He flapped an angry hand at me. “Enough, Mama. You’ve said what you had to say.” He still didn’t turn toward me.
Cindy got up nervously—she hates it when Walker and I fight. To my dismay, I realized she was about to refill our cups. I was delighted to be saved by the bell of the phone. She reached for it, and we heard her say, “Hi. No, we haven’t seen her. Oh, dear. Maybe Olive—? Oh. Well, if she calls, I’ll tell her you’re worried.”
She whisked the pot over and filled my mug before I had time to cover it with my hand.
“That was Adney,” she told us, “wanting to know if Genna was here. They must have had a fight or something, because he said she left a couple of hours ago and hasn’t come home, and he’s real upset. He doesn’t like for her to be out alone after dark.”
“Adney needs to remember he’s living in Hopemore, not Birmingham,” I snapped, still angry but glad to have a new target. “I drive around this town at all hours of the night, and nobody ever bothers me.”
“They’re smarter than that,” Walker said sourly. “Who’d dare tangle with you?” Then he reached over to muss my hair with a smart-aleck grin. Walker and I have the same tempers. They flare up and dissolve. Joe Riddley and Ridd can simmer for days.
“Dang right,” I agreed, giving him a playful smack with a grin of my own. “But she’s not at Olive’s?” I picked up my mug, wondering how I could possibly get that coffee down.
Cindy put the pot down and regarded us both with her fine brows drawn in a worried pucker. “He said Olive had come over to their place and said she hasn’t seen her. That’s when he started getting worried. Maybe I ought to drive around and look for her. But where could she go?” Good question. Hopemore doesn’t exactly roll up the sidewalks after dark, but stores close before suppertime, the Bi-Lo closes by nine, and even Myrtle’s isn’t open after eight except on weekends.
“The superstore,” Walker suggested. “Isn’t it open until eleven? Maybe she’s walking up and down the aisles.”
Cindy reached for her purse. “I need to get a few things there anyway. I think I’ll run over and see if I can find her.”
“Don’t get involved in somebody else’s fight,” he protested. “She’ll go home when she’s ready.”
Cindy pressed her lips together and traced little designs on the countertop. She seemed to be wrestling with herself about whether to speak or not, but finally she admitted, “I think she’s worried about something. She’s acted real strange these past few days.”
“Everybody’s acted strange these past few days,” he pointed out. “We’ve just had a gruesome murder in town, and it was Genna’s stepmother who got murdered. I know they weren’t real close, but they were family. Adney said he had to go on the road the past couple of days just to take his mind off thinking about it all the time.”
Cindy started drumming one fist silently against her thigh. “I’m scared Genna’s heading for a breakdown, honey. She’s all pent up, erupts over the least little thing—I’d like to go look for her. Okay?”
He went over and stroked her hair out of her face, then fetched his keys from the kitchen counter. “You aren’t going without me. If Mama’s right—and occasionally she is—there’s still a murderer loose in town. I don’t want you running around in the dark alone.”
“I’m just going to the superstore. They have security guards in the parking lot at night. And we can’t both leave the children.”
I went through a mighty struggle between my druthers and my responsibilities, then reached for my cell phone. “I’ll go with you. Just let me call Joe Riddley and tell him where we’ll be. I promised I won’t go anywhere right now without checking in. And don’t you look at me like that, Walker Yarbrough. I do sometimes do what your daddy asks. Stop laughing!”
Joe Riddley had forwarded our calls, because he was down at Ridd’s, helping Hollis, Smitty, and Tyrone with economics. I could picture them sitting around the big oak table in the kitchen, like he used to do with our boys and their friends. I sure wished I was down there making them all cups of hot chocolate.
Instead, ten minutes later, I was violating two of my principles. I was riding high above the world in a gas-guzzling, environment-polluting monster SUV, and I was headed for the new superstore. It took us almost half an hour to walk those brightly lit, overstocked aisles, and I’m embarrassed to admit how often I had to rein myself in to keep from buying a few things I needed. Only Cindy’s anxiety about Genna kept me from trying on a soft, fuzzy sweat suit in a flattering shade of green.
We didn’t find Genna, but we did see a friend of theirs with a piled-high cart. “Isn’t it nice to be able to shop after the kids are in bed?” she greeted us. “Tim’s watching television, but I think if the house burned down, he’d notice and save them.”
She said she’d seen what she thought was Genna’s car ahead of her coming down Oglethorpe, but it had turned down Whelan Grove Road at the intersection.
“Maybe she went to Edie’s,” Cindy concluded, heading for the door.
“Why would she do that?” I could hardly get the words out between pants. Cindy was slender as a greyhound and had long, strong legs. In a hurry, she was almost as hard to keep up with as Joe Riddley. “You said she’s nervous about being alone at night, and that place would give even me the willies right now.”
Cindy was already swinging up into the SUV. “I didn’t say she was nervous about being alone at night. I said Adney is nervous about her being alone. Genna herself thinks he’s silly. Besides, where else could she be going?”
“I-20? The world?”
Cindy didn’t take me seriously. “We’ll just drive by and see if her car is there.”
I pulled out my cell phone and notified Joe Riddley of our change in plans. He said, “Well, we’ve finished down here, so I’m heading home. Keep me posted.”
“This thing of phoning in seems restrictive and silly,” I told Cindy, putting my phone back in my pocketbook, “but it keeps him happy.”
She didn’t answer. It takes a lot of concentration to drive a tank.
She pulled in, slowed, and peered at the house far down the drive. “Is that moonlight I see, lights in the house, or a reflection from that security light outside?”
I leaned forward to see better. “The light outside is at the back. I don’t think it could reflect in the front windows. It could be the moon, but it looks to me like the place is lit up.”
“Let’s just look.” She headed down the drive. As we got closer, we saw Genna’s silver Mercedes pulled crookedly behind Edie’s Saab.
I also saw a familiar friend, looking almost pretty bathed in moonlight. “There’s the green tractor I chased Olive with.”
Cindy’s jaw dropped. “You drove that huge thing? That’s incredible!”
I preened to have impressed my elegant daughter-in-law, until she ruined it by adding, “I guess it’s just what you’re used to.”
“I’m not used to driving tractors,” I said crossly. “I used to do it, but no more.”
“Should we go in?” Cindy had stopped and was staring at the back door. “I don’t know if she’d want us to . . .”
The kitchen lights went out, and a face appeared in the newly repaired window of the door. A trick of light distorted its shape, so I wasn’t sure if it was Genna or not. But who else could it be? All doubt vanished when the door flew open and a figure stumbled across the porch. “Cindy? Oh, Cindy! I’m so glad it’s you!”
In spite of the cold night, she wore only a pair of slacks and a silky blouse. I thought the blouse had an awkward neckline until I saw the top two buttons were missing. As she reached the light, we saw that it was no trick of the light that had disfigured her face. One eye was puffy, her lips were swollen, and a dark streak that looked like blood ran across her cheek from the left corner of her nose.
“Oh, honey! What happened to you?” Cindy jumped down from the car before I could stop her, ran to put her arms around Genna, and held her tight. Thro
ugh the open car door, I saw that Genna wore only thin house slippers.
She sobbed and gasped as if she was experiencing a shortage of air. Her words came out in short bursts of fright. “He got so mad! I’ve never seen him like that. He kept asking, ‘Where is it? Where is it, bitch?’ Then he hit me and hit me—” She turned away from Cindy and covered her face. “I’m so ashamed for you to see me like this. He’s not like that, really. He never talked like that before, and he never hit me.” She lifted her tearstained, disfigured face to the halogen light and cried, “I’ve got to find it. Where could it be?”
“Where is what?” I called, climbing down from my high seat.
“Daddy’s money,” she said, as if I should have known. “I told Adney I’d gone to the lawyer and that Shep says there really isn’t any money. But Adney doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m hiding it from him. Why would I do that? I only wanted it so he could start a business.”
She started to blubber, and pulled the tail of her shirt up to wipe her nose. Then she took a deep breath and announced in a shaky voice, “Maybe Edie hid it. If I find it, he won’t leave me.” She turned and limped back to the house, whimpering in a voice that contained both determination and defeat, “I’m going to find it. I know she has to have hidden it somewhere in there. Maybe it’s in a safe-deposit box. I just have to find the key.”
Cindy turned and looked at me. “Should we go in?”
I pulled out my cell phone. “Not until I’ve told Joe Riddley.”
Cindy paced beyond the car while I filled Joe Riddley in on our last ten minutes.
“Adney’s not there?” he asked.
“Not yet.” He knew as well as I did that if we’d figured out where Genna was, Adney could, too.
“I’ll send Walker over to talk to him.”
“Cindy’s here, so there’s nobody to stay with their kids.”
“We’ll figure something out. Don’t you let Adney in if he shows up. You promise me?”
That was one promise I had no trouble making.
As we turned toward the back steps, we saw headlights coming down the drive. Genna ran screaming from the house and nearly knocked us down. “He’s coming! He’s coming! I have to get away!” She streaked off through the grove.
Don’t ask why I took off after her. I was following Cindy, who was leaving me in her dust. She and Genna ran every morning, remember. My favorite exercise is opening the refrigerator for another glass of tea.
The headlights got closer, and I looked over my shoulder to see how close they were. It wasn’t Adney—it was Olive. She was headed straight for me.
27
Do you know how fast I can run in the moonlight? It depends on the size of the SUV behind me. That night, I’d probably have passed Frank Sparks’s motorcycle.
I had no idea where Cindy or Genna had gone. My one thought was to put as many tree trunks as possible between me and Olive, and to find the darkest shadows.
I dashed. I dodged. I circled, and I backtracked. She followed me all the way.
My side ached, and my lungs felt like somebody had replaced the air with fire. Just as I was beginning to see black spots in front of my eyes—and yes, you can see black spots even in the dark—I heard somebody yell, “Hey!” and then I heard a thump.
I kept running.
Next thing I knew, Olive’s lights swerved away from me and headed in another direction. I clung to the nearest tree and peered around the thick trunk, gasping. I watched in astonishment as somebody hung on to the luggage carrier on top of her car with one hand and leaned down to pound the windshield with the other. “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
Olive swerved again and ran right into a tree. The person shot forward, missed the trunk, and rolled on the soft grass between the trees. A bald head gleamed in the moonlight. For one startled moment, I thought Daddy had come back to save me.
Olive certainly looked like she’d seen a ghost. I heard her swearing as she tried to get past her air bags and out the bent driver’s door. She finally climbed out the other side, stopped to retrieve something from the car, then stomped around to examine the damage. One fender was smashed against the tree, its headlight blazing high into the branches above.
She whirled and screamed into the night, “Okay, damn you, where are you? I know you’re out here!” She glared around. I ducked behind the wide trunk. When I peeped back to where my hero had landed, he was gone.
“Where are you, Judge?” Olive yelled. “I was just playing with you. Come on out. I won’t hurt you. Genna? Adney sent me to get you. He’s worried about you. Where are you?”
“Down here. You scared me, driving like that.” Genna’s voice was a small, frightened sound in the night. I heard a rustling of nuts and saw her move onto the bright median from the shadow of a tree far down the row.
Olive laughed. “I was just having a little fun with the judge, getting back at her for this morning.” She laughed again. “Come on. We’ll need to use your car to get home.”
I jumped as someone put a hand on my shoulder. I smelled cigarettes and heard a husky mutter. “She’s got a gun. Count to fifteen, then start throwing these one at a time across the grass.” He pressed several warm nuts into my hand. “One . . . two . . .” I turned, but he was gone.
On fifteen, I pitched a nut. To my astonishment, I hit a tree across the median.
Olive turned in that direction. “Judge? I was kidding, okay? You can come out now.”
I pitched another nut, a little in front of the first. She turned, tense and alert.
I pitched a third, and a fourth. Each time she turned and listened.
It was a surreal scene, silver and black, dark shadows beneath the trees and bright moonlight between them. Not a bird or cricket spoke. Genna came limping from far away, her hair bright under the moon, clutching herself tightly against the cold. I wanted to cry out, to stop her from coming any nearer, but I didn’t dare.
I pitched another nut, then another, making a rough pattern as if somebody were moving cautiously among the trees. Olive moved hesitantly toward the plops they made, then stood peering into the darkness.
One nut fell short. When she turned that way, I caught my breath sharply. The moonlight glinted on a short barrel.
She peered all around. “I know you are here,” she muttered between her teeth. Then she raised her voice. “Hurry, Genna. I haven’t got all night. It’s cold out here.”
“I turned my ankle. I’m coming as fast as I can,” Genna called back.
My nuts were gone. I inched down, calves and thighs screaming, and gathered more in a terrifying game of pickup sticks in which the penalty for moving anything that rustled could be death. When I had a handful, I stood and flung several as far as I could, all at once. They landed in a noisy hail against a distant trunk. She whirled. “I know you are there!”
“Hi-ya!” He came from behind her, a black streak from blackness. He hurled himself at her and tackled her low. As she fell, she pulled the trigger. I heard a nick as the bullet hit a limb above me, and Genna’s scream.
Sheltered behind the tree, wondering how I could help, I watched the two of them roll on the ground. Genna hobbled a little faster our way. Olive writhed, trying to get the gun in position. Suddenly he grabbed her wrist and twisted it without compunction. I heard a crack, a scream, then she lay still.
The gun lay across her open palm in the moonlight.
“You’ve killed her!” Genna screamed, clinging to a tree. “Miss Mac? Where are you? Are you killed, too? Please don’t kill me!” She fell to the ground, sobbing.
He climbed shakily to his feet and stood panting, staring down at the form on the grass. “You can come on out, now, Judge. I didn’t kill her. I think she fainted.” He turned to face me.
“Smitty?” I approached him on trembling legs.
“Yeah.” He brushed leaves and grass off his clothes and gave his trademark snicker. “Looked like you could use some help.”
He bent down and picked up the gun,
weighed it in his hand, then thrust it at me with obvious regret. I had to admit it was a pretty little piece.
“How did you get here?”
“On my bike. I saw her on my way home, after I left Ridd’s. I heard Joe Riddley talkin’ to you on the phone, and it sounded like something was comin’ down involvin’ the Harrisons, so when I saw her headin’ out this way, I followed. It was easy. She drives like a little old lady.”
He looked down at Olive again. “I would of used karate, but we haven’t had but two classes. We didn’t get to the part yet about how to defend against firearms.”
“You did fine.”
We sounded like a couple of frogs. He croaked because he was sixteen and winded. I croaked because my voice wasn’t working right. My legs weren’t working right, either. I backed up and leaned against a tree for support. “As soon as I can walk, I’ll get my pocketbook from the car and call the sheriff. You’re gonna be a hero.”
He snickered again. “Think they’ll put my statue up on the town square?” He looked around. “I wish I had something to tie her up. I didn’t hurt her much, just broke her wrist.”
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” I admitted.
He shook his head. “Can’t play soft when it’s you or them, Judge. You gotta do what you gotta do and get it over with.” Remembering that ferocious, practiced twist, the crack of bone, and Olive’s scream, I shuddered.
I called down to where Genna still huddled on the grass. “Genna, it’s okay. You can come on, now.”
She lifted her head, saw Smitty, and shuddered.
“He won’t hurt you,” I assured her. “We need to get back to Cindy’s car and call for help. Where is Cindy?”
Genna looked around like she’d forgotten Cindy was there. “When Olive started chasing you, she said she was going back to the house to call 911.” She hobbled to where we were and bent down to speak to the silent form. “Don’t worry, Olive, the ambulance is coming.”
Who Killed the Queen of Clubs?: A Thoroughly Southern Mystery Page 22
