Discarded Promises

by Candice Poarch

  Snuggled under a warm blanket, Quilla remembered the books Sadie would read to her after school. Stories about Cinderella and the three bears mixed with her own tales gathered from history about prosperous African kingdoms. Quilla grew to love Sadie’s writings more than novels from bookstores. She created tales about people like her. And they focused on the grandness of her motherland before it was invaded and raped of its riches instead of just the resultant poverty. She could relate to them.

  One tale in particular impressed her so much, she did a report on the area during Black History Month when she was in the fifth grade. She still remembered the kingdom of Ghana, which was farther north and west of present-day Ghana. The king controlled the gold and salt trade routes across West Africa. Arab writers called Ghana “land of gold.” The women held a high status and the ruler inherited the throne through his mother. Later, Ghana was swallowed up by Mali, which was the Arab name for Mandinka, meaning “where the king dwells.” The greatest emperor of Mali was Mansa Musu, who came to the throne around 1312. He extended Mali’s borders westward to the Atlantic Ocean, conquered many Berber cities northward, and was noted for maintaining peace in his empire during the twenty-five years he reigned.

  When he made his journey to Mecca, he traveled in kingly style across the Sahara with five hundred slaves, each bearing a golden staff and one hundred camels heavily laden with gold. They stopped in Egypt and spent so lavishly that the value of gold in Cairo dropped for more than ten years.

  Quilla’s classmates had been astonished that Africa had been so wealthy, and they had even made comments about how the caravan might have looked as it traveled across the Sahara and entered cities. An amazing sight, to say the least. Word of the caravan’s riches spread to other parts of Africa, Arab nations, and Europe. Quilla’s history teacher spent some time talking about the early days of Africa.

  What happened to the children’s tales? Sadie wrote notebooks of them depicting striking African queens and kings draped in gold-threaded garments and who lived in palaces. Why didn’t she ever publish them? Quilla wondered. What happened to them?

  On the table beside the chair were two books. One was Sadie’s diary and the other a mystery novel. The diary, worn with use, was covered in vividly colored flowers. Quilla had her own mystery to solve. Picking up the diary, she began to scan the pages.

  It began eighteen months ago. Quilla was astonished to find the first insert referenced her.

  I got away from writing many many years ago. I guess life got in the way. Seeing Quilla reminded me about my dreams and that I’m not pursuing them. Quilla used to love stories. Thought they were better than the ones I read from books. If she liked them perhaps other people would like them, too. I’m glad she’s in town and she’s running a successful shop. Just seeing her love for her shop has convinced me to write again. I’ll give myself a year and see what happens. I have plenty of time on my hands. The tenants aren’t very demanding and don’t take up much time.

  There were also entries on Sadie’s relationship with Tom. The more she was with him, the more she wanted a different type of relationship than to be a vessel to slake his sexual desire. After all these years she deserved more. But she wasn’t willing to give him up yet. Once they broke up, she’d lose her easy job at the apartment. Tom was convenient.

  For now.

  Quilla gazed into the crackling fire. How little she really knew the people around her.

  Lucky sat contentedly on the floor near Quilla. She bent over and scooped the dog up, placing her on her lap. She stroked her soft golden fur. Sadie had loved her dog. Probably her substitute for a child.

  Quilla continued reading the painful revelations. Sadie was definitely in love with Tom.

  Quilla felt sad, lost somehow. She brooded into the fire. She couldn’t imagine loving anyone to that extent. An all-consuming love like her mother had for her father. When Quilla asked her mother to leave him, she’d say, “Don’t you remember the man he used to be? He wasn’t always this way, and he won’t always be this way. Just you wait and see.”

  God, how she waited. And waited. And waited.

  Quilla tried not to think about her parents’ destructive relationship.

  Quilla read on, but she wasn’t getting anywhere. She flipped almost to the back of the manuscript and picked up from there.

  After half an hour, Quilla rubbed her tired eyes. She was about to shut the book when she saw a surprising entry.

  Sadie was pregnant. She’d given one baby away when she was fifteen. She refused to give this child away.

  Sadie had been fifteen when she and her mother had left Alexandria. Did they leave because Sadie was pregnant? Who was the father? And what happened to the baby?

  Now she was pregnant again. But not enough to show. Quilla wondered if Tom knew.

  Another fly in Tom’s ointment. Sadie was writing a tell-all book and she was pregnant. Sadie was savvy enough to protect herself from pregnancy if she wanted to. So if she was pregnant, it was because she wanted to be. She was in love with Tom. And she was having his baby. Which meant the murder was a double murder.

  Quilla’s temper flared. Men were total asses. They were good for one thing and one thing only. Sex. You damn sure couldn’t depend on them.

  Quilla was more determined than ever to make Tom pay. Sadie’s death shouldn’t be hushed up. It needed to be out in the open. She remembered the reporter who interviewed both Sadie and her. Sadie made a public announcement about her book. Perhaps the media would think her death was worth looking into. Anything that got the attention of the news got the attention of the police.

  Gently putting Lucky on the floor, Quilla stood. She straightened her shoulders and stretched the kinks in her back.

  In the kitchen, Quilla searched through the drawer for the business card the reporter gave her and dialed her number. The answering machine clicked on and Quilla left a message asking the woman to call her. She wanted to talk to her about a murder.

  Denton’s feelings for Quilla had nothing to do with reason. By the time sanity had reinserted itself, he’d realized he had to complete Quilla’s pleasure, if not his own.

  It wasn’t until the frigid air hit him outside that his mind had cleared. What had started out as dinner and conversation had quickly turned into him charting his way into Quilla’s panties. He had no intentions of even kissing her, much less dragging her clothing off her. But she wore a dress. And it showed off all her Halle Berry curves. He had halfway undressed her, was feeling the softness of her curves against his body before he came to his senses. He felt like an idiot; his clumsy departure was so out of character. He’d probably left the impression his brain was at the level of a sixteen-year-old.

  No wonder he’d felt like a fool trotting Lucky over to Quilla’s place earlier, but he had no choice. A long day lay ahead, and Sadie would be very displeased if he left the dog at a kennel, even if it were the Bow Wow Play Palace. It might be after midnight before Denton returned, and he couldn’t leave the dog unattended for that length of time.

  Tom was flying to Arizona to their industrial site. George had asked Denton to go along on the trip. He needed to learn that leg of the business, too, which was the perfect excuse Denton needed to get in the warehouse.

  In Arizona, he’d worked throughout the day looking through files for any information that would help the case. Finally, the faxes ceased buzzing, the telephones stopped ringing, the computer keys stopped clicking, the file drawers quit closing. The sales and office personnel made hasty exits. Only a couple of workers were left; one of them was Tom.

  Denton checked the number and type of semiconductors being exported in Monday’s shipment. After he made the copies, he slipped the pages into his briefcase. Denton had been meticulous in gathering information on each shipment leaving, but so far they had been unable to detect how Tom was shipping unlicensed semiconductors out of the country.

  After Tom left, Denton got in his car and drove the several miles to the wa
rehouse. He used the key George had given him to enter. It was quiet and deserted around the buildings. Jake was parked a block away waiting for his call. He arrived with additional agents and they began a thorough search through the shipment.

  Denton knew he wouldn’t be disturbed. Tom had been followed to a hotel. He was closed up in his room with some woman. She wasn’t his wife.

  “Quilla calmed down any about Sadie?” Jake asked.

  “Barely.” Denton was still berating himself for the intimate scene the previous evening. He would have to apologize to her. He glanced at his clock. He hadn’t told her he wouldn’t be by to pick up Lucky.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, retrieving his cell phone. He went in a quiet area to call her.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked when she answered the phone.

  “I was still up. Did you want to come by to pick Lucky up now?”

  “I’m still at work. Can she stay overnight with you?”

  “She’s all tucked in and comfortable anyway. I’d hate for her to have to go out in the cold.”

  This was a dog she was talking about. There were traces of Sadie’s madness in her.

  “Right. I’ll see you tomorrow sometime. I might sleep in.”

  “She’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “I really appreciate this. And we need to talk.”

  A slight hesitation. “Sure.”

  When they disconnected, Denton joined Jake. And Jake continued the conversation as if he hadn’t left.

  “Too bad about Sadie. I liked her. She was real.”

  “Yeah.” Denton was thinking that as soon as the case was over, and, hopefully, that would be within the next month or so, he’d talk to the detective about Sadie.

  They worked for hours but they didn’t find any semiconductors leaving that hadn’t been licensed for export. None of them had been replaced by the unlicensed ones.

  “Nothing,” Jake said.

  Denton was disappointed as well. He was sure Tom would be making another shipment soon.

  For the second day in a row, Quilla’s father left a message on her answering machine. What would he say if she called? He knew how she felt about him. They didn’t need to rehash the past. And they certainly weren’t going to be bosom buddies after all that had transpired. She wasn’t about to set herself up for another uncomfortable encounter with him. She wasn’t going to call him.

  The phone rang again, and Quilla considered letting the answering machine pick up. It was late and she didn’t normally get calls this time of night.

  She picked it up. Never could stand to let a phone ring. It was her crazy cousin.

  “How was your trip?” Quilla asked. Her cousin, Jewel, had just gone on a five-island cruise.

  “The cruise was great. Come February I’m going to wish I’d waited.”

  “Maybe for once we’ll have a great February.”

  “Maybe, but I’ve got to tell you about my trip. Would you believe Todd proposed?” Jewel was bubbly with excitement.

  “About time. When is the wedding?”

  “July. Mama said she needed a few months to plan it. A traditional wedding, I think. Mom’s happy.”

  “You think she gave Todd enough clues?”

  Her cousin laughed. Her mother, Quilla’s Aunt Ruby, was her dad’s sister. Even though Quilla had severed the relationship with her father years ago, her aunt maintained their connection. Aunt Ruby had introduced her brother to Quilla’s mother when they were in secretarial school. Quilla spent time there while she was in college. Her cousin didn’t have sisters, only two brothers, so she and Quilla, in many ways, were like sisters.

  “Mama tells me you found a neighbor dead on the Potomac. Girl, I hope you don’t go walking there anymore. I told you to join a gym like normal folks. They’re safe.” Quilla liked the sound of her cousin’s North Carolina drawl.

  “The out-of-doors is more interesting. I hate gyms. I’ve always felt safe on the parkway.”

  “Get someone to run with you.”

  “Hum. Now tell me about your cruise.”

  “The weather was fantastic. I’ve been to the Bahamas before but not on a cruise. The food never stopped coming. I think I gained five pounds. But the food was fabulous. Todd and I sat on the deck under the stars late into the night. It was so romantic. The nightclubs were great. And I think I heard a toilet joke from the comedians every day we were there.”

  Quilla chuckled. “At least one thing hasn’t changed since I went.” Quilla had taken a cruise with a group of friends three years before. It was nice but she hadn’t been with a date.

  “Well, I’m exhausted. You are coming for the holidays, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t think so. The store’s pretty busy and I have to open the day before and the day after. My assistant was here last year, so it’s my turn now.”

  “We’re going to miss you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’m bushed. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  When they hung up Quilla thought of her cousin. Quilla missed her aunt and cousin. They lived in Charlotte. When Quilla’s grandparents were alive, they visited every summer. Once she entered college, she attended school year round, so the three weeks she was out and Christmas holidays, she’d spend at Aunt Ruby’s.

  Quilla stretched and so did Lucky.

  “Bedtime or neither of us is going to be able to get up tomorrow.”

  First thing the next morning, Quilla called the reporter. She’d thought Hattie would have come up with something by now, but although she had lots of ideas, she had no one to execute them. She’d once heard that journalists reported more cases when the victim was beautiful, and she’d never seen anyone more beautiful than Sadie.

  She dialed the reporter’s number and left a message before opening her shop. She turned on the lights to the tree she’d spent hours decorating and it made the shop look festive. She unlocked the door just in case someone wandered by early.

  The Jehovah’s Witness lady brought by literature before the shop opened. A handsome man was with her this time, and he pulled his hat off as he entered. Usually the woman was with another woman or alone.

  “I came by the other week, but you opened late, and then you were too busy later in the day,” the friendly woman said. “I hope you don’t mind, but Lester goes around with me now. He doesn’t like for me to go to homes alone.” She smiled up at the man. They’re an item, Quilla thought.

  “It’s not safe,” Lester said, then extended a hand. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He was a handsome man, about six feet tall and well built. His face was medium brown and his shaved head was smooth and shiny. Not everyone looked good with a shaved head.

  His grip was firm, but there was a bandage on his arm. Quilla saw it when his sleeve slid up as he gripped her hand. A few old scratches were red on his hand. He must work with machinery.

  Quilla was a Baptist, but she couldn’t be rude to the woman. “It’s pretty cold outside. May I offer you a cup of coffee?”

  “Please,” the woman said. With the door open, Quilla went to the next room and poured two cups. And Lucky started to bark. Quilla hadn’t fed her yet.

  “All right, all right. Don’t be so impatient.” Quilla set a bowl of food aside for Lucky before she poured the coffee.

  “You can’t take too many precautions, especially this time of year,” Quilla said when Lucky grew quiet. When some people came in, Lucky barked. With others she was quiet. And Quilla didn’t know her barometer. “A friend of mine was just murdered on the parkway.”

  “I didn’t hear about it on the news,” the woman said, frowning.

  “The body disappeared, unfortunately, and they haven’t reported it. I’m sure it will turn up. Soon, I hope. And then there are the robberies going on. It’s a good thing you aren’t alone.”

  “Which is exactly the reason Lester makes the rounds with me. I wasn’t worried about being alone before, but I am now. But the Lord’s work still has to be done. I’m s
o sorry about your loss,” the woman said and retrieved another brochure on grief, pointing out the passages for Quilla.

  Quilla thanked her. “Cream or sugar?”

  They talked for a few minutes before the woman left a copy of the Watchtower magazine and departed when an early customer arrived with a German shepherd named Blackie and an Akita aptly named Quita in tow. It was another half hour before Quilla could get away to walk Lucky.

  Denton arrived at nine. Quilla had expected him to sleep later. Lucky was holding center stage in the back room, separated from the store by a baby gate. She wanted Lucky to be able to see her but still be separated from dogs and people while they shopped.

  Lucky tucked her head and stayed where she was when Denton approached her.

  “I imagine I have a bad rep with her. Don’t worry,” he said as he stooped to rub the dog’s fur. “I’m not leaving you alone all day. I’ll be there.”

  “Pomeranians like being around people.”

  “Most dogs do, I imagine.”

  He lifted Lucky into his arms while stroking her behind the ears. He took the leash from the doorknob and attached it.

  He wore a navy jogging suit with a hooded sweatshirt. And he looked fabulous. He was a large man and it molded his powerful thighs and chest.

  “She could use a walk,” Quilla said as she handed him a bag of dog goodies and rubbed Lucky’s fur. Lucky reached for Quilla but Denton held onto her.

  “She loves you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” She wondered why Denton didn’t just give the dog to her, why he kept her since he obviously didn’t have the time, nor was he a dog person.

  The bell tinkled as a girl of about five and a boy of eight entered the store and ran over to the tree, dragging Hattie with them.

  “What a great day, Quilla. My grandchildren are spending the day with me,” Hattie said.

  “How wonderful.”

  “Granny Hattie has a parrot,” the little girl murmured.