I Can't Make You Love Me, but I Can Make You Leave

by Dixie Cash

  “Is this when we turn to our resources?”

  They reached the pickup, and as Debbie Sue bleeped the door unlocked, she said, “You’re being tacky, Ed. But yeah, I think it is.”

  “Good. What are they?”

  Debbie Sue counted the items off with her finger. “Intelligence, perseverance and the absolute total refusal to take no for an answer.”

  “Uh-huh,” Edwina said.

  “What we need to do, Ed, is spend some time around Mike, Eddie and Valetta Rose. They’ve got to be the key to solving this. Roxie had some kind of relationship with Valetta Rose. I want to find out what kind it really was. And I’d sure as hell like to find out something about the bandage on Mike’s hand.”

  “Uh-huh,” Edwina repeated.

  “Ed, will you stop being shitty? Detective Finley told us those three have been ordered not to go any farther than Salt Lick, so we need to get back there and—”

  “Uh-oh,” Edwina said, looking across Debbie Sue’s shoulder. “Here comes Bob Denman now.”

  Debbie Sue turned to look behind her and Bob raised his hand in a wave as he circled the lot and brought Vic’s pickup to a stop in a parking space beside them. He scooted out and came toward them.

  “Shit,” Edwina said. “He looks like something the cat drug in.”

  Edwina was right. His face looked drawn. His step had no spring. “Are y’all leaving?” he asked.

  “Hi, Bob,” Debbie Sue said. “Yes, we’re leaving.”

  “You saw Darla? How is she?” He glanced anxiously toward the jail cell windows. “I can’t believe this has happened. It’s like a bad dream.”

  “I hear you,” Debbie Sue said. “Are you just now getting here?”

  “I’ve been putting Roxie’s funeral arrangements in place.”

  “It’s hard to believe this time yesterday we were talking about what shoes to wear in the show,” Edwina said, “and now we’re discussing funerals. When’s the service?”

  “Wednesday afternoon in Nashville.” He looked down and shook his head.

  “I know Darla confessed,” Debbie Sue said, “but Bob, you know she didn’t do this, don’t you?”

  “Of course. Darla isn’t capable of hurting anyone.”

  “It could’ve been an accident,” Edwina said.

  Debbie Sue shushed her, but the skinny brunette planted a hand on her hip and gave Bob a direct look. “Do you think Darla could’ve killed her accidentally?”

  Bob glared back at her, his eyes hard. “I know who the guilty party is, Edwina.”

  “Who?” Debbie Sue and Edwina asked in unison.

  “I did it,” he said, his jaw taut.

  “Oh, Jesus H. Christ,” Edwina said, rolling her eyes and throwing up both hands. “This is getting sillier by the minute. You did not kill your wife.”

  “Bob, I have to agree with Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re saying that just to protect Darla, the same way she’s trying to protect you.”

  Bob’s face softened. Debbie Sue thought she saw his eyes glisten with moisture. “Did she say that? Did she say she confessed to murder to protect me?”

  “That’s what she said. Less than thirty minutes ago.”

  A single tear slid down his cheek. His head shook back and forth. “That crazy redhead. I can’t believe she did that for me. I don’t think anyone has ever thought that much of me in my whole life.”

  “And we don’t doubt you feel the same way,” Edwina said. “Just tell us you’re not going in there to confess too.”

  Bob looked down at his shoes. “I intended to earlier, but then I realized all that I had to get done for Roxie. So now I’m planning on coming back here after Roxie’s funeral. I’ll confess then and get them to release Darla from jail.”

  “Forevermore,” Debbie Sue exclaimed, incredulous. She too threw her hands in the air. “What’s wrong with you music people?”

  “Yeah,” Edwina said. “Have too many drum beats affected your brain?”

  “This isn’t a kid’s game,” Debbie Sue said. “We’re not playing hide-and-seek. You can’t yell olly, olly, oxen free and all come from their hiding places. Cops don’t play games, and when you confess, they take that to the bank. Or to be more precise, to the DA. And they stop looking for other suspects.”

  “Olly, olly oxen free?” Edwina asked, frowning. “Are you sure? All this time I thought it was golly, golly, smell my feet.”

  Debbie Sue gave her friend a flat look. “Ed, are you nuts? That makes no sense at all.”

  “Oh, and olly, olly, oxen free does? What the hell is olly and what does it matter if oxen are free?”

  “Ladies,” Bob broke in, “could we please get back to the issue at hand? I’m trying to think of a way to get Darla out of there.”

  “Until tomorrow that’s not possible,” Debbie Sue said. “This is a holiday, you know. The county has appointed a lawyer for her. Tomorrow he’ll enter her plea at the arraignment and they’ll set her bond—that is, if they let her. Texas is tough on killers. I’m not sure they’ll let her bond out after she’s confessed to murder. Since she doesn’t live here, the judge might consider her a flight risk. But I’m going to ask my husband about all of it when I talk to him later.” Debbie Sue sighed. “But at least she’s already talked to a bail bondsman, so that’s one less thing to deal with.”

  “Where did she find a bail bondsman?” Bob asked.

  “Her jail mate is her bondsman.”

  “Wow,” Bob said, an expression of amazement on his face. “I’m beginning to see why people love Texans. You truly are the most accommodating people I’ve ever met.”

  “Thanks,” Debbie Sue said sarcastically, “but it’s just happenstance that Darla’s sharing a cell with a bail bondsman. What we really need right now, Bob, is for you to not go in there and make matters worse.”

  “Matters could get worse?”

  “They can if you go in and try to help Darla by confessing,” Edwina replied. “Hell, Bob, they could accuse the both of you of plotting to off your wife so you can be together.”

  Bob slowly shook his head again. “I can’t just stand aside and do nothing when Darla’s in this kind of trouble.”

  “Listen, this is where the Domestic Equalizers can come in,” Debbie Sue said. She dug in her purse, found a business card and handed it to Bob. “You know Ed and I are detectives, right?”

  “I heard something about that.”

  “We’re licensed by the great state of Texas and everything. We’ve already told Darla we’re going to take the case and help her.”

  “And at no charge,” Edwina added. “Usually we get fifty bucks an hour, but for you—”

  “Shut up, Ed.” Debbie Sue glowered at her partner. She turned to Bob. “Forget all that. We’re going to help her because we’re friends. And we think she’s innocent.”

  Bob studied the card for a few seconds, then looked up at them. “How do you plan on helping her?”

  “Don’t you worry, Bob,” Edwina said. “We’ve got resources.”

  “We have to find the real killer, Bob.”

  “I agree. What can I do to help?”

  “Until we find out the time of death, the cause of death and some more stuff, we can’t make much progress,” Debbie Sue said. “But that doesn’t prevent us from talking to Mike, Eddie and Valetta Rose. Can you arrange some time we can spend with them?”

  “Actually, no. They’re gone.”

  Debbie Sue’s eyes bugged. She all but shouted, “What do you mean gone?” Then she calmed herself and said in a reasonable tone, “They can’t be gone, Bob. Darla just told us the detective ordered them not to go any farther than Salt Lick.”

  “That’s news to me,” Bob replied. “Mike called me late last night from Hogg’s. The three of them stopped there after they gave statements. They ran into a trucker who’s a big fan of Darla’s. They told him what happened and he agreed to give them a ride back to Nashville.”

  “S
hit,” Edwina said. “Just like the backup singers. What are the odds of that? All I can say is, those damn truckers should stay out of Hogg’s.”

  Debbie Sue stared at Edwina, who stared back.

  “Uh, what about their musical instruments?” Edwina asked, turning away from Debbie Sue. “I thought that was the reason they didn’t haul ass back to Nashville when the backup singers hitched a ride with a trucker a couple of days ago.”

  “I promised I’d get their instruments back to them,” Bob said absently. He rubbed his forehead. “Jeez, I specifically asked Mike if they were supposed to stay around, but he said they’d all been given permission to leave.”

  “Hah,” Edwina said. “I guarantee you Detective Finley didn’t say that. And if you go inside and tell him anything, it needs to be that those three skipped town. Hell, they not only skipped town, they left the whole damn state. With that to chew on, maybe he’ll divert his attention from Darla and start to look at those guys as suspects.”

  Bob stared toward the entrance to the building for a long time. “You’re right,” he finally answered. “They could be suspects, couldn’t they? And I’ve grown really fond of those three. It hurts to know one of them might be guilty of killing my wife.”

  In the back of Debbie Sue’s mind, nagging notions danced. She read Detective Tom Finley as a man who lacked a sense of humor when it came to murder. If he told Debbie Sue Overstreet not to leave town, she most likely would comply without question. Yet Eddie, Mike and Valetta Rose had just hitched a ride willy-nilly and ridden out of Dodge. Was one of them hiding a secret? Or were all three?

  Mike’s bandaged hand weighed on her mind. She still wondered if that was significant. Could he have cut himself in a scuffle with Roxie? The only way to find out was to confront all three of them. And now it appeared that she and Ed would have to travel to Nashville to do that. Fuck. How in the hell would they ever get Buddy and Vic to let them take off for Nashville? Neither of those guys had quite gotten over her and Edwina’s trip to New York City a few years back.

  She laid her hand on Bob’s forearm in a show of support. “Try to remember, Bob, like Edwina said, perhaps it was a terrible accident.”

  “Yeah,” Edwina said. “It’d take a real monster to shove a metal file into somebody’s jugular on purpose.”

  Debbie Sue slapped her forehead with her palm. “Ed, forgodsake.”

  Bob said nothing, just looked at Edwina with pain in his eyes for a few beats. Then he said, “I guess I’ll go inside and see Darla. Don’t forget to call me if I can do anything to help you.”

  “We will,” Debbie Sue said. “Okay if I call you this evening and get the addresses and phone numbers for Mike, Eddie and Valetta Rose?”

  “Sure. You want them now?”

  “No, that’s okay. I don’t have anything to write on. I’ll call you this evening.”

  Edwina nudged her arm. “Here’s a pen and some paper.”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “I’d better get in there,” Bob said, already backing away. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  As he strode across the parking lot, Edwina said, “Why didn’t you write down the addresses and phone numbers?”

  “I don’t want to be too optimistic. When I tell Buddy we have to go to Nashville, I don’t want him to think I already planned it.”

  “Nashville? We’re going to Nashville? The one in Tennessee?”

  “If the suspects aren’t here where we are, Ed, then we’ll have to go to them. And it’ll be worth the trip to see why Mike had a bandaged hand.”

  Debbie Sue could see gears grinding behind Edwina’s eyes. No telling what she was thinking.

  “And one more thing, Ed. In the future, could you please be a little more sensitive?”

  Edwina frowned and opened her palms. “About what?”

  Debbie Sue sighed. “Never mind.”

  Debbie Sue drove toward Salt Lick uttering an occasional “uh-huh” and “sure” to Edwina’s non-stop blathering. Before starting back, they had stopped for a couple of burgers and Edwina had talked all through lunch. In fact, she hadn’t stopped talking since hearing the word Nashville.

  “If we’re going to Nashville, we have to go to Ryman Auditorium and Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge,” Edwina said. “Patsy used to hang out at Tootsie’s, you know. Oh, sweet Jesus, to walk where Patsy Cline walked. I get all atwitter just thinking about it.” She heaved a sigh. “A camera, I’ve got to get a camera. One of those fancy ones, but simple to use. I don’t want one I need a college degree to operate. What’ll I wear? What are you gonna wear? When are we going? Lord God, I haven’t been this excited since I found out HBO was gonna show all episodes of True Blood back to back.”

  “Ed, forgodsake, stop talking! We’re not going on a sightseeing jaunt. I intend for us to get in and get out of there as quickly as possible. That is, if we can even get there. You know damn well Buddy Overstreet is going to throw a shoe over us going to Nashville to investigate Roxie’s murder.”

  “As long as he doesn’t hit you with it, I don’t see the problem.”

  “This isn’t funny, Ed.”

  Edwina fell silent. The only sound in the cab then was the hum from the pickup’s diesel engine. Suddenly Edwina let out a shout. “I’ve got it!”

  Debbie Sue jumped and veered out of her lane into the next and back.

  “Shit! Dammit, Ed, don’t do that to me!”

  “But I’ve got it. We’ll tell Buddy and Vic we’re going to Roxie’s funeral service. You know, to pay our respects. Neither one of them would tell us not to go to a funeral. They don’t know we didn’t like her. For all they know, we were best friends.”

  Instead of replying, Debbie Sue studied the road ahead. A plan was coming together in her mind.

  “Well, say something,” Edwina said.

  “You know what you are, Edwina Perkins-Martin?”

  Edwina sighed deeply. “Yes, I’m afraid I do. And I’m still waiting on a twelve-step program to remedy it.”

  Debbie Sue grinned, reached across the cab and pushed on her old friend’s shoulder. “Silly, you’re a genius, is what you are. We’re going to Nashville. Definitely. Now get that paper and pen back out and start writing: Ryman, Tootsie’s, Music Row . . .”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Darla had barely gotten back to her cell when the jailer announced another visitor. She went through the same routine as before, anticipating that Mike or Eddie had come to see her, as she walked up the hallway and sat down in the room she had just left. When the door opened, Bob Denman entered. Her heart and hopes soared. To hell with the “no physical contact” rule. She sprang to her feet and rushed into his open arms.

  The familiar voice rang out again. “No contact, please. Step apart and sit on opposite sides of the table, please.”

  “Whoa,” Bob said, looking around. “Where did that come from?” He eased onto a chair on one side of the table.

  “The mirror,” Darla said, gesturing toward the reflective rectangle. “Someone’s on the other side watching us.” She sat down opposite him.

  “Do you think they’re listening to what we’re saying?” he asked.

  “Who knows? I think I’m supposed to be able to talk to my lawyer privately, but I don’t know about other visitors. Listen, we’ve only got thirty minutes. What about the telethon?”

  “Everyone was torn up, but they went on with it. You know how it is with a telethon. They can’t forget they’re trying to raise money for a cause. They had a lot of acts. They even had some local talent they called on.”

  “Has the press made a big to-do?”

  “Nah,” Bob said.

  Darla gave him a wan smile. “I guess that’s good news and bad news.” Darla looked down at the tabletop. “I hate doing this to those telethon people.”

  Bob leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. “What in the hell were you thinking, Darla, making a confession? We both know you didn’t kill Roxie.”

  She
leaned forward too, her face a foot from his. “I was trying to help you, Bob. When you looked at me with that stricken, pitiful expression, it couldn’t have been clearer that you and Roxie had a fight and you accidentally killed her in the heat of anger.”

  “You assumed that from an expression? Anger? My God, Darla. I’ve never been mad enough to kill anyone. You’ve got to quit reading those murder mysteries. I was just trying to keep myself together. I’ve never seen that much blood in my whole life. And the fact that it came from my wife overwhelmed me. I still can’t stand to think of it.”

  A burn rushed to Darla’s eyes. “Are you telling me that I told the cops that I committed murder because you looked like you were going to toss your cookies? Damn, Bob, I’ve done some foolish things because I still love you, but this one takes the cake.”

  “Because you still—”

  “Love you. Yes, Bob, I still love you.” She sniffled. “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.”

  Bob stared into her eyes for a few beats. Finally, he said, “I don’t know what to say. I could say I still love you, too. And I know I’ve never stopped.”

  “Even after all I’ve done?” She sniffled.

  “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I won’t be able to take it if you cry. Look, we’ve got to figure out what to do. Roxie’s funeral is on Wednesday in Nashville. I was planning on coming back here to confess my own guilt afterwards and get you off the hook, but Debbie Sue and Edwina talked me out of it in the parking lot. What they said made a lot of sense. If I confess, hell, they’ll think we’re both guilty.”

  “I guess neither one of us is thinking too clearly.” The room grew silent again. A full minute passed, then Darla cleared her throat. “Bob, I’m sorry about Roxie. You know there was no love lost between us, but no one should go out like that.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. You know, when we first married she was kind of sassy and full of herself, but she impressed me as being a sweet kid with a good voice. Then people began to hear her sing and the possibility of having real success changed her. She became obsessed with it. The closer she got to a breakthrough, the meaner she became.”

  “I’ve seen that happen in the music business more times than I want to count.” Darla slowly shook her head. “I could name names and so could you.”