A Place to Call Home

by Sharon Sala

  She flipped on the power to a microfiche screen and then turned.

  “Any particular thing you’d be looking for?” she asked.

  “Any stories or articles pertaining to Raymond Shuler,” Judd said.

  She gasped, then put her hand to her bosom, much in the same way she’d done when she’d opened the front door and seen him lying on her steps.

  “Oh, my! Does this have to do with his abduction? Is this part of the investigation?”

  Judd hesitated. “In a way.”

  Wilma looked at Charlie, as if she’d suddenly become a stranger, and lowered her voice.

  “Is it all right…to talk in front of her, I mean?”

  Judd grinned. “Yes, ma’am. In fact, this angle of the investigation was actually Charlie’s idea.”

  “Well, now,” Wilma said, eyeing Charlie with renewed respect. “And all this time I thought you were just a sweet little thing with that darling baby.” Although they were the only three people in the library, she looked over her shoulder before she spoke. “If there’s anything else you need…anything at all…just ask me. I’ll stand watch at the front desk. If I see anyone coming, I’ll tap three times.”

  It was all Judd could do not to laugh. “Uh…maybe the better idea would be for you to play it cool, ma’am. You know…go about your business as if we weren’t here?”

  Wilma’s little round eyes widened even more. “Yes! Right! That way word won’t get out and the criminal will be caught unaware!”

  “That’s the way it usually works,” Judd said. “So, if you don’t mind, we’ll get to work.”

  “Wilma, isn’t there a complete set of Cougar yearbooks in the library?” Charlie asked.

  Wilma clapped her hands. “Yes! Good idea, Charlotte. Follow me.”

  “I’ll be over there,” Charlie said, pointing to a nearby table as Wilma bustled away. Then she realized there was something she hadn’t asked. “Uh…Judd?”

  “What?”

  “Exactly what am I looking for?”

  “Start with the years Shuler would have been in high school,” he said. “Anytime you find mention of his name, mark it. We’ll look at the stuff together, later.”

  She nodded and started to walk away when he called to her.

  “Charlie.”

  She turned.

  “You’re the first person I’ve worked with since Dan was killed.”

  Her expression froze. “Oh, Judd, I didn’t…”

  “No, it’s not that. In fact, it feels pretty good to have someone like you backing me up.”

  She smiled, then lifted her chin. “I can’t shoot worth a plug nickel, but I’m okay with my fists.”

  He nodded, remembering the selfless way in which she’d been willing to run down a bull to save her child.

  “Yeah, lady, I’ll just bet that you are.”

  They stared at each other in silence—remembering. It was Wilma’s stage-voice hiss that broke the spell.

  “Charlotte…I have everything ready now.”

  Charlie blinked, then pointed toward the table where Wilma was waiting. “I suppose I should—”

  Judd took a deep breath. “Yeah, and I need to—”

  Neither felt the need to finish the sentence they’d started, and by some unspoken word of mutual agreement, they parted company, leaving Judd on his own at the microfiche screens. But as the morning passed, the sound of flipping pages and the occasional sigh from the woman behind him was reminder enough that he wasn’t really on his own—not anymore.

  * * *

  It was getting close to noon when Judd looked up. Rubbing his neck, he wearily rolled his head and then stood and strolled over to the table where Charlotte was sitting.

  “Find anything?”

  She shrugged. “Plenty of pictures, but I don’t know if they mean anything. How about you?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing that seems to connect,” he said, adding, “Shuler’s old man was a power in this town, wasn’t he?”

  Charlie frowned. “I guess. I don’t really remember him. I think he died when I was a little girl.”

  “Well, let’s see what you’ve got,” Judd said, and dropped into a chair beside her.

  There were the usual group photos.

  Raymond at the county fair with his FFA steer.

  Raymond as a sophomore on the Cougar baseball team.

  Raymond as a junior and starting quarterback of the Cougar football team.

  Raymond as a senior and captain of the basketball team.

  Judd paid particular attention to the candid photos of the students, looking for a continuing thread, but there didn’t seem to be anything other than the fact that Raymond Shuler was a big man on campus.

  “He must have been quite a ladies’ man,” Charlie said.

  Judd paused, his interest piqued.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “Just look. He’s in lots of pictures with lots of girls, but never the same girl twice.”

  Judd stared, then started to grin. “Like I said, lady. You’re really good at this.”

  Charlie was pleased by the praise. “Does it mean anything?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Judd said. “But it’s definitely a character trait that he’s either overcome or kept hidden.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh! I see what you mean!” Then she pointed to one particular picture. “Look, isn’t this Wilma?”

  Judd pulled the yearbook closer, peering at the small typeface beneath the photo.

  “Damned if it’s not,” he said, then looked up at the librarian, eyeing her with renewed interest. “Hey Wilma, got a minute?” he called.

  She spun, instantly pressing her finger to her lips to indicate quiet, then bustled toward him. Judd grinned. Again, the need for quiet seemed moot, since they were the only ones in the room.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  Her lips pursed as she smoothed the fabric of her dress across the front of her belly.

  “Did you find anything?” she whispered.

  “Nothing obvious,” Judd said, and then pointed to the picture in the yearbook Charlie was holding. “Isn’t this you?”

  She peered over his shoulder, then frowned. “My goodness, I haven’t looked at that thing in years. Yes, it’s me. I was president of the debate club that year.”

  “Isn’t that Raymond with his arm around you?”

  She peered closer, then blushed. “Why yes, I suppose that it is.”

  Judd watched her closely. She seemed suddenly nervous, when before she’d been so assured.

  “Did you two date?”

  She began to stammer. “Not really…I mean we never…uh, we barely kissed…and that was only once or twice.” Then she regained her composure, reminding herself that she was a grown woman. So she had a past. All women of the world had pasts. “Raymond was a ladies’ man,” she said loftily. “He passed briefly through my life. It meant nothing.”

  Charlie stifled a grin and turned her attention to another yearbook, but Judd wasn’t through pursuing the issue.

  “How about these?” he asked, pointing to the other photos in which Raymond was either hugging or kissing a different girl. “Where are they now?”

  Wilma looked a little closer. “Well, let’s see. That was Anna Mankin—she’s Anna Stewart now. I think she lives in Dallas. And this one, oh…what was her name? Mary Lee, that’s right, Mary Lee Howards. She’s dead. Died in a car wreck about ten years ago.”

  Judd made a few notes now and then, but mostly just listened as Wilma regaled them with stories of Raymond Shuler’s past. And the longer he sat, the more convinced he became that somewhere within the pages of these books was the answer to what had happened to Raymond. He was just at the point of stopping the stories when she mentioned a name that caught his interest again. Not because he suspected a culprit, but because the woman on the page was so foreign to the one he knew now.

  “This is Judy,” Wilma said. “You know her.”

/>   Judd looked at the tall, elegant girl with dark brown hair and frowned, trying to place that vivacious smile with someone he’d met. She looked vaguely familiar, but the recognition didn’t come.

  “No, ma’am, I don’t think I do,” he said.

  Charlie clutched his arm. “Sure you do, Judd. That’s Judith Dandridge. You know…Davie’s aunt.”

  “You’re kidding,” he muttered, and pulled the book closer. “She’s certainly changed.”

  Wilma frowned. “I hadn’t thought of it, but I suppose you’re right. Of course, she’s a pharmacist now, and that’s almost like a doctor. She has a responsibility to look her professional best. It’s a matter of trust, don’t you know?”

  Judd nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I suppose that’s so.”

  Charlie was still leafing through the pages of Raymond’s senior year when she paused.

  “Uh, Wilma, wasn’t Judith in the same class as you and Raymond?”

  Wilma nodded.

  “How come she doesn’t have a senior picture?”

  Wilma frowned. “Why, that can’t be. She graduated with us. I remember because she stood in front of me during the processional and I couldn’t see over her head. She’s very tall, you know.”

  Wilma turned through several pages, flipping back and forth. Suddenly she stopped.

  “Oh, I remember now. Judy and her folks were in some sort of accident, I think. She was bunged up pretty good. I remember she had a lot of scratches and bruises. I think the last two months of our senior year, she was home-schooled.”

  “What does that mean?” Judd asked.

  Charlie answered. “For whatever reason, a student is identified as having some sort of handicap that prevents them from attending regular school, so a teacher is assigned and the student does all of his or her lessons at home, with tutorial sessions from the assigned teacher, of course.”

  Judd’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Maybe that was what wiped the smile off of Judith Dandridge’s face.

  “It must have been a pretty severe accident,” he said. “Lucky it didn’t cripple her. Were her parents hurt, too?”

  Wilma frowned. “No. That was the strange part. Judith was the only one who was injured. Maybe she was in the back seat or something. If I knew at the time, I’m afraid I don’t remember now.” And then she added, “I do remember that they got a new car afterward.”

  Judd nodded, accepting the plausibility of the story, but unable to get over the change. It was like looking at two separate women. One with long, flowing hair and a form-fitting dress, the other with greying hair shorn and straight, with no-nonsense clothes. Somewhere along the way, life had wiped the smile right off her face.

  He looked at the boy who was in the picture with her. “So, Raymond and Judith dated, too.”

  Wilma frowned. “Not really. In fact, as I recall, Judy had a boyfriend in another town. I think it used to bug Raymond.” Then she added, “Raymond’s daddy spoiled him, you know. He had everything he ever wanted.” She looked at the picture and amended her statement. “Except Judy, of course.”

  “Wonder why she never got married?” Charlie asked.

  Wilma’s frown deepened. “There’s nothing wrong with the unmarried state. I had offers, but I stayed single.”

  “Guess you never found that special someone, huh?” Judd asked, and then glanced at Charlie before turning away.

  Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. What had that look meant? Was he trying to tell her something about the case—or was it something entirely different? Something that had to do with her and him? She pushed her chair back, then stood.

  “I need to stretch my legs.”

  Judd watched her go, saying nothing about the abruptness of her departure. He looked back at the picture of Raymond, standing beneath a large shady tree with his arms around a young, smiling girl. Poor Judith Dandridge. He could relate. Life had kicked him in the teeth a few times, too. He shoved the book aside and leaned forward, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

  “Do you have a headache?” Wilma asked. “It’s probably that microfiche screen. It always gives me a headache.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Judd said. “It’ll go away once my eyes are rested.”

  “I have some over-the-counter painkillers,” Wilma said, and hurried toward the back room, anxious to please. A few moments later, she was back with a plastic cup full of water and an industrial-size bottle of pills. “Here you go,” she said. “Help yourself.”

  A faint but pleasant scent of something citrus wafted past her as she handed him the bottle.

  “Nice perfume,” he said as he shook some pills out in his hand.

  Wilma blushed and patted her hair. “Why, thank you, but I’m not wearing any today.”

  “Really?” Judd said. “I thought I smelled citrus.”

  “Oh! That’s the liquid hand soap in the bathroom. I washed my hands before I got your medicine. Can’t be too careful, you know. Germs live on everything.”

  Judd nodded. It wasn’t until the pills were halfway down his throat that he remembered what Raymond had said about smelling oranges when he’d been tied up. He choked, then took another sip of water.

  “Are you all right?” Wilma asked, thumping him firmly on the back.

  When Judd could speak without coughing, he nodded. “Just swallowed them the wrong way, I guess.”

  She smiled, pleased with herself that she’d been standing right there when he’d choked. She couldn’t get over what a change her life had taken since she’d seen a naked man. From her hair to her clothes, and now this. He’d been choking a lot. If she hadn’t been there to pound his back, there was no telling what might have happened. Today she could go home and write in her journal that she’d saved a man’s life.

  “So…where did you get that hand soap?” Judd asked.

  Wilma frowned. She’d been preparing herself for gratitude, not another question. Then she shrugged. This was another good reason why she’d never married. There was no predicting the intricacies of the male mind.

  “I believe I purchased it at one of the pharmacies. It was on sale.”

  Great, Judd thought. That meant almost anyone could have some.

  He nodded. “It’s nice.”

  Then Judd noticed Charlie going out the front door. From the way she was moving, something had obviously caught her attention. He stood, curious as to what it might be.

  “I see Charlie’s about ready to leave, and I think we’ve exhausted the possibilities here. Thanks for your help, Wilma.”

  She nodded importantly. “I’ll keep it under my hat,” she said, and then grinned and patted her hair. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  Judd grinned back, then followed Charlie out the door. By the time he got outside, she was on her knees in the grass, playing with a small brown puppy.

  “Who’s your friend?” he asked.

  Charlie glanced at him, and then the puppy suddenly barked and she refocused her attention to the dog.

  “Isn’t she the cutest thing you ever saw?”

  Judd squatted down beside her, playfully scratching the small puppy’s ears while looking at Charlie’s face.

  “Yes, she sure is,” he said softly.

  It took a moment for the compliment to sink in, and then when it did, she blushed, hesitating for the right thing to say.

  “Judd, can I ask you something?” she finally asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Are you just playing with my feelings?”

  He hadn’t expected to be put on the spot so succinctly, but since he’d known Charlotte Franklin, he’d come to expect nothing less than total honesty from her. He rocked back on his heels.

  “Hell, Charlotte, I would have thought what happened between us last night was a little more than playing.”

  Her blush heightened. Remembering the wantonness of her behavior was hard to face, but she wasn’t sorry that it had happened.

  Someone yelled at the puppy from across the street. They
watched as it ran back to its yard, then Charlie stood and brushed off the knees of her pants.

  “Are we through?” she asked.

  He was a little taken aback that she’d dropped the subject so quickly.

  “Yeah, we’re through,” he said.

  She lifted her head, shading her eyes from the afternoon sun as she swept a stray lock of hair away from her face.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, and got into his Jeep without another word.

  It took him a moment to realize that there was another connotation that could have been put on her question and his answer, and when he did, it angered him. As far as he was concerned, the “we” in their relationship had yet to happen, so there wasn’t any damned way that “they” could be through.

  He got into his Jeep and slammed the door shut with a bang.

  “Thank you for your help in there today.”

  She nodded.

  He wanted that earlier camaraderie back, but it was nowhere in sight. Silently cursing himself and the world in general, he reached down and started the engine, then put it in gear.

  “Is there anything else you need to do before I take you home?”

  “I’d like to stop by the pharmacy. I need to buy a couple of birthday cards.”

  He backed into the street, then shifted gears and took off, leaving a strip of black rubber on the pavement behind him.

  Charlie wisely kept silent all the way to the store.

  After spending the morning researching Raymond Shuler’s history, it was a little disconcerting to see him getting out of his car. His wife, Betty, was behind the wheel, obviously chauffeuring him around. The look on his face was just shy of furious, and Charlie wondered what had happened to set him off.

  “There’s Raymond,” Charlie said. “But he doesn’t look very happy.”

  Judd looked up. Sure enough, the man was getting out of his car and then hobbling up the curb and onto the street.

  “You’re right, he doesn’t,” Judd said. He’d seen that look on men’s faces before, and it had usually ended in a shouting match or a fistfight. “I think I’ll go inside with you, just in case.”