by Sharon Sala
Holly was in Missouri, which was in the same time zone as Tulsa, but once again, her call went straight to voice mail.
Frustrated, she was about to call Bud just so she could hear a familiar and friendly voice when her food was served. She laid the phone aside.
Belgian waffles with fresh strawberries and whipped cream were a luxury they didn’t often have at the ranch. Theirs was usually a stick-to-your-ribs menu, like ham and eggs, or eggs and biscuits with sausage gravy. She dug into the food and found herself enjoying the treat.
The waitress had just refilled her coffee cup when her cell phone rang. Thinking it would be one of her sisters, she answered without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Maria…this is Becky Clemmons. I wanted to let you know that I got the boxes of your mother’s things out of storage last night. They’re here at my house, and I’m home all day, in case you want to come over.”
Maria’s disappointment that it wasn’t one of her sisters quickly shifted to interest at the thought of going through those boxes.
“Did you call Detective Scott?” Maria asked.
“Just now, but I couldn’t get him, so I left a message on his cell phone.”
Maria frowned, then glanced at her watch. It was after 10:00 a.m. Obviously he was otherwise engaged. But she didn’t want to wait. She was a big girl. She could find Becky’s house by herself.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to come over now, rather than waiting for him. I’m not very good at navigating Tulsa, though, and it may take me a little bit to find your house.”
Becky started to say something about what had happened to Sammy, then decided it could wait until Maria’s arrival.
“What hotel are you at?” she asked instead.
“The downtown Doubletree on 7th Street.”
“Oh, okay. I can give you directions that will get you here faster than following a city map.”
“Just a minute,” Maria said, and picked up her purse, shoving the journal aside as she dug for a pen and paper. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Becky spoke carefully, giving Maria time to write as she dictated a route to her house.
“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” Maria said, and read it back.
“That’s it. You have my number on your cell. Call me if you get lost.”
“Will do,” Maria said.
Now that she had a purpose to the day, she was anxious to get started. She started to call Bodie, then changed her mind. If he was too busy to answer Becky’s call, it stood to reason he was too busy to answer hers, as well.
She charged her meal to her room, got her valet parking ticket out of her purse and headed across the lobby. A short while later, she was in the car and headed west, following Becky’s directions.
Lieutenant Carver was finishing up on some paper work when Bodie knocked on his door.
“Come in,” the lieutenant said as he flipped the file shut and set it aside, then waved his detective toward a chair. “Heard you caught a weird one this morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Bodie said, thumbing the button to put his phone on silent mode. “Hell of a deal for all concerned. Sick husband checks out of work. Goes home, catches cheating wife in bed with another man. Kills both of them, then takes some medicine and sacks out on the sofa. Doesn’t bother running. Doesn’t pretend someone else did it. Just made himself some coffee the next morning before he called the police.”
Carver shook his head. “Takes all kinds. So, what did you want to see me about?”
Bodie slid forward on the edge of his seat.
“I think someone leaked information about that cold case we reopened.”
Carver frowned. “Are you accusing—”
“Sir. I’m stating a concern, not trying to point a finger.”
Carver’s frown deepened. “So explain yourself. What makes you think we have a leak?”
“Remember a couple of days ago Maria Slade and I drove to Lake Eufaula and interviewed Tank Vincent, the man who used to be Sally Blake’s pimp?”
“Yes. What about it?”
“I got a call from him this morning. Sometime around two a.m., someone kicked in his door, killed his dog and was aiming for him when he emptied a twelve-gauge shotgun into the intruder’s belly.”
“A robbery gone wrong. What does that have to do with us?”
“Down there, no one calls him Tank. According to him, he’s known only as Sam. They have no knowledge of his life before he moved there.”
“I’m failing to see the point here,” Carver said.
“Point is…according to Sam Vincent, the intruder called him Tank before he died. Sam finds it too coincidental that we show up looking for Tank Vincent, and then the next night someone else comes looking to kill Tank Vincent.”
Carver cursed beneath his breath, then sighed. “I tend to agree with Sam.”
“Yes, sir. So do I. Which brings me to the next bit of concern. I can think of only one reason why Sam Vincent became a target. Sally Blake’s killer is still around, learned the case was reopened and intends to get rid of anyone from before who was connected to the case in any way.”
Carver frowned. “That’s pretty far-fetched, considering you have no facts to back it up. As for your witness…do we know anything new?”
“No, nothing yet, but Maria Slade was with me the other day when I talked to Vincent. She was also with me when I went to Becky Clemmons’ house—and she’s Tank’s sister, if you can believe that. If someone leaked word that Maria’s our witness, she’s going to be at risk right along with Vincent and Mrs. Clemmons.”
Carver’s eyes narrowed as the silence grew. Finally he nodded.
“You make sure no more people die and I’ll see what I can find out about who leaked info and to whom.”
“Yes, sir,” Bodie said.
As soon as he left the office, he checked his voice mail and saw that Becky Clemmons had called while he was in with his boss. Her message was clear and brief.
“Detective, this is Becky Clemmons. Just wanted to let you know I have Sally’s things that were in storage. I’ll be home all day if you want to come by.”
Bodie frowned, then dialed Maria’s number, but his call went to voice mail. All he could do was leave a message for her to call him immediately, and then he returned Becky’s call.
Maria found Becky’s house without one wrong turn. As she pulled into the driveway and got out, Becky opened the front door and came out on the porch to meet her.
“You made good time,” Becky said.
Maria smiled. “You gave me amazingly good directions.”
Becky grinned. “Probably all those years as a 911 dispatcher telling people what to do in times of crisis. Come in, come in. After last night’s rain, it’s like a sauna outside today.”
“The weather is certainly different from Montana this time of year,” Maria said, and followed Becky into the house.
The promised boxes were in the middle of the living room floor, and Becky had pushed back a coffee table and a settee to make room for the contents.
“We’re going to make a mess,” Maria said.
“I don’t care. I cleaned them off when I brought them in. They’d gotten pretty dusty in the storage facility. Truth is…I peeked in one of them last night and can hardly wait to see what’s in the rest. It’s been so long, I don’t remember.”
“Then that makes two of us,” Maria said.
Becky patted her on the arm. “Don’t push it, honey. There was a reason why you needed to forget this. And now there’s a reason why you need to remember. I’m trusting that your strength as a survivor is going to get you through this, like it did before.”
“Wow,” Maria said softly. “I never looked at it like that.”
Becky shrugged. “It’s true that some wisdom does come with age.” Then she giggled. “Then again, there are some people who just get old and hopeless. You can’t change stupid.”
Maria laughed. It was the first
time she’d felt at ease with this woman, and she told herself to just let go and quit trying to control everything.
“So, do you want to get started?” Becky asked. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yes, I’m ready, but I don’t need anything to drink right now,” Maria said.
“Sit anywhere you like,” Becky said.
Maria dumped her purse on the sofa, then sat down on the floor and tucked her hair behind her ear before she reached for the first box.
Becky gasped softly as she saw the small gesture, then quickly looked away for fear Maria would see her tears. That one little action—tucking her hair behind her right ear—was something Sally had always done without thinking.
Unaware of what she’d done, Maria pulled the nearest box closer, then reached in and pulled out the first paper-wrapped object.
“This is sort of like Christmas,” she said.
Becky touched the top of Maria’s head. “And all the gifts are from your mother,” she said, then took a seat in a nearby chair.
Maria’s hands were shaking as she began peeling back the paper. Dust motes rose into the air, then seemed to hover in the beams of light coming through the living room windows, creating an aura of shimmering gold around her.
One by one, she carefully unwrapped the simple treasures that had once been a part of Sally Blake’s world. By the time the first box was empty, Becky was on the floor with Maria, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying, from the memories they evoked.
And while Maria was fascinated by the unveiling, part of her was beginning to panic. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing rang even the smallest bell of memory.
When she pulled the second box close, she paused, her hands on the lid. There was a tremble in her voice that she couldn’t deny, and a growing knot in her stomach, when she asked, “Becky…what if this doesn’t help?”
Becky cupped Maria’s cheek. “You’ll still have your mother’s treasures, won’t you?”
Maria’s vision blurred. “I’m so determined to remember the bad stuff that I forgot I could still remember the good. Thank you for that. I never thought of it that way.”
“I think it’s time for that drink. Would you rather have iced tea or a cold pop? I have Dr Pepper and Pepsi.”
“Pepsi. Bodie and I like Pepsi,” Maria said.
Becky smiled to herself as she went to the kitchen. Maria didn’t even realize how she’d paired herself with the detective.
She brought back the drinks and set Maria’s to the side on a small end table beside the sofa, then resumed her seat on the floor just as Maria began on the second box. Within moments of taking out the first package, Maria’s eyes widened.
“This one is kind of heavy…and round.” She peeled away the last bits of paper. “Oh, wow! A Christmas snow globe. I have a collection of snow globes back home in Montana.”
“That was yours,” Becky said, watching Maria’s eyes widen in surprise. “It used to play music.”
An odd shiver slithered through Maria’s memory. Lord. Her fascination with snow globes had been linked to her past, and she hadn’t known it.
She turned the globe over, saw that the little key was still there and wound it up. She had doubts that it would work after all these years, but after she gave it a couple of shakes, the little Christmas tree in the middle of the scene began turning, and a tinny-sounding lilt began playing in accompaniment to the white, swirling snow.
Becky frowned. “I can’t place that melody. It sounds familiar but—”
Something was pushing at the back of Maria’s mind—the sound of laughter, the brush of a kiss against her cheek, with a “sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite”—but it was gone so quickly that she could have imagined it.
“It’s ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’” Maria whispered, then set the globe on the floor near her knee. She was reaching back into the box when Becky’s phone rang.
“Rats. I left it on the hall table,” Becky muttered, and hurried to answer.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Clemmons, it’s Detective Scott. I got your message. By any chance, have you heard from Maria Slade?”
“She’s sitting on my living room floor as we speak, going through her mother’s things.”
Bodie breathed a quick sigh of relief.
“Have you talked to your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Does Maria know what happened?”
“I haven’t said anything about it yet. I thought this was enough to deal with for the time being.”
“Good. I’ll talk to her when I get there. Tell her I’m on my way.”
“Will do,” Becky said, then hung up.
She glanced across the room, and for a moment it was as if twenty years had never passed and she was seeing Mary sitting on her floor playing, just as she’d done so many times before. Then she blinked and the notion was gone.
“That was Detective Scott,” Becky said, as she sat back down. “He said to tell you he’s on his way.”
Maria didn’t respond. She was staring at a pair of salt and pepper shakers that she’d just unwrapped. A little white hen with a red comb, and a rooster with a big red comb and a tail painted in garish colors. Without thinking, she shook the hen, watching blankly as a few tiny grains of salt fell out onto the wrappings. And the longer she looked, the faster her heart began to beat.
“I’ve seen these before.” She picked them up and turned them so Becky could see. “I’ve seen these before! Oh, my God…they had names. They did, didn’t they?”
Becky started to answer, then stopped. It wouldn’t help at all if she told. Instead, she held her breath and prayed.
Maria closed her eyes. The words were right there—waiting…waiting—just out of reach.
“The little hen and the big rooster…they had names. They had names. But what—” She gasped as her eyes flew open. “Matt and Kitty. Their names were Matt and Kitty.”
“Yes, because you and your mother watched reruns of Gunsmoke all the time. It was her favorite show. I always thought it was because she identified with Kitty…them being in the same profession.”
Maria’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s going to happen, isn’t it? Like you said, it’s going to take time, but this is a start. I’m going to remember.”
Fifteen
B y the time Bodie reached Becky Clemmons’ house, Maria had emptied the second box and was on to the third. Her eyes were sparkling from the excitement of the hunt, and from the high of knowing that when it came to her memory, all was not lost.
Becky saw him drive up and went to the door before he could knock. She let him in the house, then put a finger to her lips and pointed.
The sight stopped him in his tracks. Maria was cross-legged on the floor, with a pile of wrapping behind her and the contents of two boxes spread out in front of her. Her head was down, her focus fixed on the paper-wrapped object in her lap. As if sensing his presence, she looked up, then broke into a smile.
Bodie’s gut knotted. Have mercy. How did this happen? I am falling in love with a woman I hardly know.
“How’s it going?” he asked, as he walked over toward the empty chair beside her.
“Careful,” she said, pointing to her little unwrapped treasures. “See those?” She pointed to a hen-and-rooster salt-and-pepper set. “Their names are Matt and Kitty. I remembered that. It’s because my mother and I watched reruns of Gunsmoke. Isn’t that funny?”
Bodie sat with a thump, then looked up at Becky in surprise.
“She remembered on her own?”
Becky beamed. “Yes, and that snow globe, as well.”
“It plays ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,’” Maria said. “Mommy wound it every night when we were going to sleep.”
Becky’s eyes were filling with tears again, as they had off and on all morning. Maria didn’t realize she’d unconsciously shifted how she referenced her mother. She’d gone from thinking of her as Sally to my mother to Mommy in the spa
ce of a couple of hours.
Bodie was elated. For the first time since Maria Slade had walked into the station, he was beginning to believe they might actually have a chance of solving this case.
“Oh, look! Is this a diary? No…I think it’s a photo album,” Maria said.
“Can’t be a diary,” Becky said. “Your mother couldn’t read or write, remember?”
Maria opened the book, and the crudely printed and misspelled words literally leaped off the pages. “Oh, my God. Becky, look!”
Becky gasped.
marys babe bok
“I never saw her write anything but her name,” Becky said. “And even that was difficult for her.” She handed the book back to Maria.
Bodie was watching Maria’s face as she began leafing through the pages, and when she suddenly clutched the book against her chest and began to cry, he sat down on the floor beside her.
Maria took a deep, shuddering breath and then laid the open book back in her lap. When Bodie saw the pages, the love of a mother for her child came alive. Sally Blake might not have been able to write, but she’d kept a journal of her baby’s life in the only way she knew how. In pictures.
“May I?” he asked.
Maria handed him the book, then got up and stumbled out of the room. Becky followed. Bodie could hear her guiding Maria down the hall to her bathroom as he opened the book at the first page.
A tiny footprint and handprint had been stamped on the page, along with an old Polaroid snapshot of a tiny baby in a hospital nursery.
The next page had a tiny wisp of black hair taped to the page.
Each ensuing page had a different photo. One of Mary having a bath.
One of her standing beside a sofa, able to pull herself up but before she was walking.
Then a photo of Mary standing alone in the middle of a floor wearing nothing but a bib and a diaper.
Someone had taken a photo of Sally and Mary standing in front of the gorilla cage in a zoo. Bodie wondered if Mary’s absentee father had been on that trip, and if he was the one who’d snapped the photo.
Page after page, there were mementos of a little girl’s life, marked in the only way Sally knew how. It was no wonder Maria had dissolved into tears. Love radiated from every page.