by Evie Nichole
Selene sipped her wine. She needed a moment to think. Was this the right place to discuss it with him? Did she even know enough yet?”
“I guess we could discuss it here.” Selene opened her little black purse and brought out her folded pages of notes. She handed them to Barkley so he could read most of it first before she tried to explain.
Barkley stared at the pages, looking them over with intense scrutiny. He lifted his head once. “Is this as far as you got?”
Selene nodded.
Barkley sighed and folded the pages back the way they were. “I can tell you now that the house was bought from Donovan Jackson.”
“Was he black?”
“Yes. I just don’t understand any of this.”
Selene took a deep breath and told him of her trip in the golf cart with MJ, which ended at the old well and burned down house. Selene watched Barkley’s face go from normal to crimson, to deathly pale. The dessert had come and was still sitting untouched as she finished. The waitress had forgotten the boxes.
Barkley stared at her, elbow on the table, with his thumb under his chin and forefinger over his lip. “My God,” he finally whispered.
Selene had so far omitted the part of the story which actually began with her eavesdropping on Betty’s strange phone call. Maybe it was relevant, but it may muddy the waters further. She decided instead to ask more questions.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, about Lucas being interested in Betty.”
“What about it?”
“Did it go anywhere?”
Barkley looked at her as if she had two heads. “Are you kidding me?”
Selene straightened her back. “No, I’m not kidding.”
“As far as I know, no it did not.”
“You say that like it would have been a terrible thing.”
Barkley’s eyes seemed to shrink back into his skull. “I’ve known Lucas Mitchell since I was twenty years old. Believe me, I wouldn’t want Betty involved with him.”
“He’s ruthless?” Selene asked a question she already knew the answer to.
“He runs his life and business like a neo-Nazi.”
“So, MJ told me that buying the house here in Virginia was pushed by Sarah…and Lucas.”
“It was.” Barkley gruffly agreed. “I remember the day Lucas called me about it. He said his daughter had been dying to have horses, and I had more money than God at that point, so why not do it for her?”
Selene shook her head.
“So, I gave in. I didn’t see why it was so important to have that very property.”
Selene reached across the table to take Barkley’s hand. “This all may be coincidental.”
“Really?” he asked, yanking his hand away. “With your research and the story MJ told you, do you really think so?”
Selene narrowed her eyes. “Why are you angry with me?”
“I’m not angry with you!” Barkley raised his voice, earning a glance from the couple closest to them.
“Keep your voice down.”
Barkley closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just that…well, it’s just that between my mother and Lucas, I’ve felt like people have been meddling and trying to run my life for a long time now.”
“I didn’t realize. I mean, I could see it right away with your mother, but Lucas too?”
Barkley smiled sadly. “When I met Lucas, I thought he was the greatest business man I had ever met, and I had met quite a few because of my father. We got along great, but there was always an air of superiority that I was trying to overcome. I was always trying to prove more to him than to his daughter that I was truly worthy of her.” He seemed to sag in his seat. “After she went missing, I stopped caring. Lucas blamed me straight out of the gate.”
“Didn’t you try to explain the marriage? Explain how it had been up to that point?”
“Oh yes, but he assured me that his daughter would never do something so rash and stupid.”
Selene reached for his hand again, which he greedily took, and pressed her knuckles to his lips.
“I’m sorry I overreacted.”
“I wouldn’t say that you overreacted. I know this is all confusing. A shock even.”
“Yes.” He let go of her hand and smiled sadly again, only one corner of his mouth lifting. “I didn’t even tell you how beautiful you looked tonight.”
“It’s alright, Barkley.”
“No, it’s not. For what it’s worth, you look stunning.” Barkley waved to the waitress and asked for two to-go boxes. Selene supposed that their first real date was over.
Selene sat up in bed trying to eat her Tiramisu from its Styrofoam to-go box with a plastic fork. Barkley’s final words to her before he gave in and fell into a deep sleep were troubling enough to keep her awake.
“Don’t talk about this to anyone, Selene, not even MJ.” He had felt strongly enough about it that he had brought the computer she had used earlier up to their room. He had told her to use it in there only for the research.
Selene felt a burning need to know whom Betty had been speaking to that morning. She didn’t know why, but her gut instinct told her that it was crucial. As a PI, she couldn’t have phone records pulled, and even her friends in the police department might balk at her requesting such a thing. If she were to know, the best way to go about it was to actually get her hands on Betty’s phone and simply go through the call log. That was if Betty didn’t have any kind of password protection on the phone. She hadn’t even known that Betty had a cell phone. She seemed so old fashioned, Selene hadn’t even thought about it before, and why would she? Maybe Barkley didn’t even know. She shook him gently, calling his name just above his ear.
“Barkley? Barkley?”
“Hmmm?” He murmured from his sleep.
“Does Betty have a cell phone?”
“Just go ask her to make you coffee.” He grumbled, trying to roll over. “You don’t need to call.”
Selene giggled quietly. “Barkley? I don’t need coffee! Does Betty have a cell phone?” She repeated more loudly.
“What?” He peeked one eye open. “Oh…yeah…I got her one last Christmas.”
“Oh ok. Go back to sleep.”
Selene turned the laptop on and waited through the boot up process, the pad of paper and pen lying beside her. She went back to her original tabs pulling them up from the bookmarks.
The next person to make her list was Claude Taylor. There were several deeds of sale for land under his name, leaving in the end only ten acres of the original acreage. There was a marriage record for Claude. In a time line of history, this would have been about the time the Civil Rights movement was in full swing. Claude Michael Taylor had married Constance Eugenia Brown in 1964. They had four girls. The deed changed again in 1989. The new owner was Lydia Jackson. She immediately changed the deed and the new owner became Donovan Michael Jackson. The final and current owner listed was one Barkley Bradford Bailey.
Selene checked the clock. It was just past one in the morning, but she couldn’t stop. There was another string hanging loose, and she had to pull it to see what would happen. She checked marriage and birth records for Reuben Maximillian Mitchell. She was in luck that the people in question seemed to like to stay near home. She found a marriage license issued to Reuben and Daisy Faye Butler in 1946. Reuben and Daisy had a son born in the same year named Lucas Gabriel Mitchell.
Selene couldn’t believe what she had just written down. She licked her lips and glanced at Barkley’s slumbering still form, as if her discovery were so profound that just the very knowledge would jar him awake.
Lucas Mitchell was the grandson of the last Mitchell to own Barkley’s house.
***
Selene paced the bedroom floor. She had bags under her eyes, and her mind had the buzzing quality of a person who hadn’t slept. When she heard the shower cut off, she ran past Barkley, making it to the toilet just before the diarrhea started. She drummed her fingers on her bare knee w
aiting for the sickness to pass. She needed to talk to Barkley about her findings, but what was she going to say? As she finished and scrubbed her hands, she made the decision that she would say nothing. At least not right then.
Selene took a few wobbly steps out of the bathroom. The bed looked inviting, and she laid down again. Barkley crawled onto the bed with her.
“Let’s have a quickie before I go,” he whispered kissing her neck, his knees trying to force her legs open.
“Let’s have a longie after you come back,” she replied irritably.
“What’s wrong? Tired?”
“Yes. I didn’t sleep much last night, and my stomach is a little upset.”
“Oh. Take a nap. I won’t be gone as long today. I’ll get you up when I come back this afternoon.”
“Ok, yeah, maybe that would be a good idea.” Selene pretended concession. To make it look good, she climbed back under the covers and smiled sweetly as Barkley tucked her in. She wished with all her heart that it wasn’t a farce. She would have liked nothing better than to stay in bed all day.
“Really, Selene, sleep.”
“I will.”
He kissed her gently, running a hand over her head, before leaving. She listened for his footsteps to descend down the steps before she got back up and hastily threw on some clothes. The room swayed. She closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. If Betty was cooking or busy, she may have a little bit of time to see if the cell phone was in her room. She didn’t have time that particular day to be sick. She hoped Betty was the type of cell phone user who only had it on her person if she were actually going to use it, or were away from home.
Selene carefully took the steps to the bottom, cautiously peeking around to see as much of the dining room as she could. The table sat empty with only an arrangement of fall flowers in the center. She could hear dishes rattling in the kitchen. Selene tiptoed to the swinging kitchen door and listened. Mary Sander’s voice was the first one she heard.
“Maybe I should check on Miss Gisele.”
“She’s fine I’m sure,” Betty responded. “Barkley just said she hadn’t slept well and had a bit of an upset stomach. Just leave her be until lunch time at least.”
There was more general kitchen noise and finally a deep sigh from Mary. “He did say to check on her every once in awhile, but maybe you’re right. He did just leave. All right, Betty, I’m off to do the shopping. Sure you don’t want to tag along?”
“No. I’m going to get started on tonight’s dinner, prepping the vegetables at least. Just make sure you get enough Cornish hens incase MJ actually stays tonight for dinner.”
Selene made a mad sliding dash for the stairs and took them two at a time. She crouched down with both hands holding to the top of the banister, leaning her head against the cool wood, waiting again for the nausea to pass. She held her breath as Mary, with a set of keys jangling in her hand, exited the front door.
Selene cautiously peered over the banister, but didn’t hear Betty leave the kitchen. She counted to ten to be certain before she quietly walked down the hall to Betty’s room. Once again fortune was on her side and it was unlocked.
As soon as Selene entered the room, she was certain Betty must hate it. The room looked like it had been splashed in blue and white. The comforter was high quality, and it held swirls of several shades of blue. There was a throw rug of baby blue that stuck out from under bed on both sides and from the bottom by a good three feet all the way around. Selene was amused to see that it was the exact shade blue that the drapes were.
The room was tidy. It seemed that Betty was living out of her bag instead of putting anything away, or hanging any clothes. Selene found it odd, as if Betty didn’t feel right at home there. She should, in Selene’s estimation, it was Barkley’s second home, and Betty had apparently spent a good deal of time there.
Selene didn’t want to go through the woman’s suitcase or purse, but the cell phone didn’t seem to be laying around anywhere out in the open, which still left the possibility that Betty had it on her. Selene barely touched the purse, unclicking the snap and tossing the flap over. The cell phone laid inside tucked beside Betty’s wallet. Selene carefully lifted it out with two fingers, careful to memorize just how it was in the purse.
The phone was easy to get into, and it was an older model with a small keyboard on the top and an ability for the front face to slide up, revealing a full keyboard underneath. Another blast from the past surprise like the Polaroids had been. Maybe Betty had wanted this out of date model for Christmas. Or maybe Barkley’s drowsy ruminations had meant several Christmases ago.
She pushed the button to light up the screen happy to see there was no password protection. The call log held only three numbers. One she recognized as Barkley’s cell phone, the most called and received number she didn’t recognize at all, but there was one number received two days before that she did recognize, and it belonged to Lucas Mitchell.
Selene’s head shot up as she heard a gentle strange humming coming from the hallway. It was coming closer. She shoved the phone back into place in the purse and closed the flap hoping the snap clicked before quickly moving to the closet. She moved back as far as she could in the small space, positioning her body as much as she could behind a musty smelling winter coat. She heard the bedroom door open, and she could hear Betty walk in, still humming the morbid sounding tune from the hallway.
Selene heard her stop abruptly before the room went completely silent. She held her breath as the doorknob of the closet door turned. A muffled yell sounded from somewhere downstairs, and Betty hesitated before answering with aloud “COMING!” It was far louder than necessary.
Selene allowed her pent up air to exhale slowly through her lips. She didn’t want to come out too soon, but she didn’t want to wait too long either. She decided to count using the counting to ten method again before slowly emerging from the closet. She needed to get to the bathroom again, and she hoped that she would make it. Explaining why she relieved herself in Betty’s closet would be a hard thing to explain.
She tiptoed to the bedroom door and listened. Voices were faint and definitely coming from downstairs. Selene took her chances and slid from the room. She went back to the room she was sharing with Barkley and closed the door shakily, going immediately to the bathroom.
When she came out, the room looked slanted, and there were little pin pricks of light every time she blinked. Dehydration could be a cause, but she didn’t think she had been sick enough for that yet. She still had work to do anyway.
Selene tried to pull the strange number she had seen on Betty’s phone from memory, and jotted down what she hoped was right on her pad of paper. There once was a trick for landlines where you could block your number from being discovered by dialing *67 before dialing the number you were calling. It would also make it so *69 wouldn’t work. She would have to see if that little trick still worked. Right at that moment however, she was suddenly tired enough to sleep. She needed to sleep. Desperately. But even more than that was her need to return to the bathroom. Again.
***
Selene awoke from her nap in a sweat. She hadn’t dreamed this time of the adolescent boy with the bombs strapped to his torso. She had dreamed instead of deep dark wells, moldy brush, and a sighing that she searched for but couldn’t find. The sighing was desperate, scared, and near to whimpering.
She sat up and looked at her phone. She had two missed calls from Barkley and one from Eric. Maybe she would just let Barkley handle Eric. She had no doubt that he was capable.
The problem at hand, Selene realized running both hands through her tangled hair, was that she couldn’t tell Barkley anything about Betty. They were too close, and there was no need for that kind of discomfort on his part until Selene knew for sure that there was anything worth telling. So what if Lucas had called Betty? Lucas had hired her himself to investigate his missing daughter’s case. He wouldn’t blow her cover. Barkley had said himself that Lucas had a thing for Betty
. End of story. At least Selene hoped it was end of story.
She slid off the bed, still feeling drowsy, her stomach clenching and unclenching. Her body ached slightly in different places, but she attributed it to her still being tired and sick to her stomach. Selene vomited as soon as she made it to the toilet. And again after she came out of yet another hot shower. The aching was worse, and with it came the dull thump of a headache behind her eyes. She fell back into bed, wet hair and all, not even bothering to listen to Barkley’s, or it could have been Eric’s, voicemail.
Chapter Four
Barkley returned to his home at a little past six thirty to find Mary and Betty practically wringing their hands that he was so late. He silenced Mary with a deadly stare when she complained that the Cornish hens may be dried out.
“Where’s Gisele?”
Betty had shrugged nonchalantly. “We haven’t seen her all day.”
“Didn’t anyone check on her?”
“I wanted to…” Mary trailed off.
Barkley cursed and took the steps two and some three at a time, his heart hammering in his chest.
Not again!
He threw the bedroom door open, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he saw Selene’s head poking out from under the covers. She snored quietly. He went to her and eased himself down on the bed beside her, frowning slightly. He touched her forehead, his frown deepening when she didn’t stir. She wasn’t burning up, but she had the pasty sheen of someone with a fever. Barkley shook Selene’s shoulders, lightly at first but then harder when she didn’t respond.
“Hey!” he yelled near her face. “Selene? Baby, what’s going on?”
Selene’s eyes opened barely to slits. Her mouth felt dry and full of fluff.
“I don’t feel very good, Barkley,” she croaked.
Barkley went into the bathroom and dug around in the cabinet under the vanity until he found a thermometer. He prayed the batteries were still good.
“Open your mouth.” He spoke gently and pushed the tip of the thermometer between her lips and teeth. “Put it under your tongue.” He held the other end of the thermometer as Selene’s eyes slid closed again.
