by E. Joan Sims
I opened the front door and pulled the trunk lever, then went around to the back of the car and hoisted the duffle bag inside. The trunk was full of other bags, mostly plastic, full of clothes, some canned goods, and baby food jars. It looked like she was planning to be gone for a long time.
She closed the car door. Then she grabbed me by the hand, pulled me in the kitchen and shut the door against the storm. The sudden quiet disoriented me for a moment.
“Why did you come here?” Her pinched face was full of alarm.
“I wanted to tell you and your mother how sorry I was about your father’s death.” Then I added the hard part: “To apologize for all the trouble and heartache I’ve caused you.” I blurted it out all at once, relieved to finally put my feelings into words. “I know I can’t change what’s happened but I hope.…”
She started laughing. Her small mouth opened wide and I could see her cavity-filled, yellow-stained, teeth. She had obviously never had the benefit of a visit to the dentist.
“That’s funny, really funny!” she laughed. “What a great funny stupid joke, Paisley Sterling.”
She stopped laughing and poked a thin sharp finger in my ribs.
“You know why I know who you are? Because of all those books you wrote for kids. Nobody ever gave me any, but I got them from the library. Your picture was on the back, sometimes with your daughter.”
“Yes,” I said softly, “that’s Cassandra.”
She made a sound between a snort and a sob.
“Well, I used to dream that I was there with you and what’s-her-name. That I could be your kid and not theirs. You looked so happy,” she ended wistfully.
She looked out of the kitchen window at the storm blowing across the lake and then back at me. Fear was in her eyes.
“I gott’a get out of here,” she repeated, “before she gets back. She killed him, and I’m afraid she’ll kill me and the baby.”
“I…I thought your father committed suicide?”
I was stunned. I wanted answers, lots of them, but she was very agitated and I was afraid of pushing her too far.
She ran her fingers nervously through her wet hair.
“Do you have any money, Paisley Sterling? She never lets me have any.”
She started crying, “I promise I won’t buy dope. That’s all she talks about. I’m a drug addict, a no good slut. I promise, Paisley Sterling. I need to get away is all. I need to protect Jimmy.”
She was sobbing hard now.
I zipped open the pocket of my parka and tugged out some damp bills, a twenty and two tens. I pressed them into her hand.
“Ah, Jeesz, thanks a bunch.” She tucked the money away. “It’s just…I don’t know where to go, what to do,” she whined. “But it’s none of your doin’. Don’t blame yourself for any of this. She’s the one. I hate her! That bitch!” She spit the words out hard and full of anger. “I never had no use for him either. He never was a real father. Most if the time he just ignored me. I thought they’d swallow a cow when I came home last year with Jimmy. I got sick, hepatitis. I couldn’t take care of the baby. I had no other choice, or thought I didn’t.”
She looked at me slyly.
“I seen what they was plannin’ to do. She talked about it every night when they thought I was asleep. I slept a lot when I was sick,” she explained. “The bitch told him over and over again, those old people had no use for all that money when she needed it so bad. She egged him on. She wanted so many things, clothes and trips, this house, new furniture.”
She stopped talking and looked nervously out the window.
“I gott’a go!”
I sat down heavily on one of the pretty new chairs Sue Dibber had wanted so badly. The girl looked frantically at the wall clock. She tugged on the wet hem of my parka like a little child.
“She’ll be gettin’ home soon. Her shift is over. Let’s go,” she begged.
I was astonished. “Your mother went to work today? But your father.…”
“Yeh, yeh, I know. But you see, that’s all she ever cared about, not us kids, not him, at least while I was around. She just loved her job. Taking care of other people’s sick kids instead of her own. You know the only time I ever went to a doctor in my life was when I had Jimmy! She didn’t even take care of me and the baby when I came home sick.”
She grabbed my hand with her sharp little talons.
“Look, lady, I appreciate the money and all, but we’ve gott’a get goin’.”
“Wait! I don’t even know your name.”
“Mary Ann, nice to meetcha’. Now, let’s.…”
“Mary Ann, you can come home with me. My mother’s in the car. I’m sure she would love to have you stay with us.”
“Yeh, I bet!” she snorted scornfully. “Besides, being with you would be the worst place to be. She wants to kill you next!”
She was out of the door and in her car before I could stop her. She backed out fast past Watson and Mother and swerved into the rain slick street. I held my breath for a moment as she almost skidded into a tree. Her rear tire bounced off the curb and then back down on the asphalt, and she was gone.
I looked around at the pretty little blue and white kitchen and all the shiny new appliances. I thought about the greed and deceit that had gone into their acquisition. Briefly, I considered exploring some of the other rooms, but Mary Ann’s fear had infected me. I just wanted out. The kitchen had begun to spook me with its brand new House Beautiful perfect prettiness.
I closed the kitchen door and ran back to Watson. Mother leaned over and unlocked the door.
“My God, Paisley, I was scared to death. What took you so long? I almost went for the police.”
“I’ll tell you about it when we get on the road. We’ve got to make tracks.”
I pulled out of the driveway and had just gotten to the end of the street when a brand new, midnight blue Lexus passed me going way too fast for the wet road. I could not see the driver but as I continued to watch in my rearview mirror I saw the car turn into the Dibbers’ drive.
The weather improved as we got closer to Rowan Springs. It was only thirty miles, but the clouds were moving towards the lake and we were going in the opposite direction.
I carefully related, word for word, everything that Mary Ann Dibber had said to me. I was beginning to feel much better and much less culpable. I wanted to hear what Mother had to say.
“I don’t believe Sue did it. Ernest killed William and Abigail, and Rae Ann, and then himself when you exposed the truth.”
“That’s not what I wanted you to say. I don’t want to hear that my silly book drove a man to suicide. Try again.”
“Paisley, do you honestly think we can take the word of a sixteen-year old.…”
“Seventeen, she must be seventeen by now.”
“…seventeen-year old drug addict?”
“She was terrified, Mother, not just for herself, for her baby. I invited her to come and stay with us.”
“You did what? Don’t you think that’s taking Southern hospitality just a little too far?”
“Don’t worry. She turned me down. She said I was next on her mother’s hit list and being around me wouldn’t be safe.”
“So, not only is this poor wronged woman, a hard-working nurse, a mother of five, and a pillar of the community, out to kill her own daughter and grandson, but she wants to do you in as well? I’m sorry, Paisley, but I just don’t buy it.”
“Who said she was a pillar of the community? You were perfectly willing to believe that she aided and abetted Ernest, falsifying records and whatnot.”
“That’s different. He probably threatened to kill her if she didn’t help him.”
We argued until we got home, but I was feeling more and more chipper and less and less guilty with every mile. We arrived just as the sun was bursting out from behind the clouds. The remaining winds were shooing all the dark clouds across the sky like naughty dirty children off for a bath.
Mabel drove out
of the driveway as we drove in, and we waved in passing. Cassie and Aggie were out on the patio. I waded through the wet grass to join them.
“Look, Mom, a double rainbow. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
It was just that. Two lovely arcs of color, one brilliantly defined and the other faint and shimmering like a fairy ring above it. We gazed admiringly on it for a full minute or two; then, suddenly, it was gone.
“Oh,” we said in disappointed unison.
“I’d say let’s sit outside for a while but the chairs are all wet.”
She laughed, “What the hell, so are you.”
I looked down and, sure enough, my jeans were muddy and soaked and my favorite moccasins looked like they were ruined.
“Damn! I love these shoes!”
“Holes and all?”
“Especially the holes.”
They had seen better days, but they had been expensive—Cole-Haan. I steadfastly refused to throw them away.
“If you’re worried about your shoes and not your immortal soul, then you must be feeling a lot better.”
“Oh, Cass, wait till you hear! I’m next on the list of murder victims.”
She looked horrified. “And that’s the good news?”
Aggie was making a beeline for a big muddy puddle.
“Grab your pooch and meet me in the library. I have to change clothes before I catch pneumonia. I wouldn’t want to cheat the killer!”
I took a hot shower and washed my hair. I even sang while I was rinsing off. I could hear Aggie in the library howling along. Faith Hill, I’m not. I shrugged into a big, cozy, terrycloth housecoat, wrapped my hair in a towel and went to join the others.
Mother had let her fingers do the walking, and phoned The Golden Wok for a delivery. She and Cass were sorting out all kinds of goodies on the coffee table. Aggie was lying underneath in the hope that something delicious might be spilled.
“So you see,” I explained as I swallowed a mouthful of ‘Szechwan Chicken, Specialty of the House,’ “Sue could be the real killer.”
“Then why did Ernest Dibber kill himself?” asked Cass.
“Hmmm, maybe he was despondent over the death of his girl friend?”
“Sorry, I don’t buy it.”
“That’s what Mother said.”
“Absolutely! I can’t believe that Sue Dibber is a killer. She’s too drab. Though I have to admit she didn’t look that lifeless when she saw me in the hospital. She was furious, enraged. If she hadn’t dropped that tray full of food and slid down in the mashed potatoes.…”
“Oh, my,” said Mother, “you didn’t tell us that. No wonder she got a restraining order.”
I couldn’t help it. The mental picture of my nemesis wallowing around in mashed potatoes in her starched white uniform was more than I could stand. I laughed and laughed. I guess it was mostly a release from all the pain I had been feeling. When I finally stopped, Mother and Cassie refused to listen to any more of my suppositions about Sue Dibber as a murderer.
“I know it makes you feel better, dear, but I think you had better accept the truth. Ernest was probably guilty, but we’ll never know for sure. This case is closed. Let’s just hope we come out of it with a roof over our heads.”
We cleared away all of the paper plates and cartons and opened our fortune cookies. Mother had a terrific fortune, of course, and Cassie’s was a portent of love. Mine said one word: “Beware!”
Cassie went to change for a date with Danny. She would say nothing about her love life, no matter how hard we prodded. Mother was going to a bridge tournament at the Country Club with Horatio. She wanted to attend in “grand White Russian émigré style” and scotch the rumors of our impending bankruptcy.
I helped her choose a dress and jewelry for the evening. When they were gone, Aggie and I curled up on my bed for a much needed nap.
I woke up two hours later, my MSG parched throat begging for water. Aggie growled and nipped me on my little finger when I disturbed her trying to get out of bed. She was lying on the skirt of my housecoat and wouldn’t get up. As a precaution against getting bitten again, I shrugged out of the terrycloth robe.
While I was feeling around in the dark for something to wear, the phone rang. I had left my wet moccasins next to the bed and I fell over them trying to pick up the receiver. I ended up lying on the floor on my stomach, naked as a jaybird. I hoped it wasn’t the mysterious laughing man, or a heavy breather wanting to know what I had on. I finally managed to say, “Hello.”
“Paisley, is that you? You sound funny. Are you all right, dear? Horatio was worried about you. Should we come home?”
“No, of course not, I’m fine. I may have rabies, but other than that.”
“Oh, you disturbed the puppy’s nap.”
“You guessed it.”
“Well, I imagine we’ll stay then. They’re having crème brulee and champagne at midnight. Oh, Paisley, before I forget, although I guess it doesn’t matter now, but I promised Horatio I would tell you anyway.”
The floor was cold and uncomfortable.
“Tell me what, Mother?” I asked impatiently.
“Horatio says his friend in Lanierville did find something unusual on Rae Ann’s body. The major injuries were the crushing ones to her head, neck, and legs. He said the torso was untouched except for a needle mark on her right buttock. He wouldn’t have noticed, but there was a small drop of blood on her panties. Mean anything to you?”
“Let me think about it when I’m awake.”
“All right dear. Is Cassandra home yet?”
“No, but they don’t usually stay out very late. She’ll be home soon. Don’t worry. Have fun.”
I hung up the phone and glared up at Aggie. She had crawled over to the edge of the bed to peer down and see what new game I was playing on the floor.
“Damn dog! One of these days I’m going to bite you back. When Cassie’s not looking,” I added.
I found an old silk caftan that Mother had given me long ago. It was soft and cool, just perfect for a warm sticky night. I drank two glasses of water from the cooler in the fridge and filled another glass to take with me back to my desk. I had some work to do.
An hour passed before I had all the notes we had taken arranged in chronological order.
“Next time we do this, Aggie, if there is a next time, we must be more orderly.”
I went over and over everything we had written down, but I could find nothing that pointed the finger at Sue Dibber.
Where was Leonard Paisley when I needed him? Leonard found clues all over the place: the syringe still dripping poison, the pillowcase with the victim’s hair, a foot print here, a tire mark there.
But then, Leonard had no conscience. He did not care about widows and orphans.
I began to get depressed again. What if I had really ruined these innocent people’s lives with my arrogant and vengeful words? What if I had caused a distraught and humiliated father of five to take his own life? That’s what a lawyer would say if the case went to court.
I turned down the desk lamp and went over to sit on the sofa by the dog. The French doors were still open and a faint breeze was coming in through the screen.
We had been here over a year now. I had thought it was a great year, a new career for me, a new life for the old farm, and a renewal of family for us all. Now all that was at risk.
“What a disaster, Aggie,” I said sadly as I ruffled her soft fur.
Big mistake! She bit my thumb hard and held on tight for at least twenty seconds.
“Damn! That’s the last straw, dog,” I cried. “You’re going into the crate until Cassie gets home.”
I picked her up by the middle, careful to keep my hands out of the reach of her vicious little teeth.
“Look, you little twit, you made me get blood on Mother’s sofa!”
I carried the snarling, squirming puppy to Cassie’s room and deposited her none too gently in her crate. She immediately started barking so I closed the bedroom door
.
My thumb was still throbbing but the bleeding had stopped. I washed it off with antiseptic soap and found a Superman band-aid in the bathroom cabinet. I searched for, and found, a ratty, old washcloth. Mother never throws anything away. Her credo is that you usually find a use for it after you toss it. She’s right, too. I wet the washcloth with cold water and hurried back to get the bloodstain off the sofa before it set.
I knelt down on the floor and rubbed the wet cloth vigorously over the stained sofa fabric. I didn’t even notice the screen door was open until I felt something hard, cold, and metallic behind my left ear. I jerked and tried to get up.
“Don’t get up, Missy! Not yet. Don’t move a muscle. Not until I give you permission.”
I heard a ripping sound. It sounded like some kind of fabric or tape.
“Hold you hands behind your back. Slowly now. That’s it. Good girl.”
My hands were tightly bound with adhesive tape. The gun, it had to be a gun, traveled in a slow, cold line from my ear to the middle of my back.
“Get up slowly or the evening will be over before you know it.”
I stood up clumsily, leaning against the sofa for leverage. A bony hand grabbed me by the nape of my neck and turned me around. The cruel nails dug into my throat before letting go.
Sue Dibber’s nasty little gun was pointed straight at my heart.
“Thanks for getting rid of the cute little doggie. That little problem had me stumped for a while. I was afraid she would warn you. I guess she doesn’t like you very much.”
She slapped me hard across the face with her free hand. “I don’t like you very much either.”
I tried to think, but my ears were ringing and I was scared.
“Where’s the living room?” She grabbed the front of my caftan and pulled. “Take me to your parlor, dear. We’re going to make arrangements for a little family portrait, a posthumous portrait,” she chuckled. “It will make all the newspapers, ‘Distraught Novelist Kills Family and Self Over Lawsuit.’”
A black veil started to descend over my eyes and I stumbled against the coffee table. Pain shot through my shin and helped to clear my mind.