A Shred of Evidence (4 page)

“No! Mine!”

“The magazine isn’t Sarah Beth’s. It belongs to Miss Ellen.”

The little girl looked at Ellen, her lower lip pushed out, then clutched the magazine tightly to her chest. “My book!”

Ellen covered her smile with her hand and looked at Julie. “She can have the magazine. I’m finished reading it.”

“She’s been so headstrong lately, I hate to give in to her.”

“But she’s been an angel since you got here. The magazine is no big deal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Ellen winked. “I have a feeling the ride home will be much more pleasant if you take it with you.”

Julie picked up Sarah Beth and held her on one hip. “Miss Ellen says you may have the magazine. What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, cutie.” Ellen stroked the child’s curls,
amazed at how soft they were. “You were such a good girl. I’m glad you came.”

“Thanks for being so nice,” Julie said. “I was beginning to think moving here was a mistake.”

“Relocating is stressful,” Ellen said. “Give it time. Here’s my phone number if you need to talk.” Ellen jotted the number on the magazine cover.

“Thanks.”

“Oh, wait, don’t forget your sack in the refrigerator.”

Ellen sat on the veranda, enjoying the cool south breeze blowing off the gulf. She heard footsteps inside the house, and then the French doors open.

“I’ve been on the phone for hours,” Guy Jones said. “I thought I heard voices. Was someone here?”

“A young woman and her daughter I met at the grocery store.” Ellen told him about how she had apprehended Sarah Beth in the parking lot, and how that had led to a conversation with Julie, and Ellen inviting them over.

Guy walked to the other wicker rocker and sat. “Is she nice?”

“Yes, very nice,” Ellen said. “But deeply troubled about something.”

Guy arched his eyebrows. “And you know this because …?”

“Because she got emotional when she mentioned a problem between her husband and her parents. And she’s clinically depressed. I’d stake my life on it.”

“You can’t fix her, Ellen.”

“I know. But I can’t ignore her either.”

“Well, you were a good Samaritan, inviting her to your home, then listening to her talk. What more can you do?”

“Probably nothing. I gave her my phone number.”

Guy shook his head. “I hope you don’t live to regret it. She
sounds like one of those people who will drain you.”

“I won’t let it go that far. But maybe she doesn’t even know she’s depressed. She seemed detached much of the time, even from Sarah Beth.”

“Ellen, you’re not a shrink.”

She smiled. “I would’ve made a good one, though.”

“Come on, honey, use your energy for writing. You can’t save every stray you find.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m nice to one lonely young mother and now I’m trying to save every stray I find? That’s a weak and unfounded accusation, wouldn’t you say,
Counselor?”

He held her gaze, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Yes, I’d say. And if you get tired of writing or playing psychologist, you can always try law school.”

Julie slid the meatloaf into the oven, dreading the thought of another dinner alone and trying to talk herself into a proper perspective about her husband’s long hours. It was hard to say how long it would take to sell their house in Biloxi—especially after all the media hype. But without Ross’s overtime, she would have to go back to work.

Julie took in a breath and forced it out. Sometimes she wished she were teaching school again and able to get her mind on something positive. Ross wouldn’t hear of her leaving Sarah Beth in daycare, but what kind of stay-at-home mom was she in her current state of mind? She shuddered to think what could have happened to Sarah Beth in the grocery store parking lot. How could she have forgotten to fasten her daughter’s seatbelt?

Julie’s eyes clouded over and she laid the potholders on the countertop. Ross was too preoccupied with his own inward battle to realize how fragile she was. How was she supposed to cope?

“Mama?”

Julie batted her eyes until they cleared and she saw Sarah Beth standing in the doorway “What is it, sweetie?”

The little girl stood quietly for a moment, then came over and wrapped her arms around Julie’s legs and held tightly. “Be happy, Mama.”

Julie squatted in front of her daughter and brushed the unruly curls out of her eyes. “Do you know Mama loves you very much?”

An elfin grin spread across Sarah Beth’s face, her tiny arms stretched out as far as they would go, her eyes wide and expressive. “I wuv Mama berry, berry, berry, berry,
berry
much!”

“I know you do. And that’s why Mama’s happy.”

Sarah Beth put her hands on either side of Julie’s mouth and pulled up. “Put on happy face.”

Julie smiled in spite of herself and then took hold of her daughter’s hands and kissed them, thinking if only she could be as direct with Ross as Sarah Beth was with her, maybe things would start to get better.

E
llen Jones closed her Bible and walked through the open French doors onto the veranda. She took a whiff of damp, salty air and saw patches of hot pink sky through the sprawling branches of the live oak tree.

“What a gorgeous morning.” Guy came out and stood next to her, holding a tray. “Your coffee and newspaper, Madam.”

Ellen smiled and sat in the wicker rocker. “Thanks. It’s hard to break the ritual after all those years at the
Daily News.”

Guy set the tray on the side table. “Enjoy the quiet. I’m going to start reading through the Brinkmont files.”

“You’re not going to your Thursday Bible study?”

“No, I’ve got too much work to do.”

“That’s what you said last week.”

“I need to stay focused. That was the whole point of coming home early from Tallahassee.”

Ellen held his gaze. “It would be a shame not to finish your study of John after all the weeks you’ve invested.”

“There will always be another Bible study, honey. This case is demanding all my energy right now.”

Ellen didn’t say what she was thinking. She waited until he left, then poured a cup of coffee and opened the
North Coast Messenger
and began reading the lead story:

Ellen sighed and shook her head. What kind of monster runs down a child and keeps on going?

She sat perusing the paper, and saw a picture of Gordy’s Crab Shack and began to read the article under it. She was vaguely aware of Guy coming out on the veranda.

“Honey, have you seen my good fountain pen?” he said.

“I thought I saw it on your desk.”

“No, it’s not there. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of.”

Ellen looked over the top of the newspaper. “Maybe we should try Gordy’s Crab Shack. The mayor took a group from
the city council and the Sister’s City Program there for dinner last night. The food critic even did an article on it. Sounds impressive.”

“Isn’t Gordy’s a casual place?”

“Very. And it’s practically a landmark. Food sounds really good. Not too pricey either.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s good enough for the mayor, it’d be fun to try.”

“Did you check your pocket?” Ellen said.

Guy patted his pocket, then reached in and pulled out his fountain pen. “I must be getting old.”

Ellen smiled. “You’ve got too much on your plate, Counselor.”

“Not really. I just need to concentrate. I’m going to hibernate all day. What’ve you got on your agenda?”

“Think I’ll go upstairs and start on chapter twelve.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the writing.”

“More than I thought I would. The headlines this morning about the hit-and-run reminded me what I
don’t
miss about being close to the story.”

Gordy Jameson sat on a bench outside Gordy’s Crab Shack, his arms folded and his eyes closed, and let the April sun warm the side of his face. He heard a familiar whistle and his eyes flung open.

“Sleeping on the job?” Adam Spalding said.

“Is it already lunchtime?” Gordy looked at his watch. “I must’ve snoozed for a minute.”

“After schmoozing last night? You got some great press in this morning’s paper.”

“Yeah, the
Messenger
really talked up the place. That food critic fella, what’s-his-name, really did me proud. Wish my folks were alive to hear it.”

“I didn’t realize this place had been here more than fifty years,” Adam said.

“Yeah, I remember playin’ in the back room before I was old enough to go to school.”

Eddie Drummond came across the pier, a finger to his lips, and snuck behind Adam and put him in a headlock. “Hey, rich boy, where’s that beautiful blond you keep telling us you’re dating?”

“As far away from you as I can keep her.”

Eddie laughed. “Afraid she might prefer my type?”

“No, she’s not a dog person.”

Gordy watched with amusement, aware of Captain Jack standing beside him.

“Who’s got who?” Captain said.

“Eddie’s razzin’ Adam about his mystery girl. Guess I better make sure my cook’s got those clams ready.”

“You’re gonna lose money on me today,” Captain said. “I’m so hungry I could eat the whole lot of ’em raw.”

“Well, come on then. Weezie’s got us set up out back.”

Gordy followed his friends through the restaurant and out to the back deck and took a seat. A brisk breeze was spinning the umbrellas on the tables, and a row of scruffy-looking pelicans lined the wood railing in hopes of a handout.

“Gordo, you sure got high praise in the paper this morning,” Eddie said.

Captain nodded. “Yeah, congratulations.”

“Thanks. I was pretty pleased about it.”

“Didn’t hurt that you got a hair cut either,” Adam said, and quickly added, “You looked professional in the picture.”

Gordy felt his face get hot. “Looks can be deceivin’, eh?”

Weezie Taylor came outside and walked up to the table. “Everybody want the special?”

All heads bobbed.

“I knew that,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

Gordy noticed Eddie tapping his fingers on the table, a far-away look in his eyes. “Somethin’ buggin’ you, Drummond?”

“Oh, I’m still miffed that Ross Hamilton’s sucking up to Hank.”

“I hope you don’t hold it against me,” Adam said. “All I wanted was my Vet fixed.”

“Nah. I just can’t figure why Hank’s so hot on this new guy doing the detail work.”

“What’s the guy like?” Captain said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “How should I know? Hardly ever opens his mouth.”

“Ever try talkin’ to him?” Gordy said.

“He keeps to himself. Even eats lunch in his truck. A real strange duck.”

Gordy took a sip of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “So maybe he’s shy.”

“More like antisocial. There’s something
off
about this guy.”

Captain poked Eddie in the ribs with his elbow. “Sounds like sour grapes to me. Whine. Whine. Whine.” He bellowed a hearty laugh that made the people at the next table turn their heads.