I was still wearing my work clothes, a taupe pantsuit with a chunky African necklace. Laura had changed into jeans, an oversized kelly green sweater I’d never seen, and loafers. The only odd note was the briefcase at her feet.
“If you aren’t careful, people are going to start teasing you about that briefcase like they tease me about my pocketbook,” I greeted her. “Our boys have threatened for years to bury me with my pocketbook and Joe Riddley in his cap.”
She grinned. “I feel insecure without it.”
“Well, you look marvelous. Downright beautiful. That’s a great color for you, and your haircut is as chic as the ones your mama and Cindy got at that new place across town.” Either the style made her face look thinner or she, like her mother, had lost weight in the past few days. And was that mascara I saw on her lashes? Before I could make sure, she’d turned to unlock the door.
When we got inside, even with the door locked behind us, I felt uneasy. There were no shades on those big plate-glass windows, so anybody driving by could see us and what we were doing. “There’s not much privacy in here, is there?”
“We can use Skell’s office.” She took me through what I’d assumed was a bathroom or closet door, but which led to a narrow hall along one outer wall, with two doors off it and an exit at the end.
Laura unlocked the first door, and we stepped into an office that could have been on a different planet. Soft rust carpet. Elegant walnut desk with leather desk pad and calendar, brass pencil holder, designer lamp. Creamy walls. No windows, but two pieces of signed modern art on the walls in yellow, green, and red-orange. And—what was more useful—two green leather chairs.
“This is beautiful.” I looked around in astonishment.
She nodded. “Skell’s got good taste. Daddy said he could have anything he wanted, but he’d have to pay for it. This is what he wanted.”
“But it’s so clean.” Think before you speak is a great proverb, if I could remember it in time.
Her deep chuckle filled the office. “You’ve seen his apartment, I take it.”
“Yeah, Saturday evening, looking for him.”
She shrugged. “It’s his life. Listen”—she motioned me to one chair and took the other—“can we talk a minute before we start going through the files? I’ve got a couple of things to tell you.” Now I knew what was most different about Laura: somebody had plugged in her lights. She positively vibrated with excitement. I hadn’t seen her like that since she got the letter saying she’d won a soccer scholarship to college.
Curious, I set my pocketbook beside my chair and crossed my legs. “So talk.”
First, though, she pulled a pack of spearmint gum out of her pocket and offered me a stick. When I refused, she unwrapped two. “Ben suggested it. Sure beats chewing my hair.” She folded the gum into her mouth and chewed to get it soft. While I waited, I noticed that she was wearing not only mascara, but blusher and the faintest touch of eye shadow.
“Ben suggested the gum?” I was surprised. “You mean he talked about something besides work?”
She blushed, then leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk. “The first thing I wanted to tell you is about Ben,” she confided. “He came over yesterday afternoon to see how we were doing, but Mama was taking a nap. At first, he stood in the living room like—what was it you called him? A totem pole? But on impulse, I asked if he’d like to go up to my place for some coffee. I don’t know why I suggested it—Ben and I have never been on that kind of terms. But he’s been so nice since Daddy died, and I’d wondered if maybe he could be shy. We used to have a girl on the soccer team who acted stiff because she was desperately shy. So I took Ben upstairs and fed him coffee and Oreos—remember how they’ve always been my comfort food? Well, they are his, too—and Mac, I swear I didn’t know that man could talk so much. It was like somebody took a cork out of his mouth. We’ve always gotten along real good down at work, but we’d never talked about anything except cars. Yesterday he told me all about his wife—did you know he’d been married? They were going to have a baby, but she and the baby were both killed in a car wreck caused by a drunk driver. Ben told me how that made him lock himself up inside and how he’s finally beginning to thaw. Then he told me about his family, and growing up—did you know he really was a Boy Scout?” If her smile got any wider she’d need two-by-fours to prop up her jaws. “He’s even an Eagle Scout. He talked about how he got Scout from the pound, and what he wants to do with his life—he’d like to own a car-repair business someday. You’d have thought he’d been saving words up inside for years. Then I admitted how scared I was that Skell would sell MacDonald’s, and how I had no clue what I’d do if he did, and Ben said I can come run his business. Suddenly we started laughing and we couldn’t stop. I don’t think either one of us ever talked so much or laughed so hard in our whole lives.”
I had certainly never heard Laura talk that much. Ben wasn’t the only one who’d lost his cork. Only one thing prevented me from wishing her well and teasing her I’d dance at her wedding: how timely it was of Ben Bradshaw to start talking cozy to Laura now that her daddy was dead. Ben had to know that even if Skye didn’t leave the business to Laura, he’d never leave her destitute.
I was wondering whether to say anything about that when Laura said, “But that’s not all. Guess what?” Without giving me time to reply, she started pumping air with both fists. “Daddy didn’t leave the dealership to Skell; he left it to Mama, and she’s giving it to both of us equally!”
“Seriously?” When she nodded, I held out my arms. She surrounded me with hers, and we sat there hugging and giggling like a couple of hyenas until maybe she noticed I was turning purple from lack of air. She let me go and sat back in her chair.
“Daddy hadn’t ever gotten around to actually making a will,” she explained when we’d calmed down a little, “except one they made years ago leaving everything to each other. But the lawyer told Mama that Daddy called him Friday afternoon and said to draw up a new will leaving the business to Mama for her lifetime, then leaving it equally to Skell and me after she died. He told the lawyer he’d been talking to you and Joe Riddley, and he got to thinking it wasn’t fair to leave me out, since I do as much as Skell around the place.”
“Twice as much,” I corrected her.
She shrugged. “Whatever. I enjoy it, and Skell doesn’t. Anyway”—she grew grave—“the lawyer hadn’t gotten it drawn up before Daddy died, of course, but Mama told him if that’s what Daddy wanted, it’s what she wants, too. She told him to draw up papers making us all partners during her lifetime. She’ll get income to live on, but the business will be mine and Skell’s right away.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.” I found myself thinking real fond thoughts about Skye right then. “If Skell’s smart, he’ll move somewhere else and let you run the place. If he ever gets home, that is. And your mother can travel.”
Laura nodded and spoke in her usual common-sense tone. “So, now that you’ve heard all my good news, let’s look at those records. What are we looking for?” The soles of her loafers beat a tattoo on the floor, so I knew she was worrying we were there to find evidence against Skell.
“I came down here this morning and got to talking with your young salesman—Whitman?”
That got another chuckle out of her. “He’s not a salesman. He cleans cars when they come in and details them before they leave the lot.”
“What a relief. I was sure your business was on the skids. Anyway, he told me, with a little persuasion, that a man named Raymond calls Jimmy Bratson to reserve certain cars coming up from Florida.”
“Say what?”
“He calls and tells Jimmy to reserve certain cars that are coming up from Florida.”
She sat and digested that for a second. I found myself relieved. Laura wasn’t going to lose her business head, no matter how much she talked and laughed with her head mechanic. She frowned. “He said Jimmy? Not Skell?”
“Whitman
said Jimmy. That doesn’t mean Skell’s clean, but one call Whitman took was for Jimmy. I’d be willing to bet Raymond was supposed to get that car Maynard bought.”
She sat a while longer, thinking that over.
“How did you come to hire Bratson?” She didn’t seem likely to ever speak again if I didn’t nudge her a little.
She sprawled her legs out in front of her and slid down in her chair. “I didn’t. Skell did, the first month he was here. He was trying to show us he was taking charge of the place. So he announced one morning that he had hired a top-notch car salesman from Savannah who wanted to live in a smaller town. Daddy said it smelled, and I thought so, too, but since Jimmy’s résumé looked all right, we agreed to give Skell some rope while he settled in. Used-car salesmen come and go. One more was no big deal.” She stopped, then added as if explaining something I didn’t know, “Skell needed to succeed real bad right then. He’d lost his girl-friend, and he’d hated his last two years of college; he needed to feel like he was able to do something right. And Jimmy can sell cars—no doubt about that. He’s a lot better than the others when it comes to total sales for any given month. When Skell said he wanted to make him assistant manager a couple of months back, Daddy and I had no reason to disagree—except we neither one liked the man. But we didn’t have to work with him. He and Skell seemed to get along real well. . . .” For the first time that evening, she sounded uncertain.
I spoke briskly. “What I want us to do is look through sales contracts and signatures to see if we can identify cars bought by this Raymond and a pattern to the sales. If we can get even a last name and an address, I think we ought to call Isaac.”
She stood up, reluctant but game. “Let’s get cracking.”
We closed the door between the front office and the back hall, so nobody looking into the building would know we were there, but I begged, “Can we leave Skell’s door half open? I never can work in a space without windows without feeling I’m underwater in a sub that’s about to spring a leak.” We left it open just a crack, and got to work.
Laura was faster than I. She knew the forms and what to look for. By the time we’d covered the past three months, she had seven sales forms laid to one side. I had two. The last names weren’t the same, and sometimes the name was Raymond, sometimes Ramón, and once Richard, but the scrawl on the bottom was written by the same hand.
She looked at me with frightened eyes. “This is bigger than I imagined. I thought maybe once or twice. But this—” She waved her big hand over the desk. “Every car came up from Miami, every one was expensive, every one was paid for in full with cash. I didn’t know Skell was taking in that much cash—he did his own books; that was part of what Daddy wanted. But this could close us down.”
I mustered a lot more cheerfulness than I felt. “Not necessarily, if you didn’t know anything about it.”
“But Skell—Skell . . .” She couldn’t say it. She pressed her lips together and looked away. “How could he?” she demanded. “Daddy worked his whole life to build up this business. How could he jeopardize it like that? It’s not like he was short of money—we pay him well.”
“Porsche money? Enough to fix up his office like this?”
She shook her head. “We both inherited money from our grandparents, in a trust fund. We got the accumulated interest on it when we turned twenty-one, and control when we turned twenty-five. Skell used his interest for the Porsche and office furniture.” Her mouth twisted in a sad grin. “He wanted to look prosperous.” She’d always understood Skell better than the rest of us.
“What did you buy with yours?” I couldn’t remember a thing she’d ever bought except a few clothes. She didn’t even go anywhere except business trips and family vacations.
She smiled, but her eyes were wistful. “I was saving to buy Daddy out. I thought if I could get together enough for a down payment, he’d know I was serious.” She sat up again and her eyes were now worried. “If Skell goes to jail, won’t they confiscate the business?”
I heaved a heavy sigh. “I have no idea, honey. It would depend on how involved the business is in criminal activities. I think it would just be Sky’s the Limit, in any case.”
“This is going to kill Mama. It will be the absolute last—”
“What are you doing here?”
Jimmy Bratson must have come in with deliberate stealth. Neither of us had heard a sound until he spoke from the open office door. He looked from me to Laura and back again, a tic jumping in one cheek. When he saw the sales records, his eyes narrowed.
“Hey, Jimmy.” Laura swept the records into a pile, covering the ones she’d separated, and her voice was normal and friendly. “I needed some sales figures and asked Judge Yarbrough here to come down with me so I wouldn’t be alone.”
“What figures did you need? I’d have gotten them for you.”
“I know, but I wanted them this evening. With everything I have to do since Daddy died and Skell left town, I’m having to work evenings for a while. I knew you’d worked a lot of overtime already this past week, so I didn’t like to bother you.”
She was as cool and calm as a June magnolia. I was so proud of her I wanted to burst.
It was time to contribute my bit. “Are we done, honey? I told Joe Riddley I’d be back by—” I checked my watch and didn’t have to fake my alarm. “Heavens, we’ve been here longer than I thought.” I reached for my pocketbook.
“Who is it?”
That was another voice, deep and rough. Jimmy Bratson stepped into the office so the other man could fill the door—and fill it he did. He was big in every sense—a big head with thick dark brown hair, big shoulders, and legs like tree trunks, encased in a brown suit classier than we generally saw around Hopemore. The gold buckle to his belt was almost hidden by a paunch that indicated he’d enjoyed more big meals than were good for him in what I guessed to be about forty years of living. As he held open the door, I saw the gleam of a watch that looked a lot like Skye’s Rolex. As his eyes moved from Laura to me, it took all the willpower I possessed not to shudder. Those bulbous brown eyes were the deadest I’d ever seen. If there was still a soul behind them, God alone could see it.
Laura stood and held out her hand. “I’m Laura MacDonald, one of the owners. And you are—?”
The other man looked at her without saying a word. Jimmy answered quickly. “A customer. I told him I’d meet him here when he got off work.” He gave a little laugh. “Anything for a sale these days, you know.”
Laura gave the big man her wide, friendly smile. “You’re in good hands. I hope you find the car you want. And if you decide you’d rather have a new car, come on up to MacDonald Motors. We’ll see to it that Jimmy doesn’t lose his commission. Good night.” She’d been gathering the records into a pile and stuffing them into her briefcase. Now she turned off Skell’s desk lamp, so that the only light came from the hall behind the big man. Still smiling, she started toward the door as if it were the most normal thing in the world to leave these two thugs in her brother’s office. But I’d seen that smile on Laura’s face before. It was the smile she wore when she planned to lead her team to slaughter their opponents.
“Lady, we’re going to need to see what you’ve got in that bag.” The big man hadn’t moved from the door. Now he put out his hand like a father asking for a smutty magazine.
“Sorry, these are confidential files.” Laura continued walking toward the door. “If you all will excuse us—” Jimmy Bratson shifted nearer to me, and I felt trapped in a very small space with too many people. My corner didn’t hold as much air as I was going to need in the next few minutes. I reached for my pocketbook, wondering if we could bluff our way out of this. That man in the doorway was the most unpleasant customer I’d seen in a long time.
“Give me the briefcase.” He reached out a hand the size of a salad plate to take it. Laura swung it behind her, turned like a discus thrower, and delivered a knee to his groin.
“Pocketbook!” she sh
outed. As he doubled over in pain, she threw her shoulder at him. Off balance, he toppled. I heard him crash to the floor, but I didn’t stop to look. I was busy.
I swung my pocketbook hard. It hit Jimmy Bratson’s most vulnerable parts with a most satisfying thwack. Jimmy fell to the floor, yelping and clutching himself. I circled him and hared after Laura faster than I knew I could run.
20
We dashed out the front door into the glare of the parking lot halogen lights—straight into Isaac James, who had his arms raised and his gun drawn. He jerked us away from the glass door and thrust us roughly aside. “What you doin’ in there?”
I was panting too hard to talk. Laura caught her breath and explained.
“There’s two men in Skell’s office writhing on the floor, wishing they’d been born female. I got one with my knee and Mac took out the other with her pocketbook. We think those lowlifes have been using this place to pass drugs.”
I noticed she didn’t mention her brother.
Ike put a heavy hand on my shoulder and another at Laura’s shoulder. “That’s why we’re here.” He shoved, not real gently. “Go. We can talk later.”
I looked around and saw several officers peering from behind cars.
“There’s a back door,” I warned as Ike hustled us toward our cars.
“We got it covered,” he promised. “You all go home.”
When Isaac growled in that tone of voice, people obeyed.
Laura and I headed for our respective vehicles. She looked as pale and wrung-out as a bleached dishrag. My knees were so wobbly, I could hardly walk. “Honey, we both need a stiff drink after all that,” I told her. “Come out to our place for a cup of coffee.”
She hesitated. “I’d like to go see if Skell’s home. Come to our place, instead.”
“Just for a few minutes.”
On the way, I pulled over and tried to call Joe Riddley, but he wasn’t there. No point in leaving a message—he never checked the answering machine.
Who Left That Body in the Rain? Page 19
