Road Trip

by Jan Fields

  The young woman’s face lit up. “Do you really think so? I know I like it, but Max said it’s tacky … .”

  “Max is your boyfriend?” Annie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I know this is none of my business, but he doesn’t sound very supportive.”

  She shrugged. “Men are like that.”

  Annie shook her head firmly. “No, many men are not like that. My husband used to tell me my work was beautiful, even when I knew I’d gotten some of the stitches wrong. As I was growing up, my grandmother told me that anyone who tries to tear at your dreams isn’t worthy to be your friend. I tend to think she was right.”

  The young woman sighed again. “She sounds like my brother. He’s always telling me stuff like that. But I love Max, and he loves me.”

  “Does he?” Annie asked. “Here’s what I know: ‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It is not proud. It does not dishonor others. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered.’” Annie looked at the young woman and jumped to the end of the seventh verse of First Corinthians 13. “‘It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.’ I think that’s the kind of love we need to give … and to get back. Or at least as close to that as humans can.”

  “That would be nice,” the young woman said with a shake of her head. “It’s not very realistic though.”

  “Love might not be realistic,” Annie said, “but it exists. My husband loved me like that for all the years we were together.”

  “But then he changed—right?” the woman said. “And you ended up divorced?”

  “No, then he passed away,” Annie smiled sadly. “Look, I don’t mean to tell you what to do. Really I don’t. But I believe real love is a powerful thing, and I also believe you deserve that kind of love. Not the kind that says you’re stupid.”

  Just then, a stocky older woman called everyone to the side of the small raised stage to form a line. The young woman hurried to follow the woman’s directions, and Annie joined the group.

  The plan for the fashion show seemed relatively simple. Annie was grateful that they wouldn’t have a real runway like models on television. They would simply wait for their turn. Then the master of ceremonies would name the outfit and designer as the model walked from a small side-room, across the front of the room, and up onto the stage. The model would turn slowly as the outfit was described. Each model then would walk the rest of the way off the stage on the other side and form a small line until every outfit had a turn. All the models would walk back onto the stage, and each would be mentioned again as the audience was called upon to vote.

  The votes would be counted overnight, and the top three winners notified—though none of the three would know which one was the prizewinner until Saturday when the models and the designers were presented in front of all the convention goers at the morning meeting, right after the second-day keynote speaker. Annie hoped Kate’s dress made it to the Saturday round. She looked around at all the lovely clothes.

  They ran through the procedure a couple of times. At the end, the master of ceremonies told them that they would only run through one practice the next morning. “I promise it will be short,” the woman said. “You’ll be amazed at how much less nerves you’ll have Friday evening after the extra practice in the morning.”

  Annie was already less nervous about the show, but still more than a little concerned about her baby blankets. She hated the idea of having to tell Gwen and Peggy that their blankets never made it to the missionaries.

  Annie carefully changed out of Kate’s lovely outfit and hung it up on a padded hanger provided. There were several really amazing outfits in the show, but Annie had to admit she was partial to Kate’s. She hoped her friend made it to the top three. It would go a long way toward helping Kate believe in herself.

  As Annie thought about believing in herself, she looked around for the young woman with the rude boyfriend, but she’d already left. Annie sighed. That relationship really didn’t sound healthy. She hoped the young woman would soon begin making wiser choices.

  Finally Annie headed out of the room and turned toward the hotel lobby to report her missing bag. As she approached the front desk, she realized just how tired she felt. It had been a long day and an eventful evening. She’d be glad to get upstairs and crawl into the inviting-looking big bed in her room.

  “May I help you?” a lovely young woman with big brown eyes and mahogany skin asked with a smile. Annie felt positively wilted next to the young woman’s crisp blue and white uniform and perfect posture.

  “I dropped my crochet project bag in the hall and someone seems to have picked it up,” Annie said, hesitant to suggest theft. “The bag is pink canvas with several baby blankets in it.”

  “Oh yes,” the woman said. “We have it right here.” She pulled the bag out from behind the desk. “A man dropped it off a little while ago. He said he found it in the hall.”

  Annie felt as if almost all the exhaustion was simply blown away. She looked into the bag and saw all three blankets. They were rumpled a bit as if someone had gone through the bag. Annie imagined someone had searched it for her name so it could be returned to her. She even saw her convention map still folded and tucked in the outer pocket of the bag.

  “I’m so glad the bag was turned in,” Annie said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” the young woman said. “That’s one of the nicest things about these kinds of conventions. You can count on everyone being kind and honest.”

  Annie nodded and thanked the desk clerk again. Then she headed for the elevators with a fresh spring in her step. She was still ready for bed, but now she was sure she’d have sweet dreams once she got there. It looked like this was going to be a truly delightful convention.

  8

  When the sharp knock woke her, Annie was in the middle of a lovely dream where she was walking on the beach with Joanna and John, searching for bits of beach glass. When she jolted awake, she blinked in confusion at the dark unfamiliar room.

  “Mrs. Dawson?” a man’s voice spoke quietly through the door.

  Annie slipped into a robe and hurried to the door. “Yes?” she said as she peeked through the tiny peephole. She was surprised to see a young man in a police uniform. Surely the car hadn’t been broken into again.

  “I’m a police officer, ma’am,” the young man said. “You’re needed downstairs.”

  Annie opened the door and looked at the officer in concern. “Is everything OK?”

  “I just need you to come downstairs, ma’am.”

  “May I get dressed first?”

  “Quickly,” the officer responded.

  Annie nodded and closed the door. She changed into pair of linen slacks and a matching tank. Then she slipped into her flats and grabbed her crochet cardigan from where it was draped over a chair. She was out the door within five minutes. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am,” the officer said, “but you’ll find out soon.”

  Annie fretted all the way down on the elevator, hoping none of her friends were injured. The officer led her to the hallway outside the small exhibit room. Since it was very early, the halls were nearly empty except for several other police officers and some people she knew very well. Mary Beth, Kate, and Stella stood in a huddle, looking as confused as Annie felt.

  “Annie, I’m so glad you’re OK,” Mary Beth said. “Do you have any idea what’s going on? So far no one is telling us anything.”

  Annie shook her head. “I thought maybe someone broke into your car again, but this seems much more serious.”

  Mary Beth nodded, her eyes reflecting her worry.

  “Making us stand in the hallway is unacceptable,” Stella snapped. Then she turned to the nearest officer, the one who had walked Annie downstairs. “I’m an old woman, young man. It’s bad enough to be awakened from a sound sleep at 4 a.m., but I do not expect to be left standing in the hallway! Would you tr
eat your mother this way?”

  “No ma’am,” the officer said. “I’ll find you a chair, ma’am.” He hurried down the hall. Annie marveled at Stella. Few people could stand up against the old woman when she was in full intimidation mode.

  “You’ve scared that poor young man half to death,” Mary Beth scolded. “It’s not his fault.”

  “I have found that waiting silently rarely produces the same results as telling people exactly what you expect,” Stella said with her regal sniff.

  The young officer quickly returned with a chair. Stella sat stiffly, murmuring, “Thank you.”

  Just then, the doors to the small exhibit room opened and Carlton Gold came through them. The slender man looked starkly pale. “Carlton!” Mary Beth cried. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  Another man in a neat charcoal-color suit had followed Carlton out of the room. The man looked like he must have run his hand through his thick black hair because it stuck up at wild angles, in sharp contrast to his neatly tailored suit. Annie glanced down and saw that the man’s hair was not the only oddity for a well-dressed man. He also wore cowboy boots, but not the fancier boots she would expect to see with a suit. The scuffed square toes showed clearly under the sharply creased pant cuffs.

  This man spoke then, looking over all four of them. Annie noticed his eyes lingered just a moment longer on Kate.

  “Ladies,” he said with a nod. “I believe you are all associated with the …” he checked a notebook in his hand, “the Betsy Holden exhibit?”

  “That’s right,” Mary Beth said. “Did something happen to the exhibit?”

  “You could say that,” the man said in a slow Texas drawl. “Someone died in front of it.”

  “Died!” the women said in unison.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the man said. “And I’ll need to speak to each of y’all about it.”

  Stella stood then, managing to look intimidating even next to the tall self-assured Texan. “And you are?”

  “I’m Detective Matthews. I’m in charge of this case,” he said with a nod toward her. He held up his notebook and pen. “And you are?”

  “Stella Brickson. And I fail to see why we were wakened from a sound sleep over this. We’re strangers here, and the only man I happen to know in Texas is standing next to you—so I am quite certain he wasn’t the one who died.”

  “Nice piece of deduction,” the detective said, the corner of his mouth quirking in a smile. Then he looked down again at the pad in his hand. “Stella Brickson. You’re the lady in the big picture?”

  “The same.”

  The detective nodded. “Which of you ladies is the one who owns all the items in the exhibit?”

  “I am. I’m Annie Dawson,” Annie said, her voice sounding a little weak in her ears. She couldn’t imagine that anything about the exhibit could have played a part in someone dying.

  “Then I’d like to speak to you first,” he said. “But I’ll want to talk to each of you, so don’t run off now.” He offered them a crooked smile, and then turned toward the door. Suddenly he stopped and looked back at all of them. He reached into his jacket pocket and held out a small plastic bag. “Any of you ladies recognize this?”

  Annie looked closer at the bag. “It’s a button,” she said.

  “Thanks, I figured that out,” the detective said wryly. “Did it come off anything of yours?”

  Annie shook her head. Mary Beth, Stella and Kate stepped closer to look at the little bag.

  “It looks like a heavy-duty fastener,” Mary Beth offered. “I doubt it came off anything worn by a woman.”

  “Well, it might,” Kate said. “If she was wearing someone else’s jacket. I used to wear a denim jacket of Harry’s, and it had buttons like that.”

  The women looked closer again. “Well, I certainly have never worn anything with a button like that,” Stella said.

  “Well, thank you all for your help,” Detective Matthews said. “Now, Mrs. Dawson, if you don’t mind joining me?”

  “OK,” Annie said quietly, hesitantly.

  Detective Matthews led her into the exhibit room.

  Annie was shocked to see a small cluster of people kneeling near one man lying on the floor. The man on the floor must be dead, Annie realized, and a sudden wash of dizziness passed over her.

  “Whoa now,” the detective said, catching Annie by the arm. “Don’t go fainting on me. I just need to know if you recognize the victim. Can you do that? We don’t have to go any closer, I have a picture here on my cellphone.”

  Annie nodded, still feeling a little ill. She glanced at the image on the phone, and then her eyes trailed back to the figure on the floor. The man seemed to cover a lot of floor, so Annie guessed he must have been tall and broad shouldered. She could see tufts of blond hair with no graying, so he must have been fairly young.

  Finally, she took a deep calming breath and looked closely at the picture the detective showed her. The man’s dark eyes were open and glassy, and he clearly hadn’t shaved in a couple days. She was grateful that she didn’t see any blood anywhere, but she was struck by an incredible sadness. Whoever this young stranger was, he was gone from this world now.

  Then she realized she did recognize the man, maybe. “I think I might have seen him before,” she whispered. “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh?” the detective said. “Where?”

  “In a restaurant in Pennsylvania,” she answered. “On the way to the convention. There was a man staring at us. He looked like this man, I think.”

  “The same man?” the detective asked, doubt coloring his voice.

  “I really don’t know for sure. I only saw him from a distance. I don’t know. Maybe not. It could just be my imagination.”

  Annie began to tremble, and the detective led her back out of the room. As they walked, he asked her, “Where were you last night after midnight?”

  Annie looked at him in sharp surprise. “In my room, asleep. Just as I was when your officer woke me.”

  “Are you rooming with anyone?” the detective asked.

  Annie shook her head. “You don’t think I had anything to do with that poor man dying?”

  “I have to ask everyone I talk to where they were,” he said. “It’s part of the job.”

  Annie nodded, but she didn’t feel totally reassured. As she reached the door to the hall, she realized she now knew why Carlton Gold was so pale. She thought of all the police shows she’d ever watched on television. Police shows had been one of Wayne’s favorites. But somehow the television couldn’t really show you just how much of a jolt you felt to know someone might suspect you of doing something terrible. She missed her husband’s tall, comforting presence so much that it hurt.

  “Who traveled in the same vehicle with you to the convention?” the detective asked as they walked out through the door.

  “We all did!” Stella announced firmly.

  The detective looked at her. “The four of you? Anyone else?”

  “Just the four of us,” Stella said.

  “Then I’ll need each of you to come in here with me,” the detective said. “I need to know if you recognize the victim.”

  “Why would we recognize him?” Mary Beth asked. “What does that have to do with us driving together?”

  “I really would rather be the one who asks the questions here,” Detective Matthews said, though a hint of a smile sparkled in his eyes. “That’s the way my boss likes me to conduct an investigation.”

  “No problem,” Stella said, marching forward. “Just show me the victim, and I’ll tell you if I’ve ever seen the person before. I have a very good memory.”

  “I’m sure you do, Mrs. Brickson.” Detective Matthews smiled openly then, clearly amused by Stella’s regal attitude, but he stepped aside and let her into the room. “I’ll be right back, ladies,” he said with a nod toward the rest of them. Then he pointed at Annie. “Please, don’t talk about what you saw.” He looked toward the young officer hovering nearby. “Yo
u make sure.”

  “Yes, sir,” the officer stammered. He turned a panicky glance at the women, clearly having no idea how he was supposed to keep them from talking.

  “It’s all right,” Kate said kindly. “We won’t talk.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the young officer said.

  Annie walked over and sat in the chair Stella had recently left. She leaned forward slightly, but didn’t feel faint enough to need to put her head between her knees. She was probably mistaken about the poor man looking like the person from the restaurant, she thought, and now her silly notion meant all her friends had to look at that poor man.

  Bare minutes later, Stella came out of the display room. She only looked slightly ruffled, but Annie sprang up so she could have the chair back if she liked. Again the detective cautioned them not to talk to one another. Then he led Mary Beth into the room.

  Mary Beth came out a little pale, but with no sign of trembling. Kate already looked a little pale and shaky by the time it was her turn. Annie felt sorry for her poor, shy friend. This wasn’t exactly a pleasant introduction to Texas.

  “It’ll be all right,” the detective told Kate kindly. “The scene isn’t gory. Do you need a moment before we go in?”

  Kate shook her head. Her pale face made her dark eyes seem huge against her skin. Annie watched worriedly as her friend followed the detective into the room.

  Stella turned sharply to the young police officer. “Since we’ve now all spoken with the detective, I assume his gag order is lifted!”

  Annie almost laughed, both at Stella’s words, which she suspected reflected some crime show or other on television, and the young police officer’s look of alarm at having the full force of Stella’s personality turned on him.

  “I … I … I don’t know, ma’am,” he said.

  “You’ll notice he didn’t give us the no-talking warning this time,” Stella said. “Isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes ma’am … I mean, no ma’am, he didn’t,” the officer said.

  “Then it’s settled.” And clearly the police officer wasn’t going to argue with her. Annie felt sorry for him. If he couldn’t stand up to one elderly tiger, he might have chosen the wrong profession.