Blood Will Tell (14 page)

“Such as?"

“Any of a hundred things. I guess the worst was the scholarship to JPSU, when I wanted to go to UK. Of course Mom was ecstatic that her little girl got stuck at home for four more years."

“And how did it turn out?” he asked.

“Good, damn it,” she admitted ruefully. It was true; if she had gone elsewhere she would not have been on the best rifle team in the nation, and probably not the Olympic team. “Thank you, Professor Pangloss,” she said sourly.

“I didn't say anything,” he pointed out.

“No, but you thought it. Well, if everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds, I'll extend my mother's supper invitation. I had intended to spare you."

“But I'd be delighted to come,” he said.

Dan showed up with flowers for their hostess. When they went into the living room, Brandy was relieved to see Harry Davis there. Her mother was always in a good mood with Harry around. Tonight she was positively bubbling.

Brandy liked Harry, a tall, soft-spoken man with receding gray hair. He owned one of Murphy's two radio stations, and was an outspoken political opponent of Judge L. J. Callahan. At first Brandy had just been happy that someone took up some of her mother's time, keeping her attention off her single career-oriented daughter. Then, as she got to know Harry Davis, she came to wonder what such a nice man saw in Melody Mather.

Harry and Dan began talking computer communications, quickly engrossed in microwave towers, phone lines, fax, satellites—Brandy couldn't follow it all.

The dining room table was set with real linen and Mrs. Mather's best china. Something was certainly going on. When her mother brought out a bottle of champagne and four glasses, Brandy knew it was something big.

As Melody Mather handed the bottle to Harry to open, Brandy caught the flash of light from her finger.

Brandy's emotions went into turmoil. Her hands were cold and slightly shaking as she accepted her glass, determined not to spoil her mother's Big Announcement.

“Brenda, sometimes I have to think of myself. I'm a very lucky woman. Harry has asked me to marry him—and I've accepted!” Her voice rose in a breathy giggle on the last phrase, and she held out her left hand, showing a ring with a diamond that had to be more than a full carat. Knowing Harry, Brandy was sure the stone was real.

Brandy said what she knew her mother wanted to hear. “Oh, Mom, I'm so happy for you. Harry, congratulations. You take good care of her now."

Harry Davis and Melody Mather looked at one another, their hearty smiles fading. “Honey,” said Brandy's mother, “there's more."

“I'm retiring,” said Harry. “I've had the station up for sale for over a year now. I've finally found a buyer."

“That's good,” said Brandy.

“But I want to retire to Florida,” Harry explained. “I have a condo in Ft. Walton Beach. Your mother has agreed to live there with me."

“Brenda, I'm giving you this house,” said her mother.

“Mom, I can't—"

“Of course you can. You'd inherit it anyway. This way I don't have to sell it, or try to rent it out. Harry and I are getting married in three weeks, so we can be in Florida before winter sets in."

Brandy's thoughts were in a whirl. It was what she wanted, her mother out of her hair through a happy occasion. Florida was perfect, close enough for visiting, too far away for her mother to expect her for weekends.

But giving Brandy her house—that was odd. She would have expected her mother to try to tie her to her apron strings, not to Murphy, Kentucky.

“Your mother and I both have children,” Harry explained. “Our lawyer suggested that Melody give her home to you, and I give mine to my son and his wife. I have land out in the county for my daughter and her kids. We'd rather you had the property now than there be squabbles when one of us dies."

Brandy had lived in this house from the age of twelve until she had gone to the Police Academy. She had fought bitterly with her mother over her refusal to move back in once she had a job and a salary.

And now—

She saw her mother's plot: a safeguard, a retreat in case Harry predeceased her, or in the event of a divorce. She would be able to move in with her daughter, who would of course have plenty of room for her in this big house, and owe her because the house was a gift.

But Harry Davis was a healthy man in his sixties. He didn't smoke, he wasn't overweight, and Brandy had never heard him complain of health problems. She decided not to worry about fifteen or twenty years from now. She would simply be happy for her mother, and for Harry.

During dinner, Harry told how he had found a buyer. “Ed Mifune was looking for an established radio station, and I was looking for a buyer, but we didn't know about each other until Judge Callahan told Ed about me."

“Judge Callahan?” Brandy asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. Who'd believe ol’ Callahan doing me a favor?” He laughed. “I guess he's happy to see me leave town. But Mifune wants to expand the radio station, and add a TV station. I should've done that, and upgraded the satellite equipment, but I've spent too many years working my way out of debt to want to get mortgaged to the hilt again."

“Not if you're going to take care of my mother,” Brandy agreed. She didn't like anyone in her family beholden to Judge Callahan, but what could she do about it? Besides, it wasn't Harry that Callahan would seek to influence, but his successor. The favor to Harry Davis was incidental.

“Harry,” she said, “the one thing I do suggest is that you insist on the bank financing Mifune. Get your money out of the station free and clear."

“Don't worry, Brandy,” he said. “Mifune's overextended himself before, but he's an honest man. I think he'll succeed, but I'm not about to stake my retirement on it!” He sighed. “I'm a little concerned about your friend Carrie. If Ed goes for the commercial slant, some of the public service programs will have to go."

Carrie's program was her means of assembling self-help groups. Many people didn't read, even the local newspaper. It was too bad Brandy hadn't known about this earlier; Sunday was usually the best day for a long chat with Carrie.

By the time they left her mother's house, Brandy was beginning to accept the change in her life. Melody Mather was happy, and Harry Davis would take good care of her.

The wedding was less than three weeks away, and the newlyweds planned to honeymoon on the way to Florida. Brandy was pretty sure they were honeymooning already, although it was a difficult mental leap to think that of her mother. When the thought crossed her mind as Dan drove her home, she couldn't help wondering if she were transferring because of her own frustrations.

As usual, Dan parked and came around to open Brandy's door for her, then walked her to her front door. “Early day tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes, I'm sorry to say."

“It's okay. I have an 8:30 class. I won't come in tonight.” But as usual, Dan's kiss took Brandy's breath away, making her feel both desired and protected.

Too soon Dan broke off the kiss, bringing his hands to the sides of her face, caressing her cheeks as he looked into her eyes. “Shall I call you?"

“Yes, please,” she replied. “I'll have Friday off this week, unless—"

“I understand,” he told her. “Let's plan to go out to dinner Friday, maybe see a movie."

“Okay."

“Then good night,” he said, giving her another brief kiss and pulling away.

Brandy made herself let him unlock her door in his old-fashioned way, wishing he would follow her in. But he didn't, and as soon as she closed the door she heard his footsteps going down the stairs.

She put her hands to her cheeks, where his had rested only moments ago. Her face was hot, her hands cool, not warm like Dan's. And hers were calloused, his smooth as—

Smooth?

Last night he had torn and blistered his hands digging Jeff Jones loose from the crevice in the rock. A day later he should have scabs, even if the blisters had healed. Instead, she had felt only the preternatural smoothness that characterized his skin.

Brandy, she told herself, you are a nutcase. This is the nicest, most eligible man you've met in years, maybe ever. He is clearly interested in you. And you're suspicious because the man doesn't have calluses? He's a teacher, for goodness’ sake, and does his work on computer keyboards. He probably doesn't even have a pencil bump.

She remembered how he had let her know, even if teasingly, that he didn't like her questioning him like a suspect. She had to get over that habit.

Give the man a break
, she scolded herself.

She got ready for bed, then called Carrie to tell her the news. “I think it's wonderful that your mom's getting married,” said Carrie. “Harry's such a nice man."

“Yeah. He even thought about you.” Brandy explained about the sale of the radio station.

“It'll be okay, Brandy. The FCC requires a certain number of hours of public service programming. If Ed Mifune changes the format, deejays or news people might have to go, but my show is likely to stay. Anyway, let's talk about you. How are you and your professor friend getting along?"

* * * *

The next week passed rapidly, not so much with police work as with everything that had to be fit into the nooks and crannies between police work. Church was away for three days for Jeff's surgery, returning depressed because the doctors could not guarantee the boy full use of his leg.

Church's daughter, Tiffany, had independently confirmed Jeff's story of a shadowy man with fangs, frightening both dog and children. “Some moron out to frighten kids caused that accident,” he fumed, “and we'll probably never know who it was. But my boy may pay for the rest of his life."

Her mother asked Brandy to be maid of honor at the wedding two weeks from Saturday. It was to be a simple afternoon wedding, followed by a reception at the bride's home. The bride and groom would spend their wedding night at the groom's house, do their final packing Sunday, and leave for Florida Monday morning.

The bride's mother not being available, the planning fell to her daughter. Everybody expected it, Brandy discovered, even Chief Benton, who told her that barring emergencies she could take as much time off as she needed. She understood—every scrap of overtime now went to Church, to help with medical bills. Unfortunately, that left Brandy free to plan the wedding.

Drowning in boring details, Brandy fumed silently. If she were a son instead of a daughter, she wouldn't be burdened with this wedding. As she was a woman, everyone assumed she had some inborn talent for such nonsense.

“It will be over in three weeks,” Carrie told her. “You can stay sane that long.” And she found time to help.

There were no bridesmaids or ushers to worry about, but when Mrs. McCuiston called to ask when the shower was, Brandy realized that that was her job, too. She enlisted the older woman's help, and thus lost the Sunday afternoon of her last day off before the wedding, which she had hoped to keep free for last-minute details.

There were appointments with lawyers, and a dozen messages on her answering machine whenever she got home. She ordered a wedding cake, arranged for a photographer, found it impossible to get engraved invitations on such short notice, and nearly forgot to order flowers.

This was a “simple” wedding? Brandy decided that if her turn ever came, she would definitely elope.

The only time she managed to reserve for her own purposes was her date with Dan that first Friday—an evening she protected fiercely against encroaching wedding plans. Neither her mother's circle of friends nor Murphy's criminal element managed to spoil the evening. Mother Nature tried, though. Brandy's period started, three days early.

A healthy, fit young woman, she didn't normally suffer cramps or other symptoms. When she developed an interest in Dan, however, she had gone back on the Pill. Murphy's gynecologists must know every time a single career woman found a new love interest. She had had to sit there nodding politely once again through the lecture about how the Pill protected against pregnancy, but not STD's.

Despite her attempts to match the two, the artificially imposed cycle clashed with her natural one this first month. At the end of an exhausting week, she felt like canceling out and going to bed early.

But Dan, with the almost supernatural intuition she was coming to depend upon, drove them to Paducah for an evening away from telephones, nosy students, or friends of Brandy's mother. They ate dinner at Tracey's, saw a movie, and talked comfortably all the way home. Brandy went to bed relaxed and had the best night's sleep since her mother's announcement of her upcoming marriage.

In the midst of all that, an article appeared in the local paper; Everett C. Land had left his life savings to the JPSU Humanities Scholarship fund. That fact alone would not have bothered Brandy; it was the accompanying photograph showing the Dean of the College and Judge L. J. Callahan receiving the check. Callahan was identified as a trustee of the scholarship fund. But Brandy had too much on her mind to give it more than passing attention.

Nature was kind to Melody Mather. A brief cold snap colored the leaves a few days before the wedding, but the weather warmed up so that on the day itself the white church gleamed in brilliant sunshine against a backdrop of bright red, orange, and yellow. Elegant in a cream-colored suit, her mother made Brandy cry, both with happiness for her and with the sense of loss, the passing of a time of her life that, for all its annoyances, would never come again.

The evening was topped off with a harvest moon rising huge and golden, to the admiration of the wedding guests. They were an eclectic group—Brandy's police colleagues, her mother's friends, Harry's friends and employees, and friends of both the bride and groom from church.

Carrie Wyman was there of course, with a video camera borrowed from her new boss. Glowing with excitement, she told Brandy that Ed Mifune thought her work with drug addicts, alcoholics, and children was perfect for a show on his new TV station. Meanwhile, he had her developing a cable access program.

Watching Carrie, Brandy wondered if her friend might move from overworked and underpaid social worker to talk-show hostess. She was certainly photogenic, her southern belle beauty set off to perfection today by a blue dress that matched her eyes. Carrie preferred pastels with hints of lace and bows, but she managed to carry off that suggestion of Victoria's Secret without diverging into either Frederick's of Hollywood or Hee Haw.