A Good Excuse To Be Bad (14 page)

I clutched the blinds. “Not now.”

If the kids saw him and his entourage, they would know something was very wrong.

I nudged Whitney. “Take the kids upstairs to get dressed. I'll take care of them.”

She nodded. “Hey, kids, let's go upstairs and get dressed.”

The doorbell rang. I cringed, then peeked into where the kids were. They were still bopping around to Hip-Hop Jack, putting up their toys. I sighed. There must be TV in heaven. I waited until Whitney and the kids were upstairs and then answered my door.

“Good morning, Salvador.”

 

“M
orning, Angel. May I speak to you for a moment?” Salvador smiled.

Today he wore another pinstriped suit, navy with tan stripes. In the daylight, on my doorstep, in my eyes, he was Antonio Banderas. Mom would have a hot fit, if the circumstances weren't so bad and she wasn't a newlywed.

I shook my head. “Can you call your guard dogs off?”

He looked behind us and shrugged. “They aren't mine. I thought they were yours.”

Justus. I cringed. He was a man of his word; I was a buffoon.

“Well, since you all are brothers in blue, can you ask them to leave? The neighborhood is going to wonder.”

He smirked. “I'm sure they already know what has happened because your brother-in-law's murder is already breaking news.”

He pulled a copy of the
Atlanta Sentinel
from behind him and held it up in front of me. Front and center sat a large photo of a wild-eyed Ava wearing that peach robe splattered with Devon's blood on it. Ouch. I winced.

Salvador handed the paper to me. “Have you changed your mind about that talk now?”

“I still don't have time.”

I took it from his hands, folded it under my arm, and stepped outside. I was about two minutes from crying again. I gestured for him to follow me toward my rocking chairs on the front porch. I sat down and didn't say anything until he sat beside me. I wasn't going to let him tear me down in my own home.

His PDA buzzed. He didn't look at it. He looked at the yard. “When I go home after a day and night of observing scum, I garden.”

I didn't say a word.

“You can find me at eleven o'clock at night in my yard tending to rose bushes.” He chuckled. “I don't go to sleep until I get my hands dirty.”

“Well, that explains it.” I wrapped my robe tighter around my waist. “Look, Salvador. I don't have time for metaphors. I don't have time to wash my hair, so whatever it is you came by to say, you need to get on with it. Or do I need to have an attorney present?”

“No, else I would have called before I came.”

“And why did you drive out of your jurisdiction to see me?”

“I need to ask you a few more questions about last night.”

“And you think coming over here, where my niece and nephew are, will make me want to say anything to you?”

“I need to see your last case file.”

I stopped rocking. “What are you talking about?”

“The one implicating Greater Atlanta for tax fraud.”

“What would that mess possibly have to do with Devon's murder?” I asked.

Salvador shook his head. “Hopefully nothing, but in cases like this, we have to cross all our T's.”

“More like, point crosshairs at my sister.”

“You dug that ditch back when you wrote that story.”

I cringed. He might as well have taken that deadly Wüsthof knife and stabbed me with it.

“You're asking me about something that never was. The story never inked. It's no good.”

“Just because the
Sentinel
didn't run it, doesn't make it unimportant. Anyway, I live fifteen minutes from here, so it wasn't a problem to come by. Plus, I wanted to check on you and the family.”

“You're the first.” I tightened my robe more. Justus's disappointed face popped into view. “I meant the second who thought enough to check on us.”

“No one has called from Greater Atlanta?”

I sighed. He was digging for clams right on my porch. But he didn't need to be. Ava looked more guilty than any possible suspect I had ever seen. He was searching for something else, or he knew Ava didn't kill Devon.

“What else can I do for you besides giving you my old story, Detective?”

“Come on now, Angel. Let's not do this dance. You have something I want. I can take it by force if I need to.”

“The kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force,” I said. If Justus were here, I imagine he would chuckle.

“Now's not the time for Bible quoting.”

I turned to him. “Hasn't this family suffered enough today? What you're asking could ruin Devon's legacy. Do you know that?”

“I know what your investigation alleges.”

“But that's beside the point. It's apparent that the church has taken a position to support Ava to the fullest. Willis, the lawyer. You know full well he'll make her crooked straight. Besides, you have a very strong case. Manslaughter One. You don't need that story to make that happen.”

“You're so wrong.” He stood up. “I need the story. Can't tell you why, but I need it, and for Ava's benefit, you need to come up with it.”

My heart was doing laps at Daytona. I caught his coat sleeve. “You think it has something to do with Devon's death, don't you?”

“Don't know.”

I stood up. “Then neither do I.”

He shook his head. “Okay, then I'll let the assistant DA subpoena you, and let's see how far that'll help your sister.”

“You don't care about my sister and that little reluctant gardener shtick of yours, you could have kept that for Oprah.”

“Are you going to cooperate or what?”

“Why should I?”

“Because we're both after the same thing.”

“Can't be the truth.”

“Must be. That's the only thing that keeps us both up at night.”

“Even if that truth means my sister is innocent?”

He nodded. “If that's what we determine.”

“Let me stop you right there. She's innocent and I'll prove it. So you don't have to tell me what you already know. I'll find out on my own.”

“So you already know that as we speak my partner is picking up a search warrant for your home?”

My throat singed. I wanted to kick him off my property, but I couldn't.

“If I tell you what you want to know, can you do a favor for Ava's children?”

“Out of respect for you, I want you to know that we will come search your house later today.” He checked his watch. “You'll have enough time to have an attorney here with you.”

“Thanks, at least you're courteous enough to give me time to get the children out of the house so they won't see.”

He coughed. “I'm going to have to speak to the kids.”

“What?”

“It's best if I speak to them here instead of bringing them to Decatur.”

“Do you know what that means? Do you realize the kids don't know anything right now? They think Devon and Ava are on a trip. “

He rubbed his fingers. I could have sworn I saw dirty soil sift between his fingers. “It's for the best.”

A huge knot lodged into my throat. “You know my sister didn't kill him. Don't you?”

His handheld went off again. He pulled it from his belt, looked at it, and grunted. “What is it going to take for you to cooperate with me?”

“Release my sister.”

He chuckled. “I can't do that.”

“Keep me in the loop, so I can find the real killer.”

“I can't do that either.”

“Well, what can you do?”

He laughed. “You haven't been married before, have you?”

“What does that have to do with the price of milk?”

“I've been married for fifteen years. Married my high school sweetheart. She's still my sweetheart. You know why?” He went on as if he hadn't heard my last question. I rocked in the chair and folded my arms. “Do you know why?”

“Clueless.”

“We both learned early on to listen, something you, Ms. Crawford, should know very well, but you don't do so well right now.”

I stopped rocking. He had my attention. “Can you tell me who killed Bella's father, then?”

He chuckled and stood up. “I have to go. I hope that by the time I return you will have a copy of that old case file. I'll see you later today, Ms. Crawford.”

I watched him pull out the drive and then wave when he tipped his hat at me. So much for going to meet Elvis at ten. I had to uncover my own dead and find a place for my family to go while my house was trashed, but where?

I came back inside and went upstairs. The children were giggling and playing. I went into my room, shut the door, and locked it. Television shows, movies, and sometimes the Holy Bible showed people living through a romantic sort of tribulation. They do the right thing even when they don't want to. They find illumination during times of struggle. Endings are always happy. There's a light at the end of the tunnel, and sometimes Oprah invites them to her show.

But I didn't feel any of that. No. Not a bit of faith like that. We were in trouble. Big trouble. And there was no way God was placing the burden of solving Ava's issues on me.

“What makes you so special?”
A voice that sounded very much like my great-grandmother spoke through the air around me.

I ignored her voice. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful, but I knew my limits. I didn't know how to make things better. I didn't want to get out of bed, and I definitely, definitely didn't want to go to the self-storage facility to retrieve that case file.

I paid good money to keep the skeletons in my closet there. My soul needed those skeletons to stay there. And so my cry came and began to crumple me down to the floor. I needed sanctuary.

But, of course, my doorbell rang. I peeked through my window and fell out of myself. Mom was here. What a mixed blessing.

 

 

Virginia Carter, our mom, had her hands on her hips looking like a Diahann Carroll knockoff with her salon-colored mahogany coif to boot. Her eyes steamed at me. She had a few more bones to pick, and by the strength in my arm when I swung my door open, I had a limb to break off myself.

“Evangeline Grace Crawford, why do you look like death warmed over when your sister is fighting for her freedom in the Dekalb Hotel?” Her nickname for the jail.

I sighed and opened the door.

She stepped into the foyer and dictated. “Tell Whitney to get my things out of the car. Move her car out of the garage, so you can park mine next to yours. And where are my grandbabies?”

“Before I even consider honoring any of your requests, I need you to do something for me.”

She pursed her lips. Somehow her hips became wider, because that leg she rested on dug into my hardwood. “Let me remind you of the Fifth Commandment: Honor your mother.”

“Let me remind you of the Fifth Commandment: Honor your children; Actually, honor everybody.”

Mom slammed her purse on my foyer table. “I didn't come here to be disrespected.”

“Mom, that's not what I meant. I need you. I'm glad to see you.” I peeked over her shoulder. “Where's my new daddy?”

She exhaled and smiled wide enough to match the sun. “He's making reservations for us to stay at the Hilton down the street. I fear if we go back to Marietta, we won't make our honeymoon after all of this is settled.”

“There's room here. You don't have to stay in a hotel.”

“Sounds like a full house, not a good thing for newlyweds. We're noisy at night.” She walked around me, then stopped just short of me becoming dizzy. “What have you heard from the investigators?”

“Actually, not enough. That's another reason why you need to be here. The house is going to be searched in a few hours. I'm going to ask Whitney to take Bella to my church to swim and play while they're here.”

“And what about Taylor and Lil' D? Why aren't they going?”

“Because the detectives want to talk to them?”

“Hell no.” She reached in her purse and pulled out her cell phone.

“Mom, how can you quote a commandment and curse at the same time?” I palmed my head. “Never mind.”

She closed the phone and took my hands in hers. “Let me tell you something. Those kids are going to that church and swim. I'll take care of the detectives.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to introduce them to your new daddy.”

“And what does he have to do with the price of eggs?”

“He's a retired police chief. I think that says enough. He can man the house while we take care of business.” She kissed my cheek. “I missed you, Angel.”

I kissed her back. “You know, I have to admit that I missed you, too.”

“Just as long as you do, then you'll be okay.” She released my hands, then walked toward her purse. “Now get upstairs, get pretty, and wash the spunk back into your soul. I heard a rumor that your pastor's a dreamboat.”

“Who told you that?”

“Who else? Whitney.”

“Don't you think I should get my no-name stepdaddy up to speed about what's going on first?”

“Not looking like that you won't.” She scrunched her nose. “I hope you weren't dressed like that when you were out with the pretty pastor.”

“On that note, I'm going to take my shower now.”