When Bobbie Sang the Blues (5 page)

Christy pulled into the packed parking lot of the Blues Club at twenty minutes after nine. She had changed clothes twice, then taken two phone calls, which made her run late. She circled the concrete block building decorated with blue neon musical notes running around the front and sides of the club. She parked in the only empty space and hopped out, locking her car. As she hurried across the parking lot, music drifted through a side window. Blues music. Then she heard a woman’s voice, clear and rich, floating on the soft September evening, and almost stopped in her tracks. She remembered her aunt always humming a tune, usually a sad one, but hadn’t realized her voice was so beautiful. What had happened to Bobbie to bring out the sad songs?

Christy had asked her mother once, but Beth had shaken her
head and said, “I don’t know. When we were growing up, she sang all the time, and it was fun, lighthearted music.”

Christy climbed the steps, glancing up at the words “Blues Club” in blue neon script over the front door. She entered and looked around. More elegant inside, the club’s walls were covered with framed photographs of blues singers from Memphis and New Orleans. A bar ran along the left wall, and on the right a row of booths stretched to the rest rooms. A narrow aisle led straight to the back, where a raised stage enclosed in a brass rail held the band.

From the ceiling, three spotlights beamed down on Bobbie, dressed in a black pantsuit, elegant in its simplicity. Her blond hair shone silver in the circle of dusty white light. She held the microphone in her hand, staring off as though the song had taken her to a special world. “When I hear the blu-es call my name…” Her voice drifted away, leaving only silence and the low wail of a trombone.

Everyone in the club stood, applauding wildly, and Bobbie bowed low. “Thank you so much. Enjoy yourselves,” she said, smiling across the crowd. “I need to take a break.” She turned and thanked the band behind her as they picked up their instruments and filled the room with music. Feet shuffled, chairs scooted back in place, and people began to talk among themselves.

Christy’s gaze followed Bobbie to a round table directly in front of the stage, where Jack pulled out her chair. Christy blinked through the low light, her eyes widening. On the other side of the table, Dan sat beside a striking brunette she had never seen.

Her heart plummeted. How could Dan humiliate her like this? Why had he and his date chosen to join her aunt and Jack?

Furious, she turned and bumped into a woman in a sequined denim shirt.

“Hi, I’m Donna,” the woman said. She was pretty, in her early thirties with a friendly smile. Was this Christy’s new competition? If so, she didn’t seem to mind that she had been replaced as Dan’s date tonight.

Christy remembered her manners and extended her hand. “Christy Castleman.”

Donna smiled warmly. “Christy! I’ve heard a lot about you. Your aunt is very popular with everyone, and I can see why. She has a terrific voice, and she’s a very sweet person. Come on, I’ll take you to her table.”

Christy hesitated. Donna seemed nice, as Dan had said. And he did have a right to see anyone he wished. But who was that with him tonight, if it wasn’t Donna? She glanced over her shoulder. At this point, she couldn’t sneak out the door, and she wasn’t about to let Dan and his date stop her from saying hello to Bobbie and Jack.

She forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Gripping her handbag tightly, she squared her shoulders and told herself she could do this. She could be so polite that Dan would see she was indifferent to his dating.

“Look who’s here,” Donna said as they reached the table.

“Christy!” Bobbie called, pleased to see her, but a tense expression strained her face.

Christy hugged Jack, then turned with a casual “Hello, Dan.”

He had stood as she approached, smiling at her. She tried not to notice how handsome he looked in his white, button-down shirt
and dark pants. Her eyes swung to the tall woman with long curly hair. Christy gave her a friendly smile.

“Christy, this is Roseann Cole,” Dan said.

The woman’s brown eyes took in every detail of Christy’s appearance as she said, “Hi, Christy. Nice to meet you.” She spoke with an anxious, high-pitched voice and wore a bright orange shirt that glowed like a hunter’s vest. Her lipstick matched the blouse. Christy tried to conceal her dismay over Dan’s date as Jack pulled out a chair beside him.

“Your aunt has the sweetest voice this side of heaven,” Jack said, an unmistakable glow in his blue eyes. It was good to see Jack looking so pert and actually out on the town. He tended to hole up at Rainbow Bay, a clover-shaped inlet six miles east of Summer Breeze. Following an afternoon rain, beautiful rainbows arched the sky over Jack’s gray bungalow, where he lived with memories of the wife and son he had lost. Yet he loved the place, and he lived to fish.

“You were wonderful,” Christy said, smiling at Bobbie.

This time there was no mistaking the fear in Bobbie’s eyes as she looked at someone across the room. “Thanks, honey. Seth was here earlier, but he was expected somewhere else.”

Christy nodded. “He’s a very busy guy these days.”

“I’m so impressed that you’re a writer,” Roseann said. “I’m not much of a reader, but I so admire anyone smart enough to write books that get published.”

Christy studied the woman, trying to understand what Dan saw in her. However, she had to admit that Roseann seemed like a sweet person who wanted to be friends.

A deep voice boomed from behind Christy. “Well, Bobbie, maybe you’ll make enough money singing to pay me what you stole.”

Christy whirled and stared at the short man who stood behind her. He wore a black ten-gallon hat and a white shirt with pearl buttons. A huge belt buckle advertised a famous beer.

“Eddie,” Roseann said, reaching for his hand, “sit down and be nice. Bobbie invited us to sit here. You heard her yourself before you took off for the bar, so don’t say things like that to her.”

“Eddie, you’ve been drinking,” Bobbie said, “and I know how you get after a few drinks. You think you’re six foot five instead of five foot six. You start looking for a fight. So why don’t you leave before you get your rear end whipped again?”

“Not until I get what I came for,” he said, glaring back at her.

Christy realized this man was Eddie Bodine and that Roseann must be his girlfriend.

“Where’s the money?” Eddie demanded. “Better yet, where’s the vacuum cleaner?” His voice rose, and a hush swept over the crowd.

“The vacuum cleaner?” Bobbie cried. “Don’t tell me you drove all the way from Memphis to Florida because the vacuum cleaner wasn’t written up in the divorce papers!”

Eddie leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowed beneath the cowboy hat. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you too well. And you knew what was hidden in the vacuum cleaner.”

“You’re crazy,” Bobbie said, reaching for her purse and pulling out the bottle of pills.

“What is it?” Jack leaned over to her. “Are you sick?”

“Forgot to take my medicine.” She twisted the top of the bottle, but the cap wouldn’t come off. Christy could see Bobbie’s hands shaking, and she jumped out of her chair to help. Before she could, however, white pills exploded across the table and floor.

Christy and Jack scrambled to pick them up as Roseann stood and grabbed Eddie by the hand. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself, Eddie.”

An older man appeared with a broom and dustpan and began to sweep up the pills.

“Wait!” Bobbie hollered, stopping him. “I don’t want them thrown away. They’re too expensive. I’ll wipe them off when I get home.”

The little man looked startled, then turned and disappeared through the kitchen door.

Bobbie grabbed a nitroglycerin pill while Jack continued picking them up off the floor and putting them back in the medicine bottle. Christy glanced back at Eddie and Roseann and saw Dan had Eddie by the arm.

“You can leave quietly, or I can take you down right now,” Dan said, his face set in a firm line. No one who heard him could doubt he meant it, even though he spoke in a low, controlled voice. He towered over Eddie, who visibly backed down.

“We’re going.” Eddie said. He jerked his arm free from Dan’s grip.

“I’ll just come along with you,” Dan said. “I want to see the taillights of your vehicle so we know you’re gone.”

Eddie’s face flushed with anger, but Roseann tugged his hand. “Eddie, please. You’re embarrassing me.”

At her high-pitched plea, Eddie looked at her, took a deep breath, and nodded. In his tight jeans, he looked slightly bowlegged as he walked up the aisle. Dan, good as his word, followed them through the front door.

Christy knelt beside Bobbie. “Are you okay?”

Pale and trembling, Bobbie nodded and took another sip of water.

Jack was busy replacing pills in the bottle, then handed it to her. “Now that you have your medicine, I’m going after that bozo.”

Bobbie grabbed his arm. “No, Jack. Let him go. He’s caused enough trouble.”

“Well, I’m going to be sure he doesn’t cause any more.” He patted her hand, then turned and hurried toward the door.

Tony Panada sat at a table in a darkened corner, quietly enjoying the scene. His eyes lingered on the small blonde whose songs seemed to mesmerize the crowd. Bobbie Bodine had become a woman of interest. She’d stolen the idiot’s money and run off, and now the hot-tempered Eddie had caught up with her.

Oh well. She should have known better than to get involved with that character.

Tony ignored the talk around him, tilting his head back to
study the ceiling as he tried to remember something. Had there been a vacuum cleaner in that unit?

Christy watched Bobbie strain to hold back the tears and regain control. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

Bobbie shook her head. “I’m going to the rest room to freshen up. I promised to sing again after the break. I’ll forget about him once I start singing.” She grabbed her handbag and rushed to the ladies’ room.

The people at the adjoining tables began talking again, relaxing as the band struck up a happy tune. Christy stared after her aunt, torn between following Bobbie or going outside to be sure there was no trouble. She reached in her purse and removed her cell phone, holding it by her side as she walked quickly toward the door. She would call Deputy Arnold if Eddie hadn’t left.

When she stepped outside, Dan stood at the bottom of the steps. Jack ran alongside Eddie’s white truck, yelling, “You stay away from her or I’ll kill you!”

Christy gasped. She had never seen Jack in such a rage. His face was blood red, and his hands were balled in fists. “Jack! Come back!” she hollered.

Two couples crossing the parking lot heard Jack’s threat and stopped to stare at him as the white truck roared into the street and headed west.

“Come on, Jack.” Dan walked over to clamp a hand on the older mans shoulder. “They’re gone for good. I let him know he’d be very sorry if he ever came near Bobbie again. Or Christy,” he added, looking across at her.

As her eyes locked with his, she felt the tension of the evening begin to dissolve. “Thanks for helping out,” she said to him.

“No problem.”

She looked at Jack, who had begun to calm down.

“Bobbie told me he used to get rough with her,” he explained. “She’s afraid of him, but I told her not to worry. I’d see to it that little punk got run out of town.”

A soft, bluesy song broke the tension, and Bobbie’s voice filled the night. Jack listened for a moment, then shook his head. “Christy, your aunt’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

Christy gave him a hug. “I believe you’re smitten, Jack Watson.”

He grinned and headed for the door. “You guys coming?” he called over his shoulder.

They followed Jack inside the club and quietly took seats at the table. Watching Bobbie sing, Christy felt as though her aunt escaped to her own private world when she sang the blues, shutting everyone and everything out. Even now, she sang as though nothing had happened. Christy had never imagined her aunt was so talented. Why hadn’t her mother ever mentioned this?

Dan leaned toward her. “She’s quite a lady.”