September 4, Wednesday, 10:30 A.M.
By the time Bobby Lee and I got back home, I was not only shaking all over, my stomach was roiling, my head was starting to ache, and I had an urgent need to pee. Too much weirdness. Too much caffeine.
I let Bobby Lee out of the truck—and let him take care of his call of nature first—before going into my house. Somehow, the fact that I’d needed to use the security code to once again get through my front gate to my property—shades of Bubba past—hadn’t made me feel any better about my disastrous encounter with Jimmy Joe Lane’s mama and daddy.
I got Bobby Lee settled inside, took care of my own call of nature, then swallowed some aspirin for my impending headache and some fizzy stuff for my stomachache. I lay down on my bed for a few moments, knowing that rest would give me a chance to recover and the medicine a chance to work, but as I drifted off, visions—of Bubba, of Jimmy Joe, of Obediah, of Netty—danced in my head in maniacally gleeful whirling rounds to banjo and harmonica music.
I jerked awake. I was too restless simply to lie still while awake. There was plenty of work that needed doing for my business.
I splashed some water on my face and ran a brush through my hair. I left my room and headed to my office, but then a sly thought popped into my head. Maybe what I needed was some comfort food. A leftover biscuit—or two—with butter and honey. Surely I’d burned enough calories through Lane-induced anxiety to justify the snack?
Before I even got to the dining room, I heard clear peals of laughter. Male laughter, female laughter, twining together in a delighted chorus. I stepped into my dining room, and saw Susan and Lee Kirkland sitting across from each other, each with a cup of coffee, laughing and chatting as if this were their dining room, one they shared cozily on a regular basis.
I cleared my throat, and they both looked up at me with sudden guilty expressions, as if they’d been caught in some naughty act.
I went over to the table and sat down next to Susan, across from Lee. “Good morning,” I said simply.
Susan glanced nervously at Lee—this man who previously she’d called “Baldy” when I’d referred to him as good-looking—with an expression verifying that his hairline was no longer what interested her about him. “Uh, hi, Jo Beth,” she said. “I just came by to chat with you about something—”
“—and she ran into me,” Lee said. He smiled, apologetically. “We introduced ourselves and then I’m afraid I just started talking her ear off and then one thing led to another—”
“—and here we are, drinking your coffee left over from the morning’s breakfast for the trainers, Jo Beth!” Susan gave a most girlish laugh.
Good Lord, I thought. They couldn’t have been talking for much more than an hour and already they were finishing each other’s sentences? This too was bizarre, but in a much nicer way than the visit with the Lanes had been.
I waved a hand, as if to brush aside their concerns. “Plenty of coffee here,” I said. “You’re welcome to it. Although I’m sure it’s not my coffee that brought either of you here?”
Susan stared down into her cup. “I—I needed to talk with you about something, but I’m sure it can wait.”
“Oh, please don’t let me prevent you from—” Lee started.
“No, your need to talk with Jo Beth is more pressing,” Susan said. “And really, I need to get back over to the Browse and Bargain.” She looked at Lee, making her eyes wide. “That’s my store,” she added.
“It’s in the middle of town. You can’t miss it. I’m open all day.”
She started to stand and Lee stood up quickly, dashing around to our side of the table to carefully pull Susan’s chair out for her. Good Lord, I thought again. A Southern man … with honest-to-God Southern manners.
Lee watched Susan go. I had a feeling that when he finished whatever business he had here with me, he’d find himself with a sudden need to go book shopping. I pushed back a smile at that. Good for Susan. Yes, I’d found Lee attractive. But I surely wasn’t going to begrudge the fact that Susan and Lee obviously found each other much more than attractive—compelling was more like it. Anything to make Susan see the light about awful, womanizing Brian Colby. And Lee had suffered the tragic loss of his brother and sister-in-law. They could both use a dose of happiness.
Lee sat back down across from me. “I came by to let you know that things have finally worked out with Sherlock,” he said. “Both my parents and Sara’s parents have agreed to give up their ridiculous fighting over who gets custody of him. Taking care of a dog is too much for all of them. But they want him to stay in the family. Sherlock is as close to a grandkid as either side has.” He paused, and gave a sweet-sad smile. “So Uncle Lee here gets custody of him.”
“Oh, Lee, I’m so glad to hear that!” It was a relief to know that the pain the families of Leon and Sara had already experienced would not be extended through a fight over a bloodhound that should be cherished and loved. “How’s it going with you and Sherlock?”
“Well, that’s why I’m here. We’re doing pretty well. But we could both use a little training,” Lee said. “Actually, I need the training. I’m quite certain Sherlock is doing everything he should. But I’ve never been a dog owner. I find myself to now be a dog lover, but clueless as an owner. Since you and your people know Sherlock better than anyone else, I was hoping I could get a little training? Of course, I’m willing to pay whatever fee you normally charge—”
I waved my hand at him. “Never mind the fee. Consider the training a gift in celebration of your new addition to your family.”
Lee started to argue, then stopped, thinking better of it. I like that—someone who knows how to accept a gift graciously instead of arguing about it. He gave that sweet-sad smile again. I wondered how long before his smile would be real and full. Maybe Sherlock would help with that. And Susan too?
“Thank you,” Lee said.
“Where’s Sherlock now?” I asked.
“In the kennel,” he said.
“Come on. Let’s get started.” He stood up, started gathering up the coffee cups and saucers. “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’ll make sure it’s cleaned up later. I’m eager to get you and Sherlock started with one of our trainers.”
When we got out to the kennel, I found Nola Faye Dowling—the young trainer who’d tried to give me and one of the officers a hard time at breakfast—and informed her that she could spare some time away from the officers’ training to give one-on-one attention to Lee and Sherlock. She started to argue with me, then shut up when I pulled her aside and told her that her future depended on Lee’s, and Sherlock’s, satisfaction and success with her training. By the time I left Lee and Sherlock with her, she had forgotten about me and was focused on the task at hand.
Then I went to the common area, looking for Donnie Ray. I wanted to see if he had any more insight into Wayne’s unhappiness. I couldn’t afford to have Wayne be perpetually miserable, and since my attempt to straighten things out with the Lanes had failed, I was determined to wrap up at least one loose end today. Somehow or other, I wanted to get my life back on an even keel. Sooner or later, I’m hoping I learn that that doesn’t mean solving others’ problems.
Jasmine cornered me before I could find Donnie Ray, though.
“How did your interview with the Lanes go?” she wanted to know.
I gave a snort. “I’m now officially number one on the Lane family’s most-wanted list, a fact that automatically makes me an endangered species.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Don’t I wish. Seems they were in the midst of planning a large secret swamp wedding for Jimmy Joe and me next month on the twelfth, Jimmy Joe’s birthday.”
I saw from her bright eyes and amused expression that she wasn’t taking this seriously.
“But you don’t even know the guy. How did his parents get such a crazy idea?”
“Jimmy Joe has been feeding them bulletins of his undying love for me for more than a year now. His lates
t escape was planned to consummate the match made in heaven.” I shuddered involuntarily at the thought. “And his parents believe every word he utters.”
“This is ridiculous. They got angry when you set them straight?”
I thought about Obediah’s sobbing and Netty’s vehement howling of nasty names at me. “Angry doesn’t accurately describe their feelings. I want you to know that my snotty attitude didn’t land me in this latest mess. I am completely blameless.”
“I believe you,” she said with wide-eyed innocence.
“Watch it. I have a short fuse this morning … and I detect barely controlled amusement in your eyes.”
“How’s this—I believe you. I really, really believe you.”
I sighed. “Keep practicing. Maybe you’ll improve your act with repetition.”
Jasmine made the wise decision to scoot out of my path.
Fortunately for her, I saw Wayne, consulting a clipboard as he moved slowly through the common area.
I went over to him, touched him on the arm. “How’s it going?” I signed.
Wayne tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Fine,” he signed back. “These officers are among the best students we’ve had, and—”
“That’s not what I meant. I know the training is going well. If it weren’t, I’d be in the thick of it putting it right. What I mean is, Wayne, how’s it going with you?”
“Fine.”
“What a lie.”
He turned to walk away, but I put my hand on his arm. He stopped, but didn’t turn back to me, so I walked around to face him.
“Wayne, what’s going on with you?”
He looked up at me and his eyes were filled with so much anger and hurt that I inhaled sharply.
He tossed the clipboard to the floor. “Donnie Ray been complaining?”
“No, of course not! Look, Wayne, everyone can see that you’re not yourself.”
“Well, you’re certainly being yourself, pushing for information that’s none of your business.”
I was shocked, not at Wayne’s slam about my pushiness—because I knew that was true—but at his vehemence. This wasn’t at all like Wayne.
I signed, “Fine, Wayne. You don’t have to talk with me if you don’t want to. But leave the crappy attitude behind when you’re at work, okay?”
I turned to head back to my office, but apparently I’d awakened an anger in Wayne that wouldn’t easily be put to rest, because he grabbed my arm. I turned to face him. He signed, his hand movements fast and angry. “You want to know what’s wrong with me, Jo Beth? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. What’s wrong with men like me is women like you!”
“I think you’d better explain yourself. I’m giving you three sentences to clarify that statement.”
He grinned—and his grin was an uncharacteristically nasty mock smile. “One—what’s wrong with men like me is women like you and Amy. Two—you say you want decent, kind, loving, basically good guys, but then you say we’re not exciting enough, it’ll never work out, whatever. Three—then you take off and either find yourselves lonely or hooked up with someone no good because you’re just too damned scared of a real relationship that might be nice and kind and lasting even if it’s not perfect or exciting all the time and you wonder why—poor, poor, pitiful you—you’re so miserable.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Okay. Apparently you and Amy have broken up and you’re unhappy. Fine. How does that lump me in with Amy?” I was sincerely confused. Wayne, as far as I knew, had not only been happy in my employ, but had also found my expectations, though high, to be more than fair.
Wayne sighed. “Boss, at the risk of hacking you off and finding myself unemployed, sometimes you can be pretty damn dense. Why am I lumping you in with Amy? Why don’t you think about what I just said—then go ask Hank.”
Wayne stopped, and caught his breath, as if he realized belatedly that he’d just gone too far. And he had.
“You will turn around and go back to work now. And you will never again discuss Hank with me or any of my relationships, for that matter.”
For a moment, Wayne looked at me, blinking hard. I realized he was fighting back tears. Then he turned and walked away.
I made it back to my office. I sank down into my chair, telling myself I had work to do and that I needed to come up with a clever way to get Jimmy Joe Lane—and his family—to leave me alone once and for all. Plenty to do, plenty to do …
And yet I found myself with my head down on my desk.
What if Wayne was right?
I thought, uncomfortably, of Susan and her unsatisfactory relationships with men like Brian Colby and now her apparent attraction to Lee. Were Susan, Amy, and I really all of a kind, subconsciously sabotaging good, yet imperfect, relationships and exchanging them for those that promised excitement but could never possibly bring anything but pain?
I tried to clear my head of such ridiculous doubts, but then, unbidden, Hiram and Beulah came to mind. Was their secret simply that they’d stuck together, even when things were tough, because they really cared for each other as individuals? How else to explain the way Hiram looked after Beulah even now when she was only a fragment of the woman he’d married?
And on the other end of the spectrum were Leon and Sara. One had apparently betrayed through infidelity, and the other had murdered.
Where did I fit on that spectrum?
Sometimes the universe delivers answers to such soul-searching questions.
Sometimes the universe just delivers up a wicked sense of irony.
I got the latter.
My phone rang.
I answered.
And on the other end of the line was Hank’s voice, saying, “Jo Beth, we have a call out. Beulah has gotten herself lost again in the Okefenokee.”
23
“Once More … with Feeling”
September 4, Wednesday, 11:00 A.M.
My conversation with Hank was crisply professional and to the point. Beulah Burton had again slipped from the house. Hiram had slept late and just woken up around ten-fifteen A.M. He’d searched the house and immediate grounds for her several times before calling Hank, in a panic. Please, Hiram had begged Hank, help me find her one more time … and then for her own safety as well as Hiram’s peace of mind, he’d do what he realized he should have done long before, and find a nearby nursing facility for Beulah.
I said that of course I’d do the search. Hank stated that he would be by my compound shortly so that we could caravan over to the Burton place. I started to argue that that really wasn’t necessary—I remembered the way to the Burton place and could easily find it again on my own, thank you. But I didn’t trust my voice, given my emotional state at the time of Hank’s call, and so I said that would be fine.
Focusing on an urgent task helped snap me out of my earlier wallowing in self-pity and soul searching. Of course Hank was an idiot. And so was Wayne. Hiram, I told myself, was the last remaining decent guy living on the face of the earth. In fact, he was probably the only decent guy who’d ever lived on the face of the earth—a guy created by God in Her infinite wisdom to serve as an example to all the other men about how they should be, but weren’t. So of course I’d find Beulah for Hiram. Hah.
I was trying to decide which bloodhound to take this time—probably Gulliver, since he’d done the earlier search—when there was a tap at my door.
“Open,” I said.
Jasmine stepped in.
“I was just going to come for you,” I said. “We have a call out. Believe it or not, poor Beulah Burton has wandered off again, and—”
I stopped. Jasmine looked distraught. “What’s the matter?” I asked her.
“Mama. My mama. She’s had a bad diabetic reaction. I just heard about it from someone at church. She went to the hospital last night.” Jasmine sank down into one of my visitors’ chairs and put her face in her hands. “Oh, Jo Beth. I didn’t even know she was diabetic.”
Relationships. It wasn’t just the ones
between men and women that were thorny.
I sighed. “Jasmine, I’m sorry to hear this. I’m sure she’ll be all right, though, and—”
Jasmine looked up, wiping away tears. “I know, that’s what I keep telling myself. But this is the last straw. I’m going over to her house right now.”
“I thought you said she was at the hospital.”
“She is. But she’s supposed to be coming home sometime today, then have in-home nursing care. I’ve decided, Jo Beth, that I just have to sit myself down in front of her house until she’ll at least talk to me. I’m sorry. I don’t know how long it will take, but I’ve got to do this.”
She looked at me then, awaiting a response.
Jasmine hadn’t even heard me say we had a call out, I realized.
I looked at her, considering all she’d been through in her life, and all she’d done for me. This was clearly important to her.
“Of course you have to do this,” I said. “Go. Take all the time you need. This training session is going the smoothest of any we’ve ever had, so we’ll be fine.”
And, I told myself, I knew the territory around the Burton property pretty well by now. My suspicion too was that for whatever reason, Beulah had taken off again for the river. Maybe, in what was left of her reasoning, it represented something of great importance. In any case, Gulliver and I could do the search by ourselves.
“Thank you, Jo Beth. You don’t know what this means to me. Someday, I’ll find a way to repay you, and—”
I waved a hand at Jasmine, signaling that she should stop talking. “I have one condition for letting you off—with pay, of course—on this mission of yours.”
Jasmine lifted her eyebrows at that. “Yes?”
“Don’t get hurt,” I said, emphasizing each word carefully. Jasmine knew I wasn’t referring to physical injury. “If you realize there’s no point in continuing your vigil, do yourself a favor. Give it up. And come home.”
Jasmine looked at me for a long moment, weighing, I knew, the implications of my “condition.” Perhaps her mama, given her brush with serious illness and possibly death, would finally soften and give Jasmine a chance to talk to her. Or perhaps her mama had become so hard-hearted that she’d want nothing to do with Jasmine, even in these circumstances. The latter possibility would be hard for Jasmine to accept, I knew. But she needed to, for the sake of her own mental health.
A Bloodhound to Die for Page 15