by Paula Matter
She held up her hands in resignation. “Okay then, we’ll talk about something else. Actually, I do have some exciting news. I’m planning on opening up my fourth salon later this year. That’s why I’m going to West Palm Beach. Time to work on the blue-haired, blue-blooded rich old ladies.”
“That is exciting news. Congratulations!” We clinked glasses. “Does this mean you’ve met your goal of toning down all the big-hair gals of north Florida?” I remembered how I’d laughed when she’d told me that was her plan. She felt an obligation to work on the local good ole girls by showing them how to use mousse and hair spray properly. After opening her first one-chair salon in Fernandina Beach, where she still lived, she expanded to one in Gainesville geared for the university students, and then a few years later, another in Jacksonville, which is where we met. And all before she turned thirty-two. Amazing. Especially considering the horrific childhood she’d survived.
“You’ve done pretty well for yourself, Brenda. I’m proud of you.”
“Damn straight.”
Our food arrived and we dug in. For dessert, we splurged and split a huge piece of ice cream cake. I felt full, warm, and happy. It reminded me of the night before when I’d felt that way and reached for Michael’s hand.
“You okay, hon? You’re all flushed.”
No way in hell would I tell her what I’d just been thinking. “Too much wine, I guess.”
“No such thing as too much wine.” As if to prove her point, she drained the remaining wine from the carafe into her glass and finished it. She grabbed the check and said, “Shall we? I’ll be in West Palm for a few days, then I’ll drop by your place on the way back up. Okay?”
“Sounds good to me. Thanks so much for dinner, Brenda,” I scooted my chair back and stood. “Whoa.” I put my hand on the table to catch my balance.
“Maybe for you there is such a thing as too much wine. You okay to drive?”
“Sure,” I said. It came out slurred. Terrific. A bartender who couldn’t handle two glasses of wine without getting sloshed. “But maybe you could follow me part of the way?”
“I’ll follow you all the way, hon. It’s practically my fault you’re a little tipsy.”
Arm in arm we walked out to our cars. The cool night air seemed to help considerably, but I was still glad she was going to be behind me. I used to laugh at my mother when she complained of driving at night. Now I knew what she was talking about. Dammit.
I pulled out first and Brenda stayed with me. Instead of getting on I-95, I took a back road, which I knew would take us longer, but also no state troopers would be hanging around. I stuck to the speed limit, and I’m sure there were several times Brenda wanted to pass me, but she didn’t. She flashed her lights, and I sped up to appease her. When she did it again, I looked at my rearview mirror wondering what her problem was. Going a few miles over the limit had to be good enough because I wasn’t going to risk it. No cops, but there were plenty of deer in this neck of the woods and surely she knew that. No streetlights, and the night was so dark animals could dart out with no warning. Her tiny Miata certainly couldn’t take on a deer without causing heavy damage. For that matter, neither could my Honda.
Brenda flashed her lights a third time and having no place to pull over, I was tempted to slow down and let her go around me. That’s when I saw the vehicle behind her. Because of the lowness of Brenda’s car, the other guy’s headlights shone right into my car. He was right on her ass. Had Brenda been alone, I’m sure she would’ve turned it into a race with this clown. And she probably would’ve won.
I lightly hit my brakes a couple of times, hoping that would signal her to let the guy go around us. Big mistake. I felt the tap on my bumper and my whole car swerved. I grabbed tightly onto the steering wheel and sped up a bit.
Another tap. Now the guy’s high beams flashed on, and stayed on. His lights practically blinded me, and I took one hand off the wheel to move the rearview mirror. Just as I did that, the jerk roared past Brenda and came up beside me. A big ugly ass pickup truck. I expected the jerk to zoom in front of me and I’d gladly let him.
Instead he moved to the right, inching his way closer to me. I slammed on my brakes to get out of his way, praying that Brenda wouldn’t plow into me.
Some prayers aren’t answered the way we want. Metal crunched and glass shattered as I screeched to a stop.
The guy laid on his horn, pulled over into my lane, and hauled ass. I watched his red taillights fade.
I jammed the car into park and sat there shaking.
Brenda. Oh my God. I pushed open my door and ran to her car. The Miata’s front end was pushed up under my rear fender. I smelled burned rubber and oil. Glass crunched under my shoes as I rushed to the driver’s side door and pulled it open. Brenda’s body nearly fell out of the tiny car.
Screaming her name, I pushed her upright and held on tight. Before I could make sure she was alive or not, I heard her trying to speak.
Thank God. Still holding on to her with one hand, I gently pushed her back a ways to check for damage. She raised her head and mumbled something.
“Shhh, Brenda, not now. Talk later.”
She shook her head, then winced. “Now.” She lifted her arm an inch or so and said, “What the—”
Then she passed out.
Fifteen
Hospitals everywhere must buy their disinfectant in bulk from the same supplier. North DeSoto General Hospital smelled like any other hospital I’d ever been in. Bright lights, beige walls, muted sounds as hospital staff walked up and down the hallway outside the ER waiting room. The ambulance had brought a conscious and fairly alert Brenda in over an hour earlier and I still sat waiting to hear word on how she was. I’d been checked out at the accident scene and the paramedic decided I was okay enough to follow the ambulance in my car, which thankfully had suffered little damage. Compared to Brenda’s car, mine looked gorgeous. I was also grateful for the driver who stopped and called in the accident. A nonlocal, he’d taken off before I’d had a chance to really thank him.
Other than the accident itself, the worst part was that it happened in Bobby Lee’s jurisdiction. Then again, if it hadn’t, I’d be sitting in a hospital in an unknown town. One of North DeSoto’s officers had taken the report then promptly left.
Just when I decided to go to the nurse’s station to find out anything about Brenda, Kevin Beamer walked into the waiting room. Startled to see him, I jumped up from the chair.
“Maggie, are you okay? I heard about the accident on my scanner.” He hugged me, then held me at a distance, looking me up and down. “You seem to be okay.”
“I’m fine, Kevin.” I filled him in quickly on what happened. “I’m about ready to go check on Brenda.”
“I’ll go with you.” He carried his motorcycle helmet under his right arm and wrapped his left one around my shoulders.
Together we walked up to the U-shaped desk where a couple of nursing staff worked. One looked up and smiled at us. Rather, she smiled at Kevin. I glanced over. With his dark hair, blue eyes, and dressed in his black leather jacket and gloves, he was easy on the eyes.
“Hi, I’m wondering if there’s any word yet on Brenda Blackwell. She was brought in an hour or so ago.”
“The car accident victim.” The nurse rifled through some papers, pushed a few keys on her keyboard, then looked up again. “She’s being discharged right now. Should be out in a few minutes.”
Relieved, I thanked her. To Kevin I said, “Sounds like Brenda’s okay.” The relief and utter exhaustion weakened my knees, and hot tears welled up. Here came another crying jag. I was afraid one of these days I’d start crying and wouldn’t stop.
He took my arm and led me back to the waiting room. Without a word, he seated me back in the chair and sat down next to me. Having him close brought comfort, and I was grateful he had a scanner and had been listening to it.
I closed my eyes and silently we waited.
Brenda finally came out a half hour later. Kevin helped me get Brenda into my car and announced he’d follow us back to my house. I felt rattled getting behind the wheel again and was grateful for his steady light behind me. Once we got there, he again helped with Brenda. I waited to make sure she was settled and sleeping in my bed, then Kevin and I went back out to the hallway.
“Can I get you a beer?”
He smiled, shook his head. “Now’s not the time to be playing hostess, Maggie. You need to get some sleep. You’re about to drop, aren’t you?”
I didn’t argue with him.
As soon as Kevin left, I checked on Brenda one more time. She snored softly and, afraid of disturbing her, I left. I curled up on the lumpy loveseat and pulled an afghan over me. Just before falling asleep, I wondered what kind of information is transmitted over scanners.
I woke the next morning to the smell of coffee, and to the clock chiming twelve. Nine o’clock. I rolled over and nearly fell off the loveseat.
“Smooth move there, Maggie. Or should I call you Grace?” Brenda sat on the arm of the loveseat, coffee mug in hand. “Good morning. Coffee’s ready.”
I sat up and stretched, minor aches and pains shouted through my body. I followed her into the kitchen, and while I loaded my coffee with sugar and milk, asked her how she felt.
“One hell of a headache,” she said and sat down at the kitchen table. “So, who tried to kill us last night?”
“Bobby Lee told me on the phone last night, and I quote: ‘Some good ole boy out for a good time trying to scare y’all.’ End quote.”
“Asshole.”
I didn’t disagree with her. I’d already told her about the threatening phone call, and I brought it up again, wondering if there was a connection.
Her eyes widened. “Phone. Where is mine?”
“I couldn’t find it last night to call 911.” I bit my lower lip. “Damn. Do you suppose it’s still in your car?”
“Could be. I don’t remember much after that jerk sped by me.” She rubbed her forehead and winced.
“I got your purse and suitcase out of your car before the tow truck took it away. It’s no big deal, is it? I mean, you can always get a new one.”
“Yeah, it’s just that that one was important.”
“It’s only a phone. You’ll just have to enter all the data you had in it to a new one.” I didn’t understand why she seemed to be so concerned. I didn’t even have a cell phone. Just another expense I couldn’t afford.
“The thing is, that phone might have a good picture of the sonofabitch who nailed us.”
Sixteen
“What? You got a picture of him? How—When—”
“Quit yelling.” She rubbed her head again. “When you said phone, I remembered. And not a picture of him, just his license plate. I’m pretty sure I got a clear shot of it as he sped by.”
“Well, come on, let’s get dressed and go find it! It must be somewhere near where the crash was.” Brenda followed me into the bedroom. I started pulling clothes out of my closet when I came across the black blazer I’d set aside a couple days ago.
Jack’s funeral. I had nearly forgotten about it. My bedside clock told me the funeral was in less than an hour. Damn. No time to look for the phone.
“Hey, feel like going to a funeral with me?” I quickly explained.
“Sure,” she answered. “I mean, I didn’t know the guy, but I’ll go. We can look for my phone after the funeral.”
“Um, there’s a reception after the funeral. Oh, damn, I forgot to get the cole slaw. We can get it on the way to the reception. We’d better hurry.”
“Okay, so our plan is funeral, grocery store, reception, look for my phone. Let’s do this.”
Both sides of the street were lined with cars, and we finally found a spot to park a couple blocks from the funeral home. Brenda and I walked arm in arm down the sidewalk and when we reached the steps of the building, I heard my name. Michael stood by the door looking handsome in his dark suit.
“Brenda, this is Michael Bradley. Michael, my best friend, Brenda Blackwell.” They shook hands, and we moved inside so we weren’t blocking the entrance.
The funeral home was more packed than I thought it’d be. I don’t know exactly what I expected, but practically every lined-up folding chair was taken. This being the small town it is, I recognized nearly everyone. Whether they were friends or just curiosity-seekers, I didn’t know. A good majority of the people in attendance were members of the club. Sam, Pete, Kevin, and a few other active members, dressed in their Honor Guard uniforms, were huddled together near a side exit. I knew they’d be leaving to go to the cemetery before everyone else. As members of the Honor Guard, they’d be ducking out before the service was over to stand near the gravesite. Their way of honoring the dead. It was a very solemn ceremony that consisted of the flag draping the casket being folded and Taps playing hauntingly in the background. I cried every time I heard Taps played.
Dick, JC, and their wives sat in the first row of chairs. I guessed that row wasn’t reserved for family this time. I remembered wondering if the funeral home had written the obit, so I still didn’t know if Jack had family. He never talked about anyone, but then again, I usually listened to him with only one ear. Maybe if I’d listened closer, I’d have a clue to who killed him and why.
“Hey, let’s go talk to Pete. I’m glad he’s here, now I don’t have to wait until tomorrow to ask him about Abby.” I started heading toward the group of uniformed men, but Brenda pulled me back. “What?”
She shook her head. “Now’s not the time, Maggie. Let’s sit down.”
I wanted to smack myself for being so inconsiderate, so thoughtless. Of course the funeral wasn’t the time or place to question people. Eager to resolve this whole situation and get my butt back to work at the club, I’d forgotten my compassion.
We found three seats in the back, and when the funeral home director approached the pulpit, others around us settled in their chairs. I recognized the man standing next to him—the chaplain from the VFW—and after a few brief words, the director introduced him.
The chaplain made no mention of murder while he spoke of Jack. Instead he talked about him as if he were a fallen comrade, very patriotic, and I felt the lump in my throat forming. I realized I missed the talk at the club, the way the vets could go on and on with their war stories. Of course, after working there for as long as I had, I heard a lot of the same stories. Sometimes they were retold verbatim, other times the stories were embellished. Maybe it had something to do with how much beer was consumed. With so many members, over two hundred that came in regularly, I’d learned not all of them liked talking and reminiscing about the war. Seemed most of them just liked the idea of belonging to the VFW because of the unspoken camaraderie.
A final prayer was given, and it was time to view the casket. I hated this part. While we waited our turn, I noticed the differences between this funeral and Rob’s. Today there were no flowers, no photographs, no soft music playing. No sobbing family members.
When our row was up, Michael stood first, and Brenda and I followed him up to the open casket. Jack had never looked better. Weird, but true. He seemed content, peaceful. No scowl or frown, no worry lines marring his face. An almost healthy color in his cheeks. Amazing what a little makeup could do.
The hot sun blasted us when we got outside. Cars were lining up in the street for the funeral procession. Was the big ugly ass truck among them? Brenda looked at me, cocked her head as if asking if I wanted to join them.
“I don’t think I want to go the gravesite. Do you?” I asked Michael.
He glanced at his watch. “No, doesn’t look like I’ll have time. I’m meeting Terri in a half hour.”
“Oh. Okay.” I turned to Brenda. “How about you?”
She shoo
k her head and said, “Not really. Let’s go to Publix, get the cole slaw, and head over to the reception.”
We said our good-byes and Brenda and I walked to my car. “So, who’s Terri?” Brenda asked while buckling her seatbelt.
“The mother of Michael’s daughter’s best friend,” I answered.
“And what does she mean to Michael?”
“Beats me.” I shrugged, pulled out onto the road. I looked at the dashboard clock and said, “The kids are in school, but it’s close to noon. Maybe they’re meeting for lunch. No business of mine.”
“Uh huh, if you say so.”
We made a quick trip of our errand and soon pulled into the parking lot of the VFW. On the drive over, Brenda and I talked more about the accident and decided to watch as people arrived. Maybe we’d see the truck. Long shot, but maybe worthwhile.
I wondered again if this was connected to that threatening phone call. Had whoever told me to back off also tried to run us off the road last night? Did they also steal my car battery? Was any of this random?
“Who do you think it was?” she asked. “Who all have you talked to? Where have you been?”
“Let’s see. Sam, Gussie, Pam, JC.” I ticked the names off my fingers while I spoke. “Where have I been? Um, JC’s store, Gussie’s house, the library, the club. Oh, and of course, outside Jack’s house. And I talked with Bobby Lee at the police station. I should’ve talked to Kevin last night at the hospital while I had the chance, but I was more concerned about you.”
“I sure wish I hadn’t been so out of it when you two brought me back to your place. I don’t even remember him. That must’ve been some drug they gave me.” She rubbed her temple. “Truthfully? I still feel out of it. Spacey. Blech.”
“You were pretty banged up. I’m just glad that guy came along when he did, and that Kevin showed up at the hospital.”
“You don’t think that’s funny, as in funny weird? How’d Kevin know you were at the hospital? How’d he know about the accident? Does he drive a truck, by any chance?”