Blood Stains

by Sharon Sala

  “Sit down, sit down!” Sam said. “Can I get you something to drink? It’s hot as hell out there. Got sweet tea. Made it this morning. Also got pop and beer. You name it.”

  “Iced tea for me,” Bodie said.

  “Make that two,” Maria said.

  Sam beamed. The cabin was one big room with a sleeping loft above. He poured three glasses of tea and handed them around, then settled down into what was obviously “his” chair—an old brown faux leather recliner that leaned to one side. Like Sam, it had seen better days.

  Sam’s gaze immediately moved to Maria, and from the look on his face, Bodie wondered if the man had once been in love with Sally Blake. His attention to Maria was nothing short of adoration.

  “So what’s up?” Sam asked.

  Bodie glanced at Maria. Her hands were shaking as she took a quick sip of her tea. This wasn’t going to get any easier.

  “The reason we’re here is…the Tulsa Police Department is reopening the investigation into Sally Blake’s murder.”

  Sam’s entire body seemed to shrink.

  “Are you shitting me?” he asked softly.

  “No.”

  Sam leaned back in the chair and covered his face. The silence in the room was at first surprising and then uncomfortable. Bodie was beginning to wonder if they’d been wrong all along—if this was the place where Tank Vincent confessed to a twenty-year-old crime.

  Last night, while going through the file, Bodie had written down several questions he wanted to ask. He pulled out his notebook to make sure he didn’t forget one.

  “There’s no mention of your name in the file. Where were you when Sally Blake was killed.”

  Sam drew a deep, shuddering breath, then dropped his hands in his lap. His face was wet with tears.

  “Bullshit. I told that detective, Frank McCall, everything. I crashed my car that night. I was in the E.R. getting stitches. I should have been there for her, but I wasn’t.”

  Bodie’s gut knotted. The dirty cop had perpetrated a cover-up. But why? Who had paid him off?

  Maria was starting to get it. Sam Vincent’s reaction had a lot to do with guilt, something she hadn’t expected from a pimp. Yes, his response to her had been positive, but she’d been a kid. Lots of people related to kids. But something in her gut said the man had cared about Sally Blake, not just her kid.

  All of a sudden a thought popped into Maria’s head. Considering the fact that her mother had been a hooker, she’d just assumed her father’s identity was a nonissue. But had she been wrong? Did Sally Blake know who had fathered her child, and even more…could it be Tank?

  She glanced at Bodie. His mouth was already parted, another question on his lips. She could wait. Maybe she would ask. Maybe not. Maybe this was something she didn’t need to know, because in her heart, no one could replace Andrew Slade.

  Bodie shifted in his seat. Like Maria, he hadn’t expected this kind of reaction from Tank.

  “Did they ever have any suspects?” Bodie asked.

  Sam shook his head. “Not that I ever heard. It was Sally’s night off. She always kept Sundays for her and Mary.” He smiled at Maria, then took a drink of iced tea. By the time he’d swallowed, he had control of his emotions once more.

  “Do you think she could have made a date without your knowledge? You know…one now and then on the side without giving you your cut?” Bodie asked.

  Sam frowned. “No, she wouldn’t have done that. And even if she had, she would never have taken them home. That was her one unbreakable rule. No dates where she lived.”

  Maria’s estimation of her mother shifted up another notch. Not only had she found a reason as to why Sally had chosen her line of work—an abandoned baby raised in the Oklahoma welfare system, unable to read or write—but she’d also refused to bring her work home where she lived with her child. What kind of a dichotomy was this—a hooker with morals? Was there such a thing?

  Bodie frowned. “I don’t think I read that anywhere in the file.”

  Sam shrugged. “Not surprised. Nobody gets excited about a dead hooker.”

  As hard as that was to hear, Bodie knew he was right. It also helped explain how McCall had gotten away with burying the facts.

  “So were there any of your other girls interviewed? I didn’t read anything except one statement from a woman named Becky Thurman, a neighbor who lived across the hall. Was she one of your girls?”

  Sam’s demeanor shifted with the tone of his voice. “Hell no. Becky is my sister. She was Mary’s babysitter when Sally went out on dates.”

  “That’s what my father wrote in my journal,” Maria said.

  “Your father? You got lucky. Not many kids get adopted out of the Social Services program in this state. They usually get moved from foster home to foster home until they age out of the system.”

  “I was never in the Social Services program,” Maria said.

  “Then how—”

  Bodie didn’t want to get into anything that would reveal the fact that Maria had witnessed the murder, no matter how friendly this witness seemed, so he interrupted quickly.

  “So did Becky ever mention anything to you that she didn’t tell the cops…like who might have been in Sally’s room?”

  “No,” Sam said. “And believe me, if she’d known, she would have told. We loved Sally. Everyone loved Sally.”

  “Someone didn’t,” Bodie said. “Someone killed her.”

  Sam seemed to shrink. Bodie almost felt sorry for him, but what the hell? As a man, how did you reconcile yourself to the fact that you’re selling women and pocketing the profits, and make it okay? He couldn’t do it, that was for damned sure.

  “Sam, I want you to think back. Did Sally ever have a trick who gave her trouble…maybe wanted more from her than she was willing to give…someone who might have roughed her up or threatened her?”

  “No, and if she had, I would have taken care of it,” Tank said. “That was my rep on the street. No one messed with my girls and walked away. Everyone knew that.”

  “Did she have a lot of repeat customers?” Bodie asked. “Maybe someone who would have imagined that he and Sally had a ‘real’ relationship and flipped out when he realized it wasn’t true? We both know that can happen.”

  “Not that I ever knew,” Sam muttered, then pushed himself up from the chair. Even from across the room, he seemed to tower over them. “Don’t you think I already thought of all this? If you knew how many nights I lay awake thinking over every fuckin’ man who laid one of my girls, trying to pick out one who might have held a grudge… Her murder is why I quit the business.”

  That surprised Bodie.

  “So you came to Lake Eufaula because you were running away?”

  There wasn’t an ounce of emotion in Sam’s voice when he said, “Hell no. I came here to die.”

  Nine

  T he answer hit Bodie like a fist to the gut. He didn’t have to ask why. In his own crazy way, Tank Vincent had loved Sally Blake, and his inability to protect her had taken the heart right out of him.

  As a man, that was something Bodie understood.

  “Is your sister still alive?” he asked.

  Sam nodded. “Yes, but she’s not Becky Thurman anymore. She got married again about fifteen years ago, but she’s been divorced around six or seven years now. Her name is Clemmons now. Becky Clemmons.”

  Ah…the reason I couldn’t find her name in the phone book, Maria thought as Sam gave Bodie his sister’s address and phone number.

  When he finished, he turned to Maria.

  “I have something I need to give you,” he said, then headed for the sleeping loft. His steps were slow and lumbering, his massive shoulders stooped as he dragged himself up the stairs.

  “Why do I feel sorry for him?” Maria muttered.

  Without comment, Bodie understood where she was coming from. Sam did elicit a certain amount of empathy. He glanced up, watching as the man lumbered back down the stairs with something in his hands. It
wasn’t until he started toward them that Bodie recognized it as a picture frame, and the man was carrying it next to his heart.

  Sam stopped by Maria, then hesitated. Every night for the past twenty years, this photo had been the last thing he’d seen before he’d closed his eyes and the first thing he’d seen when he awoke. As much as he hated to part with it, his gut told him it was going to mean even more to Sally’s child.

  “Here,” he said softly. “After you disappeared, it was the only thing of hers I had left. I want you to have it.”

  His hands were shaking as he held it out to her.

  The moment her gaze fell on the face behind the glass, she gasped. It was like looking at her own reflection.

  “Oh, my God.”

  Bodie didn’t bother to hide his shock. The bloody crime scene photo had not done Sally Blake justice. Now Vincent’s reaction to seeing Maria made sense. She could have been a clone of the smiling, dark-haired woman in the photo, instead of just her daughter.

  But Maria’s shock was for a reason far removed from what the others might have imagined. All these years—every time she’d looked at her own image—she’d never once remembered that she had a mother with the same face. Granted, she’d only been four and it had taken her twentysomething years to mature into this body, but the fact that she’d completely forgotten all of it was shocking. What in hell had she witnessed that had been so vile—so unimaginably horrible—that she could block out the memory of a woman who had been her double?

  Maria held up the photo. “How old was she when this picture was taken?”

  Sam frowned. “Not sure, but I’m thinking about twenty-one or twenty-two. It was about a year before you were born.”

  I’m twenty-four. She was close to the same age I am now.

  The fact that Sam had mentioned her birth was the opening she’d been waiting for.

  “Do you think Sally knew who the father of her baby was?”

  Bodie eyed Maria’s face, watching the way she maintained her control by focusing on a point just beyond Sam’s shoulder, rather than looking at the raw emotion on his face. Even more telling was the way she phrased the question; she had removed herself from the equation.

  Sam visibly recoiled. “You mean…do you think your mother knew who fathered you?”

  The anger in his voice was like a punch in the gut. Maria started to respond in kind, but when she opened her mouth her voice was shaking.

  “Yes, I guess that’s what I mean.”

  “Hell yes, she knew.”

  “Was it you?” Maria asked.

  Sam exhaled slowly, then staggered back to his recliner and sat down.

  “No, but I can say with all honesty, I wish to hell it had been.”

  Maria’s voice was shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I’m not trying to insult you or besmirch Sally’s…my mother’s…name. But you need to understand something. Last week, my father—the man who raised me—died. I knew nothing about any of this until the reading of his will.”

  She started to cry.

  Bodie’s first instinct was to hold her, which surprised him. The feeling was beyond the normal empathy he should have been feeling. Distracted by his own reactions, he did nothing as Maria continued to struggle her way through the explanation.

  “I have no memory of my past. None. I had hoped by coming here that something would click. Someone’s face, the place where we used to live, the sound of a voice. Something…anything…that would remind me of the first four years of my life.” Her shoulders slumped as she looked down at the photo in her lap. “I’m overwhelmed by the fact that I’ve been looking at my mother’s face every time I looked in the mirror and didn’t know it.”

  Sam sighed. Her explanation had taken away his indignation.

  “It’s all right, sugar. Maybe if you’re here a while it’ll come back. You should go see Becky. She was with you almost as much as Sally. Maybe seeing her will ring a bell. I could call her. She’ll be over the moon, I swear. You and your mother were family to us.”

  Maria glanced at Bodie. He shook his head slightly, which she took as a warning not to tell the rest of her story. She sighed. He was right. The fewer people who knew her secret, the safer she would be.

  “I don’t know,” Maria said, glancing at Bodie.

  He spoke up. “Considering the shock factor of Maria’s appearance, it might be best if you did give her a call. See if she’ll agree to talk to us.” He eyed Maria. “You up for another round of this?”

  “You know why I’m here. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I came back to find the man who murdered my mother,” she said.

  Sam’s eyes widened, then a slow smile broke across his face.

  “By God, you don’t just look like Sally. You got yourself a fair amount of her grit, as well.”

  “Thank you…I think,” Maria said. “And thank you for this.” She held up the photo. “I can get it copied and send one back for you.”

  Sam shook his head. “She already copied herself when she gave birth to you. As for that photo, I don’t really need it. I’ll see her face in my mind for as long as I live.”

  Bodie took a card out of his wallet as he stood. “I think we’re done here. If you think of anything…anything at all, call me. And I’ll be waiting to hear if Becky’s up for seeing us.”

  Sam’s focus was on Maria as he slipped the card into his pocket. He wasn’t often at a loss for words, but Sally’s daughter took his breath away.

  “Mary…uh, I mean Maria…I know you feel like I’m a stranger, but that’s not the way I feel about you. You don’t have to, but it would mean a lot if you stayed in touch. Nothing big, you understand…just a card now and then to let me know you’re okay.”

  Before she thought, Maria found herself walking into his arms, and this time, she hugged him back.

  “I will.”

  The delight on his face said it all.

  “I’ll give Becky a call right now,” he promised, as he saw them to the door.

  Bodie paused at the door. “If it’s not convenient for her to see us this afternoon, call me back. I’ve got her number. I’ll call and arrange it myself.”

  “Yeah. I’ll do that,” Sam said. “If you don’t hear back from me, just assume she’ll be expecting you this afternoon.”

  As he followed them out of the house, his dog, a Rhodesian Ridgeback, stood up from his resting place on the front steps.

  “Whoa,” Bodie said. “That’s one big dog. Where was he when we walked up?”

  “That’s Pooch. He was probably in the woods chasing squirrels. When I’m in the house, he’s on the steps. No one sets foot on the porch until I tell him it’s okay.”

  “Damn good burglar alarm,” Bodie muttered, eyeing the huge beast as it ambled over to where he was standing and sniffed his boot.

  “Let ’em alone, Pooch,” Tank said.

  Pooch gave Bodie’s boot one more sniff and then flopped down against the side of the house.

  Sam grinned. “I’ll walk back to the car with you. If I don’t go fishing, I’ll have to open back up, and I’m not in the mood for business right now.”

  Within a few minutes they were in the car and heading down the drive. Maria stared down at the photo in her lap and found herself struggling with emotions she couldn’t identify. She glanced over her shoulder. Sam Vincent had not moved a step since they’d driven away. As Bodie turned onto the road, she lost sight of him and settled back into her seat.

  “Did anything ring a bell?” Bodie asked.

  She shook her head.

  “So what do you think?” he asked.

  “About him? I think he was telling the truth about everything…and I think he was in love with…Sally.”

  “So do I.”

  “How do you feel about visiting his sister?”

  “Not as nervous, now that I know the relationship between him and Sally was…what
it was.”

  “Yeah, love has a way of smoothing out all kinds of wrinkles, doesn’t it?” Bodie said.

  “So it seems,” she said softly. “So it seems.”

  “It’s getting close to lunchtime,” he said. “How do you feel about stopping somewhere along the way to eat?”

  “Can we spare the time?” she asked. “I mean…do you have to get back to the police station at any certain time today?”

  “My lieutenant knows I’m working on the cold case today, and my partner’s out sick. We’re good. Do you like fried catfish?”

  “I like fish. I’ve never had catfish.”

  “Ah…then it’s about time to rectify that gap in your culinary education. You can’t be from Oklahoma and not have at least tasted fried catfish.”

  “But I’m not from—” Maria stopped in mid-sentence.

  “It’s in your blood,” Bodie said softly. “The first four years of your life, you had the red earth of Oklahoma between your little toes, and one of these days you’re going to remember it, too.”

  “I hope so, or this entire trip will have been a waste.”

  Bodie frowned. Two days ago he hadn’t known Maria Slade existed. But now that he did, he knew that he was changing. He’d gone from a thirtysomething, didn’t-want-to-talk-about-commitment bachelor to a man who had begun to want. No matter how this turned out, what ever came from having known her would never be a waste.

  Becky Clemmons had been a 911 dispatcher for the city of Tulsa for eleven years. It was where she’d gone to work not long after her second marriage and where she’d found her niche in life. To her surprise, she was not only good at the job, but she also liked it.

  Today was her day off, and she was trying to cram a week’s worth of chores into twenty-four hours, which she had yet to make happen. However, she was making a big dent in the grocery list as she pushed her basket along the bread aisle in Wal-Mart. She grabbed a package of hamburger buns and dropped them in the basket just as her cell phone rang. When she saw who was calling, she smiled. She didn’t hear from her brother nearly often enough.

  “Hey, Sammy, what’s up?” she asked.

  Sam smiled. No one called him by his childhood name but his sister.