What Are You Wearing to Die?

by Patricia Sprinkle

He nodded. “I believe it. Now, what I did in secret needs to be brought to light, too.”

  We had arrived at last to the moment we both had been trying hard to postpone. “Why didn’t you tell Sheriff Gibbons what you knew on Friday evening and let him deal with it?”

  “I planned to, but I’d made plans to meet friends for a drink and I was running late. Talking to Roddy took longer than it usually did, and driving was slow with the freeze. I figured, ‘No sweat. I’ll talk to the sheriff when I get home, or even tomorrow.’ I didn’t see that there was any hurry. Robin wasn’t going anywhere if she didn’t know I knew. When I started up to my friends’ room, though, this lady in a fur coat was getting on the elevator up ahead. I yelled, ‘Hold it!’ and put on some speed. When I got inside, the woman was Robin, dressed fit to kill. Sorry, that’s not what I meant to say.”

  “The language is full of violent images we don’t usually mean. Go on.”

  “I said, ‘I’ve just come from talking to your friend Roddy.’ She shrugged and said, ‘I don’t know any Roddy.’ I said, ‘Odd. He said it was you who got Starr hooked on meth.’ And she laughed and said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Then she moved closer to me and asked in this husky voice, ‘You like the way I look all dressed up? We could have fun together sometime.’ That’s when I saw red—and it wasn’t her dress. She had killed my daughter, and there she was, trying to vamp me.”

  I watched his color rise as the anger he had felt at the time surged through him again. He rubbed both cheeks with his hands and took several deep breaths to regain his composure. “I never meant to kill her. I swear it. I wanted to shake some sense into her. But once I started—” He looked down at his hands as if he couldn’t believe what they had done. “I was back in Nam, with an enemy by the throat.” He swallowed hard. “I’m not making excuses, but I was trained to kill. Once I started, that training took over and I broke her neck.”

  “You didn’t consider calling the sheriff at that point?”

  “Sure I did. As soon as she went limp I knew I had to call 911 and turn myself in. I reached for my phone, but I’d left it in the truck. I went back for it and was turning it on when the Poynters arrived. I got out to warn them not to use the elevator, and instead—”

  I waved for him to stop. “I can guess the rest.” Which of us has not chosen the easier way out of a difficult situation when it’s offered on a plate?

  We sat staring at each other for several minutes. Both of us were reluctant for him to take the next step.

  “Speaking of things in the dark brought to light,” I said, “did you hear about the meth lab the sheriff’s deputy found in Robin’s basement?”

  “No, but Roddy said she and Billy were making the meth they sold at her house.”

  “Did he tell you Billy wasn’t Robin’s brother?”

  “No. I didn’t know Robin was supposed to have a brother, so the matter never came up.”

  “There’s a possibility he’s a man she ran away from home with seven years ago. She eventually left him and married somebody else, but they seem to have hooked up again recently and come to Hope County to make methamphetamine.”

  I shifted in my chair to get more comfortable. Outside the window I heard the crash of two automobiles hitting each other—or was that the crash of our world falling apart?

  Inside my office, the only sound was Trevor’s harsh breathing as he fought back sobs. “I cannot believe I let that daddy and mama find their own child’s body. I am not fit to live. I gotta tell the sheriff, right now.” He rose from his seat.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. “I can’t think of anything else you can do. Not and remain the honorable man you are.”

  He gave a short, unfunny laugh. “I’m not honorable, Judge. For years I’ve been a man trying to do the best I could with what I’d got. This time, though, I really blew it. Blew it bad.” He pressed his lips together and took several deep breaths. “What I really came about is Bradley. I want…I don’t want…”

  He broke down and spoke between sobs. “I don’t…I don’t want him to…to know that his T-daddy…his T-daddy is a murderer.” He raised his face to me. Tears flowed down his cheeks and got lost in his beard. “Can you keep that from him, Judge? Do you think Ridd and Martha would take him again, tell him I got real sick and died? That’s gonna be real hard on him, but not as hard as knowing the truth. And I can’t stand to think of him coming to jail to see me. There’s an evil spirit that pervades those places. I don’t want it to contaminate him. He’s so good, Judge. So pure. Can you all take care of him for me?”

  Moved by his grief, I would have done anything he asked—except let him go free. “Sure we can, Trevor. We’ll take care of Bradley. But we won’t lie and tell him you died, because you won’t be inside forever. It wasn’t premeditated murder. You’ll be home by the time Bradley is grown. You might even change your mind about seeing him before then.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want him to see me there. Don’t bring him, even if he begs. Promise me.”

  “He couldn’t come without your permission. You’d have to put him on your list. But seeing you paying for your mistake could be a powerful lesson in consequences. And you’d get to watch him grow up.”

  “No, Judge. I’ve given this a lot of thought. I went by the bank this morning and put all my money in his name, and I went to Jed’s office and put the house and business in his name. I didn’t tell anybody why I was doing it, but he’ll be taken care of financially. All I ask is that you good people look after him for me.”

  I could hardly see him for a blur of tears. “We’ll take care of him for you. And we’ll tell him you are an honorable man who owned up to your mistake.”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a sin, but it was not a mistake. If I had Billy in my sights right now, I might do the same again.”

  “Leave Billy to the sheriff. He’s looking for him as we speak.”

  “Then I pray he finds him fast. I need to go back home and get some last loose ends tied up. Then I’ll go to the sheriff.”

  He stood and looked at me awkwardly, like he was waiting for something.

  I put out my hand. “I’m proud to know you, Trevor Knight.”

  He gave me his big paw with a wry smile. “That makes one of us. See you later, Judge.”

  I didn’t reply. We both knew where that was likely to be.

  27

  The deputy locked me in again after Trevor left. I returned to my computer and started printing payroll checks, afraid my brain was going to explode from overload.

  When a siren shrilled up the street and wailed to a stop close by, I wondered if somebody had been hurt in the car accident. That was likely, because in a minute, through the glass in my office door, I saw Evelyn come rushing back to the deputy, waving her arms. I couldn’t distinguish any words, but her tone was excited and she kept pointing to the street.

  “I’ll be right back,” he called to me, and went with her.

  I checked my watch. Forty minutes since Joe Riddley left. Twenty to go.

  The first siren was followed by two more. What could be going on? We don’t get many three-siren events in town. Normally I’d have been with everybody else out on the sidewalk. We’d share information as it reached us. It irked me that I had to sit inside and wait for Evelyn or Gladys to bring me the news.

  They didn’t come. Neither did anybody else. Our store was so dead you’d think I had wandered into Hubert’s closed store by mistake. I strained to listen and couldn’t detect a soul outside.

  “Deputy? Hey, Deputy! Are you out there? Did you come back?”

  He didn’t reply.

  I have never given much thought to the end of the world, but I began to get the creepy feeling that maybe all of humanity had been raptured and I alone had been left behind.

  “Evelyn?” I yelled in the voice that used to call our boys to dinner from two fields away.

  No response.


  “Gladys? Evelyn?” We had a policy that everybody was never to leave the store at once.

  Nobody came.

  I picked up my dictionary and hurled it at the door to our office with all my strength. I thought it would make a racket as it hit the floor. Instead, it shattered the glass and went right through.

  “Serves you right,” I muttered to Joe Riddley. “You’ll have to fix it.”

  It had made a lovely crash, but still nobody came.

  “This joke has gone far enough,” I yelled.

  I heard soft footsteps. A tall form slithered toward my door.

  Billy Baxter. He looked remarkably like somebody else as he peered at me through the broken glass. Probably Natalie. I’d seen a lot of her lately.

  He turned the knob.

  Thank God the dead bolt was locked.

  He reached a hand through the broken glass, fumbling for the bolt on my side.

  “It can only be opened by a key,” I told him. “How did you get in?”

  He spoke through the hole in the glass. “Easy. Nobody’s here but us chickens. They’re all outside, watching the fun. They’s a big fire across the street.” His grin chilled my soul. Looking at those crooked yellow teeth, I knew how Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother had felt.

  I had to try twice before I could get out, “Fire?”

  “Yeah, that old appliance store. Burning beautifully.”

  “Hubert’s? It’s empty. How could it catch on fire?”

  Billy’s satisfied smirk gave me one possible answer. A chill went up my spine. Had he created a diversion to empty our store?

  He confirmed it. “Had me a little traffic accident that snarled traffic so bad the fire trucks had a hard time getting close enough, too. Wasn’t that a shame?” When he smiled, I knew who he reminded me of. Not Natalie. Evil incarnate.

  At least he couldn’t know Joe Riddley had incapacitated me. How had he even known I was in the office?

  I remembered the shadow at the window. Had that been Billy, peering in?

  He was still feeling through the hole for a way to unlock the dead bolt. “It takes a key on both sides,” I informed him.

  “Some husband, locking you up like that and leaving you all by your lonesome.”

  I didn’t correct his misperception. The deputy would be back soon. Billy couldn’t get in. Maybe I could play him along until then.

  “Did you treat Robin well?” I asked. “I understand you aren’t her brother at all.”

  “You got that right. I’m gonna miss old Bobbie. Me’n her went back a long way. Been together for—let’s see—must be seven years, except for three when I had to pay a small debt to society.”

  I wondered why they had ever let him out.

  “Was that when Robin got married?” I spoke loudly. I wanted the deputy to hear us talking and approach warily.

  “That wasn’t what you think.” Billy brayed a laugh. “We fixed that up between us, Bobbie and me. I told her to look for somebody who could finance a new start for us once I was free to roam. As soon as I walked, she dropped him and we took the midnight train to Georgia.”

  I believed it. What I had learned of Robin these past few weeks made me certain she would have married Grady to get her hands on his furniture and family silver, and left him as soon as Billy was free. My only question was what she saw in Billy. From the whiffs I was getting from the doorway, bathing was not on his list of favorite preoccupations.

  He wasn’t good-looking, either. Weedy was the word that came to mind. His face was sharp as a ferret’s, his yellow hair limp and greasy on his shoulders. Had she been attracted to the air of bravado and danger that circled him like an energy field?

  He leaned against the door, careful of the broken pane, and chilled me again with his next words. “I came in through the loading dock, but I lowered the grill back there and locked the other doors, so nobody can get in. We’re all alone in here. You and me need to have a chat. You’re the one sicced the cops on me, ain’t you.”

  It was a statement rather than a question, and he didn’t wait for a reply. “And let out my dog, got him drugged and carried down to the pound, and showed the cops our underground nest. Also thanks to you, now I got a cash flow problem. I got plenty of money, mind—Bobbie and I had been saving up, and we were about ready to split from Hope County and live high. But now the sheriff’s confiscated it. Leaves me real short. I can’t even use a credit card without setting off bells. But I’m getting powerful hungry, and my truck’s low on fuel. Don’t have enough gas to skip town, and I’m a wanted man. Heck, I can’t buy food for my dog. He’s getting real hungry again, and when he’s hungry, he gets mean.”

  “Not as mean as what you did to Starr.” That was what I wanted to say. What I would have said if the deputy had been standing beside me, as he should have been, and Billy was wearing cuffs instead of me. Courage, I discovered to my shame, is relative. Unable to run, I couldn’t force a single word past my tonsils.

  “So.” He folded his arms and his face split in a wolfish smile. “It’s payback time. I figure with a business like this, you’ll be able to cover my expenses until I can get back on my feet again.”

  “I’d give you everything we’ve got, but I can’t get to the register. The door is locked, I don’t have a key, and I am temporarily disabled. See my ankle? My husband cuffed me to the desk to keep me from wandering off.” I laughed, like it was a joke.

  “You can tell me how to open the register. I’ll write it down.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and held out his forearm.

  I gave him the steps and he wrote them on the whitest part of his skin.

  “There won’t be much,” I warned. “We aren’t doing much business in the store these days. Most of our work is with landscapers and developers, who pay by check through the mail.”

  He studied me like he was trying to decide whether I was bluffing. “I’ll see what’s there. And while I’m gone, you write me a check. Five hundred thousand will do nicely.”

  I laughed again. That time I couldn’t help it. “We don’t have that kind of money.”

  “Of course you do. You got a prosperous business here, a big nursery down the road—”

  “And lots and lots of money tied up in inventory.”

  He pulled a gun from his waist and leveled it at me. “How much you reckon you got in the bank?”

  “Maybe a hundred thousand. I was writing the payroll checks for this month when you came in.”

  “A hundred thousand will do for starters.”

  Now that I knew he had a gun, I didn’t want Joe Riddley coming in on him unaware. Dear God, let me get this man out of here before Joe Riddley arrives. If that’s the last thing I can do for my husband, please help me do it right.

  I turned to my keyboard.

  “Don’t you be sending out e-mails. I said, ‘Write me a check.’”

  “I write checks on the computer. You don’t think I write them all by hand, do you? Go get what you can from the register. I’ll write the check.”

  As soon as he left, I switched to my e-mail account and wrote the sheriff. “Billy Baxter in my office. He set fire to Hubert’s. Come fast! No sirens.”

  I returned to our business account and started writing his check.

  Billy had no way of knowing that if anybody—including me or Joe Riddley—wrote a check for more than five hundred dollars on that account without a countersigner, a flag went up. We’d set up that procedure on the advice of an attorney who had seen too many supposedly happy marriages and business partnerships in which one partner cleaned out the bank account, then split. As soon as I wrote the check, the bank would get a notice that it should not be cashed. When Billy presented it, hopefully somebody would be around to arrest him on the spot.

  He came back with a dissatisfied scowl. “There wasn’t but forty-seven dollars in the register. Where’s the rest?”

  “That’s all there is. I told you, we don’t do much business in the store these days.
Do I make this out to ‘Billy Baxter’?”

  “William Tecumseh Baxter—and no funny remarks about that.”

  I turned my head so he couldn’t see my expression as I typed his name. What I was thinking wasn’t the least bit funny: General Sherman, you can be proud of your namesake. He’s left a trail of devastation through our state that almost equals yours.

  So many lives destroyed to feed this man’s greed and pride. What made him think he deserved so much?

  I finished the check and heard the whir as my printer started taking in data. I automatically backed the data up onto our main computer as we watched the check print out.

  “That thing isn’t going to bounce, is it? There’s money in the account to cover it?”

  For the first time he sounded uncertain.

  “Barely.”

  As I signed the check, I said, “Go get me a hoe. They’re on the aisle right behind you. I’ll tape the check to one end if you can reach me.”

  He fetched the hoe in record time. He swore as his arm got cut when he thrust it toward me, but his desire for the check overcame his pain. By stretching as far as we both could reach, I managed to tape the check onto the blade. “There you go.”

  He folded the paper and tucked it into his shirt pocket. Then he stood looking at me with the gun in his hand. He pointed it at me. “To be sure you don’t stop payment on the check, maybe I ought to…” He waved the gun up and down a couple of times as if considering his options.

  If my life flashed before my eyes, I was too scared to notice. A voice in my head kept pleading, This isn’t what I meant by revenge on Joe Riddley. Don’t let him blame himself for this. I didn’t know if I was praying or begging.

  Again that wolfish grin spread over his face. “Nah, there’s a better way they can’t trace back to me. I noticed it on my way in. But first—”

  He aimed his gun and fired. My computer monitor shattered. “Don’t want you writing any of your friends. By the end of the week, I’ll be lying on a sunny beach somewhere, drinking a toast to you.” He made a rolling gesture with one hand like he was saluting royalty. “Vaya con dios, Judge. I think that covers the situation.”