Amber’s mom was soft and round, and offset the macabre of their housing situation by baking. Every day. It’s a southern thing. Your people die. You eat.
Amber had moved to San Francisco after college and was raising the most adorable twin cherubs. She sent me pics about once a month, and we emailed throughout the week. We also tried to get together for a few hours when we came home for Christmas. Thankfully, Fae Lynn had yet to call and tell on me about Cash. Consequently, I hadn’t heard from Amber since I’d called her to tell her about Van, and she’d sent me a gift card to the Cheesecake Factory.
I was hungry.
I rooted in my bottom desk drawer for the emergency stash of snacks that had come with the desk via Nonnie. I pulled out a honeybun and was unwrapping the cellophane when I heard the doorbell chime and the echo that followed it. I sighed and re-wrapped the sweet, set it down on the desk, brushed off the crumbs from my favorite navy sheath, and slipped on the matching pumps. I scurried toward the reception area and grinned when I saw Ronnie.
Where Raylene was short and round, Ronnie was the incarnation of Icabod Crane. Tall and thin to the point of being gaunt, he dressed the part of mortician, if such a part could have a dress code. While Amber’s mom had always caused tongues to wag with her bright colors at services, his clothes were a never-ending parade of black. Even when we’d see him in casual clothes, it was usually a black shirt and dark plain Levis. He pretty much looked like the clichéd mortician. However, I’d grown up with him, and he’d kissed skinned knees and yelled over missed curfews and snapped shots of us in our prom dresses. Therefore, I didn’t think there was one scary thing about him.
My grin widened with pleasure, and I scooted across the floor to grab a hug and give him a peck on his leathery cheek. He returned my embrace and then held me out away from him.
“Miss Lilly, you look all grown up.” I accepted the compliment with a widening of my grin.
“How’ve you been?” I asked him, motioning for him to have a seat as I sank down onto one of the chairs on the same side of the desk.
“How’ve you been?” he asked instead of answering me. I smiled ruefully.
“Better now that I’m home,” I answered honestly. “Did Amber tell you everything?” He nodded, and offered to make a trip to Dallas. I shook my head with another smile.
“I always knew something was a little off with him. Not Cash Stetson off, but off, you know?”
I nodded. “Off” was an interesting word choice, but I’d give it to him. I avoided quickly the subject of Cash.
“Would you like some coffee?” I asked him, tilting my head toward the full pot. He nodded and I hopped up to walk over and pour him a cup, adding the two pink packets without being asked. He smiled up at me as I handed it to him.
“Thanks, Lilly.” I smiled a welcome and sat back down.
“What seems to be the trouble that you didn’t want Miss Raylene to know about?” I grinned at him. He offered his own smile and then a grimace clouded his otherwise pleasantly bland features. A pregnant pause filled my office as I studied him. He twisted his fingers in his lap.
I was slightly unnerved. I didn’t like to see any of my parents’ contemporaries nervous. I still hadn’t grown up enough for that to be normal to me.
“Guess I should just be out with it, and stop prolonging it all.” I waited as he took a deep breath, his craggy eyebrows raising and then inching toward each other. “We got the body by accident, actually. It wasn’t supposed to come to us. The family had originally wanted it cremated.”
My ears perked up, and whatever chilly blood I had left over from last night’s sleep was suddenly warm and rushing through my head. I reached for the yellow legal pad on my desk and clicked a pen, poised to record, at least for posterity’s sake. While I wasn’t sure where this was going, from the looks of it, it was sure to be interesting. He continued on.
“You never expect anything to be out of the ordinary, you know?” He looked at me. I cocked my head. “But the leg, it felt kind of wrong. Kind of like it was too light, you know?” No, I didn’t, thank God. I nodded my head anyway. “Well now, I’m not one for messing with the bodies any more than I have to; there’s something a little irreverent about that, you know?” Sure.
I’d forgotten what a storyteller Amber’s dad was.
“But it was just too odd for me to let go.” There was that word again. “So I did some, well, some … some investigating,” he ducked his head at me sheepishly. “And well, uh,” he coughed, “turns out the bone wasn’t bone; it was PVC pipe.”
The hot blood stopped rushing and went ice cold. My hands dropped to the blank notebook. Normal sounds like the twitching of the fluorescent lights and the groaning of the air conditioner were replaced by a very loud clanging in my ears. I barely fought the urge to put my head between my knees, stopping only when I noticed the semi-stricken expression on Ronnie’s face. I took a deep calming breath and fought against my urge to vomit. People deal with sudden stress in all sorts of ways. Some eat, some go run, some shop, others do yoga. I throw up. Gross, yeah. But hey, whatever works, right?
I focused back on the client I was very much hoping wasn’t going to sign a contract and hand over a retainer. He mistook my refocus as a sign for him to continue.
“So I started to poke around a little more.” He looked apologetic as I blanched. “And there was some other parts missing, stuff that hadn’t been replaced by any, uh, pipe.” Morbid curiosity won out over my upchuck reflex.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like the kidneys were missing, along with the, uh,” he blanched himself, “heart.” Oh, man. I was thankful Nonnie hadn’t made it over with her obligatory biscuit that morning. I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do with all this information.
“Mister Ronnie, I understand you needing to share this and not wanting Miss Raylene to know, ‘cause knowing her, she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself. But I’m not real sure what you want me to do.” He nodded at me.
“Well, Lilly honey, I’ve got a slight predicament. I didn’t feel right holding onto the body. The funeral was kind of a rushed job, and the family was pretty grief-stricken. I didn’t want to make a big stink over something that turned out to be nothing, you know. So we went ahead and buried the body.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“But the more I wrestled with it, it just didn’t seem right. But going to the police would just cause them to go straight to dig up that body. I’ve seen those crime shows,” he told me sagely. “So I figured I’d ask you to see what you could find out before we went and made a big stink for the family.” He finished and waited as I quickly processed.
Dead body missing vital organs and stuffed with plastic? Check. My childhood friend’s father wanting me to investigate instead of the police? Check. Overwhelming sense of nausea and ickiness. Um, yeah.
I smiled more reassuringly than I felt.
“Why me, Mr. Ronnie? I’m an attorney, not a detective.”
“True. But I know how important the truth is to you. And how clever you are. I figured if anyone could figure something out, it would be you.” This was true. And sounded like a detriment to my health. “And maybe it’s nothing. But I want to make sure.”
“I’m sure Scotty could help, under the table, if you asked him,” I advised, avoiding agreeing with Ronnie.
“Maybe. But I don’t want to put him in that predicament. Don’t want him to have to be faced with the ethics of that.” I laughed.
“But me you’re okay with?” He had the good sense to look chagrined.
“I know you lawyers say you have ethics, but aren’t the lines a little blurry?”
“No.”
“Lilly.” He frowned at me. “Come on.” I conceded.
“Unspoken, of course, but yes, they’ve been blurred a time or two on certain things.”
“See!” He crowed, happy with himself and relieved he hadn’t offended me.
“Fine.” I tol
d him. I couldn’t tell him no. He was Amber’s dad. And he was right. I did have a problem with making everything right. And it sounded a lot more fun than dealing with Cash.
“Great. Um, I know Raylene would have my hide for asking up front, but how much are we talking here?” I shook my head, embarrassed.
“Nothing. This isn’t really legal work. You can’t hire me for this. I’ll see what I can find, and if something comes to fruition and you need to sue, you can retain me for that and we’ll talk about dollars then. Maybe.” He nodded knowingly.
“Right. Okay, then, what else do you need from me?”
“Let’s go over the details one more time so I can get it all down, and then we’ll see what we can do.” He nodded gratefully and took a drag from his styrofoam cup. I started to write.
“Okay, now where was the body before it came to you? Did it come straight? Or did y’all pick it up?” I asked.
“The hospital.” A light bulb brightened over my head, and I sighed with relief.
“The person was probably an organ donor, Ronnie,” I told him, relieved. He was shaking his head before I could finish.
“That was my first thought. I called the widow. That wasn’t the case.”
Shit.
“Oh, and something else. He was missing his fingernails.”
On a stick.
Chapter Twelve
I had decided to bite the bullet. It had been seven weeks since I’d had an overpriced haircut, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I figured a trip to the hairdresser might take my mind off the swirling thoughts and ugly images that were keeping my mind busy. After Ronnie Duvall had come into the office yesterday, I’d spent the rest of Friday splitting my time between addressing letters to advertise my legal services and trying to explain away the possibility that someone had taken a femur bone from a dead man’s leg and replaced it with something you could buy from the lumber yard. I’d had to fight against my instinctual urge to tell someone.
Nonnie would have herself down to the hospital sniffing around faster than goose grease. Fae Lynn wouldn’t be able to keep from questioning every 911 caller. Tally breaks out in the hives at the very mention of dead people. Mama had been a better option, but when I dialed the number, I thought better of telling my mother that someone wanted me to investigate an illegal activity. No doubt she’d lecture me and then be worried as all get out. The lecture wasn’t an issue, but I’d worried her enough in the past two months to last a lifetime. After the disaster named Van, it was probably a good idea to give her a break. So, I’d talked about my need for a haircut instead.
Mama had quickly made me an appointment with her hairdresser. Barbie had styled my hair from the time I was two until I’d moved to Dallas. I’d even driven two hours from Oklahoma State once a month after I’d left town. She knew everything about me. She knew everything about me and Cash. Everything.
Her shop was on Main Street like most of the other businesses in town. It lay across from the town square, diagonal from Daddy’s office, and two doors down from Mama’s. It took me thirty seconds to get there from my own office, and as I walked in the door, the chatter fell silent. The blue hairs under the dryers stopped clucking to inspect me. The young girl at the manicure station ended her cell phone call without saying goodbye, and heads being sheared swiveled to see what the fuss was about, one definitely screwing up her new cut.
Having spent my breakfast mulling over what Amber’s dad had told me the day before, I was grateful for a reprieve. Nothing like a good haircut to put things in perspective. After Mr. Ronnie had left, I’d run straight to the bathroom. I’d desperately wanted to turn him down when he asked for my help. But this was Brooks, and I was Lilly Atkins, and he was like a third father to me (following close behind Fae Lynn’s daddy). So I’d agreed to poke around. I wasn’t sure what or who I was going to poke or what I might find, but I’d promised to try.
I took a deep breath and smiled as I headed toward Barbie’s chair in the back of the shop. Barbie spotted me and swept me up in a hug as I reached her.
“Lilly Atkins! Come in here, girl!”
“Hey, Barbie. How goes it?” I said with a grin.
“It goes,” she answered with her own smile.
“Sit your skinny butt down in this chair and give me the scoop on what everyone’s been jabberin’ about for the past two days,” she said around a pink wad of gum.
“You mean the vandalized car at Chester’s the other night? I will swear a solid oath that I did not hang a dead skunk on that man’s antennae,” I said with a deadpan expression as I sat in her chair and she snapped a cape on me with a flourish.
“You know good and well I’m talking about Cash Stetson and what he was doin’ in your office. It’s all these women in here have been talkin’ about all morning. I almost called you myself to get the scoop, so they’d shush up,” she prattled on.
You know, they talk slower in Texas. I mean, we’ve got a drawl, but it’s a bit rushed. You gotta be quick to keep up with an Okie. No wonder I was always two steps ahead of Van.
“Well,” I said slowly as Barbie started looking at my roots and ends. “He’s getting a divorce.” Barbie rolled her eyes and waved her comb in dismissal.
“Well, big fat duh, sugar. That part we’ve covered. That info’s bout two weeks old. It’s what you two were doing in the vicinity of each other that’s got everybody talkin’.” I started again.
“Well, he’s getting a divorce,” I paused here for dramatic effect and watched everyone’s head tilt in my direction, “and he needs a lawyer.” I finished matter-of-factly, while the crowd glanced around in puzzlement at each other.
“And…” Barbie prompted me to go on. Exasperated, I looked Barbie in the eye through the mirror.
“And I’m a lawyer.” I supplied. Realization dawned in her eyes.
“Oh my,” she chortled, laughing and patting my shoulder. “Lilly Atkins as Cash Stetson’s lawyer, I love it,” she continued to giggle. “Then you are gonna need some good lookin’ hair. This blond streaky stuff just ain’t gonna cut it.” I had been enhancing my hair with some golden highlights, and apparently Barbie didn’t approve. “Sugar, I know us Southern women love our blond, but there comes a point when it crosses over to the trashy side. You’ve crossed over, honey,” she stated without sentiment or apology.
There’s nothing like coming home. Where else could you get people to tell you the absolute truth without worrying about hurting your feelings? Enrique, my flamboyant hairdresser in Dallas, had never told me that I didn’t look absolutely stunning. Well, actually, he’d forgotten once, and I’d not tipped him the expected ten dollars.
I was a little nervous about Barbie doing my hair, but I figured, what the heck. New life, new hair, right? Barbie set to work on the color, and we chatted and caught up. I told the story about finding Van. She already knew, but some details are better firsthand, you know. She filled me in on her kids and grandkids. We stayed away from Cash until Barbie finally mentioned that Tina had been staying over at her oldest son’s rent house for a while.
“I never did like that girl. She’d go get her hair done at some fancy place in Tulsa then come here for me to fix it after they’d wrecked it. Her mama was the same way, puttin’ on airs when we all knew she’d come up same as the rest of us,” Barbie snorted. “I’d like to buy her for what she’s worth and sell her for what she thinks she’s worth.”
Barbie was snipping away as we talked, and in between stories, I started to worry about just exactly what she was doing to my hair. Being a small town stylist with a clientele that grew up with her, Barbie tended to be pretty loose with her definition of creative license. She finally stopped talking and examined me critically.
“I know maybe it’s not what you had in mind, but I think it suits you; and if you’re gonna be going toe to toe with that twitty Tina, you need to look like a sexy lady of the law,” she explained as trepidation crept in. She spun me around in the chair so I could look at myse
lf in the mirror.
Ho-ly cr-ap. Normally, on a good day when I wasn’t running around like crazy in Oklahoma, my hair is a streaky, highlighted, straightened bob that falls exactly two inches below my shoulders. Apparently, that doesn’t suit a small town, newly designated divorce lawyer. I stared at my reflection, dumbstruck. It was short, and as my great grandmother Lilly (who I’d been named after, thank you) might say, it looked as though I might have stuck my finger in a light socket. My natural curls were wild all over the place and the streaky blond had been replaced with a punched up version of my natural gold color. It was the kind of hair that had made me nervous for the past several years as I tried to mold myself into the perfect Dallas attorney/socialite. It was the kind of hair that made you think of Sunday afternoon truck rides, making out with a cute boy at the lake past curfew, trying to eat an ice cream cone on a summer day before it melted. I loved it. I reached up and fluffed it appreciatively. Barbie gave me some styling tips and gathered up the products I’d need. I pulled out my wallet and paid her, giving her a ten-dollar tip she so deserved. She looked at me like I was crazy and put the ten back in my hand.
“Lilly, don’t insult me. I charge the right price for the job. Take your money and use it on something useful,” she clucked at me. I grabbed her for a quick hug and walked toward the door.
“Thanks Barbie.”
“Just come back before you start looking trashy again.” She waved her hands and shooed me. I walked through the curious onlookers and some appreciative glances at my hair.
I stopped to chat with a high school classmate and glanced up as the doorbell tinkled. Frizzy, teased, bleached blond hair filled the sunlit doorway as a petite, skinny body with huge (you could tell they were fake from a hundred yards away) boobs stepped through the frame and closed the door behind her. I couldn’t help but continue to look with a bemused expression as she stalked toward me. She had on a tight red jersey dress and red wedges, and her verging-on-orange skin was stretched tight.
Home Is Where Your Boots Are Page 6