Still, they walked from room to room, Jonathan bemoaning the loss of Beaulieu’s trappings, James wondering aloud what evidence might have been destroyed.
The two of them stood in front of the bathroom closet where Caroline DeSantos’s body had been found. It was just a closet.
“Let’s go,” James said. “This place is depressing.”
“It’s haunting,” Jonathan said.
James looked at him with an expression of surprise. “You’re the last person in the world I would have expected to talk like that.”
“Not supernaturally haunting,” Jonathan said. “Nothing like that. No ghosts or wee things that go bump in the night. All these years, through the Civil War, and the stock market crash, through hurricanes and tornadoes, one family made a living here, and other families lived off the land. And after a hundred and fifty years, poof, it’s all gone. The Mullinaxes, a great old Georgia family, vanished. And the house will be gone soon too. Not to fires or floods. Just greed. Good old American greed.”
Chapter 39
By Tuesday, I’d sold Cousin Lucy’s furniture for seven hundred dollars, and in two days of frantic wheeling and dealing I’d raised a total of five thousand dollars in cash, most of it from my one-hundred-dollar toolshed investment. It was the biggest score I’d ever made in my picking career. I felt light-headed with my own power and success.
When my phone rang I sang out, “Hellooo.”
“Aren’t we in a happy mood,” BeBe said.
“Actually, we are,” I said. “I’ve got a seventeen-thousand-dollar stash, and I still have four or five more boxes of stuff to sell from the toolshed. I’m in the money, Babe.”
“Perfect,” she said. “What are you doing right now?”
“Getting ready to take a box of sterling silver out to a dealer at Tybee. He refuses to come into town, so I’m going out there to meet him.”
“The silver can wait,” BeBe said. “Meet me at the restaurant in half an hour.”
“I can’t,” I started to say, but she’d already hung up the phone.
I looked down at my ensemble. Cutoff army fatigue pants, a white ribbed tank top, and green flip-flops. If I went to the restaurant, I might see Daniel. I got a nice little tingling feeling thinking about Daniel.
I jumped in the shower, then, while toweling off, I tried to decide what to wear. Nothing too fancy. After all, this was just a casual drop-by. But nothing too sloppy either. No raggedy-ass shirts or threadbare cutoffs. I pulled on a pair of black Capris. Fine. Just fine. The hot pink sleeveless top would go good, but damn, my pink bra was missing in action. Black, I decided. Black would be right. I picked out a cropped black boat-neck top with three-quarter sleeves. I slid into a pair of cork-soled black slides. Dangly silver shell earrings. Nice, casual, not too horny.
It was after noon when I pulled up to Guale. I found an open space at the curb. Odd. The restaurant is usually packed at lunch.
I walked to the front door. There was a handwritten sign on the door. “Closed for Remodeling.”
Since when?
The lights were on inside, but the venetian blind on the door was pulled down. Through the slats of the blind I could see BeBe inside, standing at the reception desk, talking on the phone. I tried the door, but it was locked. I rapped on the glass.
“We’re closed,” she hollered.
“It’s me, you fool,” I hollered back. “Open up.”
She was still talking on the cell phone as she unlocked the door and waved me inside.
“All right,” she was saying. “But you understand this: if he shows up here drunk again tomorrow, I’ll cut off his balls with an oyster knife. You tell him that for me.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Painters,” she said, clicking off the phone. “Find me one sober painter in south Georgia and I’ll pay anything he asks.”
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What’s this about redecorating?”
“I’ve lost my mind,” she agreed, running her hands through her already tousled blond hair. “But yes, it’s true. Come on now, I’ve got something I want to show you.”
She went to the maître d’ stand and picked up a ring bristling with keys. I followed her outside and waited while she locked the door to Guale. Seven paces to the right, and we were standing in front of the Rose Tattoo Parlor.
There was a sign on the window: “Closed. Lost Our Fucking Lease.”
“They didn’t take it well,” BeBe said. “I’ve got to take that sign down before our customers get the wrong idea.”
“What is the idea?” I asked as she unlocked the door.
“My lounge,” she said excitedly. “Remember? Little Sisters Lounge? Isn’t it dreamy?”
She stepped inside and gestured around. “Incredible.”
“Gross,” I said. It smelled like backed-up sewage. “You can’t put a lounge in here.”
Her face fell. “I thought you, of all people, could see the possibilities.”
The floors were gummy linoleum. The dropped ceiling was water-stained and sagging. A cockroach scuttled across the floor, probably eager to make a quick escape.
“I see the possibility of multiple forms of airborne disease, starting with hepatitis A,” I said. “This place is a disaster.”
“You wait,” BeBe said. “It’ll be divine. I’ve had a vision.”
She locked up the tattoo parlor and we went back to the restaurant, where she fixed me a glass of iced tea.
“Oh.” BeBe whipped a piece of paper out of the pocket of her dress. “I’d almost forgotten. Look. This came in the mail.” It was a flyer. For the Beaulieu estate sale.
“I didn’t get one of these,” I said.
“Can you really blame them for taking you off the mailing list?” she asked. “You kind of put a damper on the last sale they tried to have.”
I read the flyer. It listed all the stuff the original advertisements listed. But not the cupboard, which hadn’t been listed the first time around.
“The cupboard might not even be there,” I told BeBe. “There are rumors floating around town. I heard Lewis Hargreaves might have already bought the best pieces.”
“Who cares?” BeBe said breezily. “If the cupboard’s there, you buy it, and make a killing on it. If it’s not, you’ve still got your stash. That’s more than enough to get your shop going.”
“But I don’t have any inventory. I’ve sold everything, even some of my own furniture, to raise money to buy the cupboard. I’d have to go out of town, maybe down to Florida, for a buying trip.”
“Stop with the gloom and doom,” she ordered, putting her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear another word.”
“Where’s Daniel?” I asked, looking around the darkened restaurant.
“You little minx!” BeBe said, looking me up and down. “I should have known you didn’t put mousse in your hair just for me. I bet you douched too. Well, you’re out of luck. He’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“On vacation,” she said, shrugging. “It’s our slow time anyway, and I’ve got to get this place painted and recarpeted, and the wall knocked down for the new lounge. So we’ve shut down for two weeks. Assuming, that is, that my painters sober up sometime soon.”
“He didn’t mention going on vacation the other day,” I said.
“I didn’t really decide to go ahead and close down until Sunday night,” BeBe said. “And what other day did you see him, may I ask?”
“Sunday,” I said, smiling at the memory of our kitchen encounter.
“Details,” she said, snapping her fingers impatiently. “I need details.”
“He bought my cousin’s bed. And now he wants me to play house,” I said dreamily.
“Horizontal?” she asked. “Was there any horizontality?”
“We were vertical,” I said. “But in a good way.”
Chapter 40
Jethro was hiding under the kitchen table when I got home, his dark eyes rebuking
me for leaving him behind.
I got a dog treat from the cookie jar and tried to coax him out.
“Come on, Ro-Ro,” I crooned. “Come get a treat, boy. Come and get it.”
But he stayed put. “Stubborn mutt,” I said, standing up.
That’s when I noticed it—a potted yellow orchid in a gorgeous blue-and-white Chinese porcelain ginger jar. I picked the pot up for a closer look, peered at the jar’s crackled glaze and the Chinese markings stamped on the bottom. It was the real thing.
A tiny envelope fell to the floor. I picked it up and opened it.
Tal’s business card was inside. On the blank side he’d written “Come back to me.”
I put the orchid back on the table. Jethro hadn’t moved.
“Did you let him in, Ro-Ro? Did the bad man scare you?”
But Jethro was taking the fifth. And I was feeling nauseous.
I fixed myself a glass of iced tea, and that reminded me of the situation with Mama. So I did what I always do when I have a problem. I called James.
“Weezie!” he said, after Janet told him I was on the line. “I’ve got good news. Detective Bradley just called. He’s advised the district attorney’s office that he doesn’t have enough evidence to get an indictment against you for Caroline’s murder.”
“That’s great,” I said. The orchid was really an obnoxious shade of yellow, with an almost obscene meaty red tint to its phallic-looking throat. I got the kitchen shears out of the drawer and cut off one of the cascading blossoms. I felt better immediately.
“You don’t sound very excited,” James said. “They’ve dismissed the criminal trespass charge too. Your record is clear.”
“That ought to make Mama happy,” I said. “It’s wonderful. Really, Uncle James, I’m so grateful for all you’ve done. I can’t thank you enough.”
“You’re family,” he said simply. “I kind of enjoyed dabbling in criminal work, to tell you the truth. But something else is wrong. Are you going to tell me or are you just going to sit there and brood about it?”
“I’m not brooding,” I said. “It’s just that strange stuff happens to me. And I’m not being paranoid either. I seem to give off some kind of energy that invites bizarre behavior.”
“Give me an example,” he said. “Not counting the fact that you discovered your ex-husband’s fiancée’s body in a closet.”
“It’s Mama,” I said. “And the weeping Infant of Prague. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, James. What’s the Infant of Prague supposed to represent?”
“I’ve always thought of it as the baby Jesus in drag,” James said. “But I don’t have any documentation for that.”
“Well, I’ve got documentation about Mama,” I said. And I told him about finding her bottle of Four Roses at Lucy’s house.
“Oh dear,” James said. “I was hoping maybe she was tapering off on the drinking. Your dad hasn’t said anything about it.”
“You know Daddy. I also found a bottle of Xanax at the house. The prescription was Lucy’s, but according to the label on the pill bottle, the prescription was refilled two days after Lucy died. Half a dozen pills were missing. Mama’s been taking Lucy’s tranquilizers and washing them down with bourbon.”
“Good heavens,” James said. “She could kill herself. Or somebody else, zonked out on pills and booze.”
“The good news is she’s apparently sleeping at Lucy’s house. I think that’s when she has these little chatfests with the statue.”
“We’ve got to get her help,” James said. “Poor soul. I had no idea. Your father hasn’t mentioned anything about her sleeping over there, or acting funny?”
“Not a word. What can we do?”
“I’ll have to talk to Joe,” James said. “Make him see that Marian needs help desperately. He probably has no idea about the pills, although we both know he just ignores the drinking.”
“Then you’ll talk to them?”
“I’ll talk to my brother,” James said. “But I think you need to talk to your mother, Weezie.”
“No,” I said, feeling panicky. “I can’t. You have to do it, James. You’re good at that stuff. She adores you. She’ll listen to you.”
“She’s your mother. It’s time the two of you had a good talk.”
“But what will I say?” I wailed. “It’s not like we’re pals. We’ve never had that kind of a relationship.”
“Start now,” he said calmly. “Invite her out to a nice lunch. Someplace quiet, nonthreatening. And just let her know that you found the tranquilizers. Tell her how dangerous it is, mixing pills and alcohol. Try not to sound judgmental. But let her know that you and your dad want her to get help with the drinking.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll try. But you’ll talk to Daddy? Promise?”
“I promise. Feeling better now?”
“A little,” I said, still eyeing the orchid. It looked malevolent, with its long reaching spray of blossoms. I took the scissors and cut off two more flowers.
“It’s Tal,” I said, grinding the flowers under the heel of my shoe. “He’s acting weird. The other night, he barged into the carriage house, drunk as a coot, begging me to take him back. Can you believe that?”
“Tal did that?”
“Yes. I told him to leave, but he was so pathetic, I was actually starting to feel sorry for him. James, Tal says Caroline was having an affair with another man, right before she was killed.”
“Really?” James didn’t sound all that surprised.
“Yes. And Tal said he thinks Caroline was going to meet her lover the night she was killed. He was already suspicious, and that night, she got a mysterious phone call. So he tried to follow her when she left the house, but he lost her at the red light at Victory and Bee Road.”
“Do you believe him?” James said. “Or was he just trying to get you to feel sorry for him so you’ll take him back?”
“I believe she was screwing around on him,” I said. “The other night at a dinner party I was at, everybody was gossiping about Caroline.”
“Yes. I’ve heard some of the same gossip from a friend,” James said.
“What friend? You don’t hang around with gossips.”
“I hear things,” James said. “Do you have any idea who the other man could be?”
“Gerry Blankenship was the first name that came to my mind.”
“No other candidates?”
“She could have been sleeping with just about anybody,” I said maliciously. “I just don’t know. It’s Tal’s behavior that’s worrying me. He’s been acting bizarre. After all those months, when he was so hurtful and cruel, now he comes crawling back. He was slobbering all over me the other night. Revolting.”
“I would think you’d be flattered by the attention,” James said.
“I’m not,” I shot back. “Look, I’ve started seeing somebody. A man. And he doesn’t want to come over to my place, because Tal’s always hanging around.”
“You knew when you kept the carriage house that he’d be living right next door,” James said.
“I didn’t know he’d scare off my first date. Or that he’d spy on me. Or break into my house and leave ugly orchid plants.”
Silence. “He actually broke in? When? That’s a whole different matter.”
I went over and looked at the kitchen door. The lock hadn’t been tampered with, and the doorjamb’s paint was undisturbed. I’d left in a hurry that morning. Had I forgotten to lock up? Had Tal been watching, seen my slipup?”
“It happened today,” I said. “Maybe he didn’t actually break in. But he definitely was in here, and he didn’t have my permission. He left these flowers with a note saying ‘Come back to me.’ And he scared Jethro.”
“I’m going to call Tal’s lawyer,” James said. “I’ll tell him we’re going to get a restraining order against Tal unless he stays away from you.”
“Really?” I felt my resolve faltering. “I don’t want to make a scene or get Tal arrested
or anything. I just want him to leave me alone.”
“I’ll take care of it,” James said. “Now you call your mother and take care of your end of the deal.”
“I will,” I said.
I hung up the phone. The orchid still had one more cluster of blooms.
Snip.
I dumped the potting soil in the trash and went to get on-line to see what kind of prices antique Chinese ginger jars bring on eBay these days.
Chapter 41
Convincing Mama to let me take her to lunch took some doing.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said when I invited her. “I have so much to do at Lucy’s. And what about your daddy’s lunch?”
“I’ll help you finish packing and pricing stuff at Lucy’s,” I said. “And I’ll bring Daddy a sack lunch when I come pick you up. Tomato sandwich on white bread with Blue Plate mayonnaise. Right?”
“And chips,” she said, giving in. “He likes the potato chips with ridges. And maybe some cookies. You know his sweet tooth.”
After I picked her up I parked the truck across from the restaurant, a quiet little place called Arabella’s that BeBe had recommended. It was only a short walk, but we’d had a brief rainfall in midmorning and now the air was like a steam bath. Mama’s face was pink and dripping with perspiration by the time we pushed open the heavy red door at Arabella’s.
Cool air welcomed us into the foyer, which was painted a restful dark green. The floors were polished wood, and chintz drapes at the windows looked out on Monterey Square. Charming. Just the place for a little family intervention.
Mama smiled apprehensively, looking around.
“Isn’t this nice?” I asked, tucking my hand in the crook of her arm. “Just us girls. BeBe says the seafood is especially good.”
Savannah Blues Page 26