Act V (7 page)

A long pause, then, “I’ll be fine.
Maybe I’ll call you later?”

“
Bye, Dorsey.” She tapped
the button and set the phone down feeling like she’d just dropped
the ball and lost the tournament. “Come on, Carl. Let’s go to
bed.”

*****

“
I thought they’d never go
to sleep.” Gabby climbed into Kenny’s Trooper, tossing her bags in
the back seat. She took long enough to give him a soft kiss, then
fastened her seat belt. Kenny leaned toward her for more, placing
his palm over her left breast. She swatted him off. “Drive. We’ve
got more than two hours to Atlanta, and if we don’t catch this
flight out, it’s over.”

“
I don’t know what you’re so
afraid of.” He put the car in gear and pulled out into the empty
road. “We’re both adults. We can get married if we
want.”

That was big talk and Gabby knew it.
“While that’s true, you know that my daddy will do everything he
can to make life hard for you if he finds out. And he can do a
lot.”

“
Yeah, I know. And not a
soul in town would marry us because they all know who your folks
are.”

“
That’s right,” she brushed
a jet-black lock with a single streak of cranberry red from her
face. “It’s hard to remain anonymous when your uncle is also the
rector of the only Catholic church in town and your parents pretty
much built the parochial school.”

Kenny took the left turn exit onto I-85
and headed for Atlanta. “Did you leave the note for your
parents?”

“
Yeah, I hope they don’t get
too mad when they figure out that I’m not at Jeanie’s house like I
said in the note. With any luck it’ll take them a while to figure
it out and then we’ll be back and settled in.” Gabby’s parents were
about as high up in society as you could go in this town. Her
father was a judge and her mother was head of the Legal Auxiliary.
And of course there was Uncle Andrew, Father Andrew to the rest of
the parish. A girl had to mind her p’s and q’s with relatives like
that. Her parents had big plans for her. She would finish college
and go on to grad school, obtaining a degree that she would use
only until she saw fit to marry a very wealthy man with societal
levels equal to or greater than her own. So far she had completed
one year of college and hadn’t declared a major, something her
mother wasn’t very concerned about. During that year she’d met a
scholarship student, a senior, who also happened to be on Mama’s
list of people with whom you should never associate, except perhaps
when they come to cut the lawn. Kenny was handsome, rugged, smart,
and just far enough away from her parents’ idea of the perfect mate
to make her grab hold and refuse to let go. They’d been seeing each
other on the sly for six months now, and neither had the guts to
tell their folks.

Kenny’s parents had worked in the last
remaining textile mill in town until it shut down and they’d both
gone to work at the auto assembly plant. They made good money but
Kenny knew they’d say he was getting “too big for his britches” if
they found out about Gabby. They wanted him to be a lawyer because
he could argue with God about the weather. He wanted it too, but he
wanted Gabby more. “Don’t worry Babe,” he cut his eyes sideways at
her. “After we’re married, it’ll be too late. They’ll have to
accept it and go on.”

“
You hope.”

“
Yeah, I hope.”

*****

“
Oh no, oh no!” Glynnis
couldn’t catch her breath. She stumbled outside, not even bothering
with a drink of water first. Gulping in the fresh outdoor air, she
felt her heart begin to slow just a little. There would be rain
tomorrow, lots of it. She wished it would come now and drown out
the cacophony of thoughts racing through her head. Today had been
the reason God created valium. First the police detectives, then
her mother, and Dorsey, and just now, she’d had the dream again.
The sword, the wine, the blood. It was the third time. Now it would
happen and it couldn’t be stopped. Maybe it already had happened.
“Please God let me be wrong this time. This time let it be just a
dream.” But she knew it was too much to ask.

Glynnis went back inside, locked the
deadbolt and checked the clock—only two in the morning, but she
wouldn’t go back to sleep tonight. She grabbed Carl from his perch
on the bed and walked back to the den to sit down in the recliner,
her dog in her lap for comfort. She reached for the remote. Turning
on the local channel, she put the TV on mute and pulled a soft
cotton throw from the back of the chair over her legs. According to
the thermostat, it was seventy-seven degrees inside, but she was
cold. Glynnis set the phone on her lap and watched the screen.
There would be a news report sooner or later, and then the phone
would ring.

*****

“
Aw, scarabs in a sandbox!”
You have got to be freakin’ kidding me.” Addison rolled his eyes at
his partner and spoke into the phone. “We’re on the way. Just don’t
let those jerks tear up the place before we make it.” It was only
eight in the morning and already things were hopping.

“
My, my, Detective Paddix,
what a colorful vocabulary you’ve developed.” Brice was always
astounded at the variations of curses that Addy could compose. They
were both creative and interesting and never managed to include an
actual curse word. “Do you talk like that in front of your wife and
the girls?”

“
I’m still alive, ain’t I?”
Paddix grabbed his badge and shoulder holster. “There’s such a
thing as self-preservation and I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He
shoved his hands in his pockets, took a huge gulp of cooling coffee
and turned serious. “This one’s bad, Brice. Night shift took the
call at around midnight. Police services have been there since one
a.m.”

Brice followed his partner out the
door. “If night shift took the call, then why are we going? They’ve
got detectives on night shift too.”

“
Yeah, but they thought we
might be interested. See, the detectives on night shift heard that
we got a visit from a particular leggy psychic, predicting this
particular murder.”

“
You mean Claude
Danning?”

“
I think that’s what
I
said. We gotta move
fast. The press is all over the place already.”

“
Terrific.” Brice reached
into his pocket and jingled his keys. “I’ll drive.”

*****

When Glynnis opened her eyes
there was a blonde wearing way too much makeup on the television.
Glynnis glanced at the wall clock, still groggy from the semi-sleep
she managed in the chair. 7 a.m. The blonde reporter was standing
in front of an enormous home that had been cordoned off by yellow
tape. The expression of fake concern on her face was less than
touching. Glynnis rubbed her eyes and pushed Carl off her lap onto
the floor. She recognized the blonde reporter from other newscasts,
but she had never liked her before. Why start now? Still Glynnis
wanted to, no, she
had to,
know. She turned up the volume. “…a home invasion
resulting in the death of one of the occupants. We will continue to
broadcast more information about this tragedy as we discover it.
I’m Sandra Fitchwell reporting for Action News 4.”

Glynnis switched off the set. “Now it
begins.”

*****

It was on the news already. The local
station had broadcast it with the smiling blonde bimbo whose
compassion for the victim had only been outdone by her desire to be
the face behind the huge ratings. How ironic, they were calling it
a tragedy, but they had yet to reveal how it was done or the name
of the victim. Just wait until they found out who the poor man was
and how he had died. Then they could truly and honestly call it a
tragedy, a tragedy in the truest sense.

The funny part, the part that he hadn’t
even planned on, was that once the police figured out exactly what
was happening here, they’d have plenty of suspects. There were lots
of folk who didn’t care for Danning—including himself, but his
dislike for the man wasn’t generally known. He went into his
kitchen for a big glass of chocolate milk. This business made him
thirsty and he just couldn’t wait for the next news
report.

*****

Gabrielle, now Mrs. Kenneth Schultz,
leaned on one elbow and watched her husband while he slept. She
brushed a stray blonde curl from his eye and then bent to kiss his
nose.

Kenny smiled, a drowsy, contented
smile, and then opened his eyes slowly. “Good morning, Mrs.
Schultz. Are you feeling okay today?”

“
I feel great.”

“
Hmm…I’d better check for
myself.” He reached for her backside. “Yup, you feel
great.”

Gabby let out a squeal and snuggled
back down into the bed. “Would you like for me to order room
service?”

He didn’t respond because no answer was
necessary. He reached for Gabby. Breakfast could wait.

Chapter 5

Brice and Addison worked
their way through the crowd of reporters from television and
newspaper toward the house. Brice felt a manicured hand on his
upper arm and heard the silky voice of Sandra Fitchwell calling his
name.
Busted.

“
Detective Gearhart,
Detective Paddix, do you have a moment?” Her voice might have been
silk, but her attitude was pure cut-throat. “I just wanted
to…”

“
Not right now, Ms.
Fitchwell.” He pulled away and both detectives kept
moving.

“
But Detective, I just want
to know why the police department saw fit to pull in
reinforcements. I mean, after all, there are already two detectives
inside.” She was holding a microphone toward Brice in the vain hope
that he might answer.

He batted it away and kept
walking. “Ms. B…” He stopped short of using the rhyming euphemism
that Sandra Fitchwell had earned with the department. “We don’t
call it reinforcement when we’re just trying to solve a crime
that’s already been committed. We’re not expecting trouble here.
The trouble has already happened. Look, why don’t you talk to me
when I know something worth talking about.”
Maybe by then I can get somebody else to deal with your
nonsense.

They slipped under the yellow tape and
entered the house. Leslie Handy was already there with her partner,
Court Hawkins. The two of them had been partners for more years
than Leslie wanted to admit. They argued like an old married couple
but any higher-up that thought about splitting the two of them
would have to come in with an army to do it. They were that close
and worked well as a team.

“
Thanks for coming guys,”
Leslie whispered so the curious onlookers outside couldn’t
overhear. “When we came on duty last night, we heard the gossip
about your visit from the psychic hotline girl, and then this
happened, so…”

“
Good news sure does travel
fast,” Addison quipped.

“
What have you got?” asked
Brice.

They passed through the entrance hall
into a lavishly decorated family room where a fortyish woman sat
with two kids, a boy, ten or eleven, and a girl, a bit older. Her
eyes were swollen and red. She looked very tired. The girl was
curled up in the corner of the couch, her head on her knees. The
boy stared straight ahead, looking like he wanted to be anywhere
but here. Brice didn’t blame him.

Handy stepped toward them and
introduced both men. “Mrs. Danning, this is Detective Paddix and
this is Detective Gearhart. They’re here for
consultation.”

Mrs. Danning just nodded. She was
clearly past talking.

“
If there’s somewhere else
you and the kids want to go to while we…um, finish up, I can call
you later if I have any further questions.”

“
Thank you, Detective. Maybe
we could go to my sister’s house for a while.” She urged the kids
off the couch and then turned again. “Please, if you…” She couldn’t
finish.

Leslie jumped in. “We’ll do everything
we possibly can ma’am and we’ll keep you posted.”

Gloria Danning nodded and left with a
police escort to help her get past the media.

Walking ahead of the three male
detectives, Leslie Handy opened the door to the study. “Be
prepared,” she said. “This one is bizarre.”

The smell of decomposition mingled with
the odors of urine and alcohol to form a pungent stench that made
Brice want to gag. It wasn’t the first time he’d smelled it, but he
never got used to it.

Powder smudges covered almost every
surface where the police services team had lifted prints. The only
thing left to go to the lab was the body, a wine bottle and a wine
glass. “Medical examiner wants this one soon,” Handy told them. “We
requested that they leave the body for a few minutes so you could
see the positioning.”

Addison and Brice got as close as
possible to the slumped corpse without touching it. “There’s a
definite stab wound just below the ribs, slightly to the vic’s
right side.” Brice commented aloud. “Did he bleed out?”

“
Possibly…probably,” Leslie
answered. “No murder weapon; something all over the vic’s clothes,
chair, and carpet that looks like it could be red wine. It’s hard
to tell how much is blood and how much is wine because it’s mingled
together, but the medical examiner will be able to
tell.”