Lara started with the rooms upstairs, stripping beds and putting on fresh sheets, cleaning bathrooms, and hanging clean decorative towels in the bathrooms. Randall took over the kitchen, loading the dish washer, wiping down cabinets and mopping the ceramic tile floor.
Randall, as Lara had found out from the times he had helped her, didn’t need to be supervised or told what to do. He worked with her rather than getting in her way. He anticipated what needed to be done and then did it without being asked. Halfway through finishing the downstairs, Lara was startled to see that a woman she didn’t know had come in and was watching her. Lara stopped wiping the window sills. “Can I help you?”
The woman smiled. “Excuse me for bothering you. I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. I am Carole’s neighbor. I was out running errands and thought I would drop off the silver trays she wanted to borrow for her party tonight. I left them in the kitchen.”
Lara nodded thinking the woman would leave. Instead she walked around the living room as though looking for something. Finally she turned back to Lara. “Listen, I don’t know how much Carole is paying you, but I will add fifty dollars to it if you clean my house once a week. I also have several friends who are looking for domestic help – good domestic help – and would pay you well.”
Lara suppressed the urge to laugh. “Thank you, but...”
“I’m Millicent Dunn, and you don’t have to decide now,” she interrupted. She took out a piece of paper and pencil from her purse and wrote something on it. Then she handed it to Lara. “Here is my name, address, and telephone number. If you are too busy to come once a week, then maybe every other week. I’m sure we could work something out.”
Lara didn’t get a chance to explain she was only cleaning Carole’s house as a favor. The woman shoved the paper in her hand, thanked her and left, wiping her finger across a table surface Lara had just dusted.
Lara put the paper in her pocket and continued to dust the downstairs rooms. As she finished dusting each room, Randall vacuumed it. While Lara emptied the dish washer, Randall swept down the cobwebs from around the front door and mopped the front porch. Lara heard Bob come in at one point early in the afternoon, but he left again a short time later. By three o’clock they had pretty well finished cleaning everything. Randall washed out the last of the cloths they had used and spread them out to dry in the utility room. Bob drove up as they were leaving, and a small truck pulled in behind him – the band Carole had mentioned, Lara guessed.
“See you this evening,” she called. Bob smiled and waved. Then he led a number of men carrying cases of various sizes and shapes to the enclosed sun porch around the back of the house.
Lara wondered if Randall would object if she stopped at the McDonalds on the way home. She was starved. It had been over eight hours since they had eaten breakfast. And she knew the eggs she had fixed that morning were the last edible things she had in the house. Besides, she was too tired to even think about cooking something for the two of them.
Randall seemed to know what Lara was thinking. “I’ll just get out here,” he said. They were stopped at a traffic light at a busy intersection.
“Won’t you join me for a burger and some fries? My treat.”
“Not this time.” His eyes darted up and down the street and then focused on Lara. “You need to relax some before you go to that party tonight.” He opened the door and climbed out.
“Randall, will you be at the entrance tomorrow?”
Randall looked at her without answering. Lara wiped off the steering wheel with her hand. She never knew if she was insulting him or not when she asked him to work. She had heard people at the college talking about the homeless on the streets and how they really only wanted a handout. No one ever actually asked them to work in exchange for food. But Randall had always seemed willing enough.
“You need something done?” he asked.
“I thought I’d rake up the pine straw in the yard and mulch the azalea beds with it.” As an afterthought she added, “I’m going to the grocery store tomorrow morning, so I’ll have plenty of food to eat. But only if you want to.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Randall shut the car door and walked away.
A car behind Lara honked. The light had turned green. Randall really was a strange man, Lara thought, as she drove away. He had been helping her ever since she moved into her house. But she knew no more about him now than she did then. He simply didn’t talk, but Lara never pushed it. Perhaps something terrible had happened to him during the war, and he was dealing with it the only way he could. She understood that feeling. Having something so terrible and dark within you that you didn’t dare speak of it for fear it would bring it to life again.
Lara thought about the last year she spent married to Jake. The days and weeks of physical abuse followed by tearful periods of remorse and regret. Broken promises. The fits of blind drunken anger ending in hurtful accusations that left her feeling stripped naked and unworthy of living. And probably worst of all, wondering how she could have been so utterly stupid for getting trapped in a situation like that to begin with.
You think you’re so goddamn smart, don’t you, working at the college and acting like a silly young coed looking to get screwed.
Lara was tired. She must not start remembering. Rather than stopping for something to eat, she went home to rest before getting ready for the party.
* * *
Lara arrived late. The party was well underway with people milling around the large living room, dining room, and sun porch. The fragrance of sandalwood potpourri, Carole’s favorite, permeated the air. The band was playing Moon River. Everyone and everything appeared quite festive. Lara was glad she had chosen the long, pale gray silk crepe dress trimmed in matching lace. The square neckline, tight-fitting bodice and long flowing skirt flattered her figure. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of smoky quartz earrings.
“Lara, you look absolutely beautiful.” Carole saw her friend as soon as she walked in the front door and came over to hug her. “How can you look that good after all you did today?” she said in a low voice so no one could overhear. “I really owe you big.”
“It really wasn’t that bad,” said Lara. “And thank you for the compliment. You look right good yourself,” Lara teased in her Southern drawl. “Where’s Bob?”
“He’s out on the sun porch bragging about the sound system he helped set up. Come on and get a drink. You deserve one.” Carole led Lara toward the far end of the living room where the bar had been set up. She recognized several people from the college as well as a lot of the business executives from town. Mark Caldwell was talking with Judge Phillips and Miriam Temple. Lara glanced at Carole. “Mark is here, but no one else from Caldwell,” Carole offered without being asked. The party was just the kind of social occasion Jake would enjoy. Bending elbows with the most affluent, ingratiating himself with his farm-boy act, and all the while trying to learn the weaknesses of anyone he felt had some advantage over him, real or imaginary, that he could use against them later. And that pretty much meant everyone.
“Everything is all right, isn’t it?” Lara took the glass of Chablis offered to her by the bartender Carole had hired for the evening. “You’ve looked at your watch four times in the last few minutes.”
“Oh, it’s just that Beth isn’t home yet, and I thought she’d be here by now.” Carole glanced nervously at her watch again.
“If they were building scenery for a play, they probably worked all day on it and decided to go out for pizza or something afterwards – especially since she knew you’d be busy with your party.” Lara took a sip of her wine and studied her friend.
“Yes, I’m sure you are right. She usually calls though.”
“By the way,” said Lara changing the subject. “That neighbor of yours who brought over the silver trays?”
“Yes, Millicent Dunn.”
“Well, she wants to hire me. Says she’ll top what you’re paying me by fifty dollars.”
>
“You’re kidding.” Carole laughed. “That woman is too much. I probably wouldn’t have anything to do with her except she does live next door and she has those beautiful silver serving trays. What on earth did you say to her?”
“I told her I’d think about it. I think I can hold out for another ten bucks.” Both women laughed.
“Hello, Lara. Nice to see you again.” Judge Phillips had walked up to the two women.
“Hello, Judge Phillips.”
“Be sure to try my new drink – the purple aardvark. You won’t believe what it has in it.” Lara felt Carole squeeze her arm as she left to see to her other guests.
“That was a very interesting proposal you made to the Board yesterday, Lara.”
“Interesting, but not convincing?” Lara sipped her wine and watched the Judge’s eyes. Sylvia had once remarked that the Judge could have had a successful career in politics with all of the clout he had, but he decided to stay in law. Even now at his advanced age he continued to be a force within the political as well as the legal arena.
“I wouldn’t say that. It might be a case of too little too late though. I’m afraid small private colleges are becoming a thing of the past. They simply can’t compete with the state-supported universities. They no longer serve the purpose they once did.”
“I have to disagree.” Lara was always angered by the philosophy that a college had to be some sort of mill, mass-producing graduates and rated by the number of students enrolled rather than the quality of education. “I think there is a very real need for the small private school. Just look at the obvious advantages. The small classes – no more than fifteen students in a class – which means more individual attention as compared to the auditorium environment in the university where each student is only a number. There are a lot of kids who would be doomed to automatic failure in that kind of situation.”
Lara continued before Judge Phillips could say anything. “A good example is Tyree Jones.”
“The basketball player?”
“That’s right. Granted, he’s had to repeat several of his courses in order to pass, but he wouldn’t have made it through one semester at a big school. And as far as his basketball playing goes, at Piedmont he is the star. It’s doubtful if he’d have even made the bench at a major university.
“He’s still not going to graduate, I understand.” The Judge grabbed a stuffed mushroom from a tray that was being offered to him and handed it to Lara. Then he took one for himself.
“I honestly don’t think that is important.”
Judge Phillips laughed and ate his mushroom.
“What I mean is, the exposure to the education he has received these past six or seven years is as valuable to him as some degree. It has given him a chance to know something besides failure.”
Miriam and several people had come up to listen to the conversation. Lara noticed that Mark was one of the people standing near enough to hear what she was saying. “I think we have a lot of Tyrees who are given a chance to make something of themselves in a small school that they wouldn’t have otherwise.” Lara reached for Miriam’s hand and smiled. “I have met some of the women that Miriam works with, and I know that many of them wouldn’t be in the position they find themselves now if they had been given the opportunity to attend a school like Piedmont.”
Lara was really wound up now. The very idea that a handful of wealthy businessmen would close down a college simply because it might not show a huge profit in one year. “And it isn’t just the students. Ninety per cent of our teaching faculty have their PhD’s. And yet they made the decision to teach at Piedmont for a lot less money and prestige than they would have gotten at a larger school, and with little or no possibility for government research money or grants. Do you know why?” Lara handed the mushroom she was holding back to the Judge.
“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.” His eyes sparkled as he shoved the mushroom into his mouth. He always enjoyed talking to Lara. She didn’t mind expressing what she believed. Not like most of the people he came into contact with who said what they thought he wanted to hear.
“It’s because they need that same classroom intimacy as the students who choose to come here.” Lara saw the hors d’oeuvre tray glide by out of the corner of her eye and grabbed a cracker with something whitish piled on it. She handed it to the Judge flirtatiously and got another one for herself. When she did Mark laughed. She smiled sweetly at the Judge and ate her cracker. The white stuff was smoked fish.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LARA LAY IN her bed too exhausted to sleep. Beth hadn’t gotten home by the time Lara left the party at eleven o’clock. Beth had been showing a lot of signs of rebellion lately, mostly because her parents were trying to force her into going to the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill after she graduated from high school in June. Beth was another one who would benefit more from a small college. An only child, she had always been overly protected and never spent any time away from home other than to occasionally visit her grandparents in Virginia. Lara could understand Beth’s reluctance to be thrown in with thousands of other college freshmen from various backgrounds. Beth was somewhat shy as well, and had confided to Lara that she hated the idea of coed dormitories. She hadn’t even had to share her own room with a brother or sister, and now she was expected to live with strangers of both sexes. And it was all because both of her parents were Tarheels, graduates of North Carolina, and they expected her to carry on the Carolina blue and white tradition.
Beth had confided a lot of things to Lara since Lara and Carole had become friends. Maybe it was because Lara was also an only child. She had found that this fact more often than not set that person apart from others. It was that same “apartness” that seemed to create a certain spiritual link between children brought up with no brothers or sisters.
The telephone rang intrusively, startling Lara from her thoughts. She automatically glanced at the clock. It was 1:05 a.m.
Lara couldn’t make out the voice. Thinking it was someone drunk who had misdialed, she started to hang up. And then she heard her name.
“Lara,” the voice sobbed.
“Beth? Is that you?”
“Lara, I’m in trouble.”
“OK, Beth. Take a deep breath.” Lara’s mind raced. Beth hadn’t driven to school that morning. Carole had dropped her off on the way to the office. So it couldn’t be an accident – unless she was out riding around with someone else. She heard Beth let out her breath.
“It’s all right, Beth. Tell me where you are.”
“I’m at the police station,” she answered. Her voice was filled with terror.
“Beth, we can sort this out. Just stay calm. Have you called your parents?”
Lara knew she hadn’t, but she was finding it difficult to comprehend what Beth was saying.
“Please come, Lara. They think I killed him.” Beth started crying uncontrollably.
Lara threw back the bed covers and stood up. “Beth, listen to me.” She was practically yelling so Beth would hear over her sobs. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. We’ll get it straightened out. But I think I need to call your parents.”
“No!” Beth screamed into the phone. “Please, Lara.”
Lara thought about the party. It would still be going on. Lara could call Carole from the police station after she found out what had happened. It was probably just a ridiculous mistake. Cops were always making mistakes. Or Beth had misunderstood. In that case, there would be no need to ruin Carole’s evening over a silly misunderstanding.
“OK, Beth. I won’t call them. Just stay put. I’ll be there in a few minutes. OK? Beth?”
The phone went dead.
With trembling hands Lara jerked on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She tried to tie her tennis shoes, but her fingers wouldn’t do what her brain was telling them. She left them untied and partially knotted, grabbed a jacket and her purse, and flew out the door.
There was only one police station in Roc
ky Mount and it was located on the east end, one block off Main Street. A few minutes later, when Lara walked into the main room, she felt her senses assaulted by the horrible smells of stale liquor, cigarettes and something putrid that reminded her of nervous sweat. A shirtless man was arguing loudly with an officer about his rights. Another officer was trying to break up a fight between two women wearing fish-net stockings, mini dresses and spiked heels. Several people of various descriptions sat in metal folding chairs lined up against one wall. Lara didn’t see Beth.
“Can I help you?” Lara realized the sergeant at the desk was talking to her.
“Yes. I’ve come to take Beth Parker home.”
The sergeant snickered and shook his head. “You a relative?”
“No. I am a friend.” Lara wondered if she should have said “aunt” instead.
“She won’t be going home tonight,” the sergeant said. “She’s been arrested for murder.”
“But that’s impossible. She’s been at the high school all day building scenery for the school play. She couldn’t have murdered anyone.” Lara knew what she was saying made absolutely no sense. But neither did accusing Beth of murder.
The sergeant only stared at Lara. “Look, lady. I’m just telling you why she’s here. Now, if you want to see her, I’ll get someone to take you to her. If not, then I suggest you leave so I can help someone else.”
“Yes, I want to see her.” Lara moved closer to the desk.
The sergeant motioned to someone, also in uniform, and handed him a slip of paper with something written on it.
Gospel According to Prissy Page 11