Miss Julia Renews Her Vows (17 page)

“I came to see how you’re doing,” I said, not wanting to hear any more complaints about our fine hospital. “We’re all distressed over what happened. Oh, and this is Lillian. You remember her, don’t you? Put that plant on the bedside table, please, Lillian. Now, Francie, is there anything we can do for you?”

“I don’t need anything right now,” she said, stirring under the covers and wincing as she did so. “Except for some better nursing care. A person could die around here before anybody even knew it. I asked for a back rub hours ago, and they keep putting me off. If I wasn’t injured so badly, I’d go home and hire my own help.”

Well, that certainly reassured me. Francie couldn’t be in critical condition if she was thinking of going home. In fact, all the complaining she was doing just reminded me of her normal manner: nothing was ever good enough.

“Of course,” Francie went on, “the person I would’ve ordinarily hired is the very one who tried to kill me and stole the gold bangle bracelet my third husband gave me. So I can’t hire
her,
can I?”

“Well, since you brought it up, it sounds as if you know who attacked you. Did you actually see who did it?”

“No, I didn’t
see
her,” she said, petulance dripping from her voice. “And that deputy has asked me the same thing a dozen times. Like I told him, she came up behind me and hit me on the head, knocking me to the floor. I was out for I don’t know how long, and when I came to, she was rummaging around on my dressing table, looking for my bracelet. I heard bottles and jars clinking together, so I started screaming, and that’s when she came over and grabbed me up so that I was strangling and choking like you wouldn’t believe. I thought I was going to die, Julia. You’ll never know how awful it was. My whole life flashed in front of my eyes, then I blacked out again and didn’t come to until Evelyn got there. And if she’d gotten to work on time, none of it would’ve happened. I let her know it, too.”

“I’m sure she hates that it happened, Francie,” I said. “And we’re all sorry you had to go through such a terrible experience. But tell me, how do you know it was a woman when you didn’t see anybody?”

“I
didn’t
know it,” Francie said indignantly, as if I were slow to understand, “until that kitchen girl came in here Sunday with my lunch tray. When she took the cover off the plate, I nearly threw up.
Collards,
Julia! Have you ever heard of serving collards to a
sick
person? They reek to high heaven!” Francie switched her head from side to side on the rolled-up pillow under her neck as if she were still trying to escape the odor. “They give you wind, you know.”

Not me, they don’t. I won’t eat them. “That certainly sounds ill advised,” I said, while Lillian murmured, “Law, law,” under her breath.

“Anyway,” Francie went on, “those collard greens brought it all back, and I had a nurse call the deputy so I could report it.”

I blinked in surprise. Report a serving of collards? Maybe Francie’s head injury was worse than I thought. Still, that explained why the deputies waited three days to question Etta Mae, but it didn’t explain what she had to do with collards. “But,” I persisted, “you didn’t actually see who it was?”

“I didn’t
have
to see her,” she said, “I could
smell
her.”

“
Smell
her?” My eyebrows went straight up to my hairline.

“Yes, and that’s how I know it was that little twit who was supposed to be looking after me. See, Julia, while I was lying on the floor, there was this terrible odor that just filled the room, but I didn’t know what it was. But when the lid came off those collards, I knew right then that it had been her perfume. And
cheap
perfume, at that. Very distinctive and foul smelling, and I called the lieutenant to tell him I’d identified it. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Just thinking about it turns my stomach.”

Lord, I had to restrain myself to keep from defending Etta Mae’s choice of scent. Although I wouldn’t have chosen it for myself, it wasn’t all that bad. Etta Mae’s perfume was quite sweet and flowery, in fact, with an undertone of raspberry flavoring—nothing at all like collards, which have a pungent odor all their own.

But what was I thinking? Choice of perfume wasn’t the problem here. The problem was that Francie had identified Etta Mae solely on an olfactory basis, and I had to get to a telephone.

“We better be going, Francie,” I said, stepping away from the bed. “We don’t want to tire you. But please call me if I can do anything for you.”

“I’m not up for telephone conversations, Julia. You’ll have to check with the floor nurses and see if I’ve left word that I need anything. But right now my head aches so bad I can’t think. And Julia, they
shaved
that place on my head. Had to, they said, to put a bandage on, but I don’t believe it. They could’ve done it without
ruining
me. Now I’m half bald and look like a
monk,
but they don’t care.” She lifted her hand and pointed at Lillian. “Before you go, have your woman straighten these sheets for me. They get so bunched up, but tell her not to touch my toe. I am just in agony from it.”

Mortally offended at Francie’s referring to Lillian as my woman, it was all I could do to hold my tongue. The least she could’ve done was to address Lillian directly and ask for her help. But that was Francie for you. And that was Lillian, too, who carefully smoothed the sheets and stayed far away from the red, swollen, gout-afflicted toe resting on a pillow.

Francie did not thank Lillian for her efforts, just said to me, “Come back anytime, Julia. It’s good to talk to an old friend, but on your way out, tell a nurse to bring me some fresh water.”

I took Lillian by the arm and got out of there before Francie sent us on a water run. As I closed the door behind us, a deputy sheriff jumped up from the chair that had been vacant when we went in.

“What’re you doing in there?” he demanded. “That lady’s not supposed to have visitors.”

“Oh, don’t mind us,” I said, indicating Lillian’s white uniform. “We were making care arrangements for when Mrs. Delacorte goes home. Besides, you weren’t at your post when we came in, but don’t worry. I won’t mention it when I see Lieutenant Peavey.”

I turned Lillian with me and we headed toward the elevator. “Hurry, Lillian, I’ve got to find a telephone.”

“They’s some down in the lobby, but who you got to call?”

“Binkie, and right away, too. I’ll tell you this, I am going to start carrying a cell phone in my purse from now on. I never thought in this small town I’d need one before I could get home to my own phone. But I do now.”

Lillian peppered me with questions all the way down to the lobby, but I put her off. My head was so full of what I had to tell Binkie and Etta Mae that I had to hold it in. Besides, we weren’t the only ones in the elevator who didn’t need to hear our business.

“Just listen,” I told her, as we found a public phone and I at last found a quarter in the bottom of my pocketbook. As soon as Binkie came on the line, I said, “Is Etta Mae still there?”

“I can’t talk now, Miss Julia,” Binkie said hurriedly. “We’re on our way out. Lieutenant Peavey wants us at the sheriff’s office. I’ll catch you up with everything later on.”

“
Wait!
Wait, Binkie, this is important. Don’t take Etta Mae down there till she’s had a bath. Go to my house and tell her to get in the shower and wash herself
good.
”

“What’re you talking about?” Binkie screeched. “We have to go. The lieutenant’s waiting for us.”

“Please, Binkie, just do it. We’ll meet you at the house, and I’ll explain. Call the lieutenant and make up an excuse. Tell him, I don’t know, tell him her monthlies have started. No, don’t say it like that, just hint around that it’s a lady thing and he’ll be too embarrassed to ask for details. Binkie, please, trust me on this. Get that girl in the shower. Make her wash her hair and change clothes. Lillian and I’ll be there in a few minutes. Oh, and, Binkie, while she’s washing, I want you to go around the house and hide every perfume bottle you can find.”

“You drive, Lillian,” I said as we hurried out of the hospital and into the car. “I’m too nervous to get behind the wheel.”

On our way to the house, Lillian said, “I don’t know what collards got to do with it, but that sick lady sayin’ she smell Miss Etta Mae’s perfume—is that why you tell Miss Binkie to make her wash it off, ’fore that lieutenant smell it, too?”

“Exactly,” I said, noting again how quickly Lillian could put two and two together, often faster than I could. “I just hope Binkie’s making her do it.”

“She is. Look, they already here.” Lillian had turned the corner on Polk Street and was pointing at Binkie’s car parked by the curb at our house.

We hurried into the house to find Binkie sitting at the kitchen table. She didn’t look happy. “Okay, let’s have it.”

“Oh, Binkie,” I said, collapsing beside her. “You won’t believe this. But first, where’s Etta Mae? You didn’t take her to the sheriff’s office, did you?”

“No, but not because I didn’t want to. It was Etta Mae who insisted on doing what you wanted, even though neither of us knew why. She’s in the shower now, and I think if you told her to jump off the roof, she wouldn’t hesitate.”

“She’s a good girl,” I said with some satisfaction.

“Well, it certainly put me in a bind. I tell you, when a lieutenant in the sheriff’s department says he wants to talk to a client, I don’t normally fiddle around. So what’s going on?”

“Well,” I began, then proceeded to tell her how we had gone to the hospital and seen Francie.

“You mean you just walked in?” Binkie couldn’t believe how easily we’d gotten in, especially because she’d been kept out.

“We hit it at the right time,” I assured her. “Nobody was around.” Then I told her what Francie had told us. “So, see, Binkie, the only thing the lieutenant’s going on is Francie’s nose. And to me, that’s not evidence of anything except a warped sense of smell. You know as well as I do that some things smell nice to some people, while the same smell is awful to others. Just think of that musk that some men splash all over themselves. I have to hold my breath around them, but they think women love it.” I paused to see how Binkie was taking my explanation. “And that’s why I didn’t want Etta Mae going into the sheriff’s department smelling like she did this morning. Lieutenant Peavey might not like wildflowers and raspberries. He might think it was the foul odor that Francie claims she smelled—like collards, would you believe?”

Binkie lay her head on her arms, which were crossed on the tabletop. “Lord, lord,” she said. “This is one for the books. Well,” she went on, raising her head, “you were right, but you don’t know how close I came to marching Etta Mae right down there, raspberries and all.”

“Well, here’s the thing, Binkie,” I said, “it’s pretty clear that Francie smelled
something.
I just don’t believe it was Etta Mae. So what could it have been? Or
who
could it have been? And I’ll tell you another thing: I think Francie’s recall of a particular odor is mighty poor evidence to be going on.”

“It is,” Binkie agreed, “which is why Etta Mae hasn’t been arrested. But they’re looking at her; there’s no doubt about that. Not just because of Mrs. Delacorte’s recall of an odor, but because she has positively identified it as coming from Etta Mae.” Binkie tapped her fingers on the table, thinking. “However, I get the feeling that Lieutenant Peavey’s not all that convinced of his victim’s veracity. Or let’s say her ability to remember the details of the attack.”

“Good for him!” I said. “He ought to tread carefully where Francie Pitts, now Delacorte, is concerned. And here’s another little item, Binkie. You might not know this, but I heard that the Coral Gables police—that’s in Florida—are looking into her next-to-last husband’s death, and they’ve questioned her about it. That should make the lieutenant think twice before believing a word she says.”

“Really?”

“Just ask LuAnne Conover. She’s the one who told me. And Arley Hopkins told her, and Arley lives out at Mountain Villas, just as Francie does, and she knows what goes on out there.”

“If that’s true,” Binkie mused, frowning with thought, “it just might save Etta Mae’s bacon, or at least confuse the issue. I’ll look into it.”

Etta Mae slipped into the kitchen then, looking somewhat diffident and unsure of herself. She was wearing jeans again, but freshly pressed ones, and a short-sleeved sweater I hadn’t seen before. Her hair was full and shiny, recently washed and bouncing with curls.

“Come over here, Etta Mae,” I said, “and let me look you over.”

I walked all around her, delicately sniffing for any whiff of fruity or flowery odors. She turned as I turned, wondering what I was doing.

“I think she’s fine,” I said to Binkie. “But you and Lillian come see what you think.”

They did, as Etta Mae endured their examination with a puzzled look on her face. “I took a bath,” she said, “just like you told me. Didn’t I get clean?”