The Battered Body (30 page)

Once Gillian was safely out of sight purifying the master bedroom, Bennett strolled into the kitchen and picked up a paint roller. “In addition to burnin’ bushes in your new house, we’re here to work. What color should I paint these walls, my man?”

“I can’t believe you guys!” James was touched by the offer. “It’s good enough just to see you. You don’t need to spend your day off slaving over cans of paint.”

Lindy threw her coat on the hall floor and pushed up the sleeves of her paint-speckled artist’s smock. “Many hands make light work. Lucy’ll be here by lunchtime, so let’s get something done before then. Where do you want me, James? Should I start priming the living room? Oh! Look at these adorable animals!” She pointed at the crocodile table. “Those look like the twins’ handiwork.”

Picking up his copy of
Curious George
, he said, “Scott and Francis are the marvelous animal creators, yes, but I’m also in need of
your
particular artistic talents, Lindy. I’ll tell you why in a second.”

James waited for Gillian to reappear in the living room. She had him extinguish the torch and asked him to inhale its revitalizing fragrance. Only after she’d waved the smoke over every inch of his body was he permitted to gather his three friends around his scrapbook.

They received his announcement exactly as he had expected them to: with shouts of joy, warm embraces, and dozens of questions.

“And you want
me
to paint his room?” Lindy exclaimed with misty eyes. “I am so honored!”

Bennett clapped James on the back. “Man oh man, you sure know how to throw one in from left field. I can’t wait to see your Mini Me. Eliot Henry. Congrats, my friend. Congrats.”

“Oh, I just
adore
the auras possessed by young children,” Gillian sighed rapturously. “And to know that your blood and a part of your essence is encapsulated in
this
child … James, I can’t wait to lay my eyes on this boy!” She looped her arm through Bennett’s. “I feel jittery already.”

“That’s it, woman,” Bennett teased her fondly. “No more tree-bark tea for you.”

“I’ll introduce all of you, I promise. But I don’t want to overwhelm the poor kid. He’s going to meet his grandparents tomorrow night. I have another reason to be happy, because Milla and my father are now officially man and wife. They had a quick wedding down at the church.” James tapped the scrapbook and then drew in his breath. “Oh no! I’ve been so wrapped up in my own affairs that I haven’t done a thing to celebrate their nuptials. I haven’t even bought them a gift! I was going to send them on a nice little honeymoon, but I don’t have the time or the money to do that now. What am I going to do?”

“I imagine your coffers are a bit bare right now,” Bennett remarked.

James nodded. “You can say that again. New carpet on Monday, furniture delivery on Tuesday, and flat broke by Wednesday.”

“We’ll brainstorm while we paint,” Gillian suggested. “The cadence of our bodies moving our brushes and rollers up and down, up and down, might just stimulate the creative centers of our minds.”

“Don’t let that woman near your CD player,” Bennett warned. “She’ll put on some yoga mumbo jumbo and we’ll all be chanting like Gregorian monks.”

The four friends finished looking through Eliot’s scrapbook and then got to work. They bantered, painted, and chatted all morning long. By noon, the kitchen and living room looked clean, fresh, and bright, and Eliot’s room had been primed and was ready for Lindy’s hand-painted designs.

“This is very cathartic,” Gillian stated as she set down her paintbrush. “Do you have a nice, serene color chosen for your bedroom? I’m certain we could get that finished today.”

James shook his head. “I hadn’t expected this painting party, but I could go buy some. I think Lindy’s going to need a few more colors for Eliot’s room. And I’d love to treat for lunch. It’s the least I can do.”

“Hello!” Lucy called out as she let herself into the house. “Lunch is served!”

Bennett moved forward to remove one of the two plastic bags from Lucy’s hands. “What have we here?”

“Meatball subs. Except for Gillian’s, of course. She’s having provolone, mozzarella, tomato, and a pesto spread on herb focaccia.”

James pushed a twenty dollar bill into Lucy’s hand. “Hi,” he said shyly as she looked down at the money.

“I’m not taking this.” She breezed past him into the kitchen and laid the bill on his counter. “I missed half of my painting shift, so the least I could do was pick up lunch.” Gazing into the living room, she smiled. “I call the zebra chair!”

“I thought you might be angry with me,” James whispered to Lucy once the food had been handed out and the rest of the supper club members were making themselves comfortable in the living room.

Lucy feigned great interest in a Benjamin Moore paint chart. “I was just shocked, that’s all. I … I’ve got to get used to thinking of you totally as a friend. And you are my friend, so don’t worry. Come in here and eat your sub. I’ve got an update on our investigation.”

After settling in the lion chair, she spread a napkin on her lap. “I ate half of my sub in the car, so let me take a few bites while it’s still warm, and then I’ll tell you about the phone calls I made to Natchez.”

James couldn’t believe how famished he felt.
Is there a chemical in the paint that induces hunger or is painting more of an aerobic workout than I thought?
he wondered.

Without bothering to consider that the contents of his hero might be too warm to chew, he released his sandwich from its tight package of aluminum foil and bit into the end of the sub, inviting molten marinara sauce and a large piece of scalding meatball into his mouth.

“Ahhh!” He felt as though he might breathe fire. “Hot!” Lindy shoved a water bottle into his hand, and he washed down the burning food as his friends looked on in amusement.

Bennett tossed him a snack-sized bag of baked potato chips. “Better start with those, my man. Okay, Lucy, whatchya got for us?”

“Russ DuPont is Mrs. D.’s grandson,” Lucy began as she placed the remnants of her sub on the crocodile table to cool. “Russell DuPont’s mother never married. She also died at a young age from alcohol poisoning. According to the neighbors, she’d always been a wild girl. Russ often went without meals or electricity, and he missed more days of school than he attended.” She pried open her bag of potato chips and halted her narrative in order to eat one.

“That poor boy,” Gillian sighed.

Lucy agreed. “I think he’s lived a hard life. His grandmother ran out of money and was sent to a state-run home when Russ was ten years old. After his mother’s death a year later, he was placed into foster care and, if I can believe what these Natchez ladies told me, was one angry boy. He got in trouble all the time.” She raised her sub to her lips. “He’s got an extensive juvenile record. From vandalism to petty theft to selling his grandma’s prescription drugs on the street, this kid’s done it all.”

“The neighbors told you all that?” Lindy asked in disbelief. “Must be a smaller town than I thought.”

Once she’d swallowed Lucy replied, “No. I called the Sheriff’s Department and told them all about our case. They were very interested in helping me get a full picture on Russ. I guess he’s got them out of bed more than once with his criminal activities. They’re faxing me copies of his records.”

“So we’ve got a hostile young man who drove to the Shenandoah Valley and got a job on a goat farm where he produced bacteria-infested eggs that he somehow gave to Paulette.” James poked a meatball with his fingertip. “Sounds like a complicated and deliberate plan. Russ is no dummy.”

Gillian’s expression was sorrowful. “It
sounds
like that young man was
consumed
by a desire for revenge. Instead of trying to live a life based on higher principals, it seems like he’s chosen to live one based on
blame
and the
baser
of our human emotions.”

Lindy looked perplexed. “Am I missing something here? Why would this boy hate Paulette? Did she do something to his mother or to his grandma?”

All eyes turned to James. “That’s an integral question and I’m hoping
you
can answer it.” Lucy’s voice held a plea. “If not you, then Milla.”

A thought had been forming in James’s mind while Lucy had been speaking, and now he spoke it aloud. “Milla told me about their neighbor, a Mrs. D. She was an older woman who had hundreds and hundreds of recipes in her possession. She had shoeboxes filled with them. All the recipes were created by Mrs. D. from scratch. What if—?”

“The Diva stole her recipes!” Lindy shouted. “And published them as her own!”

“And don’t forget got rich and famous off ’em too,” Bennett added. “While the DuPonts stayed poor and downright miserable, Paulette was autographin’ cookbooks and hostin’ television shows.”

They all chewed thoughtfully on their sandwiches as they tried to imagine Russ DuPont somehow discovering that his grandmother’s recipes had made another woman extremely wealthy.

“Our hypothesis makes sense,” Lucy determined. “If Paulette did make off with the recipes, it would certainly explain why she never returned to Natchez. Still, without a confession from Russ, our theories are circumstantial.”

“And there’s no sign of Russ right now,” James pointed out. “Do you think he’ll go back to the goat farm, or is he done exacting his revenge and is now on the run?”

Gillian drew in a frightened breath. “Is Chloe in danger?”

Lucy considered the question. “As the next beneficiary of Paulette’s estate, she may be.” Her blue eyes gleamed. “But if Russ is following the Diva’s money trail, it would mean that he won’t leave town—that he’s merely lying low someplace until he can get at Chloe. We’ve called dozens of hotels, but none of them have Russ DuPont registered as a guest. Still, he could be checked in anywhere under a false name.”

“I’ll tell you one thing.” Bennett balled up his trash and scrutinized the crushed foil in his hand. “Aunt Wheezie ain’t gonna be much help fending off an angry boy bent on murder.”

“Don’t worry,” Lucy assured them. “Chase’s death lit a fire under Sheriff Huckabee. With all the media attention zeroing in on Quincy’s Gap because of Murphy’s damn book, he doesn’t want to look inept. He’s got two deputies keeping an eye on Wheezie and Chloe. Someone’s watching them round the clock.”

“Uh, that
book
!” Lindy spat out the word.

“Would someone please tell me what happens at the end?” James pleaded. “I know it’s off subject, but everywhere I go someone mentions the ‘shocking ending.’ Would someone just put me out of my misery?”

Lindy shook her head in refusal, but Lucy gave her friend a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, Lind. I know Murphy’s written it so that I get shot in the face in the final chapter. Donovan’s read the section aloud in the station at least six times by now.”

“She kills your character?” James was aghast. Only the danger of his last meatball falling from its cushion of bread was able to distract him from such a shocking announcement. “That’s so—”

“Nasty, cruel, vindictive, abusive, and childish!” Gillian supplied him with several apt adjectives. “I’ve pretty much summed up all our characters right there!”

“I thought you weren’t going to read it?” James remarked in accusation.

Gillian toyed with a tendril of hair. “I gave in to the temptation presented by my ego. And I regret it too. We should always be wary of giving in to our desire to see ourselves painted in a flattering light.”

“My
character
doesn’t die!” Lucy shouted. “I’m just a bit disfigured, that’s all,” she added caustically. When James and Gillian again began to splutter in indignation, she crossly gesticulated at the pair of them. “Hello! We’ve got a murder case to talk about! Can we just forget about that dumb book and …,” she trailed off, but James noticed that her eyes had darted toward Eliot’s scrapbook at that moment.

“What are our options?” Lindy inquired innocently. “If Chloe’s being guarded until she returns to Florida, there’s nothing we can do. Short of sneakin’ her away from her surveillance crew and leavin’ her in a place where Russ is sure to come for her, our hands are tied.”

James imagined Chloe standing on the edge of the cliff from which her brother had been pushed, and he shivered. “Russ must’ve written Chase a note to entice him to the overlook earlier than everyone else. You didn’t find any evidence of that?” When Lucy shook her head, he sighed. “Then this guy has to be caught in the act. We need to have some kind of private affair—a reason to keep Chloe and Wheezie around a little longer.”

Bennett stroked his mustache. “Yeah man, some kind of get-together? If there’s a bunch of folks around, Russ might feel like he can slip in and try to get to Chloe. And if Milla bought goat’s milk goodies from this guy, she’d be able to recognize him in a pinch. She could whisper in Lucy’s ear, and our favorite deputy would take him down!” He smacked his fist against his palm and then turned to James. “Got it! Is there gonna be a funeral for Chase?”

“Not here,” James answered. “The ‘merry’ widow phoned Milla and said that she felt that the father of her children should be buried near where they live. Personally, I think she wants to dance on Chase’s grave, but Milla wanted the girls to be able to visit Chase, much like she wanted to visit Paulette.”