Black Beans & Vice

by J. B. Stanley

  “I actually had a shot of whiskey to settle my nerves. Really, I’m better now. Luckily, Eliot didn’t see it since we always come inside through the garage.” Jane sounded exhausted.

  “You’ve had quite a shock,” he told her. “I can hear it in your voice. But sweetheart, you’ve got to call the police. This has moved beyond the realm of practical joke to vandalism. A person sick enough to nail a dead bird to your door could be capable of much worse.”

  Jane sighed. “I’ll do it in the morning. I promise. Right now, I just wish … well, I wish you were here.”

  It was all the invitation James needed. “Give me an hour,” he said and hung up.

  By the time he reached Harrisonburg, Eliot was already asleep. Jane was clad in a pair of blue cotton pajamas covered with designs of bacon and eggs. After hugging her, James pointed at her nighttime ensemble and smiled.

  “Do you like my ‘breakfast in bed’ PJs?” She laughed and then her face grew serious. “Thank you, James. It’s not like me to feel insecure in the house by myself, but I knew with you here I’d feel much safer.”

  James pointed at the sofa. “Should I make this up?”

  “No,” Jane said with a flirtatious grin. She stepped closer, her eyes shining with invitation. “You’d be a much more efficient bodyguard in my bed.”

  Without the slightest hesitation, James scooped her into his arms and planted a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck. “Why do I hear Whitney Houston music playing in my head?”

  Jane’s lips found his. Huskily, she murmured, “Get that other woman out of your mind. Tonight, you’re mine.”

  Whispering into her hair, James answered, “I think I always have been.”

  _____

  The next morning, Eliot was delighted to find his father standing over the stove, fixing scrambled eggs with cheese with one hand and drinking coffee from one of Jane’s purple JMU coffee mugs with the other. However, his initial pleasure quickly turned into a sulk as he realized he’d missed James’ arrival the night before.

  “I didn’t know there was gonna be a sleepover!” Eliot whined. “I missed the fun!”

  At that moment, Jane entered the kitchen and distributed good morning kisses to both males. “It was grown-up fun,” she said and winked at James. Taking a drink from his mug, she pointed at the stovetop clock. “You’d better get going or you’ll be late for work.”

  James cast an anxious look toward the front door. “Are you sure you’re fine dealing with this by yourself? I can take a sick day.”

  Jane nodded and lowered her voice. “I’ll do it after I drop Eliot off at day care. Having cops at our house might freak him out. Then again, he might love it. Either way, he won’t be here.”

  “Call me later, okay? I’ve got an interview scheduled for two this afternoon but otherwise I should be available to talk.” He hugged his ex-wife and then presented his son with his breakfast. “An egg-monster for the coolest kid in the room.”

  Eliot examined the lumpy pile of eggs forming an oval face, the apple-slice mouth, the baby carrot nose, and the four eyes made out of cheese cubes and laughed. “Hey! I’m the only kid. You and mom are old!”

  James pretended to pull an invisible knife from his chest as he gathered his overnight bag and waved goodbye. Before leaving, he snuck around to the front door in order to get a firsthand look at the dead bird.

  This was no pathetic robin resting on a pile of mail, but a big black crow, like the ones in James’ nightmare. Both wings had been spread and a nail had been driven through each wing bone into the wooden door. The bird’s head and neck sagged sideways and its feet were curled inward as though it had died in agony.

  Repulsed, James took a step backward. He glanced around the stoop, looking for a note or any indication that would explain the gruesome display of vandalism. His eyes swept the property and then he walked slowly to his truck, thinking that it would be a challenge to have staged the macabre display in Jane’s neighborhood. The houses were relatively close to one another and there were very few mature trees dividing the yards. Most of the neighbors were two-parent families and though many of the mothers worked outside the home, the women living on either side of Jane did not.

  “Who walks up to the front door of someone’s house, nails a dead bird on it, and then drives away unseen?” he asked the quiet street. “And just as important as the ‘who’ is the ‘why.’ Why do this to Jane?”

  James put his hands on his hips and glared in every direction as though he could frighten away the perpetrator with the sheer force of his presence. Putting his faith in the abilities of the local police, James backed out of the driveway and headed south to Quincy’s Gap.

  –––––

  The Fitzgerald twins were in a buoyant mood when they met James on the library steps at a quarter to nine. In fact, both of the young men, who had taken to riding their mountain bikes to work, were so impatient to share their news that they dismounted hurriedly and let their bikes drop unceremoniously onto the grass.

  “Guess what, Professor?” Francis was flushed from exercise and excitement.

  Hoping the announcement would distract him from the image of the dead crow, James paused in the act of unlocking the front door. “You won the Mega Million jackpot?”

  Scott shook his head. “It’s way better than that! We entered a contest for people who have ideas for groundbreaking new video games and—”

  “We won!” Francis shouted and the brothers exchanged celebratory chest bumps.

  James shook each of their hands. “That’s terrific. What was your idea?”

  Francis beamed. “This is why you’re awesome, Professor. Everybody else asked us about the prize, but you want to know what we dreamed up.”

  “Our proposal stemmed from our experiences working here, at the library,” Scott added.

  Suddenly, James had a visual of Murphy’s book cover. This time, however, it had been shrunk to fit the box of a PC game. Pudgy sleuths made of megapixels scrambled around the screen, picking up clues while simultaneously taking bites of junk food. “Did your proposal have anything to do with the mystery genre?” he asked woodenly.

  “Nope! It’s a game where you can travel between fantasy worlds. For example, you start as Alice and play in Wonderland, but as Alice advances in levels, she can travel to Tolkien’s world,” Francis explained.

  “And there she can add an ally to her group, like Legolas, the elf, or a wizard like Gandalf,” Scott continued.

  “So with each new world, the group grows by another character,” Francis finished.

  Relieved, James smiled at the twins. “It sounds brilliant and complex and really fun. I assume there would be a final battle scene once your group of characters has leveled out.” When the brothers nodded, James asked, “In what setting would this epic fight occur?”

  “Back in Wonderland,” they answered together. “Against the Queen of Hearts, of course.”

  James praised the two young men until they blushed with embarrassment. “Don’t you two quit on me! I still haven’t found a replacement for Mrs. Waxman.”

  “Don’t worry, Professor. The prize is that we’re being hired as consultants during the two years it’ll take to produce the game.” Scott exchanged a look with Francis. “We’d never leave the library, but for once, we won’t have to skimp on some of the things we’ve wanted to buy. Our bachelor pad is about to be totally transformed!”

  “That should entertain your landlady,” James remarked with a chuckle.

  “Mrs. Lamb is one feisty old lady,” Francis said. “She said the first thing we should buy is a disco ball!”

  The librarians laughed and went inside to begin their workday. All three of them had an industrious morning. Between the two book club meetings (James led the fiction club’s discussion at ten while Scott led the biography club’s at eleven), lunchtime arrived quickly.

  Watching Francis rush to the refrigerator with glee, James realized that he had no lunch of his own. There
’d been no time to stop on the drive from Jane’s house to the library. He waited for the twins to finish theirs and when he finally ventured into town, he was starving. Only Dolly’s Diner would do. It was Tuesday and that meant Clint’s perfect meatloaf sandwich and a side of garlic mashed potatoes.

  Dolly’s was always packed on Tuesdays. The locals adored the meatloaf special and as summer approached, Dolly began serving her famous Blueberry Dream Pie. For a mere ninety-nine cents, her patrons could feast on a generous wedge of pie with the purchase of any entree. Most of Quincy’s Gap took advantage of the offer.

  “Professor Henry!” Dolly shouted from behind the hostess station. “Such a pleasure to see you!”

  To most, this type of greeting was spoken out of politeness, but Dolly meant every word. She’d known James and his family for years and was now as fond of Milla and Eliot as she was of her own kin. Dolly loved Clint, food, and gossip, and not always in that order. Somehow, her customers shared their problems with her despite the knowledge that their secrets would be circulated the minute they left the diner.

  “Not even a seat at the counter,” James mourned and his stomach rumbled in protest.

  “Lemme see if anybody’s about finished up. If they are, I’ll give ’em a gentle shove out the door. I know you’ve got to get back to the library.” Dolly hustled off, her sharp eyes in search of dawdlers.

  As James waited, a pretty young woman with shoulder-length auburn hair, fair skin, and a dash of freckles across her nose got up from her chair at a table for two. She squinted in his direction and then slipped on a pair of tortoise-shell glasses. Leaving a paperback on her seat, she walked over to James.

  “Did she say that you worked at the library?” she inquired in a pleasant alto.

  James nodded. “I’m the head librarian.”

  The woman gave him a bright smile. “I’m Fern Dickenson. I’m supposed to have an interview with you at two.” She gestured toward her table. “I just ordered and since there aren’t any open seats, would you like to join me?”

  “That would be great,” James answered, feeling well disposed toward the thoughtful young woman already.

  Over lunch, James proceeded to ask Fern all the questions he’d been saving for the afternoon’s interview. Fern told him that she worked as a freelance photographer for a dozen Virginia publications but was having a hard time making ends meet without a steady paycheck. She loved all areas of the Humanities, was well read, and extremely personable. She’d had experience serving the public during her two years working part-time for the Virginia State Parks Department and while she enjoyed the job, she was ready for a change.

  From what James could tell, Fern had a great sense of humor, a solid work ethic, and a deep love of reading. She was perfect for the job.

  When Dolly arrived to clear their lunch plates, Fern excused herself to use the restroom.

  “Isn’t she a little young for you, Professor?” Dolly wiggled her eyebrows and then laughed, her whole body shaking in mirth.

  James waved her off. “She’s going to be my new part-time librarian. This meal became an impromptu interview.”

  Dolly was beside herself over being the first to hear such interesting news. “You all need to celebrate. Be back in a flash!”

  Before James could protest, she was gone. By the time Fern returned from the restroom, two dessert plates containing slices of Blueberry Dream Pie had been placed on the table by the diner’s exuberant proprietor.

  “On the house!” Dolly told Fern. “And welcome to Quincy’s Gap. We’re mighty glad to have you. Are you movin’ to our town? Are you on your own or do you have a significant other?”

  Fern accepted Dolly’s welcome and took her questions in stride. “Thank you. I’m glad to be here. As for my living situation … I’m apartment hunting and I’m single. I’m an only child and my astrological sign is Libra. Blood type is O Negative.” She looked quizzically at James. “Wait, does this mean I got the job?”

  “It’s yours if you want it,” James declared. When Fern nodded enthusiastically, James gestured at his plate. “Shall we toast with a forkful of pie?”

  Dolly hadn’t budged during this exchange and James didn’t dare offend her by turning down her gift of pie, so he loaded up his fork, clinked it against Fern’s, and popped it in his mouth.

  A blend of cream cheese, fresh blueberries, and sugar coated his tongue. Sighing as the fresh berries popped between his teeth, he waited for the feeling of intense pleasure to overpower him, to create that high he was accustomed to experiencing when eating a sweet food, but it didn’t happen. He enjoyed the treat, but wasn’t so focused on it that he couldn’t pause between bites to converse with his new employee.

  “When should I start, Mr. Henry?” Fern inquired once she’d cleaned her plate. “I’m available whenever you need me.”

  James wiped a blueberry smear from his cheek. “How about tomorrow? I’ll have Scott show you the ropes. I believe you two are going to get along very well.”

  After spontaneously hiring Fern over lunch, James returned to the library with a light step. He hummed quietly all the way into his office, stopping only to listen to his voicemail. Jane had left a message saying she’d filed a police report earlier that morning and the officer she’d spoken to promised to have a car assigned to patrol her neighborhood for the rest of the week. The helpful lawman had also removed the dead crow from her front door and buried the sad creature in the far reaches of the back yard.

  “I feel so much better today,” she said and James could hear the relief in her voice. “And I want to thank you again for last night.” She paused and he could easily picture the blood rushing to her cheeks as the double meaning of her words became apparent. “Um, about last night … I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but what we did felt really natural and, well, pretty damned wonderful! I’ve been acting like a pre-teen girl with a serious crush all day—wearing this goofy smile and writing your name all over my desk calendar …” she chuckled. “Okay, I’m trying not to make you blush or anything. I just wanted to say that you make me happy. Bye!”

  James smiled. He felt buoyant, as though everything in his life was neatly falling into place. His reconnection with Jane had been a unique experience. After all, they had been married, but she had been a self-centered lover when they’d been together and had often seemed dissatisfied with their sex life. Last night, she was a different woman in bed. Playful and giving, she’d quickly put aside her shyness and allowed him to explore her voluptuous body. In return, she’d loved him with a mixture of tenderness and passion she’d never shown during their marriage.

  James could feel his pulse racing as he replayed the night over and over, but then doubts began to worm their way into his mind, disturbing his reminisces and causing him to question the wisdom of being led by his libido.

  We can’t mess around like teenagers, he thought. No matter how good it feels. There’s Eliot to consider. If Jane and I are going to be together, it must be for all the right reasons. I’ve got to be one hundred percent sure she and I are the real deal this time.

  And therein lay the rub, James thought. He believed they’d been the genuine article the first time around. He’d been so certain of their future the night he’d knelt down and proposed. After he and Jane divorced, he thought Lucy might be the love he’d waited for. And then there was Murphy.

  He’d been wrong about all of them.

  “Let’s face it,” he remarked glumly to the photo of Jackson and Milla on his desk. “I don’t have clear judgment when it comes to women. Yet you!” he pointed at his father. “You got it right—not once but twice! And you’re a cantankerous old man! How’d you win the hearts of such wonderful women, Pop?”

  “Talking to yourself again?” A teasing voice inquired.

  James looked up to see Murphy Alistair standing in the threshold, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, mouth upturned in amusement. If not for that expression, he might not have
recognized her right away, for she no longer looked like the small-town reporter he’d once dated. Her hair had been dyed to a rich, molasses-brown, chic Chanel frames had replaced her academic-looking glasses, and she’d grown shockingly thin. Her angular body was encased in a black sheath dress and she wore a multi-strand red coral necklace. To James, she resembled a younger version of Sarah Palin.

  Out of politeness, he rose from his seat. “You look very cosmopolitan.”

  Murphy laughed. “Everyone really does wear black in New York. I’d forgotten how all the Quincy’s Gap ladies wear Pepto-Bismol suits and Beatrix Potter hats.”

  “The whole Valley is more colorful than your concrete jungle.” James felt defensive of his beloved berg. “And there’s a great pizza place in town now, so I don’t think The Big Apple’s got much on us.”

  “Right. Except for Broadway, the Met, unparalleled architecture, dozens of fabulous restaurants, and the latest trends in fashion, I guess Manhattan can’t hold a candle to this place.” She gestured out the window with a mocking smile.

  James frowned. “If New York is such a utopia, why come back to the sticks?”

  Murphy smoothed her glossy hair. “In all honesty, it wasn’t easy to make friends there. I couldn’t enjoy my success in a sea of anonymity. My family is here in Shenandoah and frankly, I missed the hustle and bustle of putting out The Star. Now, I own the paper and a house that I’ve always admired but could never have afforded.”

  “You’ve got nerves of steel, to move back after insulting half the town in your infamous book.” He’d never before infused such a beloved noun with that much spite. “Now, how may a humble librarian be of service today?”

  Putting both hands on her angular hips, Murphy sighed in exasperation. “My novels are works of fiction! When are you ever going to accept that fact? And I’m here on a professional basis, especially if the rumor about your having a kid with your ex-wife is true.”

  “Your sources are correct. I have a son. His name is Eliot Henry.” James felt such pleasure in imparting this information to his former flame.