Blood Stains

by Sharon Sala

  “Hi, Beck…how’s it going?”

  “About the same. How about you?”

  “I’m better than I have been in years.”

  Becky’s grin spread. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard this much life in Sam’s voice.

  “Why? Did you finally catch that big flathead you’ve been after for the past ten years?”

  “No. Better than that. Are you sitting down?”

  “No. I’m in Wal-Mart doing the shopping. Quit being so dramatic and spit it out.”

  “Mary Blake came to see me today.”

  Becky’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

  “You heard me. Sally’s little girl. Oh, my God…Beck. Scared the shit out of me when I first saw her. She’s the spittin’ image of Sally…right down to the way she walks.”

  Becky couldn’t focus. Her mind had gone straight back to the night of Sally Blake’s murder: hearing the gunshots and then running footsteps, dashing across the hall to find that preacher kneeling over Sally’s body…and Mary—four-year-old Mary—staring blindly at the arterial spray on the wall as the blood flowing from her mother’s body pooled on the hardwood floor beneath her.

  “Beck? Becky? Did you hear me?”

  She shuddered.

  “What…uh…yes, yes, I heard you. Mary came to see you.”

  Then it hit her. “How on earth did she find you?”

  “Here’s where the story gets wild. She has no memory of ever living in Oklahoma and only found out about her mother after her father—the man who raised her—died.”

  “Sweet Lord,” Becky whispered.

  “I tell you, Beck, she doesn’t just look like Sally. She’s got her momma’s grit, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She said she came back to Oklahoma to solve her mother’s murder. She and the cop she’s with want to come by and talk to you. Is that okay? I gave them your address and phone number. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “No, no, of course I don’t mind. When are they coming?”

  “Today, but they just left my place. It’ll take them a while to get back into town.”

  Becky felt faint. “Today. Wow. Then I’d better get finished with my shopping and get home. I need to pick up the house and—”

  “Oh, hell, Beck…they’re not gonna care what your house looks like. I can’t wait for you to see her. You gotta call me tonight. Tell me what you think.”

  “Yeah, sure…I’ll do that,” Becky said, and disconnected. She dropped the cell phone back into her purse and then fumbled for her grocery list, but when she glanced at it, the words blurred. Instead of finishing her task, she headed for the checkout stand. All she could think about was that she needed to get her head together and get home. If Mary Blake had no memory of what had happened, she wondered if she knew yet that she’d been the only witness to the crime she wanted solved.

  It was midafternoon when Bodie and Maria got back into Tulsa. He called in to the precinct to make sure nothing urgent was pending, got the go-ahead from Lieutenant Carver to follow up with the Becky Clemmons interview and then stopped at a station to gas up.

  “I’m going to find a bathroom,” Maria said. “Want anything from inside?”

  “Maybe something cold to drink. That catfish was good, but it made me thirsty.”

  “It wasn’t the catfish. It was that bushel basket full of hush puppies you had with it. Pepsi okay?”

  Bodie laughed out loud. “Why, thank you. That’ll be fine, Miss Tell-it-like-it-is Slade.”

  Maria grinned. She was beginning to think she could like this man. Too bad their meeting had been under such ugly circumstances.

  “Back in a few,” she said.

  Bodie watched her walk all the way inside the quick stop, marveling at the heavenly engineering that was responsible for that slow-motion sway in her stride. It wasn’t until a cop car went screaming past, running hot with lights and sirens on full blast, that he yanked him self out of his slightly lustful reverie and remembered to put gas in the car.

  A few minutes later Maria was standing at the counter waiting in line to pay when she glanced outside. There was a middle-aged man sitting in a car that was parked on the other side of the street. From where she was standing, it appeared that he was watching Bodie.

  “Ma’am, can I help you?”

  Maria jumped, then realized she was holding up the line.

  “Oh. Yes. Sorry.”

  She paid for her purchases and was on her way out the door when she remembered the man. To her shock, he had a camera in his hand and seemed to be snapping pictures—and the camera was aimed directly at her.

  Rattled, she started running across the parking lot, yelling at Bodie as she ran.

  “Bodie! Bodie!”

  Bodie caught the urgency in Maria’s voice. He looked up, saw her running and bolted toward her.

  “What is it?” he said, as he grabbed her by the arms.

  “That man in that gray SUV…there! Across the street! He was taking pictures of me!”

  Bodie turned just as the SUV shot away from the curb, leaving a trail of rubber on the street as the driver sped into traffic.

  Bodie dashed into the street to get a tag number, but he was too late and the traffic was too thick. Cursing beneath his breath, he jogged back to the car, where Maria had taken shelter. He slid behind the wheel, slamming the door in frustration.

  “Did you get the tag number?” she asked.

  He frowned. Her voice was shaking.

  “No. He put too many cars between us before I could get to the street.”

  “What do you think this is about?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Did you get a good look at his face?”

  “Not really. I noticed him first when I was inside the store. He seemed to be staring at you. Then when I came out, he had a camera…with one of those telephoto lenses. It was aimed at me. I panicked. It was stupid. I mean, a camera can’t hurt me.”

  “No, but those photos might. Have you told anyone else besides the police that you were a witness to your mother’s murder?”

  “No.”

  “Dammit,” Bodie said, then glanced at his watch. It was close to four. “You still okay to go talk to Becky Clemmons?”

  “Yes. I was rattled for a moment, but I’m not the fainting type. I’m ready when you are. Oh…there’s your Pepsi.”

  She pointed to the two plastic bottles sitting in the console.

  He picked it up and started to twist the cap when it began to fizz.

  “Shit,” Bodie muttered, then blushed. “Sorry.”

  Maria grinned. “I think I’m the one who should be apologizing. It got a little shook up while I was running.”

  Bodie opened the door and then held the bottle away from the car as he opened it, holding it there until the spewing had stopped. Then he shut the door and took a long drink.

  “Here,” Maria said, handing him a handful of tissues.

  He wiped down the outside of the pop bottle, then sat it back in the console and eyed her purse.

  “Did you happen to get anything sweet to go with these?”

  Maria rolled her eyes, then pulled out a Snickers candy bar. “You are one serious bottomless pit. After all that lunch you ate, I can’t believe you’re still hungry.”

  “That doesn’t count. Sweets go in a completely different part of the stomach.”

  Maria laughed. “Oh, really? Okay, fine. But you can’t have it all. You have to share.”

  Again, Bodie had to admire her spirit. She’d quickly bounced back to her usual wise-ass persona.

  “Of course. You take what you want, and I’ll be grateful for whatever’s left over.”

  Maria rolled her eyes. “Seriously…a bit too much Oliver Twist for a man your size.” She eyed the candy bar, then broke it in half, stringing chocolate and caramel as she pulled the two pieces apart. “Here—and you’re welcome, because I’m giving you the big half.”

>   Bodie popped the whole thing into his mouth at once and started to chew.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, then licked his thumb before putting the car into gear and driving away.

  Maria tried not to stare. She’d grown up around a mob of hungry cowboys, but she’d never been attracted to any of them in the way this man attracted her.

  Thirty minutes later, Bodie turned off a residential street into a driveway and parked in front of a redbrick house. Before they had time to get out, the front door opened. A middle-aged woman wearing white Bermuda shorts and a loose yellow blouse came out onto the porch. Her short spiky hair was a dark smoky gray, and from the expression on her face, she was just as shocked by Maria’s appearance as her brother had been.

  Maria sighed. She wished she could return the favor. “Struck out again,” she muttered.

  “What?” Bodie asked.

  “Total stranger,” she said, then grabbed her purse. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Bodie took her hand. “Hang in there. It’s been twenty years. Don’t expect too much too soon, and remember, we’re just getting started.”

  “Right,” she said, and then they got out of the car and started toward the house.

  Ed Underwood almost missed the fact that Bodie and the woman had reached a destination. There were five cars between them when he saw their car pull into a driveway. He stopped a block back and grabbed his camera, snapping a quick couple of pictures of the middle-aged woman who’d come out to greet them and made a note of the address. He’d gotten enough for today and wanted to go back to the office and run some info through the computer. He was still rattled as he drove away. Who knew that damn woman would have made him so fast?

  Ten

  A fter Sam’s call, Becky thought she had prepared herself, but she was wrong. The shock of seeing a living version of Sally Blake getting out of the car brought a lump to her throat, followed by an onset of fresh tears. Waiting was difficult. She wanted to run to meet her—to rejoice that her baby girl had come home. But that wasn’t going to happen. She could tell from the look on Mary’s face that she didn’t remember her at all.

  Becky’s gaze shifted to the cop. Between the Stetson sitting firmly on his head and the dusty boots on his feet, he walked like a man comfortable in his own skin. In her younger days, she would have given him a run for his money. Blinking back tears, she reached for the porch post to steady herself as they started up the steps.

  “Lord, Lord, it’s a good thing Sammy called me or I’d be fainting dead away,” Becky said as she stared at Maria. “You are the image of your mother, God rest her soul. Come in, come in.”

  Bodie had a hand under Maria’s elbow as they started up the steps and felt her trembling. He took a quick glance at her profile. Despite what she was feeling, she gave nothing away.

  He took off his hat as they entered the house. “Mrs. Clemmons. I’m Detective Scott from the Tulsa Homicide Division. This is Maria Slade. I believe you knew her as Mary Blake. Thank you for agreeing to talk to us.”

  “Yes, I knew Mary Blake,” she said softly, and smiled at Maria as they settled in her living room. Once they were seated, her teary gaze immediately slid back to the woman she’d known as Mary. When she began to speak, her voice broke.

  “Forgive me for staring, but you don’t just look like Sally. You could be her. The resemblance is actually a little spooky…as if Sally was back from the dead.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maria said. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “No, no…no need to apologize,” Becky said. “Believe me, I understand better than most why you wouldn’t remember any of this.”

  Maria knew from reading her father’s journal that Becky Thurman had not only been her babysitter and lived in the room across the hall, but she’d also been instrumental in helping get her away from the murder scene unobserved.

  Maria smiled nervously, then folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking as Bodie took charge of the interview.

  “Since you’ve already spoken to your brother, you know that the Tulsa police are reopening the case of Sally Blake’s murder,” Bodie said.

  Becky nodded.

  “I know it’s been a long time, but what do you remember of that night?”

  Becky swallowed past a lump in her throat as a fresh set of tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Everything…I remember everything.” She shuddered, then made herself focus. “I’d pulled a double shift at the bar the night before and had gone to sleep early. I’d been asleep about two hours when I heard Sally scream. There were two gunshots, followed by someone running down the stairs. By the time I got out of bed and into the hall, the preacher who’d been in the room next to Sally’s was running inside. I followed him in.”

  Maria felt numb. This was her life. She’d been a witness to this horror. Why in hell couldn’t she remember?

  “Was Sally able to speak?” Bodie asked.

  “Barely.”

  “Didn’t anybody ever ask her who shot her?”

  “Yes! God yes! Over and over, but all she kept saying was, ‘Hide Mary. He’ll find her and kill her. Just like he killed me.’”

  A wave of nausea swept over Maria. All of this was in the journal. She’d read it a dozen times, but hearing the emotion in Becky Clemmons’ voice brought the horror to life.

  Bodie glanced down at his notes. “Why do you think she was so adamant about giving her child to a total stranger? Why wouldn’t she want you to take care of Mary? You two were obviously friends.”

  Becky grimaced. “Actually, Andrew Slade…wasn’t a complete stranger. We’d visited with him more than once during the week that he’d been in town preaching. I know Sally was real taken with him. She even went to hear him a time or two and took Mary with her. Said she wanted Mary to know there was a better life than the way they were living. She told me more than once that she wished she’d met a man like Andrew earlier in her life. So, besides the fact that Mary was a witness to a murder…you wonder why she didn’t want Mary to live with any of us? The truth isn’t pretty. My brother was a pimp. I worked in a bar. You tell me. What would you have done? Who would you have wanted to raise your daughter? She wanted her out of Tulsa—and fast.”

  “So you and Dad were the only two people who knew I witnessed the murder?” Maria asked.

  Becky nodded.

  “And you never said a thing?” Bodie asked. “Not even to the cops or your brother?”

  Becky shook her head as she pulled a tissue from her pocket. “Sally said it would get Mary killed. I’d already lost my best friend. I wasn’t going to put her daughter in danger.”

  Bodie nodded.

  “What did the police say about the absence of the child while they were working the crime scene? It had to be obvious that a child lived there.”

  Becky rolled her eyes. “Are you serious? Yes, it was obvious. There was only one bed. Sally and Mary slept together. Mary’s clothes were in the dresser beside Sally’s. Some of her toys were on the living room floor close to Sally’s body. One cop came over and took a look at her, but by that time she was in bed in my room, asleep. I told him that I babysat her at night when Sally worked. They didn’t pursue the issue, which was exactly how the preacher and I wanted it. Their immediate assumption was that the murderer was one of her tricks. I told them she never brought business home, but they didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe me because no one cared. Someone killed a hooker. Big deal. It garnered a couple of lines in the newspaper and a mention one night on local television. Never mentioned Sally’s name. Never mentioned that she’d left a child behind. There was no outcry about a killer running loose in the city, because the feeling was, a woman living the life that Sally lived deserved to die.”

  “Your brother was also adamant about the fact that Sally never brought clients to her place.”

  “Never,” Becky stated firmly.

  “Do you know if she’d had any previous trouble with a client? Was she being stalked o
r harassed in any way by someone she’d been with before?”

  “Not to my knowledge, and if there had been, Sammy would have dealt with it. If anything bad had ever happened to her, I think she would have told me, or I would have seen the physical evidence for myself…you know, like if she’d gotten beat up or something.”

  “Do you know who my father was?” Maria asked.

  Bodie eyed the expression on Maria’s face but couldn’t get a reading on what she was thinking.

  “No, but she did,” Becky stated firmly.

  Bodie tensed, then leaned forward. “Really? How do you know?”

  “She told me she had proof.”

  Bodie wondered if that proof could have been a motive for murder.

  “Do you think the father knew? Was she trying to get money from him?” Bodie asked.

  Becky shrugged. “I don’t know. What I do know is that Sally wanted out of the business before Mary got old enough to realize how her mother was making a living.”

  “Did you ever see any one man come and go from her room with any regularity?”

  “No, but like I said, she never did business at home.”

  “Did she ever refer to any particular man often enough that you thought maybe he was important?” Bodie asked.

  “No.” Becky’s shoulders slumped. “I never thought of her death from this angle before. Do you think the man who killed Sally was Mary’s father?”

  “I’m not thinking anything,” Bodie said. “I’m just investigating all possibilities, and that’s one of them. Do you know if anything was stolen from the apartment? Nothing was mentioned in the report, but her death could have been something as simple as a robbery gone bad.”

  “She didn’t have anything to steal,” Becky said.

  “But she had information someone might not have wanted to get out,” Maria said.

  Becky shrugged. “Anything’s possible. I’m sorry I’m not more help. I would do anything to see her killer caught.” Then she glanced back at Maria. “You really don’t remember anything…not me…not Sammy…not a thing about your mother, do you?”

  “No,” Maria said. “In the past twenty years, not even a nightmare about it, which is why learning about all this was such a shock.”