The Fixer Upper (37 page)

A
s soon as my mother zoomed away from the curb in her rented Escalade, I started wondering how I would fill the hours until it was time to leave for the New Macedonia Full Gospel Church of the Brethren and my come-to-Jesus meeting with Alex Hodder.

When the senior-services bus arrived to take Ella Kate to physical therapy, I waved her off and promised to take Shorty for a walk. It was a beautiful morning, full of the promise of spring. The dogwoods were in full bloom, and every house on the street seemed to flaunt frills of azaleas at the edge of bright green lawns. Shorty was happy to be out, he trotted along, barked at every squirrel and stray cat and baptized every fire hydrant and shrub on the block.

But with every step, the what-ifs haunted me. What if Alex didn’t come? What if he did come? What if he didn’t bring the money? What if something happened—with the hidden cameras, or me? What if, after all that had happened, I somehow managed to screw the whole thing up?

Back from the walk, I decided to fight the sense of dread settling over me by keeping busy. I did the breakfast dishes, and wandered around the house making a list of all the projects I still needed to complete. The bathrooms were at the top of the list. Much as I loved the big pedestal sinks and roomy old bathtubs, no amount of scrubbing was going to remove decades-old chips and rust stains from their porcelain surfaces. We needed proper showers, new tile, new fixtures, new plumbing. It wouldn’t be cheap.

As I tallied up the potential cost of the work, I started to think about all the questions Carter and my mother had peppered me with. What
would
I do after the whole Hoddergate mess was settled? If it was settled.

Carter seemed to think the feds would be happy to let me walk away from any charges, considering my cooperation with the FBI. Could I go back to Washington? Would anybody hire me as a lobbyist, after my name had been so publicly dragged through the mud? More to the point, and to Lynda’s question—did I even want to go back to my old life?

Up until now, I hadn’t allowed myself to dwell on the “what next” scenarios. It was all I could do to get through the moment I was in, without wondering about the moments still to come.

My mother seemed to think I’d made a life for myself in Guthrie. That thought hadn’t occurred to me. True, I’d found unexpected joy in fixing up Birdsong. Unexpected joy too with Tee Berryhill. Was this the bliss Lynda had talked about?

I didn’t have time to ponder the questions. The doorbell rang, and when I got to the door, I saw Carter and Tee standing there, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, hello,” I said, swinging the door open. “You two seem pretty pleased with yourselves.”

Tee leaned in and kissed me—full on the lips. “We’ve got a surprise for you,” he said.

“Goody,” I said. “Lead on. I just love surprises.”

Carter turned and gestured toward the curb. “There she is,” he said.

And there she was. The Catfish. Her Georgia Bulldog red paint gleamed in the warm morning sunlight. Her chrome had been buffed to a high sheen. Her crumpled roof and busted-out front and rear windshields had miraculously been mended. All the dents and scratches and indignities she’d suffered from her brush with disaster were but a distant memory. As far as I was concerned, she was showroom perfection. She had new white-sidewall tires. She was a smoking-hot vision of vintage loveliness.

“Oh my God,” I shrieked, covering my mouth.

I walked out to the curb and circled her, running my fingers over the new paint job and the smoothed-out body. Tee and Carter stood on the lawn, enjoying the spectacle I was making. “This is so awesome,” I said, blinking back tears. Yes, I was crying over a car. Maybe I’d become a
bona fide Southerner. The next thing you knew, I’d be frying chicken and drinking sweet tea. It was insidious.

“You like it?” Tee asked. I threw my arms around his neck and demonstrated just how grateful I was.

“I believe she does,” Carter said, chuckling.

“She’s beautiful,” I said, releasing Tee from the neck lock. “How on earth did you get her looking like this? I bet Uncle Norbert himself wouldn’t recognize her.”

“Shawn is a very talented and hard-working individual,” Carter said. “As it happens, he used to do work for your great-uncle Norbert. He was very familiar with the Catfish.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” I said. “I was just about to call you and ask if I could borrow a car for my meeting today.”

“The timing of your meeting figured heavily in my urging the mechanic to put a rush on things,” Carter said. “He only called an hour ago to tell me she was ready.”

Tee ran his hand over the front fender. “Pretty sweet, huh? You wanna take her for a spin?”

I bit my lip. “Wait a second. This must have cost a lot of money. All the body work, the windshields, the paint job. And those are new tires. What’s all this going to cost?”

“There is no bill,” Tee insisted. “No cash changed hands. Shawn’s girlfriend needed a lawyer, we needed a car fixed. It all worked out.”

“It’s a zero balance,” Carter said solemnly. He held up his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“Then I owe you the money you would have gotten in legal fees, plus my own legal fees,” I persisted. “I want a bill, Carter. That’s the only way I’ll take the Catfish back. That was our deal, remember? The pink slip for legal fees.”

“C’mon, Dempsey,” Tee said, tugging at my hand. “Will you let it go, please? It’s a gift. From us to you.”

I shook my head stubbornly. “My mother taught me some manners. Candy or flowers or books are proper gifts from a gentleman. She never said anything about cars.”

Carter chuckled. “She’s got us there, son. Your mother told you the
same thing when you started dating.” He rolled his eyes. “When he was fourteen, young Romeo here bought his lady friend a pair of blue jeans for Valentine’s Day. Sarah was horrified.”

“Got ’em at the Belk’s in the Macon mall,” Tee admitted. “I spent a month’s worth of my lawn-mowing money on ’em, and then Mama made me take ’em back.”

“What was that young lady’s name?” Carter asked.

“Lydia Dexter,” Tee said promptly. “The love of my life till she dumped me for B. J. Johnson. He was the first guy in our class to get his driver’s license, because he failed fifth grade. Once she saw that Toyota Tacoma of his, it was all over between us. I still can’t believe it. Ditched for a Japanese pickup truck. I tell ya, I’m still traumatized when I think about it.”

“Cars. It all comes down to cars,” I muttered.

Carter cleared his throat. “Dempsey, I don’t have a bill to give you because we don’t always work that way in Guthrie. It was a pure barter situation. And I can’t let you give me this car as payment for my meager legal services. My fees might add up to the cost of one of those tires. So you see, my dear, we are at an impasse.”

Tee jingled the car keys in front of my face. “C’mon. You know you want to see how she drives. And how else were you going to get to your meeting?”

I snatched the keys from his hand. “This isn’t over,” I said. “I’ll find a way to pay you back, Carter, if I have to show up at your office and clean windows to pay off my debt.”

“The office,” Carter said. “Now there’s an idea. I have somebody who does windows, but I could use some help with my caseload. And I seem to remember you have a law degree.”

“From Georgetown,” I said. “Although I’m not licensed in Georgia.”

“Interesting,” Carter said, nodding. “We must discuss this, Dempsey, if you’re serious.”

“I’m serious about paying you back,” I told him.

Tee glanced at his watch. “Okay, you can negotiate a settlement later. Right now, it’s after noon. Let’s go get some lunch.” He glared at me. “My treat, or we don’t go. It’s a date. Remember dates?”

“It’s been a long time,” I told him. “You might have to refresh my memory.”

He opened the door on the driver’s side, and I slid onto the leather seat. He loped around to the passenger side, and as we drove off, Carter gave us a snappy salute.

“I just love your dad,” I told Tee, returning Carter’s salute. “He’s like someone from another century.”

“He thinks the world of you,” Tee said.

I smiled. “We had a talk at the dance Saturday night. I accused him of wondering if my intentions toward you are honorable.”

“I hope you told him they aren’t,” Tee said, throwing his arm across my shoulders and scooting over on the seat beside me. He nibbled on my earlobe. I tried to concentrate on my driving.

“He’s worried that I’m trifling with you,” I said, not daring to take my eyes off the road. “He seems to think things have gotten pretty serious between us.”

“That old hound,” Tee said, groaning. “He’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer. What did you tell him?”

I chose my words carefully. “He told me he’s glad I make you happy. And I told him you make me very happy. He said he wished I could have met your mom. And then he said something, like, wishing I would stay.”

“Stay?”

“Here. In Guthrie.”

“What did you say to that?”

“Nothing. The song ended. ‘The Twelfth of Never.’ Kind of a dumb song, don’t you think?” I held my breath, wondering what he would say to that.

He put his lips next to my ear and hummed a bar of “The Twelfth of Never.”

“What if that song were still playing? What if instead of my old man, it was me you were dancing with? Johnny Mathis was always the king of the make-out song. What if we were dancing, right now, and I told you I’ve fallen in love with you. What if I asked you if you would stay? Right here in Guthrie. With me?”

I exhaled slowly. “I’d say I think I’m falling too. But I want the song to keep playing. Just a little longer, Tee. I’d say let’s enjoy the right now. Let me get through this meeting with Alex Hodder. Let me banish the past before I try to figure out the future.”

I shot him a quick, pleading look. “Please? Let me get through today?”

“And then you’ll give me a straight answer? No more stalling? Yes or no?”

I nodded my head. “Absolutely.”

“Then let’s get some lunch.”

I
pulled the Catfish up outside the newspaper office, and leaned over to kiss Tee good-bye.

“Call me as soon as it’s over,” he said. “And I mean as soon as it’s over.”

“I will,” I promised.

“And be careful,” he said. “I don’t like the idea of you meeting this guy alone out in the middle of nowhere.”

“I won’t be alone, Agents Harrell and Allgood will be right there,” I reminded him.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m worried about.”

“See you tonight?”

“You better.”

My cell phone rang as I was heading back to Birdsong, startling me so badly I almost ran off the road. I dug in my pocketbook and brought it out, glancing at the caller ID screen: government caller.

This particular government caller happened to be Special Agent Jackson Harrell.

“If you’re done necking with your boyfriend, maybe we can meet back at your place, for one last briefing,” Harrell said.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that the silver government-issue sedan was right on my tail.

“You’re following me?” I said indignantly. “That is so not cool!”

“For your own protection,” Harrell said. “I’m just a servant of the people.”

“You’re a damned peeping Tom is what you are. Why don’t you follow Alex Hodder around?”

“We have been,” Harrell said. “That’s where Cam is right now. His plane just taxied up to the gate.”

It was only one thirty. I swallowed hard and my stomach clenched. I glanced in the rearview mirror again, and Harrell gave me a little wave.

“Relax,” Harrell said. “We’re right on schedule. His plane landed all the way out at the E terminal, and unless he can sprint faster than ol’ O.J. Simpson, there’s no way he gets to the rental counter before two p.m, or to the church before three
P.M.
”

“I’ll see you at the house,” I said, clicking the phone shut.

Harrell parked the sedan down the block from the house and loped up the street to meet me.

“Just takin’ precautions,” he said as he passed me on the sidewalk. “Go on inside. I’ll double back around the block and cut through your backyard neighbor’s yard. See you in five.”

Ella Kate was back from physical therapy. She was sitting on the chair in front of her bedroom window when I walked past her door. “That colored FBI fella is back,” she called out, putting down Norbert’s army-issue World War II binoculars. “Wonder what he’s up to.”

“He’s here to see me,” I told her. “I’m meeting my former boss later today, and he wants to go over the plan with me. How was your physical therapy?”

She snorted. “That girl is more like a terrorist than a therapist. Had me workin’ like a field hand. I’m flat wore out. This old boss—is this the fella been tellin’ people you hired prostitutes for that crooked congressman?”

“He’s the one,” I said.

“You takin’ a pistol to this meeting?”

“No!” I said. “Absolutely not.”

“City girl,” Ella Kate said contemptuously, picking up the binoculars again. “Well, I got Norbert’s old Colt under my mattress if you change your mind.”

“Thanks anyway,” I told her, wondering how and when Ella Kate had spirited a firearm into her new sleeping quarters. God forbid it was loaded. Maybe I didn’t want to know?

Shorty was barking frantically out in the kitchen, scratching at the back door. I opened it and let Harrell in.

He glanced down at the little cocker spaniel, who looked up and emitted a low growl.

“Don’t bother trying to pet him,” I told Harrell. “He’s just like his owner. He plain doesn’t like strangers.”

I motioned for the agent to take a chair, and I pulled one up across from him. “You’ve had somebody watching Alex all weekend, right?” I asked.

“Never had him out of our sights,” Harrell said. “He kept close to home, though. His wife went to some big charity gala Friday night, but he was a no-show. He didn’t even play golf with his regular foursome Saturday morning. You’ve got him worried, all right.”

“Not as worried as me. I feel like I want to throw up every time I think about this whole farce.”

“It’s no farce,” Jackson said, dropping his casual demeanor. “This is the real deal. Hodder checked his suitcase at the airport. You don’t do that for a down-and-back flight to Atlanta unless you don’t want your carry-on searched in front of everybody by the TSA. He’s got the money, we’re certain.”

He reached inside his jacket pocket and brought out a plain white business envelope, which he handed across to me. I opened it and pulled out an exact copy of Alex Hodder’s golf scorecard from the infamous Lyford Cay outing.

“Wow,” I said, gingerly turning it over and over to get a closer look. “Pretty decent forgery.”

“Go ahead and handle it a little bit,” Harrell urged me. “Your original was kinda beat up too. We want it to look like it’s been kicking around for a while.”

“You want me to give him this—instead of the original?”

“Yeah,” Harrell said. “We’ve had the original fingerprinted, and the handwriting analyzed. It’s got Hodder’s fingerprints, and Licata’s, which was a bonus. And it’s definitely Hodder’s handwriting. The boss doesn’t want to risk him deciding to rip up the original once you hand it over to him.”

I held the duplicate golf card in my hands, which were beginning to sweat.

“Got something else for you,” Harrell said. He brought out a black plastic key fob with a Ford emblem in the center.

I looked up at him questioningly.

“Put it on the ring with the keys to the Bulldogmobile,” Harrell said.

I went out to the hallway and got my key ring from my pocketbook and came back into the kitchen. He took the ring from me, and attached the fob to it.

“Okay,” I said, tapping the fob. “A remote-control door-lock thing. Is this another example of my tax dollars at work?”

“It’s your body mike,” Harrell said. “You said you didn’t want a bug on you, so this is what we came up with.”

I gave the fob a closer look. It looked just like any other remote I’d ever seen. The silvery Ford logo looked real. It wasn’t particularly thick.

“For real?” I asked. “This’ll work?”

“Works like a charm,” Harrell said smugly. “It’s hypersensitive. Comes through clear as a bell. You can even leave it in your pocket if you want to.”

“Where will it transmit to?” I asked.

“We’ll have a team right across the road, in an old barn,” Harrell said.

“Will you be there?”

“I’ll be around,” he said vaguely.

“Cam too?”

“Oh yeah. She’s not missing out on this operation. She hung around the airport just long enough to see Hodder’s plane land, and she’s on her way back right now.” He checked his watch. “I better get going too.” He handed me another envelope. I opened it, and saw that it contained typed directions to the church.

“He should be calling you anytime now, to find out about the meeting place. Read him those directions, get him to repeat ’em to be sure. We don’t want him getting lost.”

“Okay,” I said, looking up. “Just get me to the church on time,
right?” “Right,” Harrell said. “You know what you’re supposed to do, don’t you?”

“Try to draw him out, get him to talk about Lyford Cay, and Tony Licata,” I said. “Show him the golf scorecard, make him show me the money. Make it clear that I’m selling him the scorecard because that’s his handwriting with the call girl’s phone number on it. That’s about it, right?”

“Just like we talked about the other day,” Harrell said smoothly.

Harrell slid his chair away from the table and stood up. He extended his hand. “All right, Dempsey. Don’t be nervous now. And don’t be leaving your keys in the car. We need that to be with you just in case the mikes in the church don’t pick up what you and Hodder are saying. This is gonna go just like clockwork. Don’t you worry about anything. We got your back the whole way.”

He was halfway out the kitchen door before another thought occurred to me. “What happens after he gives me the money?” I asked.

“You take your bag full of cash and get the hell out of Dodge,” Harrell said, flashing a pearly smile. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

I took the stairs two at a time. I’d laid out my outfit earlier in the morning. It was my black Power Ranger suit. I was already wearing the Piaget watch. I got dressed, put on my high-heeled boots, twisted my hair up and back, and dabbed on some makeup—foundation, blush, heavy black eye liner, and mascara. At the last minute, I slipped Lynda’s necklace over my head.

“Ready or not, Alex, here I come,” I whispered.

The necklace charms tinkled merrily as I went downstairs, suitcase in hand.

“Dempsey?” Ella Kate called out from her room.

I stuck my head in her door. She carefully put the binoculars back in their case. She looked me up and down, taking in the dramatic makeup and the suitcase. “Don’t you look a sight,” she said.

I didn’t know if that was a compliment or not, so I decided it was. “Thank you,” I said.

“I see you’re wearing that necklace your mama made you,” she said.
“She’s a flighty one, your mama, but I believe she’s got a good heart. Even if she is livin’ in sin. I’ll tell you something. Ever since she did that burnin’ bush voodoo of hers, danged if I don’t feel a good bit better.”

“Really?”

Ella Kate nodded. “Your mama thinks I should go see another cancer doctor to get a second opinion about surgery. She says I’m too ornery to let cancer get the better of me.”

My eyes widened. “Are you going to do it? Have surgery?”

“Ain’t saying I will or I won’t,” Ella Kate said. “I’m just sayin’ I’ll study on it.”

“I’m glad,” I told her.

“Anyway, I know you got to git. But I got somethin’ I want to give you.”

The old lady was just full of surprises today. “Well, thanks,” I said, hoping the presentation wouldn’t take too long.

She reached into the pocket of her cardigan sweater and brought out a small box. It was covered in worn blue velvet, and had a tiny catch.

“Here,” she said stiffly, pressing it into the palm of my hand.

I opened the catch. A small, gold, star-shaped pin twinkled from the blue velvet lining. I held it up to read the engraving.
GUTHRIE UNITED METHODIST SUNDAY SCHOOL
, it said.

“It’s lovely,” I said, lifting it from the lining and fastening it to the lapel of my jacket.

“My folks didn’t have no money,” Ella Kate said. “We were the poor relations to your kin, that’s for sure. My daddy didn’t have no diamond stickpins, or pearl shirt studs, and Mama didn’t even have a real wedding ring, just a little tin ring Daddy give her. That pin there, that’s the only prize I ever won in my life. Got it at church, for perfect attendance five years in a row at Sunday school, when I was ten years old. It’s eighteen-karat gold. I know, ’cause I took it to Macon to the jewelry store at that mall and had ’em check it out. It’s the real thing.”

“Oh, Ella Kate,” I said, feeling my heart melt. “I can’t take your pin. It’s too precious.” I started to unfasten it from my jacket.

“No, now, I want you to have it,” Ella Kate said. “I didn’t think
much of you when you showed up here at Birdsong. Still don’t think much of your daddy, and his daddy, well, you know how I feel about that scoundrel. But you’ve been good to me and Shorty. Probably gooder’n I deserve. I don’t know what’s gonna become of you after you get this business settled with them FBI agents. Probably, you’ll pack up and hightail it back up there to Washington, D.C. Probably, your daddy will sell this house, and turn me out. Carter Berryhill says that’s his right. And he’s a lawyer, so I reckon he knows the law.”

“I wouldn’t let him turn you out,” I said quickly. “Anyway, we couldn’t sell the house until it’s finished. And it won’t be. Not for a while yet. We’ll figure something out.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Ella Kate said. “I’ve been prayin’ on it, and that’s what I know. I know my scripture verses too. And the scripture says no matter what happens, you are never alone. I keep that close to my heart, and you’d do well to keep it close to yours too. Either way, you keep that pin. You earned it. For perfect attendance. To me and Shorty.”

I leaned down to hug her, but she turned her face back to the window. Probably hoping to spy some more skulduggery on the street outside.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” I told her. But she didn’t turn around.

My cell phone rang as I was walking toward the front door. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest when I glanced at the caller ID readout: private caller. This was it. We were rolling. I touched Ella Kate’s Sunday school pin on my lapel. Be strong, I thought. Like that old lady in the front bedroom.

“Hello,” I said, trying to sound cool.

“I’m here.” Alex’s voice was curt. “Tell me how to get to this meeting place of yours.”

“Have you got the money?” I asked, fumbling in my purse for the directions to the church.

“Of course I’ve got the goddamned money,” he snapped. “Now, can we get on with this? I’ve got a seven o’clock flight to catch, and I sure as hell don’t want to spend the day driving around in the godforsaken
backwoods of Georgia.”

“You’d better get used to the backwoods. We’re meeting at a church. It’s the New Macedonia Full Gospel Church of the Brethren. Have you got a pencil?”

“A church? What the hell?”

“It’s very private,” I told him. “Away from prying eyes and ears. Now, write it all down. I don’t want you and that satchel full of money getting lost on the way down here from Atlanta.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath.

I read him the directions slowly, and even made him read them back to me.

“This is ridiculous,” he said huffily. “You could have just met me up here at the airport. We could have met in the Waffle House and been done with it. I’d be back in D.C. in time for dinner. Why the hell should I have to go on some wild goose chase to get this taken care of?”

“Because this is the way I wanted it, Alex,” I said, straightening my shoulders. “I’m the one holding the scorecard, and you’re the one who needs it. Also, just in case you’ve forgotten? You’re not the boss of me anymore.”

I was backing the Catfish out of the driveway when my cell phone rang again: government caller.