Tell Me Lies (30 page)

Getting the right things for school was important, never more important than now. She remembered the hell she’d gone through when her mother had insisted she wear Mary Janes to school instead of Keds like everybody else. She’d been on one end of the untouchable spectrum with her shiny black strapped shoes, and people like Candace and Stan had been on the other end in cracked leather sandals or ancient Buster Browns, and in the perfect middle had been Treva with an entire wardrobe of Keds she’d decorated with markers and glued-on charms. Treva had danced through the halls while Maddie had plodded behind in her good-girl shoes. Em was not going to plod behind anybody, so Maddie cut her mother short and went back to planning school shopping with Em.

Henry came by the day after the funeral and parked his sheriff car out in front while Leona ogled it from her porch.

“I brought you Brent’s effects,” he said when Maddie opened the door.

“I don’t want them,” Maddie said, and he’d sighed and said, “There are some valuables here, Maddie, and a lot of money. And a letter. You should see the letter.”

Maddie let him in and watched while he went through the inventory of Brent’s things: watch, wedding ring, signet ring, wallet, a ton of stuff. He’d been carrying a lot, but then he’d been leaving town. He’d had some clothes with him in a gray gym bag, Henry said, and there’d been a letter in the bag, too, stamped and addressed to her.

“Looks like he meant to mail it before he left.” Henry handed it to her. “We’d like you to take a look at it.”

The envelope was already open. “Opening my mail now, huh?” Maddie said, and slid the letter out. It was one piece of notepad paper that said
Basset and Faraday Construction
at the top, and Maddie read it with a growing sense of unreality.

People are going to say I took money, but I didn’t, and I’m leaving Howie the company so it’s a fair trade. I sold Stan my quarter, so you sign your quarter over to Howie, and we’ll be all square. Some other people will say I don’t love you, but I do. That thing with Gloria was just once, but she wouldn’t let go. Don’t listen to her if she tries to say it was more. Once you come down south, we’ll be fine again. Em’s going to love it, you know how she loves new things, and you will, too. Go ahead and put the house on the market now. It should sell fast and you can pay for your plane ticket out of that and bring the rest down when you come.

All we ever needed was to get out of Frog Point. And now we’re going to. It’s going to be great.

Love, Brent

“Do you know what he means about Gloria?” Henry asked.

“I think he slept with Gloria,” Maddie said, “but I have no proof. This letter makes no sense. What’s he mean, he took money from the company?”

Henry looked uncomfortable. “As near as we can tell, he hiked up the price on some houses they built, and then skimmed the increase for himself. C.L.‘s trying to sort it out with Howie now. It looks like he hit Dottie Wylie for about forty thousand.”

“The money in the golf bag?”

“Hard to tell.” Henry stood up. “It does look like he was doing it by himself, though.”

“He couldn’t be,” Maddie said. “He never even balanced our checkbook. I did the taxes. Where would he learn to do this kind of stuff?”

“Greed’s a powerful motivator,” Henry said, and after he left, Maddie thought,
Not even greed could teach Brent math; he had help.
Then Em came down and asked why Henry had come, and Maddie went back to her full-time preoccupation of keeping Em shielded from everything.

Treva had called, too, the first time to tell Maddie that her mother had faced Helena down in front of the bank, right there in the center of town.

“Helena’s been telling everybody you killed Brent,” Treva had said in disgust. “She’s a real piece of work.”

“Nobody takes her seriously,” Maddie had said, trying to cut the call short.

“Your mother does,” Treva said, the satisfaction thick in her voice. “She backed her up against the bank building and said, ‘I heard the most awful thing, Helena. I heard you’ve been spreading rumors about my Madeline, and I told everyone that couldn’t be true because you’d never do anything that un-Christian.’ ”

“In front of the bank?” Maddie said, distracted. “On Main Street?”

“It was beautiful,” Treva said. “Helena backed down, and then, according to my mother-in-law, your mother hinted that if Helena didn’t shut up, she’d start telling a few truths about Brent. Irma said it was the closest she’s ever seen your mother come to losing it.”

“Like I don’t have enough troubles,” Maddie said. “My mother has to throw a fit on Main Street. Now what will people think?”

“I thought it was great and so did Irma,” Treva said. “Are you all right?”

“No,” Maddie said, needing to get away.
Your friendship is a lie.
“I have to go to Em. She’s still pretty bad.”

“Sure,” Treva said, sounding unsure. “Listen, I still have plenty of room in my freezer for more stuff if your fridge is full of casseroles. The stuff you sent over didn’t even make a dent. You want me to come pick up more?”

“No,” Maddie said. Six casseroles and a gun were plenty, and the last thing she wanted was to see Treva. “Thanks for calling.” She hung up over Treva’s good-bye.

After a few more abortive conversations, Treva gave up and stopped calling which made things easier. Maddie had torn up the pregnancy letter after the funeral, trying to tear up the memory, but the betrayal stayed with her. She was going to talk to Treva again, of course, but not now. Not until she could look at her without wanting to cry and say, “How could you?” and all the other stupid things that wouldn’t do any good.

Unlike Treva, C.L. couldn’t take a hint.

“C.L., I’ve told you, I can’t see you,” Maddie said, so tired from holding the fort she was ready to scream. “My mother is having fistfights on Main Street to defend my reputation; the least I can do is give her something to defend.”

“I heard about that,” C.L. said. “I told her I’d be glad to hold her coat next time.”

“What do you mean, you told her?” Maddie said. “What have you been doing?”

“Having lunch with your mother,” he said. “Nice woman. Worried about you, though. Says you’re not talking to anybody.”

“I have to get ready to go back to school on Monday,” Maddie said. “I’m busy.”

“So’s Treva,” C.L. said. “But she’s got time to talk, and she says you won’t. What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Maddie snapped. “Your uncle thinks I killed my husband and is going around town asking questions to make sure everybody else thinks so, too, and my kid walks around like an old lady trying to deal with the fact that her father is dead, and everybody in town wants me to drop what I’m doing and gossip. I can’t gossip. I am the gossip. Which is why I’m hanging up now. Good-bye.”

“Wait a minute,” C.L. said, and she hung up on him anyway, only to pick up the phone when it rang a minute later and find him back on the line.

“Okay, fine,” he said when she’d said hello, “you don’t want to talk to me. Maybe your kid does. Put her on.”

“No,” Maddie said, and he said, “I’ll just keep calling until she answers instead of you. Put her on.”

Em had come to stand by the door, wan and quiet, and Maddie covered the phone and said, “This is C.L. He wants to talk to you, but you don’t have to.”

Em held out her hand. “I will,” she said, and took the phone, stretching the cord so she could go sit on the stairs. “This is me,” Maddie heard her say, and then Em’s voice went low and she talked and listened for half an hour before she hung up.

After that C.L. called every day. At first Maddie hung up, but he’d call back, and Em started grabbing the phone before Maddie could get to it, so she gave up and let Em and C.L. have their time on the phone. Anything that helped Em was wonderful, even if it was C.L.

On Sunday her mother came over, subdued and cautious, and sat with Em while Maddie went to visit her grandmother.

“I heard,” Gran said as she came through the door. “Shut the damn door.”

Maddie did and went to sit beside her.

“It’s too dark in here,” Gran complained, so Maddie got up and opened the drapes halfway. “Now tell me how you did it.”

“How I did what?” Maddie collapsed into the chair beside the bed.

“Killed the bastard, of course,” Gran said, leaning forward. “I heard you used pills. That’s what I used. Did you bring candy?”

Maddie had stopped for a moment in the act of taking the candy out of the bag when she heard
That’s what I used,
but now momentum made her continue and she handed the gold box to the old lady. “I didn’t kill him.”

“This is your gran, Madeline.” Gran ripped the red ribbon off and clawed at the box lid. “Don’t be stupid. I also heard you shot him. Which was true?” Gran picked up the milk chocolate turtle and bit into it.

“I didn’t kill him,” Maddie repeated. “How’s Mickey?”

“Still flashing.” Gran spit out a nut. “Stop stalling. How did you do it?”

“I didn’t,” Maddie said. “Nobody believes me, but I didn’t.”

Her grandmother looked at her with palpable contempt. “I did.”

“Gran,” Maddie said. “I know you like attention, but this is the wrong way to get it—”

“Listen, bubble-brain. Everybody in this place knows I did for Buck. The whole town knew, just the way they know you did it.” Gran took another bite, smushed it around in her mouth, and spit out another nut.

Maddie gave up. Unless they drew her jury from the care home, it didn’t matter anyway. “So fine. You killed your first husband. Congratulations.”

“Oh, you’re so smart.” Her grandmother put the half-eaten turtle down and reached for a cream. “But I was the smart one. I didn’t even do it on purpose.” She stopped and stared into the distance for a moment. “I don’t think I did.”

“Gran—”

“He hit me all the time, just like yours.” Gran frowned and ate the cream while she remembered. “He was ruining my looks. When he broke my nose, the doctor did a real good job of setting it, but when he asked me how I got it, and I told him Buck hit me, he gave me some pills to make me calm.”

Maddie blinked at her. “He gave
you
the pills?”

Gran nodded. “Yep. So I wouldn’t get on Buck’s nerves.” She grinned. “But he got on my nerves a lot more, so I started slipping one into his beer when he came home. Two beers, he’d be out like a light. I didn’t get punched for a good long time.”

Maddie nodded, too fascinated to interrupt her.

“Then one day,” Gran went on, pushing chocolates around in the box as she searched for her next, “your grandfather called from the machine shop and told me Buck had been fired for fighting, and he was coming home mad.”

“Grandpa called?” Maddie said. “You knew Grandpa then?”

“Don’t interrupt.” Gran popped another cream in her mouth and talked around it. “So I put two in his beer and he hit me anyway when he got home before I could hand it to him. Then he drank the beer, and I put two in the next one, too, because I didn’t want my nose to go again, and he sat down and went to sleep listening to the radio and he just never got up.” Her grandmother smiled at the memory. “How was I to know the jackass had a weak heart?”

Terrific. Spousal murder ran in her family. Just what she needed. “That’s some story, Gran,” Maddie told her in a futile attempt at damage control.

“It’s not a story, it’s the truth. It was even in the papers.” Gran smiled at the memory. “Everybody knew what happened, but the sheriff told the paper heart attack, and that’s what they printed.”

“Why?” Maddie frowned at her grandmother. “I don’t get it.”

“This town takes care of those who help themselves,” her grandmother said, in saner tones than Maddie had ever heard before. “When Buck hit me, there wasn’t any point in me making a fuss that’d upset everybody. It got too bad, and I took care of it without a fuss, and the town took care of me. It’ll take care of you, too. Reuben Henley took care of me back then, and his son will take care of you. He’ll protect you.”

“I don’t want him to protect me,” Maddie said. “I want him to find out who really did it. I want people to know the truth.”

Her grandmother shook her head. “The truth is in whatever deal you make with the town. And you’ve always kept your bargains with this town, Maddie, I’ll say that for you. You got no imagination and no flair, but you’ve been a good wife and a good mother and a good daughter and a good teacher to the town’s kids. They’ll remember that.”

Maddie went cold. Her grandmother was right. Frog Point was perfectly capable of protecting her into a guilty verdict with no sentence. “That’s not enough,” she said. “I can’t let Emily think I killed her father. I can’t do this to my mother.”

Gran sat up in bed and pointed her finger at Maddie’s face. “You listen to me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except what it takes to survive. You remember this, Madeline: You’re born alone and you die alone. In between, you make deals. You stick to your deal with the town, and Emily and your mother will be all right.”

Gran picked up her mangled turtle again and sank back against the pillows, and Maddie couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’ve got to go,” she said, standing. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I have to get back to Em.”

“Sit down,” her grandmother said. “I want to hear about this man who spent the night at your place.”

“I can’t.” Maddie shuffled sideways to the door. “I have to go back to Em.”

Her grandmother stopped chewing. “You’re going to be just like your mother, aren’t you? Hide in your little house with your kid even though there’s a man around. What a bunch of white-faced wimps I brought into the world.” She glared at Maddie. “I was never a coward like you. I took my lovers, and the hell with the rest of them. And now we’ve come to this. You. Bunch of cowards.”

Maddie frowned at her. “What man? There was no man around my mother.”

“She had a thing with that bowling-alley person.” Gran sniffed. “Nice enough, I suppose, and better than nothing, but not for your mother, oh, no. She’d spent her whole life trying to live me down, she said, and she wasn’t going to have you doing the same with her.” Gran’s face was full of pain for a moment, and then it lapsed back into its normal querulous folds. “Acted like I hadn’t done enough for her, like I was something to be ashamed of.” She peered at Maddie from under heavy lids. “The only thing to be ashamed of is being afraid to live, and that’s your mother all over. Who’d have her life? I ask you.”

“It’s not a bad life,” Maddie said, from the experience of the past week. “It’s quiet and nobody lies to you and nobody talks about you.”

Gran snorted. “Oh, yeah, that’s life. And nobody makes love to you and makes you laugh and makes you glad you’re alive either.” Her chin came up, and she looked at Maddie proudly. “I’ve had eight men in my life, and I’m not sorry about one of them. The town talked, and I didn’t give a damn.”

“You cheated on Grandpa?” Maddie said, appalled.

“Hell, he slept with me when I was married to Buck,” Gran said, unrepentant. “What did he think I was going to do? Turn over a new leaf?” She laughed. “At least I had passion, which is more than my respectable daughter ever did.” She glared at Maddie. “I had hopes for you, but you’re as limp as she is. What a pair.”

“I don’t believe it,” Maddie said, and her grandmother said, “Scott, that was his name. Sam Scott.”

Sam Scott had come out to the bowling alley parking lot the night she’d been looking for Brent. “I recognized your mother’s car,” he’d said.

Had he been watching her mother for thirty years? Is that what her mother had given up? Would C.L. do the same thing? It was awful, an awful thought. She had to get out of here, away from her grandmother who lied. Her mother had said she lied.

Maddie turned to go, ignoring her grandmother’s grumbling, and then stopped, remembering the paste necklace she’d brought. “Would you like this necklace?” She took it off while she spoke and held it out to her grandmother.

“Why would I want a piece of cheap junk like that?” Her grandmother shoved the chocolate box away and glared at her. “What do you think I am? Helpless? I don’t need your junk. You sit down and tell me about that man you were seeing.”

“Gran, I’m sorry.” Maddie shoved the necklace in her jeans pocket, “I have to go to Em. She’s upset. I have to go.”

“Just sit and talk for a while,” her grandmother whined. “I’m not going to be with you much longer.”

“Good-bye,
Gran,” Maddie said, and escaped out the door, and it sounded as if the whole box of chocolates hit it before she could step away.

She went home and almost asked her mother about Sam Scott, but one look at her mother’s face reminded her that “Did you sleep with Sam Scott?” wasn’t the kind of question her mother would appreciate. She’d just get another lecture on how her grandmother lied. And Maddie had enough problems, so she sat down to the Sunday dinner her mother had made and was polite until her mother gave up and went home. She spent the rest of the next week at school and at home the same way, polite and withdrawn. It was a cold life, but it wasn’t as bad as the one she’d been living before, and she was pretty sure she could make it work. It was the only thing she could bear, anyway. People were just too painful, and she was through with pain for a while.

So she smiled and ached inside anyway because she was so alone.