by Ann B. Ross
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t need anything. Besides, Roberta will be by in a little while.”
“Then I better be gone before she gets here.” I began to gather myself to leave the tent. “I just dropped by to see how you’re doing, and, I admit, to pass the time while Sam’s away.”
“Uh, Miss Julia,” Coleman said, looking down at his hands. “Before you go . . . I think I might have a problem, and I don’t much know what to do about it. But you mentioned it, so I thought . . .”
“Roberta?”
He looked up with a rueful grin. “Yeah.”
The long blast of a car horn drew our attention to the street, and Coleman turned to wave. Then, turning back with a frown, he said, “It’s gotten so bad that I was thinking of going on home tonight. You know, to avoid her. But tomorrow will be my best day with people coming by after church to donate. And I sure do want to collect enough for that playground equipment.”
“Coleman, I . . .”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “This is my thing, and I’m going to see it through. I thank you for the offer, though.” He grinned. “If that’s what you were going to do.”
“It was, and the offer will stay open if you change your mind. But, Coleman, what is Roberta doing? I mean, other than bringing hot chocolate and hot apple pies?”
“Well, that and hamburgers and homemade cake and fudge and coffee, and this morning she brought sausage biscuits, ham biscuits, and sausage and egg biscuits—so I’d have a choice. And for lunch she brought Kentucky Fried Chicken and more biscuits, and said she’d have a surprise for me tonight. And, see,” he said, with a tinge of exasperation, “it was okay when she was coming once a day, but today’s Saturday and she was off. She was here, bearing gifts, every time I turned around, and she’s off again tomorrow. Only thing, though, so is Binkie.”
“My word,” I said, addressing the smallest problem first. “How do you eat all that, along with what other people bring?”
“I don’t. I give it away, or throw it out. Hate to do it, but . . .” He turned up his hands. “And she doesn’t just bring food and leave. She’s staying longer and longer each time, asking my favorite color and when my birthday is and what I like to do for fun. I tell you, Miss Julia, I about get a crick in my neck from looking down at her and talking so long.”
I almost laughed at the worried look on his face. Yet it was plain that Coleman didn’t think it a laughing matter, so I responded in a sympathetic manner.
“I don’t suppose you could be busy with something? Too busy to talk, I mean.”
“I’ve tried that,” he said, “but it doesn’t work. She says she’ll wait till I’m through. I can’t even hide and pretend I’m not here.”
There was no getting around it—Roberta was making a nuisance of herself, and I marveled at how she could throw herself at an indifferent man the way she was doing. Most women could take a hint, but Roberta was off in some vague dreamworld populated by heroic men and pre-Raphaelite women. And, come to think of it, if she’d brush out her hair, she’d look just like one of those women.
“Let me study on this, Coleman,” I said. “I have an idea or two, although I expect she’ll calm down when you’re not as available as you are now. Roberta is prone to going off on tangents, then veering off in other directions before you know it.”
“Well,” Coleman said with a laugh, “I hope she veers off before Binkie knows it. I’d never hear the end of it.”
“Yoo-hoo!”
Coleman straightened up and turned to look toward the street. “Oh, Lord, here she comes.”
“Binkie?”
“No, Roberta. Just stay in the tent, Miss Julia. I’ll get rid of her as soon as I can.”
Soon wasn’t soon enough for me. My limbs began to tremble from my position in the tight quarters, and after several minutes, during which I could catch only a few words of the prolonged conversation at the other end of the platform, I’d had enough. Roberta needed a good talking-to, and I decided to give her one.
With no leverage and no ballast in Coleman’s chair, I had no option but to crawl out on my hands and knees, and keep crawling to the head of the ladder. Once there, I quickly descended to the ground. Well, as quickly as I could manage, because I’d become so stiff and sore from all the unaccustomed exercise I’d gotten on a certain hillside, I could barely straighten up.
But I reached the ground in reasonable shape and proceeded to march under the platform to Roberta’s side before either of them noticed me. I stood in the dark for a minute, watching and listening, and while I did, I was moved with pity for a lonely woman looking for love in all the wrong places.
Roberta’s head was tilted back so she could look up at Coleman, as she rattled on and on about the courage and heroism of warrior kings, medieval knights, and deputy sheriffs. No wonder he didn’t want Binkie to know what was going on—she’d laugh her head off.
I walked right up to Roberta, put my hand on her arm, and said, “Roberta.”
She screamed and jumped a mile.
“It’s just me,” I said. “Now, come on. It’s time to go.”
“But . . . what’re you doing here? I mean, where did you come from? Oh, my goodness, Miss Julia,” she said, patting her heaving chest, “you scared me to death.”
“Sorry, but I need you to walk me to the car.”
“Oh, of course. Are you all right?” Then, with a wave behind her, she called, “See you later, Coleman. Miss Julia needs some help.” Roberta had a good heart—she was just as willing to offer assistance to me as she was to stand around talking to Coleman half the night.
After asking her to sit with me awhile, she got into the passenger seat of my car, as, avoiding passing cars, I took my life in my hands and made my way to the driver’s side.
“I’m so glad you came along, Roberta,” I said. “Like you, I was concerned about Coleman’s welfare, then found the trek through the weeds more arduous than I’d thought.”
“I’m just happy I was here to help,” she said, as I felt a smidgen of guilt for taking advantage of her good heart. “Is there anything else I can do? Can I take you home?”
“I’m all right now, thank you. As one grows older, you know, one must learn to slow down.” I paused to allow her to consider the limitations of age, then went on. “But there is one thing I’ve been wanting to ask you. I hate to admit this, Roberta, but I’ve never seen Pride and Prejudice, and I know you have the videos. Could you, would you . . . ?”
“Oh, Miss Julia, of course!” she said, waving her hands in excitement. “You must see it—it’s a classic, and you’ll love it. Then we can talk about it. Don’t you just love to discuss a book or a movie with someone who really understands? Whenever you want to watch it, just let me know. I’ll bring it to you.”
“Well, Sam won’t be home till late tomorrow, and I was thinking what a long day it was going to be. I do have a problem, though. I don’t know how to work the video player or whatever you call it, so I was wondering if you and I could watch it together at your house. Maybe tomorrow? You could give me all the historical background and so forth that would make it more meaningful for me.”
“Oh, I would love to! What time can you come? Right after church? I could fix some sandwiches.” She stopped as if remembering something. “I was planning to bring some for Coleman’s lunch. . . .”
“Don’t worry about that, Roberta. The Baptist ladies are bringing an absolute spread—a full hot meal, I’ve heard. Believe me, he won’t starve.”
“Well . . .”
“Thank you so much for giving me such a treat. I have longed to see that movie, especially the wonderful Mr. Darcy. After hearing you speak of him so often, he must be quite special.”
“Oh, he is! I can’t wait to share him with you.”
My eyebrows went up at that, but I let it pass. After de
ciding that I would come calling as soon after church as I could manage, she hopped out of my car and, flapping her hands, hurried to her own.
Well, I thought, as I pulled away from the curb to head for home, that was a successful diversion of the attention she’d been showering on Coleman. Of course, it meant my entire Sunday afternoon would be taken up with watching videos one after the other for hours on end. But those would be hours that would keep Roberta home and out of Coleman’s hair, so I could view them as a reasonable sacrifice for his benefit.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: if there’s something you really need to do—like locate a certain pastor—but you’re thwarted at every turn, then go to the next item on your list and get that done in its place. In other words, use the time judiciously, which was what I was doing.
As I drove up the boulevard to the gas station to turn around for home, I began to plan my Sunday. As soon as I got out of bed, I would call Roberta and ask her out for breakfast. Then we’d go to church together—that would take care of any morning visits to Coleman.
After church, I’d send her on home to set up the viewing, while I lingered to waylay Pastor Ledbetter—if he showed up to preach. If he didn’t, I’d have to track him down some other way. Or just go ahead and tell Detective Ellis what I knew and be done with it. Then we’d see just how adroit the pastor was at avoiding an all points bulletin.
I was about to work up another round of anger at the position that both Connie—although she couldn’t really be blamed—and Pastor Ledbetter had put me in. And to make it worse, I’d put my own self into the position of having to endure a long, boring afternoon watching a two-hundred-year-old romance and listening to Roberta’s raptures over a make-believe Mr. Darcy.
My goodness, I thought with a touch of self-congratulation, what I’m willing to do for my friends!
As I crossed Main Street to head toward Polk, I noticed how little traffic was out and about. Abbotsville rolled up the sidewalks fairly early on a winter’s night, and, though it was barely past my usual bedtime, a great, lonely feeling swept over me. Especially since I knew I’d have to enter a dark and empty house all by myself.
Shivering at the thought, I felt a wisp of air blow across the back of my neck and heard a soft whisper.
“Hey, Miz Murdoch.”
Chapter 36
I screamed. Shock, like an electric charge, zipped through my system and I went stiff as a board, my hands locking onto the steering wheel. Kidnapping! Carjacking! Robbery! Assault and battery! Murder! Or worse.
I slammed on the brakes, screeching to a stop in the middle of the street, snatched up my pocketbook, and flailed away at whoever was behind me.
“Whoa,” Lamar Owens yelled, cringing from the onslaught. “Hold on, it’s me! It’s me!”
“Oh, Lord,” I moaned, sagging over the steering wheel, as limp as a rag with relief. “Lord, Lamar, you took ten years off my life, and I don’t have that many to lose. Where have you been?”
“Back here on the floorboard.”
“What!” I said, turning to stare at him. “You’ve been in my car all this time? While I was looking for you and worrying about you, you were on the floorboard all along?”
“Well, no’m, not all along. I hightailed it when that siren went off and all the lights come on, and I didn’t stop till I got to the highway. Uh, ma’am?” Lamar pointed at the street in front of us. “You gonna hit something.”
It helps when one brakes a car to then put the gear into park, which I quickly did. On second thought, I reengaged the gear and pulled the car out of the middle of the street and parked on the side. I was in no condition to be driving, anyway.
My nerves still twanging away, I turned back to Lamar and, patting my chest, said, “I’m still hyperventilating from you creeping up on me like that.” Then, catching my breath, I demanded, “So what else did you do? How did you get here from there?”
“Well, I started walkin’ when I got to the highway—didn’t wanta look like I was runnin’ away from something. An’ you won’t believe the luck! A deputy on patrol stopped an’ picked me up. Took me right to the McDonald’s on the MLK an’ give me some money for a hamburger an’ a milkshake. Some of them deputies is good boys.”
“Oh, Lord,” I groaned, realizing that I was calling on Him an inordinate number of times, but I was in great need of His help. “Lamar, didn’t it occur to you that the deputy might put two and two together with you so close to the house with all the alarms going off?”
“Well, I thought about it, ’cause his radio was about to send him right back where I come from, but then it changed its mind and sent him to the MLK to check on a drunk driver. When we got to McDonald’s, he about throwed me outta the car, he was in such a hurry. So he didn’t think nothin’ of it.”
I blew out my breath and tried to slow my heart rate. “So how’d you get in my car? And weren’t you concerned about me? I mean, Lamar, you just left me!”
“Yes’m, an’ I feel kinda bad about that. But, see, I figgered they was no use both us gettin’ caught. An’ you had a better chance of talkin’ your way out of it if I wadn’t around. I mean, some of them boys is bad about lookin’ up my record.”
“I see what you mean,” I said tiredly. What else could I say? “All right, you’ve explained that. Now explain how and when you got in my car.”
“Well, I was pretty much stuck at the McDonald’s, an’ I’d already thought about spending the night at the mission ’cause it’s gettin’ cold at night. You noticed how cold it’s gettin’ at night? Downright freezin’.”
“No. I mean yes, of course I have. But that’s beside the point. I want to know how and why you got from McDonald’s to the back floorboard of my car.”
“Oh, well, yes, ma’am. I set out to walk to the mission, which to get there you have to take the MLK, so I was goin’ along there an’ the cars was whizzing past an’ I was about to freeze, ’cause, see, I lost my scarf somewheres an’ my ears was about to fall off. So when I seen your car parked right where I had to pass by, I just said to myself, ‘Lamar, there’s a warm place just a-settin’ there.’ An’ I crawled in while you was talkin’ to Sergeant Bates. I mean, I guess that’s what you was doin’. I didn’t try to listen in or nothin’.”
“They Lord,” I mumbled, giving up, because it all made a warped kind of sense the way he told it. “Well, I’m glad you’re all right, and I’m glad neither of us is in jail.”
“Oh, it ain’t so bad. They treat you pretty good.”
I rolled my eyes without dissent, conceding the point to one more experienced than I in such matters. Starting the car and pulling carefully out into the street, I had a brief, crazed impulse to invite him to stay the night at my house. I quickly suppressed it, even though I was not looking forward to facing my empty house alone. Besides, how would it look?
“I’m going to take you to the mission, Lamar. I expect you’ve had enough walking for one night.”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure have. I’ll be glad to crawl in bed after all we done tonight.”
“That reminds me,” I said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “I hope, Lamar, that you’ll keep everything we’ve done to yourself. Nobody, and I mean nobody, needs to know that we were anywhere within miles of that house. If it got out, we could be in trouble the likes of which neither of us has ever seen. You understand?”
“Uh-huh. I mean, no’m, I won’t tell nobody.”
“Actually,” I went on, then stopped. I wanted to impress on him the importance of keeping our activities secret, but recognizing how unlikely that was, I decided to give him the right way to tell it. “Actually,” I said again, “we didn’t do anything wrong—we didn’t damage anything and we didn’t interfere with a crime scene. We were just seeing if it was possible to access the house the back way. Right?”
“Yes’m, that’s what we did and we could.�
�
I glanced again in the rearview mirror and, to test him, asked, “Could what?”
“Assess the house.”
“No, Lamar, no! Not assess the house, but access it—to get to it. We were seeing if anyone could get to it from the back way.”
“Yes, ma’am, an’ they could.”
“That’s right.” I blew out my breath, realizing how close I’d come to letting him tell a roomful of deputies that we’d been casing the Clayborn house with intent to break, enter, and commit mayhem. That could put us under the jail, because I had little doubt that he would eventually tell somebody something. I just hoped he’d be able to hold off until the true criminal had been tried and convicted, and what Lamar might say no longer mattered.
A red light stopped me, even though there were no other cars in sight. But I obey the rules, traffic or no traffic. I was so tired I could hardly see straight and was happy to wait the minute or so for a green light. Lamar sat in silence behind me, seemingly content to be in a warm place without feeling the need to talk. I heard him yawn, his jaws creaking with the effort.
Then it hit me.
“Lamar! Oh, my goodness, Lamar!”
“What? What?”
“Where did you lose that scarf?”
“Um, well, I don’t know. I guess if I did, it wouldn’t be lost.”
Well, that made sense, but it didn’t help.
“Think back,” I urged. “When was the last time you remember having it? Where were you? What were you doing?”
“Lemme think a minute. I prob’ly can come up with it in a minute. Uh, ma’am? Light’s green.”
I pulled to the side of the street again and parked. At this rate, I’d never get home.
“Let me help you remember, Lamar. You had it on when we left my house. I saw you wrap it around your head.”
