Mother (62 page)

“What about her love for Timothy?”

“It was all about power. Ownership, not love. She doesn’t know the meaning of the word.” She hesitated. “She’s the reason Tim committed suicide.”

Jason looked at her. “Really?”

Stephanie nodded. “He wanted to be free of her, but she wouldn’t allow it. He’d started drinking in high school. She knew it, and didn’t get him any help. Instead, she
supplied
him with alcohol - even when he was trying to quit. See? Power and ownership. Not love. If she couldn’t have him, no one could. It’s typical sociopathic thinking.”

“A sociopath,” Jason said under his breath. “And that’s your … psychiatric assessment?”

Stephanie nodded. “Without having professionally analyzed her, yes, it’s my personal opinion. Based on my education as well as my experience with the woman. Make no mistake - she’s a monster.”

They were in the neighborhood now and Stephanie realized she was clutching the armrest so hard it hurt. She took a deep breath and told herself to be calm, then glanced at Jason as he turned onto Daisy Drive. He looked in control, his mouth a grim line. His knuckles, on the steering wheel, weren’t as white as hers. That was good.

As they approached Morning Glory Circle, Daisy Drive was filled with parked cars. “The potluck,” Jason said. “We’ll have to park out here and walk.”

Stephanie was relieved they weren’t going to drive right into the dragon’s lair.
 

Jason found a tight spot and eased in, while Stephanie rang Paul and warned him about the parking.
 

Feeling a little dizzy, her head light, her stomach queasy, Stephanie stepped from the car. Her memories were getting the better of her. She bent and put her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths.

Jason watched her and when she stood upright, he nodded. “I feel the same way. Now let’s go get my girl.”

Stephanie put a hand on his arm. “We need to do this carefully, Jason. If Claire’s as fragile as it sounds, we want to keep everything low-key. Any more stress, and she might really snap.”

“I have to get her out
now
.”

“I know, but you mustn’t let her see you’re worried. It isn’t good for her. We need to plan this, just a little, and avoid confrontations with Priscilla. We have to take it nice and slow. Trust me on this.” She paused. “And it’s not just Claire - it’s her mother. If something sets her off, well, that could be dangerous for Claire, the baby, and for you.”

“Prissy can’t do anything to me.”

“Maybe not, but trust me on this.” She caught his gaze. “You and I will go in together while Paul stands guard. Okay?”

He stared at her a long moment. “Okay.”

She hoped she could keep him from bolting.
 

The Scent of a Woman

When Hank Lowell had shown Roddy the typed not-quite-blackmail letter he’d received the other day, Roddy had been riveted. While it was anonymous as far as paper and printer (and fingerprints) were concerned, it bore a striking similarity to the letter Burke Collins had received before he went on his rampage. Both letters had extremely wide margins on both sides, making the typing look as narrow as a newspaper column.
 

Now, Roddy Crocker sat on his front steps looking over copies of both letters as well as two more, typed with the same wide margins. Quinton Everett had brought one, and the Dunworth sisters had given him the other an hour ago. He knew that once he turned them in, the detectives would come to the same conclusion he had: The perp lived on Morning Glory Circle. He just needed a little more proof.

 
He rose and went back in the house to stash the Dunworth’s letter in a Ziploc bag, then came back out and approached his wife, who was manning their table. She ladled vegetable soup into a foam bowl and handed it to the Sachs’ boy, Billy. “Thanks, Mrs. C!” He strolled away. Roddy liked the boy. He was going to be a fine man.

“Roddy!” Bettyanne said, giving him the same smile she had the day he’d fallen in love with her. “Pull up a chair!”

“I will in a little while, honey.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I need to talk to a few neighbors.”
 

“Business?”

“Always. It won’t take too long.”

She smiled. “That’s what you always say.”

“Just a minute,” Stephanie Banks said to Jason and Paul. “Priscilla Martin’s observational skills were always scary, and I assume they still are.” She tucked her auburn hair into a khaki sun hat with a floppy brim then slid her sunglasses back on. “It’s been over twenty years,” she said. “I’ve changed a lot, but Priscilla may still recognize me without a disguise. We didn’t exactly end things on the best terms. She hated me for stealing her son.”

“We were careful not to mention you,” Jason said. “We think it’s best to keep her in the dark, too.”

Paul grinned. “Boy, I’d like to see the look on her face when she finds out.”

“Stick around,” Steffie said. “You just might.”
 

“Go the other way if you see Priscilla,” Jason said.
 

“That’s right,” Steffie agreed. “Don’t let her see you - that’ll open up a whole new can of worms and we don’t want to further stress Claire.”

Jason nodded then led them around the barricade, into the throng of hungry people. Neighbors and friends of neighbors strolled, bunching in front of each house, sampling the wares. Jason, Paul, and Steffie reached Babs’ house. He didn’t see Babs, but her husband was grilling dogs to the sounds of Frank Sinatra. Old Blue Eyes was crooning about strangers in the night taking chances. It seemed appropriate.

Paul nodded toward the table. “Gotta eat.”

“Go ahead.” Jason scanned the yard for Babs.
 

“I’m staying with you, Jason,” said Steffie. “I want to hear what Mrs. Vandercooth has to say.”

Jason nodded at Paul. “Bring us a couple dogs. Let’s find Babs.”

They walked up the driveway, and just as they were about to knock on the back door, Babs opened it. Startled, she dropped a stack of paper plates, but Stephanie swooped in and caught them before they hit the ground.

“Steffie,” said Babs, accepting the plates. “Steffie Banks, I’d recognize you anywhere.”

“Nice to see you again.” Steffie reached up and found a stray lock of red hair. “Is this what gave me away?” She tucked it back under the hat.

“That auburn hair is a dead giveaway,” Babs said. “I’m so glad you’re back, Jason. I haven’t been able to talk to Claire at all. Prissy just says she’s sleeping. The doctor was there in the middle of the night, or so she claims. I got called out on a wild goose chase and didn’t get back until this morning.”

“Wild goose chase?” Jason raised his brows. “Something related to Claire?”

“I didn’t think so at the time, but I’m beginning to wonder. I kept calling, and I don’t think she appreciated it. But the call I received was from a man, not a woman.”

“There are phone apps that change your voice,” Stephanie said. “They’re very common.”

Babs nodded. “I know it sounds a little paranoid, but I think maybe Prissy wanted to get rid of me.”

“That’s not paranoid,” Stephanie said.
 

“I need to see Claire,” Jason said. “And Steffie has to come with me.”

“How can I help?” Babs asked.

 
“Can you run interference?” Jason glanced around, and saw no sign of his mother-in-law. “Can you keep Priscilla busy while I sneak Steffie into the house?”

“It’s vital - absolutely vital - that Priscilla doesn’t see us,” Steffie said.

“You bet I can keep her busy.” Babs hesitated. “Do you have a plan?”

“After I make sure Claire’s okay - and apologize on my hands and knees for not believing her - my plan is to carry her down the stairs and take her to our new house.”

“That might be difficult, since cars aren’t allowed on the street until after five.”

Jason nodded. “Good point. It’ll give us time to pack.” He rubbed his chin. “Do you know where Prissy is right now?”

“She could be just about anywhere, but I guarantee you she’s on the street. Stay here while I take a look.” Babs strode down the driveway and up to the hotdog table. Setting down the plates, she said something to her husband, then greeted Paul and pointed. Paul trotted up, extra dogs in hand. Jason didn’t know he had an appetite until he took a bite. He was ravenous and that made him feel guilty because he hadn’t seen Claire yet.

“Eat,” Steffie told him. “You can’t rescue a maiden from a fire-breathing dragon on an empty stomach.”

“Thanks.” He finished the dog in two bites then tried to spot Babs. Not seeing her, he slowly walked down the driveway, Steffie and Paul following. Near the sidewalk, he spotted Babs across the street talking with a woman tending a table that had a half dozen helium balloons tied to the edge. The woman pointed toward Prissy’s house.

Babs came right back, pausing only to fetch two men who’d been talking by the grill. Jason did a double take when he saw they were priests.
 

“I’m hoping she’s not possessed or something.”
 

“Bad joke, Paul,” Jason said.

“Not a joke,” Steffie said. “Priscilla once called the elder priest - Father Dave - because she said Tim was possessed. She tried to make him perform an exorcism. He wouldn’t do it.”

“Jesus Christ, is there no end to her madness?” Jason said. “I need to get in there now.”

Babs arrived and introduced the priests. “Father Andy and Father Dave are here to help.”

“Thanks. You know Claire?”

“Slightly,” said Father Dave. “I knew her brother.” He shook his head sadly.

“And I’ve spent a little time with Claire,” the younger priest said.
 

“She didn’t mention it, Father.”

“I’m not surprised. It was the day of the Collins murders. I was upstairs with her when we heard the shots.” He shook his head. “We both saw too much.”

“I’m glad you were with her.”

Andy nodded. “Babs says you need distractions. I may be a pretty good one. Priscilla has made a number of … flirtatious moves toward me.”

“She flashed him at the Collins funeral,” the old priest said.

Andy blushed and shot him a dirty look.

“She flashed me, too,” Father Dave added. “And she’s done worse.”

“It’s not surprising,” Steffie said. “Priscilla Martin always wants what she can’t have.”

“And she always wants something to hold over your head,” Father Dave said.

Babs nodded. “Just like death and taxes.”

“I’d love another taste of your wife’s wonderful chili, Stanley.” Prissy Martin watched as he ladled some of Aida’s best into a paper cup and added a spoon. “Thank you, Stanley. You know, you probably should keep those spoons in a covered container, in case of flying insects.”

Stan cocked an eyebrow. “This time of year? I don’t think that’s an issue, Prissy.”

“Still, it would be more sanitary.” She nodded at the small cups he was using. “Don’t you think it would look nicer if you used bowls?”

Go pester somebody else.
“Take it up with Aida. I just work here.” He tried to smile, but it had become more and more difficult to take the woman’s condescending remarks. He reached over and turned up his iPod. Priscilla Martin made a face when she heard Coastal Eddie’s voice.
 

“Take up what with me?” Aida asked as she joined them.
 

“Nothing important Aida.”

“Priscilla doesn’t like our cups,” Stan explained.

“You don’t?”
 

“Or our open spoon container. She thinks they’ll be covered with flies.”
 

“Stan! I’m sure Prissy didn’t mean-”

“Stanley is just a little Grumpy Gus today.” Prissy smiled at him. “I’m sorry Stanley, I meant no offense.”

“It’s Stanford.”

Prissy, spooning chili into her mouth, ignored him.

“How’s Claire?” Aida asked.

“She’s sleeping a lot. Carrying a baby is exhausting, you know.” Prissy looked down the crowded street. “Aida, this looks like the best Spring Potluck we’ve ever thrown. We should have charged the guests admission! Next year, maybe we’ll do just that.”

“What would we charge for? It’s a potluck!” Aida laughed. “Everyone brought dishes with them.”

“I think an admission charge might be a wonderful way to donate to our street’s well-being. We could add theme decorations, like at Christmas, and get a nice sound system so we can dispense with this horrible cacophony of radios. Show our unity.” Prissy sneered at Stan’s iPod, then turned and studied Aida’s lawn-gobbling snapdragon garden. “Why Aida, once the blooms really get underway, your pink, white, and blue U.S. flag will be quite a hit. What a patriotic idea.” She chuckled. “I’ll bet Duane and his little Oriental friend will just
love
it.”

“I don’t understand,” Aida said. The snaps will come in red when they’re ready. You know there are often a few mixed up seeds in the packets. You’re judging my garden by a single pink bloom.” She said it with a smile.
 

Stan listened. He liked it when Aida got fed up. He cleared his throat. “Priscilla, why would Duane and Jerry like a pink, white, and blue American flag?” He used his most innocent tone.

“You know why, Stanley.”

“No, I don’t. Please enlighten me, Prissy. I really want to know.” He glanced at his wife. Aida was trying to fight back a smile.

“Because, you know. They’re pansies.”

“Pretty little flowers,” Stan observed. “I didn’t know they preferred those to snapdragons, but to each his own, as they say.”

Prissy opened her mouth, no doubt to explain, but before she got any words out, her expression changed to a big grin. “Why hello, Officer Roderick! How nice to see you today.”

Roddy’s given name was Rodman - he was named for Rod Serling - but Prissy didn’t care. Another reason Stan couldn’t stand her, and was only polite for Aida’s sake.
 

“Cup of chili?” Stan asked as Coastal Eddie’s voice gave way to
Strawberry Fields Forever.

Roddy grinned. “Lay it on me. It smells incredible. The hint of cumin and dash of brown sugar really does the trick.” He waved away the spoon Stan offered. “I like cups because I can drink my chili like a man.”