At first they spoke in hushed tones, their quiet bantering unintelligible while they rattled the pots and pans upstairs and cooked breakfast. But when they finished and moved to the living room, I could make out their conversation. Even though I didn’t enjoy the subject matter of their dialogue, the fact that they loved me enough to still be here made the crushing pain in my heart lessen a fraction.
CHAPTER NINETEEN - WEDNESDAY MORNING
“Ms. Corpian, this is Regina Pearson. I’m calling about Melody Dickinson and your scheduled interview today. She won’t be able to make it and asked me to contact you to set another time. Yes, that would be great. Thank you so much for understanding. No, I’m not sure when that will be yet. The arrangements are still pending. I will have her call you to reschedule the interview when she is ready to talk. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other calls to make. Yes, thank you too Ms. Corpian, I will pass along your condolences. Goodbye.”
“From what I heard on this end, sounds like that news lady still wants to interview Mel. Am I right?”
“Wow Kendal, that woman can gab! Yes, I believe so. At least she seemed to understand. I mean, how could she not after all that’s happened? Oh, I still can’t believe all this. It’s breaking my heart to watch Melody suffer so much. I’m really worried about her—and so is Roger. He was so kind on the phone last night when I called him. I thanked the Lord after I hung up. At least he is a lawyer with a heart. If she were still working at her old teaching job, she’d have been fired by now. I can’t help but wonder when God is going to give her a break and throw some happiness her way?”
“I’m worried too, Regina,” Kendal admitted. “When I picked her up last night and carried her to the truck, it was like picking up a body pillow. She’s light as a feather. She needs to eat. How much weight you reckon she’s lost?”
“I’m afraid to think about that. Too much, that’s for sure. She’s a ghost of her former self. At least breakfast is ready. I’m going to go wake her up. Getting food in her belly is more important than sleeping at this point.”
“Oh, Regina, give her a while longer. At least while she’s asleep, her mind has a chance to rest. Maybe just an hour more?”
“Half, Kendal. Then I’m going to wake her up and force feed her biscuits and gravy. If she won’t eat them, I’ll threaten to put an I.V. in and feed her through a tube. I can still remember how to start one.”
“That pile of food smells too good not to eat. You are such a wonderful cook! Dontcha worry none. She’ll eat. Maybe not a plateful, but some. Now, you said to that reporter gal that you had more calls to make. Anythin’ I can help with?”
“Actually, yes. If you don’t mind, please call Brunie Funeral Home in Benton and let them know about Ms. Lucinda’s passing and what hospital she’s at and that her final resting place will be next to Mr. Jerome at Ten Mile Cemetery. If they ask when the service should be, just tell them that someone will get back in touch with them about that. Here’s the number.”
“You think they’ll take instructions from me, Regina? I’m not family.”
“Kendal. Honey. This is Benton we’re talking about. Not Little Rock. News travels faster than a bolt of lightning down there in that tiny berg. Everyone in that town knows Mel’s family and probably already knows of Ms. Lucinda’s passing. I’m sure they are wondering why no one has called yet. They won’t bat an eye. Promise. If they do, you just tell them you are Mel’s cousin.”
“If you say so.”
“Now, that’s how I like to hear a man respond to my instructions! Kendal, you are one in a million. A great friend to all of us, even with everything that’s happened.”
“She…oh boy, she told you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did. She was really worried that after she told you and your less than thrilled response, the friendship was destroyed. She couldn’t hold it all inside anymore—and it seems you couldn’t hold your secret any longer, either. She needed to release her pain and ease yours at the same time.”
“Yeah, I was shocked. Still am, sort of. Here we both carried this big secret around inside us for so many years and we both felt so much guilt. And, we both assumed our sins are what caused Jack to die. I pulled the guy card and left. Not because I was upset with her but because…well, I couldn’t face her anymore. She started cryin’, sayin’ everythin’ was her fault, but it’s not. It all falls back on my shoulders. And they just don’t seem big enough to carry all this.”
“Kendal, what has happened isn’t your fault. Or Melody’s. You both need to stop this crazy line of thinking. It’s not healthy and it isn’t helping anything. Mistakes of the past will not tarnish the happiness of the future. I simply will not let them. You are a good person, Kendal. A kind heart and a warm spirit. So was Jack. So is Melody. Heck, so am I, for that matter. We can discuss the ramifications of past misdeeds sometime way off in the future. But right now, we must concentrate our efforts on helping our friend get through this pile of mud she’s walking through. So, put on your waders and join me in the muck, son.”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. What else can I do to help?”
“Stop yappin’ and get on that phone and call the funeral home. I need to call the Detective and let him know what’s going on and tell him not to stop by today. Oh crap! Look at the time! I should have called him sooner! He’ll be here any—”
The sound of the doorbell and Simba’s barking from the back yard forced my swollen eyelids open. I heard Regina tromp down the stairs and open the front door, then realized she was talking to Detective Knowles. I debated only a split second as to whether I would remain in the warm folds of the couch and continue to hide my pain under the comforter that still faintly smelled like Jack, or get up and go talk to the Detective.
Please, God. You know my heart’s desire. I pray that his eyes have been opened to the truth. As heartbroken as I am, You haven’t let me come this far and experience all this for nothing. Is the lesson I am to learn from all of this to stay faithful through the triumphs and the trials? Is it to not succumb to the pull to seek revenge on the person who started all this by killing Serena, then Jack, and now—by osmosis—Mom? Somehow, I feel that it is. No, I know it is. And I praise You, Lord. For the sun and the rain. But please, Lord. Let him be bringing some sunshine. I’m drowning from all the water and terrified of the coming hurricane of fury.
“I’ll have her call you later this afternoon, Detective.”
Something whispered inside me to get up and talk to him, and I listened. “Regina—it’s okay. I’m awake. If Detective Knowles can wait just a few minutes, I’ll meet you upstairs,” I called.
There was a brief silence, followed by the door closing and two sets of footsteps going up the stairs. I unwound myself from under the warm cotton cocoon, feeling every bit of my age, and headed to the small downstairs bathroom to freshen up. I washed away the last remnants of sleep from my face and mind, wondering if I would ever be able to sleep in my room again. I had tried last night, but couldn’t bring myself to climb beneath the sheets. I sensed that until I found justice for my Jack, I would remain unable to rest my head in the same spot.
Drying my face, I made a mental note to tell the Detective about the Justice for Jack site before he left. If he had come here for any other reason than to throw his support in our direction, I would point him to the site and tell him to investigate the jailer and Jack’s old nemesis, Guy. My gut wound tight at the thought, and the acidic rumblings told me I was on target with that line of thinking.
Semi-presentable and with a fresh pair of contacts in place, I trudged up the stairs and into the bright living room. The sun blared through the windows, casting brilliant yellow rays off the shiny hardwood floors. From the sheen and the smell of lemon, it seemed Regina had spent some time cleaning, as she tended to do when she was upset. God love her.
“Good morning. Sorry to keep you waiting, Detective.” Three sets of eyes trained on me. I felt like a fish in a b
owl as I walked across the living room floor and toward the kitchen. “Give me just a moment to get some coffee.”
“Already poured you a fresh cup, sweetie,” Regina said, lifting the steaming mug toward me. “Black as coal, of course, along with an extra shot of espresso. How you drink that motor oil I’ll never know, but it’s guaranteed to start your engine.”
“My rock. Thank you.” I took a sip of the stout brew and forced myself not to look down to check if I was fully dressed. The way the three pairs of eyes watched me made me wonder if I had missed a button or something, but I guessed the reasons were much more dramatic than me being half-clothed. Once seated on the couch, I looked over at the detective, sort of expecting to see the same arrogance and irritation that he had exuded during our first, unsuccessful, meeting. I was shocked to see the opposite.
The hard edges around his eyes and lips were gone. The brusque demeanor and rigid posture had been replaced with an air of something else that I was having trouble placing. Sadness? Regret? Embarrassment? Awkwardness? No, it wasn’t any of those, because there was also an undercurrent of excitement—a faint sparkle in his brown eyes.
He cleared his throat before speaking. “Mrs. Dickinson, I…I can come back and speak to you another time if that’s more convenient. I didn’t…I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your mother’s passing until I arrived. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Judging by the look on his face, I sensed his words were sincere. “Thank you, Detective. I appreciate your offer, but the next few days aren’t going to be any better, so now is as good a time as any.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Please, Detective. If you have bad news to drop on me, may as well go ahead. The pile is already sky high, so one more wafer won’t hurt. And if what you have to say is good news, then Heaven knows we could all stand to hear it.”
Detective Knowles nodded and cut his glance over to Kendal and Regina. I sensed he didn’t wish to discuss what he had come to say in front of them. The coffee was working and it registered in my brain that he was wearing jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and no badge around his neck or on his hip.
No gun, either.
He’s off duty, which means whatever he has to say is mighty important if he decided to waste time on his day off here. Or he isn’t here in his official capacity at all.
Regina must have picked up on his vibe too because she rose gracefully from her chair and put her hand on Kendal’s shoulder. “Kendal, I believe you have a call to make and I have a huge mess in the kitchen to clean. Melody, I’ll make a plate for you and be right back. Detective, would you like some biscuits and gravy? I made plenty.”
A reluctant Kendal pulled his frame up from the end of the couch and followed Regina’s lead, shooting one last worried glance back at me. I nodded to reassure him.
Detective Knowles gave me a good once over, then replied to Regina, “My mouth’s been watering ever since you opened the front door and the smell of homemade gravy hit me. Thank you for the kind offer. Haven’t had time to eat since, oh, sometime early yesterday.”
I was about to protest and tell Regina to forgo bringing me a plate, but then I looked down at the coffee mug in my hands and saw my lap. My clothes were hanging off of me, my legs lost inside my jeans. The skin on my arms and fingers was drawn tight over protruding bones. It was like it was the first time I had looked at myself and witnessed what I had been doing to my body. I was slowly starving myself while I moped inside my grief. Once I recognized the fact that I looked like a walking skeleton, my appetite roared back. My stomach growled in agreement.
Regina was back in a flash with two plates covered in biscuits and gravy. She gave me a stern look as I reached for mine, her eyes ordering me to eat. She handed Detective Knowles the second plate with a big grin, then turned back to me to watch me take the first mouthful. A triumphant smile spread from ear to ear when I did.
“Now, you two eat and chat. Let me know when you want refills.”
“Thank you, Ms….Ms. Pearson, right?”
“How kind of you to remember my last name, Detective. Please, call me Regina. Enjoy.” Regina gave me a coy wink and floated out of the living room and out the back door, Kendal on her heels. The two things Regina loved more than anything in this world were cooking and the attention of a good looking man—and not always in that order.
A few more small bites down and a tad more energized, I asked, “So, you haven’t eaten since yesterday? Why is that, Detective?”
He swallowed his mouthful of biscuit as color rose in his cheeks. “I was a tad busy chasing leads, Mrs. Dickinson.”
“Did you catch any?”
He wiped a dribble of gravy from his chin, the stain on his cheeks darkening. “Actually, yes. That’s why I am here. Well, that and a few other things,” he said, lowering his voice. He glanced around to make sure that Regina and Kendal were out of earshot before he continued, “I have several things I’d like to discuss with you, again, if you feel up to it.”
“I do. Continue.”
“First, I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“Arresting your husband for a crime he didn’t commit is the first one.”
I was thankful I hadn’t put another bite of food in my mouth because I would have choked. My throat locked at his words and my heart pounded in my head. Did I hear him right or was that just what I wanted to hear? To ensure that I wasn’t still dreaming, I bit the inside of my lip. Sure enough, the pain, followed by the taste of rust, was there. The detective took my silence as a sign to continue.
“The second is that I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention to the evidence and caved under pressure from my superiors to close the case fast. And three, for letting my pride get in the way the day you tried to show all of us the reasons why you felt your husband didn’t kill Ms. Rowland. Because, well, because now I believe it, too. And lastly, certain things have come to light in the last forty-eight hours that have led me to believe that your husband’s death wasn’t an accident. I believe, wholeheartedly, that it was planned. In other words, he was murdered.”
No tears, Melody. Stay strong. Don’t let your emotions run free. Find out whether he is really telling you the truth. Use Roger’s techniques—ask questions that require more than a yes or no response. Listen. Think rationally and not emotionally.
I set my coffee mug and plate down on the end table beside me before my shaking hands dropped them or gave away the fact that I was a jumbled mess on the inside. With every ounce of composure I could muster, I leveled my gaze at the detective, unwilling to show my true thoughts. “Tell me, Detective, what made you change your mind?”
“The look on your face gives away your real feelings, Mrs. Dickinson. I see the doubt there—the disbelief in regards to my sincerity. I understand completely and don’t blame you one bit. If the tables were turned, I am certain I would be thinking the same thing. No, wait, that’s not true. I wouldn’t be thinking the same thing because I wouldn’t be kind enough to even allow you inside my home, much less hear what you had to say. That is one reason why I am here today on my own time, not the department’s, because, well, this is personal for me now.”
“What you really mean is that the department isn’t willing to reopen this investigation, are they?” A twitch of his jaw and the flash of anger in his eyes told me I hit the mark. “I see. So, is this your scheduled day off or a forced one?”
“I’m officially on vacation.”
“Hmmm, an unplanned one would be my guess. Unpaid?”
“No, paid. But only because I didn’t protest when informed the case will remain closed.”
“Informed by?”
“My captain. He was, um, rather adamant the Rowland case was over.”
“Did you tell him about all the new evidence?”
“I tried. He wouldn’t listen. That’s when my vacation began.”
I mulled this latest piec
e of news around. He wasn’t saying much but didn’t need to expound; I could read between the lines. The police department didn’t want to risk the chance of exposing their mistakes to the public by investigating and discovering that the man they arrested had been wrongfully accused. “You said one reason. What are the others? You still haven’t told me what made you change your stance.”
“There are some things I simply can’t share with you just yet, ma’am. At least not until they are fully investigated. I can, however, hit the highlights. I made a huge mistake once and I don’t plan on doing that again. And, it may take a while to unsort this mess since I am working this case without the consent or knowledge of the department. But I came here today to make a promise to you, face to face. Didn’t seem right to say it over the phone—you needed to hear it in real time, not over the airwaves.”
“Alright—I’m listening.”
“I won’t rest until I figure out exactly who killed Serena Rowland, framed your husband for her murder and then silenced him in jail. Because I have no doubt now that is exactly what happened.”
Thank you, Jesus. He has seen the light!
Instead of feeling the urge to cry, I felt like jumping up and running in circles round the living room. Kind of like what Simba did during her morning food ritual, minus the wagging tail. If my mind kept shifting from one emotion to the other like this, my brain cells would burst and leak out of my ears and nose. Grief, then joy. Anger, then giddiness. I wondered for a moment if this is what insanity felt like.
I had been waiting for this moment—this spark of hope to clear Jack’s name. The small flame had been snuffed out that day in the conference room and then stomped into the ground when Mom passed away. I had too many things to think about and no mental control to focus on one particular thing at a time.
An odd memory from my childhood took center stage in my thoughts. I had been in third grade, the lanky tall girl in my elementary school and the only kid left standing in a vicious game of dodge ball. Surrounded by kids who had seemed to be my friends, all screaming and yelling, “Peg her! Peg her!” as everyone threw the hard rubber balls full speed at me from all directions. There had been too much visual stimulation coming at me, too much to try and focus on, so in the end, I just covered my head with my arms and sank to the ground.
Empty Shell Page 27
