’t found Morgan Enterprises—”

“Found it.”

Joe and David sat on either side of Candy on the couch to see what she’d dug up. Candy didn’t let her knee touch David’s.

“Morgan Enterprises. Manufacturer of rifles and ammunition. Founded in 1850, prospered until the first part of the Civil War, but ceased production in 1862 after the Union Army captured Memphis. Switched to production of cotton clothing six months later, but didn’t do as well. The name change came early in 1886. Westmoreland Enterprises.”

“Westmoreland! Are you sure?”

“Do you want to check my work?”

Joe laughed. “Why? It has to be right. The pieces fit, right, Bro? Candy did
good.” Joe must have sensed the tension between David and Candy. True to form, he was trying to dispel it.

“We’re in the wrong century, remember?” David gave him a look he hoped would keep Joe from putting his size eleven
foot in his mouth before the evening was over.

“Listen to this, guys.” Candy pulled her legs up beside her on the couch, a gesture David knew well. “Jacob Morgan died in 1885 and Westmoreland took over the company. Within a year, the company went into bankruptcy.” She set the computer on the coffee table. “He either ruined the company after Morgan died, or took over a failing company and was unable to bring it back. I can’t tell from what I have.”