A Shred of Evidence (29 page)

T
wo hours after Ross’s averted suicide attempt, Julie sat with her head resting against the back of the couch, her eyes closed, her hand holding tightly to his. She shuddered to think how close she had come to losing him, but was grateful that the incident had caused them to finally get honest with each other.

“You can stop worrying,” Ross said. “I’m not gonna try it again. It was stupid.”

It was worse than stupid
, Julie thought. She couldn’t imagine where she would have found the strength to cope with the loss of her entire family.

She retreated to silence and sat staring at the coffee table, at the
National Geographic
Sarah Beth had brought home from Ellen’s. She was aware of the grandfather clock ticking and the kitchen faucet dripping and a jet flying overhead.

“Julie, can I ask you something?” Ross said.

“Uh-huh.”

“You’ve admitted having doubt, so be honest with me. Do you ever wonder if all those accidents were really accidents?”

“Of course not. Why would I?”

“Because even I wonder. I mean, if I were nuts, would I even know it?”

“Stop talking like that. I would know.”

“Maybe not. A lot of criminals have fooled their families.”

“Ross, quit. You’re scaring me.”

He looked at her, his eyes hollow, his face expressionless. “If
I flunk the mental evaluation, they’ll finally have an excuse to lock me up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your mind.”

He sank into the couch and heaved a desolate sigh. “How can you be so sure? I don’t know what to believe about myself any more.”

Ellen Jones strolled along her favorite stretch of beach, replaying the events of the past couple hours. She had been touched by Julie and Ross’s private conversation and knew it was too late for her to be emotionally detached from the situation.

She saw a mound of sand about fifty yards in front of her, and as she got closer, she saw it was an impressive-looking sandcastle. She looked around but didn’t see Ned Norton.

She squatted next to the sand sculpture and admired the detail, thinking if she could pick anyone to talk to about what had happened today, it would be a prayer warrior like Ned.

Ellen looked out at the gulf, its waters glistening like millions of diamonds in the afternoon sun. For a split second, it was as though she got a glimpse of the Eternal City that would one day be her home. And her heart yearned for the peace.

“Well, look who’s here!” said a male voice.

Ellen turned and saw her white-haired friend walking toward her carrying a yellow pail. “I knew this work of art had to be yours. Where were you?”

“Looking for shells,” Ned said, pointing back at an outcropping of jagged rocks that formed a small cove. “Got me a whole bucketful.”

Ellen smiled. “What will you do with them?”

“I’m not just an eccentric old man gathering shells that’ll end up in somebody’s garage sale, if that’s what you’re thinking. These are designated treasures.”

“Designated for what?”

Ned looked at her, a twinkle in his eye. “For starters, a lady named Blanche Davis. Thought I’d string her a pretty shell necklace.”

“Is Blanche someone you’re fond of?” Ellen said.

Ned glanced up at her, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Not yet. You see, I say a blessing for each shell I string on the necklace. I do this for people I have a particularly hard time with.”

“Is she a real pill?”

“I’ll say. All she does is gossip and gripe. Most people at church run the other way when they see her coming. I have to admit, I’ve done the same.”

“What gave you this idea?”

“Oh, I imagine it was the Lord since I’ve been praying about it. He doesn’t take lightly her petty gossip
or
my ignoring her because of it. We’re supposed to love everybody. Blessing her will help me do that.”

Ellen stared at this dear old man who fascinated her more by the minute. “How many of these necklaces have you made?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a dozen. I’ll tell you what: it hasn’t failed to work yet. Blessing people who bug me changes my perspective—and sometimes it even changes them.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

Ned shrugged. “Maybe because I treat them differently, and they respond kindly to it. I suspect Blanche needs a touch from God. And we’re His body, right?” Ned held out his hands. “Isn’t that what these are for? It’s a whole lot easier not getting them dirty, eh?”

“Ned, how did you get to be so wise?”

He tilted back his head and laughed. “The hard way, dear girl, the hard way. So what have you been up to?”

“How much time do you have?”

Ned caught her gaze. “As much time as you need.”

Ellen began by telling Ned about being called into Pastor Crawford’s office because of the woman who was gossiping
about her, and then told him the details of her time with Julie Hamilton, about Ross’s attempted suicide, and the conversation she’d overheard.

“Goodness, you have been through it,” Ned said. “Sounds like your plate is mighty full.”

“I’m disgusted about the gossip,” Ellen said. “I’m sure I’ll eventually resolve it in my own mind and maybe even figure out who to confront. But right now, my attention is on the Hamiltons’ situation, which seems to be coming to a head. I was hoping to run into you so I could fill you in and ask you to pray.”

“Oh, I’ll do that, all right.”

“I’m a little afraid,” Ellen confessed. “I don’t know anything about Ross except what the media’s reported and the little bit Julie told me. I hope I haven’t walked into something I can’t handle.”

“What’s the Lord telling you?”

Ellen picked up a handful of sand and sifted it through her fingers. “I’m not sure yet. But I’ve told Him I’m willing to be used in this situation. I guess if that’s what He wants, He’ll keep opening doors.”

Gordy Jameson sat in his office, finishing up a conversation with Weezie Taylor about her promotion to assistant manager.

Weezie stared at the piece of paper in her hand. “You’re really gonna give me this much increase right off the bat?”

“You’ve been doin’ lots of this stuff already,” Gordy said. “I’m just makin’ it official.”

Weezie planted a kiss on the paper. “Whooee! I never did think I’d be assistant manager. It’s like a dream come true.”

Gordy chuckled. “Let’s work it out so that your dream doesn’t turn into a nightmare. Notice I changed your hours: lots of evenings and weekends. That’s the tradeoff.”

“Fine by me. Only one thing buggin’ me about it.”

“What’s that?”

“I won’t be workin’ with you as much.”

Gordy picked up her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Aw, we’ll see each other plenty. I’ll be in and out even when you’re in charge. Plus, we’ll need to schedule weekly meetings. You got any questions?”

“No, I think you’ve about covered it.”

“Okay, then. Get on outta here and enjoy your evening off.”

Weezie sprang to her feet. “Praise the Lord for this! I can’t wait to tell my mama. I’m allowed to tell my mama, right?”

Gordy nodded. “It’s official. Tell whoever you want.”

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Gordy’s Crab Shack.”

“Hi, it’s Will. Got a minute?”

“Yeah, but that’s about all. The dinner traffic’s gonna start up pretty quick. What’s up?”

“I just need to dump. Can you keep your mouth shut about something?”

“Sure.”

“Ross Hamilton tried to commit suicide. Put a pistol to his head and then changed his mind at the last second. Some protester outside heard the shot and called 911.”

“Is he hurt?”

“No, not a scratch. His wife had gone to the grocery store when it happened.”

“I guess that’s a good thing,” Gordy said. “Think it was a cry for help?”

“There are those who think Ross staged the whole thing to make himself look like the grieving father—another way to mask his guilt.”

“Are you in that camp?” Gordy said.

“No.”

“Just
no?
The least you can do is throw me a bone.”

“I can’t really discuss the details of the investigation,
Gordy. The attempted suicide rattled me, that’s all. I wanted to unload before I leave the office. I don’t like taking my work home to Margaret.”

“So do you feel sorry for the guy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sounded to me like you did.”

“It’s taking a toll on his wife,” Will said. “I’d like to get this case solved.”

“You think findin’ a body’s gonna give her closure?”

“In a sad sort of way, yes.”

Ellen turned off the eleven o’clock news just as the phone rang. “Hello, Guy. You’re right on time.”

“How’d your day go?” he said.

“I think I’d rather hear about yours.”

“We finished our meeting on a positive note. I think we’re all on the same page now. I feel ready. We’re going to try to settle this out of court first, but I’m not confident the other side will accept the offer. They want millions in compensatory and punitive damages. They’ll never get it, but we may have to play it out.”

“Are you going to have to work these long hours much longer?”

“For a while. But I hope to take at least Sundays off. So tell me about your day.”

“You’re not going to believe what’s happened. I spent the morning in the widow’s watch, trying to get creative when the phone rang …” Ellen told Guy every detail she could remember, beginning with her phone call from Julie until her parting prayer with Ned. “It’s not as though I went looking for this. Should I have refused to help Julie get her groceries?”

“Not if you felt the Lord nudging you,” Guy said. “I imagine Julie will call again since you gave her a green light.”

“She may not. She was really angry with me for going to
Hank Ordman instead of to her with my questions about Ross.”

“Oh, she’ll call. You’re the only one she has to talk to. Just don’t forget the Lord’s leading you to talk to her,
not him
. I’d just as soon you keep your distance from Ross.”

“Should I invite her here?”

There was a long pause.

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Guy said. “The media might find out, and the last thing I need with the trial so close is negative publicity.”

O
n Tuesday morning, Gordy Jameson finished stringing balloons around the customer waiting area of Gordy’s Crab Shack, then stood back and admired his sign:

CONGRATULATIONS, WEEZIE TAYLOR,
ON YOUR PROMOTION TO ASSISTANT MANAGER!

The front door opened behind him, and he glanced at his watch.

“Good morn-ing, Mister G.” Billy Lewis scurried toward the supply closet, his head down.

“Hold it right there,” Gordy said.

Billy turned around, his face flushed, eyes darting from side to side. “I will do an ex-cel-lent job! An ex-cel-lent job!”

Gordy went over and placed his hands on Billy’s shoulders. “It’s five till nine, son. I know you can tell time. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Billy looked down and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I—I was needed at home.”

“That’s not a good excuse, Billy Your job here begins at 8:30. Maybe you need to get up earlier and get your tail in here on time.”