by Sharon Sala
Bobby Lee made himself stay on the other side of the desk, because he knew if he got too close to his mother, he would hit her.
“You couldn’t just answer their questions, could you?” he screamed. “You had to keep talking and talking, like the white trash you are.” He picked up a paperweight and pitched it across the room, knocking a picture off the wall and sending glass flying in all directions.
Mona was devastated. She’d spent her entire life living down her humble beginnings and now, to hear it from her own son’s lips, was more than she could bear.
“If I’m white trash, then what does that make you?”
“Unfortunate!” he screamed. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to live down your escapades. No matter how hard I try, you keep pulling our reputations back down to the gutter where you seem so at home.”
Mona paled. The pain of his words was more than she could bear.
“You don’t know the depths of my sacrifices for you,” she whispered.
“The only thing of depth between us is the shit you keep getting us in. Now we’ve got the police meddling in our business because you can’t keep your pants on your ass. You’ve ruined everything… everything! I’ve just run the shortest presidential race in history. Hell’s fire, it was over before it began.”
Mona lifted her chin, her eyes blind with tears. “That’s not the only thing that’s over,” she said, and strode out of the room.
Bobby Lee cursed and yelled and cursed some more, blaming his daddy for marrying a sprawling whore and then himself for not being an orphan. Long minutes passed before he began to calm down, and when he did, he realized what he’d done. He stormed out of the library and up the stairs to his mother’s room. But she wasn’t there. He ranted as he went, calling her name from room to room, but no Mona. It wasn’t until he breached the kitchen doors and sent Delia into tears that he learned she was gone.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” he yelled.
“Just that, sir,” Delia sobbed. “She picked up her keys and walked out the door without ever going upstairs.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
Delia’s sobs deepened. “No, sir. She just thanked me for taking such good care of her and told me if I ever had any children to drown ’em.”
Bobby Lee paled. This was worse than he’d imagined. He pivoted sharply and headed for the library on the run to call his campaign manager, Ainsley Been.
Ainsley was enjoying a blow job when his phone began to ring.
“Don’t stop,” he groaned, knowing the answering machine would pick up while the prostitute continued to do her thing.
But his mood went limp when he heard Bobby Lee begin to shout. He shoved the prostitute aside as he scrambled for the phone.
“Hello, hello,” he muttered, cutting Bobby Lee off in midcurse.
“Ainsley, Goddamn it, where the hell have you been? We’ve got trouble, big trouble. Mona was interrogated by the police about the Finelli murder, and now she’s gone.”
Ainsley blanched. “What the hell do you mean, she’s gone?”
“Just that. We had a little fuss after the police left, and she took it all wrong,” he said. “I need you to get someone on it. Find her, damn it, and get her back here before the police find out. Hell’s fire, do you know what the police are going to think if they know she skipped?”
“Now, Bobby Lee, I’m going to ask you something, and I don’t want you to take offense.”
“What?” Bobby Lee yelled.
“Does she have a reason to be afraid of the police?”
Bobby Lee groaned. “Hell if I know, but I damn sure do. If this gets out, I’m ruined.”
“I’m on my way.”
Eighteen
China was waiting for Ben when he came home and went out to meet him as he pulled up in the front yard and parked.
The sight of her running out the door and then flying into his arms overwhelmed him. She laughed aloud as he swung her off her feet. The sound touched his heart in a way that made him want to cry, and he remembered the day when he’d wanted to be the one to make her laugh.
“This is one fine way to be welcomed home,” he growled, and buried his face in her neck.
She smiled. “I thought it had merit,” she said, and then kissed him square on the mouth, drawing out the last bit of his good sense.
He groaned. “God, how I love you,” he whispered, and then held her close to his heart. No matter what else there was between them, she finished what he was meant to be.
“What happened today?” she asked.
“Let’s go inside. There’s something I want you to see.”
“You brought a picture? Is it her? Did you find the woman who shot me?”
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “You’ll have to tell me.”
They started inside as Dave was coming out. “I’m off to go check on the stock. Want me to come back later?”
“Yes,” Ben said. “Now more than ever.”
Dave’s eyes widened. “What’s happened?”
“We may have ourselves a pretty good lead.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Senator Wakefield is not laughing,” Ben said.
“Wakefield? How in hell does he fit into this?”
Ben pulled a picture out of his pocket and handed it to China. “I think we’ll let China tell us.”
She took it from him upside down. As she began to turn the picture, it was as if a face from her nightmares began to come into view.
“Well, honey, what do you think?” Ben asked.
China moaned. Her legs went weak. She dropped the picture and covered her face.
Ben grabbed her as she staggered. He’d expected a reaction, but not one this intense.
“China… honey… talk to me. Is it her?”
“I’m going to be sick,” she muttered, then tore loose from his grasp and headed for the bathroom down the hall.
Ben ran after her, leaving Dave in the hall alone. He bent down and picked up the photo. “Christ almighty,” he muttered. “Mona Wakefield. How in hell can this be?”
Mattie came out of the kitchen as China dashed past.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” she cried, but China didn’t stop. When Ben raced down the hall behind her, Mattie knew something had happened. She followed. If something bad was going on in her house, she needed to know.
China was leaning over the sink and washing her face when Ben burst into the bathroom.
“Are you all right?”
China braced herself on the sink with both hands and shook her head no. Ben grabbed a towel and began to dry her off as Mattie came in behind them.
“Somebody better start talking,” she said.
China sank down on the side of the tub and put her head in her hands, leaving the talking up to Ben.
“I showed China a picture of another suspect. This is the reaction we got.”
Mattie gasped, and then sat down beside her. “Honey, is it true? Did you recognize the woman who shot you?”
China shuddered. “It looked like her. Oh, God, it looked just like her.”
“That’s all I needed to hear,” Ben said. “I’m calling Captain Floyd. We need an arrest warrant.”
“Who is she?” Mattie asked.
“Mona Wakefield.”
Mattie gasped. “The Mona Wakefield? The senator’s mother?”
“One and the same,” Ben said.
“But, Bennie, why on earth would a woman like her become a murderer?”
“Who the hell knows?” Ben said. “But she’s not getting away with it. Stay with China, will you? I need to make a few calls.”
“Are you going to arrest her tonight?” China asked.
“I’ve got to call my captain first, honey. I’ll let you know in a bit.”
“I want to be there when you go,” she said.
“Hell, no,” he muttered.
She stood up then, facing him squarely, without any sign of fear.
“I have to, Ben. I need to see her face. I need to see her in handcuffs and know she can’t ever hurt me again.”
His shoulders slumped. “We’ll see,” he said softly.
“I’m coming with you while you make your calls,” China said. “I have to know what’s going on.”
He held out his hand. She grabbed it, holding on as if it meant her life.
“You still here?” Mattie asked, as Dave passed Ben and China in the hall.
“I’ve been in on this ever since Ben brought her out to the ranch, and since it looks like everything’s about to hit the fan, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“That’s what I love about you,” Mattie muttered. “Bloodthirsty to the end.”
Dave took her by the shoulders and gave her a quick kiss.
“So you love me, do you?”
Mattie blushed.
“When are you going to do something about it? We’re not getting any younger.”
“Is this a proposal?” Mattie asked.
“Would you say yes if it was?” he countered.
“When this is all over, I might,” Mattie said, and took him by the hand. “Looks like supper is going to go all to hell tonight. Let’s at least make some popcorn. I’m starved.”
“Lead the way,” Dave said. “I’m right behind you.”
They could hear Ben on the phone in the living room as they walked into the kitchen. Dave wanted to listen, but Mattie smiled at him, and he followed her instead.
“Look, Captain, I have a positive identification from our only witness. She says Mona Wakefield is the woman who shot her. How much more do you need?”
China watched, aware that Ben’s captain must be arguing a point Ben didn’t want to consider.
“I know,” Ben said. “Yes, she said she had an alibi, but we haven’t checked it out. She was at some country club Christmas party. You know how those things are. She could show up and circulate for a while, then disappear without anyone missing her, do the deed and then come back to the party without anyone being the wiser. Remember China’s first description was of a woman in a beaded evening gown and a full-length fur coat? Pretty typical wear for a country club party, don’t you think?”
Ben started to pace. China tried to catch his eye, hoping she could glean something from his expression, but he wouldn’t look at her. And then he exploded.
“That’s just great! And give her time to skip the country? I don’t agree.”
But Aaron Floyd wasn’t caring whether anyone agreed or not.
“I don’t give a flying you know what whether you agree or not,” he said. “We’re not arresting a senator’s elderly mother until we bust her alibi.”
“Mona Wakefield is a barracuda on the hunt, not an elderly anything. And if your eyewitness’s say-so isn’t worth anything, then you make your damned case without her.”
He hung up the phone and then threw it on the sofa.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
China was almost afraid to ask.
“They won’t arrest her?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Afraid to step on too many political toes, but don’t give up on us yet. Red already has the country club list, and Captain Floyd has assigned two sets of detectives to contact the people who were at the party. Before morning, I’ll know what Mona Wakefield was wearing, even what she had to eat. If she has a secret, I’ll find it.”
“Am I still in danger?”
Ben hesitated, then nodded. There could be nothing but truth between them.
“Probably now more than ever,” he said. “But Dave and I are here. We’ll take turns watching the house. I don’t think anyone knows your name, let alone where you are. However, we can’t take any chances.”
“It’s almost over, isn’t it, Ben?”
He crossed the floor and took her in his arms. “It’s getting close, honey. Hang in there for me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “Suddenly, I’m starved.”
She smiled. “That will make your mother very happy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Mattie, it’s that she uses food as a cure-all.”
“And it works, doesn’t it?” Ben said.
“Unless you eat too much of it, and then it’s a whole other problem,” China said, and then laughed.
***
Mona was driving south without aim. She’d emptied her bank account of cash with the purpose of getting as far away from Dallas as she could. But the farther she drove, the more painful her memories became.
Bobby Lee, her own son, had called her white trash. He’d said he would rather have been an orphan than be tied to her name. My God, how could this be? Hadn’t she spent her life for her husband and her son? After she’d been widowed, she’d had plenty of chances to remarry, and some of the men were not only rich but good-looking. But had she? Had she given one thought to her own personal needs? Hell, no. She’d stayed for Bobby Lee.
She’d known from the start that he was special—always trying harder than all the other boys his age. He was never satisfied with second best. Always pushing, pushing, pushing for more. Even during his brief marriage, she’d been at his beck and call, and when that had fallen apart, she’d been there for him, picking up the pieces of his life and helping put a home back together again.
Granted, she didn’t have a college education, but that didn’t make her stupid. She knew things—lots of things.
She stifled a sob and blew her nose with one hand as she changed lanes on I-35. She needed a plan, but in the meantime, she needed a place to hide. In spite of the fact that her son had cursed her existence, she knew him well. He would want her back, but not because he would be sorry. Oh, no. It would be for the sake of his image, and that alone. He needed to have her back before word got out that his mother had run away from home. She’d already decided that motels would be too obvious. Even if she used cash to pay, he would find her.
It wasn’t until she realized she was entering the outskirts of Houston that she remembered her old friend from back home. If Bitsy Chance still lived in Pasadena, she would help her. She and Bitsy went back a long way.
Happy to have a plan, she pulled over at the first gas station she came to and headed for the phone booth just outside the door. Luckily there was a phone book inside and she began to scan the pages, looking for Bitsy’s name. To her relief, she found a listing, but it wasn’t until she began to dial that she realized the phone book was almost five years old.
“Oh lord, let her be there,” Mona said, as the phone began to ring. On the fifth ring, a man answered.
“Hello,” Mona said. “Is Bitsy there?”
“Who wants to know?” he growled.
“I’m a friend of hers from back in Amarillo. Tell her it’s Baby Doll.”
“Hey, Bitsy,” the man yelled. “Some woman calls herself Baby Doll wants to talk to you. Says she knowed you from Amarillo.”
Mona heard Bitsy squeal and started to cry, but they were tears of relief.
“Baby! Baby! Is that you?”
Mona swallowed a sob. “Yes, Bitsy, it’s me.”
“Ooh, girl, I’ve been following all the fuss about you and your boy. Aren’t you just the thing, now? I’m surprised you even remember someone like me.”
“Oh, Bitsy, I think I’m in trouble. I need a place to stay.”
Suddenly, whatever envy Bitsy Chance might have harbored was gone in a flash. It was just like the good old days when she and Mona had sneaked out on their parents and gone honky-tonking in cowboy bars.
“Where are you, honey?”
Mona squinted through the filthy glass, trying to read the sign on the station.
“I’m in Pasadena at a place called The In and Out.”
Bitsy squealed again. “Honey! This is fate! I’m twelve blocks from there.”
“Will your husband mind?” Mona asked.
Bitsy laughed. “Girl, that fool’s not my husband, and don’t you worr
y. He’ll be gone before you get here.”
“Don’t tell him who I am,” she begged.
“Don’t worry, and don’t move,” Bitsy said. “I’m comin’ to get you.”
Mona hung up the phone and then locked herself in her car and waited to be rescued. She would cry later, after she didn’t need to see to drive.
***
It was six-thirty in the morning when Bobby Lee opened the door to Ainsley Been. Ainsley started talking before he got a foot in the door.
“I’m sorry, Bobby Lee, but it’s as if Mona vanished from the face of the earth,” Ainsley said.
Bobby Lee groaned, and grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him inside.
“This is awful, just awful. Put some more men on it. She has to leave some kind of a paper trail.”
“She cleaned out her checking account, Bobby Lee. Was there a lot of money in it?”
“Hell, yes. Probably a good twenty or thirty thousand,” he said, and began to pace.
This was worse than he’d thought. He’d expected her to pout and then come storming back this morning with some young buck in tow just to prove she hadn’t lost her touch, but if she’d taken all that money, this didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel good at all.
He thought of all the loose ends of his own life, but he couldn’t get past the obvious. The presidential race.
“I’ve thought about it all night,” he told Ainsley.
“Thought about what?” Ainsley asked.
“I want you to schedule a press conference.”
“What the hell for? Surely you’re not going to talk about this mess?”
“No, I’m going to get myself out of the public eye as much as possible before it all falls down around me. I’m still Senator Wakefield. I still have my pride and my reputation. I can always run for president again another time. Besides, I have to be back in Washington, D.C., by the weekend. I can’t leave Dallas with all this hanging over my head.”
“What are you saying?” Ainsley asked.
“I’m going to renounce my candidacy for personal reasons and let that be that.”
Ainsley groaned. His future was now as bleak as Bobby Lee’s. No one would want to hire a campaign manager who hadn’t been able to keep scandal away from the candidate he was representing.