Aurora 08 - Poppy Done To Death (5 page)

“I’ll have to tell them where I was.”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“You think I need a lawyer before I go in?” he asked, which was the most sensible thought he’d voiced.

“I think it wouldn’t hurt,” I said slowly.

“I’ll call Bubba,” he said, and whipped his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Oh no,” I said without thinking.

He stared at me.

I shook my head vehemently.

“You just call someone else, not Cartland Sewell,” I said. I was hoping the earth would open up and swallow not me but John David.

If he could look any worse, he did. “All right,” he said after a deadly silence. “I’ll call Bryan Pascoe.”

Bryan Pascoe was the toughest, meanest criminal lawyer in the county. I don’t know how much that was saying, but Bryan was local, and he was tough, and he knew his law. He was around Avery’s age, I thought, which meant he was a year or so older than I. I knew him only by sight. Many of the Uppity Women hoped that Bryan would become a judge in the next couple of years.

Luckily, Pascoe was not in court, and his secretary put John David through. John David tried to explain the situation, but he broke down in tears. To my acute discomfort, he pressed the telephone into my hands.

“Mr. Pascoe,” I said, because I had no choice. “This is John David’s sister-in-law, Aurora Teagarden.”

“Of course, I remember you. I hope your mother is well?” The lawyer had one of those wonderful voices—deep, smooth, authoritative.

“She’s fine,” I assured him. “But we have trouble.”

“People who call me always do. What can I do for you on this beautiful fall day?”

“Um. Well, this is the situation.” I explained it to him as rapidly and concisely as I could while John David lay over the hood of my car, weeping. I was so glad Romney didn’t come out of her duplex that I could hardly contain myself. Staying inside was incredibly smart of the girl, because I would have pounded her into a pulp. I didn’t have any sympathy or tact to spare.

“Good summary,” Bryan said, and I felt like he’d poured syrup on my pancakes and cut them up for me. “Lucky for both of us, I just had a client cancellation. I can meet John David at SPACOLEC in forty-five minutes.”

I started to ask Bryan Pascoe what the hell I was supposed to do with my brother-in-law in the meantime, but that was hardly the lawyer’s problem. “See you there in forty-five minutes, right outside the front doors,” I said, and hung up.

“Okay, John David.” I tried to sound bracing and authoritative. I turned off his phone and stuck it into his pocket. “We need to get into my car, now.” I worried about leaving John David’s car where it was, but I figured I couldn’t take care of every little thing. I’d have to get Melinda or Avery to come pick it up pretty quick, because as soon as the news of Poppy’s death was widely known, that car in that location might as well have a big scarlet
A
printed on the trunk. I fished John David’s keys out of his pants, got his car key off his key ring, and slipped it under the floor mat on the driver’s side. Then I called Avery and gave him the heads-up on the car. At least Avery understood completely without me having to explain every little detail.

I wrangled John David into the front seat of my car, fastened his seat belt, and ran around to get in the driver’s seat. It would take me all of fifteen minutes, if I drove slowly, to get to the SPACOLEC complex. What could I do for thirty minutes?

“I need to go by the house,” John David said. “I need to see where it happened.”

“No,” I said. “You don’t need to go there right now. For one thing, the police are sure to still be there. For another thing, the site needs to be cleaned up before you get in. I can tell you about it. It happened in your patio doorway. Someone came to your back door. He probably got into your backyard through one of the gates.” Or maybe Poppy was trying to flee into the backyard when her attacker caught up with her, having entered from the front door? But wouldn’t she have pitched forward in that case? She’d been lying on her back with her legs outside the door. No, the attack had come from in front of her when she was facing out the glass door. “She died real quick. She was stabbed.”

John David insisted again that he wanted to go home, and I told him flatly that I wouldn’t take him, that the first place he was going was to SPACOLEC, and that he better tell them all the truth. I listened to the words coming out of my mouth, and to my terrified delight, I sounded exactly like my mother.

“This will ruin Romney,” he said, speaking so quietly, it was almost to himself.

“Poppy is more important right now than Romney Burns’s reputation.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, placating me with a gesture of his hand that meant, Level out.

I had taken so many deep breaths, I thought I might hyperventilate. I drove very slowly and took the longest route I could imagine, but still we arrived at SPACOLEC before thirty minutes had elapsed.

Scared a policeman would spot John David in my car before the lawyer arrived, I drove out to Fuller Gospel Church and parked for a moment under the huge live oak in the old church’s parking lot. The sun danced through the changing leaves as they flickered in a chilly wind. It was an oddly beautiful moment, and one I knew I would never forget—the grieving and faithless man beside me, the country church, the light among the dancing leaves.

Bryan Pascoe wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Since everyone seems tall to me, I was surprised to notice that next to John David, he was actually a small man, perhaps five seven. He shook hands with me gravely and then turned all his attention to my brother-in-law.

While the lawyer listened to John David, I was able to examine him more closely. Bryan Pascoe had ash-blond hair and light blue eyes. He had the narrowest, straightest nose I’d ever seen in my life; it made him look sharp and arrogant. I didn’t know him well enough to know if that was true. Right away, he told us to call him Bryan, and then he asked John David to tell him exactly what he’d done today.

“Got up at six-forty-five, usual time,” John David began. His voice was dull. “Poppy stayed in bed until Chase started crying about seven. She fed him and changed him and packed his diaper bag for the day. We didn’t talk much. She wasn’t much of a morning person. I knew I was supposed to take Chase over to Melinda and Avery’s, because it was Poppy’s club day.

Poppy asked me if I was going to be home on time today, because she was thinking of fixing pork chops for supper. She didn’t often feel like that.” For a minute, John David’s mouth twisted. “She took Chase in to brush his teeth; he doesn’t have many, so it just takes a second.”

He clamped his lips shut, and his eyes, too, holding the memory in or blocking it out—I wasn’t sure which. “Poppy said since she didn’t have to get ready until nine, she might get back in bed and snooze awhile longer. Since I was taking care of Chase this morning, I had to leave at seven-forty-five to get to work before nine, so I had to go then. I put Chase in my car—we’ve got a car seat in both cars— and I dropped him off at my brother’s house. You know Avery and Melinda?”

Bryan Pascoe nodded. “I’ve met Avery,” he said. “Go on.”

“I talked to Melinda for a minute. Avery had already left for work. Melinda was worried because the sitter was late, and she couldn’t leave the kids alone long enough to shower. I drove into Atlanta to work, usual terrible traffic. I got to work right at nine. I worked until about eleven.” His faced reddened. “Then I told them I was feeling sick and needed to go home, so I drove back to Lawrenceton. I didn’t go home. I went over to Romney Burns’s house. She’d taken the afternoon off, too. I’ve been there ever since I got back to town, which would have been about eleven-forty-five, give or take a little. Traffic was a lot lighter coming back.”

This was certainly a simple-enough account.

Bryan took John David through the morning’s activities and their timetable once more, quickly. Maybe the contrast was clearer because John David and I were so stunned, but I had to admire the lawyer’s clarity and focus.

Then Bryan took my hand, much to my surprise. “And you, young lady,” he said gravely, though I was sure he was only a year or two older than I, “tell me what your part in all this was.”

Once again, I told him a compressed version.

“The Uppity Women,” he said with a smile. “My ex-wife is an Uppity Woman.”

By that time, he was shepherding us into the building, and I took a step back. “I’m not going in,” I said.

“Of course, you need to get back to the family,” Bryan Pascoe said, his voice warm and understanding, but his thick blond eyebrows flew up.

“I need
not
to go in here with him,” I said emphatically, though unclearly. “I’m a widow,” I pointed out, and though John David still looked dazed and uncomprehending, Bryan Pascoe immediately grasped my point. Any unmarried woman would be doubly suspect if she accompanied John David on this day, of all days. “Good thinking. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and he and John David marched into the complex, ready to plunge into the business of justice.

Since I had to go back to the house and explain all this to John Queensland, I wondered who would have the easier time of it.

On my way back to Mother’s, I stopped by the library to explain the situation and beg for some time off. Still in my nice dress, with my good pumps on, I was much admired before the condolences started rolling in. Perry Allison and Lillian Schmidt both gave me hugs, which I appreciated. After I’d accepted the first wave of sympathy, Perry said, “Oh, by the way, there’s a young man here waiting for you.”

Those words were not exactly the thrill they might have been. “Not my stepson?” I asked, peering in all directions so I could hide if I saw Barrett coming.

“No, no, this one’s younger.” Perry, who was resplendent today in deep green cargo pants and a chocolate brown shirt, pointed at the magazine area, and I looked at the young man sitting at the round table with a
Gaming
magazine in front of him. He was easily five nine, and he was broad-shouldered. His teenage-chic clothes had started out expensive, but now they were definitely on the grimy side. His skin was not perfect— teenage spottiness had hit him pretty hard—but it was deeply tan, and his hair had been dyed a bright metallic gold. His face looked familiar; there was something about the nose and mouth that made alarm bells sound in my head.

“I know him,” I muttered. “Who is he?”

He glanced up, and his gaze returned to me after passing me over once. He got up slowly, closing the magazine and tossing it back on the rack.

“Want me to stay?” Perry asked as the teenager came over. I didn’t answer him, because a hope had begun to grow in me, one I could scarcely bring myself to admit.

“Sis?” the boy said.

Oh my God—his voice had changed.

Peering up at him, I said, “Phillip?”

The next instant, muscular arms lifted me into the air and the oddly familiar face was grinning up at me.

“My brother,” I said proudly to the gaping Perry. “This is my brother.”

Once Phillip had replaced me on the floor, I pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose and grinned back at him.

“Are my dad and Betty Jo here in Lawrenceton?” I asked, amazed that I hadn’t known of such a trip.

“Ah, no.” He might as well have had the word
apprehensive
tattooed on his forehead. Hmmm.

My coworker reminded me he was present by making a little noise in his throat. “Phillip, this is Perry,” I said, sure I was making Perry’s day. The arrival of a long-unseen brother was great news for Lawrenceton’s gossip mill.

Perry shook Phillip’s hand solemnly, said he was glad to meet any brother of mine, and then found something to do on the other side of the library. Perry was not insensitive to atmosphere.

After an awkward moment, I suggested to my brother that we go outside to the employees’

parking lot to have a little talk. It was cooler, and gusty; I was sure it was going to rain. Phillip was wearing a tank top under an unbuttoned flannel shirt, and the breeze was way too brisk for his ensemble. His flesh looked goosey.

“I’m truly happy to see you, but you better explain why you’re here,” I said, trying not to sound too stern.

“Things haven’t been going too good at home,” he admitted, shoving his hands down in his pockets. He’d hinted as much in his E-mails, so I shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Dad couldn’t keep his—” I stopped abruptly and substituted a milder phrase. “Dad was not faithful to Betty Jo?”

“Right,” my half brother mumbled.

“I guess some things don’t change.” I tried not to sound bitter. “Listen, Phillip, please tell me they know where you are.”

“Ah, not exactly.” He tried to smile at me, but it didn’t work.

“How’d you get here?”

“Well, a friend of mine’s big brother was driving to Dallas, so I told him if he’d take me along, I’d split the gas.”

“This brother didn’t know how old you are?”

“Uh, no.”

Sure he had. He had helped a fourteen-year-old runaway. Or was Phillip fifteen now? Yes, just barely.

“And after you got to Dallas?”

“I, uh, hitched a ride with a truck driver to Texarkana.”

“He was okay?” Phillip wasn’t meeting my eyes.

“He was okay. The next guy wasn’t.” Phillip was just shivering from cold, I hoped. After giving him a good look, I was sure.

I took a deep, deep breath, trying to keep it silent. “Do I need to take you to the doctor?” I asked very gently. “There’re lots of specialists in Atlanta; they don’t know you or me, and they’d never see us again.”

“No,” Phillip said, his face brick red. “I get what you’re saying, but it didn’t come to that. It was pretty intense, though.” He may have thought he was smiling, but it was a grimace, compounded of fear, embarrassment, and humiliation.

“Where’d you end up?”

“I just made it partway to Memphis with the bad guy. I got another ride into the city.”

“Okay.” I was biting the inside of my mouth to keep my face calm. “What then?”

“Uh, I went to the college campus—you know, the University of Memphis? And I found the Student Center, and I read the notices on the bulletin board.”