He noticed Potts' genteel face disappear again and a snarl take its place. "You do that, Sheriff, and see where it gets you." Potts stood and leaned in, nose extended close to Davis' face, hands in pockets. "You don't have a damn thing on me."
Davis held his gaze, glaring back at him for a moment, then tugged the hat on his head and turned to the door, letting it slam after he went out.
***
The acrid smell of ammonia filled the air inside the trailer. Minerva was dressed in her bath robe, with rubber flip flops on her feet like the ones people wore to the swimming pool. A plastic shower cap covered her hair and purple hair dye solution dripped down her neck. She froze when she thought she heard someone come up the outside steps. When the inevitable knock on the door came, she glanced at her watch. It couldn't be Walter this time of day, or John. And she certainly didn't think it was Piper. Then who could it be? She thought of Sheriff Davis and how he had told her with a mean gleam in his eye, "We're not done yet, Minerva." She dipped lower in her seat, thinking of how all he had to do was look through the living room window and see her sitting at the kitchen table.
"Hey," she heard a female voice say. Minerva froze until she heard footsteps leaving the door.
She sat back up and saw the back of Gloria's head descending the steps. She bounded out of her seat and opened the door. "Hey," Minerva said, peering around the opened doorway, "where you going?" When Gloria turned and looked at her she smiled and pointed to the plastic wrap on her head. "Sorry, I was busy. Come on in."
"What're you doing, Miss Day?" Gloria asked, looking up at Minerva's head.
"I'm coloring my hair, or what's left of it." She swirled the plastic off and exposed a purple gob on top of her head. "But it went all wrong. Now I have a big spot of orange on my head and thought this cream would help."
Gloria's lip curled and Minerva thought she was going to laugh, but she stopped short, grinning instead. "I can fix this." She turned Minerva around, looking at the mess from different views. "Yes, I can fix it. Will you get me a sheet, please? We'll spread it on the floor."
Minerva pulled a sheet from the bathroom closet and spread it on the kitchen floor. She found a folded chair in the spare bedroom and set it in the middle of the sheet.
"Let's pull this closer," Gloria said, dragging the table. She sat shampoo, a brush and comb, and what was left of the hair dye down. "Do you have another bottle of this?"
Minerva nodded and padded down the hall to the bathroom, bringing another bottle back with her. "This is a different color," she said, wrinkling her nose. "It's Hot Red."
Gloria laughed. "Well, unless you want me to go get you another bottle of the Golden Honey, you'll be a redhead for a while." She looked up from clearing the sink. "It's up to you." Minerva smiled. It wasn't often she was treated this nicely. Well, except for Walter.
She didn't know which color she wanted. She loved her honey blond hair, or as some would say, her mousey brown hair. One time, weeks ago, she saw Hot Red at the store and thought she'd be brave enough to make the change. Figured Walter would like it, since he had told her that his mother was once auburn headed. But of course she wasn't sure, and never being a redhead before and not knowing how she would look, decided to put the bottle back underneath the sink. She would stick with the honey blond.
"We can take my car if I can sit and wait for you," Minerva said after several moments. Gloria adjusted the water in the sink to wash Minerva's hair. "I can't be seen like this." She giggled then lowered her eyes.
Gloria motioned her over. "Water's warm, let's wash your hair first, then we'll go. You can wait in the car if you want."
Thirty minutes later, they were back and Minerva sat in the chair. Gloria stood behind her with cellophane gloves on and a plastic bottle in her hand. She felt the sting of the amber liquid while it was being squirted on her head and she almost sneezed at the pungent smell. "Lordy, that stuff stinks, but your hands sure feel good," she said, while Gloria pressed and kneaded her scalp. She closed her eyes, comforted by the attention. Her mind whirled on different things and settled on Henry's gun. "Did you know Henry had a gun?" she asked without thinking, keeping her eyes closed.
"Did he?" Gloria moved her hands to another part of her head. Minerva opened her eyes, looked up and saw the quizzical look on Gloria's face. She decided not to go into details about it. It wouldn't make sense for her to tell Gloria she had taken the gun to the vigil for their protection, or that sometimes justice doesn't seem to be served. She only wanted Piper and George to be safe, regardless of whether she had packed it as a gift with a note or handed it to them herself. "Stay still, dear, this will sting if it gets in your eyes."
Minerva's heart beat a little faster. She didn't want Gloria asking questions.
"Sometimes I don't think God does his job," Minerva said. She patted the other side of her head as if trying to steady herself. Maybe saying this would distract any questions about the gun.
"Seems that way sometimes. Any suspects?"
Minerva was relieved. "Only me, as far as I know. Damn cops ain't doing their job right. I don't trust that Davis too much," Minerva said.
Gloria checked her watch again. "Five minutes more. Then we'll go brush your hair out. What's wrong with Davis?"
"He thinks I did it, that's what! But he doesn't know me." She rolled from her seat and pulled the dog to her, flipping a furry ball away with her toe. "Come here, Lew Lew."
A few minutes later, while Gloria brushed the tangles from her hair, she imagined Henry loving someone else other than herself. Sometimes his affair crept into her mind without her consent and she found herself mulling over why it happened. Where at one time she thought it impossible, she now saw the crazy possibility of Henry loving...Della. There. She could think of the name without it enraging her. She and Henry had their difficulties, but he was a loving man, one with a huge capacity for affection, even to the point of him being mistreated if he wasn't careful. She concentrated on the soothing touch of Gloria's hands on her head, in her hair, and for the first time understood how Henry could care for another woman. Not in that way, of course, but in a caring way, as one cares for a sister, or a child.
***
Minerva checked her new Golden Honey hairdo in the mirror before adding earrings. She chose the turquoise studs, the ones she wore with her blue dress. Zipping her flat-heeled boots, she twirled in the mirror, tossing a leg out behind her as if in a commercial, or a musical. If only she was twenty, no, thirty years younger, she'd do things differently. She'd learn to dance and be the hit of the ball in her flapper style dress and go-go boots. This was one of her favorite fantasies. Minerva did a quick boo boop de doo in the mirror, swirling her dress up in the back and flashing the tops of her thighs. She giggled like she thought Marilyn Monroe would and walked down the hall, swinging her hips. Almost knocking over the dog's water bowl, she steadied herself against the spare bedroom wall. She trudged the rest of the way, grabbing her purse on the way out.
While pulling out of the driveway, Minerva felt a dull thud under one of the tires and the car jerked in response. She slammed on the brakes and opened the car door. Oh my god. I've run over that god damn cat. Then she remembered the cat was already dead. She carefully bent over without letting her knees touch the ground. She looked under the car and behind each tire. Nothing was there. What the hell was that? She stood and scratched the side of her head. Bending over once again, her eyes roamed underneath the vehicle. Frowning, she stood and slid back in the seat. Must have been a ghost. She put the car in reverse and slowly pulled out of the driveway, glancing around the yard and the side of the trailer while she drove.
She opened the door to the Guidance Center and spoke to the lady at the reception desk. "I'm here to see Mark Leeman," she said. The woman guided her to a waiting room down the hall to the left. Minerva took a seat and glanced around at the people waiting to see a shrink. No one looked crazy. She spotted a man hobbling in, his eyes cockeyed, hands like claws held tig
ht to his chest. Well, maybe that one. She chose a People magazine from a few scattered on the table and opened it to read. George Clooney was once again single, the headline read. She read the details and stared at the picture of his luscious ex. He must be gay, she thought. Most men would kill to be with a girl like that.
Minerva's head jerked up when she heard her name called and she almost dropped the magazine. She giggled self-consciously and looked around. She rose to her feet, put the magazine back on the table, picked it up again and tucked it under her arm. She was taking Clooney with her.
"How do you do?" Minerva said when Dr. Leeman introduced himself. She removed the magazine from under her arm and held it up. "Can I keep this?" Leeman nodded and she smiled a thank you and held it on her lap. She had locked her purse in the car, just in case she was hypnotized or given truth serum, and slipped her fingers in her pocket to reassure herself the keys were still there.
Dr. Leeman asked a couple of basic questions to relax her before he said, "How was your childhood?"
Minerva gave this question considerable thought. It wasn't she felt put on the spot, or offended. She wasn't used to anyone asking her questions of any sort, really. "My childhood was pretty normal." Minerva said this knowing she was skirting the truth. She watched him scribble something on a piece of paper. "But my father sure was a handful."
Leeman peered over his pad and nodded once. "Oh? In what way?"
"Just the usual, I guess. Strict and stuff like that," she said, avoiding his eyes. Minerva glanced around his office. She noticed his large collection of books, many of the titles hard to pronounce. Her eyes settled on his framed credentials on the wall.
She barely heard him ask the next question. "Did you like school?"
"Sure, it was fine. But I wanted to be a wife and mother all my life. I fell in love my junior year of high school, but Old Man scared him off. One night we were late coming in from a date, because my boyfriend had a flat tire on his truck. Old Man was waiting up for us, standing on the porch, shotgun in hand. Wouldn't listen to reason, just told my date if it happened again, he'd blow his fuckin' head off." Minerva bowed her head and lowered her eyes as if to purge herself of the curse word. "What bothered me was, we really did have a flat tire, weren't out screwing in the back seat somewhere. I never saw the guy again except for around town where he wouldn't even look at me." She glanced down at her clutched hands. "I was heartbroken."
Minerva then yawned and stretched her legs, careful of her dress. She didn't mean to yawn, but figured if she gave in to it, she'd seem nonchalant, and therefore, more intelligent. Leeman was a smart man and a downright handsome one at that. So what if she stole long glances at his hands while he was talking. Some of the questions would put any living person to sleep. Once, he turned to take the book, Toxic Relationships from the shelf, and Minerva found in front of her the most wonderful ass she had ever seen. Not that she was into asses, but this, coupled with those hands, caused her mind to waggle during the boring parts of the counseling. Minerva got a kick out of this and silently slapped her thigh while she smiled.
***
After the third week of visits, Minerva brought Mark, as she now called him, one of her fruitcakes. He had mentioned it was his birthday, so she made it for him. He smiled and put the cake aside. It was then Minerva noticed the silver band on his ring finger, causing her to wonder how she could have missed it all this time. But even a married man could still eat her cake, she thought. It was a friendly gesture that she meant no harm by...giving him the cake.
"Okay, Minerva," Leeman said, pulling an ink pen from behind his ear. "Tell me about this temper you say you have."
Minerva laughed and pointed to the cake. "Now don't eat that all at once."
He smiled in return. "Thank you again for the cake. I don't imagine I'll eat it all at once, even though I'll be tempted. Now—would you say you're an angry person?"
"Well, I do become enraged easily," she said. "Oh, I wouldn't say it's a pattern, but heck, people can make me mad."
"Do you take your medication regularly?"
"Of course!" she said and laughed. "Except sometimes when I don't. I take one a day. Sometimes they make me feel out of my head. I've thrown them away before."
Leeman smiled like a concerned father then turned serious. "But you know they help you feel better."
"Oh, I know they help my condition, but I hate side effects. I mean, they all have side effects."
"Do you ever hear voices when there's no one in the room?"
"Only crazy people hear voices in their head." She paused and remembered John telling her to be as open with the doctor as she could. "But sometimes thoughts swirl around in my head and I can't seem to stop them, the same thoughts, over and over." Minerva patted her hair and smoothed her skirt. Today she wore a gray skirt suit with a white ruffled top underneath. She had bought it new yesterday. She wanted to look stylish. Before going to her appointment, she had driven to Ruidoso to shop at Wal-Mart and picked out the best pair of shoes she could find on sale, a pair of tan sandals, with a higher heel than she normally wore. She had forgotten to buy a pair of nylons to cover her toes. They wiggled in her shoes as she talked.
Leeman wrote something on his pad and propped his chin in his hand. "Tell me about your relationship with Piper. Do you have a good relationship with her?"
Minerva's face changed. "She's out to get me," she said. "Maybe even wants to kill me, sometimes. But of course I love her."
The doctor moved his hand from his face and a slight frown showed on his face. "What do you mean by 'out to get you'?"
"One time I imagined her showing up on my front porch, gun in hand, knocking the door in, pointing it at me. I always come to when it's time to pull the trigger. I have nightmares like this, too. Had 'em even when Henry was alive."
"Did you tell Henry about these dreams?"
"Nope. He knew how we got along, but it wasn't until later that Piper wanted to fuckin' kill me." Minerva's eyes shot to Leeman's, conscious again of the word she said. "Sorry, don't mean to be unladylike." She batted her eyes once and tilted her head.
Leeman shook his head, dismissing her apology. "Why would your daughter want to kill you?"
Minerva straightened her shoulders. "How should I know? Guess she always thought I was mean to her."
"Do you think her feelings may, in some way, be connected to Henry's illness and death?"
"My husband died of natural causes, but Piper thinks I killed him. I don't know why she'd think that." Minerva's mouth drooped when she spoke, like the words were weights on her lips. "Henry had some sort of stomach..." She twirled her wrist around trying to find the right word. "His stomach had a problem." She looked at Leeman. "He was a delicate man, you know."
***
"I have one more session with Mark then I'm done," Minerva said to Walter the morning after her third session, over a breakfast of pancakes at a diner a few blocks from her house. She reached for the butter, and, lifting the top pancake, slathered the melting pat over the bottom one. Replacing it, she did the same for the top. "Pass the syrup, please."
Walter handed her the syrup and she handed him the butter. "Bet you're glad, huh?"
She cut a piece with her fork and took a bite. "Mm-hm. We're talking about Fellow and...that day."
"Want me to come with you? I will if you want me to, if they'd let me. Or, I can wait in the lobby."
Minerva's lips curled like she held a secret. She didn't need Walter coming along. She wanted to give Mark the gift she knitted him. But she also didn't want to make Walter needlessly jealous. "That's okay. Got to get through this mess on my own."
The waiter asked if either wanted more milk and both said no thanks at the same time. "This diner isn't as good as it used to be," Minerva said, looking at the ticket. "Prices have gone up."
Walter grabbed the bill and she tried swiping it from him. He raised it too far for her to reach and she slunk to her seat. "Well, thanks for the pancakes. Hey, I wa
nt to know what you think about something."
"Yeah? What's that, my dear?"
She smiled and her eyes misted at the term of endearment. Lately, terms of endearment could affect her that way. A warm feeling spread through her, and she caressed Walter's cheek.
"I don't know exactly how to put this, but, if they put me away, will you still be there for me?" She brought her hand back to her side and watched his face.
Walter stifled a laugh then apologized for it. "They aren't going to take you away. Why do you think that?"
Minerva stretched her gold painted fingernails out in front of her and studied each one. "Cause maybe they think I'm insane." She glanced sideways at Walter, her eyes barely on his. "You know I take pills for things, right? To keep me balanced?"
Walter reached for her hands and she noticed a flash of color spreading across his cheeks. The look in his eyes made Minerva's well up and they spilled when she blinked. "You won't be going anywhere when this is over, my dear, except home where you belong."
***
The next day at two o'clock on the dot, Minerva walked into Leeman's office for her last session. After the first thirty minutes, Dr. Leeman told her he'd look over the results of the assessment Minerva had completed. He underlined two items and put the results aside. "I'll go over the details later and get a report to your lawyer," he said. She asked for a bathroom break and told him she'd be right back.
Minerva snapped the buckle on the waistband of her skirt and smoothed her jacket on each side. She had worn the same gray suit, only this time a lime green t-shirt peeked from underneath the jacket. She smoothed her rouge in the mirror and took three deep breaths. The rest of today's session would be difficult. She didn't want to talk about Fellow and what happened the day he disappeared. She worried he'd think she had something to do with what happened.
"I brought you something," she said upon entering the room. Having to leave like that made her feel on the spot when she returned. She busied herself by searching through her purse. She produced a small box, the same one a gift from Walter had come in. "You can open it now if you'd like."
Minerva Day Page 21