She said something and he wasn’t listening.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said, any news on the mysterious body?”
Cole frowned. “You know about that, too?”
Libba laughed. “Who doesn’t? What else is there to talk about?”
Wade looked out across the bay, pretending interest in a pair of coots sitting on the water. “I’m still trying to fit the pieces together. Like I said, I have a few questions.” He smiled. “But maybe I’m asking the wrong ones.” He could see the fine line between her eyes. Wade prided himself on knowing people. She was curious, nothing more. “Tell me about Ms. Fontaine and your mother.”
“Verna Lee is more like Mama than I am, isn’t that right, Daddy?”
“I’m hardly an expert on Verna Lee.”
Libba laughed, scooped an ice cube from her glass and, unselfconsciously, rubbed it under her chin, down her throat and between her breasts. “You know what I mean. Verna Lee is seductive in the same way Mama was. It didn’t matter what my mother wore or how she twisted up her hair. She had a sultry, mysterious flair, and her voice, well, it was sugary and dangerous and lazy all mixed into one.” She warmed to her subject. “When Mama walked into a room, she was the only woman there. It’s the same with Verna Lee. They’re like Delilah from the Bible, every man’s fantasy.”
Cole stared at her. “What a shame you never considered writing as a career.”
“I wish I’d met your mother,” said Wade.
“There wasn’t a man who didn’t appreciate her, but she certainly had her standards. She was very particular about who I brought home.”
“How is that different from any mother?” Cole asked mildly.
“Given her past, she could have been more understanding.”
Wade pretended ignorance. “Her past?”
Cole sighed. “Libba’s referring to the years before her mother married me. She met a man in New Orleans. They married, but Nola’s father used his influence to have the marriage annulled. He didn’t know she was pregnant with Verna Lee.” He cleared his throat. “Even if he had…the times were difficult.”
“I can imagine,” Wade said dryly. “What happened to him?”
“Who?”
“Verna Lee’s father.”
“I’m not sure. Nola Ruth never heard from him again.”
Not by the flicker of an eyelash did Wade reveal anything other than perfunctory interest in the conversation. Casually, he assessed the older man sitting across from him, noting the lean, aristocratic cant of his bones, the thick, white hair, the faded blue eyes, the gently lined skin. Cole Delacourte was a principled man. No hint of scandal had ever been attached to his name. What must it have been like for him when his wife’s secret was revealed? And why didn’t he know what Wade knew; fifteen years ago Magnolia Ruth Delacourte had hustled herself into town to post bail for a certain Anton Devereaux who’d been arrested for refusing to sign a speeding ticket. He never showed up at the subsequent hearing and Nola Ruth forfeited her money. How could an important white civil rights attorney not know that his wife had bailed out a black man from the county jail?
Or, maybe he did know and just wasn’t saying.
Twelve
Chloe Richards ducked into the cereal aisle at John’s Food King, hoping no one she knew, even remotely, would associate her with the screaming child blocking the candy and comic-book section. Nothing in her entire babysitting experience, which was negligible at best, had prepared her for Gina Marie. At this very moment, her baby sister was sprawled out in front of the Reese’s Pieces and Milky Way bins, holding her breath and pounding her small fists on the floor. With any luck she would pass out and Chloe would be able to haul her out without suffering a black eye from the flailing fists. It would be too much to hope that the distraught three-year-old wouldn’t be recognized.
An amused voice spoke up behind her. “I think you lost something.”
Chloe braced herself and turned around. Bailey Jones, carrying a six-pack of Budweiser, looking cool and expensive in a buttery linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans so soft and faded they were nearly white, laughed down at her.
“Don’t start,” she muttered. “You have no idea how awful this is for me. I can’t handle her. No sane person would do this, not even for her own mother.”
“Quitter,” he taunted, the lights dancing in his black eyes.
Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose you think you could do better.”
“I know I could.”
“Twenty bucks says you can’t.”
“Shame on you, Chloe Richards. You know I can’t turn down a challenge.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Go for it. You have five minutes.”
“What do I get if I win?”
“I told you. Twenty bucks.”
“No offense, Chloe, but I don’t need money.”
She shrugged. “That’s all I’ve got that you could possibly want.”
He stared at her, an odd expression on his face. “How about meeting me tonight at the water hole behind Hadley’s peach grove?”
“What time?”
“Ten o’clock.”
Gina’s sobs hadn’t subsided. “What if you can’t do it? What do I get?”
“I’ll babysit for an afternoon while you go swimming at the club.”
A smile played at the corner of her lips. “You’re on.”
He handed her the six-pack and disappeared around the corner.
Within seconds Gina Marie was silent. Chloe waited. Surely she was only catching her breath and would start up again as soon as the novelty of Bailey Jones passed. The silence continued. Curious, Chloe peeked around the corner. Gina, her eyes twice their normal size, was sitting upright with her thumb wedged tightly in her mouth. She stared at Bailey, watching as he tore open a package of Reese’s Pieces. Tentatively, she held out her hand while he crouched down and shook several pieces of candy into her palm.
Chloe was furious. She marched down the aisle to stand before them. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Bailey grinned. “You said I couldn’t get her to be quiet. She’s quiet. You lose.”
“You weren’t supposed to use candy. I could have given her candy myself. That’s the reason she’s crying. I told her she couldn’t have it.”
“You didn’t tell me I couldn’t use it,” he said reasonably.
“Well, now I’m telling you and you lose.”
“Too late. She’s already eaten it.”
Chloe looked at her little sister. Gina’s mouth and the palms of her hands were stained chocolate-orange. “She’s not supposed to have candy.”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t good for her. My mom doesn’t like her to have candy.”
Bailey stood. “Libba Jane needs to come down to earth.”
Chloe dug her fists into her hips. “What does that mean?”
“She can’t expect you to step in and take over without some tricks of your own. You’re not a mother. This is new for you. You won’t be able to do things the way she’d do them.”
Chloe eyed him suspiciously. “When did you get to be so smart?”
He emptied the rest of the bag into Gina Marie’s sticky hands. “There’s nothing to it. Give ’em what they want, I always say.”
Her voice cooled. “Really? Does your philosophy apply to anything else?”
“Whenever it works.” He smiled at Gina Marie. “C’mon, kid. I’ll give you and your big sister a ride home.”
Obediently, Gina scrambled to her feet.
Chloe shook her head. “No, thanks. We’ll walk.”
“I don’t want to walk,” said Gina Marie.
Bailey ignored her and spoke to Chloe. “It’s too hot to walk and I’m going your way.”
“You don’t know where I’m going.”
“Let me guess.” He frowned, pretending to think. “The way I see it is you have two choices, your mother’s house or your gra
nddad’s. Either way, I can handle it. Besides, Gina Marie might like riding in my car.”
“You don’t have a back seat.”
“She can sit on your lap.”
Chloe shook her head. “It’s against the law. She needs a car seat.”
“This is Marshy Hope Creek, Chloe, not Los Angeles. Who’s gonna see us? The sheriff’s caught up in figuring out who the hell showed up dead on my mother’s land. He’s not gonna care if a little girl doesn’t have a car seat.”
“That isn’t the point. It’s dangerous.”
“I’ll drive slow.”
“I don’t want to drive slow,” piped up Gina. “My daddy drives fast.”
Bailey glanced at the little girl. “She sounds like Tweety Bird.”
“She’s three years old,” Chloe replied. “She’ll grow into her Rs.’”
“C’mon, Chloe,” Bailey coaxed. “Live dangerously.”
“I don’t think so.” She returned Bailey’s Budweiser and reached for Gina’s hand. “Let’s go home.”
The corners of Gina Marie’s mouth trembled. “I don’t want to walk home. It’s too hot. I want a drink of water.”
“We’ll have lemonade at home,” Chloe promised. “Mommy will be home. We’ll see Mommy and have lemonade. You’ll like that.”
“No.” Gina’s voice cracked, a sign Chloe was learning to recognize. “I’m telling Mama you made me walk. I don’t like you.”
“She doesn’t have her Ls, either,” Bailey observed.
Chloe snapped. “That does it.” She swooped down on Gina Marie, picked her up and carried her, arms and legs flailing, out of the store.
Bailey threw a ten-dollar bill on the counter and caught up with Chloe. “Stop this,” he said when they were safely outside. “You’re turning this into something it isn’t.” Gina Marie was screaming in earnest. “You can’t carry her all the way home the way she’s behaving. You’ll kill each other. Get in the car and I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’m sorry I ever started this.”
She stared at him, pride warring with the idea of a quick, convenient ride back to her mother’s house. Her resolve wavered. Then Gina’s elbow caught her squarely in the mouth. Without another word she dumped her sister unceremoniously in his arms. “Gina, you’re a spoiled brat and, right now, I don’t like you, either.” She nodded at Bailey. “Let’s go.”
Within three minutes of pulling out on to the road leading to Hennessey House, Gina was asleep in her arms. “Thank God,” Chloe said fervently.
Bailey grinned, keeping his voice low. “Poor kid. She’s tuckered out. She isn’t much more than a baby. Have a little patience.”
“You try taking care of her all day.”
“I doubt if I’d fare any better than you. She wants her mother. Why are you on baby duty anyway?”
“My mother’s working today. She thinks I should get to know Gina.”
“Give it a try. You’re reasonably intelligent. It shouldn’t take long to figure it out.”
She looked out the window, no longer interested in arguing. On both sides of the road, the bay, massive, serene, light-struck, golden in the lingering rays of the afternoon sun, tea-colored in the shadows, rolled out before them. Fingers of water lapped the grassy, tree-lined shore. An occasional late-season duck or osprey flew overhead, bound for the cleaner, cooler climate of Maine. The wetlands squirmed with life. Thick as soup, the air brackish, fecund, stinking slightly of decay, permeating hair, skin and clothes, seeped through the sealed windows. Gradually, she felt herself relax.
Her mood was interrupted by a groan from Bailey.
“What’s the matter?”
Cursing, he pulled to the side of the road and waited.
Chloe glanced over her shoulder. An unmarked car with a flashing red light parked behind them. She watched as a tall, blond man in civilian clothes approached the car, motioning for Bailey to roll down the window.
“Bailey Jones?”
“Yeah?”
He held up his badge. “I’ve left three messages for you to call me, one I taped to your door. You’ve ignored all of them,” He glanced inside the car. “There’s a car-seat law for kids in the state of Maryland.”
“Write me a ticket.”
“Step outside the car, please.”
“Jesus Christ. What’s your problem?”
Wade remained polite. “Step outside the car,” he repeated.
White-lipped, Bailey climbed out and spread-eagled himself against the side of the Porsche.
Wade kept his voice low. “Listen up, smart-ass. Try out all the attitude you want on your own, but when you’ve got a lady and a kid with you, you better think twice. You’re this close—” he held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart “—to having your car impounded, not to mention the embarrassment of having your passengers watch while I cuff you and then drive you away in the back of my car. It so happens that today is your lucky day, mostly because I’m not a traffic cop and I’ve got other things on my mind, like the bones on that land you’re in such a hurry to sell. Now, the way I see it is you have two choices—you can make a U-turn right now on this road, drop off the lady and the little girl and we can meet somewhere and have a conversation or you can ride back to the station with me. Either way, we’re gonna talk.”
Slowly, Bailey straightened. “Do you know where I’m staying?”
“I do.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Wade nodded and walked away.
Bailey took a minute to settle his nerves before making his way back to his car.
“What happened?” asked Chloe.
“He wants to talk to me about the body on my land.”
“That’s it? That’s why he pulled you over?”
“It appears so.”
“That doesn’t make sense. How did he know where to find you? He must have been following us.”
He shrugged.
“What’s going on, Bailey?”
“Drop it. Okay?”
The tension inside the car was thick with unsaid words. Conversation, such as it was, dwindled to the merest monosyllable. Even Gina, who’d awakened, sensed the mood and burrowed down in Chloe’s arms, unusually silent. Bailey dropped them off in front of Hennessey House with a casual “See you around,” and sped off.
Chloe watched him drive away. Bailey was an enigma, as disturbing and volatile as he’d always been. She wouldn’t bother with him. She would call Tess. Maybe she could be talked into a movie. If not, there was always Verna Lee, sexy, dramatic-looking, sensible, independent Verna Lee, who had escaped the drama of a husband and children.
Wade was leaning against his car waiting when Bailey pulled in to the driveway of the Busby house.
“I had to drop Chloe off at her mother’s.”
“Chloe?”
“Libba Hennessey’s daughter.”
Libba Jane. Nola Ruth’s daughter, Verna Lee’s half sister. Wade filed the information in the think about-it-later part of his brain. “Nice house,” he commented as he followed Bailey inside. The temperature was an arctic seventy-two degrees.
“It still belongs to the Busbys. I’m renting it for the summer.” Bailey flung himself on the couch. “What do you want with me anyway? I heard those bones are fifteen years old. I’m twenty-two, which makes me all of seven when that body was dumped on my mother’s land.”
“Rumor gets around fast in a small town. Who said anything about the body being dumped?”
Bailey shrugged. “It was a not-so wild guess.”
Wade pulled a straight-backed chair from around the dining-room table and sat down. “Tell me about your mama.”
Bailey reddened. “I thought that subject was old news.”
“Tell me about the land you inherited from her.”
“What are you getting at?”
“That land belonged to Judge Quentin Wentworth. Fifteen years ago it was deeded to your mama. How do you suppose that happened?”
�
��I don’t know anything about that.”
“Think about it. I’ve got time.”
“The land belonged to my granddaddy, Benteen Jones. He lost it in a poker game. Maybe Quentin had an attack of conscience.”
Wade shook his head. “That doesn’t sound much like Wentworth.”
“You know him?”
“You might say that.” He changed the subject. “I mean no disrespect, son, but was Quentin Wentworth having an affair with your mother?”
“How the hell should I know?” Bailey flung back angrily. “I was a little kid, for Christ’s sake.”
Wade stared at him for what seemed like longer than the minute it actually was. “Fair enough,” he said at last. He pulled out his card. “If you think of anything, let me know.”
“Keep your card. I won’t use it.”
Wade laid the card on the coffee table. “Stranger things have happened.”
Thirteen
His mind on autopilot, Wade Atkins navigated the road leading to the small two-bedroom house he’d occupied for most of the last five years. The single lot, sandy, strewn with pines and bordered by a small finger of the Chesapeake, appealed to him the minute he first saw it. He’d built the house himself, board by board, shingle by shingle, down to the maple cabinets in the kitchen, the skylights in the bedrooms and the distressed-wood floors on all three levels. The rear foundation sat securely on a slab of concrete, while the front deck balanced on stilts directly above the water.
His view was spectacular. As the sun set, the bay awoke. After dishes were washed and the trash dumped, he would pull two beers from the back of the refrigerator and sit out on his deck, pleasantly buzzed, reeking of insect repellent, watching fireflies flicker around the gas lamps, dancing toward the light and back again until, eventually, they succumbed to their addiction and baked in the deadly glow. When night settled over the bay, frogs croaked in the marshes, water moccasins slithered through the tepid, tea-colored water and crickets sounded as loud as foghorns across the Atlantic.
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