Molly: House on Fire

by R. E. Bradshaw

  The hearses and limousines were usually parked on the north side of the building, near the side entrance. Molly noticed all the cars were gone and decided there must be a burial that day. It did not matter, because Zebediah never attended the burials. Old Jake took the deceased to his or her final resting place, after Zebediah prepared them for the trip. Molly heard people say Zebediah could do magic with a dead body. Molly was confused by that sentiment, especially when they said he made them “good as new.” How could anyone be good as new if they were dead? Molly was pondering this thought again, when she pushed her way through the side door. The welcoming air-conditioning chilled her instantly. She pulled the sticky, wet tee shirt from her skin, letting the cool air bathe her for a moment.

  Molly called out, “Zebediah,” and heard no answer.

  She continued up the shiny linoleum hallway toward Zebediah’s office. It was eerily quiet. The only response Molly received from her second, “Zebediah,” was the sound of her tennis shoes squeaking on the floor. She knocked on his partially opened office door. She peeked in and saw he was not there. He was probably cleaning the body room, a place Molly went only to fetch a cola, and rarely alone. Even without a body, the room was frightening, with its saws and hoses spread about stainless steel tables and sinks. Molly stopped just outside the body room and peeked through the slit in the double doors. She heard and saw nothing. The refrigerator with the frosty cold bottles of cola was just on the other side of the doors. Zebediah let her come get a coke whenever she wanted, but not if there was a body in the room.

  Molly pushed the swinging door open a few inches, peering in. It was so quiet she could hear her own breathing. On the far table, something was covered in a white sheet. Molly thought about the boy who drowned yesterday. He was only fourteen and small for his age. The mound under the sheet looked just about the right size. Molly swallowed hard and was reminded how dry her throat was, and that the remedy lay just a few steps away. All she had to do was make it to the refrigerator and run back out of the room. The body was covered with a sheet and if she did not look, it would not be too scary.

  Not looking was impossible. Molly slid through the doors and, keeping her back pressed tightly to the wall, crept toward the refrigerator. She could not take her eyes from the white sheet across the room. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, she barely heard the first noise, but it was loud enough to make her pause and listen. She stared at the sheet, much like a puppy upon hearing a new sound, her head tilted to one side in confusion. Dead people did not make sounds as far as Molly knew. Suddenly, all hell broke loose. The belly of the body bounced up, accompanied by gas being expelled loudly from below the sheet. Molly’s breath hung in her throat as she tried to scream. The scream remained silent, until an arm slid off the chest and fell to the side, pulling the sheet away from the dead boy’s face. His ghastly expression and gray color sent Molly into full flight mode. She was finally able to utter a sound and that she did. She screamed and ran from the room, down the hall, not stopping until she was halfway to the tracks and heard Zebediah calling her name.

  After two colas and a bag of salted peanuts, Molly finally calmed down. Zebediah sat with her in his office and explained the life and death cycle and the role he played in it. She listened, but her mind could not erase the image of the boy’s face. He looked so shocked and frightened. Molly swallowed the last of the cola and sat up on the edge of her chair.

  “Zebediah, do they all look so scared?”

  He stood up and took the empty bottle from her hand, placing it in the return deposit crates he kept in the corner. His answer came slowly, as they all did, but it was thoughtful. Zebediah chose his words carefully, teaching Molly the quickest answer was not always the best.

  He turned to face Molly. “I’m a scientist and a man of God. Sometimes those things don’t agree, but I’ve come to look at death this way. The human spirit leaves the body at the time of death. Everything that happens after that is just the body going through natural decomposition. The fear you saw could have been facial muscles relaxing. Without human emotion, it’s just nerves dying.”

  Molly understood. “Like that snake, when we chopped off his head, how his body went on slithering away.”

  Zebediah smiled. “Yes, like that.”

  Molly stood up. She rebounded from her scare and was once again the precocious kid. “Well, I hate that they brought him here, ’cause he’s going to ruin your reputation.”

  Zebediah laughed. “How’s that?”

  Molly walked to the door, stopping long enough to say, “Ain’t no way you’re making that boy look good as new.”

  She skipped off down the hallway, with Zebediah calling after her, correcting her grammar, “There is no way…”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said,” Molly called over her shoulder as she was going out the door.

  Molly sat in her car in the parking lot and laughed aloud, a good long laugh that brought tears to her eyes. She needed that. Molly owed so much to so many people. Until now, she had looked at her life here in Waitesville through the eyes of a brokenhearted child. It was beginning to dawn on Molly that the same circumstances she saw as tragic had delivered her into the hands of good, kind people. Joe, the Simpsons, teachers and librarians, and finally the Kincaids, had all stepped in to shape Molly into the person she was today.

  “The kindness of strangers,” Molly said to the air, quoting Tennessee Williams from a favorite play.

  She wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks and breathed a little easier after the release. New anxieties at every turn compounded the stress she had not dispensed with from the recent trial. In the last twenty-four hours, Molly had learned her mother was murdered, probably over some legendary gold cache, and more than likely by her uncle who knew Molly was involved in his brother’s murder. She had taken on a quadruple capital murder case, found out she had a half-brother named Stick, and Joe seemed to think she could solve it all. Her true identity and humble beginnings were common knowledge, something the press around Durham was sure to discover. The closely guarded skeletons in her closet rattled loudly. Molly’s house was on fire and the only way out was through the flames.

  #

  A man, a few years younger than Molly, stood to greet her when she walked into the funeral home lobby. He smiled broadly and Molly saw Zebediah reflected in his eyes. This was his son, Ezra, she was sure of it. She extended her hand and was met with a healthy handshake.

  “Good morning, ma’am. What can I help you with today?”

  Molly smiled up at the taller man, whose diapers she had once changed. “You are Ezra, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Do I know you?”

  “I don’t think you remember me, you were just a baby, but I took care of you sometimes when Nona was in the garden.”

  Ezra’s smile grew. “You knew my momma?”

  The word “knew” landed on her heart. Nona was dead and Molly missed the chance to say thank you. She tried to hide the hurt. “Yes, I knew your mother and father when I was a little girl, then I moved away.”

  “Momma passed a few years back.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that. She was a wonderful woman.”

  Ezra nodded in agreement. “That she was.” He brightened after a moment and said, “Daddy will be glad to see you. He’s back in his office. Let me call him up here.”

  “Thank you,” Molly said. “Tell him Molly Harris is here to see him.”

  Ezra’s smile softened. “Molly Harris. Momma always talked about you. Said you were feral as a bobcat and smart as a fox.”

  Molly laughed. “Well, the feral part I will agree with.” She paused and held Ezra with her gaze. “Your parents were lifesavers. I’ve never forgotten the kindness they showed me.”

  Ezra walked to the desk and made a call. In a few minutes, Zebediah Simpson walked through the door. He was in his sixties now, gray haired, but still standing tall. He saw Molly and stopped. He took her in from head to toe and broke
into a smile.

  “Lord child, you are the spittin’ image of your momma.”

  Molly wondered if she looked tired and stressed. That was the way she remembered her mother, but she smiled and walked into Zebediah’s outstretched arms.

  “It’s good to see you,” she said into his chest. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I’m so sorry about Nona.”

  Zebediah did not look sad. “She’s at peace now, but I know she’s looking down at you and smiling to beat the band. Let’s sit on the porch and talk a bit.”

  Molly followed Zebediah to the rocking chairs on the porch. Ezra appeared with glasses of sweetened iced tea, and then left them alone. The initial chitchat about where Molly had been and what she was doing came to a halt, as soon as Ezra was out of earshot.

  “I knew you would come to see me some day. I knew you’d want to know what happened to your momma.”

  “You’re a wise man,” Molly said. “Yes, I came here to thank you for taking care of her and to find out what you know.”

  “When Sarah came out of the hospital that last time, she was finally on the right track. You probably never saw your momma healthy, did you?”

  “No, at least, I don’t remember it if I did.”

  “She looked like you now, if you can believe it, a totally different woman. She came by to visit us several times before she died. Always brought flowers for Nona when she came. Sarah was grateful to Nona for looking after you.”

  “So am I, and to you, too. I owe you a debt of gratitude that I could never repay.”

  “You help some other child along the way. That’s repayment enough.”

  Molly steered Zebediah back to her mother. “When you saw her body, did she have any marks that couldn’t be explained by the ME’s report?”

  Zebediah sat up on the edge of his chair and leaned in close. “Your momma was murdered. She had hand marks on her shoulders. Someone put her on that fence and watched her die.”

  “How could the ME miss something like that?” Molly asked.

  “There was a van crash that day. He had his hands full. He went over your momma quickly, took the cop’s word for how it happened, and signed her out to me before she cooled off good.” Zebediah stopped talking and looked at the floor for a moment. Then he raised his face to Molly, sadness in his eyes. “I hope you know I was in no position to question a man with a doctor’s license or the police.”

  Molly patted his knee. “I understand completely. You did what you could for her and I can’t thank you enough. I want to do something for you in return. I know you won’t accept payment, but if there is anything you need.”

  Zebediah’s eyes sparkled, his mouth turning into a grin. “Nona started a scholarship for underprivileged kids, before she died. I’d be proud if you helped with that.”

  “Done,” Molly answered. She kicked at a pebble with the toe of her shoe. “I’d like to see where she’s buried. Could you tell me how to find her?”

  “We put her out on the farm, in the old family plot next to Grandma Tee. Nona’s with her, too. We moved into town soon after you left. Ezra’s family lives out there now. Think you can still find it?”

  Molly grinned at her old friend. “Some things you don’t forget.”

  Zebediah’s expression softened. “I took my time with her,” he said, hesitated, and then went on, “Should anyone ever dig her up, I’m sure the evidence is still there.” He smiled. “I bagged her hands, took nail scrapings, and pictures. I have a whole file.” He stood up quickly. “I knew you’d come looking, Molly. As bad as it was, you always did love your momma.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Molly arrived back at the bed and breakfast before Randy made his entrance. She was so glad she did. After picking at the sandwich Tammy prepared and insisted she eat, Molly took a cup of coffee out to the wide porch that wrapped around the front and side of the house. She found a rocking chair and a small table to place her coffee on, while she thumbed through the police reports of her mother’s death. A large black, four-wheel-drive, pick-up truck bounded up the driveway. Molly reached for the Walther and realized she left it in the car. She had no idea what kind of vehicle her half-brother drove, but she knew the person in the truck wasn’t Brad, and they were not expecting guests other than Randy.

  The truck pulled to a stop next to the porch. From Molly’s vantage point, she could not see the driver, who got out and stepped to the back of the truck. All she could see was the top of his camouflaged baseball cap, as he unsnapped the bed cover, reaching in to retrieve several pieces of luggage. Probably a hunter Brad forgot was coming, Molly thought, but she did not relax or take her eyes off the man. He came around the truck toward the porch steps and that was when Molly recognized him.

  “Oh my God, Randy. Did you buy out Eddie Bauer?” Molly asked, as she rose from the chair and walked to the top of the steps. “And where did you get the monster truck?”

  Boots, jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, and a tan Carhartt field-jacket, a la Rick Perry, replaced Randy’s usual three-piece suit. He smiled up at Molly from under the brim of his Field and Stream hat, his handsome face beaming.

  “When in Rome, darlin’, when in Rome. I’ve ventured into the sticks before and I am choosing to blend in. I borrowed the truck from my friend Ray, and the wardrobe is going on my expense account.”

  Molly laughed. “Okay, Bubba, let’s get you moved in.” Randy handed Molly the two small rolling cases and went back to the truck. Molly asked, “How much more do you have to bring in?”

  Randy pointed at the two cases Molly was holding. “That’s just our shoes.”

  #

  Brad called while they were unloading the truck. He scheduled a meeting with Joey at one o’clock. Tammy helped with the unpacking. She was short, leaning to the plump side, but sweet as honey. Molly could see why Brad was attracted to the cute blonde.

  Tammy was so overcome by all the clothes, she blurted out, “I’ve never seen such beautiful things and people in my life.”

  Randy chuckled. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”

  Tammy giggled, already under Handsome Ransom’s spell.

  While Molly went upstairs to dress, she left Randy with instructions to lose the Bubba outfit and transform into city lawyer. She now stood in front of the stuffed little closet in her room. Molly was thinking she should have given Randy a bit more detailed list than just the standard, “you know what I wear” instructions. He explained that he brought three kinds of outfits for her; casual, for the same reason the closet in his room below hers contained more flannel shirts; some everyday suits for witness interviews and pretrial court appearances; and a couple of what he called, “I have more money than God” suits, in case she needed to impress the locals.

  Molly selected an ivory silk blouse, olive green slacks and matching jacket, and brown leather, low-heeled, Jimmy Choo shoes for her first interview with her client. Molly did not buy expensive clothes to flaunt her wealth. Her image was part of what she was selling. It was a lot easier for a client to write that initial hefty check for her retainer, if he or she thought they were getting what they paid for. Tailored designer suits were just one of the costumes Molly had to wear. She had worn someone else’s clothes as a child. Now, she wore the very best, but Molly preferred worn out jeans and tee shirts to designer labels. Some things never changed.

  Before she stepped in the shower, Molly went up to the tower and made a phone call. “The old man by the sea” needed to know what was coming. The old man was Horace Blackman, the lawyer responsible for Molly’s meteoric rise to fame. Most young lawyers had to claw their way through the maze of firms and hourly billing before reaching the level Molly achieved. Horace Blackman was a legend for the number of “rainmakers” he successfully litigated. Horace had won so many lucrative suits, by the time Molly started her internship with him, he told her he never had to work again. Horace went to court because he loved the rush. He practiced both criminal and civil law for the same reason, it
was challenging. Horace Blackman took Molly in during her last year of law school, saw her through the Bar exams, and put her to work immediately. Molly was the only other attorney in Horace’s firm. At twenty-five, while most of her fellow law school peers were still studying and filing briefs for the bosses, Molly was already trying her first cases.

  Four years after beginning as an intern at the Blackman’s firm, he handed Molly her very own “rainmaker.” She filed a lawsuit on behalf of a widow, who lost her husband and four kids because of a faulty railroad crossing. A warehouse shielded the oncoming train from view, preventing the driver from reacting until it was too late. The fiery crash was caught on the surveillance cameras of a nearby gas station, clearly showing the warning lights and gates were not activated. Molly proved the railroad company was aware of the danger at the crossing, and that their own track engineers had recommended relocating the tracks, or at least updating to a more modern and substantial warning signal. The recommended changes had been deemed too costly. A work order, dated months before the deadly crash, indicated the company was also aware that the gates were malfunctioning in wet weather. It rained for the three days leading up to the accident.

  Molly did not give a closing argument. She laid the work order and the track engineers’ report on the railing of the jury box and played the video of the crash. The jury awarded the widow twenty-five million dollars. The railroad avoided the expense of an appeal, settling for a lump sum of fourteen and a half million, and Molly was suddenly a rich woman. Horace then gave Molly his client list, leased her his big office in downtown Durham, and moved to Georgia. Molly changed the sign over the door to Kincaid Law Firm and landed a few more of her own rainmakers. She hired Randy ten years ago, turning over the civil law clients to him, and concentrated on criminal defense. The rest, as they say, was history. Horace was one more person Molly owed a debt, another kind soul that gave her a hand up. He taught her everything she knew about the law. She was hoping his contacts and natural penchant for the clandestine could quietly uncover the mystery of the coin.