Paper Castles (21 page)

“Are you planning on pleading insanity?” Savannah said, her voice barely a whisper. “Dad and Kip agreed to this?”

Phil nodded. “We think it’s a way out.”

“Out?” She found the breath behind her voice. “To where? The nuthouse? So we’re going to march into court and tell everyone I’m crazy?”

“Of course not,” Phil said. “We’re not saying anything of the sort. The D.A. still has a case to prove, but we have to give the jurors a plausible explanation for why you can’t remember.”

“Maybe I just can’t remember. Or how about we tell the truth, that I was drunk and took sleeping pills and passed out? Why do I have to be crazy?”

“Because having my client passed out on pills and booze isn’t exactly the picture I want to paint for the jurors. The statute says ‘A voluntarily intoxicated person maintains his or her responsibility for his or her conduct, and a person who voluntarily puts himself or herself into drugged condition is capable of forming intent to kill.’”

She stood abruptly, unimpressed with his memorized speech. The swing lurched back. Phil looked thrown off by her response, as well.

“So not only will I be a murderer, but I’ll be insane?”

“Wait a min—”

“I have no say in this?”

“Of course you do. We’re discussing it now.”

“No, I’m being told what’s been decided. You’re not going to do this to me. I won’t let you. I won’t let them.”

“Savannah, let’s talk about this.” Phil reached out for her hand, but they were balled up in fists and her feet were taking her off the porch and inside.

“The answer is no,” she said. “Hell, no.”

The screen door slammed behind her.

“I
APOLOGIZE,” KIP said over the phone. “I should have talked to you first.”

“It would have been easier,” Savannah said. Hard truths were always softer when followed by a hug.

“I know it’s difficult, but we’re all thinking about what’s best for the case. Try not to take any of this personally.”

“How do I not take insanity personally?”

Kip had talked her down off the ledge, just as he’d done many times before. Kip understood where her “Hell, no,” came from. Where it was born. Where it grew up. He lived there, too.

Curled up with the phone to her ear, and the cord wrapped around her hands like shackles, Savannah let him lead her through the woods. Hansel to her Gretel, knowing the way home.

It was a long conversation. Kip convinced her with facts and her father followed up with the same conversation a day later. In the end, she acquiesced to seeing a doctor, too tired to fight any longer.

She was insane.

Fine.

Tomorrow was the last day of school. Assembly in the morning, with achievement awards handed out. Then bells would ring and doors would be flung open as kids poured out into streets, parks, pools and front lawns all over the city.

PJ was slated to receive an award, top honors for science. Savannah wouldn’t miss seeing it, but a certain amount of planning was involved.

Once the assembly began, she’d quietly sneak in and stand up against the back wall. She’d wear a scarf and sunglasses, like Greta Garbo hiding from the press. As soon as PJ had his award, she’d sneak back out again. Ridiculous, but she would be there to see her son. And he would know she was there.

Parking was terrible and Savannah had to hike a good distance to the auditorium. She pulled open the heavy front door and stole down the empty halls, a burglar in high heels.

When she opened the auditorium door, several people turned in their seats to look at the stream of light coming from the entrance. For all her attempts at anonymity, Savannah was standing in a spotlight. She let the door close, now thrust into darkness and blind. She ducked to the side and felt along the wall for a place to stand, stepping on several toes in the process.

“Ouch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh...”

She was finally shoved into an open space between two women and she flattened herself along the wall.

So far, so good.

Mr. Weston’s thin voice crackled over the microphone. “And now for excellence in science for grades nine through twelve. This year’s award goes to Price Palmerton, Jr. for his science project, investigating fluid viscosity.”

PJ walked across the stage and received his certificate. He held it up over his head with a big grin and Savannah knew he was looking out into the dark for her.

I’m here, Peege. I see you
.

“Thank you, Ladies and Gentlemen.” The principal wrapped up the ceremony and without warning the house lights came up.

Damn
. Savannah reached for her sunglasses.

She turned to make a quick getaway and plowed smack into Birdie Westfall. Of all the souls to run into, why did it have to be Birdie Westfall? She’d been a bully in high school and time hadn’t improved her.

“Well, if it isn’t Savannah Kendall Palmerton. Or is it just Kendall now since you’ve killed off your husband?”

Birdie’s voice was still loud and obnoxious and heads turned in their direction.

“My, my, how far the Homecoming Queen has fallen.”

“I’m in no mood to deal with you Birdie. Excuse me.” Savannah kept her voice low and tried to squeeze past, but Birdie pushed her up against the wall. Just as she had in high school.

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face in public.” Birdie was so close, Savannah could feel her hot breath. “I know you’ve always lived in your ivory tower, but did you assume you could get away with murder too? Your Daddy and brother going to sweep this one under the rug for you? Murderer.”

A teenage Savannah would’ve cringed, but the woman who stood there today narrowed her eyes, through with taking crap.

The slap across Birdie’s face rang out like a warning bell in the auditorium. Birdie’s eyes bulged with shock and if Savannah’s palm didn’t sting, she never would have believed she’d done the slapping. An instant of exhilarating triumph. Then Birdie lunged at Savannah.

Savannah Palmerton was no match for the woman who knew her way around a fight. Birdie’s hands seemed to be everywhere. All Savannah could do was try to deflect. A pair of strong arms circled her waist, dragging her back from the scene, while someone else was brave enough to grab Birdie, still kicking and clawing.

“I always knew you had a hot-headed temper under that cool exterior.”

Birdie’s hair hung in her face, and she was panting, struggling against the arms that held her, looking ready to go for another round. “Is this what happened the night your husband was mysteriously shot to death?”

“Shut the hell up,” Savannah screamed. Every eye was on her. She heard the gasps, saw glee disguised as genteel shock on the faces of the PTA mothers. Not for Birdie, but for her. Savannah was the show they’d all come to see today.

She turned in the arms holding her and looked up into Phil’s face. She buried her head in his shirt, throwing herself on his life raft. He made a pathway for the two of them and led her outside, past Birdie’s shouts. Savannah didn’t let go until they reached his car. He opened the passenger door without a word and she slid onto the seat, buried her face in her hands, and wept.

N
EWS LIKE this wouldn’t sit still a minute. Before the school buses finished running their routes, everyone knew about the fight or knew someone who knew. The story elaborated with the telling, gossip carried home in every grocery bag in town. By the time Beverly Kendall got the story, Savannah and Birdie had been rolling around in the dirt, trading punches.

“It wasn’t that bad, Momma.” Savannah took advantage of the inflated story to soften the blow.

She held the phone an inch from her ear through the predictable harangue that followed. She practically mouthed the words along with her mother.

Never been so embarrassed. How could you? Not the way you were raised. Where did I go wrong? So disappointed in you.

Savannah let her mother vent her frustration. Of course Beverly was disappointed in her. No sooner had the crown slipped off her daughter’s head than, she was brawling in the streets like a common criminal.

“Yes, Momma. I know. I understand. I will. Goodbye.” She dropped the receiver in its cradle and walked back into the kitchen. Defeat followed like a shadow. She never should’ve poked her head into the light of day. She belonged in the dark.

Neenie was breading chicken at the counter. Phil sat at the kitchen table, nursing a beer and a sullen expression, looking like he was the one that had just been in a fight. His head in one palm, he looked up at her.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“I don’t either,” she said.

“What possessed you, Child?” Neenie asked.

“Possessed might be a good word.”

She sat with her hands in her lap, unable to believe one of them had slapped the snot out of Birdie Westfall. She had never in her entire life been in a fight. It would’ve never crossed her mind to strike another woman. It was so far from who she
was.

Then again, she’d almost slapped Price the night of the murder. Maybe she had something horrid and hateful living deep down inside her.

“I’ve never done anything like that,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Phil nodded.

“I know it was wrong. But I’ll tell you this, it felt kind of good.”

Savannah saw Neenie’s eyebrows shoot up, as she dredged the chicken in a pan of flour and seasonings.

“Well, I’m glad your inner rebel is finding a cause,” Phil said. “But now’s really not the time to realize you’re James Dean.”

“Birdie Westfall deserved a slap across the face. I should’ve done it years ago.”

“Savannah, you
can’t
be going around doing things like this.”

“I don’t intend to,” she said. “It wasn’t planned. I went in the auditorium to see my son get his award. I was lying low, minding my own business, not drawing attention to myself. She provoked
me
. She was the one with the agenda.”

They sat in silence, contemplating the tentacles that would reach out from this incident. Phil was picking at the label on his beer bottle, tossing the tiny shreds on the table. When the bottle was bare, he looked over at her.

“So what’s the issue between you and this Bird character?”

Savannah had to grin. “Birdie. And it goes way back. High School. Talk about someone holding a grudge.”

“That girl never was any good,” Neenie said. “Never will be. Her entire family’s been trouble since day one.”

“Even at our high school reunion last year, she was still acting as if I’d stolen her student parking place,” Savannah said. “Twenty years. Can you imagine?”

“I don’t know. What did you do to her?” Phil asked.

“Do? I didn’t do anything,” she said. “Well...I once dated a boy she had a crush on.”

“Ah. I should’ve known it would be about a boy.”

“Isn’t it always?” Savannah shrugged. “Birdie and I weren’t exactly friends. We didn’t run in the same circle.” She pulled at the old memory. “But apparently, she talked herself into believing I deliberately set out to flirt with Bobby James after they’d been on a date. In her mind, I stole him out from under her. Although it was more likely she was under him.”