His mind far away, Jeff snapped back into the moment. “Relax. You’re a real lawyer.”
The young man wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “You don’t know that.”
“Look,” Jeff said to his former college roommate. “You’re annoyingly smart. There’s no way you didn’t pass the bar exam.”
“Well I won’t know for sure until I get the results, which is why I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Just act lawyerly.”
The door to the tiny room opened, and a police officer entered with a handcuffed Peter West. When the prisoner saw the PI, he took a step back like he wanted to return to jail. “You! What are you doing here?”
Jeff pointed to his friend. “I brought a lawyer, Booby Hobbs.”
“I go by Robert now,” the lawyer told Jeff.
“I have a lawyer,” growled Peter.
“A public defender. I know. Your wife thought you might like a real lawyer, like Booby here.”
Booby spoke through gritted teeth. “My girlfriend hates that nickname, and it’s not professional.”
Peter nodded to the officer, who then left the room. “So you got me a lawyer?”
“Not really.” Booby turned his attention to the email on his phone.
Jeff said, “I just needed him to get in to see you.”
Peter took a seat at the table across from them. “Why?”
“Corey Melton died around eight-forty-five. You were at work at eight-thirty. Why is the TBI convinced you killed him?”
Peter shrugged and admitted, “I lied to you. The truth is I don’t start work until nine-thirty. I’m just used to saying I punch in at eight-thirty because that’s what I tell my wife.”
“Why?”
“So I can get some time to myself. Man, you’ve seen our living conditions. Without that lie, I’d never get any peace.”
“So what do you do during that hour?”
“Different things. Drive around. Hang out at a coffee shop.”
“What were you doing when Corey was killed?”
“I parked at work and just walked around for a while.”
Jeff slapped the table. “That’s it then. There are cameras outside the store where you work. There should be video of you parking.”
Peter shook his head. “Employees have to park in the north corner lot. There are no cameras out there, and I don’t think the ones on the building look out that far.”
“Okay, where did you walk to? Did you buy anything?”
“No. I just walked through that little park. I sat on a bench for a few minutes. That’s about it.”
Jeff twitched one corner of his lips. “I assume no one saw you.”
“There were a few people walking by but no one I know.”
“Wow.” Jeff sat back in his chair. “As far as alibis go, yours really sucks.”
Peter locked in on Jeff’s eyes as if to transmit his sincerity. “I didn’t kill that man. I swear it! You’ve got to help me. Please.”
“You know, I pride myself on my well-oiled bullshit-o-meter. I believe you. Unfortunately, it looks like the only way I’ll be able to prove your innocence is by finding the real killer.”
On the drive to Brume Wood, Emory could sense Ms. Mary Belle’s growing excitement. In between anxious glances at indicators that her former home would soon be in sight, she enlivened the drive with folksy, if disjointed, vignettes of her youth. “Me and m’ sister—”
“Luke’s grandmother?”
“Jus’ got the one.” The Crick Witch raised her hands from her dirt-brown cloak, as if signaling the answer were obvious. “Anyways, we use ta hide come dusk ’cause we wouldn’t wanna go inside. We’d stay ina woods all night if we got our way – dancin’ with lightnin’ bugs ’n’ fallin’ ’sleep by the crick. My daddy’d come huntin’ for us. I ’member one night, he thought he heard us ina bushes, only ’tweren’t us. It was a polecat!” Ms. Mary Belle laughed herself into a coughing fit. “Polecat chased ’im upa tree and still got ’im! Mama wouldn’t let ’im step foot ina house fer two days on accoun’ ofa stink.”
Emory laughed too – at her delight more than the story. “Seems like you’ve always stuck close to home. Have you ever gone out of state?”
“Ain’t nothin’ out there I needa see. My daddy taught me howta live offa land ’n’ take care a m’self. My mama, she was a spellcaster ’n’ potioner. It’s how she made money, he’ping out the town folk. She passed it ona me.”
Emory turned up the windshield defroster to pacify the fogging clash between the higher elevation’s chill and the heat emanating from inside the car. “What about Luke’s grandmother?”
Ms. Mary Belle snorted. “My sister ain’t ne’er had no gif’, ’cept for leavin’ us. Once we growed up, I wassa only one ta stick around. That’s why daddy gimme it all.” She sighed and stared out the side window. “M’ paren’s was good people. They both of ’em died in that house.”
“What happened?”
Ms. Mary Belle gave him a what-do-you-think-happened look. “They was old. They didn’t die toget’er. M’ dad stuck ’round couple years past. But they both took they last breath on that prop’ty, an’ I will too.”
Emory took his eyes off the road long enough to read her face, trying to gauge the seriousness of her words. “Ms. Mary Belle, I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything foolish while we’re there. I’ll turn around right now.”
“Sweet sassafras! I ain’t ne’er felt inclined for that. Well, one time maybe. When I wassa young’un, sixteen, se’enteen – don’t ’member no more – I met me someone who… I was ina woods gatherin’ pine cones for Christmas, to where it wasn’t our prop’ty no more, anna heard somethin’ ona wind. When I came upon what it was, I seen a hand reachin’ out from this deep holler ina ground. The hand was grabbin’ ona rope tied ’round a tree, an’ then it pulled up the most beautiful sight any eyes e’er did see standin’ afore me. Tall. Thick brown hair. Hauntin’ green eyes.”
Emory smiled. Sounds like Jeff.
“I thought it wassa specter until it spoke – an angel’s voice couldn’t a been more upliftin’ to hear. Said it was ’xplorin’ the ground holler on its new prop’ty.”
“What’s a ground holler?”
“You know.” She brought up her arms and touched together her fingertips as if she were holding an invisible, oversized pillow. “A big ol’ hole ina ground. ’Tweren’t wide big but deep big.”
“Like a well?”
“No, like a holler. Come a find out, we had new neighbors, an’ Specter was their young’un an’ was my age. From then on, we was always toge’er. Ev’ry minute we wasn’t was plain agony ta me.” Ms. Mary Belle tsked and shook her head. “I fell in love good an’ heavy. I’d had done anythin’ Specter wanted. We promised we’d never leave each other. I made a charm for m’ Specter so no harm would e’er come. I wasn’t as good at it as I am now ’cause it didn’t work. One day her daddy caught us havin’ relations in the woods.”
Emory whipped his head around to face her profile. Her?! Her love was a woman? I had no idea!
“He grabbed Specter by the hair and dragged her away. I tried to fight ’im, but he hit me good an’ hard. M’ mama found me ina woods an’ bringed me home. When I woke up the next day, I runned to her place an’ banged ona door. Her daddy answered, brown bottle in his han’ an’ beer in his sweat. He tol’ me he sent m’ Specter off ta live with fam’ly in West Virginia. I knowed he’s lying, so I broke past ’im an’ run all through the house. I found her mama cryin’ on m’ Specter’s bed but no Specter. He really done it, I thought. He sent her away from me. Next thing I knowed, I heard breakin’ glass. Took me a second to know he broke the bottle on m’ head. He picked me up an’ throwed me out the front door. He told me if I e’er stepped foot on his prop’ty again, he’d shoot me. M’ folks had words with him, an’ then they told me the same thing – stay off his prop’ty. Broke m’ heart, but I ne’er did go there again, an’ I ne’er did see her a
gain. Later I went walkin’ ina woods, to where we last was, an’ then I heard her. She was moanin’, like she was ’fore her daddy found us. When I heard it, I didn’t know what he’d done with her, but I knowed she wasn’t in no West Virginia.” Ms. Mary Belle wiped tears from her. “I knowed she was dead. M’ Specter she was for sure then, an’ she was chained to the woods, to our woods – the last place she was happy. She cain’t leave ’em, an’ now she’s there all alone.”
Emory didn’t know what to say, so he said what everyone did in that situation. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure he should ask, but he had to know, “What happened to her father?”
“He got his. I cursed ’im – a curse seeded with hate for ’im and love for her. He died ina bar fight not long after.”
Ms. Mary Belle pointed to a tiny café coming up on the right. Emblazoned with a dim neon sign touting, Log Cabin Diner, the steel-and-glass establishment offered no indication for the reason behind its name. “Stop here!”
Emory nodded toward the windshield. “We’re almost at your place, and I thought you weren’t hungry.”
“I need me some good tea. All they got at that ol’ home is skeeter piss – ain’t got no taste.”
Emory pulled into the parking lot, and a moment later they were seated at the counter. Ms. Mary Belle placed her order before the approaching waitress was within a reasonable range. “Sassafras tea.”
Once she stood before them, the waitress wrote down the order. “And for you, handsome?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
“That’s it then?” Emory nodded at the waitress’ question. “To go?”
“Yes please.” He turned to the old woman seated on the barstool at his side. “You like sassafras tea?”
“My fav’rite tea! No taste like it ina world. They don’t make it right here. Use some damn fake stuff ’stead of the root. But it’ll do ’til I get to the prop’ty an’ dig up m’ own. Got lots of sassafras trees.”
“Ms. Mary Belle?” A middle-aged woman dining at one of the tables came up to them. “I’d heard you moved.”
“Louise.” Ms. Mary Belle offered a grin that looked like the side of an old covered bridge with missing planks. “How you an’ Ben?”
“Well, truthfully, Ben’s not doing so well. His rheumatism is back. He can barely move his knee.”
Ms. Mary Belle searched her crocheted purse and pulled out a small mason jar containing a brown jelly-like substance. “Gom some of this on it twice a day. He feel better after ’while.”
“Thank you!” Excited, Louise took the jar to her table and came back with her purse. “How much do I owe you?”
Ms. Mary Belle didn’t hesitate to extend her gnarled hand. “Twenty.” Louise paid her and returned to her table.
Emory nodded the side of his head toward Louise’s table. “So what was in the jar?”
“Healin’ potion. Don’t ask ’bout the fixin’s ’cause it’s a secret recipe m’ mama taught me.”
“Do you make good money selling your potions and spells?”
“Pert’ near e’eryone in town come to me. From ’round the county an’ outside too.”
“You must know a lot of people.”
“Ain’t you got no friends?”
“Sure, I do.” Emory took a few seconds for some quiet introspection. “Honestly no. I don’t really have any close friends anymore. I’ve spent my time focusing on my career. I could control that, or I thought I had control over it. Things have gotten confusing lately. I used to know exactly where my life was headed. I had it all mapped out. Now, I’m not even sure what I want to do with my life.” Emory stopped talking when he realized he was spilling out his heart to the woman who had cursed him.
“You need prop’ty.”
Emory laughed. “I’m not ready to buy a place—”
“Not prop’ty like m’ prop’ty. You need somethin’ to love an’ that loves you back.” Ms. Mary Belle placed a calloused hand on his forearm. “Why you livin’?”
“What do you mean?”
“What you livin’ for? Why you here on Earth? Know that, an’ then you know what to do.”
Louise returned to the counter. “Ms. Mary Belle, I’m sorry to bother you again.”
“Ain’t no bother. Need he’p with somethin’ else?”
“Not me. I texted Bernadette Jenkins to let her know you were here. She had been wanting to get ahold of you for a while now. She’s been having some awful trouble sleeping since her husband died in prison last month. I think she feels guilty for not going to see him, in spite of what he did. She says he’s been coming to her at night, stealing her dreams. She was hoping you could help.”
“Ain’t got nothin’ for spookin’ on me, but I pick somethin’ up from home an’ drop it off.”
“That would be great! Thank you so much.” Louise returned to her seat.
“Speaking of spooking, can we talk about the curse you placed on me?”
Ms. Mary Belle laughed. “Been workin’, ain’t it?”
“Well, I’m not dead, obviously, but I’ve had a string of bad luck, if that’s what you mean. I’ve had a home invasion, I was in car wreck, I lost a job I didn’t want… much and I think I lost something else.”
“That’s how ’tworks. Plays with you. Takes away e’erythin’ you care ’bout.”
“Well, good job then. Now how about removing it?”
“I cain’t.”
“Why not? You said you could.”
The Crick Witch shook her head. “Said I’d tell you how.”
“So how?”
“A curse ain’t a piece a tape you can take off when you want. It part of you now. Only way to git rid of it is to die.”
Chapter 21
After dropping off Booby, Jeff drove his rental car to the Mountain Light Holistic Center. Once he walked through the front doors, he saw at the counter a different woman from his previous visit. He was about to ask her for the location to Randy Graham’s office when he saw the man himself heading for the front door. Jeff intercepted him. “I need to have a word with you, Doctor.”
Randy nodded toward the door. “I’m heading off to an appointment in town.”
“This will just take a moment.”
“I really don’t have time.”
Jeff stepped in his way. “Have you been questioned by the TBI about Corey Melton’s death?”
“Why would I be?”
“I wonder how you would explain to them the fact that you pass yourself off as a counselor with only a certificate for holistic voodoo you can get from a six-hour online course.”
Randy crossed his arms in a faux show of confidence. “I’ve never claimed to be a licensed therapist. I’ve done nothing illegal.”
“You’re misleading people into thinking you’re qualified to offer counseling.”
“I give advice.”
“I wonder if the authorities will buy your fuzzy semantics when I tell them you were counseling, or giving advice to, someone who committed suicide.”
“The police said Corey was murdered.”
“That’s just one of their theories. You hid behind patient confidentiality to avoid talking to us earlier, but that little certificate of yours doesn’t grant you any measure of patient confidentiality protection. You’re going to answer my questions, or I swear I’ll publicize your credentials, get the authorities involved and do everything I can to shut you down.”
Randy took a moment to weigh his options. “What do you want to know?”
“What was your therapy for Corey?”
“With fears, you want to address the root cause of the fear, but with a lot of phobias, a root cause is elusive or impossible to find. In those cases I help people focus on mastering that irrationality so they can face those obstacles from a place of peace instead of a place of fear.”
“So you did direct him to go to the rooftop of the building where he works?”
“The only way to overcome fear is to face it, so part of the th
erapy is to meditate in a location of discomfort and to continue doing so for days, weeks or months – until you can walk up to that edge as calmly as you could walk down the street.”
“How long had Corey been going to the roof?”
“He started about six weeks ago.”
“Besides you, who knew that he was going up there?”
“No one that I know of. His wife, maybe. He joked a lot, but he was a very private person. It’s not the sort of thing he would’ve talked about.”
“Okay. Now about that alibi of yours.”
“I’m still not going to tell you her name. I think we’re done here.” Randy walked out the front door and held it open, but the PI was stuck in place. “Aren’t you leaving?”
Jeff pulled a card from his pocket. “I’ve been a little tense, so I thought I’d redeem this yoga coupon you gave me.”
Randy sneered at him. “Enjoy.”
“Oh, by the way, I’ll make sure to check my tires and engine before I pull out of your parking lot this time.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just an FYI.” Jeff let the front door close and watched Randy walk to his car. He returned the card to his pocket and approached the woman at the counter. “Could you tell me where Randy’s office is?”
The woman pointed to the front door. “You just saw him leave.”
“Yes, but I forgot to give him my card.”
“You can give it to me, and I’ll make sure he gets it.”
Damn! Jeff gave her one of his business cards, which she placed under the counter. “Aren’t you going to take it to his office?”
“I’m working here. I can give it to him when he gets back. Is there anything else?”
Jeff slapped the yoga card onto the counter. “Where’s the yoga class?”
She pointed to the hallway at the left. “In the Yoga Center. Go out the door at the end of this hallway, and follow the walkway to the next building.”
“Thanks.” Jeff followed her direction to the outdoor walkway, where he stopped an approaching employee. “Excuse me. I have a meeting with a Randy Graham. Could you tell me where his office is?”
Death Opens a Window Page 13