Chapter Fifteen
Nothing happened for days. I took the girls to school, went to the office, Mike went to work, and I stewed. I didn’t want to nag him, so I waited for him to say something. But it took every ounce of my self-control.
Claire called and asked me to meet her for lunch, so we settled on 11:30 at Nonna Tata—early enough, we thought, to get a table—and we did. Claire looked a little less “together” than I was used to. Oh, her outfit was impeccable—a plum velour suit with a hooded jacket and a deep pink turtleneck, her hair held back by a matching pink scarf. But her eyes were tired.
“So how are you?” I asked, after we’d ordered lunch.
“So-so. I wish I’d thought to bring a bottle of wine for lunch.”
“Oh, Claire, I can’t drink wine and go back to work. I’d need a nap.”
“Well, I need the wine,” she said. “But tell me about this latest murder—any gossip I need to know?”
I looked at her. “Did you know that Ralph Hoskins’s courting Mom?”
“Well, I gathered as much at Thanksgiving dinner. What’s that have to do with the murder?”
I wasn’t sure how much too confide in Claire, and I could hear Mike’s cautioning—no, lecturing—voice. “I think he’s the murderer and I’m scared to death for Mom—and I guess for the women in Fairmount.” I twisted my hands as I talked and made a conscious effort to relax them.
Claire reached out and took one of my hands. “I understand, and I’m scared for you too. What does Mike say?”
“He tells me to leave it alone, and he doesn’t believe in female intuition.”
She scoffed, “Most men don’t. Can I do anything to help?”
I shook my head. “I think Keisha’s the one who’s going to have to save Mom. But tell me about you.”
She lowered her eyes. “I have almost as big a problem as you do. The assault charge has been dismissed, but the district attorney has taken Jim’s death to the Grand Jury to see if I can be charged. It’s the barbiturates in his system. Their office is convinced I slipped them to Jim, even though I knew he’d been drinking. If the Grand Jury indicts, I’ll have to stand trial. Something that never seemed real to me before, but now it does.”
I didn’t know what to say. There seemed no words to comfort her. “How about the girls?”
“They’re both very supportive. We’ve become a bonded threesome again, more than we ever were when Jim was with us. And….” Her voice caught in her throat. “I don’t want to lose that.”
This time it was my hands that reached out in comfort. “What does Angus Mitchell say?”
“If it’s a murder indictment, I’ll need a criminal lawyer. He’ll get me a good one. No jailhouse lawyer. But I’m scared. I swear to you, Kelly, I didn’t do that. I gave him aspirin. I never carry anything else with me.”
I remembered the Percocet.
Both of us pushed the food on our plates around and ate little, even though it was delicious. To me, it tasted like straw—and I gathered Claire felt the same way. When we parted on the sidewalk, our hug was tighter than ever. “Keep in close touch,” I said.
“You too,” she replied, walking away, though I could see that she wiped back tears. For the first time, after all she’d been through, I saw Claire as more vulnerable than I ever thought she would be. And me? Oh, boy, was I vulnerable and uncertain and scared and—you name the negative emotion, and I claimed it.
****
That night, Em looked closely at me and asked, “Mom, is something worrying you? When you think we’re not looking, you have lines in your forehead. Is it the serial killer? Should we be afraid?”
“No,” Maggie said, “but I bet Mom’s worried about Grandma. But then, she has that Mr. Hoskins to protect her, doesn’t she, Mom?”
“Yes, girls, I guess she does. But still I’m worried about the whole thing. And what it’s doing to the real estate business in this neighborhood.” I didn’t even mention Claire.
They came and clustered around me to say, “It will be okay, Mommy. Mike will take care of us.”
A comforting thought, but I wondered how I felt about going from being the one who took care of them to second place. And when Mike came home, I didn’t mention my lunch with Claire.
****
Buck Conroy wandered into my office about two in the afternoon a few days later, looked at Keisha and asked, “Is the coffee fresh?” and then sat himself down at the chair by my desk.
“Good afternoon,” I said, trying to convey by my voice that his entry was less than professional.
“Don’t know if it is or not,” he said. “I went to visit Ralph Hoskins yesterday, you know, just to talk. Asked him about whether he knew all these ladies, and he said of course he did. They were all close friends of his mother. And then he got sort of hand-wringing, weepy sad and said, ‘And now they’re all gone.’
“I sort of wondered about that,” Buck said. “There are a lot of members of the Women’s Society or whatever it is left, and I’m beginning to wonder if each one needs extra protection, which would be a real strain on the force.”
Keisha brought him coffee, a disdainful look on her face, and she didn’t even ask about cream or sugar, until he said, “You got any artificial sweetener? You know, the stuff in pink packets.”
“Nope, just real old-fashioned sugar.”
“Okay. Bring me some.” No please. No politeness.
I could see that Keisha itched to say something, like “Yes sir, massa,” but she kept her tongue and brought him five packets of sugar and a plastic spoon. I winced as he put three whole packets in one cup of coffee. And never thanked her.
“Where were we?” he asked.
“Ralph Hoskins and the women of the Methodist church,” I said, propping my head on my right fist. “Did you know that Ralph Hoskins has begun to take my mother to that church and is—how else can I put it?—courting her?”
For once I caught Buck Conroy off guard, and he looked startled. “No shit,” he said. “If I were you, I think I’d be worried.”
“I am. That’s why I asked Mike to talk to you.”
“What precautions are you taking? Moving your mom in with you?”
“Keisha,” I called, “why don’t you join us?”
Conroy looked startled as Keisha shuffled her way toward us, pulling a chair—I knew it was a deliberate act on her part, but Conroy never got it. He glanced at her, then looked at me with a huge question on his face.
“Keisha stays with my mom at night, but I do worry about the day. Most of these murders have taken place in the day. I can’t spare Keisha to be there all day, and I can’t expect Mom to sit up here all day, so I’m stymied…and, yes, I’m worried.”
“What does your boyfriend say about it?” he asked, and I wanted to add that Mike has a name, which he knew full well.
“He made fun of me until I told him about the church connection. Now he’s a bit concerned too.”
“I think you better take that seriously. Could your mom spend days at a senior center or something?”
“Not likely. She’s only in her sixties, and she likes to shop, eat out, and so on. She’s found real friends in the Women’s Circle and enjoys the meetings plus going out with some of them.”
“Well,” he said rising, “I’m not through with Hoskins, but I don’t know what to tell you about your mom. If I were you, I’d keep a tight leash. Meantime I’ll get back to you.” He started to walk toward the door and then turned and said, “You know what? For once, Ms. O’Connell, your instinct may be right on.”
After he left, Keisha and I sat and stared at each other. She broke the silence. “That may be the rudest man I ever met.”
“Well, yeah, but that’s not what’s important right now. Mom is.”
Keisha looked thoughtful. “I don’t think there’s any way you can convince her that Ralph Hoskins is a killer. In fact, I think she’s starry-eyed. He came for dinner last night. She’s always kind of scorned my southern cooking ways, but I fixed turnip greens, grits, and corn bread, and she acted like she’d never tasted anything so wonderful.”
“Okay, let’s think about this. Mom doesn’t fit the pattern of the other victims, and Ralph sure didn’t court them before he killed them. Yet now that Conroy has been to see him, so his guard may be up and he may change his pattern.”
“True, Kelly. You maybe should go to detectin’ and forget this real estate business in this slow market.”
I grinned. “And what would you do?”
“Learn detectin’ from you?”
“Okay, Keisha, we got to get serious here.”
“Right. You tell your mom she’s to stay locked in the house all day, not to see Ralph Hoskins unless I’m there, and not to go out and garden. Then you tell me how well that goes.”
I looked at the clock. “Go on to Mom’s house now. I’ll talk to Mike tonight.”
“I got work on my desk,” Keisha protested.
“Tomorrow. I’m scared. You and Mom come for dinner tonight.”
“Okay, but I’m bringing leftover greens and grits.”
I could just see Maggie and Em’s reaction to that!
****
Dinner, as far as I could tell, was a disaster. The girls of course refused to eat grits and greens, even though Keisha put cheese in the grits. They dabbled at the pork tenderloin I made. And Mom? She talked all the time about Ralph, how kind he was to her, how much she enjoyed his company, how young she felt again after such a long time. Keisha, when she caught my glance, rolled her eyes.
“I’m glad, Mom, that you’ve found a companion,” I said, feeling that my body was tense, my face frozen, and my smile insincere. “Uh, what are your future plans?”
Mom laughed like a schoolgirl and ducked her head coquettishly. “Oh, Kelly, we haven’t gotten that far. I don’t know that I’d marry again. I just like someone to go places with. I think we’re going to the opera this weekend. You know, your father never would go to the theater or opera, so this is a whole new experience for me.”
Part of me wanted to rejoice and part of me was terrified. The girls sensed my mixed feelings, and after Keisha and Mom left, Maggie asked, “Mom, are you happy about Nana seeing Mr. Hoskins?”
“I don’t know.” I turned away so they couldn’t see my expression.
“I think it’s nice she has someone to go places with…and she’s not over here all the time,” Maggie said with determination, and I thought what an honest child I’d raised.
“I think he’s weird,” Em chimed in brightly.
Wow!
When I told Mike about all this, he laughed and said, “Em has it right. She usually does. It’s like she understands the world in a way we adults don’t have a clue about.”
“Thanks,” I said bitterly. “I don’t find that comforting at all.” And I didn’t.
I was restless that night until Mike reached out for me and began to stroke my hair and murmur, “It will all be alright, Kelly. Your mom will be safe.”
The next morning I wasn’t so sure. Buck Conroy came to the office again about nine. Keisha didn’t wait for his rude requests but gave him coffee and sugar right away, for which he said, “Thanks, sweetheart.” I could tell she wanted to hit him upside the head.
“I talked to Hoskins again yesterday. Asked him where he was at the time of each of the murders, and he had no alibi. Said he lives alone, doesn’t have to account for his time,
etc.
Makes me uneasy.”
“Me too,” I muttered, thinking I should leap up and go find Mom.
“But here’s what puzzles me: he developed no relationship with the other women before they were killed. Oh, sure, I think he knew them through his mom’s circle—which you discovered.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “But he’s courting your mom, and he didn’t do that with the others. They were way too much older than he is.”
“How old is he?”
“Sixty-five.”
Right where I’d pegged him. “Where does he get his money? I know he does some consulting from home, but that can’t pay much.”
“He’s inherited from both his parents and is quite comfortable. I had to subpoena bank records,
etc.
He wouldn’t talk to me about that.”
“He can’t be courting Mom for her money unless he’s mistaken. She doesn’t have that much.”
“Money doesn’t seem to have been the motive in the other killings.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, and held up his lighter.
“Not in here,” I said, realizing I sounded prim.
