“I’m doing my best. Who was the agent Pleasant was planning on meeting?”
Tally’s face fell. “She never told me. She was so secretive about that whole Nashville agent thing because she didn’t want the deal to fall through and then to face the ridicule from the students. They were hard on Pleasant. Some of them were downright cruel.”
“Because of her finger?”
Tally’s laughter was deep and easy. “The finger was the tip of the iceberg, though it was a real showstopper when she played the guitar. She’d learned to use it, believe it or not.”
I could only imagine how an extra digit might come in handy. “So what was it?”
“Where she lived, the extreme poverty. Mean girls sense a person’s weakness, and that was Pleasant’s weak spot. She was defensive about her economic circumstances, and she wore it on her sleeve. A certain clique of girls realized that and tormented her. I told Pleasant they were merely jealous of her talent, but words don’t salve a wound to the heart.”
“True. What’s strange to me is that Pleasant simply disappeared, and no one in authority pushed Sheriff Kincaid to look for her.”
“I did, for the first two weeks. Then it was so hopeless.” Tally brushed a tear from her cheek. “A lot of girls simply stop coming to school. It’s too hard. They have responsibilities at home. Pleasant was pregnant. Maybe I wanted to believe that she’d gone to Nashville to pursue her dream.”
“Who did Pleasant hang out with?”
“She was a loner, mostly.”
“I need some names. The girls who were her friends and her tormenters.” I held the pen poised at my pad.
“I’m not sure I should give names.” Tally rubbed the tips of her thumbnails against her forefingers in an unconscious gesture of nervousness. “Things are so regulated in school now. I don’t mind telling you, but it could get me fired.”
I understood her predicament. If I were a law officer, she’d have no choice but to tell. But she owed nothing to a PI, so her allegiance was to job. Understandable. “Can you give me the name of a student who would know their names and might help me?”
Tally fidgeted more.
“You want to help Pleasant, right?”
She nodded.
“If you won’t tell me the names of the mean girls, tell me someone who will.”
“Marcia Colburn, but please don’t say I gave you her name.”
“I won’t. Now, before I go, tell me about Pleasant’s songs. What were they like?” I’d heard the one ballad that Faith had been playing in the trailer park. It was a haunting melody with lyrics that seemed too mature for a high schooler to have written, but as I got to know more about Pleasant, I realized she’d packed a lot of life into her seventeen years.
“Pleasant was able to blend folk and blues in a unique way. She wrote about things people of all ages feel. Love, loss, the desire for revenge, hopelessness, though she wasn’t one of those so-serious people who wallow in depression.” Tally laughed self-consciously. “Her music just spoke to people.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t share information about her Nashville agent with you. Aren’t you something of a mentor?”
“Pleasant didn’t trust. If you’ve spoken with her family, you understand why.”
I took exception to that. The Smiths were poor, but Charity appeared to love her children. “Her mom tries.”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. The place she lives is on the thin edge of desperation. I always had the sense that someone in the trailer park raped Pleasant. I don’t have any proof, but that was my thought.”
“Did she ever mention a fellow named Rudy Uxall?”
Tally frowned. “No. Not to my knowledge. But Pleasant was close-mouthed, as I said. She didn’t share a lot of information. She kept things to herself. The good and the bad.”
“What about Frankie Graham?”
“Oh, Frankie. He was in the band before he graduated. A sweet kid, but no talent at all. More of a bookworm. I know they were friends, and before he graduated, Frankie seemed to look out for Pleasant.”
“Could they have been romantically involved?”
“Anything is possible, but I never saw that. He was more like a big brother. But ask Marcia. If anyone knows, it’ll be her. She and Pleasant were close.”
“Where is Marcia?”
“As luck would have it, she’s in the band hall. Follow me.”
9
Marcia Colburn was a slender girl who came out of the band hall carrying a flute case. She wasn’t unattractive, but she was a girl who would never stand out in a crowd. She glanced over at me, then lowered her gaze. “Miss McNair said I should talk to you.”
“If you don’t mind,” I said, trying to put her at ease. “I’m trying to find your friend, Pleasant. Maybe you can help.”
“Is she alive?” she asked, suddenly eager.
“I believe she is.”
“What made her run off like that?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe she’ll tell us when we find her.”
A shadow crossed Marcia’s face.
“Do you know something that might indicate where she went? Someone she was meeting? Anything like that?”
Marcia looked down the hall, which was empty since the students were in class. She motioned for me to follow her to a big oak tree behind the band hall. When we were out of sight of the main building, she brought a pack of cigarettes from her purse and lit up. “Pleasant wasn’t who you think she is,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone thinks Pleasant is this quiet, smart girl who is going to break out of Cotton Gin High and go on to stardom. But she’s not the saint everyone paints her as. My best advice to you is to let it go. Pleasant is fine. She always comes out on top.”
“Tell me about her.” Marcia was angry and bitter, possibly at being left behind. While I couldn’t trust what she said one hundred percent, I would sure get to see the flip side of my missing girl.
“Pleasant sings like an angel, and she can write a song that will wring your heart out. But she’s not Miss Goody Two-Shoes. She likes to smoke and drink and cuss. Smoke a J when she can. She’s normal, like the rest of us.”
“Except she was pregnant.” I made the point as calmly as I could.
“She didn’t want that baby. She hated the idea of it.”
Marcia’s description of her friend was the polar opposite of what I’d come to believe about Pleasant. Teenage girls could be deceptive, but we seemed to be speaking of two different young women. “She could have had an abortion,” I said.
“With what money?” Marcia looked at me like I was dumber than a rock. “Where would she get five hundred dollars? And how would she get to Jackson and back? That old beater of a car couldn’t be trusted to go ten miles.”
“Perhaps the father would have paid for it.”
Again she shot me a look that said ‘what world do you live in?’ “If Pleasant had known who the father was, she might have asked him.”
I couldn’t hide my shock.
“She wasn’t some little virgin who got caught.” Marcia tossed her hair. “Pleasant knew what she was doing.”
“If she knew so much about sex, how did she get pregnant? A smart girl would have taken care of that possibility with pills or an effective form of birth control.”
Marcia shrugged. “Birth control pills cost a lot of money. Nobody has ninety dollars a month for pills. Condoms break sometimes.” Her face fell into an expression of boredom. “I don’t know. Pleasant kept the details of her sex life to herself. All I know is she liked the bad boys. She was drawn to trouble in tight jeans. Maybe she was high and got carried away.”
This picture of Pleasant didn’t jibe with anything else I’d been told. “What kind of drugs was she into?”
“She never met a high she didn’t like.”
“If she didn’t have money, how did she buy…” It was a stupid question. “But she wasn’t sweet on any particular guy?” Y
oung people weren’t sentimental about love and romance. They were a different breed of cat.
“If she was, she didn’t say so. I gotta go. I have to meet someone.”
“Surely she must have told her best friend who she was in love with.”
Marcia gave me a look. “Maybe back in the old days when you were dating, things worked like that. A girl fell in love and had sex, and they got married and lived happily ever after. Things aren’t like that now. Especially not here. A smart girl can trap a guy, but look at what she’s got when it’s over. Nothing worth having.”
If Marcia exemplified the average teen’s beliefs, we were in a lot of trouble. I felt sorry for her.
“Two people can care about each other and be stronger together.” I sounded like some proselytizer for true love—something I wasn’t certain I believed in.
“Nobody falls in love now. There’s no point. There’s no house with a picket fence or a Prince Charming or a happily ever after. We’ll get old and fat and have kids we didn’t want who’ll do the same thing we did, exactly like our parents. Don’t you get it? There’s no hope here.”
She started to walk away but I caught her arm. “That’s only the reality if you accept it. There are ways out of here.”
“For you maybe. Maybe for Pleasant, if she took off. Not for me. In ten years, I’ll look just like my mama. Old and sucked dry.” She snatched her arm away from me. “I gotta go.”
“Marcia, who were the girls who were mean to Pleasant?”
“I’m not a ratfink.”
“Be a friend. Tell me.”
“Ask Brook Blevins and Lucinda Musgrove.”
She marched away from me, never turning back. If this was Pleasant’s best friend, I couldn’t help but wonder about her enemies. This was a situation I would have run away from, too.
* * *
Time was running away from me. Lucinda Musgrove was out of school for the day. She had a meeting with a scholarship committee at Delta State University. Not for academics, but for her theatrical, dance, and music abilities. Lucinda and Pleasant had been the two top contenders for the scholarship. Though I couldn’t put my hands on the high-schooler, I knew Lucinda’s mother, and I knew where to find her. I focused on Brook Blevins.
Principal Bryant arranged to call Brook to the office—on the condition that she was willing to talk to me. The minute she walked in the door, I knew she was a mean girl. Privileged, arrogant, narcissistic. She assessed me with a sneer. “You’re too old to be a student, so what are you doing here and what do you want with me?”
“I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been hired to find Pleasant Smith.”
“Check the landfill. Trash follows trash.”
I clenched my hand to keep from slapping her sullen face. Most teenagers didn’t get under my skin, but this young woman was a bully. And she had every advantage that most of her peers never had. Her Escada floral lace-print jeans cost more than her high school teachers made in a week. The lace-up sneakers she wore priced out at well over two hundred dollars. Every item of her wardrobe was expensive. Add to that the fact she was a beautiful girl, and it made me even angrier.
“Tell me what you know about Pleasant.” I forced a smile.
“She was a freak. She had six fingers, which is what happens when siblings breed.”
“Polydactylism is actually an inherited trait. It has nothing to do with incest.”
“Oh, so you’re the incest police?” She laughed. “Call it whatever you want. She was a trailer trash freak.”
“I heard she was talented.”
Brook pushed her silky blond hair behind her ear. “She could sing and make up songs. So what?”
“Who were her friends?”
“Freaks don’t have friends.”
My restraint was about to slip. I wondered what Hoss Kincaid would do to me for assaulting a minor. I was pretty sure it would be worth it. “Who did she hang out with?”
“Her trailer trash friends, I guess. Look, she came to class. She went home and did whatever freaks do.” Her eyebrows rose. “There was that one boy, Frankie something. Another geek. I saw them talking some before he graduated.”
“What about Marcia Colburn?”
“What about her?”
“Was she one of Pleasant’s friends?”
She laughed. “Marcia is another loser. Maybe they were friends, but no one ever invited them to parties or anything like that.”
“Was Pleasant a good student?”
“How would I know? I didn’t have to sign her report card or anything.” Brook held out her hand, inspecting her manicure. “I really have to go.”
And not a moment too soon. It was all I could do not to kick her in the butt when she walked away. Life would take some of the starch out of her, but I suspected Brook Blevins would lead a life filled with a few elite friends and the rest of the world would never measure up to her high standards.
* * *
I pulled up in front of the Three Bs quick stop. I hadn’t passed a single car on the drive over from the high school. Fallow cotton fields stretched in all directions, and as far as the eye could see there wasn’t an indication of life. A tin sign advertising Fanta drinks wobbled in the wind that cut across the fields.
The bell over the door jangled as I stepped inside. Frankie Graham was behind the counter, reading another literary novel. He looked up and grinned with pleasure when he recognized me.
“Did you find Pleasant?”
His eagerness made it harder to give him the negative reply. “We haven’t given up.”
“She’s been gone a month. Why are you looking for her now?” Frankie asked.
If he was romantically involved, he was sure a good actor. “We have reason to believe she’s alive. Or at least was alive two days ago.”
“Did someone see her?” He came out from behind the counter and put a hand on my arm. “Please, tell me.”
I needed a DNA sample, because I felt it was highly possible Frankie might be the father of the child. It was time to tell him the truth. “Someone left a baby on the front porch of my home. We believe it’s Pleasant’s baby because it has six toes on one foot.”
“Polydactyl! She told me all about it, how it runs in her family. Not everyone has it, but most of her family members do.” A wide smile spread over his features. “She’s alive. If she had the baby, she’s alive. Where is she?”
“We don’t know. But we believe she’s alive.”
“Is the baby okay? Is it a girl? Pleasant really wanted a girl.”
“The baby is a perfectly fine little girl. She’s being well taken care of.”
“We have to find Pleasant. We have to.” He gripped the counter as if he might fly up to the ceiling.
“We’re doing our best. But we know Pleasant was alive when the baby was born.” I filled him in on all the details of Libby’s arrival on my front porch, and on the death of Rudy Uxall. “We can’t be sure, but it looks to me as if Rudy was trying to help the baby.”
“Why would he bring the baby to you?”
If only I had that answer. “It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what happened.”
“This Rudy.” He bit his lip. “I wish I had a picture.”
I whipped out my phone and pulled up the photo I’d taken of Rudy’s older brother, Alfred. “He looks something like this.”
Frankie wasn’t very good at concealing his emotions. “I know him. He was in here the day Pleasant disappeared.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Those two asshats who were here the other day, he was with them. He stayed in the truck. When they started messing with Pleasant, he got out and started to come inside, but he didn’t.” He considered. “He looked upset.”
“From what some of the students at Cotton Gin High told me about Pleasant, she may have invited some of that rude attention.”
Frankie bristled. “What do you mean by that remark?”
“Her best friend said she li
ked bad boys and drugs.”
Frankie’s arm jerked and sent a container of mints crashing to the floor. “That’s just a … a … a damn lie.” Heat jumped into his cheeks. “Pleasant wasn’t like that at all. She was a good girl.”
“Good girls don’t get pregnant.”
The red drained from his face, leaving it white. “Everyone makes mistakes. Every single one of us. You can’t say Pleasant was a bad girl because she made one mistake.”
“And who did she make a mistake with?” I asked.
“She can tell you when you find her.”
Frankie was a loyal friend. I had to give him that. He wouldn’t blow her cover no matter how mad he got.
He picked up the peppermints and came around the counter. Tall and skinny, he stood his ground. “Pleasant was focused on her studies and her music. She made straight As. Who told you otherwise?”
I had no allegiance to Marcia Colburn, so I told him.
“She clung to Pleasant like a fat gray dog tick. She was never her friend, just someone who saw a possible ticket out of Hicksville.” He pushed his hair back. “Pleasant was a loner. She didn’t make a lot of friends, and Marcia pushed herself. Pleasant wasn’t the kind to be mean, so she let Marcia hang around and be part of the music. And this is the thanks she gets. That little bitch.”
Somehow, he’d made me feel sorry for Marcia. Brook Blevins was another kettle of fish. “What about Brook?”
“High maintenance.” He shrugged. “She’s beautiful and vicious. She got it in for Pleasant and really made school hell. I never could understand why Brook, Lucinda, and that crowd hated Pleasant so. They went out of their way to pull pranks to humiliate her. Brook had a leather glove with an extra finger made. She would pick her nose with the little pinkie. It was gross. And she would do it right in front of Pleasant.”
Brook was a bitch with a capital B. Frankie was right about that.
“I have two very different pictures of Pleasant. One is a good girl who shouldered responsibilities, and the other is this wild child.”
“I’m telling the truth. Nothing was more important to Pleasant than her music. Ask her mother or her sister. Ask the band director. She was all about her music, and that baby wouldn’t have been in her way. I would’ve asked—” He halted.
Rock-a-Bye Bones Page 9
