The Sassy Belles (12 page)

* * *

It was near midnight as I lay in bed reflecting on the
events since we’d first heard about Lewis. A heavy thunderstorm had crept up
like a ghost. Quietly, then with a sudden startle, the thunder crashed and the
lightning ripped open the night sky. I made my way to the bathroom and filled
the old crystal drinking glass with water from the tap and swallowed a sip
. I’m just tired,
I thought.
I
can handle this.
It was good to have Sonny around again, too. He
brought a comfort to me like no one else. Harry had been like that, in the
beginning. But lately it just felt like we were roommates rather than friends or
partners. I missed just being held. I missed going on a date and laughing. We
still went out, but all talk was centered around our cases and the future of
Harry’s inevitable political run. I was so sick of work talk. I wanted to feel
like a woman again, desirable and feminine. Some flirting would be nice. But
Harry was so wrapped up in his own goals that I wasn’t sure he even remembered
how to flirt.

Sonny, on the other hand, made me feel so feminine it was
making my head spin. For the millionth time I reminded myself that I shouldn’t
be having these thoughts about Sonny. Problems with Harry aside, we were all in
the middle of such a mess, just worry and anxious nerves every minute, and
getting caught up in these emotions wouldn’t help anyone. Still, Sonny was on my
mind.

I opened the bathroom door and turned off the light. The rips
of lightning stretched across the white sheets illuminating a snoring Harry. I
crawled into bed and drifted in and out of sleep, my mind wandering to Dallas
and what she’d said about her source. What was she hiding? Or, rather,
who
was she hiding? Between the heavy thunder and
heavy snoring, not to mention the inescapable thoughts of Sonny and the case
with Lewis, there was no real rest for me that night. I’d decided, in the
morning, Dallas and WTAL-TV would get a visitor. Me.

* * *

“Blake, I’ve already told you what I can.”

The TV monitors flickered and fax machines beeped in the
newsroom of WTAL channel 30. They already had a banner hanging in the newsroom
that read,
Find Lewis Heart.
The thing had taken on
a life of its own, just like I knew it would. Dallas sat with her legs crossed
in a bright turquoise suit with a very short skirt. She wore high-heeled sandals
revealing hot-pink toenails. Her jacket was draped over the back of her chair,
her sleeveless, low-cut white blouse just a smidge too tight.

“I have a meeting with my news director at nine-thirty, so I’m
running out of time. And I’ve been running low on patience since you arrived
twenty-three minutes ago unannounced.”

But I wasn’t giving up, especially not to her. “Dallas, you and
I both know that you know more than you are saying. So just spill it. I don’t
have time for your games.”

“Oh, my, look at you, Blake. Are you begging me for something?
Wow, what a difference a few years can make.”

Dallas fingered her large gold chains and shifted her weight in
her chair, eventually dropping the necklaces down her cavernous cleavage. I
could see I was getting nowhere and her satisfaction at that was no longer worth
it. I had to cut her off.

“Okay, fine. If you want, I will have the subpoena drawn up and
served. Enjoy your meeting.” I grabbed my cream Chanel bag and began to walk
away.

“Blake. Wait.” Dallas got up from her chair. Her height in
those four-inch heels was overwhelming. Her legs went on forever.

“Reconsidering?” I asked, with my eyebrows up.

“Listen, you know that even if I wanted to, I can’t divulge my
sources. Honestly, I really don’t know who it is. You can subpoena me and I will
still have nothing. That’s how anonymous tips work.”

Part of me believed her, but I couldn’t help feeling there
might be more. I couldn’t let her see my confusion.

“We’ll see, Dallas. Call me if you get any new information.” I
turned and swung my long dark hair at her and clicked my Jimmy Choos out of the
newsroom. She wasn’t the only one with hot-pink polish today.

10

“H
ey, Vivi! Hey, Arthur! How’s
everybody this morning?” I tried to sound upbeat as I pulled into the gravel
drive at Vivi’s, talking to them out of my rolled-down window.

“Well, hey there, yourself, Miss Blake,” Arthur yelled back.
“How you doin’?”

“I’m good, Arthur, and yourself?”

“Not too shabby,” he answered.

I walked toward them, the scent of fresh-cut roses surrounding
us. Vivi had been working these gardens with Arthur since she was a child. With
her mother so sickly and her father running wild, Vivi and Arthur had spent the
years making these gardens their own. The flowers, and Arthur, were her friends.
Arthur looked good. His aging face full of lines—every one of them probably put
there by Vivi. He was about eighteen years older than me and Vivi, but only
about twelve years older than Bonita, his new love interest. He was gentle as a
summer breeze and smart as could be—and funny. Always laughing. His hair was
short, a salt-and-pepper gray. His smile was beautiful and infectious. When he
smiled, you smiled. You just couldn’t help it. He had a dimple on only one side.
And when he was really laughing, which he did often, it would always deepen. His
eyes were his most stunning feature. A light amber-brown, they glowed like dim
flickering candlelight. His rough hands were dry from yard work, and he waved at
me from a distance as Vivi approached.

“Do we know anything?” Vivi said under her breath when she
reached me, out of earshot of Arthur.

“I was just with Dallas at the TV station,” I said.

“Oh, my, my. Do tell.” Vivi took a carrot stick from the pocket
of her apron and crunched into it as if she had a snack ready for the afternoon
matinee.

“She knows something.”

The crunch stopped midchew. “What?” Vivi nearly choked.
“Please, Blake, tell me. Anything.”

“Well, I don’t think she knows much, and I certainly couldn’t
get her to come clean to me. She doesn’t know where Lewis is or anything like
that. But she said she got a strange phone call the morning after his
disappearance.”

“What kind of phone call?” Vivi put the carrot stick back in
her apron pocket. “Let’s go inside,” she said.

We sat down at the big oak table that took up most of the
kitchen. Vivi shifted anxiously in her seat. I felt so bad for her in that
moment, with her weary eyes begging me for anything…any shred of anything. Her
desperation melted me.

“Oh, sweetie.” I reached over and grabbed her hand. “We’ll find
him. I know we will.”

“Yes,” Vivi said, her eyes welling up, “but in how many
pieces?”

“Listen, Dallas got a call after Lewis went missing.
Apparently, someone thinks they saw him at a bank in Birmingham.”

“Oh, my God, really?” She smiled and her tears fell down her
cheeks. “Oh, Blake, is it for real? I mean could he be alive? Maybe he has
amnesia.” Vivi was so hopeful. I hated to tell her that at least ten calls of
sightings of Lewis had come in since Dallas launched her campaign. It was
exactly what I feared would happen. Everybody and their cousin coming out of the
woodwork calling the TV station trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame.
Vivi wiped tears from her cheeks with her bare hands. Dirt from the garden under
her fingernails left streaks of mud across her face. I tried to calm her down.
“Don’t get excited. Since Dallas went on the air this morning announcing the new
Find Lewis Heart
campaign, the phone has been
ringing off the hook. I have already called Sonny and he is checking things out.
We don’t think any of the tips are credible yet.”

Vivi got up and walked over to the sink, turned on the spigot
and shoved an old Anchor Hocking glass under the running water. “I don’t get
it,” she said. She turned off the water, took a sip and used the rest to rinse
her face, grabbing a dish towel and dabbing her cheeks.

“Look,” I said. “First of all, it was Dallas who said this
happened. So that means maybe it did, maybe it didn’t. You just can’t trust that
big bag of hot air. I went to get more information about the source, but Dallas
was, well, being Dallas. She just loved the fact that I needed something from
her.”

“So she wouldn’t talk?” Vivi asked, exasperated.

“To be honest, I’m not sure she had anything else to say. She
just enjoys watching me need something from her. I left telling her I’d subpoena
her, but really, I think she’s pretty clueless at the moment.”

“More than usual?” Vivi added with some sad sarcasm. Vivi had
been pacing around the kitchen. She had pulled down some pink glasses from the
white cabinets and poured us both a glass of sweet iced tea, the house wine of
the South, while she paced. Vivi made her way to the cupboard and took out a
fresh jar of Dreamland BBQ sauce and grabbed a loaf of plain white bread. Time
for a snack. We sat dipping the bread into the sauce and sipping our tea. Who
needs ribs when you’ve got the sauce? She looked so exhausted, and I knew she
needed answers.

“Are you scared for yourself?” I asked. “You know there is no
body right now, and I truly believe there won’t be. He’s out there somewhere. At
this moment, Lewis Heart is simply a missing person.”

Vivi dropped her head down on the old table and began to
sob.

“Blake,” she started, but couldn’t get the words out.
“I…I…”

“What is it, sweetie?” I became worried that Vivi needed to say
something.

“I’m not worried about myself. I just…well, I’m just…”

“I know, honey. I’ve seen it in your eyes. What is it? I know.
It’s that you love him, right?” I asked.

“What?” she said.

“Lewis…you love him…that’s it, right?”

Silence.

“No, Blake.” Vivi finally got it together. “No, Blake, that’s
not it. I mean, I do. Of course I do. But I thought that was obvious.” She
paused. Then she looked deeply into my eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

I dropped my glass to the floor and it broke to
smithereens.

“I know I did not hear that right,” I said. To Vivi, I am sure
it looked like my brain had just fallen out of my head. I said nothing. I moved
nothing. The iced tea was all over the floor.

“Blake.” She leaned over and locked her eyes with mine. “Say
something. Anything.”

“I know I heard something, but I know you did not say what I
thought I heard. Did you?”

Arthur appeared at the door, the sound of the glass crashing
having alerted him. He rushed over and began to pick up the pieces when Vivi
jumped up and told him she’d get it.

“I am so sorry,” I said, still shaking. “Let me.”

We all began to nervously clean up the tea like it was an oil
spill—in a panic and in a hurry. It was awkward. Both of us needing Arthur to
return to the rose gardens and leave us to continue the newsflash. She looked up
at me with such desperation.

“Blake,” she began.

I stopped her. “You don’t have to say it again,” I said,
gesturing to Arthur’s presence. I couldn’t speak anymore. I looked at her. I had
a million questions. I got down on my knees next to Arthur to be eye to eye with
her. I couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say, so I held her. And there
we were, in her kitchen, on the floor, on our knees hugging. It reminded me of
my wedding proposal. Why, during all the monumental moments in my life, am I on
my knees? No one would ever understand this moment with Vivi. I did. She loved
Lewis pure and simple.

She sniffled on my shoulder and whispered to me, “Blake, I
really want to do this.”

“Like there is even a question here.” I smiled at her. I had to
lighten it up or both of us would startle poor Arthur. Nobody else needed to
know just yet.

“That sure must be some real expensive tea for y’all to be laid
out all over it like this.” He was so warm and funny and instantly lightened the
mood. We both let out a giggle so he would know we heard him and hurry it up out
of the kitchen.

“Of course,” I said, smiling at Vivi as we all cleaned up the
mess. She knew it would be okay. I could see it in her red, teary eyes. We stood
up and I rested both my hands on her shoulders. Arthur smiled and headed out the
back door with a paper towel full of glass shards and wet with sweet tea without
asking any questions. Surely he thought we were just crazy as usual and saw
nothing out of the ordinary.

“We’re going to spoil her rotten,” I said with a wink. “And we
will get to the bottom of this whole case, and if your Lewis is out there, I
will find him and bring him back to you and this baby.” I was full of
determination. Full of promise. The stakes had now been raised—the famous Bama
Broadcaster was not only missing…he was also gonna be a daddy!

11

M
y cell phone began ringing. The
caller ID indicated Harry was on the line. As I left the kitchen, Vivi grabbed
my arm and gave it a yank. I looked back at her. She put her finger to her lips
and shook her head.

I nodded. “No one but us,” I whispered.

“Hey,” I answered, moving into the other room. “Anything going
on?”

“I’m with Sonny at Lewis’s condo on campus. He said it was time
to do a search.”

“Find anything?” I asked.

“Not yet, but I think we need to talk to Vivi. She spent the
most intimate time with him recently. She’ll know things no one else will
know.”

“So true,” I answered.
More than you could
ever guess,
I was thinking.

“Anything going on with you?” he asked.

Just a pregnancy. You know, typical stuff
like that.
I kept up the acting job. “Nothing. I’m with Vivi now and
I’ve got a meeting with the Myrnas today.”

“Well, I want to be there when Sonny questions Vivi again.
We’re wrapping it up here, so how ’bout three o’clock at the station? Will you
be done with your meeting by then?”

“Three is fine, but the station makes her too nervous. Let’s go
to Mother’s. She’ll relax there,” I said. “I’ll call Meridee and let her know.
She’s leaving for her sister’s today, so we won’t have an audience this time.
That will be perfect.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll let Sonny know.” He hung up.

I closed my phone, holding it to my face as if holding on to
something familiar, then I turned to Vivi to let her know the plan. I left her
standing in her kitchen with a hug.

“Okay, listen,” I said matter-of-factly. I wanted her to feel
strong, to pull it together. “I’ve got a meeting in half an hour at the office.
This Myrna case is reaching fever pitch, so I’m sure I’ll be tied up for a
while. But, Harry and Sonny need to see us at three at Mother’s. I’ll be by here
to pick you up, okay?”

“Did they find out something?”

“No, just some strategy ideas. Now, get cleaned up and I’ll see
you in a few.” I walked out to my car and waved bye to Arthur and drove to my
office, where I knew the Myrnas would be waiting.

* * *

For three months I had been tied up in a legal battle
over a magnificent old house in the center of town. The Brooks Mansion was not
your typical old Southern plantation. Stories from all over the South had been
told and retold about this famous old place. It was even featured in a book on
Alabama ghosts. Of all the supposed haunted houses in Tuscaloosa, and believe me
there’s more than you might think, the Brooks Mansion had become the Holy Grail
if you were looking for apparitions—it is unquestionably known as Tuscaloosa’s
most haunted house and is such an important part of Tuscaloosa’s history. It was
constructed in a unique mix of Greek Revival and Italianate architecture and was
built in 1837 by the then-owner, Dr. Robert Brooks. Many stories say Dr. Brooks
himself still walks the halls and that his wife, who also died there, starts
fires in the bell tower. The hauntings are the reason the house does not sell
and is not kept up. But it is certainly a place that attracts the
ghostbusters.

The Brooks Mansion was owned by a church, and for the past few
years it had been listed as one of Alabama’s Places in Peril by the Alabama
Historical Society. Being born and raised in Tuscaloosa gives you a sense of
pride in the town’s history, and I’ve always felt that it’s important to
preserve what we can of our past, so I had been fighting alongside the
Tuscaloosa Historical Society to save the mansion. I even became a member of the
Preservation Society myself.

The Myrnas are one of the wealthiest families in town, but they
have little respect for history or preservation. They wanted to buy the land
this grand old home sits on and tear it down for a shopping center. For the
Myrnas money trumps antiquity any day. I had been trying to get the place listed
on the National Registry of Historic places so the Myrnas couldn’t touch it.

I was meeting with them that afternoon because they thought we
could come to some sort of agreement. I knew they believed that any problem
could be solved with the right amount of money, but I was not about to let
Tuscaloosa’s rich history be bought—not for any price. They were about to see
the challenge they had in front of them. Me. A passionate soul that fights tooth
and nail for the things she loves. I just wished it were as simple as buying the
whole place myself and caring for it. If I could, I would have made it into
something special again. Something the town really needed, that everyone could
enjoy. Unfortunately I wasn’t quite as well-off as the Myrna family. But no
matter what, I knew I would never give in to their little proposition.

I parked on the street just outside my office and went in the
front entrance instead of my usual spot in back. Wanda Jo was sitting at her
desk. I was a few minutes early.

“Hey Wanda Jo,” I said as I grabbed my mail off the side
credenza. “Everything on schedule?”

“Yep, they’ve already called to confirm. Those people scare
me,” she said, “always sho’in’ up in such formal suits and every one of ’em have
shady smiles. Where I come from, you just know folks like that are up to no
good.” She unwrapped a Hershey’s Kiss from the candy jar near her computer and
popped it in her mouth.

“I know it and I agree with you,” I said. “But believe me,
there’s no way on God’s green earth that Brooks Mansion will ever be torn down.
Not as long as I am breathing.” I was already sounding impressive.

“You know I knew your grandfather, Blake, and he would have
been so proud of you,” she said. “You are so much like both of your
grandparents. That’s what makes you such a damn good lawyer. You always fight
for the underdog, just like your grandmother, Meridee. You have enough passion
for the things you believe in to go ’round the moon and back. If I could sell
tickets to this showdown here today, I would. And my money’s on you, sugar.”

“Thanks, Wanda Jo. I feel pretty good, too. I mean, Tuscaloosa
supports their own and their history. Even if they try to tear that beautiful
old place down, there would be a sit-in a mile wide on the grounds.” We smiled
at each other. “Okay,” I said as I turned. “I’ll be in my office. Let me know
when everyone gets here and I’ll meet them in the conference room.” I headed
down the hall and closed my door.

I wished Harry had been working on this one with me, but I
remember when the case came in, he was just putting his campaign staff together
and was too preoccupied to get involved. It’s just one of many cases we now
handled independent of each other. I missed working with a partner. That’s what
I thought we were doing when we started our practice together. I sat there
thinking about that and the disappointment fluttered into my head for a moment.
I shook it off. I knew I had to focus to deal with the important case at
hand.

I got out my file on the Myrnas and made some notes. Wanda Jo
buzzed me over the intercom and announced that Ms. Crabtree, the Historical
Society president, had arrived. I had wanted to meet with her ahead of time to
hash out the strategy.

“Send her on back,” I said. Ms. Crabtree was about sixty-five
years old but looked older than her years. She wore her brownish-gray hair on
top of her head in a small bun and carried her purse on her forearm. She was a
proper woman. Always in a skirt and jacket. She had retired from the university
where she had spent nearly thirty years as a history professor. I respected her
and we had a great working relationship.

I heard Wanda Jo walking down the hall and she opened my door
to let Ms. Crabtree in.

“Have a seat, Ms. Crabtree,” I said as she entered. “So nice to
see you again.”

“Thanks, Ms. Heart, good to see you, too.” She took a seat in
the leather chair in front of my desk.

“What can I get y’all to drink?” Wanda Jo said. “I know what
you want, Blake, another Diet Coke, but what about you, Ms. Crabtree? Coke, tea,
whisky?”

“Wanda Jo!” I said it like I was surprised at her, but I
wasn’t.

“Oh, I’m just kiddin’. But those Myrnas sure make me need a
swig.”

“I’ll have iced tea, please,” Ms. Crabree said. Wanda Jo went
to the office kitchen and returned with the drinks and shut the door.

“Well, I believe we are ready,” I told Ms. Crabtree. “Do you
have any questions?”

“I just want to make sure this is gonna work. So many people
are counting on us to save this building and restore it.”

“It will be fine. I was assured that as long as the National
Registry is working on this, it is not a possibility for the Myrnas to go ahead
with their plans to tear it down. Just follow my lead and we can hold them off
for a little while longer.”

“Oh, I hope so. We need this building for future generations.
We need to pass down our history!”

Wanda Jo interrupted us. The Myrnas were early. I smiled at Ms.
Crabtree and we joined the group already waiting in the conference room.

“Good afternoon,” I said as we all sat down at the large oval
table. Wanda Jo had put a pitcher of sweet tea and some glasses at the center of
the table. The Myrna men were old rednecks that had come into a fortune buying
and selling property—mostly commercial, but they owned a few rental houses, too.
Nobody around town trusted them too much. Both the older Mr. Myrna and his son
were at the meeting that day.

“Ms. Heart, Ms. Crabtree, we don’t want to waste any of your
time with chatter so let’s just cut to the chase here,” old Mr. Myrna began. “We
understand that you believe it is of the utmost importance to keep that old
haunted shack intact for the future generations of Tuscaloosans, but we feel
just the opposite. We feel that building a shopping center and parking deck will
help bring back a lot of jobs, and Ms. Heart, we all know how bad the economy
has been all over the country. Our plan brings in money and your plan costs
money.”

“I don’t believe you have the right at this time to have any
say-so whatsoever on the future of the famous Brooks Mansion,” I shot back.
“It’s not anywhere close to being yours. So, while I am extremely impressed by
your concern over Tuscaloosa’s future generations, we’re not quite ready to hear
your thoughts on the matter. Now, let’s proceed with today’s business.” I needed
to establish that we were in control and would not be bullied.

“Suit yourself,” the younger Myrna said. “But, we’ll see about
that.”

“Here is a copy of our petition to have this home put on the
National Registry of Historic Places. And here’s a copy of our petition to have
it continue to be listed on Alabama’s Places in Peril. As long as those
petitions are under review, you can’t budge with your bulldozers. There is no
deal on the table.” I passed out the copies of the petitions and glanced
confidently at Ms. Crabtree.

“And we would like to present a little paperwork of our own.”
Mr. Myrna Jr. opened his briefcase and passed out a copy of the real estate
offer on the home and the date the offer was made had been highlighted for all
of us to see. It was dated one week
before
our
petitions. My stomach dropped like it did when Harry told me Lewis was dead and
Vivi might be involved. But I didn’t let a beat go by.

“I will need some time to investigate this. When we filed our
petitions we were told that no real estate deal was in play.” I was in shock but
hoping those great acting skills would take over any second now. I played it as
cool as I could although my nerves were about shot. “Ms. Crabtree, you also
checked on the real estate deals and offers on the place, as well, and did you
find anything at all like this?”

“No, I certainly did not.” She held it together.

“Well, Mr. Mryna, until the deal goes through, the Brooks
Mansion is not yours. So you still cannot proceed with any plans. “And—” I
looked at Ms. Crabtree “—I heard things can stay tied up in commercial real
estate for what seems like an eternity. Didn’t you hear that, too, Ms.
Crabtree?”

“Yes, I most certainly did,” she said. She was quite the team
player.

“I think that will be all for today until I can find out some
more details regarding this offer. I’ll get back to you and set up the next
meeting. Thank you for coming.” I stood and shook hands and walked them to the
front of the office. Ms. Crabtree hung behind.

“Blake,” she said, “thank you. You were wonderful and we do
appreciate it.”

“Ms. Crabtree, I will get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry.
We made a good team in there,” I told her. “I’ll be in touch.”

She hugged me and walked out the front door. As soon as it
closed, I collapsed into one of the chairs in the lobby. I felt like I had been
shot out of a cannon, hurtling through the air and having no idea where I was
about to crash.

“You okay?” Wanda Jo asked. “You don’t look so good. Want me to
run and get your Diet Coke?”

“No,” I answered, “but how ’bout a shot of that whisky?”

“Comin’ right up.” She smiled and jumped up, trotting off to
the kitchen, pitching me a Hershey’s Kiss through the air as she went. What in
the world would I have done without Wanda Jo? I should have been driving a fire
truck that day ’cause all I seemed to be doing was putting out fires.

* * *

Vivi and I were already waiting in Meridee’s kitchen
when Harry and Sonny pulled up in their separate cars at exactly 3:05 p.m. I had
called Meridee to let her know we were coming for a chat, so even though she was
on her way out, she had put the coffee on and set the creamers out on the yellow
table. The table sat in the center of the kitchen and it held a jar of spoons
and an old sugar container in the center. It was perfect for a little private
heart-to-heart.

Meridee was leaving today to go with her younger, party animal,
seventy-five-year-old sister from north Alabama on a trip to celebrate Meridee’s
upcoming birthday, which was in a couple of weeks. My great-aunt had come down
to pick her up because Meridee’s car was in the shop. Meridee insisted on
driving my grandfather’s old car and the parts were hard to find when something
broke down. The car had been sitting in the shop for a couple of weeks waiting
on parts that had to be shipped in, but that wasn’t about to slow down Meridee’s
plans. Now the two of them were headed on a gambling adventure in Mississippi.
Even at nearly eighty, Meridee was full of life—and sometimes full of the devil.
Her constant sarcasm and dirty mind were the source of many side-splitting
evenings of laughter in her house. She was a tiny woman, all of about five feet
tall and maybe one hundred and ten pounds…soaking wet. But her laughter was
large and full and her heart was even larger.