Black Beans & Vice

by J. B. Stanley

  “Nope,” Eliot answered hungrily.

  “Me either.” Milla smiled at James over Eliot’s head. “I’ve got a beater for you too, if you’d like one.”

  James grinned as Eliot poked his tongue through the tines of the metal beater. “Thanks, but I’ll wait for a cookie when it’s hot from the oven instead. How’s Pop?”

  “Already painting,” Milla answered proudly. “Some top-secret project.”

  Gesturing toward the shed behind the house, James asked, “Is he out there now?”

  She nodded. “He won’t use the walker, so he hobbles out there with his crutches and leans on one while he paints with his other hand. It seems to be doing him a world of good—to be working again so soon after the stroke—but he gets real tired. Can you remind him that he’s got to stop and rest? Trick him into coming in for some coffee and cookies.”

  “I’ll try,” James answered without much hope. Jackson Henry wasn’t easy to manipulate.

  As usual, James had to knock on the shed door and wait for admittance. It took Jackson several minutes to put down his paintbrush and palette and shuffle to the door. Poking his head out through the crack like a suspicious turtle, Jackson looked at his son. Though his mouth remained an immovable line, his eyes smiled.

  James had been calling his father every day since he’d come home from the hospital, but Jackson was even more reluctant than usual to talk on the phone. His speech was still slurred and the already taciturn man had grown even more so. Milla served as Jackson’s communicator, giving James updates on his father’s physical therapy and general well-being, but none of the details regarding his slow and steady recovery were as rewarding as seeing that unique glimmer return to Jackson’s eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re back at work, Pop. Can I come in or would you rather take a break and have some coffee and cookies in the house?”

  Jackson hesitated, clearly uncertain whether to let James view his unfinished painting. Finally, he stretched his lips into a lopsided grin and waved his son inside. The finished paintings were on large horizontal canvases. Jackson had always painted on vertical canvases before and never on such a large scale. The painted shapes were difficult to distinguish at first, but as James stepped closer, he saw that his father’s new pieces were actually made up of dozens of small paintings, similar in style to a collage.

  “The amount of detail,” James breathed in awe. He leaned closer, noting the familiar features of his childhood self staring back at him. There he was in his high school marching band uniform, as an infant in his mother’s arms, as a seven-year-old scarecrow at Halloween. In another square, as precise as a photograph, he was raking leaves with his father. In another, Jackson was laughing as he carved the Thanksgiving turkey. These were pictures of a happy life, but there were representations of pain and loss too. There was his mother’s casket, strewn with white lilies, and a portrait of Jackson sitting on the bed with her wedding ring in his hand, his face crumpled in grief.

  “Your memories, Pop.” James felt a tightening in his throat. “This painting shows glimpses of your life.”

  Jackson nodded and reached out to James with his good arm. “It’s been a good one, my boy. I need you to know that.”

  James turned to his father fearfully, but Jackson shook his head. “I ain’t gonna drop dead. I just wanted you to know. You’re a fine son and a damned good daddy to Eliot.”

  The two men embraced and for once, Jackson was in no rush to pull away.

  Later, after a second breakfast of cookies and milk, Eliot joined his grandfather in the shed and spent the rest of the morning painting his own masterpiece using only two colors of paint. By the time he’d placed the final brush stroke and named his work, “Melted Popsicles,” it was lunchtime. Knowing Jane would soon be entertaining Donna Woodman, James decided it would be wiser to spend another hour with Milla and Jackson. After all, he didn’t want to arrive home just as Donna was on the brink of revealing something important.

  However, as soon as Eliot had finished eating a grilled cheese sandwich and a ripe nectarine, he suddenly seemed to run out of steam. It was time to take the little boy home.

  “Let’s go work on your LEGO fire station, okay buddy?” James wiped Eliot’s sticky chin, clapped his father affectionately on his good shoulder, and gave Milla a kiss on the cheek. In return, she handed him a baggie filled with cookies.

  “These are for Jane. Tell her we’re sorry we missed her and hope to see her soon.” Milla squeezed Eliot and beamed as he broke free, only to wrap his arms around Jackson’s neck. He whispered something into his grandfather’s ear and Jackson’s entire face crinkled in amusement and delight. As Eliot darted out the door, Jackson gazed after him in wonder.

  “I’ll be damned,” Jackson chuckled and looked at James. “I never thought I’d say this but hell, I wish you’d had more kids. That one there just …” he couldn’t find the right words, but the light in his eyes spoke volumes.

  On the drive home, James considered what his father had said. Would he have another child? Were he and Jane too old? Did they have enough money or enough room in the yellow house for more children? Suddenly, the idea of a helpless infant shrieking out its wordless demands in the middle of the night filled James with anxiety. He knew nothing about babies. Eliot had come into his life eating solid foods, speaking in sentences, and completely toilet trained. But a baby! Now there was a mystery!

  “What did you whisper to Grandpa back there?” James asked his son at the next red light.

  Eliot shrugged. “I said he was my favorite play date friend.” He colored. “’Cept you, Dad.”

  “That was a nice thing to say,” James told his son. “To both of us.”

  Minutes later, the two Henrys stepped through the front door of their house to the sound of a woman sniffling. “We’re home!” James called out and then hurriedly followed his greeting with, “I’m going to take Eliot to his room for some quiet time.”

  He winked at Eliot, signaling that what he really meant by “quiet time” was an hour of design and construction using LEGO blocks. Eliot shouted, “Hi, Mom! Bye, Mom!” and dashed down the hall.

  Jane didn’t answer, but as James tiptoed after Eliot he heard her murmuring gently to the other woman. Donna, or at least James assumed that’s who it was as he didn’t dare go into the living room just yet, sounded as though she was crying.

  I’ve got some sense of timing, James thought. He lingered in the hallway for another moment but was unable to hear distinct words, only the rise and fall of exchanged voices, soft and melodic, like two instruments playing a lullaby in pianissimo.

  James soon forgot about the women as he and Eliot built their own version of the Empire State Building. When James heard the front door close and a car engine start in the driveway, he told Eliot it was time to rest and handed him a portable CD player and an audio CD of Curious George stories. Eliot snuggled under his covers, put on his headphones, and loaded the CD player. James was amazed at the technical savvy of today’s four-year-olds and knew it wouldn’t be long before Eliot ran circles around him when it came to all things electronic.

  He found Jane standing in front of the kitchen sink, staring out the window into the back yard. “How’d it go?” he asked.

  She sighed. “You can cross Donna Woodman off your suspect list. She really loved her husband and is genuinely grieving.” She pointed at the gold fir tree on the counter. “That belonged to Ned, but it wasn’t a charm for a necklace or a bracelet. Donna had it made for his key chain.”

  “So the two deaths must be connected! When Ned’s killer came after Tia he must have dropped the charm. It was pretty dumb of him to have kept it in the first place.” James picked up the shiny tree. “Did Donna mention the Wellness Village at all?”

  Jane looked surprised. “Funny you should say that! When I asked her about the masseuse she visits there, she started crying. She thinks Ned was having an affair with someone who worked in the Village. She was going to confront
him about it the day of the Food Festival, but Ned was killed before she had the chance.”

  James blinked. “An affair?” He recalled how anxious Ned had seemed before his death. “How did Donna come to that conclusion?”

  “His landscaping company took care of the mowing and fertilizing for the complex—apparently, they’re the only organic landscaping company in the area—but Donna said Ned went there way too often. She’d drive by and see his truck parked in the Village’s lot during odd hours.”

  “Couldn’t Ned have been a client? Maybe he was seeing Harmony or Roslyn or even the acupuncturist, but wanted to keep it a secret?” James didn’t know why he was playing devil’s advocate, but he felt compelled to do so.

  Jane frowned. “I said ‘odd hours.’ We’re talking after closing time, honey. If he was the acupuncturist’s client, for example, then he was getting X-rated services after she put away her hot needles!”

  “Oh, I see.” James fell silent. Mechanically, he loaded the lunch plates into the dishwasher. He then opened a liter of Coke Zero and poured a glass over crushed ice. “Could Donna be the killer? After all, she is a woman scorned.”

  Jane shook her head emphatically. “No way. She was angry, but she wanted to fight for her marriage. She and Ned had a child together. Now that kid has no father. Donna is embarrassed about the missing money and she is really, really hurt, but she would give anything to have Ned back. She truly loved him.”

  “I trust your judgment,” James answered readily, brushing a strand of hair from Jane’s cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “So could the other woman be the killer?”

  “That’s what I’ve been turning over in my mind. Maybe Ned’s lover wasn’t as keen on him as he was on her,” Jane suggested. “Perhaps her feelings were never genuine and she was using him as a source of easy money.”

  James took a sip of soda. “And then she disposed of him because she’d gotten all the ready cash she was going to get? That’s pretty ruthless.” He considered the theory. “It also means she’d have to be strong enough to strangle Tia until she lost consciousness.”

  “Or, she had a partner.”

  Now it was James’ turn to be surprised. “No one’s considered that possibility.” He rubbed his eyes. “Boy, this is getting complicated.”

  “Looks like you need to book another appointment with Harmony,” Jane said, handing James the phone. “And you’ll have to give yourself enough time beforehand to check out all the other women working in the Wellness Village.”

  Putting down his sweating glass, James dialed Harmony’s number. When the office voicemail came on, he left a message saying that he was having difficulty keeping a secret from his family and friends.

  “It’s a good secret,” he added and smiled at Jane. “Still, I’d like to make peace with myself about the whole thing. Plus, I haven’t quite resolved my sugar issues either.” He sighed, recalling the number of chocolate chunk peanut butter cookies he’d eaten that morning. “Honestly, life has gotten in the way of my being healthy again. I just cannot seem to stay focused on my physical fitness goals.” He requested an afternoon appointment as soon as Harmony had an opening and then hung up.

  Jane was studying him. “Is that true? That you feel guilty about keeping our upcoming nuptials from your family and friends?”

  He reached for her hand. “Guilty, no. It’s difficult because I’m having a hard time hiding how happy I am. I want to climb on top of the town’s water tower and shout our news to the world.” He jerked his thumb at the phone. “But I had to tell her something.”

  Relaxing, Jane closed the distance between them. “As far as your second reason for seeing Harmony goes, I want you to know that I wouldn’t change a thing about your looks. If you want to be healthier, then that’s great. Eliot and I want you around for a long, long time.” She wound her arms around him. “But I do like a man who can push me around in bed. I don’t want some bag of bones lying next to me.”

  “You don’t, huh?” James grinned. “Say, how long do you think Eliot will listen to his Curious George CD?”

  Before Jane could answer, the doorbell rang.

  “Lucy!” James greeted his friend loudly. Even though she couldn’t possibly have heard his exchange with Jane, he felt slightly embarrassed. “Um, what brings you by?”

  She put her hands on her gun belt and rocked back on her heels looking extremely pleased. “News! Good news. Can I come in?”

  Jane gave James a playful push. “Please do. I was just about to brew some coffee. Can I offer you a cup?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Lucy settled down at the kitchen table. “In all the crime books I read, the authors always talk about how foul the coffee is in every law enforcement agency across the country. It may be a cliché, but it’s totally the truth. Ours is mixed with jet fuel, I swear it.”

  Laughing, Jane filled the coffeepot and got a pint of half and half out of the refrigerator. While Lucy talked, Jane placed a sugar bowl, a small pitcher of cream, and an assortment of Pepperidge Farm cookies on a tray.

  “Kenneth Cooper checked into the rehab facility under a false name. Most people can’t get away with that, but since he paid in cash, he didn’t need to show them an insurance card.” Lucy helped herself to a Milano as soon as Jane set the tray on the table. James raised his brows at his fiancé, perplexed that she was making an effort to impress Lucy. “Yum. I love these.” Lucy saluted Jane with her cookie. “Anyone can get their hands on a fake driver’s license and if pressed, I’m sure Kenneth would claim that he only lied because he wanted to protect his reputation as a top-notch attorney.”

  “You don’t believe that’s the reason he used a fictitious name though,” James guessed.

  Lucy took another cookie. “No. I think he wanted to hide his identity so he could terrorize you three more freely. We’ve got a record of every single second he was off the clinic’s grounds.” She paused dramatically, picking off crumbs from her lap. “Each time he left, one of you received a little love note.”

  Jane’s hand shook as she poured coffee into mugs. Seeing her agitation, James took over the serving. “But can you prove anything? Is this going to stop now?”

  “We don’t have any hard evidence, but my assistant on this project has obtained permission to write an article on the clinic. She’ll be sure to find Kenneth and ask him a few pointed questions.” Lucy clenched her jaw in determination. “Because this is an emotional issue for him, we need to stir up those emotions and get him to confess.”

  James paused in the act of shaking a sugar packet into his coffee. “An article? Lucy, please tell me you haven’t recruited—”

  “Murphy’s been searching for a way to make peace with us,” Lucy interrupted firmly. “I needed her help on this one and she was more than willing to give it. As far as I’m concerned, if she ends up getting me what I need to keep Kenneth Cooper from ever stepping foot in Quincy’s Gap again, then she’s forgiven.” She hesitated. “At least until her next book comes out.”

  Breaking a shortbread cookie in half, Jane stared at the pieces. “I realize that Murphy Alistair is known for her doggedness, but how will she get him to confess? He’s not a dumb man. Kenneth’s going to see her coming from a mile away, even if his emotions are boiling over.”

  Lucy grinned. “That’s why I’m here. I’d like your blessing to let Murphy tell Kenneth a few tall tales to get a rise out of him. For example, I thought she could mention, almost as an aside, that you two are getting married in an intimate service next week. Then, after dropping Eliot off with his grandparents in Nashville, you’re jetting to Paris for a romantic second honeymoon.”

  “That sounds lovely!” Jane exclaimed with a laugh. “Are we flying first class?”

  James avoided looking at her, for fear his face would give their secret away. “Yes, it does sound great. Except for the Paris part. I like the food better in Italy.” Remembering that he wanted to tell Lucy what Jane had discovered about the golden charm found in Snicke
rs’ stomach, he retrieved the fir tree from the soap dish and handed it to his friend. Her cornflower-blue eyes grew wider and wider as he told her about Donna Woodman’s visit and his plans to snoop around the Wellness Village.

  “Let’s have another supper club meeting right after your hypnotherapy session,” Lucy said, holding the charm up to the light. “Sullie and I received an interesting update from the medical examiner today that may help us link Tia’s murder with Ned’s seemingly accidental death. Tia died from heart failure and her tox screen was totally clean. However, the M.E. found some burns on her chest. The kind you can get if someone uses defibrillator paddles on your bare skin.”

  Picturing an ugly, red welt appearing on Tia’s youthful and unblemished skin, James grimaced. “Is that what happened to her?”

  “We’re not sure yet, but it’s a strong possibility. The M.E. told me that the use of a defibrillator on a healthy person throws the heart’s rhythm out of whack and can often stop it beating altogether,” Lucy explained.

  “We have one of those A.E.D. machines hanging in the hall right near my office!” Jane sounded shocked. “I didn’t realize they could be used to kill people as well as revive them!”

  “Apparently, the new models don’t work that way,” Lucy assured her. “Those machines test for a rhythm first so that a layperson can operate them without making a serious mistake. The one used on Tia must be an older machine or one used by professionals, like EMTs or hospital personnel. Sullie and I have been running in circles looking for the machine, but so far not one paramedic in the county has a connection to Ned or Tia.” She examined the gold charm again. “But I think we need to start knocking on the office doors at the Wellness Village. Ned was killed there and if someone was dumb enough to stash their defibrillator in the back of a broom closet, we’re going to find it.”