Lia Farrell - Mae December 02 - Two Dogs Lie Sleeping (21 page)

M
ae and July walked back into the house. Their parents had arrived. Suzanne looked up and saw July’s face. She walked over and hugged her.

Nate and Parker were taking turns “watching” their little sister and hounding their grandfather to take them back to the lake house. The Tater was sniffing around the kitchen floor,
so Mae picked her up.

“Please, Papa? We didn’t get to stay very long, and I left my backpack out there. Now that Livy’s better, can’t you take us back?” Nate pleaded.

July was still in her pajamas. She pre-empted her father, who looked like he was about to give in.

“That’s
enough,
Nathan Frederick Powell! You and your brother need to stop pestering your Papa about this. Go outside and play with your dogs, or ride your bikes and give the adults some peace.”

Parker came running through the kitchen and skidded to a halt, seeing Mae and eying the Tater acquisitively. “Can I hold her?” he asked. Mae looked at her sister.

“That’s fine, Parker. Just take her out in the backyard—careful, don’t drop her. Soot and Ricky will be happy to see her. Nate, go with them.” The boys started to leave.

Olivia sent up a wail of protest from the nearby sofa, where she was ensconced with her grandmother. “But I want the puppy. Mommy, don’t let him take her outside.”

Suzanne December sighed, got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. She smiled at Mae, took the Tater out of Parker’s hands and raised her eyebrows at her husband.

“Don, would you take the boys outside for a minute? Maybe the three of you can toss a ball around.” Her husband laughed
, cocked his handsome head of thick, graying blond hair, and regarded Suzanne with affection.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“After Livy sees the puppy for a few minutes, I’ll bring her out to you boys,” Suzanne said.

Fred downed the rest of his coffee, put the mug in the sink and kissed July on top of her head. “I don’t know how your sister handles all this,” he told Mae with a smile. “She deserves a lot of credit for managing these little varmints so well, that’s for sure. I’ve got to go into the office. Bye girls.” He swatted July’s butt, winked at Mae and went out the door.

“So … Fred and I made up, in case you couldn’t tell.” July laughed. “We’re both running on fumes, but I feel better about our marriage than I have in months, maybe years.”

“Well, that’s great. But we need to take care of some things.” Mae took Tommy’s letter out of her purse. “Are you going to tell Fred about this?”

July shook her head. “I don’t want to drag him through any more issues related to Tommy.”

The doorbell rang. July raised her eyes
heavenward, as if to say,
What now?
“Could you go answer the door, Mae?” she asked. “I’m going to run and get out of my pajamas.”

“Go on, I’ll get it.”

A dark-haired little girl stood on the front porch. Her hair was braided to one side, hanging down over her left shoulder, and her green eyes were wide and heavily lashed. Mae was enchanted.

“Can I, I mean may I visit Olivia?” she asked.

“Yes, you may. Please come in.” Mae held the door open wide for the small, Disney-esque child. “I’m Olivia’s Aunt Mae. Who’re you?”

“I’m Amberleigh Townsend.” She gave Mae a shy smile. “Is Livy in her room?”

“No, honey. She’s in the kitchen. Go ahead, I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

Amberleigh scampered off, and Mae went to find her sister. July was standing in her room in shorts and a bra when Mae walked in.

“There’s nothing clean to wear,” July said. “I took most of my stuff to the lake house.”

“Just throw on
something,
July. It doesn’t matter what you wear right now. Get a move on, girl.”

July pulled open her bottom dresser drawer and dug down. She pulled out an Ole Miss T-shirt. Frowning, she pulled it over her ponytailed head. “Okay, let me fix my hair and I’m ready. My
cellphone’s out in the kitchen. If you go get it, I’ll call Miranda.”

Mae went back to the kitchen
, where Olivia and Amberleigh were sitting under the table with the Tater. They were giggling and the puppy was obviously enjoying their company. Mae located July’s cellphone on the counter near the prep-sink. She picked it up and started scrolling through her sister’s contacts, looking for Miranda’s number.

“Look, Aunt Mae. Amberleigh gave me a present.” Olivia crawled out from under the kitchen table. She held out her hand. “It’s a best friends
’ ring. Isn’t it pretty? Mommy has one just like it.”

A man’s class ring lay in her niece’s outstretched hand. Mae picked it up. The heavy ring had a large, black stone in a gold setting, with ‘Sigma Chi-SETS’ engraved around the stone.

July walked in with her hair clipped up in a pile atop her head. “Hello Amberleigh.” She took her cellphone from Mae’s hand and stopped, staring at the ring. “Where did that come from?”

“It’s mine,” Olivia informed her. “Amberleigh gave it to me.”

July took the ring from her sister’s hand. “Amberleigh, is this your father’s ring?” She distractedly handed the phone back to Mae and took the ring over to the window, turning it to catch the light.

Amberleigh crawled out from under the table, followed by the Tater. “No, Ma’am. Daddy’s wearing his ring. I found that one this summer in Daddy’s box with his cufflinks
, and Mommy said I could keep it.” The little girl’s forehead creased as she went on. “I gave it to Livy, ’cause she’s my best friend.”

July smiled at her. “That’s fine, sweetie. You’re a very good friend.” She handed the ring to her daughter. “Don’t lose this, Livy. Could you girls take the puppy outside, please, before she has an accident?”

“Okay, Mommy.” Olivia looked down at the ring.

“On second thought, do you want me to keep it in my jewelry box for you so it doesn’t get lost?” July asked.

Olivia nodded. “That’s a good idea.” She handed the ring to her mother, and she and her best friend dashed out with the Tater in hot pursuit.

“This ring has initials engraved inside it.” July’s dark eyes were wide. “Mae, I think this was Ryan Gentry’s ring.”

“July, we have Tommy’s letter and now Ryan Gentry’s ring. We have to tell Ben about this.”

“I know
we do, just give me a heads-up if I need to warn Sandi about anything, okay? Here, take the ring. Put it in your purse with the letter. You can give them to Ben.”

“I will. When do you want to go to the
mansion?”

“I’d like to go today, but it would be better to search for the Declaration of Paternity after it closes
. Miranda should be there too.”

“You’re right.”

The two little girls ran back into the kitchen, shrieking. Olivia’s face was ashen. “Nathan’s playing with matches, Mommy. And Parker’s getting sticks to build a big fire. They’re being really bad!”

July sighed. “I’m sure Zana and Papa can handle it.” She put her hand on Olivia’s forehead. “Does your head hurt, sweetie?”

“Just a little bit.”

“Okay, playtime’s over.” Both the girls began to protest, but July held up her hand. “Sorry, Livy needs to rest. Mae, would you walk Amberleigh home? I want to make sure Sandi’s home
. Sometimes she runs an errand while Amberleigh’s over here.”

“Sure, let me grab Tatie and put her in the car first. Could I just drop Amberleigh off on my way home?”

July gave a distracted nod. “In the back seat, remember. Thanks, Mae. I’ll call you after I talk to Miranda. Say bye to Amberleigh, honey, and to Aunt Mae.”

Amberleigh had been thrilled to sit in the back seat and hold the Tater—so excited that she forgot to tell Mae which house was hers until they passed the driveway. Mae had backed up and into the circular drive. She walked Olivia’s friend to the door and passed her off to her mother without incident, leaving her Explorer running and the puppy inside. When she got back in the driver’s seat she heard whining but she couldn’t see the Tater. Mae got back out to look under her seat, spilling her purse in the process.

“Dammit!” The contents of her bag were strewn across the pavers. Ryan’s ring rolled under her vehicle. She knelt down. Grabbing everything else and stuffing it back in her purse, she peered underneath, trying to see where the ring had landed.
All she could see was a man’s feet in black dress shoes. She stood up fast.

“Looking for something?” Greg Townsend enquired in a quiet voice.

“Y-yes,” Mae stuttered. “I brought your daughter home. She came to see my niece, Olivia, and I just spilled my purse.” The puppy emerged from under the driver’s seat. “There you are, Tatie!” Mae set her purse on the seat and seized the Tater. She took a deep breath. “I’m Mae December, Mr. Townsend. I don’t know if you remember me.”

“July’s sister, right? Call me Greg.” He stepped around the front of the car toward her and then bent down. He stood back up and started to hand her the ring. “Is this what you dropped?” Glancing at her outstretched hand
, he paused, then placed it on her palm. She quickly closed her fingers around the warm, heavy gold of the ring and stuffed it in her pocket.

His brow knitted in a frown. “Where’d you get that ring?” he demanded.

“From uh, my boyfriend, Sheriff Bradley,” she babbled, in a panic. “Bye! I’ve got to go.” Mae jumped in her still-running car and slammed the door. She hit the lock button, put the puppy on the passenger seat and reversed out of the drive as Greg Townsend stared after her.

Mae’s heart was pounding and her breath was coming in short bursts. She pulled off onto a side street as soon as she was clear of the neighborhood. She parked for a few minutes and sat staring out the window, catching her breath. Hearing the soft whine of the Tater, Mae got herself together and drove towards Rosedale. July had just texted her that they would not be able to get into the Booth Mansion until tomorrow morning.
Guess I’ll stop at the deli and grab a sandwich
. She parked in the back alley. Leaving the puppy asleep on the passenger seat with the windows cracked open, she locked the car and ran in. When she came out ten minutes later, there was a man leaning on her car. He straightened up and smiled at her.

“You’re the sheriff’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” He took a step toward her. She didn’t like the way he looked at her.

“Yes. I’m Ben’s girlfriend. Do you need something?” She looked back at the door to the deli, but no one else was coming out. Suddenly the man grabbed her arm so hard that she dropped the bag with her sandwich in it.

He p
ulled her in tight so that her back was up against him. Twisting her arm behind her, he said, “Yes, I need something.” Mae gasped, struggling to pull free.

“You give your boyfriend a message from me, sweetheart. Tell him Henry says to leave Greg’s family alone, or next time you’ll get more than a sore arm.” He let her go, pushing her roughly away. By the time she turned around, he was walking around the corner. She heard an engine roar to life and picked up her sandwich bag. Climbing back into her car, she picked the Tater up and held her tight. Mae sat staring at nothing, petting the puppy’s soft fur. Her lips and chin trembled as she held back a scream.

B
en sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding. He looked over at Mae sleeping on her back next to him and tried to slow his breathing. He loved watching her sleep. She slept so deeply, the way his son did. Her thick, golden hair rioted all over her pillow, covering half her face. Mae’s mouth fell open with a snort. He smiled.
She’s even cute when she snores
.

Ben ran over the events of the previous days in his mind. There was something he’d forgotten to check on
—something critical.

He got out of bed, careful not to wake Mae. She was so precious to him and he felt a flare of guilt that his job had taken her again into danger. She’d almost died during the Ruby Mead-Allison case and then yesterday Henry Covington had threatened her. He got dressed, picked up his shoes and quietly left the room.
After checking on the dogs, he made sure the house was locked up tight and left.

Easing the patrol car down the driveway, Ben realized he was not comfortable
leaving Mae in the house alone. During the day she would be fine, but nights were another matter. He called Tammy. Her sleepy voice answered.

“Hi Tammy, its Ben.” He heard a quick indrawn breath. “Don’t worry. Everything’s okay, I just left Mae, and she’s still sleeping.” He could hear the shower running in the background and a man singing. “Did I get you out of the shower?”

“No,” she gave a little laugh. “That’s Patrick.”

“He sure sounds happy this morning. Listen, I have a favor to ask. Could you and Patrick go over to Mae’s and stay with her for a few nights if I can’t be there? Like you did during the Mead-Allison case?”

“That won’t be a problem. Did Mae tell you Patrick moved in with me?”

“Yes, she told me. I was glad to hear it. I’ve gotta go. Thanks, Tammy.”

As Ben drove to Rosedale, past damp fields and yellowing tobacco crops, he was still probing his memory for the missing piece of the puzzle. He drove in and out of two cloudbursts on the short drive into town.
It’s gonna be a steamy one today.

Walking into the office
, he remembered what it was. He’d never read the report from the lab on the fingerprints from Ryan Gentry’s belt. If Covington’s prints were on it, the assistant district attorney would have to prosecute him for Ryan’s murder. They could stall on the Ferris case, but the Gentry case would be cut and dried. He would get PD Pascoe to go with him to visit the ADA in person if necessary.

He was well aware they would have a tough time getting Covington for premeditated murder for Ryan Gentry. But they could probably get him on Murder Two
, which would result in ten to twelve years of jail time. Ben was sure Townsend had planned the Gentry murder in advance, even if only a day or two before. That should result in Murder One, but the rule that prohibited them from proving conspiracy because it had been more than ten years would bar that door. However, if the prints on the belt were Covington’s, it would provide Ben with enough ammo to keep him locked up until the trial. It would also give him more time to get evidence on the slippery Greg Townsend.

The sheriff glanced at his watch; it was only 7:30. He opened the office door and saw Ned Thompson sitting at Dory’s desk. Between Deputies George and Rob, Dory and their two floaters, Ned and Jackie Forte, they’d managed to cover the office 24/7 for the first time in living memory.

“Good morning, Ned,” he said. He thought Ned looked tired. He was a big, slow-moving guy, with a bald head and hardly any eyebrows. At first, Ben thought he shaved his hair off, until Dory told him that Ned had alopecia, an autoimmune disease that causes hair loss all over the body.

“Morning,
boss.”

“Ned, could you call the
lab and see if Emma Peters or Hadley Johns are in yet? Put them through if you rouse anybody.” Ned nodded and Ben walked back to his office. His phone rang about an hour later.

“Sheriff, Emma Peters here. What did you need?”

“Did you ever check the fingerprints on Ryan Gentry’s belt? Detective Nichols said he was taking it to the lab on the eighth.”

“Sure did. I sent a report upstairs the next day. You should’ve gotten it on the ninth.”

Ben gave an inward howl of frustration. Whoever had failed to give him that information was going to die. “Okay. Thanks. Other than the vic, did you get a match to anyone in the database?” He tried to keep his voice neutral.

“Sure did, a lowlife named Henry Covington.”

The sheriff felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders. “Thanks, Emma.”

He looked through his inbox for the first time in several days, dismayed when he saw the Lab Report lying there. He had no one to blame but himself. He dialed Wayne.

“Nichols.” His detective’s voice sounded better than it had since the shooting.

“You can go pick up Covington again.” Satisfaction permeated Ben’s voice. “I have his fingerprints on Ryan Gentry’s belt, and he threatened Mae yesterday.”

He heard Wayne mutter, “If he hurt her, that son-of-a-bitch’ll be sorry.”

“He twisted her arm, and he’s going to have years in jail to regret it. Take Deputy Fuller with you and go get Henry. When you bring him back here put him in a cell. Read him his rights, but take your own sweet time before you call his lawyer. I have a visit to pay to Mr. Greg Townsend.”

“With pleasure, Boss,” he heard before he ended the call.

The sheriff dialed PD Pascoe’s number and told him about the fingerprint match to Covington on Ryan Gentry’s belt.
“You were right, Detective,” Ben said. “It was murder. You called it from day one.”

He heard Pascoe
heave a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Bradley. The cancer is winning, but that’s a big weight off my mind.”

“I’ll be thinking about you,” Ben said softly. “Good luck, and I’ll call you when Covington goes to trial.”

Dory got an appointment for the sheriff with Attorney Greg Townsend at two that afternoon. At noon, Ben went home to change into his uniform. He’d go strapped too, he decided. He needed all the props he could get. He walked into the lavishly decorated reception area of the Osbourne, Townsend, Phillips and Coniglio law firm half an hour early. It was an impressive old building. The floor was marble and the reception desk was dark wood topped with granite. A young blonde woman with her hair in a sleek twist at the back of her neck raised her large gray eyes.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, unsmiling.

“Yes. I’m Sheriff Ben Bradley; Mr. Townsend’s expecting me at two.”

“Just a moment,” she told him, checking her computer screen
. “Please be seated, and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She looked at his uniform and added, “Sheriff.”

Bradley sat down in a dark blue velvet chair and looked out at a sign across the street with a continuous temperature reading. It read 87 degrees. The receptionist was back in ten minutes saying, “I’ll escort you
in now.”

The sheriff followed her through a maze of cubicles to the back of the building
, where the offices were much larger and still had their original wide baseboards and moldings. The multi-panel dark oak doors were at least seven feet tall and over three feet wide. The original black iron door handles and lock sets were still in place. The girl opened the door and called into the office saying, “Sheriff Bradley is here to see you, sir.”

Greg Townsend, attorney at law, walked out and said, “Please come in, Sheriff.” He seemed calm and welcoming, almost jovial. Ben’s limbs grew shaky and he wished he’d brought Wayne with him.

“Let’s sit at the conference table,” Townsend said. The table was fifteen feet long and as far as Ben could tell was made of solid mahogany under the thick glass cover. Upholstered gray chairs encircled the table. A sideboard held coffee and tea. Townsend sat at the head of the table; the sheriff took his place to Greg’s right.

“What’s the reason for the visit, Sheriff?” Greg tented his fingers and tipped his thumbs to his lips. His eyes were dark, expressionless.

The sheriff waited a moment, trying to get control of his emotions. This was the man who had ordered Covington to murder two young men. He bit his bottom lip and felt a righteous anger bloom in his belly.

“Mr. Townsend, as you see
, I’m here by myself. In case you were concerned, I’m not wearing a wire. I could have had you brought down to the station for this conversation, but decided to have a private confidential talk instead.” Ben paused, lowered his shoulders and continued, “I know it was you who told Henry Covington to throw Ryan Gentry out the window of the Sigma Chi fraternity house on January third, fifteen years ago. I also know that you, Henry Covington, and Charlie Armor were offered bribes of ten thousand each to throw the big bowl game with Florida State that year. We’ve talked to Armor. He’s willing to testify. Ryan Gentry must have caught on to the scheme when he saw the money in the fraternity account.” Ben took a breath and his eyes bored into Greg’s.

Greg leaned back in his chair, his eyes hooded, expressionless. His hands were resting on the table now, but Ben could see that a mist was beginning to form on the glass under his fingers. Greg Townsend’s hands were sweating.

“The statute of limitations for conspiracy to murder runs out after ten years,” Townsend said.

Sheriff Bradley nodded and continued. His throat was tight, but he refused to let Greg get to him. “My guess is that Henry Covington told Tom Ferris to leave town because he thought Gentry might have confided in Ferris about the money. When Ferris returned to Rosedale, Covington spotted him at his attorney’s office in your building and came to you. You ordered Covington to take him out. We know that Covington shot Ferris in the back with a Beretta Tomcat. We have the bullet from his gun.”

“You can stop right there. I’m aware that you brought these unsupported allegations about Henry Covington to the DA’s office.” His voice was monotone, but Ben could see controlled anger in his eyes. “They tossed out the case. If you think they’ll listen to more off-the-wall allegations from you, especially ones about me, think again.” Greg’s eyes were flat, serpentine.

“Since we brought the original case to the
prosecutor, more evidence—irrefutable evidence—has come to light.” Greg looked like a fox who had just heard the distant baying of bloodhounds. “Ryan Gentry was lifted by the belt and thrown from his bedroom window. We have the belt. We have Covington’s prints on it. He’s being picked up again now. He had the bad judgment to strong-arm my girlfriend yesterday—warned her to tell me to leave you and your family alone. Regardless of your pull with the DA, they can’t refuse to try Covington with that kind of evidence.”

“If Henry did that, he acted alone. Nothing you’ve said implicates me.”

“How much more money went through that fraternity account after the game, Townsend? I can’t believe you’d risk so much for a mere ten thousand dollars. You’re implicated all right.”

Greg’s legs were crossed and his knee was bouncing repetitively. For some reason, maybe the mention of money, his composure was cracking. Beads of sweat were visible on his forehead.

“Is it getting a little hot in here?” the sheriff asked. “If I take these new allegations about you to the district attorney, you’ll never get the assistant district attorney position. Nobody in this town will touch you with a ten foot pole. You won’t even be able to make any money chasing ambulances.”

Greg’s eyes were hard and flinty, and his face was turning red. He crossed his arms across his chest, tapping his fingers on his upper arms. “If you’re stupid enough to bring these unsubstantiated charges against me, I’ll see to it that you lose the next election, Bradley. You’ll never serve in law enforcement again.
” He stood up and pointed to the door. “Get out.”

“What’re you going to say when Covington flips on you, Townsend? He isn’t that smart, you know. You’ve always had to tell him what to do. With one second degree murder and one pre-meditated on his slate, he’s facing life without parole. He can shorten his sentence considerably by giving you up. With Detective Nichols interrogating him, he’s going to crack. He’ll confess to the murders. He’ll be on his knees begging in twenty-four hours.”

“It won’t happen,” Greg said, but a vein was twitching on his forehead.

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” the sheriff said. “I have a feeling Covington told Ferris to leave town without your permission. It was a stupid move. Then you had to make him clean up the problem. Once Detective Nichols gets going on him
—and he probably has fifty IQ points on Covington—he’ll give you up. You aren’t Henry’s attorney. Your communications with him have never been privileged.”

“Out, Sheriff
.” Greg Townsend’s voice was cold and furious. He walked over to the door and swung it open. “And if you ever repeat any of these allegations to the DA’s office, you’ll be very sorry.”

“I’m leaving, but I’ll be back, Townsend. This isn’t over.” Ben turned and left, closing the conference room door quietly behind him.