Wreath (37 page)

Two other students crowded near, trying to ask questions about their projects, and the boy pulled back.

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” he said and bolted from the room.

With a weight in her stomach, Julia turned to the other kids and tried to push the thought of an ill Wreath from her mind. During her next class period, she searched her files for Wreath’s student profile, something she asked each of her students to fill out.

No such sheet was available, and she wasn’t surprised when she looked at her early semester list and saw that Wreath was among a dozen or so students who had never turned their paperwork in.

Julia groaned. If only she’d paid more attention to her students and less to being forced to teach history …

As soon as the afternoon bell rang, she rushed from the school, passing Mrs. Colvin in the hallway.

“Leaving early today, are we?” the old art teacher asked, her tone disapproving.

At first Julia ignored her, but then she turned around. “Mrs. Colvin, was Wreath Williams in your class yesterday and today?”

The teacher shook her head. “She not only skipped two days of class, but she missed a test, and she can’t make it up. She’s been doing much better since you’ve tutored her, but she’ll have to work to hold on to her A.”

Julia tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean she can’t make it up?”

“I checked with the attendance clerk. Miss Williams’s parents didn’t call in either day, and no one checked her out of school.”

“Maybe she’ll have a written excuse tomorrow,” Julia said. “Wreath’s a very conscientious student.”

“If you say so,” Mrs. Colvin grumbled and walked back toward the art room.

The school office after school was like a beehive, with teachers submitting various fees from students, club leaders trying to get their events on the master calendar, and the attendance clerk, the queen bee, ordering volunteers around and tallying the day’s absentee rate.

“I hate to interrupt, but did Wreath Williams’s guardian call in yesterday or today?” Julia asked.

The clerk gave a put-upon sigh and looked through the list. “I haven’t heard from anyone regarding a student by that name.”

“Can you give me her home number and her guardian’s name? She lives with a cousin north of Landry.”

Julia could tell that the office worker was in a hurry to finish, but she turned to the computer and logged into the enrollment files, Julia watching over her shoulder. “Wreath Williams?”

Julia nodded, anxious. “She’s the new student who transferred in from Lucky this year. One of the top students in the senior class.”

“I see her name.” The clerk frowned. “This is odd, though. We never got the official transcript from her last school, plus she’s missing the required medical records.”

Julia winced as another piece of the mystery of Wreath fell away. “It’s probably an oversight. She’s an A student, a very bright girl.”

“I’m glad you mentioned her,” the clerk said. “If she doesn’t get this information turned in, she can’t graduate. I need to follow up with her parents.”

“Not parents,” Julia said. “She lives with a cousin. I’ll mention it when I talk to him.”

“Make sure you do. She can have the best grades in Rapides Parish, but she won’t graduate without straightening this out.”

Julia exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “What’s that phone number, please?”

The clerk looked closer at the screen, still frowning. “Apparently they didn’t have a phone when she registered,” she said, “but I have an address.” She wrote the street name and number on an index card and handed it to Julia. “Be sure Wreath stops by to see me. I’d hate for her not to get her diploma over a filing error.”

“She’s not only counting on a diploma, but on a scholarship,” Julia said and walked out in the hall, looking down at the address on the card. She knew it was not where Wreath’s cousin lived.

It was the address for Durham’s Fine Furnishings.

An error had not caused the missing records.

Something very strange was going on with Wreath Williams.

The front door swung open, the bells ringing loudly with the force of a hard shove.

Faye hurried from the workroom, hoping it was Wreath, who had missed work yesterday without letting her know.

A large man was silhouetted near the plate glass window, the glare making it hard to see his features.

“Hello, Mrs. Durham, how are you?” The voice was higher pitched than his size suggested, his hair was pulled back in a ridiculous tiny ponytail, his fingers covered with rings. “It’s me, Fred Procell.”

“Oh Fred, for heaven’s sake,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

“I was sorry to hear about Mr. Billy,” he said. “He was one of the best men I ever worked for.”

One of the only men Fred ever worked for, if Faye remembered correctly. Fred had been Billy’s deliveryman for about a year but had left work one day and never come back. They’d suspected he’d stolen the day’s receipts, but Billy said it wasn’t worth fooling with.

“I was wondering if you might need a worker around here,” Fred said. “I’m looking for a job.”

“Oh, I have help,” Faye said. “She’s …” Suddenly she shut up. Something about this man made her uneasy, and she didn’t want to discuss Wreath. “J. D. next door fills in for me from time to time, and the Nelsons from church have been good to me.”

The hulking man studied the store, as though memorizing it. Faye wondered if it were her imagination, or if his eyes lingered on the desk drawer where she kept cash, checks, and credit card receipts.

“Do you know of anyone who might be hiring?” he asked.

“No. Business is slow most places these days,” she said. “You’d probably do better somewhere besides Landry.”

“I’ve heard you’re doing well here.” He walked over to the clothing area. “Junkyard Couture. Do people buy this old stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Faye inched toward the door. She could see J. D. on the sidewalk near the hardware store and hoped he might wander in as he so often did these days.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll check back in with you later,” Fred said. “Maybe you’ll hear of something.”

“Probably not.” Faye did not want him to come back in the store. He was definitely a shifty-looking sort. “I don’t hear much news around town anymore. You might check at the hardware store.”

She felt guilty foisting him off but knew J. D. was plenty strong enough to handle him. She’d never thought about it before, but J. D.

looked quite fit for a man his age.

“Could I trouble you for a drink of water before I get going?” Fred asked, moving farther into the store as Faye walked toward the door. She couldn’t think of a way to turn him down without showing her nervousness, and she didn’t want him to think she was afraid of him. Which she was, although she couldn’t pinpoint why.

“Water’s in the back.” She strode past him, leaving a wide circle between them. He seemed to notice, and something like a smirk came to his lips.

As Faye ushered him to the rear of the store, she looked over her shoulder at the clock. It was almost time for Wreath to come in, and Faye was going to do her best to keep the man from laying eyes on the girl. A sweet, pretty young woman like Wreath didn’t need any contact with a man like Fred Procell.

Her eyes were as watchful as his as they moved through the showroom.

Right as they reached the rear, the back door, left unlocked during business hours since Julia had started coming over frequently, flew open. The door opened easily now, thanks to J. D. and what Wreath called his Magic Hardware Juice.

“Faye, have you seen Wreath today?” Julia asked and then stopped so fast she nearly fell over. If the moment hadn’t been so tense, it would have been comical. “What’s he doing here?”

Faye’s eyes widened, while the man’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you know this man?” Mrs. Durham asked.

“Did you say Wreath?” Fred said at the same time.

Suddenly Faye gave a hyena-like laugh, so forced it sounded like something out of a horror movie. “No, Julia, I haven’t found you one of those old
wreaths
you keep hounding me for.”

Turning to Fred Procell, who apparently had some connection with Julia, she gave an exasperated sigh. “You were asking me if people buy this old stuff, and my tenant here is one of those people who won’t let up on collecting.”

Fred’s eyes moved from one woman to the other, and he looked like he was trying to decide whether to believe Faye or not. Julia’s expression was a blend of consternation and indignation.

“Faye, whatever in the world …” The teacher’s voice trailed off as Faye furrowed her brow and tried to gesture with her eyes.

Julia looked over the man’s shoulder. “Is that a new lamp?” she gushed, suddenly rushing closer to the front of the store.

Trying to get close enough to whisper instructions, Faye followed. Fred strolled through the showroom, touching this item or that, stopping by the desk.

“Get J. D.,” Faye hissed as softly as she could.

“Where’s Wreath?” Julia asked under her breath.

The shake of Faye’s head was almost imperceptible, and Fred took a step toward Julia.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you since Thanksgiving,” the teacher said. “I didn’t know you and Mrs. Durham were friends.”

“I used to work here,” he said. “I’m hoping she’ll take me back on.”

Faye looked around with feigned regret. “I told Fred that business isn’t very good in Landry these days.”

Julia wrinkled her face for a second and then smoothed it to give Fred what appeared to be a sympathetic look. “I’m about the only person who buys Faye’s junk,” she said. “She told me she might better go back to fine furniture.”

The door jangled again, and Faye froze, Fred whirled around, and Julia sucked in her breath.

J. D. walked in, a potted geranium in his hands. “I brought Wreath one of those pink geraniums she was so crazy about.”

Faye interrupted before he could continue. “J. D., do you know of anyone in town who’s hiring? You may remember Mr. Procell here. He used to work for Billy and is looking for a job.”

J. D.’s congenial look fell away, and his eyes hardened. “I remember Fred very well. I’m surprised you’d show your face around here again.”

“I don’t plan to be here long,” Fred said, edging toward the door. “I’ve got a few loose ends to tie up and then I’ll be heading out. Was hoping for a little work, but I’d best be going.”

He pushed the door rather than pulled it, cursed, and then pulled it back against his heavy boots. Muttering, he hurried off down the street.

Faye rushed over to J. D. and threw her arms around him, nearly knocking the plant out of his hands. “I can’t thank you enough for coming in when you did,” she said. “That man is trouble.”

“You’re probably going to want to call the police,” Julia said and pointed to the desk. The middle drawer was standing open, the money bag unzipped. “I think you’ve been robbed.”

The door flew open again, and Faye hoped to see Wreath walking through, safe and sound. Instead, the boy, Law Rogers, stepped in. His gaze was full of hope as he looked around the store, but it turned to dread after a moment.

“Wreath’s not here?” he asked without his usual polite greeting.

“I was hoping you had heard from her,” Faye said, her heart sinking.

Law shook his head, his dark hair falling into his troubled eyes.

Faye drew a deep breath and offered a silent prayer. For a second, she thought of the quiet days when no one came in. Now she desperately wanted Wreath to walk through the door and greet the trio who had come to help.

“She wasn’t in class today,” Julia said. “That’s why I came over in the first place. She had a big oral report to give yesterday, and she didn’t show up then either. That’s not like her.”

“Law, have you ever met her guardian, this cousin who lives north of town?” Faye asked as the ominous air continued to grow in the room.

“No, ma’am,” Law said. “Wreath said he’s grouchy and doesn’t like visitors. I don’t think his family is all that keen on having her live with them.”

“I’ve never laid eyes on him,” Julia said. “Neither have I,” Faye said.

“This doesn’t add up,” Julia said. “Did you know she listed the store as her home address?”

“I know she’s been getting mail here,” Faye said. “This came today.” She held up a large manila packet, addressed to Wreath Williams. The return address included the logo of a nearby community college. “She’s gotten two or three others the past several weeks.”

Julia put her hand on her forehead. “She wants to go to college so badly,” she said. “We have to help her.”

“We need to look for her,” J. D. said.

Law headed for the door. “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” he said.

Chapter 35