Down To The Needle

by Mary Deal

  Det. Britto called to say the police decided to question Megan about the birth certificates. Unfortunately, the interview would air on TV. Why not? Their lives had become an open book anyway.

  Now they stayed late in the office. On the six o'clock news, Megan seemed overly jubilant, an actress playing a part. She stated that her father must have secreted the documents when he changed their names. She claimed to know nothing about them but said they proved who she was. Abi still felt a lot of uncertainty.

  After the newscast finished, Abi caught Joe staring at her curiously. It was time for dinner but that look wasn't one of him conjuring a place to dine. Finally, he perched himself on a stool at his editing table nearby. He motioned for her to have a look. “I found this on the floor in my garage.” He held something between his fingertips. “Don't know what it's from. Don't remember having it.”

  “Well, show me.”

  “It's you.” He held it up for her to see. He put the piece under a high-powered magnifier and studied it. “This looks like you when we first met.”

  Abi only needed a peek at the remnant. She didn't need a piece of photographic equipment to know what he found. “That's the picture from my wallet, half of it, anyway. The one Margaret asked for when she met Edith and me at The Beacon.”

  “How did it get into my garage, on the floor?” He removed it from the viewing frame and flipped it over to glance at the backside.

  “You didn't find the other half?”

  “Nothing. I looked.”

  Abi smiled, onto something. “She's getting her memory back.”

  “Margaret is? How do you figure?”

  “She's torn us in half. The other half of the photo was you.”

  “She kept my portion?” He seemed amused. He wrapped an arm around her as she stood beside him. His hand dropped down to her derrière.

  She stepped away and slapped his hand. “Yes, don't you see? She didn't want me in the same picture with you.”

  “Well, what do you make of that?”

  “She's jealous. That's what I make of it. She's getting her memory back.”

  “The sooner, the better. Then I can locate her family and ship her out.” He breathed what must have been a sigh of relief, but his voice didn't sound all that convincing. Or, perhaps, he was dreading having to deal with Margaret's family again.

  “At least things are happening, for both of us.” But playing a waiting game with self-serving Yates was testing her patience.

  “Don't worry, Abi. I have a gut feeling this case is about to explode.”

  “Like Yates's tinder box of a house?”

  He frowned suddenly. “No, Abi, not up in smoke.”

  Joe's studio had become their safe haven, for as long as the privacy might last. He accepted no new clients and worked to finalize jobs that had been delayed. He also had several personal projects in mind and began set-up of those.

  A few days passed and they still had not heard from Emery, who was busy reviewing, scrutinizing and planning strategies regardless of the outcome of Megan's last appeal. They hadn't heard from Stan Yates, although Emery had a brief conversation with him saying Yates sounded like he was having a change of heart, but wrestling with his self-importance all the same.

  “Just let it happen, and soon.” Abi closed her eyes momentarily. “It might take a while for someone Yates's age to heal from surgery.”

  “Everything's going to happen as it should. Trust it.”

  “What if—”

  “If Emery can't wring some compassion out of that bottle sucker I'll go and put my hands around his scrawny neck myself.”

  “Joe!”

  “I'll do it, Abi, I swear. One of us is going to get through to that sot, and he won't like dealing with me.”

  Abi had never seen Joe react in a desperate situation. A new aspect of his personality began to emerge. “You'd do that? Despite all you've got going on, taking Margaret almost daily to the psychiatrist and all?” Abi looked out the side window and saw the tip of Monk's Hill in the distance beyond the edge of town. Would Becky ever get to see that hill again?

  “You know? I don't have to do this for Margaret. I don't have to do anything for her.” He slammed a couple of cabinet drawers closed. That was another of his habits when feeling frustrated. “I recently planned to refurbish this studio. Now she's taking up all my time.”

  Abi glanced out the oversized window Joe previously installed in the rear wall. The ocean in the distance still seemed turbulent, but the day was crisp and clean, bright with sunlight now fading to dusk. True, he might have had enough time to refurbish at least the front office before the seasonal business rush of weddings and graduations that kept him busy when not on the road capturing the news. He also mentioned wanting to knock down a wall to install an electric ventilator before the arrival of stifling summer heat. She was to shop for new tables and get some of his recent photography framed for the reception area. Yet, despite some outdated leather furniture and the food odors of neighboring restaurants, the familiarity of Joe's masculine studio exemplified his character and gave her comfort just being there. “Why are you getting so involved then?”

  “I guess I could locate her family and just tell them to come and get her, but my pride won't let me turn her over to them in the condition she's in.”

  “You're not responsible for her condition.”

  “They'd blame me for not helping her.

  “Do you care?”

  He sighed heavily. “Not really, I guess. Not anymore, but we need to show compassion, Abi. I can't simply turn my back since I know who she is.” He stared at the floor. “Isn't it a coincidence that I end up being the one to find her after all these years?”

  “How do you think she came here?”

  “The doctor says she remembers bits and pieces, riding around the country in a truck with some doper while he made his long-haul deliveries.” He shuddered.

  That might have been the guy named Tony that Margaret told her and Edith about. “Someone like that might have brought her across country.”

  “Yeah, I can remember lots of people back home, always talking about going west to Seaport some day.”

  “Have you learned anything, how long it might have been?”

  “The doc thinks a few years.”

  “Years?”

  “I thought that too.”

  “Based on?”

  “Well, I can't get much out of that doctor, but Margaret always pampered herself.” Joe rubbed the neck area under his chin. “Her sagging face means she's been out in the elements for some time. In her right mind, she'd never allow it. She'd get a facelift.”

  Abi sighed. “Pieces, just pieces.”

  “This whole thing with her makes me tired. I hope—” Suddenly, a sharp peculiar rapping sounded at the door. Joe slipped off the stool and spoke quietly. “Wonder who feels so important they need to announce themselves. My sign says I'm open.”

  Chapter 30

  Stan Yates stood outside the doorway with his red and white cane and wearing clean clothes. “Well, my sister done told me this was the right place.”

  “Uh, yes, it is. Come in, come in.” Joe took his elbow to lead him through the reception area but Yates pulled away.

  “Lemme do it my way.” Yates probed ahead of himself with the walking stick.

  “That's fine, Stan, but I'm afraid you'll knock over some of the tripods.” Joe pulled a small chair forward. “Here, have a seat right here.”

  Yates collapsed onto the chair and held his stick straight up like a shepherd's crook. “Bet yer real surprised, ain't ya'?” He smiled behind dead glassy eyes.

  “Yes, we are. Abi's here too.”

  “I know that. I told ya'. I can smell 'er. I can smell ever'body.” He paused a moment. “S'too bad my nose can't identify a person in a picture.”

  “Having your sight restored could.” Abi walked over from where she sat near the cutting table. The stench of booze that spewed on his breath repulsed h
er. So did his rank musty odor. The pungent smell of the inside of his house could not be laundered out of his clothes. She stopped at the other end of the desk and moved no closer.

  He smiled and moved his head as if actually seeing around the room. He must have heard Joe sniff. “Guess I had more than a touch this morning. I carry my granddaddy's ol' silver flask right here.” He patted his breast pocket. “Just like my daddy did.”

  “Don't get caught with open booze in the car.” Joe was making idle conversation. He sounded like he really cared. He brought over one of the stools and sat opposite Yates.

  “Hazel's my driver. I'm here 'cause she said I had to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Well, my sister done told me somethin' I wish I didn't have to repeat.”

  “That bad?”

  “She up and got 'erself some serious diabetes.” The way he told it, Hazel may as well have bought herself a new car.

  Abi looked at Joe who raised an eyebrow.

  “She told me I better git this eye surgery 'cause I'm gonna' have to take care of myself when she's done gone.”

  “You do want to be able to take care of yourself, don't you, Stan?” It was Abi's turn to play at sympathy.

  “I ain't got no choice, my sister gettin' sick and all. How she gonna take care of me when she's sick 'erself?” He shrugged. “Then what am I gonna do with myself when I get my sight back?”

  Joe put up an index finger, silently telling Abi he had an idea. “Don't you think the whole world would open up for you again, Stan, with your sight restored?”

  “I'm feared to think.”

  “What was your profession before you lost your sight?”

  “Oh, I could do anything, I could.” He lifted his shoulders higher. “I was a handyman. Jack-of-all-Trades. Weren't nothin' I couldn't do.”

  “Then why don't you think about starting your own business when you can see?” Joe was faking interest in Yates's welfare.

  “That's too far ahead. Right now, I gotta make up my mind to get this surgery you folks done said you was a-gonna pay for.”

  Abi's heart fluttered. If Yates agreed, they would see to it that he went to the hospital before he changed his mind.

  “Yes, we'll get your surgery, Stan, but only with the stipulation that you look at those photographs again.”

  “I just don't know what yer hopin' to find. I done identified the person once. I might see the same person.”

  Abi's heart fluttered with hope. “We'll take that chance. Just be honest about it.”

  “I'll tell you who I seen, but they ain't a-gonna be no difference.” He sat up straighter and lifted his chin. He paused like getting ready to give the speech of a lifetime. “I don't know why you wanna put me through that again.”

  “That's the deal.” Joe's voice was firm, flat.

  “I guess that's the only way then, ain't it?”

  Joe threw up a fist toward Abi then turned back to Yates. “No one believes Megan Winnaker is guilty. The jury made their decision on your identification, only yours.”

  “That's right.” Yates threw his chin even higher. “I was important back then. Ever'body waitin' to hear what I had to say.”

  Abi could barely stand to listen, but like Joe, she would wheedle at this man's warped sense of righteousness until he found some twisted justification for helping. “You can be a star again, Stan.” His name stuck in her throat. “Just think. When you get your sight back and identify the true person who threw that brick, people will be clamoring to hear from you again.”

  “Well, I'll be danged. I ain't never thought of it that way.” He slapped his knee. “Hazel said I had to go out and make somethin' of myself now. Feelin' like yer somebody, I guess every man needs that.”

  Joe reached over and tapped Yates's knee. “I want to believe you've come here to accept our offer. If you let us help you through the surgery, you must promise to look at those photographs as soon as you're able.”

  “And iffin' I see the same face, the same one I done seen before?”

  “Then we will have done all we can.”

  “S'posin' I lie?”

  Abi took a sharp but quiet sudden breath. “Why would you do that?”

  “S'posin' I see a different face, but I lie just so's I won't have to go through all that legal stuff again.”

  “We have faith in you, Stan,” Joe leaned closer to pat Stan's arm, feigning comfort. “We don't believe you'd do something like that. Besides, there'll be a whole world of people out there just waiting to hear from you. So you've got to do this right.”

  Abi and Joe took turns at presenting Yates with a perspective he might go for. Abi knew she had to feign more empathy. She swallowed hard and pushed her pride aside.“Stan, think of it this way. Pretend for a moment, okay?”

  “I reckon I kin.”

  “Pretend for a moment your boys had lived, but, let's say they were hurt bad. Wouldn't you want them to know you helped catch the right person who caused their pain and suffering?”

  “Yep, they'd think right smart of me doin' what I done.”

  “Pretend they're grown up now and they learn you identified the wrong person. What do you think they'd think about you after learning that?”

  He thought for a while. “Humph! Might think I was some sort of fool, I reckon.”

  “Do this for your boys, Stan. Do it for their memory, and for your wife. Help us set the record straight.”

  “Reckon it matters now they're gone?”

  Abi shook her head and felt sick. Sure, it mattered for their memory. It also mattered for Megan, who was still among the living and probably not guilty, but Yates would not understand for that reason. “Maybe your family's in heaven looking down on you right now. Been doing that all along.”

  “In heaven lookin' down? Strange you should say that. My wife used to talk like that when she was a-livin'… about her mama's spirit and all.” Yates bowed his head, got real quiet, pensive. Then he suddenly lifted his face toward them again. “You willin' to gamble on me like that? You gonna guarantee no one's gonna hate me afterwards? Look what hate's already done to me.”

  “We're willing to take a chance on you, Stan. Say you'll take a chance with us.”

  “Well….”

  He was hesitating too long, maybe talking himself out of cooperating. They had to come up with something more. This only witness, who thought solely of self-importance, who listened to only a few, then reverted back into his own distorted reality, could not be allowed to slip away.

  Abi picked up a DVD case off Joe's desk and pointed to it, calling Joe's attention to an idea. He caught on easily and smiled and nodded.

  Joe turned back to Yates. “We've got a great idea for you. We'll not only cover your surgery, if you look at those pictures and find you made a mistake—and you correct that mistake—I'll do a documentary about your life.”

  Yates pulled back his chin. “No way. You mean, put me in a movie?”

  “Sort of. Any number of the talk shows might pick it up.”

  Abi knew full well what kind of tell-all portrayal Joe would create, and he would enjoy every minute of it.

  Yates's face stretched into a wide ugly-mouthed grin as he slowly moved his head back and forth, as if proudly looking out at admiring spectators. “Well now. That ought to do any man right proud.”

  She and Joe exchanged eye messages that said they were glad Yates couldn't see them.

  “I'm sure the whole country will want to know about the man who broke this case wide open.”

  Yates fidgeted in the chair and cleared his throat. “Well now… well now.”

  After they assured Yates that they would handle all the doctor and hospital arrangements and Yates left, Det. Britto called with frustrating news. The DNA tests, being done at the lab in Lawton, would be delayed due to a back up of cases ahead of theirs.

  That afternoon Abi and Joe drove to Rachter Prison to break the disparaging news to Megan. The fact that prison officials
took weeks before they allowed the test was already too much delay. So much remained to get this inmate cleared, regardless of the DNA results.

  Megan went off on some mental tangent till Abi called her Becky to regain her attention.

  “You said you'd help.” Her voice actually hissed. “I killed no one.” She stood abruptly and told the guard she was ready to return to her cell. Abi did not have so much as a chance to comfort Megan. DNA could in no way affect the Supreme Court's decision, but Megan exhibited no understanding of Abi's position and continuing effort. Abi felt absolutely helpless.

  Night fell by the time they reached Seaport. The fog was thick again. Traffic slowed. Joe reached over and placed a hand on her knee. “I'm glad you're staying over.”

  “We both have two homes, don't we?” She was determined not to let Margaret's presence disrupt their lives.

  “I meant what I asked you before.” His eyes twinkled like stars in a smooth dark sky.

  “Yeah?” She felt playful and cast him a dubious glance.

  “We could get married soon.”

  “After things settle down.” She smiled warmly. “We can talk about it then.”

  “What I mean is, if DNA proves this inmate is your daughter, we've known all along that her dad's dead. Preston is dead.”

  “It hasn't hit me.”

  “You'll be free.” He took his eyes off the road long enough to flash one of his triumphant smiles. “We can really show Margaret she no longer—”

  “Not on those terms!”

  He straightened then continued to drive with both hands on the wheel and looking straight ahead. “I'm so sorry.” His voice was heavy with regret. “That's not at all what I meant.”

  “We need time.” Even if marriage seemed right, they should not simply do it because there was no longer anything in the way. “Plans, Joe. Let's talk about our lives. Everything's changing.”

  “Not how we feel about each other.”

  “Agreed, but soon we'll be three.”

  “I'm glad to hear you thinking positive.”

  “I guess I am, aren't I?” She smiled at herself.

  He turned off the boulevard that eventually ran past Monk's Hill, then out into the hills beyond. They finally reached his neighborhood, an upscale area of older remodeled homes on extensive rural lots.