We Interrupt This Date

by L. C. Evans

  “Trust me. This is for your own good. Call your friends and tell them you’ll be late. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I blew her a kiss.

  I grabbed a sweater from the front closet. The breeze blowing inland had stiffened and cooled the air into the nippy category since noon. As I dashed across the yard to the van, I managed to pull on the sweater.

  When I got to the corner, I glanced in the rear view mirror, half expecting DeLorean to be running down the street after me shaking her fist. Nope. Hopefully she was in the back yard feeding Brad.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Patty jittered around near the front door of the pawnshop. As soon as I pulled in to the parking lot, she waved like mad, as if I could miss seeing her in her high heeled black boots, tie-dyed red and orange crepe dress topped by a denim jacket, and with her black hair flying around her head like a wind-tossed cape.

  I reached across the seat to fling the door open. “Hurry up. The traffic’s horrible and I don’t want to be too late getting home.” I didn’t add that DeLorean still planned to go out as soon as I got back with the van. She’d take it the wrong way.

  Patty hopped in. “Wow, I can’t believe I managed to solve what amounts to a mystery. Actually, I can believe it. We psychics have a built in advantage.”

  “Can you stop congratulating yourself long enough to tell me where we’re headed?”

  “Chuck’s Alamo Budget Motel. Get back on the highway and go toward Moncks Corner.”

  “I thought the Alamo Motel was that big yellow place in Ashley.”

  “That’s the Palomino Grand Motel. Not the fanciest place in town, but better than the Alamo.” She pointed. “Go right. I printed out a map from the Internet when Odell wasn’t looking. God, don’t you hate the way he charges for paper if you use the printer?”

  After a few miles, she sat up straighter and said, “Hey, look at this street. Talk about low rent. Philip was staying uptown at one of those two hundred dollar a night places, but looks like he had to downgrade.” She squinted and peered out the window.

  He’d had to downgrade, all right. Actually, I’d been surprised when Patty told me he was at a place like the Alamo Budget Motel. Budget anything was not Philip’s style, especially if he had a woman to provide money for him to spend.

  “He’s been in Charleston at least a week. He must have run short of funds.”

  “You might say that. His new wife threw him out.”

  “He got dumped already?” I swiveled sideways to look at her and nearly rammed a parked car.

  “Before I found out he was at the Alamo, I called his first hotel. The latest Mrs. Beauchamp, who seems to have money, is still there. She didn’t mind telling me where he was and spilling her secrets to a total stranger--not after I, uh, let her think I might be a private detective.”

  “You let her think what?”

  Patty shrugged. “This latest wife was paying for everything while he ‘waited for a business deal to come through.’ Then she caught him flirting with a barmaid about the same time she figured out he wasn’t exactly rolling in cash. She said something about how she was going to rearrange his anatomy.”

  My mouth had dropped open and now I shut it so I could swallow. “Did you tell her where Philip’s staying now?”

  “I figured she could find out on her own same way I did. But I may have slipped and mentioned Lurlene, wife number one back in Little Rock.”

  My eyes bulged. “You did not.”

  Silence. I swallowed again. Hard. She was probably telling the truth. I would hate to be Philip when either or both of the wives caught up to him. But by the time that happened, I would have delivered my message and he would be on his way out of town and out of Mama’s life.

  I pushed on, scanning both sides of the road. We were not in one of the Charleston area’s nicest neighborhoods. Finally, to my left, a pink neon sign indicated the end of my search.

  Chuck’s Alamo Budget Motel was one of those fallen-on-hard-times places that didn’t even have an old pool to collect algae. The building was cinderblock, painted a color that might have once been flamingo. Bars on the windows of the office did not lend an aura of warm and fuzzy. A few of the rooms sported plywood where there should have been window air conditioners. Lacked curb appeal, as they say on those real estate shows I am so fond of watching.

  “He’s in Room 200,” Patty said, consulting a scrap of paper she’d dragged out of her pocket.

  I peered at the numbers on the closest rooms. They started with ten and went up by tens. I counted. Twenty doors. That meant 200 was the last room in the row.

  I yanked the wheel hard, jolted over a bump I hadn’t seen, and finally fetched up next to a sharp looking El Camino with Nevada plates. The car was an older model that had been beautifully restored, custom painted silver and cherry. I cut the van’s engine and sent Patty a “what next?” look. I’d thought I was all set for running Philip out of town, but now I wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t like I did this sort of thing every day.

  “Hope he’s in his room,” I said. Lie. I longed to go home for a hot bath, scented candles, and a cup of herbal tea. No, that wouldn’t happen. As soon as I walked in the door, I’d have to take over the care and feeding of Cole, Mama, and the dogs to give DeLorean a break. “But this early in the evening, he’ll be at the nearest cheap diner.”

  Patty shook her head. “Nope.” She pointed. “That’s gotta be his car. Truck. Whatever--the El Camino thing. He married the latest Mrs. Beauchamp in Las Vegas and they drove out here for the big honeymoon.”

  “Okay, guess you’re right.” I reached deep inside myself hoping to find some long dormant ass-kicking gene. The Philip Beauchamps of this world do not fold their cards at the first sign of trouble. Not when they smell easy money and especially not when they are in urgent need of said money because their rich wives dumped them. “Maybe we should tell someone at the office we’re here in case there’s trouble.”

  “Don’t be silly. The only concern of the desk clerk is how many times a night he can rent these rooms.” Patty had been pawing in her purse ever since I stopped the van and now she pulled out a can of pepper spray. “Don’t worry. I have jackass repellent and I know how to use it.”

  “You’re probably right. About the office I mean.” I took a deep breath and flung my door open. “Wait here. If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, send out a search party.”

  “Hold it, Susan. I’m not letting you face him alone. Why do you think I came along?”

  I eyed her sideways. “The cards tell you something I need to know?”

  She hesitated and then shook her head. “I’m used to dealing with nasty slime like him. You, on the other hand, have led a sheltered life and suffered through the upbringing of a southern lady.”

  “Hey, unfair. Didn’t I successfully get T. Chandler--slime lite--out of my life?”

  “Doesn’t count. He wanted to be out of your life. In fact, isn’t he the one who left you?”

  Ouch. So true, but I was quite sure I didn’t want to keep him, especially not after I found out about Crystal. Still, why did Patty think I couldn’t deal with Philip? On the other hand, maybe she had a point. It might have something to do with the fact that I hadn’t yet learned to say no to anyone in my family, canines included, so I didn’t have much of a track record when it came to confrontation.

  “Give me your purse,” she said. “Once he finds out you’re not giving him the money, he might try to steal your wallet or something.”

  I doubted it. But I tossed her my purse and she put the strap over her shoulder. Then she slid out of the van, the can of pepper spray clutched in her right hand and held out in front of her like a loaded gun. She barreled toward the door of Room 200 until I caught up and put a restraining hand on her arm.

  “My family. My problem.”

  She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. I could imagine the wheels turning in her head. “Yeah,” she said finally, “it might be a good idea to have your backup
wait outside the way they do on those TV cop shows, though I never pictured myself as your sidekick.”

  “Gosh, I’m feeling just better and better about myself.”

  “Hey, don’t take it the wrong way. It’s only that you’ve been so passive ever since I’ve known you, sort of like a lamb following its mama.” She waved her arm around, and I ducked in case the pepper spray had a hair trigger.

  “I’m going to kill you after I’m done with Philip, Patty.”

  She looked doubtful about my ability to deal with Philip, but she stepped back and held up the can. She shook it to make sure I got the message and moved over to stand behind a half-dead palm tree in the grass strip on the other side of the El Camino.

  “Go,” she stage whispered. “I’ve got your back.”

  I rolled my eyes. When it came to drama, she could be as bad as Mama and DeLorean combined. Before I lost my nerve, I strode up to Room 200 and pounded against the wooden door with the side of my fist. Though it kind of hurt my hand, the pounding action seemed to instill some kind of resolve in me, adding a strength I hadn’t felt a few moments ago.

  The curtain at the front window flicked sideways for the briefest of seconds and then I heard the sound of someone fumbling with the door lock. The door moved inward a fraction. A pale face and a set of eyes floated in front of me.

  “Got the money?” Philip rasped. “About time. Something’s come up business-wise, and I have to move on.” He peered over my shoulder. No doubt he was checking to be sure there wasn’t a mob of torch-bearing vigilantes milling around behind me.

  New resolve or not, the last thing I wanted was to go into his motel room with him, but with Patty waiting behind a tree, pepper spray in hand, I’d be okay. Besides, the door was flimsy and warped along one side and I was surprised it would even lock. If need be, I was sure I could kick it open the way actors did with those special breakaway doors.

  “I have it,” I said, holding my arm against my side to give the impression I had a bulky package hidden under my sweater. I didn’t even know how much cash I was supposed to be giving him.

  “Come in and we’ll get this over with.” When I hesitated, he added, “I don’t have all damn night.”

  “Got a plane to catch?”

  “You might say that.”

  The door opened wider, enough for me to fit myself in the narrow space between the frame and the door edge. I slid inside and watched as he pushed the door shut, redid the lock and poked the chain into its slot. I glanced around, glad it wasn’t me living at the budget motel. The room smelled of mildew and old food wrappers. The rug was so worn I couldn’t be sure there was actually a rug or if I was just looking at random fibers glued to the concrete. The bedspread—ragged, mouse colored, stained—hung crookedly off the side of the bed. Motel issue lamp, phone, and nightstand completed the decor. No sign of a TV, though there was a broken piece of plastic that might have once been part of a TV stand bolted to the floor.

  Philip held out his hand like a kid expecting me to slap a chocolate bar onto his palm on Halloween Night. “What are you waiting for?”

  I scowled. “You’re not going to get money from my mother or from anyone else in my family.” My voice trembled ever so slightly. Not what I’d hoped for, but I was doing okay, already feeling an adrenaline rush. “I know all about wife number—whatever. Could be twenty for all I know. The new one in a hotel across the river. I’m sure she’d love to teach you a lesson. I’m sure she’d love to know you’re already married to Lurlene, who is no doubt sharpening her knife back in Arkansas at this very moment. In fact, I’m sure Lurlene is wondering when you’re coming home. I have her number and I will call her right now if you don’t stop harassing my mother. What I really ought to do is call the police, but out of respect for Mama’s feelings, I’m going to hold off on that.”

  Patty would have been proud of me. The voice tremble had melted away to be replaced by the authoritative tone of someone in charge of a situation--a police officer or even a judge.

  Philip’s face twisted into a reptilian sneer. I wanted to slap some respect into him.

  “I’m not afraid of a bunch of stupid women. I happen to know that Regina, the stupid cow, would jump off the nearest bridge before she’d let me tell her new sweetheart about her past. Her reputation means the world to her, and that’s as good as money in my pocket.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong.” I shook with rage. What I’d felt before was just a warm up. This excuse for a human being was talking ugly about my mama and I was going to take him down. “You know something, Philip? You were never good enough for my mother. And you don’t know her, you never did. Mama has more courage and goodness and character in one finger than you’ve ever thought of having.”

  “Do tell. Let’s see what kind of song she sings after I present my ultimatum. Your little attempt to scare me off is going to cost her double what I originally asked for.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and shot him a look I hoped managed to convey all the warmth and love I’d show for a hungry roach rummaging through my kitchen cabinets. “Either you leave town tonight and never bother my mother again, or I’ll call them all—Lurlene, the new wife, and the police. Mama’s strong. She’ll get over all the unpleasantness. But you won’t have such a great time. I hear that jail food isn’t exactly up to your gourmet standards.”

  The sneer deepened into something truly ugly. He took a step toward me and I took a step back and glanced behind me. Too late, I realized I shouldn’t have let him stand between me and the door. The bathroom door was behind me, about eight feet back, but I couldn’t count on there being a window in the bathroom--or a lock on the door. My cell phone was in my purse--but my purse was outside hanging off Patty’s shoulder.

  Great planning. Primo, as Trinity would have said.

  His hands curled into fists. “You’re bluffing. Your mother doesn’t want the boyfriend knowing she and I were never married. Or her church crowd.”

  “Nothing you have to say can ruin my mother’s reputation. She didn’t do anything wrong.” As I spoke, I continued to inch backward. My plan was to get him to keep moving toward me and then I’d leap sideways onto the bed, bounce off on the other side, and get behind him, closer to the door than he was. I might not have time to get the lock open before he grabbed me, if that’s what he had in mind. But hopefully I could make enough noise to alert Patty.

  I might as well have been thinking out loud. Philip moved away from me until he was directly in front of the door, a few feet in front of it.

  “I still think you’re bluffing, you little bitch. Go over to the nightstand and pick up the phone. Get your mother on the line and have her tell me herself that she doesn’t mind if I let her fancy boyfriend know all about what a hypocritical slut she is.”

  My heart rate got a fraction slower and steadier and I fought down a triumphant grin. The idiot. He was sending me to the phone. As soon as I picked up, I was dialing the police. My fingers were so ready to key in 911, they actually curled into position.

  Something flickered on his face and with a sinking in my stomach, I knew I’d telegraphed my intentions. Either that or he’d realized for himself how stupid his plan was.

  “On second thought, I’ll make the call.” He gestured for me to move back against the far wall.

  Instead, I made a dive across the bed toward the nightstand. He was closer and he beat me to it, snatched up the phone, and yanked the cord out of the wall. I rolled off the bed and ended up on the floor, sure that I’d bruised both knees on the concrete when I landed. He lunged for me and I rolled out of the way and scrabbled to my feet, once again cursing myself for failing to plan ahead.

  All my acrobatics had come to nothing. He still stood between me and the outside. And my knees throbbed like twin migraines.

  “I’ve given you all the warning you’re going to get, Philip. Now I’m leaving.” If I could still walk.

  “Not until I get my money.”

&nbs
p; “You can’t stop me. My friend is right outside that door and…and her boyfriend is a taxidermist. I mean, he’s big, a huge, strong guy. He’s a taxidermist, too, but I don’t suppose he wants to waste his time stuffing you. Not that anyone would want to display a giant, thieving rat in their living room. Or their den.”

  “You’re babbling, Susan. You used to do that when you were a little girl and you got nervous. Remember? Every time it thundered or I raised my voice, you’d start babbling, making about as much sense as a monkey in the zoo. Scared.” He grinned his triumph, rocking back and forth on his heels.

  “I am not,” I said. Damn, the tremble in the vocal cords was back. “I’m angry. Very angry. You’re going to be so sorry you ever came back into my mother’s life.”

  I pressed against the wall and we locked ourselves into a stare-off. I was determined to find a way out of here, whether I went through the doorway or not. I wondered if the window glass was as thick as it looked. Even if it were as thin as paper, though, I’d never reach it ahead of him. My thoughts raced for a second and then my mind prodded me to supply another option for escape, something other than the door or window.

  Sorry, I thought. I don’t see a skylight or a convenient hatch in the floor.

  But I didn’t have to ponder the lack of an escape route for long. Someone--or something--flung itself against the door. With a crack that sounded like lightning splitting a pine tree, the wood splintered and the lock snapped apart.

  I flinched. Breaking the door down was a little extreme, even for Patty, but I certainly wasn’t going to scold her for it. What was left of the door hit the floor, the second zero of the room number hanging sideways by one nail. A bulky form backlit by a streetlight loomed in the doorway.

  Female, I guessed. But not Patty.

  Philip’s lower jaw dropped open and hung there like a broken hatch. He seemed to shrink inside himself as I watched. His face drained and turned the color of raw butter before he inched backward to stand next to the bed.

  “Lurlene. Sweetie.” He pasted on a sickly grin and flung his arms wide in hugging position.