A Rip Roaring Good Time (19 page)

I hadn't realized how out of shape I'd let myself get until after I'd finished a lengthy warm-up routine of push-ups, sit-ups, and squat thrusts. I'd gotten through the first two, but it was the squat thrusts that nearly did me in. I was ready to wave the white flag about the time Joy began demonstrating a few basic pole-dancing moves in the front of the class. She gyrated from one position to the next on a steel pole that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Compared to the calisthenics I'd just struggled through, it looked vulgar, but relatively easy. About halfway through her routine, I wanted to tell her that she and the pole needed to get a room.

As I soon discovered, attempting a maneuver called the "caterpillar" was not as effortless as Joy made it look. Crawling up the pole upside down, using only your hands and knees to propel your body upward, while trying to keep from sliding down the pole into a undignified heap on the floor, was not the piece of cake I expected it to be.

When it was my turn to practice the assigned move on one of the four poles situated in opposite corners of the room, I approached one of them as several other participants walked up to the three remaining poles. For some reason, all eyes were on me, even those of the girls practicing the move on the other three poles. I was sure they were all thinking I was way out of my league. I hoped to prove to them otherwise. With unwarranted confidence, I grabbed hold of the pole with clammy hands, anxious to demonstrate to the younger gals how to flawlessly execute the move.

That confidence began to dissipate rapidly as I hung upside down in what I'm sure was a most comical version of the "caterpillar" position. At one point I'm pretty sure I saw my entire life flash before my eyes. Gravity had caused all the blood in my body to migrate south and pool in my head. I lost my grip just seconds before I'm sure I would have lost consciousness.

Lying in the aforementioned undignified heap at the base of the shiny pole, listening to the snickering of two dozen young floozies, convinced me to sit out the next few maneuvers and wait for the remainder of the program to run its course. It was a painful reminder that my body wasn't capable of doing all the things it could do when I was the age of the other ladies in the class.

Finally, Joy announced that the weekly program was over for the day and she looked forward to seeing us all next week, same time, same place. I hoped she wasn't really expecting to see me at one of her programs ever again in this lifetime. Throughout the lesson, she had continuously glanced over at me, presumably to verify I wasn't in desperate need of resuscitation—yet.

After the room cleared, Joy walked over and asked me what I wanted to talk with her about. I hadn't come up with a smooth way to launch into the topic of the recent death of her boyfriend and father of her baby. So I just dove right in, asking her, "Isn't all this strenuous exercising hazardous to your baby's health?"

Joy swallowed hard and asked, "My baby?" She was obviously taken aback by my question. "What are you talking about?"

I didn't have a game plan so I had to think fast on my feet. "I was at the gun club your parents opened last fall, practicing shooting clay pigeons, when I heard your mother, Viola, mention you were expecting a baby. So I was naturally surprised when I saw you were teaching this pole-dancing class."

Joy stared at me for an uncomfortably long period of time before responding. "Oh, goodness. I didn't even realize my parents knew I was pregnant. I lost the baby soon after I found out I was expecting a child, before I could even break the good news to them. After they took the baby, I decided telling my parents would serve no good purpose. I didn't want to upset my mom and dad by telling them I'd lost what would have been their first grandchild."

"I understand completely. I think I'd have done the exact same thing if I were in your shoes. And now that you've lost the baby's father also, and in such a violent way, you must be totally devastated. I truly am so sorry for both of your losses," I said to console her when she began to weep. I was relieved to find she wasn't as hard-hearted as I'd first thought she might be, and also that she didn't appear to recognize me from the night of the party.

"It recently occurred to me that you're the Joy White that Alice Runcan mentioned to me when my husband and I ate breakfast the other morning at Zen's Diner in Ferry's Landing," I said as casually as I could.

"Alice Runcan mentioned me?" She asked with obvious astonishment. "What did she say?"

"Oh, nothing too interesting. She just made the remark you were good friends. That's about it, if I recall."

"How odd," Joy said. "She was actually my best friend throughout our school years, but I haven't seen her in a long time. She, Rayleen Waters, and I called ourselves the 'Three Musketeers' back then, but I haven't seen either one of them in years. As often happens after high school, we all kind of drifted apart and went our separate ways."

"Very common," I replied. "Same thing happened to me and some of my dearest friends. Of course, getting married right out of high school because I'd heard you couldn't get pregnant if you had sex standing up, might have had something to do with it. I was rather naïve back then, you see. But after giving birth, I had no time to do anything but care for our baby girl. Oh, dear Lord. I'm so sorry. What was I thinking? Here I am talking about caring for a baby with you having just lost one, and the baby's father as well. How thoughtless of me. Please forgive me, dear."

"That's okay. You know, I'm coming to terms with losing the baby, but it still hasn't completely hit me that Trotter is dead. I can't imagine who'd do such a thing to him. I know he wasn't perfect, but who among us is? It's still totally unfathomable to me," Joy said. She began to weep and tears ran down both cheeks.
Was her grieving an act?
I wondered. But just in case it wasn't, I didn't want to upset her any further. Anyhow, I had a gut feeling she had nothing to do with, and knew nothing about, who had perpetrated the death of Trotter Hayes. I didn't think there was anything to be gained by grilling her with more questions. Not to mention, I could hear a tube of Bengay calling my name.

Joy began to hiccup. She apologized for breaking down and asked me again what I'd originally wanted to speak to her about. I told her there was no need to apologize for grieving over the loss of a loved one. "Now is not the time to bother you with questions about advanced pole-dancing techniques, sweetheart. You need to concentrate on healing so you can get on with your life. My trivial concerns can wait."

Joy nodded and replied, "Yes, you're probably right. Maybe we can chat after next week's class instead."

"Yes, that sounds just fine, young lady," I replied. I put my right arm around her back and gave her shoulders a friendly squeeze.

She smiled through her tears and said, "I'm glad to see you enjoyed the class, Ms. Ripple. Are you seriously planning to come back for another lesson next week?"

"I'll be here with bells on," I said. Even though I gritted my teeth at her use of the word "seriously", I gave her a heartfelt, compassionate hug.
And maybe the week after that I'll star in "A Chorus Line on Broadway"
, I wanted to add. There wasn't enough Bengay at Walgreens for me to come back to this torture chamber again.

Chapter 12

An hour later, Rip found me lying on a chaise lounge on the back porch. I'd soaked in Epsom salts and then slathered myself with a topical pain relief cream. I'd found the old tube of Icy Hot in Lexie's medicine cabinet. It was called Icy Hot for a reason, I discovered. I greeted my husband when he stepped out onto the porch. I simply said, "Hey!" That one syllable used up all the energy I could muster.

"Hi, sweetheart," Rip said. "How was your morning?"

"Fine."

"Good. I was afraid it might be too strenuous for you," Rip said with insincere concern, I was certain. "But with all your previous dancing experience, and your innate ability to learn new skills, I knew you'd be a natural at pole-dancing. With your grace and flexibility, I can only imagine how delightful your—"

"Shut up, smartass!" I was in no mood to be teased about the exercise program I'd suffered through that morning. Instead of ridicule, I should be receiving praise for sacrificing my body for the cause. "And bring me an icepack. I think I pulled a groin muscle trying to put my left ankle around my neck in an ill-fated attempt to execute the 'hair chopper' maneuver."

"Oh, to have been a fly on the wall..."

* * *

Just before noon, the inn's landline phone rang. I'd been asked to answer any incoming phone calls in case it was a customer wanting to make a reservation. I picked up the portable phone I'd taken out on the back porch with me. I wasn't prepared to take down the customer's information, with the reservation book lying on the kitchen table while I was sprawled out on the lounge chair on the porch. I was glad it was Wendy instead.

"You busy at the moment?" She asked. I explained I'd been kicking back with my feet up but was available to do anything she might need me to do to help out.

"I'm meeting Mattie at the new Panera Bread on Main Street. Could you possibly join us for lunch? I have some new information I think you'd both be interested in."

"I'd be happy to. Stone and Rip are at the police station trying to get in to see Chief Smith. He's made it known he'd be in his office for a couple of hours this afternoon before going home to grieve privately and console his inconsolable wife. Stone told me that even though he knew it wasn't a good time to question Smith about Lexie's predicament, he wasn't sure when else he'd be able to get in to see him."

"Well, you have to admit that Chief Smith probably had a lot of details to take care of in his limited time," Wendy said. "It really wasn't the most opportune time to get in to chat with the man who'd just lost his son so violently."

"I understand why it might not be a good time for Chief Smith, but it's not his innocent wife who's locked up in that cage when she should be home where she belongs."

"I'll have to agree with you there, Rapella! It's not all about him like he seems to think it is. My poor mom is sitting in that holding tank and she doesn't deserve to be. Last night they put a raggedy young lady with no teeth and high on meth in the cell with her. She was released this morning, but I doubt Mom got a minute of sleep, even though Wyatt assured her he'd keep an eye out for her all night and wouldn't go home until her unkempt cellmate was out on bail. I'm sure the woman was probably harmless, but strung-out addicts can be unpredictable, you know."

"Oh, goodness, yes! Poor, sweet Lexie. My heart just goes out to her," I replied. "Is your news
good
news, I hope?"

"I don't know yet. Mom is at her preliminary hearing right now. I should know more by the time we meet for lunch."

"Let's keep our fingers crossed. And maybe our toes too. What time would you like me to meet you two?"

"One-thirty. This is Mattie's day off, and since she never found her iPhone, she decided to drive down to the Apple Store on the Plaza to buy a new iPhone 6. She said she should be back by one though. Got a pen handy so I can give you the address of the restaurant?"

"I don't want to hold you up while I drag my weary body to my purse to get a pen. I'm not operating on all cylinders right now."

"Why? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Unlike my husband, there was sincere concern in Wendy's voice.

"It was touch and go for a while, but I can almost see a light at the end of the tunnel now."

"Oh, my God! What happened?"

"I'm just pulling your leg, honey. I'm fine, just very sore. I'm sorry I scared you. I shouldn't mess with you like that, considering all the stress you're under right now. Anyway, I'll tell you about my morning in purgatory during lunch. In the meantime, I'll Google the restaurant and get the address off the web."

"Wow, good job, Rapella! You sound like an old pro on that iPad now. I'm impressed how you took what Mattie taught you and ran with it. Good job, my friend!"

Wendy's flattering words were just the boost I needed to encourage me to drag my aching bones up the stairs. I had to change out of my faded and shabby, but incredibly comfortable, old duds, and get ready to meet the two young ladies for lunch. I was anxious to hear the news Wendy had to share, and also to tell Wendy and Mattie what I'd learned about Joy's miscarried baby.

* * *

From the second I disconnected the phone call with Wendy, I was praying for good news about the hearing. If Lexie were released, she'd be of invaluable help in our efforts to exonerate her. She had more incentive than anyone to leave no stone unturned in this quest for justice because, after all, she had the biggest dog in the fight.