Choke (24 page)

Immy re-entered the restaurant, and they ordered and polished off a shared serving of tiramisu. While she ate, Immy planned to check in at the Saltlick station on her way home. It wasn’t until after Drew’s bath and bedtime story, however, that she managed it.

The lobby of the station was dark, but lights were on behind the hallway door. Immy tried to open it, but it was locked. The area behind the glass, where Tabitha ruled during the day, was empty and dark.

Immy pounded on the hallway door until Ralph opened it an inch.

“Can I come back there?” she asked.

“No, you can’t.”

“No explanation, no apology, just, ‘No, you can’t?’“

“Immy, I’m glad you told us where to find Frank Laramie, but we’re busy, and you have no business in the station right now.”

Her scowl didn’t affect him.

“But we’re still on for tomorrow, right?” he said.

Maybe, she thought, that was his way of saying he’d spill the beans in private. She nodded and went home.

Friday night came so quickly, Immy thought she must have missed a day. After she had started her job on Wednesday, the work had made both Thursday and Friday fly by. The job consisted mostly of filing and typing, but there were all sorts of different things to file and to type. She had eventually discovered that the puzzling items in her stacks at the corner of her desk, the recipes and newspaper clippings, were probably from her predecessor. Mike had no idea why any of them had been saved among the papers.

She had gone through the yellowing recipes and saved some that looked good. Most of the newspaper announcements were related to the Squires family. Immy didn’t know any of them. They all seemed to live in and around Wymee Falls. She swept all of the clippings into a large manila envelope in case someone named Squires ever came by for them. Mike said his previous office helper had been a woman named Amy JoBeth Anderson, not Squires.

This anomaly piqued her detective curiosity a bit, but Mike wasn’t interested in pursuing it, so Immy thought maybe she would try to track down Amy JoBeth some time on her own to test her skills. It would be fun to find out why all the announcements had been cut out, then left behind.

The minutes crept, with having to learn something new almost every hour, but the days evaporated. She left the office dead tired Friday.

She remembered the movie and dinner date with Ralph, though, so when she got home from picking up Drew on Friday, she changed into something a little nicer, a knit top instead of a tee.

“I think it’s nice you’re keeping company with that pleasant Ralph Sandoval,” said Hortense. “He’s so polite, even though I wouldn’t wish a member of law enforcement as a mate for anyone, having suffered that fate myself.”

Immy remembered the days when her mother wouldn’t even talk about her father. It was a positive sign she did it so easily now, but it seemed that in her mind, Mother had Immy hitched to Ralph on their second date. She had no intention of marrying him. He was just a nice guy, and she thought it would be handy for her career to have an in with the local police. Her book had mentioned having handy contacts in local law enforcement. Wymee Falls was a lot bigger, and it might be better to date someone who worked there, but there sure was a lot happening here in the sticks lately, she had to admit. And Saltlick was more local.

She would try to keep in mind that she needed to get info from Ralph about Frankie. He and the chief must have been interrogating him when she had been at the station last night.

How exactly had they left it? She couldn’t remember. Was Immy paying, or was Ralph? She had offered, but that was when she had assumed she would get paid Friday.

When her quitting time of two o’clock had rolled around, she had knocked lightly on Mike’s door and entered when he called out.

“I guess it’s time for me to go,” she had said.

He glanced at the softly ticking clock on his desk. Once again, a candle smelling like walnuts burned beside it. “OK.”

She stood, waiting for him to remember to pay her, but he returned his attention to the papers on his desk.

“It’s Friday,” she prompted.

“Hey, you’re doin’ great, kid. I think you’ll work out fine. So I’ll see you here next week?”

“Um, sure, and is it, um, payday today?”

“We didn’t talk about that?” He screwed his little weasel face up in something that looked like pain. “Every two weeks works a lot better for me, kid. You only been here, what, three days? How about next Friday?”

“All right,” she had agreed and taken herself home, remembering that Ralph had wanted to do dinner and a movie and she had offered to pay.

Immy always equated Ralph with the second-best Saltlick cruiser and was surprised to see him show up in a large, white pickup truck. He fit into it much more easily than the sedan.

“Where you wanna eat?” Ralph said. He shifted into drive and took them toward Wymee Falls, which held the only movie theater within fifty miles. “Let’s eat first and then see the movie, OK? “

“OK.” Immy fiddled with her purse strap. She had taken twenty dollars out of the bank. That was all she dared, since what was left was barely enough for groceries until next Friday. But twenty wouldn’t be enough for dinner and a movie or even popcorn and a movie. Maybe she wouldn’t eat anything, and she definitely wouldn’t order popcorn.

“So, pick a place,” he urged.

“Cracker Barrel?” Immy loved the cinnamon apples she had had there once when she was a little girl. She hoped they were still on the menu. If she just had those, maybe her twenty would stretch.

She would have to question Ralph at the meal since she couldn’t do it during the movie.

When she ordered the apples Ralph asked if she wanted more to eat.

“Oh, I’m not very hungry,” she said.

“I am. Should we get appetizers?”

“Ralph, I, um, I don’t really have enough money to pay for all this tonight.”

He grinned. “I wasn’t going to let you pay, Immy. Go ahead and get something to eat.”

As soon as Ralph dug into his meatloaf with mashed and gravy, Immy made her move.

“I guess you didn’t have any trouble picking up Frank Laramie?”

Ralph looked up, a forkful of potatoes on the way to his mouth. “No, no trouble. Good job tipping us off. Appreciate it.”

“And I guess you’re holding him?”

“He’s still in the cell tonight, yeah.” The fork completed its journey and started another.

“So what part do you think he played?”

“Immy, I can’t tell you any details.”

“Not even if it’s my uncle who was killed and Frank’s uncle who may have done a hit on him? Not even if I’m a suspect?”

Ralph put his fork down and gripped his iced tea glass. “Especially if you’re a suspect.” He gulped half the glass.

“Keep your voice down. I don’t want everyone in Wymee Falls to know. So I am still a suspect?”

“Chief isn’t ruling anything out yet. We don’t have a clear enough picture of—damn it, Immy, I’m not talking about this.”

So she had no choice but to drop the subject of Frankie. She continued eating her still-delicious apples, savoring the cinnamon aroma and taste for a few minutes before she started in on Ralph about her next topic. “So what is Baxter getting charged with? I’m not a suspect on that case, anyway, right?”

“I guess you’re not. Not sure what the charges are gonna be. Chief hasn’t said what was in it, but he gave a report to the DA.”

Immy ground her teeth slightly. “I hope he gets charged with something.”

“Oh, at least the meth stuff. We got him on that, on purchasing the makings anyway, and that’s enough.”

“Good.” Her fork squeaked as she scraped the bowl to get the last morsel of cinnamon apple.

“Sorry,” Immy said, cringing at the sound.

The squeak didn’t faze Ralph. “I thought you liked him.”

Immy stared at Ralph. “Not after you told me he helped kill my father.”

Ralph reddened. “I guess not.”

“That was true, wasn’t it? He really said that?”

“Yeah, you can ask Chief. Cross my heart.” Ralph made an X on his chest with his beefy pointer finger. Immy gave him a sideways look. And people accused her of being immature.

“What about Huey’s murder? I’m out of jail, so how can I still be a suspect?”

Ralph blushed yet again. “Your lawyer got you out, but I reckon you and your mama still are suspects since you get the diner and Hortense said she was going to kill him.”

“Who told you she said that?”

Ralph’s dark eyes widened. “Oh. Baxter Killroy told us that.”

“Maybe you should discount it, then.”

“We have to consider it.”

Immy’s fork clattered to the table. “Wait a minute. How could Baxter know what Mother said to Uncle Huey? Was he there?”

“Says he was. He says he was downstairs while they were arguing upstairs.”

“But I was…” She almost said she was there, but they didn’t know that, thanks to Mother. “Are you sure he was there?” She hadn’t seen him.

Immy closed her eyes and tried to picture what she had seen. She had heard Hortense and Huey going at it as soon as she had opened the door. She had crept in, but where had she gone first?

She had peeked into the kitchen. It was possible Baxter had been hiding there, though the room had looked empty. A half-chopped head of cabbage was on the counter and she remembered thinking Clem was in the middle of making coleslaw.

Then Immy had remained in the empty dining room the rest of the time she was there. She had heard most of the shouting match, and her mother had not threatened to kill Huey, but she had left when Huey started counting off the seconds, telling Hortense she had to leave his office. When she heard Mother start for the stairs, Immy had left. Was it possible her mother had threatened him after that?

What she had always known was that it was possible her mother had killed him after she left, but she would never let herself believe that. No, Baxter was lying about Mother threatening Huey. He had to be.

“Immy,” Ralph said. “I’m never sure of anything anyone tells us. A lot of people lie to the police.” Did his look mean that he knew she had lied, if only by omission?

They saw a chick flick after the Cracker Barrel dinner. Immy supposed Ralph was trying for points by attending that kind of film, because he didn’t seem to enjoy it much. She would have enjoyed a noir thriller, but this one was OK, too. The clothes and shoes weren’t anything she would ever wear, probably couldn’t even buy any of those things in Wymee Falls, but they were interesting to see. Immy wondered if people dressed like that in New York or maybe in Hollywood. She had been to Dallas and Fort Worth, and they sure didn’t wear that stuff there. They dressed different than Saltlick folks but not like those movie stars.

When the movie was over, she told Ralph she had had a good time. On the ride home she racked her brains trying to think of ways to pump Ralph, but he wouldn’t give out any more information about the murder investigation. Somehow, she couldn’t see letting him unbutton her shirt to get him to talk. That had worked with that rat Baxter, but Ralph was a whole different animal. He hadn’t even tried to touch her.

He walked her to the bottom porch step, said goodnight, and turned to leave. Immy realized she had enjoyed his company. It was nice being with someone who held doors and chairs and was concerned about how you were doing.

“Ralph?” Immy said to his back. “I had a really good time tonight.”

He turned and stepped toward her.

“We could,” she said, “we could do this again maybe.”

Ralph’s eyes were softening in the light from the single bulb on the porch. They were the color of dark chocolate. The cicadas were setting up a racket in the mesquite trees, and an early June bug popped against the screen door behind Immy.

“If you want to,” she said.

Ralph smiled. His face lit up when he smiled. She had never noticed how nicely his lips curved, nor how soft they looked. Suddenly, they drew nearer. She stood on tiptoe. Ralph leaned down.

She got the shock of her life when they kissed. It was a long one. The initial jolt soon settled down to the level of a mild electric shock. Current ran through her from his lips and from the point where his hand touched the back of her neck.

After his soft, “Good night,” and his departure, she waited for the noises in her ears to stop, for the fire in her body to burn down to a smoldering ember, for her sense of balance to return. After five minutes she realized it was going to take a good long while, so she mounted the stairs and went inside.

Hortense had let Drew stay up late, and Immy read her a Dr. Seuss book. Her mind strayed a bit from green eggs and ham as she felt the sparks from Ralph’s contact continuing to course through her body. She tucked her daughter in and watched television with her mother for a while.

Drew was sound asleep when Immy went to check on her before getting herself ready for bed. She lingered at her daughter’s bedside, breathing in her scent of bath bubbles and shampooed hair. She never wanted to be separated from her daughter again. Somehow, Immy had to figure out who had killed Huey, to preserve her way of life. If either Immy or Hortense were convicted of murder, Drew’s little world would be shattered.

Saturday morning, Immy awoke still feeling the impressions of Ralph’s lips, his strong hands. In the shower she tried to cool her skin with vigorous rubbing. It still burned where he had touched her. She shook her head, reliving last night. Who would have guessed good old Ralph would have this effect on her?

Drew asked to go to the park after breakfast, so Immy volunteered to walk her there. Hortense wanted to get some of the season’s last strawberries and make shortcake to go with them for supper. So Hortense left for the grocery store in Wymee Falls with a shopping list as they headed to the park, Drew skipping ahead in anticipation.

Summer was drawing near. The soft air whispered across the greening grass in Saltlick yards. Several neighbors knelt in the clay dirt, tending flowerbeds that were beginning to sprout weeds. Immy and Drew waved at those they passed and hollered, “Howdy.”