The Sweet Scent of Murder

by Susan P. Baker

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Weariness was overcoming me, but I thought I might as well go see Frankie, as well as Jeanine and Tommy if they would talk to me, while I was in River Oaks. There was always time to collapse later.

  It was still light so I parked out of sight a few houses away and went around to the back door of the Lawson home in hopes that Hilary wouldn’t know I was there. I rapped softly on the screen door and waited. After a few moments, someone opened it a crack and an eye peered out. It was Frankie, up to her melodramatics, perhaps rightly so. Who knows? She never did open the door all the way or step outside.

  “Frankie, I need to talk to you.”

  “Go away. Miz Lawson’s on the rampage.”

  “I just want to ask you a couple of questions. Come on out.” We were whispering so loudly I was sure Hilary would hear and come running anyway.

  “No, I can’t. I’ll get in more trouble.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “The kids sneaked out and she’s blaming me. Now go away.”

  “Just answer me this. Did Hilary know Mr. Lawson was going to change his will?”

  Her one eye flared at me. “She might have.”

  “Come on, Frankie. You’ve got to tell.”

  “No, I don’t. I’m in enough trouble.”

  “Well, tell me this. Was Hilary having an affair with someone?”

  The eye cast down toward the ground.

  “Was it Mr. Rush?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I didn’t; I just suspected. Then Rush told her about the will, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “I don’t know if he did or not.”

  “Mr. Lawson didn’t know about the affair, did he?”

  “No—yes—no. He knew there was someone—”

  “But he didn’t know it was Rush, did he? Or else he wouldn’t have had the man write his new will.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Thanks, Frankie.” I saluted her and heard the door close softly behind me as I jogged back toward my car. As I reached it, I remembered that I had one more question I had to ask, and I ran back to the house and banged on the door again. It opened abruptly.

  “I told you everything I know,” Frankie said.

  “I just wondered. Did Hilary tell Captain Milton about the cabin?”

  The eye bobbed up and down.

  “Did you warn the kids and Arthur Woodridge that Hilary was telling everyone?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. Then in a loud voice She said, “I told you that I don’t know nothin’ and you shouldn’t be askin’.”

  “Who’s there, Frankie?” I heard Hilary say. “Who are you talking to?”

  Frankie disappeared and the door jerked open all the way to reveal Hilary.

  “Oh, it’s you. What do you want, Miss Davis? Aren’t you in enough trouble already?”

  “I just—”

  “No one around here has anything to say to you. Now get away from my house before I call the police.” She seemed hostile, to put it mildly.

  “Mrs. Lawson, you don’t understand—”

  “I heard about what you did last night. Didn’t you get my message? You’re fired. Don’t ever come around here again.”

  I don’t have to be told more than twice. I left. It was just as well. I was tired. I was confused. I was very hungry. I’d forgotten to catch lunch, and for me, that’s saying something. My head throbbed, too. It was now time to go home and cave as I’d been promising myself. I’d just stop by the office to check my messages and then become a recluse for the evening.

  Unfortunately, when I got back to the office, Tommy, Jeanine, and Candy met me at the door. Margaret was in the kitchen. The thought of what Mrs. Lawson would do if she caught the kids at my office was enough for me to turn tail and run. But I didn’t. They could only execute me once.

  Tommy looked contrite. “We came to apologize. Candy told us what happened, Mavis. We’re sorry we jumped to conclusions.”

  “Yeah,” Jeanine said, “and we’re sorry you got put in jail. We want to pay for your lawyer and everything.”

  I looked from one to the other. How could I hold a grudge against children even if the memory of jail was still vivid? “I’m not sure what happened myself,” I said, looking at Candy who, as usual, wore elaborate self-decoration.

  Candy’s eyes searched the floor, as though she was looking for a lost contact lens.

  “Candy—” I started.

  “Like, it’s not exactly my fault. Mavis. Ben tricked me, you know?”

  “I was just going to say that I like your cousin twice removed or whatever she is,” I said.

  “You do?” Candy smiled. “I’m not like real clear on that, either. I’ve never met her. I mean, why would I, you know? I’ve never been in trouble like with the law or anything like that. There’s thousands of relatives I’ve never met. But, you know, I’ve met her dad. Mom took me down to Angleton once like when I was a child.”

  I encircled Candy with one arm, giving her a squeeze. “It’s okay, kid. I’m too tired to fuss at you. Let’s all go into the kitchen and get something to drink.” I pushed through the door.

  “Hi, Mavis. You do any good?” Margaret asked. She could be a sweetheart. She had my cup filled with hot tea and handed it to me. I nodded and smiled at her as I slipped off my shoes.

  “Your mother know you’re here?” I asked the kids. They had taken the chairs, and I was leaning against the sink, watching them.

  “No, ma’am,” Tommy said.

  “I didn’t think so,” I said.

  “She’d kill us if she did,” Jeanine said.

  “I know the feeling, Jeanine. I was just at your house.”

  “You were? You talked to Mother?” Tommy asked.

  “It was more like she talked to me, if you know what I mean.”

  “We know what you mean,” Jeanine said with a glance at her brother.

  “As Frankie says, she’s on the ‘rampage’ because you two got out of the house. How did you manage that?”

  “Frankie helped us.”

  “So I thought. So what’s up? You didn’t come here just to apologize,” I said.

  “Miss Davis, will you help our father?” Jeanine asked.

  “Mavis,” I said.

  Jeanine smiled. She would be a great model for a toothpaste commercial.

  “Can you trust me now, Tommy?”

  “I’m really sorry, Mavis,” he said hesitantly and shook his head. “I trusted you before. It was just that with the police showing up and all . . . I couldn’t believe you’d do that to us, but it sure looked that way.”

  “I know, but you can’t jump to conclusions, Tommy. Even now, if I decide to help you, I might do something you don’t understand, and I’ll have a good reason for doing it. You’ll just have to trust my judgment or I can’t operate.”

  “We want you to help us, Mavis. We’ll do anything you say,” Jeanine said with a fierce look at her brother.

  “Anything?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Tommy said, ducking his head.

  “Please, Tommy, I’m not your teacher. First thing, quit calling me ma’am, okay?”

  Tommy looked at me, and I laughed. He laughed, too, and then the others, and when we were through, we were almost like a family, everyone comfortable with each other.

  “We’ve got a lot of talking to do then,” I said. “First off, who do you kids think killed your father?”

  “You mean Harrison Lawson?” Jeanine asked.

  “Jeanine, no matter what, he was your adopted father and he raised you. He loved you.”

  Jeanine shifted about uncomfortably in her chair.

  “I know you’re not happy with that thought, but if we’re going to help your biological father, we’ve got to put aside our feelings and try to figure this thing out logically,” I said. “Get me a chair, Candy.”

  “We’ve talked it over, Mavis,” Jeanine said, “and we don’t know. All we know
is that Daddy didn’t do it.”

  “How do you know that?” Margaret chimed in.

  “We were with him,” Tommy said.

  “He could have hired a hit man or something,” Candy said, dragging a chair into the kitchen.

  “This isn’t the movies, Candy,” I said.

  “He didn’t have enough money for that anyway,” Jeanine said. “No, I was with him a couple of days before, and Tommy was with him, too, on Friday. Besides, he just wouldn’t do anything like that. It’s Mother that Daddy hates, not Mr. Lawson.”

  “Tell you what, why don’t we go back to the beginning? Why don’t you kids tell us what you remember from when you were little and we’ll work up to the present day,” I said.

  Tommy and Jeanine looked at each other and then at me. “I don’t see how it could help, but we’re willing,” Tommy said.

  “My memory is better than Tommy’s, Mavis. I can remember things from when I was two,” she said proudly. “Mother always says I’m strange. Anyway, Tommy didn’t remember hardly anything until I reminded him of things. I guess you could say that he blocked it all out of his memory, sort of. I did, too, but when Frankie and I talked about it, and then Daddy contacted me the first time, it all came back in a hurry.”

  “When was that?” I asked.

  “The weekend before I left with him. He called me that Saturday afternoon. At first, I was scared and I hung up on him. Then Frankie said I should talk to him when he called back, so I did.”

  I smiled at her, trying to be encouraging. “Okay, Jeanine, what is the first thing you remember from back when you were a little girl?”

  “You mean from when all this started about Daddy?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at Tommy and her face flushed.

  “Tell her,” Tommy said.

  Jeanine put her hand over her eyes. “It’s terrible, Mavis.”

  I put my cup down and crouched in front of her chair. “It’s all right, Jeanine. You can tell us.” I glanced at the faces around the room. Everyone watched Jeanine, waiting solemnly for what would be the key to the whole sexual abuse case.

  Jeanine removed her hand and looked at me with teary eyes. “I remember Mother talking to me one night. She pulled my pants down and took my finger and put it down there. She told me that was my tee-tee.” She moved her hand to cover her mouth and looked at her brother again. He looked very sad. Jeanine said, “Then Mother told me Daddy had touched my tee-tee, and that he was very bad.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My first inclination after hearing the kids’ story was to drive over to Hilary Lawson’s house and slap the shit out of her. But I knew it wouldn’t do much good, and I’d probably end up back in jail for assault. So what does one do? Trusting that the kids were telling the truth about what had happened ever how many years ago and that this wasn’t some cockeyed story that they’d concocted with their father while on that little camping trip, I planned to see Arthur. But no way did I have the energy to make the drive two counties to the North that night. Calling the Walker County jail to verify visiting hours for the next day, I hooked up with a very helpful deputy who asked me, probably just out of nosiness, who I wanted to see. When I told him, he put the phone down and in the background I heard the clicking of keys on a computer keyboard. Moments later, I was informed that Arthur Woodridge was being transferred to the Harris County jail. Further, a Harris County deputy would be coming to pick him up early the next morning.

  By the time I had time, I didn’t feel like eating. I was a walking zombie and if I didn’t get some rest, wouldn’t be any use to anyone. Before calling the jail, I’d sent everyone home. After the call, I locked up and put the car on automatic pilot, ended up at my apartment, stripped off my clothes, and zonked out on the bed. I didn’t wake up until just before dawn. My stomach rumbled like a huge diesel truck. Pulling on a pair of short-shorts and a T-shirt, I fried bacon and eggs and made a sandwich on whole wheat, poured a tall glass of milk, and went out onto the front porch to watch the sunrise. Nothing ever tasted as good as that first bite of sandwich and that first swallow of cold milk.

  Houston isn’t too bad in the early morning hours. It’s not real cool, but we sometimes have clear skies and sixty-to-seventy degree weather in the late spring and early summer before the sun gets up good. I sat on the hard concrete stoop and leaned against the front of the building. I keep meaning to get a chair to sit on out there—one light enough to pitch inside when I’m not using it so the neighborhood youth corps won’t make off with it.

  There are some large trees where I live and sidewalks old enough to have cracks in them from the roots of the trees. From my duplex, I heard the vague roar of the early morning traffic. A slight breeze filtered through the trees and coupled with the humidity, blew my hair into little curls. Early morning birds twittered. I spent a few minutes appreciating my freedom and loving life.

  I needed to simplify things—the Lawson-Woodridge case, my relationship with Ben. I needed to get away and longed for a vacation—another weekend on the beach at Galveston would do. Before I could go anywhere, though, I would have to earn some money and quick, or the summer would pass without my getting to lay my head on a beach towel again or wiggle my toes in the sand.

  How I had become straddled with responsibilities and overhead I could barely meet, I didn’t know. There were two salaries to pay in addition to my own. My debts were huge— including attorney’s fees. The Mustang was damaged to such an extent that I was either going to have to get a new car or spend a lot of money overhauling it. Car payments were the last thing I needed. And, I realized, I was feeling awfully sorry for myself.

  I brushed off my backside and went inside to the phone. Though it would be considered too early to call, maybe I could get some questions answered before Jeanine and Tommy left for school. Jeanine answered on the first ring.

  “What do you do, sleep with the phone right next to your pillow?” I asked after I’d identified myself.

  “Um-hmmm,” she replied sleepily.

  “Dumb question.”

  “Mom gets mad if my friends call in the middle of the night and it wakes her up. She got me my own phone line because of that, but she took it and my cell away the night before last when we came home so I had to take one of the downstairs phones, but she doesn’t know it.”

  “Bad scene?”

  “We’re not speaking,” she said. She breathed heavily as though she were stretching and waking up.

  “I’m sorry, Jeanine.” Somehow I felt responsible.

  “I’m grounded, you know. She doesn’t want me talking to anyone, especially you. Or Tommy, either.”

  “How’d you and Tommy get out of the house yesterday?”

  “School. After we got home, we had friends help us get to your office. And Frankie. Mom can’t keep us out of school or we’d fail and she knows it. But Mavis,” I heard a yawn, “sorry. She’s going to send us away.”

  “Where? When?”

  “She can’t right now. It’s too late. Too close to the end of the year, but she’s sending us both to summer camp the day after school gets out. She told us last night after she pitched a fit when we got home. Tommy has graduation, but there is a fish camp, for freshmen. She’s making him go. After camp, she’s sending me to boarding school.”

  “That’s next week.”

  “I know. I’d run away again, but I don’t want to fail, either. Oh, it’s early isn’t it?” she asked as if she just noticed the time. “I’m awake now. What did you call for? Any news? Did you see Daddy?”

  “Yes. He’s fine. Could you meet me, Jeanine? Before school?”

  “Sure. Me and Tommy, or just me?”

  “Just you.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you. What time is good?”

  “Seven forty-five. Across the street from the main entrance. You know where it is?”

  “Yes. See you then.”

  We said our good-byes,
and she hung up. I’m sure I heard another click a split second afterward. I hoped it was Tommy on an extension.

  I got out my nine-and-a-half-foot-long jump rope that I’d promised myself I would start using to try to get into shape, skipped a hundred painful times, and then took a long, hot shower before driving over to Lamar.

  A tight little group of girls stood on the sidewalk across the street from the school. Some were dressed in pastel walking shorts, blouses, and sandals, others wore pale-colored jeans and layered tops. They all looked a good deal alike to me. The in-crowd look. I recognized Melanie and said hello. The circle parted like the Red Sea, and out came Jeanine.

  “What’s going on? Why all the girls?” I asked after I’d pulled her away from the group.

  “They’re hiding me from security. I’m sure Mother is having me watched. She’s probably gotten together some dumb story about what happened and covered her ass in case I try to tell any of them what’s really been going on.” She sounded very wise for a sixteen-year-old. “But my friends know. And if anything happens to me, everyone will know.”

  “Don’t get carried away, kid.”

  “Well, I don’t trust Mother. If she could do that to Daddy, what might she do to me and Tommy?”