by G M Barlean
The large woman behind the desk raised her eyebrow, a mole above her left eye dancing on her broad expanse of forehead. “Excuse me?” she blared, as though to tell me there would be no secret keeping under her watch.
I was in no mood to take crap from anyone.
“You heard me. Get the police chief. We won’t talk to anyone but him.” I crossed my arms over my chest and kept my eyes locked on Mrs. I’m-So-Important Dispatcher Lady.
The woman gave a well, aren’t you special eye roll and shuffled away.
What seemed like an eternity later, the police chief appeared in the front room, the same front room we’d all stood in so many years ago, bailing Debbie out of jail. The same chief who put Debbie in the jail—only looser in the jowls and rounder in the belly. His graying hair poked out from under his hat as he looked from face to face.
I stepped forward. “We need to talk to you in private.” I glanced at the dispatcher and gave her a hard stare.
The dispatcher returned a snide smile.
He nodded and motioned us to follow him. We all settled around a table in a small room down the hall.
“So what’s this all about, Ms. Striker?” He gazed at me with sleepy eyes and fought a yawn.
“Our friend wants to report a murder.” I nudged Tanya.
Tanya’s eyes grew round as donuts, and Josie’s filled with worry. No one knew what Debbie’s eyes looked like behind her dark glasses.
There was a long pause without breathing or blinking.
The police chief leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles, his black shoes squeaking against each other. “Well, report away.” He looked to be waiting for the punch line of a joke, a small upturn of his lips at the corner of his mouth. I half expected him to pull out a toothpick and start removing the lunch from between his teeth. The man wiped away the smirk forming on his face.
Tanya cleared her throat and looked to us for help. Josie shrugged, and Debbie seemed to be staring at the chief—it was hard to tell with her glasses.
“Go on, Tanya. Just tell him,” I said.
Through chattering teeth and with a wavering voice, Tanya managed to stutter out the basic details of how she suspected Naomi had run Mari off the road. I chimed in about my run-in with her at the Fourth of July celebration and how Naomi had knocked out my tooth. I smiled to show the chief the hole where my tooth had once lived. Josie helped by nodding and backing up our stories, but Debbie sat in silence.
“And the last word Mari said was ‘Naomi,’” Tanya said, then looked like she would burst into tears.
Debbie turned to glare at her. Tanya stared at her own reflection in the surface of Debbie’s glasses and bit her lip.
The chief stood up and put his hands on his hips. “So let me get this straight. You all have been having some kind of petty little fight with Naomi Waterman Talbot, way back since high school.”
He pointed at me. “Ms. Striker seems to be blackmailing Naomi with some panties and a threat of spreading a rumor about her having a fling with your boss.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned, then shook his head.
I began to speak, but he put his hand out, stopping me. “Let me finish.”
“And Miss Townsend, you saw everything and were worried about Mari but went on home, leaving it to this one.” He jerked his thumb at Tanya.
Josie grimaced.
“And Mrs. Coleman. You’re hiding behind dark glasses and haven’t said a word. What are you even here for?” He shifted his weight to his back foot.
Debbie took off her glasses, revealing bloodshot eyes. She looked like she might burst into flames. “Well, ain’t that the million-dollar question, Chief. Moral support, I guess. It sure as heck isn’t because I think you’re going to help us. I, for one, know damn well you’re not going to do anything about this. You’re going to tiptoe all around this issue like one more sheep in the flock, protecting the rich and making the average person pay all the debts of society. Like the idiots in power always do.”
“Well. You’re full of big talk, aren’t you?” He leaned down and stared at her over the table, a smile inching across his mouth.
Debbie shrugged. “You asked. I answered.”
The two locked in a staring match. I suspected the police chief remembered Debbie’s drunken mom. Debbie most likely had her own bad memories of the chief, too—being dragged off to jail at Naomi’s wedding came to mind. Either way, this wasn’t getting us anywhere.
“What do you plan to do?” I broke the silence.
He settled back down in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then sighed. “Well, you do realize you’re accusing the judge’s wife of murder. That’s a serious charge, and aside from her word”—he nodded in Tanya’s direction—“you have no proof.”
Tanya fidgeted in her chair. I saw the color draining from her face.
“The best I can do is visit with the judge and ask him why he was speeding away from the scene and ask Naomi what she knows about Mari’s death.” The chief stared at Tanya. “Regardless, if you want anything more to happen, we’ll have to see what the county attorney has to say about it. Would you be willing to testify in a court of law?”
I could see Tanya try to swallow down the lump in her throat as she shook her head. The reality must have hit her. The chief was going to tell Naomi that Tanya had accused her of murder. Tanya’s eyes filled with panic, and I could almost hear her thoughts scream out in horror. The mere idea of sitting on a witness stand in front of people and pointing her finger at Naomi—it was too much for her. She couldn’t answer the chief’s question. She couldn’t even speak.
The chief must have seen it too. He leaned across the table toward Tanya and spoke to her like she was simple. “I guess beyond that, I’ll need some kind of proof to magically appear. If not, I can’t just throw her in the pokey because you girls don’t get along.”
Debbie stood up. Her chair screeched across the floor and she stormed out of the room.
“Well, she certainly has a bee up her—” the chief started to say.
I cut him off. “How many times did you give Debbie’s mother a ride home from the bar?”
He considered the question. “Quite a few, I suppose.”
“And you knew she had a child. Well, Debbie was that child. What did you do to help Debbie? Huh?” I glared at him.
He didn’t answer, but the sudden flush creeping up his neck told me I’d hit a nerve.
“I have a feeling our friend doesn’t have a lot of faith in the law—or at least in your brand of it.” I lost a little faith that day as well.
Tanya looked as though she didn’t understand what had gone wrong. “You’re going to arrest Naomi, aren’t you?” she pleaded.
“You have to do something about what we’ve told you.” Josie echoed Tanya’s concern.
“I said I’d visit with Naomi and the judge, but you all have to understand I need more proof. Unless Mrs. Talbot confesses… I got nuthin’.” He raised his palms to the air.
We stared at the chief for a moment. Then we rose and trailed out of the office, past the snotty dispatcher, and out to my car. I held Tanya’s hand. We walked like a funeral procession all over again, but this time, the funeral might be Tanya’s.
Chapter 22
“You must have been terrified.” Gloria said to Tanya.
“I was, and with good reason. Naomi was about to roll over me like a tidal wave.”
Tanya at the Bank—1974
From the moment we left the police station, it felt like I’d been tied to the tracks and left to wait for the Naomi train to run me down. Dumped in the desert and the bitch buzzard was circling. Damn her. She literally murdered someone and I, the witness, ended up terrified and filled with guilt.
Naomi didn’t have any concern about paying for her crime. She always got what she wanted, no matter who she had to bulldoze. She’d probably bribe the police chief if he did go to talk to her. But I worri
ed most about who would protect me from Naomi’s wrath after she finished with him.
On Monday, I pulled my car into a space behind the bank. I took a deep breath and went into work. Time to find out if the chief had talked to Naomi and, if he had, what she would say and do to me now.
Keeping my head down, I entered the employee entrance and went to my teller window. I put my purse under the counter, then worked up the courage to look around the bank at the others.
It was ominously quiet. No other tellers stood at their stations. No chatter between loan officers. No one sitting at their desks.
Did the world end and I didn’t get the memo?
I looked up and what I saw sank like a stone to the bottom of my stomach. The entire staff was crowded in Naomi’s office—every teller, every loan officer, the vice president, and president, all swarmed around her desk, listening.
I stared, my mouth going dry. I knew what was going on in there. Naomi was telling a tale to turn everyone against me. What else could it be? Someone would have contacted me if they’d planned a special meeting this morning. Besides, special meetings were held in the conference room, not in the she-demon’s office.
As I stared, heads turned to look my direction. My face burned and the hair on the back of my neck rose. The door to Naomi’s office opened and they all poured out. Not one person said good morning to me. Not one person offered me a smile or as much as a glance. The president of the bank came and stood in front of me. I met his eyes and held my breath.
“Tanya.” He nodded. “Please follow me.” He turned and went back to Naomi’s office.
On shaking legs, I followed the bank president. Heads turned to watch, gawking at my misfortune.
When I entered the office, he shut the door behind me. A vacuum of disapproval hung heavy in the room.
“Have a seat.” He pointed to a chair.
Naomi, the vice president, and the president stood high above me, looking down on me like an ant under a magnifying glass about to get scorched by the sun. I squirmed in the chair. Naomi had a sickening look of satisfaction on her face.
“Last night, Doug and I were visited by the police chief.” Naomi glared at me. “He told us you have accused me of causing, then leaving, the scene of Mari’s car crash. You can imagine how upset this made us.”
Naomi picked up a photo of her and Doug, he in a tux and she in a gown. Some kind of political fundraiser at the governor’s mansion. Naomi set the picture back down and smiled at the photo.
“Of course, the accusation is laughable.” She smirked at me, and both the president and vice president shook their heads as though they were dealing with the prank of a naughty child. “There’s no proof, and Tanya… seriously.” Naomi pursed her lips and gave me a sideways glance. “I would never do such a horrible thing.”
My mind raced. Now was when I needed my friends. Now was the moment I should have thought of before I ever said a word to the police chief. I wanted to bolt from the room and run away, but I remained, paralyzed with fear, destined to be humiliated by Naomi Talbot.
The president of the bank sat down on the edge of Naomi’s desk and laced his fingers together. “Of course, you must realize we can’t ignore this.”
“No. No. Not acceptable.” The fool vice president muttered in agreement with his boss.
Of course not, I thought. We can ignore Naomi for as much as murdering Mari, but me reporting it… no, no… not acceptable… we mustn’t ignore that.
“We have to let you go. This kind of slander is bad for the bank and the community. We have to think of the bigger picture.” The president sounded so authoritative, his low voice filling the room.
Naomi stood up and put her hand on the vice president, then the president’s shoulders, a show of unity. She attempted to look rueful, but I could see the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’ll need to clear out anything you have here and leave immediately, Tanya. We’ll escort you out.”
Escort me out? Like a common criminal?
They stared at me while their words sank into my brain. My hands lay numb in my lap. My leaden feet planted to the floor… in the floor, like cement. My brain throbbed with the echo of the words I still couldn’t understand.
Escort me out.
Their stares bored into me, burning through the fog around my brain. I heaved myself up from the chair, my weight in worry and humiliation almost too much to carry, but I pushed myself from the room and to my station where a box sat waiting, all my things already dumped inside. The sight of the bare bulletin board and blank wall space blurred.
Everyone still staring at me.
Frowns and glares of disapproval.
I picked up the box. So light. So many years working here for this bank and every item that represented me—pictures of family, my word-of-the-day calendar, and the cartoons I’d cut out from the paper and pinned to the wall behind the counter. A troll doll. A Mother’s Day card. A small wooden cross. My entire world outside this bank, stuffed in a little box—my existence beyond counting money.
Ten minutes later I was sitting in my car, fighting back tears. Naomi and the two men stood at the back door of the bank, watching me, waiting for me to drive away. As though I would burst back in and rob the place or something. They made me turn in my key. Shoved papers in front of me to sign, agreeing to whatever the blurry words said.
Finally, I gave in, started the car, and drove down the alley. Even a half a block away when I reached the stop sign, I could still see them in my rearview mirror.
They were comforting Naomi.
And right there and then, I stopped crying. I hated Naomi. Truly hated her.
And I wanted to make her hurt as badly as I hurt at that moment.
Chapter 23
Gloria didn’t think for one minute Tanya had it in her to hurt anyone. But she didn’t blame her for thinking about it. She knew what she’d be asking Ronnie about on their lunch date tomorrow—banking procedures.
Without giving names or more information than necessary, Gloria told Ronnie about the way Tanya had been fired. “It seems so harsh to escort a long-term employee out of the bank, doesn’t it? Was the woman employer pulling a power move, or is this protocol?” Gloria stabbed at her chef salad.
Ronnie paused a little too long for Gloria’s liking, and she realized she had monopolized the conversation. “Sorry. This is a date. We should talk about something else.”
He smiled at her, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.
Oh no. I have something between my teeth. She glanced down. No food stains on her blouse. He was still grinning at her. “What?”
“I’m enjoying your enthusiasm. I’ve never dated a newspaper editor. I had no idea how excited a story can make a person.”
Gloria felt her cheeks flushing red. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Not at all.” Ronnie put his hands up in defense. “Quite the contrary. I’m genuinely intrigued.”
She tilted her head to the side then realized she probably looked like a dog who had heard a high-pitched noise. “Well. Thanks, I guess.”
He chuckled, shook his head, then took a big bite out of his cheeseburger. No insecurities there. Men. They had it so easy. He probably ate cheeseburgers every day and didn’t even have to run to keep his weight off.
He swallowed the bite and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Let’s see. Protocol or power mongering. That was the question, right?” He took a drink of his cola and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “I’d say in today’s world, it would be protocol. In 1974, I really don’t know. But honestly, I think even when bank rules demand it, it could be done after hours or with more discretion. I’d say what she did to her employee was harsh.”
“So you think I’m on to something then? This is part of a story I’m working on. A book, actually.” Her eyes darted up to catch his reaction. His eyebrows rose, but thoughtfully, not like he was judging her.
Gloria knew she was acting goofy but couldn’t st
op herself. It was the novelty of being on a date, in public, no less, and the truth was it felt great to tell someone she planned to write a book. This was actually the first time she’d said it out loud to another person. She would write a book, and this man sitting across from her knew it.
Oh, God. This man sitting across from her knew she planned to write a book.
The realization clanged like a gong in her head.
She pushed her salad away, no longer feeling hungry. “You must think I’m crazy. Who am I to write a book? Especially nowadays. Everyone and their dog writes a book. What makes me so special?” Gloria dropped her forehead into the palm of her hand.
“Whoa. Slow down. Your instincts are solid. The one scene you described was interesting, so I can only imagine there’s a lot more to the story.” He reached across the table and took her hand, the one holding up her head. He pulled it down onto the table and held it there.
She looked up into eyes of understanding—gorgeous blue eyes—and an incredibly adorable crooked smile. He squeezed her fingers, then rubbed them gently with his thumb. She melted.
After he paid for lunch, they walked out to their cars. The awkward moment after a date. The locals were all staring at them. It was one in the afternoon and broad daylight. Cars were pulling in and out and hurrying past on the highway. She searched her brain for words but couldn’t find any.
He saved her. “I’m really enjoying getting to know you, Gloria. Thanks for sharing your story.” His hands casually rested in the pockets of his trousers. The sun hit his face, highlighting the dimple in his chin.
“I hope I didn’t bore you.” She fumbled for the keys in her purse.
“Absolutely not.”
When she looked up, he was staring at her mouth as though he was about to lean over and give her a kiss. She froze. Not in a truck-stop parking lot in broad daylight. No, no, no, no.
A wind blew hair across her face. He reached out to brush it from her eyes. The warmth of his fingers lit a fire across her cheek. He stepped closer.
