by Ann B. Ross
“I can believe it. But thank you again, Lillian, for being so loyal. You’re so much a part of this family that it’d be like losing an arm or a leg if you weren’t here. But I’ll tell you this,” I said with renewed fury, “Mr. Kessler is not going to be around long enough to need either a cook or a condominium. I am going to send that man back where he came from.” I got up and stomped toward the hall. “One thing’s for sure, if he wants quaint, I’ll give him quaint.”
Chapter 22
Having heard the telephone ring while talking with Lillian, I wasn’t surprised to find Hazel Marie waiting for me in the dining room. No one but Mr. Pickens called so late, a bad habit of his when he was out of town.
“That was J.D,” she said, somewhat hesitantly.
“I figured. How is he?”
“Oh, he’s fine, but what he called about was to tell me he has to go to San Francisco for an interview. I didn’t understand it all, but a big insurance company wants to hire him and put him on a retainer. Or something like that. And, well, he wants me to go with him. Oh, I don’t mean really with him,” she said, her face turning red and her hands waving. “I mean, I’d just go along for the trip. Would that be all right with you?”
“Hazel Marie, you don’t have to ask my permission. You do whatever you think is right.”
That stopped her for a minute, and I regretted the way I’d expressed myself. I had come to terms some time ago with Mr. Pickens’s touchiness on the subject of marriage, and had decided that if Hazel Marie could put up with it, I could, too. Yet, I couldn’t seem to keep my opinion of their unblessed union to myself.
So I tried again. “They say San Francisco is lovely. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, and it’ll be nice to have Mr. Pickens with you. I’d hate to tackle it by myself.”
“Oh, but there’s another couple going, too. They’re married and they’ll join us in Dallas and fly on with us. So that’ll make it all right, won’t it?”
“Well, of course that puts a different light on it. I know Mr. Pickens wouldn’t suggest anything that would compromise you.” I didn’t know any such thing, but what do you do?
“Well, I just wanted to be sure you wouldn’t mind looking after Lloyd while I’m gone. It’ll only be three or four days.”
“You know I don’t mind,” I said, since that child was the very reason I’d come to terms with her open-ended connection to Mr. Pickens. If he ever got it in his head to propose marriage, which Hazel Marie would jump at, they’d move into a home of their own and take Lloyd with them. I’ve learned that you can put up with a lot of less than optimal situations in order to keep something important.
“You go on and have a good time,” I told her. “We’ll be fine.”
“Oh, good,” she said, “I’ve never been to San Francisco and I can’t wait to see it. J.D.’s driving back from Charlotte tonight and he’ll pick me up in the morning. We’ll fly out from Asheville around ten. Oh, I am so excited. I don’t know what to take, but I better go pack something.”
“Wait a minute, Hazel Marie. What about Horace Allen? If Mr. Pickens is going to be gone, how can Mildred hire him?”
“Well, that’s just it. She hasn’t done a thing and neither has Tonya. I talked to both of them, gave them his cell phone number and everything, and he says they haven’t been in touch. So, this insurance thing is such a big opportunity, he can’t afford to sit around and wait for them.”
“Well, I declare,” I said, wondering at the disinterest of both Mildred and Tonya in putting a tried and true private investigator on Horace’s case. I think if my husband were missing, I’d have everybody and his brother out looking for him.
At least, that’s what I’d do if I couldn’t find Sam. I’d have to think long and hard if Wesley Lloyd had ever taken off.
As Hazel Marie ran upstairs to pack for another getaway with Mr. Pickens, I put the unseemliness of it out of my mind. But it took an act of will to do it. They’d been in Mexico together, but since I wasn’t supposed to know he’d joined her there, that was easy enough to overlook. This time, though, they were being flat-out open about their plans, even to the point of Mr. Pickens coming to the house to pick her up. I declare, when you close your eyes to one seemingly innocent expedition, you start yourself on a slippery slope. And don’t tell me about a married couple going along. I knew how much chaperoning they would do.
Well, I thought with a sigh, at least Mr. Pickens is as true and faithful to Hazel Marie as any husband, and more so than many. Just look at all the well-married absent ones at the present time.
But, as I stood there in the dining room, I realized that Hazel Marie’s unexpected flight to San Francisco would put a crimp in my own plans. I had no other option but to rethink the idea that had been forming in my mind and come up with some adjustments.
“Sam,” I said, walking into the living room where he was moving chairs back to their original places. “You won’t believe what that Mr. Kessler is up to.”
“You mean,” he said, relocating a side table, “besides the courthouse?”
“That’s bad enough,” I said with a flip of my hand. “But what really runs all over me is the fact that he tried to hire Lillian right from under us. That’s why he went to the kitchen to compliment the cook.” I pursed my mouth with the thought of it. “But it wasn’t compliments he was offering, it was a job.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Lillian’s not going anywhere.”
“Well, that’s true,” I said, sinking onto the sofa. “She said she wouldn’t. But he is really stirring up trouble and I don’t want him around.”
“Not much you can do about that.” Sam took a seat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. Then with a raised eyebrow, he asked, “Is there?”
I gave him a sidewise glance. “Well, you never know.” Then, settling down to another subject, I said, “Listen, Sam, Hazel Marie’s taking off with Mr. Pickens in the morning, which means he won’t be here to help look for Horace, although it seems Mildred is not interested in him doing it anyway. So if she’s not worried about her own husband, I’m not, either.” I took Sam’s free hand and stroked it. “And that leads me to the other abandoned wife. What did Helen have to say this morning?”
“Well, she’s in pretty much of a state, I’ll tell you that. There’s not been one word from Richard or about him. And the longer he’s gone, the more suspect he becomes. FBI agents came while I was there and took every paper, file and folder they could find.” He sighed. “It’s a good thing I was there when they came. At least I could assure Helen that they had the authority to do it. But she was almost catatonic by the time they left—just sitting there staring into space. I’d almost rather deal with hysterics than that.”
I looked away as my mouth tightened. “I don’t know why you have to deal with either one. Where is the lawyer you advised her to get? That’s who ought to be helping her.”
“She hasn’t gotten around to it yet. And I’m not sure she’s capable of doing anything unless I’m there to get her moving.”
“Sam!” I said, turning to stare at him. “Helen Stroud is the most capable woman in town! She can do anything she turns her mind to, so don’t be fooled by that helpless act. She needs a lawyer, and she doesn’t need you hanging around holding her hand.”
Sam pulled me to him. “I don’t hold her hand and, to put your mind at rest, I stood over her while she made a call to Stenson over in Asheville. She has an appointment with him tomorrow afternoon, so my dealings with the Stroud case are about over.”
“You hope,” I said darkly, unable to let go of my suspicions. Helen was too reliant on him and he was too trusting for my peace of mind. “Well, enough of that. What did you think of Mr. Kessler—‘call me Arthur’?”
Sam smiled as he ran his hand up and down my arm. “I think he’s going to get that courthouse torn down and get his building up. He’ll intimidate the commissioners and promise them the moon and get what he wants. Did you know that Tom Wilkey is alr
eady on his payroll?”
That got my attention. “He is? For what?”
“For carpet, tile and all the other floor covering—every inch that’ll go in the condominiums. Now, wait, I expect he’s not officially on the payroll, but Kessler has him figuring square feet to give him an estimate of what will be needed. With, I expect, the assumption that it’ll all be bought from Wilkey’s Carpet and Tile.”
“That’s not right! How can Tom Wilkey be objective when he stands to make money if it goes through? He ought to excuse himself.”
“Recuse, Julia. But you’re right, he should. And I expect he will, or he’ll have to, when the newspaper puts the arrangement on the front page. Which is what’s going to happen in a day or two.”
“Well, good. Tom has gotten my last vote. I declare, Sam, seems like you can’t trust anybody. But, you know, there’s something else going on. I don’t doubt for a minute that Mr. Kessler knew exactly what he was doing when he asked Tom for an estimate. He knew he was a commissioner.”
“Sure, he did. And I wonder who else he’s gotten to.”
“Now that’s a scary thought. The man is a snake, Sam. He’s going around corrupting people who’re normally as honest as the day is long.” I ran my hand across my brow. “What am I saying? If they can be bought, they’re not honest in the first place. How can they live with themselves?”
“People rationalize, Julia. And justify. It’s human nature, I guess.” Sam hugged me close. “Which doesn’t say much for human nature, does it?”
I nestled closer. “No, and Mr. Kessler’s playing on it for all he’s worth.” By this time, Sam’s hand was running up and down my back. “But he may be headed for a fall. Somebody, sometime, may just take him down a peg or two.”
“That’d be nice,” Sam said against my ear. “But Arthur Kessler’s not on my mind right now.”
Chapter 23
When Mr. Pickens arrived the following morning to collect Hazel Marie, it was as if their cross-country trip was no more unusual than an evening out. And, to my consternation, I realized that we were all conspiring to overlook the fact that the two of them would be spending three or four days—and nights—together. You’d think he would’ve shown some shame.
But not him. He came in, greeted us all, then joined us at the breakfast table, perfectly at ease with himself. Hazel Marie, of course, couldn’t sit still long enough to eat a thing. She was up and down constantly, remembering first one thing and another that she needed to pack, kissing Lloyd good-bye three times, reminding me that her cell phone would be on if we needed her—although what she could do thirty-thousand feet in the air, I didn’t know—and telling Lillian that she’d already changed her bed linens.
And all the while, Mr. Pickens sat at the table, seemingly oblivious to her excitement and my disapproval. Probably he was accustomed to both and no longer took notice. While I got Lloyd off to school, Mr. Pickens accepted breakfast from Lillian and talked with Sam as if this were just another morning when old friends met.
“What’s the latest on the missing?” Mr. Pickens asked.
Sam smiled wryly and shook his head. “Not a thing. The two of them have disappeared. At least as far as I know. The sheriffs may know something, but they’re not giving anything out. The talk around town is that Stroud had reason to take off, but nobody knows what’s up with Horace Allen.” Sam glanced over at me and winked. “Given his wife, he may’ve had a different reason.”
“Hazel Marie said there might be some connection between them. A paper they found?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, found it in Allen’s car, but that doesn’t necessarily prove anything. I’d hate to have my car searched and have conclusions drawn from what was found.”
Mr. Pickens laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”
“Helen Stroud said,” Sam said, as I strained to hear what Helen had said, “that Richard was putting together a real estate investment venture. She doesn’t know any more than that, but apparently he’d put a lot of his investors’ money into it. Or that’s what he told them he was doing.”
While pouring another cup of coffee at the counter, I nodded at Lillian. That’s what Richard had told me he was doing. It had all seemed aboveboard at the time and maybe it was, if that money had ever gotten into real estate. And if it hadn’t, where was it now? Then, standing at the counter and looking out the window at the backyard, I thought, real estate? Interesting that Richard had been planning such a venture at the same time one was being planned for Main Street.
“Lillian,” Mr. Pickens said, turning in his chair, “would you tell Hazel Marie I’m gonna leave her if she doesn’t come on? Or the plane’s gonna leave both of us.”
But about that time, we heard the thump of a suitcase being hauled down the stairs. Mr. Pickens got up to help, and I heard him tell her that they weren’t staying a month.
Hazel Marie held the kitchen door for him as he struggled with the largest suitcase she owned. “But I have to be prepared,” she said, her face showing the excitement she felt. “And besides, you don’t know what all I’m not taking.”
In the flurry of getting them off, I saw Sam preparing to leave as well. As he pulled on a jacket, I realized for the first time that he was wearing a suit and tie, which was not his usual attire for a morning of research.
“You have a meeting today?” I asked, as he came to give me a good-bye kiss.
“I promised Helen I’d go with her to see her lawyer,” he said, then held up a hand as I started to protest. “Just for the first meeting. We’ll leave around noon, for a one o’clock appointment. I told you, didn’t I?”
“I must’ve forgotten,” I said stiffly and endured his kiss, but he didn’t seem to notice.
As the back door closed behind him, I turned to see Lillian’s raised eyebrows. She quickly looked down at the skillet she was scrubbing.
“Don’t say anything,” I said, but thinking that if she’d noticed something amiss, then I wasn’t too far off the mark myself. “He’s just being his usual helpful self, although some help can be carried too far.”
“I don’t say anything,” she said. “Nobody need to worry ’bout Mr. Sam.” She was giving the skillet a scrubbing like it’d never had. “Though I can’t say the same ’bout no halfway widder woman.”
“That’s exactly what I told him. But…” I was interrupted by the front doorbell. “Who can that be?”
“Hey, Miss Julia,” Etta Mae Wiggins said with a big smile on her face. “Is Hazel Marie home?”
“Why, no, Miss Wiggins, I mean Etta Mae. But won’t you come in?” It was my nature to address people formally for as long as possible to avoid any misunderstanding as to an assumed friendship. Yet I’d come close to hurting Miss Wiggins’s, I mean, Etta Mae’s, feelings by seeming to hold her at arm’s length. So I addressed her as Etta Mae, but continued to think of her as Miss Wiggins. I occasionally got mixed up as to whether I was speaking or thinking.
“I don’t want to put you out,” she said, stepping inside. “But if she’ll be back soon, maybe I can wait for her. I wanted to see if she’d like to go to lunch.”
“She won’t be back for a few days, but do have a seat.” I indicated the sofa. “She just left for San Francisco with Mr. Pickens. A married couple is going along, too.”
“San Francisco! Oh, that lucky duck. Well,” she said, laughing at herself, “that is so cool, but I guess she can’t go to lunch, can she?”
“No, and that’s too bad. I’m sure she’ll be sorry she missed you. But how is it you’re free? Did Mildred give you the day off?”
“I wish! No, she let me go. Her daughter’s back and her maid is out of the hospital, so she said she wouldn’t need me anymore. So here I am, footloose and fancy-free for a couple of days.”
“My goodness. Does that mean you’re out of work and won’t get paid? I’m surprised that Mildred would be so inconsiderate.”
“No’m, she’s not. She paid Lurline—that’s the owner of Handy Home Helpe
rs—for the full week up front. So I’ll get my salary whether I’m working or not. I mean, Lurline could find me something else to do, but I thought what the heck, I could use a few days off. But since Hazel Marie’s not here, I’ll probably just go to the library and get something to read. Or maybe I’ll clean my single-wide. Do something to fill the time.”
“Well, Etta Mae,” I said, recalling her considerable help in another time of trouble, “since you are free, I may have a better way to fill your time. If you’re open to a suggestion.”
“Oh, you know me. I’m open to most anything. What you got in mind?”
“Well,” I said somewhat hesitantly since I didn’t know how she’d take it. “Did you get the impression last night that Mr. Kessler was showing some interest in you?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, laughing. “I nearly always get some of that. It doesn’t mean anything in the long run.”
“Well, I’m hoping it does. You see, it’s like this.” And I proceeded to explain to her my idea of dissuading Mr. Kessler from destroying a piece of our history and putting us on the path of progress with an influx of condominium owners.
“Wow,” she said, her eyes big. “You think it’ll work?”
“I don’t know, but it’s all I can come up with. From what he said last night, he’s planning to sell his condos by promoting our town as the ideal place to live. If we could show him a different side from what he’s seen, well, he might change his mind.”
“You mean, like, show him the dangerous curves on the mountain and the county dump and the paving company on the edge of town? Things like that?”
“I’d certainly include them, but I was thinking more of just driving him around and introducing him to some of our more outstanding citizens.”
She frowned. “Seems like that’d make him want to come here even more.”
“I’m using the word outstanding advisedly.” I smiled. “But not untruthfully. I’m thinking of people like Brother Vernon Puckett, for instance, and Thurlow Jones, Dixon Hightower and the like. And he really ought to meet Lieutenant Peavey, who may be an excellent sheriff’s deputy but cannot by any stretch of the imagination be considered an attraction.”