Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes (5 page)

“Ms. Gardner?”

I opened my eyes, realizing I had dozed off. “Yes?” I rubbed a hand across my forehead.

A stocky middle-aged man in dress pants and a button down shirt stood in front of me. “I’m Detective Taylor. We’d like to get a statement from you now.”

Joe turned on the porch light so that Detective Taylor could see the contents of the notebook he flipped open. I told him everything from the moment I came home.

He looked up at me. “Ms. Gardner, your neighbors say you had an argument with your mother this afternoon.”

I nodded. “Yes, I did.”

Violet head snapped to me. “You did? You stood up to Momma?”

The detective raised his eyebrows. “I take it that it was unusual for Rose and your mother to argue?” He directed the question at Violet.

“They never fought, not even in high school. Rose took Momma’s verbal abuse and never said a word.” Violet turned to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you!”

Detective Taylor turned to me. “So why did you have your first fight today?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, nothin’ in particular. I guess I just finally had enough.”

He nodded, a soft look in his eyes. “I can understand that. Years of dealin’ with your difficult mother, it’s surprisin’ you lasted this long. You must have carried around a lot of repressed anger. Maybe once you let that anger loose you couldn’t control it and before you knew it, you were beatin’ your mother in the head with a rollin’ pin.”

“
What
?”

“Ms. Gardner, you have to admit it’s a mighty strange coincidence that the day you finally tell your mother off is the day she ends up dead.”

“Someone beat Momma in the head with a rollin’ pin?” Violet asked.

“Violet,” I tried to shush her.

“The wooden one or the marble one?”

“Violet!”

Violet turned to me. “Well, I always wanted that marble one, but I don’t think I want it anymore if someone bashed Momma in the head with it.”

“Violet!”

The officer cleared his throat. “Um, it was a wooden one and it was covered with dried pie dough.”

The blood drained away from my face and my chest tightened. I made a gasping-gagging noise as I tried to catch my breath.

“I made a pie this afternoon.” I choked out. “I put the rollin’ pin in the sink before I left.”

“So it’s safe to say your fingerprints will be on it when we check?”

“Well, yeah. I rolled out the piecrust. I didn't do the dishes before I left and I’m sure Momma didn’t do them.” I almost snorted. Momma would drop dead before doing the dishes. Oops, wrong choice of euphemisms.

“I think maybe we should have you come down to the station to answer some questions.”

My mouth dropped open.

“You honestly don't think Rose killed our momma, do you?” Violet asked. She said it like it was the most ridiculous thing he could have uttered.

“That’s not for me to decide, but it does look suspicious ma’am.”

I’d been suspected of many things but never murder. I knew I should be more worried, yet it seemed so preposterous.

Detective Taylor looked like he was about to walk away. But he turned back to me, almost as if it were an afterthought. “What time did you come home, Ms. Gardner?”

“Just a little bit before Joe called the police. I found Momma, then came over to Joe’s.”

“Did anyone see your car pull up?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t take my car. I walked.”

“And did anyone see you?”

My heart sank. “I have no idea.”

And at that moment, the most inopportune time, I felt a vision coming on.
Crap
.

I saw a vision of a footprint in the dirt, behind my house. I looked up at Detective Taylor. “You’ll find a footprint behind the house, where someone cut the telephone line.”

“
What
? How do you know that?’ The detective bent over, getting closer, staring into my face.

Double crap
.

Joe glanced my direction before he turned back toward the crowd.

“Lucky guess,” I mumbled, looking down at my hands in my lap.

The detective flipped his notebook closed. “I’m really goin’ to need you to come down to the station. If you wait here, we’ll take you in a few minutes.”

“I have to ride in a police car?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped off the porch and walked over to another officer.

Panic gripped me. “Violet, they think I did it!”

“I know, sweetheart, we’ll get you out of this.” She took my hands, looking over my shoulder, deep in thought. Then she turned to me, a strange expression on her face. “You didn’t do this,
did
you?”

I jerked my hands back. “No! Of course not! How could you think that?”

She grabbed my hands again, stroking the back of one with her thumb. “I’m sorry, I knew you couldn’t, but I had to ask.”

I pursed my lips together in a pout. I knew this looked bad, but it hurt that she thought I could hit Momma hard enough to give her a hole in her head the size of a grapefruit.

“Rose,” an insistent voice whispered in my ear.

I jumped. Joe kneeled next to my chair. I hadn’t realized he’d come back.

“Listen to me, don’t say anything to them without a lawyer. The police in this town aren't the most professional and they’re bound to pin this on you just to save themselves a lot of work.”

“What?” I wondered if somehow, without my knowing it, I had been cast in a Lifetime channel movie.

The detective and another officer were walking to the porch.

“Listen to me.” Joe’s voice was harsh. “Do
not
talk to them. Get a lawyer.”

“But I don't know any lawyers…” I protested, fear squeezing my chest.

Joe turned to Violet.

She nodded, her eyes wide with fright. “I’ll call Mike. I’m sure he knows someone.”

“Good.” Joe stood up. “Don't tell them I told you any of this. I’m just the neighbor who called the police.”

The detective stopped to talk to a neighbor while the officer walked over. I stood up, confused. I thought Joe
was
just the neighbor who called the police. The policeman pulled a pair of handcuffs off his belt.

Hysteria bubbled up in my throat and I backed up, nearly tripping over the chair leg. “Violet, he’s goin’ to handcuff me!”

Joe threw me a look of irritation before he turned to the man, leaning against a column. “Officer,” Joe said in a nonchalant tone. “I’m sure those aren’t really necessary.” His voice took on a lilting tone of old Southern money. “You’re not arrestin’ her; you’re only takin’ her in for questionin’. Besides, think how it looks, cuffin’ her makes it look like y’all can’t handle a tiny little thing like that.”

Detective Taylor stopped his conversation and walked over, rolling his eyes. “Ernie, how many times do I have to tell you? You can’t just go cuffing people anytime you feel like it.”

Ernie studied his feet, but returned his cuffs to his belt. A scowl crossed his face. “Ms. Gardner, we’ll be goin’ now.” He gripped my arm and walked over to the steps. I glanced at Joe, unsure what I just witnessed, but Joe had already walked in his front door. It closed without him giving me a second glance.

We approached the crowd, Violet trailing behind. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’m callin’ Mike right now. I’ll get you out of this.” She had her cell phone in her hand.

The crowd murmured as we reached the edge. They parted to let us pass. The looks on their faces told me they thought I was guilty. They knew nothing about what happened, but they knew I was Momma’s weird daughter, and that alone carried enough weight to convict me.

The officer opened the back door of the patrol car and I slid across the seat, the vinyl sticking to the dampness on the back of my legs. He shut the door and a wave of claustrophobia choked me. What if they arrested me? What if I went into the police station and I never saw the light of day again?

I searched the crowd for Violet, desperate to see her face. I found her several rows back, her cell phone against her cheek and her worried eyes on me. My heart broke for her. Not only did she lose Momma, but now she was stuck worrying about me.

Ernie got in the car. We remained silent the short drive to the police station. He helped me out and escorted me to a small room with a table, telling me someone would be in soon. A short time later, Detective Taylor entered the room and sat down across from me.

“It’s been a busy night, Ms. Gardner, hasn’t it?”

My mouth dried up and I swallowed, my heart pounding fast and furious. I looked down at my hands, which I twisted in my lap. “I refuse to answer any questions without an attorney present.”

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Now, Ms. Gardner,” he said, emphasizing
Ms
. in a condescending, a no-nonsense tone that let me know he wouldn’t put up with any foolishness. “There’s no need for that. I just want to ask a few questions. We can all go home and go to bed if you'll just cooperate and answer a few more questions.”

I squirmed in my seat. I had nothing to hide, but Joe seemed so insistent I remain silent, not to mention I could see the truth about the potential laziness of the Henryetta law enforcement. I lifted my chin and looked him in the eye, surprised at my backbone. “I’ll wait for my attorney.”

He grumbled under his breath and left the room. Exhausted, I laid my head on the table and wondered how long I would have to wait for my lawyer, whoever that might be. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes, go to sleep, and wake up to find this was all a God-awful nightmare.

An hour later, the door opened and a woman entered and shut the door behind her. She wore jeans and a t-shirt, her auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. “I’m Deanna Crawfield, your attorney. The police have agreed to let you go for now, but you have been warned not to leave Fenton County.”

She was not what I expected for my lawyer. I presumed she would actually be a
he
, a middle-aged man in a three-piece suit to be specific. It took me a moment for her words to sink in. “But I didn’t do anythin’.”

“It doesn't matter whether you did or not at this point. What matters is the police department of Henryetta, Arkansas think you did. We’ll meet first thing Tuesday morning after the holiday so I can get your side of the story, but if they come to talk to you between now and then, you call me.” Deanna handed me her business card. “I highly suggest you don’t forget and go cross the county line. Trust me, they’ll be looking for a reason to arrest you.”

I took the card and shook my head. “I rarely leave the county anyway.”

Deanna held the door open. “Let’s get you out of here so you can get some sleep. Your sister’s worried sick about you.”

I followed her down the hall to the front of the police station. Violet and Mike sat in plastic chairs, and Violet was wringing her hands like she was trying to squeeze the water out of a dish rag. They both looked up and Violet ran to me, wrapping her arms around my back in a tight embrace. She began to cry into my hair. I glanced helplessly over her shoulder at Mike. He gave me a half smile, then patted Violet on the back.

“Come on, honey. Let the girl breathe.”

Violet pulled away and smoothed the hair out of my face. “Let’s get you home, sweetie.”

I nodded, holding back my own tears. The sooner I got out of there, the better.

We walked out the front doors, with Deanna reminding Violet that I needed to call her office first thing Tuesday morning.

At Violet’s house, Mike put Ashley in their room so I could sleep in hers. Violet gave me a nightgown to sleep in. I changed and collapsed under the covers, too exhausted to turn off the pink princess lamp on the table. A few minutes later, Violet rapped on the door, pushing it open before I said anything. She came in, wearing a nightgown, and sat at the edge of the mattress.

“Are you okay, Rose?”

Momma was dead. I discovered her disfigured body. The police thought I murdered her. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No.”

Violet lay next to me and I scooted over, making room for the two of us on the twin-sized bed. She took my hand in hers, slowly and deliberately threading our fingers together, like she used to do when we were little girls. And just like that, I felt six years old again, with my eight-year-old sister next to me, shaking in fear as we listened to one of Momma’s tirades outside our bedroom. My eyes flooded with tears while I gripped her hand, hanging on for dear life. Violet softly hummed the old lullaby she made up years ago, the one she used to sing to me when I was scared or sad. I drifted off to sleep, lulled into a false sense of security.

Yet again.

Chapter Four

When I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t believe it was after nine. I wondered what the Henryetta Southern Baptist Church would do since Momma didn’t meet her pie commitment. Then, I reminded myself it didn’t matter. Momma was dead.

I sat up in Ashley’s frighteningly pink princess room feeling like a little girl, but finding myself a suspect in Momma’s murder seemed like a very grown-up thing. I couldn’t let myself act like a child anymore. After twenty-four years, it was high time I grew up.