'Til Grits Do Us Part (15 page)

I jumped, banging my knee on the underside of the desk, and swiveled to face him. “Why do you ask?” I rubbed the spot where it stung.

“I remember it.”

“Remember what?”

“When Amanda disappeared.”

My breath caught slightly. I eased my chair in Clarence's direction, narrowing my eyes at him. Trying to guess if he was telling the truth.

No one knew Clarence's age, but he swore he'd had secret dealings with Richard Nixon, his hero. He kept a photo of himself with Nixon on the mail-room fridge, next to all the crossword puzzles he finished and then highlighted to make weird messages.

On a dare, Matt the intern had run a check on the photo with some of his DC friends, and to our surprise, it was indeed the real thing. It spooked us all, especially when he joked that the second gunman on JFK's grassy knoll was Marilyn Monroe.

“Marilyn Monroe died the year before!” I'd argued. “We've been over this before. It's impossible.”

“Oh no. They
said
she died. Suicide. Very suspicious. I know for a fact they faked it.”

“Like the moon landing?” I scoffed.

“Nope. That was real. But they covered up the sightings of life on Mars.”

After that I just tried to stay away from Clarence. And wished he'd stay away from me.

But here he loomed again, both arms leaning on his mail cart. And for the first time in recent memory, not a trace of a smile on his wrinkled cheeks.

“Amanda was a good kid, but troubled. Hung out with the wrong crowd, ya know.” Clarence's eyes looked faraway. “Grew up in some trailer park in Deerfield, but she got good grades. A real smart gal, 'til she got in with kids and on that vegetarian kick.” He shook his head. “She worked at that fancy Ingleside hotel. And after that, The Red Barn restaurant.”

“So it's a restaurant? I can't find it anywhere.”

“It ain't around now.” Clarence waved his hand. “But I think she was working there when she turned up missing.”

“You lived here twelve years ago?” I crossed my legs, intertwining my fingers over my lap.

“Lands, a lot longer than that. I've lived all over. California, New Mexico.” Clarence rubbed a hand over his nose and grizzled mouth. “But the year she turned up missing still stands out in my mind. I'll never forget it.”

“Why's that?” I tipped my head.

“Well, for starters, the Planters Bank in town got robbed. Cleaned the poor suckers outta millions—first time it ever happened around here.”

“That's my bank!” I uncrossed my legs in surprise.

“Yep. Mine, too. And right after the bank robbery, it snowed in July—a freak storm.”

I scowled. “You're making this up, Clarence. It can't snow in July.”

“It happened! I swear! Ask the locals. Right during the Independence Day parade through town, an' a storm blows up, and poof! Snow an' hail fallin' everywhere.”

Right. Like I was going to believe that.

Clarence, unfazed by my skepticism, ticked things off on his fingers. “Governor had a heart attack in office. North River flooded. Apple crop almost went under. And a little no-name guy from Verona won the three-million dollar lotto jackpot. I think they had some racecar game back then.” He rolled his cart back and forth, lost in thought. “Yep. A weird year.”

Clarence pointed at me. “Tell you what. I'd phone tap that so-called drunk that smashed through that Floyd kid's window if I were you. I smell conspiracy. This whole thing's got somethin' to do with Amanda, I swear.”

“Even the police can't do phone taps, Clarence. That's against the law.”

“So's what Marilyn Monroe did.”

I started to turn back to my desk, rolling my eyes, but Clarence scooted his mail cart closer. “There's more.” He tapped the metal rail on his cart for emphasis. “So then Amanda went on vacation just before her wedding with that Floyd fella and never came back. Never found her, and it turned into a cold case pretty quick. Just disappeared. No evidence whatsoever. Broke that Floyd guy's heart.”

“Clarence.” I cleared my throat. “This is going to sound awfully heartless, but was Ray ever a suspect?”

“Ray Floyd? Yeah, briefly. Just because they were engaged and all. Nobody actually thought he'd do somethin' like that. He loved her too much.” Clarence stroked his chin. “But they got proof he didn't do nothin'. He was in Seattle when she disappeared. Even got a parking ticket there on the day they found her empty car and was just as surprised as the rest of us.” His eyes turned distant. “I think he spent some time in a clinic there to deal with his grief before he come back to Virginia to try and find her. Suicidal thoughts and all that. But he's okay now, I hear.”

“You were my first.”
The words jumped into my head with startling force as I recalled the spray-painted message.

“She wasn't his first fiancée, was she?” I asked cautiously, searching Clarence's leathery face. “Or first girlfriend?”

“Nope. They done investigated all that stuff. He'd been engaged before, and both of 'em had other beaus in the past. Why do you ask?”

I didn't respond to his question but twirled my chair as I thought, listening to it squeak on the left side. “Is there any way to find out whose first she was?”

“Hmmph. Easy. I can tell ya that.”

My mouth went dry, and I stopped rocking the chair. “Why do you know so much about Amanda, Clarence?” I asked, feeling the tips of my fingers turn cold.

He gave me a sidelong look, and I held his gaze, not sure if he was testing or teasing me. “Small town. Everybody knows everything.” He didn't break my gaze, letting his pause drag out into an uncomfortable silence. “So ya wanna know or not?”

“Tell me.”

“Jim Bob Townshend.”

The name rocked through me with palpable force. Townshend? I glanced at the blue folder on my desk, recalling the Japanese-looking woman near Fred Brewer's farm.

“Is he by any chance related to a Kate Townshend?” I squinted, trying to put all the crazy pieces of this cockamamy story together in my head. “After all, this is Staunton, right? How many Townshends can there be?”

“Kate? I know her. She lives down by the Brewer's place, don't she? The one with the llama?”

“That's her.”

“Yep. She's Jim Bob's great-aunt or somethin'. I forget now.”

I inhaled sharply, remembering the photo of an Amanda-looking girl on her brick mantel. “Is Kate Japanese?”

“ 'Course. You didn't know that?” Clarence shot me a comic look of disdain. “Married to some military guy off the Yokotsuka base years ago. Been here ever since.”

“Wow.” I rolled my chair back a few inches, tipping my head up to stare at the white-speckled ceiling tiles. “There's a lot I don't know about this town.”

“Ha. You ain't heard the half of it.” Clarence stuck his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. That ridiculous orangeplaid bow tie of his clashed horribly with his green-and-navy striped shirt. Between Clarence Toyer and Ray Floyd, I didn't know which one deserved Worst Dresser of the Year.

“Wait'll I get started on the Jester brothers who live in your neighborhood.” Clarence grinned. “I got stories that'd curl your hair.”

“No thanks. I don't do perms.” I scrunched up my nose. “So Amanda was engaged to Jim Bob Townshend before Ray.” I toyed with the corner of the blue folder. “So…is it possible Jim Bob might have resented Ray at all?”

“Resented him? I heard he wanted to kill him. 'Course that was years ago, and since Amanda's been gone, nobody's heard much from him. He shows up ev'ry now and then, I hear, but he don't stick around.”

Clarence looked away, wagging his head. “Jim Bob Townshend. Always a big troublemaker as a kid. Gettin' in fights and whatnot. Why, I had to call the cops on him once for tryin' to steal my car, right here in
The Leader
parking lot!” He scratched his shoulder. “But? I reckon all that's in the past.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Shucks, the guy's been gone for years. He'd been livin' in West Virginia last we heard, a good year before Amanda turned up missing. Got a family and kids now, I hear. Makes good money. Turned out to be a real salt-of-the-earth guy.” He ran his hand through his wild hair. “Goes to show that people ain't always what ya think, Shelly. Like I always tell ya.”

“Shiloh.”

“Right. Just keepin' ya on your toes.” He crossed his arms, looking out the window at the summer haze. “Although it's funny. Some folks said they saw him in town these days, sorta keepin' to himself. Didn't talk to nobody. And his car's parked up at his pop's house. I drove by outta curiosity and saw it myself, plain as day. Same ol' Ford his mama used to drive, an' after she passed, he won't sell it.”

“A Ford, huh?”

“Taurus. Graphite-silver. Nice car. His mama won it in a Pepsi giveaway. I swear. She mailed in the winning entry form, and they let her choose the color an' everything. Me? I done spent a fortune on them mail-in prize contests, and all I ever got was a pack of sunflower seeds. Go figure.”

Clarence stretched and patted the cart. “Anyway. I hope you find who sent you them flowers.”

He leaned closer and winked, showing his yellowish teeth in a grin that chilled my spine. “Angel.”

My distaste for Clarence had diminished slightly, but it flared back up with a vengeance. I scowled as he pushed his creaky cart around the corner. Nearly flattening Meg, who jumped out of the way with a string of words I was glad I couldn't hear.

“Shiloh! I almost forgot.” Meg rushed to my desk and leaned over it, one hand on the back of my chair. “Kate Townshend. You asked about her yesterday.”

“Jim Bob's great-aunt or something. Clarence told me. But thanks for checking.”

“Jim Bob? Who's Jim Bob?” Meg wrinkled a freckled nose.

I glanced up in surprise. “Isn't that what you were going to tell me?”

“No! But you're right. The girl in that photo you saw yesterday in Kate's house probably
was
Amanda.”

I jerked my chair back.

“Kate is Amanda's grandmother.”

I slumped over my desk, staring into the distance beyond my computer screen and Amanda's blue folder. Barely hearing Meg as she rattled on about how the relation was probably by marriage because Kate's Japanese and so forth. Blah, blah, blah.

“So I guess Amanda and Jim Bob were related then, too?” I warily turned to Meg, not really wanting her to answer.

“Jim Bob again. Who is this guy?”

“Her ex before Ray.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. I guess they were related.” Meg grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “This
is
the South, you know. And with a name like Jim Bob, well, what can you expect?” She put her palms up.

“Don't get me started.” I groaned and rubbed my face. “You know what? I need a Tylenol.”

“That bad?”

“No. I mean, it's strange, but my mind's already full. This is all too much.” I sighed and played with the mouse. “There's so many other things going on in my life that I don't have time for kissing cousins and kooky old love triangles. You wanna see what came for me this morning?” I dug in my purse and pulled out a folded sheet of paper then plopped it in her hand. “Read it.”

Meg took the paper and read, brow creasing in confusion. “ ‘Commonwealth vs. Jed Tucker.' Who's Jed Tucker?”

Before I could reply, Meg's eyes popped. “It's a court summons.”

“Yes.”

“To Winchester.”

“Yes.”

She tapped the paper thoughtfully. “Is this about that thing that happened before you started working here? Where you got jumped by rednecks at a Confederate battle reenactment, or something equally silly?” She put her finger on the name. “Jed Tucker. Yup. Definitely a redneck.”

“And he's a skinhead, too. He's the one who kicked me in the side while they harassed me for being a Yankee—after they discovered I didn't have any money on me.”

I fiddled with my desk drawer, not relishing the memories. “I dealt with the other three guys in court in February—and they got jail time, all of them. But this Tucker guy is a slippery one. Looks like they finally got him. Now I'll have to go back to court and testify against him.”

I reached into a drawer and pulled out some silvery dried fish Kyoko had mailed me. Nice and crunchy. Their familiar briny flavor made me feel slightly better, but not much.

“So when's the trial?”

“October third, just after my wedding. The prosecutor's asking for jail time and damages. Good ol' Jed did send me to the emergency room with bruised ribs.”

“You're paying a lawyer?” Meg glanced at my dried fish, probably figuring all I could afford was care-package food. To be fair, she wasn't so far off.