by Abigail Keam
“Like I said, you never know,” I replied before taking my leave. “You never know.”
35
Weeks passed slowly. I didn’t hear from Shaneika, and even though I was desperate to hear the outcome of Shaneika’s talk with the police, I was resigned to wait–not my favorite thing, but sometimes these things take time.
A knock sounded on the door. I looked at the camera monitor.
It was Hunter!
I opened the door and Hunter rushed in. Grabbing me, he bent me over, cradling my head and gave me a long, passionate kiss. I meant to complain about his hot and cold nature with me, but somewhere along the kiss, I forgot.
“Been thinking about this kiss for a long time.”
“Could have fooled me,” I replied. “The phone calls have been quite platonic.”
“We’re too old for phone sex.”
“Are we?”
Hunter winked. “Is that an invitation?”
I stepped away from him. “Cool down. I hardly know you.”
“I knew you’d be that way, so why bother on the phone. You’d just hang up.”
“There are proper ways to do things. I haven’t received the mandatory flowers or candy yet.”
Hunter rubbed his chin. “Ah, the traditional accoutrements of courtship. You really are old school.”
“So are you. Don’t deny it.”
“Mea culpa. It’s true.” Hunter looked around. “Anyone here?”
I shook my head.
“Offer me a drink, and tell all about yourself since I’ve been away.”
“Where did you go?”
“Seattle to work on a case, and I have a nice big check in my pocket, a good chunk of which I plan to spend on you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Drink first, then talk. We need to catch up.”
I made a Mint Julep for him, complete with crushed ice from the walk-in freezer and a sprig of mint from my back terrace. I had club soda, determined to cut down on my drinking. We sat on my long mid-century couch in the great room, and we talked, or rather, I talked–even telling him about going to Carol Elliott’s house, and how I was on pins and needles, waiting to see if Shaneika talked to the police about her.
Hunter nodded occasionally, and sipped his bourbon drink every now and then. When I ran out of wind, he said, “Do you always take chances like that? I mean Carol Elliott could have been sleeping in her bed, or Lonny Elliott could have been taking a walk in the woods and come home.”
“But they weren’t. Please don’t scold. I lost my taste for men telling me what to do a long time ago.”
“I see.” He put his drink down and put his arm around me. “Was that all of it?”
“I think so.”
“I’m so glad you confided in me. I know it was hard for you.”
I nodded.
Hunter pulled me closer. “We will have to celebrate this momentous occasion. Shall we go out to dinner tonight?” He looked at his watch. “I have enough time to go to the bank, cash this check, and come back for you.”
I started to suggest a restaurant when the doorbell rang. “I wonder who that could be?” I said, rising.
Looking into the camera monitor, I couldn’t believe it.
I threw open the door.
Standing before me was Sandy Sloan!
36
“Sandy! My goodness! Come in. Come in. I’ll make us some tea.”
Sandy stood rooted at the door, looking somewhat sour. “I’d rather not. I’ve come for Georgie. Is she still here?” Her voice sounded harsh.
Confused at Sandy’s unfriendliness, I answered, “Yes, I’ll call her.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll call for her. GEORGIE! GEORGIE!”
Both dogs ran into the great room, looked around and, seeing me in the foyer, raced to the front door.
It only took Georgie seconds to recognize Sandy. She scampered to Sandy, jumping up and down at her owner’s feet, filled with joy.
Sandy picked her up and abruptly began walking away.
“Just a minute, Sandy. Isn’t there something you want to say to me?”
Sandy turned around.
Her expression was so full of malevolence, I stepped back.
Sensing something was not right, Baby stood between us, looking back and forth. I could tell he was confused by the perturbed tone of my voice. I gave him a reassuring pat.
“I’ve taken care of Georgie for months. I don’t expect any type of reimbursement, but a simple thank-you would be nice.”
“Should I also thank you for getting me thrown in jail? Should I thank you for telling the police where I was? You always have to butt in other folk’s business, don’t you, Josiah?”
I was dumbfounded. “Sandy, that wasn’t my fault. The police were looking for you after they found Toby. It would only have been a matter of days before they found you and brought you back.”
“But you were the one who told the police?”
“I didn’t tell the police. I swear to that. It was the detective I hired to find you, but those were not my instructions. He did it on his own.”
“Sorry, but I fail to see the distinction you’re trying to make.”
“Excuse me, young woman. I couldn’t help but overhear.”
We both looked at Hunter, who was now standing beside me.
“I think you’re mistreating someone who’s a good friend. Josiah has taken care of your dog at her expense. She risked her life to retrieve your paintings, which had been stolen by a neighbor, and saved them for you. She got the best criminal lawyer in town to defend you. She came to visit you in jail. I don’t see how you can have a better friend than Josiah Reynolds.”
“She called the police on me when Toby accused me of trying to cut him with a knife.”
“Again, she did the right thing. You were perhaps a danger to yourself and others.”
“It was a lie.”
“Maybe, but how was Josiah to know? She acted in accordance with the facts she had at the time.”
Sandy pointed at me. “The first thing I thought when I heard she’d found Toby was she killed him.”
I scoffed, “That’s absurd.”
Unfazed by the turn of the conversation, Hunter calmly pointed out. “Again, I remind you that you set fire to your own house, while burning Toby’s possessions as well as his savings, and then staged a fake suicide–all with the intent to harm your husband. Of all people, you had the most to gain by killing your husband.”
Sandy turned her attention back to me. “We’re finished, Josiah. You stay away from me, you hear?”
Hunter and I watched Sandy storm off, presumably to the pathway that led to her burned house.
“I’m going to follow her,” offered Hunter. “I want to make sure she leaves your property.”
“I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say except thank you for standing up for me.”
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I’m going now, so go inside and lock the door. I shan’t be long.” He strode off to the left of the house.
Baby started to go with Hunter, but seeing me stay behind, whined, not knowing what to do.
“Come on, Baby. You hang with me.” I scratched Baby’s ears. “I know you’re going to miss your friend Georgie. You were getting used to her, weren’t you? She’s with her mommy now. Let’s be happy for her.”
We went inside, locking the front door.
It had been an unnerving afternoon, going from my elation at Hunter’s surprise visit to the trauma of Sandy’s appearance.
I was flabbergasted at Sandy’s attitude toward me.
I placed my Bible in my lap, but I didn’t open it. I was too upset to read.
Maybe later.
But it turned out later would be too late.
37
“Ms. Todd, I’m recommending your client be evaluated immediately. Sandy Sloan may be delusional. She certainly wasn’t rational when it came to Josiah. She could pose a significant
risk to herself and others. Unhuh. Yeah,” said Hunter, speaking with Shaneika on the phone in the great room of the Butterfly.
I was making tea, listening to the phone conversation on Hunter’s end.
He continued, “I think getting her out on bail might not have been the correct thing to do. At least, we knew she was under supervision and being given her medication in jail.”
Hunter motioned me to be quiet as I set the tea down on the coffee table.
I heard Shaneika on the other end, but couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Hunter spoke again. “The problem is we don’t know if Sandy will behave violently or not. The story about her trying to stab her husband and eventually killing him may be correct. I find people who set fires are very disturbed, and Sandy’s confrontation with Josiah was not rational.”
I poured and handed a cup of tea to Hunter as he was listening to Shaneika.
He spoke again. “I followed Sandy to her house. Her car was parked there, and she left with her dog. However, I’m going to spend the night here. I don’t think Josiah should be left on her own tonight.”
My eyes widened at hearing that. I hadn’t invited Hunter to spend the night, but thought it chivalrous of him to offer, knowing he loved to be at Wickliffe Manor. To tell you the truth, I wanted Hunter to stay because I was a little shook up.
“Okay, but get back to me on this. Right.” Hunter hung up.
“What did Shaneika say?” I asked.
“She agreed to the evaluation and was surprised about the altercation. She said it was disheartening that her client would say those things.”
“Where is Sandy staying?”
“Shaneika booked her a room at a modest motel in town.” Hunter grinned. “I hope you don’t think I’m being presumptuous, but I didn’t like the intensity of Sandy’s anger. She came very close to threatening you.”
“I’ve never seen Sandy hostile. It was unnerving.”
“Quite. I will stay here tonight, but I think you should make other arrangements until the trial is over.”
“When is the trial?”
“Ms. Todd said in a couple of weeks, if she can’t work something out.”
“That’s funny. Shaneika said I would be contacted by the DA’s office, but I haven’t heard a word from them.”
“No subpoena?”
“No.”
“She said she was working on a plea deal, so that may be the reason the DA hasn’t contacted you. It would indicate the plea deal might be accepted.”
Hunter poured milk into his tea. He must have picked up the habit when he lived in England.
I commented, “The only other person I know who pours milk in tea is Lady Elsmere.”
“Speaking of Lady Elsmere, I think you should stay with her until this thing with Sandy blows over. I have to leave on another business trip soon.”
“I don’t know. I hate to intrude.”
“Then how about having Franklin and Matt stay here?”
“Heaven’s no. Matt has a baby. I couldn’t impose. Out of the question. Speaking of Matt, have you met him?”
“Several times, but briefly. One time as I was coming to see you, Franklin and Matt were in the front yard of Matt’s house playing with the baby. I stopped to say hello.”
“I see.”
“Matt is quite a stunner.”
“Yes, he’s very good-looking,” I replied.
“He reminds me of some actor. Let’s see, who was it? Oh, yes, the fellow who was in The Robe. Not Richard Burton, but the one with all the muscles.”
“Victor Mature.”
“That’s the guy, but a more refined version.”
“Victor Mature said he acted with his forehead.”
“Did he?”
“If you watch him in the scene where he is standing at the foot of the cross when Jesus is dying, you will see he does.”
“Interesting to know.”
I remained silent.
“Are you still in love with him?”
“Who? Victor Mature?”
“Matt.”
“What on earth are you yakking about?”
“Franklin says you’re in love with Matt.”
“Oh, Franklin says that about anyone who looks cross-eyed at Matt. If you want to know the truth, Matt is my dearest friend. We’ve known each other for a long time.”
“I hear a but somewhere.”
“Since he was shot, we haven’t been as close. He has a baby now, and she takes up all his free time.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“There was a question?”
“Are you in love with Matt?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“So that means yes.”
“It means it’s none of your business. I don’t go prying into your past.”
“Not yet.”
Hunter and I glared at each other before breaking into laughter.
“Let’s get back on track,” Hunter said. “Will you make arrangements to stay at Lady Elsmere’s?”
“I think it’s a good idea. I’ll also have her men watch my farm. I don’t want any of my animals hurt. It’s happened before.”
I thought for a moment. “You know, it makes me angry I’m having to spend money on patrols for a person I tried to help.” I thought back to what Kelly had said to me at Al’s Bar.
“What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking about something a friend said to me recently.”
“What?”
“He cautioned me to be careful about being used.”
“I see. Sounds like good advice. Maybe you should take it.”
“I don’t like turning my back on friends. Where would I be without June, Matt, Charles, and Franklin?
And Shaneika and her mother, Eunice, are like family. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to help my peeps.”
“I hope you include me in that list.”
Ignoring his comment, I said, “The question is–was Sandy Sloan ever my friend? I wonder. I certainly thought she was.”
“Sandy is not a well woman. I wouldn’t put much stock in what she’s saying now. It might be her illness talking.”
“I hope so. I’ve always been very fond of Sandy. I thought we were good friends. I’m heartbroken about the two of us having words, but I want to thank you for staying.”
I was grateful. I really was.
After having our tea, I called Charles and told him what had occurred with Sandy. He promised to have his security team patrol my farm, and would step up security on Lady Elsmere’s property as well.
We both have had episodes with deranged people setting fire to our property in the past. Remember Lacey Bridges, who torched Lady Elsmere’s horse barn and killed Doreen DeWitt at Matt and Meriah’s wedding, splattering the woman’s brains all over my good suit? The last thing we needed was another Lacey Bridges on the loose.
What had Hunter said? People who set fires for emotional reasons are very disturbed.
Jumping Jehoshaphat! What had I gotten myself into this time?
38
Hunter stayed the night and then the next. He installed several motion-activated cameras along the trail and put up No Trespassing signs.
As much as I disliked Darius, I told him Sandy was out of jail and making irrational accusations. “You’d better give up the rest of Sandy’s paintings,” I told him as he spat tobacco juice on the ground, some of it splattering on my canvas shoes. “She’s a strong woman, and she’s angry.” I left it at that, hoping Darius would add two and two together–and come up with four.
Darius also put up No Trespassing signs to the chagrin of our neighbors on the right. The days of going through our property to the river were over–at least for now.
Hunter spent much of his time with his new horse, feeding her, brushing her, and finally riding her. He tried to get me to ride the Paint, but I wouldn’t budge. I was afraid of falling.
I spent my ti
me working, cleaning out a shed, and organizing my work tools. Exciting, huh! On the third day, Hunter announced he had to check on his house and go out of town on business.
I was grateful to Hunter. I really was, but I was starting to feel claustrophobic. I was not used to having anyone around 24/7 since Jake. (Walter Neff doesn’t count.) I thought I had let go of Jake, but I was mistaken. I missed him. This realization made me want to go on a crying jag.
I needed to do some serious soul-searching, but one thing I knew was Jake and I were finished. Jake was the past.
Hunter might be the future. He was a nice man with a good job. We had many interests in common. He knew which utensil to use at the table. He never wiped his nose with his sleeve. His wives lived on another continent. He had no children, which was a huge plus for me. You know how I feel about children. My standby retort about kids was the old W. C. Fields joke about how he liked children. He answered–parboiled.
So what was the problem?
39
Baby and I were spending nights at the Big House while Hunter was away.
In the mornings, Bess was kind enough to fix breakfast before I went back to the Butterfly. They didn’t need me underfoot during the day.
And Lady Elsmere was kind enough to rise each morning before her usual time to join me.
“Would you quit feeding that mongrel from the table?” admonished June.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“I’m old, not blind.” She pointed a diamond-laden claw at me. “Josiah, don’t you dare wipe Baby’s face with my napkins.”
Bess yelled from the kitchen, “Is she using the good linen on that mutt?”
She stormed in with a roll of paper towels. “Here,”
Bess said, thrusting the paper towels at me. “You sure turn this house on its ear when you come.”
“Aw, come on, Bess. You like dogs.”
“Baby’s not a dog. He’s a horse who thinks he’s a dog.”
“Baby loves you, Bess. Baby, go give Bess some sugar.”
Baby immediately rose and stood by Bess, leaning his head against her, wanting to be petted. In doing so, he smeared strawberry jam on her spotless white apron from the jam-loaded toast I had given him.