by Angela Henry
“Do you have a sister named Yvonne?”
“Yeah, you know my baby sister Vonnie?” She was grinning now. I’d obviously been forgiven for my lack of nail ambition.
“She goes with a friend of mine’s nephew, Trevor Gibson. I met her yesterday.”
“Yep, that’s Vonnie. Wherever Trevor is, Vonnie ain’t too far behind. I told that girl she needs to chill as far as that boy’s concerned and start thinking about her future. Trevor Gibson’s gonna go off to college or the service and leave her butt behind. You know how kids are; they don’t listen to nobody.”
I thought this was funny seeing as how she didn’t look much more than twenty herself.
“You must not like Trevor.”
“He’s all right. It’s his mom I can’t stand. Girlfriend be trippin’. Can’t stand Vonnie. Doesn’t think she’s good enough for her son. Trevor don’t take up for her the way he should. And I can’t stand for anybody to be messin’ with my little sister.”
I knew she meant what she said because she got a little too carried away with the orange stick she was using to push back my cuticles and stabbed me.
“Ouch!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking around quickly to make sure no one was watching as she rubbed my finger. I wasn’t bleeding, so I assured her it was okay.
“How does she mess with her?”
“Real stupid shit. She’ll lie and say Trevor ain’t home whenever Vonnie stops by, like she can’t see his car parked in the driveway. Won’t give him messages. Vonnie sometimes leaves notes in the mailbox that he never gets. But last week Vonnie came home cryin’ ‘cause his mom made some tacky-ass comment about making sure she don’t get pregnant ‘cause there won’t be any money in it for her. Like Vonnie’s just some hoochie lookin’ to get paid. I was ready to go tell that bitch off, but Vonnie didn’t want me say nothin’, so I left her alone.”
“That’s a shame,” I offered for lack of anything better to say. Though I couldn’t figure out which was more the shame—Diane’s treatment of Vonnie or Vonnie pinning her hopes on the likes of Trevor. I wondered how fast he’d kick her to the curb if Diane made it worth his while.
The conversation was starting off in the right direction. I just had to figure out how to bring up the subject of Jordan and his mystery woman. As it turned out, I didn’t have to.
“Vonnie told me she was at Trevor’s aunt’s house after the funeral of that man who got killed. I told her she didn’t need to be going over there until they catch who did it. Now that’s some scary shit.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, everybody keeps saying either that white woman did it or Trevor’s aunt. But I wouldn’t be surprised if all three of them ganged up on his ass and killed him.”
“All three of them?” I said, feigning ignorance. I was about to hit pay dirt.
“Yeah, girl. There was a third woman. I saw him arguing with her myself.”
“Damn. Did you know who she was or hear what they were arguing about?” I asked casually.
“Naw, they were too far away to hear what they were saying. I saw them twice. The first time I didn’t see her face, but the second time I saw it for just a second.”
“Did you recognize her?” I asked.
“I had never seen her before then. But yesterday I saw her in that restaurant over by the college.”
“You mean Estelle’s?”
“Yeah, that’s it. I saw her in there.”
“Really, was she eating alone?” I had to calm down a bit because I was rapidly losing my nonchalant demeanor. I didn’t want her to know that I had any other interest in her answer other than simple nosiness. But Natasha had a willing audience in me and didn’t seem to be at all curious about my interest in the so-called third woman.
“When’s the last time you had your nails done?” She was looking at my nails with a frown as she continued to work on my cuticles.
“Ten years ago for the prom. I wonder whether she had anything to do with the murder?” I needed to steer her back to the topic at hand.
“Who? Oh yeah, that other chick. Could be. She sure looked and acted mean enough to kill somebody. I was ready to kill her myself by the time I left that restaurant. If it weren’t for the fact that they got da bomb potato skins, I wouldn’t have gone back. I even complained to the owner and he gave me a free dessert, cheesecake. It was good too.”
“What?” I was a little confused. “You mean the woman who you saw works at Estelle’s?”
“Yeah, little runty-lookin’ hostess with burgundy-tinted hair. Pissed me off. She kept seating people ahead of us who hadn’t been waiting half as long as we had. Then when we finally got called she didn’t even speak to us. Wouldn’t say hi, bye, kiss my ass, or nothin’. We barely got up from the waiting area before she started walking back to the table. Didn’t bring any menus. We had to finally go up and get our own.”
Joy Owens. I couldn’t believe it! What in the world could she have been arguing with Jordan about? I wouldn’t have thought they even knew each other. Could they have been seeing each other? I just couldn’t picture it. I doubted Joy was ever pleasant enough for anyone to want to get close to her, except to slap her, of course. But she had been snooping around in Bernie’s house. What had she been looking for? I also wondered how many free desserts Alex had given away because of Joy, and why was he so hell-bent on keeping her on at the restaurant.
“Were they arguing both times you saw them?”
Natasha stopped what she was doing a second and thought about it. “I think so,” she said finally. “The first time I saw them they were just talking in that little park over by the college. Like I said, I didn’t see her face that time. I recognized her the second time by her hair. Don’t nobody dye their hair that played-out color no more,” she said in disgust. I left the shop a half hour later with a fresh new manicure and more questions than I had when I came.
Seven o’clock rolled around fast. It had taken me forever to decide on what to wear. The rain of the previous couple of days had made it muggy out. Nothing looks less appealing than trying to look cute while sweating like a pig. I finally decided on a long sleeveless batik- print cotton dress in shades of olive green, cream, and gold. The long loose style hid a multitude of sins and made me look almost svelte. Almost. Chunky-heeled leather mules and gold jewelry completed the look. I had just sprayed on my favorite vanilla-scented perfume when there was a knock at the door.
Carl had obviously taken the muggy heat into consideration as well. He looked very cool in a thin gauzy white shirt worn untucked over casual black slacks. I caught the same familiar scent of Obsession for Men worn just heavy enough for me to catch a subtle whiff when he moved.
“You look good,” he said. “Smell good too.”
“Thanks. You too. Did you have any trouble finding the house?”
“Not really. Is the woman downstairs your landlady?”
“You met Mrs. Carson?”
“I knocked on the door downstairs by mistake. She seems like a nice lady. I actually got here ten minutes ago, but she got to telling me about her high blood pressure, and I had a hard time getting away.”
“Yeah, she’s a talker all right. I used to think she was just lonely when I first moved here. But her family’s over here all the time.”
High blood pressure my ass. She just wanted to get a good look at my date. As we walked down my steps to Carl’s car, I glanced in Mrs. Carson’s window and saw that she was on her phone. I figured she had probably called Mama and was giving her the lowdown on Carl. I knew I was in for a lecture about dating a still-married man, not to mention a man who had a link to Jordan’s murder. There was always the off chance that neither one of them would realize who he was. However, I was never that lucky when it came to those two.
Mama and her good friend Annie Ruth Carson were like an information-gathering tag team when it came to any event or anybody they felt they needed to know about. Mama could always be counted on fo
r the well-placed phone calls here and there, while Mrs. Carson’s contribution was the latest beauty shop and church gossip. It always got them the desired results. I was doomed.
The fifteen-minute drive to Springfield was a fairly quiet one. Carl and I made small talk about the weather and our jobs. I wanted to wait until later before I brought up the subject of Vanessa. Good food and drinks in a relaxed setting had a way of loosening the tongue. I couldn’t help but notice the skeptical look on Carl’s face as we pulled into the crowded parking lot. Both the neighborhood and the outside of the restaurant left much to be desired.
“I know it doesn’t look like much,” I told him as we walked toward the two-story redwood building that resembled a barn, “but you won’t be sorry.”
“I’m not hard to please. As long as I can get a good steak, I’ll be happy,” he said, holding the door open for me.
“Not bad,” he said, looking around the restaurant in surprised admiration after we’d been seated. Upon entering the restaurant, most people were immediately struck by the contrast between its relaxed understated elegance and the ordinary, almost seedy, neighborhood.
Carl ordered New York strip with mushroom sauce, and I ordered the stuffed pork chops. Once our orders had been placed, he sat back in his chair and looked at me with that killer smile.
“All right, I want to know all about you, Kendra Clayton, and don’t hold anything back.”
“Well, I don’t tell anybody everything,” I said teasingly, “So I’ll give you the condensed version.” There wasn’t much to tell, but I would never let him in on the fact that my life, thus far, had been as uneventful as a car wash on a rainy day.
“I was born and raised in Willow. I’m twenty-eight years old and the oldest daughter of Ken and Deidra Clayton. Get it, Ken and Deidra? My name is a combination of my parents’ names. Cute, huh? Anyway, I’m big sister to twenty-five-year-old Allegra, the aspiring actress-model-singer.” Or whatever else will allow her to do what she does best, which is being the center of attention. I didn’t bother to tell Carl that because it would just sound like sour grapes, which it is. Just a little.
I’ve always been a little jealous of Allegra for having the guts to take off for L.A. right after high school with little more than bus fare and her dreams. We all thought she’d be back in a week with her tail between her legs. We were wrong. She’s been in Los Angeles for seven years now. She still hasn’t gotten her big break. However, she’s managed to support herself with little help from the rest of the family. Thus far her professional work has consisted of magazine ads for toothpaste and feminine-hygiene products, being the object of a homely singer’s desire in a music video, and as a dead-on-arrival accident victim on an episode of ER. That combined with her full-time job as an interior decorator’s assistant has kept her going.
I finished telling Carl about myself, which took all of two minutes, and listened as he told me about himself.
“Not much to tell. I’m thirty-two and the only son of Charles and Martha Brumfield. Born and raised in Columbus. Two older sisters, Anita and Monica. I graduated from Kingford College and got my law degree from the University of Dayton. I work for the Franklin County prosecutor’s office. Pretty boring stuff actually.”
“I wouldn’t say that. What made you decide to go into law?”
“Well, I could say it was a burning desire to see justice done and to be part of the legal system. But that would be a lie. I had a degree in business management that I didn’t know what I was going to do with, and my girlfriend at the time wanted to be a lawyer in the worst way. I helped her study for the LSAT and signed up to take it myself for the hell of it and—”
“Let me guess,” I said, interrupting him, “you got a higher score than she did and decided to go to law school.”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “In between feeling bad for her and guilty for having done better, I was pretty damn proud of myself.”
“So what happened with the girlfriend?”
“She retook the test and got a much better score. She got accepted to a school out of state. We kept in touch for a little while. But you know how long-distance relationships can be. It didn’t last very long. Absence didn’t make our hearts grow fonder.”
I didn’t know but I nodded in commiseration anyway.
“Last I heard she was a corporate attorney in the Chicago area.”
“You ever thought about going into private practice?” I took a sip of my iced tea and watched Carl frown. I’d obviously hit a nerve.
“I’m sorry. I’m being nosy. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, that’s a perfectly innocent question. It’s just that the whole private-practice issue became a real problem between me and Nessa.”
Ordinarily I would be put out at the mention of my date’s ex. Not that I have a problem acknowledging the fact that anyone I go out with has had prior relationships. It’s just no fun listening to a guy talk about his ex all evening. Plus, it’s been my experience that the way a man talks about the women in his past, especially if he’s got nothing but bad things to say, speaks volumes about the man himself.
As of that moment, I really liked Carl and I wasn’t ready to start experiencing any of those infamous red flags that we women read about in all the women’s magazines. Although, common sense told me that being connected to a murder should be enough to keep me away from this man. Then again, I was connected to Jordan’s murder, too, no matter how reluctantly. If it weren’t for this fact, I would have changed the subject real quick. Instead I put on my sympathetic face and psyched myself up to hear all about Carl and Vanessa’s failed marriage.
“How so?” I asked.
“I didn’t go into law to become a rich man. Don’t get me wrong. Lots of money has its appeal. That’s just not my main motivation. I’d like to go as far as I can and become a judge one day. I didn’t grow up poor. I mean, we weren’t rich, either. My dad’s a high school principal and Mom’s a nursing-home administrator. We weren’t hurting when I was growing up. Vanessa, on the other hand, had it kind of rough as a child. Her mother died when she was ten and her father was a foreman at a truck-parts factory. Vanessa always dreamed of living in a big house out in Pine Knoll.”
“So, what better way to get there than by being married to a lawyer in a lucrative private practice?”
“Of course,” he said with a tight smile.
“She didn’t think that a judge could put her in a house in Pine Knoll?”
“Eventually, yeah, but she didn’t want to wait for that to happen, if it happened. So you can imagine how disappointed she was when she couldn’t talk me into going into a more lucrative form of law.”
“How’d the two of you meet?”
“We met at a fourth of July barbecue given by a mutual friend. We hit it off right away and were married within a year.”
“You know I went to high school with Vanessa. We weren’t friends, but I’d always heard that her father was a racist.”
“You heard right. When she first told me about him I didn’t take it seriously. I figured it would be no problem to win him over. I mean, I’m well-educated, professional, come from a good family. But all that didn’t mean a damn thing. Denton Cox would have rather seen his daughter married to a white ax murderer than to a successful black man.”
Our food came and I watched Carl dig into his steak with gusto. I took a bite of one of my pork chops and wondered if Carl had known about Vanessa and Jordan. Instead I said, “I heard Vanessa’s father’s dying.”
“He’s got prostate cancer. He doesn’t have much longer.”
“She must be devastated.”
“She is. They were real close up until she married me. He remarried a year or so ago and his wife Edna tried to get them back together. Denton was willing to forgive and forget as long as Vanessa would admit that her marriage to me had been a mistake. She refused to do that at first. We had our differences but things weren’t that bad. Then all of a sudden everything chan
ged. One minute we were talking about having a baby, the next minute she moved out of the house and filed for divorce.”
“What happened?”
“Oh, I have an idea. She won’t admit to it but I know I’m right.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he had turned his attention back to his meal. The subject was closed for the time being. We ate in companionable silence for a while and then Carl asked out of the blue, “So, who do you think killed your friend’s fiancé?”
For a split second I didn’t know who he was talking about. I’d forgotten that Bernie and Jordan were supposedly engaged. I thought for a minute before answering. I certainly couldn’t say, “I think your soon-to-be ex-wife did it.” Something told me that wouldn’t exactly endear me to the man sitting in front of me. Instead I played it safe.
“I don’t know, Carl,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I can only say who I think didn’t do it and that’s Bernie.” I said it but did I really believe it?
“Did they ever figure out what he was doing there in the first place while Vanessa wasn’t home?”
“I don’t know. Possibly to fix something. Does Vanessa have any idea?” I asked innocently.
“Actually, the only time I saw her was at our final divorce hearing on Monday. She was late, and afterward she was in such a hurry to get back to the hospital that I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”
I looked at Carl as he cut another piece of his steak. Could he really be as clueless about Vanessa’s involvement as he seemed? He was living in Columbus now, so I guess it wouldn’t be impossible for him not to have known. I also had to wonder why in the world Vanessa would go away for the weekend when her father didn’t have much longer to live.
“It was probably some nut. Some crazy asshole that was trying to rob the place,” he said casually.
I wish it were that simple, but too many things just didn’t add up.
“Well, the world certainly isn’t on short supply of crazy folks,” I said.