From Riches to Rags (12 page)

“Yes, I caught him and he spent several years in prison for his crime, which was not enough.”

“You caught him? How old were you then?” Frankie asked, slipping her hand into Meg’s.

“I was twenty, and I naïvely thought the cops would catch him, but they had nothing to go on, since it was a hit and run. I followed up on a few clues, camped out in a few bars, and finally overheard a man talking about how he was afraid to go home, because his wife was going to kill him when she saw the dent in their car. Apparently he had been in Memphis for a week long convention. After I cold cocked him a few times, he came clean. If I could have, I would have broken every bone in his body and let him live with the pain.”

“I’m impressed. I mean that you solved the case so fast?” I said as a genuine compliment.

“I was motivated.” She replied snidely.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I meant no‒”

“Don’t worry about it, Ms. Blackstone.”

This was not going well. Maybe if I led the conversation back to the reason we were there.

“I am sorry for your loss, no matter what you might think of me.”
That was so not what I meant to say.

Chris wiped the moisture from her eyes and looked at me, “I don’t understand, Melinda, what do you think she thinks of you?”

“Well, apparently my reputation got here before I did, and as you know, and I recently learned, my rep is why some people in this room won’t trust me.” I nudged Chris playfully with my shoulder and she smiled back at me.

“Yes, but you’re changing your reputation, aren’t you? That’s why we’re here today, right?”

“Exactly right, Chris. So, do you think you’ll be able to help us, Ms. Bonner?”

“Yes, I think so. Do you have a recent photo of Ms. Shelby?”

“Sure, let me show you.” I took the cellphone from her and scrolled to the picture of Chris, Norma and I.

She looked at it closely, enlarging the picture with her two fingers, apparently studying the background, more so than Norma.

“My goodness.”

“What? Something wrong?”

“In the background, do you see it? The Tiffany lamp in the corner and the painting on the wall, that’s a van Gogh. I can’t be sure, but the bookcase looks to be mahogany. And see that doll there?”

She tilted the phone towards me so I could see better.

“That’s a vintage 1930's Shirley Temple doll.”

“Nice.” Was the only thing I could think of to say about an old doll with curly hair.

“Nice? That doll alone is worth a thousand dollars. That Tiffany lamp is probably another thousand. And can you imagine what the van Gogh is worth if it’s an original?”

I looked at her questioningly; again not sure what she wanted me to say.

“My hobby is antiquing. I’ve spent many an hour at the antique shows and estate sales. In fact, what you see in my office are antiques that I acquired from estate sales.”

“So then you know what you’re talking about.”

She smiled and nodded her head.

“Why would an old lady, who apparently has wealth of a sort, want to live in a dump like that?” I asked out loud before I remembered that Chris also lived in that same dump.”

“Because that’s her family,” Chris offered, “That’s all she has left to show for her life.”

“Um, I’m sorry about the dump crack, I’m sure your apartment is perfectly lovely inside.”

Chris laughed, “No, you were right, it is a dump.”

“As long as you have a roof over your head, right Chrissie?”

It was a side to Meg that I hadn’t seen yet, the playful big sister side. I liked it. Chris’s eyes welled up again, but this time, they were happy tears.

“You are so right, Margaret.”

“All right now, don’t start that up again. You know I hate my first name.”

“I know, but I just couldn’t resist. Bonnie would dare me to call you Margaret just too…”

“It’s okay, Chrissie, I miss her too.”

“Meg, could we maybe, have lunch sometime? I work at night so that would be the only time I’d have.”

“I would really like that, Chrissie.”

“Are you working tonight, Chris, we could go out for dinner right now, my treat. Oh and of course, you’re invited to, Ms. Blackstone.”

I knew I liked Frankie for some reason. “Please, call me Blackie.”

Meg shook her head, “I’m sorry, but I can’t, I have a case I’m working on.”

The soft way Meg squeezed Frankie’s hand, and the look she gave her, made me wonder if she wasn’t talking about Chris. But then, if she was, why wouldn’t she want to stay close to her anyway?

“Chris, Blackie, would you excuse us for one minute, please.”

“Of course.”

Meg and Frankie went into the next room and by the time Chris looked at me wondering what that was all about, they returned with a smile on their faces.

Meg put her hand on Chris’s shoulder and said, “Uh, Frankie pointed out that I would regret not taking the opportunity to get to know you again, so I am happy to spare the time to do just that.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. It’s so nice to reconnect with old friends. If you could show me where the bathroom is, I need to power my nose and then I’ll be ready to go.”

Frankie led Chris out the door into the reception area, where the bathroom was located. As soon as they stepped out of the room, Meg jumped all over me.

“Listen, now that you know my deep, dark secret, I want you to understand that I still think you’re bad for Chrissie, and I will
still
be keeping my eyes on you.”

And indeed, now that I knew her secret, I wasn’t going to be her whipping dog anymore. I stiffened my back and took a step closer to her.

“Listen, hard ass, I don’t give a flying fuck what you do. I’m her friend now, and I didn’t buy my way in, like you said I would. I’ve changed, or at least I’m changing, and if you can’t see that, maybe you’re the one who needs to change.”

“For your sake, I hope you prove me wrong, I really do. But so far, I haven’t seen that change you’re talking about, and until I do…” she leaned in and whispered, “I will ride your fucking ass every step of the way.” And just as she turned to leave the room, she had to get the last word in, “Count on it,
Blackie
.”

Dinner ‒ Christine Livingston, Melinda Blackstone, Meg Bumgartner,
and
Frankie Bonner

Thankfully, Frankie had the foresight not to take us to a barbeque restaurant. I’m getting to where I can’t stand the smell of barbeque anymore. She picked a great southern restaurant, with fried chicken, fried fish, and fried okra, pretty much everything on the menu was fried, as it should be in the south. We were seated at a booth by a window that overlooked the Mississippi River. Melinda sat next to me and Meg and Frankie set across from us.

“Chrissie, how can I keep in touch with you?”

“Well, I don’t have a telephone, but let me write down my address for you.” I grabbed a pen from my purse and wrote my address on a napkin. I was so happy that she wanted to stay in touch with me. Right now, she’s all the family I have. I handed her the napkin and she thanked me, explaining that if I ever need her she can find me at the office, or have someone at the office call her, no matter the time. I was very pleased with her generosity.

We perused the menu and I saw that they had fried okra, one of my favorite vegetables.

“Have you ever had fried okra before, Melinda?”

“No, can’t say that I have.”

“You’re in for a real treat then. Bonnie and I use to eat fried okra like it was popcorn. We’d toss them up in the air and see who could catch the most. I was never as good at it as she was.”

“I remember that,” Meg said, “you both got more on the floor than you did in your mouth. It was just a good thing that our beagle, Stubby, liked okra.”

“Meg, how are your parents? I mean, was it very hard on them? Oh, that was a completely stupid thing to say, I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right Chrissie. My parents had a very rough time of it. Mom lost a lot of weight and dad stared out the window a lot. But when I told them that I was going to the murderer’s trial, they came with me. The judge asked them if they wanted to say something to the defendant, and my mother said, right to his face, that she forgives him. Can you believe that? I was so disappointed with my mom, that it took several arguments between us before I finally understood. She needed to forgive him in order to forgive herself. She had been blaming herself for letting Bonnie stay out late that night.”

“And have you forgiven him yet, Meg?” I was afraid of her answer, but I had to ask the question. What would she say if I told her what I had done? Would she hate me? I don’t think I could bare that.

“No. And I never will.”

Tears stung my eyes and I quickly turned to look out the window, wishing I was anywhere else just now. But then I saw in the window’s reflection that Frankie shook her head at Meg and I panicked, fearing they had figured out my secret. I heard Frankie whisper
ease up
to her and I could breath again.

“I’m sorry, Chrissie. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that the bastard is back on the street now, and still drinking. Perhaps if he were trying to make amends, trying to help others with a drinking problem, then maybe I could forgive him.”

Now my eyes watered in gratitude. Someday, after I can make amends for my drunken past, I will tell Meg, and apologize to her from the bottom of my heart.

“Hey, Chrissie…”

I looked at her and she was holding a piece of okra.

“Open wide.” She said, and when I did, smiling from ear to ear as she tossed the okra into my mouth.

Regrets and Promises ‒ Meg Bumgartner
and
Frankie Bonner

“What a delightful young lady she is.” Frankie said as she pointed to her zipper.

I pulled off my gun and holster and set it inside the bedside drawer, walked over and collected her beautiful blond hair to move it aside. I slowly, purposely, unzipped her dress, caressing her creamy soft back with my eyes.

“She was always a good kid,” I replied, and then remembered how I had almost blown it. “I’m just so sorry I spouted off about the drunk.”

“Yeah, that was a close one, but you recovered well. I could see how grateful she was that you’d be willing to give him another chance.”

“Damn I hate having to lie to her like this. Not about forgiving him, I meant what I said. But not being able to tell her that I know what she did, and I forgive her. I’m proud of her, and how far she’s come from that back alley behind the bar.”

“Oh, honey,” she wrapped her long arms around my waist, “you’re giving her the chance she needs to make up for it.”

“But where do we go from here? Now that she knows where I’m at, and what I do, how can I turn her down the next time she wants to get together?”

“Like I told you earlier in the office, you can’t put the genie back in the bottle, so don’t try. Be her friend, honey, she needs that more than anything else. I could see it in her eyes, she’s hungry for friendship, and I don’t care what Blackie says, Chris has not yet decided whether she’s a friend or not.”

I ran my hand across her soft collar bone, and teased her, verbally and sexually, “You can tell all that just by looking at her?”

“No, silly. It was the way she cautiously chose her words when she spoke to her. She wants to be friends, and maybe something more, but she doesn’t trust her yet, and until she does, Blackie will be left out in the cold.”

“Good.” I growled.

“Now honey, I think Blackie genuinely just wants to be friends with her.”

“And something more, no doubt.”

“Yes, most likely. But it won’t happen anytime soon, if it ever does. Blackie is walking a slippery slope right now. One more screw up, and she’s history.”

“I promise you. If Blackie hurts my girl, she’ll have me to answer to.”

Chapter Eleven

Confessions ‒ Christine Livingston
and
Norma Shelby

“What’s the matter, dear?” Norma looked at me quizzically.

“This is a very strange game, Norma. You want me to turn tricks from a trump, and I’m sure those words probably mean something else to you, but to me you’re saying prostitute myself for Donald Trump.”

“Oh, my good heavens,” she laughed, “no, dear, this is Pinochle, not Hollywood and Vine.”

“Well, that’s good; I was beginning to worry about your morals, Norma.”

“Oh, well you probably should worry then.” She had a crooked smile on her lips and I laughed when she winked her eye at me.

“Are you ready for some more tea?” I asked as I moved to the settee and poured myself a glass.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Norma handed me her glass and moved to the chair where her kitten laid sleeping. She picked her up and sat down. “So where is that sweet Melinda today?”

“I’m not sure, probably up to no good.”

“Oh, do tell?”

“Oh, no, that was a joke, Norma. Melinda is a nice person.”

“But you don’t trust her, do you dear?”

“Norma, stop reading my mind.”

She laughed, and took a sip of tea.

“Um, am I really that obvious, Norma?”

“Only to me, dear. It’s in the way you keep her slightly at arm’s length. You want to be friends, but you’re afraid. Can this old lady give her beautiful young friend some advice?”

“I don’t see an old lady in here, just my friend, Norma, and she’s welcomed to advise me on anything.”

“Aw, sweet girl, thank you for that. My advice is that you shouldn’t give up on her. There’s a large heart inside of Melinda that she shares with few people. When Melinda handed me this little one,” she stroked the kitten asleep in her lap, “she rescued me from my solitude. Did you know that the next day she brought me cat food, litter and every cat toy they had in the store?” She pointed to a box in the kitchen, full of toys. “She swore me to secrecy because she was afraid people would think she was trying to buy my friendship. Why do you think that is, dear?”

I hesitated, trying to assimilate what she was saying, versus what she was asking me. “Well, Norma, I think it’s because that’s what she does. I’m not saying she’s a bad person, but she is toxic.”