The Riches of Mercy (32 page)

Authors: C. E. Case

Natalie raised her eyebrows.

"They don't talk either. Siba's worse off than Merry. But still, on Saturday, you should encourage her to play Monopoly with the girls. Watch
Project Runway
. Something."

"I'll bring it up. Thanks, Ms. Johon."

"Enjoy your letters from the wrongly incarcerated."

"Injustice is everywhere."

Ida led her out, where she got her keys and her ID, and she felt a pang as she left the prison. Now a chain-link fence separated her from Meredith. She wanted to throw herself against it, make Meredith clutch her fingers through the holes. But instead she got into her car. Ten minutes away, she'd sit in a nice restaurant with a nice woman and talk about the outside world as if Conrad didn't even exist.

She couldn't shake the feeling her whole life was there in the little courtyard, and the rest was just some gray mist she wandered through until she could get back inside the garden again. She'd mention this in the letter she wrote Meredith tonight. No matter how wistful it sounded. No matter it made them both hurt just a little more.

"The eggplant is divine," Erica said, tapping the menu in front of Natalie.

"I haven't eaten eggplant in ages."

"And never like this."

Natalie glanced around the Italian place around the corner from the
Rocky Mount Telegram
offices. "Is everyone in here a reporter?"

"The water and sewer offices are across the street. They're in here too. But yeah."

"Afraid you're going to get scooped?"

"About as much as they are. So, Natalie Ivans, what brings you to Rocky Mount?"

"Wednesday mornings I drive up to Conrad Correctional Facility to visit Meredith Jameison."

"Ah." Erica hissed through pursed lips. "How does that go?"

"Wonderful."

"I see."

"But if you're going to quote me, you should go with something neutral like 'adequate.'"

"Adequate. Conjugal?"

Natalie blushed. "Of course not."

"Every baby reporter on the beat does a Conrad story. But I haven't been there in years."

"It's all right. For a prison."

"And you don't think Ms. Jameison should be locked up?"

"I think she did what she had to do, and we'd hope our loved ones--our sisters, our mothers--would do the same thing."

Erica nodded. "But we're not here to talk about Meredith."

Natalie sighed.

The waiter came and she ordered the eggplant and the mozzarella and tomato salad and declined wine, though Erica ordered the house red.

"Really, have some," Erica said.

"I have to drive."

Erica shook her head. "One glass. We used to have wine. Have you ever drunk wine except with me?"

"A while ago. But still because of you, actually."

Erica pursed her lips charmingly. Then frowned and straightened. "When I told you about Meredith."

"Yes. Wine, it goes so good with confession, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Nat."

Natalie shook her head. "Don't be. It's probably the kindest way I could learn the truth."

"But still, as your friend, let me tell you. This chaste, pure living is not the way to God. Good deeds matter. Whether or not you dance, or drink, or cut your hair not so much."

"You can tell them, Erica. The world. Or the good people of Rocky Mount, Raleigh, and Wilmington. I'm only taking this case for the money."

"Don't be so cynical. Tell me about Luis Duarte."

"He's a fucking shit heal drunken asshole and--" She paused for breath.

"If he died instead of those girls, we wouldn't be here? Couple of white college girls from the right side of town kill the Mexican with the criminal record? They wouldn't have even been charged."

"Hoyle would take his easy money for the plea." Natalie couldn't think about it without her chest constricting. Luis had a father who loved him. He was a human being. She'd gazed into his eyes, made jokes with him, felt his curses, his breath, on her. She closed her eyes.

Erica waited, as wine came, as salad came.

Natalie speared a mozzarella slice, but couldn't bring herself to eat it until she said, "Victim advocacy and advocacy for the accused are not so different. We'd like to believe evil exists, but…"

Erica leaned forward.

"What does the police report say?" Erica asked when their plates were clean.

"They've only released the preliminaries. They're working out models, or somesuch."

"Trying to find a loophole for the boss's kid."

Natalie raised her eyebrows. "Trying to be thorough."

"Mm." Erica took a sip of wine. She was on her second glass.

"Anyway, I brought you a photocopy."

Erica took it. "Redacted up the ass."

"But signed by Deputy Fasan."

Erica sighed but scanned the paper. Natalie waited, letting her draw her own conclusions. They both knew how to read primary evidence.

"Ninty miles an hour?"

"The cop's son had a black box in his car, of course."

"And it was a nice car. Nicer than mine."

"And mine. But I'm not a young man."

Erica nodded. "And he was drunk?"

"Are we getting dessert?"

"Want to split a tiramisu?" Erica leaned forward, elbow on the table.

"Sure. Means..." Natalie pulled the blood test sheet out of her briefcase. "Station alcohol level test, and breathalyzer."

"0.10? Barely above the legal limit."

"Cops will testify he was disoriented at the scene."

"But he'd just killed two people. He was probably freaked out."

"This was his fifth DUI."

Erica nodded. "I'm having those records sent to me. But still. You'd want stronger evidence."

"He was going ninty miles an hour. Whose side are you on when you write this?"

"The side of the truth, Natalie."

Natalie nodded. "I'm on his side."

"He's lucky to have you."

Natalie shook her head.

The waitress came back. Erica ordered tiramisu and two forks. The waitress gave them an odd look.

"Surely people share dessert here like, every single day," Natalie said.

"Never people so attractive." Erica grinned.

Natalie pointed at her.

"Having a good day, Nat? Got to see your girlfriend, got a new case, get to have the best lunch in town."

"And I get to go home to my sweet boys."

"I'm envious."

"You'll find a special, uh, someone."

"I think we all know who I'll find."

"Hey, Erica, you ever wanted to be on the TV news instead?"

"Heck, no. I want to write. Words are immortal."

Natalie raised her eyebrows.

"These looks are not," Erica said.

"I hope when you're in your 80s you'll be the next Liz Smith."

"Me too, Nat. Me too. Especially if it's all the way in New York City."

The tiramisu came and they were quiet as they ate. Their forks clanged in the middle, chasing the last bite.

"You. You're paying."

"I should have ordered two. Or three. Remind me next time."

Natalie nodded.

Erica paid the check with her credit card, but then held out two folded twenty-dollar bills to Natalie.

"I don't--"

"Promise me," Erica said, cutting her off. "You'll only spend this on a manicure."

Natalie glanced at her nails.

"A real manicure given by real Vietnamese girls. Not at Walmart."

"I promise."

"Not on gas," Erica said.

"Not on gas."

Erica narrowed her gaze.

"There's a charity for family of the incarcerated sending me gas cards."

"Oh, really?"

"And stamps."

Erica grinned.

"Not so much gas, but lots of stamps."

"Well, look at it this way. Five or six more felony death by motor vehicle cases and you can buy your own stamps."

"And pedicures. You have no idea."

"I don't want to have any idea," Erica said.

Natalie nodded.

"As much as I like you."

"Let's talk about something else. You know," Natalie held up the two bills. "If you really cared, you'd send me a subscription to your paper. I even cancelled the local one."

Erica pulled out her iPhone. "I'm going to make a note."

Natalie nodded.

"What's your address?"

Natalie got out her business card and laid it on the table.

"Right. I have one of those somewhere. Probably on my fridge where it can be especially useless. Let's order coffee."

"Let's talk about something besides crime," Natalie said.

"Okay. The paper's been all aflutter about the 24th district race for State Senate."

Natalie was glad caffeine was coming.

Erica gestured. "Though, I guess that's still technically a crime, at least in my book."

# #

Chapter Thirty-Six

Natalie would never clean if it weren't for the Thursday night babysitters. Daniel and Jake came over to take care of the boys and give her a little time to herself. Often they took the boys to the movies, to the park, for ice cream. Whatever there was to do in Tarpley. Beau loved the soda shoppe. A devoted little extrovert, he'd watch the other kids with glee and beg Jake to let him play KC and the Sunshine Band on the jukebox while Merrit shyly tried to strike up adult conversations with Daniel about childish things.

Thursday afternoons, therefore, were devoted to cleaning. Beau soft-scrubbed the upstairs bathroom--bathtub, toilet rim and outside, and counters. Merritt did the downstairs bathroom, no tub, so he also scrubbed the kitchen counters, standing on a chair, carefully moving it from place to place.

Natalie knew Meredith would wring her neck once she found out.

She took care of picking up and vacuuming. Laundry, they left until Saturday mornings.

"All done," Beau said.

Natalie went into the bathroom, which smelled mildly of cleanser and glistened white. "It’s beautiful in here, Beau."

Beau nodded. She squirted toilet bowl cleaner then handed the bottle to Beau. "Take this to your brother."

He scurried out.

The soaking gave her just enough time to clean the counter.

The toilet flushed downstairs. She rolled her eyes. Playing with the toilet was why she didn't let them scrub the bowl unsupervised.

"Guys," she yelled.

Giggling echoed.

She finished the counter and then the toilet and went downstairs. In the hallway outside the guest bathroom, Merritt clutched Beau in a headlock.

"Natalie, help," Beau said.

"He messed. Up. My. Cleaning!"

Beau squirmed.

Merritt punched his head.

"Stop it!" Beau shouted.

"It's not fair," Merritt said.

"Unhand him."

They both cringed away from Natalie.

She clawed her left hand together. Merritt slowly released Beau. He didn't want the claw, where Natalie would lift him up by his shirt collar, like a lioness carrying her young. She thought it was adorable, but it made him feel powerless.

"He hurt me." Beau said.

"Beau, in the kitchen. I've got a surprise for you."

Beau slithered down the hall.

Natalie knelt next to Merritt, who was still red with rage, and whispered in his ear. "If you clean up your brother's mess this time, I'll make sure he doesn't get to clean either bathroom next week. He's lost his privileges."

Merritt nodded.

She pushed him at the bathroom and then went into the kitchen.

Beau stared at her. "I don't see a surprise. Are we going to the soda shoppe tonight?"

"No. Game night."

"I hate game night." Beau flushed nearly purple.

Natalie opened the junk drawer and pulled out a brush. "The surprise is, I need you to do the most important job. You get to brush Hollingsworth."

Beau lit up.

"If you can find him."

Beau snatched the brush and ran upstairs.

Natalie sighed. Anything to burn off their energy. She glanced into the family room.

"We have a social worker, guys," she said. "I don't want us to get accused of hoarding. And half-eaten candy attracts bugs. And rats."

Every Thursday they cleaned. Every Friday the house looked like this again. She fought the temptation to throw herself onto the couch and watch Oprah. Instead, she turned on the radio. Meredith's favorite Christian Talk station began to play. Natalie missed Meredith more and less at the same time. She braced herself, wondering if she'd get a missionary morality tale or an hour long sermon on one line in the Bible. At this rate, she'd never be able to learn all the lines. But it was a parenting call-in show.

She gazed at the ceiling. "Very funny."

A soothing, family doctor voice followed her into the kitchen, where she pulled stationary from the stack and sat down.

"Dear, Merry," she wrote. "Today I have bribed and lied to your children. Hope it’s all right..."

"Best two out of three," Jake said, watching as Daniel slammed his game piece into the rainbow square.

"How many games will it take to convince you I'm the Candy Land champion?" Daniel asked.

"It's a game of chance. And if the kids aren't playing, do we have to?"

Jake glanced over his shoulder to where Beau, Merritt, and Suriya were intensely discussing Hollingsworth, who lay within their triangle, being petted.

"Good point," Daniel said.

Jake nodded. "Let's do something adult."

"Here?" I think my house is going to be lacking," Natalie said.

"Wine?"

Jake pushed Daniel's arm. "Why does adult have to mean drinking? Should we smoke and watch porn and eat junk food, too?"

Daniel smirked.

"Thank you again for the beautiful barbecue," Natalie said to Daniel.

"Pshaw. Just crock pot magic."

"Do you have a crock pot, Natalie?" Jake asked.

"I think so. This is North Carolina, right?"

"Well, if you don't find it, we're leaving ours here."

"It has a programmable timer," Daniel said with glee.