by Laina Turner
For smelling so much like alcohol, he was pretty articulate in his rant. Maybe he spilled as much as he drank, though his khakis and green Ralph Lauren polo shirt didn’t seem wet or stained. Maybe he was just a coherent drunk. If he was in AA, he had a lot of practice drinking and seeming normal. I had an uncle who had gone through the same thing. Lucky for his family, he was ten years sober now, but I knew what he had been like when I was a kid. It was rough for my cousins growing up. I wouldn’t wish the disease on anyone.
“Steven, is there anyone I can call?” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you seem out of sorts, and I’m not sure you should be driving.”
“I am out of sorts. My favorite sister just died. Yeah, I said favorite. She was always nice to me even after I had this problem. She was always there for me and cared, long after she probably should have stopped.”
I really needed to get him out of the store. A crowd was starting to form to listen, and I’m sure that was the last thing he would want. Solange would have been mortified. “C’mon, Steven, let me drive you home, and you can tell me all about it.”
“But my car is down the street. I didn’t drive here, I walked, but I just had to talk to you. Make you see I loved her and I would never hurt her.”
“I don’t think you’d hurt her, Steven, no one does.” That wasn’t entirely true, but since Willie didn’t really think there was a high chance of Steven being involved, I thought I was pretty safe in saying it. “You can come get your car in the morning, and you can tell me more about what a great sister she was as we drive.” I successfully got him out of the store, tossing my keys to Lily and telling her if I didn’t make it back, to lock the money in the safe, and I would be in early to finish closing out the registers.
I stopped at one of the street vendors and bought coffee for the two of us, hoping it would sober him up and keep me awake, and headed to my car. I figured he could find some way to get back here when he sobered up. He was rich, and I was being nice enough just getting him home. I wasn’t about to pay for a cab all the way back downtown from where he lived. We got to my car in the parking garage and got buckled in. My black Kia probably wasn’t what he was used to riding in, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. I somehow didn’t think he cared much. After we pulled out of the garage and jumped on the freeway that would take me to his house, I began to wonder if he was asleep as he had been silent the whole time. I looked over, and he was staring out the window and seemed to be thinking.
“So, Steven, what happened in college that made Sheila hate Solange so much? Surely, sisters always fight.” I fought all the time growing up with Jesse, and he was a boy. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if he was a girl. Steven was silent, though, and I began to wonder if after not wanting to shut up in the store, if he was done talking to me and was going to stay silent.
“Sheila was always trying to catch up to Solange,” he finally said. “Solange was the oldest, so some of that is natural I suppose. Me being a boy, I didn’t care much what the girls were doing. But Sheila, wow, she was competitive. A lot of things came natural to Solange. It’s not like she tried to outdo Sheila, but Solange got good grades, was naturally athletic, and people liked her. She always had a lot of friends hanging around the house, and Shelia was the opposite. My parents were always telling her she should be more like Solange—not a good move on their part, but I can’t blame them. Solange was so good at everything, and she never acted like she was any better than anyone else.
Solange went to college, and when my parents made Sheila go to the same one, I thought she was going to flip. She had enjoyed the last two years of high school with Solange away. I could tell she flourished and calmed down some. She didn’t seem to have the need to compete without Solange as a constant reminder of her perceived inadequacies. However, I don’t think my parents noticed, and I couldn’t really blame them since they seemed oblivious to the issues between Sheila and Solange, and when they made her go to the same college, Sheila changed. She pretended everything was okay, but you could tell it wasn’t. Even my parents started to notice something was wrong, but Sheila never said a word. She didn’t want them to know she was jealous and had been all these years. She wanted to be the perfect daughter, not Solange.
Sheila’s luck seemed to change when Solange was a college junior and Shelia a freshman. Solange told my parents she was going to drop out and pursue fashion design at Parsons. She had applied and been accepted without telling my parents. They weren’t happy, didn’t think fashion was a real profession, but they let her. They trusted she knew what she was doing. Things seemed to get better between Solange and Sheila, with them at two separate colleges, and Sheila finally free of constantly being compared to Solange. Sheila also found a boyfriend at the start of her sophomore year, which helped her mood. That had been another sore spot for Sheila. Sally always had boys around her and never had a hard time getting a date. Sheila, on the other hand, had a much more difficult time. She just wasn’t the natural extrovert that Solange was.”
I could imagine that just based on attitude alone, Solange was high strung, but never mean.
“Sheila had come home for Thanksgiving so excited about this guy she was dating, and made plans to have him stay for a few days over the Christmas break. She told my parents that she thought he was the one, and did nothing that entire weekend but talk about how wonderful he was. Christmas came and Sheila was giddy with excitement. She couldn’t wait for all of us to meet him. She had even let Solange take her shopping for the perfect outfit, something that she had never done before. The big day arrived, and we anxiously waited for James to get to the house.”
“Wait a minute, James? As in Solange’s James?” Holy crap, this situation was a train wreck.
Steven held up his finger so I would stop interrupting and let him finish. “James walked through the door, and Shelia introduced him to everyone. She got to Solange, and I could tell, as could my mother, that it was love at first sight when James met her. Sheila was oblivious the entire weekend, and James was nothing but cordial to Solange. Didn’t really pay attention to her at all, unless he thought no one was looking. I don’t think Solange even noticed. She was happily dating someone else back then, and wouldn’t have dreamed of being attracted to her sister’s boyfriend. She had a lot more class than that. But shortly after that weekend when they went back to school, James broke up with Sheila and started pursuing Solange. At first Solange didn’t reciprocate and in fact tried to discourage him. But he was incredibly persistent and would not give up. Solange resisted him for a long time but eventually had to give in. There was chemistry between them that was undeniable. Sheila, of course, hit the roof. I’ve never seen anything that painful, on both sides. Solange and James didn’t mean to hurt her. It was just one of those unavoidable circumstances.”
We had been sitting in the driveway of the Barker house for quite a while. When Steven finished his story, he finally noticed where we were and stopped talking. I just sat there. I wasn’t going to rush him, but I wanted to. I was tired.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“You’re welcome.”
Chapter 20
Mother, I told you I don’t have time right now to talk about Jesse’s love life.” I knew I should have let her call go to voicemail, but I’d already sent two of her calls that day to voicemail, and I knew I had to eventually pick up or she would be livid.
“I can’t believe you’re not the least bit interested in this new girl,” she said, sounding miffed.
Argh! She just didn’t get it. “Mother, it’s not that I’m not interested, but right now I just don’t have the time to harass him to your satisfaction.”
“It shouldn’t take that much time out of your busy schedule to talk to you brother,” she huffed.
“Mother, you’re not listening to me. With my boss being murdered, all the responsibility of the store is on my shoulders. With the time change and Jesse’
s crazy work schedule, there just hasn’t been a good time, but I promise you I will try to get a hold of him.” I was hoping a promise would placate her, even though I was crossing my fingers to give me an out if I wasn’t able to connect with Jesse. I wasn’t lying to her about our schedules making it difficult. The different time zone thing alone made it complicated.
“Well, I guess that will have to do. How are you doing?”
“You mean with Solange gone?” I still had a hard time thinking she was permanently gone.
“Of course that’s what I mean. Do you want the responsibility of the store? You don’t want to work retail forever do you?”
My mother was always asking me when I was going to get a real job again. She was a retired schoolteacher and just didn’t think of retail as a legitimate profession.
“For now, it’s a challenge, and I feel good about staying and helping James through this difficult time.” I was laying it on a bit thick, but I knew my mother would have compassion for James, and maybe get off my back for a while about finding that “real job.”
“I can appreciate that today this is the right thing to do, but you can’t waste your talents forever.”
Here we go, I thought, this is the time I need to get off the phone or it might escalate to an argument that I didn’t want.
“I know, Mother. Listen, I have another call coming in that I need to take. I will call you later.”
“But, Presley, I’m…”
“And I promise to talk to Jesse. Bye, Mom, love you.” I hung up and breathed a sigh of relief. Disaster averted. I loved my mother, but she was so overbearing sometimes.
“Presley, come out here. You won’t believe who just walked in.”
I had been in the back doing inventory to could see what we needed and what we didn’t. It was important to keep the right mix of enough merchandise but not too much. Sales completely depended on what we presented in the store, and even though the future of the boutique was uncertain, I didn’t want to be the contributing factor of why it suffered.
“What’s going on Lily?” I said, setting aside my clipboard and pen. I looked down at my all-black outfit—not the best color choice when working in the stockroom—to make sure my wide-leg trousers and cowl neck sleeveless sweater wasn’t covered with dust before I walked onto the sales floor. Our clients weren’t the type who forgave a less than perfect appearance at all times.
“Amy’s here,” she whispered even though we were the only two people back there.
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. Amy Francis had been an employee here until about a month before, but then she’d been fired. She hadn’t contacted any of us after she was fired, and Solange refused to say what happened, which was a bit unusual. Solange gossiped just as much as anyone, and employees who had been fired she was more than happy to throw under the bus.
I wondered what brought Amy here now, to gloat? Surely, she wasn’t still that mad. I had always liked her, and thought she seemed like a good person and a good worker.
We walked out to the front, and I saw Amy, who was dressed in one of Silk’s last season ensembles, a long silk tank dress in a vibrant blue. Not a color I could wear, as it would wash me out, but on Amy who had an olive tone to her skin with bright blue eyes, it played off her coloring perfectly.
“Hi, Pres,” she said as I walked up, and she leaned in to hug me. She was trembling, a sign she wasn’t here to gloat, but it didn’t seem like she would be this upset over the death of someone who had fired her.
“Are you okay?” I was concerned. Amy, for as long as I had known her, was not a nervous person. It was what made her a good choice to work with the rich ladies who frequented the boutique. None of their behaviors fazed her.
“Oh, Presley, this is all my fault,” Amy choked out before she burst into tears.
“C’mon, let’s go to the back.” The last thing I needed was more drama like a crying ex-employee on the sales floor. Once I got her seated, I grabbed her a Diet Coke from the fridge. I then sat down next to her ready to ask what the heck was going on, and why she felt this was her fault. I knew she had already talked to Willie, so I wasn’t sure what this could be about. I passed her the Kleenex. “So what’s this all about, Amy?”
“This is all my fault,” she repeated and started crying again.
Oh man, I was horrible with upset people. I never knew what to say, and everything I did say just seemed corny and stupid. “Did you murder Solange?”
“N-n-n-n-o,” she stammered between hiccuppy breaths.
“Then how could this possibly be your fault?”
“Oh, Presley, I did such a horrible thing.”
I became a little alarmed wondering what she had done and wishing I could sneak out and call Willie for advice. “Tell me Amy, maybe I can help.”
“I told a lie, and now Solange is dead because of it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh, Presley I was so, so stupid.”
“What did you do, Amy? Maybe we can fix it? I’m sure none of this is your fault.”
“I’m a horrible person.”
I wanted to be nice, and of course I wanted information, but this was getting very frustrating. “Amy, I’m sure you’re not a horrible person.”
“Presley, I lied.”
“What did you lie about?”
“I lied about having an affair with James.”
I was speechless. Unusual for me, but I had nothing to say. Why would someone lie about having an affair? “Why would you do that, Amy?” I know I probably sounded judgmental, and I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it.
“I was in love with James, but he kept blowing me off. He claimed he didn’t love her, but still he wouldn’t give me the time of day. I was angry, so I told her James and I were sleeping together. They were holding on to their loveless marriage for no reason. I was the one who was best for James. He knew it; he just didn’t want to hurt her. She didn’t even care about him, but now she’s dead, and he won’t even talk to me.”
I was reeling. I was in shock from what I was hearing. I couldn’t even fathom why Amy would do such a thing. Was she obsessed in a Fatal Attraction sort of way?
“Amy, I don’t understand. Why would you do such a thing?”
“I told you, because I love him, and he belongs with me.”
Okay. I had no idea she had felt this way about our boss’s husband, but as twisted as this conversation was, I still didn’t understand how it had anything to do with Solange’s death.
“Okay, Amy, I get that, but what does this have to do with Solange’s death? You being in love with James didn’t kill her.”
“Don’t you see, Presley? Solange killed herself because she couldn’t imagine a life without James. If I hadn’t lied, she wouldn’t have felt that way and would still be alive.” This statement brought about a new batch of fresh tears.
Ahhhh, this was making more sense now. Amy didn’t realize Solange was murdered. Which meant she must not have paid attention to the news or to Willie, because I knew he talked to her. This girl had some issues. “Amy, you can calm down. Solange didn’t commit suicide.”
Amy looked up in surprise “W-h-h-h-at?” she stuttered.
“Solange was murdered, so unless you killed her, this isn’t your fault.” Amy was only guilty of horrible judgment. “But you do need to tell all this to the detective”.
“I’m so sorry, Presley. I know what I did was horrible. Not only was it horrible, but it also got me fired from a job I really liked. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Amy, I’m sure you will find something. I would just give you the advice to stay away from James and the family.”
Shortly after Amy left, my phone rang.
“Presley?” A soft voice belonging to what I thought was an older woman came over the phone. I wasn’t sure who it was. “This is Lorraine Barker.”
Wow, this was a shocker. I wouldn’t have in a million years expected a phone call from
Solange’s mother. I mean, she had been extremely nice at the funeral and the couple times before when I met her at the store, but why was she calling me?
“Hello, Mrs. Barker. Is there something I can help you with?”
“First, you can call me Lorraine, dear. I don’t stand on formality.”
“Okay. Lorraine.”
“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I called.”
“Well, yes I am.”
She chuckled. “I would expect as much. I was hoping you would meet me at the Tea Room for coffee at four this afternoon?”
I mentally reviewed my calendar in my head, and though I had a couple things to do, I still had time to meet her.
“Sure.”
“Thanks, dear. See you then.”
I reached the Tea Room about fifteen minutes early. I admit I was nervous. Mrs. Barker—Lorraine—was so put together, and I always felt very out of place with people like that. I struggled forever with what to wear, finally deciding on a simple black sheath dress and black heels. You would think when I had a store full of clothes to chose from it wouldn’t be so hard. A strand of pearls and pearl earrings to accessorize created a look that was elegant and understated. I hoped so, anyway. I wanted to look like I fit in.
“How may I assist you?” said the hostess as I walked up. The hostess here was dressed just as well as I was.
“I’m meeting Lorraine Smith, but I’m early.”
“Ah yes, Lorraine. Right this way.” She started walking into the dining area. “Good thing you’re early. She loves people who are punctual and likes it even better when you arrive first. She likes being waited on, if you know what I mean.”
“I completely know what you mean.” I was glad I had arrived early. We reached the table, and she motioned for me to sit down.
“I’ll bring you some bread and water while you wait.”
“Thanks.” I knew Lorraine was being nice, but it sure sounded like a jail sentence. Or maybe she wasn’t as nice as I thought. I didn’t have much time to contemplate as it was only a few seconds later when I saw Lorraine walking toward me. It would be hard to be early and impress her if she was ten minutes early. I stood up as I felt it was a respectful thing she would appreciate, and I could tell by the smile on her face that she was pleased.
