Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery) (28 page)

I was beginning to think pregnancy wasn’t the glowing, glamorous state some women had led me to believe it was.

T
hough I was exhausted, I had a hard time sleeping. After tossing and turning most of the night, I finally fell asleep around two in the morning and slept until nine. I would have slept later than that except Hoover’s whines forced me to get up.

“Okay, boy,” I said. “Just a minute.”

I got up, peed, and then went to the front door. I peered out the peephole and saw a police car parked outside as usual. But it wasn’t Brenda Joiner any longer, it was Junior Feller. I threw on my robe, opened the door, and waved to him.

“Good morning,” Junior said, climbing out of the car.

Hoover was apparently too impatient to wait. He bounded out the door, ran to the edge of the woods, lifted his leg, and peed. Then he peed some more. I knew how he felt.

I handed Junior the leash. “Do you mind keeping an eye on him?”

“Not at all.”

“Thanks. I want to hop in the shower, so here’s my key. Just let him back in when he’s done.”

“Will do.”

“And one other thing. Would you mind driving me to The Mother Hood this morning? I really need to get some more stuff. All of my clothes are so tight all of a sudden, I feel like a sausage.”

“Not a problem.”

“Thanks, Junior. I really appreciate you guys doing this for me. I’m sure it has to be a pain.”

“I don’t mind, and to be honest, I can use the extra money. Not that we wouldn’t want to make sure you were safe without the money, but you know how it is.”

“I do. I’ve been broke before.”

I shut the door and headed for the bathroom. Half an hour later, I came out and got dressed, donning a pair of my new pants and one of my new tops. Underneath it all, I wore my new bra but my old panties. Junior had let Hoover back inside, and my key was sitting on the table at the end of the couch. Also on the table was a small bottle of orange juice, a decaf coffee, and a maple bar. I fed myself, Hoover, and the cats, topped off the animals’ water bowls, grabbed my key, and headed outside.

As soon as I was in Junior’s car, my cell phone rang. My heart skipped a beat, wondering if it was going to be one of
those
calls, but the caller ID said it was Richmond.

“Hey, Richmond, got some news for me?”

“I do, and it isn’t good. Derrick’s thumb drive has nothing but pictures on it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, but the tech guy who had to drive all the way here this morning to look at Derrick’s family photos is pretty damned sure. He’s also rather annoyed.”

“Darn it! I was so hoping we could find something to point the finger at her.”

“Your theory is still a good one,” Richmond said. “We’ll just have to get the information another way.”

“But that probably means waiting until tomorrow.”

“Maybe not. I’ll make some calls and see if I can find someone with the right connections.”

“Okay, let me know.”

I disconnected the call and dropped the phone into my purse with a frustrated sigh.

“The thumb drive didn’t pan out?” Junior said.

“No. All it had on it were photos.”

“Bummer.”

We had arrived at The Mother Hood, and Junior snagged a parking place right in front. It was early enough that many folks were in church, so the Sunday shoppers hadn’t hit the Main Street shops in force yet. “I’ll wait out here,” he said. “That’s not a store I’d feel too comfortable in.”

“I don’t feel all that comfortable in there myself,” I said with a chuckle. “And by the way, thanks for the breakfast.”

“You’re welcome. I saw that you didn’t have much in your kitchen, so I had one of the guys make a run and grab some stuff.”

“You’re a sweetheart. I’ll try to make this as quick as I can, okay?”

“No rush. I brought along a bunch of magazines to help me pass the time.”

I got out of the car and headed into The Mother Hood. The bell tinkled, and Brahms’ Lullaby announced my arrival, but Priscilla didn’t need them. She’d seen me get out of the car.

“Hey, Priscilla,” I said.

She countered with a “Good morning,” but she didn’t look or sound all that cheery. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. In fact, I love the stuff I got here the other day. It all fits great, and I’m here to get some more items.”

“Oh, good,” she said, clapping a hand over her heart. “What are you interested in looking at today?”

“Underwear, for starters, and some pajamas, a new bathrobe, and maybe a few more pants and tops. Did the bras I ordered last time come in yet?”

She shook her head. “They’ll probably be in tomorrow. Let’s start with the nightwear. I have some great items I think you’ll like.”

I followed her to a back area of the store, where there was a rack of bathrobes that ranged from petite to Orson Welles size and shelves covered with a variety of two-piece pajama sets and nightgowns. She grabbed several items and handed them to me.

“Go try these on,” she said. “I’ll dig up some more stuff in the meantime.”

I went into the dressing room, and as I stripped off what I was wearing, my cell phone rang. Again I had a moment of trepidation, and again it was only Richmond.

“Hey, Richmond, what’s up?”

“I called that witch Principal Knowles and asked her about the PTA. She gave me the name of the president, the vice president, and a few other members. I called the president, a woman named Marsha Hatton, and she has access to the books. She said she can get a copy of the financials for me today.”

“That’s great,” I said, standing in my undies and eyeing my expanding frame in the mirror. “I’m willing to bet there’s money missing somewhere.”

“I hope so. Your theory does make sense. But I haven’t given up on Jacob yet.”

“Jacob didn’t do it. I’m sure of it. The PTA connection makes the most sense. Derrick was a math teacher, so he’d be familiar with accounting. And he was involved with the PTA. If he discovered there was money missing and said something to her about it, there’s your motive. She said money was really tight, and that it was a struggle to raise the kids on what she makes, and as the treasurer, she had access to all those funds.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me.”

“Get with this Hatton woman and get the proof we need.”

“I hope it’s all those crazy hormones of yours that are making you so bossy.”

“You wish.”

I disconnected the call, tried on a pair of pajamas, and stepped out of the dressing room. Priscilla was standing just outside the door with a disapproving look on her face.

“What? Do they make me look too fat?”

“Those are all wrong,” she said. “Try these.” She thrust a pile of new stuff into my arms and then pushed past me into the dressing room. She gathered up the other pajamas that were in there and carried them out.

I went back into the dressing room, set down the new pile of clothes, shut the door, and gave myself another appraising look in the mirror. I didn’t think the ones I had on looked that bad. Maybe Priscilla wanted to steer me toward more expensive stuff. I glanced at the price tag on the ones I had on and compared it to the others she had given me. The set on top of the pile was actually cheaper. So I took off the first set and put on the cheaper one. When I went to open the dressing room door to see what Priscilla’s opinion was on this set, the knob turned but the door wouldn’t open. I tried again, pushing harder, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Priscilla?” I hollered. “There’s something wrong with the door. I can’t get it to open.”

“That’s because there’s a chair in front of it,” she said. Her voice came through the door crystal clear. I could tell she was standing just the other side of it. “I heard what you said in there on the phone. How did you figure it out?”

I frowned, not knowing what she was talking about at first. Then it started to come to me. I flashed back on my previous conversation with Priscilla, and how she’d also said that money was tight and she and her husband were struggling to raise all their kids. She’d also said she was involved with the PTA.

I thought fast and said, “Derrick didn’t die in his house. He was still alive after he was stabbed. He managed to stagger out into the street, and some neighbors helped him. He wasn’t able to say much, but he said enough to let us know that it had something to do with the PTA.”

I waited for a response, but I didn’t get one.

“Priscilla? Are you still there?”

“I’m sorry, Mattie. I wish you hadn’t figured it out, but now that you have, I need to do whatever I can to get away.”

“How did Derrick figure it out?” I asked her.

“That damned Terwilliger woman,” she said. “She couldn’t get the books to come out right, so she asked Derrick to help her with it.”

“But how did you get access to the money?”

“It’s easy enough when you’re the treasurer. I have a business degree, you know, and I’ve learned how to cook the books over the years with this damned store.”

“I thought Mandy was the treasurer.”

“She is now, but she just took the job over a few months ago. I was the treasurer for four years before that.”

I tried the door again, but it wouldn’t budge. Then I heard an odd sound, some kind of splashing noise. “Priscilla? Please open the door. I’ll talk to the DA and explain that you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Maybe you can work out some kind of deal. Pay restitution or something like that.”

I heard Priscilla scoff. “Pay restitution? And just where the hell would the money come from? Do you have any idea what a sinkhole for money kids are? It’s never-ending.”

I could still hear the splashing sound and then a strange smell came to me. When I realized what it was, panic set in.

“Priscilla, I smell gasoline. What are you doing?”

“Creating a diversion. I need time to get away from here.”

“You’re going to set the store on fire, aren’t you?”

No answer.

“Priscilla? Please, let me out of here. I’ll give you time to get away, I promise. But please don’t leave me in here and burn the place down. I’m pregnant, remember? You don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t have a choice, Mattie. I’m truly sorry. This is the way it has to be.”

I remembered my phone then and whirled around to grab it. My purse, and the phone that was in it, was gone. Then I realized that Priscilla must have grabbed it when she did the switch with the clothes.

My panic rose, and I threw myself against the door. It didn’t budge. My baby seemed to sense my panic because suddenly I felt a flurry of movement in my belly.

“Damn it, Priscilla, don’t do this,” I pleaded.

I listened, waiting for a response, trying to figure out what she was doing next. She didn’t answer me, and then I heard the sound of the back door closing. Seconds later I smelled smoke.

Frantic, I kicked at the door to the dressing room and yelled at the top of my lungs. Junior was parked out front in the street. Maybe he would hear me. I yelled louder and kicked harder. The smoke smell grew stronger. I screamed and screamed as loud as I could. And then I thought I heard a pounding noise.

After that, everything went black.

“O
bviously you got out,” Maggie says to me.

“I did. All my screaming and panic made me hyperventilate. Add being pregnant on top of that and you have a good solid faint. As it turned out, Junior had to pee, so he got out of his car right around the time Priscilla was blocking the dressing room door with the chair. He walked up to the front door, found it locked, and peered inside. Priscilla was too preoccupied with the chair to see him, but he knew right away she was up to no good, so he got on his radio and called for help, and then went around to the alley by the back door. The minute Priscilla came out, Junior grabbed her, but she tried to run, and in the scuffle the back door closed. The only way to open it is with a key, and fortunately Priscilla had it with her since it was on the same ring as her car and house keys. By the time Junior got the keys, other cops had arrived, and someone was trying to beat the door down. That was the pounding noise I heard, I think. Anyway, by the time I knew what was happening, I was outside in the fresh air, lying on the ground in a pair of brand spanking new pajamas. And I kept them. I figured that was the least Priscilla owed me. The fire was blazing pretty good at that point, but it was mostly toward the front of the store. They were able to get it under control before it destroyed the whole place.”

“It’s a good thing Junior was there.”

“Yes, it was. And I’ve decided to quit hating my bladder because of that day. The need to pee may have saved my life—even if it wasn’t me who needed to do the peeing—so I’ve come to terms with my bladder’s need to empty itself every hour and decided to forgive it.”

“I’m sure your bladder is grateful,” Maggie says with a smile. “I take it Jacob was exonerated as a result of all this?”

“He was, and both he and his mother were very grateful. They insisted on thanking me publicly and tried to do an ad in the local paper, but Alison Miller convinced them to participate in a large article about the whole case instead. I think she did that so she could slip the fact of my pregnancy in there somewhere, but it was something that was becoming more obvious with each passing day anyway. To be honest, I was more bothered by the fact that the article made me out to be some kind of hero when in actuality I was wrong about the whole thing.”

“Not the whole thing,” Maggie insists.

“Okay, I stand corrected. I was wrong about who the killer was, and it nearly cost me my life. I later learned that Mandy Ter williger really is struggling financially. That car she was driving, the sporty little convertible? It belongs to an uncle of hers who is helping her out. He loaned her the car while hers was being repaired.” I shake my head. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out for this job, and lately I keep wondering if having this child might be a mistake.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, the questionable genetics for one. My family history is a hot mess of mental health issues and personality disorders, and given that I keep getting myself into dangerous situations when it comes to work, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a mother.”

“Did you have genetic testing done?”

I nod. “The baby appears to be healthy, with no major flaws, at least physically. There are no prenatal tests for stupidity, insanity, and personality disorders.”

Maggie leans forward, rests her arms on her knees, and looks me in the eye. “Mattie, I have some concerns about you, but they are minor and have nothing to do with your ability to be a good mother. In fact, I think you’re going to do great. It will be challenging, no doubt, but one of the things in your life that has remained consistent is that you always rise to the challenges. Being a single mother isn’t going to make it any easier for you, but you have a reasonably good support system in place, so I think you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks for that. Now tell me what your concerns are.”

“Well, I think you’re afraid to commit yourself to a relationship with Hurley because so many of your previous relationships with men have gone badly. You’re not willing to open up and let yourself be vulnerable.”

“That may or may not be true, but it’s so much more than my willingness to commit or be vulnerable at this point. There’s this whole mess with my father, and Emily is proving to be a huge obstacle. She’s not only become very disturbed, she’s also wily and determined to make it as difficult as possible for Hurley and me to be together. It’s ironic, in a way, because now that we can be together publicly without having to worry about our jobs, we’re still forced to sneak around so that we don’t upset Emily.”

“I’m not surprised Emily is acting out,” Maggie says. “I’m sure she’s having a hard time with all the changes in her life. She lost her mother, the only real family she’d had all her life, and now she finds herself thrust into this new life with a father she barely knows, a potential stepmother she’s bound to resent because you’re competing with her for her father’s love and attention, and a new baby on the way, who she probably fears Hurley will love more than he loves her.”

I stared at Maggie with newfound respect. “Well, you nailed that one,” I told her.

“She resents you,” Maggie says.

“Boy, does she,” I say, my eyes wide with the memory of that birthday night. “I hoped with time she would become more accepting, but if anything she seems to be less so. I’ve tried reasoning with her several times, trying to get her to see that I’m not the enemy, but she wants nothing to do with me or my child, who she insists on calling the brat.”

“Trying to reason with her was your first mistake,” Maggie says, interrupting me. “Teenagers are often short on reason and high on emotion. And those are the ones who haven’t gone through the kind of emotional traumas Emily has. And despite being a teenager, Emily is still a child, with all the hurt, bewilderment, and sensitivity that go with that.”

I frowned. “I know she’s been through a lot, but I’m seriously concerned about her. This has been going on for several months now with no sign of improvement. I’ve even tried talking her into counseling, either with or without me and Hurley, but she refuses to go, and Hurley isn’t convinced that it’s necessary or that it will be helpful.”

“Do you think Hurley will make a good father?”

“I guess, but Emily’s behavior has only gotten worse, and that’s made him a little crazy.”

“Is she doing something more than trying to ostracize you?”

“Heck, yes. She’s been sassing back at Hurley a lot, and rebelling against any rules he tries to implement. For instance, he gave her a nine
P.M.
curfew on school nights, and ten on the weekends, but Emily ignores him and frequently stays out hours later than she should. Several times Hurley has had to go looking for her. To make matters worse, she has a new boyfriend, one with a driver’s license. Hurley has tried to talk to her about sex, and birth control, and all that sort of stuff, but she always cuts him off and says she doesn’t want to discuss it. Half the time she acts like she doesn’t want anything to do with Hurley, but if she thinks he’s off doing something with me, she’ll have a crisis of some sort and call him to come help her. That’s why Hurley had to back out of attending the birthing classes. Emily found out about it, and every time we had a class, she would create some sort of drama so that Hurley had to leave. One time she called him and said that if he didn’t come home she was going to kill herself. Another time she called 911 and said someone was trying to break into the house, but when Hurley and the cops got there, there was no evidence of that at all. By the third or fourth incident, we started to catch on to her timing, and that’s when Hurley regretfully backed out of the classes.”

“If Emily is threatening suicide, then it’s imperative that she get some counseling,” Maggie says, looking concerned.

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “But Hurley is even more anti-shrink than I am. Nothing personal,” I add with a sheepish grin.

“I’m not offended,” Maggie assures me. “Does he have a reason for this bias?”

I nod. “He’s convinced that the shrink his boss made him see when he was working in Chicago and harassing Dilles for killing his wife is the reason he lost his job there.”

Maggie gives a grudging shrug. “Understandable then, I suppose. But for the sake of Emily, you need to keep on Hurley about it.”

“I intend to. If I can’t convince him, maybe I’ll kidnap Emily and bring her to you myself.”

“To me?” Maggie says with a smile. “I’m flattered.”

Now I’m the one who shrugs grudgingly. “I confess I may have been wrong about the benefits of professional counseling.”

To Maggie’s credit, she doesn’t gloat. “Is Hurley planning on being there for the birth?” she asks.

“He wants to, but I have a backup plan in case Emily screws that up, too. I’ve arranged for my sister to be my birth coach, and she finished out the classes with me. Dom offered to do it, but then Izzy got hold of a film that shows childbirth, and Dom passed out trying to watch it. So for now it’s me and Desi. And given the way Emily has been lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hurley doesn’t show up at all for the birth.”

“I wish I had some great words of wisdom to offer you with regard to Emily, but the teenage years are notorious for being challenging under the best of circumstances. Think of it as training and practice for when your own child reaches that age.”

“Great,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “With any luck I can film it all with that stupid birthday present Hurley got me.”

Maggie frowns. “What’s wrong with the video camera? It helped you solve your case, and it seems like a great gift for an expectant mother, something to mark your child’s milestones.”

“Sure, except now Hurley wants to film the birth, both for the memories and in case he can’t be there.” I wait for Maggie to comment, and when she doesn’t I give her a questioning look and say, “Hello-o?”

Maggie shrugs and shakes her head, looking clueless.

“He wants to film the birth, Maggie. I’ve seen women in childbirth, and it isn’t pretty. At some point, they all turn into Linda Blair in
The Exorcist
. Camera-ready they are not. They are all sweaty and messy-haired and red-faced. And Hurley wants the actual birth on video, you know, the head coming out and all that. He plans to have either Desi or himself aim that camera at my hoo-ha when I’m leaky, and sweaty, and all stretched out like the universe during the Big Bang.”

“So?”

“So?” I echo with disbelief. “Nobody wants to see that. Hell, it’s mine, and I don’t want to see it.”

“As Hurley once reminded you, he
has
seen it before,” Maggie says with sly humor.

“Not like that, he hasn’t. Men are sometimes damaged after seeing that. Sex lives have shriveled up and died after seeing that.”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. Don’t you think it’s sweet that Hurley wants a record of what will probably be one of the biggest moments in his life?”

“Yes, it’s sweet, but we can film it all from the head of the bed. No one has to be down there . . . all in it.”

Maggie bites back a laugh.

“It may sound funny, but the reality of the situation isn’t. I have to admit, it will break my heart if Hurley isn’t there when this baby comes. After seeing his reaction to the ultrasound, I know he wants to be there. There’s a part of me that wants to get angry and demanding and insist that he put me first, at least with this issue. But I don’t want to complicate his life any more than it already is. So for now I’m going to back off and give him the space he needs to sort things out with Emily, even though I’m afraid she’s going to be a major obstacle for me and him, and for him and this baby.”

“What about Charlie? Is she still an obstacle?”

“Down the road, maybe, but right now Hurley has so much going on in his life I don’t think he’ll have the time or the emotional energy to start up any sort of new relationship.”

“Thinking that way is a gamble,” Maggie warns me, and I’m glad she is the one who uses such a reference for once rather than me.

“I know,” I tell her. “But right now it seems that Hurley having a relationship with any other woman is going to be a problem for Emily. Given that, I don’t think Hurley is likely to start dating anyone else until things are resolved.”

“Have you considered that it isn’t necessarily another woman in his life as much as it is
you
in his life? You’re the one who was there when Emily and her mother came back into his life. You’re the one who is having the child that Emily may or may not perceive as a threat to her relationship with Hurley. So maybe it isn’t another woman as much as it’s you.”

I shot her a perturbed look. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

“Not necessarily,” she said with a smile. “I’m here to help you figure things out, to help you feel comfortable with your decisions and the impact they will have on your life, and to help you deal with your insecurities and doubts.”

“Telling me I’m the root of the problem doesn’t exactly make me feel secure or comfortable.”

“But it may be a reality you have to face. You need to be aware of that and figure out how you’re going to deal with it.”

“I know my limits. I know Hurley needs some time with Emily to sort things out, but I don’t want that to interfere with his relationship with our child. I don’t want my child growing up without a father the way I did. A part-time father is better than none at all. If Emily is too insecure in her relationship with Hurley to share him with another child, that’s just too bad. I’m not going to succumb to her emotional blackmail if it starts to compromise Hurley’s relationship with our kid.”

“And exactly how do you plan to handle it?”

I have no idea and tell Maggie so.

“Let’s talk about your father some more. Maybe exploring your feelings on that topic more deeply will help you gain some understanding with the other situation.”