Dumpster Dying

by Lesley A. Diehl

  As quickly as Judge Miller skewered Vicki, he shifted posture. “You’re a good and loyal friend. Our bereaved Emily is fortunate to have you here today. Let’s move on, shall we?”

  Several of Emily and Fred’s friends from up north had flown down to speak on her behalf. They gave similar stories. Fred and Emily had been a devoted couple for over ten years. The women with whom Emily played golf testified to Emily’s love for her dead partner.

  “Yes, yes,” said Judge Miller. He sounded anxious to wrap up Emily’s side of the case. “I have all the documents here. It seems you shared in expenses while you were living together. However, you did not share equally, I see.”

  “Well, I took an early retirement so my pension was far less than . . .”

  The Judge grabbed his gavel and pounded it on the bench. “Later. You can talk after lunch.” He stood and walked out of the courtroom. Emily checked her watch. It was only ten thirty.

  “Lunch?” she asked Hap.

  “Judge Miller likes to take late morning tea followed by a prayer break, then an early lunch.”

  “How do you think we’re doing?” asked Emily.

  “Awful,” said Hap. He arose from his chair with the help of his cane and hobbled down the aisle.

  “Then do something. Object or something,” said Emily.

  “You hired me to be your lawyer and for now we’re ducking under the radar. Your side of this may appear pretty solid to a Yankee, but down here, there’s community pride to consider, and appearance. Appearance is very important.” He walked out the courtroom doors and wound through the gathered crowd toward the front door of the courthouse.

  “What about the law?” asked Emily. She followed him through reporters, bystanders, and the bored and curious folks who liked a courtroom scene better than they liked their soap operas on television.

  “The law,” he said as he made his way down the steps and across the wide lawn toward the shade trees that lined the street, “is a matter of interpretation. For you, the law is Judge Miller. We must allow him room to maneuver for now.” He sat down on the stone bench under a magnolia, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “I could use an egg salad sandwich and a coke from the drugstore across the street. Better get something for yourself too.”

  ***

  At the counter of the small drugstore, Emily stood in line to put in the order for Hap. She couldn’t eat a thing. Not at this hour. The sound of a familiar laugh from behind her made her turn around. Lucinda Davey stood at the back of the store talking with Fred’s ex-wife, Carolyn Hughes, and her city lawyer. The man behind her in line was tall and broad. She let his figure hide her. She didn’t want the two women she disliked most to see her. Why were they chatting away as if they had been best buddies for years? Impossible, but Emily wondered what they were doing together. It couldn’t be anything good. Every time she encountered Lucinda, it was like stepping into a boxing ring. She never knew when a punch would be coming her way. She had nothing to say to Carolyn, a woman Fred referred to as “high maintenance.” Fred, you jerk, why, oh why did you leave everything to that witch?

  The last time Emily saw her was five years ago at the engagement party Carolyn threw for Fred’s oldest son. Since then, she’d married a orthodontist and was using his money to travel and buy houses. At the party Carolyn looked gorgeous with her long, dark hair, black eyes, and seductive way of carrying herself. It was bad enough the woman found money, but she also had looks. Emily sent a telepathic message toward the back of the drugstore—gain weight, sag somewhere, lose money at the track. Experience something common like the rest of us.

  A shrill laugh cut into Emily’s voodoo. She heard her name mentioned and tried to resist the temptation to sneak a look around the large man serving as her blind. What the heck. A tiny peek wouldn’t hurt. She stuck half her face around his arm and her nose came within inches of Lucinda’s breasts, clad in a stretchy lime green tank top.

  “Uh, hi, there Mrs. Davey,” she said. She stepped back, remembering Lucinda’s fondness for handling Emily’s presence by physical confrontation.

  “Get away from me,” said Lucinda. Her voice was loud and angry. The noise level in the crowded business diminished. You could hear a toad pass gas. People craned their necks to see who was molesting the Widow Davey.

  “Sorry,” said Emily. She turned on her heel and fled the store, but not before she got a good look at Carolyn.

  Hmmmm. She’d been so terrified in court that she failed to take a good look at Carolyn. And the light there was bad also. But in the bright sunlight coming through the store windows, the woman looked positively jowly. Well, perhaps Emily’s hex worked. She ought to try it more often. That’s not nice, Emily, she told herself as she ran out the door.

  “Where’s my sandwich?” asked Hap. “And what canary did you just eat?”

  CHAPTER 20

  Naomi had hugged Emily goodbye when she left for the courthouse earlier in the morning. “Good luck,” she said.

  Emily had convinced Naomi to stay home for the day instead of sitting in the courtroom observing the proceedings. “Go to the pool since you have the day off from the bar. Soak up some sun. Relax. My problems are not your problems.”

  “Maybe not,” said Naomi. She walked her mother to the car. “But you’ve certainly gone out of your way to take on my difficulties by giving me a place to hide and getting me the job at the club. I feel guilty not being able to repay you in some way. The least I can do is be there today for moral support.”

  Emily hesitated before opening the door to Stan. “I talked to Hap last night knowing you would want to go and he said no.”

  “Why?”

  “He said you looked so much like me that people would ask questions.”

  Naomi turned her head and looked toward the pasture.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Emily reached out and pulled the daughter she couldn’t acknowledge into her arms. “He wasn’t trying to be unkind. He was trying to protect me. He said you were a part of my past we shouldn’t get into today. But it doesn’t mean you’re any less my daughter or that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do for me.”

  “I know. I feel so helpless.” She leaned into Emily’s hug.

  “We all feel helpless. Everything’s in the judge’s hands now.” Emily broke off the embrace, quickly jumped into the car, and drove off. She hadn’t wanted Naomi to see the tears in her eyes nor the worried look on her face.

  After her mother left, Naomi trudged up the drive, head down, and contemplated the day ahead. How could she not think about what was going on in court? In the few short weeks she’d been here, Emily had come to mean more to her than a woman who had given her wonderful parents when she wasn’t able to raise Naomi herself. She was like a second mother, and sometimes Naomi had to catch herself when she almost called her “Mom”.

  Naomi dragged her beach towel out of the dryer, took her book, and headed for the lounger on the backyard patio. Maybe I’ll watch the horses in the pasture today, she decided. When they failed to appear after she’d spent an hour reading in the sun, a sense of foreboding stole over her. It’s too isolated back here. I need to be around people.

  She grabbed her beach bag and headed to the pool. The friends she’d made last week were already there. She threw her towel on a lounge and plopped down next to them.

  “What’s up for tonight?” she asked. She pushed her concern and her fears to the back of her mind as the trio of young women made plans for a night out at the Burnt Biscuit.

  Toby left his car in the storage facility bordering the condo park and walked through the gate near the water treatment facility. From his hiding place in the culvert down the road from Emily’s backyard, he watched his target leave the lounge chair and cross the street to the pool area.

  Damn. Missed her, but he’d be patient and wait. He stuck a chaw in his mouth and settled back, swatting the flies that came to bother him and nodding off every few minutes. When he fell into too deep a sleep, he
could count on tobacco juice running down his chin to awaken him. Toby favored surveillance work especially when he didn’t have to move too much or too fast.

  As the afternoon dragged by, the sun sent rays into the concrete surround where he dozed on and off. The cement absorbed the sunlight and began to radiate its heat like an asphalt road. He removed his sport jacket and laid it down on the hard surface underneath him, making it feel only marginally softer to his butt. The three foot long alligator usually holing up in the culvert in the afternoon swam out of the pond and began his journey onto the grass and into his usual resting place.

  “Get the hell out of here,” said Toby. The reptile eyed him and retreated to the pond once more.

  Still the woman didn’t return and her stalker decided to move his hiding place to where he might be more comfortable. He walked up to the rear of the park model and tried the door. Locked. His cell rang.

  “What’d you mean, the deal’s off? I got five hundred bucks coming to me. I did my bit. I followed through and he owes me. You owe me.” He listened to the caller’s reply, flipped the phone closed, and backed away from the building.

  Another set of eyes watched him as he got into his car.

  The ceiling fan whirred at a faster rate of speed, but failed to keep up with the sultriness which descended like a punishment upon the occupants of the courtroom. As usual, the cranky air conditioning system struggled ineffectively on. A few people hadn’t returned following lunch. Others seated themselves, then got up and left, deciding the show to come held less interest for them than afternoon soap operas in the comfort of their air conditioned living rooms. People shifted positions on the benches, hoping to get as far away from one another as they could.

  Emily envied those who had fans. She wished she were anywhere but here. The dress Hap insisted she wear was probably a lot cooler than anything else she could have chosen from her wardrobe, but Hap looked like he was melting in his white suit.

  Even the judge seemed distracted by the temperature in the room. “Let’s see. Where are we now? Oh, yes, we heard the bereaved speak in her defense.”

  Hap rolled his eyes and leaned over to Emily. “Not a great sign, acting like he couldn’t remember you’d just spoken.”

  Hap concluded their case, and Carolyn’s hired pit bull called witnesses to testify to Emily’s philandering nature. The condominium park manager along with Mrs. Wattles and Mrs. Frey, the two inveterate trouble makers, told of visits from several men over the past few months.

  “As if she couldn’t wait to get Fred out of her life. One was very young, too,” said Mrs. Frey. She fanned herself furiously and shook her head, an offended look on her face.

  Emily silently plotted revenge on the old reprobates—maybe she’d parade around the pool in a bikini or put posters up in the clubhouse inviting interested people to join the local nudist society. Or she could recommend the social committee hire a reggae band for the St. Patrick’s Day dance. Wouldn’t everyone be surprised when they found out what a reggae band was, Emily thought with satisfaction, imagining the shocked looks.

  Hap put his hand on her shoulder and shook her. “Where are you? And get that silly look off your face. The judge will think you smoked wacky tabacky on break.”

  Emily brought her attention back to the present and slid lower in her chair.

  Carolyn’s hired legal goon called Martin Quigley to testify.

  She leaned over and whispered in Hap’s ear. “Good. Now we’ll get the truth about whether I came on to Marcus. It’s about time someone dealt with the rumors.” She shot an accusing look at Hap.

  He dropped his head into his hands, ran them over his face, and looked up. “How wrong you are, my dear.”

  Quigley looked uncomfortable, moving around in the chair throughout his testimony, keeping his eyes from Emily and Hap’s and interspersing “uh” and “uhm” and long silences in what he had to say. But everyone got the gist of his statement. One night, he maintained, after mixology class, Emily behaved flirtatiously toward Marcus, asking him to take her to a motel and she would show him a good time. Worse, he implied she had made the offer in exchange for a passing grade.

  Emily jumped out of her chair. “That’s a damn lie.” Her reaction woke the court room out of its stupor and talk began to buzz behind her.

  “Restrain your client,” said Judge Miller. “I will not have such outbursts in my courtroom. And no profanity, little lady.”

  “Perhaps a recess, your honor?” said Hap.

  “No recess. I want to finish this case. Today. And pretty daggoned soon too.”

  And it was finished as far as Emily was concerned. Quigley had lied, but she knew the judge wanted to believe him. Her case was sunk. Who got to him? She looked at Hap and could tell he was thinking the same thoughts.

  Judge Miller concluded the day by intoning a prayer for guidance from the Lord. Everyone bowed their heads and, for the first time, Emily earnestly prayed there was a God and He was on her side, if only for today.

  “I’ll render my decision tomorrow,” the judge said. He pounded his gavel, stepped down from the bench, and tossed his robes at his secretary before he had even left the courtroom.

  Spectators fled through the outside doors to catch any little breeze the afternoon might be offering.

  “Thanks, Hap,” said Emily. “I know you did your best.”

  Hap and Emily stood at the bottom of the courthouse steps. Not only was there no wind stirring, but a haze hung over the area, holding the suffocating air around their heads like a blanket.

  A few well-wishers stopped to pat Hap on the back and wish him luck. “You’re gonna need it,” one said. “This is a heck of a case to come out of retirement for.” Others, stared at Emily, as if she wore the proverbial red letter on her chest.

  Hap looked the picture of the conquered. His white suit hung on him as if he had suddenly lost weight while in the courtroom. He could have, thought Emily. With the sauna-like nature of the room, he probably did weigh pounds lighter. His head was bowed when Carolyn’s ambulance chaser came over to him.

  “Nice try, old man,” he said. Emily knew he wasn’t referring to Hap with respect.

  “Go away,” she said.

  As he walked off, his wealthy client in tow and Lucinda Davey a few steps behind them, Hap watched them with a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “Lucinda and Carolyn,” said Emily. “There’s a lethal combination.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Hap, with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes. “Justice can be slow and not so obvious.”

  “Give me a break, Hap. No more sagely southern wisdom. I’m beat.”

  Emily slammed through her front door. “Naomi?” she called and got no answer. She peeled off her damp clothing and tossed it into the washer, then threw open her closet door looking for something clean to wear to the club. She was on duty tonight. Just as well. She needed to keep busy and stop ruminating over the humiliation of her day in court. If she’d left it alone, let Carolyn take everything, she wouldn’t have had to parade her past before the entire town as well as the judge. Damn.

  She grabbed a white shirt off a hanger and noticed it had a spot of tomato juice on the front. I’ll have to get it out. All the rest of them are dirtier than this one. Who was the idiot that established white shirts and black trousers as the appropriate wear for wait people and bartenders, she wondered. By the time you’re halfway through work, the customers can read what’s on the menu by looking at your shirt front.

  Emily heard the front door open as she was scrubbing out the stain at the kitchen sink. Naomi entered looking like a lobster. “You forgot sunscreen?” She spoke with exasperation in her tone.

  “I guess I shouldn’t ask what happened today in court, huh?”

  Emily shook her head, didn’t look up, and continued to scrub the spot.

  “I’m going with my friends to dinner and then to the Burnt Biscuit. Want to come?”

  “I have to work tonight,” Emily
said. Her voice filled with resignation.

  Emily’s tone crushed Naomi’s ebullient mood. “I forgot.”

  Emily continued to rub at the shirt. She was wearing a blister on her finger.

  “Darren and I may share an apartment,” Naomi said.

  Emily slapped the blouse into the suds. “Oh, that’ll be great. Then when your husband finds you, you’ll be living with another man. Good thinking, Naomi.”

  “Sorry.” Naomi stood in the middle of the living room for a moment longer, then turned and rushed out the door.

  Now she’d done it, taken out her anger on Naomi and added to her woes. And all that fury didn’t make my situation one whit better. Nice work. She ran to the door to call Naomi back, but her daughter had disappeared.

  “You’re on alone tonight,” said Clara. “Think you can handle it or do you want me to stay?”

  Emily gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’ll be slow.”

  Clara had listened without comment to Emily when she arrived at the bar and told her about the day in court and then about her run-in with Naomi.

  “Kids’re a bitch,” said Clara. “Maybe I could call Donald to see if he’s free to work for you.”

  “I asked him yesterday. He told me he had another job to do. I thought then I might not be in the mood to greet the drinking public with smiles tonight.”

  “So I’ll stay then.”

  “No, go on home. Maybe you and Darren can catch a good movie on television and have a bonding experience.”

  Clara gave forth a sardonic laugh and repeated her earlier pronouncement on progeny. “Kids’re a bitch.”

  After Clara left, a few customers wandered into the bar, drank a couple of beers, and talked pars and bogies. Emily joined in. Once they’d replayed the entire front nine, the conversation lagged.