Crimes of Passion

by Toni Anderson

  “Well, hello, Miss Mildred! What do we owe the pleasure of your visit tonight?” Violet’s cheerful voice cut the tension in the air.

  “I saw your car in the driveway and wanted to come tell you hello.”

  I sincerely doubted the truthfulness of that statement. Violet’s car had been in the driveway all afternoon.

  Violet put her hand on Mildred’s arm and pulled her through the front door. “How sweet of you! Why don’t you come in and have a glass of tea with me?”

  “Don’t forget to put your jam away when you get home,” I told Mildred, silently cursing my visions while I shut the door.

  Mildred grumbled as she moved past me, giving me an evil glare. She had never hid the fact that she shared Momma’s belief in my demon possession. Violet gave me a wink as they left the room. I had to admit, I owed her.

  There was another knock. My front door had seen more action in one evening than it had in the last two months. I took another deep breath and opened it, half expecting to see Joe again. Instead, I saw the Pillsbury Doughboy, or as close to what I’d ever see in real life. He was missing the chef’s hat and the kerchief, but his face was a pasty white and chubby, with big wide eyes like the Doughboy. His button-down shirt barely contained his wide, round gut, and the buttons threatened to pop. I resisted the urge to poke his belly with my finger to hear him giggle.

  “Rose?” he asked, his voice shaking from fear. At least I think it was fear, from the look of pure terror on his face.

  Nope, no giggling.

  “Steve?” I asked, but I already knew it was him from the tie he wore and the Walmart flowers he held in his hand. Either that or he was a really generous Jehovah’s Witness. “It’s very nice to meet you.” I said, trying to sound cheerful.

  He stood in silence, staring at me with his big round eyes.

  “Do you want to come in?” I raised my eyebrows in a happy, questioning look.

  He remained rooted to the porch. It occurred to me perhaps Joe or Mildred had applied Super Glue on the wood slats.

  “I’ll just grab my purse.” I said and he thrust the flowers toward me. “Oh, are those for me? Why, thank you!” I took the flowers, leaving the door open and Steve on the porch.

  “Here!” I shoved the flowers at Violet in the kitchen. “Take care of these.”

  Violet’s face lit up like a kid getting cotton candy at the carnival. “He brought you flowers?”

  I glared at her.

  “Who brought y’all flowers? The devil next door?”

  “No, Miss Mildred.” Violet said, patting Mildred’s arm. “It’s Rose’s date.”

  “Date?” Mildred crowed. “After she carried on with that Yankee?”

  “Don’t worry, Miss Mildred. Steve’s a good boy, good Henryetta stock. He’s Stan Morris’ grandson.”

  I already regretted agreeing to this date and I hadn’t even left yet. I grabbed my purse and headed out the front door before Mildred and Violet decided to start checking Steve’s teeth. He stood exactly where I left him, wearing the same terrified expression, except he leaned to the side. I worried he would fall over trying to see something in the living room.

  “Looking for something?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

  If possible, his eyes got even bigger as he violently shook his head.

  I shut the door as I realized what he was looking for—evidence of Momma’s murder. We started walking across the porch to the steps and I caught the glance he shot my direction, a look of fear. He thinks I killed Momma. There was no way I could go out with him. What I couldn’t figure out is why he agreed to go out with me in the first place.

  I stood next to the passenger door of Steve’s car. “Steve, I…” My words stopped on my tongue. Joe sat on his front porch, drinking a beer and watching my every move with a suspicious glint in his eye.

  Crappy doodles.

  Steve waited for me to finish.

  I smiled up at him with my sweetest smile, which I hoped would convince him I was incapable of murdering anyone, least of all my own Momma. “I just wanted to tell you how delighted I am that you’re taking me out to dinner.” I said loud enough for Joe to hear. To finish it off, I raised up on my toes and kissed Steve on his pasty cheek, surprised it didn’t taste like biscuit dough. I hoped Joe didn’t see Steve cringe at the contact.

  I sat in the front seat, waiting for Steve to get in, smiling my fake happy smile. I was almost surprised to see him get in, half expecting him to run screaming down the street. I had to admit he had a nice car, one he probably didn’t want to leave behind with a murderer. If I could murder my own Momma, I bet he could only imagine what I would do to his poor Buick.

  We drove to the restaurant in silence, me fidgeting with my hands on my lap and Steve griping the steering wheel with both hands, hanging on for dear life. He occasionally darted looks toward me out of the corner of his eye as if I was gonna attack him at any moment.

  Steve pulled into the parking lot of Jaspers, one of Henryetta’s nicest restaurants, which wasn’t saying much. People in Henryetta weren’t that fancy, in spite of all their bloodline talk. But Jaspers was a decent steak house, or so I heard. I’d never been there.

  Steve opened my car door and the door to the restaurant, like a good upstanding boy from the South would. Any Southern mother who found out her son didn’t hold a door open for a female of any age would get his ears boxed, regardless of the woman’s criminal history.

  After we were seated, I appraised Steve while he scoured his menu. He wasn’t an unattractive man, just plenty soft around the edges and then some. He didn’t see much sun either, from the look of his skin. I had suspected electricians were a little rougher. More like Joe, a thought I instantly squashed down.

  There was no Joe.

  “So Steve, Violet tells me you’re an electrician,” I said in a voice so sugar-laden that I expected to be attacked by a swarm of honeybees. Someone had to start a conversation or I would choke on the fear oozing out of Steve’s pores.

  He looked up startled. “Yeah.” Then he jerked his head back down again.

  I sighed. This was gonna be a long night.

  “I’ve never been here before. Do you recommend anything?”

  He mumbled something inaudible.

  I debated letting it go but decided I’d make him talk to me whether he wanted to or not. Then I realized how ridiculous the whole situation was and burst out laughing.

  Steve’s head popped up, wide-eyed, mouth dropping open. He looked like he expected me to start waving a rolling pin around any minute. I wondered again why he asked me out. Then it came to me, as obvious as Suzanne’s bleached hair. Mike was Steve’s boss. Mike had forced him into it.

  I was on a pity date. Only worse.

  Just when I was about to excuse myself to the restroom, the waitress showed up to take our drink orders. Steve mumbled his drink to the waitress, who had to ask him to repeat it twice. I ordered water. I almost ordered wine, to knock number nine off my list, but didn’t want to waste it on Steve.

  “So, Steve, how long have you worked for Mike?”

  Still looking down, Steve mumbled something.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you. What was that?”

  “Four years.”

  The waitress returned with our drinks and took our orders. Disappointment dampened my hunger, but I decided to get a big dinner and take the leftovers home. I felt a momentary bit of guilt over spending Steve’s money frivolously, but decided he could deal with it. Sure, he might be miserable, but so was I.

  Rose Gardner was done accepting miserable.

  I ordered a big steak with a baked potato and a salad. The waitress walked away and Steve no longer had his menu to hide behind.

  We sat in silence, despite my continued attempts at getting him to talk. Finally, I gave up. I checked out the decor and the other patrons. My eyes roamed halfway around the room stopping for a couple of minutes on a big group celebrating someone’s birthday. I smil
ed, wishing I was with them, and then my gaze moved a couple of tables away.

  I locked eyes with Daniel Crocker, the man that triggered my vision at the DMV. He sat with four other men. The others were involved in what appeared to be a serious conversation, but he watched me with open curiosity. I looked away, a blush beginning to flush my cheeks. Did he know who I was?

  I excused myself to go to the restroom. Steve looked eager for me to go, and I rushed down the hall. Why would Daniel Crocker be looking at me? Was he the one who murdered my mother? I couldn’t imagine that he knew it was me. Even if he remembered me from the DMV, I looked completely different now.

  Violet had put a compact of powder and tube of lipstick in my purse. I applied both, taking an ample amount of time on each. When I couldn’t stall any longer, I went back out to the table only to find Steve’s chair empty.

  I sat down, wondering if he had gone to the bathroom, too. After a few minutes, the waitress returned with my food. She looked apologetic.

  “Your date said he suddenly didn’t feel well and had to go. But he paid for your dinner and left money for you to take a taxi home.”

  I felt like crying although, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. I didn’t even like him. But if someone like him dumped me, then I really was a pathetic loser.

  “Could you just box it up?” I asked. “I think I’ll take it to go.” I stood up and grabbed my purse. “In fact, I’ll just wait out front.” I couldn’t stand the embarrassment of waiting alone at the table.

  She patted my arm. “For what it’s worth, sweetie, you can do a whole lot better than that weasel. You go wait in the bar. My name’s Bridgette. Tell the bartender I sent you over and he’ll take care of you. I’ll box this up and bring it over. “

  The crowded bar roared with conversation, not surprising on a Saturday night. I spotted an open stool at the counter and sat down. The bartender walked over.

  “What can I get for ya, darlin’?”

  “Um, Bridgette said to tell you she sent me over.” I had no idea why, but I couldn’t see a reason not to tell him.

  “Oh, so you’re her.” He looked me over. “Bridgette told me what happened. I can’t figure out why a guy would walk away from you, darlin’. His loss.” He shook his head. “Drink’s on the house. What’s it gonna be?”

  “Uh, a glass of wine?”

  “Red? White?”

  I had no idea. “White?”

  “Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio…” his list continued and I was lost. He saw the confusion on my face and laughed. “Not a wine drinker, eh?”

  He was a burly looking guy, with tattoos and piercings, but he had a friendly face. His nametag said Sloan. For whatever reason, I trusted him. “Honestly, I’m not really a drinker at all. I only had my first drink a few days ago.”

  “Ah, a virgin in our midst.”

  I felt my face burn and only seconds later realized he meant a virgin drinker.

  “Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll take good care of you. Be right back.”

  I waited for Sloan to return with my drink, when I heard a voice in my ear.

  “What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ alone? Where’d that Great White Whale get off to?”

  I turned around, half expecting Joe to be standing behind me. Instead, it was Daniel Crocker. My heart leapt into my throat.

  “Uh…”

  He slid in between my stool and the one next to me, which was occupied by a woman deep in conversation with the man beside her.

  He leaned his head close to mine. “I’m Dan. What’s your name?”

  I froze in panic. I knew I had to say something. “Rose.”

  “Ah, a fittin’ name for a beautiful flower such as yourself. Can I get you a drink?”

  “I…I already have one. Coming. He’s bringin’ it.” I was babbling like an idiot. I had to get it together.

  He laughed. “Do I make you nervous, Rose?”

  I resisted the urge to bolt from the room and run all the way home. I had to find out if he had something to do with Momma’s murder, or at the very least if he recognized me. The latter was answered immediately.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” He tilted his head to the side to study me. “You look so familiar.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m sure I would remember you.” He looked different than he did in the DMV. That Friday afternoon, he had been scruffy and unshaven. Tonight he was cleaned up and I had to admit he looked much better, but he exuded an aura that left me feeling oily.

  “I’m usually pretty good with faces and I’m sure I’ve seen yours, I just can’t figure out where. Hmm….”

  Sloan returned with my wine and glanced at Daniel, then raised his eyebrows. My eyes widened and I hope I conveyed my concern. Sloan’s smile fell and he engaged in a stare-off with Daniel. “What can I get for you, Dan?”

  I about fell off my stool when I realized Sloan knew him.

  “I’ll take a draft beer, and if I can work it out, this pretty little thing.”

  Sloan leaned forward looking into Dan’s face, all friendliness gone. If I had walked in and encountered this Sloan, I would have waited in the lobby instead of at the bar. “This here’s my little sister. I suggest you go pick up some other ‘pretty little thing’.”

  Daniel Crocker’s body jerked, his face turning a bright red that I suspected wasn’t from embarrassment. He and Sloan glared at each other a bit longer. Daniel’s eyelid twitched. His face lit up with an evil grin. “It’s not like she was wearing a fuckin’ sign or anything.” He left without his beer.

  “Thanks,” I said, humiliated that I needed saving. I had to admit I wasn’t sorry he left even if I hadn’t gotten any information out of him.

  Sloan watched him walk away then gave me a half-hearted smile. “Well, since you told me you were new to drinkin’, that pretty much told me you were new to hanging out in a bar, too. You gotta watch out for guys like him. They’ll see you as fresh meat, no offense.”

  “None taken.” I was clueless to the minds of men.

  “You look really green. They’ll latch on and try to take advantage of you. If you’re gonna hang out in bars, you’re gonna need to be more assertive.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on ya. When you’re ready to go, just let me know and I’ll call a taxi.”

  “Thanks, Sloan.” I took a sip of my wine while I tried to calm my nerves. I welcomed the warm tingly feeling, but decided I would only have one. I couldn’t risk acting like I had with Joe. Heavens knew that someone like Dan wouldn’t stop because I was drunk, making me appreciate what Joe had done that much more.

  Melancholy washed over me thinking about Joe, bringing confusion with it. I thought he liked me until I found out he had a girlfriend. I tried to cheer myself up knowing I had just taken care of two more things, drinking wine and going to a bar. Five items done. Twenty-three to go. But sadness overshadowed my joy.

  I asked Sloan to call for a cab.

  I gave myself a pep talk during the short taxi ride home. First, Daniel Crocker was some weird coincidence and had nothing to do with Momma’s murder. While I had to admit he was slimy, my overactive imagination tied him to her death. Surely, murderers didn’t lounge around bars trying to pick up women. Wouldn’t they be hiding out?

  Second, it was Steve’s loss. I wasn’t the only woman to have an awful date, even an awful first date. I could do better. There were other fish in the sea. And all those other idioms. I actually felt better when the driver pulled up in front of my house. Until I discovered Joe still sitting on his front porch. I got out and walked to the side door, trying to pretend he didn’t exist.

  “Where’d your date go?” Joe called out.

  Ignore him.

  “Did you kill him before he could bring you home?”

  I wanted to tell him that murder was nothing to joke about, but had to admit that Steve being so scared of me was a tiny bit funny, especially since I was hal
f his size.

  “You’re goin’ to run out of rolling pins soon.”

  I jerked my head around and glared at him. Don’t answer him! I fumbled in my purse, looking for my keys, cursing myself for not digging them out in the cab. I found them and hurried to open the locks—the locks Joe installed for me—before I did something I would regret. My heart was already beginning to soften. That wasn’t good.

  “Rose, can’t we just talk about it? Please?” His tone had changed, the teasing gone. I wanted to talk to him so bad, and do even more with him something fierce, but I couldn’t trust him and I didn’t trust me. I went inside, shutting the door behind me.

  Joe McAllister couldn’t be part of my life.

  TEN

  The phone rang nonstop for an hour after I came home. I finally answered, deciding I couldn’t avoid talking to Violet any longer. She apologized profusely, and although she didn’t deny that Mike forced Steve into the date, she didn’t admit to it either.

  The next afternoon she came back to take care of the rest of Momma’s things. While we sorted through boxes and photos in Momma’s closet, we discussed what to do with the house. Violet was adamant we split it fifty/fifty. We decided to have a couple of real estate agents come give us an estimate of the value of the house and go from there.

  The next morning was Monday. Time for me to go back to work. I set my alarm earlier than usual since it took me a bit longer to get ready than it used to—the only downside to my new hair.

  I walked into the DMV, my thermal mug of coffee in my hand, expecting the stares of my coworkers but still not fully prepared either.

  “Well look at you, Miss Rose, all purty.” Betty crooned. “What happened, did you go and find yourself a man?”

  I laughed, feeling a blush creeping its way up my neck. “No, my aunt came to visit. She’s a hairdresser and she cut my hair. It’s no big deal.”

  Suzanne, shot a sneer in my direction. “Somebody got new clothes, too. What happened to the gunny sacks?”

  I shrugged.

  “Looks like your mother’s death agrees with you.”

  Her smug tone confirmed that she knew I was a suspect. I ignored her.