Rose from the Grave

by Candace Murrow

  CHAPTER 8

  Yellow wallpaper, patterned with black combs with a bee perched on top, covered the salon's walls. A ceramic beehive sat on a narrow oak-veneered desk. The odor of permanent wave solution mingled with a honey scent from a diffuser near a table stacked with magazines. The space held an odd assortment of chairs. Beyond the desk, well into another area, were two work stations opposite two shampoo sinks.

  A heavy-set woman with recently permed hair drew a quick breath when she saw Kat. She excused herself and squeezed through the doorway, leaving behind a whiff of the pungent aroma.

  Behind the desk a hazel-eyed woman with thin lips, a prominent nose, and teased blond hair was counting a stack of bills. Despite the work she did, her pink blouse and white polyester slacks were bright and clean.

  She scooped the money into a pouch and stuck it in a drawer, then smiled a look of recognition. "What can I do for you? Looks like you might need a color again in a couple of weeks or so."

  Kat instinctively touched her hair.

  "Roots. I can spot 'em a mile away. Bet your hair is as dark as Brianna's."

  "As a matter of fact it is." Not only did this large-boned woman resemble Bertie in size, but she also talked in broad, blunt strokes, just like Bertie. "I'm Kat Summers. How did you know I was Brianna's sister?"

  "The shirt and the shoes, plus you resemble her."

  "I don't think we look that much alike."

  "I guess not," the woman said. "Her features were more delicate than yours, little button-nose features. But, hell, she showed me your picture. I did that cute haircut of hers. Made her look like a pixie."

  "I liked that style on her very much," Kat said. "I'm staying for a while to take care of Brianna's things. I was wondering if you did pedicures."

  "Normally we do, but the gal I hired took off with her boyfriend and left me high and dry," she said with more than a little sarcasm. "Anything else I can do for you? Need a trim?"

  "No, not today."

  She stole a quick glance at the desk clock. "That being said, I have about forty-five minutes until my next appointment. I'm heading to the café for a bite to eat. Would you like to join me? We could chat over lunch. I could use the company."

  Kat thought for a moment about whether or not to take the time. "A cup of coffee sounds good, and my feet need a rest. These shoes are a little snug."

  "Great, and by the way, my name is Wilma Combs." She tossed a glance at the wallpaper. "Get it?"

  Before Kat could comment, Chance Eliason stepped into the salon, carrying a handful of papers. Kat had to move aside to let him through.

  He offered a quick smile. "Ms. Summers."

  "Mr. Eliason."

  Under Kat's blank, steady stare, he focused back on Wilma. "Here are the flyers for the town meeting on Saturday."

  "Oh, goodie." Wilma made room for them on the desk. "Is Wheeler going to be there?"

  "That's the plan."

  "We'll see if the little weasel shows up. I hope he's up for more of our hometown abuse."

  "We'll see, won't we? I better finish delivering these." He tipped his hat to Kat. "Good day, Ms. Summers."

  "Mr. Eliason."

  When the door closed, Wilma arched her penciled-in eyebrows. "It couldn't have been any colder in here if somebody filled this place with an iceberg. What's up with you two?"

  "Oh, nothing. At least nothing to waste your time with. Shall we go?"

  The Rosswood Café was by far older than Bertie's, although the checkered linoleum looked as if it had been recently scoured and buffed. The smells were more varied in the café; fried odors mixed with the aroma of soup, pancakes, and coffee. Straight back, a lunch counter with padded stools fronted the open kitchen. Formica tables were snug against windows and scattered in the center of the room.

  The café, busy but not filled up, hummed with chatter and clanking dishes. Wilma led Kat to a window table halfway to the kitchen.

  A woman with deep wrinkles on her forehead, dressed in dark slacks and a white blouse, swung by with water and menus. She left and returned with a coffeepot and addressed Wilma. "The usual?"

  Wilma replied with a nod. "And coffee."

  "What about you, miss?" she asked Kat. "Need more time?"

  Kat felt the rush in her tone. "What's your soup today?"

  "Vegetable beef. Homemade."

  "I'll have a cup of soup and coffee, black."

  The waitress righted the heavy, cream-colored mugs and filled them to the brim. "One grilled cheese and one cup of soup coming up." She was gone in a flash.

  "Bev's a hard worker. Her husband had a heart attack two years ago, and she can barely support both of them." Wilma surveyed the room. "Sheriff's at the counter having his usual ham on rye. See that young gal with the frizzy hair and faded blue jacket at the far end, next to the wall? That's Tilly, short for Matilda. She's our resident cuckoo. Comes into the shop once in a while to stare at my customers. I have to shoo her out. She's a little touched is all, doesn't talk much. She lives with her grandmother on Maple."

  "Near Brianna's house?"

  "Yeah, but closer to Randall Road," Wilma said. "Whenever Brianna came to town, Tilly would follow her around. Brianna was kind to her. I guess Brianna defended her when some of the local boys teased her pretty bad."

  "That sounds like Brianna," Kat said. "When we were growing up, she was always taking in stray pets and kids."

  "See that emaciated-looking man with the thinning hair, sitting in the corner? That's Pastor Fletcher. I'm sure he'll be around to see you one day soon. He visits every new person in town, some more than others."

  Kat couldn't interpret the smirk on Wilma's face. "I don't think I'll be here that long to warrant a visit. Tell me, Wilma, were you and Brianna friends?"

  She returned her gaze to Kat. "Not the chummy variety. Other than coming in for haircuts, she'd stop by to say hi once in a while."

  "Did she have any girlfriends in town, ones you would consider close?"

  "Nah. You know how some women take to men better? That was Brianna."

  Kat knew that about her sister more than anyone, though she'd hoped Brianna had changed.

  "I'd go over to my cousin Bertie's for a beer after work, and Brianna would be flirting up a storm. Used to see her playing pool with the guys."

  Kat's attention was drawn away from Wilma's chatter to the sheriff, who was walking toward them. His hair was a deep brown, silvery in places. He had a full mustache under a broad nose laced with spider veins. His high cheekbones gave him a youthful appearance. The cleft in his chin was the only feature he shared with his son. He held the top of his hat with one hand and the brim with the other. "Afternoon, Wilma."

  "How're you doing, Gordon?"

  "Nice to see you again, Ms. Summers," he said. "Word has it you're staying in town a while."

  "Just long enough to gather Brianna's things and get her house in order, ready to sell. Not too long."

  "What? A month or so?"

  "Good heavens, no. Hopefully, a week, two at the most."

  "If you need anything while you're here, I hope you'll give a holler."

  "I might need someone to paint the exterior of the house if the weather cooperates. Of course, that might be next spring."

  "I'm sure we can find you someone to do the work," he said. "Just let me know when you need them. In fact, you wouldn't need to be here. I could personally oversee the job. You and I could stay in touch by phone, so you wouldn't have to waste any more of your valuable time sticking around here."

  "That's very kind of you, Sheriff," Kat said. "I'll give that some thought. And thank you."

  "No problem at all." He seated his hat on his head. "Excuse me, ladies."

  "Oh, by the way," Kat said, stopping him, "would you thank your son for hauling off Brianna's car? That was a weight off my shoulders. I really appreciated it."

  "Sure enough." He continued out the door.

  Wilma kept her eye on the door until it swung shut. "Did
you know Brianna had a thing going with the sheriff's married son?"

  Kat wondered if this was one of those stories Bertie had warned her about. "Do you mean Tim Holmes? Do you know that for a fact?"

  "Everyone knew it." Wilma's face beamed with confidence. "Several times when I was at Bertie's, Tim would come in and sit in a booth alone, without his wife, mind you. Pretty soon Brianna would take her break and sit with him. They'd be holding hands."

  Kat felt her defenses rise. "Bertie told me there were rumors floating around. Maybe that was one of them. Maybe you were mistaken."

  "I saw it with my own eyes," Wilma said. "As far as Bertie goes, she and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. Take the resort project. She wants it and I don't. And with Brianna, Bertie acted like a mother hen with her, all protective. Bertie saw what she wanted to see." She swiveled from her chair. "Will you excuse me a minute? Nature calls." She trotted off to the back of the café.

  While Wilma was gone, Kat sipped her coffee, reflecting. Deep within, she knew Wilma had seen exactly what she'd seen. Kat knew Brianna's ways. Still, she didn't want to believe it.

  On her way back to the table, Wilma stopped to speak to an elderly couple. Kat overheard them ask about her, which made her feel even more uncomfortable about being in Rosswood.

  When Wilma was seated again, Kat's curiosity about Tim Holmes and Brianna kicked in. "What do you mean, they had kind of a thing going? What kind of a thing did they have? A flirtation?"

  "A full-blown affair in full view of this town," Wilma was more than willing to offer. "You ask anyone. And I know it for a fact because his wife, June, is one of my customers. She's a timid thing with three snotty little kids at home. She came in crying about it one day. It seems he hadn't been home for several nights. Don't get me wrong. I liked Brianna, but she didn't seem to make very good choices in men. Always gravitated toward the married ones."

  Since their order arrived, Kat hadn't eaten a spoonful of soup; she had no appetite for it. All that trickled down was the coffee, leaving a bitter trail. "You said 'ones,' plural. There were others?"

  "I'm afraid so, but maybe this is enough to lay on you for one day."

  "No, I want to know it all," Kat said. "It seems I had a different view of my sister's life in Rosswood these last five years. Please tell me, so I don't get broadsided by an angry spouse while I'm here."

  Wilma looked up and gave the middle-aged pastor a thin smile as he scooted by their table. When he'd left the café, she nodded his way.

  Kat reared back. "You're not insinuating . . ."

  "The truth of the matter came right out of the horse's mouth." Wilma's eyes sparkled with delight at spreading the news to Kat. "His wife, Patsy, comes in to have her hair dyed every other month, though she needs it more than that. Now, she didn't tell me right out, but her best friend spilled the beans when I was shampooing her hair. Next time Patsy comes around, I pry a little, and she has to say something. She denied it, but not very convincingly. She finally spilled the story, but she asked me not to repeat one word of what I heard. And I swear, as much as I wanted to, I kept my mouth shut about it."

  Kat could hardly believe that.

  Wilma continued, undeterred. "I was a little intimidated by him being a pastor and whatnot. Lightning can strike those who sin, so I'm told. I'm only telling you because Brianna's gone, and being her sister, you have a right to know."

  Kat felt as if a dam had broken, and all of Brianna's sins were pouring over her, but she might as well know the details. "Was it a one-night stand? Did it last long? How in the world did it happen?"

  "Hell, I shouldn't talk about it," Wilma said, "but you are her sister and have a right to know the full story. Apparently, it happened shortly after Brianna arrived in Rosswood. He went to her house to welcome her to the community, looking for converts, really. She let him in and that was that. According to Patsy, he would make excuses for going to the church every day when there wasn't a need to. Then he'd mosey on down the road to Brianna's. Mighty convenient, if you ask me."

  "How did it end?"

  "It had been going on about a week or two when Patsy finally got suspicious and followed him to the church one morning. Somehow she waited out of sight and saw him park and walk down the road. She waited for an hour, and when he came back to the church, she confronted him. Funny thing was, after all that converting, I don't think Brianna ever went to church." She sat back and heaved a huge satisfied sigh, as if she'd slipped off a twenty-pound jacket.

  Surprised, but not in total shock, Kat wondered if there were any more stories. When the waitress refilled their cups with steaming coffee, Kat found the aroma more than comforting. She blew across the top and took a guarded sip. She braced herself for whatever else Wilma had to say.

  "There were other rumors floating around, but those two affairs were the only ones I knew of for sure." Wilma paused. "She might have had something going on with Lenny over at the post office. But I'm sure that's a big fat rumor. No doubt he spread it himself."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because he likes to exaggerate everything," Wilma said. "He likes the ladies, and he was starry-eyed over Brianna. He only wished things were that way between them. He's the kind who lives through other men's escapades. Besides, his wife keeps him on a short leash. He can't breathe without her knowing about it. Clare Faulkes, now she's a piece of work."

  "What do you know about Chance Eliason?"

  "Chance? Not too much." Wilma thought a moment. "I do know he had a wife who died of cancer, and he has a daughter in college. He came into this town about the same time as Brianna and bought the ranch near the Pine Road cutoff. He's made himself a respectable place in this community. Everyone seems to like him. Other than that, he's sort of a mystery." She lifted her palms in the air. "But who cares? He's so damn easy to look at."

  "How did you know about his wife?"

  "He dated one of my customers. She said he was pretty closed up about his past. The only other woman in town he was close to here was Brianna. She'd do anything for him. He walked on water as far as she was concerned."

  "What about him and Brianna? Did they have an affair?"

  "That, I'm not sure of. I think she thought of him more like a father figure or an older brother. She seemed to lap up kindness from wherever it was offered."

  Kat agreed wholeheartedly with Wilma's assessment of Brianna, but she was curious about Chance. "What happened to that woman you mentioned, the woman he had a relationship with?"

  "She said he just stopped calling one day, never did know why."

  "That sounds typical. So, does the woman live here in town?"

  "She was a schoolteacher, but she wasn't here very long," Wilma said. "Shortly after they broke up, she transferred to another community. Broken-hearted, I guess. I don't think any woman could tie that man down. He's one of those men you dream about, but you can't have, like those movie stars. Whew! If I had a chance with him, I'd have me one good ride, all night long."

  Kat laughed out loud, loosening the tension that had gripped her.

  "I'd love to sit here and chat all afternoon," Wilma said, "but old Mrs. Tate is coming in for a perm. If I make her wait, she'll be staring at me in the mirror with her pursed little lips for two hours straight." Her face lit up with a sneaky grin. "Of course, I could always get back at her and give her hair the George Washington look." She took a last sip of coffee. "Sure was nice talking to you. Stop in and say hi next time you're in the neighborhood."

  "I will."

  "If I think of anything else about Brianna, I'll be sure to let you know."

  "You've given me plenty to think about. But if there is anything, I'm staying in Brianna's house."

  "Yeah, I know." Wilma paid her bill at the counter and had the waitress wrap up the sandwich she hadn't touched. Words had tumbled from her mouth, but nothing except coffee had made its way in. "Take care, honey," she said as she paused by Kat, "and stop by the shop to talk anytime."

 
; Kat stayed to finish her coffee. She took a sip of cold soup, trying to digest everything Wilma had told her. The sheriff's son, Tim Holmes. No wonder his hands were shaky around her. The pastor. So much for piety. Lenny, the postman? If what Wilma said was true, could Kat believe anything he'd said about Brianna? Or was everything Wilma said pure gossip?

  As for Chance Eliason, perhaps there was something about him and Brianna even Wilma wasn't aware of.

  CHAPTER 9

  Kat left the café, pleased to be outside in the unsullied air where she could clear her head, overburdened with information she would rather not have known. Despite Brianna's weakness for married men, along with the heartache it might cause everyone involved, Kat thought Brianna had moved beyond those antics. Kat distinctly remembered Brianna telling her she was enthused about her life. Bertie said Brianna was happy, especially this last year. What happened to change that?

  Kat wandered toward Hank's. Too much analyzing for one morning.

  Inside the store Hank was handing a carton of cigarettes to a customer, one of the three men who'd sat near her at Bertie's. She recognized him by his plaid wool jacket and the dark stubble on his face. When she walked by him, she could feel him following her with his eyes.

  She grabbed a basket. Though she was halfway down the middle aisle, the man's crude comments about her upper body rang out loud and clear. Something about him gave her the creeps, and she was relieved when he left the store.

  She scanned several coffee brands and chose a jar of Folgers. Without a coffeemaker, instant would have to do.

  She roamed the other aisles and picked up two cans of beef stew, a bag of peanut butter cookies, and a roll of antacids. At the back of the store were tools and miscellaneous household and clothing items. Brianna had a drawer full of wool socks but no slippers, and Kat had left her slippers at home. Among the miscellaneous items, she picked out a cheap pair of slip-ons.