The Devil Has Dimples (17 page)

She glowered at me.  What was with everyone in this town?  I
decided to throw her a bone.  “Your husband wouldn’t be my father, would he?”

She looked stunned for a moment, then she started to laugh. 
It came from deep inside of her, a loud booming sound.  She slapped her hand on
her desk and reached for a tissue with the other one.  She couldn’t stop
laughing.

“Girl, you are something else.  You’re way too white to be
my hubby’s offspring. though he did like Maudie.  Lord, what you thinking
asking a dumb question like that?”  She wiped her eyes with the tissue.

“Well, after all the talk in town, I just wanted to cross
his name off my list.”

She turned serious then.  “You got my husband’s name on a
list?”

It was my turn to laugh.  “No, Alice.  I’m kidding.  But
everyone is looking at every man in town old enough to be my father and
wondering.  I’m tired of wondering, I’m just asking now.”

“Anybody ‘fess up yet?”

“No.”

She stared at me for a moment.  Her eyes looked down at her
hands.  For some reason she didn’t want to look me in the eyes.

“You want me to ask around in my neighborhood?”

“Your neighborhood?”  I asked.

She turned sassy again.  “Yeah, my neighborhood.  Who you
think does all the house cleaning in this town?  We know more about what’s
going on then everyone gives us credit for, we get a big laugh at all the
shenanigans that people do when they don’t even take into account that we are
there.”

Her face saddened.  “We may be black, but a lot of people
who hire us, don’t even see us.”

“I would appreciate any cooperation from any source.”

She snorted.  “That’s what I figured.  I’ll ask around, some
of the older women should know something.”  Her eyes flashed at me, a touch of
anger crouched there.  “I won’t be sugar-coating anything.  What’s said is
what’s said.”

I gave her a half smile.  “I wouldn’t expect anything less
from you Alice.”  Then I left.  I could hear her laughing again as I closed the
door.

* * *

July 4, 1963

I wanted to laugh, instead I cried.

It’s strange how life works.

Everyone has values and beliefs.

Beliefs that we learned while growing up.  We believe
them to be true.  However, beliefs can sometimes be false.

But, since we believe in them, we hang on to the truth as
we know it to be.

I believe that if you live a good life you will be
rewarded.

I believe that every child should have a mother and a
father.  My own were absolutely wonderful, especially later.  When I needed
them the most.

I believe that people should be married before intimate
relations begin.

When I was a teenager, it was all so clear.

Marriage first.

I asked too much.

When they persisted, I dropped them.

I didn’t want the name “slut” attached to me.

So, they called me a “tease” instead.

If only they knew.

I laughed at them because I was out of tears.

I brought the drawer that was upstairs down and set it on
the check-out counter.  The light was better there than in the office, and I
was supposed to keep the store open.  I moved the trash can closer as it looked
like it was going to get some heavy use.

Plock, plock, plock.  I dropped items into the trash.

Maudie seemed to have a penchant for keeping empty
envelopes.  I came across a few bills, long overdue, however as the lights were
still on, I placed them in a to-be-checked pile.  There was a cigar box, one of
the old cardboard kind, that was exceedingly heavy when I picked it up.  Opening
the lid, I discovered a cache of costume jewelry.

There was a coral necklace, one of several earrings, gaudy
pieces with missing stones, a strange collection, to say the least.

The door chime rang as the front door opened.  It was
T-Jack.  I pasted a smile on my face.  “Hey.”

“Have you seen Bitsy?”  He asked harshly.

“No.  Why?”

He wiped his brow with a handkerchief.  “Silas is going nuts
worrying about her.  I told him I’d help find her.”

Wondering if I should tell him about Grant, I decided to
play dumb for a change.

“Isn’t she on vacation with Naomi?”

“Naomi?”

“That’s what Della at Hank’s said.”

He looked relieved.  Giving me a salute, he rushed out the
door.

I watched him as he went off in the direction of the Hole.

Wouldn’t Silas have known that Bitsy went with Naomi?  I
took the time to write that down in the notebook.  At the rate I was going, I
would have a notebook filled with seemingly unrelated information.  Like a
puzzle, waiting for someone to place all the pieces neatly in their slots.

I picked up the empty drawer and pushed it back in its hole
in the desk and pulled out the drawer under it.  Another descent into hell. 
Maudie was so neat out in the store area, it was hard to believe that her
office was such a mess.  Especially the top of her desk.  It was unbelievable. 
There was even a pith helmet on top of a stack of magazines.

There were only a few customers that afternoon, mostly
strangers out on a Saturday looking for antiques.  I sold a few items and rang
up the sales.

In between, I cleaned out the contents of Maudie’s desk.  It
was slow going.  I formed piles of stuff that I would have to ask Grant about. 
I emptied the trash can three times.  The top of the desk looked daunting.  But
I slowly went through the piles.

A lot of them were antique magazines.  I put them in a box
to read later.

Maudie also had a bookcase in her office that ran across one
wall.  I decided that I would have to go through it later.  Maybe there was a
journal or something there.  My mind turned the question over.  A journal.

Where would I keep a journal?

Someplace close at hand, that’s for sure.  So it would
either be here or upstairs.  I groaned.  The upstairs bookcase was intimidating
and we’d stopped looking when the photograph book was found.

I checked the pendulum clock, and it was close enough to six
to lock up.  I was starving.  I wondered why Grant never called me.  Then I
wondered what he was doing.  I locked up and went upstairs to fix myself a
sandwich.  As I reached the top of the stairs, I noticed that Grant’s bedroom
door was closed.  It was open when we went to lunch.

I stopped.  My heart was racing.  We kept the place locked. 
Grant and I had the only keys that I was aware of, so who was in Grant’s
bedroom?

Removing my shoes by the staircase, I tiptoed across the
room, avoiding the one spot that I knew squeaked.  I didn’t know if I would
need a weapon or not, if I should just open the door or knock.  What if Grant
had come back and hadn’t let me know?

My chicken heart came out, so I yelled.  “Grant!”

No answer.  I tiptoed to his door, and rapped.  “Grant, let
me in.”

No answer.

I took the doorknob and turned it slowly.  The door swung open,
there was someone in the bed.

I could smell alcohol.  A lot of it.  I wondered if Randall,
the town drunk had managed to get in.  I silently walked over to the bed and
pulled back the covers.

Oh...my...God.  It was Grant.  A beaten-up, bruised Grant.

“Grant!  Wake up!”  I shook him and he finally opened a red
eye.

“Call my dad.”  He mumbled.

“Forget your dad, let me call the police, do you need an
ambulance?”

His hand leapt out from under the covers and grabbed my
wrist.  “No.  My dad.”  His eyes looked pleadingly at me.  “Please.”

I touched his face.  He was burning up.  So I picked up the
phone and as my fingers went toward the numbers.

“Grant, what’s the number?”

He mumbled the digits as I punched them in.  It took six
rings before someone picked up the other end.

It was Lenny who greeted me.

“Wassup!”

“Someone beat the hell out of your son.  Get over here
quick.”

“Huh?”

“Damn it Lenny, someone beat up Grant.  Get over here right
now.”

The phone hung up in my ear, so I guess he got the message.

I rushed into Grant’s bathroom, wet a washcloth and went
back to wipe off his face.

My hands shook.

“Who did this?”  I asked Grant.

He didn’t answer.

So I guessed.  “Silas?”

“No.  It was Tina.”

“Tina!  Tina beat you up like this?  She whipped the tar out
of you.”

Grant slowly sat up and taking the cloth out of my hand
began to wipe his face.

“I didn’t fight back.”  He mumbled.

That stunned me.  “Why not?”

He gave me a ‘duh’ look.  “How would that look, me beating
up a woman.”

I grabbed the washcloth out of his hand and wacked him on
the arm with it.  “It would look smart for one, instead of you looking like a
punching bag.”

“Well.”  He turned and dragged his legs off the bed.  He
must have felt dizzy as he dropped his head on his hands.

I pushed back his hair with my hand.  “Why did she feel the
urge to knock some sense into you?”

“You are a smart-ass,” he said.

“That’s common knowledge.  Why did she go after you?  I
thought you were seeing Bitsy.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Then hurry up, your dad will be here soon.”

He groaned.  “Wait, let me tell it just one time.”

I gave him a dirty look, I hate waiting.

“Coffee?”  I asked.

“Beer would be better.”

“With aspirin?”

“Definitely.”

Grant drowned his aspirin with water from the sink.  His
beer waiting nearby.  He managed to move from his bed to the kitchen.  Barely.

“What did she hit you with, a baseball bat?”

He looked at me like I was a fortune teller.

“Yes.  Then a car.”

“A car!”

He slapped his hands over his ears.  “Please.  My head.”

I lowered my voice to a deep growl.  “She hit you with a
car?”

He sat at the table, dragging his beer with him.  “Wait for
Dad please.”

The downstairs doorbell rang, then rang again.  Lenny’s
finger was giving it a total workout.  “Coming!”  I yelled.  I trotted down the
stairs and opened the door.

Both Lenny and Margie were standing there.

“Where is he?”  Lenny asked.

I pointed up the stairs and Lenny took the stairs two at a
time.

Margie grabbed my arm.  Worry marked her face.

“Is he all right?”

I pulled her into a hug.  “He seems to be.  But I don’t want
to miss what he has to say, he wouldn’t talk to me unless Lenny was there.”

We walked up the stairs.  Grant was drinking his beer. 
Lenny was fixing a mixed drink.  He looked like he needed one.

I seldom drink and I needed one.

Margie and I sat side-by-side on the sofa, waiting for Grant
to begin.

He took one last swallow of beer, burped, then sat.

“Never scorn a woman.  They get violent.”

Now, that was a mild understatement if I ever heard one.

“Alice told me you were meeting Bitsy.”

He shook his head and grimaced.  “I thought it was Bitsy on
the phone.  It was Tina.  She wanted to get things straight between us.”

Lenny interjected.  “With a baseball bat and a car?”

“Well, it got a little out of hand.”  Grant said.

“What made her that angry?”  Margie asked.

Grant looked at me.

Oh, Lord.  He didn’t tell her about us!

“I told her that we were finished.  She didn’t take highly
to the notion.”

“That bitch should be in jail.”  Lenny said.

Grant sighed.  “She is.”

I think we were all stunned with that remark.

“She only grazed me with the car, but she hit the sheriff’s
personal truck and his dog fell out of the back and was hurt.  So, he arrested
her.”  Grant said.

Lenny started to laugh.  “Hell, boy.  Everyone in town knows
how much he treasures his truck and his dog.  Best coon dog around here.”

Lenny was so tickled he slapped his knee.

I didn’t quite get the humor of the situation.  “Let me get
this straight, he put her in jail because of the truck and dog and not because
she hit you?”

“I didn’t want to press charges.  The dog and truck ought to
keep her out of trouble for a while.”  Grant said.

“Well, I certainly hope she’s given up on the idea that
you’re going to marry her.”  Margie said.

I looked at Grant.  What he said here was going to be
important.

“I’m never getting married,” he said.

What a lout.  I wished I had a baseball bat myself.

“So what happened with Tina?”  Lenny asked.

“Tina called me on the phone stating that she knew where
Bitsy was.”

 “Why would you even think that Bitsy was at Tina’s
apartment?”  Lenny asked.

“I wasn’t thinking.  At the time she said that Bitsy was at
her place, and that Silas beat her up.”

Margie held a hand to her face.  “Oh no.”

Grant looked in her direction.  “Oh no is right.”

“What happened when you got there?”

“Tina was crying, so I thought that Bitsy was inside, so in
I went, like a fool.  But no Bitsy.  Tina headed back to her bedroom.”

So the lout knew where her bedroom was?  Well, he wasn’t
totally stupid, he was an attorney, all apartments have the bedrooms located
somewhere else than in the living room.

“I followed her and her bedroom was empty.  When I turned
around, she hit me in the side with a baseball bat.”

“Did she say why?”

Grant turned his gaze my way.  “No.  But I guess she heard
rumors about Sara and me.”

“What sort of rumors?”  Lenny asked.

“Just rumors, you know...rumors.”