by Ann B. Ross
“Hazel Marie, he must be as old as the hills.”
“Well, he doesn’t look it on those shows. Trixie is entranced with him. And you know what? He doesn’t look a thing like Rodney. So I hope she’s over him for good, and think of this: it doesn’t matter how old that actor is, she sure can’t get into trouble with him.”
That was true, so I decided that a crush on the image of a screen idol, regardless of his age, was healthier for Trixie than the adulation she’d heaped upon Rodney Pace. Besides, I could hardly fault her for being smitten—Magnum, P.I. had certainly been a fine-looking man.
Chapter 44
“Miss Julia,” Lillian said as she stood in the door of the library. I had just hung up the phone after speaking with Hazel Marie and had turned to watch Latisha as she rummaged through the myriad doll outfits tumbling out of her tiny suitcase and strewn across the floor, almost covering the yellow plastic sack next to her knee.
“Come in, Lillian. This child has dressed and undressed her doll so many times, it’s a wonder it’s still in one piece.”
“No’m, we got to go. I fixed some barbecue, so all you got to do is heat it up and put it on a bun, an’ they’s coleslaw in the Frigidaire. You prob’bly didn’t hear her, but Ida Lee just run over to tell me Miz Abernathy gettin’ mighty low. They want me to come sit with her.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Of course you must go, but what about Latisha? She doesn’t need to be there.”
Latisha’s head swung from me to Lillian. “That’s right, Great-Granny, I be better off here, ’cause I don’t wanta go where somebody sick. Everybody keep tellin’ me to hush up an’ be quiet.”
“Latisha,” Lillian admonished her, then to me, “I’ll have to take her. The lady what keep a few chil’ren in the summer, she gone off to celebrate.”
“Then leave her with me,” I said.
Latisha instantly perked up. “Okay, that work out real good. You go on, Great-Granny, an’ leave me here. Me’n Miss Lady, we get along jus’ fine.”
“Law, Miss Julia,” Lillian said with a slight roll of her eyes. “I can’t do that. She run you ragged an’ talk you to death.”
“No,” I said firmly, ”she needs somebody to stay with and I need some company. And you don’t need the worry. You’ll have your hands full, looking after the Abernathys. So you go on and do what you have to do. In fact, it’d be easier for Latisha to stay the night with us. Would you like that, Latisha?”
“I sure would,” she said, “an’ if Lloyd would come on home, I’d like it even better.”
“I’m not sure he’ll be staying here tonight,” I told her. “He’s with Mr. Sam, and they’ll be late getting in anyway. But we can meet them at the park and watch the fireworks. How would that be?”
“It be jus’ fine.” Then turning a frowning look on Lillian, she said, “If Great-Granny don’t get all huffed up an’ say I can’t.”
Lillian’s eyes definitely rolled then. “I don’t think you know what you lettin’ yourself in for, Miss Julia, but it be mighty good not to have to take her to the reverend’s house. No tellin’ what goin’ on over there, with people comin’ an’ goin’, some of ’em prayin’, an’ some singin’, an’ lots of ’em cryin’.”
“It’s settled then,” I said. “Don’t give it another thought. Latisha and I will play dolls for a while and have supper. Then we’ll go to the park and be back here for the night.”
Lillian hesitated, a skeptical look on her face, but she knew as well as I that a house with a desperately ill person in it was no place for a child. Especially Latisha.
“I guess that be better,” Lillian finally conceded, although it seemed to take some effort. But Lillian was between a rock and a hard place, feeling torn between two responsibilities. I was glad to be able to help her for a change. Besides, Latisha was good company.
Lillian sighed and said, “I sure do thank you, Miss Julia. I jus’ hope she don’t wear you out. Latisha, you mind Miss Julia now, you hear?”
So engrossed with wardrobe selections, Latisha didn’t even glance at her. “I see you later, Great-Granny,” she said, then stripped her doll naked again.
After an hour or so of Latisha dressing her doll in various outfits, telling me that one dress meant the doll was going grocery shopping, another meant she had a date, and another meant she was going to school to learn something if she paid attention to the teacher. Thoroughly entertained by Latisha’s imagination, I almost let the supper hour slip by.
“Let’s have some barbecue,” I said, getting to my feet. “You want to put all these clothes in your suitcase? I’ll help you fold them.”
“That’s all right,” Latisha said, speaking as if I were across the room instead of seated next to her. “She pretty messy, so all I got to do is throw ’em in. She won’t care.”
I heated the barbecue and spooned it onto warm buns, then put the coleslaw, pickles, and potato chips on the table.
“Well, Latisha,” I said, scooting her chair closer to the table, then taking my own. “It doesn’t feel like the Fourth of July with everybody gone, but having barbecue reminds us, doesn’t it?”
“It would,” she said, “if we had us a big ole watermelon and a churn of peach ice cream to go with it.”
“Next year we’ll plan to have all that, and maybe the weather’ll be better and we can eat outside. Won’t that be nice?”
“I’d ruther eat in the house, if it’s all the same to you. Too many ants and yellow jackets buzzin’ ’round outside to suit me.”
“You have a point,” I agreed. “You want another barbecue sandwich?”
“I guess I better,” she said. “I might get hungry if I don’t.”
As I prepared another sandwich and poured more tea, I sighed at the thought of going out in the drizzle to watch the fireworks. I wondered if Latisha would be as happy as I would be to stay inside and listen to the explosions from a distance.
Doubtful, I knew, for she’d mentioned the fireworks display several times during the afternoon. Perhaps I could find a place to park where we could watch and stay dry at the same time.
By the time we completed our meal with slices of fresh pound cake, topped with ice cream and chocolate syrup, I was getting concerned about Latisha’s capacity. When she told me she was about to throw up, I suggested she go lie down on the sofa while I straightened the kitchen.
“I’m not really ’bout to throw up,” she said, her dark eyes sparkling. “I just can’t eat no more, an’ that’s what I tell Great-Granny when she tell me to clean my plate.”
“Oh, Latisha, you’re such a tease. Here I was about to call the doctor.”
“I don’t need no doctor. All he say is give that chile a dose of castor oil, an’ I can do without that.”
I leaned against the sink and laughed. “You and me! I didn’t know they still gave castor oil. If you’ve finished, bring your dessert plate over here, please.”
She did and watched as I stacked our dishes in the dishwasher. “What’re we gonna do now?” she asked.
“Well, let me think,” I said, drying my hands. “It’s almost six-thirty, so we have at least two hours before going to see the fireworks. But, I declare, Latisha, it sure looks wet out there. You sure you want to go out in it?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m real sure. I been waitin’ all year to see them fireworks, so I don’t aim to miss ’em jus’ ’cause it’s rainin’. A little rain won’t hurt us, an’ I got my raincoat an’ my rainboots, ’cause Great-Granny’s corns was hurtin’ this morning so she tell me to bring ’em.”
“I guess we better go upstairs and find my rain gear then.” And so we did, and as we reached the bottom of the stairs on our way back, the telephone rang.
“Oh, that may be Sam,” I said, my heart quickening as it always did at any word from him. “They may already be at the park. Just put that old
hat on the table there.”
I picked up the phone, answered it, and heard Etta Mae Wiggins. “Miss Julia,” she said, gasping for breath. “He’s back!”
“Who? You mean Rodney? What’s he doing now?”
“That’s the thing—I don’t know!” Then her words came tumbling out. “He hasn’t been up here where we are at all, and I wouldn’t’ve known he was anywhere around if I hadn’t come home the back way and just happened to see tire tracks through the weeds going into the woods.”
“Where was this?” I interrupted, trying to picture how any car could jump the ditch that had given me so much difficulty.
“Not far from your south boundary. Has to be the railroad property—the ditch levels out there, so he could drive right in, and at first I thought somebody’d had a wreck, but there was no sign of one. Then I wondered what anybody would be doing out in the woods on the Fourth of July.” She stopped, took a deep breath, and went on. “Anyway, when I got home I started worrying about it, so I drove back down there and, going in that direction, I could see the back of a black vehicle with lots of chrome almost hidden in a thicket. It was Rodney’s car, I’m just positive. I mean, he’s had that thing out here enough times for me to recognize it. And I know an Escalade when I see one.”
“Slow down, Etta Mae, and let’s think about this. He’s having surveyors out there tomorrow, you know. He may just be walking the boundaries so he can show them where they are.” I stopped and thought for a minute. “Of course that doesn’t explain why he drove off the road and pulled into the bushes, does it? It’s a wonder he didn’t get stuck, considering the rain we’ve had. How far from my line was it parked?”
“That’s the thing, Miss Julia.” Etta Mae’s voice was suddenly calm as she gave her eyewitness account. “It was—I’d say about fifteen or twenty feet from the southwest corner of your property. When I went back out to check on what I’d seen, I recognized that blackberry patch we got tangled up in—you remember that?”
“I certainly do.”
“And here’s the main thing: with all the car tracks and trampled-down weeds where he or somebody had walked, the orange tie on the corner stake was easy to spot. It stood out like a sore thumb, but I didn’t see hide nor hair of him. I bet he hides every time a car passes.”
“Oh, Etta Mae,” I said, fatigue sweeping over me at the thought of beating the bushes for Rodney, especially through a wet blackberry patch. “I don’t know what to do. Sam’s not here, and I have Latisha with me. Maybe I ought to call the sheriff.” I paused and thought about it. “Of course Rodney could have a perfectly good explanation, then I’d have to come up with one of my own for calling the law on him. What do you think?”
She thought for a minute. “I think that all the deputies will be out at the park directing traffic. By the time a patrol car gets here, he could be gone. So it’s a matter of whether you want to know what he’s doing or not. And if you do, you’ll have to catch him at it, ’cause he won’t ever tell you. That kind never does.”
A jolt of energy slashed through me because she was right. If Rodney had wanted me to know what he was doing—if he had a good explanation for slogging around in the woods and hiding his car from passersby—he would’ve notified me before he went. Which meant that he was up to some nefarious activity having to do with obtaining my property for a state-certified graveyard.
“Etta Mae,” I said, “are you up for tromping through the woods on a rainy night?”
I could hear the grin in her voice. “Already got my boots on.”
Chapter 45
“Latisha!” I called, slamming down the phone. “Where are you?”
“Right here,” she said, standing beside me and looking up with wide eyes.
“Oh. Well, look, something’s come up and we have to go to Etta Mae’s house. I mean, her trailer.” I hesitated for a minute. Would Lillian mind my taking Latisha to visit Etta Mae? What if we happened to run into Rodney?
Well, what should I do? Drop Latisha off at the Abernathys and go on alone? Stay home and never know what Rodney was up to? Neither, I decided. I had to go, and I had to take Latisha, and I had to hope Lillian would understand.
“We should call your Great-Granny, but . . .” I pictured Lillian in the turmoil of a grieving crowd of people.
“She won’t care,” Latisha assured me. “Can I look around that trailer? I always wanted one for my own self.”
“I’m not sure we’ll have time, but, yes, of course, depending on how things go. But now let’s get your boots and raincoat on. We need to get out there in a hurry.”
It seemed to take forever for Latisha to get her yellow rubber boots on. She ended up removing her tennis shoes so her sock-clad feet could slip right in. Then, of course, she half walked out of the boots with every step she made. While she struggled into her yellow raincoat, I pulled on my green gardening boots, determined to be prepared for briars this time.
Slipping on a raincoat and a floppy rain hat, I grabbed my pocketbook and Latisha’s hand. Switching off the kitchen light, I said, “Let’s go, honey.”
“Wait!” Latisha turned and dashed toward the library. “I gotta get my sack.”
“What in the world?” I asked to the empty kitchen, thinking that it would take her a half hour to stuff the doll and all those clothes into the sack, and, for all I knew, put traveling clothes on the doll. Rodney would be long gone by the time we got there, and I might never know what he was up to until it was too late to undo it. And he was up to something or he wouldn’t have pulled that expensive car off the road and into a thicket.
“Hurry, Latisha,” I called, following her. “We have to go.”
She scampered to me, carrying the yellow plastic sack, lumpy with treasures of one kind or another. The drawstring was wrapped around her wrist for easy carrying. With the hood of the raincoat up around her face, she looked for all the world like a yellow caution light.
—
At Delmont, I took a left onto Springer Road, then a right into the Hillandale Trailer Park. I’d been tempted to drive on down to where Etta Mae said Rodney’s SUV was partially hidden off the road, but thought better of it. If he saw my car, he’d recognize it. Besides, I wanted Etta Mae with me—as a witness, if one were ever needed.
She was waiting under the awning of her single-wide and ran out to meet us when I parked. She was wearing what looked like an army surplus poncho with the hood pulled up over her head. And jeans and cowboy boots, of course.
“Hey, Miss Julia,” Etta Mae said, leaning down to the window as I lowered it. “Hey, Latisha, you look like a little yellow duck. Real cute. Miss Julia, I think we ought to walk through the woods. I know it’s a long way, but if you want to sneak up on him, that’s the best way to do it.”
“I’m thinking the same thing,” I said, even though I hated the thought of plodding through the woods in the foggy drizzle. “You have a flashlight? I only have the one here in the car.”
“Yes’m, I’ve got a little Maglite in my pocket, but I don’t think we’ll need them. It won’t be full dark for a while. Latisha,” Etta Mae said, turning toward the backseat, “you want to stay in my trailer till we get back? You can watch TV and I have some snacks for you.”
“No, ma’am, I don’t,” Latisha said, quite firmly. “If anybody’s going anywhere, I’m goin’ with ’em.”
“I think we better take her,” I said. “I’m not comfortable leaving her by herself.”
“Suits me,” Etta Mae said. “I just thought she’d rather stay where it’s dry.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Latisha said. “Rain or shine, it don’t matter.” And she unsnapped her seat belt and crawled out of the car.
“What you got in that sack?” Etta Mae asked playfully. “You bring a picnic or something?”
Latisha snorted. “I ain’t havin’ no picnic in the rain. I got my play pretties
in here, an’ I’m not leavin’ ’em. I might need ’em, an’ where would I be if they was settin’ back here in the car?”
—
After locking my pocketbook in the trunk, I turned and looked toward the forested acres we aimed to traverse, wondering again about just driving to the spot and confronting Rodney. I knew, though, that he’d have a ready-made excuse, an acceptable reason for being there, and I might never know the real one—or be able to prove it if I did.
So we wound our way between trailers, detouring around swing sets, plastic cars, and sandboxes, then entered the woods where the walking was easy on the springy pine needles that covered the ground. Easy at first, that is, for I’d kept a fair-sized area past the tree line underbrushed, so all we had to deal with was the rainwater that dripped from the trees and the rain-slick moss on the roots. Latisha led the way, although she didn’t know where we were going. But she moved out right smartly, awkwardly swinging her sack with each step.
“Where we goin’, anyway?” she called out.
“It’s a little way more,” I said, “but don’t get too far ahead. Stay where we can see you.”
It wasn’t long before we got into bushes and fairly thick undergrowth, and the going became more difficult. I thought that Latisha would start complaining, but she plowed on through, ducking and pushing aside branches as if she did it every day. We pushed past small pines and went around laurel thickets until I wasn’t sure where we were. Water streamed off all three of us, less from what was falling from the sky than from what was dripping from limbs and leaves.
“Etta Mae,” I said, “are we headed in the right direction? I’m not that good at dead reckoning.”
“We’re fine,” she said. “Every once in a while when we’re in a clear place, I can see the road.”
To be walking parallel to the road was reassuring—it’d be hard to get lost with civilization that close. But as the trees became thicker the evening grew darker. Add the rain clouds, and it began to feel as if we were out in the dead of night. Yet it could hardly be much past eight, and if the day had been clear we would’ve had light until nine, at least. Latisha had noticed that it was getting dark, too, for she put herself between Etta Mae and me, and stayed there.