The Battered Body

by J. B. Stanley

  “Oh my goodness gracious! You have a son!” Milla was openly crying, her kind face flushed with pleasure. “When do we get to meet this child of yours?” She asked, jumping out of her chair to embrace James. “I can’t wait to get my hands on him. I bet he’s cute as a button.”

  “He’s perfect. You’ll meet him soon.” James released her and poured three glasses of Cutty Sark. His hands were shaking as he passed out the drinks.

  The three toasted the arrival of Eliot Henry into their lives. After another hour of speculation about the little boy’s family resemblance, mannerisms, and likes and dislikes, they all went to bed with smiles on their faces. James lay awake for several moments making mental lists of the books he needed to buy for Eliot’s room at 27 Hickory Hill Lane.

  Somewhere between the titles Goodnight Moon and Caps for Sale, he fell asleep.

  The next morning, James was showered, dressed, and in his truck before seven. He didn’t notice the biting coldness of the air or the old Bronco’s reluctance to rumble into life and travel at a brisk pace through the slumbering town.

  “This is your new driveway,” he told his beloved truck, patting it affectionately on the steering wheel as he turned off the engine in front of his little yellow house.

  Practically skipping to the front door, James fit the key in the lock and stepped into his new home.

  The first thing he did was switch on all the lights. He then inspected the empty rooms one by one. The previous owners had hired a cleaning service to give the place a thorough once-over and the aroma of Pine Sol and Clorox clung to the floorboards and bathroom tile. Digging a color palette from his coat pocket, James held the cheerful hue he had chosen for the kitchen against one of the walls.

  “You get painted first,” he informed the room and pointed at the paint square. “Honeydew for the kitchen and Desert Dune for the living room. Milla thinks that’ll look good with the red sofa I ordered.”

  He swiveled around in the empty space.

  Suddenly, there were so many things to do. Paint supplies had to be purchased, new carpet for the bedrooms ordered, furniture delivery scheduled, and a pizza dinner with Jane and Eliot arranged.

  “I think I’ll bring them here,” James said, tapping on the kitchen counter. As he glanced out the window at the dormant grass and leafless trees, he saw two squirrels chasing one another across the boughs. Watching their antics, he was struck by an inspirational idea of how to make his first meal with his son memorable.

  Whistling, James locked up his house and drove to the hardware store to pick up his paint, drop cloths, rollers, and brushes. He also bought a few cans of spray paint, some rope, and some pliable wire.

  When he arrived at the library a full thirty minutes before opening, he saw two young women chatting together on the front steps. When Lottie noticed James, she waved goodbye to Willow, walked over to the book bin, and slid two novels through its slot. They fell into the metal cavity with a clank.

  “Good morning!” James called out to her and was rewarded by a hesitant smile. He then turned his attention to Willow. “Are you really this excited about checking out a book or are you here to see me?”

  “I need to talk to someone,” Willow murmured, displaying traces of her former downtrodden body language. “I’ve already smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and I haven’t had one since Paulette died.”

  Unlocking the front door, James beckoned her inside. “Let me pump up the heat and put on some coffee. We can talk in my office. While I’m doing those things, would you mind switching on all the lights and computers? It’ll keep you from smoking the rest of that pack.”

  Moments later, James took a grateful sip from his new favorite coffee mug, which was embellished with a black shelving cart and the words That’s How I Roll. He watched Willow cradle her warm cup in her hands and softly invited her to share what was on her mind.

  “I know it’s only a matter of time before Lucy comes knocking on my door, so I thought I’d practice my confession on you.” She spoke with a catch in her voice. “She’s bound to arrest me and the life I wanted to begin here will be over before it really started.”

  Observing the young woman carefully, James asked, “Why would she arrest you?”

  Willow didn’t answer immediately. She looked at the window, drank from her cup, and then ran her pale blue eyes over the items on James’s desk. “With Chase’s murder, the police are bound to review Paulette’s death too. I didn’t kill her, Mr. Henry, I swear. But if she was murdered, and I think she was now that Chase is dead, I’m in for it. I was with her at the bed-and-breakfast and I hated her.”

  “And Chase? Did you hate him too?”

  Distracted by the sounds of the twin’s laughter in the parking lot, Willow glanced in their direction and smiled. Then the happiness on her face melted quickly away. “I didn’t hurt Paulette, but Chase may have.”

  Suddenly, James had a theory as to how Willow received her influx of cash. “You were blackmailing him,” he stated.

  She didn’t bother to deny it. “He and Paulette got into a huge argument the night before she died. He came to the Widow’s Peak to ask her for a loan, but she told him he had enough money and that she wasn’t going to give away her hard-earned money so Chase could jet off to Europe with one of his mistresses.”

  “Ouch!” James let out a little laugh. “I bet Chase didn’t take being turned down too well. After all, he was Paulette’s favorite.”

  “Not that night, he wasn’t,” Willow remarked solemnly. “He actually replied, ‘Isn’t that how you got your start, Mother? As someone’s mistress in Europe? And then a TV producer’s mistress in New York? And so on?’”

  James was shocked. “He said that to his own mother?”

  “They really were two of a kind.” Willow didn’t seem surprised at all. “Anyway, at the end of their conversation, Chase promised that he’d get the money from her one way or another. He was very calm. It didn’t sound like a threat, but after she died, I had to wonder.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Lucy about this right away?” James demanded.

  “I honestly didn’t think he killed her! He respected her,” she argued. “Besides, her death was ruled an accident.”

  “In your opinion, did Chase love his mother?”

  Shrugging, Willow examined her nails. “I don’t think Chase or Paulette loved anybody but themselves. They lived for money and recognition and the freedom to treat regular people like dirt.” She sighed. “When Chase came back to town for the ash scattering, I told him that I’d heard his last conversation with his mother. At first, I was just trying to scare him into giving me my final paycheck, but he offered me a lot more. After all I’d been through with the Diva, I figured I’d earned it and … I took the money.”

  Suddenly, the promise Willow had made to Chloe and Wheezie in the hotel lobby that she would take care of Chase made perfect sense. James had eavesdropped on the three women right before Willow decided to blackmail Chase. She had been successful and he had given her a generous payoff. Though she’d made an error in judgment, James doubted Willow was a killer. If she was, then why confess to blackmail?

  “I’m certain you earned every penny,” James told the fraught young woman kindly. “Paulette underpaid you for years.”

  Willow seemed surprised to discover that James wasn’t angry. “As much as I’ve tried to justify my behavior, I know it was wrong. When I heard about Chase’s death, I knew I had to tell someone, but I was afraid to go to the sheriff by myself.” Her face crumpled. “What will Milla think of me now? And Francis?”

  “They’ll think you’re human, just like the rest of us.” He walked around the desk and raised her from her chair. “I’ll ask Lucy to come over and listen to your story. While we’re waiting for her, why don’t you ask Francis for a book recommendation? That would make his day. And might I suggest you also tell him about your ‘mistake’? If you two are going to be a couple, you don’t want secrets between you.”


  James waited for Willow to leave the office before phoning Lucy.

  “I’m with Wheezie right now trying to figure out if she knows Russ DuPont,” Lucy whispered into her cell phone. “I’ll be over as soon as I’m done.”

  By the time the library officially opened, Francis and Willow had their heads bent together behind a spinner rack of science fiction paperbacks. Scott was near the checkout desk, placing books onto the shelving cart with unusual roughness. He looked completely dejected.

  “What’s wrong, Scott?”

  “I went outside to empty the book bin, Professor,” Scott answered as he gripped a book called Women in American Journalism: A New History. “And I saw boot prints in that muddy spot that never dries up between the sidewalk and the book drop. They were the same boot prints Francis and I noticed during our Christmas Eve stakeout.”

  “Uh-oh,” James whispered.

  “It didn’t take much brainpower to figure out who checked out the books in the bin because there were only four in there. Two were borrowed by Lottie and two by Mrs. Finke. I’ve seen Mrs. Finke in here for years and there’s no way she wears high-heeled boots. That means those boots are Lottie’s.” He put his head in his hands. “My girlfriend is Glowstar’s kidnapper!”

  James frowned. He couldn’t argue with Scott’s logic, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what had motivated Lottie to inflict such a cruel prank on her own boyfriend. Feeling angry on Scott’s behalf, James reflected on the fact that neither of the twins possessed an ounce of real meanness and yet, someone had deliberately tried to cause them anguish.

  “I’m sorry, Scott.” James put his arm around the lanky young man’s shoulders. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s okay, Professor. This is no time for words!” Scott said heatedly. “I’m already planning what to do. First, I’m going to send a certain reporter on a little goose chase. Next, I’m going to get Glowstar back, and then I’m going to drink Red Bull and play video games until I go blind!”

  “Before you lose your sight, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Doing his best to contain his happiness in the face of Scott’s misery, James told Scott about Eliot. He then explained what he wanted to create before he saw his son again that evening and begged for Scott’s assistance.

  “You are going to be such a cool dad!” Scott exclaimed when James was done, momentarily forgetting about revenge.

  The two men returned to their librarian duties, leaving Francis free to sit with Willow until Lucy arrived.

  “Can you ask Milla to meet me here too?” Lucy paused on her way into James’s office. “The name Russ DuPont meant nothing to Wheezie. Everything rests on Milla’s memory now. There has to be some connection between their past in Natchez and the two deaths. Milla may be the key to solving this entire puzzle, whether she realizes it or not.”

  James hurriedly complied and phoned his father’s house, but there was no answer. He left a message and then turned his attention to an elderly patron who needed help searching the Internet for the best airfare to Fort Lauderdale. James then took care of the monthly budget, and by the time he was done paying bills, Willow, Francis, and Lucy had vacated his office.

  Willow shot James a look of gratitude and left the library with Francis glued to her side. Assuming his employee was merely walking his girlfriend to her car, James settled at his desk and checked his e-mail. His face glowed as he read a message from Jane.

  Eliot is so excited to see you again. Where would you like to meet us? We have supper at six and he only likes cheese on his pizza.

  Those few words were enough to light up his morning. He quickly typed his answer.

  I’d like you to be the first guests in my new house! #27 Hickory Hill Lane. 5:30. I’ll have dinner waiting. I can’t wait.

  Lucy tapped lightly on his office door. “Were you able to reach Milla?”

  “No.” A flash of lavender passed by his window. “Hold on. She’s here.”

  While James handled a telephone query, Lucy shepherded Milla and Jackson into his office. It took every ounce of James’s concentration to complete his phone call and gently hang up the phone. In all his time as head librarian of the Shenandoah County Library, his father had never stepped foot inside the building where his son worked. Milla was slowly changing Jackson back into a social creature.

  “It’s nice to see you, Pop.”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow and then scowled at Lucy. “Let’s get this over with, girl. Milla here’s got a list a mile long, and I wanna get back home by suppertime.”

  Ignoring Jackson’s grumbling, Lucy led Milla to a chair and sat down next to her. “I’m going to ask you to try really hard to remember something about your childhood. Take your time to think through my question. Try to recall families from school, your neighbors, church members, store clerks, anyone and everyone.”

  “I’ll try,” Milla promised.

  Satisfied, Lucy leaned forward a fraction. “Did you ever know a family named the DuPonts?”

  Three pairs of eyes focused on Milla as her gaze drifted around the room, finally settling upon James’s coffee mug. She grinned as she read the slogan and then her eyes grew distant. Her observers could almost sense her journeying back in time, shuffling faces and names through her mind, discarding one and then searching for another.

  After two full minutes of silence, she shook her head. “No ringing bells. I’m sorry.”

  Something Milla had told him back in December suddenly came back to James. “Milla? Do you remember when you were telling Pop and me about Paulette’s girlhood? You said she was called Patty then and there was a woman who taught her how to bake. What was that woman’s name?”

  Milla sat erect in her chair. “Mrs. D.!” Her shoulders instantly slumped again. “But that’s all I know. Just the initial. I don’t know if that stands for DuPont or not.”

  “What about the street address?” Lucy’s predatory look flared in her eyes. “I could call some neighbors. I could ask Wheezie who the old-timers are in your former neighborhood and talk to them. I’m reaching here, but I’m getting a strong feeling that we’re on the right track.”

  Closing her eyes, Milla murmured. “We lived on Idle Day Drive. To get to Mrs. D.’s I’d walk down our street, turn right onto the main road, and then a left onto … oh! I can almost see the street sign. That big live oak always blocked the first half of the word … Cobble something! Cobblestone Court!” She smiled triumphantly. “The house number was one. I remember that because she had one dog, one cat, and one child. I don’t think she had a husband either. Seems to me she lived on a wing and a prayer and by selling her baked goods.”

  Scribbling the information into her notebook, Lucy asked James if she could use his phone. He led his parents back to the checkout desk and spoke to them in between accepting late fees and handing patrons their scanned books and receipts.

  “Your materials are due back February twenty-third,” he told a little girl who had checked out five books from the Baby-sitters Club series.

  Milla watched the child walk away—her pigtails swinging back and forth like a metronome’s needle. “Wait until Eliot learns he can bring home piles of books from his daddy’s library.” She moved closer to James. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get me on the phone, dear, but me and Jackson were busy. We got married this morning.”

  “You did?” James looked from her beaming face to Jackson’s. He noted that his father’s expression showed a mixture of both pride and relief. “That’s wonderful! You just went ahead and did it! Congratulations!” He hugged Milla tightly.

  “You’re not angry?” Milla sighed in relief. “I worried you might feel excluded, but my dear, I was in such a rush to make things official. When I meet your boy I want to be his grandma, not just Pop-Pop’s girlfriend!”

  Jackson tapped the face of his wrist watch. “My wife’s been on the run all mornin’. The van’s loaded to the roof with crap. Toys, pictures, lamps, curtains, a rug. I think she bought
out the damn toy store. I haven’t even had my third cup of coffee yet,” he growled.

  Milla linked her arm in Jackson’s. “I couldn’t help myself! I’ve wanted to be a grandma so badly and now I am one! James, get ready, because I plan to spoil your son rotten!”

  “Your son?” Lucy’s voice came out as a croak. She stared at James in disbelief. “Did I hear that right?”

  James hadn’t stopped to consider how this news might affect others, like his supper club friends. He’d simply assumed that everyone he knew would share his joy and would congratulate him on his happy reunion with his son. But there was an ashen appearance to Lucy’s face that made him realize that the revelation he had a child with his ex-wife might not be welcome news to some people. As he struggled to speak, James suspected that, if Lucy still harbored any romantic feelings for him, they were about to be irrevocably destroyed.

  As his parents sidled quietly away, James opened the scrapbook he kept close at hand. He opened to the last page and showed the photograph to Lucy. “It’s true, Lucy. I only found out yesterday. This is Eliot Henry. My son.”

  Without making a sound, Lucy glanced at the picture, looked up at James with wounded eyes, and fled.

  James gave the gum-chewing, iPod-wearing pizza delivery teen such a generous tip that the young man actually paused his music in order to say thanks. Smiling, James shooed him from his doorstep, slid the pie into his warmed oven, and then put the finishing touches to the makeshift dining table.

  The doorbell sounded at exactly five-thirty, sending a shiver of pleasure up his spine. Here he was, James Henry, answering the door of his house for the second time that evening. And on the other side of that solid piece of wood was not a pimply-faced, skinny teenager wearing a backwards baseball cap, but his four-year-old son.

  “I love this house!” Jane exclaimed as soon as she stepped inside. “You have such a huge yard! And a front porch too! It’s just perfect for sipping lemonade in the summer and setting out jack-o’-lanterns in October, right Eliot?”