Tangled Roots

by Marcia Talley

  ‘If there’s anything Tamara and I can do …’

  ‘Please let us know,’ his wife concluded.

  I was sandwiched between a pair of talking bookends.

  Ruth, the coward, took the opportunity to make her escape, heading for the food tables.

  ‘The Women’s Bible study group has organized a meal train,’ Brother Bob began.

  ‘With all you have on your mind …’ Tamara continued.

  ‘We don’t want you to have to worry about shopping or cooking for a while,’ Brother Bob said.

  ‘They started the food deliveries two days ago.’ Georgina smiled ruefully. ‘Or maybe three. And they left such a helpful calendar saying who is bringing what on each day. My children and I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘God never gives us more than we can handle, Georgina.’ Brother Bob continued to pump Georgina’s hand.

  ‘You call us if you need any little thing,’ his wife said.

  Brother Bob leaned in, speaking close to Georgina’s ear but loud enough for me to hear, ‘What a blessing it is that Scott knew Jesus.’

  After the pastor and his wife drifted away, I caught Georgina wiping her hand on her skirt.

  Ruth waited until the coast was clear before returning with a plate of food and a glass of pink lemonade. She set them down on the table and urged Georgina to tuck in. With Georgina in her capable hands, I went off to forage something for myself.

  I ran into Julie and her brother Sean at the dessert table. ‘I’m not really hungry, but if I’m stuffing myself with lemon bars I won’t have to talk to anybody about Daddy,’ Julie said, taking a bite.

  I added a brownie and a cheesecake square to the chicken salad, green beans and cornbread on my plate. ‘You look beautiful, Julie,’ I said.

  Julie shrugged. ‘This dress? It’s from my Goth period. Mom loaned me the pearls.’

  ‘You ought to eat something other than sweets, Jules,’ Sean scolded.

  ‘You should talk,’ she said, pointing out the assortment of desserts piled on her brother’s plate.

  My niece and nephew followed me back to their mother’s table. In the few minutes we’d been gone, Daddy and Dennis Rutherford had also joined her.

  ‘You’re a cop,’ Sean said to Dennis as he took a seat. ‘Do you know what the police are doing to catch the sonofabitch who killed our dad?’

  ‘See that guy over there, in the gray suit?’ Still holding his lemonade glass, Dennis extended a finger and pointed. ‘Dick Evans. Baltimore City homicide. He’s leading the investigation. His partner’s over there, next to the salads. Name’s Pat Edwards. Wearing the black suit with the pink blouse.’ He glanced at me. ‘She kinda looks like you, Hannah.’

  I followed his finger, squinting hard at the female officer. ‘No, she doesn’t.’

  ‘Same height, weight, coloring, general build. Wears her hair the same way, too.’

  I scowled. ‘If I ever show up wearing a pussy bow like that, Dennis Rutherford, you will know that aliens have landed and taken over my body.’

  ‘Hah!’ He sipped his lemonade. ‘She does, though.’

  ‘Does what?’

  ‘Look like you.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ I said.

  ‘Do murderers often attend the funerals of their victims?’ I asked after a bit. ‘Like they do on TV?’

  ‘That seems dumb,’ Sean said. ‘I’d sure as hell stay away.’

  Dennis considered my nephew as if weighing his words. ‘But what if the murderer is expected to be there? His absence would be a giveaway.’

  ‘Do you mean …’ Sean began.

  ‘Murderers almost always know their victims,’ Dennis said. ‘That’s why they are here.’ By the tilt of his head, I knew he meant the Baltimore cops.

  Julie said, ‘Well, nobody’s going to stand up, cackle like a maniac and say, “Ha ha ha! Glad he’s dead! I did it!”’

  ‘No,’ Dennis said, glancing from Julie to Sean, ‘but sometimes we get lucky.’

  Dylan chose that moment to approach our table, head down, carrying a plate so heaped with food that he had to keep an eye on it. When he got close he looked up, frowned and veered away. Although two empty chairs remained at our table, he chose to sit down with some of the band members instead.

  ‘Was it something I said?’ Dennis asked of no one in particular. ‘Has my deodorant failed?’

  ‘What’s up with Dylan?’ I asked his twin.

  Sean swallowed and waved a chicken wing. ‘You’ll have to ask him.’

  ‘Where’s your ever-loving?’ Dennis asked me, suddenly shifting gears.

  I pointed out Paul and Hutch who had their heads together with Dante over the industrial-sized coffee urn. I suspected by the way his arms wheeled about that Dante was holding forth on Spa Paradiso’s latest acquisition: a hydrotherapy whirlpool.

  ‘I’ll just have a word,’ Dennis said, and walked over to join them.

  ‘Wait up,’ Sean called after him. ‘I need a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Don’t you want to join the boys?’ I asked my father.

  ‘Got some business to take care of first,’ he said, reaching into his pocket. He pressed a key attached to a US Navy fob into my hand.

  ‘What’s that?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘Hannah said she wanted to look for something in the storage locker.’

  My eyes slid to Julie and back. ‘I’m hoping Grandmother Smith left some letters, diaries or something that might help solve the mystery of who our grandfather was.’

  ‘That’s a long shot,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said. ‘With all that’s happened recently, the storage locker flew straight out of my head.’ I slipped the key into my purse. ‘Are you giving me carte blanche?’

  ‘Keep the key as long as you need to, sweetheart. I’m glad you’re going to sort through it, actually. After your mother died …’

  I squeezed his arm. ‘I know.’

  Suddenly he smiled; his blue eyes twinkled. ‘Besides, the rental is costing me a fortune. I’ll have to clean the unit out eventually.’

  A thought occurred to me. ‘Are you back now for good, Dad? I’m thinking you might want to come along.’

  My father shook his head. ‘No can do. I’ll trust you girls to take care of it.’ He patted my hand. ‘And now, I think I’ll join the boys for some coffee.’

  A few minutes after Daddy wandered off, Georgina said, ‘See that woman over near the water cooler, talking to Brother Bob?’

  I followed her gaze. ‘Talking’ didn’t describe what I was seeing. ‘Arguing’ was more like it. Brother Bob stood nose to nose with a forty-something, bottle-blond, Botoxed woman dressed in a form-fitting gray sheath. She had the well-tended veneer I usually associate with third wives of aging billionaires. Brother Bob’s face, on the other hand, had taken on a dangerously ruddy hue.

  ‘Who is she?’ I asked my sister.

  ‘Judee McDaniel. Joo-dee with two Es, if you please.’

  ‘Yes, but who is she?’ I tried again.

  ‘I know who she is,’ Julie said. ‘Director of the day care center.’

  ‘Julie helps out in day care a couple of times a week,’ her mother explained, favoring her daughter with an affectionate smile.

  I stared at my niece. ‘I didn’t know that!’

  Julie grinned. ‘I try to keep a low profile.’

  ‘What’s day care got to do with Scott?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, she’s a church member, too,’ Georgina said. ‘And I don’t like the way she manages … I mean, managed to sit next to Scott at Bible study. She always had the significance of the scripture reading down cold.’ In a phony Southern accent, dripping with syrup, Georgina quoted, ‘“I’ve always thought that the book of Deuteronomy is structured as a series of farewell talks by Moses to the Hebrews as they prepare to end their years in the wilderness and claim the Promised Land.”’ She puffed air out through her lips. ‘She probably looked it up on the Internet and practiced reciting in front of a
mirror.’

  Brother Bob ended whatever discussion he was having with Judee Two-Es by executing an abrupt about-face and stalking away.

  ‘I really didn’t think much of it at the time,’ Georgina said, her eyes still on Judee, ‘but Judee showed up a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Showed up?’ Julie squeaked. ‘You mean at our house?’

  Georgina nodded. ‘One morning before lunchtime. I almost didn’t recognize her. No make-up, and she was dressed in a fancy pink jogging outfit. Even her fricking shoes were pink. Said she’d stopped by to drop off an envelope for Scott from Brother Bob. Now I’m wondering …’

  ‘Do you think Scott was having an affair?’ Ruth cut in.

  ‘No …’ She paused. ‘But …’ She let the thought die.

  My brother-in-law was smart enough not to be trysting with a woman in his own house, not with his wife likely to pop in at any minute. For a fleeting moment, though, I allowed myself to wonder how soundproofed Scott’s third-floor office was.

  As if reading my mind, Georgina said, ‘If Scott had been having an affair, I would have known, Hannah. I would have known.’

  ‘That’s what Hillary Clinton thought, too,’ I said.

  Georgina suddenly ducked her head and muttered, sotto voce, ‘Oh, oh, look out. Here she comes.’

  Bearing down on us like a heat-seeking missile was Judee McDaniel. Target achieved, she leaned over the table and gushed, ‘Georgina, I’m so sorry for your loss.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Georgina said in a small, flat voice.

  ‘And you must be Georgina’s sisters,’ Judee said, glancing from me to Ruth and back to me again.

  ‘Guilty,’ I said. ‘I’m Hannah and this is Ruth.’

  ‘You girls look so different,’ she said. ‘If I hadn’t seen you sitting together …’

  ‘Oh, we’re sisters, all right,’ Georgina cut in dryly. ‘And we have the DNA to prove it.’

  Judee gaped like a fish, then plopped down in the empty chair between Julie and her mother. ‘I understand you’re taking a gap year, Julie. I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking a more active role in the day care center.’

  While Julie described her plans, which in no way included the Church of the Falls Day Care Center, I had a chance to compare Georgina and Judee side-by-side. If Scott had preferred this sharp-edged, superannuated Barbie over my sister, he must have had rocks for brains.

  Georgina abruptly stood, knocking the edge of the table with her knee, causing the drink cups to teeter. ‘I’m done,’ she announced. ‘Time to go.’

  ‘I’ll rally the troops,’ I said. ‘Ruth? Julie? You ready?’

  Both women looked relieved.

  Ten minutes later, as we stood on the sidewalk outside the church waiting for Hutch who was driving us home, Georgina said, ‘Now that Scott’s gone, I’m never going to set foot in this horrible place again.’ She linked arms with Sean on one side and Dylan on the other. Julie followed just behind, holding Colin’s hand. And the little family walked to the waiting limo.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Two days after Scott’s funeral, I drove up to Baltimore to check on Georgina. When she didn’t answer the doorbell, I walked around the back and let myself in through the mudroom door.

  Georgina sat at the kitchen island nursing a cup of coffee, leafing listlessly through a stack of sympathy cards. She glanced up when I came in, not seeming at all surprised. ‘Sorry, Hannah. Was that you ringing the bell just now?’

  I confessed that it was.

  With a fluid sweep of her hand, she fanned the cards out on the counter like a deck of cards. ‘I don’t have to answer these, do I?’

  ‘No, sweetheart, you don’t.’

  I hardly recognized Georgina’s kitchen. Empty food containers littered the countertops; dirty plates and bowls teetered precariously in the sink; empty two-liter soda bottles were piled next to the recycling bin rather than in it. It looked like the morning after a New Year’s Eve party when everybody slept in.

  I opened the dishwasher, preparing to be helpful, but it was already full. I groaned silently. I pulled out the top rack and started putting glasses and cups away, making room for the next load.

  ‘You don’t have to do that, Hannah.’

  ‘I know I don’t, but your kitchen is usually so spotless. All this mess must be driving you nuts.’

  ‘It’s funny, but I just don’t care.’ She waved a card with a bouquet of lilies on the front. ‘I hate lilies,’ she said as she slid the card back into the envelope it had come in.

  ‘With Scott not around to nag,’ she said after a moment, ‘I don’t feel a pressing need to alphabetize the spice rack. Yesterday I put the basil away next to the poultry seasoning. It was surprisingly liberating.’

  Georgina hopped off her stool and snatched the cereal bowl from my hand. ‘I mean it, Hannah. Leave the dishes for the kids.’

  ‘What’s been wrong with the children up till now, then?’ I asked, indicating the culinary detritus that surrounded us. ‘Both arms broken?’

  ‘School’s back in session now,’ she explained, ‘and Julie’s in and out interviewing. But they’ll get around to it.’

  ‘If you say so, but let me take the trash out, at least.’ I peeked into the cabinet under the sink where Georgina kept the trash can hidden and wrinkled my nose. ‘It’s getting pretty ripe.’

  Without waiting for permission, I tied up the reeking bag, lined the can with a fresh one and began to fill a third bag with empty take-out containers, tinfoil pans, soiled plastic wrap, paper cups and balled up napkins. When the bag was nearly full, I stamped the trash down with my foot and added another couple of tinfoil pans.

  ‘Do you recycle?’ I asked my sister, indicating the accumulation of plastic soda bottles.

  She picked up two bottles and handed them to me. ‘Not today I don’t.’

  I added the bottles to the bag, pulled the plastic drawstrings and tied a knot. The rest could wait for the kids. Carrying the bags, one in each hand, I left through the mudroom door, heading for the garbage can in the back alley. As I passed the shed where Scott’s body had lain for so long, I shuddered. No wonder nobody wanted to take out the trash. I scurried past the shed and escaped into the alley.

  Baltimore City provides its residents with large green municipal trash cans on wheels. Using an elbow, I flipped open the top and tossed the bags in, jostling them around a little to make them fit.

  Across the back alley, a Deepdene resident was doing the same thing. ‘That’s nice of you,’ the woman said. She was dressed in khaki pants and a freshly pressed white camp shirt.

  ‘I do what I can,’ I said.

  ‘Well, it’s totally above and beyond the call of duty, I’d say.’ She deposited her own, smaller bag into a trash can and let the lid fall with a hollow thud. She stared at me quietly for a while, as if waiting for me to say something, her gray eyes enormous behind thick lenses. ‘You’re here to collect the tape, I suppose.’

  ‘Tape?’ I repeated, thinking I’d misheard.

  ‘From the security camera,’ she explained.

  Now that she mentioned it, I spotted the eye of a camera installed in the eaves of her house, aimed in our direction. ‘Ah, yes,’ I said. ‘The tape.’

  ‘Gordon installed the system himself,’ she said, beaming with pride. ‘As I told your partner, something has been getting into our garbage can and we were determined to catch it in the act. I never dreamed …’ she began, then her face clouded. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

  Suddenly, the penny dropped. She looks like you, actually, Dennis had commented at Scott’s funeral. Georgina’s neighbor must be mistaking me for Pat Edwards, one of the homicide detectives working on Scott’s case.

  ‘It’s always better to hear from witnesses directly,’ I said, deftly sidestepping her question.

  ‘I was on my hands and knees weeding my roses when I heard loud voices, so I looked up to see what was going on. We keep to ourselves, Gordon and I, and I don�
��t like to stick my nose into other people’s business, but after Mr Cardinale was murdered …’ She paused, pressing a hand to her bosom. ‘I saw one of the twins arguing with his father.’

  My heart flopped in my chest and I struggled to keep my voice neutral. ‘When was this?’

  ‘On the very day the poor man died,’ she said, wagging a finger to emphasize her words. ‘I’m not sure of the exact time because I wasn’t wearing my watch, but I’d just finished giving Gordon his lunch. Gordon has pimento cheese on wholewheat toast and a bowl of tomato soup every day at twelve-fifteen, so it must have been around one o’clock.’

  I took a deep breath. My nephews had been one hundred and fifty miles away in Cape May, New Jersey on the day their father died. Or had they?

  ‘Which twin?’ I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘Sean or Dylan?’

  She flapped a hand. ‘I can’t tell them apart. But once you have the tape, I’m sure you can sort it out. Gordon transferred everything to a CD. Shall I get it for you?’

  ‘No, don’t do that, please,’ I said, dismissing a totally insane impulse to grab the tape and make it disappear into the murky depths of the Patapsco River. ‘An evidence technician will be around to collect it in due time. Chain of custody, you understand.’

  ‘Oh, right, of course.’

  ‘I was just …’ I waved vaguely in the direction of my sister’s house, then smiled. ‘Guess I better get on with it.’

  ‘I hope you catch whoever did this,’ she said. ‘Mr Cardinale was the nicest man. It’s hard to believe that one of his children …’ She shook her head.

  ‘The investigation is far from over,’ I said, hoping I was speaking the truth.

  ‘Well, until they put that murderer behind bars,’ she said, ‘I’m sleeping with my doors double locked!’

  ‘Always a good idea in the city,’ I advised her over my shoulder as I trudged back to the house. When I got to the patio, I turned. She was still looking at me.

  Back in the kitchen, Georgina had switched from coffee to wine. A bottle of Pinot Grigio, glistening with sweat, sat on the counter next to her elbow. Good. She was going to need it.

  ‘When do the twins get home?’ I asked.