A Shred of Evidence (24 page)

Gordy Jameson rode his bicycle into Will Seevers’s driveway, then walked it to the side of house and set the kickstand. He caught a whiff of cologne and started to cough.

He stood for a moment, fighting the temptation to get back on his bicycle and forget the whole thing. He heard a car approaching and looked up, relieved to see Will’s squad car pull into the driveway.

“Man, I was afraid you were gonna stand me up,” Gordy said.

Will laughed. “I told you I’d be here. Will you calm down?”

Gordy walked over and poked his head in the open window. “Do I smell too strong? I think I mighta dumped too much cologne on me.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty stout, but we can fix that.” Will got out of the car and went to the side yard, picked up the garden hose, and turned it on. “Give me your hands.” Gordy held out his hands and Will got them wet. “Rub the water on your face and neck.”

Gordy splashed the water on his face and neck and rubbed until the breeze dried it. “Is that better?”

Will moved closer and took a whiff. “Yeah, smells good.”

“It’s Polo. Weezie gave it to me for my birthday. This is the first time I’ve used it.”

“Look, Gordy, I know you’re nervous, but Pam’s really easy to be around. Just be yourself. If you don’t hit it off, it’s no big deal.”

“That’s good because you keep assumin’ she’s gonna like me. I’m not exactly Tom Cruise, you know.”

“Will you give yourself a break? You’re a sensitive guy and women love that. I wouldn’t introduce you to Pam unless I thought she was good enough for you.”

“Yeah, but you’re prejudiced.”

“Maybe. But I’m right. Come on, let’s get the hard part over with.”

Gordy smoothed his hair with his hands, his stomach feeling as if a company of tiny soldiers were marching all over it. He followed Will into the house and was comforted by Margaret’s smiling face and the fact that she had on shorts.

Margaret put her arms around him and squeezed. “I’m so glad you came.” She took his hand and led him into the living room and over to the couch, where a woman sat talking to Meagan Seevers.

The woman’s face seemed to light up when she saw him, her round blue eyes looking into his and not at the spare tire around his middle.

“Gordy,” Margaret said, “this is Pam Townsend. Pam, Gordy Jameson.”

He wondered if Pam was disappointed. If she was, her pretty smile graciously concealed it. He held out his hand and shook hers. “Nice to meet you, Pam.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, sounding both relaxed and sincere.

Gordy decided she was fiftyish. Pixie haircut. Nice tan.

“Everyone make yourselves comfortable,” Margaret said, “and I’ll get us something to drink. I’ve got lemonade, Coke and Diet Coke, Seven-Up, iced spice tea, or water.”

Gordy sat in the chair opposite the couch and stole a few
glances at Pam. She wore denim pedal pusher-type pants and a floral print top and Birkenstocks. Her toenails were painted pink. She seemed energetic and earthy—and pleasantly feminine.

“Gordy?” Margaret said.

“Oh, uh, lemonade sounds great.”

Ellen Jones sat at her desk in the widow’s watch, chagrined that her fingers were still too sore to type. What difference did it make? Her creative juices had dried up.

With her left index finger, she finished composing a letter to the busybody who was gossiping about her, thinking it felt good to get it out of her system.

She heard footsteps ascending the winding staircase and then, out of the corner of her eye, saw Guy walk through the doorway.

“Were you able to get anything done on your novel?” he said.

“No, I’m much too angry to be creative. Not that my fingers would cooperate anyhow. I’ve written a scathing letter to that gossip, whoever she is. I wonder if the woman has any idea how hurtful this is?”

“I doubt it,” Guy said. “Probably thinks she’s doing me a favor.”

“Some favor. I wonder who else she’s told?”

“Ellen, don’t look for trouble. Maybe the woman felt compelled to go to your pastor, and that’s it.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being gossiped about.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You think this doesn’t affect me?”

“No, of course it does. That’s part of the reason I’m so mad. How will we ever know which neighbors she’s told—and what they think of us?”

“I don’t suppose we will. But worrying about it won’t change
anything. Maybe you need to pray for her, just like you’re praying for Ross. At least then you won’t feel like lynching her from the nearest tree.”

Ellen sighed. “The last thing I feel like doing is praying for someone who’s poisoning people’s minds about me.”

“I don’t blame you. But have you got a better idea?”

Ellen looked at the letter on her laptop screen. It was so perfectly worded. So satisfying. She glanced up at Guy and fought with herself for several seconds and pressed the delete button.

“Okay, it’s gone. But I don’t feel any better.”

“Come on, I’ll take you out to dinner.”

“I won’t be very good company.”

“I don’t know, you’re kind of cute when you’re pouting.”

“Don’t patronize me, Counselor. I’m not pouting. I’m seething with indignation!”

“Okay, withdrawn. How about a short recess?” Guy put his arm around her. “Honey, I know this is hurtful. But what really matters is that we know the truth. I don’t believe for a moment that you’d ever cheat on me. And you know I wouldn’t. You’re the one who always says God has a plan and uses all things for good. Maybe if we turn this situation over to Him, something good will come of it. Letting it eat you up isn’t helpful.”

There he went again, getting spiritual on her. “Okay, let’s go out for dinner,” Ellen said. “Though I doubt a full stomach will do anything to squelch my desire to tell this woman off.”

Gordy sat at the Seeverses’ dining room table, Will and Margaret sitting at opposite ends, and Pam and Meagan across from him. The dinner conversation had been more comfortable than he had anticipated, and eleven-year-old Meagan had kept them entertained.

Gordy took the last bite of strawberry shortcake, suddenly aware he was the only one still eating. He put down his fork,
wiped his mouth with a napkin, and sat back in his chair. “Excellent. Really a great meal, Margaret.”

“Would you like more dessert?”

“Sure I would. But I don’t know where I’d put it.”

“Anyone want more coffee?” Margaret said.

All heads nodded.

“I’ll get it.” Meagan jumped up and headed for the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway and looked back at Gordy, a big grin on her face, and mouthed the words, “She likes you.”

Gordy chuckled to himself. Like mother, like daughter.

Will leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “After we have coffee, anyone game for dominoes?”

“I am!” Meagan shouted from the kitchen. “Mexican Train!”

Will rolled his eyes. “Such a bashful child.”

“Gordy, how long have you owned your restaurant?” Pam asked.

“My folks founded the place fifty years ago. Gave me the keys about fifteen years ago. I practically grew up there. Spent more time playin’ in the backroom than I ever did at home. In some ways, it
is
home.”

“Did you work for your parents before they passed the business on to you?”

“Oh, yeah. I was bussin’ tables by the time I was nine or ten. Eventually they paid me to clean the place. Little by little, I learned to strip and wax floors, fix the plumbing, paint, do repairs—just about anything you can think of except cookin’ or keepin’ the financiais. Then after I dropped out of college, my dad had a little heart-to-heart with me. Told me it was time to fish or cut bait—either get serious about the business or find somethin’ else to do with my life. That’s when I decided I was in for the long haul. Dad took me under his wing and taught me everything he knew. I’ve never regretted it.”

Pam smiled. “I remember your parents. I used to eat there fairly often, though I haven’t since Todd died.”

Gordy was relieved to leave the conversation there and was glad when Meagan came out of the kitchen.

“Okay, fresh coffee.” Meagan held a full pot of coffee in one hand and a potholder underneath it with the other. “I sure wish this stuff tasted as good as it smells.”

Gordy studied Pam for a moment while all eyes were on Meagan. He definitely found her attractive. He wondered if she was the least bit interested in him—and if she was finding it as difficult to let go of Todd as he was Jenny.

The phone rang and Will excused himself and went out to the kitchen. A minute later he came back and stood holding the back of Margaret’s chair. “I hate to be a party pooper, but I have to go down to the station. Sounds like we found the south side hit-and-run driver.”

E
llen Jones sat in her rocker on the veranda, the sounds of night alive around her, and the conversation she’d had with Pastor and Dorothy Crawford replaying in her mind. How anyone could have made a case for adultery out of such innocent circumstances was beyond her.

“Ellen, come in here. You need to see this.”

She got up and went into the living room, where Guy sat watching TV

“The news is about to come on,” he said. “They’ve made an arrest in the hit-and-run case.”

“Good evening, this is Shannon Pate …”

“And Stephen Rounds. Welcome to Regional News at Eleven. Seaport Police may have found the hit-and-run driver responsible for the death of Jeremy Maxwell Hudson, the eight-year-old who was run down ten days ago while riding his bicycle in a south side neighborhood.

“Terrance Michael Adams, a thirty-four-year old-commercial fisherman, is being held tonight without bond in the Beacon County jail. Jared Downing is reporting live from Old Seaport, where Adams was arrested earlier this evening. Jared …”

“Stephen, 911 dispatchers received a call just after six o’clock this evening from Rick Ramirez, a west side resident, who, with his next-door neighbor Juan Martinez, was in pursuit of a blue pickup that had been driving erratically up and down Magnolia Lane where Ramirez’s children and other neighbor children were playing.

“According to police, Ramirez and Martinez were outside talking when the incident happened, and remembered the description of the driver involved in the south side hit-and-run. The two men got in Ramirez’s SUV and followed the blue pickup, then called 911 in an effort to get police help.

“Minutes later, two Seaport police cruisers had picked up the chase and motioned Ramirez to back off. The officers, lights flashing and sirens blaring, pursued the blue pickup through Old Seaport where the driver made an abrupt turn onto a gravel road and continued at high speed until the road came to a dead end. The truck then spun around, its right rear slamming into this loading dock warehouse behind me.

“Officers ordered Adams from the car, after which he failed an onsite sobriety test, and registered a blood alcohol level of .20. According to the arresting officers, Adams was, quote, ‘Disoriented, belligerent, and clueless.’ End quote.

“Crime Scene Investigators were called in to gather evidence from previous damage to Adams’s right front bumper, grill, and headlight. Though investigators refused to comment, a source inside the department confirmed they might have found DNA evidence. If the DNA matches that of Jeremy Hudson, Adams will be charged in the boy’s death. Police Chief Will Seevers is expected to make that announcement tomorrow morning.

“In the meantime, WRGL News has learned that Adams had been charged in two previous DUIs and was driving with a revoked driver’s license. Adams was also recently fired from J and R Commercial Fisheries for being intoxicated while on the job. This is Jared Downing, reporting live from Old Seaport. Stephen …”

“WRGL News will bring you the latest on this developing story as it is made available to us. In other news tonight, frustration abounds in the disappearance of two-year-old Sarah Beth Hamilton. Police and the FBI continue to sort through leads, which have not yielded anything useful in determining the little
girl’s whereabouts, even after the child’s parents, Julie and Ross Hamilton, addressed the media in a plea for their daughter’s life.