The Trouble with Tulip (42 page)

Simon zipped the suitcase shut, picked it up, and set it beside the door. Wiggles was still asleep, his snores practically rattling the windowpanes throughout the house.

Breakfast was a simple bowl of cereal because Simon didn't want to make any noises or smells that might wake up his roommate. Better that Wiggles sleep for as long as possible. That would make this day easier.

They had already said their farewells last night anyway, over reheated Chinese food. Wiggles had come home to find Simon crying about Edna and had turned out to be a pretty good friend. There weren't a lot guys who could sit there and watch another guy cry, but Wiggles hadn't seemed bothered by it. In fact, he shared the sad story of his own sibling's death, giving strange comfort to Simon in the universality of his suffering.

Today, after he finished eating, Simon would go outside and sit on the front stoop. The overnight delivery truck should arrive by ten
A.M
. at the latest. After that, Simon would take the money and run—straight to the airport, straight out of the country. He had pretty much decided on Brazil, though if it turned out that he would need a visa, his second choice was the Cayman Islands. Banking was easy there, where he could go by a number rather than a name.

There wasn't much Simon would miss by leaving the country. He had always struggled within himself between the two kinds of cons a person could choose from: the way he was raised, doing mostly small cons, and the way he had tried to earn money as an adult, doing mostly big cons. Each method had its pluses and minuses, but Simon had a feeling he was done with both types of cons for a while—at least until his money ran out. He'd spent the last year working so hard, and what had it brought him? A sister who'd found religion and decided to come clean, spoiling the whole game for both of them.

He could still picture Edna's face last Friday night when he got to her house. She had called and said she had an urgent matter to discuss with him, but the news she hit him with when he got there was something he wasn't prepared for in any way.

“I've had a big change in my life,” she told him. “Today I accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal Savior.”

Simon knew lots of folks who had taken the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Savior. He met them all in prison, where Bible study was a nice alternative to boredom and a religious conversion always looked good to the parole board.

But what good was Christianity in the outside world? Most of the inmates he knew who became Christians while on the inside went right back to their old lives once they were out. The best Simon could tell, all religion did in the real world was complicate things the way it had complicated the con with Edna.

In hindsight, Simon supposed, he should have seen it coming. When he first came to town and convinced his sister to get back in the game, she had really hesitated. Edna hadn't worked a con in the forty years since she ran away from the carnival and reinvented herself. But Simon convinced her to do it, promising money and excitement and a whole new life together. Edna was bored with being a widow, bored living in Mulberry Glen, bored by knowing her own daughter couldn't stand the sight of her and hardly ever visited. Finally, Edna relented. But as her friends and acquaintances got sucked into their little game, one by one, she hadn't seemed to be enjoying herself. Where Simon drew excitement and pleasure from clever deception, she seemed only to grow more withdrawn and guilty.

In the end, all it had really taken for her to change her ways was a kind word from the pastor's wife and a few well-chosen Bible verses.

“The Lord has washed me clean as snow, Simon,” Edna had told him that night. “All of my sins are gone. Do you understand that? They're gone, simply swept away, through the power of prayer and the redemption of Christ. Your sins can be gone too, Simon, just by letting the Holy Spirit into your heart.”

He let her make her pitch. But when she was finished, he told her he wasn't interested. It was after that that she dropped her bombshell.

“Well, then, you need to know,” she said, “at noon tomorrow I'm meeting with my lawyer to turn myself in. What you do between now and then is completely up to you.”

He realized that she had called him over there to give him fair warning. She was telling him that the con was off, and that he could either disappear on the double or stick around and end up getting arrested.

It broke his heart, and he cursed God, if there was one, for being more important to his sister than her own flesh and blood. How could she turn on him like that? Hadn't they always stuck up for each other? Hadn't he always been there for her?

Simon tried convincing her for over an hour, but she wouldn't budge. Even his stories about the misery of prison wouldn't dissuade her.

“My sins have been forgiven,” she kept saying, “but that doesn't mean I can continue to sin. I have to make this right, no matter what the cost.”

Her mind was made up. In the end, despite his anger, they had hugged goodbye—a long, tender hug that Simon knew might have to hold him for a good long while. From now on, he would be just another ex-con on the run, and his sister would likely be spending the next few years in jail.

After telling Edna goodbye, Simon had walked to the main road and caught a bus back to the hotel and packed up his things. At first he planned to get as far away as he could as quickly as possible. But the more he thought about it, the harder it was to leave. He ended up staying awake all night, trying to figure out some way to get out of town
with
the money. At least the bank had Saturday hours. In the end, he had caught the bus to the bank, gone inside as soon as it opened, and attempted to make a withdrawal. It hadn't worked, but that had still given him several hours to get away. He assumed Edna had gone along as planned, meeting with her lawyer at noon and confessing to their crimes. Little had he known, though, somewhere between the time he left her house and the next morning, that she had committed suicide. He wouldn't have predicted that, given her emotional state when he left, but one never knew. Before their mother killed herself, she made a batch of cookies and changed the kitty litter.

You could never know what someone else was really thinking.

Exhaling slowly, Simon stood and carried his bowl and spoon to the sink, setting them down without even bothering to wash them. Then he went outside and waited for the delivery, knowing that as soon as it came, his life would forever be changed.

To avoid the reporters camped out in front of her house, Jo parked at Danny's and went home across the backyard. She picked up Chewie on the way, who had once again been stashed in Danny's guest room. Jo knew she was taking advantage of Danny's hospitality, but she just couldn't bear the thought of Chewie running loose in her own home when she wasn't there. There was no telling what he might eat!

Chewie was delighted to see her, of course, practically knocking Jo over in his enthusiasm. She led him to her house on the leash, letting him stop at almost every tree to lift a leg. Once they were home, she slipped in through the back, went into the kitchen, and gave Chewie a nice big bowl of dog food. He wolfed it down while she checked her telephone messages.

There were plenty.

Her favorite was from her agent, who sounded more excited than he had been in a long time.

“Hey, doll!” he exclaimed. “It's Milton. Looks like you just got your fifteen minutes of fame. Call me right away so we can figure out how to use it to our advantage.”

The other calls were from reporters or friends, each wanting to pump her for information. Jo decided to ignore all but Milton. She called him back and they mapped out a strategy for how to proceed. He was going to put several things into motion right away, including trying to get her some television appearances and responding to an offer of a book deal.

“You need to start putting together a ‘Best of' collection,” he said. “Go through the old columns and think about how you would organize them into a book. I don't know what kind of advance we're talking about, but if you're gonna try to put something out, it would be nice to strike while the iron's hot.”

Jo felt a bit guilty once she hung up. It was one thing to fight her column's demise with grit and determination. It was quite another to capitalize on a tragedy just to make a buck.

She tried to think it through as she showered and dressed for the day. She was just buttoning her shirt when the phone rang. Letting it go to the machine, she listened until she heard Danny's familiar voice.

“Hey,” she said, picking up the phone. “Shouldn't you be on stage whacking a drum right now?”

“In about five minutes,” he said. “I had to talk to you first.”

“What's going on?”

According to Danny, they now had a whole new perspective on Edna Pratt's last days.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I just had a significant conversation with Cora Pepperdine. The pastor's wife here at the church.”

“Several weeks ago,” Danny said, “Cora had heard rumors that Edna Pratt was offering some of the older widows in the church a chance at ‘eternal life on earth.' Feeling concerned, Cora had paid a visit to Edna to talk about it. Edna had been very closemouthed during the whole encounter, but as Cora was leaving, she made Edna a promise. She said,
If you really want eternal life, Edna, I can tell you how to get it. It's not something you can earn or buy or wish into existence. It's a gift and it comes through the blood of Jesus Christ. Call me if you want to know more
.

“Edna must have been thinking it over ever since,” Danny said, “because last Friday morning she called Cora and asked if she could meet with her again. According to Cora, Edna Pratt had been reading the Bible, and she was feeling strongly convicted in her heart.”

“But, Danny,” Jo said, “don't you think this was just another swindle? It would have been easy for Edna to fake some sort of conversion if it would get the pastor's wife off her back.”

“Here's the thing,” Danny replied. “On Friday afternoon, Cora presented the plan of salvation and prayed with Edna, who seemed to genuinely come to faith. Afterward, Edna was crying and saying how evil she had been and how much she needed forgiveness. Cora assured her that God had given her that forgiveness the moment she asked for it, but then Edna said—are you ready?”

“What? What?” Jo prodded.

“Edna said, ‘I have to set things right. I have to go to the police and make them understand what I've done.' When Cora started asking questions, Edna just clammed up and said she had to talk to someone first and that the truth would all come out in the end.”

Jo sat there for a moment, thinking about the implications of what Danny had just told her.

“Edna was going to confess her part in the con,” Jo said softly. “She was going to own up to it, hoping to set things right. She was going to blow the whistle on the whole game. That means her brother must have been the one to kill her.”

“Maybe not,” Danny replied. “What if she warned him first? What if she told him what she was planning to do and gave him a chance either to convert and confess along with her or get out of town? That would explain why he disappeared right in the middle of the con. He got out while the getting was good.”

Jo nodded to herself. That would also explain why Edna had been in the middle of housecleaning and beautifying when she died. She was putting all of her ducks in a row before valiantly marching off to jail. Had she not been murdered Friday night, chances are Edna would have shown up at her lawyer's office on Saturday at noon, ready to tell all.

“It makes sense,” Jo said.

Danny had to go, as they were calling him to the stage. Jo hung up the phone, thinking of what they had learned.

If Edna was killed because she was going to confess, then whoever killed her was someone who needed to stop her from making that confession. Jo thought again of Edna's daughter, Sally, a woman whose political career took precedence over everything. She blinked, thinking also of the older women who had been duped—any one of which would have been mortified to see the truth come out in that way.

Jo got out the phone book and looked up the medical examiner's office. She had to go through several people, but finally she was connected with the coroner. She gave her name and reminded him how they met at Edna Pratt's crime scene. Then she asked if he would mind answering a few questions about the autopsy.