Deep Fried and Pickled (Book One - The Rachael O'Brien Chronicles) (45 page)

As Dr. Brown carried me across the kitchen, Mitch stood and winced. An arm of someone I didn’t know pressed his shoulder to keep him still. He pushed past and moved to clutch my hand. “Raz, are you alright?”

I nodded. “Mitch, how did you know where to find me?”

“I overhead you tell Billy Ray you left your purse in the house. Darlin’, you never carry a purse. When Billy Ray left the pool game, I had a bad feeling.”

My eyes welled, and I mouthed, “Thank you.” 

Dr. Brown carried me to the sofa in the family room, “You can talk to Mitch once I make sure you’re in one piece.” Katie Lee appeared with Dr. Brown’s leather medical bag. He took my pulse, looked into my pupils, and put a salve on the raw welts around my neck.

“Any pain, trouble breathing?”

My shaking had slowed into shivers. “I’ll be ok once I get out of my wet clothes.”

Dr. Brown leaned back and looked at me. “Katie Lee, give me a minute with Rachael.”

She turned the corner. His voice carried a low, confidential tone. “Rachael, Mitch told us Billy Ray assaulted you. Did he rape you?”

I fought the emotion that welled from my chest and rested in my throat. I’d mistaken Billy Ray as harmless. A talented guy who’d misdirected his gift into forging paintings for profit. I never thought the pastel clothing he wore, and the playful chuckle he chortled hid a rabid animal. “If Mitch hadn’t shown up.”

Dr. Brown put my hands in his. “Rachael, did he sexually assault you?”

“He would’ve if Mitch hadn’t saved me.”

“Mitch says you have a hell of a batting arm. You’re a fast thinker, Rachael O’Brien. I’m proud of you.”

“What are all these cops doing in your house?”

“Mitch showed up and rang the doorbell. Down here we have an open door policy. I didn’t even remember what that bell sounded like. When I answered it, he gave us a fright. Said the FBI was raidin’ the McGee’s and that y’all were still over there. Told us about Billy Ray, and that painting in the bathroom. I had a hard time believin’ him, but he was frantic. I called Judge Driskall. Husk knew all about the sting, had approved the search warrant earlier this evening. Sent some fellows from the department over to the McGee’s, but they didn’t find you. We’ve been worried, waitin’ for y’all to show up. Ten minutes ago, the FBI arrived. It’s a goddamn circus round here.”

Mrs. Brown knocked on the door frame, “How about some hot tea?”

“I’ll have scotch, hold the ice,” Dr. Brown said.

“Make mine a double.”

UPSTAIRS, I PEELED OFF my wet clothes and tossed them into the bathtub. The eye of Horus chain caught around my head. I’d forgotten about it and felt relieved I hadn’t lost it during the pool plunge. I put on sweats and combed out my hair. Plugging the sink, I filled it with hot water and plunged my pink hands in for warmth. When I looked into the vanity mirror, I saw Katie Lee’s reflection.

I turned around. “Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t know everything would turn into such a monumental mess.”

“Mad at you? I came to apologize.”

“For what?”

“For almost getting you killed. I’m sorry I ever introduced you to Nash and Billy Ray. If I hadn’t been so stupid about that suitcase full of money, none of this would have happened.” Her eyes welled. “I refused to believe that Nash could be involved in anything criminal.”

I reached out and hugged Katie Lee. “I’m not mad at you. You’re not responsible.”

Katie Lee wiped a tear. “Oh Rach, Patsy and Macy told me everything. How Billy Ray has been forging paintings. Stewart is the salesman and Bubba takes care of shipping. All masterminded by Jack, who we met in New Orleans. The whole thing is crazy, and it all started here in The Bern. How did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t figure anything out until New Orleans. That’s when things clicked, but I wasn’t entirely convinced of what I knew. Jack Ray picked me up from behind the cemetery, he took me to his gallery and showed me a Clementine Hunter painting. The same one my dad had refurbished. I remembered seeing that painting in the New Bern art gallery near the harbor. I strung it together.”

“Which one is the original?”

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Come on in,” Katie Lee called.

 Storm Cauldwell’s windbreaker had FBI embroidered in yellow on his left chest. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he wore it unzipped, revealing a leather shoulder harness and his gun.

“Ladies, hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Storm.”

He smiled indenting the dimple on his chin. “Rachael O’Brien, we meet yet again.”

Combing her hair with her hand, Katie Lee looked approvingly at Storm. “FBI? I thought you were a teaching assistant.”

“Had to use discretion on this case. I hope you understand. I asked Rachael to keep what she knew to herself.”

I asked Storm, “Did you catch Billy Ray and have you found the missing painting?”

“We’ve taken Billy Ray to Craven County Medical then he’ll be booked. We found a Clementine Hunter at the McGee’s. It’ll be sent to New Orleans for evaluation.”

I dug into my wet coat pocket and recovered the underwater camera. “I have something for you.”

“What’s this?”

“Photos of the
Baptism
, before it was splashed by the bidet.”

Storm shook his head and pocketed the camera. I couldn’t read his face and wondered if he was angry.

Mrs. Brown shouted up the stairs, “Y’all, sausage biscuits hot otta the oven. Come on down.”

“Alright Mama,” Katie Lee said, leaving Storm and me.

Storm put his hands on my shoulders. Sternly he met my eyes. “Rachael O’Brien.”

“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have snooped inside Bubba Jackson’s apartment. I didn’t break in. It was open. And honestly, I wasn’t sure, that Billy Ray and Stewart Hayes would show up at Meredith’s. Billy Ray’s a big guy. I had to hit him with something or he would’ve …”

Storm put a hand on my mouth. “Rachael, you went above and beyond what you should’ve--what was safe. You cut through bureaucratic channels and in one night busted this case wide open. I want to say thank you.”

Storm’s tanned face had a shadow of stubble. For being in his late twenties or early thirties, he still had it. Storm slid his arms around my back, sheltering me in safety and I returned the embrace. Resting my head against the warmth of his chest erased the last few hours and cleared my head like a chalkboard wiped clean.

A shrill birdcall startled us. From the landing below, Patsy shouted, “Y’all need to come down before the biscuits go cold?” Storm released me and motioned with his hand for me to lead.

“We’re coming.”

NOTE TO SELF

I love The Bern, but need rest back at the dorm.

MAY 1987

44

W
hipping
F
rayed
R
ope

“
I
caught Francine doing it with her door open. Her skin is tight and as smooth as butter. If it works for her, it should work for me.”

Travis waited a beat. I wondered if the phone line went dead. “How often do you have to do it?”

“Every night, upside down for thirty days.”

“I don’t know, Rach, that doesn’t sound healthy.”

My head tipped upside-down, off the bed, and I stretched my facial muscles to eliminate early aging. I’d already told Travis about finding the paintings in Bubba’s closet, Billy Ray cornering me and the raid at the McGee’s. He thought we all were mad.

With all the crazy behind me, I could forget about the
Baptism
painting, and I planned to coast through the last weeks of the term. Some people pay for a therapist, but I didn’t need to. I had Travis. He was still gay. Instead of my lover, he’d become my confidant.

“This weather dude sounds like a man of interest.”

“His name is Storm. I was emotionally drained. It was probably nothing.”

“An embrace like that is never nothing.”

“I’m obsessed with Clay, remember?”

“I remember, but I wasn’t sure you did.”

Our lock clicked, and Katie Lee motioned for my attention. Interrupting Travis, I used our code, “Ice that cupcake,” meaning I can’t freely talk any more.

Flipping right side up, I hung up and handed Katie Lee the phone.

“I don’t need to make a call.”

“What was the hand motion for?”

“I need to talk.”

“Have the police arrested Jack Ray or found Bubba Jackson?”

“Not that I’ve heard.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She bit her lip.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Raz.”

“Hugh or Nash?”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s Bridget. I confronted her betrayal. Told her I knew she slept with Nash.”

The elephant fell off my back. Nash had told Katie Lee the truth in the McGee’s boathouse, and now Katie Lee had confronted Bridget. At the McGee’s, when Nash helped get us all in the boat, I’d glimpsed a part of him that Katie Lee had fallen in love with. I didn’t have a crush on him or anything like that, but he moved up a notch or two up on my respect ladder. In my mind, Nash had taken a step toward redemption.

“How did that go?”

“Obviously not well. I thought she was my friend.”

I watched Katie Lee fiddle with a pink eraser. She wasn’t as practiced as I was at keeping feelings hidden.

“What else?”

Katie Lee moved to her bed, still dancing the eraser between her fingers. “Bridget said you’re a vindictive liar for saying she’d slept with Nash. How does she know you know?”

I sank into my desk-chair and spilled my guts. “I knew the night it happened. I overheard Nash and Bridget in your parent’s bedroom.”

“Jesus Rachael, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me. I figured they’d lie about it, and I’d look like I was trying to cause a rift. It was wrong. I’m sorry.”

She threw the eraser on the floor and walked out of our room.

I SHOULD’VE BEEN STUDYING. The only final I’d be passing was woodshop. I made a modern sculpture on the end of my pencil with my teeth. Katie Lee hadn’t spoken to me, normal-like for two days and I wondered if she’d ever trust me again. We only had a week before exams, and I couldn’t leave the state to go home, if she wasn’t speaking to me.

Francine knocked on my door and let herself in. Fluttering an oriental paper fan in her face, she wore a neon orange tank top and matching cotton shorts.

“Why are you dressed like a fruit chew?”

“Orange is mentally stimulating. Helps me study. Loverboy stopped by.”

“Clay?”

“Do you have more than one?”

“What did he say?”

“Said he was lookin’ for you.”

“That much I gathered. Was anything else mentioned that I’d be interested in knowing?”

“I asked the boy if he was stalking you.”

I grimaced. “You make great birth control.”

Francine sat down on Katie Lee’s desk chair and flipped through the notebook that lay open on her desk. “He confessed that he was, and I told him I just wanted to make sure. Said he’d call you later.”

I’d kept my promise to Storm about staying quiet about the forgery and Clay didn’t know what was going on. I owed him an explanation. Since Billy Ray and Stewart had been arrested, I could tell Clay what’s been going on. But first I had some old business to settle. “Francine, have you been in Chantel’s room lately?”

“What do you mean by lately?”

“In the last hour?”

“I may have. Why you askin?”

“Did you see Bridget?”

Francine feigned interest in Katie Lee’s class notes. “Not sure.”

“She and Katie Lee had a blowout. I was wondering if Bridget was okay.”

Francine closed the notebook. “You and I both know that you don’t give a baboon’s ass about the girl that ran over you in Big Blue. Are you plann’ a hair pullin,’ fist slappin’ biscuit fight?”

“Me?”

Francine locked my door, unplugged the phone and positioned herself like a construction zone roadblock. “Flap those lips if you ever want to see Clay again.”

I bit the pencil then spilled my guts.

NOTE TO SELF

Francine Battle = PP = Persuasion Perfectionist.

45

B
unny
B
oiler
G
oes
B
izerk

Francine
left Chantel’s door cracked open. A slice of her orange attire loomed behind the seam of the door. I had my hand on Bridget’s door and whispered. “If you see her coming, divert her.”

“Just be quick. My outfit is fresh, and I don’t want to have to smear no Oreo filling on it.”

 Francine had seen Bridget leave with a laundry basket. I had maybe ten minutes, more if she started talking along the way. This was stupid, I knew it. I wasn’t sure what details Katie Lee had told her about the Easter weekend. Bureaucratic organizations tended to act slowly, and I preferred immediate gratification. I should’ve left the snooping up to the FBI, but Nash’s parting words haunted me. I didn’t want to see or speak to Bridget. I just needed a quick peek to satisfy my curiosity, and she’d be just a faint memory.

Out of habit, I called, “Bridget?” as I walked in. The only person that greeted me was Lynyrd Skynyrd who played from the cassette deck. As a bonus, dorm rooms were small, and unlike the McGee’s home, there weren’t many places to hide things. Opening her dresser drawers, I slid my hands under her clothing then checked the underside, in case she’d taken the painting out of the frame. Nothing.

Bridget’s closet door rested partially open. My eyes drifted to a foil-covered shoebox on the top shelf. It was too small to hold a painting, and I should’ve moved on. It was probably some keepsake from her childhood. I pulled her desk chair over and reached for the box. When I lifted it off the shelf the lid, plastered with photos, fell off. Some of the photos I recognized since I had copies. But in my set, all of us were in the photo. All of these photos were of Katie Lee. I didn’t know what I was looking at, and it seemed peculiar.