The women on the sofa looked at one another, eyebrows raised high.
“Gertie, must we air our dirty laundry in front of everyone?” Jack asked wearily.
“Hey, I’m enjoying it,” Winnie said. “You have what you might call a captive audience.”
Gertie regarded Marilee. “It’s true, honey. All Jack cares about is what Jack wants, and he usually gets it. I’ll bet you’ve heard that song-and-dance routine about his poor wife, Teresa,” she said. “It’s just a ruse to make you feel sorry for him, and it usually works. He used it on me too.”
“I’m sure the memories are painful for him,” Marilee said.
“Painful, my ass. Teresa died in a car accident. She was in the process of leaving him because he’d slept with all her friends, including the housekeeper. Hell, the man will sleep with anybody who has a pulse. He’s a user and a womanizer.”
“Shut up, Gertie!” Jack snapped.
“And that’s not the half of it,” Gertie said. “His wife was worth millions. Not only that, her car had been tampered with.”
Jack’s face became bloodred. “I was cleared of any wrong-doing. Now, shut up or I’ll—”
The room grew silent.
Gertie laughed at him. “You plan on tampering with my car, too?” Once again, she looked at Marilee. “He was a young, strapping stud, washing dishes in some bistro, when Teresa took one look and fell in love with him, just like I did. She groomed him to be the man he is today, and he took advantage of her. The poor woman never suspected a thing until the very end, but she died before she could change her will. Jack got everything. Her friends were outraged. Why do you think Jack left New York? I’ll tell you—because he became an outcast. Teresa had seen to it that he was accepted by polite society, so to speak, but after her death those doors were slammed in his face.”
Jack was silent, but anger literally seethed from him.
Marilee was speechless. “How do you know all this, Gertie?”
“Because he used me just like he’s trying to use you.” She sniffed. “Oh, I was heartbroken, let me tell you. I kept blaming myself. Fortunately, I have a cousin who does a little private-detective work on the side. He came back with enough info on Jack to write a book and its sequel.”
“How long have you had this so-called information?” Jack demanded.
“Two months,” she said. She turned to Marilee and smiled prettily. “See, I’m four months pregnant with Jack’s child. He gave me five thousand bucks, told me to get rid of the problem and take a vacation. I gave a portion of the money to my cousin instead.” She hitched her chin high. “My child is going to have everything his or her little heart desires.”
“Oh, Gertie, you should have told me,” Marilee said, wishing she could reach out and comfort the woman. “But Teresa had money, I don’t. What could Jack possibly hope to get from me?”
“He doesn’t need money, sweetie. He just wants to get you in bed. And as long as you hold out, he’ll wine and dine you and take you to every play in Charleston.”
Marilee blushed profusely.
Clara looked at Ruby. “I told you Marilee was going with him to see that Broadway production.”
“Yes, and I told you it was none of our business. If Marilee had wanted us to know she would have said something.”
“I knew it too,” Nell said. “Sam pouted for two whole days.”
“You girls need to get a life,” Winnie told them before turning her attention back to Jack and Gertie, who’d stopped arguing long enough to stare at the group.
Marilee shook her head, embarrassed. Now her closest friends knew she’d gone to Charleston with a lowlife womanizer. Wasn’t it bad enough she’d been married to one? “I’m going to have to move to a foreign country,” she said.
Jack looked at her. “What I feel for you is real, Marilee. You’re different from the rest.”
Marilee’s voice was calm when she spoke. “You’ll have to find another piano player, Mr. Helms.”
Gertie smiled. “Good for you, Marilee. I, on the other hand, plan to hang around.”
“Aren’t you afraid?” Nell whispered, eyeing Jack.
“I’ve got a copy of Jack’s file with my cousin, my attorney and in my safe-deposit box,” Gertie replied, “with instructions to hand it over to the newspaper if anything happens to me. Believe me, Jack likes being a respectable businessman and hobnobbing with the rich. He doesn’t want the truth to get out.” She smiled. “Besides, I like it here.”
“You know what they call that, don’t you?” Winnie said. “Job security.”
SAM AWOKE ON THE SOFA with a start, having fallen asleep watching the eleven o’clock news. He’d spent three hours that evening working at Blessing Home, only to arrive home to a dark house and a note from his mother that she and her friends were having dinner at the Pickford Inn so they could watch Marilee perform. He’d grabbed a sandwich and struggled to stay awake, but obviously he had lost the battle.
He glanced at the wall clock and frowned. It was 4:00 a.m., and he hadn’t heard his mother come in. Rising, he went and checked her bedroom. The room was neat, as always, and the old quilt on her bed bore not a single wrinkle. The only thing out of place was her bathrobe, which was lying across an old rocker that had been in his family for generations.
Where the hell was she?
He retraced his steps to the living room and stepped out the back door. Marilee’s house was dark. He vaguely noticed that it was raining.
Sam found the telephone book beneath the wall phone in the kitchen and looked up the number to the Pickford Inn. No answer. He grabbed his cell phone and ran for the truck.
Five minutes later, Sam turned onto the highway leading to Pickford. The rain was coming down harder. He picked up his phone and dialed 911 and proceeded to explain the situation to a dispatcher, who checked to see if there had been any accidents reported.
“Nothing here,” he said. “I’ll ring the police in Pickford and have them call you.”
Sam hung up and drove, ignoring the speed limit as he pressed his foot on the accelerator.
The parking lot was dark when Sam pulled up in front of the Pickford Inn, but he spotted Marilee’s car right away, sitting next to another car he thought belonged to one of her friends. A Mercedes was parked out front. He climbed from the truck and hurried toward the double glass doors. They were locked tight. He knocked hard and waited. The muscles in his jaws tensed. He didn’t like it. He pounded on the door.
Nothing.
The loud ringing of the cell phone sent him running back to his truck. It was the dispatcher from the Pickford Police Department, informing him there’d been no accidents. Sam briefly described the situation.
“I’ll send a couple of cars over right away,” the dispatcher said.
“I’m going in,” Sam informed her.
“You can’t do that. You’ll get picked up for breaking and entering.”
“My mother might be in there,” Sam said. As well as the woman he was growing to love more than life itself, he added silently. “I’ll take my chances.” Sam hung up and raced to the double doors where an oversize flowerpot stood. He grabbed the pot and tossed it through a door, covering his face as glass shattered and flew in every direction. He reached inside and turned the lock.
Sam found himself standing in a long carpeted hallway beside a hostess desk. He glanced in both directions. Everything was dark. Hearing a shout, he took off in that direction. “Hello?” he called out loudly. “Is anybody here? Mom? Marilee?”
Marilee recognized Sam’s voice instantly. “We’re back here, Sam,” she called loudly. “Turn left at the end of the hall.”
Sam went weak with relief at the sound of her voice, but didn’t stop. She and his mother could be injured. And what about Winnie? He had to find them. A group of voices called out, and he followed the sound to a door right off the hall. It was locked. He cursed. Damned if he wasn’t always breaking down doors to save Marilee’s neck. He stepped ba
ck and threw himself forward, hitting the door with his shoulder. It didn’t budge, but he was certain he’d broken every bone in his body above his waist. He shoved a stack of menus off a small round table and slammed it into the door with all he had. It seemed to burst before his very eyes.
Breathing heavily, he stepped inside and found the group bound with duct tape. His eyes immediately sought out Marilee, who sat beside Winnie and his mother. He sighed and wiped sweat from his face, trying to stop the flow of adrenaline rushing through his veins. “Is everybody okay?” he asked, looking for wounds, blood, anything.
“We are now, dear,” Nell said cheerfully. “Except I really need to use the ladies’ room.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
IT WAS ALMOST EIGHT-THIRTY in the morning by the time the women had finished answering the police’s questions. Sam had kept the coffee coming and offered moral support to everyone but Jack, at whom he tossed a dark look each chance he got. So that was his competition, he thought. Marilee obviously went for the polished, sophisticated type. Sam suspected right away that Jack Helms was not the man he pretended to be. There was something about him that Sam couldn’t quite put his finger on, but if Jack and Marilee were close, it didn’t show. She seemed to be avoiding the man, as did most of the women. Sam made a point to stay as close to Marilee as he could.
“Oh, my Lord, I have to go!” Marilee cried, suddenly remembering she had to play for the Kellet funeral. She jumped up from the dining-room chair, where she’d been sitting for more than two hours. “I’m late for work!”
Sam, standing only a few feet away, looked at her incredulously. “Work!” he said. “You’re in no condition to work. You need to go home and sleep.”
She handed him her empty coffee cup. “I have no choice,” she said, explaining the situation.
“You’ll never make it.”
“I have to.” She looked at the officer. “Are you finished questioning me? I’ve told you everything I know.”
The chief of police, who’d arrived on the scene shortly after the officers had stormed the restaurant and then had spent much of his time on a cell phone, hurried over to the group. Don Harris was a big man, with a balding head and meaty features, who’d done all he could to make the ladies feel at ease after the night they’d spent.
“Good news,” he told the group. “A couple of guys fitting the description were arrested about a hundred miles from here earlier this morning on a DUI charge. An officer searched their vehicle and found a large amount of cash under the seats. He also found a security-guard uniform wadded up in the trunk of the car.” Harris gave Sam a satisfied smile.
Nell looked up wearily. “Oh my, I wonder if it could be the same men who robbed us?” she asked.
Sam nodded appreciatively at the chief as he patted Nell’s hand. “My mother needs her rest.”
“I understand,” Harris said, giving the woman a sympathetic look. “It’ll take a while to get these guys back over here, but I’m going to have to ask everybody to come into the station later so you can have a look at them. Won’t take long, but we just need to see if you recognize them in a lineup.”
Marilee sighed. She was so tired she wasn’t sure she could pick out her own mother in a lineup. “I have to be somewhere at nine,” she said, “but I can come in after that.”
“Why don’t we schedule it for eleven-thirty, then?” he suggested. “I’ll tell the others.” He pulled Sam aside. “Don’t worry about bringing your mother. She’s tired, and we’ll have enough witnesses.”
“I’ll be there,” Marilee said. She started down the hall. Sam went after her.
“I can’t believe you’re going to work,” he said as he helped her into her car, both of them trying to dodge the rain. “Why don’t you let me drive you? I don’t like the idea of you driving in this weather.”
Marilee shivered as the cold rain hit the back of her neck. She could read his concern in the white lines that bracketed his mouth. “Thanks, Sam, but I’ll be okay. You need to see to your mother.” She closed the door, cranked the engine and took off.
Sam shook his head as she pulled away, tires squealing on the wet pavement.
“I don’t believe what I just saw,” Winnie said, joining him with an umbrella.
Sam looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Marilee’s on her way to play for a funeral in a red sequined dress and platinum wig.”
IT WAS ALL MARILEE COULD DO to keep her eyes open as she raced to the funeral home, almost running into a dump truck at one point. Slow down and think, she told herself, trying to clear the fog from her brain. Although she was exhausted beyond belief, she was wired from having drunk so much caffeine. She arrived at the funeral home at nine-fifteen. Squealing to a stop, she cut the engine and raced inside the back door of the chapel, almost running into Debbie and Irby in the small hallway just outside.
“Marilee, where on earth have you been?” Irby demanded. “Everybody’s here, and they’re waiting for you. I don’t mind telling you, some of them are quite irritated.”
Marilee did not see the strange look he gave her as she brushed past him. “I’ll explain later.”
Debbie followed, a frown marring her forehead. “Uh, Marilee, wait! You can’t possibly—”
“No time, Debbie,” she said, racing inside the chapel.
Marilee was only vaguely aware of the small crowd that had already gathered inside the chapel. She made straight for the piano and sat down. Without thinking, she automatically began to play “I Left My Heart In San Francisco.”
“MARILEE, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Irby said, once she’d played for the service. She hadn’t realized until she was halfway through the opening song that she was supposed to be playing “How Great Thou Art.” When her brain had finally kicked in, it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t thought to change clothes before taking her place in front of the solemn-faced crowd. By then it was too late. She had been mortified beyond belief, but there had been nothing she could do except keep playing. She’d slipped from the chapel as soon as she’d finished, only to find Irby and Debbie waiting with a look of pure stupefaction on their faces.
“Are you okay, honey?” Debbie asked.
With tears in her eyes, Marilee told them how she’d spent the evening and much of the morning.
Debbie gaped at her. “Oh, you poor thing!” she said, closing her arms around Marilee immediately. “Why didn’t you call us? We could have found a replacement.”
Marilee sniffed. “I didn’t want to let you down.” She also needed the extra money since she’d quit her night job.
The service ended, and a tall brunette exited the chapel and made straight for the three of them. Linda Kellet, the deceased’s daughter, looked mad enough to spit nails.
“How dare you!” she said, giving them all a scathing look. “How dare you make a mockery of my father’s funeral.”
Irby cleared his throat. “Was there a problem, Miss Kellet?” he asked innocently.
“Problem?” she repeated, her voice ripe with sarcasm. “Only that you hired a trollop to handle my father’s service. If you think for one minute I’m going to pay this bill, you’re out of your mind. Not only am I not going to pay this bill, I plan to contact an attorney immediately.”
“Miss Kellet, I’m afraid there’s been some misunderstanding,” Irby said. “Your father left specific instructions on how he wished his funeral to be handled, and we did everything to accommodate him.”
Marilee and Debbie exchanged anxious looks.
“What the hell are you talking about?” the woman demanded.
“He didn’t discuss it with you beforehand?”
“Discuss what?”
“Your father had a great sense of humor,” Irby said. “I was fortunate to know him well.”
“You knew my father?”
“Yes. I met him while visiting another patient at the nursing home. I’m surprised he never mentioned it. Well, that’s not important,” Irby we
nt on, “but your father told me several times that when he died he didn’t want folks playing sad music. Mrs. Abernathy only played those religious tunes because you requested it.”
The woman stared at him. She crossed her arms. “What exactly did my father say he wanted?” she asked.
Irby smiled. “He said, ‘Irby, when I go, I want you to hire dancing girls and play my favorite song, “I Left My Heart In San Francisco.”’” Irby dropped the smile. “That was his favorite song, you know.”
“I had no idea,” she said meekly.
“We were just doing as we were told, Miss Kellet. I’m sorry if you were embarrassed, but we have to take the deceased’s wants into consideration.”
“I feel so silly,” the woman replied.
The chapel door opened and another man stalked out. “Are you the owner?” he demanded.
Irby offered his hand. “Irby Denton. Very nice to meet you. You must be Raymond’s son, Garth. He spoke highly of you.”
The man was obviously taken off guard. He composed himself quickly. “I hope you know you’re in a shitload of trouble, Mr. Denton, for turning my father’s funeral into a circus act. I’d like to know where you found this broad,” he said, pointing to Marilee.
Irby smiled. “First of all, Mr. Kellet, we do not refer to ladies as broads around here. Second, this sweet woman is Reverend Grady Abernathy’s wife. Meet Marilee.”
Garth glared at Marilee. “I don’t care if she’s married to the pope. She had no business showing up for my father’s service dressed like that.”
Linda Kellet turned to her brother. “Don’t use that tone with Mr. Denton,” she said. “He was only doing as Father requested.”
“What are you talking about?” Garth demanded.
“Daddy gave Mr. Denton specific instructions on how he wanted his service to be handled. You should be glad that Mr. Denton was kind enough to honor them.”
“You’re saying Father asked for someone to dress up like a call girl and play that stupid song?”
“Daddy had a very funny sense of humor,” Linda told her brother, “and you would have known that, had you visited him more often while he was in the nursing home. It just so happens “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” was his favorite song.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “We need to leave for the graveside service,” she said. “I believe you have a plane to catch.”
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