Overdue for Murder (Pecan Bayou) (15 page)

"Yes, I did but that was before ... "

I was confused. "So why did you need to see me?"

Oscar Larry put his hands on my shoulders and started steering me toward the door as if I were an errant child. "I need you to go to Whitson and tell him about seeing my presentation at the library. Once he hears how in-depth my research is, I'm sure he will pick up my column for distribution."

I took his hands off my shoulders. "Wait a minute."

"What?"

"What? What?" I couldn't believe I was being pushed around by this guy. Why would he assume I would even want to promote his work with Rocky? "You want me to go and pitch your little-green-men column to my boss. Mr. Larry, you didn't even ask me if I believed in all this ... alien stuff."

"Don't you? I certainly demonstrated to you the irrefutable truths of the history of alien landings on our planet."

Pattie shook her head at the counter. "There was a lot of history alright, but that doesn't mean Betsy here buys into it."

"Ladies, you have become privy to more information than the average American has been given permission to know."

"Mr. Larry, I'm sorry you came all this way," I said, "but I can't go fight for a cause I don't even believe in myself. If you want this job with Rocky, then you're going to have to go in there yourself and convince him of it."

Oscar Larry pursed his lips in a sneer. "I cannot believe you could be so ignorant, Mrs. Livingston. I obviously put way too much faith in your intellectual ability. Perhaps some of those things Vanessa Scarlett was saying about you were correct. You are useless to me."

Oscar Larry turned on his heel and slammed out the door, shaking the pink and white stripes on the valance.

"That guy needs to go back to Area 51," Pattie said. "You went to San Antonio?"

"Sure. I seem to be the one the town is blaming for this crime, and I just wanted to see if maybe he could lead me to something."

"I'm amazed," she said. "Have you talked to anybody else?"

"I've talked to everybody." I answered.

"So Sherlock, whodunnit?"

"If I knew that, I could get the police investigation off of me."

"So you continue to be the fabled person of interest?"

"Oh yeah," I nodded.

Pattie handed me my chocolate cupcake on a napkin. "This might help," she said. I accepted it and sank my teeth into the smooth, creamy icing of one of Pattie's heavenly cupcakes. It was out of this world.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Monday night we celebrated Danny's twenty-fifth birthday at my Aunt Maggie's house. She lived on top of a hill in a dark red brick cottage-style house. Zach handed Danny his present, the latest recording of "High School Hijinks the Musical." It was to be part of the entertainment tonight. Danny was so excited he hugged his cousin until Zach's eyes started to bulge. I took Danny's cake to the kitchen, where my aunt was scurrying about with paper plates and napkins. I volunteered to carry out a bowl of potato salad to the table.

Danny was horsing around with two of his buddies from Haley Village, where he worked two days a week as a waiter in their tea room.

"Betsy! It's my birthday!" He rolled off the words one by one. Aunt Maggie followed me in and placed Pattie's beautiful birthday cake in the center of the table.

"Alright, you hooligans!" my aunt shouted over the noise. "All of you go into the living room and jump around in there for a few minutes while we finish putting dinner on the table." One of the parents of Danny's guests helped to usher them into the next room. My dad came in with a platter of grilled cheesy dogs, Danny's favorite food. He set it down and put his arm around my shoulders. "How is my little prime suspect?"

"Dad, that is not funny."

"I know, I know. And you should know, as long as I'm in that office your side will be heard."

"As a matter of fact Dad, I wanted to talk to you about some of the other people who were there that night. Did you know about ... "

"The fact that half the people on that panel were sleeping with each other?"

Maggie dropped her cake-serving knife on the table.

"Uh, yeah, that's about it. Peter was sleeping with Edith, and Vanessa was sleeping with Damien Perez."

Aunt Maggie butted in between us. "Who was Martha Hoffman sleeping with?"

"No one," I answered.

"Could have called that one."

"But she ghost-wrote Vanessa's book and was being screwed out of the deal by her."

"Oh my."

"We got most of that information during routine questioning already, darlin'."

"Did you know Oscar Larry hated Vanessa because she beat him out for a job?" I said.

"That's a new one."

"He wanted to write a column for Rocky and lost out to Vanessa. He actually came to Pecan Bayou to find me. He wanted me to go to Rocky and tell him how wonderful his presentation was. When I refused, he was not too happy with me."

"Now that concerns me, because if he is the murderer, what's to stop him from hitting you in the head with a candlestick?"

We heard a roar come up from the other room.

"Sounds like the natives are getting restless out there."

"Dad, who do you think did it?"

"Can't say Betsy, can't say," my dad said as he stepped back, arms folded, surveying the well-grilled cheesy dogs.

"Because you know and don't want to tell me or because you don't know and don't want me to think less of your detective skills."

"I guess you'll have to find out on your own." His crooked smile told me he was finished revealing investigative tidbits.

Aunt Maggie put her hands on her hips and took a breath. "It all looks great. Pattie did a great job with Danny's cake. I could have never made a cake like that in all my days."

"Sure you could," I said. "Me, not so much, but you can do anything, Aunt Maggie." Maggie reached over and covered my hand with hers. "So can you, baby girl. So can you."

The evening was wonderful with cake, ice cream, cheesy dogs and a boisterous, if not ear-splitting, singalong with those kooky kids from "High School Hijinks." Some days, life is just too good.

*****

The next morning as I was driving to the Pecan Bayou Gazette, "The Eyes Of Texas Are Upon You" rang on my cell phone. I juggled to get it out of my purse.

"Betsy, I'm glad I got you on the phone. We've had some news about Barry."

I took a deep breath. Here it was, the thing I had been waiting on for more than seven years. From the tone in my father's voice, it didn't sound like this was going to be good news.

"What about him?"

"Okay, now don't get too excited. Promise me that."

"Yes, Dad. I am calm and collected. What about Barry?"

"The police talked to him down in El Paso. They took his prints, and they matched up with our Barry."

I felt a crunching inside of me. I knew it was the same feeling people described when someone they loved very much died. I had that feeling, but it was because the life I loved very much would now and forever be changed. Barry was alive, and I really didn't want him to be. Everything was so much more comfortable when he was this phantom husband who left and would never return. What would this do to Zach? If he found out, he would instantly want to meet him. He would put him on a pedestal, seeing him as the dad he had always envisioned him to be. Zach was just a child, and there was no way he could understand what a snake his own father was. The pain in my chest was quickly moving to my head.

"Betsy? Betsy, are you there?"

"Yes, Dad. I'm here. You're sure? You're absolutely sure it's Barry?"

"Fingerprints don't lie. They are questioning him on some possible fraud involvement down there, but as a favor to me, they convinced him they might be a little more lenient if he settled the mess he left up here with you. George has gone to get him."

Barry was coming back to Pecan Bayou – and with a police escort, no less. There was no getting out of this now.

"When will he be here?"

"They ought to have him here by Wednesday. If nothing else, there's the matter of back child support and making sure the two of you are good and divorced before he moves onto his next victim. It's time he closes the book on the two of you properly."

"Just another hazard of falling in love," I said. Had Barry been living under an alias? I knew whoever he was marrying was probably pretty. Barry liked pretty women, and he liked to be seen with them. He had always envisioned us as part of the country club set. Me, a cop's daughter? What was even funnier was that the country club set of Pecan Bayou was not exactly what I would call the elite. It was just the people in our town who liked to play golf and who could take the heat doing it.

"There's just one more thing, Betsy, and this is going to be tough to hear."

I knew this was one of those times when I would want my phone to cut out before he could finish the sentence. Darn these modern cell phones. I could hear him now.

"Okay. Tell me," I said.

"I spoke to Barry on the phone."

"I'm surprised he would even talk to you, Dad."

"I was too. The first thing he asked me was if Zach turned out like Danny."

That jerk. Barry had been terrified after a test came back indicating there was a possibility of Down Syndrome. He was never comfortable around Danny and was just sure we would also have a son like him. I always knew that the test was the reason that Barry split. He could handle the pressure of committing a crime, but he sure couldn't handle the idea of having a son who was less than perfect. On top of that, the fact that he might have a wife who would produce a child like that? Time to leave.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him Zach was perfect."

I started to feel the crunching inside me again. Perfect? The one word I would have never used. Barry didn't need to know that the son he so feared was one of the most beautiful human beings God ever put on this earth. I knew now that Barry would want Zach.

"You told him he was perfect? Dad, how could you?"

"He is perfect. Barry needs to know what a great person he dumped and ran away from. He needs to feel guilt for what he did to you and Zach. I don't think he ever looked back. It's time he sees all he gave up."

"Don't you see Dad?" I said. "Now he's going to want Zach. He's a greedy man, and the idea of guilt just doesn't register with his brain. Why else would he be able to cheat people? He wants things he never had to work for, and our Zach has just fallen into that category. I was the one who fed him, changed his diaper, stayed up all night with him when he was sick. I was the one who did all the dirty work of parenting. Now he's going to show up here and try to take him. He's going to want custody of Zach." My voice broke as the tears came rushing in.

"I know, darlin'. But why would you think he would ever get custody? What judge in his right mind would give over custody to a father that once abandoned his son?"

"You never know, Dad, you never know. What if Barry decides to give his life to God or something? What if he starts up a soup kitchen or donates his kidney? He's a con man, and you would be foolish if you thought he wouldn't think of custody of Zach as his ultimate con."

"Okay, okay. Just settle down, Betsy. We're a family, and we'll deal with this together. Nobody is going to take Zach. Especially not this two-bit hustler."

I caught my breath. "Promise?"

"I promise."

CHAPTER TWENTY

I went into the Pecan Bayou Gazette to turn in my column on dryer sheets. I had brought in Vanessa's nutrition magazines, thinking to take them down to Pattie after I finished at the Gazette.

"Putting in some new recipes? The readers love recipes," Rocky said as he walked by.

"No, these were Vanessa's. Peter gave them to me. I thought maybe Pattie would like them."

"Good idea. Say, would you like to do me a little favor and clean up the rest of Vanessa's stuff over there? Peter told me to do what I wanted with it, and if you hadn't noticed, I'm a little short-handed around here right now."

"Sure," I answered. I walked to the desk she had used whenever she had written her column there. I like writing my columns at home and emailing them in, but I guess Vanessa had wanted to be near Peter. Now whether that was to be close to him or to keep an eye on him, I would never be sure. She had a red plastic file box where she was keeping her research and columns. I looked through her alphabetical index to find articles on designers and invitations to runway shows. She also had a small black leather book that turned out to be a calendar. I paged to the dates before her murder. She wrote most of her things in a jagged form of penmanship, but I could make out most of it.

The week before the first library night, she had two appointments with D (Damien) and one appointment with Xavier in Houston. Was she having two affairs after hopping all over her husband for having one? The fact that she spelled out Xavier's name while only using an initial for Damien told me that she didn't care if someone saw his name on her calendar. Maybe Xavier was a designer. That certainly sounded like the name for one.