Phantom of Riverside Park (11 page)

“David! You’re here!”

“I saw the barn light on. I see you’re be
burning the candle at both ends.” He strode toward her.

“Don’t come another step.”

“Why? You don’t like my greeting?”

“If you take another step you’ll be standing
in cow manure.”

David’s explosive laughter was more than
mirth, it was a release. Nobody could put things in perspective
like McKenzie. He laughed so hard the donkey in the stall beside
them started braying.

“Now you’ve upset the jackass.”

“It’s not the first time. That’s what I do
every day. Upset jackasses.” He squatted beside his sister and
patted the old collie’s head. “How’s the patient?”

“On his last leg, no pun intended. I probably
should have put him down, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If
I can pull him through this, he might have a couple of decent years
left.”

She finished wrapping the leg, then stowed
the tape. “Since you’re here you might as well make yourself
useful. Help me move him.” They gently lifted the dog and carried
him to an old blanket she’d spread on a pile of hay in the corner.
“Why are you here, David?”

“I need a favor.”

“Shoot, big brother. What is it you
need?”

“I want you to find out why Elizabeth
Jennings hasn’t cashed the check and why she’s trying to find
me.”

McKenzie wasn’t a subtle woman, especially
when she climbed up on one of her soapboxes. David could tell by
her flattened-out mouth and jutted-out chin that she was on a
regular rampage. And he was the target.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“That should be obvious.”

“The only thing that’s obvious to me is that
you’re pigheaded and blind, to boot.”

He knew exactly what she was talking about,
but stubbornness ran in the Lassiter family. He wasn’t about to
concede McKenzie’s point.

“Blindness is one of the few problems I don’t
have.”

“Don’t act dumb around me, David. I know
better.”

“Just forget the whole thing. I’ll get Peter
to do it.” He turned to go to the house and was already at the barn
door when McKenzie stopped him cold.

“If you don’t finish this conversation with
me, you’re not the hero I thought you were. You’re nothing but a
lily-livered coward.”

When David turned around and saw his sister,
the fight drained out of him. McKenzie was still bowed up like a
Bantam rooster spoiling for a fight, but her eyes were wide and
wet-looking. She was close to tears.

“I’m no hero, McKenzie. Just an ordinary man
who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking since you became
involved with the Jennings family.”

“I’m not involved.”

“Yes, you are. I’ve seen you at that
telescope watching for them. I’ve seen how you come alive when
Elizabeth enters the park. I’ve seen how you smile at that adorable
little boy and that wonderful old man.”

“My interest is not personal.”

“Yes, it is. Except for Jenny Landsdell
you’ve never taken a personal interest in these cases, and maybe
that’s my fault. Maybe if I hadn’t stood between you and the rest
of the world you’d be living in the suburbs now with a wife and
four children.”

“Aren’t you forgetting this?” He touched the
scar that dissected his face.

McKenzie gave a long sigh, then just stood
looking at him.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “Let’s go back
to the house.”

His sister linked her arms through his, then
matched him stride for stride as they made their way up the lane
from the barn and through the pear trees, heavy with bloom and
redolent with a fragrance that made David think of Elizabeth, of
the soft sweet scent that had wafted his way when she’d passed by
him on campus.

Something in him startled, as if he’d been
found out stealing from the cookie jar, and he knew that his sister
had spoken the truth. If he wasn’t already personally involved with
Elizabeth Jennings, he was heading in that direction. And it could
only lead to disaster.

“Forget what I said,” he told his sister as
he held the kitchen door open for her.

She flicked on the light then studied his
face in that disconcerting way of hers. She was the only human
being alive who could make him feel like squirming.

“I’m going to do it, David. But not in
disguise.”

“You’re not going to reveal my identity?”

“No, but I refuse to weasel my way into the
confidence of that sweet woman with a pack of lies. I’m going to
tell her who I am.”

“McKenzie, don’t.”

“It’s a free world, David. If Elizabeth
Jennings wants to be friends with Paul Matthews’ wife, you can’t do
anything to stop it.”

The fortress David had built over the years
was nothing but a pack of cards, after all, and it looked as if his
own sister was determined to pull it down around his ears.
Something like panic seized him. He felt as if he were caught in
the middle of a whirlpool that wouldn’t let him out no matter which
way he swam.

Standing on tiptoe, McKenzie kissed his
scarred cheek.

“Don’t worry, David. Your secret is safe with
me. I’m just going to be her friend, that’s all. I think she could
use one.”

The old Cadillac that pulled up in front of
Elizabeth’s house was as out of place in her neighborhood as Noah’s
ark, and nearly as big. Painted a bright pink that could be seen
half a block away it stood out among the falling-down houses and
the wrecks of cars up on concrete blocks.

It represented escape to Elizabeth, and so
did the woman who got out of the car, Quincy Chatam, a size sixteen
Amazon stuffed into a red pants suit decorated with rhinestones and
sequins. All she needed was a feathered headdress, and she’d look
like a voodoo princess.

The sight of her always gave Elizabeth a
lift. Their Saturday morning outings were a joyful ritual that had
been born out of serendipity. And best of all, they didn’t cost a
thing.

“I need you to help me pick out a dress for
my sister’s wedding,” Quincy had said (had it been almost two years
ago?), but Elizabeth had already promised to take Nicky and Papa to
the zoo. “Shoot, they can go, too,” Quincy had told her. “And
afterward we’ll all go to the zoo. I’ve not seen a baboon since I
divorced my second husband.”

Even before Quincy punched the door bell,
Nicky and Papa were at the door to greet her, Nicky in jeans and
Big Bird tee shirt and Papa in his Sunday best, an old blue serge
suit shiny from years of pressing, a striped tie of uncertain
vintage and a felt fedora that Humphrey Bogart might have worn in
one of his gangster movies.

“Is the Good-time Gang ready to go?” Quincy
yelled, and they all spilled out the door.

Elizabeth didn’t know who enjoyed their trips
the most. Quincy pranced like she was hearing the beat of Beale
Street jazz. Papa strutted as if he had important business with the
Queen of England, and Nicky raced up and down the sidewalk,
practically airborne in his excitement.

“My chariot awaits,” Quincy announced, and
that was all the cue Nicky needed.

“Sing that song ‘bout chariots, Papa.”

It had been one of Mae Mae’s favorites. On
sweet summer nights while Papa and Manny worked late in the fields,
she used to sit on the front porch swing with Elizabeth in her lap,
singing.

Papa’s glance at Elizabeth said he was
remembering, too, and as he sang the first verse of “Swing Low,
Sweet Chariot” in a very good baritone, Elizabeth thought she heard
faint strains of a soft soprano harmony.

When Papa got to the line about a band of
angels coming to carry him home, Nicky piped up.

“Will my angel come in a chariot?”

“Your angel’s come in a big pink Cadillac,
honey lamb. Now get in that car and let ole Quincy take you for a
joy ride.”

In the car they decided to go to Goldsmith’s,
one of the largest and oldest department stores in Memphis. This
was part of the ritual, too, choosing the store. Though not a one
of them ever spent a dime, Papa called it spreading the wealth
around, and Quincy called it living by the equal opportunity laws.
Elizabeth called it just plain good fun.

The first place they headed was the toy
department. Whooping with joy Nicky bounced on a trampoline, shot
three quick Nerf balls into a low-hanging net, then raced on to the
electric train chugging along a ten-foot track while the three
adults stood by cheering him on.

Quincy was the first to see the starch-faced
sales clerk’s approach. “Here comes trouble.”

“May I help you?” Ice water was warmer than
her tone. Elizabeth was getting ready to tell her they were just
browsing when Papa tipped his hat and bowed from the waist.

“Maybe you can, lovely lady,” he said.

The clerk thawed a little, but not enough to
take the stiffness out of her back. Elizabeth thought she looked
like she’d recently sat in a briar patch.

“I need to get my great grandson a present,
but I can’t make up my mind.”

“We have some very nice coloring books on the
sale table that might be in the neighborhood of what you want to
spend.”

Elizabeth wanted to slap the clerk’s face.
But every time she forgot Mae Mae’s lectures about turning the
other cheek, Papa gave her a vivid reminder.

“Oh, I was thinking of a much nicer
neighborhood than that,” he said.

“How much nicer?”

“Something more akin to the royal palace than
the city dump.”

Papa winked at Elizabeth, and Quincy’s big
bray turned heads three aisles over. She grabbed Nicky by one hand
and Elizabeth by the other.

“Come on here, sweethearts. Your Papa has
been insulted. If he spends a red dime with that ole stuck-up fox
I’m going to personally whip his fanny.”

The clerk stood open-mouthed while Quincy
sailed off in the direction of the ladies’ department with her
little trio--the Queen Elizabeth and three tugs, the littlest one
asking, “What’s a stuck-up fox?”

Quincy jerked a handful of dresses off the
racks and handed them to Elizabeth. “Aunt Quincy will tell you all
about it, honey lamb. Mommy’s going to try on dresses.”

Papa put his hat and cane on a red velvet
chair then sat down beside them.

“Where’re you going this time, Elizabeth?” he
asked.

“Brad Pitt is taking me to dinner, and then
I’m jetting off to Spain with Tom Cruise. The rain falls mostly on
the plain there, you know.”

“You go, girl,” Quincy said, then launched
into a long-winded, rollicking story about how the fox got
stuck-up, while Papa sat tapping his toes and humming, “The Rain in
Spain.”

Elizabeth always tried on the blue dresses
first. Taylor had liked her in blue.

She stood in front of the three-way mirror.
The woman she saw there was not an unwed mother weighted under the
burden of financial stress and worry about the future, but somebody
completely different. She was the kind of woman who had her nails
done every Tuesday and a total body massage on alternate Thursday
evenings. She had a secretary, male, handsome, size thirty-four
boxer shorts, at her beck and call.

Elizabeth gave herself a mock bow then
twirled around as if she were on a parquet dance floor. She almost
stepped on an attractive dark-haired woman wearing the ugliest
brown pants suit she’d ever seen.

“Excuse me.” Elizabeth stepped to the side.
“I didn’t mean to be blocking your view.”

“This pants suit makes me look like a sack of
potatoes.” The woman groaned, then laughed. “Quick, block my
view.”

“Well, actually, you look ...” Elizabeth
paused, casting around for something nice to say.

“Like a sack of potatoes. You, on the other
hand, look great.”

“Thanks.”

“By the way, I’m McKenzie Matthews.”

“Hi, I’m Elizabeth Jennings.”

That’s how easy it was in the South. Spend
five minutes with a woman in a public bathroom and you’d come out
knowing her whole history and planning to call her if you ever
drove anywhere near Macon, Georgia.

“I hate shopping for clothes,” McKenzie
Matthews said. “Maybe you could help me. You seem to have such good
taste.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Quincy is the
one with the good taste. I just try on what she hands me.”

“Quincy?”

“My friend. She’s waiting outside with Papa
and Nicky. Will you excuse me? They’ll want to see me in this
dress.”

It was part of the ritual, part of their
lovely day of
let’s pretend
.

When Papa saw her, he got misty-eyed. “You
look just like your grandmother. She loved blue, too.”

Elizabeth loved it when Papa compared her to
Mae Mae. She was smiling when she returned to the dressing room.
The lady in the unbecoming pants suit was still standing in front
of the mirror.

“I take it they approved?”

“Yes.”

“I guess you’ll be getting that one,
huh?”

“Well ...no.” Elizabeth ducked into her
dressing room to avoid further questions, but when she came out
again in pink, the woman was still there.

“Can’t make up your mind, huh?” she said.

Sometimes when you meet a stranger you just
know in your bones that everything is okay, that you can bear a bit
of your soul and still remain safe. That’s how Elizabeth felt
now.

“I’ll be honest with you, McKenzie. I’m not
here to buy anything. We like to come down here sometimes and
pretend we’re rich as kings and can buy anything we want. Nicky has
fun playing with the toys and Papa gets all dressed up and acts
like he’s fixing to buy out the store and Quincy just gets a kick
out of the whole thing.”

“Hey, sounds like harmless fun to me. I guess
if you had a million dollars you’d come down here and go on a real
spree, huh? That’s what I’d do if I could find something to fit
besides this tacky pants suit.”