Tangled Roots (18 page)

“What in the hell? Kelly? What the fuck were you doin’ in there?” exclaimed Lewis Watts. It was no wonder that I hadn’t recognized him at first because he wasn’t dressed in the Santa Super Fly gear that I’d seen him in at the Spotlight Bar & Grill. Today he looked like an everyday working man. “I’m waitin’ for an answer, Miss Snotty,” he said, lounging against the decorative pillows on the bed and, having taken off his baseball cap, no doubt smudging them with his hair pomade.

I glared at him. This was the last thing I expected and the last thing I needed. What could I say? I was busted big-time and for once didn’t have an excuse. But Lewis didn’t hesitate to come up with one for me.

“You been followin’ me, ain’t you? Wanna make up for bein’ so mean to ole Lewis, huh?”

I couldn’t have heard him right. Did he really think I was hiding inside furniture to get next to him? His ego was bigger than he was. I shifted nervously from foot to foot. I could tell he was enjoying my discomfort immensely. I decided to try and appeal to his sense of justice, knowing full well he probably didn’t have one.

“Look, I’m here for a very important reason that has nothing to do with you. An innocent young man could go to jail for the rest of his life for a crime he didn’t commit. I need to talk to Nicole Rollins and this is the only way I could get in here to do it. Please, it’s very important that you don’t tell anyone I’m here,” I pleaded. Lewis put his hands behind his head and leaned back farther.

“Is that right? So, you on some kinda secret mission, huh? You must think you James Bond or somethin’. Well, how much is keepin’ me quiet worth to ya, baby doll?” he asked, leaning forward and patting the space next to him on the bed. “Why don’t you set yo fine self on down over here next to me so we can get to know each other better?” He was grinning at me like a rat that just won the cheese lotto.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” I asked in amazement. While I was determined to talk to Nicole Rollins and try to help Timmy out of his situation, I was going to have to draw the line at being felt up by a repulsive little man who barely came up to my armpit.

“Then I think I’ll tell that nurse she got an intruder so she can call the cops,” he said angrily, getting up from the bed and heading towards the door. I could hear the driver talking to the nurse at the front door. I watched helplessly as Lewis started to walk out of the room with his back straight and head held high, the picture of righteous indignation. Then all of the sudden I remembered something he mentioned to me both times I’d seen him at the Spot.

“Hold up, player,” I said before he got out the door. He turned, smiling at me in triumph, and walked back over to where I was standing and started to put his arms around me.
Eww!

“Aren’t you on disability?” I asked casually. His arms froze in midair. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, I guess Social Security won’t be too happy if they find out you’re delivering furniture when your back is supposed to be bad? I bet they’re paying you under the table, right?”

“I don’t know how they ’spect a man to live on them little checks,” he said, bending over and clutching his lower back dramatically with both hands. I rolled my eyes. I could hear the voices of the driver and the nurse getting closer.

“Sounds like a personal problem to me. All I know is you’ve got about two seconds to forget you saw me here or I’m going to get on my phone to that hotline they’re always advertising on TV. You know, the one about reporting disability fraud.” Actually, the only hotline I knew about was to report cable theft but I could tell by the way Lewis’s eyes were popping out of his head that he believed there was such a hotline.

“Damn, girl! You don’t have to be like that. I thought we was friends.” To demonstrate our so-called friendship, and to keep me from busting him, Lewis grabbed me and shoved me back inside the armoire just as his partner and the nurse walked through the door.

“Who you in here talking to?” I heard his partner ask.

“I was on my cell phone to my lady. You know how high maintenance she is, man. She can’t get enough a ole Lewis.” Both men laughed and I almost gagged.

“I found the key. Let’s see if this works,” said the driver.
Uh-oh
, I thought.

“Oh, I got it open, man, no problem. It was just stuck,” said Lewis. “Now, if you’ll just sign this, ma’am, we’ll be goin’.”

“Good, I’d really like to get back to my soaps. I didn’t realize when I took this job I’d have to be the housekeeper, too,” said the nurse, sounding highly pissed off.

“I hear that, sweetheart. Fine lookin’ lady like you shouldn’t be treated like no servant. So, what’s wrong with Miz Rollins, anyway?” Lewis asked. I could hear their voices starting to get fainter and figured they had left the room and were headed towards the front door. I wanted to hear if the nurse told Lewis about Nicole so I got out of the armoire and hid behind the still open door to the bedroom. I heard the nurse saying something about a nervous breakdown. Did Nicole have a nervous breakdown? Lewis’s charms apparently worked on some women, since the nurse had given him info she refused to give me.

From my hiding place behind the door, I watched the nurse close the door behind the deliverymen and head back to wherever in the house she had been watching her soap operas. With the day-to-day drama of real life, I wondered why anyone needed to watch soap operas. Most of us were living one every day, especially me. I quietly crept out of the room, finding myself back in the foyer. There was a double staircase leading up to the second floor. I sprinted quickly up the nearest staircase, severely overestimating my physical fitness, and had to lean against the railing overlooking the foyer to catch my breath.

Hanging on the wall behind me was a large formal family portrait of Reverend Rollins, Nicole, Rondell, Bonita, and Shanda. Inez wasn’t in the picture. They were all smiling, but upon closer inspection, the smiles seemed a bit strained. Rollins, wearing the hell out of a gray pin-striped suit, was seated in a chair with his family standing around him. Nicole, beautifully dressed in a burgundy silk wrap dress, was standing behind Rollins with her hand on his shoulder and her long braids cascading down her back. In contrast, Rondell, Bonita, and Shanda looked like poor relations. Rondell’s ill-fitting blue suit looked thirty years out of date. Bonita’s striped dress was not only dowdy but made her hips look huge. Shanda, wearing a flowered dress with a lace collar, looked like she was twelve years old. I bet her mother had picked out the dress.

Both sides of the staircase led to separate hallways that met in the middle of a shared landing. I turned down the hallway on the side I’d come up on. At the end of the hall was a set of elaborate double doors that I hoped signified the master suite. I tried to pull the doors open but they were locked. I jiggled the handles in vain. Nicole must have really been in a bad way to have to be locked in her room. I looked in the decorative brass boxes on the marble-topped hall table just outside the room, thinking maybe the key might in one of them. No such luck. I had a sinking feeling I knew where the key was: in the pocket of the nurse’s sweater.

I crept back down to the first floor and followed the path the nurse had taken after she’d shown the deliverymen out. I found myself in a formal dining room that led into a large black and gold gourmet kitchen. I tiptoed into the kitchen and saw the nurse with her back to me, sitting in a chair in the family room that opened up off the kitchen. She was watching
The Young and the Restless
. She was also still wearing the sweater. Wasn’t she hot in that thing? I ducked down behind the large island that dominated the center of the kitchen to think. I needed that key. How in the world was I going to get it? I could turn up the heat on the thermostat, but it would take too long for it to get hot enough for her to take the sweater off. I needed to get into Nicole’s room before her husband returned.

I peeked out from my hiding place and watched as the nurse took periodic sips from a large plastic tumbler of orange juice sitting on the long low table next to her. The table sat between the nurse’s chair and a love seat. On the opposite end of the table, closest to the love seat, I spied a small key on a large plastic key ring. This had to be the key to Nicole’s room. I was thrilled that it wasn’t in her sweater pocket after all. But how was I going to get it? I didn’t dare reach for it — she’d see me. I frantically looked around the kitchen for something I could use to distract the nurse. I finally found a nice big dead fly in the corner of the kitchen underneath a brass plant stand. I carefully picked up the fly by its wings and crawled up behind the nurse’s chair. Just as I was ready to drop the fly in her juice, she picked up the tumbler. I was afraid she’d drain it but when she set it down again, I was happy to see there was still more than enough to achieve the desired effect. I dropped the fly in for its orange juice embalming and scurried back behind the island. There was always the chance that she wouldn’t react the way I hoped. If not, I’d be screwed. If I found a fly floating belly up in my juice, considering where flies spend most of their time, I know I’d be seriously grossed out. I waited and a minute later, I was rewarded by the sound of a strangled gasp. I poked my head out in time to see the tumbler tossed into the air and it, along with the contents, landing on the gagging nurse. She jumped out of the chair cussing and spitting and covered in orange juice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she growled. I watched her rub her tongue so hard it looked like she might rub off her taste buds. I truly hoped she hadn’t swallowed the fly. In spite of my situation, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is someone there?” I clamped my hand over my mouth before any more sound could escape. “Mrs. Rollins, is that you?” I was frozen to the spot as the nurse walked through the kitchen right past me into the dining room. All she had to do was turn around and I’d be toast. I held my breath and watched as she headed out of the dining room without looking back. I ran into the family room, grabbed the key off the table, and dove behind a leather couch as the nurse returned to the room. Lewis was right. This was some James Bond shit and I couldn’t wait for it to be over. Timmy owed me big-time.

I looked to my right and saw another staircase. A quick peek revealed the nurse on all fours scrubbing orange juice from the carpet. I headed up the back staircase as quietly as possible, since the stairs weren’t carpeted. I had no idea where I was but kept moving until I found myself once again on the landing overlooking the foyer. With key in hand, I approached the double doors to the master suite and let myself into the room, closing the doors behind me. The room was large, with a high ceiling and a hardwood floor covered with oriental rugs. Blue and gold curtains, embroidered with flowers, and cream sheers hung in the windows. Heavy mahogany furniture made the room look a little crowded. Vases filled with fresh flowers and family photos covered the tops of the dressers. A large stuffed bear reclined in a rocking chair by the bed. There was something a little odd about the room that I couldn’t put my finger on.

I detected faint rustling sounds coming from the direction of the ornately carved four-poster bed. The bed’s sheer curtains were drawn but I could hear Nicole tossing, turning, and thrashing around. She must be having quite a nightmare, and I wondered for the first time about the wisdom of trying to talk to her. If she had really had a nervous breakdown would I be able to get any sense out of her? And, more importantly, if she knew anything that could help Timmy, would the police believe her, given her current mental state? I approached the bed and Nicole cried out loudly, making me jump.

“She’s dead! No, sweet Jesus,” Nicole moaned and continued thrashing around.

Realizing that she must be talking about Inez, I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I slowly parted the curtains and saw Nicole lying on her side facing me. She was tangled up in the bedsheets, with her long braids hanging in her face.

“Mrs. Rollins? Nicole, are you awake?” I gently touched her shoulder and she sighed and rolled onto her back. As she did, her braids fell away from her face and I gasped. I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. I looked wildly around the room at the family pictures, noticing they were of Inez as a cheerleader, Inez at the prom, Inez on Santa’s knee, and realizing why the room seemed so odd. This wasn’t Morris and Nicole’s bedroom. It must be Inez’s old room, and the sleeping woman I was looking down at was not Nicole Rollins but Inez Rollins.

B
efore
I could fully grasp that I was looking at a woman everybody in town, including the police, thought was dead, Inez sat straight up and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Daddy, don’t!” Inez began flailing and swinging her arms like a psychotic windmill looking for a fight. I tried to calm her down and caught a forearm to the forehead, smashing me right in my swollen knot and sending me flying backwards off the bed onto the floor with a loud thud. I was paralyzed for a few minutes until I heard rapidly approaching footsteps. I rolled under the bed. I heard the door to the bedroom swing open, and saw a pair of chubby legs encased in white stockings ending in orthopedic loafers run across the room.

“Mrs. Rollins, are you all right?” I heard the panicked nurse ask. Inez’s only response was a loud snore. “You scared me half to death. I thought you fell out of bed,” the nurse whispered to Inez’s sleeping form.

The nurse had called Inez Mrs. Rollins, not Ms. Rollins. She thought the woman she was taking care of was Nicole and that could only mean that Morris Rollins was passing Inez off as Nicole. It also meant that Nicole must be dead. I needed to get out of the house and take my newfound revelation to Harmon and Mercer. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Timmy couldn’t be held responsible for the death of a woman who wasn’t dead, which meant he’d have to be cleared of all suspicion. He could come out of hiding, and Olivia could have her surgery. I was happier than anyone hiding under someone else’s bed had a right to be. I watched as the nurse headed towards the bedroom door. Once she left, I could make my escape. However, I should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. I saw the nurse’s legs stop, pausing at the bedroom door. I poked my head out a bit farther and saw her looking at the keyhole. Damn. She must have realized the door should have been locked. I hadn’t thought to lock it behind me when I came in.

“I could have sworn I locked this door. What in the world is going on around here?” she said aloud. My heart sank as I watched the nurse walk back towards the bed and stop.

“Are you really asleep, or are you faking?” I heard her ask Inez. Of course, there was no response, as Inez was really sleeping. But the nurse was undeterred. “You can pretend all you want, Mrs. Rollins. I don’t know how you’re doing it but I know you’ve been sneaking out of this room. I’m going to sit right here next to this bed until your husband gets home.” The nurse then removed the large stuffed teddy bear from the rocking chair by the bed and proceeded to sit down.

I felt like crying. Plus, I was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. I waited, hoping she would realize Inez was really asleep and leave the room. No such luck. The nurse sat rocking back and forth, humming Broadway show tunes to herself. I was treated to a tuneless medley that included “Hello Dolly,” “If I Were a Rich Man,” “There’s a Place for Us,” and “Oklahoma!” It was hot under the bed and I was getting cramped from lying in the same position for so long. Sweat started trickling down my face, making the knot on my forehead itch. Heat makes me sleepy and that, combined with the nurse’s humming and Inez’s soft snoring, was lulling me into a stupor. With no place to go and nothing to do but wait, I drifted off to sleep, hoping like hell I didn’t start snoring myself.

I woke in a panic after a bizarre dream about marrying Lewis Watts while wearing the ugly blue maid of honor dress, not remembering where I was, and unable to move. When I finally remembered my predicament, I looked out from under the bed to see that the nurse was no longer sitting in the rocker. Her chubby gams had been replaced by a man’s long legs clad in brown slacks with a pair of enormous feet shod in expensive leather loafers. The lord of the manor had returned. As much as I wanted to roll out from under the bed and demand he tell me what the hell was going on, I had to get out of the house, quickly. Somehow I didn’t think Rollins would remember his offers of hugs and conversation if he found me hiding in his house. As nice as he’d been to me, I didn’t want to incur the man’s wrath, especially since he appeared to have faked his daughter’s death. Who knew what else he was capable of?

I thought back to the funeral and the heavily veiled, dazed-looking woman Rollins had told me was Nicole. Had Rollins actually had the balls to pass off his doped-up, very-much-alive daughter as his wife at her own funeral? If Inez was being drugged and locked in her room, was it for her own safety or to keep her from telling who’d really killed Nicole? Then I remembered Inez calling out the words, “Daddy, don’t,” in her sleep. Don’t what? What didn’t Inez want her father to do? If I had to guess, with my choices being “Don’t kill Nicole,” “Don’t kill me,” or “Don’t run with scissors,” I’m sure I’d be closer to the truth in choosing one of the first two. Was Morris Rollins a murderer? My heart sank.

I heard the shrill chirp of a cell phone ringing. Rollins answered it with a terse hello.

“Slow down, Bonita, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” He sounded like his patience was evaporating like water drops on a hot griddle. “What? He knows? He knows what?” Rollins paused to listen to whatever his sister-in-law was telling him. Then I heard him groan. I took a chance, peeked out, and saw him leaning forward in the rocker with his forehead resting in the palm of his hand. The cell phone was still in his other hand, pressed against his ear. Bonita was talking so loudly that I could hear her under the bed. But I couldn’t hear what she was saying, just a loud buzzing chatter emanating from the phone.

“Oh, my God,” I heard Rollins whisper softly. It didn’t sound like good news.

“Where is he now? Okay, Bonita. Now, calm down and tell me where you are.” Rollins stood up and I heard him walking slowly towards the bedroom door. “I want you to meet me at the church in an hour, you hear me? Good.” Rollins was headed out the door when a voice stopped him.

“Daddy?” Rollins was back across the room and by his daughter’s bedside in two strides.

“Hey, baby girl. What are you doing awake? You’re supposed to be getting your rest.” I felt Inez shifting in the bed above me.

“Where you going, Daddy?” Inez sounded groggy and weak.

“I’ll be right back, baby. You just lie back down and get some sleep. Here, it’s about time for another pill.”

“Don’t want no more pills. Daddy, we gotta tell ’em. We gotta tell ’em.” I heard Inez’s voice trail off into a sigh then heard her breathing heavily; she must have fallen back to sleep. Rollins stood by the bed for another minute to make sure she was asleep and then quickly left the room.

I rolled out from under the bed. A quick peek at the clock on the bedside table told me it was almost three o’clock. I’d been under the bed for two hours and my limbs felt numb. My stomach had an imprint of my purse on it, which I’d been lying on top of the whole time. I looked down at Inez, who had indeed fallen back into a deep slumber. I wondered what she wanted to tell and to whom she wanted to tell it. I resisted an urge to try and wake her. I had to tell Harmon and Mercer she was still alive. Whatever secret Inez was keeping, Harmon and Mercer could deal with it. Being trapped under a bed for two hours gives a person amazing perspective. I left the room and crept down the steps.

I heard Rollins talking to someone, probably the nurse, in another room and decided to make a break for it. I quietly unlocked the front door, stepped out into the afternoon sunshine, gently pulled the door shut behind me, and hurried down the driveway to my car.

I jumped into the driver’s seat and started to put the key in the ignition when I felt fingers twisting into the hair on the back of my head. I yelped and tried to get out of the car and was pulled back against the driver’s seat by the collar of my jacket. I looked into the rearview mirror and was greeted by the sight of Vaughn Castle. I felt something sharp poking me in my neck and realized with horror that it was the Swiss Army knife Mrs. Carson had given me. I had dropped it on my porch in my excitement over seeing Carl and had completely forgotten about it until now. Vaughn must have been at my apartment.

“Your granny ain’t here to save your ass this time, bitch,” he said in a hissing lisp, like his tongue was having a hard time adjusting to the extra spaces left by his missing teeth. I seriously doubted drug dealing provided any kind of a dental plan and sincerely hoped he’d be snaggletoothed for the rest of his life.

“What do you want?” I asked. I kept my eyes on him in the mirror.

“Just start this raggedy muthafucka and drive. I’ll tell you where to go.”

I did as I was told and Vaughn told me to drive towards the wooded area at the back of the Briar Creek development. Once I stopped the car, he reached between the seats and took my keys from the ignition. I looked around desperately for someone whose eye I could catch who could run for help. But all I could see were trees, dirt, and litter. There was nobody around who could help me. Vaughn kept the knife’s tip pressed against my neck with one hand while he had a firm grip on my jacket collar with the other. I had rolled out from under Inez’s bed and landed right in a pile of shit.

“Where’s Milton?” he asked. I could feel and smell his hot foul breath against my cheek and wondered how I had failed to notice his odor of stale beer, cologne, and funk when I’d gotten in the car. I felt like throwing up.

“I don’t know where he is,” I replied truthfully, trying hard not to move my head.

“Liar,” he said, poking me in the back of the head. “I know you tight with him and his mom. Shanda told me. So I know you know where his ass is.”

“Why do you hate him so much?” I wanted to keep him talking, mainly to buy time, but also to see if his story matched Timmy’s.

“That’s none a your fuckin’ business, bitch.” I felt a spray of spittle on my neck. Yuck! Telling him to “say it, don’t spray it” would probably earn me a fist in the face, or worse, a knife in my jugular, so I gritted my teeth and kept silent as visions of him cutting me into tiny pieces flooded my brain. I looked at him again in the rearview mirror and realized by his red, glassy eyes that he was high as a kite.

“He was hiding out at my place but he told me he was going back to Detroit. I haven’t seen him in a week,” I offered, hoping to appease him.

“I don’t believe that shit. Shanda told me —”

“Did you know Shanda tried to kill herself?” I asked, quickly cutting him off in the hope he would let down his guard. Instead, he just tightened his grip on my collar and laughed like I’d just told him a big joke.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I cut that silly ho loose. She was gettin’ way too clingy, anyway. She wasn’t a bad lay. Matter a fact, I used to bring her out here to this very spot to fuck her. But she couldn’t give good head to save her life. Made her practice on bananas and she still couldn’t get the shit right.”

Now
there
was a mental image I really didn’t need. “You broke up with Shanda?” I knew her suicide attempt had something to do with this loser. Shanda loved Vaughn so much she’d helped him frame an innocent man for her cousin’s murder only to have him dump her. She must have been devastated. “She loved you. She slit her wrist, probably over you. Don’t you even care that she almost died?”

“Shanda don’t love me any more than I love her. She’s just a sad little girl lookin’ for attention. She don’t care where she get it from. If she really wanted to kill herself, she’d a done it. Let me guess, her mom or her pops found her in time, right?”

“She loved you enough to help you frame Timmy, didn’t she? Why did you kill Inez, anyway?”

“I didn’t kill that ho! I went to see that bitch to tell her to stop runnin’ me down behind my back and when I got there her ass was already dead with half her face splattered against the wall,” he said, clutching my collar tighter.

Which would have made it easy for Rollins to lie and identify Nicole as Inez. But, why? Did Vaughn mistake Nicole for Inez because of their braids, and kill her? Did Inez witness the murder and Rollins was trying to protect her?

“And then you decided to frame Timmy. He must have really screwed you over pretty bad. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who would let himself be played.” That hit a nerve, and I saw Vaughn’s jaw clench.

“Not me, my boy Ricky Maynard. Milton’s the reason Ricky’s dead and I’m gonna make that muthafucka pay. Ricky got run down like a damn dog in the street chasing Milton’s ass. That nigga thinks he can bring me down like he did Ricky. But he ’bout to find out who he messin’ wit. I’m bulletproof. Can’t nobody get wit me,” he said, breathing down my neck. From the little bit he’d told me, his story seemed to match Timmy’s, except for that last part, which just sounded plain crazy.

“Timmy didn’t know Inez or have any reason to kill her. It shouldn’t take long for the police to figure out that the one person who had a reason to hurt her was you.” He let go of my collar and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my head back against the seat. If I got out of this alive, I was going to have one hell of a headache.

“I told you I didn’t kill her. But, since you think you so smart, bitch, answer me this: If I killed Inez, why would I bother putting a bloody tissue in Milton’s car when I could have just planted the piece on him?”

The gun. It had completely slipped my mind. No one had ever mentioned the gun. It wasn’t in any of the articles I’d read about the murder. I’d figured the police were withholding information on the murder weapon.

“You mean it wasn’t there at the scene?” I asked in a whisper.

“I’m tired of answering questions. It’s time you answered mine. Where is Milton? I need to know so the police can get another anonymous call about his location.” I felt the knife press against my neck breaking the skin. A small warm trickle of blood ran down inside my collar.

I realized that, no matter what I did or didn’t tell him, he was going to kill me, anyway. There was no way he could let me go. I knew too much. I thought about my family and how devastated they’d be when Harmon and Mercer broke the news of finding my body in the deserted, wooded area that Vaughn was sure to drag it into. I wondered if they’d be able to find all of me. I started to cry, which pissed him off.