Southern Sass and a Battered Bride

by Kate Young

  That sounded like Lucy, and I wondered about her drug problem. Trixie said she took pills, and they certainly weren’t prenatal vitamins as I once believed. Perhaps she injected herself before the wedding and misjudged the dosage. Teddy hadn’t mentioned any other needle marks and perhaps she only used pills or the patches Javier mentioned to satisfy her cravings in the past.

  “I know it isn’t any consolation, but I am truly sorry.” I felt like slapping myself for overusing that platitude condolence. “My heart truly breaks for you.”

  “Thank you. I just want my baby to find peace. To be at rest.” She lowered her head mournfully, and the dam broke as she crumpled into sobs.

  Mr. Carmichael rushed back to the table, sliding into the booth. He pulled her to his chest and held her, rocking gently. My hand went to my mouth and now, more than ever, I wanted to help Lucy and her mother and father. She mumbled to him that she’d confided in me about their child.

  “As you can see, my wife is distraught. She shouldn’t have told you those things. But they’re all true. When Lucy met that boy, the one before Alex, she changed. Stopped calling and emailing. We haven’t spoken with her in over a year, and then one day we get the call that she’s . . . she’s . . .”

  This time I held my tongue, even though condolences kept rising. Words would do nothing here, unless they helped put Lucy to rest.

  Mr. Carmichael shook his head. “Not that Alex is much better than a motorcycle-riding deadbeat.” He scooted out of the booth and helped his wife out.

  “Excuse me. The man before Alex, did he ride a Harley? Was his name David?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. The bike was loud. We have to go.”

  The dead silence in the diner showed the reverence everyone felt for the grieving parents. I still had the picture in my hand and rose quickly to give it back to Mrs. Carmichael, who moved through the diner clutching her husband.

  Jena Lynn raised her hands in question.

  Lifting my shoulders, I mouthed, “I have no idea what just happened.”

  My sister placed her arms on her womb, and I could only imagine how she couldn’t help but relate to the grieving couple. The loss would be so bone-crushing deep, and Jena Lynn hated the thought. Olivia was her and Zach’s whole life.

  The couple had already made it through the doorway as I made my way to the front of the diner and outside, under the overcast sky in the late afternoon, needing some air. Alex intercepted, blocking my path. “What did you say to them?”

  “Nothing. They just shared their hearts.” I gazed around him to where the Carmichaels were getting into a Lincoln Town Car.

  “You were supposed to help, not cause the woman to collapse.” Alex groaned in agitation. “Whatever. Thanks for nothing.” He left me standing on the sidewalk, clutching the picture Mrs. Carmichael had given me to my chest. I guess we were back in cloud cuckoo land, where Alex was concerned.

  Mrs. Carmichael glanced up as they pulled from the curb and lifted a hand. I did the same.

  CHAPTER 29

  Detective Thornton crossed the sidewalk in three long strides. “Miss Brown, do you have a minute?”

  I paused, glancing over my shoulder. “I do, and I’d like to have a word with you too.”

  He appraised me in an entirely different way and, gauging from his expression, he’d seen the display with the Carmichaels and Alex. In this moment, I didn’t care. My heart was laden with burden for the family and Lucy. My inconvenience during this ordeal paled in comparison to what her mother and father were going through. I wrestled with the portrayal her mother laid out, the contrast between the Lucy before her addiction and the Lucy I knew.

  I motioned for the detective to join me in my car. I started the engine and blasted the air-conditioning to combat the thick humidity we were experiencing. The detective had difficulty folding his large frame into my compact car. He moved the seat back as far as it would go and closed the door. It was the first time I’d been in such close quarters with this man.

  I got right to it when he closed the door. “When you ran the toxicology report, did you check for long-term drug use?”

  He angled his body toward me. “For someone who wants to be left alone and kept out of the fray, you sure have thrown yourself headlong into the muck.”

  “I said I’d help, and I will. I am.” Squaring my shoulders, I decided he deserved an explanation. Sure, he’d believed me capable of despicable things before. And in his line of work, with all the horrors he’d seen, why shouldn’t he? He didn’t know me, and his job was to close cases the best way he knew how. Was he crooked? God only knew. In this instance, I would trust my gut and say not at present. He could’ve built a case and thrown the book at me. Left the island and left the case for the prosecution to sort out. Through all of this, I’d had many epiphanies that shed light on myself and others in my life.

  “Life isn’t always black and white, Detective. Years ago, I believed that gray was invented by those who didn’t want to abide by rules and created their own realities as they saw fit. But it isn’t that simple, is it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Our mutual acquaintance, Roy Calhoun, would put money on you being dirty.”

  The detective adjusted the vents in front of him, pointing them at his face. When he turned to face me, his gaze was serious. “Like you said, there’s a lot of gray in life. But I haven’t been, nor will I ever be, a dirty cop. Some would say different. There’s always controversy surrounding men in power. Take your father, for instance. He’s a good man and a good sheriff. He has heart, and that’s a quality that makes him perfect for this island. Though, in the opinion of some, that quality can cloud judgment and be a weakness.”

  “You call it weakness. I call it strength. Once one loses the love for their fellow man, they lose their ability to govern them. Each person has their own story, has lived their own journey. They’ve loved and lost and hurt. What makes one worth more than another? I care what happened to Lucy. Care deeply. And until the person responsible pays for the crime, no matter who they are, she’ll never be able to rest. Nor will her parents ever find closure.”

  “We’re not that different then. You have your reasons for wanting the culprit behind bars, and I have mine. Either way, we’re on the same side here and now.” He waited and I gave him a solid head-nod, and he returned it. Oddly, in this car, he and I found common ground. Still, the issue of trust hadn’t been established, but we were close. Perhaps I could share the call from Paul and handle it delicately, without alerting the killer to his involvement. I needed to be sure, since I’d be risking another person’s life. A person I cared for.

  “You spoke with Alex last night. Did he seem agitated or unhinged?” He adjusted his position again.

  And now we were venturing into deep, dark, shark-infested waters, and instantly I recoiled.

  “You said you want the person responsible charged. This is the way we go about it. I will find the one responsible. And I’m convinced the robbery and murder are connected. This crime is way too sophisticated to have been pulled off by a local. I don’t believe Alex is the mastermind behind any of this, but I still have my reasons to suspect his involvement. Beauty wields a lot of power. If Alex is innocent, we’ll rule him out.”

  Put up or shut up, Marygene. “I’ve known Alex my entire life. He’s a lot of things, but a crook he isn’t. He’d never steal from anyone, much less his neighbors.” I rubbed the space between my eyebrows with my index finger. “But . . . he isn’t himself. Like you, he believes himself to be good at his job. Can you imagine what it would be like to think you knew someone, only to find out later you’d been manipulated into marrying them, they had a drug problem, and then they were murdered right under your nose?”

  “Like I said, beauty wields power.”

  I nodded. “He’s frustrated by the Carmichaels. According to him, they believe he’s involved. And Mrs. Carmichael, Lord bless her, is in shambles. That’s why I asked about the
hair samples to see if her drug use might’ve been embellished. She believed it was the reason her daughter wasn’t herself. And why she fell for some lowlife who aided in her addiction and attempted to use her to gain access to her trust fund.”

  Several people stopped in front of my car, glancing through the windshield oddly at the company I was keeping. I smiled and waved as if everything was perfectly normal. Just me and my good buddy, Detective Thornton.

  In his usual fashion, he ignored them. “From the hair samples we were able to determine Lucy frequently used drugs.”

  I nodded. “Then it’s completely possible she injected herself and overdosed. Perhaps her ex used her to gain access to account numbers and gave her the filled syringe, knowing she couldn’t resist. She’d be out of the way and he could keep all the money for himself. It fits the profile drawn by her parents. He obviously never left the island. He could’ve easily changed his look and hid among the tourists. We wouldn’t be the wiser.”

  “I need to speak to the Carmichaels again.” His hand went to the door, and I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his forearm. He glanced at my hand.

  I pulled out my phone. This sounded far more complicated when I spoke it aloud. I blew out a breath. Here and now, my best chance to save Paul was sitting next to me. No longer suspecting he had anything to do with the robbery, I hit play on the voice mail from Paul’s kidnapper. Every visible muscle in his body went tense. He checked the time and date on the message and listened to it again.

  “They called again. I answered it the second time. Paul sounded petrified, and they threatened to kill him, slowly and painfully, if I didn’t cooperate or if I called the authorities. Obviously, now, with us sitting here out in the open for the world to see, I’m not equipped to handle any of this. And I’m tired. So very tired. I just want everyone to be safe. For people to refrain from killing one another and let me get back to baking and helping out at my support group.” I shook my head and met his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m just a diner owner who loves a great dough and making people happy with good food. My father nearly died of a heart attack, my ex is struggling to find his way, and my best friend and I were nearly killed. The guy I was seeing has been abducted, and the lunatics are calling me! I’m at my wits’ end here, and I’m hoping, no, I’m trusting you’ll be able to handle this delicately and another person doesn’t die.” I slumped down in the seat and rubbed my face.

  To my surprise, he put his hand awkwardly on my shoulder. The act made me feel more lonely than comforted.

  “I’ve brought in more of my team to aid on the investigation. This will end and your life will resume some sense of normalcy. Would you be willing to wear a wire and have your phone tapped and your cell records released?”

  We were back into uncomfortable but necessary territory, and I agreed.

  * * *

  Javier stood on my back deck when I got home. No doubt the detective sent him right over. I’d still insisted I wanted to work with him. I noticed Javy when I crossed the threshold and stumbled over a flat envelope shoved through my antique front door mail slot. I’d kept it purely for aesthetics, and it wasn’t usually used by my postal worker. I smiled through the glass door at him. My comfort level with him made the ordeal easier. Thankfully, I’d begun to feel a bit better physically. Emotionally, not so much. I’d take what I could get.

  “Hey.” I slid open the back door.

  “Hey, yourself.” Javy’s steely gaze searched mine. “You want to explain?”

  I moved aside for him to enter. “Do you really need me to? I’m sure Detective Thornton gave you every single detail.”

  “I’d like to hear it from you. I mean, you and I are a lot closer, or so I thought. Hearing all of this from my superior disturbed me.” Javier made himself at home and sat in the living room while I used my tissue to pick up the flat unmarked mailer and deposited it on the counter. Deep breaths did nothing to slow my heart rate. Having doubts about my actions would be pointless. It sucked that your heart didn’t always comply. The mailer surely held the instructions, and I had no idea if the abductors were privy to my actions.

  I went to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of peach tea. “Want a glass?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Taking my time, I filled a glass with ice and tea. “I’m in over my head here. The detective was there, and as I struggled to the surface for a breath of air, I let it all out.” I told Javier everything I had told the detective. “He’s having the voice mail analyzed now by his tech-savvy guys. Did you know, by a simple signature from me, they can access my phone records and gain access to all my voice mails? It’s all in the cloud.” After a few long sips, I placed both pitcher and glass on the bar.

  “It’s a virtual kind of world.”

  I nodded. “I guess. I sure hope I did the right thing and Paul doesn’t pay the price.” I pulled the band from my hair and rubbed the sore spot on my head. “Hey, could you find out the identity of a person by a hair sample?”

  “No, why?”

  I sat on the sofa and attempted a smile. “That would have been too convenient for my life. I found black hairs in Alex’s drain. It might be his, but I found some hair dye on the tile underneath the sink.” Admittedly, this was all getting to me, and I probably sounded desperate and reaching. I didn’t care.

  He moved next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Hair cannot be positively matched to a specific person.”

  “Are you sure?” I leaned in to him.

  “Fairly positive. To tell us much of anything in an examination, it must contain the root pulp. During a struggle, hair that’s been ripped out by the roots will contain nuclear DNA. This hair was probably hair that shed during the coloring process. It won’t contain the correct DNA.”

  Here I’d hoped I’d found something of consequence. Nothing that I expected could be used in a court of law, mind you, but maybe a clue that would point us in the right direction. On the other hand, Betsy would be thrilled to know her shedding problem wouldn’t be credible evidence to frame her. I’d been right to ask for help.

  Javier sat straight and strong. Confidence oozed from his pores, making me wonder if he ever struggled with anything, and feeling guilty that I wanted to borrow some of his strength. Or at least bask in it for a while. I opened my mouth and told him everything. All that happened at Alex’s. My conversation with the Carmichaels in more detail. I even let him in on my fears.

  After a few long minutes inhaling his scent and feeling safer than I had in a long time, I got up and went to retrieve my purse and the mailer. I used a paper towel to pick up the mailer this time. Javier maintained his silence. There was something about him that reminded me of Eddie. It was his demeanor. Like Eddie, he brought a palpable calm to the room. I sat back down, keeping some distance between us. I played the voice mail. He needed to hear it firsthand.

  Javier sat forward as Paul’s voice came over the speaker. His body tensed as if he were prepared to leap into action at any second. He played it three times, listening closely. “Did you speak to Alex about this?”

  I shook my head and handed over the mailer. “I’m guessing these are the instructions. I have latex gloves in my purse if you want them.”

  He didn’t comment. He simply held out his hand for my gloves. I handed them over. Betsy had insisted I keep some with me, and she carried some as well. Clearly, we had a problem.

  Javier struggled to get them over his hands, but they were on enough to keep his prints from transferring. I moved closer as he ripped open the tab and dumped the contents out. A key clattered onto the table, tagged with a safety deposit box number. A printout with instructions, along with a time and date I was to retrieve the contents of the box and where I should deliver it.

  I sucked in a breath. A sticky note attached to a picture of the inside of the diner read, You’ve been naughty. One more misstep and boom! All the hairs on my neck stood at attention.

  I leapt to my feet. “I have to call
Jena Lynn. We need to evacuate the diner!”

  Javier took the phone from my hand and threw it on the sofa.

  “What are you doing?” I wailed. “That maniac is going to blow up my diner with my family inside!”

  Javier took me by the shoulders and peered into my face as he spoke calmly and assuredly. “We need to call Detective Thornton and have him issue a quiet evacuation of the diner. If we create a pandemonium, they might set the bomb off.”

  I held on to Javier’s forearms. My eyes stung. “Oh God, what if—”

  He gave his head a firm shake. “No. We aren’t playing the what-if game. This was a threat to ensure you follow their instructions, when Paul wasn’t enough. They had to threaten what you hold most dear. Your family and your business. They won’t do something stupid and ruin their most valuable leverage.” Javier navigated me to the sofa, where I perched while he made the appropriate phone calls.

  Yes, I believed his actions were correct. Reacting could prove disastrous in a situation such as this. And I wasn’t planning on risking anyone’s life by betting on the crazy people behind all of this. Still, I prayed nothing went horribly wrong. Mr. Forest’s words ran through my mind and, for the briefest of moments, I did wish they’d blow up. All the horrible, evil people who had the audacity to threaten me and mine. Acting with a cool, level head would always prevail. I tried deep breathing while Javier moved through my space. The way he was looking under tables and in lamp shades, I suspected he was concerned my place had been bugged.

  Mama appeared beside me and took my hand. She sat there, and her presence calmed me slightly. I didn’t say anything when she started speaking. I listened to every word she said. Every bit of advice I took to heart. My mama had drawn a line in the sand. She would do whatever it took to help me, even if it meant tying herself to this island for the rest of her existence. Putting herself aside for me now, after all these years, proved people could change if they chose to. The last thing she whispered to me hung in the air long after she’d faded. “Trust this one, my sweet girl. He’s seen enough and lived enough life to understand the nature of people. He’s on this island for a reason.”