Bess’s face turned crimson and she said, ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
‘Yet,’ Logan said, and put his hand over Bess’s. Bess looked into his eyes and the two were lost for a moment.
‘Whatever!’ Megan said, standing up and coming to the table. ‘Mrs Benton, Logan’s not the father, OK? We know it and you obviously know it. And Harper needs to take back what she said! It’s not fair to Logan – or my sister.’
Megan sat down next to Mrs Benton, while Alicia pulled up a chair from the next table.
‘I’m feeling a bit outnumbered here,’ Mrs Benton said, still smiling.
‘Do you really think this is funny?’ Megan said, her voice rising. She got a stern look from the librarian and several patrons.
‘Of course not,’ Mrs Benton said, lowering her voice. She looked at Logan and said, ‘Logan, I’m sorry. Harper said you were a nice boy, and I’m not sure why she decided to dump this on you. I know it’s not fair and I’ll have her retract her statement. Hopefully, it hasn’t gotten much further than the four of you.’
‘I hope not,’ Logan said, still holding Bess’s hand.
‘So what’s really going on? Who’s the daddy?’ Megan asked.
Mrs Benton stood up. ‘That’s none of your business,’ she said. ‘I’ll take care of this, Logan. And if you see either of my children again, just stay clear of them.’ With that, she turned and walked out the door.
‘Do ghosts eat Hershey’s Kisses?’ Willis asked.
‘Not that I ever heard tell,’ Chief Cotton said. ‘Not into peanut butter either.’
‘Thank God we’ve got a ghost authority here,’ I said sarcastically. I bent down to go through other boxes that were in close proximity to the mattress. After discarding one that held turn-of-the-century baby clothes, I found one with more modern clothing, although it could have belonged to either a man or a woman. Generic T-shirts and blue jeans. Underneath those I found some boxer briefs that led me to surmise that the person sleeping on this mattress was more than likely a man.
‘Whatja got there?’ the chief asked, squatting down next to me.
I showed him the clothes as I tossed them on the floor, going for the bottom of the box. There was a Dopp kit there containing the usual items one would find in such a place: deodorant, shaving cream and a bag of Bic razors, aftershave, a bar of soap and a wash cloth, fingernail clippers and a toothbrush and toothpaste. At the bottom of the kit was a red velvet sheath. The chief reached down and picked it up, lifting the flap at the top of the sheath and pulling out an old-fashioned straight-razor.
1972
Chet had a car, of sorts. An early sixties Plymouth Valiant that smoked and sputtered but still seemed to get the job done. Edgar didn’t have much to say – he couldn’t see himself regaling his son with tales of prison life. None of his stories ended well. Chet talked a bit. About his girlfriend who he’d just dumped because she’d caught him with her sister and said he couldn’t do that. Chet broke up with her because he thought she wasn’t being fair. Edgar understood completely. But then, Chet told him, the sister had decided she didn’t like the way he’d treated his girlfriend, saying he cheated on her.
‘Hell, man,’ Chet explained to his dad, ‘I’m the one who cheated? Shit, she was just my girlfriend! That bitch was her sister! She’s the one who cheated, donja think?’
‘Sure,’ Edgar said, staring out at the streets of Biloxi, marveling at how much the town had changed.
‘So I said, “Hey, bitch! I wouldn’t fuck you with a ten foot pole anyways!” And she goes, “Yeah, you and what army?” And I go …’ Chet said, while Edgar tuned him out, thinking, he might have my face, but he’s got his granny’s mouth! If ever there was a person who could talk your ear off it was that old bitch.
They got to the facility where Edgar’s wife was housed after a fairly short twenty-minute ride. It was weird to think of her as his wife – but as far as he knew she still was. Of course, it had been hard for him to think of her as his wife when he was living with her, too.
The facility was a large, state-run place, red brick and institutional, with an unmanned gate that they easily drove through. Once inside Edgar found himself in a no-frills room filled with patients milling about, some just wandering around, some talking to themselves, others sitting in chairs and staring out the windows. A couple of men played forty-two at a table in the center of the room, and three women appeared to be putting together a jigsaw puzzle at another table.
Chet walked up to a counter, behind which stood a nurse in a starched white uniform. ‘Hey, June,’ he said, grinning big.
‘Well, hey there, Chet!’ the woman said, smiling up at Edgar’s son’s handsome face. Edgar couldn’t help thinking, that’s the way women used to look at me.
‘Did your mom know you were coming?’ the nurse asked.
‘Nope. Surprise visit. This guy’ – Chet said, pointing over his shoulder at Edgar – ‘says he’s my dad. I wanna see if Mama recognizes him.’
The nurse his son called June looked Edgar up and down, then shook her head. ‘Rita always says you’re the spitting image of your daddy. I don’t see it.’
‘Me neither. But he says mom’s got a mole—’ He turned to look at Edgar. ‘Where’d you say?’
‘On the right side just under her belly button as you’re looking at her,’ Edgar said.
The nurse nodded her head. ‘Well, that’s true. She does have that. How come you don’t look like Chet?’ she asked Edgar.
He shrugged. ‘Got in an accident,’ he supplied.
She shrugged. ‘That’s a shame. The world needs more pretty men like Chet here,’ she said, coming around the counter and squeezing Chet’s arm. ‘I’ll go get your mom,’ she said, heading for a door.
‘You ever knock boots with that?’ Edgar asked Chet.
Chet made a face. ‘Jeez, are you kidding? She’s gotta be like thirty! Naw, not my type. ’Sides, I like really big ta-tas.’
Edgar nodded his head. ‘Always been partial to that myself.’
Chet led Edgar over to a grouping of sofa, loveseat and easy chair, no two items matching, and they sat down. It took only a few minutes for the nurse to come back. And there she was, Rita, the pretty girl with the crossed eyes that he’d cheated on every chance he’d got. She was still cross-eyed, and, Edgar had to admit, still pretty – for an old woman. At least she didn’t look like her mother.
Rita saw Chet first and a grin spread across her face. ‘Hi, baby-boy,’ she said, moving toward him. Then she noticed the man standing next to her son and stopped short. Her mouth dropped open and she stood there for almost a full minute. Finally, she ran up to Edgar and threw her arms around him. ‘You’ve come back!’ she cried. ‘I always knew you would!’
SIXTEEN
BACK HOME
‘So it’s over?’ Logan asked as they all climbed back in the minivan.
‘I guess so,’ Alicia said.
‘Who’s the daddy?’ Bess asked.
‘What does it matter?’ Megan said. ‘As long as she’s no longer accusing Logan, it’s all good, right?’
Alicia, who was driving, said, ‘Jeez, Megan, are you not E.J. Pugh’s daughter? Don’t you want to know the truth?’
‘After what looking for the truth in all the wrong places has done for Mom? I don’t think so! She and Dad almost got divorced over this kind of thing! Besides, there’s no murder here,’ Megan said. ‘Just a girl lying.’
‘You didn’t look in Tucker Benton’s eyes, did you?’ Bess insisted. ‘There was murder in there! He would have killed Logan if we hadn’t been there!’
‘No, now, Bess,’ Logan started.
Bess interrupted. ‘Don’t you side with them! That guy was out to beat the crap out of you! If we hadn’t been there—’
‘I know, I know,’ Logan said and heaved a great sigh. ‘Three girls saved my ass. I know. But he wasn’t going to kill me. And besides, I need to know why she lied about me. I mean, there could be a real crime
going on here. What if whoever knocked Harper up was like some old guy, you know? What if she was like raped or something? I mean, why else would she lie about me?’
‘Because she’s a bitch and she wanted to get you into trouble?’ Bess asked sarcastically.
Logan turned his head and looked out the window. Bess crossed her arms over her chest and looked out her window.
‘Logan’s right,’ Alicia said. ‘There could be something bad going on here! I just read online about this rapist who’s suing his victim for custody of the child she had because of the rape! Can you believe it?’
Megan shook her head. ‘That’s seriously gross.’
‘I know!’ Alicia said. ‘First time I was alone with that guy, I’d gut him like a chicken!’
‘Alicia!’ Bess said from the back seat.
‘Well, wouldn’t you?’ Alicia demanded, turning in her seat to look at her sister.
Bess appeared to think about it for a moment, then said, ‘Then pour rubbing alcohol all over him so it would burn.’
Megan laughed out loud. ‘Damn straight!’ she said.
Logan stared open-mouthed at the three girls, then said, ‘Back in the olden days, armies used to throw their prisoners to the women. Now I understand why.’
Looking at the straight-razor in front of him, Chief Cotton said, ‘Too bad neither Hammerschultz or Lovesy died from a cut throat.’ He turned the razor around in his hand, seeing the glint of the forty-watt bulb reflect off its sheen. ‘Then we’d have us a murder weapon.’
‘That would make a good one,’ Willis said. ‘Even as old as it is. Look how worn the steel is.’
‘Wait!’ I said, staring at it. ‘There was someone with a slit throat, remember?’
‘Who?’ Chief Cotton said, raising an eyebrow at me.
Willis looked at me, grinned, and said, ‘Miss Hutchins’ mama.’
‘Oh, fer Christ’s sake!’ the chief said. Then he stared at the razor. ‘And I just got my fingerprints all over it.’
‘Look!’ I said, pointing at the barely discernable initials on the heft of the straight-razor. ‘NMH,’ I said. ‘Norris Hutchins?’
Gingerly he put the razor back in its sheath. ‘If we find Norris Hutchins’ fingerprints on this thing, I’m quittin’ and movin’ to Florida,’ he said.
BACK HOME
As they turned on to the main road out of the library, Megan noticed Mrs Benton coming out of the library. She had her cell phone to her ear and was walking rapidly toward her car, the one they’d seen Harper driving the day before. On a pretty, sunny day in April, the windows of the minivan were down and they distinctly heard the woman say, ‘Call nine-one-one! I’m on my way!’
Alicia put her foot on the brake, stopping the van in the middle of the road, alienating the cars behind her. ‘Nine-one-one?’ she said, turning to the rest.
‘Could it be the baby?’ Bess asked.
Alicia pulled the van to the side of the road and they watched as Mrs Benton got in her car and rushed out of the parking lot. ‘Follow her!’ Megan said.
Alicia did. Mrs Benton led them straight to Codder County Memorial Hospital where she pulled up under the emergency portico – reserved for ambulances – and bailed out of her car. Alicia let everyone out of the minivan and went to park in a proper spot.
Walking back, she noticed Mrs Benton had left the driver’s side door standing open and the keys in the ignition. Being the person she was, Alicia hopped in the car, started it up and drove it to a proper parking spot, right next to the minivan. She pocketed the keys and headed into the emergency room.
After being dropped off, Megan, Bess and Logan followed Mrs Benton inside the ER waiting room. She went straight to the counter housing the ER nurse, said something they couldn’t hear, and was immediately taken back behind closed doors.
The three looked at each other then back at the locked doors that led to the bowels of the emergency room. ‘What now?’ Bess asked the other two.
Logan shrugged and Megan said, ‘We wait?’
‘For what?’ Bess demanded.
Megan’s turn to shrug. ‘I dunno. Alicia?’
‘You rang?’ Alicia said, coming in the door behind them. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Harper’s mother went in and we don’t know what’s going on,’ Bess said.
‘We don’t even know if it was Harper the call was about!’ Logan said. ‘For all we know, Tucker could have been in a car wreck or something.’
At that point the ER doors swung open and a man came running inside and up to the counter. Megan elbowed Bess in the ribs. ‘That’s Coach Robbins!’ she stage-whispered.
The coach yelled at the ER nurse, ‘Harper Benton! Where is she? Is she OK?’
‘Oh my God,’ Bess whispered.
‘Daddy’s here,’ Megan said.
‘How long will it take to get DNA?’ Willis asked the chief as they took their booty downstairs.
‘Weeks,’ he said.
Willis and I looked at each other. Part of me was thinking, weeks in this bucolic little town? Sleeping late and eating Miss Hutchins’ food? Wandering the antique shops and lazing in the Bishop’s Inn’s garden? Then the practical part of me remembered that my husband was self-employed and we were already losing money on this Monday morning. He’d had to cancel three appointments with potential clients. And I had a deadline approaching on my latest bodice ripper.
And then, of course, there were the kids. I figured they were doing OK though without us. They sure seemed to be the few times we’d talked. There was always the chance somebody would notice three teenage girls on their own – but I could call Luna, and Vera, my mother-in-law … Then I thought of another salient point: waiting weeks could mean that this killer could kill again – or leave town and we’d never find him.
‘We don’t have weeks,’ I gently reminded the chief.
‘We can get the fingerprints back pretty quick-like,’ he said. ‘I’m taking this,’ he said, indicating the sheathed straight-razor, ‘back to the shop now. Mary Mays is our fingerprint expert. She went to the academy in Austin to learn all about it. I’ll give it to her.’
And with that, the chief was out the door and Willis and I were once again on our own. I could smell good smells coming from the kitchen. Lunch! I thought and smiled. Then sobered. One, my jeans were getting tight, and two, was now the time to mention to Miss Hutchins that someone was definitely in her attic but it was a live someone, not her daddy’s ghost? Then we went into the dining room and I saw the steaming tureen of some creamy soup and a platter of breads and cold-cuts. Maybe after lunch we’d talk about it, I thought.
Lunch was even better than that first glance had promised. The soup was homemade cream of mushroom, thick with mushrooms, bacon, onions and other goodies I didn’t recognize. It was ambrosia. The breads – white, wheat, and sour dough – were homemade, as was the mayo and the mustard. How this old lady had time to do all this, I’ll never know. The only store-bought items on the table were the cold-cuts, and they certainly weren’t the packaged kind. These obviously came from a meat market and were cut thick – ham, turkey and roast beef. I kept myself to only one sandwich, but allowed myself two bowls of soup – and of course some of the fruit salad Miss Hutchins had so lovingly provided. Even so, by the time I stopped eating, I had to unbutton my jeans and suppress an unladylike burp. I also rethought my scenario about telling Miss Hutchins about the person in the attic. I was afraid on such a full stomach it might give me indigestion. I had no idea how she would react, and, truthfully, right now I didn’t want to know.
So I went upstairs and took a nap. I do some of my best thinking while asleep.
BACK HOME
‘Coach?’ Logan called out.
Coach Robbins whirled around, staring glassy-eyed at the three kids, with no recognition on his face. Logan walked up to him and the coach seemed to shake himself.
‘Logan? You OK, man? What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I’m asking you
the same thing!’ Logan said, his fists clenched at his side. ‘Why do you care what’s going on with Harper Benton? How did you even know she was here? And who the hell do you think you are, you sick son-of-a-bitch!’
And then Logan took a swing at the coach, who blocked it easily with a big, meaty paw covering Logan’s fist. ‘Whoa, boy!’ the coach said, just as the doors swung open again and a small woman came running in.
‘Is she OK?’ she said, rushing up to the coach. ‘Can we see her? The baby? Is the baby OK?’
Coach Robbins let go of Logan’s fist and Logan backed off. ‘This is my wife, Cathy,’ the coach said.
All four kids were now totally confused. If the coach had raped or otherwise had carnal knowledge of Harper Benton, why was his wife involved? Unless these people were really, really sick.
‘You better tell us what’s going on,’ Alicia said, walking up to the coach.
All four had been in one class or another of Coach Robbins over their four-year high-school careers. He’d been Logan’s basketball coach for the past three years; Bess had taken sophomore biology from him; he coached Alicia’s girls’ volleyball team; and Megan had dabbled for a semester in his wood-working class. And they all knew that Harper had been on the same volleyball team as Alicia – the one led by Coach Robbins.
‘You kids need to get out of here!’ the coach said, his teeth gritted. ‘This is none of your business!’
‘Our next-door neighbor is a lieutenant with the Codderville police department,’ Bess said. ‘I’m thinking this might be her business!’
The coach, big and beefy and outweighing his much smaller wife by at least one hundred pounds and standing a half-foot taller, took a step toward the assembled teenagers, hands fisted by his side, but his wife stopped him.
‘Honey, don’t,’ she said, a small arm out to restrain him. It did the trick. He stopped and just stared at them.
Then the door to the bowels of the ER opened and Mrs Benton came out. She saw the coach and his wife immediately, but didn’t even glance at the kids. They weren’t sure whether she saw them or not.
Dead to the World Page 21
