“What’s a dog doing in your store?”
“That’s Henry. He works here part-time, greeting customers and keeping me company.”
The pastor scowled and stepped around the Yorkie. “That’s absurd.”
Salem finished stocking a carton of canned beans and got to his feet. “What do you want, Davis?”
Lord glanced around the store and cleared his throat. “The church is trying to raise money for a mission trip to the Caribbean. We’ve done some fundraisers and bake sales, but it hasn’t been enough. We’re asking local businesses to contribute to the cause.”
“No.”
The frown on the pastor’s face deepened. “That’s all you have to say—just no?”
Salem nodded and reached for another carton of canned goods. The weather had generated a surge in business as customers loaded their refrigerators and pantries in preparation for the blizzard. Between the holiday and the county’s decision not to scrape the roads, this was the first delivery truck Salem had received in nearly a week. The sun was shining, and the roads were better today. Anderson and Hannah had also received a delivery to replenish the shelves in the campground store, and Callie had notified him that a truck was on the way to her store.
“I’m doing God’s work here, Matthews. You’re in a position to help.”
Salem walked over to his work cart and tore open a carton of cereal.
Lord shook his head in disgust. “You’re a lost soul, Matthews, and when your days on earth are done, you can expect to burn in a lake of fire for all eternity. The same goes for the members of your household. Bo Carson is consorting with a common whore, and your nanny is sleeping with a colored man. Believe me, I know what goes on in this community.”
The pastor turned toward the door and nearly stepped on Henry. He lashed out with his foot and grazed the tiny dog’s ear. Henry shrieked and scampered across the room.
Salem grabbed Lord from behind and slammed him against the wall. He held the pastor by the throat and squeezed.
“You miserable, sanctimonious, sawed-off piece of shit…you’re a Goddamn cancer, Lord. You do nothing for this community, you pick the pockets of your victims every Sunday, you kick my dog, and you have the gall to ask for my help to send you to another part of the world where you can spread your hate and bullshit.”
He removed his hand from Lord’s throat. The pastor gulped air like a fish out of water and rubbed his throat. Salem slammed a fist into the side of his head. Lord howled in agony.
“That one was for Henry. Now we’re even. You’re banned from both of my stores and the campground. Do you understand that, Davis?”
The pastor said nothing. Salem grabbed the man’s hand.
“If you don’t answer me, I’ll break your fingers.”
Lord nodded his understanding.
“Good,” Salem said. “Because if you ever set foot on my property again, I will bury your useless ass alive.”
Salem watched as Lord stumbled out to the parking lot and roared away.
Henry was over by the dairy case. It was one of his favorite spots because of the morning sun that came in through the storefront window. Despite the warmth from the sunbeam, he was shivering.
“He won’t bother us again, Henry.”
Salem sat down on the floor and lifted the Yorkie into his lap. He stroked Henry’s head and gently probed for any sign of injury. He waited until the shivering had stopped before returning Henry to his sunbeam.
“You’re all right now. You just had a bad scare.”
He walked back to his office where Randi was helping Monday with a reading assignment. The decision to homeschool their daughter had been an easy one after the disastrous year Monday had spent in kindergarten. They had converted one of the bedrooms upstairs into a classroom, complete with a school desk, teacher’s desk, white board, and computer. Randi and Krista shared the teaching duties. Randi had brought Monday to the store today as a change of pace.
“Hi, sweetie. Is that a new book?”
Monday nodded. “It’s a good story, but the words are hard. Randi’s helping me.”
Salem leaned down and kissed her on the head. “When you learn it, you can read it to me. Why don’t you go visit with Henry for a few minutes? He’s in his spot over by the milk and ice cream case.”
He waited until Monday was gone before waving Jay and Erin into his office. Salem told them about the altercation with Davis Lord and his decision to ban the man from the stores and campground.
“He kicked Henry?” Jay asked. “What an asshole.”
“You’re usually the manager on duty here, so I wanted you to know. If you see him here or at the campground, you can either escort him off the property or notify me.”
Jay nodded. “By the way, I know about your trespasser and the body in the woods. Anderson told me. He thought Erin and I should know since we live at the campground. Hannah and Raymond are the only others who know about it.”
“That’s fine,” Salem said. “I expect news will get out soon enough now that Dodd and his team are working the case.”
“I don’t even know what this Davis Lord looks like,” Erin said.
“Neither do I,” said Randi.
Salem gave them a brief description of the pastor. “You can check the Internet. There’s probably a picture of him out there somewhere. Maybe his church has a website.” He left the office and returned to the sales floor. Monday was sitting against the wall with the Yorkie in her lap. Salem could see the tears in her eyes.
“Daddy, it feels like a bad man came into the store and tried to hurt Henry. I think he was mad about something. Henry’s all right, except he’s sad because he let you down.”
Salem sighed and sat down next to his daughter. As an empath, Monday felt a strong connection to the feelings and emotions of those around her. The connection was particularly strong with animals. Salem had learned to trust her judgment.
“Tell Henry that he did not let me down. He did his job as the store greeter, and he let me know when the bad man tried to kick him. I’m glad he was here with me.”
Monday wiped her eyes and smiled.
“Go ahead and tell him,” Salem said.
“You just did, Daddy,” Monday said.
“He might not have understood me.”
Monday laughed. “Henry always understands you. He’s smart, just like me.”
Salem got to his feet. “Since you’re so smart, why don’t you get back to work on that new book? I’ll bring you a popsicle in a few minutes.”
He waited until Monday had reached the storeroom before reaching for his phone. Anderson picked up on the first ring.
“It’s me. I think I’ve found a member of the Committee.”
* * * *
Melissa shifted in the chair and crossed her arms. Jack Fowler had been speaking to her chest for the past five minutes, and she was tired of it.
“Nightmares are a common side effect of drug withdrawal. I can give you something to ease your agitation and help you sleep. I know this isn’t an easy time for you.” He glanced at Grace Hanes, who was seated next to Melissa. “Grace told me she found you hiding in the staff break room. You were naked and incoherent. She and two medical assistants had to practically drag you back to your room. We did check the room, Melissa. There was nobody in there and no evidence that anyone had attacked you.”
Melissa stared at the director in disbelief. “No evidence? What do you call these bruises on my neck? Someone tried to choke me to death.”
“Grace told me your bed was a mess. You were undoubtedly twisting and thrashing during the dream episode. It’s likely you did that to yourself during the course of the nightmare. That’s not the kind of thing you would remember.”
“That’s bullshit,” Melissa said. “I was there. I know what happened. If you can’t guarantee my safety, I’ll pack my bag and be out of here in twenty minutes. I didn’t come here to die.”
Fowler frowned and leaned back in his chai
r. “All right, fine. I’ll post someone outside your door tonight. Will that be sufficient?”
Melissa thought about Hal. Last night had been amazing. She didn’t want to give that up. “That’s fine. I go to bed around midnight. I’ll just need somebody from then until six in the morning.”
The director nodded and crossed the room to open his office door. The meeting was over.
Grace and Melissa walked down the hall together.
“What is wrong with that guy?” Melissa asked.
“He’s a jerk,” Grace said. “I applied for this job when I moved here last year to be closer to my mother. I’m a registered nurse with ten years’ experience in psychiatric care, so this place sounded perfect. Boy, was I wrong.”
“What happened?” Melissa asked.
The nurse snorted. “I was making sixty-five thousand a year at a major medical center in Durham, North Carolina. I’m making forty-eight thousand here. I decided to take it, even though the pay scale was a huge red flag. Fowler runs a loose ship here. The treatment protocols are half-assed, and most of the staff are underpaid and just going through the motions. People here punch the clock and count the days until they can retire. I know this isn’t a prison, but I guarantee if you decided to skip all your group sessions and appointments, nobody would care.”
“It sounds like a horrible place to work. I’m surprised you’re still here.”
Grace laughed. “So am I. My dad passed away a couple of years ago, and my mom is getting up there in years. She actually has an apartment next door in the Assisted Living building, so I can check on her every day. I’ll stay here as long as she’s living. After that, I’m gone.”
The nurse turned down a corridor to her work station, and Melissa continued on to the cafeteria. There was a group session in fifteen minutes she was happy to skip. After barely escaping with her life, the last thing Melissa wanted to hear was another load of psycho-babble and weird stories.
Breakfast filled her stomach but did little to relieve the insistent headache and anxiety she couldn’t seem to escape. The meeting with Fowler and the conversation with Grace Hanes had only made things worse.
I should have taken Fowler up on his offer of sleeping pills. Screw it…I just need a hot shower, a little powder, and a nap. Someone will be guarding my room all night. Problem solved…I hope.
Melissa opened the door to her room and went straight to the laundry bag.
Please, God, I deserve something after last night.
The coke was still there. Melissa fed her nose and relaxed as the headache receded and her focus sharpened. The bag of dope was now less than a quarter full. She would have to remind Hal to bring more.
She decided to soak in a hot bath rather than take a shower. Her phone buzzed as she was running the water. It was a text from Bo, sending her kisses and asking how things were going.
Things are great, baby. I’ve got all the coke I need, I’m screwing a sex maniac, and someone wants to kill me.
Melissa typed a quick reply, returning his kisses. She hesitated. Did she really want to stay here after last night? Someone wanted her dead. On the other hand, the cocaine was top-grade, and Hal Morris was a sexual dynamo. She turned off the water and completed her text to Bo Carson.
“Don’t worry, things are fine,” she replied.
Chapter 10
Callie Wilson stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. She was meeting Jay and Erin at the Channel Marker in thirty minutes. It had been a hard day at the store. Unloading the delivery truck always wore her out. She would stick with water or club soda tonight. Beer or wine would put her to sleep before Olivia even took the stage.
She dabbed perfume on her wrists and behind her ears. Olivia had given her the scent for Christmas. Callie had never tried it before, but it had quickly become her favorite simply because it drove Olivia wild.
This was her first serious relationship since the sudden death of the love of her life. She and Jamie had planned to get married until a madman shattered that dream. The relationship with Olivia was still new, but it felt right.
Jay was at the bar when she walked into the club.
“Erin and I are having the burger plate. She’s in the restroom. I’ve got to open in the morning, so we’ll probably make it an early night. I hate to leave you in the lurch. Guys will be swarming all over you as soon as we walk out the door.”
Callie laughed. “They’ll cool down as soon as they see me kiss Olivia.”
“Uh, no, Callie, that’s not how guys react when they see two girls kissing.”
Erin slid onto a stool next to Jay. “I heard that. You’d better be careful, Callie. Jay says that guys really like seeing two girls go at it.”
“I don’t get it,” Callie said. “I thought guys liked watching straight porn.”
Jay snorted. “Have you ever watched that stuff? The men look like they’re grinding their way through a workout at the gym. There’s almost no kissing or touching. The guys never pay attention to their partner’s breasts, and they’re usually in some awkward position on an undersized sofa, when you know there’s a perfectly good bed in the next room.”
“So, it’s boring?” Callie asked.
Jay shrugged. “It’s definitely overrated. I think the majority of male actors doing straight porn are either gay or bisexual. Most of the sex scenes are really kind of ridiculous.”
Callie placed her supper order and glanced around. The Channel Marker was a combination bar, restaurant, and dance club. Olivia’s group, Mama’s Biscuits, was the house band. They played four nights a week year-round. Olivia also worked as a waitress during the day to supplement the income she earned from her music.
* * * *
Olivia had made the first move in their relationship. Callie had never been good at gauging the sexual orientation or signals of other women. Ever since Jamie’s death, she had resigned herself to the likelihood that she would be forever single. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She had her health, a great job, good friends, and a nice two-bedroom condominium on the lake. Then Olivia had walked into the store and brightened her world.
“I’ve been asking around about you,” she had said. “I had to know the name of that gorgeous girl I keep seeing at the Channel Marker. You like Mama’s Biscuits?”
Callie had been taken by surprise, but quickly recovered. “Yes, I do. I love southern rock. I especially like the lead singer, the little brunette with the long hair, smoky voice, and tight body.”
Olivia had laughed. “Now that we’re officially friends, I hope we can be more than friends. I’m gay, in case you hadn’t already guessed. Shenandoah County is a tough place for a girl like me.”
“Tell me about it,” Callie had replied.
They had exchanged phone numbers, and Olivia had held onto her hand.
“I heard about Jamie. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that is for you.”
Callie had been touched by Olivia’s words, particularly her use of the present tense to acknowledge the fact that some losses stay with a person forever.
She had called Olivia that evening and invited her over. They had spent the night together and been a couple ever since. Olivia still had her apartment, but had already told the manager she would not be renewing her lease. Most of her clothes and other belongings were already at Callie’s place.
* * * *
The arrival of the food reminded Callie that she had worked through lunch, unloading the truck and stocking shelves. She was starving.
“Did Jay tell you about Davis Lord?” Erin asked.
Callie shook her head and swallowed some coleslaw. “No, but Salem called me. I can’t believe anyone would want to kick Henry. I doubt if I’ll see him, anyway. Salem said he lives on your side of the lake.”
The band took the stage, and Callie shifted on her stool to watch. She had asked Olivia why she didn’t quit her waitressing job and focus on the band fulltime. Olivia had informed her that the Channel Marker only paid fif
teen hundred dollars a week.
“We’re a five-piece group, so my cut is three hundred bucks. That’s why all of us except Tommy have day jobs. He inherited a trust fund from his grandparents, so he can afford to work on the music fulltime. Tommy and I co-founded the band and produced a CD of original material. He wrote the lyrics, and I arranged the music. He and I split any net profits from our T-shirt and CD sales. Last month, I made thirty-five dollars. Usually, it’s more like fifteen or twenty bucks.”
Olivia adjusted her guitar strap and stepped up to the microphone.
“Thank you all for coming out to hear Mama’s Biscuits. Copies of our new CD, Down Home Cookin’, are available for purchase at the front register.”
She stepped away from the microphone and said something to the lead guitar player.
“Does anybody here like Skynyrd?” she yelled.
Before the noise died away, the lead guitarist blasted out the opening riff to That Smell.
Olivia moved in close to the microphone and made love to the lyrics in that hot, throaty voice that reminded Callie so much of a young Bonnie Raitt, or maybe Janis Joplin. Callie knew how much her girlfriend wanted the band to succeed. She and Tommy had sent out dozens of complimentary copies of Down Home Cookin’ to radio stations, record producers, and prominent southern rock artists, including the managers for Greg Allman, Molly Hatchet, Government Mule, and Lynyrd Skynyrd, among others. A couple of the songs on the CD were starting to get airplay on radio stations in Lynchburg, Roanoke, and Danville. The ultimate goal was a recording contract and concert tour.
Callie stayed until the end of the show. She could sleep in since she didn’t have to open in the morning.
Olivia parked next to her at the condominium complex, and they walked upstairs to Callie’s second-floor unit together.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and then do things to you that are probably illegal in this state,” Olivia whispered.
Pieces of January Page 6
