Gayle Trent (13 page)

“You know,” I said, studying the picture, “her nose does look sort of like Jim’s nose.”

Tansie’s eyes bugged out. “Don’t tell me you believe what that lunatic at the dry cleaners told you.”

I lifted my chin. “I’m trying to conduct an investigation. I have to explore every angle no matter how absurd it might seem.”

She grabbed the paper away from me. “I don’t think that looks like Jim’s nose at all.”

“I’ll find out tomorrow. Let me take this with me when I go to Jim’s house.”

“What’re you plannin’ to do? Turn Jim’s face to the light and hold up the picture to see if the noses match? Maybe you can get him to position his face the exact same way to make it easier on yourself.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “He’s on that high-powered pain medication. I’ll wait ‘til he dozes off, and then I’ll compare the noses.”

“Are you insane?”

“No. I’m a thorough investigator. I’ll give you your pictures when I get back.”

“Oh, no, you won’t,” Tansie said, putting her paper back in the envelope. “If my pictures go, I go.”

“Fine. You can help me fix dinner.”

* * *

I’d just got into my pink floral pajamas when the phone rang. I started not to answer it because I was getting ready to get in bed and watch a movie. I changed my mind, though. You never know when it’ll be something important. And if it wasn’t important, I’d just tell whomever it was I had to go and hang up.

As it turned out, I was glad I answered. It was Faye.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. I always worry that something’s wrong when Faye calls. She seldom calls just to chat. “Is anything wrong with Sunny?”

“No, Mother; Crimson is fine.” She hesitated. “Is everything okay with you?”

“Yeah . . . far as I know.”

“That’s good.”

It was gettin’ close to time for my movie, so I wished she’d hurry up and tell me what was on her mind. “How’s work?” I asked.

“It’s going okay. Actually, it’s a little better than okay right now.”

“Why’s that?”

It took her a minute to answer me. “There’s a new vice president of marketing. He has a lot of terrific ideas. He’s very dynamic.” She trailed off.

I closed my eyes. She finally gets interested in somebody, and he’s somebody she works with.

“You still there?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said slowly, “but I’m wonderin’ why you called me.”

“What do you mean?”

“What is it you’re wrestling with? Is it this man? You wouldn’t have called me if you were a hundred percent sure about pursuing a relationship with him. Are you undecided because he’s somebody you work with? I know I don’t have to tell you that’s never a good idea.”

“That’s part of it,” Faye admitted. “Plus he’s going through a divorce.”

“Whoa,” I said. “‘Going through’ as in the final papers are in the mail, or ‘going through’ as in they’re havin’ a little trouble?”

“They’re separated.”

“‘Separated’ as in he lives here and she’s moved to Outer Mongolia, or ‘separated’ as in he’s at work and she’s at the house?”

Faye huffed at me. “Oh, Mother, I knew I never should’ve confided in you.”

“Are you mad at me or mad at yourself? Maybe deep down you already know the answers to those questions and you just wanted to get a second opinion.” Sometimes it pays to watch talk shows. “Or maybe you don’t know the answers,” I continued. “I didn’t say the man’s not Prince Charming. I just asked you a couple of questions that I believe you need to know the answers to.”

“Yeah, but it’s the way you asked them.”

“Look, honey, you may not realize it, but I’ve dealt with a lot of frogs—some before your Daddy, some after. If you wanna jump in the pond head first with your eyes closed, then go right ahead; but don’t say I didn’t tell you not to wear a snorkel mask.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later, Mother. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, honey. I love you.”

Her voice was softer when she answered me. “Love you, too.”

After we hung up, I prayed long and hard for that girl. Then I went to sleep. The movie I’d wanted to watch was supposed to have been a sad one anyway, and I didn’t want to feel any worse than I did already.

* * *

The next morning, me and Matlock slept in. In fact, I wouldn’t have got up when I did except Matlock started whining to go outside. Getting an older, housebroken dog had been a blessing, but that morning I considered having one of them doggie doors put in. Of course, if it was a door Matlock could get through, most crooks could, too—especially them junkies. From what I’ve seen on television, they’re awfully skinny. So, I dragged my sorry butt out of bed and down the stairs to take Matlock outside. Thank goodness he didn’t dawdle.

I put on a pot of coffee, and we tromped into the living room. I was still feeling lazy as all get out, so I laid down on the couch and covered up with the afghan. It’s a pretty little afghan—it’s a granny square with all different colors of squares bound together and trimmed in a navy blue yarn. I won it in a raffle at the church bazaar a couple years ago.

Matlock sprawled out on the rug in front of the couch.

I decided to rest my eyes a second before turnin’ on the television, and wouldn’t you know it, I dozed off again. When I woke back up, my head was a-poundin’. I stepped over Matlock and stumbled into the kitchen. I took a couple aspirin and then poured me some coffee.

The phone rang. The sound seared right through to my aching brain, so I grabbed that sucker quick. I sure as shootin’ didn’t want it to ring again. “Hello?”

“Um, yes, hello,” an unfamiliar female voice said. “Is this Myrtle Crumb?”

“Yeah.” I said it hateful-like because I figured the woman was trying to sell me something. In fact, I started to hang up, but then she said, “Crimson isn’t feeling well, and we need you to come to the school and pick her up.”

“What is it?” I asked, my heart throbbing in my head. “What’s the matter with her?”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious. She has an upset tummy is all.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I hurried up the stairs and flung on a purple jogging suit. I didn’t fix my hair or anything, so off I went lookin’ like death on a cracker.

My rough looks were confirmed when I got to the school and the receptionist looked at me like I’d just been sprung from the graveyard. Worst part about it was she looked two days older than Moses herself.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “I’m here for Sunny . . . I mean, Crimson.”

“I’m here, Mimi.”

I spun around—which didn’t help my head a bit—and saw her sittin’ on a bench. “Are you all right, baby?” I sat down beside her and took her little wan face in my hands.

She grinned. “I feel a little yucky is all. Oh, hey, while I was waiting for you, Mrs. Anderson and I got to talking. She said she was an Adams before she married.”

“Really?” I asked, turning to look at Mrs. Anderson.

“That’s right,” Mrs. Anderson said. “Your friend Jim and I are second cousins.”

“Is that a fact? You must’ve known his wife Flora then.”

Mrs. Anderson shook her curly gray head. “No, never met her. He sure talked about her a lot, though.”

“Are you and Jim close?” I asked.

“No, I’ve not seen Jimmy in years. We were thicker than thieves, though, ‘til we graduated high school.”

“So he and Flora knew each other in high school?” Sunny stood and picked up her denim backpack.

“Longer than that even.” Mrs. Anderson smiled. “He first started talking about her not long after his mother died . . . and he was only five or six years old when that happened.”

“But she didn’t go to your all’s school?” I asked.

Mrs. Anderson shook her head again. “Huh-uh. I believe she was kin to one of Jimmy’s neighbors or something, and that’s how he knew her.”

I frowned. “But you never met her? Not at a dance, a football game, wedding, funeral, nothing?”

“Jimmy was a homebody—didn’t go in for social events. Besides, I think they must’ve broke up for a while and then got back together when Jimmy got out of the service.”

“You didn’t go to his and Flora’s wedding?” I persisted.

“No. Most people didn’t have big to-do’s then like they do now.”

“You said Mr. Adams’ mother died,” Sunny said. “What happened to her?”

“It was pneumonia, sweetie. A terrible way to go, and an awful thing for a little boy to have to see happen to his Momma.”

“Yeah,” Sunny said. Then she looked at me. “I really need to go, Mimi.”

I looked at her. She looked even paler than she had when I first came in. “All right, baby. I’m sorry for lingering. Let’s go.”

We said our goodbyes to Mrs. Anderson, and I got Sunny out into the fresh air.

“Where does it hurt, baby?” I asked, as we walked to the car.

“It’s my period,” she whispered. “My back hurts, my stomach hurts, and I feel gross. I tried to call Mom, but she was in a meeting.”

“You don’t need to bother her no way. Me and you and Matlock will lay around and take it easy today.” I unlocked the car. “And, if you get to feeling like it, you can go with me and Tansie to Jim’s this afternoon.”

Matlock was tickled to see Sunny when we got back to the house. I let him go outside, and then I got Sunny settled on the couch with a heating pad and the television remote control.

“You find us something to watch,” I told her, “and I’ll make us some brownies.”

“Yum. You always know how to make me feel better, Mimi.”

I kissed her on the head. “That’s what grandmothers are for, angel. Anything else you need?”

“No.” She looked down at her hands. “Not really.”

I sat down on the edge of the couch and took her hand. “What is it?”

“I heard Mom talking to you on the phone last night.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but I think she was telling you about Barry.”

“She didn’t give me any names,” I said. “Is Barry someone she works with?”

Sunny nodded. “Yeah, and Mom thinks he’s all that.”

“Have you ever met him?”

She cut her eyes away from mine. “Uh-huh.”

“Didn’t like him, huh?”

She shook her head vehemently as she looked back at me. “He gave me the creeps. He kept looking at me, and it made me uncomfortable.”

My first thought was to go down to the bank and gouge this Barry’s eyes out, but I managed to stay calm. “Did you tell your mother?”

“Yeah, but she said I was being silly. She said Barry was a terrific guy and that he was looking at me because he thought I was a pretty little girl. She said I should feel flattered. Do you think I was being silly?”

“No, indeed. I think you were smart to trust your instincts. I hope your mother will wise up and trust hers.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s on the fence about him,” I said. “If she wasn’t, she’d have never called and talked with me about him.”

“You’re probably right about that.” She put her thumbnail in her mouth, and I gently lowered her hand. I didn’t want her to take up her mother’s habit of nail biting.

“Whether she comes to her senses or not, don’t you ever doubt yourself; and don’t you ever let yourself wind up alone with that man, not even for a second. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Her little eyes were wide as saucers, so I squeezed her hand and stood up. No sense scaring the young-un half to death.

“I’ll go get those brownies started,” I said brightly. “And don’t you worry; your mother’s a smart cookie. She’ll see through this man.”

When I got the brownies put in the oven and came back to the living room, Sunny was watchin’ a game show. I sat down in the recliner, and she muted the television.

“Do you think Mrs. Anderson was right about Jim and Flora—that they’ve known each other since they were little kids?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I reckon she’d know. Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just think it’s wacko that Mrs. Anderson and Jim were all that close, and Mrs. Anderson never met Flora.”

“Well, she did say she thought they broke up or something. Maybe they got separated . . . maybe she moved away or something . . . and they didn’t reconnect until he got out of the service.”

“I guess that’s possible,” Sunny said. “I’m just thinking that if Jim and Flora had such a long history together and that if they really loved each other, why would he do her like he did?”

I wagged my finger. “We don’t positively know that he killed Flora.”

“No, but even if he didn’t, he did some other cruddy things.” She shifted the heating pad. “Think about it. Flora has only been missing for a few weeks, yet the waitress at Smiddy’s told you he’d been bringing different women there for a couple of years.”

“That’s true.”

“He told you Flora died a year ago, and he told Ms. Miller he’d never been married.” She screwed up her beautiful, sweet face. “You just don’t do someone you love that way.”