The Diva Wore Diamonds (22 page)

“
First of all, Jonah couldn’t have stayed alive inside a fish for three days. There wasn’t enough air. It’s a pretty good argument, but the lack-of-air argument has been used before, and it just doesn’t hold much water.”

“
Oh, very funny,” said Meg, rolling her eyes.

“
Here’s the good part. Jonah says in verse 6, ‘I went down to the bottoms of the mountains.’ Now, how could Jonah possibly know that he was at the bottoms of the mountains if he was inside a fish? He wouldn’t be able to see the bottoms of the mountains.”

A quizzical look crossed Meg’s face.

“
Unless,” I said, “and this may be the crux on which all Judeo-Christian belief hangs,
unless the fish had windows.”

“
I don’t follow,” said Meg. “How can a fish have windows?”

“
It couldn’t,” I said. “You see, it wasn’t a fish at all, but Jonah thought that it was since, prior to his being thrown over the side of the boat, he’d had very limited experience with alien abductions. Also, his story may have been due, in some part, to oxygen deprivation.”

“
When you explain it, it all seems so plausible.”

“
It does, doesn’t it? So what Jonah thought was a giant fish was really a spaceship. With windows.”

“
It all makes perfect sense,” said Meg.

“
I’m betting it was one of those Egyptian ones that Leonard Nimoy is always jabbering on about.”

“
It’s a good thing I only let you watch that channel on Sunday mornings,” said Meg. “I wonder if I can put a parental block on it.”

•••

After we finished and packed our picnic hamper back into the trunk, Meg and I drove her Lexus out to Ardine McCollough’s trailer. We were greeted by the family dog, a yellow mongrel that Moosey had, for some unknown reason, named Botox. Ardine came out onto the stoop when she heard the barking, crossed her thin arms and leaned against the door jamb. We got out of the car, took turns scratching the dog’s ears, and walked to the front door.

“’
Afternoon, Ardine,” I said.

She frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“
We need to talk to you and Pauli Girl,” I said. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

“
Inside,” said Ardine, tossing her head in the direction of the door. “C’mon in. Bud took Moosey up to the library.”

The McCollough trailer was always neat as a pin. Ardine worked hard, usually holding down a couple of jobs as well as selling her quilts at The Ginger Cat and other craft shops around the area. I had three or four of them myself. Meg and I sat down on the couch.

“
Y’all want some tea?” asked Ardine. “The water’s already on.”

“
Yes, please,” answered Meg and I at the same time. Ardine took several minutes fixing our beverages and serving them to us in ancient china cups on chipped saucers.

“
Thanks,” I said.

“
Yes. Thank you,” said Meg.

Ardine sat in a rocking chair directly across from us, looked at us both for a long moment, then said calmly, “I know what yer thinkin’. I didn’t do it. I’d tell you if I did.”

“
I expect you would,” I said. “I’ve never known you to lie.”

“
Pauli Girl?” Ardine called. “Could you come on out here?”

I turned and glanced past the kitchen and down the short hallway. Pauli Girl came out of one of the bedrooms, saw us, and lost her color. Then she set her jaw, walked into the living room, and sat on the chair next to Ardine.

“
You can’t keep this a secret anymore,” I said. “I need to know what’s going on.”

“
We know you had a problem with someone at Afterglow,” Meg said. “An adult. We can help. And we need to make sure that this doesn’t happen to another girl. Maybe someone younger than you.”

Pauli Girl chewed on her lip but nodded.

“
Were you raped, honey?” asked Ardine. “You gotta tell us.”

Pauli Girl shook her head and tears sprang to her eyes. “No.”

“
Did someone put his hands on you?” asked Meg.

She choked back a cry.

“
Russ Stafford?” I asked.

Pauli Girl shook her head again and sobbed. After a couple of minutes, she swallowed hard, pulled her hair back from her face and looked me right in the eye, the image of her mother. “It was Mr. Flemming,” she said.

•••

“
That son-of-a-bitch,” said Ardine, her words dripping with venom. “I’ll cut him twelve ways from Sunday.” We were standing back on the front porch. Pauli Girl had retreated to her room with Meg, but seemed to be better for having gotten the secret off her chest.

“
You will not do anything!” I said. “I will take care of this. You understand?”

Ardine didn’t answer.

“
You understand?” I said again. “I’m not kidding. I’d have to lock you up, and Moosey would go into foster care. Understand?”

“
Yes, I understand.”

“
Promise,” I said.

“
Fine,” said Ardine, spitting out the word like it was poison. “I promise. But only if you do something about it.”

“
I’ll take care of it this afternoon.”

Meg came outside a few minutes later. “I think she’ll be fine. She’s a strong girl, but she was worried about the other kids finding out. I told her not to worry. That we’d deal with it.”

We walked back to the car, Ardine following a couple of steps behind us.

“
One other thing,” I said, as I opened Meg’s door for her. “What did you say to Bud during that play at the Bible Bazaar? You remember, when he walked off and left me to be baptized in his place.”

Ardine shrugged. “Told him to move his truck. He was fixin’ to get a ticket.”

•••

I dropped Meg off at the house, called Nancy and drove my truck back into town to meet her. She was at the station when I arrived, going over a missing persons report that had just come in on the computer.

“
Two hikers,” she said. “They’ve been gone for a day and a half. They should have checked in yesterday afternoon.”

“
Were they hiking around here?” I asked.

Nancy looked back down at her information and shook her head. “Doesn’t look like it. The forest service may want us to help look, though.”

“
Okay. Tell them to keep us informed. We’ll be happy to help. Meanwhile, we’re going to have a chat with Gerry and Wilma Flemming.”

•••

Gerry and Wilma lived outside the city limits in an established subdivision of 1970s homes. They’d been members of St. Barnabas since they’d moved to town five years ago. Both Gerry and Wilma were in their early forties, part of the generation that wanted to get their careers established before having children. As a result, they had one child, a four-year-old boy named Caleb, who was enrolled in the church pre-school where Wilma worked as a volunteer three days a week. Gerry was the algebra teacher at Richard B. “Dick” Cheney High School. Their house was a split-level bungalow that had been updated and added to several times since it had been built. The lot was wooded, and an old tire swung from a large maple tree on a nylon rope.

Nancy and I went to the door and I rang the bell. Wilma answered. She had changed out of her Sunday, church-going clothes that I’d seen her in earlier, and was now wearing khakis, a white shirt, and tennis shoes.

“
Hi, Wilma,” I said. “Is Gerry home? We need to talk to both of you.”

Wilma lost her color. “Is Caleb all right?”

“
Fine, I think. Isn’t he here?”

“
He’s at a friend’s house,” she said. “Come in. Gerry’s in the den.”

She led us to a comfortable sitting room where Gerry was reclining on an oversized sofa and watching a baseball game on an equally oversized plasma television. He smiled at us when we walked in and motioned for us to sit.

“
What’s up?” he said.

“
Gerry,” I said, “there’s no easy way to say this. There’s been a complaint against you.”

Nancy glared at him. I looked at Wilma. She swallowed hard.

“
What kind of complaint?”

“
One of the girls in the Afterglow group.”

“
Oh, Gerry!” said Wilma in disgust. “Not again! You promised!”

“
Shut up!” said Gerry, jumping to his feet. “Don’t you say anything!”

“
Sit down, Gerry,” I said.

“
Who was it this time?” said Wilma, her voice rising.

“
I’m guessing that this is a pattern with you?” I said.

“
I have a…a problem,” said Gerry. “I’ve been seeing a psychologist. Wilma and I are working it out. I just like young women. There’s nothing illegal about it.”

“
You’re mistaken,” Nancy said. “It
is
illegal.”

“
Who was it?” demanded Wilma.

“
Pauli Girl McCollough,” I said.

“
It’s her word against mine,” said Gerry. “We’re consenting adults.”

“
No, she’s not,” I said.

“
If she says she didn’t consent, she’s a liar!” he said angrily.

“
She’s not a liar, Gerry. But it doesn’t matter if she consented or not. She took an Advanced Placement class at your high school last April.”

Gerry went white. “What are you talking about? She wasn’t in my class.”

“
Doesn’t matter,” said Nancy. “Sure, she’s seventeen. And the age of consent in North Carolina is sixteen. But there’s a provision for sleazy teachers. Did you know that if a school faculty member engages in any sexual activity with
any
student that he or she can be charged with child molestation?”

“
Oh, my God,” said Wilma, her hand going to her mouth. She sank down next to Gerry on the sofa.

“
Who else?” I said. “How many other girls in the youth group?”

Gerry shook his head. “None. I swear.”

Wilma started crying, but Gerry sat still, eyes unfocused, looking straight ahead.

“
Gerry,” I said, getting up from my seat. “I’m going to let you turn yourself in. Present yourself at ten o’clock tomorrow morning at the Boone Police Department for booking. Needless to say, you won’t be expected at St. Barnabas this evening.”

•••

“
Do you think he’ll show up?” Nancy asked, when we’d gotten back in the truck.

“
I think so,” I said. “I mean, what are his choices? He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to kill himself out of shame. If he runs for it, he’ll have a federal warrant out on him. Whatever happens, I don’t think Wilma will be sticking around too long. She might tolerate some infidelity in the guise of a psychological problem, but getting arrested for molesting a sixteen-year-old student is a whole ’nother thing.”