by D L Lane
“Might as well tell her to send them to my daddy’s place—that’s where they’ll find ’em, but they won’t be breathin’.” His blue eyes shifted to the bundle in his arms. “I sent both those men to the fiery pits.”
Hearing what he said, but not taking the time to consider, I ordered, “Give her to me!”
Once he’d slipped his sister into my arms, I checked for a pulse—a tidal wave of relief as the thrum, thrum, thrum beneath my fingertips registered.
“We need to get her inside,” I said.
“I can’t stick around.” James Henry backed away.
“What?”
“I’ve done all I can, you take care of her now,” he said before he slipped back into the beat-up car.
No time to worry about him, I hurried for the house, trying not to jostle Mississippi on the way there.
Heart pounding, foot on the bottom step, Ms. Bauman came out, hand over her mouth. Ms. Bonny followed. “Is that, Mississippi?”
“Yes.” Scooting them aside, I strode into the foyer, giving orders as I went. “Ms. Bauman, we need the doctor.”
“I’ll call him right away.”
“Tell him it is a dire emergency. Then when he arrives, bring him up to my room, I’m putting Mississippi in there.”
Catherine came strolling out of the parlor, stopping in her tracks when her gaze fell to my bloody bundle. “Why are you bringing her into this house?”
“Can’t you see the condition she’s in?”
She crossed her thin arms.
I shook my head, irritation and repulsion warring for supremacy. “Do you even possess one single ounce of compassion, Catherine?”
“Son?” my mother asked once she entered. “What is happening?”
“I don’t have time to stand here talking. I’m sorry.”
Moving past the gathering crowd, I went upstairs and down the hall. Ms. Bonny was trailing behind me. “Get the door for me, please.”
Quickly, she did what I asked, allowing me to go in and place Mississippi on the bed, still not stirring though she’d been moved around.
Turning, I snapped, “Bring some hot water and towels, then get whatever medical supplies you can find!”
With a bow of her head and a “Yes, sir,” she was gone.
***
As much as I wanted to stay with Mississippi, it wouldn’t have been right, so I left Ms. Bauman, Ms. Bonny, and Doctor Rhymes with her. All had strict instructions, and one of them was to get me when the examination was over—the wait, almost more than I could bear.
After pacing so long I probably wore a hole in the carpet, I took a seat at my desk, dropping my head in my hands, wanting to do something, but powerless to do anything.
Sickness, anger, and helplessness twisted and turned until it became a tumult of emotions churning inside of me like a building storm.
“Aahhh!” I beat my fist on the desk. A book fell over with a thump and I swept it to the floor before raking my arm across the entire top, knocking everything off.
As the last clack sounded, Ms. Bauman came bursting in, panic all over her face. “Mr. King, come quickly, it’s Mississippi!”
I shot up from my chair, following after her, then passed her on the stairs, running into my bedroom, and froze.
There, standing in the far corner, Mississippi clutched part of the bedsheet in front of her, obscuring her nudity, the other hand pressing a blade to her throat—Doctor Rhymes palms up, saying, “Put the scalpel down,” in a too calm voice as tears streamed along her disfigured face.
“Don’t come any closer,” she said, voice scratchy, her neck circled in an ever-darkening set of bruises to match the finger marks on her upper arms. Cuts, welts, and more purple rings bloomed on both delicate wrists as well.
While they were distressing, I had to pull my mind away from her injuries and think quickly. Threatening to kill herself took precedence over anything else, even the sharp ache encasing my heart.
What would Mississippi best respond to, Mr. King or Thayer?
I went with Mr. King. “Ms. Singleton, put that knife down right now!”
Panic radiated from her, a feral expression on her battered face as the one functioning eye with busted capillaries looked at me. “Tell them to go!”
“Everyone, get out!” I commanded, inching a little closer and a little closer as the sounds of people leaving filled the room. “Put the knife down, and we’ll talk. All right?”
“No more,” she mumble/cried as the grip on the sheet dropped enough to reveal a collection of discoloration on her breastbone. “I ca-can’t take the pain, Thayer.”
Seeing only part of the damage those men inflicted on Mississippi was difficult, but I wouldn’t remove my gaze from her, even if the sight of her wounds haunted me for the rest of my life. “I know you’ve been through some horrible things, but—”
A fresh trickle of blood rolled down her collarbone, stopping my progress. “Yo-you don’t know.”
I held up my hand, palm out. “You’re right. I don’t.”
“You don’t know wha-what those men did to me.”
A fist punched through my ribcage, grabbed my lungs, and squeezed. “Mississippi,” I wheezed, doing something I’d never done before. God, I know I have my doubts about your existence, but I’m taking a chance I’ve got it wrong, and you really are up there. If you are, I know this is the first time you’re hearing from me, so I hope you are listening. Help her. Please. Don’t let Mississippi do this. Don’t let her do it.
“Whatever happened,” I said, never breaking my gaze from the one I was begging God to save, “you’ll get through this, I’ll help you.”
Face and chest covered in glistening tears mixing in with blood, she swayed. “You ca-can’t help me.”
“Please, let loose of the knife. Hurting yourself isn’t the answer.”
Her body began to shake. “My mama was ri-right.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, perplexed.
“It would have been bet-better.”
“What would have been better, Ms. Singleton?”
When she shook her head, more blood oozed from a new cut on her neck, sending me into a panic I attempted to hide.
“Just let me die, Thayer, let me die!”
“Never! I will never allow that to happen.” I slid forward, but not enough to grab the arm lifting the weapon that was dangerously close to slicing her artery open.
I need you now. Mississippi needs you. Punish me if you must, but do it some other way. Rescue her.
No more had I thought those words than something I couldn’t see nor explain swept through the room—that knife she was white-knuckling clatter-tapped to the floor—the broken young lady giving way and going down after.
Lunging, I kicked the steel aside, bent, and took a sobbing girl into my arms. “Shh... I’ve got you. I’ve got you now.”
I closed my eyes. How arrogant had I been to believe, for one single moment, there wasn’t a much higher power than me? God was real, and he heard my plea. He’d saved her. Mississippi was alive.
Chapter Twenty-Two
That evil, scheming woman
“Sir,” Ms. Bonny said, catching me on the way out of my bedroom—the room Mississippi occupied.
“Not right now,” I said, striding off.
Weary, in a way hard to express, I was only leaving to gather myself after Mississippi agreed to let the doctor assist her, finally dropping off to sleep with his pharmaceutical intervention.
“I need to speak with you, Mr. King. Please.”
Halting my progress, I turned to look at her. “Whatever it is, let Ms. Bauman know.”
She shook her head. Emphatic. “No, sir. What I have to say needs to be said directly to you. No one else.”
I watched her as she fidgeted.
Eyes wide, glancing side to side as if worried someone would jump out and grab her, she whispered, “Please, Mr. King. It’s important.”
A blind man could have seen her
distress.
“All right, Ms. Bonny, let’s go to my office, and we’ll talk.”
She did something she’d never done in the whole three years under my employ—she latched onto my wrist. “Not downstairs. My room.”
“I’m afraid not,” I snipped, “that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
When my gaze dropped to where she’d grabbed me, she let go.
“All right then.” With a glance over her shoulder, she said, “The lounge up here, but hurry.”
Geraldine Bonny, who wasn’t prone to such bizarre behavior, twirled on her heels, and down the hall she went at a brisk pace.
When I entered the room, the slender woman was wringing her hands, looking at the floor, her, “I’ve done something horrible,” slipping over me as I shut the door.
She lifted her head, and shiny silver bands were trailing down her cheeks. “I should have...”
“Ms. Bonny, take a moment to compose yourself—”
“This can’t wait. I’ve stayed quiet too long already, and Ms. Singleton paid an awful price for my silence.”
Stiffening at the mention of Mississippi, I attempted to maintain my composure. “This is about Ms. Singleton and wha—” I cleared my throat, then took a breath. “This is about what happened to her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me now!” My self-control snapped, and there was no reining it in.
Ms. Bonny’s sobs grew heavier, taking my flickering anger with them. She needed to, “Stop blubbering and speak!”
“I’m sa-sa-sorry.”
“That might be true, but it isn’t getting us anywhere, now is it?”
Sniffing, she swiped her wet face with her palms, nose red, cheekbones splotchy. “I was coming up to put some cle-clean laundry in my room wh-when I saw someone.”
“Someone?”
With a nod, she said, “Ms. Carrington. She was coming out of it.”
“When was this?”
“The day I fou-found her diamond necklace un-under Mississippi’s mattress.”
“Get to explaining,” I said, quaking with anger, having a reasonable suspicion where this conversation was going to go; after all, I hadn’t been convinced Mississippi did what she’d been accused of doing. No matter the evidence.
“When she saw me, she stomped over and grabbed my arm, giving it a shake.” Ms. Bonny started to gain some semblance of control. “I asked her what she was doing, and she all but snarled at me, saying she was going to be the lady of the house soon, so it was her duty to check on everything to make sure things around here were in tiptop shape.”
She met my gaze. “I didn’t believe her, and I told her so. I told her I knew she was up to something. That’s when she twisted my wrist, backing me up and telling me not to say a word about seeing her, no matter what, or else.”
Tugging her apron up to wipe her eyes, I held up a hand, pulled my handkerchief free, and handed it over. “Use this.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, taking the proffered cloth.
“Go on,” I nudged, “tell me the rest of it.”
“I laughed and asked her, ‘What do you think you’re going to do, treat me like you’ve been treating Mississippi from the moment you arrived at the estate?’”
My clenching jaw started to ache. “What has Catherine been doing to her?”
“What hasn’t she been doing? Every petty, mean-spirited thing you can think of, including trying to push her down the stairs.”
I balled my fists. “She pushed Ms. Singleton?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “Continue.”
“Ms. Carrington wrenched my wrist more, and I pushed her back. That’s when her real ugly side showed.”
“Showed how?”
“She slapped me, right across the face, and said giving Mississippi trouble was nothing.”
Working to keep my rage from showing, I asked, “Why didn’t you come to me straight away?”
Ms. Bonny’s hand rose to her right cheek as if covering a fresh blow there. “Because she said what she would do to me would be much, much worse than anything she’d been doing to Mississippi.”
It took all of my strength to stay there because I wanted to storm out of the lounge and find Catherine, but I stood my ground.
“I told her I wasn’t afraid of her,” she said, “and Ms. Carrington smiled, saying if I let one single syllable about her being upstairs slide from my lips, something bad would happen to my blind father. Her words were, ‘Poor feeble creature; he’ll never see it coming’.” She paused, a crease on her brow. “Are you all right, sir?”
I waved a hand. “Fine. Go on.”
“I called her bluff and told her she didn’t know my father, let alone where he was, but she rattled off his particulars, ‘Gerard Bonny, age seventy-two’ then the address of where he’s staying with my aunt in California, telling me she knew people. The unscrupulous type who’d be happy to do her another favor for the right price.”
Ms. Bonny started worrying her hands once more. “I don’t know what she meant by another favor, but by the information she had about my dad and the look on her face, she wasn’t bluffing. But when she finally let me go, and I went into my room, nothing appeared to be out of place. I’m not sure what I was expecting to see, but having everything the way I’d left it seemed to settle me some.”
Is it possible Catherine could have, in some way, orchestrated what happened to Mississippi once she left here?
I couldn’t imagine how, but the need to find out just what else Catherine was responsible for when it came to hurting Mississippi, and then tossing that evil, scheming woman out of my house, was the driving force behind unfreezing my movements.
Pausing, Ms. Bonny bit her bottom lip. “That is, until she came up with Ms. Bauman, and well, you know the rest. When I found that necklace, I knew what she had done, but I didn’t tell you, and then—”
“Mississippi left.”
Ms. Bonny started crying again, body-shaking sobs, hands to her face. “If she hadn’t gone... If, I ha-had said—”
“If we all had done things differently,” I interjected, the memory of a lifeless Mississippi cradled in her brother’s arms, and then that blade to her throat, striking me anew.
“It’s al-all, my fault!” Ms. Bonny collapsed onto the sofa, boohooing non-stop.
Part of me wanted to console her while the other part, intent on seeking retribution on Mississippi’s behalf, remained cutoff—cold to her anguish.
Ms. Bonny peeked up at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but what about my father?”
You’ll need to do something just in case Catherine was telling the truth about sending paid muscle to harm the man.
“Don’t worry,” I replied, “I’ll make sure he’s safe before I confront Ms. Carrington. No harm will come to him.”
“Thank you,” she said in a breath, sounding reassured and shattered at the same time.
I gave a quick nod.
“Shall I pack my things?”
‘Yes’ was on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitated. I had enough sense about me to realize I shouldn’t do anything hasty while the flames of fury overtook my spirit of compassion.
“No.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ms. Bonny broke down again as I made my way to the door, leaving an emotional mess of a woman behind.
***
October 14, 1936
I didn’t take my morning repast or the afternoon meal with my mother and Catherine, instead staying in my office, making multiple arrangements and many, many long-distance calls. Once satisfied Ms. Bonny’s elderly father and aunt would soon be safe, putting things in place to have them moved into the home I left behind in Glendale, I was ready to tackle the next problem on the list—my fiancée.
The ticking heartbeat of the grandfather clock released its chorus, chiming the hour of three when the tapping on my door started.
“Mr. King? I’m sorry to inte
rrupt you, but there are some gentlemen here to see you,” Ms. Bauman informed from the other side.
I took a deep breath and then rose from my seat. “I’ll be right there,” I called.
“They are here about Ms. Singleton.”
Striding over, I opened the door. “Mississippi?”
“I imagine since I turned away the officer who came last evening to speak with her, they have come in his stead.”
“The authorities,” I said, more to myself than to her. “Yes. I’ve been expecting their return.”
“I’ve put them in the parlor.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Did you make sure someone is with Ms. Singleton?”
“Yes, sir. Per your instructions, she will not be left alone. Ms. Bonny is sitting with her, but Mississippi is still asleep.”
“When I checked on her early this morning, she seemed peaceful.”
“She’s been silent, all but some mumbling in her sleep.”
“Has she awakened at all?”
“She’s roused some, but no.”
“All right.” I straightened my tie and stepped into the hallway. “Your presence in the parlor will be required.”
“I’m prepared, Mr. King.”
“Before we go, do you know where my mother and Ms. Carrington are?”
“Out, sir.”
“Shopping again?”
“I believe so.”
“Good.” I held out my arm. “Then, if you are ready.”
***
Two grim-faced men dressed in black overcoats and fedora hats stood side-by-side in front of the fireplace, shifting when Ms. Bauman and I walked into the Parlor. The tallest of the pair gave me a proffered hand when I approached.
“Good afternoon,” I said. “I’m Thayer Drayton King.”
“I’m detective Hamby,” he said, as we shook. “The gentleman to my left is Sergeant Broussard.”
I glanced at the sergeant in acknowledgment.
“I believe you met Officer LeBlanc last evening.”
“I’m afraid I was otherwise occupied when he arrived, but I did hear about his visit,” I said.
