Megan grabbed the bags and said, ‘Man, I could kiss you!’ Then, sensing her sister’s penetrating gaze of pure hatred, said, ‘But I won’t.’ She went to the kitchen bar and began setting out the food.
‘How much do we owe you?’ Bess asked him.
He shook his head. ‘Nada,’ he said.
‘Oh, no, we really need to pay you our share!’ Bess said. ‘It’s not fair—’
‘Cam said it’s on the house. And anytime you wanna come eat at the restaurant, he said that would be on the house, too. Including your parents.’
‘He can’t do that!’ Bess said. ‘He’ll go broke!’
Logan shrugged. ‘He’s closing the place in a couple of months, so it doesn’t really matter.’
‘No!’ Megan cried, already digging into her porterhouse. ‘That can’t be!’
‘Yeah,’ Alicia said. ‘Where in the world will you get your free porterhouse fix?’
‘Bite me,’ Megan said. ‘I’m just sad for Logan and the rest of the staff.’
‘B.S.,’ Alicia said under her breath.
‘Don’t worry about us. Cam’s more than fair and we’ll get good severance packages, even if it’s all in red meat.’
‘If you get any of these,’ Megan said, holding up her fork, ‘you know where you can bring them.’
‘Come on, y’all, let’s eat before Megan takes it all,’ Alicia said, grabbing plates for the three of them.
Bess set out the rest of the food, which was an exact duplicate of their first meal at the Eyes of Texas Steakhouse, right down to the burger for Logan. They didn’t talk about Harper Benton or her brother, Tucker, or anything that might ruin an appetite. It wasn’t until Bess and Logan were seated in the family room, while Megan and Alicia cleaned up, that the subject was broached.
‘So are you still not going to tell your folks?’ Bess asked.
Logan shrugged. ‘No. I mean, my dad’s an attorney, and he’ll want to sue somebody, I’m sure. He gets like that. And that would just make matters worse. I mean, everybody would know what she’s saying, right?’
‘Yeah, I guess,’ Bess said.
‘So what’s our next move?’ he asked.
Bess liked that – the ‘our’ part. She wasn’t sure what any move might consist of, but she was glad he wanted her to be part of it. ‘I think maybe we need to talk to Harper’s mom again.’
‘She’ll be at work tomorrow,’ Logan said. ‘But I know where she works.’
Bess lifted an eyebrow. ‘You do?’
Logan grinned. ‘Yeah. She’s a waitress at that Denny’s on the highway.’
Bess grinned back. ‘So what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?’ she asked.
DECEMBER, 1947
He hitched part of the way, took a bus with some of the money and made it to Peaceful, Texas in about two weeks. He disguised himself with facial hair, sunglasses and a fedora, and no one seemed to notice him, one way or another. Used to be, before the war, a strange man in town was an event – one to be looked on with favor or fear, depending on your outlook – but now the place was crowded and he saw a new mill on the outskirts that may have been the cause of that. And there were new houses, too. Little bungalows that all looked alike and practically sat on top of each other. This is what we fought a war for? Edgar asked himself. Well, not him! No sad little house with a wife and kids. And then he had to laugh thinking of Lupita and his two half-breed girls living side by side with the new residents of Peaceful. Wouldn’t be ‘peaceful’ for long! he thought. He wasted no time heading to the house on Post Oak Street. It looked the same, if maybe a little rundown. He wondered if that had been due to the war years, and maybe the death of his brother. He felt no pangs of regret for Norris’s death. In fact, he felt nothing at all. He half wondered about his dad and Herbert, but not enough to do anything about it. He had one goal in coming to Peaceful, and that was to confront Helen and find his pot of gold. He wasn’t sure which he wanted most, and then realized that, yeah, it was that pot of gold. Bitching out Helen was just gravy.
The front door of the Bishop’s house was unlocked so he walked right in. He heard a voice calling from upstairs, ‘Carrie Marie? Is that you? You’re home early!’
Carrie Marie, Edgar thought. Who was that? Maybe Norris had a kid and, just like Edgar himself, had given his daughter the middle name of their mother. ‘Nope,’ he said out loud. ‘Not Carrie Marie.’ He went up the stairs and into the bedroom he knew had been her parents’, and saw her lying on the bed, her back pressed up against a stack of pillows, clad in a housecoat and slippers.
‘Who are you?’ Helen asked, pressing her hands against the bed as if ready for flight.
‘You don’t know me, you cheating whore?’ Edgar asked. ‘Tell you what, did ol’ Norris leave any of his stuff behind in the bathroom. Like a razor?’
He went into the bathroom that was connected to her parents’ large bedroom. ‘Like this bathroom,’ he called from the open door. ‘Real convenient having one right in your room, and all.’ He found a straight-razor, obviously not his brother’s favorite because it hadn’t gone to war with him. But even as a back-up it was a lot better than the one he’d been using for the past few years. It was in a red velvet sheath with Norris’s initials on it. Whatever, he thought. He lathered his face and glanced in the mirror at Helen, who appeared to be getting up off the bed.
‘Whoa, now,’ he said, brandishing the razor, ‘stay where you are, little lady. Not gonna have you gallivanting around. Figured out yet who I am?’
He began to scrape away the beard, alternating between watching himself shave and looking at his ex-sweetheart. He smiled when he saw recognition dawn.
‘But I thought you were dead!’ she said.
‘Not so I’ve noticed,’ he replied, cleaned the soap off his face and came back into the room. ‘Thought I’d come home and pay my respects to the widow. Now, see, if you’d married me like you were supposed to, you wouldn’t be sitting up here in your room at three o’clock in the afternoon pining away for a dead husband.’ He made a ‘tsk-tsk’ sound with his tongue. ‘And still in your night clothes! You oughta be ashamed of yourself!’
‘Get out,’ Helen said, her voice unsteady.
‘No, now, why would I want to do that? I’ve come to claim what’s rightfully mine. Like you and this house. And whatever might be hidden in it,’ he said.
‘I didn’t love you back then and I won’t have you now!’ she said, a little more heat in her voice. ‘You’re not worthy of the same last name as Norris! Your father was right about you – you’re a wasteful piece of trash!’
Edgar didn’t realize the straight-razor was still in his hand when he struck out at Helen. Not until she screamed and he saw the blood oozing out of the cut in her face. Somehow he couldn’t stop. Even after she stopped screaming, and then stopped moving at all. Not until he heard a voice coming up the stairs.
‘Mama! Mama? I’m home!’
Then a girl came in, maybe ten or eleven, a pretty little thing with a withered arm. She looked around at all the blood and then at Edgar. ‘Daddy?’ she said in a small voice.
‘That’s right,’ Edgar said. ‘I’m your daddy. Back from the dead. So you’d better be a good little girl.’
And then he left, without a backwards glance.
TWELVE
‘After dinner that Sunday evening, the four of us – the chief, Miss Hutchins and Willis and I – sat in the living room for over an hour discussing the case. The chief himself had removed the crime scene tape so we could enter the room. There was very little agreement: Miss Hutchins insisted the killer was her father back from the dead; the chief vehemently disagreed, going with his ‘no such thing as haunts’ theory; while I came down somewhere in the middle. I’m not sure I gave any credence to Miss Hutchins’ dead father walking among us and killing people, but I was convinced they were somehow connected. With Miss Hutchins’ permission, I showed the chief the photo albums with the scratched-out faces of all the men. He sti
ll didn’t see any connection. I couldn’t articulate what the connection might be, but somehow I knew there was one. Insisting on this only brought doubt to the chief’s eyes. I had a feeling he was not only doubting me, but Elena Luna as well.
He left around eight that evening, and Willis and I took a stroll in the cool of the night. It was close to ten p.m. before we headed back to the Bishop’s Inn.
When we walked in the door we found a frantic Miss Hutchins. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!’ she cried, grabbing me by the arm. ‘Miss Lovesy is missing!’
‘Missing?’ I repeated. ‘What do you mean?’
The old woman gave me a withering look. ‘I mean she’s not here. I mean she’s gone. G-O-N-E.’
Willis ran upstairs, coming back in a brief moment to declare, ‘Her stuff’s still here. Did you call the chief?’ he asked Miss Hutchins.
‘No,’ she said, wringing her hands. ‘I didn’t know what to do! I mean, y’all went for a walk – maybe she did too? And if I called the chief, it could be like the little boy who cried wolf.’
I took her lightly by the elbow and guided her into the living room, sitting her down on the sofa where Humphrey Hammerschultz had met his maker. I sat down next to her.
‘I wish you’d called me on my cell—’ I started, but was interrupted.
‘I don’t hold with those things! Everybody’s listening to everything you say! And besides, I hear they cause brain cancer!’ she declared.
‘Well,’ I said, pulling out my cancer-causing but color-coordinated accessory, ‘I think I’ll just make a quick call to the chief.’ I dialed the number of the police station and got the not-so-cooperative gray-haired lady I’d met earlier that day. ‘May I speak to the chief, please?’
‘This is the emergency line. We’re closed. Is this an emergency?’
‘Where’s the chief?’ I asked.
‘In bed for all I know.’
‘Do you have any way of contacting him?’ I asked.
There was a brief moment of silence before she said, ‘Maybe.’
‘Well, if you are able to do so, could you please tell him E.J. Pugh called to let him know that Miss Lovesy has left the Bishop’s Inn. Please tell him her things are still here, but she’s not.’
‘You’re that woman who barged in here this morning, right?’
‘I was there this morning, yes,’ I said, not willing to admit I’d ‘barged in’ anywhere.
‘And you think the chief would actually care what you have to say?’ she said, her voice skeptical.
‘Why not contact him and find out? You are a public servant, right? I’m the public, so serve me!’ I said and hung up. Not exactly the best way to get positive results, I’ll admit, but she was getting on my last nerve.
A couple of hours later I was in the kitchen helping Miss Hutchins with supper – her plan had been to make carnitas with the leftover pork roast, but due to our uninvited guest, there was no leftover pork roast, so we were going with canned tomato soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches – when my cell phone rang. It was in my pocket so I wiped my cheesy hands on the butt of my blue jeans and turned it on.
‘Hello?’
‘Miz Pugh? It’s Chief Cotton. We found your missin’ psycho—’
‘Psychic,’ I corrected.
‘Whatever. Don’t matter. She’s dead either way you pronounce it.’
BACK HOME
Megan and Alicia decided to move upstairs and leave Bess and Logan on their own. Well, Megan decided and browbeat Alicia, who was still somewhat worried about Logan’s intentions, into agreeing. That didn’t stop her from coming out of her room as soon as she heard Megan’s door shut. She sat down at the head of the stairs and waited for the conversation to stop. That’s when she planned to pounce. There would be no sex of any kind on her watch, goddamit!
‘What do you think Harper’s mom can do for us?’ Logan asked Bess.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but maybe she can tell us who else may have had the opportunity to, you know …’
‘Jump Harper’s bones?’ Logan suggested.
‘Yeah, well, that.’
He put his fingers under her chin and lifted it, grinning at her. ‘You’re blushing,’ he said, his voice a half-whisper.
‘Am not,’ she half-whispered back.
His index finger stroked her cheek. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ Bess said, and knew for a fact that, if she hadn’t been before, she was definitely blushing now.
His mouth found hers in a soft kiss that turned more heated as the seconds flew by. When Bess could feel his tongue tickling her lips she drew back. A girl at school who had gone to Catholic schools until transferring to Black Cat Ridge High her junior year had told Bess in no uncertain terms that the nuns had assured her that French kissing was the same as doing the deed. Bess figured that they’d meant symbolically, but she felt it best to err on the side of caution.
‘What’s the matter?’ Logan asked.
‘Ah, I’m not sure I’m ready—’ she started, but he interrupted.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘No, no, it’s not your fault—’
‘Of course it is!’ Logan said, standing up. ‘I need to go home. Mom’s probably worried.’ He headed for the front door, Bess on his heels.
‘You don’t have to go!’ she said.
‘It’s late,’ he said, his back to her. He reached the door and opened it. Turning to face her, he said, ‘I’m sorry for being such a … such a … prick?’ he said.
‘No, not at all!’ Bess said, and could feel her face in flames.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Lunch, right?’ Logan asked.
‘Right,’ Bess said to his retreating back.
She felt tears streaming down her face as she shut and locked the front door, then felt a presence behind her.
‘That’s what they do,’ Alicia said, making Bess whirl around, her breath catching in her throat.
‘What are you talking about?’ Bess demanded, frowning at her younger sister.
‘They try to guilt you into it. They act all sorry they did this or that, in hopes that in your guilt, you’ll let them go a little farther—’
‘Jeez!’ Bess said, a little too loudly. ‘Were you listening?’
‘Damn straight!’ Alicia said. ‘I told you I was going to keep an eye out for you!’
Bess pushed past her. ‘Just stay out of my love life!’ she said.
Alicia followed her as she went through the house locking doors and checking windows. ‘How do we know he’s not the one who knocked up Harper? We only have his word for it! And he’s certainly trying to get in your pants!’
Bess whirled around to stare at her. ‘Listen! Just because my brother tried to guilt you into having sex with him is no reason to think all boys are like that! They’re not!’
‘Bullshit!’ Alicia said with some heat. Hearing her cuss took Bess aback. This was not Alicia’s usual choice of words. ‘All boys are like that! Men, too! You think Graham was the first guy to try to get in my pants? Not by a long shot! You know that foster sister of mine who got knocked up by the foster dad? You think she was the first one he tried that on? Hardly! But I managed to jump out the bedroom window while he had his pants down around his legs! And that foster brother who made it with that other girl in the next house? He said he’d pay me for a three-way! I declined! You think just because I was like a plain Jane before y’all did that make-over on me that I was some innocent? Well, I may still be a virgin, but it’s from my own due diligence and not trusting men! And that includes your – our – brother, and your new boyfriend!’
Her voice had gotten louder and louder as she spoke, to the point where the last of it was delivered at a volume that would often be called screaming. She turned and ran up the stairs, almost knocking Megan over at the landing. Stopping to watch Alicia run up, with her mouth hanging open, she finally turned and finished walking down the steps.
‘Did I hear
that right?’ she asked Bess.
‘Don’t,’ Bess said, her voice menacing.
‘Do you think it was true?’ Megan insisted.
‘I don’t want to talk about it!’ Bess said, heading for the stairs and her room.
‘Jeez, I wish I knew what was going on around here!’ Megan said to her sister’s departing back. ‘Y’all are acting all kinds of weird, you know that?’
The chief told us where he was and, rather than walk the half mile to the location, I took the Audi and got to the crime scene tape in two minutes. Willis and I jumped out of the car and walked up to where the chief was kneeling. Diamond Lovesy’s body could easily be seen around the chief’s scrawny one.
‘What happened?’ I asked as we ducked under the tape that cordoned off a small alley. The body lay in the driveway of the alley between two buildings off a side street. The business on the left was closed; the building on the right was empty.
The chief turned around and I was able to see Diamond’s face. There was what could only be a bullet hole in her forehead. He stood up, shook hands with Willis and nodded to me. ‘Looks to me like she’s been shot, but I’m not willin’ to swear to that until the coroner tells me I can. I’d also be unwillin’ to stipulate at this point that it was not self-inflicted, as there’s no residue around the hole and – if she was shot – there ain’t no gun lying around like she dropped it. Get my drift?’
‘Sure do,’ I said, staring at the lifeless body of the woman who had given me nothing but grief. I felt bad for her – as you would for anyone who dies young, or anyone whose life is taken by someone else. But I didn’t feel much sorrow. I had to wonder if I was growing callous to these things – like many peace officers do. I shook myself to get back to the matter at hand.
‘She was murdered,’ I said.
‘Well, now, I’m not willin’ to say that until I know for sure she didn’t die of natural causes,’ the chief said.
A gargling sound came out of Willis’s throat.
‘How does one go about getting a hole in one’s forehead naturally?’ I asked.
Dead to the World Page 16