by Teresa Trent
"Maybe I should bring Zach along now that he's the computer expert." He grabbed his keys off of the table and slammed out the front door nearly knocking over Tyler who was on his way in.
He threw his backpack down in the hall and came into the kitchen. "The king has arrived! What's up?"
"Nothing." I answered his royal highness.
Tyler was not blessed with the gift of timing. I had four hours to come with something that resembled pumpkin squares. "I'll start dinner. You can tell me about basketball."
"Cool. I'm starved." My husband had just left me in the middle of a crisis with my son. Instead of staying to deal with a tricky parenting situation he chose to a skate out the front door. Shades of Barry were striking one more time. I grabbed my purse off the table.
"I'll get right on it. You pick out what you are wearing tonight."
"I can't wear what I wore to school?"
"Not when you're the king." As Tyler went upstairs to find his royal garb I dashed into the bathroom and opened the little box that could change my life. A few minutes later as I looked at the result on the pregnancy test, Tyler was waiting for me in the kitchen.
"Betsy? I have clothes for tonight. I think they need ironing."
I stuffed the test back into the box and hid it in the cupboard behind the toilet paper.
"Be right there."
*****
Once I had ironed Tyler's clothes and made a quick supper, I prepared a plate for Zach as Tyler gulped down his chicken sandwich. I was starting up the stairs when I heard my dad at the front door.
"Practicin' your waitressing in case you can't write your column anymore?"
"Oh ... Hi Dad. I was just taking this up to Zach."
"That must mean he's home safe. I'm surprised he's getting something a little more than bread and water."
"I probably should be feeding him that, but I've always been too soft on the kid. He called us from Nicholas Wendell's newspaper office. I think Mr. Wendell helped him out when he was being bullied by the kid he was with."
"Zach's in trouble?" Tyler asked between bites.
"He cut school. Something I hope I never hear about you." Judd said.
"Cool ... No sir. Not me. I'm the Harvest King."
"I heard that. Congratulations. Does this mean you have a queen?"
"I sure do." Tyler preened. He turned towards me. "Great dinner Bets." He left his plate on the table and headed for the den.
"In all that's gone on today it's just good that we have our Zachary back home again. If he's hanging out with a hoodlum, then we need to find out what's going on. You need to calm down as well. He's starting to turn into a man, which means he's going to act before he thinks half the time."
"I know Dad, but today when I couldn't find him, I guess I just felt myself going into a panic."
"What parent doesn't? I think you handled it just right for a first time. I don't know much about this Wendell fellow, but if you really think about it, a newspaper office would be a place Zach would go to feel safe.
"If we're thinking like that, why didn't he go to the police department where you were? He's spent just as much time there."
"Yes, but you don't take the baddest kid in middle school to the cops, do you? Would you mind if I take Zach's food upstairs? I'd like to talk with him for a little bit."
I was grateful. "Go right ahead ... thank you."
"My pleasure."
As he went upstairs I suddenly had a craving for a Pop Tart. It was a strange thing, but I just had to have a strawberry Pop Tart. I reached up into the cabinet and took down a box opened it up and started devouring a toaster pastry. My father entered just as I was wiping red filling off of my cheek.
"That was fast." I muttered through the delicious strawberry goo.
"He was sleeping."
"Maybe he is still getting over the flu."
"Hungry?" He asked. I reached over for another napkin.
"Nothing like a Pop Tart."
"I really came by tonight for a couple of reasons. I wanted to check on Zach, and I also wanted to tell you some things about the body that was discovered in the burned-out shell of the Gazette."
I lost my appetite. My dad was about to tell me officially that Rocky was dead.
"It was really hard to identify the body, but by measuring some of the bones Art did determine that whoever we found...was a woman."
I suddenly realized I'd been holding my breath.
"You mean it wasn't Rocky?" I blurted out the remainder of my toaster pastry with crumbs taking flight.
Judd scraped strawberry Pop Tart particles off his shirt.
"Doesn't seem to be. But now, of course, that brings us to a couple more questions. Just who did we find in the fire, and where the hell is Rocky?"
"Are they sure they only found the remains of one person? Could he have been somewhere else in the building and there was nothing left of him?"
"Darlin' we scoured that scene from end to end."
"So where is Rocky?"
"Wouldn't I like to know. You don't think he's tried to contact you in any way?" I thought of the strange e-mails and the feeling of being stalked for the last week. Could that have been Rocky and if it was why was he stalking me? Rocky who had been known to be inconsiderate at times would not purposely put us through this kind of pain.
The front door banged open, and Leo stumbled in. "Honey, I'm home." His tie was hanging loosely from his collar, and his shirt was flapping in the wind. I tried to ignore it. "Leo, Dad has some news about Rocky."
"Rocky, really?" His words slurred, and his head seemed to be bobbing with each syllable. Could he have gotten this drunk in an hour and a half?
"So what's the news on Judd, Rocky?" Realizing his mistake he made a little giggle and covered his mouth with his hand. "I mean what's the news on Rocky, Judd."
My dad walked over and put his arm around Leo, guiding him to the kitchen table. "Why don't you just sit yourself down, son." Leo plunked down into the chair. "Have you been drinking?"
"I just had one or maybe two beers." Leo reached over and slapped a hand on my dad's shoulder with a feigned seriousness. "What about Rocky?"
"When did you get time to stop off at a bar?" I asked.
"No bar. It was some party at the station." I hope to God that he meant it was a party for Hurricane Hal's return. That would be the best news I could hear and the one thing that would make me forgive him for coming home drunk.
"A party for what?"
"Jeanette had a party for Stan's birthday." With that he let out a big belch. The beer breath drifted over to me, and suddenly, the Pop Tart came back to call as I felt it rising in my stomach.
"I thought Stan was out getting equipment."
"He came back."
"The body in the building was a woman." I said ready to quicken the pace of our conversation.
"Noooo. Rocky was really a woman?" Leo hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Sheesh. You never know these days."
"No." I said. "It wasn't Rocky. We don't know where he is."
"Oh. That's a relief. You know, I always thought he was a man. Excuse me ... I think ... I'll retire now." He pulled himself up out of the chair and started pounding his feet up the stairs one by one.
My father watched Leo trod along, and then his gaze slowly came back to me. I wondered what he was thinking.
He ambled over and kissed me on the cheek. "None of my business, darlin', but I'm here if you need me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
After wolfing down one more Pop Tart, I cleaned up what was left of the dinner. If that wasn't Rocky in the fire, then where was he?
I went back to the computer and checked back through his files. There was a file ending in .csv which meant it was his calendar.
When I clicked on it Rocky's calendar for the month of October and part of November came up on the screen. On the afternoon of the fire he had an appointment with Nicholas Wendell. I wondered if Ruby had come up with anything on him. If he didn't
have a wife or a mother getting her hair done, Ruby's sources could be pretty limited. It amazed me that Nicholas had met Rocky and lied about it. He had lied to my face and done it well.
My son had sought this man for refuge today. Wendell could have been responsible for Rocky's death.
After a few tries searching on Nicholas Wendell's name, I found him listed as a reporter at a paper in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It looked like he had been employed there until about a month ago. What would bring him to a little town like Pecan Bayou, Texas? Seriously, what brings anybody to a little town in Texas?
"Is that Mr. Wendell?" Zach said as he came up behind me and pointed to the picture of him on my computer.
"Yes it is. He did such a nice thing for us today I decided I wanted to know a little bit more about him."
"So you snooped on him on the Internet?"
"I suppose I did. He is still a stranger."
"If you want to talk to him you can just text him like I do." Zach pulled his phone out of his pocket.
"You texted him? Why would you text a grown man?"
"Oh I didn't text him. He texted me. I gave him my number in case he had any more trouble with his computer network. He wanted to know if Grandpa told me anything about Mr. Rocky's fire."
"And what did you say?"
"That I didn't know anything because I don't. I got sent to my room, remember?"
"Hand me your phone."
"Are you taking my phone away?"
I typed in a message for Nicholas Wendell.
This text is from Betsy. I am not comfortable with you texting my son. If you would like to ask a question about the investigation then ask me. I won't tell you anything, but don't go through my son again.
I handed the phone back to Zach, and he quickly squirreled it away.
"Mr. Wendell won't be texting you again. Have a seat. We need to get a few things straight."
"No we don't."
"Yes we do. I know things have been rough for you lately, but what happened today can't happen again, do you understand?"
"I do. It won't. Skittles said he was going to cut class, and then Tyler came down the hall with all his new friends. Somebody said something, and they all started laughing. I figured they were probably laughing at me, so I turned to Skittles and told him I'd cut too. The minute we started walking toward downtown, I knew it was a big mistake."
"That's good to hear. Next time something like that happens ask Tyler. He'll tell you what they were talking about."
"Then you don't know Tyler. He's different now than when he lived in Dallas. He's like the popular kid ... And I'm not. I just don't have any friends."
"What about Grace?"
He thought about it a moment. I continued. "She may seem weird to you, but she seems like a nice person to me. Why not give her a chance."
"I don't know, Mom. Maybe."
"Then that's a start. You know, that no matter how much trouble you get into, and whatever changes we make in our lives, I'll still love you, right? That part of us isn't ever going anywhere."
I reached over and put my arm around him. I thought he would pull away, but he hugged me with a fierceness. "I'm sorry mom. I'm so sorry I made you worry." He gasped as the sobs overtook him.
"I know you are, but it's okay now." I stroked the hair away from his forehead like I had done some many times when he was a small child. I had my boy back, and maybe now things would return to normal. As I listened to Leo stumble around in the next room, I wondered if I was kidding myself.
CHAPTER THIRTY
An hour later, Tyler and I walked into the Harvest Dance with our arms full of every baked item we could get our hands on from the grocery store. The tables were already covered in sparkling autumn colored table cloths with tasteful pumpkin and scarecrow centerpieces. It was stunning, and I hated to plop a box of Tasteeo Cupcakes on top of it all.
Phyllis, dressed in a mustard turtleneck with a maroon silk scarf tied around her neck approached. "What is this?" Her face turned white, and then was replaced with a complimentary fall color of scarlet red.
"Uh..." I stammered. "I had a little difficulty with the pumpkin squares, but you know kids. They'll eat anything sweet, right?"
I waited for her to reassure me, but she seemed to be at a loss for words.
"You want me to open up these boxes, Betsy?" Tyler asked.
"Yes, if you would. I'm sure Mrs. Hamlin has lovely plates for us to put these on."
Phyllis gritted her teeth and turned toward Tyler. "There are some paper plates over there."
She turned back to me and took hold of my arm squeezing tightly on my bicep with her tastefully manicured nails.
"I specifically told you to make the pumpkin squares. If I wanted a hodge podge of junk food I would have simply stopped down at the Circle K Convenience store."
Another mother stepped by with her freshly groomed son in tow. "Lovely tables Phyllis," she said with a little wave.
"Thank you Shelley. We work very hard to make it a wonderful experience for our children." Somehow I knew she wasn't including me in that statement.
"I tried to make the pumpkin squares, but we've had flu at our house, and ... I lost track of time, and they burnt."
"Then why didn't you just make another batch?"
"There's not a can of pumpkin left in the entire town."
"Yes, there is. I have four cans of pumpkin in my pantry. All you had to do was call me."
The principal walked by. "Beautiful job, Mrs. Hamlin. Don't know what we'd do without you."
"Smile ladies." Nicholas Wendell aimed a camera in our direction freezing the uncomfortable moment between us. "Just wanted to get a picture of the two ladies who made all this possible." I had the look of an animal caught in a trap, so that would be yet another lousy picture of me in the paper.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Wendell. I just knew touching base with you would assure our children adequate coverage in the newspaper." Phyllis let go of me and gracefully attached herself to Nicholas.
"Let me show you where the king and queen will be so that you can get some shots of them." As they walked off Tyler nudged me.
"You really got her going." He turned to the table. "What do you think?" He had stacked up all of the treats in a tower making it look like a high calorie game of Jinga.
"Very interesting, but I think Mrs. Hamlin would prefer no one take anything from the bottom."
"That's the fun of it." He insisted.
"Why don't you go find your queen? I'm sure she's waiting for you." Tyler ran off as Elaina came up behind me.
"So? Did you get another test?"
"Hi. Are you working the dance?"
"I'm a volunteer who didn't volunteer."
"My dad made you?"
"You got it."
"So?"
"Oh, well, I finally did get the test taken and ..."
"Betsy?" Caroline Ogilvy glanced over at the treat table. "Thank goodness those awful pumpkin squares aren't being served this year. You could choke a horse on one of those things."
"Really?"
"Oh, my dear. They were atrocious. One of the ladies made up that recipe a few years ago and for some reason they just kept making it." She looked at the tower of cellophane wrapped goodies.
"Interesting display."
"Oh, I was just fixing that." I started pulling little bags of white powdered donuts off the top.
Elaina was still beside me. "You didn't answer my question."
"That's where you're wrong. I couldn't answer your question. Not in front of Miss Caroline."
Nicholas Wendell walked over and picked up a Honey Bun. "Yum. My favorite."
This was an excellent time for me to ask him about his appointment with Rocky.
"Mine too. So you're already on the junior high dance circuit?"
"Seems Mrs. Hamlin's husband is my landlord so here I am."
"I wanted to ask you. You said you'd never met Rocky?"
"I always wanted to meet him.
Does that count?"
"Why's that?"
"The guy is a legend. I read his articles in college. He's covered everything big that ever happened in Texas."
"And that's all?"
"What else would there be?" He looked to Tyler and his queen now sitting in the throne chairs. "Have to go."
Phyllis Hamlin came storming over still on the warpath. I continued to rearrange the table trying to melt into the background.
"Where is Mrs. Dunlap? She was supposed to be bringing the sparkling cranberry punch. This couldn't go any worse."
We all started looking for Mrs. Dunlap who if she was smart was sitting at home searching for a new identity online. Phyllis reached over to me as I was busily lining up oatmeal cookies. She squeezed my hand.
"Stop that!" She ordered.
I froze.
"It's all your fault this night is in ruins."
"I'm so sorry about the pumpkin squares." Her grasp tightened.
"An incredible blunder to be sure, and now you get to make it up to me." She pulled me behind her across the empty junior high dance floor.
"Where are we going?"
"To get some damn punch."
We crossed the gym to the other side and went down the hall to an open closet. Inside there were stacks of toilet paper, paper towels, copy paper and two very large jugs of red looking stuff.
She lifted one and tossed it to me nearly knocking me over. I grabbed the door behind for leverage and ended up pulling it closed and landing myself on the floor against it, the jug of juice at my feet.
"God! Can't you do anything right? This is exactly what I've been talking about. You are not royal stock. You are the freakin' Happy Hinter for God's sake."
She drew closer to me with her hand raised. Her anger was incredible, and I wondered if when they tried her for my murder if it would be for one person ... or two.
I flinched as she drew closer and began drawing my whole body up into a ball.
"Move out of my way you idiot." She put her hand on the doorknob above me to open the door. It rattled in its frame but wouldn't budge. We were in the same closet Zach and Grace Galvez were trapped in earlier in the week?
She shrieked filling the small space with her voice until I thought my eardrums would burst. "It's stuck. Great! Of course it is. What else would it be?"
