Cry Baby Hollow

by Love, Aimee

  “I’ll be right with you,” she promised and then closed the door behind her.

  She washed her face and arms with a washcloth and pulled on a clean shirt, then went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of sweet tea from the pitcher in the fridge.

  “What can I do for you, Larry?” She asked, sitting his drink in front of him and taking a seat across the table.

  “I need that tape,” he told her, getting straight to the point.

  “Tape?”

  “The one with the pictures of the boys on it. I need it.”

  “Why? I told them I wouldn’t turn it in unless they caused more trouble, and it’s been quiet.”

  “Quiet here maybe, but not in my office. The old lady is in a fine kettle over this, and I don’t mind telling you, I’m a little scared of what she’ll do. She wants that tape and she wants it bad. I don’t know what she thinks you might have caught with those cameras, but I’m betting it’s something a lot more important than one of her least favorite great-grandkids playing mailbox baseball.”

  “You’re talking about Celestine…” she couldn’t remember the woman’s last name, only that it wasn’t Mosley.

  He nodded.

  “Old lady Wynn. She’s been in yellin’ at the sheriff every day, fairly foaming at the mouth.”

  Aubrey went in to her closet and came back with her camera and the chip. She popped it into the camera and pulled up the pictures on the view screen, holding it up for Larry to see.

  They were pictures of the trip she and Jason had taken to Mexico just before the divorce.

  He looked up at her, confused.

  “There are no surveillance cameras,” she told Larry ruefully. “It was just a bluff.”

  “Aw hell,” he wiped his face with his hands. “I can tell her that and tell her that but she ain’t gonna believe me. She’ll think you pulled a switch and have the other one stashed somewhere.”

  Aubrey shrugged.

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you,” she told him. “But I can’t very well produce film that I never took.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” he told her, standing to go. “You watch yourself,” he cautioned her gravely. “That woman is not someone you want as an enemy.”

  Aubrey took a shower as soon as he left and then spent the rest of the day online doing research. Joe came by for a Carcassonne rematch after dinner but she begged off, pleading work and aware that although he might have an excellent view of her office from across the lake, he couldn’t tell what she was doing on the computer.

  She went to bed early and left first thing in the morning for a day of shopping in Knoxville. She returned at dusk, her car full of expensive electronics and her stomach stuffed with the relatively gourmet food of the big city.

  Joe came over as she was unloading, drawn by the sound of her tires on the lonely road.

  “Are you buildin’ another bomb?” He asked her with a grin.

  “No,” she assured him. “I just wanted to pick up a few things for the cabin.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” he said, pulling a small white box from behind his back and holding it out to her. “UPS dropped this off for you at my place since you weren’t home. It’s from Agent Provocateur.” He enunciated the words carefully. “Sounds like bomb makin’ equipment to me.”

  She snatched the box away and turned her back to him, trying to hide her blush.

  “It’s just a store,” she told him archly. “They sell clothing, not bomb making supplies. Besides, why would I order things online when I’ve already proven I can do quite well shopping at Burnett’s?”

  “Oh, clothin’,” he drawled, coming up behind her and dropping his voice to a horse whisper. “Why don’t you try it on for me?”

  She turned around abruptly and saw the rakish twinkle in his eye.

  “I saw their store in Vegas,” he admitted and rolled his eyes toward heaven in an expression of pure bliss. “I don’t know as I’d call that clothin’, since it don’t seem to cover much but I’ll be damned if… Say, are there pasties in there? I know the girls have to wear ‘em some places to be legal, but I always wondered why you’d want to wear ‘em at home. That’s like coverin’ up the frosting so you can only see the cake!”

  Aubrey tried to imagine Joe in Las Vegas. She got a clear mental picture of him asking a show girl if she wore drawers when she got in the tanning coffin and had to choke back a giggle.

  “If you help me carry these boxes in and don’t say anything else about lingerie, I’ll give you all the beer in my fridge,” she offered.

  “Deal,” he agreed instantly and picked up a box from her trunk. But for the rest of the evening, through three games of Carcassonne, a bowl of popcorn, and seven beers, that rakish twinkle never left his eyes.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  For the next few days, Aubrey was completely absorbed in trying to figure out how to use all the new equipment and then installing it. When Vina called and summoned her to card night, she relished the excuse to put the confusing

  manuals aside and think about nothing more taxing than who was holding an ace.

  She dressed, showered, and pulled a pitcher of mint syrup from the refrigerator in case Vina made her stay and drink again after. She had planned on driving, but the night was cool and clear and she hadn’t had time to run for several days. A brisk walk would do her good.

  She passed Joe’s and noted that his truck was gone. He could be at Broad’s, she realized and quashed the bitter pang of jealousy the thought brought with it. Joe was decent and nice and funny. He was even smarter than she had at first imagined and god knew he was attractive, but he fished all summer and did who knew what in the city the rest of the time. Construction, she imagined from the beautiful job he’d done on the cabin, or perhaps he worked in a bar near the campus that closed while all the students were gone and that’s why he came here. It didn’t matter. It might make her a nasty, elitist snob, but she just couldn’t imagine them having anything more meaningful than a fling and in a community as small as this, a fling could be very dangerous. There was also, she had to admit, the faintest whiff of insecurity in her unwillingness to pursue a relationship with him. She didn’t really suffer from low self esteem. She was attractive and she knew it, but was she attractive enough for Joe? Would he flirt with her the way he did if she weren’t the only woman around?

  She banished thoughts of him and hurried her pace as she passed Wayne Mosley’s place. The garage door was open to let in the cool night air and she saw him sitting on a ratty old sofa watching TV. He got to his feet and waved as soon as she entered the pool of light at the end of his driveway but she ignored him and hurried on.

  She hadn’t gone twenty paces when she heard the gravel crunching and knew he was jogging up behind her.

  “Hey sexy,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Whatcha doing out here all alone.”

  Normally, she would have made curt, impolite small talk until he gave her an excuse. But tonight, with thoughts of Joe down at Broad’s, flirting with the toothless hookers, fresh in her mind, she didn’t.

  She pulled the lid off the top of the pitcher and splashed the contents up into his face without losing stride.

  He stopped dead and let a yelp of shock, sending a gout of syrup spewing out of his mouth. He bent double and scooped it out of his eyes.

  “What the hell was that for?” He screamed at her rapidly retreating form once he got the worst of it scraped off.

  “That was for whatever you were going to say next,” she called back over her shoulder and gave a little wave, leaving him to try to clean up in his bathroom-less garage and half hoping the ants ate him alive.

  Aubrey was alarmed when she turned into Vina’s driveway and came through the trees to find a dozen cars already there. She had expected to ri
de over to The Home with Vina, and her first thought was that something horrible had happened. She ran to the door and leaned on the bell, taking a quick step to the side as it swung open.

  “I’m out!” Germaine yelled, and Aubrey had to suppress images of her and another brittle old woman in an act of passion.

  “Come in and meet Paloma, she’s my angel!”

  Germaine ushered her into Vina’s living room where almost the entire population of the hollow was gathered around a short, brown, fireplug of a woman who seemed to have stolen Lucile Ball’s wig and makeup. Everyone was talking at once.

  “This is Paloma, Paloma this is Aubrey,” Germaine introduced them.

  “Hola,” the woman said to Aubrey.

  “Hello,” Aubrey told her, more than a little confused.

  “She doesn’t speak English,” Germaine explained. “She’s a nurse and an ex-nun though. Lilli found her in Los Angeles and shipped her out here. Isn’t it great?”

  Aubrey smiled and nodded, even though she still didn’t really understand.

  “Gerald’s only excuse for putting me in The Home was that a woman my age shouldn’t live alone out in the country, so Lilli hired her to be my full-time, live-in companion.”

  “Oh!” Aubrey cried as she realized what that meant. They hadn’t broken Germaine out again, she was home for good. She gave Paloma a huge hug. “Thank you,” she told the woman gleefully and then hugged Germaine as well. “Congratulations.”

  Vina came over and took the empty pitcher out of Aubrey’s hand.

  “What’s this?” She asked.

  “Julep syrup,” Aubrey told her.

  “There isn’t even enough in here for a shot,” Vina complained.

  “I ran afoul of Wayne Mosley on the way here,” Aubrey explained, though ‘afoul’ seemed to be stretching the truth.

  “You walked?”

  Aubrey nodded.

  “In the dark?”

  Aubrey nodded again.

  Vina grabbed her arm and drug her away from the hubbub and into the library. She slammed the door and rounded on Aubrey.

  “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?” She demanded. “Didn’t I tell you he was a sonofabitch?”

  Aubrey nodded.

  “His wife was a sweet girl. Not too smart, obviously, on account of she married him, but sweet. He beat her like you wouldn’t believe and then, right before she’s set to leave him, she and her baby go missing. You ask me, they’re buried in the woods someplace, so stay away from him.”

  “I have been,” Aubrey assured her, “but I’m not going to live in a place where I can’t walk down my own street.”

  Aubrey explained to Vina about Deputy Larry and the mailbox video, but left out more recent developments.

  “This is a very dangerous game you’re playin’ at,” Vina told her seriously. She walked over to the desk in front of the big front windows and pulled open a drawer. She got out a pack of cigarettes and placed it on the desk top along with an ash tray and a lighter. She sat in the big, ox blood leather swivel chair and very carefully pulled out a cigarette and lit up. Taking a deep drag, she exhaled three perfect smoke rings before looking at Aubrey again.

  “Sit,” she told her and Aubrey immediately sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Vina had quit smoking a dozen years before and Aubrey had never seen her looking so solemn and grave. She was more than a little frightened by it.

  “I’m gonna tell you somethin’,” Vina informed her quietly. “Not to scare you and not so you’ll act on it. I don’t want you to do nothin’. I just want you to understand.”

  “Okay,” Aubrey agreed.

  “The Bitch killed your grandmother.”

  Aubrey’s jaw fell open. She had always been told that her grandmother had died in the fire that consumed the family home when her mother was just a child.

  “Celestine Wynn?”

  Vina shot forward in her chair.

  “You never say that name in this house.” Her voice was low and dangerous.

  “I thought my grandmother died in a fire,” Aubrey told her.

  “Yeah. A fire. In July. At noon. In a house that wasn’t wired for electric or gas. When your grandfather, who The Bitch was in love with by the way, just happened to not be at home.” Vina shook her head sadly. “Your grandmother was the best of all of us. She was a beautiful woman.”

  “How…”

  Vina shrugged.

  “She had a fever and Will left your mother with me when he went into town to get the doctor. The next thing we knew the house was gone and your grandmother with it. The Bitch probably thought your mother was in there, too. She wanted Will unencumbered.”

  “Because she was in love with him?” Aubrey asked. Killing a man’s wife didn’t seem like a good way to endear him to you, unless he didn’t like his wife much.

  “The Bitch came here from Graysville after they ran her out. Rumor says she killed her husband, but all we know is she shows up, claims she’s some distant relation and begs for help. She had four kids in tow, not one of ‘em over five years old, and your grandpa took pity on her. He was a bachelor with a good spread of land and a couple of boys workin’ for him, so he took her on as his housekeeper. She was there ten years before he married your grandma and lets just say she didn’t take kindly to bein’ displaced.”

  “But you don’t know…”

  “I know,” Vina promised her. “Oh, I’ve always known.”

  “If you have proof…”

  “Proof ain’t the same as knowin’.”

  Aubrey rested her elbows on the desk and put her head in her hands.

  “I’m not saying don’t go up against her. I’m just telling you to know what it is you’re doin’. Pissin’ people off can be fun, but she’s not going to take this lying down. She’s never forgiven me for telling Will to take the baby and leave this place and she’ll never forgive you for existin’.”

  Aubrey was silent, trying to absorb all the new information.

  “Now that you’ve got your warnin’,” Vina said, her face breaking into a dark, menacing smile, “I say make The Bitch squirm.”

  Aubrey found the revelation about the long ago feud over her grandfather and possible murder of her grandmother intriguing, but it was hard to get emotional about something that had happened seventy-five years ago to a person she’d never met.

  Vina, who had lived through it, seemed much more deeply effected. She dove into the business of welcoming Germaine back into the neighborhood with a gusto that bespoke her desire to shake off their grim conversation. As soon as she and Aubrey came out of the library, she found Joe and Rose’s husband, Charlie, and put them to work setting up extra card tables from the garage on the back porch. Card night, after all, must go on.

  Vina divided everyone into teams: She and Edna, Rose and Charlie, Lettie and Emaline, Micejah and Armistead, Betty and Germaine, and Aubrey and Joe. They played spades, and the teams switched tables and opponents after every three hands. In between games, while the players who were finished waited for the stragglers to be done, they stood around the kitchen and drank. Paloma, who couldn’t be made to play in spite of the fact that everyone offered to sit out for her, acted as honorary hostess and kept the drinks flowing freely.

  Aubrey and Joe spent more time in the kitchen than anyone else. Joe wasn’t exactly bad at spades. He played a competent hand and didn’t make many mistakes, but you could tell from his expression exactly how good his hand was and whether he was bidding strong or weak, and this was not a crowd that wouldn’t take advantage of that information. They alternated between getting bagged or set, and ended their first game in the negatives.

  By the time they sat down at the third table, they were both more than a little tipsy from all of their down tim
e, and Vina and Edna beat them so badly that they were both playing recklessly by the end of it. Aubrey tried to salvage things by bidding blind nil on their last hand and discovered she had both the king and queen of spades. They both dissolved into giggles and as soon as they finished the hand and were officially beaten, Vina sent them home. She was more than a little tipsy herself, but not so far gone that she didn’t take Joe’s keys and tell him to come back for his truck in the morning.

  Joe offered Aubrey his arm and the two of them walked off just as the full moon poked out from behind the clouds.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When Aubrey awoke the next morning, rain was drumming on the roof and the sm

  ell of coffee filled the cabin. She rolled over and saw the bed beside her rumpled and the covers pushed back. There was a Joe shaped dent in the spare pillow. The previous evening came flooding back and she was amazed that she didn’t have a hangover.

  She peaked over the railing and saw him sitting at the table, reading the rule book from Carcassonne and drinking a cup of coffee. He must have gone back to his place for it because she knew she’d run out days ago.

  Joe felt her eyes on him and looked up. He smiled and set the pamphlet down.

  “Why don’t you grab a shower while I make breakfast?” He suggested, getting up and going over to the kitchen without waiting for her to reply.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, freshly scrubbed and wearing a clean pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt, he was back at the table and a plate and mug waited for her at the seat across from him.

  “Are you mad at me?” He asked as soon as she was seated.

  She avoided his eyes and looked at her plate instead. He had made her a fried egg sandwich with melted cheese and sliced tomatoes. He must have picked up more than coffee at his place, since she knew none of the ingredients had come from her refrigerator. When she finally looked over at him, she saw that he was freshly shaven and his hair was still damp.