Gayle Trent

by Between a Clutch

  “Whoa,” I said. “‘Going through’ as in the final papers are in the mail, or ‘going through’ as in they’re havin’ a little trouble?”

  “They’re separated.”

  “‘Separated’ as in he lives here and she’s moved to Outer Mongolia, or ‘separated’ as in he’s at work and she’s at the house?”

  Faye huffed at me. “Oh, Mother, I knew I never should’ve confided in you.”

  “Are you mad at me or mad at yourself? Maybe deep down you already know the answers to those questions and you just wanted to get a second opinion.” Sometimes it pays to watch talk shows. “Or maybe you don’t know the answers,” I continued. “I didn’t say the man’s not Prince Charming. I just asked you a couple of questions that I believe you need to know the answers to.”

  “Yeah, but it’s the way you asked them.”

  “Look, honey, you may not realize it, but I’ve dealt with a lot of frogs—some before your Daddy, some after. If you wanna jump in the pond head first with your eyes closed, then go right ahead; but don’t say I didn’t tell you not to wear a snorkel mask.”

  “Fine. I’ll talk to you later, Mother. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, honey. I love you.”

  Her voice was softer when she answered me. “Love you, too.”

  After we hung up, I prayed long and hard for that girl. Then I went to sleep. The movie I’d wanted to watch was supposed to have been a sad one anyway, and I didn’t want to feel any worse than I did already.

  * * *

  The next morning, me and Matlock slept in. In fact, I wouldn’t have got up when I did except Matlock started whining to go outside. Getting an older, housebroken dog had been a blessing, but that morning I considered having one of them doggie doors put in. Of course, if it was a door Matlock could get through, most crooks could, too—especially them junkies. From what I’ve seen on television, they’re awfully skinny. So, I dragged my sorry butt out of bed and down the stairs to take Matlock outside. Thank goodness he didn’t dawdle.

  I put on a pot of coffee, and we tromped into the living room. I was still feeling lazy as all get out, so I laid down on the couch and covered up with the afghan. It’s a pretty little afghan—it’s a granny square with all different colors of squares bound together and trimmed in a navy blue yarn. I won it in a raffle at the church bazaar a couple years ago.

  Matlock sprawled out on the rug in front of the couch.

  I decided to rest my eyes a second before turnin’ on the television, and wouldn’t you know it, I dozed off again. When I woke back up, my head was a-poundin’. I stepped over Matlock and stumbled into the kitchen. I took a couple aspirin and then poured me some coffee.

  The phone rang. The sound seared right through to my aching brain, so I grabbed that sucker quick. I sure as shootin’ didn’t want it to ring again. “Hello?”

  “Um, yes, hello,” an unfamiliar female voice said. “Is this Myrtle Crumb?”

  “Yeah.” I said it hateful-like because I figured the woman was trying to sell me something. In fact, I started to hang up, but then she said, “Crimson isn’t feeling well, and we need you to come to the school and pick her up.”

  “What is it?” I asked, my heart throbbing in my head. “What’s the matter with her?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing serious. She has an upset tummy is all.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  I hurried up the stairs and flung on a purple jogging suit. I didn’t fix my hair or anything, so off I went lookin’ like death on a cracker.

  My rough looks were confirmed when I got to the school and the receptionist looked at me like I’d just been sprung from the graveyard. Worst part about it was she looked two days older than Moses herself.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, “I’m here for Sunny . . . I mean, Crimson.”

  “I’m here, Mimi.”

  I spun around—which didn’t help my head a bit—and saw her sittin’ on a bench. “Are you all right, baby?” I sat down beside her and took her little wan face in my hands.

  She grinned. “I feel a little yucky is all. Oh, hey, while I was waiting for you, Mrs. Anderson and I got to talking. She said she was an Adams before she married.”

  “Really?” I asked, turning to look at Mrs. Anderson.

  “That’s right,” Mrs. Anderson said. “Your friend Jim and I are second cousins.”

  “Is that a fact? You must’ve known his wife Flora then.”

  Mrs. Anderson shook her curly gray head. “No, never met her. He sure talked about her a lot, though.”

  “Are you and Jim close?” I asked.

  “No, I’ve not seen Jimmy in years. We were thicker than thieves, though, ‘til we graduated high school.”

  “So he and Flora knew each other in high school?” Sunny stood and picked up her denim backpack.

  “Longer than that even.” Mrs. Anderson smiled. “He first started talking about her not long after his mother died . . . and he was only five or six years old when that happened.”

  “But she didn’t go to your all’s school?” I asked.

  Mrs. Anderson shook her head again. “Huh-uh. I believe she was kin to one of Jimmy’s neighbors or something, and that’s how he knew her.”

  I frowned. “But you never met her? Not at a dance, a football game, wedding, funeral, nothing?”

  “Jimmy was a homebody—didn’t go in for social events. Besides, I think they must’ve broke up for a while and then got back together when Jimmy got out of the service.”

  “You didn’t go to his and Flora’s wedding?” I persisted.

  “No. Most people didn’t have big to-do’s then like they do now.”

  “You said Mr. Adams’ mother died,” Sunny said. “What happened to her?”

  “It was pneumonia, sweetie. A terrible way to go, and an awful thing for a little boy to have to see happen to his Momma.”

  “Yeah,” Sunny said. Then she looked at me. “I really need to go, Mimi.”

  I looked at her. She looked even paler than she had when I first came in. “All right, baby. I’m sorry for lingering. Let’s go.”

  We said our goodbyes to Mrs. Anderson, and I got Sunny out into the fresh air.

  “Where does it hurt, baby?” I asked, as we walked to the car.

  “It’s my period,” she whispered. “My back hurts, my stomach hurts, and I feel gross. I tried to call Mom, but she was in a meeting.”

  “You don’t need to bother her no way. Me and you and Matlock will lay around and take it easy today.” I unlocked the car. “And, if you get to feeling like it, you can go with me and Tansie to Jim’s this afternoon.”

  Matlock was tickled to see Sunny when we got back to the house. I let him go outside, and then I got Sunny settled on the couch with a heating pad and the television remote control.

  “You find us something to watch,” I told her, “and I’ll make us some brownies.”

  “Yum. You always know how to make me feel better, Mimi.”

  I kissed her on the head. “That’s what grandmothers are for, angel. Anything else you need?”

  “No.” She looked down at her hands. “Not really.”

  I sat down on the edge of the couch and took her hand. “What is it?”

  “I heard Mom talking to you on the phone last night.”

  “And?”

  “I couldn’t hear everything she was saying, but I think she was telling you about Barry.”

  “She didn’t give me any names,” I said. “Is Barry someone she works with?”

  Sunny nodded. “Yeah, and Mom thinks he’s all that.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  She cut her eyes away from mine. “Uh-huh.”

  “Didn’t like him, huh?”

  She shook her head vehemently as she looked back at me. “He gave me the creeps. He kept looking at me, and it made me uncomfortable.”

  My first thought was to go down to the bank and gouge this Barry’s
eyes out, but I managed to stay calm. “Did you tell your mother?”

  “Yeah, but she said I was being silly. She said Barry was a terrific guy and that he was looking at me because he thought I was a pretty little girl. She said I should feel flattered. Do you think I was being silly?”

  “No, indeed. I think you were smart to trust your instincts. I hope your mother will wise up and trust hers.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s on the fence about him,” I said. “If she wasn’t, she’d have never called and talked with me about him.”

  “You’re probably right about that.” She put her thumbnail in her mouth, and I gently lowered her hand. I didn’t want her to take up her mother’s habit of nail biting.

  “Whether she comes to her senses or not, don’t you ever doubt yourself; and don’t you ever let yourself wind up alone with that man, not even for a second. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  Her little eyes were wide as saucers, so I squeezed her hand and stood up. No sense scaring the young-un half to death.

  “I’ll go get those brownies started,” I said brightly. “And don’t you worry; your mother’s a smart cookie. She’ll see through this man.”

  When I got the brownies put in the oven and came back to the living room, Sunny was watchin’ a game show. I sat down in the recliner, and she muted the television.

  “Do you think Mrs. Anderson was right about Jim and Flora—that they’ve known each other since they were little kids?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I reckon she’d know. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I just think it’s wacko that Mrs. Anderson and Jim were all that close, and Mrs. Anderson never met Flora.”

  “Well, she did say she thought they broke up or something. Maybe they got separated . . . maybe she moved away or something . . . and they didn’t reconnect until he got out of the service.”

  “I guess that’s possible,” Sunny said. “I’m just thinking that if Jim and Flora had such a long history together and that if they really loved each other, why would he do her like he did?”

  I wagged my finger. “We don’t positively know that he killed Flora.”

  “No, but even if he didn’t, he did some other cruddy things.” She shifted the heating pad. “Think about it. Flora has only been missing for a few weeks, yet the waitress at Smiddy’s told you he’d been bringing different women there for a couple of years.”

  “That’s true.”

  “He told you Flora died a year ago, and he told Ms. Miller he’d never been married.” She screwed up her beautiful, sweet face. “You just don’t do someone you love that way.”

  “No, baby,” I said, “you sure don’t.”

  I’d been telling myself almost since I’d met Jim that he was too nice to be a murderer. Maybe Faye wasn’t the only one wearing blinders.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Sunny had dozed off on the couch. I kissed her forehead to wake her up. As her eyes fluttered open, I asked her how she was feeling.

  “Better,” she said. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “You look hot, Meem.”

  I laughed. “Thank you.” I’d changed into black slacks and a red sweater, and I’d fixed my hair and face.

  “When are we going to Jim’s house?” Sunny asked.

  “Tansie should be here any minute . . . but we’ll drop you off at home if you’ll be okay.”

  “Sure, I’ll be fine. But don’t you want me to go with you?”

  I shook my head. “I got to thinking about what you said about Jim’s cruddy behavior. I don’t think you need to be around him.”

  She pursed her lips. “Then I don’t think you need to be around him either.”

  “As soon as I get my questions answered,” I said with a smile, “I probably won’t be.”

  “Just remember,” she said, pointing her finger at me, “don’t ever let yourself wind up alone with that man again. Got it?”

  “Got it.” I laughed. “You’re a sight, young-un.”

  “So are you, Mimi. So are you.”

  * * *

  I left Matlock home this trip. If Tansie wasn’t enough to scare Jim out of killing us both, then nothing would do the trick. Sunny played her music plumb to her house, and then I left it on to irk Tansie.

  “Must we listen to that . . . noise?” Tansie asked, when she got from the back seat into the front.

  “Well,” I said, quickly turning it off, “if you don’t like the music the young people are listening to today . . .” I didn’t particularly care for it either, but I had got used to it. Sunny and I listen to it every time we go somewhere. I can even join in on some of the choruses with her, although I have to admit the songs aren’t hard to learn. You don’t have to be an opera singer to scream, “Baby, baby, baby! Make me crazy! Crazy! Crazy!” at the top of your lungs, but it makes Sunny giggle when I sing with her. And I imagine you’ve already figured out, I’d do anything to make that young-un happy.

  Me and Tansie didn’t have much to say to each other on the drive to Jim’s house. I suspect we were both lost in our own thoughts. I know I was anyway. Whether I found anything out or not, I was countin’ on this being my last trip to Jim’s house.

  I might run in to him at another “melon” dance or something, but I wasn’t planning to date him anymore. What Sunny had said really got to me. Whether he killed Flora or not, he hadn’t treated her right for a long time, and I didn’t need to be mixed up with somebody like that. What I had to keep telling myself was that although Jim seemed like the nicest man in the world to me, that’s what he wanted me to believe. Not everybody that’s good at acting is on television.

  We pulled into Jim’s driveway, and Tansie unbuckled her seat belt. I reckon she wanted to be the first one in the door, which was fine by me as long as she got her share of the meal fixings. I popped the trunk and hollered, “Tansie, don’t forget your groceries!”

  “I’m not forgetting a thing. I merely want to make sure this isn’t a bad time before we unload this stuff.”

  “He’s expecting us, Tansie.” I rolled my eyes and got my bag out of the trunk.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, “I’d forgotten.” She came back to get her bag, and I went on ahead of her. That’s what she gets for being so hasty.

  “Hello!” I yelled, when I opened the door. It dawned on me that Jim might be sleeping and that would give us a chance to compare the noses, but too late, because I’d done hollered.

  “I’m in the den!” Jim yelled back.

  He sounded pretty chipper, so I guessed he was awake to begin with.

  “Tansie and I are here to make you some good food,” I said, as I went into the den. “Did the casseroles I made you last a good while?”

  “Yes, I ate the rest of the tuna casserole for lunch today. Both of them were delicious, and I truly appreciate you ladies taking such good care of me.”

  “You’re quite welcome,” Tansie said, even though she hadn’t lifted a finger on those other two casseroles.

  “Yes,” I said, “you are. It was my pleasure to prepare those two casseroles for you. I’m only sorry that Tansie came by and knocked me into the table and I spilled spaghetti sauce on your lovely tablecloth.” I gave Tansie a little grin. “I did pick it up from the cleaners, though, and they did a wonderful job. You can’t even tell it was ever stained.”

  “Thank you,” Jim said. He rubbed his hands together. “What are you ladies cooking up this evening?”

  I started to tell him he’d be surprised at what we’re cooking up, but I thought better of it.

  Tansie jumped right in, of course. “We’re fixing you up a nice beef stew, some baked chicken, a three bean casserole, and I thought it would be good to fix you a nice cake since Myrtle neglected to make you any dessert last time she was here.”

  “Chocolate?” Jim asked.

  “Actually, it’s a lemon cake with white icing—my own recipe,” she said.

  “Even better,” Jim said. />
  “Since when is lemon cake better than chocolate?” I asked. “If you’re in the mood for a chocolate cake, Jim, I’ll be glad to run down to the store and buy a chocolate cake mix.”

  “Oh, no,” Jim said, “no, that’s quite all right. You ladies have done so much. I’d certainly hate to put you out further. Besides, I’m sure Tansie’s lemon cake will be delightful.”