The Battered Body (13 page)

“It’ll take some time to get the lab results back. With Christmas coming this week, we’re not going to know anything soon. Maybe not until after New Year’s.”

“What will you do until then?”

Lucy’s eyes hardened. “I won’t be sitting around twiddling my thumbs. I’m going to look for the killer. Her family, her assistant, Dr. Ruth Wilkins. There are plenty of people with motive, so I need to move fast before alibis get created and people practice their stories on each other.”

“Well, we’re heading home right now, so you’d better come over before we start collaborating over our false testimonies,” James joked, but in truth, he was worried Lucy might view Milla as a genuine suspect.

“That’s not funny, James.” A flicker of sadness appeared in Lucy’s blue eyes. “I’m just doing my job. Someone hurt Milla’s sister. The best way for us to discover who did this is for me to get to know her. That means getting to know her friends
and
her enemies.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s who,” James muttered.

She touched him briefly on the arm. “Truth has a way of removing people’s masks, James. I won’t give up until everything’s laid bare. Sooner or later, the facts will point to Paulette’s greatest enemy, and then that person will have to face judgment.”

Once Lucy had driven away, James returned to Milla’s side and offered her his arm. As they made their way to her van, the church bells began to toll. James opened Milla’s door and settled her inside, then paused in the open air, clinging to the remnant of hope delivered to his weary spirit through the ringing bells.

He then went home to dine on casseroles and a wedge of sweet potato pecan pie that was bound to put him over his daily caloric limit by a count of 531.

Mrs. Waxman’s Sweet Potato Pecan Pie

2⁄3 pound sweet potatoes (enough to make 2 cups mashed)

2 eggs

3⁄4 cup white sugar

1⁄2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1⁄2 teaspoon ginger

1⁄4 teaspoon cloves

12⁄3 cups cream

1 (9-inch) unbaked pie crust

3 tablespoons butter, softened

2⁄3 cup packed brown sugar

2⁄3 cup chopped pecans

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Peel the sweet potatoes and cut them into chunks. Place them on a baking sheet and bake until tender (about 20 to 30 minutes). Mash the potatoes and take care to remove all the lumps.

Beat the eggs lightly. Mix together the eggs and sweet potatoes. Stir in the white sugar, salt, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. Finally, blend in the cream. Pour the mixture into the pie shell. Bake at 350 degrees for 55 to 60 minutes or until a knife inserted into the center of the pie comes out clean. Allow the pie to cool.

To make the pecan topping: Combine the butter, brown sugar, and pecans. Carefully drop spoonfuls over the top of the cooled pie. Broil the pie until the mixture begins to bubble—about 2 to 3 minutes depending on the oven. Don’t overbroil, or you’ll end up with syrup! Cool again.

Serve with homemade whipped cream or a cup of coffee.

Jackson stood in
front of the open refrigerator in a state of befuddlement.

“There’s so much Tupperware in here I can’t tell if I’m lookin’ at green-bean casserole, lasagna, or a fruit cobbler.”

In normal circumstances, Milla would have leapt up to assist her fiancé, but she was out of earshot. In the den, she sat in front of the blank gray television screen, knitting an unidentifiable object made of navy blue yarn. The nervous clicking of her needles transmitted her state of mind more than any words could have, and neither of the Henry men had any idea how to console her.

“I’ll fix you both a plate, Pop.” James shooed his father out of the kitchen and managed to microwave a turkey tetrazzini casserole with a side of green beans mixed with butter and pecans. Carrying two plates into the den, he motioned for Jackson to erect a pair of TV trays while he returned to the kitchen for glasses of water.

Worriedly, he watched as Milla pushed the food around on her plate. Jackson ate hungrily, of course, asking for seconds by holding his empty plate directly under his son’s nose so that James had to interrupt his own lunch in order to fetch another helping.

“I just wish those deputies would get here so we could get this over with!” Milla exclaimed suddenly.

James put his fork down and studied her. “Are you nervous about being interviewed, Milla, or about what you might have to tell them?”

When she didn’t answer, even Jackson stopped chewing and looked at his fiancée with mild surprise. “It’s those kids of hers, ain’t it? You were actin’ funny after you saw them. I reckon things got nasty.”

“Have you met them yet?” James asked his father.

Jackson shook his head. “Nope. Thought I’d let them do their family thing alone, seein’ it’s been awhile since they’ve gathered together. I was paintin’ most of the day. Those baker hands …” He seemed to become lost in the image he held in his thoughts.

Milla’s expression was pained as she glanced at James. “You’ll see them all this afternoon. We’re meeting Chase, Chloe, and Wheezie for dinner at Dolly’s.”

The doorbell rang and Milla started in her chair, causing her ball of yarn to fall onto the floor and unravel across the braided rug. James rose, rewound the ball, and then placed it on Milla’s clammy palm. “Just tell the truth, even if it makes someone look bad,” he cautioned. “They’ll find out about Paulette’s children anyway. You know Lucy won’t rest until she discovers what happened to your sister.”

Both Lucy and Donovan were at the door, dressed in uniform and their espresso brown Sheriff’s Department parkas. After exchanging terse, polite greetings, James led them into the den. He carried in two chairs from the kitchen table and positioned them on either side of Milla. Jackson quickly left his recliner in order to seat himself to her right. With James on her left, the Henry men had created bookends of love and protection for a woman who suddenly seemed so fragile.

Lucy removed a mini recorder from her pocket and explained to Milla that she and her partner were simply gathering information. “Can you tell me what Paulette did yesterday, Friday, December nineteenth?”

Milla seemed relieved by the simplicity of the first question. “I don’t know when she got up or anything, but she was here for breakfast by eight thirty.”

“What did you eat?” Donovan demanded.

“Scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes.”

“You sure that’s all?” he prompted.

Milla shrugged. “Coffee and eggnog. Nothing else.”

Lucy nodded encouragingly and wrote something in her notebook. “What did you do after breakfast?”

“We went over the menu for the wedding supper. My sister is,
was
…” She got up and retrieved the tissue dispenser and quickly blew her nose. “Sorry. Paulette planned to make onion rolls and the wedding cake for us. I’d hired Dolly’s Clint to fix us his chicken in a cognac cream sauce with garlic mashed potatoes and mixed green salads too.” Realizing that last bit was unnecessary, she returned to the point at hand. “After breakfast, we picked up my sister’s assistant, Willow, ran a few errands, and then met our family at the Apple Orchard truck stop for lunch.”

“State their names please,” Donovan directed.

“Chase Martin is Paulette’s son, Chloe Martin-Hicks is her daughter, and Louise Rowe is the eldest of us three sisters. My maiden name is Rowe.”

Donovan narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “But Paulette’s last name is
Martine
. Why are her kids
Martins
?”

Milla issued a derisive snort. “It’s all about marketing. First of all, her real name was Patricia Rowe. Growing up, everybody called her Patty. She married Chase Martin Senior but kept his name after their divorce. She just Frenchified herself is all. Probably ’cause she went to cooking school in Paris before she was married.”

“Any idea where the ex-husband is at the moment?” Donovan’s eyes gleamed.

“Across the planet in Hong Kong. He’s a chef there. They’ve been divorced since the kids were in grade school, and Chase Senior has lived in Asia ever since.” Milla pointed the sharp end of her needle at Donovan. “Can I ask a question now, or is this a one-sided conversation?” James smiled to see that she was recovering some of her pluck.

Lucy looked apologetic. “In a minute, if that’s okay. Could you tell us about your family lunch?”

Stroking the length of knitted yarn, Milla was quiet for a moment. When Donovan opened his mouth to prod her into speech, Lucy placed a restraining hand on his arm and held her fingers to her lips. James felt a rush of gratitude for the gentleness and consideration Lucy was showing Milla.

“It wasn’t the warm and fuzzy reunion I was dreaming of,” Milla admitted with reluctance. “Paulette was delighted to see Chase. Even though they live in the same city they’re both so busy that they rarely sit down face-to-face. They get along well, though, and they’re very similar. Chase is a wealthy and successful lawyer, and Paulette is real proud of him. She heaped praises on his handsome head the moment we sat down.” She sighed. “I only wish she’d been half as kind to Chloe.”

“The daughter,” Donovan stated unnecessarily. “So they don’t get along, huh? What’s her story?”

“Chloe saves manatees in Florida. She’s a widow. Her husband died in a boating accident five years ago.” Milla picked at the yarn. “She and my sister are, were, total opposites. Chloe’s a bit of a hippie. She likes baggy T-shirts, living on the beach, wears her hair long and loose, and is passionate about animal rights.”

“Bet she wasn’t happy to see her mama’s fur coat,” Jackson murmured lowly, but Donovan obviously heard and exchanged a quick, predatory glance with Lucy.

“Lucky for us she wasn’t wearing it,” Milla grinned briefly at her fiancé and then continued. “Louise, Wheezie, is our oldest sister. She lives in Natchez, Mississippi. That’s our home town. She and Paulette haven’t seen each other for a really long time, so things were a little strained between them.” Milla held out her hands plaintively. “You know how that can be.”

“It sounds like things were a little uncomfortable,” Lucy suggested.

Milla nodded in agreement. “Paulette started nagging Chloe about spending all her money on useless sea cows, and the poor girl started crying. Wheezie tried to stick up for Chloe, and Chase told her to mind her own business. Considering Wheezie’s his aunt, he should have shown her more respect.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid that’s why
I
joined the ruckus. Wheezie deserves better than to hear fresh talk from that spoiled, arrogant boy.”

“Were any threats made at this time?” Donovan inquired hopefully. “You might as well tell me now, because we’re headin’ right over to the Holiday Inn after we’re done here.”

Milla’s face grew stormy. “There were arguments and that’s all. The kind that happen between related folks all the time. I doubt anyone went back to their hotel room after lunch and started building a bomb or loadin’ a gun!” She threw her yarn forcefully into a basket near her feet. “Now I want to know what killed my sister and I’m not going to say another word until you answer me in plain talk.”

“We don’t know,” Lucy replied softly. “The test results won’t be—”

“Don’t you give me the run around, Lucy Hanover!” Milla pointed an angry finger at the deputies. “I can tell Patty didn’t just lie down, close her eyes, and die—not with the questions you’ve been asking. You wouldn’t be sniffing for a trail if there wasn’t somethin’ wrong with how she passed. So what was wrong with how y’all found her? Tell me please. She was my sister!” Milla’s voice broke and she pressed a tissue over her eyes.

It pained James to hear her plead this way. He stared at Lucy, willing her to respond to Milla, but she avoided eye contact while Donovan studied the three of them with the smug posture of someone reveling in his position of authority.

“You’re not going to answer me, are you? In that case, I guess I need to call Chase and tell him to get a hotshot lawyer from his firm to fly down here.” Milla rose to her feet. “I don’t see why we should spill our guts and get nothing in return.” She directed her anger at Donovan.

“It’s possible that we’re dealing with a case of poisoning,” Lucy said in a nearly inaudible voice.

As Milla sank back into the chair Donovan hissed, “Shut your mouth, Hanover,” through clenched teeth.

“But that’s all the information we have until the medical examiner’s report is complete. Even then, we need to wait for the lab results,” Lucy continued as if she hadn’t heard her partner speak. “And I have to ask for your word that you won’t mention that fact to anyone outside this room.” She looked at each of them in turn. As Donovan spluttered in indignation, James, Jackson, and Milla all promised to keep the information to themselves. And despite the red-headed deputy’s attempt to bully more detail from Milla, she refused to talk to him anymore.

“I guess I can’t lay her to rest then,” was her only remark, and this was confirmed by Lucy’s regretful frown.

James walked the deputies to the door, noting that the sky had turned an ominous gray and a strong wind was battering the barren trees. Dried leaves skipped across the lawn and as Lucy pulled on her leather gloves, it began to rain. She gestured for Donovan to go on ahead and then said, “Maybe we shouldn’t think about dating until this case is done.”

“Or at all,” James whispered, stung by her suggestion. “I remember how you acted when Gillian was under suspicion at the barbecue festival. You were loyal to your job first and your friends second. Is this going to be a repeat of that experience? Now that Milla and her family are on your radar, all your other relationships are insignificant?”

“I’m not trying to hurt you.” Lucy reached out for his arm, but James yanked it out of her reach. “But I swore an oath to uphold the law, James. Would you respect me if I wasn’t true to my word?”

“No,” he admitted, his tone softening. “But I’ll always come second with you. The law will be the forefront of your life. Before your husband or children. Isn’t that right?”

“Who said anything about children?” Lucy folded her arms across her chest, squinting as rain ricocheted off the open screen door and onto the exposed skin of her cheeks. “Can we talk about this later? It’s cold and Donovan’s going to filet me when I get in the car.”

Feeling that there wasn’t much else to say, James nodded anyway. “Sure. After the case.”

Crossing through the inside of the house, James walked into the dining room, parted the curtains, and watched as the cruiser disappeared down the gravel drive. He stood there for a long time, a familiar ache of loss blooming within his chest. Finally, when the rain eased into a downpour, obscuring his view of the ridged pine trunks surrounding their house, he turned away and headed upstairs. As he had done so often throughout his lifetime, he searched for solace in the one place he knew it awaited him: within the pages of a book.