Got Your Number

by Stephanie Bond

  She shook her head. “Carl’s path and mine rarely cross these days. He’s so involved with the administration and with the church, he does very little teaching.”

  “That’s what he said.” Roxann toyed with her napkin. “He also said that he’s never married all these years.”

  “No.” Nell laughed. “Why is it that men who don’t marry are even more intriguing, while women who don’t marry are simply old maids?”

  “I don’t think of you as an old maid.”

  The professor shrugged. “I don’t mind, really. But it isn’t nearly as fulfilling as the feminists made it sound thirty years ago.”

  “You have your career.”

  “Yes, I do. But my career can’t keep me warm at night, can it?”

  Roxann blinked. She’d always thought of Nell as an asexual person, uninterested in base pastimes like romantic love.

  “Oh, yes, I’m a woman.” Nell laughed, but her laugh turned into a cough, which grew in severity until people around them stared. “I’m sorry.” She gasped into a handkerchief.

  “You’re ill. We should go.”

  She shook her head and drank from her glass. “I’m fine. Just a cold from the change of weather.” But her hand trembled violently.

  The waiter arrived with flat bread and hummus. They ordered soup and salads. Nell still looked a tad blue, and Roxann wondered if one of the woman’s imagined ailments had truly materialized. She was trying to think of a diplomatic way to inquire when Nell spoke.

  “Roxann, how well do you know Angora?”

  Roxann frowned. “She’s my cousin.”

  “Yes, but how well do you know her? Is she always so unpredictable?”

  She splayed her hands. “If you’re talking about her behavior at the auction tonight, I think she was feeling a little upstaged by the award they gave me.” She smiled. “If you hadn’t noticed, she has a thing for tiaras. And throwing money around is her way of getting attention. Besides, she was drinking.”

  “You’re being generous, don’t you think?”

  Roxann tamped down the spark of anger at Nell’s uncharacteristic sarcasm. Besides, the woman had tapped into some of her own concerns. “Four days ago she was dumped at the altar.”

  “Oh? Yes, that’s tragic. Still, she seems… unstable.”

  “If you knew her mother, you’d know why.”

  “Does Angora have psychological problems?”

  Roxann frowned. “You’re serious.”

  Nell nodded.

  “Not that I know of. Why?”

  “I shouldn’t say anything, it’s been so long ago.”

  “What?”

  Nell glanced around them, then leaned closer, her mouth pinched. “Did you know Angora was a suspect when that girl was killed on campus years ago in a hit-and-run?”

  The hummus turned to sawdust in Roxann’s mouth, and she swallowed painfully. “Tammy Paulen?”

  “You remember her?”

  “Yes.” She was still digesting Nell’s words, and replaying snatches of troubling conversations with her cousin. “We were talking about her the other night when we found my annual. Angora was a suspect?”

  Nell nodded.

  Now was probably not a good time to mention that Tammy had taunted Angora, or Angora’s comment that the girl had gotten what she deserved. “Did the police ever make an arrest in the case?”

  “No.”

  “Well… there were probably lots of suspects, weren’t there?”

  “Three. The two boys who called in the report, and Angora.”

  She put her fingers on her temples. “Why didn’t I know this?”

  “The investigation was kept under wraps because the president was afraid of a scandal. I was brought in to assist because I was Tammy’s faculty advisor.”

  “I can see why the police would suspect the guys who reported the incident, but why was Angora a suspect?”

  “I understand that her name kept coming up when Tammy’s friends were questioned.”

  “But all of Tammy’s friends were her sorority sisters. Angora quit the sorority because they gave her such a hard time.”

  “The sorority mother told me that Angora was forced out.”

  Angora did have a habit of adjusting the truth until it reflected well on her. Still, Roxann’s head was spinning. “But… but there must not have been enough evidence to warrant an arrest.”

  “No. There were no witnesses. But I watched the videotape of the police interviewing Angora, and it was clear to me that she had issues with the Paulen girl.”

  “I heard the Paulen girl wasn’t the nicest person.”

  “I heard the same thing,” Nell conceded. “And Tammy’s friends admitted that she treated Angora badly. They said she had something on your cousin, was holding it over her head.”

  “What?”

  “No one knew, although one girl said she thought it had something to do with a blond wig.”

  Roxann went completely still. “A blond wig?” She managed a little laugh. “That’s… strange.”

  “You don’t know what they might have been referring to?”

  She tried to speak, but could only shake her head.

  Nell shrugged her thin shoulders. “You know how girls are—maybe she found out that Angora wasn’t a natural blonde, or something superficial like that.”

  “Right,” Roxann said, recovering. “No connection to the accident. Besides, I just can’t see Angora being involved.”

  “Roxann—” The professor looked down, sighed, then looked up. “Do you think you’re a good judge of character?”

  She pulled back. “I’d like to believe so.”

  “That came out wrong—I meant where your cousin is concerned.”

  Words of defense gathered in her throat, then Roxann swallowed them. Hadn’t Angora always been able to evoke her sympathy? To convince her to do things against her better judgment? Was it possible that instead of being a poor little rich girl, her cousin was a grand manipulator? After all, she had a master tutor in Dee.

  “Angora and I will get a hotel room tonight.”

  “Don’t be silly, you’re staying with me.”

  “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about Angora sleeping under your roof.”

  “I don’t, and I didn’t mean to upset you. Please don’t leave.” The woman looked a little desperate—she was indeed lonely.

  Roxann touched Nell’s hand. “Thank you for telling me the truth. I’ll keep an eye on Angora. By the way, I ran into Elise James on campus today.”

  “I know that name, but I can’t place her.”

  “She went to grad school here, and she joined the Rescue program about a year ago. I thought you might know her.”

  Nell sighed. “Unfortunately, the memory is the first thing to go. Is she nice?”

  “Nice and troubled. We were paired up to live together in Biloxi, but I don’t think Elise ever had her heart in the work. She suffered some personal problems and a few weeks ago she just took off.” No need to go too much into detail, lest Nell start to think she was some kind of lesbian siren.

  “This kind of volunteer work isn’t for everyone. And if a person already has problems, the stress can sometimes exacerbate those problems.”

  Roxann nodded. “I think she was on something when I saw her today. She was rambling, incoherent.”

  Nell broke off a small piece of the flat bread. “What was she rambling about?”

  “Something about a college relationship that had screwed her up.”

  “Sounds like whatever she’s on has her screwed up.”

  Their food arrived, but Roxann’s appetite had vanished, and nature was calling. She excused herself and went to the ladies’ room, grateful for the moment alone. She hadn’t been alone, not really, since leaving Baton Rouge. And now she had a sick, heavy feeling that returning to South Bend would simply reopen old wounds. Carl had drawn her back, but why on earth would Angora want to come back to a place where she had so many ba
d memories?

  Roxann stared in a mirror over the sink and let the revelation sink in. Carl. Angora had been drawn back to Carl, too. She had made light of the fact that sleeping with him was on her life list, when she’d probably been in love with him just as much as Roxann. Why hadn’t she seen it?

  And Angora had probably been devastated earlier today when he’d recognized Roxann and not her. Roxann winced. No wonder Angora had acted so strangely the rest of the afternoon, and had bid so outrageously for his attention. On the heels of being jilted, her cousin was starved for validation.

  She leaned into the cold porcelain sink and tried to remember the last day her life had had any semblance of normalcy. As is, a mushrooming cloud of doom was dogging her and the people she came into contact with—she didn’t even want to think about what can of worms would spring open tomorrow. Plagued with warring thoughts and emotions, Roxann left the restroom before Nell began to think she’d been abandoned. But just outside the restroom was a pay phone, and she was struck with the longing to hear a comforting voice. Or at least a familiar one. Her cell phone was at Nell’s on a charger. Before she could change her mind, she dialed her father’s number. He answered on the third ring.

  “Hello.”

  His rough-hewn voice scraped over the line, rugged and reassuring. She smiled into the phone. “Dad, it’s me.”

  “Roxann, honey—are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Dad. Has anyone else been around asking about me?”

  “No. Where are you?”

  “I’m in South Bend, with Angora, We came up for Homecoming, but we’ll be back to Baton Rouge soon.”

  He sighed. “Dee has been driving me nuts. Since that cop talked to her, she’s sure Angora is in some kind of trouble.”

  “Well, she isn’t.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Yet. “Listen, Dad, is there a history of psychological problems in your family?”

  “What kind of fool question is that?”

  “It’s important, Dad.”

  “Well… my mother’s sister died in an asylum.”

  Roxann inhaled sharply. “What was wrong with her?”

  “Schizophrenia. When she was twenty-five she pushed another woman out of a tenth-story window.”

  Her eyes bugged. “Why haven’t you ever told me?”

  “You never asked. Are you seeing that Detective Capistrano?”

  Her eyes bugged wider. “What?”

  “Are you seeing—”

  “No, I’m not seeing him! What makes you think I’m seeing him?”

  “He seemed to know an awful lot about you.”

  “Dad, he’s a detective.”

  “He told me you were working together on a case.”

  “Well, we’re not.”

  “He told me you could be in real trouble with the police.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “He told me about his partner. I think you should help him.”

  She closed her eyes. “Dad, I have to go. Keep the doors and windows locked, and don’t talk to Detective Capistrano. I’ll call you before I leave South Bend.”

  Roxann returned the phone to its cradle, trying to assimilate the bits of the conversation—discounting the absurd line of questioning about the infuriating detective. Schizophrenia was hereditary—was it possible that… no, Angora was a little flighty, but she wasn’t a murderer. Heck, on any given day she had reservations about her own sanity.

  Still, it might be a good idea to take Angora back to Baton Rouge as soon as possible, lest rumors about the Paulen girl resurface and disturb her further. They would leave first thing in the morning. As for Carl…

  She sighed. Maybe after she tied up loose ends in Biloxi, she’d return to South Bend for that romantic dinner and… see what developed.

  Remembering she hadn’t yet checked her voice recorder at home, she quickly dialed the access number. Two messages.

  “Hello, Roxann, this is Mr. Nealy. Your old boyfriend was hanging around the back door today—Richard, I think you said his name was? Anyway, if he gives you any guff, you just let me know.”

  So maybe it was Richard who’d broken in and left the message. Creep. She’d left town for nothing because she could have handled him with a kick to the groin.

  The second message was a hang-up, so she quickly rejoined Nell at the table. “Sorry it took so long—I decided to check in with my dad.”

  “That’s nice. How are you and your father?”

  “We’re fine.”

  Nell angled her head. “Something’s wrong.”

  Roxann was drawn into the warmth of Nell’s eyes, compelled to unburden herself just a little. “You were right. There is a history of mental illness in our family. Angora’s and my great-aunt was schizophrenic.”

  Nell nodded sadly, then lapsed into another coughing seizure, this one more fierce than the last.

  “I think I’d better take you home,” Roxann murmured, rising.

  “But you haven’t eaten.”

  “I’m not hungry, and you need to rest.” Nell didn’t protest as Roxann helped her to her feet “I don’t suppose the chances of getting a cab are any better than they used to be.”

  “Afraid not,” Nell whispered with a smile. “But I’ll be fine—my medication is wearing off, that’s all.”

  “Still, I wish I had driven so you wouldn’t have to walk.”

  “Can I offer you ladies a ride?”

  Roxann closed her eyes and thought a very bad word. When she opened them, Capistrano was standing before them, cleverly disguised as a Good Samaritan.

  Chapter 17

  “What are you doing here?” Roxann asked him through clenched teeth.

  “Having dinner—the scampi was great.”

  Nell’s hand tightened around Roxann’s arm. “Is this the man you told me about?”

  She frowned. “No, this isn’t Frank Cape. This is… an acquaintance of mine from Biloxi.”

  “Oh.” Nell looked back and forth between them.

  “Dr. Oney, meet Detective Capistrano.”

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  She nodded, then looked back to Roxann, as if waiting for a cue.

  Roxann surveyed his innocent expression, then sighed. “He’s harmless. Where are you parked, Capistrano?”

  During the short drive to Nell’s, Roxann sat in the middle of the front seat of his Dooley truck and exchanged glares with him in the rearview mirror. She was half furious at him for following her, half furious at herself for assuming he wouldn’t.

  “Thank you,” she said to him as he helped Nell down from the passenger side. He dwarfed the small woman, but seemed to handle her gently. At the porch, Roxann said, “I’ll take it from here. Goodbye.”

  “I need to talk to you.” His head was so big, it obscured the moon behind him.

  “This isn’t a good time.”

  “It’s important.”

  She hesitated, then gave Nell an apologetic glance.

  “Take as long as you need,” Nell said. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you girls at breakfast.”

  When the door closed, Roxann turned, arms crossed.

  He gestured to her outfit. “You look plumb girly tonight.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t swoon.”

  “I’m not crazy about black, though. You should wear white.”

  “You are harassing me.”

  “Funny, the last time I saw you, I saved your scrawny ass.”

  “My ass isn’t—” She scowled. “I thought you had to get back to Biloxi.”

  He shrugged. “After you gave me the slip, I nearly said to hell with it and did.”

  Her smug smile came easily.

  “But I had some time off coming to me and thought now was as good a time as any to take it.” He leaned on the porch rail, as if he were planning to loiter.

  “How did you know where we were?”

  “Your cousin practically blurted it at the carnival, and when she said something about seeing a Dr
. Carl, I figured it was either a medical doctor or a professor. I saw your diploma when I was at your dad’s. Notre Dame is in South Bend. I just put two and two together. You’d make a terrible criminal.”

  “When did you get here?”

  “I saw your crowning—very nice. Too bad your cousin outbid you for your old boyfriend.”

  She gasped.

  “That’s why you came back, isn’t it? To see this Dr. Carl guy?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, it doesn’t take a detective to see the way you two were making eyes at each other. But he’s a little ripe on the vine, don’t you think?”

  She poked her tongue into her cheek. “What’s the important thing that you wanted to talk about?”

  “Pistachio.”

  “What?”

  “Pistachio ice cream. It’s a weakness of mine, and I was hoping I could persuade you to join me.” He splayed his hands. “Unlike Dr. Grandpa, I’m free of charge.”

  “You’re certifiable.”

  “And you’re hungry because you didn’t get to eat dinner.”

  “No I’m not.” But her brain conjured up a picture of a big bowl of green ice cream and sent a prompt to her traitorous stomach, which howled into the silence.

  His laugh rode on the light breeze. “Liar. Come on, you don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

  She hesitated. “I’m not going to talk about Melissa Cape.”

  He held up his hands in an off-limits gesture.

  She relented and stalked to the truck, but only because she couldn’t bear the thought of spending an evening with Boots, Chester, Pumpkin, Buttermilk, and Pansy. She resisted his help climbing up, closed her own door, sat as far away from him as possible, and stared straight ahead.

  “Brrrr.” He shook with an animated shiver. “There is a definite draft coming off you.”

  “Go,” she said. “Before I change my mind.”

  He went, and soon they were seated at the crowded bar of an ice-cream parlor that brought memories flooding back.

  “This place used to be called Duck’s,” she said, mostly to herself.

  He handed her the chocolate malt she’d requested. He looked fair to middling in a black sport coat over dark jeans and a white dress shirt. “Used to come here a lot, did you?”