Stand By Your Man

Chapter Twenty-two

Bonnie's car was an aging Toyota van that had seen better days a few years before she bought it. It was reliable and unobtrusive. In short, it was the perfect vehicle for an afternoon spent snooping.

I ducked out the back door of the salon, high-tailed it the few feet to the driver's-side door, and was freedom bound within seconds, turning off the tiny street where the Curly-Que sat and out onto Greene Street. The radio was blaring Reba's latest, and I was humming along, too busy concentrating on my next step to sing the harmony.

Nosmo King's girlfriend might hold the piece I needed to clear Vernell, but if she did then it probably meant she'd killed her beloved, or at least helped to plan it. I thought back to her behavior at the funeral reception and couldn't quite picture the sobbing, black-haired Pauline as a killer. And then I thought of her friend, the bleached-blond Christine. Now there was a cold-blooded vixen. Maybe the two of them together could've killed Nosmo King, but Pauline wasn't sharp enough or hard enough to do the job alone.

"You are just the last of the naive innocents, Maggie Reid," I said aloud. "Do you really think that all murderers have to look like the posters on the post office walls? Pauline could've pulled that trigger for two million dollars and been acting the grief-stricken girlfriend three days later if it meant saving herself."

But she'd seemed so certain that Bess King had killed Nosmo. Either way, Bess King was my starting point. If she'd hired Tony, maybe she knew about Nosmo's girlfriend. I turned the van toward the northeast and began the drive out toward Brown Summit. I looked into the rearview mirror, saw no one I recognized, and drove on, satisfied that Tony Carlucci was sitting on the hood of my car, fuming.

Just as quickly, I flashed to my last image of Marshall Weathers, standing outside the jail, watching me ride off with Carlucci. In that brief second, the pain overwhelmed me, taking my breath away.

"You weak-willed woman," I said. "What is wrong with you? You let a man see you naked for the first time in God knows how long, and the next thing you know, you think you're in love." I turned onto Route 29 and headed north. "Desperate and dependent, that's what you are." I merged into the early afternoon traffic. "You weren't this way last week. What's wrong with you, getting all upset over another stupid man? He told you he wasn't looking for a relationship." But that was it. He wasn't looking to get hooked up and here I was seeing that as a challenge.

It was the raw hurt in his eyes. It was the way he smiled when he took me into his arms, the way he held me as I fell asleep. It was all too much. I hadn't ever felt like that. It only made sense I magnified it into meaning more to him than it really did.

"Can't make a souffle' out of turnips and hog jowls," I said, quoting Mama. The car chirped in agreement, and then chirped again.

I looked at the console. What was that noise? It was insistenfand regular, and quite loud. I listened and heard it again, coming from Bonnie's tape holder. Bonnie, ever technologically aware, had a cell phone, the better to keep tabs on her six kids and the errant, estranged Rodney.

I picked it up out of a tape slot and opened the receiver. "Hello?" I said cautiously.

Bonnie's voice crackled to life inside the van. "Sugar, how're you doing?"

"How'm I doing? You just saw me ten minutes ago. What do you mean, how am I doing? What's wrong? Is somebody there with you?"

A cautious "Yes."

"Is it Carlucci?" If he was there threatening her…

"Nope, babe, can't say it is."

"Male?"

"Oh Lord, yes!"

Damn him! "Weathers?"

"Well bless my soul," Bonnie exclaimed.

"Does he know you're talking to me?"

"Well, sweetie, I just called to see if you were on your way home from school."

"I see. Put him on."

"I was hoping it might go that way," she said, and sighed. "It's always worth a good listen, especially if you've got a past history."

I was pulling off of 29 and onto the exit to the King ranch. What did it matter if I talked to him? He didn't know where I was.

"Bonnie, he's an idiot, just like they all are. When you look at him, I want you to think Rodney."

Bonnie laughed. "Nah, I ain't never seen this one flash his butt in the back of a pickup. Somehow I don't think it's the same."

She handed the phone to Weathers. I heard her speak to him first. "I had to see did she want to talk to you, but being as how you think it's urgent, I guess she will."

His deep voice rumbled in my ear. "Maggie, where are you?"

"Weathers, state your business or move on."

"I need to see you." Beg me, I thought.

I pulled off to the side of the road, across from the King farm, and sat staring at the bass pond.

"I don't see that we have anything to say. I think we've covered it all."

"Sheila called me after you left." And with that one statement, my heart froze and he had my complete attention.

"What did she want?" I kept my tone casual, as if it didn't shock me that she'd call him.

"She knew we'd arrested Vernell. She was upset."

"Well, do you blame her?"

My face flamed up and I could feel my neck flush. Could he have no feeling for what she had to be going through? Did he not know she'd be devastated?

"She said she's coming to talk to me. I just thought you might want to know, maybe even be here with her."

"What? What do you mean, she's coming to see you? She can't come see you!"

Marshall chuckled. "Maggie, since when does anybody stop Sheila from doing anything she wants to do?"

"Do you not get it?" I screamed. "Nosmo King's money is missing. It's Redneck Mafia money, Marshall. They want it back. Don't you see that as a danger to Sheila?"

"Maggie, calm down. She couldn't be safer once she's here. She's probably driving over from school or your house. I'll send a couple of cars out to watch out for her. She'll be fine."

"No, Marshall, she won't be fine. She's with my sister in Virginia. How's she going to get to you? I had her safe. You shouldn't have let her come."

"Maggie, I didn't know. I just wanted to help her out, and that's what I intend to do."

The trees surrounding the back side of the bass pond began to sway gently with a breeze that gusted up. Clouds skittered across the sky, gray and white, signaling an approaching front. What had been a beautiful fall day was beginning to turn into something far more ominous.

"Someone killed Carlucci's dog last night. I was there. I think they were trying to get to me. You can't tell me Sheila's safe. Now I've gotta go. I'm gonna call my sister and tell her to hang on to Sheila."

I hung up on him, dialing Darlene's number as fast as I could.

"Hey." Darlene's husband, Earl, never fooled with social niceties.

"Earl, where's Sheila?"

Earl paused for a second and I nearly went through the tiny phone after him.

"Well," he said slowly, "I reckon she's still at the drugstore, but it has been awhile. Said she was going after some feminine products. Guess that takes some time to figure on what you want and all."

"Earl! Did she go with Darlene?"

I was beating my hand on the steering wheel, trying to keep from screaming and making matters way worse.

"Nah, Darlene's down to the studio. Sheila didn't go with her on account of she didn't feel good and she needed to go to town. She borrowed my pickup."

"Earl, listen to me. I think Sheila's run off."

"Not without her puppy," he said. "Sheila don't go nowhere without that thing. And he's right out here in his…" I heard the trailer door swing open and Earl step out onto the stoop. "Aw shoot! Dadgummit!"

"The dog's gone, isn't he, Earl?"

"Uh-huh."

"All right, listen here, I'm going to call you every hour. Don't you leave that phone. You hear me, Earl?"

Earl sounded miserable. "I'm sorry, honey," he said.

I couldn't help him out. Instead I hung up, jammed the phone in my pocket and sat in the van, thinking. If I was calm enough about it, I could realize that Sheila was in an unfamiliar pickup, headed directly to the Greensboro Police Department and Detective Marshall Weathers. That in itself should keep her safe. I had to focus on removing the source of our danger. I had to find the money.

I put the van in gear, crossed the two-lane, and started up Nosmo King's driveway. As I pulled to a stop, Bess King emerged from the door of the barn, a red bandanna tied around her head, kerchief style, wearing faded jeans and an oversized denim shirt. She was wearing white tap shoes.

As I drew closer, I realized she was sweating, red-faced from the exertion of dancing.

"I tried to call you again a little while ago," she said.

I just stared at her. How could she be dancing with Nosmo dead and Vernell in jail charged with his murder?

"I can't go home," I said. "Someone thinks I might know where Nosmo's missing money is." And I began to wonder if Bess King might be that someone.

Bess wiped her brow with the tail of her shirt, and held the barn door open. "Come on in," she said. "Let's talk." She saw me staring at her and put it together. "I dance because it's the only thing that keeps me going. If I couldn't dance, I'd go crazy with it all." She walked across the room, grabbed a plastic cup left over from Nosmo's funeral, and ran tap water into it. She stood with her back to me, drinking, until the cup was drained dry. When she turned and walked back toward me, she was all business.

"Tony said you went to see Vernell this morning," she said, and for the first time her expression changed, a spasm of pain moving quickly across her features. "I'm going tonight, when they have visiting hours."

She led me over to a round table and sank down in a chair. I sat across from her and put my hands out on the table, palms down.

"I'm just going to lay this straight out," I said. "I'm not much for dancing around a subject when the best way in the house is through the front door." Bess nodded, watching me.

"I won't ask if you killed your husband. I don't reckon you'd tell me if you did, because if you're the killing kind, then you're the lying kind, the kind to let Vernell Spivey take the fall over something he didn't do. So I won't ask you about that. Same way I won't ask you about the money."

Bess's face got redder and her eyes sparkled with anger, but I didn't give a rat's tail about what she was feeling.

"Vernell didn't kill your husband. I'm going to prove that one way or the other. What I need to know from you is how long you've been seeing Vernell and what you know about Nosmo's girlfriend."

Bess blinked, pulled the kerchief off her head and ran her fingers through her curls.

"Just for the record," she said, her voice taut and angry, "I love Vernell Spivey and we intend to spend the rest of our lives together. And if you think I'm just sitting back twiddling my thumbs while Vernell goes to jail, I'm not. Tony Carlucci is working for me, and if he wasn't so busy covering your tail, he might be a lot closer to finding Nosmo's killer."

Well, if she wasn't a little fireball. I raised one eyebrow and cocked my head to the left.

"You haven't answered my questions."

Bess King never looked away, and I had to give her grudging credit for that. "I started seeing Vernell two months ago. He was here talking to Nosmo and I invited him to stay for dinner."

Bess's eyes grew damp and she stared off beyond me. "He was such a kind man," she whispered. "I couldn't see why he was talking to Nosmo, but that was before I knew about Nosmo and the men he worked for."

"What about his girlfriend?"

Bess focused back on me. "Pauline Conrad?" Bess snorted. "She was nothing but a cheap plaything to Nosmo. He likes them young and pretty and stupid. So Pauline was just perfect. He'd had her for about two years, kept her in a little condo on Elm Street. Two years is usually his limit. That's about when they get difficult and he gets rid of them."

She must've seen the look on my face because she jumped in with an explanation. "No, not like that… He doesn't get rid of them like that. He buys them out and cuts them off." She frowned. "You look surprised, like why would I stick around if I knew all that? Well, I'll tell you why. Nosmo wouldn't let me leave. He said he'd find me and kill me if I ever tried to walk away."

Bess tapped the table with the tips of her long acrylic nails.

"And baby, Nosmo King was one to make good on a threat."

She lifted a curl away from the side of her forehead, exposing an ugly pink scar. "You see that?" she asked. "That's what happened the only time I ever asked him for a divorce. He hit me with the butt end of his pistol and I wound up with thirty-two stitches." The curls fell back in place. "And yes," she said caustically, "he said the only way I'd leave was over his dead body."

"Where were you last Friday?" I asked.

Bess King laughed. "At the Twilight Motel, waiting on Vernell. He never showed."

And that's when I caught her. Bess King was lying.

"Bess, I've got a witness says they saw you go into the Twilight Motel with Vernell."

Her face changed, for a second there was a flicker of uncertainty, and then nothing. "I mean later. I went in with Vernell early, but then he left, said he had something to take care of and for me to wait."

I sat back in my chair and just stared at her for a long moment. I tried to rock my chair back on two legs like Weathers does, but I couldn't do it and look tough. I wanted to look hard, and like I'd made her for a liar.

"Bess," I said, "a cop taught me that when a person lies, their eyes cut up and to the left." Actually, I couldn't remember which direction it was, but I figured I had a fifty-fifty shot at being right anyhow. "You are telling me a whopper."

"I am not!" she cried.

I just looked at her, like Mama would if I'd been fibbing to her.

"Then make me believe you," I said.

I watched her wrestle with it, tossing and turning her options over and over in her head. While she stewed, I looked around the barn again. Every bit of the reception had been cleared away. Even the trashcans stood empty.

At last Bess made a decision, raising her head and placing her hands on the table in front of her, folding them together like a child in church. I figured she wanted me to believe her.

"Vernell was the one who told me about Nosmo," she said, her voice hushed and soft, so soft I had to lean in to hear her. "I'm so stupid, I actually thought the gas station was his only business. Then I found out he was a banker for the Redneck Mafia." Her face twisted with contempt. "That's how come he had so many friends. I couldn't see why anyone would like him at all, but Vernell set me straight. They don't like him, they need him."

I said nothing, just sat there watching her twist her hands together, over and over, as if washing them clean.

"Vernell needed money. He thought Nosmo was his only option. He was in big-time trouble." She looked up at me and frowned. "He said he didn't want to tell you about it. He figured he'd messed things up enough."

So he told her. Well, it figured. I was more of a mother to Vernell than a confidante. And that was how it had to be.

"We didn't mean to fall in love," she said. "What woman in her right mind does?" A quick smile flashed across her face, then vanished. "But he was so kind, and he just listened and listened. I guess it just sort of happened. Next thing you knew, I was no better than Nosmo, sneaking off to motels and hiding lingerie."

She rubbed her hands across the surface of the table, back and forth as if soothing herself.

"I didn't know he was going to ask Nosmo to give me a divorce. All I knew was that Vernell was going to meet Nosmo and tell him he didn't need the money after all. He said the price was too high. Nosmo would want Vernell in his pocket. Vernell don't do that. But Nosmo was expecting to give him three million dollars."

Three million dollars? Vernell Spivey and three million dollars? The idea blew me away. Maybe the mobile home lot and the satellite dish business together were worth a million, but not three. How would Vernell have paid it back?

Bess looked up at me. "It would've worked out fine," she said, "but then Nosmo got himself killed and now we're all in a mess."

Bonnie's cell phone rang, startling both of us. I fished into the pocket of my jacket, drew out the phone, and flipped open the lid.

"Just thought I'd let you know she's here," Weathers said.

"Good." The relief was clear in my voice and Weathers picked up on it.

"It's all right," he murmured. "I'm not going to let a thing happen to her."

"Well, I would appreciate it if you would not start in with her until I get there." I looked at my watch. "Give me fifteen minutes."

I didn't wait for an answer; instead I flipped the phone closed and hung up on him. For the briefest second I wondered if Tracy the cadet was giving my daughter hot chocolate and making nice.

Bess looked at the phone. "Guess you need to go, huh?"

I stood up, pushed the phone back into my jacket pocket, and scowled at her. "Maybe this is something you and Vernell need to discuss tonight when you go to see him. When three million dollars is missing, people get angry. Nosmo's boss is looking to get his money back. Since he can't get to Vernell to convince him, he's threatening his family. If Nosmo didn't know about you, then his boss probably didn't know about you. That leaves me and Sheila on the front line. Vernell is jeopardizing his daughter's life in an attempt to make money."

"That's not fair!" Bess said. "It's not like that at all. He's trying to give Sheila a future. We don't know where Nosmo's money is. Hell, for two days I didn't even know where Vernell was!"

I seized on that. "Where was he for two days?"

Bess shook her head. "He can't remember. He started drinking with Nosmo. He'd been sober for a month, but the strain of facing Nosmo down was too much, I reckon. He tied one on good."

Bess had the earnest face of a do-gooder, an I-know-he'll-change-with-enough-love face. I'd been the same way with Vernell when I was twenty, but years of him letting me down had hardened me to reality. I didn't think Vernell would ever change, not enough. This latest foolishness seemed to prove it.

I left Bess sitting at the table and walked back out to Bonnie's van. I was no better off for talking to Bess than I had been before, except that I knew who Nosmo's girlfriend was and I had an idea about where to find her. But why wasn't Marshall Weathers interested in Bess as a suspect? And why wasn't the Redneck Mafia going to her for answers? And where had Vernell been for two days? What if he'd taken the money in an alcohol-induced blackout, and then lost it? What if he'd killed Nosmo and couldn't remember?

I started up the van and began to move down the driveway. I couldn't think about it all anymore. I had one thing on my mind: getting to Sheila and making sure she was safe. I had to make Weathers believe that we were in danger, and I had to figure out how to protect my daughter. I reached for the radio, hit the button, and was immediately rewarded with Patty Loveless.

"I just hate country music."

I screamed and swerved, almost throwing the van into the path of a car out on the two-lane. Carlucci was right behind me, his voice in my ear.

"Why did you ran off, Maggie?"

"Listen," I said, my eyes on the road as I pulled out onto the two-lane. "You are not my father. I can take care of myself. And frankly, I can get to the bottom of things easier if I don't have some overgrown biker following me around!"

"Now, that's just stupid," he said. "What you could do is get yourself killed a whole lot easier. I was trying to help you out, and you're fighting me at every turn. What is that?"

I accelerated and turned off onto Route 29, headed for downtown Greensboro and the police department.

"Carlucci, I'm sure you mean well, but face it, your job was to find Vernell and you've done that, so why are you still hanging around?"

He was silent for a moment.

"There is the matter of the missing money," he said. "And then, there's you and Sheila."

"What?" I jerked around to look at him, almost ran off the road, and had to pull hard to avoid going into a ditch.

"Watch the road, Maggie!"

"If you'd come up here where I can see you, and not slink back there in the shadows, I might not be running off the road. And furthermore," I added as he moved up beside me, "what are you doing hiding in my vehicle anyway?"

"It wasn't hard to figure where you'd go," he said. "Nothing about you is hard. In fact, I have come to the conclusion that you are probably too stupid to take care of yourself." He was just warming up. "Obviously, being attacked in your own home hasn't scared you off, so I doubt anything else will either. But you're gonna die if I don't watch out for you."

"Why don't you look for the money your way, and I'll look mine?"

Carlucci turned in his seat. "Maggie, I'm going out on a limb here, and if I'm wrong, well, I'll apologize later, but I'm saying it anyway. I think you're putting yourself in danger to avoid looking at what's really going on."

"What?"

Carlucci shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I think. We both know you can't find that missing money any better than me or the cops or Nosmo's people. You could be somewhere safe, taking care of your little girl, but no, you're out here, and any smart person's gotta wonder why."

I was almost on Eugene Street, a short hop to the police department. Five minutes from now I'd be sitting with my daughter, listening to Weathers try and worm his way out of having arrested Vernell Spivey.

"And I suppose you're so smart you've got it all figured," I said.

"Maybe not that smart, but I've got ideas. Look at what just happened here," he said. "I tell you that one of my reasons for being around is to look after you and Sheila, and what do you do? You start in on me. You change the subject. You're scared of me, Maggie. I frighten you 'cause there's nothing holding me back. I am completely available, and I like you, and you know it. So go on, Maggie, run away. Just don't get your kid killed over it, okay?"

I stopped the van, pulling it over against the curb into a tow-away zone. I couldn't think. I couldn't hear for the roar of blood that thundered in my ears. I wanted to kill him.

"That is so totally unfair!" I yelled.

Carlucci just looked at me.

"I would not jeopardize my daughter's life! That is not true! I can't believe you'd even say something like that!"

I wanted to tear him apart. I wanted to scream and scream and scream until he went away or said he was wrong and I was right, but he just sat there, waiting.

"Vernell needs me," I said. "No one believes he's innocent."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Bess King does. He doesn't need you. You need him. You need to be needed. You wouldn't know what to do if someone wanted you just for you and not for what you can do for them."

"Shut up!"

"Marshall Weathers," he said, "another prime example. I didn't have to spend thirty minutes with the man to see what a piece of work he is. You can still see the pale spot on his ring finger, Maggie. He's just another wounded bird."

I lashed out at him then, swinging my hand up to hit his face, stopped by his hand grabbing my arm.

"Let me go!" I jerked my arm back, but he wouldn't release me. He pulled me closer, leaning across until I felt myself backing away.

"See," he whispered, "you're afraid of me."

"No I'm not," I said, my voice even through clenched teeth. But my heart was racing, and the van was suddenly too close and confining.

Carlucci reached over and hit the button that held my seatbelt in place. He moved, grabbed my legs, and turned me to face him.

I froze, knowing what was coming, remembering the last time he'd kissed me and called me scared. I was not going to back away. I'd show him it didn't matter. And when he reached out to cup my chin, I went to him. His kiss was gentle, but mine was not. I pushed. I kissed him hard, ignoring his attempt to be tender, until he at last responded as I had, giving in to some force that ran between us like a current.

"There," I said, pushing away and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "Still think I'm so frightened?" I looked at him and hated him.

I saw the hurt flare up then pass away and the inky blackness return to his eyes. "You are really terrified," he said. "Whoever hurt you cut deep, didn't he?"

I reached for my seatbelt and snapped it back in place. "If I need a therapist, I'll pay one," I said, and pulled back out into traffic.