by Score, Lucy
Mrs. Benefiel chuckled. “Well, now dear, we try not to have favorites. But there are always a few students every year that stand out.”
“How many years did you teach?” I asked.
“Thirty-two years. And nearly every day was a delight.”
“I imagine you’ve seen it all in your career,” I ventured. “Good and bad.”
“Oh, certainly.” She nodded, her glasses swinging on the chain around her neck. “Teaching is more than just rules and grades and summers off. We’re peacekeepers and protectors, too.”
That was my opening. I went for it, swinging for the fences. “Do you remember Callie Kendall?” I asked.
A flicker of wariness danced across her face, and her teacup trembled on its saucer in her lap.
“What kind of project is this?” she asked, softer this time.
Billy Ray chose that moment to trot into the room proudly dragging a six-foot-long stuffed snake toy. Scout was on the other end of the snake, putting up a good show of playing tug. I hoped my sweet puppy’s antics assured her that I wasn’t an enemy.
“Mrs. Benefiel, I am in grad school, but I also have a license in social work. I know that you filed a complaint with Henrico County Children Services in 1998.”
She set her cup and saucer down with a definitive snap.
“I made a mistake,” she said, coming to her feet. “A terrible, terrible mistake. And I told the authorities that.” That was fear etched on her face. Stark fear caused by some unknown threat.
I rose. June’s hand snaked out for another cookie, sensing our visit was coming to an abrupt end.
“Mrs. Benefiel, I think that maybe you weren’t wrong,” I said softly. “I don’t know what happened, but I think you saw something, and you were right to report it.”
“She was a good girl. Bright and sweet. So quiet. But she came alive in music class. She loved music of all kinds,” Mrs. Benefiel said, her hands bunching into fists at her sides. “But I was wrong.”
June stood up, too. “I am confused by this conversation. You say you were wrong, but you are acting as though you are supposed to say that you are wrong.”
“Are you working for him?” she whispered, eyes glistening. “Because I haven’t done anything wrong. I did what I said I would. I kept my promises.”
“Who, Mrs. Benefiel? Who are you afraid of? We aren’t working for anyone. No one knows we’re here.”
“He knows. Or he will,” she said flatly.
“I promise that no one knows we’re here. We came because our friends’ father is a person of interest in her murder.”
“Callie Kendall deserved better than what she got in this life,” Mrs. Benefiel said, her voice shaking. “Now, please leave.”
“We can help you,” I said earnestly. “If you need help, we can figure it out together.”
She shook her head. “No. Please go.”
“I’m very sorry for upsetting you,” I said, gathering my purse.
“Garth. Marie Curie,” June called. “Come.” Pig and puppy jogged into the room, tails wagging.
She showed us to the door, tension in every movement.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you.” Her eyes implored me, and then she was looking past me and at the family photos on the wall behind me.
42
Shelby
After terrifying an elderly woman in her own home that we gained entrance to under false pretenses, I felt like I’d done enough damage for the day.
We headed home with our exhausted pets, immune to the terror their mommies unintentionally inflicted, snoozing in the back seat.
“I have concerns that Mrs. Benefiel was not being completely honest,” June said, polishing off the last bite of cookie.
“I have similar concerns,” I agreed, merging onto the highway and pointing us in the direction of Bootleg Springs.
“Who is the ‘him’ she asked about? Perhaps we should turn around and go back and ask for clarification?”
“I think she’s probably had enough questions for today.”
“Perhaps I don’t read people with any consistency. But I felt her physiological reactions point toward fear,” she said, frowning out her window.
“Someone—besides us—scared Mrs. Benefiel, and I think it was tied to that children services report,” I said grimly.
I thought of Judge Kendall again. Those flat, cool gray eyes. Was he capable of aggression? Of violence? And if so, could he inflict both on his own daughter?
The sigh escaped me in a whoosh.
“Are you having difficulty breathing?” June asked.
“No. I’m feeling frustrated. I expected to come home with at least a few answers instead of just more questions. And what did we find out?”
“We discovered that the woman who impersonated Callie Kendall, bilking the Kendalls out of money and an apartment, is now deceased. And the accident remains unsolved,” she summarized. “Then we questioned Mrs. Benefiel, who perpetuated the existing story. That she made a report and then immediately recanted it.”
“Yep. That’s what we found out,” I agreed, feeling tired and frustrated. I’d forgotten lunch and now wasn’t even hungry.
My phone rang, and I winced when I saw the readout on the screen. Jonah.
I hit the ignore button. “We should probably decide on what we’re going to tell Jonah and GT about where we were today,” I told June.
She blinked and frowned at me. “That we went to Baltimore to question Abbie and found her deceased. Then we drove to Mrs. Benefiel’s home where Katherine and Billy Ray got to play with her Great Dane while we questioned her about the sealed child services report.”
“We can’t tell them that!”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“Do you always tell GT the truth?” I didn’t know if I was more nervous about Jonah or my brother discovering how we’d spent our day.
“Of course. What’s the point of being in a relationship if you feel it necessary to tell falsehoods?” she asked, looking at me as if I’d just suggested that math was stupid and shouldn’t be taught in schools anymore.
“Well, I…” I didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Jonah… was it?
Of course not. He was a good guy.
I was just trying to avoid his judgment over what might be deemed questionable behavior. I didn’t want to have the argument that would undoubtedly unfold when I explained that I stuck my nose into an investigation without trusting law enforcement to do their due diligence.
“Oh, hell,” I whispered. I was doing exactly what he’d called me out for doing. Hiding things from people I cared about so I didn’t have to face their reactions or defend myself. I didn’t think I’d done anything truly wrong today. Besides upsetting Mrs. Benefiel. I felt terrible about that, and I was planning on sending her a nice fruit basket or maybe a pizza gift certificate as an apology.
“You shouldn’t be dishonest with Jonah,” June said, pulling her ball cap off and stuffing it into her purse. She didn’t bother looking in the mirror to fix her hair.
“I know. I know.” I did know. But old habits were hard to break.
“Sometimes men surprise you in delightful ways,” she said. “Sometimes they accept you for exactly who you are. But the only way you can discover that kind of relationship is by behaving authentically.”
“Oh, June,” I sighed. “You’re a good friend.”
“Yes. I am.”
I cracked a smile. Maybe it was time to stop shutting everyone out. I was thirty years old and this close to a doctorate. I shouldn’t spend my time worrying about having to defend my decisions. If Jonah didn’t like who I was, then he was welcome to move on and find someone else less curious, less rash, less creaky in the joints.
I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. I had to trust Jonah to accept me. I owed that to him.
“I feel that we should bring our findings to my father’s attention,” June announced as I pulled into her
driveway. Katherine, sensing she was home, woke with a snort.
Part of me wanted to retain ownership of the research. But a slightly smarter part recognized that it was a better choice to turn things over to Sheriff Tucker and let him pass them up the chain of command. If my concerns were dismissed, then I’d be free to continue my own investigation.
“I think that’s a good idea, June. How about I go home and talk to Jonah? Then we can go see your dad at the station?”
“That will be acceptable.”
June and Katherine got out and headed into the house. I spent the five-minute drive home practicing what I’d say to Jonah.
“Hey, so you know how I said I was taking Billy Ray on a playdate with June and Katherine? Well, instead I took everyone on a road trip to interrogate the Callie Kendall impersonator—who by the way is conveniently dead as of Thursday—and a really sweet retired music teacher who I’m pretty sure cried after we left. What’s for dinner?”
Billy Ray propped his paws up on the console and yipped.
“It’s just a first draft,” I explained to the dog. “Uh-oh. Daddy’s home.” I pulled in behind Jonah’s car. He was stretching on the front porch, taking hits from a water bottle.
He looked up, grinned, waved.
My heart did a little thump hop in my chest. Just physical attraction, I told myself. Just appreciating the fine male form.
“Hey there, cutie pie,” he said, descending the stairs to meet me in the driveway.
He brushed his mouth over mine in a sweet, lazy kiss.
My cheeks flushed with heat. I couldn’t tell if I was nervous about coming clean or if it was something else. Something about coming home to Jonah Bodine who called me cutie pie and kissed me in the front yard.
“Hi,” I said breathlessly.
“There’s my buddy,” Jonah said, kneeling down to rough up Billy Ray’s ears. The puppy looked about as smitten as I felt. Oh, boy. I was in serious trouble.
“We were invited to dinner with your parents, drinks at Jameson and Leah Mae’s, and out on a double date with my mom and—God help us all—Jimmy Bob Prosser,” he announced, scooping the puppy up under one arm and slinging his free arm over my shoulders steering me toward the house.
“Oh?” Since we’d initiated our physical relationship, we’d gotten awfully popular.
“I told them all we were busy,” he said.
“You did? What are we busy doing?” Besides spending the evening fighting over what I’m about to tell you?
“Each other,” he said with a devilish wink. His hand skimmed my bare arm, and my sensible underwear dissolved.
“Before we, um, participate in that particular activity, we do have to do something fully clothed and socially um… necessary.”
* * *
Scarlett: Has anyone talked to Gibs lately?
Bowie: Gibs who?
Jameson: Does Gibs willingly talk to anyone?
Jonah: Haven’t heard from him since the cookout.
Scarlett: I’m getting annoyed with the hermit routine. Y’all think he’s wallowing?
Bowie: I’ll give him a call and obnoxiously pump him for information. I need a favor from him anyway.
Scarlett: Bless your Bodine heart! Lemme know if the grumpy bastard needs anything.
43
Jonah
I took it as well as I could. Mindful that this was very likely some kind of Shelby test.
So my girlfriend took our dog, our friend, and our friend’s pig on an investigation road trip because she was convinced she had a lead that investigators had ignored for thirteen years. And now she needed to go to the sheriff and explain what she’d found.
I took another cleansing breath.
“Do I have time for a shower?” I asked.
Shelby blinked. She’d been twisting her hands together and biting the corner of her bottom lip.
“Uh. Yeah? I mean, sure,” she said.
“Okay. Why don’t you grab a snack while I shower and change?”
“Yeah. Great. Sure. Wait!” She grabbed me when I started for the stairs. “You don’t seem mad.”
“I’m not.” I wasn’t really mad. Mad wasn’t the right word. Concerned. Annoyed. Extremely cognizant of the fact that if I launched into a lecture on what she should have done, I’d be reinforcing the concerns she had about sharing information with people who cared about her. Nothing good would come from me blowing up at her. So I gave her a smile and a gentle shove in the direction of the kitchen. “See you in a few.”
I dashed up the stairs and stripped in the bathroom. My face was under the stream of tepid water when the door burst open.
“I’m not buying this ‘not mad’ thing,” she announced, waving a yogurt cup at me. “I did something a little bit on the stupid side today, and you’re fine with it?”
I turned to face her. “Stupid is a little harsh, don’t you think?” I said mildly.
Her gaze traveled down my body, lingering on the interesting parts.
Not wanting to miss out on the conversation, Billy Ray trotted in behind her and sat down on the bath mat.
“I tried to track down a known con artist and then intimidated a really nice older lady because I had a hunch.”
“From the sounds of it, your hunch has some basis to it.” I ducked my head back under the water to rinse the shampoo.
She watched me for almost an entire minute, eyes narrowed and calculating. I twisted off the faucet and stepped out. In the bathroom the size of a postage stamp, we were almost touching.
I reached around her for a towel and heard her intake of breath.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said, spooning yogurt into her mouth, her expression a picture of suspicion.
“What am I doing besides drying off?”
“You’re proving to me that telling the truth to people I care about doesn’t necessarily have to have the consequences I fear.”
Smart, smart girl.
“Is that what I’m doing?” I asked innocently.
“Jonah!”
“Shelby!”
“I’d rather you be honest with me,” she said. Then she laughed. “Darn you, June Tucker,” she muttered.
“You’d rather I be honest?” I repeated.
“Yes!” It looked like Shelby’s answer surprised her, and that took the edge off my frustration. “I was honest with you. Now it’s your turn. Jonah, I took our puppy and our friend plus a pig on a road trip with the intention of interrogating two strangers. One of which was under investigation for fraud until she mysteriously ended up dead. Then I made a grandma cry after taking cookies from her under false pretenses.”
“At least you didn’t go alone,” I said mildly.
“Jonah Bodine!” She stomped her foot, and Billy Ray let out a joyful bark, certain it was a game.
“Shelby Thompson. What do you want me to say?”
“The truth. What are you thinking right now?”
“I’m thinking that I’m glad you grabbed a yogurt instead of some garbage candy for your snack. I’m thinking you look so pretty right now that it’s hard to concentrate on how much I want to yell at you.”
“Thank you! Go ahead and yell,” she shouted.
I obliged. “What in the hell were you thinking, Shelby? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you or June? That con artist could have been more than a fraud, and you know it. She could have been dangerous. It was irresponsible, and you should have told me. You could have talked me into going with you. You know I would have.”
“You would have tried to talk me out of it and then complained the whole time about what a dumb idea it was!”
“That’s exactly what I would have done!” I agreed at full volume.
“I really like you! Your opinion matters to me. I didn’t want you disappointed that I couldn’t just let this go or hand it off. It was a sealed record, but someone with the right authority had to have looked at it and disregarded it. I felt that there was something there, an
d I wanted to find out!”
“I understand that!” I yelled back. “And I like you, too. A lot. That’s why it matters to me when you do something rash without clueing me in! I’m here because I care about you. So don’t do more stupid shit without at least talking me into supporting you first, got it?”
“Fine! This is the healthiest fight I’ve ever had in my entire adulthood,” she admitted, lowering her voice almost to normal conversational level.
“This is adulthood. Kinda makes you wonder how your family would react if you finally told them about your health, doesn’t it?” I shot back.
“Stop distracting me with your dancing pectorals and put some clothes on,” Shelby insisted. She turned for the door. Billy Ray looked forlorn like he couldn’t decide which parent to stay with. She paused. “And I’m going to tell them. After my triathlon.”
“Aren’t they going home before then?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“A phone call works just as well as face-to-face.” She sniffed.
“Does it?” I made my pecs dance. Shelby’s gaze was drawn hypnotically to my chest.
She shook her head and turned her back on me. “Please put some clothes on and come with me to the sheriff’s office.”
* * *
Not much in this world riled the sheriff of Bootleg Springs. It came with the badge. Harlan Tucker was a calm man used to soothing frayed feelings, smoothing over rough edges.
But hearing his daughter’s admission that she willingly hunted down a known fraud had him blinking rapidly for almost a minute straight.
George handled it… less subtly. His big frame was slumped in a chair in the station’s conference room, a meaty hand over his eyes.
The room smelled of stale coffee and old pastries.
“I can’t believe my sister and my girlfriend thought they’d just take the law into their own hands,” George moaned. “Again.”