Redemption (12 page)

“
But they’re dead,” Jimmy Lee said.

“
And you only serve the living,” Overton said. “They had friends, you know.”

Jimmy Lee sighed deeply. “I get the point, Sheriff. Just do what you gotta do and get out as soon as you can.”

“
Sure thing. Oh, by the way, how’d your arrangement with these folks work?”

“
What arrangement?”

Is that a tremble in your voice?
“The rental arrangement. When Travis told me you owned all those places, I was naturally curious.”

Jimmy Lee shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t have a thing to do with it. My daddy set it all up. They all lived rent-free, if you can believe that. And look what Annie did to the place. What a mess. I told Daddy it was a waste of his money, but you know my daddy.”

Rent-free? The Senator was a generous man, but to give something away with nothing in return? That wasn’t like him at all. And here’s another
possible motive behind all this.
“Yep. Your daddy was a pretty generous man. So, how’s the campaign going?”

“
Okay.”

Not exactly confident.
“Nice speech before the fireworks. Why’d you keep us waiting so long?”

Jimmy Lee smiled. “Just tryin’ to make it more dramatic, I guess.”

“
But keeping us waiting two whole hours? Mosquitoes ate me alive.”

“
It’s a trick I learned from my daddy.”

A trick? Or were you visiting Darcy?
“You know, I haven’t seen you since Sunday. You been out campaigning?”

“
Yeah. Up in Calhoun at a fundraiser. Hotel Calhoun. Nice place. Excellent key lime pie.” He leaned against the side of the house. “Sorry I went off on you, Sheriff. This campaign’s gettin’ to me. I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

“
Must be pretty stressful.”

“
Yeah. I can’t win in Pine. That’s Bowles' stomping grounds. So I’ll have to count on the country vote.”

Who hate you and the ground they rent from you.
“Think you have a shot?”

Jimmy Lee shrugged. “Who knows? It’ll be close, but I think I can pull it out.”

“
Like all those football games?”

Jimmy Lee smiled. “You saw me play?”

“
Never missed a game. That undefeated season was somethin’.”

Jimmy Lee closed his eyes. “Undefeated until the state quarters.”

“
That was a tough one.”

“
Yep.” He pushed himself off the wall. “Just give me a call when y’all are through here, okay?”

“
Sure thing.” He reached out and shook Jimmy Lee’s hand, catching sight of Autumn at the corner of the house. He held Jimmy Lee’s hand an extra second so Autumn could get back to her car. “Senator.”

“
I wish.”

He released Jimmy Lee’s hand.
Cold and dry on a day as hot as this?
“You’ll think of something.”

“
I hope.”

Overton waited until Jimmy Lee had pulled away in his Lexus before getting into Autumn’s car. “Nice interrogation,” Autumn said as she backed out onto 115. “Is he a suspect?”

“
Not sure. He knows cars pretty well, so he could have sabotaged my car.”

“
Or had Lester do it.”

Overton took off his hat and leaned back as they headed west to 620. “Yeah, ol’ Lester sure was dragging his feet the other day.”

“
And Jimmy Lee was awful late for the fireworks. He could have been over at Darcy’s.”

My thoughts exactly.
“He look especially clean to you that night?”
Maybe Jimmy Lee took a shower at Darcy’s?

“
He always looks clean. Squeaky clean. And didn’t he say he was in Calhoun the past few days? He could have dropped the car off at the airport, right?”

He could have, but why?
“But how would he have known to drive a pink Cadillac?”

“
He’s rich. He can pay for that kind of information.”

“
But his campaign is running out of money, right?”

Autumn shrugged. “Maybe he’s had that information a long time.”

They sped up 620, the speedometer edging past fifty-five. “Miss Harper, you’re speeding.”

“
You’ll get me out of a ticket, won’t you? We’re on official police business, right?”

“
Just slow down.”
So I can think!

“
Okay.”

“
And while I’m napping, try to think how we can get a look at Jimmy Lee Senior’s will.”

“
What for?”

“
Call it background.”
Or maybe call it the key to this entire mess.

15

Margaret Ledbetter loved her job, the challenge of it, the stress, the sheer power of determining what would and wouldn’t be read by Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public. She also loved the money, and she had earned a bundle in fifteen to twenty percent increments over the past ten years as a literary agent after a rewarding career as a poet.

With those wonderful, wonderful poems Darcy gave me to publish for J.

At first, Margaret had been idealistic, helping and encouraging aspiring writers with carefully written, encouraging handwritten criticisms.

Thank God those days are over. What absolute drudgery.

Now that she had a stable of fine writing studs and divas, a thriving website, and had become one of the power brokers in literary New York, her staff handled almost all of that drivel, rejecting up to fifty manuscripts or book ideas a day.

And I don’t even have to read any of them!
she often thought happily in the quiet of her massive office looking down on Broadway. She only had to read a few carefully screened query letters a day, rejecting ninety-nine percent of them. She employed a group of white women in their forties to read the manuscripts that she approved. If they liked them, she’d consider them. She had made mistakes, but what literary agent hadn’t? So what if the man she’d rejected for writing interracial romances was now the hottest property in Hollywood? She didn’t want any part of that.

I just cannot sell a book with content I cannot stomach. I will not help publish an abomination.

She checked her watch and smoothed out the contract in front of her, the golden manuscript,
Succeed
, lying within easy reach. In ten minutes,
Succeed
’s
author was coming to see her. In twenty minutes, she would be representing the next National Book Award winner. This would be her
Cold Mountain.

The phone rang. “I told you to hold all calls.”

“
It sounded important.”

She checked her watch again.
Maybe Paramount has finally come to its senses on the Vaughn deal.
“I’ll take it. Has anyone arrived?”

“
No.”

She pushed a flashing button on her phone. “This is Margaret Ledbetter.”

“
Darcy, Annie, and Lester are dead,” a disembodied voice said.

“
Excuse me?”

“
Darcy, Annie, and Lester are dead.”

Margaret shivered. “Who is this?”

“
As ye sow ...”

Margaret stood, her hands shaking. “I demand to know who this is!”

Click.

She hung up and twisted her hands together.
Not now! My God! Why now?
She closed her eyes, and the entire nightmare returned ...

“
Dance with me, Mags.”

“
Now J, you know I’m Jimmy Lee’s girl.” And I didn’t even want to touch him.

“
C’mon. He’s so drunk he doesn’t even know where he is. You know you want to. C’mon. I can dance better than him any day.”

Jimmy Lee yanking me away ... cussing me for letting J put his hands on me ... slapping me when I wouldn’t go all the way ... Darcy screaming and Michael holding a big bloody rock ... Darcy fainting ... Michael throwing J into the truck ... following them to the dam with Darcy puking in my brand-new Mustang ... always stuck with trailer trash ...

“
Shut up, Darcy!”

“
They gonna kill him, Mags! They gonna kill him!”

“
They said they were just messing with him, Darcy.”

“
They gonna kill him! I know it!”

“
Well, it’d be your fault, right? I mean, really. Sleeping with a nigger. Where’s your pride?”

“
They gonna kill him!”

“
I’m taking you home.”

“
No. Don’t take me home.”

Seeing Jimmy Lee’s truck pass us going at least a hundred ... trying to keep up but losing them ... circling Snow for a while until we saw the flames ... passing Jimmy Lee and Michael—but where’s J? ... Darcy passing out, vomit covering her shirt ... dumping Darcy at her house ...

“
Jimmy Lee, what happened last night?”

“
Nothin’, and you just keep your fuckin’ mouth shut. If anyone talks to you, you didn’t see nothin’ ...”

She flipped the Rolodex in front of her and was poised to dial when the phone rang. Instead of answering, she ran to the door of her office and threw it open, yelling, “I told you to hold all ...”

“
Hello, Mags.”

It can’t be!
“Where’s my secretary?” She backed into her office.

“
I sent her on an errand. She won’t be back for a while.”

“
Y
ou
...” She found herself seated behind her desk. “This can’t—”

“
You know who I am, don’t you, Mags?”

But ... but ...
Her hands turned to ice.

“
I’m your three o’ clock appointment.”

She buried her head in her hands. “Oh my God!”

“
What’s wrong, Mags? You act like you’ve seen a ghost. Dance with me, Mags. Jimmy Lee ain’t around this time.”

This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening!

“
Nice window, Mags. Nice view.”

She felt hands gripping her shoulders.
Oh God, oh God, oh God!

“
You need to get more fun out of life, Mags. You only have one life to live, right? Come with me to see the view ...”

16

Quite windy in New York this time of year. Wonder if she’ll land on her feet. Nah. Her head is too big. She’ll have her head up her ass in a few—there.

Close door. Tear up but leave contract on desk. Oh no! they’ll think. Her author rejected her and she jumped! Collect manuscript, but leave title page.
Succeed
, indeed. Check Rolodex. Hmm. About to call the boss, huh? Change into uniform in bathroom. Put clothes in garbage bag. Add her garbage and manuscript to bag. Pull cap down tightly. Leave her office, closing door behind. Check for secretary. Still gone. Could you get me a vanilla latte? I’m so parched. Secretaries are dumb as goat shit. Collect secretary’s garbage, too. Leave office. Limp, dragging leg and garbage bag behind.

Walk past stupid secretary in hallway. Tip cap but don’t look up. Get on elevator. Just takin’ the slow way down, y’all. Get off. Leave building. Blend in. Just another stranger in a strange land. See damage.

Daa-em. Mags is a white pretzel. Now her head’s up her ass forever ...

17

Creed Rydell was a skeleton of a man with pasty skin, scraggly beard, rheumy eyes, pockmarked face and cheeks, and liver-spotted hands.