by Kate Young
Her mouth was moving, but I heard nothing. Her hair appeared to sizzle with electricity. “Get down!” she shouted.
A force slammed me to the hard floor. A loud popping echoed. Flashes of light lit up the basement. Shards of glass exploded from the old lamps and framed images. I laid there, in the darkness, waiting to feel the penetration of a bullet.
“Run!” Mama shouted in my ear. With my phone and the torn piece of certificate clutched in my hand, I shot up the stairs, the small light from my phone my only guide. More shots whizzed past me. I felt the air disturbances as the bullets sliced through dead space.
My legs were jelly. My arms and face tingled. I slipped on the papers on the floor of the living room and went down hard. The side of my head hit the tile with a thud. Stars exploded across my vision.
“Get up!” Mama shouted. “Marygene! Get yourself up!”
With as much force as I could muster, I pushed myself upright and scrambled to my feet. When I reached the front porch steps, I didn’t take precautions and survey the area for the shooter. Mama was at my ear shouting for me to go, go, go! I raced down the stairs.
The car door flung open just before I reached it. I felt no relief as I peeled out of the driveway, driving faster than was safe.
“Oh God, Mama,” I said, but the car was empty. “What on earth have I stumbled onto?”
My vision was a bit blurry as I drove. I kept blinking to clear the spots. I’d be okay if I could just get home. I would be okay.
I talked to Mama the whole way. It didn’t matter if she could hear me or not. I told her everything. All about my life, about how horrible Peter had been. All my theories on the investigation.
Relief hit when the old place came into view.
Once home, I barricaded myself inside. I checked all the windows to make sure they were locked. In the darkness of my living room, a thought occurred to me.
Thank God Mama had been there or I might not be here.
“Thank you, Mama,” I whispered in the darkness.
Chapter 24
That night I slept with Mama’s old revolver on my bedside table, not that I had managed more than a few interrupted hours of slumber. I had considered calling Calhoun, since it was his influence that spurred me on, but then I decided against it. He would feel obligated to rush back here, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Sure, he would be willing to help me dig, but his feelings for me complicated matters. If I told Alex, he would tell Eddie. Not to mention how angry he would be about Calhoun. Another complication. I called Betsy instead.
“What in God’s name were you thinking, Marygene?” Betsy shouted at me. “You could have been killed. At least your spook mama is good for somethin’.”
Betsy was the only person on the planet I would confide in with that tidbit about Mama. Betsy had huffed and puffed but, in the end, she was curious about what I had found. I had to insist she wait until morning to come over and promised to add the incident to our board.
I was worn out and needed to try and get some sleep. It had been her urging that sent me rummaging through the closet to find the revolver. It certainly wasn’t a surprise to hear a car pull up as I moved a sheet pan of biscuits from the oven to the counter the next morning. I had taken solace in rolling out the buttermilk dough and making a giant skillet of sausage gravy.
The melted butter sat next to the pan, my pastry brush poised and ready to apply it. There was a knock at the back door.
“Coming!” I placed the brush in the dish. With the hand towel slung over my shoulder, I swung the door open.
Betsy was standing there with a guilty expression on her face. Before I could inquire, I spied Alex, dressed in his uniform, stalking up on the porch, fuming mad. I swear I could almost see the steam emitting from his ears.
“Betsy!” I could have pummeled her with my fists.
In response, Betsy slammed her plus-sized figure against me and squeezed me for all she was worth. “Don’t be mad. I was scared to death for you.” A couple of seconds later, she said, “Oh, biscuits and gravy,” and released me.
“I haven’t buttered them yet.” I tried to avoid Alex’s gaze. Those eyes piercing me the way they were now always forced my heart into dangerous arrhythmic patterns.
“I’ll help. That’s what I’m here for.” Betsy went toward the stove.
Alex wasn’t much taller than me, but since he outweighed me by a hundred pounds, he was slightly imposing. Especially with all the rage rolling off him.
“What were you doing at the Ledbetter place?” His tone was low. “Other than breaking and entering, that is.”
“I didn’t break in. The door was open.” I moved aside to let him enter. “You didn’t tell Eddie, did you?”
“No. Not yet.” This wasn’t a side of him I enjoyed.
My eyes stung with fatigue. God, I was so tired. “Listen, I just needed to see for myself if there was anything to what Mr. Ledbetter gave me. And,” I paused as he closed the screen door, “it turns out there was.” I informed him of everything I found in the basement. The files with numerical sequences, like what the old man had shoved into my hand. How the place had been tossed and, from his expression, I was certain it hadn’t been the handiwork of the Peach Cove Sheriff’s Department.
He gripped my shoulders with both hands, his fingers digging in. “You still shouldn’t have gone there.” He gave my shoulders a little shake. “You aren’t authorized to investigate anything. You could have been killed!”
“Get off me!” I shoved against his chest. “What’s wrong with you?”
He dropped his hands and stepped back, his chest heaving with emotion. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I am an officer of the law. If the incident was reported, I could be forced to arrest you.”
“I doubt the person firing at me will report anything. They’d have way too much to explain.”
“She has a point there,” Betsy said around a giant mouthful of biscuit and gravy. “And Alex cares about you, Marygene. He’s just too stubborn to admit his feelings for you.”
Alex and I both whirled on her.
“Marygene has the hots for you too. But she’s just as bullheaded as you are.”
If looks could kill, she would be dead.
“Don’t mind me.” She refilled her plate. “Just pretend I’m not even here. You two have got a lot to work out.”
“Betsy, give us a minute,” Alex said.
“No, you don’t have to. We’re through,” I said.
“Betsy, go,” he said and she started toward the living room, plate in hand.
“Betsy, stay,” I said and she stopped mid-stride. I had no intention of complicating my life further.
Alex felt he had the right to impose his will on me. Sure, there were unresolved feelings between us. That was obvious to both of us. It just wasn’t the time. I moved to the hutch, where Mama’s knickknacks were kept, opened the drawer, and extracted the partial certificate.
“Since you’re both here, you might as well have a look at this.” I placed it on the table.
The three of us crowded around, trying to make out what we were seeing.
“That’s a birth certificate all right,” Betsy said.
I pointed to the mother’s name. We could only make out the first two letters. An H and what appeared to be either an e or o.
“This is all you have?” Alex asked incredulously. “It could belong to anyone.”
“If you ask me, it is puzzlin’ that old man Ledbetter had those records,” Betsy said, her mouth slap full.
“I thought so too. I figured we could go down to the courthouse and see if we can match it with a birth certificate on file. It shouldn’t be that difficult to narrow down the mother on the certificate and find out if Ledbetter was named as the father,” I said.
“That’s a good idea, Marygene.” Betsy patted my shoulder. “If we can find out if the old codger had another son, we’ll finally be gettin’ somewhere.”
“Oh, yeah, grea
t idea,” Alex folded his arms. “There’s only a few problems with that.”
Betsy and I waited.
“For one, birth certificates aren’t public records, and we would need a warrant to access the records. We have absolutely no cause to gain one nor do we have an idea who this belongs to. Two, say we we’re able to obtain a warrant, this piece of so-called evidence would be inadmissible because it was obtained by illegal means. Three, not everyone claims paternity of their offspring. And four, say we got lucky and he had signed off on said kid, you would have to go on record, admitting to a crime. They might even call the detective back to investigate further.”
“Calhoun believes Detective Thornton is dirty,” I said thinking out loud. “Perhaps he took the file.”
Alex shouted, “You’ve been keeping in touch with the reporter?”
“He came by the diner the other day. And that reminds me, you told me he was a by-the-book detective. Calhoun has evidence to the contrary.”
He squared his shoulders and faced me head-on. Betsy was pushed out of the middle.
“What are you implying?” he spat.
“Hey, y’all,” Betsy interjected.
“I’m not implying anything. I just want to know if you still think Detective Thornton is a pristine detective.”
“Do you always believe everything people tell you?” Alex’s jaw clenched.
“No.” I bared my teeth.
If he wanted a fight, he’d certainly get one!
He took a step closer to me. “You believe the reporter?”
I jerked my head.
His neck was corded and his arms tensed. Boy, was he angry. “Some asshole floats into town with tall tales, dangling bait in front of your pretty little face, and you just bite? You’ve known him for two seconds. Me, you’ve known your whole damn life.”
“Um . . . y’all,” Betsy said louder.
“Where is all this anger coming from?” I shrieked. “Somebody is going around murdering people. And since the department had to march to the tune of a crooked cop, I felt I had to do something.”
That was a grave allegation I honestly didn’t believe. He had ruffled my feathers and I was lashing out.
“And your keen investigative skills led you to believe I was dirty? Perhaps you think I’m the one going around killing people?” His voice teetered on unhinged.
“Don’t be stupid,” I said, more calmly.
He felt patronized, that was beyond obvious. Guilt washed over me like a tidal wave and I was searching for the appropriate words to apologize effectively, when he said, “What’s with you and older men? Daddy issues?”
I gasped. “How dare you?”
That was the ugliest thing he could have ever said in this moment. And he’d said it.
His facial expression changed, and he took a step forward. I took one backward.
Eddie’s commanding voice boomed, “Enough.”
“I tried to warn y’all,” Betsy said softly.
Chapter 25
Eddie wasn’t happy with any of us. Alex had to start his shift, so he got off easy. He’d been dismissed with a deep growl and a sharp glare that promised a major chewing-out was in his future. His “daddy issues” comment would cost him. Betsy had tried to leave with him, but I had a vise grip on her arm. She’d reluctantly sat down at the kitchen table next to me.
The clicking sound my nails made against my blush nail polish bottle drew Eddie’s attention.
He closed his large fist over my hands as he sat. “Tell me in detail what happened and what you saw at the Ledbetter place.”
What I hadn’t realized until this moment was that he wasn’t angry because I had made an impulsive decision that could have ended my life. He was terrified that I had.
My knees wouldn’t stay still as I rested my hands in my lap. “It all happened so fast. I was in the basement searching through the filing cabinet. One minute I was reading a file and the next shots were being fired. I hit the floor and waited. When the firing ceased, I took off up the stairs.” I took in a shaky breath. “I felt a bullet slice through the air beside my head.”
His jaw tightened and he glanced away, his hands clenching and releasing as if he was having a one-man battle. The next words he uttered came out softer and more controlled. “When you were on the floor, did you hear anything. Footsteps, a window creaking open?”
“Actually,” I thought, “I heard glass breaking. Like, with a hard object.”
“Like with a butt of a gun?” he asked.
“Could be. It was to my left, so it had to be one of the windows below the wraparound porch.”
He nodded.
“You’re going to go and see if you can find a footprint?” The ground might be soft enough after the rain to grab on to a boot or shoe.
“So, you ran up the stairs . . .” Eddie encouraged me to continue.
“I did, then tripped on a pile of paper in the living room.” My hand went to the evidence on my forehead. “It had been tossed before I got there.”
“What happened next?” Eddie asked.
“I scrambled to my feet and—”
Betsy interjected, “She ran for her life.”
“Right. I didn’t see anyone, but I wasn’t looking either. No one shot at me when I was outside.” Hearing the words aloud, puzzled me. Wouldn’t they have had a clear shot? I was a panicked woman, running haphazardly out in the open. Could Mama have protected me?
Eddie’s brow was wrinkled as he rested his hands on the table.
I could almost see the wheels turning within his skull. “You’re thinking the person didn’t want to kill me. They were just trying to scare me away?”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Eddie said.
“Wow, you guys have got like ESP or somethin’.” Betsy stood. “Y’all don’t need me here, so I’ll just mosey on home.”
“Wait,” Eddie said and Betsy slowly sat back down. “I take it when Marygene got home, she called you, then you called your cousin?”
“Um, yeah.” Betsy hesitated, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze, “That’s, um, right.” She turned to me. “Sorry about that again. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I probably wouldn’t have listened to you either if roles were reversed.”
Betsy’s face relaxed marginally.
“What else do I need to know?” Eddie asked. Did he think I would withhold information? Clearly, he did.
Betsy fidgeted in her seat, readjusted her sage-colored flounce top, and then pretended to dust something off her white capris.
“Betsy,” Eddie said more sternly. “Look at me.”
I willed her to be strong. It would be easier if it came from me. Slowly, Betsy’s chin lifted.
The second she made eye contact with him, she cracked. “Nothin’ much.” She held her breath for a whole two seconds. “Only that Marygene noticed that Judy’s fingernails were broken when she found her and they hadn’t been earlier that day when they spoke. She must have been in a struggle. But if she said anything, it would look bad for Jena Lynn, so she kept her trap shut.”
“Betsy!” I cried. That was news I planned on telling Eddie. The way Betsy phrased it made it sound awful.
“And?” Eddie said calmly as he held her gaze.
Betsy squeezed her eyes shut. “And she has a timeline and witness list upstairs in her old bedroom.”
I gaped and sat back. The wood creaked in protest.
“It’s real professional, though. I might’ve helped a tad.”
Eddie spared a glance in my direction. I couldn’t tell if he was amused or surprised. “Is that all?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Betsy?”
She cringed. “She and that reporter have been secretly meetin’.” She mouthed sorry to me. “Oh,” she took a breath.
Please don’t mention Ma—
“And her mama has been hauntin’ her. She’s stuck here trying to make amends.”
&n
bsp; I did a double take on Betsy’s face. Her mouth was still moving. She was merciless in her account.
“She saved Marygene’s life last night, though, so I guess it’s going okay.” She slowly rose from the table and took a step back. “I’m sorry! He was inter-rogatin’ me like a common criminal. Anyone would crack under that sort of pressure.” She snatched her purse off the chair opposite her. “Don’t be mad.”
Betsy bolted toward the door. The screen door slammed behind her.
Eddie folded his arms across his uniformed chest and zeroed in on me with his eyes. His spine was as straight as a board as he studied me. There was no use trying to get out of this. He would drag me downtown officially if he had to.
“Do you want some breakfast?” I stood. “I made some biscuits and gravy. Coffee too.”
He didn’t respond.
“Well, I need some coffee.” I marched to the pot and poured myself a full cup. I took my time doctoring it with sugar and cream.
Eddie stayed silent during my seven-stir ritual. I poured him a cup, too, with two sugars and no cream. When I got back to the table, he was still seated in the exact same position. Not even his facial expression had changed.
After I sat his mug in front of him, I retook my seat. A few sips later, I rubbed my upper arms and sighed. “Judy was at Jena Lynn’s when I went by to check on her. We chatted in the kitchen for a bit. That’s when I noticed her new manicure. She had lovely little rhinestones glued to the tips. She acted skittish.” I slowly sipped from the mug and thought back to that day. It wasn’t difficult. This whole island mystery consumed my thoughts every waking minute. Not to mention the ordeal with Mama. I was not going to bring that up. Eddie would lock me away in the looney bin for sure.
“You didn’t mention the nails to the detective due to a lack of trust?”
My head nodded in a jerking fashion. This wasn’t going as well as I planned. “You investigated Carl, didn’t you? I mean, he would have motive to end his dad’s life. And maybe Judy found out . . .” I paused, considering the possibilities, while I cradled my mug close. “Or what if she knew all along and couldn’t live with it. That would explain the suicide, if it was indeed a suicide. And if not, Carl could have staged it to appear as one. He would have access to her quarters, especially if they were having an affair.”