by Kate Merrill
She awoke with a start, sweating and troubled. The room was too hot, and she was tangled up in the sheets. She could not get her bearings, felt she was suffocating in a lonely grave, and she feared for an unnamed baby---or child---as she listened to water cascading from a faraway waterfall above ground. She heard the child calling to her.
“Wake up, Diana!” Lissa was bouncing on her bed. Matthew had left her side. He was taking a shower one wall away, in the master bath. “Grandpa’s going to work today. Will you stay and play with me?”
Diana reared up on her elbows and thought she heard birds singing in a highland forest, but it was only Perry chirping from inside his covered cage. The parrot wanted breakfast. He was eager to start a new day and teach Lissa some brand new curse words.
“Good morning, Lissa.” Diana blinked the sleep away. “Sure, I’d love to play with you.” Slowly Diana remembered the plan. Matthew intended to visit Ginny every day. First thing in the morning, he’d stop by the jail in Statesville, then return to Mooresville to work at his store. For the foreseeable future, their babysitting roles were reversed, so it fell to Diana to care for Lissa.
“What are we gonna do?” Lissa jumped off the bed and twirled. Her antics brought Ursie into the room. Perry squawked, Ursie barked, and then Diana threw on her robe and hustled the child and dog into the kitchen.
“Let’s start with breakfast, okay?”
As Diana scrambled eggs and toasted bread, Lissa watched cartoons. Matthew rushed in, gave her a heartfelt kiss, accepted coffee to go, and then he was gone. Diana watched his shirttail flopping untucked from his jeans as he climbed into his truck.
Yet through all the confusion, Diana could not rid herself of the dream. She obsessed about Ann Melton, Tom’s married lover, about Laura Foster’s unborn child, and decided she needed to find out more about the present-day cousins, Lori and Paula. She must discover the terms of that trust fund set up by their eccentric uncle, Loveless Dula. By the time she called Lissa to the table, an idea had taken shape.
“Would you like to go out for an adventure today, Lissa?”
“What kind of adventure?”
“Maybe we can have lunch with my mother, Miss Vivian, and her friend, Mr. Linc. Do you remember them?”
“Yes, I like them, even though they’re really old. Will that yellow dog come, too?”
Diana struggled to interpret Lissa’s question. “Oh, you mean Dory the therapy dog? No, she has to stay at the building where my mother lives. I want us all to go out to a restaurant, then maybe ice cream after.”
“What restaurant?”
Diana hesitated. It was risky asking a six-year-old to choose a lunch destination. Somehow she couldn’t picture Mama and Linc agreeing to dine at McDonalds, even though Diana was paying. Still, she took the chance. “Where do you want to go?”
Lissa bit her lower lip and twisted a curl of red hair around her finger. “I want Mexican.”
Diana did a double take. “Like Taco Bell?”
The child made a face. “No, Diana, I want to go to a really nice place with pretty tables, where they bring the food right to you.”
Ah, so this child was accustomed to the finer things in life. Apparently Ginny had schooled her kid in international cuisine, and although Mooresville was not Vegas, Diana knew just the place. “That sounds good to me, Lissa, but I’ll have to call my mother and make sure they can come.”
“So what are you waiting for? Call them.”
Diana told Lissa to wait, then moved to the privacy of the master bedroom to dial Mama. Her request was a long shot at best---that Lincoln Davis would still have a file on Loveless Dula after all these years. Plus, Vivian would be surprised and suspicious of Diana’s motives in wanting to meet, let alone treat, at a nice restaurant. Hopefully Mama would be anxious to see her surrogate great granddaughter again, or perhaps be enchanted by the idea of a date with Linc. Diana figured nothing ventured, nothing gained.
She made the call.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Trust…
Diana was lucky. Mama agreed to ask Linc for the huge favor, although she grumbled a bit, saying asking a lawyer to reveal a client’s personal affairs was asking him to breach his professional ethics. Yet Mama asked, and after a morning of phone tag, the couple agreed to meet Diana and Lissa not for lunch, but for dinner.
Diana was also lucky because unlike most residents of Shady Oaks, Linc owned his own car. It was just past six when his bottle green Buick drove up and parked in the handicap space outside Monty’s Mexican Restaurant.
Diana and Lissa were waiting just inside the air- conditioned foyer. Diana watched her plucky mother whip a handicap license from her purse and hang it onto Linc’s rearview mirror. And when the elderly couple stepped inside, Diana couldn’t resist making a comment.
“Really, Mother, you’re not handicapped. Talk about a breach of ethics, what gives you the right to keep on using that tag?”
Vivian smirked. “Gets us in the best spots, doesn’t it? At my age, I think I’m entitled.”
Mama had hip surgery many years ago when the tag was first issued, and ever since, she’d been charming subsequent doctors into renewing it. Mama turned to Lissa. “How are you, young lady? Have you been waiting long?”
Lissa cocked her head. “Kinda like all day. We left a note for Grandpa that he’ll have to cook his own supper.”
“Well, it’s too bad he couldn’t join us.” Vivian gave Diana a look of disapproval. “Luckily we have Linc here to escort us.” In Mama’s world, women worth their salt seldom ventured out without male companionship.
A smiling Latino in a crisp white shirt, black trousers and string tie, led them to a quiet corner booth far removed from the mariachi music being piped in near the bar. The charming restaurant had a colorful yellow and cobalt blue tiled floor, comfy dark wooden booths, and festive lanterns hung around the interior. Better than that, Diana knew they also had a menu to die for.
Even their group’s resident connoisseur was impressed. “Nice place,” Lissa pronounced. “I hope they make a good chicken quesadilla.”
The adults laughed.
“I promise they do, but first let’s order drinks,” Diana suggested. Linc chose bourbon and branch, Mama white zinfandel, Lissa a cola, while Diana splurged on the killer lime Margarita with salt on the rim. She’d called for the balance on her credit card before they left, so she figured she could afford one big gesture before maxing out.
They enjoyed small talk during the meal. Diana and Mama pigged out on El Combo--- which included one each of chalupa, chille relleno, enchilada, taco, burrito, plus rice and beans. Lissa got her chicken quesadilla, then fried ice cream for dessert, while Linc asked for Mole Poblamo, a house specialty of chicken breast cooked in a dark sauce made with dry peppers, chocolate, and spices---served with beans, rice, and flour tortillas.
Needless to say, by the time they folded their napkins, everyone but Lissa was groaning like overstuffed Thanksgiving turkeys. Mama took an acid reducer tablet, then made a proposition to Lissa.
“Lord, I need to walk this off. Lissa, do you want to visit the pet store next door with me?”
“Oh, yes please!” The child jumped to her feet.
“Don’t buy anything alive,” Diana cautioned.
“Not even one goldfish?”
“Not today. Why don’t you make a new nametag for Ursie? They have one of those machines there.”
That suggestion met with approval, so Mama and Lissa left on a mission, leaving Diana and Linc facing one another across the table. The waiter cleared away the dishes, and they ordered coffee.
“Thanks for meeting me like this,” Diana began.
“The pleasure is mine.” Linc patted his tummy, then brought a small notebook from the breast pocket of his summer shirt. “Please understand, I would not be free to reveal this information without permission, which fortunately, has been granted.”
“I understand. Thank you.” Diana felt awkward, but she a
ppreciated Linc’s direct approach to her request for details regarding the Loveless Fowler Trust. Over dinner she’d come to like her mother’s gentleman friend even more, both his easy humor and his dapper style. She hoped Mama considered him “a keeper.”
“I keep all my old files on CD, you see, and they were in storage with my other possessions. I had to visit the storage facility to retrieve them, and then I had to consult with Paula Dula’s current attorney to ascertain the status of that trust.” Linc paused to sample the strong coffee.
Diana licked a few grains of salt from her Margarita glass, feeling more indebted than ever. “Who is her attorney?”
Linc chuckled. “Young fella named Mecklin Adams. Everyone calls him Geek. He is a contemporary of Paula Dula and her deceased cousin, Lori, so the two hired him after I retired, and naturally I gave him copies of my files.”
“Yes, I’ve seen Geek in action. He represented Trevor Dula at his arraignment.”
“That’s true, and now Geek represents Ginny Troutman, would you believe? All these young folks know each other, and from what I hear, she asked her father to hire Geek just this morning. So you see, my young lawyer friend has more than one horse in this race.”
Well, that was certainly a news flash. Diana gulped what was left of her Margarita. “Small world,” she said.
“Indeed. Geek explained that after Lori’s death two weeks ago, old Love’s trust was automatically dispersed in its entirety to Paula Dula. So that information is now part of the public record, nothing secret about it.”
Diana nodded. “So how rich is Paula?”
He glanced at the ceiling, where white fiesta lights twinkled against a midnight blue background. “Love’s trust has accrued interest all these years, and Miss Paula has received upwards of ten million dollars.”
Diana gasped. “No wonder she offered to post Trevor’s bail. No wonder she can afford a mini mansion at Lakeview Estates.”
Linc shrugged. “You could have discovered what I just told you on your own, Diana, but you asked me for the terms of Love’s trust. After reviewing the CD, I remembered how very odd those terms were…”
The attentive waiter topped off Linc’s coffee, then faded away. Diana’s brain raced with questions. Had Paula ever told her husband, Maynard, that she was a wealthy woman? “What if Lori had not been murdered?” she asked aloud as those questions took on a more sinister aspect.
“In that case, the girls would have split the fortune---provided Love’s conditions had been met. As I told you before, Diana, Loveless was a lonely bachelor with no offspring, and he adored little kids. So in order to inherit, he insisted that both nieces must be married, and their goal was to have children.”
Diana was stunned. She took her first sip of coffee and allowed the caffeine to jolt her system before responding. “Those terms are ridiculous. It’s like the old man required his beloved nieces to mate and breed on demand. Was he living in the Dark Ages?”
Linc laughed. “I know. It’s awful, isn’t it? I thought at the time that Love was a tyrant. He treated those girls like prime racehorses. He insisted they find a stud, then drop little prize-winning foals.”
“Nobody told him about women’s lib.” As Diana reviewed the facts, she noted that Paula had fulfilled part of the bargain. She had married Maynard, but according to Ginny, the couple had thus far been unable to have babies. Lori was about to marry Trevor, but as far as babies were concerned… “Linc, what would have happened if neither Paula nor Lori produced children?”
“Then, provided both were married, they’d split the money fifty/fifty.”
“What if both were married, but only one had birthed offspring?”
“Then the niece with children would receive the lion’s share, while the childless one would get only a pittance to supplement her social security.”
“So it was all about babies. The man was diabolical.” Diana’s mind continued to race as Mama and Lissa returned. Lissa was holding a big box that contained a hell of a lot more than a dog tag.
Old Loveless’ trust seemed like a recipe for murder---pitting the two cousins against one another in a high-stakes contest. Blackmail for babies. As Diana remembered the disturbing dream she’d had that morning, she considered Tom Dooley’s Laura, pregnant with child---murdered. “My God, Linc, do you think Lori was pregnant when she was murdered?”
The proper gentleman blushed again. “My dear, I can help you with many things, but not that. Was Lori pregnant? I have no clue.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
The direct approach…
The question festered all week, but Diana did not know how to get a definitive answer. She hated to burden Matthew with her suspicion that Lori Fowler was pregnant when she died, because he had sunken neck deep in the quicksand of his own worries. Ginny’s lawyer, Geek Adams, had forewarned Matthew to be prepared to pay a sizeable bail, should the judge be inclined to release Ginny. Because Matthew didn’t have enough in savings to pay the estimated amount in cash, he was investigating how long it would take to refinance his house. He was also talking to a bail bondsman, because he didn’t want Ginny to stay in jail one minute longer than necessary.
Poor Matthew was under siege from every direction. His convenience store/garage was suffering from the economic downturn, so he was playing catch up at work, trying to pay bills and make ends meet. His early morning meetings with Ginny in prison were brief and depressing. Her spirits had sunken to the bottom of the gutter, and Matthew had confided to Diana that although he was absolutely convinced of his daughter’s innocence, he was equally certain Ginny was holding something back. He described it as a black shadow in Ginny’s heart, said she was suffering from a lie of omission, but Diana couldn’t fathom what Matthew meant by that.
By bedtime, Matthew was unable or unwilling to make love, but Diana didn’t take it personally. Instead they cuddled, often sleeping very little, each lost in his or her own obsessions, until the dawn birds chirped and they faced another day.
Only Lissa seemed blissfully unaffected by the adult angst, and thanks to the gift Vivian had bought her at the pet shop, Lissa remained distracted from the fact that Ginny was missing. When she asked about her mother, Diana followed Matthew’s instructions and continued to tell the child that her mama was staying with friends, but she’d be home soon.
By Thursday afternoon, Diana was at wit’s end when Lissa called her to see the new aquarium for the umpteenth time. “Look, my fish are kissing.”
Sure enough, the matched goldfish were bumping noses as they fluttered in place above the multi-colored coral. Diana specifically recalled telling Lissa that night when she went to the pet store with Mama not to buy anything alive, not even one goldfish. So Lissa had purchased two, with Mama’s approval. Mama delighted in undermining Diana’s authority, and had returned to the restaurant looking smug after spending a small portion of her social security check on the two fish, a classic glass bowl, the interior accoutrements---including a plastic mermaid--- and of course, that awful-smelling fish food.
“Do you think they’re in love?” Lissa wondered.
“Maybe.”
“Will they have baby fish?”
“I doubt it.”
Lissa was disappointed. “Then maybe we can buy a turtle to keep them company?”
Diana sighed. “No need to buy a turtle, Lissa, when you can catch one out there in the lake.”
“Honest?”
She told Lissa about the willow oak at the edge of Matthew’s waterfront, how turtles sometimes sunbathed on the rocks underneath. Diana led the child to the boathouse and handed her Matthew’s fish net. “Now remember, hold the net just under water, below the turtle’s head, so when it jumps off, it’ll land right in.”
“But I don’t see any turtles.”
“Be patient. Sit really still, and they’ll come.”
Diana saw the child was skeptical. “Good luck!” she called as she walked away.
Once settled on the couch, where
she could keep her eye on the girl, Diana realized she was alone for the first time all day. So she began brooding again. She could call Trevor Dula and ask him point blank if his fiancée had been pregnant when she died, but she didn’t know him well enough. She had almost concluded that Paula Dula had killed Lori to prevent her from delivering a baby. Or maybe killing Lori worked no matter what? If Lori died, would Paula inherit everything even though she’d never birthed a child? It was the one scenario Linc never mentioned.
She watched as little Lissa crouched under the willow and lowered the big net into the lake. Matthew always said there were many ways to catch a fish, but Diana preferred the direct approach. She picked up the phone and dialed Wayne Bearfoot, who answered the third ring. When she expressed her theory and popped the big question, her old friend just laughed.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Diana, but the autopsy stated that Lori was no more pregnant than I am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve never been pregnant, just ask my wife. And neither was the unfortunate Lori Fowler.”
TWENTY-NINE
Liz…
Liz tried to snuggle closer to Danny, who was driving his truck, but Amazing Grace kept nosing her way in between them. The greyhound was determined to lick Danny’s new stubble of a beard and leave scratches on Liz’s bare legs. They could have chosen Liz’s Honda, but Danny insisted he didn’t want to take their romantic vacation in what he described as her “real estate mobile.” So they compromised. If Danny agreed to leave Gracie behind with Diana for one short week, they’d travel in the truck. It helped that the campground they’d booked in Asheville did not accept pets exceeding fifty pounds, and since they’d been spoiling Gracie and she was getting fat, she’d tipped the scales too high.
Liz was grateful when they finally parked in Trout’s driveway and let the beast loose. Gracie had not yet visited the lake, and when she bounded out the door and landed in the lawn, she was suddenly nose- to- nose with a suspicious canine stranger. Ursie approached slowly, her front lip ominously lifted to expose her frightening fangs.