Holly Blues

by ALBERT, SUSAN WITTIG

  “Can you spare a minute, Justine?”

  “I’m in court and whether I can spare a minute depends on when Judge Paulson shows up. You got something, give it to me quick.” Justine is a speed demon and a specialist in multitasking, but even she has to stop talking and texting once the judge takes the bench. I’d better make it snappy.

  “It’s Sally.”

  “Ah, yes, the inimitable, incomparable, unrivaled, one and only Sally.” The Whiz chuckled. She has suffered with me through several unfortunate episodes in Sally’s checkered past. “What’s she done this time?”

  I was succinct. “She’s a person of interest in her sister’s homicide.”

  The Whiz whistled. “That’s a biggie, even for Sally. An elephant on steroids. So tell me about it.”

  It didn’t take long, because I was lamentably short on facts. I concluded with “She’s going to need somebody with her during the interview. When they find her, that is.” I looked at my watch. It was nearly two. Where was she?

  “You don’t need me for an interview,” the Whiz replied. “You can handle this, Hot Shot. Time you got back in the ring, anyway.”

  “I can handle it, but I won’t. Sally is Brian’s mother. I’m too close to the situation.”

  Justine snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re emotionally involved with this woman.”

  “I’m emotionally involved with Brian,” I said. “And if things don’t go well—”

  “Sally is Sally, China. Things will not go well. In fact, things will go as badly as it is possible.”

  I sighed. The Whiz has a way of putting her finger on the pulse of the problem. “That’s why she needs you, Justine. I need you. Will you?”

  Justine sounded reluctant. “My plate is heaped and overflowing right now. ‘When they find her,’ you said. Your local gendarmes haven’t nabbed her, then?”

  “I’m out of the loop. If they have, they haven’t told me. What I know is that she was supposed to meet me for lunch, and she didn’t show up. Sheila has put out an APB on Brian’s car. That’s what she’s driving.”

  “I see. Well, when they find her, phone me, and I’ll let you know whether I can take the case—if it is a case. Which of course it might not be. Maybe they just want to ask her what her sister had for breakfast. In the meantime, dig up the facts, will you? Our friend Sally is like a piñata full of nasty little surprises, bugs and worms and things that bite. I don’t want to do this if I have to jump into it naked.” She paused. “Any chance she did it, China? Knocked her sister off, I mean.”

  The word no leapt to my lips, but I bit it back. I had seen Sally act rashly, impulsively, angrily. I had hated her for it, and for the disruptions she had caused in Brian’s life. But still, I didn’t believe she had killed Leslie, for the simple reason that over the past couple of days, she had not given a single indication of sadness, guilt, remorse—any of the horrific emotions that would swamp anyone who had killed a member of her family. Would swamp even Sally, who could hold her head above the tides of guilt longer than most people.

  But I know the Whiz. I knew that she was much more likely to agree to take Sally’s case if I gave her a different answer. So I lied.

  “Yes,” I said. “Sally has an alter ego, somebody named Juanita, who sometimes does crazy things. She was diagnosed a couple of years ago.”

  “Aha,” Justine exclaimed, and I pictured her snapping her fingers and coming to full attention, all systems alert. I had punched her Intrigue Me button. “The dissociative identity disorder defense.”

  “Exactly,” I said. Justine is always three leaps and a bound ahead of any developing situation. In her mind, she was already reviewing the list of expert witnesses—psychiatrists, mental health authorities—she would call. She was already in front of the jury box, making opening arguments. “Then you’ll do it?”

  “Probably,” the Whiz said. “But right now, I gotta do this. Oh, and don’t forget about those facts, China.”

  There was a stirring in the background, and I heard the bailiff ’s distant command: “All rise.” In the old days, this was a battle cry that made me leap to my feet, my blood racing and my pulse quickening. Not anymore. I was just glad it was Justine in that courtroom, not me. I’ll settle for Thyme and Seasons, any day.

  I said, “Thanks, Justine.” But she had already clicked off.

  I sat there for a moment. While I’d been talking to the Whiz, three people had come into the shop. Customers. Not that I wasn’t glad to see them. I was, especially if they had come to buy. But I was here all by myself. Ruby was trying to manage her unmanageable mother, Cass was at the doctor’s, Laurel was unavailable. All of which meant that even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t start digging up facts for Justine. I couldn’t even think where to go or what kind of shovel to use.

  And there was more. During my life as a lawyer, I had a very simple rule. I advised potential clients that you never launched an investigation unless you know what you’re going to do with the information you dig up. If you can’t or won’t live with the answers—all the answers—forget all about asking the questions. And here I was, promising to look for answers that might not be in Sally’s best interests.

  After a flurried fifteen minutes, the shop was empty again, and I had time to think about the matter at hand: Sally. But then there was another little rush, and another, and before I knew it, an hour had flown past, dropping tidy little deposits of fives and tens and even a couple of twenties in Ruby’s register and mine. The phones in both shops hadn’t stopped ringing, either—usually, music to my ears, except that today, I had something else to worry about, and I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to get there from here. And then my phone rang again. It was Ruby.

  “I’ve just left Castle Oaks,” she said breathlessly. “I got Mom settled again and—”

  “Super,” I said. “Then you’re heading back to the shop, I hope?”

  Ruby cleared her throat apologetically. “Actually, I’m doing surveillance.”

  “Surveillance? Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear this.”

  No, wait. Whatever Nancy Drew was up to, I’d better hear it now, before she got herself into some really serious trouble and had to be bailed out.

  I gave a resigned sigh. “All right, tell me, Ruby. Who are you surveilling?”

  “Not a who, a what. Brian’s blue Ford. The one you loaned to Sally. It’s parked in the First Congregational lot, just off the alley behind McMasters Office Supply.”

  Brian’s car? Ruby had located Sally? But I had to register a protest. “I thought I told you not to go looking for—”

  “I didn’t go looking for anything. Brownie’s oath, China! I got Mom settled in her room and started back to the shop, and on the way I remembered that we’re nearly out of adding machine tape, so I stopped here at McMasters. While I was at it, I bought some folders and pens and rubber bands and talked to Peaches—you know, Peaches McMasters. Her sister just had twins, two girls, and she had to tell me all about it. They named them Zoe and Zora.”

  “I know about Peaches’ sister’s twins,” I said impatiently. “Get to the point, Ruby.”

  “Well, the point is that when I finished buying the tape and the folders and pens and rubber bands and talking to Peaches about the twins, I came back to the car. I was getting in when I just happened to glance across the alley, and there it was, on the other side of the hedge. In the First Methodist parking lot. Is, I mean. It’s still there. I’m looking right at it.”

  “How do you know it’s Brian’s car? There are lots of blue Fords around.”

  “Dented left rear? I remembered that. And here’s the license plate.” She rattled it off. It was the same one I had given Sheila. It was Brian’s car, all right. So where was Sally? Shopping?

  Ruby answered my unspoken question. “I’ve been watching for ten minutes or so, and there’s no sign of Sally. She wasn’t in McMasters, and there’s no other shopping or food places nearby. There’s nothing but residential a
round here.”

  Ruby was right about that. McMasters isn’t a mall business, it’s a local business, patronized by other local businesses. It’s about six blocks from here, off by itself. There wouldn’t be any reason for Sally to be in that area.

  “And what’s more,” Ruby went on, “the car is cold. I walked over there and touched the hood. It’s been parked there for a while, China.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Stay where you are and phone the cops. And keep out of sight, okay? If Sally comes back and sees you, she’s going to wonder what the heck is going on.”

  “I will, definitely.” In a lower voice she added, “Does Sally know that Leslie’s been murdered?”

  “Not unless she did it herself,” I said.

  “Weeeellll . . .” Ruby dragged out the word.

  “She didn’t,” I said firmly. “She could not have murdered her sister and then sat at our dinner table with the kids and McQuaid and me without giving us some sort of clue. It’s just not possible, Ruby.” As a former criminal attorney, I’ve seen my share of killers, some of them pretty cool characters. Sally was an accomplished liar, and she had already fooled me once. But I didn’t think she was capable of killing someone—especially her sister—and then acting normally afterward.

  “Mmmm,” Ruby replied in a thoughtful tone. “Well, maybe it was Juanita.”

  I closed my eyes. Juanita. I didn’t want to think about Juanita.

  “In which case Sally would have been there,” Ruby was saying, “but she might not know what happened. That’s why she could act normal, sort of.” She paused. “As normal as Sally ever acts. Remember what they call it? Dissociative identity disorder? It means that you dissociate. And when you dissociate, you might as well not be there, because you don’t remember.”

  I opened my eyes again. “If the case goes to trial, which it won’t, that will likely be the defense.” Insanity is a very hard row to hoe in Texas. It’s the defense attorney’s last resort, when nothing else will work. “But I still don’t believe it,” I added stubbornly. “I can’t believe that the Lake City police have anything concrete against her.”

  “That’s because you have a defense attorney’s mind-set. You’re used to rooting for the underdog.”

  “It is not,” I snapped. “I don’t believe it because . . . because I don’t believe it,” I finished lamely.

  Ruby didn’t respond to that, for which I was grateful. “When is McQuaid coming home?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow. He’s on his way to Sanders right now.”

  “Sanders? Where’s that?”

  “Kansas. Sally’s hometown.”

  “For pete’s sake.” She was surprised. “Why?”

  “Because Sally asked him to, and I thought it was a good idea.” I didn’t want to go into the whole story just now. It was too complicated. “He wants me to spend the night with you. And Sally, too—if she’s not in custody. In case Myers decides to show up at our house.”

  “Works for me. You know you’re always welcome. Both of you—although Sally has to promise to send Juanita somewhere else.”

  “Thanks.” The bell over Ruby’s door jangled. “Listen, Ruby, I’ve got to hang up now and check out a customer in your shop. Phone the police about that car right now. Okay?”

  I went next door and sold Ruby’s customer two books on astrology, a folder of blank birth charts, and a Capricorn T-shirt. After that, I came back and waited on two customers of my own, which took a little time, because they wanted to find out about natural dyes, a fairly complex subject. I discouraged them from buying dried herbs, since from my experience, it’s much better to work with fresh material you can grow or gather. I also suggested that if they wanted to try some easy vegetable dyes, they might experiment with onion skins and tea leaves for beige, coffee grounds for brown, red cabbage leaves for blue and purple, carrot tops and spinach leaves for green. Oh, and turmeric, a spice that makes a vibrant orange. They bought a book—A Dyer’s Garden, by Rita Buchanan—that will help them decide what to plant in the spring garden, and left happy.

  By this time, I was seriously worried about Sally. I tried calling her cell again, but there was no answer. I didn’t bother leaving a message—I’d already left several, and none had been returned. I called the police department, but all they would tell me was that she hadn’t been located yet.

  Ruby returned a half hour later, bubbling over with excitement about her surveillance adventure.

  “Sheila has assigned somebody to stake out Brian’s car,” she said. “They’re hoping Sally will come back to get it. Then they’ll take her into custody.”

  I frowned. I was wondering whether Sally had deliberately left the car there. The church is on a quiet street, in a quiet neighborhood, and that blue Ford hardly calls attention to itself. If she wanted to stash it there, it might not be noticed for a couple of weeks.

  Of course, there was another possibility, one that I didn’t much like to think about. Maybe Jess Myers had spotted Sally and grabbed her—assuming that their relationship was adversarial. Or (assuming that it was collaborative) she had gotten in touch with him, and the two of them had gone off together somewhere. Either way, now that I knew about Leslie’s death, finding Myers seemed every bit as urgent as finding Sally, perhaps even more.

  Ruby was apparently thinking along the same lines. “How was Leslie killed, China?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “Sheila either doesn’t know the facts or has decided that I’m too close to Sally, so I’m not to be trusted with them. And without the facts, I have no idea whether the Lake City police have even a shred of a case against Sally. Maybe she was in Lake City before she came here. Maybe they just want to talk to her. Anyway, I called Justine Wyzinski.”

  “Oh, good,” Ruby exclaimed. She’s a fan of the Whiz. “I was just about to suggest that. Will she help?”

  “She’s agreed to consider taking the case—if there is one—and she’ll sit in on Sally’s interview. But she’s asked me to ‘dig up the facts,’ as she put it, so she doesn’t have to jump into the interview ‘naked.’ ” I chuckled. “I know she meant it metaphorically, but still, it’s an interesting thought.”

  Ruby snickered at the idea of Justine—who is short, shaped like a fireplug, and twenty pounds overweight—jumping into an interview stark naked. Then she frowned.

  “Dig up the facts,” she said thoughtfully, tilting her head to one side. “Maybe we should—” She paused, tapping her long, scarlet-painted fingernail against her teeth. “Lake City,” she mused. “I know that town. It’s a cute little place. Shannon taught there for two semesters a couple of years ago.” Shannon is Ruby’s younger daughter. She teaches high school girls’ phys ed and coaches girls’ basketball and track. “It’s not much more than an hour and a half from here, depending on the traffic. Maybe we should—”

  “Ruby,” I said warningly.

  She didn’t pay any attention. “I think you and I should drive up there and do our own investigation.” She paused, her eyes seemed to glaze just slightly, and an intent, listening look came over her face. I knew that look. It signals that she’s got a hunch—one of those skyrocket bursts of intuition that Ruby gets every now and then, and always insists on acting upon, for better or worse.

  “No, Ruby, no,” I said. “You don’t go jumping into an investigation without some idea of what you’re going to—”

  “Yes, China, yes.” She looked at her watch. “If we leave now, we can be there by six.”

  “We are not going to Lake City,” I said firmly. “For one thing, there’s the kids. They’ll be home from school in an hour. I need to fix supper and—” I stopped, remembering.

  Ruby said it for me. “Not tonight, you don’t. Caitlin is staying with Amy and Brian is sleeping over with a friend. You’ve already made the arrangements. It’s all set.”

  I backed up and regrouped. “Well, then, what about Sally? We can’t just go off and leave her to—”

  “Of course we can.
For one thing, we have no idea where she is. For all we know, she could have ditched Brian’s car and caught a bus to San Antonio or Houston or El Paso. Or maybe she and her stalker connected and they’re taking a lovers’ holiday—or something. For another, if she walked in the door right now, you would call the police, and Sheila would come and take her off to the hoosegow.” She eyed me. “Wouldn’t you?”

  I sighed. Fair point. I’m no longer in practice, but I’m still a member of the bar and an officer of the court. Which means that if I don’t stay on the right side of the law, I risk losing my privileges. And anyway, I had already decided that Sally in custody is safer than Sally on the street. Ruby was right. I’d call Sheila.

  “But what do we do about the shops?” I asked. “Cass isn’t available, and Laurel’s out of town. We’d have to close early.”

  “So what’s wrong with that?” Ruby replied. “It’s after three o’clock. We’d be shutting up shop in a couple of hours, anyway. Let’s just put up the Closed sign and be on our way—or you could add ‘Family Emergency, ’ if you want to include an explanation. Sally is family, sort of, and this is definitely an emergency.” She looked at me, straight and hard. “Something is telling me that we should do this, China.”

  I shook my head. But after a number of years hanging around with Ruby, I have learned to honor her hunches. And I definitely wanted to find out what had happened to Leslie, although that might be easier said than done. As far as the Lake City police were concerned, we had no authority whatever. They wouldn’t give us the time of day, let alone hand out information about a homicide that was under investigation.

  Still, it was worth a shot. I wasn’t going to get any information for the Whiz hanging around Pecan Springs. And Ruby was right. It wouldn’t kill us to close the shops early for once. Lake City wasn’t that far. And the kids were settled for the night.

  “Okay, we’ll go,” I agreed reluctantly. “But I’ll need to let Justine know. She can contact the Pecan Springs police and have them telephone her directly when they pick Sally up.” If they picked her up. As the afternoon wore on, that if was looming larger and larger.