The Battered Body (12 page)

“If there were no motives to hurt her, then I might share Donovan’s opinion, but I’m going to ask Huckabee for an autopsy with all the works. It’ll take awhile, and if everything comes out clean, then I’ll look like an idiot. But think about it, James. She made a lot of people angry.”

“No matter what the results are, Milla and the rest of us will be grateful that you followed your instincts and asked for a second opinion.” James stood up and reached for her hand. “Your senses are more fine-tuned than most people’s are, Lucy. Listen to what your gut is telling you. It’s never been wrong.”

Lucy smiled with gratitude and then immediately resumed her professional expression. “You’ve got to leave now, James. You’re going to compromise my authority here and I’ve already got an uphill battle ahead of me.”

“Understood. I’ll tell Milla that this was an accidental death. At least for now.”

“Skip the ‘for now’ part,” Lucy ordered. “Over the next few days I’m going to be interviewing her and Willow and anybody else who spent time with Paulette, and no one needs to know about my personal suspicions.”

James was stunned. “You don’t believe that Milla could actually hurt her own sister, do you?”

But Lucy had turned her back on James as though he hadn’t spoken. He watched her disappear through the swing door into the butler’s pantry. The door flapped several times behind her, as though mocking him, and then fell still.

After zipping up his coat, James pulled his scarf tight around his neck and walked out of the inn. As he drove slowly down the steep driveway, he passed another brown cruiser, driven by Deputy Glenn Truett. A man with a round face, thick neck, and curling gray mustache sat regally in the passenger seat. James glanced at the figure, which strongly reminded him of a walrus, and hoped he wouldn’t be recognized. Sheriff Huckabee wouldn’t be pleased to know that James had been allowed into the inn.

With a sudden jolt of clarity, he realized that Lucy might not be forthcoming with her friends regarding information on Paulette’s death. In fact, it seemed as though she’d be visiting the Henry home in the imminent future not as a friend and potential girlfriend, but in an official capacity as a member of the Shenandoah County Sheriff’s Department.

“We’re not on the same side anymore,” James murmured unhappily.

Driving home he reflected on the number of times he and Lucy and the rest of the supper club members had joined forces in the name of justice. They were a good team—each person possessing unique gifts and abilities. But now, their group seemed to be splintering. Bennett was busy with Jade and
Jeopardy!
, Gillian was running two businesses and spending time with Officer Harding, Lindy was pining for the absent Luis, Lucy was acutely focused on her career, and what about himself ?

Just yesterday he was in a celebratory mood. He was soon to be a homeowner, was taking steps to live a healthier lifestyle, and would witness his father’s nuptials.

“The wedding!” he exclaimed as he parked alongside Milla’s lavender minivan. “I wonder if they’ll still get married on Christmas Eve.”

Once again, to his dismay, life had thrown James and his loved ones off course. With weighted steps he walked toward the house he had lived in for the majority of his years. He had never been so reluctant to go inside, for he knew that his words of comfort would be insufficient. The cold wind seemed to follow him through the door, diminishing the warmth within.

The remainder of Saturday crawled by and the Henry house was markedly silent. Shortly after James’s return, Milla had driven off to the Holiday Inn to break the news to Paulette’s children, and Jackson had pulled on his painter’s overalls and locked himself in the shed. James phoned his friends in order to tell them what had happened, and within two hours of his calls, the women of Quincy’s Gap began to appear on his doorstop bearing casseroles, pies, and bottles of whiskey.

“Is the weddin’ still on?” Dolly inquired as she popped a chicken and sausage casserole in the oven.

James shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Word’s going ’round that Paulette Martine’s family’s in town.” Mrs. Emerson, the minister’s wife, chimed in as she put the kettle on for tea. “An older sister and her two children. You all might be gatherin’ for a different type of service.”

Mrs. Waxman, James’s part-time library employee and his one-time junior high school teacher, shook her head as she unwrapped her famous sweet potato pecan pie and began to cut it into thick wedges. “A funeral instead of a wedding. Now there’s a shame.”

“Maybe not,” Gillian countered as she hung up her coat on a hook near the back door. “Saying a loving farewell to someone whose spirit has moved on to a place of peace shouldn’t be an occasion of
sorrow
. There’s no reason why Milla and Jackson shouldn’t hold their commitment ceremony afterwards. After all, both services are just the congregating of friends and family in order to pay homage to
love
, the
highest
power of all!”

Mrs. Emerson issued Gillian a disapproving frown. “But the tone of each service is quite different.”

Slipping from the room before the two women could embark on one of their regular theological debates, James felt rather envious of his father. Safe within his shed, Jackson was probably painting to the soft strains of the light jazz station. With the space heater churning full force and a thermos of coffee and one of Milla’s cinnamon scones close at hand, Jackson would emerge from the unsettling day with more fortitude and calm than Milla or his son.

James tried to seek a few moments of solitude in his room, but Lindy and Bennett tracked him down as soon as they arrived, just as he was leaving his second message on Lucy’s voicemail.

“Poor Milla,” Lindy said sympathetically as she perched on the end of James’s bed. “So Paulette just collapsed in the middle of baking a cake?”

Replacing the phone on the cradle, James said, “Where did you hear that?”

Bennett jerked his thumb toward the stairs. “The entire Quincy’s Gap gossip network is downstairs, my man, including Mrs. Mintzer’s cousin. By the time they leave, they’ll know what kind of cereal you eat, whether you’re taking any prescriptions, your waist size—you name it!”

“With all that food down there,
everyone’s
going to know my waist size because my pants will have to be sewn by hand,” James mumbled gloomily.

“They mean well,” Lindy insisted. “And women comfort one another by talking. It’s what we do. Milla’s down there now, just wrapped up in a cocoon of prattle and laughter and tears. After she and the gals get it all out of their systems, they’ll sleep for fourteen hours and wake up, ready to take life by the horns all over again.”

James took Lindy’s hand in his. “I hope you’re right.” He sighed. “But I wish Lucy would call. I keep expecting her to show up with her little notebook and interrogate us all. And that would still be better than not hearing from her.”

Bennett gazed at James intently. “Why would she come over to question you and yours? It was an accidental death.”

“Lucy’s got one of her feelings,” James confessed.

Lindy and Bennett exchanged anxious looks.

“Good thing the women down there brought plenty of liquor,” Bennett said as he rose to leave. “Call us if you need to bust outta here. I’ll be home studying.”

“And I’ve got a phone date with Luis tonight, but I can put it off ’til tomorrow if you need to talk.”

James smiled at his friends. “Thanks to both of you. And thank Gillian too. But right now, I’m warming to that idea of a fourteen-hour nap.”

Lindy kissed him on the cheek and then eased his door closed. However, the wood wasn’t thick enough to keep her hushed words from reaching James’s ears. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out the Diva was murdered, would you?” she asked Bennett. “She brought out the worst in folks.”

“For Milla and the Henry men’s sake, I sure hope that’s not the case,” he answered. “And for mine too. How the hell could I concentrate on trivia if there’s a killer loose in Quincy’s Gap?”

James had never felt such a pull to attend Sunday service at the Methodist church as he did the day after seeing Paulette’s body. He, Milla, and Jackson all awoke early and gathered in the kitchen for morning coffee and stilted conversation.

Sitting across the table from Jackson, Milla appeared sad, tired, and confused, but there was something else to her demeanor that James couldn’t quite comprehend. She seemed nervous, almost frightened, as though she expected more bad news to arrive any moment. Jackson threw her uncertain looks every now and then, and James sympathized with his father’s discomfort. After all, what could be said to console Milla when she had lost the sister she had just begun to reconnect with after years of a relationship sustained by birthday and Christmas cards?

When James suggested they go to church, Milla issued the first genuine smile he’d seen since Friday evening. Ignoring Jackson’s eye rolling and a few grumbles about having to wear a suit, Milla covered James’s hand with her own. “That would be lovely.”

Now, as he stood beside her in the pew, his arm protectively about her shoulder, he tried not to focus on how diminished she looked. He thought back to when his mother had died—at how shrunken Jackson had appeared for many months afterward.

Death lessens us
, he thought, and then he tried to empty his mind. Eventually, the simple beauty of the church was able to distract him from his sorrowful musings. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the fresh pine scent from the garlands draping the ends of the pews and resting against each windowsill. Brilliant red poinsettias flamed across the length of the altar, softened by the glow of candlelight from the Advent wreath on the plain wooden table above. Silk banners—handmade by the women of the congregation and depicting scenes of trumpeting angels, a manger sheltering the Holy Family, and the word JOY—were positioned in between the stained-glass windows. The chapel fairly shimmered with color and the sound of joyful singing.

Milla’s soprano, which was light and pure as birdsong, moved everyone seated around her. It was as if she recognized the mixture of blessing and anguish that defined her life and accepted her reality with faith and grace. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and other women smiled at her through wet eyes of their own. To James, this expression of empathy was another example of the kindness and compassion that formed the heart of the community he had come to love with all his being.

The congregation sang on and James let his gaze drift around at the familiar faces. He smiled at children hiding beneath the pews, elderly couples leaning into one another as they shared a hymnal, a husband’s hand resting on the swell of his wife’s belly. He saw the heartfelt jubilation in Reverend Emerson’s flushed cheeks, watched Clint squeeze Dolly in a brief embrace, and heard the intertwining of Megan and Amelia Flowers’s alto voices.

Milla looked up at him and smiled, and James knew that she too felt flooded by peace. Lindy had been right about the resiliency of women. The neighborhood ladies had invaded their home, stuffed the fridge, freezer, and cupboards with food, talked up a storm, and then vanished like a thunderstorm sent scuttling onward by an easterly wind. The members of the household had slept then, but had woken to a morning of fresh uncertainty and grief, which the prayers, music, and fellowship of the Advent service had gently washed away.

After church let out, Milla told Dolly and several other women that the wedding would be postponed until Paulette could be laid to rest. If Jackson was surprised or disappointed by the news, he showed no sign, but bid the women a brusque good morning and hustled off to turn on Milla’s minivan so that he could enjoy the luxurious comfort of its heated seats.

James was just losing the feeling in his toes when he noticed Lucy’s Jeep entering the church parking lot. He told Milla he’d meet her at the van in a few moments and moved off to intercept his friend.

“Why haven’t you called me?” he inquired sharply as soon as she alighted from her car.

She scowled in return. “I’ve been working non-stop. No one wants to dig deeper into Paulette’s death, but I fought tooth and nail to get a second opinion from the ME in Albemarle County, and I’m glad I did. This guy’s the best, and he was just about to close up shop for the holidays but as a favor, he agreed to examine the victim.”

Mind reeling, James asked two questions at once. “A favor to whom? And why are you calling her a victim?”

Lucy kicked at a loose stone in the asphalt. “The ME’s a friend of Sullie’s. We still chat over e-mail every now and then. Just about work stuff.”

James wasn’t pleased by this news. “So you’re communicating with the guy who came between us the first time?” He held up his hand. “Forget I said that. I’m sure it’s all work related.” He jerked his head toward the van. “Milla’s getting ready to leave. Are you planning on questioning her? Why did you say ‘victim’ instead of ‘deceased’?”

“Paulette was probably poisoned. When the ME cleaned her face off … and her eyes …” Lucy looked uncomfortable, but she took a deep breath and continued. “Her eyes were open and the pupils were really small, like little pinpoints. Her throat was really swollen and there was a funny smell inside her mouth. It wasn’t just the batter, which smelled kind of sweet. Something sour. Kind of rotten.”

James leaned against the Jeep as Lucy’s words sank in. “Poison?”