Under the Cypress Moon (54 page)

"Oh, Baby," Shylah said, "Didn't you get enough already?"

"Maybe," Mark coyly played, cannily smiling.

The couple quickly dressed and snuck into the party, attempting to float in under everyone's radar, but, of course, this did not work.  Shylah's parents and brother immediately noticed them coming from the house, hand in hand, both smiling profusely.

"You know we know what you two been up to," Darius announced as Mark and Shylah stepped toward him, trying to find some kind of amusement in the situation.

Shylah glanced toward Mark to save her from the accusations of her father, but Mark was as dumbfounded and nervous as the woman by his side.
  He shot back a look that seemed to ask, "What do you expect me to do?!"

Shrugging it all away as best they could, Mark and Shylah made the most of their time with Shylah's extended family, but as time went on, they could not keep their eyes, hands, or lips off of one another.  After downing some food and spending time engaged in small talk with as many people as cam to them, they could take it no longer, wanting so badly to rip each other apart, and headed back to Shylah's room, hoping that no one would see them. 

Time seemed to flash by as an instant.  The next thing that Mark or Shylah knew, it was growing dark.  They had spent the better part of three hours enjoying one another as only lovers can.  Shylah was so happy to have Mark back in her life and to have the opportunities to steal away and show her fiancée exactly how she felt about him.  It had been as an eternity for both of them, not only to go so long without each other's company but to go so long without access to one another's body. 

Shylah, now knowing that Sara was out of the picture, gladly agreed to pack up her things and come with Mark back to his house, their house.  They could now, having become engaged and reconnected, live as if they were already married, despite the probably objections of many.
  Shylah let the issues of Sara's treatment of her and Mark's failure to adequately defend her slide, hoping that they could be swept under the rug and no longer be of concern.  What mattered now was that Mark was sorry, that he had done the right thing in kicking Sara out of the house, and that he realized exactly what he had with Shylah and what he had missed by being apart from her.

Darius and Pearlina were a little saddened to see their daughter leave home once more, but they understood, at least, Pearlina.  Both she and her son were imminently joyous that everything between the couple had been mended and that all previous plans of marriage could be resumed.  T.L. had his best friend back to normal and had his sister feeling once again fulfilled. It was a joy which T.L. had envisioned possibly to never again return.

Shylah felt both overjoyed and overwhelmed to step foot back inside Mark's house.  Though it was exactly where she wanted to be, the messes inside and out were unbearable.  "We gotta get this place cleaned," Shylah screamed as soon as she saw everything.  "You weren't kiddin'!  She really did a number on this place!"

Mark quickly swept as much as he could into a giant pile along the wall of the parlor.  He didn't want to deal with cleaning up the rest or with even bagging up the trash that he had just swept.  Enough had been done to get around and navigate the confines of the house.  Tomorrow would be another day and another allowance to get things finished. 
Mark could hardly bear not having Shylah locked away in the bedroom with him to celebrate their happy reunion.  The problem was that the bedroom was not much better than the rest of the house.  Mark told Shylah what he saw taking place in their bed previously that day.  It filled Shylah with such disgust that she could not decide what to do, how to handle it all.

"You know we're probably gonna have to burn the sheets," Shylah exclaimed, wanting to laugh but knowing that it was not in her.

"Yeah.  I know," Mark agreed, feeling as if he might vomit from the thought of it.  Mark hurriedly ripped the sheets and blankets from the bed and carried them to the parlor to be placed on top of the pile of garbage while Shylah fitted the bed with clean bedding.

There was some general mess in the room, but neither person was concerned.  The bed was clear for use once again.  Mark and Shylah readily tore off all of their clothes and climbed into the bed as fast as their limbs could move, resuming all of the pleasures that they had enjoyed in Shylah's room.  Much like they had so many nights before, they fell asleep, unclothed, in each other's arms, with hardly a care in the world but each other.

The next day, however, the almost immediately busied themselves with cleaning up the remainder of the damage done by Sara.  Lou Sanders arrived for work at nine and was quickly put to work cleaning the outside of the house.  Lou, however, seemed very upset.  When asked what was wrong, he pulled Mark aside, away from Shylah's hearing, to inform him of what had occurred over the weekend.

"I come by here the other day to check up on things and make sure I put away everything.  I wasn't real sure I had.  I come here and seen that girl carryin' on like a dog in heat.  I told her she ought not to do such a thing in her brother's house, and she yelled at me and told me it was her house and called me a retard that ain't fit fer shootin'!"

"I'm sorry, Lou," Mark clamored, shaking his head.  "She's the only one that thinks that stuff, and that's only cuz she's so ate up in her brain.  She's got no feelings at all.  I think she's completely beyond all feeling.  Don't worry about a thing.  I got rid of her when I came home yesterday.  She's gone, and I don't want her steppin' foot here, so if you see her try, you run her off.  Ok?"

"Good deal, Mark.  I'm glad you's the one here and not her.  Well, I best be gettin' about my work.  Looks like a lot to be done.  Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do, Lou.  I don't think you'll have to worry about this job too long, though.  We should have the plant goin' soon, and if you still want it, you got a job there."

"Absolutely!  Shucks.  I'll take that in a heartbeat!  You know I will!  Thank you, Mark."  Lou happily went back to work, humming a joyful tune. 

It took the majority of the day to get it all repaired and back to normal, but Mark never felt happier about the appearance of his house.  He gladly took Shylah out to lunch when it was all done, but as soon as they got into the truck to leave the restaurant, Mark's phone rang.  Looking at his phone, Mark wondered why Stan Walker would be calling him.  A terrible dread washed over him before he could answer.

"Hey, Mr. Walker," Mark began as politely as he could.

"Hi, Mark.  I need to see you, as soon as you can, please.  Can you get down to my office today?"

"Uh, yeah.  I guess so.  What's this about?"

"Well, it'd be better discussed in my office, but it's concerning Sara."

"Ok, Mr. Walker.  Be there in a few."  Mark hated it that he had to go to see his attorney when he should be spending his time with Shylah, not to mention that it was because of Sara.  Once again, the woman had proven to be a difficult dilemma for her brother that she hardly knew.

Mark and Shylah were immediately led into Stan's office when they arrived and presented soon after with coffee.  Stan had a perplexed and discomfited look upon his face.  He clearly planned to get right down to business and to make no small talk.

"Mark, we have a serious situation here.  Sara came to me today."

"Ok.  And?"

"She's mad because of how you've apparently been treating her."

"Mr. Walker, I haven't been anything but nice to that girl.  How does that involve you, Sir?"

"Sara asked me to represent her to sue the estate.  She wants to take you to court and try to take everything.  Frankly, she can do it, try, I mean.  I'm not saying she'd win, but she can definitely try.  She is your father's legal daughter.  Whether or not she is your real blood sister, she is still a legal heir.  Your father's signature is right there on her birth certificate. 
Now, I turned her down, of course.  Not only would it be a conflict of interest, as I am the attorney for the plant of which you are the manager and the C.E.O., but out of loyalty to your father, I just can't stick my neck out there to try to break up his estate.  I'd suppose that she would get a sizeable piece of the estate.  Your father's will is pretty ironclad, but that doesn't always guarantee anything.  She can argue that she's just as much a rightful heir as are you.  With a good enough attorney, she might win and get a lot more than the ten million dollars."

"How much are we talkin' about here," Mark demanded, nearly choking on his words.

"Ballpark, I'd estimate tens of millions.  With a sympathetic enough court, you could be required to buy out her share of the business.  It may be a longshot, but it's a definite possibility.  If I were you, and this is just ol' Stan Walker, your father's friend talkin', but I'd find some kinda dirt on her to make her back off."

Mark shook his head in disbelief.  "Wait.  Are you tellin' me to blackmail her?"

"Call it what you will.  Blackmail her.  Frighten her.  Whatever.  Just get somethin' you can use to keep her at bay.  She's doin' this, I'd say, mostly just to hurt you and to get back at your father.  Maybe she was plannin' this all along.  I don't know.  The point is that she can make a case, and she could win.  In a lot of places, the will guarantees that whatever's stated in it is followed down to the smallest t.  In some other places, however, you get a judge that's sympathetic to such claims.  You may be lucky.  You may not.  How it works is that underpopulated counties, such as ours, do not allow for juries in probate proceedings.  That might be your saving grace right there, unless the hearing would somehow be moved by a motion stating that Sara would not stand a fair chance in this county, which I think would be thrown into the trash can and be a laughing matter for some time.  I can almost promise you it'd happen here, and with no jury to be swayed by her battin' her pretty little eyes and tellin' her sad little story about growin' up without a daddy and how mean her long lost brother is to her, etcetera, etcetera, you'd probably be ok.  I know Judge Tomkins quite well.  We go way back.  I can't see him doin' more than just hearing the case.  He's pretty old fashioned about these things, which is great for you.  I've never heard of him goin' against a living will.  There is, pardon my language here, Ma'am, a rat's ass chance that the hearing could be in Macon.  In that case, you very well may be, proverbially, up shit creek with no paddle.  However, between you and I, hush hush, wink wink, I'd get that dirt on her and use it in any way that you can!"

"And how do I do that, Sir," Mark wondered aloud.

"With a private investigator.  In a case such as this, you want the best, and that would be Riley Raymond Colfax.  He is not cheap, but he is good.  I'll give him a call and tell him you're comin' to see him.  He's over in Waycross.  It may set you back a few, well, probably more like ten thousand dollars, but that's a far cry away from the millions you may have to fork over in a suit.  If there is dirt on this woman, any at all, Colfax will find it.  Believe you me, he will find it!  He'll find enough on her to make her cry all the way back up to Macon!"  Stan winked so quickly that Mark and Shylah almost didn't see it.  He scribbled Colfax's address onto a sticky note and handed it to Mark.  Then, extending his hand for a hearty shake, bid the couple good day and sat down to make the phone call on Mark's behalf.

It was very late in the afternoon when Mark and Shylah showed up at Riley Raymond Colfax's office in Waycross.  Mark dreaded that he had to resort to such measures or that he had to meet with a stranger to discuss the issue, but it needed taken care of and quickly. 

Colfax hastily pulled two chairs from the back of his office closer to his desk and motioned for Mark and Shylah to seat themselves.  Hurriedly grabbing three cups to get coffee for himself and his newest clients, Colfax, without turning, began, "So, I hear from Walker than ya got yourself a wayward sister tryin' to bilk ya out of your inheritance.  This isn't the first time I've handled such a case, believe it or not.  I've done this more'n a few times already.  Not my first rodeo.  No, not 'tall.  So, just tell me a bit about this woman, and I'll get started right away.  I'll need her information, anything you have on her, and a three thousand dollar retainer.  There may be more later or maybe not, but three grand will keep me mighty busy for a while.  How do you take your coffee, Ma'am?"

"Just a little creamer and two sugars, please, Sir," Shylah cordially replied.

"And  you, Sir, how do you take yours?"

"Black's fine with me, Mr. Colfax."

"I can see that from your lady friend, if ya don't mind me sayin' so, and you can just call me Riley or Ray or Riley Ray, but Mr. Colfax is my daddy."

Shylah let out a breath-stealing chuckle at hearing Colfax's comment but immediately noticed that Mark was giving her a dirty look.  "What?  It was pretty funny.  You gotta admit."

"Ok.  Yeah, sure.  I ain't in a laughin' mood right now," Mark snapped.

"Weell, sooorrry, Mr. Grump."

"You two sound like me and my second wife and me and my fourth wife," Colfax chimed as he turned around to place the cups before his visitors.  "You two married?"

"Soon to be, I think," Shylah remarked.  "If he keeps up this attitude, I don't know.  I may be a widow shortly after the wedding."

"I like her," Colfax laughingly replied.  "I like her a lot!  She's a firecracker, this girl right here!  You hold onto her, if it isn't too presumptive to tell you your business, friend.  She's gonna be a welt in your side some days with her jokes, but you don't find somebody like her every day.  You're a lucky, lucky man, Sir."

"Yeah, I am.  I know it," Mark agreed, smiling at Shylah as he grabbed her hand.  "Well, so you need a check and the info, right, Mr. Col... Riley?"

"Yep.  Three thousand made out to Riley Colfax or Riley Raymond Colfax.  Either is fine.  And whatever you got on this so-called sister of yours, write that down for me.  Now, Stan told me that there's been no proof that this woman is even your sister, except for your father's signature on the birth certificate.  Unfortunately, you're not gonna find out any more on that front.  Unless you can somehow force her or trick her into takin' a DNA test, you got no grounds either way to say she is or is not your sister.  Legally, she is, but that's a piece of paper.  I've seen plenty of times when there was a birth certificate that said one thing and then a test was done, and it proved entirely different." Colfax promptly grabbed the check from Mark as soon as it was written, and after giving it a thorough glance, laid it down on the desk.  "Now, just so you know, if this check bounces, I will come lookin' for you.  I'm sure there's no problem there.  Stan said you're rich, or you will be anyway.  I'm sure you got plenty of money.  But I'm just sayin', if this check is only good for wipin' my ass, I will hunt you down.  I'm not afraid to pull you out in the street in your own town and pull your pants down and give you a spankin' like your kindergarten teacher used to do.  Comprende, Amigo?"

"Yes, Sir, but there's nothin' to worry about. That check is good as gold."

"I'm sure it is, Mr. Crady.  I'm sure it is.  See.  I wanna trust you.  I like you already.  You seem like a real standup guy!  And if Stan Walker vouches for you, well, that says a lot.  But, I've also had plenty of times when a guy was vouched for by somebody I trusted, and I started to like the guy, thought maybe we could even be friends, and the guy stiffed me."  Colfax leaned back in his swivel chair, with his arms crossed, staring into Mark's eyes, making Mark quite uneasy and nervous.

"Well, Sir, like I said, good as gold, just like my word.  So, you're gonna get started on this right away, right?"

"Yes, Siree, Bob.  I might even start tonight.  It depends on what we're talkin' about.  By tomorrow, for sure.  I wanna help you get this bit... pardon, lady.  I wanna see justice is done.  Anyhow, you got nothin' to worry about.  I'd stake my reputation on it.  Everybody's got dirty laundry.  Some are better at hidin' it than others, but it always comes out.  She's got some dirty laundry.  I'll guarantee you that.  In fact, I'll bet you this three grand here on my desk on it!  I'll find somethin', plenty to send her runnin' back to where was it?  It was Macon, right?  I think that's what Stan told me.  Anyway, you just relax, and as soon as I got somethin', I'll give you a call.  So, if you would, please take that piece of paper in front of you on that pad and write down your phone number or numbers and what you know about this person you want me to follow.  Her name, where she lives, where she was stayin' the last you knew, anything you can think of.  Even if it seems like a really minute detail, like the kind of thing that nobody pays attention to, write that down as well.  You'd be surprised how easy a person can be tripped up over the smallest of things."

Mark was already busy thinking of anything about Sara that might help well before Colfax carried on so long into his diatribe.  He passed the paper to Shylah to have her look it over, hoping that maybe she could think of something that he hadn't, but Shylah had nothing to add.  Mark somewhat shakily handed the pad of paper across the desk to Colfax, who carefully perused every detail.  After a handshake, everyone bid farewell to one another, Mark and Shylah to each other obviously excepted.

Before Mark followed Shylah out of the door, he paused, turning to face Colfax, his curiosity running wild.  "Were you a cop?  You seem like one."

"Yep.  Four years, Savannah P.D., three years, Waycross P.D., one year, Georgia State University P.D."

"You went from bein' a regular cop to a college cop?  How's that happen?"

"Long story involving a bad place at the wrong time and accusations leveled my way.  I quit but still needed a job, went to the university police department, got hired right away cuz of my experience, quickly rose up the ranks there but got tired really fast of all the stupid college drama and bullshit and quit that job and started this place.  I'm good at what I do, and I'm sure it has a lot to do with the fact that I was a cop for so long and probably with my dad bein' a cop and two of my uncles.  I still think of myself as a cop.  I just don't have to answer to whiny ass bosses and take shit from the public."  As he spoke, Colfax tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth in place where he stood.  The whole thing seemed funny to Mark, but he chalked it up to not being any of his business.