by Vickie Fee
“Lately?” she said with her usual charm. “By the way, there’s a baseball bat under the edge of the sofa. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Maybe the baseball bat warded off evil spirits and bad dreams, but whatever the reason, I slept soundly in spite of everything that had happened. I awoke to see Di making coffee under the glow of the tiny lightbulb over the stove.
“Hope I didn’t wake you. I’m used to getting up early, so my internal alarm clock tends to go off even on Saturdays,” Di said as she poured a carafe full of water into the coffeemaker.
“No, I’m fine. I actually slept pretty well. Maybe you can catch a nap later on.”
“I’ll probably just make it an early night. At least I don’t have to work today.”
Di started the coffeemaker then left to shower. While she got cleaned up I made us some scrambled eggs and biscuits from a can.
“I wonder if Dave found out anything from Ray last night,” I said as Di walked into the room, still massaging her damp hair with a towel.
“I doubt it,” Di said. “He seems like the kind of guy who’s had a lot of experience with lying. Speaking of lying, just how much do you plan to tell Larry Joe? Everything or just the bit about the security tapes?”
“I think the part about me stealing the tapes and Ralph breaking into the house to steal them is probably about all he can handle at one time.”
“That’s probably wise,” she said. “If you told him about breaking into Ray’s camper—twice—and getting caught by the sheriff, I don’t think any jury in the state would convict him for strangling you.”
After Di and I had finished breakfast I left for the hospital and drove through a fast-food place to pick up coffees for Larry Joe and myself. It suddenly occurred to me that I should phone my mother-in-law and tell her I had picked up the truck, so she wouldn’t think it had been stolen. Luckily, she had yet to look out the front window when I called, so no harm had been done.
The coffee helped wash down the lump in my throat as I pulled into the hospital parking lot and thought about confessing my recent crimes—or at least some of them—to my husband.
Larry Joe was a bit surprised to see me. Thankfully, it had been an uneventful night for him and Daddy Wayne, and they were both in good spirits. I started to suggest we go to the diner for breakfast, since I thought it unlikely that Larry Joe would kill me in front of witnesses. But I decided it wouldn’t be fair to subject our friends and neighbors to the sight of Larry Joe’s head exploding. Instead, when we walked out of the hospital, I jumped in my car and said I’d see him at the house in a few minutes.
I drove quickly to make sure I arrived at the house ahead of my husband, and waited for him in the driveway. He seemed a bit confused when I headed toward the front door, instead of going through the garage, where we usually enter. But he followed me to the front steps.
As I opened the door, I glanced over my shoulder at Larry Joe. “Honey, don’t get freaked out when you see the house. I’ll explain everything.”
“Did you have another little ceiling mishap?” he asked gently, putting his hand on the small of my back as we stepped into the living room. “Looks the same to me,” he said, surveying the room.
“You won’t think so when you see the kitchen and den.”
He followed me into the kitchen, which looked even worse, since Ted had left behind a chalky film on the cabinets and counters when he dusted for fingerprints.
Larry Joe looked around the room, his mouth agape. “What the hell?”
“The short answer is that we were robbed. Someone took our computer, but the sheriff has already recovered it, and it appears to be undamaged. Let’s go sit on the sofa, and I’ll fill you in on the details.”
We went back into the living room and sat on our drop cloth – covered furniture. I asked Larry Joe not to interrupt until I had told him the whole story; then I proceeded to tell him all about Ralph and the security tapes and last night’s break-in. The words came out rapid fire, as if I were trying to say it all in one breath. By the time I finished, Larry Joe’s face and ears were bright red. His face turns red when he’s mad, but usually his ears redden only when he’s embarrassed. Since I didn’t think he was blushing, I feared the red ears signaled a level of rage I had heretofore not witnessed. I instinctively grabbed a pillow and clasped it against my body as some kind of emotional defense. Not that I believed my husband would ever actually hit me, but I felt emotionally exposed and vulnerable.
Larry Joe said nothing. He stood, walked out the front door, slamming it behind him. In a moment, I heard the truck door slam and the tires squeal as he peeled out of the driveway.
I hurled myself face-first onto the sofa and had a really good cry.
I’d known Larry Joe, literally, all my life. Our parents were friends; we went to the same church and the same school, although he was a grade ahead of me. Growing up, I never fantasized about being Mrs. Larry Joe McKay, although by the time we were in high school, I did acknowledge that he was pretty cute. I guess I just assumed that I would end up marrying a man from some more exotic place—an exotic place being defined as anywhere other than Dixie, Tennessee.
When we ended up at Middle Tennessee State University at the same time, Larry Joe and I seemed to gravitate naturally toward each other. As romance began to blossom between us, it dawned on me that we were already friends, that I’d always had feelings for him, however latent, and I suddenly just knew for certain he was the right one for me. His current behavior, however, might cause me to entertain doubts.
Chapter 24
After I was all cried out, I went in the bathroom and washed my face. The image in the mirror was as appetizing as warmed-over chitlins. Since I looked my absolute worst, naturally, the doorbell rang. It was Dave.
“You okay?” he asked, eyeing me with a look of genuine concern.
“I’ve had better days. If you’re looking for Larry Joe, he’s not here, and I don’t know where he is. You can try his cell phone. He’s not talking to me, but he might answer the phone for you.”
“Sometimes it’s better not to say anything when we’re upset,” he said encouragingly. “I’m sure Larry Joe will come around.”
I decided I just couldn’t think about that right now, so I asked Dave if he had turned up anything when talking to Ray Franklin.
“He backed up Ralph’s alibi, as expected. But when I asked where he and Ralph had first met, without missing a beat, he said Darrell Farrell had introduced them. Remember how jumpy Ralph got when I asked him the same question?”
“Yeah, I do. But what does that mean?”
“It confirms, for me at least, that Ralph was lying—and he’s not very good at it. I’m on my way back to the station to have a go at Ralph again before his lawyer shows up. Maybe I can make him nervous enough that he’ll slip and say something he doesn’t mean to. And I just finished interviewing your neighbor, Mrs. Cleats. She took a Valium last night and didn’t see or hear anything.”
Figures. The one time I wanted her to be nosy, she wasn’t on the job.
“Dave, when you do talk to Larry Joe, for the record, I told him about taking the tapes, about handing them over to you, about Ray and Bobo appearing on the tape, and about Ralph’s veiled threats. I did not tell him about breaking into Ray’s camper. I didn’t think he could handle all that at once—or maybe I couldn’t handle it. Whatever, there it is.”
After Dave left, I just couldn’t bring myself to shower in the tub that had served as my hidey-hole the night before. I tossed a few things in a tote bag, drove back to Di’s place. Di wasn’t home, so I let myself in with the spare key.
After a hot shower and another cup of coffee I’d reheated in the microwave, I tried to decide what to do with myself. I didn’t want to go into the office, since I felt as if I might burst into tears at any moment. That might not make the best impression on clients. Thank God, I didn’t have an event today. But I didn’t want to be just sitting aroun
d the house if and when Larry Joe turned up. My quandary was resolved when I checked my cell phone messages and saw that I’d received a voice mail from my mother while I was in the shower.
“Olivia Louise, call me or come by the house as soon as you get this message.” Click.
Whenever my mom addresses me by my first and middle name, I know she’s piqued about something. It was a safe bet that she’d already heard about the break-in at my house from someone other than me.
I slapped on some makeup and drove over to Mama’s. I might as well get it over with. I figured, if I was lucky, I’d get a little sympathy and maybe even some cake or pie out of the visit.
I tapped on her side door as I opened it, then walked into the kitchen. I spied more than half a chocolate cake calling to me from the kitchen counter, as well as half a pot of coffee. I called out to let my mother know I was there, as I retrieved a mug and a plate from the cabinet.
Mama hurried in, wearing a housecoat of many colors that would probably best be described as a muumuu. She grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me over, as if expecting to see bruises. “Are you okay? Why in the world didn’t you call me?”
“I’m unharmed, just tired and a little shaken up. I was up half the night, talking to the police.”
“You’ve changed your hair. I like it. It gives you some height. Now, darlin’, you sit down and let me pour you some coffee. Would you like me to scramble you some eggs?”
“I’d rather have cake,” I said, with what I hoped was a pitiable expression on my face. She gave me a slightly disapproving look but put a slice of cake on my plate, nonetheless. After she had poured herself a cup of coffee, she sat down at the table across from me. I knew she was waiting for details.
“How did you hear about the break-in so early this morning?”
“Sylvia called. She had talked to Edna Cleats.”
Damn that woman. Was it juvenile for me to fantasize about egging my neighbor’s house?
I decided the best way to placate Mama would be to let her know a few details that the sheriff probably hadn’t revealed to Mrs. Cleats.
“The sheriff has arrested Ralph Harvey. They found our computer in his truck.”
My mother was momentarily speechless, so I savored a bite of moist chocolate cake. It was definitely the highlight of my day so far.
“Did Larry Joe catch Ralph in the house?”
“Larry Joe wasn’t at home. He was spending the night at the hospital with his dad. I thought I heard someone coming in, so I hid behind the shower curtain until I heard them leave, and then I contacted the sheriff.”
“Oh, my heavens. You could have been killed,” she said, reaching across to hold my hand. I sat there, waiting for her to release my hand so I could continue eating cake. “How did the sheriff get onto Ralph?”
“I recognized his voice. He had someone else with him, whose voice I couldn’t identify. Dave went to Ralph’s house and found the computer sitting in plain sight in Ralph’s truck.”
“Surely you didn’t spend the rest of the night in that house by yourself?”
I had no choice but to drop the other shoe. “No. I stayed over at Di’s.”
“Why in the world would you call her instead of calling your own mother, for heaven’s sake?”
I felt the tide of my mother’s sympathy quickly ebbing away from me.
“For the same reason I didn’t tell Larry Joe about it until this morning. I didn’t want to wake you up or worry you.”
“Well, I suppose,” she said dubiously. “How did Larry Joe react to Ralph’s arrest?”
“He’s mad enough to spit nails,” I said, which was true, although I wasn’t sure whether the preponderance of his anger was aimed at Ralph or at me. Just thinking about the way Larry Joe had left the house, unable to speak or even look at me, made tears well up in my eyes again.
Her maternal sympathy again flowed generously in my direction. Mama scooted her chair beside mine and put an arm around me. She smooshed my head to her bosom, and I let the tears fall.
When I pulled up to the house, I noticed Larry Joe’s car in the driveway. The garage door was open, and he was fiddling with something at the back of the garage. My first instinct was to go straight into the house, avoiding him altogether. But I decided to risk a confrontation.
“Hey, honey. Whatcha doing?” I said, keeping my distance.
“I’m installing a dead bolt on this door into the backyard. Dave said the intruders made easy work of getting in through this spring lock,” he said, without looking my way.
“That’s a good idea. It’ll make me feel safer.” I lingered for a moment in the awkward silence, then turned toward the house.
“There’s doughnuts on the kitchen table,” Larry Joe said as I opened the door.
His voice was still gruff, and he wasn’t looking at me, but he was making a peace offering of doughnuts. That had to be a good sign, right? I peeked inside the doughnut box and noticed he had picked a variety of my favorites. Definitely a very good sign.
After wiping a damp cloth over the cabinets and counters to eliminate most of the chalky residue Ted had left behind when he dusted for prints, I made some fresh coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, facing the door into the garage. I was hoping that this way, Larry Joe wouldn’t be able to avoid looking at me when he came in. Even his yelling at me would be better than the current state of affairs.
I waited, one eye on the door. Staring at the door through which intruders had entered last night brought back the feeling of dread I’d felt while hiding as they rifled through my home. I sipped on coffee, still feeling dull, even though I had already had way more than my usual dose of caffeine for the day. The events of the past week, especially the past twelve hours, had left me physically, mentally, and emotionally weary.
Larry Joe walked in, head down, and glanced up at me briefly before stepping over to the sink to wash his hands.
“There’s fresh coffee,” I offered as an invitation to join me at the table.
My husband took a mug out of the cupboard, poured himself some coffee, and sat down at the table.
“Larry Joe, I just—”
“Wait, Liv. Before you say anything, just let me get this off my chest.”
I nodded and waited for brimstone.
“I’m so mad at Ralph Harvey right now, I think I could kill him with my bare hands. That he would use McKay’s as a vehicle to run drugs, or that he might even be mixed up with killing those two kids, I can’t even . . . But that he would have the nerve to break into this house—for whatever reason—and with you here by yourself...
“But most of all that you could put yourself in harm’s way, taking those tapes, getting mixed up in a murder investigation . . . I know your heart was in the right place, and you were trying to clear any suspicions about me or Dad. But, damn it, Liv, you could have been . . . You have to promise me here and now that you’ll stay out of this and let Dave do his job. If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d . . .” His voice trailed off, as he was choked up with emotion.
Despite his ramblings, I knew exactly what Larry Joe was trying to say. That he loves me. The new dead bolt and the doughnuts said as much. I knelt beside his chair and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He put his hands to my waist and picked me up as he arose from the chair. After a nice long bear hug and a flurry of kisses, he leaned forward and let my feet touch the floor.
“You should eat those doughnuts before they get stale,” he said, with that lopsided grin that still makes my heart race.
I really didn’t need to add doughnuts on top of chocolate cake. But I couldn’t hurt his feelings, could I?
I savored a jelly-filled doughnut and made conversation about noninflammatory topics for a few minutes.
“Hon, I’d love to stay home today, but I’ve got to go into McKay’s. I’ve been away from work so much lately with Dad, and now this whole mess with Ralph . . .”
“It’s fine, honey. I should
put in some time at the office myself.”
He kissed me and turned for the door.
“Larry Joe, if you should run into Ralph, please don’t do anything crazy.”
“Crazier than him breaking into our house?” His face turned red at the mere thought of it. He took a deep breath and continued, “Don’t worry. I don’t expect to run into Ralph. Charlene’s packing up the stuff in his office and writing out a check for two weeks’ severance pay as we speak, and our attorney is going to deliver both to Ralph’s attorney, as well as a notice that Ralph will be arrested for trespassing if he steps foot on company property.
“By the way, here’s the new key to the back door,” he said, taking a key from his pocket and placing it on the counter. “And be sure to keep the kitchen door locked—even when the garage door is closed, okay? I’ll be home before dark.”
Chapter 25
The new lock on the back door, as well as Larry Joe’s fiercely protective streak, did make me feel better. That, plus the fact that Larry Joe was now actually speaking to me. I decided to follow my husband’s cue and go to the office. Keeping busy just now was probably the best thing for both of us. Besides, I had a bridesmaids’ tea to put on tomorrow and needed to touch base with my assistant, Holly, and the baker.
I stepped into Sweet Deal Realty before heading upstairs to my office.
“My phone’s been ringing off the hook the past hour or so, with folks wanting to know the scoop on your home invasion,” Winette said as I walked through the front door. “Word on the street is Ralph Harvey broke into your house, and you bashed him over the head with a cast-iron skillet, tied him up, and held him until the police arrived. Any truth to that?”
“Some,” I said as I laid my purse on her desk and sat down. “Ralph Harvey and some unknown person did break into the house and steal our computer. I didn’t apprehend him, but the sheriff arrested him a short time later and found the computer in his truck.”