When Memories Fade (7 page)

That was what she longed for.

Wes looked at the clock on the car's dashboard. He hoped Angel was still there. The interview with Jay Strong had run longer than he intended. When there was an opportunity he could not miss, Wes struggled with decisions. With Alan breathing down his neck to get an interview, Wes had decided this morning to drive to Strong's Auto Body Shop.

He didn't need to have his Honda checked, but Wes handed over his keys and sat in the waiting room, enduring a competitor's news stories. He had no idea if the service person recognized him, but he was concerned only with whether Jay was working today. After fifteen minutes, he went outside, looked around, and then slipped into the garage. Sure enough, his Honda had been pulled in and the hood was raised.

Jay looked at him with suspicion. “I know you. You're a reporter. What do you want, man? I don't need no more reporters trying to ask me questions.”

This man was working on his car, so Wes switched gears. “Man, I just want to hear your side. I know you must really love Melanie, and her disappearance must be killing you.” Wes was pushing it. He doubted Jay knew how to really love a woman.

He was about Wes's height, but Jay had to have been considered for or offered the wide receiver position on the high school football team. Maybe if Jay had gone the sports route, the discipline would have kept him out of the trouble that eventually led to him being a high school dropout and working at this garage.

The man scowled and then put his head back under the hood. A few seconds later, he spoke. “Melanie was a good woman. I hope they find her.”

Do you want them to find her?
Wes had to calm some of his thoughts and suspend some of his judgments so he could keep the impromptu interview going. He asked, “So how did you feel about her being on
American Voices?
”

Jay stuck his head out from under the hood and threw a tool in a box. “I was excited for my girl. She could sing. I hoped she would get a record deal out of the whole thing.”

“Did she?”

Jay sniffed. “People were knocking on her door, but no one was coming through for her. The offers would fizzle and go nowhere. She was starting to be a drag about the whole thing. It was like that show was a waste of her time.”

“So she was depressed? Do you think maybe she left on her own, you know, just to get away?”

“Where would she go? I'm sure she was feeling low. Anybody would. She was broke. Me and her hadn't talked much in the past few months. She came to me for money a few weeks ago. I found out she moved back in with her dad's old lady. She couldn't stand that woman. I guess she was pretty messed up.”

“You cared about her. She trusted you. How long had you been a couple?”

“We'd been together since high school. On and off. Yeah, we cared about each other.”

“But you had one of those relationships where you weren't really good for each other. Maybe you argued a bit too much.”

Jay eyed him. He finally responded, “I'm sure we argued like any couple. Things got heated, and we yelled at each other. No big deal.” He held up his finger. “I never put a hand on her, though. People trying to make me out to be something I'm not.”

“Yeah, but you were arrested for a brawl at a club a year ago.”

“The guy deserved to be put in his place. He was drunk and in my face. Look, you want me to finish your car or what? I don't have anything else to say.”

Wes was hoping to push more but realized after looking at his watch, he needed to leave soon. “Thanks, man. That's all the questions I have. I appreciate your time. I hope you and Melanie can be reunited.”

Jay hunched back over under the car's hood. Wes thought he looked deflated, but one could never tell what people would do in a fit of rage. He hoped that Jay Strong wouldn't be accused of foul play.

After his car was ready, Wes zipped in and out down I-77 toward the exit that would lead to Southern Soul Café. He had been there only a few times, mostly with Pops. He liked to see the part of Pops's life that he rarely talked about. The fact that he'd played in a popular band had always fascinated Wes. It was hard to imagine that the quiet, thoughtful man could set an audience on fire on the piano. Wes had never seen him play except on old VHS tapes his mother kept. He often wondered why Pops gave up the band to go to the police academy and then work his way up to detective.

Wes arrived at the parking lot of Southern Soul Café as a line of cars was leaving. He was able to park near the door. Hopping out, he headed inside.

A cute young hostess greeted him. “I know you. You are on TV.”

He smiled. “Yes. Thanks.” Wes didn't mind the recognition, but sometimes it felt a bit awkward, such as now, as the young lady was staring at him. He cleared his throat.

She smacked herself across the forehead. “Oh, I'm sorry. How many in your party?”

Since he was about fifteen minutes late, Wes realized that Angel might have gone. Great way to make an impression on a woman after the awkward episode on Sunday. He told the grinning woman, “I'm meeting someone. She is a little taller than you, has dark curly hair, fair skin.”

The hostess's grin drooped. “I think I know who you are talking about. Eddie was talking to her. Follow me.”

Eddie? Who is Eddie?
Wes followed the hostess. He caught sight of Angel and tapped the hostess on the shoulder. “I see her. Thanks.” As he approached, Wes noticed an older man sitting across from Angel. He looked familiar to Wes. Angel was laughing.

“Hello, Angel.” She turned to him and smiled. There was a twinkle of joy in her eyes today, and not the deep sadness he'd seen on Sunday.

“Hello, Wes.”

“Sorry I'm late.” Wes pulled his eyes from Angel to look over at the older man.

Angel introduced her tablemate. “Wes, this is Eddie Gowins, the owner of Southern Soul Café. He also used to be the drummer in the band.”

“Oh yeah. Now I know why you look familiar. You should know my pops.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Your pops was a musician?”

“Yes, well, he's my grandfather. Lenny Cade. He played the piano along with Angel's granddad.”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie rubbed his cheek. “I remember Lenny. He left the group not too long after I joined. I haven't seen him in years. How's he doing?”

“Not too good. Age stuff.”

“Sorry to hear. We are all getting up in age.” Eddie was looking at him like he was sizing him up. “Aren't you a reporter?”

Angel answered, “Yes, he is, and I need his help with something.” She looked pointedly at Eddie.

“Okay, I can catch a hint. I will leave you two to have lunch.” Eddie slid from the booth. “I tried to keep Angel from starving while she waited on you to arrive.”

Angel laughed. “I was not starving.”

Eddie winked. “If you say so. Looks like you wiped out them corn muffins pretty good.” He pointed at Wes. “You be good to her, young man. She's like a daughter to me. Talk to you later.”

“Thanks, Uncle Eddie.”

As he sat down, Wes noticed the basket and the yellow crumbs on a plate. “I would say you must have been pretty hungry.”

Angel rolled her eyes and smiled at him. “Well, you were running late.”

He grinned. “Sorry I'm late. Are you related to him? You called him uncle.”

She shook her head. “No. He's been a family friend for so long. I have always called him uncle. Not that my real uncle cared for me doing that. I used to be friends with Eddie's daughter.”

“Used to be?”

“Long story.” Angel then said, “I'm glad you could make it. I know you must be busy.”

Wes was finding Angel quite intriguing. She had some mystery about her that he wanted to dig into. Maybe they would become friends. “I got caught up in an interview, but I didn't want to miss out on talking to you,” he responded. “This used to be a popular place to eat with my pops. I was surprised you suggested it, because it's been a while since I've eaten here.” Wes looked at the wall. “Wow, would you look there.” He pointed. “That's Pops right there. He's so young.”

Angel commented, “You look like him.”

“Yeah. The same could be said about you and your mother.” He'd recognized Elisa in the framed photo above Angel's head. “I'm sure a lot of people have told you, you are the splitting image of her.”

“I've been told.”

“Do you sing?”

She stared at Wes.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask that question.”

“Yes, you did,” she answered. “You are a reporter, and I'm sure that's what your inquiring mind wanted to know. And I sing a little. It's never been an aspiration of mine.”

A waitress came to take their orders before Wes could ask more questions. He would've loved to hear her sing. They both ordered the make-your-own lunch meal, which included a choice of meat and two sides. Wes chose fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and macaroni and cheese. Angel ordered pork chops, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Wes couldn't wait to dig in. It had been a long morning.

After the waitress left, he decided to ask Angel a safe question. “I had a chance to look at your Web site. You do beautiful work.”

“Thank you. I'm in the midst of the wedding season now.”

“How did you get into doing the wedding videos?”

“A good friend introduced me to Lenora Freeman.”

“First lady of Victory Gospel?”

“Yes, and the best wedding planner in Charlotte. I'm contracted to work with her to produce videos. Helps me fund my documentary.”

It seemed like they had just ordered when the waitress appeared again, this time with steaming plates of food. After the waitress left, Wes asked, “Would you mind if I said grace?” He held his hand out.

“Please.” Angel placed her small hand in his and held her head down.

He prayed, “Father, God, thank you for this opportunity to fellowship and get to know each other. I pray for the nourishment of this food to help provide the strength we need. In Jesus's name.”

They both said, “Amen.”

While they dug into their food, Wes commented, “So you attend Victory Gospel Church? I love going to service there. A lot of members. You can't beat the energy level.”

“It's a huge church. Yes, I usually attend the eight o'clock service with my grandparents, or, well, just my grams now. I started going to Bible study because a friend encouraged me to try it out. After going to Bible study for a few months, I became a Christian.”

Mmmm, so she is a new Christian. A babe in Christ.
“That's awesome. I grew up going to church. Became a Christian around twelve, but I hate to admit that in college, I kind of went a bit on the wild side for a while.”

Angel laughed. “Really? I bet you have some stories to tell.”

“Not anything I want to report on the local news. Tell me more about the documentary you are working on.”

“It's about my mother's life. I was hoping it was a way to find out what happened to her. I have footage of my mother singing in talent shows as a little girl. Singing was all she dreamed of doing. I wanted to show how talented she was before she disappeared.”

“So you will be talking to the people who were with her that day?”

“That's a goal.”

“Does your list include your father?”

Angel put her fork down and carefully wiped her mouth. “I don't know. He's somewhere on the West Coast. I'm not trying to find him.”

“He's not anymore.”

She looked at him. “What?”

“I'm sorry! I guess you didn't know. He moved back to Charlotte about six months ago. Not too long after your grandfather passed away.”

She shook her head. “That's crazy! How do you know this? I mean, not that I care. We haven't spoken since I was a little girl.”

Wes didn't want to give away that he had been learning as much as he could about Angelino Mancini. He wanted to know if the man had gotten away with a crime all these years. Pops had tried so hard to find some evidence of foul play. What he had found was that Angelino's boxing career had ended just as prematurely as Elisa's singing career. He'd packed up one day and left, not looking back at a town where many thought he took Elisa's life and hid her body.

Angel placed her napkin on the table and reached inside her pocketbook. “I'm sorry. I have to go.” Her face had grown visibly red.

Ah, Wes!
They were really having a great conversation. Why did he bring up her father now? “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just . . . I'm in shock, I guess. It's been easier not to think about my dad, but you're saying he's here. I don't know. He's a sore subject for me.” She reached into her wallet and pulled out her debit card.

“Don't. I will take care of the bill. Besides, I was late and made you wait.”

Thanks.” Angel scooted out from the booth. The sadness had returned to her eyes.

He didn't want her to leave like this. This was bad, maybe worse than Sunday. “Hey, Angel, I'm really sorry. Look, if there is any way I can help you with the documentary about your mother, let me know. I do want to help you.”

She nodded. As he watched her walk away, he saw the old guy, Eddie, approach her. Angel waved to him and headed out the door. Eddie looked back to where he sat. Wes turned away. Maybe he ought to have paid more attention to Eddie's words when he said, “You be good to her.”