“Key?” Rafe asked.
I have one, but I rang the doorbell anyway. “It’s my mother’s house. It seems more polite to ring the bell. At least the first time.” Especially since I still hadn’t called to warn her we were coming, and make sure it was all right that we were.
We waited. A moment later, Mother appeared in the far reaches of the hall and made her way toward us.
My mother is pushing sixty, but looks at least ten years younger. She’s a bit shorter than me, with soft, champagne-colored hair and skin that’s a testament to SPF 50. And even when she’s just sitting around the house, like now, she’s dressed to the nines. There were little gold studs in her ears, her makeup was perfectly applied with the lipstick refreshed, and her slippers had fur trim and heels.
“Savannah!” She seemed delighted to see me. “And Rafael!” She seemed no less delighted to see Rafe, which was nice. And quite a change from the early days, where she could barely bring herself to say his name. “Come in! What are you doing here?”
She stepped back so we could cross the threshold into the two-story foyer. I resisted the urge to shake myself like a wet dog, and instead let Rafe take my coat to hang up with his own.
“It was a spur of the moment thing,” I said, while I leaned in and air kissed both her cheeks. “Rafe got a call from the sheriff. I decided to come along and see you.”
A tiny wrinkle appeared between Mother’s perfectly plucked brows. “Oh, dear. What’s happened?”
“Shootings up by the Devil’s Backbone,” Rafe said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, as well. A real kiss, not the airy kind. Mother beamed. “Family named the Skinners.”
“You probably don’t know them,” I added, since my mother, from everything I knew about her, would have nothing in common with the Skinners.
She shook her head. “I don’t imagine I do. What happened?”
She started down the hallway toward the kitchen again, gesturing for us to follow.
“Someone came in overnight and shot’em,” Rafe said, with a hand at the small of my back, pushing me along in my mother’s wake.
Mother glanced at him over her shoulder. “How many?”
When he told her seven, her steps hitched. For a second, I was afraid she’d stumble, but then she righted herself again. “Dear me. Seven dead?”
“Yes, ma’am.” We stepped into the kitchen, and Rafe steered me toward a stool at the island. “Everyone in the family over the age of sixteen.”
“Except Robbie’s ex-wife and daughter,” I added, scooting my butt up on the stool. “They live in Pulaski. We were just down there to talk to her.”
“Oh, dear.” Mother turned on the tap and started filling a kettle. “Tea? It’s a gloomy day out there.”
It was a gloomy day out there, wet and cold and depressing. “Please,” I said, making myself comfortable on the stool.
Rafe rubbed a circle on my back. “Not for me. I gotta head back out.”
Mother put the kettle on to boil and turned back to him. “Not done for the day?”
“Not today.” He dropped his hand and then stuffed both in his pockets. “When seven people are shot, it makes for long days.”
Yes, it did. “You’re taking the Volvo,” I asked, “right?”
He nodded.
He’d driven here, so he already had my keys. “The key to the front door is on the chain,” I told him. “I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get back here. Just let yourself in and come upstairs. You know where to find me.”
He nodded and bent to drop a kiss on my mouth. A quick one, since Mother was standing there watching.
But not so quick that my toes didn’t curl inside my booties and my eyes didn’t drift shut and stay that way.
It felt like reluctance when he lifted his head, although that could have just been on my part.
“Be careful,” I said, uncurling my fingers from the fabric of his hoodie and smoothing it against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat through the layers of cotton. “Bring some backup. And maybe a weapon.”
His lips curved. “I do that anyway. Don’t worry.”
Easy for him to say. However— “Take care.”
“Always.” He grinned, knowing full well how I feel about that not-quite-accurate response. I watched—Mother and I both did—as he headed out of the kitchen and down the hall. We heard the front door close and lock, and then the sound of the car engine starting.
I turned back to my mother. “How are you?”
“Fine,” Mother said, taking a ladylike sip of her tea. “And you?”
“Very well, thank you. Tough situation.”
“No doubt,” Mother said.
We sipped in silence a few moments.
“I had lunch with Catherine,” I said.
Mother put her cup down. “Did you?”
“When the sheriff called Rafe to come help with the Skinner murders, I decided to come along to provide moral support for Yvonne McCoy. The Beulah Odom hearing started today.”
After a second, I added, “And ended today, too.”
Mother’s brows arched. “Catherine hasn’t told me much about it. Client confidentiality, I assume.”
Probably so. But at this point, the ruling was a fait accompli, as Mother would say—the Martins were French once upon a time, and so were the Calverts, Mother’s family.
“She was representing Yvonne,” I said. “Beulah Odom left Beulah’s Meat’n Three to Yvonne in her will, and Beulah’s brother’s wife and daughter contested the will. I guess they want the place for themselves.”
“And the hearing was today?”
I nodded. “Catherine brought a bunch of character witnesses. People who said Beulah was perfectly capable of making her own decisions and Yvonne wasn’t pressuring her at all. So the judge ruled against the Odoms.”
I took a sip of tea and added, “Of course, the will still has to go through probate. By then, Beulah’s might have been closed so long that everyone has started eating elsewhere and Yvonne basically inherits a gravel lot and a cinderblock building with a kitchen inside.”
Mother nodded. “Even so, it’s good to have this first hurdle jumped. I’m sure Yvonne is celebrating.”
“She’s not, actually. She might have been, but I flapped my gums over lunch, and told her and Catherine that the Skinners were dead. Turns out Yvonne used to date Darrell Skinner. Both in high school and a couple of years ago.”
“Oh, dear.” Mother put the tea cup down again. With a little click this time, as if her hands were unsteady. “How terrible.”
“Apparently he cheated on her repeatedly. But she’s still sad he’s dead. And Robbie Skinner used to beat on Sandy. She’s still upset he’s dead, too.” Although that was probably more for her daughter’s sake than her own.
“They don’t sound like a nice family,” Mother said primly.
I shook my head. “Not at all. I wonder if that makes it harder or easier to investigate their murders.” I’d have to ask Rafe. Who certainly had no reason to remember the Skinners fondly. But who’d have to do his best for them anyway.
“Maybe you should offer to meet Yvonne for dinner,” Mother suggested. “To celebrate. And to take her mind off things.”
“I would. But Rafe’s taking her with him to case dive bars all night. She’ll have plenty of opportunity to drown her sorrows. And I’m sure she’d rather be with him than with me.”
Mother’s brows crept up her forehead.
“They go back,” I said. “Friends in high school.” A little more than friends, too, but no reason to mention that to Mother. “He thinks having her there will make it more likely that people will talk to him.”
Mother’s brows wrinkled. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go with them, darling?”
“I’m not worried,” I said. “And if I go along, he’ll spend half his time worrying about me. Besides, I usually conk out around nine these days. But you and I could have dinner. Since I’m sure you’re not meeting the sheriff
tonight.”
Mother shook her head. “I’m not.”
I smiled optimistically. “Maybe we could ask Catherine to join us.” Mother looked positive to the suggestion. “And Darcy. Make it a girls’ night.”
Mother’s face clouded. “I’m not sure, Savannah...”
“You invited her to your birthday party,” I reminded her. “And to Christmas Eve last year. And the Fourth of July picnic. And my wedding. You like Darcy.”
“Yes,” Mother said, “but that was before...”
“It isn’t Darcy’s fault that she’s Dad’s daughter. She couldn’t help it.”
“No,” Mother said, “but...”
“She was just looking for her biological family. Since she lost her adopted family and was all alone in the world.”
“Yes...” Mother said.
I smiled. “Great. I’ll give her a call.”
“No...” Mother said, but it was too late. I’d already pulled out my phone, and I guess she didn’t feel comfortable actually saying that she didn’t want to spend any time with her husband’s love child and my half-sister, because she didn’t stop me.
The law office was closed for the day, so I called Darcy at home. Or on her cell-phone, rather. “It’s me,” I told her.
“I know who you are. What can I do for you?”
“I’m in Sweetwater,” I said, “and I wondered whether you’d like to grab some dinner. I was going to call Catherine, too.” Although it was probably best not to mention Mother until later. Not that Darcy has anything against Mother, but she’s sensitive enough to have realized that Mother has something against her. Or if not that, at least that Mother is uncomfortable around her.
Darcy hesitated.
“It’s OK if you have other plans,” I said. “Or if you don’t want to, or whatever.” Although I’ll admit my feelings were a little hurt. I’d spent a lot of time with Darcy, trying to find her biological family—with absolutely no idea that Darcy’s family would turn out to be my own—and we’d always gotten along well, both before and after we realized we were sisters. She didn’t usually hesitate when it came to getting together.
“It isn’t that,” Darcy said. “Patrick has the night off, and I’m hoping maybe he’ll call.”
Ah. Patrick Nolan is a police officer with the Columbia PD, and he liked my sister a lot. She liked him too, as evidenced by her willingness to forego dinner with me to wait for a phone call from Nolan that might never come. “You could always invite him to join us. If he calls.”
Darcy made a non-committal noise. I could understand that. I didn’t always want to share Rafe, either.
“Or,” I said, “it’s possible he might not have the night off after all.”
“What do you mean?” Darcy said.
I told her about the Skinners and the reason I was here in Sweetwater. “Apparently the Columbia chief of police wanted in on the action. He might have canceled time off for some of his officers to help with the case. Not that I have any idea what I’m talking about. But if you don’t hear from Nolan, that might be why.”
“That’s terrible,” Darcy said, presumably about the Skinners. I agreed that it was. “All right. I’ll go to dinner with you. And if Patrick calls, maybe I’ll ask him to join us. If you don’t mind.”
I assured her I didn’t. I liked Patrick Nolan, or had the few times I’d met him. I especially liked the fact that he seemed so taken with Darcy. “How about we meet at the Wayside Inn at six-thirty?”
Darcy allowed as how that would work, and we hung up. I smiled at Mother. “She’ll be there.”
Mother looked less thrilled about it than I was, but she didn’t say anything. I dialed Catherine, and told her what was going on. “Mother?” she said. “And Darcy? At the same table? Really?”
“Really.”
“I definitely don’t want to miss that.” Her voice turned calculating. “Maybe I should call Audrey, too, while we’re at it.”
“One step at a time,” I told her, conscious of the fact that Mother was three feet away and could hear everything I said. “I think this is enough for now, don’t you?”
Catherine agreed, a little reluctantly, that maybe it was. “I’ll see you at six-thirty. Just let me fix Jonathan and Dix up, so the kids can get together and play. That way, everyone’s happy.”
With the possible exception of Mother. I didn’t say so. “See you there,” I told her and hung up. “I guess you caught that?”
Mother nodded.
“I’m going to take my bag—and Rafe’s bag—up to my room and put my feet up for a while before we have to go.”
Mother nodded.
“I’ll see you down here a little after six.”
Mother nodded. I took my teacup to the sink, poured the last of the tea down the drain, and gently washed the porcelain with mild soap before putting it to dry in the dish drainer. That done, I wandered down the hall to grab the bags and take them upstairs. Throughout this, Mother stood like a statue by the island, staring into space while I moved around her. I deduced she was not looking forward to the evening’s entertainment.
To be honest, half of me expected she’d be gone when I came downstairs again to go to the restaurant. I figured the house would be empty and Mother vanished.
She wasn’t. She had even managed to move herself from the kitchen into the small parlor, and was perched on the edge of Great-Aunt Ida’s uncomfortable turn-of-the-(last)-century sofa, looking like an aging Marie Antoinette waiting to be escorted out to the guillotine.
“Don’t worry,” I told her, since it was impossible not to feel bad for such obvious misery. “It’s just dinner with your daughters. And Darcy’s nice. You know that.”
Mother nodded. “It’s difficult,” she told me. “I’ve known Darcy for several years. I never looked at her and thought she reminded me of either your father or Audrey. But now I find myself watching her face. To see if I can see him there. And when I do, it brings it all back again.”
‘It’ being the feeling of betrayal, I guess. Or maybe the anger or whatever.
“He didn’t know about Darcy,” I reminded her. “Audrey never told him. He couldn’t have told you, when he didn’t know himself.”
“I know that.”
“And it was before he met you. He didn’t cheat.”
Mother nodded. “I’m not angry with him.”
I wasn’t too sure about that, but I wasn’t about to argue. She continued, “And I’m not angry with Darcy. I know it isn’t Darcy’s fault.” She shook her head. “But her presence is a reminder.”
No question about that. However, it was what it was. Sooner or later, we’d all just have to learn to deal with that.
“We should go,” I said, and reached out a hand. Mother contemplated it for a second before she took it and allowed me to haul her to her feet. We headed for the kitchen and the back door—closest to the carriage house—side by side.
* * *
The Wayside Inn is the nicest restaurant in Sweetwater. It’s on the same road as Beulah’s Meat’n Three, but in the opposite direction, and that isn’t the only thing about it that’s different. The Inn is an old building, late seventeen-hundreds, that actually was a wayside inn at one point, back when people traveled this way down to Birmingham and Montgomery and the Gulf. Not that either Birmingham or Montgomery existed at the time, but there were trails through the area. The Natchez Trail as well as others.
Anyway, it’s a nice place. Old and full of atmosphere, with a German chef who really knows his stuff. We slid into a booth in the low-ceilinged dining room, and ordered a drink each. Chardonnay for Mother, and a sweet tea with lots of lemon for me, since I was off alcohol for the time being.
In the middle of the week like this, the restaurant wasn’t all that busy. Less than half the tables were occupied, and the wait staff—small; just two people that I could see—huddled over by the hostess station, giggling together.
I turned back to Mother. “So how have you been? It’s
been a couple of weeks since I was down.”
“I’m fine, darling.” She took a sip of her wine. I watched, a bit enviously. Chardonnay had been my go-to drink when I’d go out to dinner, too, before the baby.
“You and the sheriff got things back on track again?”
She’d been pretty angry with Bob after the truth about Darcy came out. He’d figured it out before any of us—having been around back in the day when Dad knocked up Audrey—and he was the one who had convinced Audrey that it was time to come clean, before we figured it out on our own. Between the two of them, they had rounded up Mother and brought her to the law office for the denouement, and when the truth came out, she hadn’t been particularly appreciative. I couldn’t blame her. At first, I’d thought she was there because the sheriff was Darcy’s dad. Then I thought they’d brought her to provide moral support to Audrey—her oldest and best friend—while Audrey told Darcy that she (Audrey) was Darcy’s mother.
And then it had turned out that Mother was there because Dad was Darcy’s father. No wonder she felt betrayed. Not only by her boyfriend, who knew the truth before her, but by her oldest and best girlfriend, who had known for thirty-four years.
At first, she had shut everyone out. I’d been staying with her at the time, and she’d all but kicked me out and back to Nashville. But Sheriff Satterfield had refused to give up. He’d given her time to process the news, but he simply hadn’t allowed her to cut him off.
Mother nodded.
“What about Audrey?”
“She calls once in a while,” Mother said. “I let the machine pick up.”
“Don’t you think you should give her a chance? It all happened before she knew you.”
Mother sighed and put her glass down. “I’m not upset that she fell in love with your father, Savannah.”
“You’re not?”
She shook her head, and the diamonds in her ears sparkled when the candle light hit them. “I fell in love with your father. I’m not surprised that someone else would.”
OK, then. “So...?”
“I’m upset,” Mother said, “because she had his child, and for the thirty-three years she was my best friend, she never mentioned it.”
Bad Debt (Savannah Martin Mysteries Book 14) Page 9
