Walking Woman (Gratis Book 2)

by Jackson, Jay

  Claudia said nothing. She simply looked at the man seemingly floating above her. Whether it was the earlier sedative or the current fever, she was barely able to focus. The words seemed to be coming out of a disembodied head. She questioned whether he was really there.

  “I know you’re tired and might be in some pain. Here, let me give you some water.”

  The disembodied head floated down to her, and a hand—Where did that come from?—lifted her head. The other hand brought a glass to her lips. Claudia drank. The water, cool to her feverish lips, trickled down her parched throat. After drinking, the hand gently lowered her head back onto the pillow.

  “All right, now I’m going to put a couple of patches on you. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt. They should ease your pain and help you sleep.”

  She felt a hand go under her shirt, from the top. It placed two sticky pads on her chest. In moments, the pain in her leg started to subside. She looked at the head, floating above. It started to blur.

  Soon, she was asleep. Mister Brother went back down the steps, glad the Fentanyl was doing its job. He needed to incapacitate Claudia, but never meant for her to suffer.

  The house was still. Nobody was awake except him and Baby Brother. This was his favorite time, being alone with the child. Lately, these times were too rare.

  He picked the little one up from the playpen and took him to the little boy’s room. There they played cars on the Bill Elliott bed, Baby Brother squealing as Mister Brother zoomed Hot Wheels around his tiny torso.

  For almost an hour they played, until the trap of sleep tugged at tiny, unwilling eyelids. Finally succumbing, the child curled up on the bed. Mister Brother lay down beside him. He had no idea what the morning would bring. Right now, he didn’t care. He kissed the little boy’s forehead, and soon napped. Outside, the night wind rustled and the moon hung low.

  54.

  The next morning, Delroy’s alarm went off before eight. The three had agreed to go see Miss Betty at nine, to hopefully catch her as soon as she came home. Greeting Sunday morning so early was a sin to Delroy, but today he had to. Once they saw Miss Betty, things might start moving quickly for Jewel. He needed to be ready. Justice didn’t always wait for a business day.

  Showered, he got dressed and went outside. The Proclaimer would be on the front porch, and he wanted to read it before leaving. It was a small paper, even on a Sunday. He could hit all the highlights in less than fifteen minutes.

  Retrieving the paper, he went into the kitchen to start the coffee. The phone rang. It was Kero.

  “Delroy, have you read the paper?”

  “Just about to.”

  “Well, look at Johnnie’s column. I’ll be at your door in a minute.”

  Delroy unfolded the Proclaimer and looked at the bottom of the front page.

  “Seems that the esquire and cousin of Mesdames—well, sort of—Two Sisters in Trouble were seen by yours truly at Le Café yesterday. Not sure why they were there. They brought a stranger with poor manners and a crude sense of humor, if you could call it that. They rarely frequent the establishment, as a group or solo. I do know that they were told to speak to a kind woman, currently with a group of Christian widows, and then left. Something is going on, Gratisians. Trust me, you’ll know about it as soon as I do.”

  Delroy put the paper down.

  Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. Just, well . . . damn.

  Without saying any names, Johnnie Lee had a knack of clearly identifying those she outed in her column. It helped that Gratis wasn’t a very big place. Its denizens were attuned to deciphering good gossip.

  Damn, if Miss Betty reads this and knows we’re coming, she might get spooked.

  He put down the paper and started toward the door. Stepping onto the porch, he saw Kero pull up in his old Silverado. Racey pulled up behind him in the Audi.

  Looks like the jackass is tired of riding in the back seat. I hope the bed bugs at the Blue Boy ate him up.

  Delroy got into the old pickup and Kero stabbed the truck forward. Soon they were heading toward Miss Betty and any answers she might have—if they were lucky.

  “So, you get tired of driving with that jackass yesterday and make him drive himself?”

  “Nope, he insisted on it. Can’t say he had to insist, as I didn’t fight him on the issue. We might have another problem, though. I got a call from Jewel about twenty minutes ago. She wasn’t clear, but from what I can tell she fell asleep last night before Claudia came home. The meds she took knocked her out. The problem is that Claudia wasn’t there when she woke up this morning. I know Claudia likes to get out and walk, but she never leaves her sister alone without saying something—never. I’m worried, so I sent JoJo up there early to see after her.”

  Delroy waited a moment before answering. “Well, Claudia’s had a tough week, and I imagine she’s trying to make up for lost time. Tell you what. Let’s go check on JoJo and Jewel after we go see Miss Betty.”

  Pulling up to Miss Betty’s house, they saw the old Bible teacher struggling with a large bag in her Impala’s trunk. Delroy jumped out and hurried over to her. After hugging her, he took the bag for his old teacher.

  “Well, Delroy, isn’t this a surprise? Looks like you brought a convoy of folks to see me this Sunday morning. You planning some sort of revival on my front lawn? I wish you wouldn’t. I just got the yard man to seed it last week.”

  Delroy laughed. He was fond of the woman standing before him. Her oval beehive flashed silver in the morning sun, framing a face of beautiful, well-earned wrinkles.

  “No, ma’am. Nobody’s getting saved today, at least not in any way that would ruin your yard. I’m just here to ask a question. I hope I’m not being too pushy.”

  “You’re always pushy, Delroy, have been since you were nine. But I don’t mind that. I do mind that Kero hasn’t gotten out of the truck yet to say hello.”

  Delroy looked at Kero and yelled to him. “Show some manners!”

  Kero got out and walked up to Miss Betty. They hugged each other. She always did like him. He wasn’t as pushy as some of his friends, and sent a huge arrangement when her husband passed away two years before.

  “Well, boys, what are y’all here for today? Need a Sunday-school lesson?”

  “Well, we probably do need one, Miss Betty, but we came to find something out. Delroy has been helping me with my cousins, trying to get things worked out for them.”

  Miss Betty’s eyes softened. She took Kero’s hand. “I always liked those two, they are two of God’s special children. How can I help you with them?”

  “Well, it seems that you got a number from Franky Francis, to help you with some sort of problem you had. Do you remember that?”

  Her eyes widened, and she answered. “Well, yes, I do. You know I work at the funeral home part-time, helping with families during their times of need. Mr. Forkner works there with me, and told me he needed to find somebody to help him with a delicate family matter he didn’t want to talk about. First I gave him your name, Delroy, but he said he needed somebody from out of town to help. I love the people here, but I don’t blame him for that.”

  She also enjoyed many gossip-filled lunches at Le Café.

  “Well, anyway, I don’t know about things that need to be quiet, but I wanted to help Mr. Forkner out. He’s a lovely man, a real nurturing soul. I know Mr. Francis well, and asked him if he knew of any folks who could help you when you thought nobody else could. He gave me a number, and I gave it to Mr. Forkner.”

  Delroy grimaced.

  “Help you when you thought nobody else could?” You found somebody, but he ain’t no Batman.

  “I hope that doing that didn’t hurt anybody. I was just trying to help a friend.”

  Kero answered, “You didn’t hurt a soul. As if you could. Do you know if Mr. Forkner is at work today?”

  “He should be. We have the Thompson service this afternoon. He’s in there, preparing Mr. Thompson so his family can say good-bye.”<
br />
  “Well, thank you, Miss Betty. We’ll leave you alone now, after Delroy puts that bag up at the door for you.”

  Kero hugged her again. Delroy said good-bye after depositing the bag in her hallway.

  The two jumped into the truck and started toward the funeral home. Kero put an old cassette into the player, and soon the Allman Brothers’ “Jessica” was accompanying them down the road. It was Sunday, after all, and the Allmans could preach without saying a word.

  55.

  Almost at the edge of the city limits, the pickup and Audi pulled into a large parking lot. Both vehicles parked beside a large blue sign with white lettering: “Parker and Sons Funeral Home.”

  As the other two got out of the truck, Racey confronted them.

  “I’m not staying in my car any more today, gentlemen. You wouldn’t be here without me, and I’m going in.”

  Racey didn’t respond well to those who tried to tell him what to do. The night before, drinking Solo-cup martinis in his motel room, he decided he didn’t care a rat’s finely haired ass about staying quietly in the background on this one. No yokels were going to tell him how it was. This was his show.

  “Nobody told you to stay in the car at the Greer house. You can go or not, it’s up to you. I don’t give a damn.” It was all Kero could do not to beat the man in the parking lot. Fortunately for him, he thought wryly, they were already at a funeral home, in case he couldn’t resist the urge.

  The three went to the ornate front door with cherubim carved into the frame. Delroy expected to find the door locked. It swung open when he pushed. They walked in and there, sitting on one of the mourning couches in the large front room, was John Forkner. He was a short man with squinty eyes resting atop fat cheeks.

  He stood up when they came in.

  “Well fellas, I’ve been waiting for you. Miss Betty called and said you might be on your way. I’m actually glad to see you.”

  Delroy didn’t expect that. He hesitated, then replied, “Well John, we’re just trying to figure out who hired our friend here, Racey Bridges. Seems he’s trying to help somebody buy some land, but he doesn’t know who that person is. He really needs to speak with them. I would like to as well, since I represent the party who owns the land.”

  “I thought it might be about something like that. I don’t really have all the facts, but I can tell you what I know. First off, I’m not the client. I’m pretty sure Benny is.”

  “Benny? You mean Benny Parker?”

  “Yep. A while back he came to me and said he was trying to do something where he didn’t want his name to be included. He said it was all legal, but very delicate. He didn’t want anybody to help from around here because, well, because can’t nobody keep a secret in Gratis, it seems. The thing was that he didn’t have a lot of friends who could help him, so he came to me. Can’t say I’m really a friend, or really know about confidential-type men, but I asked around. I got your Mr. Bridges’s number, or I guess it’s his number as I didn’t get a name, and gave it to him. That was it. Seriously, I hope nothing bad happened from that.”

  Kero replied, “Nothing bad that happened was from anything you did. Thank you for your help, John.”

  Forkner was a regular lunch customer, always getting takeout. He ordered at least ten barbecue plates at Daddy Jack’s every month. Regardless of the circumstances, Kero didn’t want to chase his business away. No matter the reason, if one customer left, more would always follow.

  “Well, good. Since y’all are here, let me tell you something else about him. Not to speak ill of the man who signs my checks, technically speaking, since I just sign his name on payday, but he’s been . . . Well, different lately, I guess.”

  “What do you mean by different?” Racey asked this time. He was determined to do more than sit and listen to the adults talk.

  “He never comes to work. Used to be, you couldn’t make him go home. Whether preparing the clients or getting the business, he was always at it. The last few months, he’s different. He always at his new home, never here. I’m telling you, our gross is down a good twenty percent from last year this time. That’s bad in the people-stuffing business. Folks are always having heart attacks in the spring, getting into accidents. This time of the year is when we have to make the money.”

  “Well thanks, John. That’s good to know. Anything else?”

  He waited a moment, not sure whether to say anything else or not. Finally, he replied, “Well, I pay his bills. He’s gotten to where he doesn’t even want to fool with that. Earlier, a few weeks ago, he bought about twenty-five-thousand-dollars’ worth of air-conditioning units for his house. Four of them, to be exact. That’s a lot of cooling for a house that I know to be about twenty-five hundred square feet. I mean that’s a whole lot of air conditioning. I don’t care if it’s the middle of July or hot as seven hells. You don’t need four, three-ton air-conditioning units—not for that house.”

  He waited, and then continued, “I paid another bill that’s sort of odd, too. Seems he bought a Porti-Boy Mark IV. That’s an embalming machine, and a pretty decent one. He got it for two thousand, which is a pretty good price. I was excited about getting it, thinking he might be looking to start acting like a grown-up again. Then I saw the delivery address. It was being sent out to Cap Jackson Road.”

  Kero caught it first. “You mean where he lives, there beside my cousins?”

  “I don’t know where your cousins live, Kero, but I know those units were sent to a Cap Jackson address, to his house. I’ve been in this business for twenty years, and I worked for his daddy. There ain’t no reason for anybody to have a Porti-Boy Mark IV embalming machine at their house. Not any good reason that I can think of, anyway.”

  “All right then, John, that’s good to know. Could you do us a favor? If you don’t mind—”

  “Stop right there. You don’t have to worry about it. He won’t know you’re coming to see him, which I can only guess you are. Just do me the favor of not telling him that I told you his business. He might just ‘technically’ sign my checks, but without them I’d be more than ‘technically’ screwed. I got a mortgage on my house here, and I’m still paying off my double-wide near Fairplay. I’m gonna live there when the wife finally throws my ass out. I suspect that will be soon after I pay off the aforesaid mortgage, just so you know.”

  The three men left. Forkner went to the back to apply makeup to Ronnie Thompson, whose viewing would take place that afternoon. He died in his hay barn, falling out of the loft as he was trying to open his second bottle of Wild Turkey. He wasn’t a very handsome man, even in life, so the task might take hours.

  Hell, Forkner thought, I might need a paintbrush and a paper sack for this ugly son of a gun.

  In the parking lot, Delroy spoke. “All right, Mr. Bridges, why don’t you follow us down to Jewel’s house? We want to go check on her before we go see Benny. You don’t need to go see him until we do. He’s still your client, it appears, after all. I don’t want you having a change of heart about helping us if you see him alone. You never know how much money the man might throw at you.”

  Racey smiled his most “go eat mounds of shit” smile and got into his car.

  Delroy spoke before he could close the door. “Oh, and one more thing, Bridges. I’d advise you not to get out of the car or let Jewel know you’re there. You probably want to stay at the gate. She might be confined to a bed, but I imagine she’s got that knife of hers somewhere. She’s always ready for the devil, especially one in a long black sedan. Just so you know, in case you’re curious, that’s a threat and a warning.”

  56.

  Early morning streaks of lights pierced the gloom of Claudia’s cloistered sleep, nudging her awake. The pain made its presence known at soon as she cracked open her eyes. She looked down at her leg. The calf was bunched up and mottled with red streaks. Her ankle was swollen to twice its normal size. The infection was spreading.

  She lay there for an hour, trying to clear her mind. It
was useless. The pain kept interrupting, shattering every thought.

  Shouting erupted downstairs.

  “We are practically in the paper! It’s right there in front! How soon do you think it will be before they come and find you? Find us?”

  “You are dumb, dumb, dumb, and useless. You can’t do the simple things right! I knew you’d screw it up, just like you messed up everything when we were kids!”

  “Stop it, everybody! Stop it! Come to the kitchen and talk to Mom.”

  “You heard your mother. Get in there!”

  The yelling stopped. Minutes later, a door slammed, slightly shaking the upstairs windows with its force. The house was quiet again.

  Claudia didn’t know what to do. Shouting for help was probably useless. Her voice was so ragged from thirst she couldn’t work up any volume. Also, her leg hurt too much to move. It was now an anchor of immeasurable weight, chaining her to her bed. If only she could think of something, anything.

  That child is in trouble. If I can . . .

  Her leg twitched, imperceptibly. The pain racked her body, obliterating all thought. She tried to keep still, fearing the next onslaught.

  Moments later, the pain temporarily subsiding, a thought was able to gain form. This thought, however, was unwelcome. This thought scared her.

  The door slammed, but the child didn’t cry. Nothing. The child didn’t make a sound. That’s not right, not normal.

  Again the small twitch, the foot muscles involuntarily reacting to their newfound lack of tether. Her thoughts exploded with the pain. They rolled around, crashing as if from a pool hustler’s break. Finally the pain ebbed, temporarily, to gather strength for its next assault.

  The dawn’s light brightened and the room came into focus. Claudia fought the thought, the scary one, wanting to escape its cloak of despair. She tried to think, to ignore all the badness around her. A child needed her. She had to focus.