Bad Moon On The Rise (9 page)

“
Please? I didn’t have
time to deal with it and maybe there are just a few teensy things I
may have taken from the scene and, well, can’t you just do it
anonymously?”

“
If the Perry County cops
find out you were there and didn’t call it in, you’re going to be
in deep shit,” he warned me.

“
If the Perry County cops
find out I was there, they’ll keep me for days, questioning me, and
I just can’t afford the down time. Please, Bobby? Do it for me just
this once? A fifteen-year old boy is missing and I’ve got to find
him.”

He pushed his notepad toward me. “Tell
me where the body is.” As I scribbled down the address, he was
already taking an untraceable trac phone from his bottom drawer and
looking up the number for Perry County’s emergency line.

It was good to have
friends.

I finished stripping down to my
skivvies. Being half-naked in front of Bobby D. had long since
ceased to be an embarrassment to either one of us. Besides, my
closet-sized office was not big enough for a full-blown strip
tease. Believe me, I’d tried.

“
Where are you headed in
such a hurry?” he asked, sniffing pointedly in my direction. “I
strongly recommend a shower first.”

“
No time. I have to go see
my client now,” I said, somewhat grumpily. Damn it. The jeans were
too tight. How long ago had I packed this damn bag? I tugged and
pulled and wiggled until I was able to get the zipper shut, but I
knew if I wore them more than a few hours my current lack of a
decent sex life would become a completely moot point.

“
And which of our clients,
pray tell, deserves such speedy service and, yet, such poor
hygiene?” Bobby asked as he watched me stuff my old clothes into a
plastic garbage bag and tie the opening securely shut.

“
Corndog
Sally.” 

“
So, exactly whose stink
is that on your clothes?” Bobby asked, eyebrows raised.

“
Her
daughter’s.”

“
Let me get this
straight—you’re rushing off to tell an old woman her daughter is
dead,” Bobby said. “But you look like you’re going to kick her ass
while you’re at it. Why is that?”

Okay, Bobby was obese. That didn’t
mean he was stupid. And, god knows, he was often far more sensitive
to other people’s feelings than I was.

“
She conned me,” I
explained as I sniffed myself thoroughly. Wild dogs would still
follow me around the block, but it would have to do. “I think she
knew all along that her daughter was dead. And there’s a reason she
came to me about it.”

Bobby looked skeptical. “A
reason?”

“
Yeah. A big one. And I
don’t like being played like this.”

Bobby stared at me with a look I’d
never actually seen on him before. It seemed like... genuine
concern.

“
What is it?” I
mumbled.

“
If I hear you caused that
old woman one moment of unnecessary pain,” Bobby warned me. “I will
personally kick your ass. I don’t care what she’s done to you. Her
daughter is dead.”

I was silent.

“
Do you want me to come
along?” he asked in a voice that was unexpectedly kind.

“
No,” I said. “I’ll do
it.”

“
Then do it
kindly.”

“
Fine.” My stomach hurt.
“But I hate these kinds of visits.”

I arrived at Corndog Sally’s house on
the outskirts of South Raleigh within seconds of an ambulance. My
stomach dropped. I had been right about Sally being sick. Was I too
late?

Worse, Alicia McCoy, Tonya’s snooty
sister, pulled up in a black Mercedes before I’d even climbed out
of my car. She’d been following the ambulance.

“
What are you doing here?”
she asked rudely, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the smell that
still lingered about me. What would she say if I told her that it
was her sister’s smell she was turning her nose up at? I had half a
mind to, but Bobby’s words of caution stopped me.

“
That’s between me and
your mother,” I said, brushing past her. “And I could ask the same
thing of you.”

“
I’m here to take my
mother to a hospice,” she announced angrily. “I don’t need you
interfering.”

“
That didn’t take you
long,” I observed. “Why don’t you just have them drive her straight
to the cemetery and toss her in a hole? It would save you time
later.”

I won’t repeat what she said back to
me, but I will say this for her: I didn’t think she had that in
her.

The ambulance guys were looking warily
from one of us to the other. I had to act quickly or they’d start
backing down the driveway with the stretcher, then make a run for
it down the street.

“
I think we just got off
on the wrong foot,” I said, beating her up the walkway. I stood
rather foolishly at the front door and wondered what the hell I was
supposed to do now, since I didn’t have a key. “Let’s start over: I
need to talk to your mother alone for a few minutes. I found your
sister and the news isn’t good.” I glanced at the ambulance. “It’s
a good thing you’re here.”

 “
You found her?”
Alicia whispered. “She’s dead?”

I nodded.

She put her head down and held her
hands over her eyes and I could not tell if she was heartbroken or
relieved. I’m not sure she could, either.

“
Are you okay?” I asked
her as kindly as I could.

“
Could you be the one to
tell my mother?” She held out her house keys and would not meet my
gaze. “I don’t think I can.”

“
Sure.” And why not? At
least my sympathy would be unpolluted by years of heartache and
frustration. 

I entered the small house and followed
a hallway to a back bedroom. Sally was in bed, eyes closed,
surrounded by sunny linens and a sunflower comforter, her face a
startling dark brown against all that yellow.

“
Sally?” I asked
tentatively.

“
Come in,” she croaked. As
I drew nearer, her eyes focused on me. “It’s amazing what a
difference a few days can make, isn’t it?” she asked.

“
I figured you were sick.”
I could not understand the conflicting feelings that warred inside
me. “I figured out a lot of things.”

She tried to sit upright. Her wig was
on a stand on her dresser and her natural hair had come loose from
the bobby pins that usually clamped it tightly against her scalp.
It dangled about her head like gray wire mesh, giving her a wild,
almost barbarian appearance. “Come closer,” she
demanded.

I inched forward cautiously. This was
Corndog Sally, after all. She’d swung a pocketbook at bigger people
than me—and connected. “What have you figured out?” she
demanded.

“
I’ve figured out that
you’re dying,” I said quietly. “And that’s why you need me to find
Trey so badly.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. I can’t let
go unless I know my grandson is safe. And I’m tired and I miss my
husband Mac and I want to go to him. It’s time for me to go, but I
can’t. Not yet. Can you understand that?”

“
Yes.” I took a step
closer. “And I figured out you already knew Tonya was dead, didn’t
you? You knew that already.”

She closed her eyes. She had known,
but not quite believed, and now had to face a bitter reality. “I
hired a private detective before you,” she admitted. “He told me
she was probably dead. Maybe he even knew for sure and didn’t have
the nerve to tell me. But you must understand that, in my heart, my
daughter Tonya died a long time ago.”

“
Okay,” I said. “But
you’ve known who Trey’s father was for a long time, too, haven’t
you? That was why you came to me. Because you knew I’d have to find
the boy. For him.”

“
I wasn’t sure you’d do it
just for me.”

That hurt my feelings. “You could have
just asked me,” I said. “I would have done it for you. You could
have been upfront, Sally. You could have trusted me.”

She peered at me through milky eyes.
“Miss Jones, I did not get this far, I did not live this long, I
did not survive the times that I survived by trusting white people.
That’s all I can say to explain. You will understand or you
won’t.”

“
But you could have
trusted me,” I said stubbornly.

“
I trust you now,” she
whispered fiercely, taking my hand. “Tell me you will keep looking
for him.”

“
I have to tell his
father,” I explained. “I owe him that much.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. Will my boy
be taken care of?”

“
Better than you could
ever imagine,” I said. “I guess you don’t know his
father.”

“
Only his name,” she said.
“Only his name and that he was a friend of yours. People tell me
that he was your friend.”

“
He’s a good man,” I said.
“Trey will be more than well taken care of. He’ll have everything
he could ever want in life, including his father’s
love.”

“
That’s if you can find
him,” she reminded me gently.

“
I will find Trey,” I
promised her. “I will find him.”

“
Are they waiting
outside?” Sally asked.

“
Yes. Alicia and an
ambulance crew.”

“
Have patience with her,”
Sally told me. “That girl never did know how to relax. I’ve seen
her grow old before her time because of it. But underneath it all,
she’s not as strong as you and me.”

“
I’ll try but I wouldn’t
exactly call her likeable,” I muttered.

To my surprise, Sally laughed. “Me,
either. But be kind to her. And come back to me soon with good
news. I need to know before I go.”

“
How will I find you?” I
asked.

“
Alicia can tell you. I
don’t know where I’m going.”

“
Don’t you
care?”

Sally shook her head. “It doesn’t
matter. Soon enough, I’ll be going home to Jesus.” She peered at my
tee shirt. “Isn’t that Jesus on your tee shirt?”

“
No, that’s Jon Bon Jovi,”
I explained. “A rock star. Sort of.”

“
Well, thank goodness,”
Sally said, closing her eyes. “That boy is way too white to be
Jesus.”

It was going to be a long, long day.
And I’d be damned if I would face him jammed into tight jeans and
an embarrassing tee shirt while smelling like last week’s corpse. I
went home and stood in the shower for over ten minutes, trying to
wash it all off—the smell, the sadness, the what-might-have-been. I
couldn’t do my job carting all that shit around.

When you don’t actually want to do
something, it’s amazing how fast you get to where you have to go in
order to do it. I arrived at the rambling old Victorian house
outside the town limits of Pittsboro in record time. I stood on the
edge of the lawn, just before sunset, wondering if they had made a
real home together and if they were happy.

It was a bitter truth. He had been
right about me. I had loved him as much as I could, but never as
much as he had loved me, and I would never be able to, it just
wasn’t in me. But she had loved him that much and then some. He
deserved more than I could give him, but I still wanted him, and it
hurt that she had him instead. Yet how could I hold it against her?
She was as fragile as an orchid, her life no larger than the walls
of that house. He was all she had.

It didn’t matter. I still wanted him.
And part of me hated her for having him instead.

I noticed the gardener leaning on his
rake, staring at me as if he could read my mind. “Hello, Hugo,” I
said.

“
Miss Casey,” he answered,
doffing his straw hat in respect. “I have not seen you in a long
time.”

“
It has been a long time,”
I agreed. “You look well.”

“
As do you,” he said
formally.

But he still watched me cautiously as
I took a deep breath, walked up the ramp and rang the doorbell. He,
too, was under her spell—what man would not feel the urge to
protect her fragile happiness?

Rest easy. I am not here to do harm,
my friend, I thought as I waited for someone to answer the
doorbell.

“
Yes?” Helen asked from
the other side of the front door. Her voice was the same as always,
tentative and a little fearful.

“
It’s me, Helen. Casey. I
need to talk to him. I’m working on a case that involves
him.”

I had to give her credit. She did not
hesitate. She opened the door wide, hiding behind it, as was her
habit. She looked a little older, but no less beautiful. Blonde and
frail, pale and delicate, a Southern flower wilting in the heat,
someone who needed taking care of by a big strong man or through
the kindness of strangers. While me? I was no Southern flower. I
was as tough and stubborn as cat briar taking root on the side of a
mountain. I needed no taking care of, by anyone, except maybe
myself.

“
Come on in,” she said.
“He’s in the sunroom.”