“Well quit standin’ there with your mouth hangin’ open. You’ll drool all over that pretty white dress.”
Blake whistled. Casey and Julie both grinned from ear to ear. “Flora, you look absolutely stunning. Why if one didn’t know better they’d think you were . . .” Casey didn’t get to finish what she was going to say because Evie paraded into the kitchen, and all conversation came to a halt.
If Flora looked like a lady of the manor, then her mother looked like queen of the castle in a pale peach Chanel suit.
“. . . what, dear?” Evie asked Casey.
It took several minutes for Casey to realize her mother actually waited for her to answer. “We were just saying how Flora could pass for lady of the manor.” Casey suddenly felt shy around her mother.
Her mother shot a glance in Flora’s direction. “And we all know that will never happen, don’t we?”
“You never know,” Casey couldn’t help saying.
“Yes, dear, I do know. Now Flora”—Evie scanned the housekeeper from head to toe—“you might want to put on an apron. I’m not sure, but I don’t think Kmart accepts returns covered with food stains.”
“Mother!” Casey exclaimed at the way her mother treated her friend.
“Yes, Casey?” Evie asked sweetly.
“Casey, your hair looks a mess, go on upstairs and run a comb through it. Hurry, now, don’t keep your momma waiting,” Flora said, before following Evie to the dining room, leaving Casey to stare after the two of them.
“I can’t believe this! How can you two sit back and allow Flora to be belittled like that?” Casey plopped down in the chair, her cup still in her hand sending coffee spilling over the rim, a spot landing on the hem of her dress.
Julie hurried to the sink and came back with a damp cloth, trying to blot at the stain. “Quit it, Julie, for Pete’s sake. I don’t give a good shit if this dress is ruined or not. Blake?” He hadn’t uttered a single word. Casey had the distinct impression he would rather be anyplace but here in the kitchen at Swan House.
“She’s right, Julie. Who gives a good shit about that dress. Evie’ll just buy her another one.” He sounded angry. He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. Figures, Casey thought.
“I’m supposed to meet Adam this evening. Do you think you’ll be able to manage here without me for a few hours?”
Casey realized he was referring to her mother. Maybe he thought they wouldn’t get along. “I’ll be fine. You’re angry, and I don’t blame you. I apologize for my mother. I don’t know why she’s acting this way.”
“I do. She’s having one of her so-called spells. That’s what she’d like you to believe, or at least that will be her excuse later. Stress, the party, I’ve seen it before. Frankly, Casey, I think your mother delights in tormenting Flora.”
Casey knew she should defend her mother, but Blake was right. She’d treated Flora like dirt, and no matter what kind of “spell” she had, her behavior was inexcusable.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s not your fault, Casey. Enjoy the party. I hear the best things about these little get-togethers is the powder room gossip.” He pulled her close for a quick hug and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose.
“I wouldn’t know. Blake, will you . . . will you call me later?” She hated to ask, but she needed him. More than she thought possible.
“Better yet, I’ll come back tonight. We can take a midnight stroll through the gardens.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” She hoped Hank would make himself scarce. He was the last person she wanted to see.
“Later.” Blake gave her one last kiss. She could hear him shouting his good-byes to Flora and her mother in the dining room. Her mother didn’t bother to respond.
If she smiled one more time her face would crack and shatter into a million pieces. Her return home being the topic of conversation, she had a turn with each and every one of her mother’s guests.
The ladies oohhed and aahhed over Flora’s luncheon. Said they’d never had anything like her forest mushroom strudel with roasted shallot sauce, that Flora really knew her way around the kitchen. The meal was a success and the employees of Swan House could thank Flora for their continued employment.
Casey excused herself while her mother shook hands with the last group of ladies. Headed for the kitchen to help Julie with the cleanup, Casey stopped in her tracks when one of her mother’s guests blocked her path. Not wanting to appear rude, she stood aside, thinking the woman might want to go into the kitchen.
“I heard you came out of hiding. I must say,” the tall, thin woman said while inspecting Casey as if she were a bug, “you don’t look too bad considering the drugs Robert pumped into you.”
She took a step back. She didn’t remember her mother introducing her to this woman. “Who are you?”
“Your mother never bothered introducing us. Though I’m not surprised. I’m Mrs. Robert Bentley. She can be such a bitch.”
“Don’t you dare . . .” Casey blurted.
“Stop pretending, Casey. This entire island knows about you, your mother, and good old Robert. They all agree with me, too. They think she’s a piece of trash. They only come here because of John. Why don’t you ask your mother about Robert? Ask her about Worthington Enterprises.”
For once her mother came to her rescue. “Norma, don’t you have a bottle to visit? Or possibly your relatives down at the stables are in need of their afternoon snack of oats? You know Casey.” Her mother looked at her, then rested her icy glare on Norma. “Ever heard how animals sometimes resembles their owner? Why I do believe you and Trigger could pass for twins.”
“Mother!”
“Fuck you, Eve,” Norma shouted, before wobbling to the front door. “And leave Robert alone, you hear!” She slammed the heavy wooden door behind her. Casey stood in the dining room waiting for her mother to offer an explanation for the woman’s behavior.
“It’s been fun, Casey, but I’ve got an appointment. Tell Flora the next time the cream sauce has another lump, she’s history.” She gave her a quick air kiss, patted her head like a dog, and left the room.
Casey knew her mouth was hanging open. That was it? A guest had just told her mother “fuck you,” and her mother said nothing? And why did Robert Bentley’s wife hate her mother so?
This family of hers confused her more as the minutes wore on. Returning to the kitchen, she lost herself in the cleanup. If she didn’t keep busy, she would go mad.
She careened uphill at breakneck speed, not caring that she was drunk, not caring that her Mercedes was all over the road. Norma Bentley knew she’d made an ass out of herself in front of Eve Worthington’s daughter and didn’t care. The vodka she’d consumed, along with that disgusting spiked punch, had given her the courage she’d been lacking for more than twenty years.
Did they really think she didn’t know about them? Robert really was stupid. She should have listened to her father and married someone in the same class as the Fulton family. Even though the Bentleys had money and a small name on the island, Norma realized, after it was already too late, that Robert had married her for her money and nothing more. Though thanks to good ol’ Daddy’s last will and testament, Robert hadn’t been able to touch her inheritance. And he’d been pissed at her ever since.
Sanctuary was on her way home. She’d stop and visit him. She knew he was there. He’d gone to Atlanta, but returned yesterday and spent the night in that god-awful hole in the ground. She knew all about his hiding place. She knew everything about Robert. She even knew the last time he fucked Eve Worthington on their little ferry ride. Quite by accident, she’d actually been a passenger that day. She’d seen the two of them together and followed them. They’d stood on the top deck near the bow, and Robert had fucked Eve quick and hard. Something he never did to her anymore.
Today she could practically feel the whispers, the jeers, the crude comments coming from the members of the Married Ladies Club. She’d never
felt such humiliation in her life. And for what? She laughed hysterically and answered herself. “So Robert could get his hands on that bitch’s money!”
She looked up into her rearview mirror just in time to see Eve Worthington’s black BMW gaining on her. Norma tromped down on the accelerator, leaving Eve Worthington behind in a cloud of dust. She looked in her side mirror, expecting to see Eve trying to catch up, but apparently the bitch wasn’t following her. Probably on her way to visit poor John and tell him what a horrid day she’d had.
Norma knew what really happened that night ten years ago. Norma wished Eve had died that night.
It was time to have that little talk with Robert.
Eve had never been so angry in her life. When she saw Norma Bentley’s tail lights, for a moment she wanted to crash into her, but common sense took over. Now was not the time to lose her head.
She’d been assured by Adam that John’s needs were being taken care of at the nursing home. She’d also been assured that she would be in control of Worthington Enterprises when she’d made a trip to see her attorney that afternoon. He promised her it would be a breeze to have John declared mentally incompetent. At first she’d been upset when Adam told her he’d moved her husband, but after talking to her attorney, she realized that unbeknown to Adam, he’d done her a favor.
She smiled. Norma turned in front of her, apparently headed for Sanctuary in search of Robert. Speaking of whom, he hadn’t called her with their final plan. A side stop at Sanctuary was definitely in order. She slowed down, letting Norma move on. The charcoal Mercedes disappeared like a mist. Eve turned the engine off. She needed to think. Let Norma spend some quality time with Robert. It just might be their last afternoon together.
Jason Dewitt brushed imaginary dust from his black Levi’s. He couldn’t figure out why he felt such rage over a pair of pants. They made him itch. The black sweat shirt he’d purchased at the Gap stank with his sweat.
After lunch at the Krystal, he’d gone to the Brunswick Town Center and purchased the outfit he now wore. It wouldn’t do for him to be seen wearing his usual Brooks Brothers suit and Calvin Klein shirt. He’d bet not too many people in this hellhole knew what a decent suit of clothes looked like. Still, he wanted to fit in. The men his age at the mall all seemed either to have the Levi’s logo stamped to their ass, or the Gap slapped across their chest. He’d gone to Champ’s and purchased a black hip sack to hold his necessities. The vial of LSD-25 so graciously provided by Bentley rested firmly against his belly.
The Sweetwater ferry delivered him to the island at nine-thirty sharp. Passengers were allowed to disembark before the vehicles, and Jason immersed himself in the crowd of people descending the wooden planks. He looked around him. The passengers all seemed to be in a hurry. No one seemed to notice him. Just what he wanted. Inside the ferry’s so-called snack bar he’d inquired about transportation once he reached Sweetwater. The clerk told him unless he had someone waiting, he’d best put on his walking shoes, because Sweetwater didn’t offer a taxi service, and public transportation was unheard of.
Jason didn’t mind the walk. The ferry provided free maps of the island, with all the landmarks noted. He made a quick stop at a pay phone, where he thumbed through the island’s forty-page telephone directory to find the addresses he needed to make his trip a success.
Jason made short work of the two miles to the Fulton estate. The place looked abandoned. White columns, three stories high with dark shutters. The word unkempt came to mind. There were no welcoming lights to be seen. He leaned against an electric-powered gate to catch his breath. Unless he jumped the fence, there was no way he could get to the front door. He looked around the huge expanse of lawn, hoping to see a plain gate, anything allowing him entrance.
He hadn’t considered this. Obviously, Plan B needed to be activated.
Sanctuary. Bentley worked there. His house was dark as night, which probably meant he was still working.
He had to stop the son of a bitch because he couldn’t even think straight anymore. He’d swallowed three Valium before leaving his hotel in Brunswick. Now, he wished he hadn’t. His head felt fuzzy, and his eyes were out of focus. He shook out the map one last time and took a penlight from his hip pack. The narrow beam of light showed Sanctuary to his north. A mile at most.
Jason folded the map and tucked it inside his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he jogged about half a mile before the effects of the Valium sent him searching for a place to rest. He looked into the black night and saw the headlights of an oncoming car. The light from the vehicle’s high beams blinded him as he hit the ground. The car didn’t stop. It wavered from side to side, as if the driver were drunk. Jason hurled his body to the side of the road without a second to spare.
Roland Parker felt like a new man. The weight of the world had been lifted from his broad shoulders. The previous night, for the first time in years, he’d actually gone to sleep without the aid of a six-pack.
Confessing to Blake and Adam had cleared his conscience. And now, with the elder Worthington in possible danger, the good Lord had provided him with another chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the two men whose opinion of his policing skills had always been lacking. Not that it hadn’t been warranted.
They’d talked long into the night. Parker’s former suspicions of what really happened ten years earlier were rekindled with new sorts of possibilities after Blake and Adam left his office.
He’d always assumed Eve Worthington and Robert Bent-ley were involved somehow. Now it made sense why Robert had been there the night of Ronald’s death. Apparently Eve had called him when she’d walked into Casey’s room and caught Ronnie in action.
By the time he’d arrived Casey had wandered into the hall, positioning herself in the corner like a frightened child. Her mind had already shut down on her by then, the horror of what she’d done too much for a frightened young girl to deal with.
He thumbed through a stack of Post-its on his desk.
Vera had left a note on his desk, telling him she and Marianne searched the attic and still hadn’t found the report he’d filed years ago.
Parker didn’t need it. He’d kept the original in a safe place for ten years. Until the night before he hadn’t told anyone of its existence. Both Blake and Adam now held copies. Just in case.
He’d never realized what it was that bothered him so much that night until he returned to the house on Back Bay for another look at the crime scene. Time, too many lookyloos, and Eve’s movers had removed most of the evidence, but the most incriminating thing of all had been left behind. Mocking, Parker thought, daring to be discovered. The bloodstained mattress. Something about the blood spatters continued to nag at him. Parker knew he’d have to consider reopening the case. A late-night call to Walter Watts in Atlanta, head of the GBI’s Crime Analysis Unit, known as CAU, set the wheels in motion. Parker hated to ask for outside help, thinking it made him appear inept, but pride was a foolish thing. A man’s life and a young woman’s sanity depended on him. While he waited to hear from his old buddy, he recalled the scene in Casey’s bedroom, right after he’d upchucked all over the place.
After Robert Bentley handed him a handkerchief to wipe the vomit from his face, Parker looked back at the lifeless body on the bed and tried to think. Remember you’re an officer of the law. Follow procedure.
“Mr. Bentley, I’ll need to ask you some questions,” Parker said, his voice quivering. He took a small black notebook from his breast pocket and flipped it open to a fresh page.
Bentley walked around the bloody bedroom, stopping to stand by Eve, who’d managed to recover from her shock. “Now, now, Roland. You can see what happened here. It sure doesn’t need explaining.”
“I’m not . . . uh askin’ you to explain, Mr. Bentley. I need to know what you were doin’ here, you know, did you see anything?” God, this wasn’t easy. He wished he’d gone to work at the carpet mill in Ellajay.
Bentley ushered Eve out of the room and returne
d seconds later.
“Now, son, I think we both know what happened here. But I’ll explain it to you, for the record.”
“Uh, sir, could we go downstairs?” Parker couldn’t spend another minute in the blood-spattered room or he’d puke again.
“Sure, son, whatever you say.”
Seated in the front parlor, Roland searched the room for Eve and didn’t see her.
Bentley sat on the sofa; Parker seated himself next to him.
“Miss Eve called me. Said something terrible had taken place and could I come over. ‘Well, of course,’ I told her. You know her being alone and all, I thought it my duty.” Bentley lit a Pall Mall and blew a thick gust of smoke out of his nostrils.
“How did Mrs. Bentley feel about you bein’ called out in the middle of the night? By a single woman.” Parker hated to say it out loud, but knew he had to. Procedure and all.
“Well, Lord, son, Norma understands. She would’ve come with me, but I didn’t want her traipsing all over the island at night.” Bentley took another deep drag on his cigarette and walked to the front door.
Parker followed him and wondered briefly why Miss Eve had called Bentley before calling him.
The lawn was filled with the local townspeople. Vera, his dispatcher, stood on the front lawn with her sister Cora, who tried to shove the small gathering back, telling them to go home. Parker shook his head and led Bentley back to the sofa, closing the door behind him.
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