Complicated Matters (13 page)

   Jess punched his brother in the shoulder. “How did you know what was comin’ up?” 

   Alex hit him back. “Mom trained me.” 

   Jess folded his arms across his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              Alex winked. “There are some things a man has to learn for himself.” 

             
“Grab your junk, Alex.” Farrah jumped behind the wheel of the minivan. “We’re going to Millie’s.” 

   *

   Millie Jackson was born in Lukenbach, Texas. She decided to stay in Morgansville when her then boyfriend left her stranded after an argument. She walked into what was then a little family owned diner with a broken boot heel and everything she owned stuffed into a sports bag and a huge purse.

   The diner was looking for waitresses and two years later Millie had saved up enough money to make a serious down payment on the place. She and the owners struck up a deal in which she was to pay it off out of a percentage of the monthly profits.

   Even though the debt had long since been settled, she continued to make payments to the couple, who were now living off Social Security.

   Millie had become something of a local legend when a food critic stopped in on his way to Atlanta. His hamburger was so good he did an on-the-spot interview with her which made it all the way to Traveler’s Monthly. When he asked her for the secret to running a successful business, she replied, “I just remember the three B’s; big hair, big mouth, and even bigger burgers.”

   She seemed to be lost in the eighties. Her big hair and blue eye shadow accented her hoop earrings. The twang in her voice sounded like sunshine. Part mother hen over her waitresses, and part bouncer when the Saturday night crowd became too rambunctious, she became one of the few outsiders to endear themselves to the locals.

   Farrah and her brothers walked in and took a seat at the counter. “Hey, Millie.”
             

   She waved. “My Lord, child, it’s been ages. I thought ya’ll were gonna let the summer slip away without payin’ me a visit. Celeste has been askin’ about you.”

   Farrah stared at the counter as Millie caught her up on her friend’s exploits. Like most high school students from Morgansville, Celeste was spending her summer working and trying to save up enough money to buy a car. Millie offered her a job, but she didn’t want to work at the diner for fear the other girls would accuse Millie of giving her special treatment on account of Millie’s living arrangements with Celeste’s father, Joel.

   Once completely filled in on Celeste, Farrah looked up at Millie. “Have you heard from Ted lately?”

   “I told that boy he should call you. I swear he doesn’t listen to a word I say. There’s a big family day goin’ on at the campus tomorrow. I don’t have time to go, so you take my ticket and see him for yourself.”

   “I can’t.” Farrah shook her head. “That’s your time.” 

   “I don’t much care for baseball. You’ll be doin’ me a huge favor by getting me out of it. Besides, I was hopin’ Alex and Jess would do me a little favor.” She smiled at the boys. “My handyman just quit, and I need someone to do the heavy cleanin’ around here. You guys interested? It ain’t much, but it’s money in your pockets.”

   Alex jumped in without hesitation. “Farrah will take the ticket, and we’ll take the jobs.”

   Farrah shot him a dirty look. “Alex.” 

   “It’ll give you somebody else to fuss over besides us.”

   “It’s settled then,” said Millie. “I’ll have Joel call you with the time he’s going to leave. You two need to be here at seven in the mornin’.” Millie picked up a pen and order pad. “Now, what can I get ya?”

   *

   The crowd poured into Florida State University’s Dick Howser Stadium. Waves of garnet and gold dominated the entire stadium.

   The announcer introduced the teams.

   Everyone stood up as the band played the National Anthem.

   During the last half of the fourth inning, Ted took his spot on the pitcher’s mound. He struck out his first batter and the crowd went insane.

   “That’s eighteen year old Ted Anderson out of Morgansville, Florida,” the announcer commented. “They’ve been puttin’ in new recruits throughout this game. The coach wants ya’ll to see the upcoming freshman class.”

   The batter took the plate and hit the ball into right field where an outfielder caught it.

   “The outfield’s on the ball,” said the commentator.

   The second batter took the plate.

   “Strike one!” the umpire called.

   “Ball,” he sounded a little less enthusiastic and some of the fans groaned.

   The batter smacked the third pitch and it went straight down the line to Ted. His eyes bulged, but he caught the ball.

   “Okay,” said the commentator. “Let’s hear it for the rookie pitcher, Ted Anderson. And here comes victim, I mean batter, number three.”

   Ted and the batter stared at each other as if sizing one another up.

   A fastball whizzed across home plate.

   “Strike one,” called the umpire.

   “Looks like the rookie wants to make a statement,” said the commentator.

   Ted’s second pitch was close to the inside corner. The batter didn’t swing at it.

   The umpire called it a strike.

   “The rookie’s flirting with danger here,” said the commentator. “That ball almost hit the batter.

   Ted threw the ball a third time.

   The umpire called, “Strike three!”  

   Third out. FSU won and the fans went wild.

   After the game Farrah retouched her makeup and waited for Ted. A crowd gathered around him.

   She waited for the crowd to disperse.

   He was smiling and flirting with some coeds. 

   Their eyes locked as he noticed her. “Farrah, what are you doing here?” 

   “Millie gave me her ticket.” She fumbled with her hair and smoothed out her blouse. “You were great out there.” 

   A brunette jumped into his arms. “There’s my sweetie.” 

   Farrah took a few steps back.

   The girl turned around and looked Farrah up and down as of sizing her up for battle. “And just
who
are
you
?” She had one hand on her hip and the other around Ted’s neck.

   Farrah assessed the young woman. She looked to be in her early twenties. Probably around twenty-one. Her dark hair gleamed against the setting sun. After noticing Claire’s perfect manicure, Farrah shoved her hands in her pockets before anyone could notice her discolored fingertips and calluses. “Hi. I’m--”

   “This is a friend from my hometown,” Ted interrupted. “Farrah this is Claire.” His eyes shifted as if looking for an escape route. “Claire’s my girl friend.”

   “Is that so?” Farrah closed her eyes for a second. “It’s nice that you found somebody exactly like yourself.” She slipped off the promise ring.

   Claire looked up at Ted. “How nice of your little friend to come all this way to see you play.” She kissed him on his lips. “See there? I knew you were something special. You have groupies already.”

   “Well, he is a great
player
.” Farrah dropped the ring at Claire’s feet.

   She turned around and ran straight into another player. “I’m so sorry.”

   “It’s okay. You’re the prettiest runner I’ve collided with all day.” He put down his catcher’s gear. “By the way, I’m Jake.”

   She looked up to see his dirty face. “Farrah.” 

   “The name suits you.” His blue eyes washed over her. “Are you here to see anyone in particular?”

   “Yes.” She glanced at Ted. “But he seems to have developed other interests these days.” 

   “Well, I think the guy’s an idiot.” Jake cast an unfriendly stare at Ted. “And if I weren’t already in a relationship, I’d show him how stupid he really is.” 

   A smile crossed Farrah’s face. “She’s a lucky lady. It’s a shame she’s waiting while you’re back here trying to console me.”

   “Pretty and considerate. A rare combination.” Jake picked up his gear. “It was nice meeting you.” 

   “Same here.” She watched him walk away.

   Without even casting a glance toward Ted, or his latest distraction, she turned to leave. She wanted to find some solitude. The campus bookstore’s poetry section was the perfect spot. After glancing through several books, she decided on a anthology of contemporary poetry.

   Ted caught up with her as she was leaving the store. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

   “Why?” She started walking faster. “I’m just a friend from your hometown. Remember?” 

   “The least you can do is let me explain.” He nearly ran her over when she suddenly stopped. “You owe me that much.”

   “I don’t owe you a damn thing.” Farrah turned suddenly. “Now leave me alone.”

   “Not until I explain.” Ted blocked her path. “Let’s sit down.”

   “Let’s not.” 

   Ted sat down on a nearby bench. “Things are a lot different here.”  

   Farrah was unimpressed. “I’m sure they are.” 

   “Claire is more open minded and mature.”

   “Good. I hope you’re happy with her.” She stormed off to find the Anderson’s Denali.

   Mr. Anderson and Celeste weren’t in the parking lot, so Farrah found a shady spot and started reading until she heard the familiar sound of someone dribbling a basketball on concrete. She followed the sound and discovered its origins. Three guys were playing a two-on-one game. The odd-man-out kept complaining about unfair double-teaming from the other players.

   “Quit being such a girl, Yates. It’s not our fault Rodney bailed on us.”

   Yates was walking off the court when Farrah said, “I’ll even up the odds.” She put her purse next to their stuff.

   Yates tucked the ball under his arm. “We don’t play with girls.” 

   Farrah ran at him and grabbed the ball. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m a woman then.” 

   “Damn Yates, she’s better than you.” One of the others laughed as she dribbled the ball across the court and sunk it in the basket.

   The same guy ran up to her, but couldn’t manage to block her before she sunk another basket. “Time out,” he said.

   “What’s wrong?” She bounced the ball to him. “You boys tired already?”

   “No.” He caught the ball and tucked it under his arm. “We just like to know who we’re playing with. I’m Frank Cowart, and over there is George Crenshaw.”

   “Hi.” George waved.

   “Your teammate is Dale Yates.”

   “I’m not her teammate.” Yates walked off the court.

   “Sorry guys.” Farrah grabbed the ball and dropped it in the basket from midcourt. “Sorry your friend is such a jerk.” She grabbed her purse and headed to the parking lot.

   “I see you’re making new friends.” Celeste met her halfway to the Denali. “According to Ted, your heart was broken.”

   “I’m a fast healer.” Farrah tossed her hair back and laughed. “When are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to?”

   “I was waiting for you to come off the tractor.”

   Chapter 16

   Taylor strolled into the interrogation room carrying a green folder. “Hello, Winthrop. Are you and your lawyer ready to stonewall me today?”

   Winthrop’s lawyer stood up. “I’m Charles Andrews, Mr. Winthrop’s attorney.”

   “I kind of figured that.” Taylor sat down. “I’m gonna save us a whole bunch of time, and ask one question. Where is Daniels?”

   Winthrop propped his elbows against the table. “Is that really all you want to know?” 

   Taylor took out his notebook. “That’s all I don’t know.” 

   Winthrop flashed Taylor a crooked smile. “What’s in it for me?” 

   Taylor took a deep breath and scratched his head. “Let me see. You were the one who helped Daniels escape. I’ve got hard proof of that. Therefore, every person he kills or hurts is on you too. When you think about it that way, it’s in your best interest to tell me where he is--now.”

   “My client has the right to know what evidence you have on him,” Andrews said.

   “Good grief.” Taylor shoved a green folder over to Andrews. “This is your copy. But since you insist on going through it, I’ll waste more time.” He opened Andrews’ folder. “Here are the pictures of the damage done to Winthrop’s Tahoe. In case you’re wondering, his body man at Pete’s Garage, took them. I’ve also included copies of the written reports given to me by both Winthrop’s insurance company and the garage.”

   Andrews examined the pictures. “This doesn’t prove where the damage came from.”

   “But this does.” Taylor pointed to a copy of another report. “This came from our forensics lab. It says that the paint from Winthrop’s Tahoe matches black paint found on Daniel’s transport van. It also says that white paint found on his Tahoe, matches the white paint of the van.”