Southern Comfort

by ANDREA SMITH

  I spoke up. “The person who was assaulted—her name was Donna Wilkins. She was the one that reported it.”

  He picked up his pen and jotted it down. “This is gonna take some time. I’ll have to send it down to the records archive and have the microfilm pulled. You can take a seat over there if you want,” he said, nodding towards an area on the other side of the room with chairs.

  “Thanks, hun,” Gina said sweetly, giving him a wink. “Any assistance you can give in expediting this will certainly be appreciated.”

  Once we crossed the room and seated ourselves, I started chuckling to myself.

  “What?” Gina said, looking up from across me where she was busy filing her nails. “What’s so funny?”

  “You. You’re funny,” I replied, still giggling.

  “Would you care to explain?”

  “Well, you practically insulted your ex-boyfriend for his career choice, which by the way, I think is pretty damn admirable, and in the next second, you’re batting your eyelashes and asking him to put a rush on it. Shit, only you would pull something like that, Gina.”

  “Oh for shit’s sake, I said I didn’t mean it to be taken negatively. It was just, well…a surprise, that’s all. Hell, nobody smoked as much dope as Larry Armstrong. To think of him busting pot smokers is kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t look like he does much of that. Looks like he’s more of the paper-pushing type of cop.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that too,” she replied. “It would be so much hotter if he carried a weapon and handcuffs on his belt, you know?”

  Two minutes later, Larry called out from behind the counter. “Gina, got your copies here.”

  She tossed her nail file back in her purse and stood up giving me a look. “See there, nothing like knowing how to get something expedited.”

  Larry charged me two dollars for the copies, which consisted of two pieces of paper. It was a police report signed and dated on January 1, 1962 by a deputy by the name of Harlan Miller.

  My mother was called the ‘Complainant’ in the report, and had no clue as to the identity of her attacker, only that he’d worn a Phantom of the Opera white half mask. The assault had occurred at a private club called Barker’s Banjo Ranch, proprietor, Gary Barker.

  According to the report, two females, one being the Complainant, flagged Deputy Miller down on Highway 80 about seven miles outside of Montgomery, and gave him the story.

  Deputy Miller had taken the report and then instructed them to return to Montgomery and wait for him at the sheriff’s station downtown while he investigated the complaint.

  Upon reaching Barker’s Banjo Ranch, the deputy met with the proprietor and questioned him at length about the goings on the previous night, specifically, someone in attendance dressed in a phantom mask.

  Gary Barker explained he had hosted a private gala ball for New Year’s Eve, which had, in fact, been a costume event. He couldn’t recall specifically seeing anyone dressed in the costume as described.

  Deputy Miller took his statement and then went directly to the Sheriff’s downtown hub. After finding out that the women had not gone there to wait as instructed, he made a notation on the report that no further action would be taken unless the Complainant contacted the office for a follow-up.

  “Are you kidding me?” Gina said, clearly pissed. “This is it? This is all they give a damn about someone being raped?”

  “Maybe it’s not meant to be known, Gina. Maybe this is a sign for me to let it go.”

  “Sign, Schlime,” she muttered. “This is not acceptable. Hey Larry, got a second here, doll?”

  Larry sauntered back over to where we stood across the counter from him. “What ya need?”

  “Can we speak to this Deputy Miller that took this report?”

  “No can do, babe. I already asked on your behalf. He retired and died a couple years back.”

  “Well, shit,” she replied, biting her lower lip. “So how about this Gary Barker character? He still around?”

  Larry scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, as a matter of fact he is, but not for much longer, better hurry.”

  “Say what?” I asked, now curious as hell.

  “Stage 4 lung cancer. He closed his place a few years back according to the locals. Guess he was quite the party planner. My supervisor told me you can find him at Willowbrook Rest Home. It’s on Highway 80, just about two miles outside the city limits.”

  Gina perked up immediately. I, on the other hand, was not quite as enthusiastic. I mean, for Chrissake, interrogating a dying man just seemed like bad karma.”

  “Thanks, doll,” she said with a wink. “You’re the best!”

  She grabbed my arm, pulling me out the door just as Larry called after her. “That’s not what you used to say!”

  We both giggled and headed for the car.

  “We’re doing this,” she said before I could say a word. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

  I hated the smell of hospitals. I recognized the smell of the Willowbrook Rest Home as being pretty damn close, with the exception of the pungent urine smell on top of it.

  “Let’s see,” Gina said, “It should be right down this wing.”

  I trudged along behind her until we reached Room 14. I held back, allowing Gina to enter first, but she quickly turned and glared at me so what the hell? I had to woman up here and go in.

  “Hello, Mr. Barker,” she greeted cheerily to the man who was sitting in a wheel chair looking out the window. He maneuvered his chair around and I could see he had a tube going into his nostrils, which I presumed was oxygen from the tank strapped to the chair.

  “Should I know you ladies?” he asked, giving us a weak smile. His hair was sparse, and what was left of it was snowy white. It was hard to judge his age, but if I had to guess, I would say he was only in his mid to late fifties.

  “No, no you don’t,” I spoke up. It was time I took charge of this whole situation. “My name is Sunny Gardner, and this is my friend, Gina Margolis. We’re here to ask you some questions about something that happened back in 1962. At your club. A party you had where a woman was raped?”

  The change in his expression told me immediately that he had no issues with memory.

  “Excuse me, but why are you two young ladies here, asking me about something that happened before you were born?”

  He wasn’t nasty about it. It was more like he was caught off guard.

  “Look,” I spoke up, “we aren’t here to dredge up dirt, it’s just that I’d like to find out who the guy was because he’s my father.”

  Gary’s eyes widened, his wheezing became apparent and, for a moment, I thought maybe this information was more than he was prepared to handle in his condition. His head lowered, and he rubbed his forehead before responding.

  “I didn’t know him all that well to be honest. He was just a party drifter type. Showed up at the club, asked for some work. So I paid him in cash for doing odd jobs and general maintenance of the grounds. Name was Dobbins.”

  “Dobbins?” I asked.

  “Yeah…Avery Dobbins.”

  My heart climbed up to my throat. I heard Gina gasp from beside me.

  “Are you sure it was Dobbins? Could it have been Dawson?”

  He shook his head emphatically. “Nope. It was Dobbins. My body might be a piece of shit, but my mind is sharp as a tack,” he finished, tapping a finger against his temple. “I got a telephone call that morning from Harlan Miller, a deputy from the county. Harlan was a friend. Kind of looked out for me because he liked to party at the club from time to time. Told me about the report he’d taken and said he was headed my way, so if I needed to clean house, I needed to do it in the next ten minutes. I didn’t need that kind of shit. Bad for business. So I high-tailed it upstairs and told Dobbins to leave because the cops were on their way.”

  “What happened after that?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Never saw him again. The law backed off and that w
as that.”

  My mind was reeling with the possibility…the sickening and disgusting possibility that Avery Dobbins and Avery Dawson were one and the same. It just couldn’t be possible. Avery was no partier, that much was obvious.

  “Well, thank you for the information, Mr. Barker,” I said, just wanting to get the hell out of this place and wipe my mind clean of what I’d heard.

  “Wait!” Gina said, jabbing me with her elbow. “I got a question and I’d think you would too, Sunny. Mr. Barker, was this Avery Dobbins a religious man?”

  At Gina’s question, Gary Barker let out a laugh that sent him into a coughing fit for which I wasn’t sure he’d survive. He quickly grabbed a clear plastic mask, put it to his mouth, and breathed in more oxygen until the coughing subsided.

  “Laughing is bad for my health,” he said finally, “but I couldn’t help it. Avery Dobbins had lost his religion long before I ever laid eyes on him, and you girls can take that to the bank and tell ‘em Kojak sent you.”

  “It’s not the same person, Gina. Come on, let’s go so Mr. Barker can rest.”

  “Wait, wait a minute,” she persisted, “If I show you a picture, do you think you could tell me if this man looks like an older version of this Avery Dobbins?”

  I was startled as I watched Gina root through her purse and pull out a Polaroid snapshot of Avery standing outside of his church in Layton. I was dumbfounded.

  “What?” she asked defensively. “I found this in one of those files we took. Aren’t you glad I brought it?”

  Hell no I thought to myself.

  She handed the picture over to Barker and he studied it for about five seconds before he handed it back to her.

  “Yep. That’s him. Looks like he’s found his religion again. Ain’t that something?” He shook his head in disbelief while my world came crashing down around my feet.

  Chapter 62

  Avery Dawson had come home to an empty house. It was past ten p.m. and there was no sign of Donna. No phone call. No note left. No supper had been cooked. This was not like her.

  He had even searched the house.

  Nothing.

  What was she up to?

  He went upstairs and tapped on the closed door of Julie’s room. Perhaps she knew the whereabouts of his wife.

  Julie opened the door a bit, and as he looked past her he could see that Donna wasn’t in the room with her. She had papers strewn across her bed, obviously she’d been working on church business. He appreciated her dedication.

  “Yes, Avery?”

  “Oh…sorry to bother you but you got home before I did, have you seen or heard anything from Donna?”

  She quirked a brow in confusion—or maybe it was concern as she slowly shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I stopped for a burger and came right up here to finish up on some work. I didn’t see or hear a thing until you came in. Are you concerned something might’ve happened to her?”

  Avery rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “It’s not like her, but I’ll make a few calls before I start to worry. Have a good night,” he said, turning to go back downstairs.

  This was not at all like Donna.

  “I can’t believe you came running to me about this, Donna,” Gloria Margolis-Sanders said, tapping her painted nails on the top of her kitchen table where they’d been sitting now for over an hour. “Why should I even talk to you after everything that’s happened?”

  Donna looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy from the intermittent crying jag she’d been on since earlier that afternoon. “Maybe because you owe me, Gloria, not least of which for sleeping with my husband,” she hissed, getting some courage back.

  Gloria’s eyes widened and she started to sputter some denial but Donna cut her off.

  “Don’t bother denying it, your daughter showed me the proof months ago. And me, being the idiot that I am, I simply put it out of my mind. But I can’t do that anymore. Not after today and what I found.”

  Gloria slumped in her chair. “What is it you want me to do, Donna?”

  “I want you to speak your mind at church. The same way that I’m going to speak mine. We have to rid ourselves of that evil man before he destroys everyone in this damn town! And it won’t just be you and me. We have some help, Gloria. Are you in?”

  Gloria was silent for a few moments before she slowly shook her head in agreement. “What the hell? How much more can Eddie hate me? I’m in.”

  “Good. It’s for the best.”

  “But when?”

  “This coming Sunday. I’ll stop by on Saturday to fill you in. I’ve already talked to three others today. So there is power in numbers, rest assured. Now, I’ve got to scoot.”

  “Wait—you’re going home…to him?”

  “What else can I do? He can’t know what I’ve discovered. If Avery Dawson can pull the wool over the eyes of almost everyone in Layton for over two years, including his own wife, then I reckon I can do the same to him for a few days.”

  “Good luck, Donna.”

  Chapter 63

  “Stop it, Sunny. You’ve cried and ranted enough. Now you need to freaking pull yourself together because you are way stronger than that!”

  I rubbed my eyes furiously. “I want to die! Do you even get that? Why did I let you talk me into this! I can’t even stand being in my own skin! That bastard is my father!” I screamed so loud my throat burned.

  “Stop!” she yelled even louder. “Damn, girl, pull yourself together! So, you share some DNA, but let me tell you what you already fucking know, Sunny, you are nothing—nothing like Avery and you damn well know it!”

  I was beyond being consoled. I was sickened by the thought of his blood running through my veins. I wanted to vomit, but there wasn’t anything left in my stomach because I’d already thrown up three times since leaving Gary Barker this afternoon.

  Gina had finally forced me into my car and taken the wheel.

  I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve. “Where are we going?” I finally asked.

  “To my house. I called my mom when you were in the last filling station bathroom puking. She has some news. I think it’s something you’ll want to hear.”

  “Doubtful. I feel like I’m trapped in some nightmare. I just want to wake up and see that none of it’s true. Do you understand at all how screwed up this is?”

  “Like I’ve told you the past fifty times you’ve asked that question, yes. And like I’ve also said, you will survive this and be even stronger than you already are, okay?

  I nodded. But I didn’t believe her for one damn minute.

  I had no memory of arriving at Gina’s house; no memory of being tucked into bed. All I knew was that when sleep finally took over, for that brief amount of time, I thankfully was able to escape the reality of who I was.

  When morning came, I saw that Gina was asleep in the other bed. It took a moment for me to remember my situation, and the feeling of dread once again took up residence in my brain.

  I showered and dressed in Gina’s bathroom and, by the time I came out, she was up and getting ready to take her shower. “Mom’s up, Eddie’s at work, and she has coffee on and is getting breakfast on the table. Go see her, Sunny. She wants to help, okay?”

  I nodded. I was in no position to refuse help from anyone. And hearing Gloria’s soothing words and promises that things were going to work out somehow did make me feel better.

  When Gina joined us twenty minutes later, we got down to business, and I was almost mortified when I heard the plan Gloria laid out, some of which had already been put into motion by others, including my own mother.

  I wasn’t sure whether I could be a part of it until Gina convinced me that it was my one chance to show the world, or at least the people of Layton, Alabama, what I was really made of—and it had nothing to do with Avery Dawson.

  Chapter 64

  Avery finished tying his black silk tie for today’s services, irked that for whatever reason, Donna had left early saying she had a couple of quick stops
to make and would see him at services. It didn’t bode well that they wouldn’t be entering the church together as was usual, arm in arm, presenting themselves to the clergy as a minister and his wife should. Like Jim and Tammy Bakker. Now that was a spiritual couple in every sense of the word.

  He brushed off his suit jacket before putting it on, checking his reflection to make sure he looked impeccable for his congregation. This was a special service and he wanted everything perfect.

  Today, he would be allowing his assistant minister a place at the pulpit to give a sermon. She’d been working diligently on it all week after he had so graciously agreed to her request. Truthfully, he was looking forward to hearing her preach.

  She’d also left in her own vehicle to get to the church early. Jitters he supposed, but he had every bit of confidence that her words would be welcomed by all.

  Avery was beyond pleased when he saw the pews filled to capacity upon taking his place in the pulpit. The opening hymn had finished, and he was now going to address the congregation.

  “God has blessed us all with such a beautiful day for worship, has he not? Praise God!” he said, his voice booming within the confines of the church.

  “Praise God!” his congregation responded.

  “Today’s topic is humility, but it’s not my topic to preach. When the assistant minister, soon-to-be Reverend Bailey approached me earlier in the week, asking whether I would allow her to deliver the sermon this Sunday, I had no hesitation in allowing her to be in the spotlight. You are my flock...my congregation, but you have no responsibility to hear the Word from myself alone. Whenever and wherever you have the opportunity to hear the Word, it will always be in your best interest to do so. I found myself humbled by her request. As it says in James 4:11, ‘Humble yourselves in the presence of the Lord, and He will exalt you.’ Having said that, I will now turn the sermon over to Ms. Bailey.”

  Avery took his seat behind the pulpit as Julie Bailey rose and stepped up to the microphone, adjusting it to accommodate her smaller stature.