Death at the Day Lily Cafe (29 page)

“Not that I've heard. Just his empty truck.”

“I'll feel better when they do,” Annie said, and rubbed her wrists.

“Breakfast?”

“I'm starving.”

*   *   *

Custer arrived just as we finished our doctored-up scrambled eggs. He and Annie embraced as if one of them had been away at war. And perhaps they both had, in a way.

They settled out on the porch. Tyler and Bini were working with the chicken fencing, so I asked Annie if it was all right if I checked in with Doris.

“Okay, Mom. Tell her I said hi.”

*   *   *

“Any news?” Doris bent over and picked up my paper, looking stiff and older than her sixty-five years.

“Did you know Jamie is in Vegas?” I said. “There are photos of him on Facebook.”

“The whole world knows Jamie is in Vegas. It's as if he's advertising it. Why would he do that, Miss Rosalie?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe he's hurting? People handle hurt in many ways.”

“Jamie is aggressive that way. He doesn't like not being in control.” Doris rolled her eyes. “I mean, you see how he is. He's a police officer. He worships his body. Never a hair out of place. And then it turns out his entire life has been one big fat lie.”

“Doris, is there any way he has the money?”

“Ah, Rosalie, I can't think of anything but that. It's as if he wants them to catch him.”

“Is he protecting Lori? Would he take the fall for her?”

“It appeared to me that he hated Lori last Thursday afternoon.”

“It's hard to hate your mother. You can have a lot of feelings, but hate?”

“Can the sheriff see those pictures?”

“He should at least try if he's doing his job. If you want to understand the Millennials, you have to become familiar with social media.” I dug through my purse for my wallet. “Did Lori make bail?”

Doris nodded. “She said it was pretty perfunctory. I think the good sheriff has lost his verve.” Her forehead wrinkled up. “Is that the right word?”

“It is the perfect word.” I handed her the money for my paper.

“I'm afraid I'm losing hope.” Doris accepted my money. “Gum?”

“Yes.” I selected a pack of wintergreen from the display.

“Say,” she said as she dropped the change into the cash drawer, “how's Annie?”

“Resilient.”

“Just like her mama.”

I popped a piece of gum in my mouth and picked up my paper. “Annie is inspiring. She's already realizing what she's learned from this experience. Adversity can make you stronger. Please don't lose hope. Besides, I have an idea.”

“You do?” Doris looked at me, her eyebrows arched.

“It's fuzzy, but I think it's coming into focus.” I clicked my heels together. “I have no idea how, but I'm going to figure this out. Whoever it is, we have to know. It could be a friend, a family member, or, well, anyone.”

“You just gave me a little flicker of hope. God bless you, Miss Rosalie Hart.”

 

F
ORTY
-
NINE

I tossed my paper into my car and locked the doors. I texted Annie while I walked to the café. By the time I had filled a basket with muffins, she replied to say she and Custer were on a walk and I should take my time. I emerged into the bright sun, slipped on my sunglasses, and headed toward the square. I crossed the street and walked along the diagonal sidewalk through the park in the center of town. I admired the annuals Kevin had planted. Pink and lilac impatiens surrounded the fountain, lined the walkway, and spilled out of terra-cotta pots. He did it all on his own, wanting to beautify the town he loved.

I passed the library, the post office, and a few historic houses. A Victorian with gables and authentic dark green and magenta paint stood majestically on a corner. I took a right and entered the John Adams College campus. Summer students were enjoying the good weather, sunbathing here and there, tossing lacrosse balls, and reading under trees. I noticed the new dorm rising from the ground like a phoenix. Traditional John Adams College red brick was progressing up the sides. Hammers pounded from within.

As I neared the construction site, I felt someone following me. My instinct was to pick up the pace. But I channeled Annie's inner tiger and turned around abruptly.

“Cal,” I said.

“Where are you going with that basket?”

“Nowhere now.”

He placed his hands on his hips. His white tee was filthy, his yellow hard hat askew. “Are you responsible for this?”

“Your dirty shirt?”

“Somebody figured out who took the money. And something tells me it wasn't the private investigators.”

“Sometimes things fall into your lap.” I picked the paper bag out of the basket and handed it to him. “There probably aren't enough to go around now that everyone is back to work.”

“You think I share these?” He smiled.

“I really appreciate your help,” I said. “I thought I needed more information from you, but I think I know what I need to do.”

“Does that mean no more treats?”

“I didn't say that. Wish me luck?”

“Always.”

I continued down the sidewalk and stopped at a three-story brick building. A sign outside said L
IBERAL
A
RTS
. Jake was a literature professor. I was pretty sure he taught creative writing and American lit. Hopefully he was in his office.

The tip tap of my shoes on the marble floor resounded in the hallway. I read the directory and found Jake's office number: 204. The building was quiet and cool. I climbed the stairwell, one hand on the large banister, the steps worn down from the many students who had ascended and descended the steps over many years.

The door to 204 was partially open. I rapped lightly on the oak door. “Hello?” I called.

“Come in,” Jake's deep, resonant voice replied. I stepped in, and he looked up from a laptop, wire glasses low on his nose. “Rosalie. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Am I disturbing you?”

“Not at all.” He was wearing a gray John Adams Lacrosse T-shirt with faded blue letters, the lower half of his face darkened by stubble. “Just perusing Facebook. Your café is doing well.” He smiled. “I'm a fan.”

I stepped inside and looked around. The bookshelves were loaded with trophies and team photos; one, stuffed with books, filled an entire wall. Framed diplomas and awards lined the others. Overflow volumes were stacked on the floor haphazardly.

“Can you sit for a minute?” Jake said, and removed his glasses.

“I would love to.” I perched in one of two wooden chairs facing his desk and crossed my legs. “I was just taking a walk and noticed this building. I was hoping you'd be here so I could say hi.”

Jake closed his laptop. “It's good to see you. I've been feeling a little sheepish about my behavior the other night.”

“Please don't. I love those conversations, when friends are being honest and forthright. Don't you find when you're having those talks you're often surprised what comes out of your mouth?”

He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. His biceps bulged. “Well, I'm sure I surprised you.”

“Have you thought more about what you're going to do?”

“Every minute. It's the biggest decision I've ever had to make.”

“If you leave Kevin, will you go back in the closet?”

“I think I've lost that option, for a whole lot of reasons.”

“What does your heart say?”

“Ouch?”

“Mmm,” I said. “I get that.”

“What about you? Will you ever marry again? Or have you given up on that institution?”

I smiled. “No one's ever asked me that before.” I gazed out at the lawn below. A breeze blew in the large window and rustled the papers on Jake's desk. My hair fluttered around my face. I looked back at him. “It's been a long time, but I remember really enjoying being in love. And I was very happy being married. So, yes, I hope to love again and remarry. When the right guy comes along, of course. Not sure if that's going to happen while I'm working in a café on the Eastern Shore all day.”

“There's the Internet.”

“True. But for now I'm too busy.” I tried to ignore the small ache in my stomach. Ever since feeling rebuffed by Tyler, I had lost the urge to eat. For days I had deluded myself that maybe we had a thing.

“Hello?” Jake called softly.

“Honestly? There is a guy. I thought we might be working toward something, but I've just learned I was wrong.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes, another ouch. Seems we have that in common too. But I guess he and I will still be friends. Goodness, now who has the loose lips? I've never told anyone that before.”

“I'm honored. Now we're even.”

“Jake, I keep wondering why you are wiling to let CJ impact your future.”

“Because CJ happened. And it probably won't be the last time a guy like him gets so closed up in his own small mind that he lashes out.”

“So the last incident was the eruption at President Carmichael's office. Did he do anything else after that?”

“No. He ran out of time.”

“Jake?”

“You're wondering if I killed him, aren't you?”

“Did you? Because I won't judge. My daughter was just abducted for a short time, but if I encountered that man, I would consider doing him harm.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes. She wasn't physically harmed, but he abducted her. He was using her to get to someone else. I think she's pretty shaken up, but she seems to be handling it okay for now.”

“I would do anything to protect Kevin. But I knew better than to go after CJ. You see, people who attack out of a deep loathing have a terrible force behind them. It's as if they feel justified, so the impact is over the top. If I took CJ on, he would up the ante so high I would have to retaliate with equal force. Guys like him dehumanize people like me, which can make them justify any sort of behavior.”

“So you left him alone?”

“I thought about going after him. He was going to continue to escalate. There was nothing stopping him. But to answer your question, I didn't.”

“And Kevin?”

“No.” Jake shook his head. “He doesn't have it in him.”

“He sure loves you.”

“I get what you're saying about your kid. But honestly? I don't think you would have killed the guy who used your daughter. There aren't a whole lot of ‘love' crimes. Hate crimes, oh yeah. But I don't see people killing because they love someone with their whole being.”

“And Kevin loves you.”

“There's a lot of hate in this world, Rosalie. A lot of prejudices and single-minded bigots who feel obligated to rid the world of people who aren't like them. People they feel better than.”

“So they win?”

“Sometimes.”

“Maybe not this time?”

Jake leaned forward, his forearms on his desk. “I haven't made any decisions.”

“I will never know what it's like to be a gay man in this world. Or black, or Muslim. I am a woman, and I have certainly faced adversity as a result, but I will never walk in your shoes. I can only admire you for stepping out the door every day and being true to yourself. That's huge.”

“Wow.” Jake shook his head. “Thank you.”

I smiled over at him. “I still would have understood if you had gotten in an altercation with CJ that ended badly.”

“You would have. But don't you see? As much as that guy stirred me up, on a rational level I know that when a gay man is pleading self-defense, there are going to be a whole lot of folks on the jury who think, well, buddy, if you weren't gay, this never would have happened.
Boom
. Prison doors close, and Jake Willows's life is over.”

“Well, then, I'm really glad you didn't kill CJ. Okay, thanks for the talk. This was lovely, as always.” I slapped my hand on my thighs. “I'm really glad I wandered by here.”

Jake stood and rounded his desk. “I'm glad, too. And I'm glad your daughter is okay. Kevin and I will have you over, and you can tell us all about it. No, better yet, bring her, and
she
can tell us all about it.”

“Hmm.” I raised an eyebrow. “You and Kevin entertaining? I like the sound of that.”

“Listen to you.” Jake smiled. “I'm not sure what just happened here, but I enjoy talking to you, Rosalie Hart.”

 

F
IFTY

I dropped the basket in my car and texted Annie again as I walked.

I wondered what on earth that could be.