by Judith Rolfs
I flashed a weak smile and approached with all the warmth I could project. My dad had taught me as a child to respect every person I met, regardless of his or her personality, or lack thereof, or unusual appearance. He’d read me enough O. Henry stories filled with strange characters to instill his interest in all types of people into me. I usually could start and enjoy a conversation with anyone.
“I’m meeting someone and need to be sure I’m in the right spot…is this the only restaurant in Kerr?”
The cook gave me a cold stare before drawing words slowly from her ample mouth. “Family Diner went outta business last year. There’s the Mexican grill but ain’t nobody eats there. This gotta be the spot.”
“Thanks.” I chatted with her about the weather and moved on to discussing the town.
All eyes were on us. I ignored stares from the other customers, mostly coffee-drinkers. Did I dare eat here?
Why had I jumped at the prospect of a meeting with Russell? If I’d given this more thought, I’d have insisted on more details before I drove here. I should have tried harder to connect over the phone.
I gingerly perched on a worn gray vinyl chair at the nearest table.
A waitress, around fiftyish with red hair that almost matched the clock, sauntered over, pulled an order pad from a hip pocket, and popped a pencil from behind her ear.
“Hi.” I gave her my best smile.
“Yeah. What can I getcha?”
“I’ll have iced tea in a to-go cup.”
If Russell didn’t show, I’d skip lunch and be on my way.
The door opened and all eyes turned as a woman with two boys around the age of ten came into the restaurant and headed straight for the bowling lanes. Soon the sound of a ball rolling down the alley reverberated, followed by smacks of falling pins.
From the sound of conversations around me, everyone in the place knew each other. A friendly bunch except cool toward strangers, judging by the hard stares still coming my way. I kept one eye posted on the door.
At fifteen past twelve, a six-foot man with a mop of curly black hair strode in, slamming the door behind him. He checked the place with rapid eye movements and waved at me.
Russell had arrived.
And I wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Russell’s noisy entrance added a momentary spark of interest to the eyes around me. He flagged me to a table toward the back of the room next to the bowling lanes.
Gritting my teeth, I picked up my iced tea and followed him.
“You’re the only person seems outa place, so you must be Dr. Jennifer Trevor.”
I produced a smile in an effort to be cordial. “And you’re Russell?”
I started to extend my hand, then withdrew it. He never offered his nor seemed to notice my gesture. So much for manners.
“Got that right.” He abruptly pulled out a chair for himself and pointed me toward the empty one across from him.
Where had he gotten the money for all the tattoos covering his neck and both arms? The man was a walking art show, if you liked body ink. Personally, I didn’t. I struggled not to stare at the curvaceous, tattooed lady covering his entire right arm. My mind took a side trip. How long had he sat having his skin jabbed for her?
The lower half of Russell’s face wore the shadow of a black beard. Probably one of those guys who could shave every three hours and still look unkempt.
Russell yelled to the cook, “Fried egg sandwich and fries, Mel.”
He looked me up and down.
I recoiled from his gaze. I totally disliked being stared at. “Let’s get to the point of our meeting, Russell. You have information about the attack on my friend Lenora Lawrence?”
He leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “Yeah, I do. Kirk is innocent.”
My skin bristled. “This isn’t news. Kirk already told me, for what it’s worth. Even if I’m inclined to agree, there’s no proof either way.”
“I know for a fact. Kirk and me were for real goin’ straight. He was busting his buttons over his new job. He wouldn’t have ditched it for nothing. Shooting the dame was outta the question, get what I mean?” His face was inches from mine. I drew back and squeezed my hands together in my lap to hide their shaking.
“That’s not what the police think.” I blurted the words out, wanting to sound brave.
“They’re wrong.”
“Okay, if you’re so sure Kirk didn’t shoot Lenora, who else had a motive?” I reached for my notepad in my purse. “Another ex-prisoner?”
The waitress appeared from behind me and plunked down Russell’s food. He wolfed down half the fried egg sandwich before responding.
“I got ideas. I’m looking into it.” His fingers dripped pungent bacon grease, and he paused to lick them. “I figure it coulda been some loser the Lawrence woman helped or a thief off the street. I got buddies out there asking questions since it happened. Or it mighta been somebody inside horning in on her foundation money. I’m not saying nothing definite until I’m sure. Just want you to know I’m on it.”
I stared at him. Did he think that was worth a trip here?
Russell swiped grease from his mouth with a napkin. “You can be sure of this—the person who shot Lenora is dangerous. You better be careful, lady.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
What kind of game was this? Ring the woman around, promise her info, then tell her nothing. My shoulders slumped. “That’s all you have to say? Kirk’s innocent ’cause you know, and you’re on it. I came all this way for nothing.” I nearly choked on my tea.
Russell leaned forward. “I wanted you to come ’cause I got something else to ask you in person. Kirk promised I’d be one of the first guys helped in his new job. I need a bankroll to start a small car repair business. I want the foundation to float me a loan. I expect you’ve got an in. If not, I might give you an opportunity to have a personal stake in my business yourself.”
“Lenora is a colleague and friend, but I have nothing to do with decisions about how the Second Chance Foundation monies are distributed. I do know it isn’t a bank.” I crossed my leg, swinging my foot back and forth to dispel my annoyance. “I can’t believe you deceived me into coming to hear a business proposition.”
The waitress strolled over with more coffee for Russell. Tension coupled with the rumbles of my stomach. I ordered a bag of Fritos to stop the thunderous sounds my insides were starting to make.
The combination of the restaurant smells started nauseous waves in my throat. I spiked my iced tea with sugar, then gulped it.
“I wouldn’t call it tricking ya.” He shook his finger in my face. ”Hear me out.”
I opened the bag of Fritos the waitress dropped in front of me and started munching.
Russell gave a glowing report of his behavior and his mechanical skills. “I’m a guy worth investing in. That’s gotta be obvious to you. I can’t believe the other broad refused to loan to me when I asked her.”
“Lenora already turned you down?”
“Yeah.”
His self-eulogy created steam in my nostrils. “Did it occur to you that you’re a suspect?” I used my diminishing self-control to remain civil. Forget annoyance, I was at fury stage. Something kept me sitting.
Russell planted his elbows on the once-red checkered vinyl tablecloth, picked up a fork and beat it against his open palm. “Well, I’m gonna try to get Kirk off, ’cause Kirk’s gonna put in a good word with Lenora when she’s outta that hospital and see what he can do. I’ve been working at a gas station for a couple of months. I’ll be dead by the time I got enough saved for a shop. I figure my plans go down the tube with Kirk.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” I stood to leave. “Perhaps some community resources can finance you. I’m sure you’re mechanically capable, but if Lenora already turned you down, Kirk wouldn’t be able to do a thing for you either, provided he even stayed out of prison and kept a job with the found
ation.”
“Community resources for an ex-con? Get real, lady. But you’re lucky. I’m still gonna help.”
I sat back down. “Why? You told me you have a grudge against Lenora because she wouldn’t help you. So why would you care about her? Besides, how do I know you didn’t shoot Lenora? Why should I trust you?” My stomach was still aflutter, but I found strength from my anger.
Russell leaned his chair legs back and put his hands in his pockets—a kingpin on his home turf. No wonder he wouldn’t come to my office. He was in control in his own territory.
Russell slapped his hand on the tabletop. “I’m going to tell you something, lady.” His voice grew louder. I sensed the staring eyes of the other customers again. “Life inside prison was pretty darn good. Don’t think I sat in a cement cell like maybe you saw in the movies, lady. I had planned rec-time and access to TV’s inside and outdoors with movie channels. You name it. I had a desk and bookshelves. Athletic equipment and sports opportunities—volleyball, handball, weights. I even took college courses. You know what it cost taxpayers?”
“Plenty,” I said, irritated.
“And in prison I didn’t pay a nickel for nothing. Now I’m out and trying to be a decent, responsible guy and can’t get a start. I coulda done without the frills at prison, if that money coulda gone for a decent small business loan when I got out.”
“Russell, you talk like the world owes you something. What you make of your life is up to you and God.”
I glanced behind me. Everybody was listening as well as watching us.
“If I don’t get any breaks on the outside, you think I’m gonna worry about going back to prison?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Let’s just say, I lived a whole lot better in the can with a prison-rights group watching out for me and lawyers wanting to represent me for free. All I had to do was snap my fingers. If I don’t get help from the foundation, I’m going to get the money another way. And it’ll be your fault and Lenora Lawrence’s.”
My back stiffened. Patience, Jennifer. Ignore his threats. Lord, help me salvage something from this meeting. I need wisdom fast. “The fact is, Russell,” I said as compassionately as I could. “The foundation’s work is on hold since Lenora was shot.” I checked my watch. “I need to get back to work.” Crumpling the empty Fritos bag in my hand, I reached into my purse. “Here’s my card if you come up with some real information about Lenora’s shooter. Not that you’ve told me anything in the first place.”
“I’ll still be looking into it. Don’t forget what I said about that loan…”
I sensed the Holy Spirit nudging me as I said, “I’ll mention your request to some other non-profit organizations. Perhaps the foundation can help you when things settle down.” I couldn’t permanently dash all his hopes.
I might have expected a smile or a thank you. Instead he glared at me. His expression sent a chill down my spine. I didn’t like having this man for an enemy.
Outside in my convertible, I shook my head. How could you be so stupid, Jennifer? Clearly Russell had a strong motive for shooting Lenora and a huge capacity for anger.
I glanced in my rear view mirror. He stood outside the bowling alley writing down the number of my license plate. Great.
What was that for?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The fluorescent light gave the green walls a sallow, clandestine glow like an underground nuclear lab. The fragrance of scented deodorants mixed with sweat hung thick in the air. Fourteen women, mesmerized by soft rock music, followed the gyrating movements of a skinny aerobics instructor in her class.
Exercise at the Y was one of my favorite ways to spend lunch hour. The gray steel building minutes from my office had a side-yard flower garden with stepping stones proclaiming donor names. Nick had generously put our name on one.
On my way into the locker room, Mary, the mother of Tara’s best friend, Ellie, waved at me. I quickly changed into black nylon shorts and a white tee shirt screen printed with “You go, girl,” a memorial from a race for life Mary and I had run.
I reached the classroom as the instructor began. She led our group of sixteen through a low-level workout for half an hour then switched to weights for strengthening. As my body loosened up, my mind broke free, too. Weird. An elusive thought kept tickling my brain—I’d missed something obvious about the attack on Lenora.
After we finished, the group of gals headed over to the machines. Mary called to me from a rowing machine in the back of the bodybuilding section. I positioned myself next to her to do abdominal crunches on a slant board.
Between exertions we puffed and chatted about kids and a new local coffee shop. I thanked her for giving Tara a ride the other night.
“My pleasure. Sorry we were late. Another gal, the Denton girl, Joann, was over too, and I drove her home as well.”
“No problem. I only wish Tara had called. She can be forgetful. Want to switch to the elliptical equipment?”
“Sure.”
I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my neck. “I don’t think I ever heard Tara mention Joann.”
“Probably not. Joann doesn’t get involved in many activities. She rarely goes to anyone’s house.”
“Why is that?” I mounted an elliptical machine.
Mary climbed on one next to me. “Her mom likes her home most of the time. I understand the mom keeps to herself. I’ve never seen her at school events. She’s sick a lot. I know Ellie never goes to Joann’s house, but we’ve invited Joann to come for dinner several times. Sweet girl.”
“Your Ellie’s tender and caring.”
“Tara’s no social slouch either.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Lately she seems to think only about herself. I doubt she’d invite a gal to dinner she didn’t already know well. Perhaps it’s my fault. I haven’t exactly modeled hospitality for her. With my work schedule we don’t have company often.” Slivers of guilt appeared. I squashed them with my familiar phrase. “Oh well.”
“Who can do it all, except the gals in TV sitcoms?” Mary laughed.
“I may die trying. Then Chuck Denton is Joann’s Dad?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“Only just met him. He’s on the board of Lenora’s foundation.”
“I’m surprised he has time. It’s challenging for him caring for his daughter with his wife ill so much and him working full time. Anyway, that’s the rumor around school. Joann never says a word about what goes on at home. Gotta run, errands call.”
I stared at her retreating form, deep in thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Carrie’s husband, Rob, stomped into my office, exuding enough energy to heat a house. Carrie scurried in behind. His black leather baseball cap topped a black stringy ponytail a foot long hanging down his back. Manicured nails, slightly rounded, extended an eighth-inch beyond his fingers.
It’s impossible not to have some preconceived notion of a client after a session with his wife describing him.
Big, hefty, masculine Rob was what I expected.
He wore sterling silver rings on three fingers of his left hand. The buffalo band on his right thumb caught my eye. A walking jewelry store.
I estimated Rob’s height at five feet six. His dark skin suggested Spanish ancestry or perhaps Indian. Expensive black leather tasseled loafers and thin dress socks told me he spared no expense on himself. His muscles were toned well enough to be featured in a fitness club ad.
Rob heaved his right shoulder against my door, shoved it shut, and grunted a response to my hello. I got an instant impression he was indifferent to conventional courtesy and liked to set his own rules. I wasn’t thrilled to have him in my office obviously disgruntled. Family members had shot counselors before. Like Lenora? I shuddered.
Carrie, all ninety-five petite pounds, wearing washed-out khaki slacks and a red and white striped blouse tucked in at the waist, trembled as she sat. She’d crisscrossed a once-white sweater ar
ound her shoulders and clutched a large tan vinyl purse under her left arm like a lifeline.
I wanted to reassure her things would go well, but could I be sure?
“Dr. Trevor, you need to know Rob made a huge fuss and refused to come at first. I was scared to insist, but I did it.”
“Did what?” Rob demanded, glaring at her.
She shot back. “Told you I won’t live like this any longer. Said we’re through if you wouldn’t come for help with our marriage.”
Good for you, Carrie. Tough love. As nervous as she was, this had been a courageous statement. “I’m glad you’re both here. Hopefully, we can resolve some of the issues distressing you.”
Rob gave me an icy stare. “Yeah, she’s lucky I came. I’m a patient guy. All she does is nag since she started counseling with that other broad. I’m not gonna say I haven’t considered walking out on her.”
“I’m keeping an eye on you. How can I trust you? You’d take off with the TV and VCR and the only car that runs. Everything is half mine if we can’t work this out.”
“She keeps saying that. I’m sick of it.” Rob jabbed at the air in front of Carrie, as if I needed help figuring out who “she” was. “She went to see a lawyer after she talked to Lenora Lawrence. You better believe I gave that woman a piece of my mind.”
“You were gone four whole days. How did I know you’d ever come back?”
Carrie, brave soul. Her words and tone meant she was learning healthy assertiveness.
Time to intervene. “Rob, talking about your relationship in a counseling setting can help make it better. What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t like being set up to do anything,” Rob ranted. “Carrie knows that. I didn’t like that pushy Lenora woman. For that matter, why should I trust you?”
Carrie glowered at him and spoke on my behalf. “Dr. Trevor is a friend of Dr. Lenora’s who’s helping. I’ll be doing what she says. If you don’t want counseling, I’m getting it anyway.”
He answered through clenched teeth. “I didn’t like what that Lenora was talking my wife into. No wonder the woman got shot. Probably had it coming.”