Laina Turner - Presley Thurman 02 - Necklaces & Nooses

by Laina Turner

  “Why are you thinking about helping him? I don’t understand.”

  I had called Anna after talking to James to get her opinion on what I should do. “I don’t know. I tell myself to walk away partly because I don’t see how it would at all help and partly because he is such a jerk. But there’s also a small part of me that feels bad. I didn’t think he killed her, and I hate the thought of anyone being thought of as a killer when it wasn’t true. Maybe he’s being more of a jerk because of the stress of being accused.”

  “You sure it’s not true?”

  “Anna, I’m not sure you can ever be a hundred percent sure. But Willie said that James’s story was so unbelievable it was believable. That liars make up stories that make sense, and my gut tells me he’s being honest.”

  “I guess I can see that. So, are you going to go see the family? How many are there?”

  “She has a brother Steven and sister Sheila.”

  “Awwww, all S names, how cute.”

  “Somehow I don’t think making that comment will endear me to them.”

  I already knew Sheila wasn’t the nicest person around, and I wasn’t looking forward to running into her again.

  The only thing more surprising to me than that I was actually at the Barker family estate to talk to Steve and Sheila, was that they agreed to see me. When I had finally made the decision to call, I fully expected to be hung up on, seeing as though they thought James had killed her. But, maybe that was why they agreed to see me. They wanted to get me on their side.

  No matter the reason, I was dressed to impress. Even though Sheila had not inherited the same fashion genes Solange had, they came from money, and so I had dressed accordingly. Camel-colored linen trousers with a wide leg that flattered my bottom- heavy figure. Cream-colored simple silk long fitted tunic with a cream leather short sleeved shirt, vintage of course, that was very fitted to the point of almost being uncomfortable, but it accentuated my small waist. This jacket was one of my most favorite vintage finds. According to Solange, it was a hippy whipstitch from the Seventies. It had big leather buttons about the size of a quarter that also had the intricate stitching, of which I had the top three unbuttoned. The stitching reminded me of the stitching on the Joey Indigo Super T jeans by True Religion. Though I must admit the vintage piece was weathered and looked much more fabulous than the new stuff.

  I felt both classy and sassy in this outfit. I topped it off with killer cream-colored sandals, purse, and a chunky necklace and earring set made out of a dark wood of some kind. As Solange would say, it was my contrast pop. My eyes filled with tears as I remembered how much she had really influenced my fashion life, and even though she could be such a pain to work for, she had been a good-hearted person. I blinked the tears back, as Solange would not approve of me ruining my make-up, and walked up to the door, nervously smoothing down the front of my trousers and looking for any errant lint. Finding none and figuring I better just knock and get it over with, I raised my hand to do just that when the door opened.

  “Hi, Sheila.” I stared into the face of the demanding woman who had been at Silk the day before.

  “Stop staring. She was adopted.” Talk about abrupt. Sheila then motioned for me to follow her and walked away.

  I needed to process this. No wonder I hadn’t seen any family resemblance if Solange had been adopted. I wondered why she had never mentioned it; neither had James for that matter. Obviously she was a member of the family or the grandfather wouldn’t have left her money in his will. Sheila led me to what must have been the den or library. It was a beautiful room. I could stay lost in there looking at what were obviously antique books.

  “This is Steven,” Sheila said, pointing to a man who looked much older than his early forties. At the funeral I hadn’t been that close to him to tell. Rode hard and put up wet, as my dad would say. The heavy drinking and hard lifestyle had apparently taken a toll on what would have been his good looks. His complexion was ashy and his eyes bloodshot. He walked over and shook my hand, and I half expected him to reek of alcohol even though it was eight in the morning.

  “Can I get you a coffee, tea, water…?” he asked in a deep voice that had a pleasant sound to it. From what James had told me, Steven had at one time had a promising future. He was super smart, graduating high school and college early and getting his Harvard MBA at twenty years of age. He had partied as hard as he’d studied, though, and became addicted to the partying lifestyle.

  “Coffee would be great.” I had drunk half a pot at home, but you could never have too much coffee.

  “Have a seat.” He motioned to a sofa over by the east wall. He walked over to a silver coffee service and poured me a cup. “Cream, sugar?”

  “Cream, please. Not much, just enough to take the edge off.”

  He smiled. “Girl after my own heart.”

  “Oh please, Steven, drop the act,” Sheila said. “She’s not here to flirt with you.”

  I hadn’t really thought he was flirting, just being nice. Personally, I thought Sheila was just a bitch. I thought that in the store, and I thought so at that moment.

  “At least I’m not the one who went into Silk and badgered this poor woman who had no idea who you were,” he said in the same pleasant tone he used with me, but I could tell it took him effort.

  “Whatever, Steven.” She turned her head to address me. “So what do you want?”

  Wow, talk about blunt and getting right to the point. How Solange, with all the social graces she had, and her sister, even if not a blood relative, were raised in the same environment escaped me But the positive was it gave me more confidence to just be blunt right back and cut to the chase.

  “Why do you think James killed Solange?”

  Steven snorted behind his coffee cup. I looked up, and he was trying to suppress a smile. Probably, so as not to piss off Sheila. I knew I shouldn’t, but I kind of liked Steven. He had this kind of boyish charm.

  Sheila seemed to take my question in stride, almost like she was expecting it. “Why not?” she said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it “No one else hated her, and our Sally, excuse me Solange, was loved by everyone.”

  “Now I realize James isn’t the nicest person, but he didn’t hate her.”

  “Riiight. What else do you call someone who wants a divorce and then tries to take all your money?”

  She had a point that it certainly appeared that way. How was I supposed to even try and explain what James’s true intention was? I thought for a moment, and then it dawned on me what had been bothering me since I got here. “You weren’t at the funeral?”

  I expected Sheila to correct me, but she just sat there.

  “Told you, sis, that people would notice.”

  “Oh, shut up. At least I wasn’t the idiot that caused a ruckus. What do you think looked worse?”

  Personally I thought it looked worse that she didn’t go, but I refrained from commenting, as I didn’t think she was really asking me. At least Steven could use the excuse he was overtaken by emotion. She just must not have any. “Why didn’t you go?” I asked.

  “Yeah, sis, explain to our friend here why you didn’t go.”

  “She’s hardly our friend, and it’s no one’s business.”

  “Oh, but I think it is, sis. The fact you didn’t go would make you the number one suspect in her death, in my opinion. She’s here to plead James’s case, so maybe you should get her on your side as well.”

  “Hardly. As if someone like me would waste my time killing her.”

  “God, Sheila, you’re such a bitch.”

  “Better than being a drunk.”

  Steven just rolled his eyes. “Just ignore her, Presley. She doesn’t know how to be nice. The fact is we don’t hate James.”

  I thought that odd, since it sure hadn’t looked like Steven had any positive feelings for James at the funeral.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he continued. “But, at Solange’s funeral I wasn’t in my right mind.
”

  “Are you ever?” Sheila interrupted.

  Steven ignored her and kept talking. “James is a good guy. He only had Solange’s best interest at heart.”

  “Steven, he tried taking money that was rightfully hers—ours—from grandfather. How is that looking out for her best interest?”

  “He only did that to keep her from wasting her money on me.”

  I looked at him shocked.

  “Yeah, I know all about his reasoning for the divorce.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Solange told me, and I confronted James. He confirmed that he felt Solange wasn’t doing me any favors.”

  “And that’s family business, not his,” said Sheila.

  “James is family, Sheila.”

  “Hardly!”

  “Besides, Mom put him up to it.”

  “You mean to tell me our mother asked James to divorce her daughter to stop her from giving you money?”

  They were arguing as if they forgot I was even in the room. Maybe it was a good thing; maybe they would say something that would give me insight to Solange’s murder.

  “Yes! That’s exactly what I mean,” Steven continued. “Mother went to Solange, and she wouldn’t listen, so she went to James. I don’t think she meant for him to do what he did as a course of action, but it happened. Look, I know I have a problem, and I know I shouldn’t have expected Solange to bail me out time after time, but I did and she did. I admire James for what he tried.”

  “You’re an idiot, Steven, and so is he.” Sheila set down her drink and walked out of the room.

  “Geez, was it something I said?” Steven said with forced humor trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry you had to witness all that, but it’s true.”

  “I’m sorry, Steven. I know Solange was very important to you.”

  “Thanks, Presley. She was a good woman. I have no idea who would have done this to her, but I know it wasn’t James. And Sheila, well, I can’t speak for her.”

  Chapter 18

  Hello?”

  “You need to meet me at seven, at the Starbucks on Fifth and Third.”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up without even saying good-bye. He did it to me all the time, so I figured why not do it to him for a change?

  I wanted to talk to James about my conversation with Sheila and Steven. And also Lorraine. I really wanted to ask him about being at Silk the night Solange was killed. I sure didn’t see how he could have had time to go there and leave in the short time I was gone. And, why hadn’t he told Willie and me this fact when we talked down at the station? Did he have something to hide? More importantly, why didn’t Willie ask? I had forgotten, but surely Willie hadn’t. This was his job. Did he have another reason for not asking?

  I had a couple hours to kill before meeting him, and I didn’t have to go back to the boutique, as Steph would be closing. I decided to just go to Starbucks early and maybe attempt to write something.

  I was sitting at a table and sipping my venti hot passion tea—I was trying to cut down a little on the coffee, plus the tea was a buck cheaper—and trying to get the thoughts out of my head and onto paper. I had had this idea for a book for a while now. The basic premise was about a female college professor going through a midlife crisis of sorts and struggling to find herself. I had many ideas of the difficulties she would face and obstacles she had to overcome, but I was having a hard time knowing where to start.

  I felt I needed an outline of sorts, but Jared told me if that was what was tripping me up, I should just jump right in and start writing something, anything. He promised me that once I did those first few lines I would be golden and it would be much easier. When I tried to question why the hell I should listen to him, he wasn’t a writer and what could he possibly know, he told me to stop being a bitch and just do what he said. He said that since he was a creative type, he understood how it was sometimes hard to get from inspiration and idea to putting it down on paper. Maybe he was right.

  “Do you need another coffee?” James’s voice broke into my concentration.

  “That would be great. Venti red velvet latte, skinny, please.” I glanced at him walking up to the order counter and then back down at my notepad. Holy crap, I had written three pages. It wasn’t a lot or that it even made sense, but it sure was a start. Jared had been right. Once I wrote those first couple of sentences it got easier.

  James came back and put my drink in front of me. The tea I had earlier couldn’t compare to the aroma of coffee, especially with red velvet flavoring. They didn’t have this flavor often, and when they did I enjoyed every sip. Red velvet cake brought back childhood memories; it was my favorite cake, and my grandmother had made it for my birthday and holidays. “Thanks, James.”

  “No problem. I appreciate what you’re doing at Silk.”

  Wow. I had nice James again. “You’re welcome. The reason I asked you to meet me is I talked to Steven and Sheila. I don’t know what your problem is. They don’t hate you, or rather Steven doesn’t. Sheila isn’t a fan, but she doesn’t seem the type to like anyone.”

  “That’s pretty typical, and no, she doesn’t like many people.”

  “I take it she’s never been a big fan of yours?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Do you find it odd that she didn’t attend Solange’s funeral?”

  “Not really. Sheila is prone to extremes.”

  “I guess I just don’t understand what could possibly be so bad between the two of them that Sheila wouldn’t attend her own sister’s funeral.”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said dryly. “But enough about Sheila; what did Steven have to say?”

  “That you’re a decent guy and he has a drinking problem. Pretty straight forward.”

  “Hmmm…”

  “Did you expect something different?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  A few moments went by without either one of us saying anything. I was thinking how nice he was being for such a long period of time, too. I had gotten used to the Jekyll and Hyde personality he had been showing of late. He looked at me.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I just don’t get you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you can be such a jerk one minute but then nice the next. I can’t figure out if you’re a caring person or someone who doesn’t give a damn.”

  “That’s what Solange always told me.” He smiled at the memory.

  “It must have been annoying for her.” I smiled to show him I wasn’t trying to be mean.

  “I’m sure it was, but she was a good woman.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure. Go ahead and ask away.”

  “What were you doing at Silk the night Solange died?”

  He just looked at me. “How did you know that?”

  “I didn’t until Detective Landon told me.”

  “He knows?”

  “Yep. He talked to someone who saw you that night. I know you couldn’t have been there long because I left and came back shortly after.”

  “Why didn’t he say anything?”

  “I don’t know. So why were you there?”

  “Solange and I had gotten into a fight on the phone about the usual. I was trying to work things out; I knew I had made a big mistake and wanted to make it right with her. She said she was heading to the store and couldn’t talk to me, or rather wouldn’t, so I went there. She wouldn’t let me in. She told me to go away and after a few minutes of begging to be let in, I did what she asked and went away.”

  That explained why he wasn’t there for long. “Why didn’t you tell that to Detective Landon?”

  “Why do you think? Because I was going to be the first person they suspected, I didn’t want to give them any more reason to think I might have had something to do with her death.”

  Where was that logic when he was accusing me of siccing the cops on him a few days ago? “You need to tell Detect
ive Landon. He knows, and it doesn’t make you look good.”

  Chapter 19

  Where’s Presley?” I could hear a voice bellow all the way in the break room where I was trying to enjoy my morning latte. I heard Lily tell him to wait a second and I then heard footsteps coming back here.

  “There’s some strange, and I think very drunk, man out here wanting you,” Lily said.

  Great. Just what I needed today. Couldn’t I just have one normal boring day? Besides, it was ten in the morning. Who could be drunk that early? I walked out, and it was Steven. What in hell was he doing here?

  “Presley. I need to talk to you.”

  “No offense, Steven, but what could you possibly need to talk to me about?” He hadn’t much to say the day before when I had met with him and Sheila. Why was he now seeking me out? Unless it was something he didn’t want to say in front of Sheila. As much of a bitch as Sheila had been the day I went over there, that wouldn’t surprise me. I just didn’t know why he was drunk at ten in the morning, and he most definitely was. He smelled like a brewery, so either his cologne was Eau de Bud Light, or he had just come from a long stint at the bar. Considering he was in AA, a fact he’d revealed to me at his house, this was not good.

  “I loved my sister. Sally, Solange. Not that evil one, Sheila.”

  Maybe he just wanted sympathy. “I know you did.”

  “Sheila hated Sally. She is happy she’s dead.”

  “Steven, I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is. With Solange gone, the money my grandfather and father left will be redistributed so Solange’s third will be split between me and Sheila. Sheila had a lot of reasons to want her dead. Solange had beaten her in so many things since grade school. Sheila had a grudge. Trust me. After what happened in college, Sheila vowed Solange would pay and wasn’t really civil to her again unless our parents were around. They knew nothing of the animosity between the two of them. Sheila knew it would upset them and that they would probably side with Solange. She always accused them of treating Solange better because they felt sorry for her. I never saw it. I think they treated us all the same. If anyone got preferred treatment, it was me, and look what good that did. I’m a failure.”