Saving Allegheny Green (6 page)

It felt weird being there with him. Like regular roadside travelers stopping in for a thirst quencher. Like normal folks with normal conversation, not a sheriff and a home health nurse discussing a suicide victim.

“You want something to eat?” Conahegg asked, steepling his fingers in front of him.

I shook my head. “Finding a dead body is kind of an appetite killer.”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

I took a long suck through the straw of my Dr. Pepper, savored the sweet, syrupy taste.

Conahegg had ordered coffee, but he wasn’t drinking it. Avoiding my eye, he took a pen and notepad from his pocket.

“Tell me about finding Tim’s body.”

Were we only going to talk about the business at hand? No mention of the strange attraction surging between us? Probably a good idea. Ignore the bomb on the kitchen table and maybe it’ll disappear on its own.

I cleared my throat and verbally rehashed my steps for him. I was careful to stick to the facts and keep my opinions to myself.

Best to steer clear of emotions.

“How well did you know Tim?” Conahegg asked when I finished.

“Sissy dated him for eight months about two years ago. Actually, Saturday morning, the day you ran over him, was the first time I’d seen Tim in over a year.” I toyed with the paper from my straw.

Conahegg scrawled in his pad. “Did he have any enemies that you were aware of?”

“Tim was a friendly guy, but he was gay. You know as well as I do that small towns and homosexuals don’t always mix.”

He nodded. “Can you think of any reason why he might kill himself?”

“Sorry. I didn’t know him that well. You might talk to Sissy. I think she still kept in touch with him.”

“I’ll do that,” Conahegg said. “I’ll call you if I have any more questions.”

“All right.”

He pocketed his notepad. “You can go.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Gee thanks,” I said, realizing I sounded sarcastic and not really sure. “I appreciate the Dr. Pepper.”

“You’re welcome.”

I got to my feet, and hurried to my car. I pulled out of the Dairy Queen parking lot and turned down the street, trying my best to get the image of poor Tim Kehaul off my retina and the thought of Sam Conahegg off my mind.

I was more traumatized than I realized when I stopped at the intersection that led to the highway and my leg started jumping when I pushed in the clutch.

I felt shaky clean through my stomach, the way you do when your blood sugar hits rock bottom. I should have let Conahegg buy me a Beltbuster but the thought of food nauseated me.

With rising trepidation, I drove home. How was I going to break the news to my sister that her gay, ex-lover was dead?

S
ISSY’S CAR WASN’T
in the driveway and for that small favor I sent up a prayer. But Mama’s little 1965 rainbow-colored Volkswagen Beetle, the only car she’d ever owned, was parked beside Aunt Tessa’s chili-pepper red Mustang convertible and a brand-new powder-blue Cadillac El Dorado that I didn’t recognize.

I let myself in the back door. Strains of Yanni poured from the CD player. Candles flickered along the mantel, scenting the air lavender. From the back room I heard muted voices.

That explained the El Dorado. Aunt Tessa had a customer.

I took a Dr. Pepper from the fridge and plopped down at the kitchen table to massage my temples. Closing my eyes, I pressed the cold can to my forehead.

I wondered what Conahegg was doing. Had he gone back to Tim’s trailer? Was he in his office? I doubted he’d gone home. Thinking about him was becoming as contagious as a case of the chicken pox. No matter how hard I tried to put him from my mind, he kept coming back like a bad itch.

I decided he was probably still at Tim’s trailer. Again I visualized finding Tim’s body. I shuddered.

What had gone through Tim’s head those last few moments of consciousness? Had he had the most mind-blowing orgasm imaginable?

Blech. I didn’t want to know.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, along with murmured voices. Aunt Tessa appeared in the doorway. I was surprised to see Reverend Ray Don Swiggly’s wife, Miss Gloria, trailing behind her, dressed as nondescriptly as she had been that night at the sheriff’s department.

Hmm. Apparently her husband wasn’t meeting
all
her spiritual needs.

Aunt Tessa looked pale as she always did after a reading. The blowsy chartreuse caftan she wore accentuated her natural pallor. She rarely went out in the sun and when she did it was with gloves and long sleeves and a wide-brimmed hat.

“Take these,” Aunt Tessa said, drawing a pair of crystal earrings she bought at the five-and-dime for two bucks a pair, from her pocket. She prescribed them for her clients experiencing emotional pain. Combined with her readings, the crystal earrings were supposed to induce healing. Me, I never bought into it. Then again, who knows? Faith is a powerful thing.

Aunt Tessa pressed the earrings into Miss Gloria’s palm. “Wear them every day for two weeks.”

“Thank you,” Miss Gloria mumbled, head down. She handed Aunt Tessa a fifty-dollar bill which my aunt tucked into her cleavage. “You’ve been a big help.”

“My pleasure.” Aunt Tessa nodded.

The other woman turned for the door, spying me for the first time. “Oh.”

“Hello, Mrs. Swiggly,” I greeted her.

“Uh.” She couldn’t look me in the eye. “Hello.”

“We met in the wee hours of Saturday morning at the sheriff’s department,” I reminded her. “I’m Allegheny Green.”

“I remember,” she murmured. “Nice to see you again.”

“I hope Aunt Tessa helped you with your problem.”

Miss Gloria’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. You’re mistaken. I
don’t have a problem. Your aunt was asking
me
about my religion.”

What?
I stared at Aunt Tessa. She vigorously shook her head.

“Okay,” I responded, not knowing for sure what was going on here. “Would you like to stay for supper?” I waved a hand at the stove. “I’m going to make tuna casserole.”

“No,” Mrs. Swiggly said, then repeated herself. “No. But thanks for the invitation. I must get home. Ray Don will be wanting his supper, too.”

“Bye.” I raised a hand.

The woman bustled out the door and I turned to Aunt Tessa. “Whoa! Don’t tell me you’re thinking about converting to the Church of the Living Jesus?”

Aunt Tessa shot me a dirty look and snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

I jerked a thumb at the back door. “What was that about?”

Gleefully, Aunt Tessa rubbed her palms together. I could tell she considered it quite a feather in her cap that Miss Gloria had sought her expertise. “The woman was embarrassed to come to me. She insisted on the proselytizing story to cover the fact she wanted her cards read and swore me to secrecy.” Aunt Tessa sank into a chair beside me. “Lord, that woman’s got a lot of problems.”

“Like what?”

“Come on, Ally, you know I can’t violate client confidentiality.”

“You’re not a priest, Aunt Tessa, nor a psychiatrist.”

“In many cases I assume the role of both,” she said.

“But you hate Swiggly. How come you’re giving readings to his wife?”

“She paid fifty bucks.”

“It could be a put-on. You know, she could be trying to gather ammunition to use against us.”

Aunt Tessa shook her head. “You didn’t see what the cards told me about her, Ally. The woman is very messed up.”

“Is it her husband?” I asked. “Does he cheat on her? Let me guess, he’s diddling the church secretary. You know the old classic story.” I couldn’t resist chuckling.

“I’m not discussing it.” She pointed her chin in the air. “It’s obvious you don’t respect my profession, I suggest we change the subject.” When Aunt Tessa turned haughty it was a sure bet you weren’t going to get anything out of her.

“Wanna soda?” I asked, defusing her indignation before it expanded.

She nodded and without getting up, I swiveled my torso toward the fridge, opened the door and hauled out another Dr. Pepper. I popped off the top and passed it to Aunt Tessa.

I wasn’t quite sure if my aunt was really psychic or simply believed she was. She wasn’t a fraud, at least not intentionally. Sometimes her predictions came true and sometimes they didn’t, but she did possess uncanny insight into human nature. That, I believed, was her real talent.

Then again, if Aunt Tessa was so perceptive maybe I could ask her about Conahegg and me. Like what were the chances we’d ever get together?

“Something’s wrong,” Aunt Tessa stated.

“Is your Dr. Pepper flat?”

“No, there’s something wrong with you.”

I met her eyes, which darkened with concern. Before she could read me, I looked away. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bad news,” Aunt Tessa said.

“How do you know?”

“When you’re worried you get these little lines around your mouth. Just like your father used to.”

I reached up and fingered the corners of my mouth. “You’re right. It’s bad news.”

“Is it about a patient?”

“Yeah. But it’s more than that.”

Aunt Tessa’s hand flew to her chest. “Someone’s dead.”

I nodded.

“Anyone we know?”

I nodded again.

Aunt Tessa inhaled sharply. “Let me see if I can determine who.”

“It’s Tim,” I said, not inclined to play guessing games.

“Tim? You mean Sissy’s ex-boyfriend? The one who decided he was gay?”

“Yes.”

“But how? When?” Her hand crept from her heart to her throat and her eyes widened.

“It was an accidental suicide.” That was a polite way of explaining his undignified demise.

“Does Sissy know?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh my gosh, who’s going to tell her?”

I knew I’d be the one to have to tell Sissy. I’d known it from the moment I’d found Tim’s body. What would Aunt Tessa do, I wondered, if I told her she’d have to break the news? Probably go into Ung mode and hibernate.

“I’ll tell her.”

Aunt Tessa placed her hand over mine. “You’re an angel, Ally. A direct gift from God.”

Funny how my mother and my aunt always complimented me when I took care of the unpleasant things in their lives. But they were my family, how could I begrudge them? They’d come to depend upon me so completely it was impossible to pull the rug out from under them. Like it or not, I was the caretaker. Always had been. Always would be.

Inexplicably, I longed for a man to lean on. A strong
masculine presence to take care of everything. I shook my head, surprised at my own thoughts.

“Listen, don’t tell Mama, at least not yet,” I said.

“This is a very bad thing.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And I have the strangest feeling it’s not as it seems,” Aunt Tessa said.

“Where’s Denny?” I asked, anxious to change the subject.

“He’s upstairs watching television.”

The back door opened and Mama came in from the pottery shed, smelling of plaster, paint and turpentine. She carried a cardboard box in her arms.

I got up to take the box from her and set it on the table.

“Thank you, Ally,” Mama said. “You’re home early.”

“Yes. Bad day. I’ll tell you about it in a bit.” I nodded. “Do you know where Sissy went?” I picked an apple from the fruit bowl and polished it against my shirt.

“What do you think?” Mama held up a ceramic troll doll and two different colored tufts of cotton. “Green or pink for his hair?”

“Pink. His whole outfit is green.”

“You’re right.” She nodded.

“What about Sissy?” I bit into the apple and pulled out a chair for Mama. It was hot in the pottery shed and her hair had come loose from its chignon and lay flat against the back of her neck.

“I believe that she went to see Rocky,” Mama murmured and sat down, that familiar faraway expression in her eyes.

For most of my life my mother has been out to lunch. When I found out she had been quite the hippie back in the sixties, I wondered if too much experimentation with drugs had affected her powers of concentration.

But the truth is, everyone on my mother’s side of the family
is a little off center. First, there’s Aunt Tessa. A cavewoman-channeling tarot card reader who’d been through four husbands and lived in sixteen foreign countries before coming to stay with us after Daddy died. Then there’s my Uncle Charlie, who’s a charming Shakespearean actor with a penchant for kleptomania. He’s currently serving five to ten in Huntsville for “borrowing” a Jaguar from a dealership showroom.

My mother’s father had been a circus performer. A fire-eating sword swallower. I never met him. He died in a rather grisly circus accident before I was born. Nobody talked about it much.

And grandma was reputed to have been an herbal healer and a good witch. The kind you go to for lucky talismans and love potions. I do remember her. She was small and had a naughty twinkle in her eye. She liked to gossip about the neighbors and their health problems.

I used to sit on a stool in her kitchen and watch her cook up crazy things in big vats. Poultices and headache cures, restorative elixirs and impotency remedies. She never baked cookies or raised flowers in her gardens like regular grandmothers. When you think about where they came from, you can’t really blame Mama and Aunt Tessa for being so weird.

I laid my hand on Mama’s and waited for her to give me her attention. It took a while. When Mama is off in her magical, mystical world of trolls and castles, fair maidens and dashing knights, it’s often hard to pull her back.

She looked up and blinked at me over the top of her reading glasses.

“We have got to do something about Sissy,” I said.

“Allegheny.” A stern note crept into her voice. She didn’t believe in butting into her children’s lives, even when she
should
be butting in. “Your sister is a grown woman.”

“Rocky is a bad influence on her.”

“It’s not our place to tell her who she can and can’t date.” Mama’s gaze slid sideways toward the troll, her fingers tightening on the porcelain figurine. I could see she was aching to slip back into her world and away from mine.

“Why not? We care about her. We love her.”

“Allegheny, we don’t learn when people lecture. We only learn from our mistakes.”

It’s really hard to get my mother to see reality. Usually, I don’t even try. But sometimes Sissy will listen to Mama. She never listens to me.

“He’s got her smoking pot.”

Mama leveled me a look. “I smoked pot when I was young.”

Yeah,
I was tempted to say,
and look what happened to you.
“Not when you had kids,” I said instead. “Sissy is responsible for Denny. She needs to be held accountable for her actions.”

“Sometimes you can be very harsh, Ally. I don’t know where you get that from. Your father was so kind and caring and I don’t judge people. What’s made you so hard?”

Her words stung. I won’t deny it. Hard? Harsh?

“I only mention it because I care about Sissy and I don’t want her to get into trouble.” I smashed my lips together. I would not cry.

“Leave her be, Ally,” my mother said. “Just leave your sister be.”

“Fine.”

I got up and slung my uneaten apple into the trash can on my way out the door. I was still dressed in my mauve scrub suit and white lab coat but I didn’t care. I stalked away from the house and down the hill toward the river.

I reached the river’s edge and stared out across the water. I swallowed several deep gulps of air and watched as a sand
crane skimmed the water searching for one last meal before bedding down for the night.

When had I become the enemy?

Maybe Rhonda was right. Maybe it was long past the time when I should let my family sink or swim.

Why don’t you hightail it out of here?
the rebellious voice in the back of my mind whispered. The voice I never listened to.
You could leave. Get a job as a traveling nurse. Take off and see the world. Like you’ve always dreamed of doing.

I bent to pick up a stone and skipped it across the water. It splashed four times before sinking into the middle of the Brazos river. My father would have been proud. He’d taught me to skip stones and he loved the river with his heart and soul. He had passed that love on to me. It’s the reason why he willed me the house. He knew no one cared about the place the way I did. He also knew I’d provide for everyone.

“Ah, Daddy.” I sighed.

He’d been dead for almost sixteen years but I never lost that tight awful knot somewhere dead center within my heart. He’d been the only sane thing in my insane childhood. He’d been the cement holding our bizarre little family together and when he died, he’d passed that torch on to me.

I closed my eyes, remembering the end. His body had been completely ravaged by cancer. I’d only been fifteen but I’d stayed out of school to be with him.