"Because she stopped paying me. She told me to forget about ever seeing any more money for the book because now she was the one who was doing the work selling it, doing book talks, making the appearances. She deserved all the money and I was out."
"But she wouldn't have had anything to sell if you hadn't written the book."
"Damn straight," Martha said.
"What are you going to do now? The book is in her name, and all of the profits will go to her husband."
"I have a record of her emails, and I have my original manuscript. I don't know if that will work, but I'm going to try to sue for ownership. The thing is, once that publisher really sees who wrote Girl Meets Fifth Avenue, I probably won't get a second book deal."
Wow, we'd just had a conversation without her calling me a murderer. Surely she still couldn't believe I killed Vanessa. If anyone had a motive, she did.
"So who do you think killed Vanessa?"
"You."
"Okay, just checking," I said. "You're wrong, and I'll prove it." I backed out to the tile entrance and picked up my coffee. "By the way, have you told the police what you just told me?"
"I guess I will now. Oh, and one more thing ... I'm revoking your borrowing privileges."
Good old Martha. Mean to the last drop.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I took a sip from my coffee cup and was thankful the brown cardboard liner had kept it pretty warm. Checking my watch, I still had almost an hour until Zach was finished. Maybe I would head over to the ballpark to watch Zach practice and talk to Dad.
So Martha was the girl in Girl Meets Fifth Avenue. Unlike dogs and their owners, writers do not often look like the protagonists they write about in their books. I pulled out of the library and headed toward Little League practice. I pulled up to the stoplight and turned some music on the radio. It must have killed Martha to see her book become a success and Vanessa take all the credit for it. If Vanessa cut Martha off, what did she plan to do about a sequel? Maybe she had herself believing she actually did write it herself.
The car behind me honked its horn. I had missed the light turning from red to green. That wasn't like me. I pulled through the intersection, and suddenly began to feel dizzy. Why were the streets so slanted? The street department had a lot of work to do in this part of town. What was that tree doing in the middle of the road?
*****
I woke to the sound of beeping in my ear. Something had to be wrong with my alarm clock, because it never used to beep like that. As my eyes started to focus, I realized I was not in my bedroom. I remembered something hard against my face. It felt like a steering wheel. Then I remembered being in my car, but as that thought came to me I realized I was no longer there. It was way too bright and white to be in a car. Maybe I was in heaven and the smoke alarm was going off. I wondered, why would they need a smoke alarm in heaven? Uh oh, maybe I wasn't in heaven.
"Betsy?" I heard my name being said, but I had no idea where the voice was coming from.
"Is that you, God?"
Then I heard God laugh, and he must have had some of his angels with him because I heard them laugh, too. "Betsy, open your eyes."
I pried my eyes open to see my father, Aunt Maggie and ... Leo Fitzpatrick? What was he doing here? For that fact, what was I doing here? Maybe I was still dreaming.
"Betsy, you're in the emergency room," Aunt Maggie said. "You had a car accident."
"I did? How?"
My father reached out and took my hand. "You ran into a tree just off of Main Street. It knocked you out cold."
I nodded dully and then tried focusing on Leo, who had been standing there not uttering a word.
"Am I in Dallas?"
"No, I'm in Pecan Bayou," Leo said. "I know you told me you were fine even though you happened upon a yet another murder victim. Let's just say I decided to act on my own just in case something like ... this ... were to happen. I tried to call to let you know I was coming down. When I couldn't get you, I called your dad. That's how I ended up here. You must have one heck of a headache."
Once he said that, I realized he was right. I did have a dull ache. I reached up to my hairline, where the ache seemed to be coming from. I felt a bandage.
"You hit your head on the windshield when your car hit the tree. The doc says you're a very lucky girl it didn't do more damage than it did or you really could be talking to God right now," my father said.
"I should have known when I finally got to heaven that God would sound just like my father." The room shared another laugh mixed with feelings of relief.
I jumped up in the bed. "Oh my gosh! Where's Zach? I was going to his practice."
"It's okay, it's okay," Aunt Maggie said. "Zach and Danny went down the hall looking for a vending machine. Danny wanted to buy you a candy bar because he says the smell of chocolate is the best way to wake you up."
"Did you have to leave ball practice?"
My dad waved his hand. "The boys were just about finished when I got a call from the department telling me you had just hit a tree. We packed up, and I called Maggie on the way."
I sat back against the pillows trying to pull together all that had happened in my brain.
"Why did I hit a tree?" I had heard about those cars with the faulty accelerator that made cars unable to stop. Had that happened to me? "Did something go wrong with my car?"
"Not that we can figure out," said my father. His tone became gentle. "Betsy, did you have anything to drink before getting in the car?"
"It was eleven in the morning. Of course I didn't have anything to drink." I wasn't that big of a drinker, and morning drinking just made me think of the kind of headache I was having right now. Did they all think I was out driving bombed out of my brain?
"Alright, alright, forgive me, but I had to ask," he said apologetically. "Your being unconscious is not so much the bump on your head, but you were passed out."
"Passed out? You're kidding, right?"
"Not kidding."
"Huh? That makes no sense."
"You sure you didn't have anything to drink?" Fitzpatrick repeated.
"No!" I said. "Wait." They all looked at me like someone in the middle of an intervention. "Wait. I did have something to drink. I completely forgot."
My father let out a sigh. "We thought you might have."
"No, it's not what you think. I had a cup of coffee from Earl's Java."
"Coffee? Was there anything in that coffee?"
"It was a caramel macchiato. That's all. The roughest thing in it was an extra Sweet'N Low." Aunt Maggie clucked her tongue at me.
"What? I like my coffee sweet, that's all."
My dad flipped open his cell phone. "George, go back through Betsy's car and see if you can find a coffee cup from Earl's. We're going to need to test that." He waited for a moment while George spoke. "No, she wasn't drunk, but she could have been drugged." He closed his phone. "By the way, your car has a dent in the front but is otherwise still running."
My father pulled up a chair next to my bed. "Betsy, I wasn't sure if I wanted to share this with you, but now I'm wonderin' if someone has made an attempt on your life. There's something I need to talk to you about."
"What?" I asked.
"It's about Barry."
"Barry drugged my coffee?"
"I didn't say that, Betsy. The other night when George called me about an old case, it had to do with Barry."
My father had known something about missing husband and hadn't told me? I couldn't believe it. He continued, "Now just hold on and don't get your dander up. I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure if it really was Barry. I had to check it out first."
"Had to check what out? Is he dead? Did you find a body somewhere?" That had always been the thing that Zach and I feared the most, although we tried not to talk about it.
"No, there wasn't a body, but after you hear this there might be one." I know my dad was making a joke, but I was already being investigated for one murder so it wasn't all
that funny.
"So what are you checking out?"
"A marriage license." It was as if he had hauled back and slapped me in the face with the sting of his words.
"Barry got married again?"
"We're not sure. A Barry Livingston came up applying for a marriage license in El Paso. Of course, there are no picture IDs in applying for a marriage license."
"But he never signed off on our marriage. I divorced him out of abandonment," I protested.
"Yes, you did, and according to the state of Texas, you are divorced." He squeezed my hand. "Betsy, we don't even know for sure if this is him. The ages on the marriage license are 35 and 57. If it's him and the age does line up, he's marrying a much older woman."
"So why are you telling me this now? Here?"
"I don't know, but it seems like with the drugged coffee and all ... "
"You think Barry did it? Why would he? He doesn't care about me."
"Well, I've got some more checkin' to do. Just be careful."
I leaned back against the pillows, feeling my headache intensify. Was Barry still alive? What would I say to him if I ever saw him again? Would he want to meet his son? Would he want joint custody of Zach? Things were a whole lot easier when he was a fuzzy shadow from the past. I wasn't too sure I wanted to have him back in my life again – not now, not ever.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Do you remember my old buddy Rusty Robinson who went over there to work with border patrol?"
"Don't tell me, let me guess. Barry is the only one trying to smuggle himself across the border the other way?"
"No, but he did find a Barry Livingston listed with a phone. He's living in an apartment there with this woman he's wanting to marry."
"Are they married yet?" I really was glad he was no longer a part of my life, but the thought of him marrying anyone else somehow bothered me too. Was he marrying someone who was as innocent as I was? Someone who had no idea what kind of man he was? Or was he marrying someone who was his mental match? Someone who could help him perpetrate whatever fraudulent activity he might be doing.
"Not yet."
"Do you know anything about her?" I asked.
"We're still checking up on her," my dad said. "Here's the thing, though, Betsy – have you ever thought about the fact that he owes you eight years' worth of child support?"
My head hurt as I touched the bandage once more. I really hadn't thought about child support. Things had been difficult for us after Barry left, and if I hadn't had the helping hand of my own family I never would have made it through. I hadn't known where Barry was. Deep down inside I thought he must have been killed somewhere, somehow. At first I thought he was the poor innocent victim of some random violent crime. After I found out how much money he owed and how he thoughtfully put my name on everything, if he was dead it was because he cheated somebody somewhere who wasn't as much of a pawn as I was. I felt anger rising up in my throat.
"I don't want his money."
My dad sat down next to me and took my hands in his. "I know you don't want it darlin', but what about Zach? He's going to be a teenager in a few years, and with that comes cars and insurance and all those expensive things teenage boys like to do. Then after that he's going to college. How much do you have saved in his college fund?"
He had me there. Zach's college fund at present was one silver dollar and a one hundred-dollar savings bond that would mature when he was twenty-five and probably finished with college. I sighed.
"I see what you mean, Dad. I still don't want his money. What happens if we do go after him for child support and now that he's paying for a son, he decides he really wants to have a son. What if he applies for joint custody? What if I have to share Zach with him, a con man and a cheat? What kinds of things will he teach my son? It just wouldn't be worth it. Zach can work his way through college. I'll take on another job if I need to, but letting Barry into Zach's life is not going to happen."
My dad took off his glasses and cleaned them with his pocket handkerchief. He usually did this when he was tired or frustrated with me. I knew he was realizing I was right about this one. He didn't want Zach in Barry's hands any more than I did.
"You've got a point there, darlin'. But you need to know that with police involvement, it may be something that's out of your hands."
"I know, I know. I have to hope that Barry abandoned us once and he'll do it again. He's known for years right where we are and hasn't done anything to try to get in contact with his son. We are a non-entity to him, that's all. I'm more than willing to keep it that way."
"Can we come in?" I heard Zach say from the hallway.
"Yes you can." I answered.
"Mom! You're awake!" Zach came barreling through the door and jumped up on the bed with me. Danny slapped a candy bar down on my lap and hooked his arm around my neck on the other side.
"I was going to wake you up with chocolate. That's how the Easter Bunny woke me up."
"Thank you, Danny," I said as he hugged my neck.
"Mom, your head looks bad," Zach said.
I reached back up where the bandage was. Here I sat, looking as bad as I possibly could with Leo Fitzpatrick standing there. Maybe he was rethinking that whole weekend idea. That, and the fact he thought I was a drinker. I looked over to him, now standing against the wall with his arms crossed. He seemed to be enjoying this whole scene with Zach and Danny.
I picked up the candy bar. "Chocolate does work wonders, Danny. Some people can't live without it."
"Uh huh," agreed Danny wholeheartedly.
"Would you like a bite too?"
"Uh huh." Danny grinned. I broke off a couple of pieces for him and Zach.
"Okay, let's let your Cousin Betsy get some rest," my father said. "According to the nurses station they'll be checkin' Betsy out by this evening. Now that she's sobered up." He grinned.
"Dad!"
"Just kiddin', darlin'."
"Leo, once she gets checked out I'll leave it up to you to get her home," my father said, with just a touch of menace in his voice. “Man-speak” for get her home safely and don't let her hit any more trees. Finally my dad left the room, leaving Fitzpatrick and me alone. Leo put his hands in the pockets of his light khaki pants and walked closer to my hospital bed.
"So maybe it was a little much for me to just show up. Sorry about that."
"It was a surprise."
"I just got this feeling about you being down here, and well, I did rescue you from a burning building once," he said. I did recall him carrying me out of a building, but at the time I wasn't sure he hadn't set the fire. Here he was again, but this time instead of being unsure of him I felt comforted by his presence. He took my hand in his. "How do you get yourself into these messes, Betsy?"
"I'm not looking for trouble, but it sure seems to be able to find me," I answered.
"Were you friends with this woman you found dead?"
"She was another blogger at the paper, and for some reason we didn't get along."
"What about her husband? Did you know him?"
"He worked at the paper, too, so yes, I knew him. He's a nice enough guy, but he was fooling around on his wife."
Overdue for Murder (Pecan Bayou) Page 10