Tangled Roots (12 page)

“Kendra, I —” began Lynette before I cut her off.

“Not to worry my
friend
. We’ve already squashed the dress issue, no need to bring it up again,” I assured her.

“I swear I had no idea they were like this when I asked them to be in the wedding.” Lynette shook her head in dismay.

“Why in the world did you ask them in the first place?”

“I only asked the twins as a favor to Greg’s mother. I’d only met them once and had no idea how much they like to get their drink on. I only hope they can stay sober long enough to make it down the aisle. As for Georgette, we both started working at the bank about the same time. I thought she was my friend.”

Under normal circumstances she probably was Lynette’s friend, but there was something about planning a wedding that brought out the worst in everybody involved.

“What was that your mother told you? Watch out for jealous females when planning your wedding. Did she say anything about crazy females? You’ve got three of them in the kitchen, so watch your back.”

We made the rounds and Lynette introduced me to the groomsmen, who were much nicer than the idiots in the kitchen. One in particular, Greg’s best friend and best man, Ken Tucker, took an avid interest in me. Ken was a software engineer in Atlanta and was newly divorced. It was also evident that he was on the prowl, although he was stuttering and sweating so profusely I could tell he was way out of practice.

“K-Kendra, I’m loving th-that skirt you’ve got on, g-girl,” he said, tugging at the tight collar of his shirt. I knew he was flirting with me, or trying to, at any rate. But I couldn’t help teasing him.

“Thanks, Ken. You can borrow it anytime you want.” I smiled at him to let him know I was kidding, but he looked horrified.

“N-No, I just m-meant that you l-look good, y-you know?”

“I know. I was just messing with you,” I said and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Just then, someone in an apparent attack of nostalgia put on Zapp’s “More Bounce to the Ounce” and Ken lit up like a lantern.

“Th-This is my j-jam,” he said, pulling me into the middle of the living room to dance, which would have been fine had there been other people dancing, and would have been even better if Ken knew how to dance.

Now, I’m the first to admit that I’m nobody’s idea of a good dancer. I’m not horrible but I long ago gave up my dream of being able to dance so well that people would make a circle around me and clap and cheer. But even I’m better than Ken. Hell, if all my toes were broken and both my arms were in slings, I could still dance better than Ken. And that’s not saying much at all. Brotherman’s face was tensed up like he was constipated and his spastic, jerky footwork and furious, frenzied fist-pumping made it look like he was mad at the music and trying to pick a fight with it. I, on the other hand, was doing a tired two-step, ducking occasionally to avoid getting punched, not to mention getting drenched from all the sweat that was flying off of Mr. Dancing Machine.

Then Ken suddenly switched gears and leaned forward and started vigorously shaking his behind like it was on fire. I realized he was doing Da Butt, a dance that was popular back in my college days. Everyone was laughing at him, and rightly so. But I had to give Ken cool points because he just didn’t seem to care. Realizing I didn’t know most of the people at the party well enough to care what they thought, I started doing Da Butt, too. Soon Greg and Lynette joined us and, minutes later, everyone was dancing and laughing. Even Justine was cutting a rug, though I knew her feet had to be killing her in those too small shoes.

Dancing made me hungry. I left the others, who were now doing the Electric Slide, in the living room and headed into the dining room to get some food. With everyone dancing, Justine’s dog, Coco — taking full advantage of the unattended grub — had climbed up on the table and was lapping up the spinach dip, standing with her dirty little paws planted right on top of the cocktail bread. I quickly grabbed her and put her in a nearby bedroom, then took the tray with the doggy tainted dip and bread into the kitchen. Georgette and the Sunshine Twins were still talking and again fell silent when I walked in. Georgette got up from the table and put her hand on my shoulder, her claws draped too close to my neck for comfort.

“You’re not mad, are you, Kendra? We were just kidding. Weren’t we?” she asked the inebriated, semi-comatose twins, who nodded mutely and stared vacantly through red, watery eyes. I remained silent.

“You know, we don’t like our dresses, either,” Georgette squeaked in a low whisper. “What didn’t you like about yours?” Georgette was smiling innocently enough but I knew this two-faced cow was just trying to get me to talk about Lynette so she could run back and tell her what I said in an attempt to get more mess started.

“Let’s not talk about those dresses, okay? This is a party. Here, I brought you guys some dip,” I said, setting the tray on the table and leaving as they tore into it.

W
ednesday
afternoon found me sitting in my car in the parking lot of Floyd Library on the Kingford College campus. I was looking for Shanda and had driven around the campus looking for her car. I’d finally spotted her Honda Civic in the library’s parking lot. I parked behind her car and had been waiting for over an hour. I didn’t want to miss her. I watched various students emerge from the library. None of them was Shanda. Finally, after another half an hour, I headed into the library to look for her.

Floyd Library had been recently renovated and it had been years since I’d been inside. Gone was the orange and pea-green seventies decor with its outdated paper card catalog and mismatched furniture. The library was now completely automated and housed a computer lab full of new Apple computers as well as a coffee shop. The main reading room had hunter-green carpeting, dark tan leather couches and armchairs, and long wooden tables. The reference department and the main stacks were on the second floor.

I wandered around the library, pausing every now and then to glance at studious or sleeping students in my search for Shanda. I found her on the second floor, asleep in a study carrel in the reference department. She was sleeping with her head resting on arms crossed atop an open book. Her long braids hid her face like a curtain. I pulled a chair up next to her and nudged her awake. Since it hadn’t exactly been a gentle nudge, she woke up quickly, but looked bleary-eyed and confused for a few minutes before realizing it was me. She groaned softly.

“What do you want?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“For starters, I want you to tell the police what you and Vaughn did,” I said in low whisper.

“Not this again. Kendra, how do you know that Timmy didn’t kill Inez? He probably did, you know. She was already dead when Vaughn went to see her. Vaughn and I are just helping the police to look in the right direction.”

“Either you’re a fool or your boyfriend has knocked a screw loose in your head, little girl. Do you really think Vaughn Castle has any interest in helping the police do anything? He just wants to screw up Timmy’s life, and you know it.”

“Timmy’s an ex-crackhead with a criminal record who didn’t even graduate from high school. Looks to me like his life is already pretty screwed up,” she whispered loudly, standing up and tossing her books into her backpack.

“Okay, well, let’s explore another theory,” I said, blocking her way as she tried to walk past me.

“I’m going to call security,” she said, looking panicky.

“Go ahead and call them, Shanda, and they can hear all about how you were spotted at the shop around the time Inez was murdered.”

“What? I wasn’t at the shop that night!” she exclaimed. A few students poked their heads out from their carrels to see what was going on. I leaned closer to Shanda and lowered my voice.

“I talked to a man who saw a black woman with long braids going around to the back of the shop around nine-thirty the night Inez was killed. Was it you?”

“Hold up. You don’t think I killed her, do you? I was at choir practice with twenty-five other people that night. Why would I kill my own cousin?”

“Two words: Vaughn Castle. Everything that has happened in the past couple of weeks leads straight back to him. Maybe you were afraid she was going to tell the police he was dealing drugs.”

“You must be smoking crack with your friend Timmy, Kendra,” she said, laughing. “I was at choir practice at Holy Cross from seven to almost ten that night. My father was there, too. We went to and from practice together. You can ask him and anyone else who was there that night.”

“I will. I think your father would be very interested to know what you’ve been up to. For instance, that blue scarf you ran off with last week. I know you gave it back to Vaughn because he used it to strangle a woman I was with at the Spot on Saturday night.”

“What scarf?” she said, playing dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you better be very careful about what you say about Vaughn.”

“Well, maybe I should talk to your father about it,” I said confidently.

Shanda looked uncertain for a moment but then a sly gleam appeared in her eyes and I realized my bluff had failed. “If you were going to tell my daddy anything you’d have told him by now. Who do you think he’s going to believe, anyway, his own daughter or some heathen who doesn’t even go to church?” I heard muffled laughter coming from a few of the carrels.

My face was burning with embarrassment and my hands curled into fists. Shanda noticed and quickly walked away before I could administer the ass kicking I was dying to give her and that she so richly deserved.

“Miss, are you a student?” asked a voice behind me. I turned and saw a stylishly dressed librarian looking at me like I was loony.

“No. Sorry, I just needed to talk to my little sister,” I said, backing away from her.

“Then I’ll have to ask you to leave this area. You’re disturbing the students who are trying to study.”

I’ve always been a little in awe of librarians. She didn’t have to ask me twice. I left. Quietly, of course.

Gracie’s Gowns Galore was located in the Kingdom Shopping Center on Grand Street. I’ve often wondered why the most dilapidated places always had the most ambitious names. The Kingdom Shopping Center had seen better days but, personally, I couldn’t remember when. Gracie’s was wedged between a liquor store and the Kingdom Flea Market. The original owner, Gracie Parker, died twenty years ago. Her granddaughter, Mona, now operated the shop. I had gotten my prom dress from Gracie’s so I knew they had beautiful dresses. However, I couldn’t work up much enthusiasm for the one I was being fitted for. Lynette was already there when I arrived. She still hadn’t found a wedding gown and flipped through bridal magazines while I was being fitted. Even though we’d put what had happened at the party behind us, there was still a little bit of tension bubbling under the surface. I already had enough to worry about so I played nice. Besides, Lynette was looking completely stressed out. Working full-time, raising two kids basically on her own, living with her well-meaning though exasperating mother, and planning her own wedding, complete with insane bridesmaids, had my best friend ready to pull her hair out.

“Now, see, there’s nothing wrong with that dress. It looks good on you,” claimed Lynette encouragingly as she tossed a magazine into the pile by her chair and picked up another one.

I didn’t agree. I looked at myself in the fitting room’s long mirror and suppressed a shudder. The dress was fitted in the waist and bodice with a boatneck, three-quarter sleeves, and a flared calf-length skirt that made my legs look stumpy. The lace at the neckline was itching me and I pulled at it irritably. The sash around the middle ended in back with a large bow that, instead of being on my back, was designed to hang down over my behind, making me feel like I had wings on my ass. And if that wasn’t enough, the dress was covered in so many sequins that I bet Liberace himself would have drooled with envy. I didn’t dare complain. Lynette kept glancing at me with a half-crazed look in her eyes. I didn’t want to find out what happens when a stressed-out bride snaps.

“Hold still. I almost pinned my finger to the hem,” said Mona. Mona Carter was a tiny black woman in her late forties who, despite the fact that she’d sold thousands of wedding gowns, had never married. She seemed to enjoy living vicariously through the brides she fitted for gowns.

“There,” said Mona, standing to survey her work, “all done.” Mona and Lynette were watching me, waiting for some kind of positive response. I had to dig deep.

“I guess it’s not so bad now that I’ve had a chance to see it again.” I turned slowly, looking at myself in the mirror, and even managed a halfhearted smile. I was afraid that Georgette and the twins were going to jump out and get me if I didn’t make a good show of liking the dress.

“Told you so,” said Lynette, looking so happy that I was glad I’d lied. But I still couldn’t wait ’til it was my turn and I got to pick out something ugly for her to wear. I had visions of big polka dots to go along with the neon pink tulle and bugle beads.

I headed into the changing room and quickly changed out of the dress. Mona had instructed me to hang it on the rack outside the room along with the other dresses that she was currently altering. There were several dresses on the rack ranging from a simple cotton sundress to evening gowns. One dress in particular caught my eye and I picked it up. It was a gold, silk Oriental-style dress with cap sleeves, a high Mandarin collar, and black frog closures in the front. The dress was actually pretty tame-looking from the front. But the back was another story. The dress was almost completely open in the back from the neck to the waist. I looked inside and saw that it was a size four. I tried hard to remember if there was ever a time in my life when I could wear a size four and concluded that it had possibly been when I was four years old.

“It’s sharp, isn’t it?” said Mona, who’d walked up on me while I was holding the dress up in front of me.

“Now, this is a dress,” I said to Mona. “Whose is it?”

“Nicole Rollins. She’s a tiny little thing and it was way too long for her. I had to hem it. It’s been finished for a couple of weeks but she hasn’t been back to get it. I’m not surprised, though, with what happened to Inez.”

“This is a pretty racy dress for a minister’s wife, isn’t it?”

“To be honest, I don’t think she ever planned to actually wear it. Nicole was here shopping one day and saw Inez try on the dress. Inez really wanted this dress but she couldn’t afford it. Nicole just bought it to spite her,” said Mona, shaking her head.

“That wasn’t very nice,” I said, hanging the dress back on the rack.

“Yeah, well that’s Nicole for you. She always wanted everything Inez had, including her daddy. Now, she’s got him and Inez is dead. I tell you, it’s just such a shame.”

“Didn’t they used to be best friends?”

“Yeah, they ran around together all through school. They both got their prom dresses here. But, you know, even when they were friends, Nicole wasn’t always very nice to Inez. I was good friends with Inez’s mother and she used to tell me some of the mean things Nicole used to do to Inez,” Mona said, shaking her head.

“Really. Why did Inez put up with her?”

“Inez was always kinda shy and Nicole was very charming and outgoing. She could be a lot of fun, especially when she was getting her way. Inez just adored her. But that sure changed. When Inez’s mother died and Reverend Rollins married Nicole, Inez was heartbroken. Jeanne and Morris were having their huge house built. I think what really got to Inez was that her mother didn’t even get to live in that house. She died before it was finished. Inez herself only lived there for a few months. Then, when she found out about her father and Nicole, all hell broke loose and she moved out. Nicole is the lady of the manor now.”

“Sounds like Nicole’s a real piece of work.”

“As long as you were on Nicole’s good side, you were okay. If not, look out!”

“What do you mean? Was she violent?”

“Well,” Mona said, looking around and lowering her voice. “My nephew Lonnie went to high school with Nicole and made the mistake of lying to his friends about feeling up Nicole behind the bleachers after a football game. She found out and attacked him. Scratched up his face and arms real good. He was a mess. Little Miss Nicole takes her reputation very seriously.”

That certainly answered my question. I decided to find out what else Mona knew. “You know, I heard a rumor that Reverend Rollins and Nicole were fooling around before Inez’s mom died. That can’t be true, can it?”

“It is as far as a lot of people in this town are concerned. But, I’m not so sure. I mean, no, Rollins is no saint. And I know he and Jeanne had problems early in their marriage, but they always managed to work it out. I was at the hospital a lot during those final weeks and he never left her side. If he was cheatin’ with Nicole, he sure hid it well. But, I think Inez might have eventually gotten over her father’s marriage to Nicole if Nicole had treated her right. She never could resist rubbing Inez’s nose in the fact that she was married to her daddy.”

I watched as Mona hurried off to help another customer and I thought back to Inez’s funeral. Nicole had been in bad shape. Obviously she was regretting her treatment of Inez. Then I remembered something else. Nicole Rollins wore her hair in long braids. Could she have been the woman seen at the shop around the time of Inez’s murder? Did she witness something, or was it more sinister than that? There was bad blood between the former best friends. Had it escalated to murder? Was that why Nicole was so distraught? Now that I knew that she also had a violent streak, I intended to find out.

It rained all the next day and my mood matched the gloom outside. Not wanting to deal with Noreen, I called in sick from work and slept in. As I lay in bed, I tried to decide how to go about approaching Nicole Rollins. Going to Holy Cross would be the obvious answer but I really didn’t want to see Morris Rollins. I found my attraction to him very unsettling. Mama’s story about Vera Maynard had me wondering just what would happen if I took Rollins up on his offer to visit him in his office. I didn’t want to become the subject of anybody’s cautionary tale. It was Thursday and I remembered that Rollins taped his show
The Light and the Way
on Thursday evenings. Surely attending a taping would be safe enough. Nicole was bound to be there. I just had to figure out a way to get her talking about Inez.

Late that afternoon, I worked at Estelle’s. Gwen was also working and managed to cheer me up, that is until Timmy’s mother arrived looking for Alex. Olivia and Gwen were cordial to each other and Gwen was sympathetic to what Olivia was going through with Timmy. However, Gwen never missed an opportunity to subtly remind Olivia that Alex was her man now and she intended to keep him.

“Olivia, how you holdin’ up, girl?” Gwen had emerged from the hostess station to put a comforting arm around Olivia’s shoulders.