Livvie's Song (32 page)

Flo’s dead. Got to get my bearings. Flo’s dead.
He staggered out of the station and stumbled blindly up the street, his ears buzzing like two bumblebees in a singing contest, as he tried to process the news. When he reached the corner, he turned left onto Huntington and headed south toward Fulton. If he remembered correctly, Fulton was a short, quiet street by the river. With a little luck, he’d be able to stay there while he sorted through his jumbled thoughts and figured out his next move. Hiding out was his first priority, especially in light of what he’d learned about Hank and Rudy. That, and having a warm body by his side to soothe his cares. He’d have to put his plan in motion even sooner than he’d thought.

***

Livvie marched up Market Street at two o’clock sharp, her arm draped with the blue dress, which was freshly laundered and pressed. Coot’s dog, Reggie, followed on her heels. He never left the restaurant while Coot was inside, and she liked to think that he felt it his duty to escort her to J. C. Penney and protect her as she returned the merchandise.

Mercy, how humiliating to think she’d worn a stolen dress! When Will had reported his findings to her last night, she’d hardly believed it. And now, she couldn’t wait to get the thing off her hands.

Just outside the entrance to the store, she turned and pointed at the dog. “Wait here, Reggie,” she ordered him. The mutt looked up, whined, and then sat back on his heels in what seemed to be a begrudging manner. She smiled down at him. “Don’t worry; I’ll be no more than a minute.” With that, she pulled open the door and approached the first clerk she laid eyes on.

***

Watching from a dark alley, Clem seethed with anger when he saw Livvie heading up the street carrying the blue dress. Hadn’t she admired it in the window for days before he’d finally found the perfect opportunity to snatch it off the rack and then gone through the fuss of wrapping it up and mailing it to her? Typical woman, she didn’t appreciate a gift when it was handed to her on a platter. Made him wonder what she’d done with the flowers he’d picked for her out in front of their new house.

“Soon, my dear, soon,” he muttered under his breath, “I’ll shower you with gifts you wouldn’t dream o’ givin’ back.”

It had taken him all morning to adjust to the idea of Flo’s being gone, and, by now, he had come to think of her death as a sort of sign. No Flo meant no wife. No wife meant no divorce. It also meant he had the freedom to do as he pleased. In the back of his rented wagon, he’d stashed at least a month’s worth of supplies from the general store, the hardware store, and the market: candles, matches, a hammer and nails, cigarettes, potatoes, bread, carrots, jerky and other dried meats, apples, raisins, jars of olives and pickles, baked beans, canned fruit, a can opener, mouse traps, and a mishmash of other items. He’d stolen only a portion of the goods, though, knowing he couldn’t haul away so much stuff without being spotted. Back at the house, he already had a good stash of Dotson’s whiskey, so he was set in terms of booze. From the Salvation Army store, he’d bought a lumpy mattress, two pillows, two blankets, a kerosene lamp, soap and towels, some plates and silverware, and some rope—plenty of rope. Unfortunately, until his lady grew accustomed to the way he ran things, he figured he’d have to tie her up. It wouldn’t be long, though, till he had her eating out of his hand.

“Yes, siree. Soon, my dear—maybe as early as tomorrow, if me ’n’ that crazy Marva lady play our cards right.”

***

“Where’d Livvie go?” Will asked. He’d just come in the back door after dumping a load of garbage in the barrel and standing there awhile to watch it burn, making sure no sparks ignited the nearby tree branches.

“I saw her head out the front door a few minutes ago,” Georgia said. “Which is where I’m going now. I’ll see you back here around five.”

“Did Cora Mae go with her?” he asked, but the door closed before he finished his sentence.

“One of Cora Mae’s friends stopped by in her car some time ago. Guess they went down to the river.”

Will turned on his heel. “I didn’t know you were still here, Coot.”

“Waitin’ for my dog,” he said. “Dumb brute insisted on goin’ with Livvie on her walk.”

“I gave her strict orders not to go off by herself.”

“Guess she don’t like bein’ told what to do. Always was an independent little thing, even when Frank was around. Anyway, she ain’t alone. She’s with Reg. That dog won’t let a flea come near her. Best ol’ hound dog in the State of Indiana, my Reggie. Great protector.”

With the kitchen clean and everything in order for the evening meal, Will released a long breath and came to sit down at Coot’s table. “I suspect she took that dress back to the store. Ever since I told her someone had stolen it, she couldn’t wait to return it.”

“Don’t blame her none for that. Some sick fool thought he could impress her with it. Wonder if he’ll ever come forward.”

“He’d better not,” Will stated. “I’ll wring his ever-lovin’ neck.”

Coot chuckled. “I’d like to watch you do that.” He quickly sobered. “You ain’t seriously worried ’bout this mystery fella, are you?”

Will ran a hand down the back of his head and massaged his neck. “Don’t know that I’d call it worried. Concerned, maybe, and annoyed. I know it’s probably nothing. Shoot, it could be some rascally teenage boy. It’s the fact that the dress was stolen that irks me, though. That’s serious business.”

“Have you tried goin’ to the post office to see if you can figure out who mailed the thing?”

Will grinned. “You old sage. You sure know how to read a fellow’s mind.”

“It’s one o’ them skills that comes in mighty handy.”

“You want to come with me?”

“To the post office? Naw, me ’n’ Reggie got to get back to the apartment for our afternoon nap, soon’s he ’n’ Livvie get back here. Want to be all rested up for tonight’s Family Feast. What’re we havin’, by the way?”

“Meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Fannie Parker’s recipe.”

“Mmm-mm. That’s bound to be mighty fine. Haven’t had meat loaf since…since….”

“Last week, when I served it up to you, Will Taylor style.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure Fannie’s version won’t come close to competin’ with yours.”

A few minutes later, the door opened, and Livvie walked in, Reggie on her heels. Rather than lope over to his master like a loyal dog, though, he stayed by her side.

“I thought I told you not to go off by yourself,” Will said, trying to sound calm.

“It’s broad daylight, Will. What’s going to happen to me? I wanted to take that dress back to the store. Everyone else had other things to do, so I set off on my own.” Reggie whined. “Well, with Reggie at my side, that is.” As if satisfied by the recognition, the dog lay down in the center of the room, beneath a whirring ceiling fan, which created a comfortable draft.

“Well, I’m headin’ back home,” Coot announced. “You comin’, Reg?”

The dog didn’t even lift his head; he just lay there, looking up at Coot with his big, brown eyes.

“Huh. Ain’t that somethin’?”

“He can stay here and nap, if he wants,” Livvie offered.

Coot scratched the top of his head and stared down at his companion. “All right, then. Guess I’ll leave ’im here. See you folks later.”

As soon as Coot was gone, Will walked to the front door and turned the lock. “Walk with me to the post office, Liv.”

“The post office? Do you have something to mail?”

“Nope. I want to see if somebody there remembers who mailed that dress to you. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try. And I’d like your company.”

“Well, seeing as the boys are at the park with Sally, I guess I could spare the time.”

With a forefinger, he traced the outline of her jaw, and she didn’t protest. It was the first time he’d touched her since last Saturday night, when he’d barged into her apartment, swept her weightless figure into his arms, and shocked her with his eager kiss and then his profession of love. He’d vowed not to press her to return the endearment until she was ready, but he hadn’t promised not to woo her with tenderness. “Besides,” he said, “a little walk would do us good.”

She smiled. “I just returned from a walk.”

“With Reggie. Did you two have a lively conversation?”

“Yes, we had quite a lengthy discussion about his views on Prohibition, dance halls, and harmonicas.”

He threw back his head and gave a hearty chuckle. She, in turn, released a gentle ripple of laughter. Man, it felt good to share a moment of humor.

As they prepared to set out, Reggie got up from the floor, his tail wagging. Evidently, he’d decided to join them. When they reached the post office, Reggie sat outside at attention, opting not to lie down. Will couldn’t figure him out. “Has that dog ever acted so protective of you before?”

“Never,” Livvie replied. “I don’t understand why he refuses to leave my side all of a sudden.”

“Maybe he’s got a sixth sense about something,” Will said, holding the door open for Livvie. “I’ve heard that dogs can often detect when trouble is brewing long before it shows up. My granddaddy once had a dog who pranced nervously and howled like a banshee before a storm, even when the skies were still blue and cloudless.”

“Hm. Well, I hope you’re wrong about the possibility of trouble brewing,” she said as she stepped past him.

A woman who looked haggard and spent but had warm, friendly eyes approached the counter. “What can I do for you?”

Will pressed his palms onto the countertop. “Got a question for you, ma’am.”

The door opened, and he glanced behind him. Two more customers breezed inside, one with a stack of envelopes, the other with a package. He would have to be brief.

“A few weeks ago, someone came in here and mailed a good-sized package, and we were wondering if you might be able to recall his name.”

“Well, what did he look like?”

“I don’t know. That’s something I was hoping you could help us with.”

“What kind of package was it?”

“A box about this big”—he demonstrated the package dimensions with his hands—“addressed to Livvie’s Kitchen, attention Olivia Beckman, if that helps.”

She gave him a blank stare. “Sorry, it doesn’t ring a bell. I’ll need a lot more than that to go on.”

“Bud was the mail carrier who delivered the parcel,” Livvie put in.

“That doesn’t help. Bud never waits on folks at the counter. It’s just me and Ruth, and sometimes Mr. Ewing, the postmaster. I can ask them later if they recall anything about it. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though. We got lots of customers coming in here all day long.”

Just then, someone behind them cleared his throat.

“Well, I thank you for your time,” Will said, fighting down a swell of disappointment. “If you do happen to recall anything, would you kindly ring up Livvie’s Kitchen?”

“I will.”

They thanked her and were heading toward the door when she called after them, “Oh, and I’ve been hearing a good deal about that Family Feast you’ve been holding at your restaurant. I mean to come by one of these nights.”

“You do that,” Will replied, holding the door for Livvie.

Outside, Reggie gave Livvie a good sniffing up and down. “Reggie, stop that,” she ordered him.

“He’s got some kind of love affair going on with you,” Will teased.

“I’ll say he does.”

He leaned closer and whispered, “And I don’t blame him one bit.”

Livvie gave him a playful slap on the arm. He laughed and dared to take her hand for all of half a block, until the pedestrian traffic picked up. It was nice while it lasted.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”—Jeremiah 17:9

Friday morning found Clem sipping fresh-brewed coffee spiked with whiskey as he surveyed his comfy little abode from a wooden straight-back chair in the corner. Outside, crickets and birds sang a summer chorus as the day’s first rays of sun burst through the open window. He’d been extra careful yesterday in making sure no one followed him out here. Sure, he’d taken a chance by traveling in broad daylight, but he’d needed more than just candlelight to accomplish all that he’d wanted to do. To his relief, he’d located the well and an outhouse. Life couldn’t get much better. Why, this place was a regular paradise!

A ways down the path, the horse nibbled on the grain Clem had bought and drank from the bucket of water he’d hauled out to him. The rig rental expired today, so he planned to return it tonight and then hitchhike his way back. By then, his woman would be well situated, probably tied to a chair, and they could hole up here for the next few weeks, at least, before he’d need to go back to town for more supplies. Of course, that would mean pulling off another heist in the meantime in order to afford them, but he had plenty of time. Beyond that, he had no plan; he’d simply take life as it came, which pretty much described the way he’d always lived.

Surveying the space once more, he decided it looked downright inviting, from the table and two chairs in this corner to the mattress propped on the six-inch-high platform at the front and topped with a neat pile of pillows and blankets to the crates of food and supplies stacked against one wall. Shoot, he’d even found some framed artwork—a dusty old painting of Jesus—and had hung it on the wall. The discovery pretty much confirmed his suspicion that this building had been a church at one time. That ought to afford his new bride a sense of comfort. All right, so this wasn’t some luxury hotel. But it still beat his former apartment and the cost of rent. That had been expensive enough, and then Flo had almost always been tardy with the payments, which meant being charged more.
Flo.
For the briefest instant, he pictured her mangled body smeared across the railroad tracks and a bunch of folks gathered around to gawk at her. To blot out the image, he immediately dumped a few more drops of whiskey into his coffee and took a big gulp. Stupid woman, walking in front of a train. The idea made him eager to get on with his new life, to make his new wife his in every sense.

Wouldn’t Taylor have a fit when she went missing? And, with Livvie out of the picture, the flamboyant Marva Dulane could have at him. Chortling to himself, he took out a cig and stuck it in his mouth. He struck a match, lit the end till it caught hold, inhaled the sweet smoke, and then blew it back out in two perfect rings.