Color Me Dead (Henry Park Book 1)

by Trent, Teresa

  “Sure. The sun. Whatever you say. Let’s head over to Clarence’s and ask about the truck. The old guy is going to pay me an easy hundred to do this.”

  I was glad he was excited about working. At least he was excited about the money.

  Chapter 10

  When we got to Clarence’s house, I was surprised to see Tim and Darla there going over his end-of-summer store report. Clarence bid us sit on the couch and promised he would be finished shortly.

  “I hope you don’t mind, Gabby, but Darla and I are going out to dinner just as soon as I finish with the report,” Tim said.

  “No problem,” I said. Ryan sat with a tablet in front of him, taking notes on the conversation while Darla sat with her back straight against the cushions and a look of contemptible boredom on her face. From the sounds of the sales figures, it had been a successful summer at Enchantment Bookstore.

  We all turned at the sound of light tapping on the screen door. It was the same woman who had been sitting in the parking lot at O’Henry’s Store. The child cowered behind her, holding onto her thigh. He snuck a quick peek inside the house and then returned to his hiding place.

  Clarence rose and opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  The woman shaded her eyes and peered into the house. “They sent me here from the bookstore. I need to talk to Tim.”

  Clarence turned back to his store manager, whose face had turned the shade of post-mortem. “Tim, you have a visitor.”

  “Who’s that?” Darla asked.

  Tim didn’t answer but rose and walked to the door. “Katy. What a surprise! How long has it been?”

  “Five years,” she answered.

  “Has it been that long? I see you have a son now.”

  “Yes, this is my little guy.” The little boy once again darted behind his mother but before doing so gave a little smile, knowing this game very well.

  “You’re a cutie. What’s your name?” Tim asked the child.

  The boy slowly poked his head out from behind his mother and answered, “Timothy.”

  “Isn’t that a coincidence?” Tim said. “That’s my name too.” He bent down and smiled at the little boy and ruffled his hair, which was also coincidentally the same color as his. A hush fell over the room as everyone else reached the same conclusion at the same time. Tim continued to smile, oblivious to the mental wheels turning behind him. He stood back up and took Katy’s hand. “He’s adorable. Are you and your husband staying here in town?”

  “I’m not married,” she answered.

  “Oh,” Tim said, backing off slightly, trying to be polite. His old girlfriend was a single mom. As we all exchanged glances, we ached through silence while the final key member of this meeting started doing the math.

  “Oh,” Tim’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not saying …”

  Mitch blurted out. “Get a clue, dude. That kid’s your Mini-Me. He’s yours, dude.” Political correctness had never been my brother’s forte.

  “He’s right,” Katy said, putting a protective hand on her son’s shoulder. “He’s yours.”

  “He’s mine? As in my kid? You can’t be serious.”

  “Very serious, Tim,” Katy answered. Darla clutched her side with one hand and put the other hand to her forehead.

  Clarence stepped forward and put his arm around Katy’s shoulders. “Where are our manners? Won’t you come in?”

  Katy smiled at Clarence. She was beautiful but not in the same way as Darla. Where Darla was dark and sophisticated with her velvety Lauren Bacall voice, Katy was the all-American girl. Her light-blond hair glistened, and she wore Levis with a cotton button-down shirt. Katy could almost be a model from the pages of L.L. Bean. Even though she didn’t have the same uptown-girl look Darla did, she was almost too good for Tim.

  Little Tim, once inside, was attracted immediately to Ryan’s tablet. He pulled himself up on the couch, his legs not even touching the floor, and settled in next to him. Ryan, at first slightly unnerved by the boy, fiddled with the tablet and came up with a game for him to play. He handed him the device, and Timothy began trying to get little pieces of candy to make zinging noises. It was fascinating how quickly the technology comforted him and how Ryan, too, seemed to be perfectly natural with it all.

  Feeling like maybe it would be a good idea for us to leave them alone to sort out this situation, I grabbed Mitch by the arm. “Maybe we should just leave you now. It was nice meeting you, Katy.”

  Not waiting for me to make my exit, Tim spoke, “Why didn’t you tell me? I had the right to know, you know.”

  Katy stiffened. “I had my reasons. I found out I was pregnant on a Friday. You remember that weekend we were going to go skiing? I was going to tell you then.”

  “So why didn’t you? If I remember right, you’re talking about the weekend you ended it. I had no idea you were planning to take off with … our son.”

  “Funny. It wasn’t exactly in my plans either. When I pulled up early to the restaurant, I saw you.”

  “Saw me?”

  “I guess you’d been there for a while. Had a few drinks while you were waiting. I was so excited to tell you my news, but there you were dancing with some woman at the bar.”

  “You must have been mistaken. I’m a touchy-feely guy.”

  “Yeah, where you were touching and feeling was a lot more than being friendly. Later, I found out you cheated on me. You cheated from the first day we met. You’re right. I did take off. You didn’t deserve our baby. I couldn’t let you hurt him the way you hurt me.”

  I started trying to back out quietly, but Mitch wasn’t budging.

  “So why are you here today?” Tim asked. “You could have kept me cut out of his life forever.”

  Katy sighed, “Because we need you. Not you precisely, but your financial support. I think Timothy needs to be tested. He may be autistic.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “He’s not like other kids. He spends a lot of time spinning the wheels on his little trucks. He hyper-focuses on things so much sometimes he can’t pull out of it when I call him.” Her description of little Timothy was rote, as if she was repeating something she had read in a textbook or research she had read on the Internet.

  “So what is the big deal? He likes wheels.”

  “It’s more than that, and maybe you’re right. Maybe what he’s doing is perfectly normal, but if it is some form of autism, I’m going to need help. You don’t have to be there day to day, but if we end up seeing doctors and psychologists, paying for therapy, that’s where I’ll need you. As much as I would like to have stayed out of your life, I don’t think I can do it alone.”

  “You’re in deep, bro,” Mitch said.

  Tim, usually the life of the party was now silent. To my surprise, Ryan stepped forward. “Tim will, of course, want a paternity test.”

  Katy shook her head in disgust, “Of course.” She repeated his words as if she expected to be questioned on the authenticity of her claim.

  “Having a child on the autistic spectrum is an immense task. I know it will be tough for you,” Ryan murmured.

  “Wait a minute,” Mitch asked. “Which one of you is the baby daddy?”

  I promptly yanked him from the room. “Come on, Mitch.”

  He resisted, and I pulled again, this time dislodging his feet and forcing him to move. “Now.”

  Mitch held up a finger. “Uh, Clarence, can I borrow your truck to haul off that old guy’s trash?”

  “Later, Mitch.”

  Chapter 11

  Once we were out of Clarence’s driveway and away from the continuing argument, I headed toward our house.

  Mitch raised his arms and rested his hands on his head, relaxing in his seat. “Maybe we can go back in a little while and ask about the truck after all of the fuss is over. I told the old guy I’d try to start tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, there’s no food at our place. We have to go to the grocery.”

  I distinctly remembered buying groce
ries just a couple of days ago. My brother sucked up food faster than anyone I knew. “Okay. We should probably go to the one in town,” I said.

  “Turn left up there. We can get some grub at the Lakeshore Market.”

  “How is it you don’t seem to pay attention to most things outside of video games, and yet you’re better than a Google map when it comes to finding food?”

  “Eating is one of my favorite hobbies,” Mitch cracked.

  We pulled into the half-full parking lot and walked inside to the back-to-school banners and canned music. Henry Park was transitioning to fall, just like every other community in the country. Mitch began filling the basket as if we were stocking up for a big storm. I hadn’t purchased this much since—well, I never bought this much food. As I struggled to push the basket to the checkout while Mitch continued to grab enough food to feed a football team, Sheriff Bennett stepped in front of me with a half-empty blue plastic basket on his arm.

  “Let me help you with that, little lady. I think you’re buying more than you weigh.” He graciously took hold of my basket and pushed it into a checkout line where there were a couple of people in front of us.

  “I hear you’re renting the Miller place. Is that right?” he asked.

  “Yes, we were lucky to get it,” I answered.

  “The lucky ones are the Millers. We’re averaging a couple of break-ins a week around here. Whoever is doing this, is pretty smart.” Mitch came back with a giant bag of corn chips and two jars of salsa. He balanced them on top of the pile. “They’re in and out before we even know it. If it weren’t for my deputies looking for bashed-in doors, we’d never know they hit.”

  “I’m curious why they bash in the doors. It seems like they’d just break a window or something.”

  “No, a lot of alarm systems are connected to the windows. If you can get through a hole in the door, sometimes you can get around the wiring. We’ll get them.”

  Mitch leaned in, “They seem to be outsmarting you right now.”

  Bennett gave Mitch a lopsided grin. “Got me there. Hopefully, we’ll be putting an end to that situation real soon now.”

  “I heard they tromped on Nellie Franklin’s nasturtiums,” a voice said from behind us. A tall woman in a mail carrier’s uniform leaned over her basket. She had now officially made herself a part of our conversation.

  “That is a rumor, Wilma,” Bennett assured her. He turned back to us, “Let me introduce you two. Meet your mail carrier, Wilma Jones.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Wilma turned to the sheriff, “Is that right? I mean, nothing could be worse than what happened to my brother Billy, but Nellie isn’t too happy about those dead flowers of hers.”

  “I’m not able to discuss the details of the case while it’s still under investigation,” he told her, giving her the official line.

  Mitch nodded. “Yeah, right. They did it. Flower-killers. Billy? Billy Jones was your brother?”

  “Yes, he was. Killed by these little punks just six months ago. My sister-in-law still isn’t right in the head over it. Thinks they’re coming after her.”

  Wilma turned to me. She touched my arm and asked, “What’s this I hear about a love child of Tim Hudson’s turning up? Were you there when the woman knocked on the door?”

  It was incredible the lightning speed with which this titillating piece of information traveled. We had just left Clarence’s house and this news was already on the tongues of the town gossips? Pulling the window shades down in Henry Park had just become paramount.

  Wilma responded knowingly. “She came to the post office first. She was trying to find out where the bookstore was and, well, I took one look at that boy and I immediately knew why she was visiting Tim Hudson. He’s the spitting image of the man.”

  I didn’t know what to say, but there was no way I was giving her details. Mitch started to open his mouth, but I pushed him forward. “Oh, we’re next in line. So nice to meet you.”

  The Sheriff tipped his hat in approval and then returned to his shopping. As we drove out of the parking lot, I questioned why I had felt such a need to protect Tim. Maybe I wasn’t protecting him as much as that little boy. He didn’t cause all this trouble. He just needed help from his father.

  That night I made spaghetti and meatballs, followed by a dark chocolate pudding. After supper, Mitch settled on the couch with a bag of chips and a video game.

  “Thanks, Gab, I’m stuffed,” he said over his shoulder as he tore open the fresh bag. How could he eat again?

  I wiped the splotches of marinara off of the counter. “You aren’t going out tonight?”

  “Maybe later. I hope to get Amelia on the phone. Did you realize that was her sister-in-law in the market?”

  “I wondered. Why didn’t you ask her about Amelia?”

  “I don’t know. It just felt weird. What was I going to say? Hey, I hooked up with your dead brother’s wife, and now she won’t answer my calls. What’s up with that?”

  “Will you be all right here alone this evening? I’m scheduled to teach my first class at the art studio, and then I’m heading over to Clarence’s for a little bit.”

  “Of course, I’ll be all right. I’m not a child, Gabby. Besides, I don’t want to wear myself out if I have to clean up that old guy’s yard tomorrow.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He almost sounded like a grown-up. Cleaning up trash could lead to other odd jobs.

  I sat next to him with a freshly brewed cup of coffee. “Good. Mom would be so proud to hear you say that.” I leaned back and put my head on his shoulder.

  “It’s not exactly applying for med school. Our mother thinks I’m a bum, and maybe she’s a little bit right.”

  “Then this is your chance to shut her up,” I said.

  Mitch sighed. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  Checking my watch, I realized I was going to be late. “If you go out, leave me a note or something. I want to know where you are.”

  “What do you think is going to happen to me? I’ll be okay. You go ahead and go,” he said. He was probably right. For the most part, this was a very safe place. Mitch grabbed my arm, nearly causing me to spill the remnants of coffee in my cup. “Oh, I forgot to tell you something. You’re not going to believe what I found under the seat of your car. An old pack of cigarettes. They must have been there months, so I threw them out for you.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. I was looking to see if you had some spare change down there. I’m running a little low on funds. You must never clean out your car.”

  As I pulled onto the road to drive into town for my class, I knew exactly where I’d stop on the way. I was beginning to come to grips with the idea of telling Mitch, but not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

  “Lucky Menthols, right?” Huck asked me when I entered O’Henry’s.

  I put my money on the counter. “You got it.”

  He delivered the goods with an evil gleam in his eye. Nothing like steady business.

  Chapter 12

  That night I made my dive into the world of teaching. Maybelline wanted me to teach a class in sketching, and to my great joy, my class was filled. Because the students only needed to bring a sketchbook, instead of five students, I had a dozen. Among my dozen were Gigi, the girl with cerebral palsy who drew the hand, and her caregiver, Jane.

  At first, I was nervous, but the friendliness of my students took away any fears. Teaching was not only doable for me but turned out to be quite enjoyable. At the end of class, I issued a homework assignment, and my students began to exit the room. Many of them welcomed me to the art school as they bundled off with their new sketchbooks, full of inspiration.

  Jane, who had been packing up Gigi’s Tobii, rolled Gigi up to the table where I was cleaning up.

  “We both loved your class, Gabby.”

  “Thank you so much. I was a little nervous.”

  “Gigi noticed,” Jane said. “We were wondering if you might be interested in hav
ing a cup of coffee?”

  I glanced at my watch. I was supposed to meet Clarence in an hour but had nothing to do until then. “Sure. Where shall we go?”

  “Just follow my van,” Jane said. “We know the best place.”

  Ten minutes later, with Gigi situated at the table, Jane and I ordered coffee.

  “Gigi and I are glad we have the chance to talk with you. We just needed to check on some things.”

  I already knew what those “things” were. It was the hand in the water Gigi drew, and the matching hand in my sketchpad. It was a strange coincidence. Why were we both driven to draw the same scene?

  “See, Gigi has always been able to see things like this. When we got the Tobii, she was finally able to tell me and her parents about her dreams, and then with the art software was able to show them to us. It gives her nightmares and frankly, me too.”

  “The hand,” Gigi said through her Tobii.

  “I know. I see it too. Do you know any more about it?”

  “A woman. In the water. I don’t think it’s happened yet.”

  Everything Gigi was saying was the same thing I was feeling. Everything we saw was about to happen, and it would happen to some poor woman.

  Gigi typed with her eye gaze. “I wish we could warn her.”

  “How can we warn her if we don’t know who she is?”

  “I know she’s white.”

  “Yes. I get that too. Her hand isn’t very big either.”

  Gigi typed a single word. “Young.”

  Jane set down her coffee cup. “You two are amazing. Gigi and I are so happy to have met you. The gift Gigi has is a terrible, wonderful thing, you know. It is so exciting to know another person like her.”

  At first I had considered myself so very different from Gigi—this young woman in a wheelchair—but in this instance, we were just the same.

  “I know. Try to tell others and they start filling out your commitment papers.”

  Gigi typed. “Ha. Ha.”

  “Have you had any other pictures come into your mind?”

  “No. Just the hand and darkness.”