The hard curve of Skip’s shoulder dug into my belly as he jostled me about, and I got a quick look at the hallway leading to the stairs as he carried me. The flashlight his mother held wobbled around a bit; I imagine she wasn’t having as easy a time with Bitty. I tried to calculate the best time to pitch a hissy fit that might alert anyone nearby, but at night, this side of the depot was deserted. Few cars come by. Phillips was closed, Gwen and family on the other side of the depot, and even the express or freight office empty at night. Rayna’s hotel/house faced the road and depot, but since she was somewhere with Gwen, probably looking for Chen Ling, she may be too far away to hear me or know what she was hearing when I did scream.
The odds weren’t good.
Blood rushed to my head as I hung over Skip’s shoulder, dangling down his back, but I peeped and caught a glimpse of Bitty carried in much the same way over Sally Whalen’s shoulder. Appearances can be so deceptive. Who knew she was that stout a woman? Not stout as in fat, but stout as in sturdy. She certainly hadn’t seemed like it in our brief meeting at her house. It wasn’t that we’d underestimated her; we hadn’t even considered it. We’d focused on Skip, not his mother.
I thought about kicking him, as my free foot dangled right about at the best place to kick a man. I flexed my feet and realized I’d lost a shoe. Maybe I could leave a trail of clues behind. Eventually they’d be looking for us. It was a good bet they’d start at the depot for me, at least, since this was the last place Rayna had seen me. With luck, Bitty had left something of hers for them to find, too. In case neither of us survived to tell them she’d been here, too . . .
All these things ran through my mind on my uncomfortable journey down the stairs and through the waiting and baggage rooms. Night air struck, smelling of privet hedge and roses and tar. Trains aren’t the best smelling things. Boxcars sat on one of the track spurs; lights atop tall poles spread fuzzy pools. Down the hill, car headlights sped past on Boundary Street. In front of the depot, it was shadowy and deserted. As I bounced against Skip’s shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a truck; it idled at the curb. It had a double cab and a huge bed and was black. It looked very much like the truck Bitty and I had passed on the road to her former cabin. I tried to turn my head to see Bitty without making it obvious, in case Sally had her eye on me. Sally seemed to be struggling to breathe. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as I’d thought.
A few steps behind, Bitty’s spike heels swung in front of Sally Whalen as if she had no use of her feet. If they got us to that truck, we were as good as dead. I waited, gathering my courage and trying not to wet my pants, and when we were about twenty feet away, I drew back my foot with the shoe on it and kicked as hard as I could, catching Skip Whalen right between his legs. It was awkward, and I wasn’t sure I’d connected.
He dropped to his knees, dropping me in the process, groaning out breathless grunts for air as I landed hard on the pavers. Apparently, I’d connected. I rolled, screamed at the top of my lungs, “Bitty!” but Sally had a tight hold on her. She kept trying to hit her with something in her hand, and I saw to my horror that it was a stun gun. It sizzled, but it sounded more like sparklers fizzling than a stun gun.
Bitty reared back, grabbed a huge wad of Sally’s hair in each of her hands, and yanked hard, as Sally tried to fight her off. Much cursing went on, most of it coming from Bitty. Sally finally dropped her but kept a tight hold on her arm as she kept trying to jab her with the stun gun. It had lost its charge, and I stumbled to my feet and toward them. Just as I reached them, Bitty lifted one dainty foot and slammed her high heel right in Sally’s instep, putting as much weight on it as she could. Sally cursed and jerked, knocking Bitty off-balance. I managed to reach Bitty as she fell backward. Sally lunged at us with the stun gun.
Using me as her counterweight, Bitty reared up with both feet and caught Sally right in the chest with those spikes she calls high heels. I fell back as Sally hit the pavers, screaming blue murder. She rolled, got to her knees, and probably would have come after us if it hadn’t been for one really pissed-off pug. Chen Ling came out of nowhere, grabbed Sally by one ankle, and held on for dear life as she tried to kick free. When Sally lifted her fist to bring it down on the dog, Bitty was on her like Batman. I’ve never seen anything like it. Weird sounds rose into the air, the pug growling and snarling, Bitty growling and snarling, and Sally cussing and crying.
That was how Rayna found us, with Officer Stewart and Gwen in tow. Gwen’s eyes were big as saucers, and she kept saying something like, “Oh sunny beaches,” over and over again, but fortunately, Stewart got right to work and clapped some handcuffs on Sally. I glanced toward Skip, but he had disappeared.
It had seemed like a half hour, but it had all happened in only a matter of a minute or two, I think. I stood there, and my knees wobbled, my bare foot suddenly spasmed, and I sat down abruptly. The truck at the curb screeched away but didn’t get far. Two police cars screamed down the hill, and another one came up Van Dorn from the curve below, cutting off escape. Lights flashed, and I put my face against my drawn-up knees and thought about moving to a mountaintop somewhere.
The babble ebbed and flowed around me as Bitty demanded Officer Stewart arrest Sally for animal abuse, while Rayna kept saying murder charges were more likely; I sat there, vaguely aware that we had once more narrowly escaped death. Christian Louboutin would be so proud his shoes helped catch a killer. I was so proud Chitling had helped catch a killer.
Then Jackson Lee arrived, and Bitty went into instant Belle-mode, feeling faint and declaring that she had never been so frightened. “I just kept praying you would get here,” she said to Jackson Lee, and he put his arms around her, squashing the pug between them.
I lifted my head at that. “Is that what you were doing?” I asked, and Bitty gave me the evil eye. I shook my head. “It sounded like no praying I’ve ever heard.”
She flashed me the unmistakable sign of friendship, once more forgetting the second finger, and I smiled.
Rayna came over to kneel down next to me, untying my hands. “Are you all right?”
I thought about it. Then I shook my head. “I’m unhurt, but I’m not at all sure I’m all right. I’m so glad you showed up when you did. It could have gotten much worse.”
“Yes, Bitty might have killed her.”
I actually giggled. “She might have. Of course, to look at her now that Jackson Lee is here, she acts like she might wilt at any moment.”
“Jackson Lee saw her in action. He’s just letting her have her moment.”
“Where the heck were you?” I asked. “I thought you’d never get here.”
“Well, I went to tell Gwen we were here looking for Chen Ling, and she thought she might have gone into the back garden again, so we looked there. Of course, she wasn’t out there, so we chatted a few minutes, standing out in the driveway. Then the next thing I know, here comes the dog, barking at us like she’d gone mad. I tried to catch her, but she kept running back toward the front of the depot. I got to the corner there between the freight office and the end of the depot and started to go out front, when I saw Skip Whalen get out of the truck and go toward the baggage room. I knew there was trouble, so I got Gwen to call the police while I used her niece’s phone to call Rob and Jackson Lee.”
“Y’all got here just in time. If they’d gotten us into the truck, we wouldn’t have lived much longer. Sally Whalen is lethal. All this time I thought it was Skip, and it was his mother. She’s nuts. She’s the one who killed Walter, although she thought he was Royal. I don’t know how she made that mistake.”
“It might have been the uniform and hat. Royal fancied it up with that red armband and the Stewart coat of arms. It stood out from the others. And he always stuck a red feather in the blue captain’s hat.”
“That explains it. I wondered. Murder is so cruel. Oh God—I forgot. Catfish!”
Rayna looked
quizzical. “You’re hungry?”
“No, Catfish Carter. I think Skip’s father has done something to him.”
Rayna went at once to tell Officer Stewart, who had three other officers with him by then. One of them went immediately to his patrol car and used the radio. Rayna returned and said, “They’re going to look for him.”
I nodded. “Can you help me up? I don’t think I can manage it by myself.”
Rayna helped me up. It had gotten cool, and I shivered now, as much from the breeze as the aftershocks of danger and drama. I watched as police led Sally Whalen past us toward a waiting car; she limped and blood dripped from her foot, but the look she flashed toward me was pure malevolence. Yes, a frightening woman.
“Here comes Rob,” said Rayna. “Why don’t you stay at my house tonight? I have that extra guest room, and it’ll save you having to drive all the way to Cherryhill.”
“It sounds tempting,” I said, and it did. I didn’t want to think about pulling myself together to drive the cursing car home. With my luck, Officer Stewart would give me a ticket for driving a public nuisance.
“Trinket?” a familiar voice said, and I turned to see my daddy hurrying toward me across the gravel between the depot and the freight office. He’d come in the back way to avoid the police cars, it seemed, and all of a sudden, I was a little girl again and just wanted my daddy to keep me safe.
He came straight to me and took me in his arms as if I were twelve, hugging me. “I came as soon as Jackson Lee called, although I thought it was Bitty in danger, not you.”
I pressed my face against his chest. He smelled of Old Spice. I’ve always loved that scent because it always makes me think of my father. I loved it even more right then. He held me and said over the top of my head to Rayna, “Is it okay if I take her home?”
“You’ll have to talk to the police, since I know they’ll want a statement from her, but I’m sure it won’t take long.”
Daddy looked down at me, tilting his head back. “Do you want to go home, or do you want to talk to the police first?”
“Home,” was all I could get out, and he nodded.
I don’t know what he and Jackson Lee told the police, but within five minutes I was in my mother’s car, and Daddy was telling me to buckle up. I did.
Maybe it’s silly for a grown woman to regress like that, but there’s something very safe and comforting about knowing someone who loves you has your back. I liked it.
OFFICER STEWART came out the next morning to take my statement. He was very nice and respectful, surprising me, and just took down all I said and nodded, and asked questions at the right times, and then finally it was over.
“How’s Catfish?” I asked when he closed his notebook. “Did you find him?”
“He’s alive and in the hospital. Condition is serious but not critical. Apparently he shot back when Sylvester Whalen ambushed him. That may have saved his life, but he’s lucky all the same. If Whalen hadn’t been in a hurry, he’d have finished him off.”
I nodded. “I’m glad he’ll be okay. And Jenna Jones?”
“She’ll be fine. It seems that stun gun malfunctioned and gave her such a high dose of electricity, she was out for a while. It messed with her blood pressure, too.”
“I take it she was not a willing accomplice,” I said.
“Officer, would you like a piece of Lane cake and something to drink?” Mama asked him as he stood up, and he looked surprised.
“Why, yes ma’am, I sure would. Thank you.”
He sat back down, and I silently blessed my mother. Or maybe she was curious, too. Whichever it was, we had him talking until he finished his cake, anyway.
“I know the investigation is ongoing, and y’all still don’t know everything yet,” I said, “but I don’t understand why Sally turned on Skip’s girlfriend like that.”
Mama put a generous slice of cake in front of him, and he picked up his fork. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was because Jenna balked at going along with murder. Maybe she thought she was just there to play a prank or get some petty vengeance. Once she figured out Sally had a lot more than that on her mind, she chickened out. This is delicious, Mrs. Truevine.”
“Thank you. That was my mother’s recipe. I have half a cake left, so you just eat all you want, Officer. There’s plenty of coffee, too. Aren’t you Royal’s brother?”
He grinned. “Most of the time. I don’t always claim him. He can get pretty rowdy on occasion.”
“He’s got a good heart,” I said, “and he’s very polite. Mama would say he’s been reared right.”
Stewart nodded. “Our parents tried. We lost Mama when Royal was just fourteen, so I tried to help out. He resented it, I think.”
“He’s turned out fine,” I said. “You know, when you see someone like Skip, who has been such a bully, you’d think he’s just mean on purpose. Then you meet his parents, and it explains it. I wonder if his father was involved in Walter’s murder.”
“We’re still investigating that,” he said evasively.
“Is Sally saying anything?” When he didn’t answer, I added, “I heard her telling Skip that she had to handle it all because he wouldn’t, you know. So maybe Skip didn’t know what she had planned.”
Stewart shrugged. “Royal said Skip can’t hit the side of a barn with a shotgun, so it’s likely that’s why Sally decided to take care of it, since she used to hunt all the time.”
I asked a few more questions but didn’t get much more information. I realized I’d have to wait until Jackson Lee got all the details. I wasn’t quite ready to leave the house yet, so the answers would have to wait a while longer. I enjoyed just being home and safe.
Later that afternoon, my day got even more perfect. Kit showed up with a picnic basket and a bottle of wine, and we went out to the cherry orchard and spread blankets on the grass and ate fried chicken and biscuits and slaw.
I sighed happily. “The Colonel does amazing things with chicken, and Mama has almost a half a Lane cake in the kitchen, you know.”
Kit laughed. “I’ll save dessert for later. More wine?”
I held out my glass, and he poured my favorite Zinfandel. “How did you know I didn’t want to leave the house?” I asked as he leaned back against the trunk of a cherry tree. Old bark held interesting patterns. And ants. He quickly realized his error and stretched out on the blanket.
“I just figured you’d rather be where it’s safe and quiet today.”
“In other words, not at Bitty’s house.”
“That, too.” He looked at the marks still on my wrists, his expression serious. “It scares me to think of how easily you could have been hurt.”
I held out my foot. Daddy had the doctor come out, so it had bandages on it where I’d cut it somehow, and still bore the marks of Brownie’s teeth, too. I tried to lighten the moment. “But I was wounded. Even worse, I lost a sandal.”
“Trinket—”
“I know,” I said quickly. “It scares me, too. But this time we really tried not to do anything crazy. Too crazy, anyway. Trouble seems to find us, even when we don’t look for it.”
“I suppose that’s something I’ll have to get used to then,” he said after a minute. “I asked Jackson Lee how he handles it, you know. He said he has to think of it in the context of whether he’d rather have Bitty with all of the craziness, or sanity without Bitty.”
“I’m not sure I like being compared to Bitty or called crazy, but it makes sense in an odd sort of way.”
“Come here,” he said, smiling, and patted the blanket in front of him. “Let’s lie down and watch the clouds for a while. We can deal with crazy when it shows up again. Let’s just deal with us now.”
Blushing like a sixteen-year-old, I stretched out on a quilt my grandmother had made and stared up at the cherry t
ree as Kit started talking about a place he’d once visited that had clear mountain streams and waterfalls that tumbled over rocks into small pools below, and how he’d like to show it all to me. Smiling, nodding, I drifted into his world and lingered peacefully.
There’s just something so soothing about a man sharing his dreams.
Then crazy showed up in the form of Bitty and Jackson Lee. They were in his car, and he parked it next to Kit’s Chevy. Bitty bounced out, looking none the worse for our adventure, wearing spike heels and capris. It actually looked nice, to my surprise; although I’d have never thought spike heels went with cropped pants. But then again, fashion is not the biggest concern to a woman wearing a pug in a baby sling across her chest, I’m sure. Chitling’s dark brown little face wore a bored expression as she peered over the edge of the sling.
“Where’s your cape, Batgirl?” I asked as Bitty tottered over grassy ruts to reach the cherry orchard. “You and your trusty sidekick should get a commendation for taking down a killer.”
“We should, shouldn’t we? Help me, sweetheart, so I don’t drop my precious girl.”
Jackson Lee helped Bitty sit down on the quilt, and precious girl formed an immediate attachment to the fried chicken. I had to snatch an extra crispy leg from the plate before she got it, and her jaws closed on empty air. I felt rather bad at treating a heroine shabbily, so I said, “Don’t watch,” to Kit, and tore off a piece of chicken and gave it to Chitling.
“Honestly, Trinket,” said Bitty as she tried to stuff her dog back into the sling. “You’re only encouraging her.”
“As if you wouldn’t buy Chitling her own bucket if Kit wasn’t sitting here,” I scoffed. “So tell me what you know. Did Sally Whalen really kill one and try to kill four other people just because her son got a bloody nose?”
“Four? Oh yes, Jenna Jones. And to be specific, it was Sly who tried to kill Catfish. But I’ll let Jackson Lee tell you all about it.”
I looked at Jackson Lee. He seemed bemused, but he perked right up when Bitty gave him a look, and said, “Yes, but first, I have to point out that Bitty was right all along. It was the wrong rifle. As you know by now, Sally Whalen shot Walter, thinking he was Royal Stewart. From what I’ve pieced together—and she’s made no confession yet, but Skip keeps talking—it was the rifle she found online that gave her the idea. Most of this is conjecture, mind, but she went down to Jackson to buy an 1853 Enfield, and after meeting the seller—Tammy Truevine—she thought she knew a way to get back at Clayton for his fight with Skip. I think at first she only meant to steal Bitty’s rifle at the next reenactment Skip attended, or do something underhanded and mean, but then Skip got into a fight with Royal Stewart, and Royal broke his nose. She was furious. She wanted vengeance, and her plan altered. Skip is a terrible marksman, but Sally used to be on the rifle team and is expert. They got Skip out of jail, and because they knew Royal’s brother is an officer on the Holly Springs police force, she was certain he got out early, too. It never occurred to Sally that Barron would make him stay all night to teach him a lesson.
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