Diana Anderson - Entering Southern Country 01 - Famous in a Small Town (23 page)

Suzanne chuckled and then quieted. “You’re serious?”

She nodded.

“I’d think a lovely lady like you would have much to say about romance.”

Raven laughed. “I’m sorry, now you’re being serious.”

Suzanne studied Raven’s expression.

Raven said, “I’ve not had much romantic experience.”

“Well, you’ve got a lot to look forward to then.”

“I feel like I’m an old maid. Most women I know my age have already been married.”

“You’re still young, dear. You’ve got many years ahead of you. Don’t worry about such things. Love has a way of finding you even when you’re not looking.”

Raven looked across the small cell room at the opposite wall.

“Cal should be courting you instead of harassing you. It’s not like my step-son to treat a lady like that.”

Raven dropped her gaze to the concrete floor. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d read Shattered Lives.”

“That’s odd that you should mention that book. I drove into town today and every store that sold books were completely out of that novel. They all said they were on backorder. I volunteer at the library, but even being a volunteer, I still couldn’t latch onto a copy. The waiting list is a mile long.” She looked at Raven for a moment and then her eyes grew wide. “You’re the author?”

Raven nodded.

“Well, I’ll be. I can’t believe that I didn’t put your name to that book. I suppose because I’ve never had the honor of meeting an author before.” She patted Raven’s hand. “Your novel is very popular in this town and I’m sure all across the country.”

When Raven didn’t respond, Suzanne peered around and looked at her. “Did I say something wrong? You look pale. Are you feeling poorly?”

“Hey, Raven?” Imogene called out. “You got company over there?”

62

“I hate this place. Always have, always will,” Callie said. “It’s hotter than the dickens and stinks to high heaven in here.” She made a face from the smell of stale cigarette smoke that reeked off the interior of the house.

She looked around the room, and found a couple of decorative scented candles, and placed them on the coffee table. She went into the kitchen area, opened a kitchen drawer, and fished inside for some matches.

“Ouch!” She yanked her hand back out of the drawer. “This wasn’t the drawer I stored the knives in. Why would Virgil allow these changes after I left? Virgil didn’t like change.” She stuck her finger in her mouth and slammed the drawer shut with her other hand. She squinted in the dim room and tried to see around the kitchen of Virgil’s and Wanda’s trailer.

She removed her finger from her mouth. “I remember.” She walked over to the hallway and headed back toward the master bedroom. She stopped at the door. “Oh crap! I forgot. How could I forget? I can’t go in there.” She thought a moment. “Maybe if I hurry and stay focused.”

The setting sunlight shone through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows of the master bedroom. She darted into the room, stepped over dried bloodstains on the carpet, and hurried over to Virgil’s side of the bed. The nightstand was knocked over, and its contents were strewn all over the floor. She was careful where she put her hand on the mattress, and leaned over, and then looked around on the floor and under the bed. Cigarette butts and ashes covered the bloodstained carpet. She got down on her hands and knees and felt around under the bed. She latched onto something the size of a book of matches. She pulled it out, looked in her hand, and caught her breath. She flung the open condom package up in the air.

“Crap! Virgil never washed his hands or anything else for that matter.”

She stood, wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, and placed her hands on her hips. “I give up! I’ll just have to deal with the dark.” She marched back down the hallway and into the kitchen. She went to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet to wash her hands. Only a trickle came out. “Who in the hell had the electricity turned off anyway?”

She growled, and with the sweep of her arm knocked everything in front of her on the counter top off onto the floor. She took two steps to swipe her arm again, but something caught her eye. A box of matches was right under her nose. She grabbed the box and turned.

“Now, what did I do with those candles?”

The thirteen by seventy foot trailer had been her pride and joy at one time. The master bedroom and bath were at one end, and Raven’s bedroom and bathroom were at the other. The kitchen, dining area, and living room were combined. The sofa sat against the wall and faced the kitchen and had for over thirty years. Most every stain on that sofa was from something Virgil had dropped while eating or drinking and watching the television.

She thought about the deputy. When he was discovered, they’d be looking for her. She had no other choice as to where she could hide out until authorities backed off on their search. She told herself, it will calm down in a few days, and then she could sneak on out of the trailer and head on down the interstate. She thought Mexico might be a big enough place to hide. A change of hair color and with all that money, she could buy a new car.

She walked into the living area and looked around the room. The curtains were new. She stepped over and had a closer look. She reached out and took hold of the edge of the fabric. “Well, now, seems Miss what’s-her-name was a little homebody.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “Virgil never bought me a sewing machine while I lived here. Not that I ever wanted one.” She let go of the fabric and stepped over to look at a painting on the wall. She leaned in close.

“What is that? A penis?” She tilted her head. “Oh, it’s a lobster. Why would anybody want a painting of a lobster?” She leaned in closer and squinted at the signature. “Wanda Neal. Ugh! That explains it.”

She turned and scanned the room. She spotted the candles on the coffee table. She walked over to sit on the sofa but thought better of it. She bent at the waist, struck a match, and lit both candles. She blew out the match and smiled. “That’s much better.” She glanced around the room and frowned. “Well, maybe not.”

She dropped the matchstick in an ashtray on the coffee table, picked up a candle, and turned. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a large mirror that hung over the sofa. She screamed.

She stepped backwards and bumped into the coffee table. She placed her hand over her heart, rolled her eyes, and then looked at herself in the mirror again. The humidity had frizzed her natural curly hair and her mascara had run and left dark circles under her eyes.

“Nothing I can do about that now.” She went into Raven’s bedroom.

“What’s all of this?” She stepped over to what looked to her to be a desk. She viewed it from every angle and then lifted the lid. “Oh, a sewing machine. Why would someone hide a sewing machine in a desk?” She dropped the lid. “Wonder what they did with Agnes’ bed?”

She turned and left the room. “Now where am I going to sleep?” She glanced around the room and then eyed the sofa. “Oh joy!”

She heaved a sigh and headed toward the hallway. A dog barked. She stepped over to the front door, pulled back the curtains on the small window, and looked out.

A small dog and three little boys were outside in the front yard. The dog saw her through the window and began to yap. The boys looked up at the window, and screamed, and then took off running down the driveway. The dog ran after them.

“Well, now. I don’t think I look that bad.” She dropped the curtain and went down the hallway to the linen closet. She opened it and had a short glimpse of a fast moving object right before it hit her between the eyes. She landed hard on her backside. She’d managed to hold onto the candle. She shoved the object off of her and placed a hand on her forehead.

“Dammit, that hurt!” She rubbed the spot and looked at what had attacked her. An easel lay on the floor beside her with a pile of rags that smelled of linseed oil scattered around it. She pushed herself up from the floor, stepped in close, and eyed the contents of the closet. The shelf directly in front of her had a tray of oil paints, brushes, and a mouse that sat on the top of a metal container of paint thinner. She stared into its beady eyes. She tossed the candle into the air, screamed, and stumbled backwards down the hallway. The candle hit the floor and hot wax spilled onto the carpet. She watched the rug smolder and then catch fire.

“Oh no!” She ran toward the flame and tried to stomp it out with the toe of her sandal. “Ouch!” Her eyes followed the trail of the flame that spread toward the rags. She scampered backwards down the hallway, turned, and went into the kitchen. She flung open one cabinet door after another. She grabbed a pot and headed for the sink. She turned on the faucet.

“Dammit!” She dropped the pot in the sink and looked around her. She hurried to the hallway. The whole linen closet was on fire. Flames flickered across the ceiling. Smoke boiled out of the top of closet.

She turned, headed for the front door, and stopped. “My purse. What did I do with my purse?” She scanned the room and spotted it on the sofa. She rushed over, grabbed it, and hurried to the door. Without looking back, she flung open the door, went down the steps, and around to the back of the trailer where she’d parked her car.

She hopped in the driver’s seat, fished around in her purse for her keys, and latched onto them. Her fingers trembled as she tried to stick the key into the ignition switch.

CABOOM!

She jerked back in the seat and dropped the keys into the floorboard. She looked out the windshield and saw a piece of cardboard hanging by a strip of duct tape over the broken glass on the bathroom window. Smoke billowed out.

She felt in the floorboard and located her keys. She took a deep breath, and stuck the key into the ignition, and started the car. She dropped it into Drive, took off around the house, and down the driveway.

She knew of only one other place to go.

63

Cal called the D.A. about an arrest warrant for Callie and a search warrant of the Wallaces’ home. The D.A. said that he’d call the judge and see what he could do. In the meantime, Cal had to wait. He didn’t like waiting for anything.

He heard sirens and looked out his window behind his desk. Two fire trucks and a brush truck flew down Main Street. He stood, grabbed his hat, and headed for the door.

Justin met him in the lobby by the front door. “The Neals’ place is on fire. Carl Gentry called it in. Said it looks like the woods are on fire.”

They went out the door, down the steps, and each got into their own squad car. Their emergency lights flashed and their sirens blared as they headed out of town.

As they neared the turn off from the main highway, a glow in the east lit up the night sky. The closer they got, the brighter it became. They pulled off the side of the road and parked behind Carl Gentry’s truck. His boys sat side-by-by side on the tailgate and watched the firemen try to contain the blaze. Carl was leaned against the driver’s side door with his cell phone to his ear.

The trailer was engulfed in flames. Embers flickered up into the night sky. The grass, weeds, and a few scrub trees around the trailer were on fire. The fire had worked its way closer to Virgil’s old truck.

Cal and Justin walked up to Carl. He disconnected his call.

“Carl, what’s going on?” Cal asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know how it got started. The boys came runnin’ inside the house and told me that the woods was on fire. They kept sayin’ it was a witch that set it on fire.” He chuckled. “We piled into the truck and went to check it out. I called 911.”

Cal looked back at the boys. They hadn’t taken their eyes off of the firemen. He stepped back to the tailgate. “I heard y’all were the first ones to see this place on fire. Good work.” He gave them a thumbs up. “Did you see who set it on fire?”

They all talked at once.

“It was a witch,” Tom said.

“A bushy headed old woman,” Ben said.

“She was real scary,” Parker said.

“Whoa!” Cal put his hands up. “One at a time. Tom, tell me what happened.”

“Well, we were out tryin’ to round up Digger.”

“Digger?”

“Yeah, our dog. He took off across the road after a rabbit. He’s just a pup. We’s afraid a coon’d get ‘im. Coons can kill a dog, ya know?”

Cal nodded. “Go on, tell me about the witch.”

“Well, we trailed Digger to ol’ Virgil’s and Miss Wanda’s trailer.” He pointed across the road to what was left of the Neals’ trailer. “And she was lookin’ out the window at us. She was holdin’ a candle in her hand under her chin. Her face was all lit up. We took off runnin’. Even Digger was scared of her.”

“Yeah,” Ben said. “She had bushy white hair and huge black eyes.” He held both hands up, and made circles with his thumbs and index fingers, and held them over his nose like a pair of glasses.

“We were scared she was gonna eat us.” Parker’s eyes were big.

Tom rolled his eyes and gave his head a shake. “Witches do hocus pocus, stir up potions, and cast spells that turn you into toad frogs, they don’t eat kids. That’s just storybook stuff.”

“They do too,” Ben said.

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, hey!” Cal raised his hands again. “Just the facts, boys.”

“Anyway,” Tom scowled at Parker and then looked back at Cal. “By the time we got home, there was a glow back in the woods.”

“We would’ve gotten home sooner, but Digger took off again,” Ben said.

“Yeah,” Parker said.

“I bet she used that candle to start the fire,” Tom said.

The other boys nodded.

“Did you see what she was driving?” Cal asked.

“A broom,” Parker said.

Tom snarled his nose at his youngest brother. “She wasn’t drivin’ no broom.”

Parker looked down and swung his legs out from the tailgate. “I seen a broom on the front porch. I betcha it was hers.”

The corners of Cal’s mouth twitched. “Okay, boys, y’all have been a big help in this investigation.” He held out his hand and shook each one of theirs.

He walked back to stand beside Justin. “Looks like she was here.”