Thoroughly 10 - What Are You Wearing to Die? (24 page)

Rustle, whisper, crackle.

The outer walls of the building were brick and the roof tin, but the rafters and interior walls were pine. They’d go up like kindling. Besides, the back was full of chemicals. Would I burn first or be asphyxiated?

I jerked my leg, hoping the cuffs would give. They didn’t.

I started to jettison everything on my desk. Books, papers, and what was left of my phone flew in a flurry. I heaved my monitor to the floor. In my desperation, I was strong enough to lift the desk, but I had to have both feet on the floor to do it, and couldn’t wiggle my left leg enough to get the cuff to slide down the leg of the desk.

I bent down and pushed the cuff as far down as I could and tried again. Still I couldn’t get the cuff off the leg of the desk. I grabbed my scissors and hurled them through the office window. It shattered, and they sailed through.
Please let somebody see them and come!

Nobody came, but a breeze of frigid air whistled through the window. The flames crackled louder. I could smell smoke. Taste it. Feel the office growing warmer.

I heaved at the desk and dragged it a few inches, but I’d never get it to the window.

I fell back into my chair and laid my head on my desk. “Oh, God, I don’t want to die like this. Please! Send help!”

I saw the wall dividing our office from the back of the store bulge and saw a dark pattern form over the filing cabinets. Would it take minutes or seconds for it to burst into flames? I heard crackling overhead and saw snakes of smoke coiling down through cracks in the punched tin ceiling. The rafters must be burning.

I left my chair and crouched beneath my desk, taking great gulps of still-fresh air into my lungs. How much longer before the air would be too smoky to breathe?

“Judge? Judge! Your building’s on fire!”

Trevor Knight called through the window.

“I know! I’m under my desk. The door is dead-bolted again and the deputy’s gone.”

Through a haze of smoke I watched him rip off his jacket, wrap it around his hand, and finish smashing the window. He climbed in and lifted the desk. I slid the cuff off and my ankle was free.

He yanked me up as if I weighed nothing, carried me to the window, and more threw than dropped me out. I landed on my hands and knees on the asphalt below and moved just before he hurtled after me. Then he snatched me up and raced across the parking lot.

I took in great gulps of air. Trevor was winded. “I watched my best buddy burn to death in Nam. Nobody ought to die like that.”

I breathed through my nose. Even full of the acrid smell of fire and cold as ice, the breeze was sweet. I raised my head to let it cool my face and ears. “Thank God you came back.”

“Wanted to tell you I changed my mind. I do want Bradley to come see me. Will you bring him?”

“Of course we’ll bring him. Don’t worry.”

Across the street, I saw the flames of Hubert’s store shooting into the sky. I heard the hiss of steam as the fire department battled the blaze. I turned my head and saw identical flames coming from our store. They were raging along the side of the building and licking the roof, but folks standing on Oglethorpe Street had their backs to our building. Would anybody notice them before it was too late? The crowd was standing dangerously near.

I wriggled for Trevor to set me down. “I need to tell the firefighters that our store’s on fire, too.”

“Stay here. I’ll tell them.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I stood and watched my history and Joe Riddley’s go up in smoke. That old store had supported four generations—five, if you counted our children—of Yarbroughs. I had met Joe Riddley in there, when I was four and he six. My daddy took me to his daddy’s hardware store, and Joe Riddley hitched up his brown corduroy pants and asked, “You wanna go count nails?” We’d been counting nails ever since.

While we were counting, he had looked up and said, very seriously, “You are the cutest little bit of a thing I ever did see.” That’s why he eventually started calling me “Little Bit.”

I had worked in the store during high school and every summer during college, learning the business from his mother and dad. When his parents retired, Joe Riddley and I had settled into their office at their desks and carried on in their tradition: honest prices, quality merchandise, and good service.

All of that was going up in smoke.

I stood there hugging myself and shaking like a blender. I didn’t know if that was from the cold at my back or the disaster in front of me.

A wall gave way.

“Judge! Get back!” Trevor was coming my way again.

From the corner of my eye I saw movement. I peered through the flames and saw Billy Baxter heading toward the front of the store, frantically waving his arms. The place was full of flames. The back seemed clearer—there was less wood back there—but he couldn’t get out the loading dock. He was trapped, and it was all my fault.

I took a step toward the flames. “Billy Baxter’s in there! He started the fire!”

Trevor turned to look. “He’s inside?”

I pointed. His figure could be seen battling flames as he tried to work his way forward.

Trevor lurched toward the side steps.

“No!” I yelled. “You can’t go in! You’ll never make it!”

“Nobody ought to die that way.” A gust of frigid wind caught his words and blew them away as he plunged through the door and the wall of fire.

The same gust of wind circled back and hit the fire. In an instant the entire store was engulfed in flames.

I felt the breeze on my cheek while I watched Trevor reach Billy, saw them struggle together. Saw Billy draw back a fist. Saw Trevor catch the fist and use it to lever Billy onto his shoulder.

That’s when the roof fell in, with a great
whoosh!
No one could get out after that.

I sank to my knees and cried, and cried, and cried.

If this were a fairy tale, Trevor would have been rescued. I like to think he was. His memorial service was larger than Starr’s. I hope he knew how much he was loved.

The parking lot was getting so hot I had to move. The dangling handcuff clinked and caught on a root as I stumbled behind the thick trunk of an oak. I tripped and fell against the tree, skinning what was left of my palms after my flight through the window and my slide across the parking lot. The tree provided some protection, but when I peered around it, I could taste ash and feel my skin scorch.

Joe Riddley screeched around the corner and headed for the lot. I stepped away from the tree and waved, but he didn’t see me. He slammed on his brakes, jumped out of his car practically before it stopped rolling, and headed for the blazing stairs. His cap blew off and he didn’t even notice.

“Joe Riddley!” I more flew than ran toward him. I tripped on the cuff again and fell against his back. He grabbed me hard and held me so close I thought I’d smother. That would have been ironic, don’t you think, after all I’d been through?

“I was so scared. So scared. So scared.” He kept saying it over and over, like he couldn’t stop. “I could have killed you. My God, Little Bit—”

I pulled back enough to catch my breath. “I’m fine. Trevor Knight showed up and got me out. But he died in there. He went back for Billy Baxter, and they—”

I started crying again and could not stop.

The heat was so intense that my face and hands were blistering. My tears burned as they rolled down my cheeks. Joe Riddley picked me up and carried me to the back of the lot and out into the street that ran behind the store. I buried my face in his shoulder and cried some more. Crying usually made Joe Riddley nervous, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He finally set me down. Exhausted, we clung together and watched Yarbrough Feed, Seed, and Nursery go up in flames. The fire department had the good sense to concentrate their efforts on buildings nearby.

We were there a couple of hours.

At last, when the whole place was reduced to embers, we picked our way through the parking lot to see who was up on Oglethorpe Street. Evelyn, Gladys, and the deputy stood looking toward our store with stricken faces. When they saw me, it was like morning breaking after a storm. “We thought you’d burned up!” Gladys greeted me.

Evelyn didn’t say a word. She just held me so tight I couldn’t breathe.

Joe Riddley rested one hand on Evelyn’s shoulder and another on Gladys’s. “Everybody go home now. We’ll call you tomorrow about what we’re going to do.”

We walked together toward his car. The paint was blistered, and I knew it would be too hot to touch. “I think you’re gonna need a new car. Good thing we left mine at Myrtle’s.”

He gave a short laugh. “That’s not all we’re gonna need.”

Glady’s car, like his, was burned, but Evelyn had parked under the big oak at the back. She offered to take Gladys home.

As they pulled out, we waved, then stood staring at the ruin of the old building. Joe Riddley pulled me close and rubbed his chin on the top of my head. “What you thinking, Little Bit?”

“I’m thinking it was a good thing I persuaded you to let me network my computer with the one at the nursery. At least we haven’t lost any records. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we don’t have to make the decision to close the store.”

“And it won’t ever be a real estate office, or an antique emporium, or a dollar store.”

He gave me a squeeze. “Trevor saved the most valuable thing in there. The rest can go. Shall we walk home and get a bath? You smell like you need one.”

When I woke the next morning, I didn’t remember the fire for at least a minute. Then I felt the tight skin on my face and hands, and I smelled smoke. Although we had stripped in the garage and run stark naked to the shower—hoping the neighbors had the good manners not to look—the odor permeated our house. Joe Riddley swore I had the odor in the pores of my skin.

I lay there staring at the ceiling—the wonderful white, un-smoky ceiling—and thought about the mess we had to face. We had called Walker the night before, since he held the insurance policy on the business. He would be flying home that morning to start processing our claim. That hadn’t made him a happy camper. We still had to deal with our own grief and with sadness from both our sons and their families. Neither son had ever wanted to take over the business, but they had grown up in the store and had seemed to think their parents would run it forever.

I had lost my pocketbook. Gladys and Evelyn probably had, too, leaving them behind when they dashed out to watch Hubert’s fire. That meant that we’d have the hassle of replacing driver’s licenses, credit cards, and things like insurance and library cards. I mourned pictures in my wallet I could not replace.

When I thought of all the suppliers I’d have to notify, outstanding bills that would still have to be paid, employees to take care of, I nearly pulled the covers over my head and stayed in bed. I would have to ask to be relieved of magistrate duties for a spell. Heck. Maybe I’d retire!

Joe Riddley turned on his pillow. “Glad you can think of something to laugh about, Little Bit. Keep it up while we eat a quick breakfast and walk downtown. Let’s see if there’s anything we can salvage now that things have cooled down.”

We arrived to find Oglethorpe Street closed off to traffic at each end of our block and full of people. Among the throng I spotted Maynard and Selena standing with Hubert. Hubert was frowning at his store and pointedly ignoring Evelyn, who stood with Gladys looking at ours. Jed and Meriwether were there, with baby Zach. Even Gusta was there, holding Otis’s arm. From the door of the bank Vern, the security guard, eyed her warily.

Martha had brought Cricket, Bradley, and the girls. As soon as she spotted me, she asked Selena to watch the children and came to tell me privately, “They were going to hear about it anyway, so I thought it would be less traumatic to see it for themselves. But I’ve got a problem. Trevor called on my cell phone yesterday and asked if I could pick Bradley up from day care and keep him for the day. He dropped him off at Selena’s around two and never came back. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he doesn’t answer.”

I took her out of earshot of little ears and explained what had happened. Her face went slack with shock. “I never imagined, when we trained to be foster parents…”

“Telling kids their relatives have died is not a standard part of the territory,” I assured her, “but can you keep Bradley for a few days while we sort it all out?”

“Ridd’s coming in this afternoon. I can ask—”

Before she could finish, Cricket spotted me and dashed over. “Me-Mama! Did you know your whole store burned down?”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?”

Together we stood and look at the charred skeleton.

Cricket tugged my hand and I bent down so I could hear him above the noise. “You didn’t get hurt. That’s what matters most, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.”

I couldn’t bear to look toward Bradley as I said those words.

Joe Riddley came back from talking with the fire chief. “He says we can’t get into the building until tomorrow at the earliest—if then. We might as well go home.” He looked tired, drawn, and gloomy.

“Let’s all go to Myrtle’s,” Gusta suggested. “My treat.”

That was such a rarity that everybody accepted.

All our lives, Myrtle’s had been the meeting place after ball games and dances, movies and elections. That morning she had extra coffee on, expecting us. As she filled my cup, she leaned close and muttered, “I heard you nearly burned up. Glad to see you here, even if you do look a little singed around the edges.”

“Glad to be here,” I agreed. “Solid gold doesn’t burn.”

“Neither does wet garbage.”

We glared at each other, then started laughing at the very same time. Myrtle raised her voice to be heard above the din. “Back to my old prices for the morning, folks. And as much coffee as you can drink, on the house.”

Conversation was brisk, as if people needed to be cheerful after the previous day’s disaster. The children had dishes of ice cream; the rest of us drank coffee with pie or doughnuts.

I sat there looking at the folks assembled and felt sad. Everything had changed for me, Joe Riddley, and Bradley, but nothing much had changed for most of them. Otis and Lottie still had to look after Gusta and Hubert. Evelyn and Hubert hadn’t turned out to have a romance after all. Selena and Maynard didn’t have any children. I hadn’t been able to do a thing for anybody.

“Judge? Judge!” Somebody was calling behind me.

I looked and saw Grady Handley working his way through the crowd. “I heard what happened. I am real sorry. I came by to say thanks. They dropped all the charges.”

“Daddy angel!” Natalie let go of Selena’s hand and hurled herself at him.

“Nattie-boo!” Grady picked her up and tossed her into the air. She shrieked with laughter. I had never seen her so happy.

Anna Emily sidled over toward him. “Can I go home with you?”

He squatted down. “I certainly hope so. We just have to work out a few details. Who are you staying with right now?”

“That would be me.” Maynard stood up. I had never thought of him as menacing before, but he seemed to grow six inches as he glared at the other man. “Who are you?”

“I’m these kids’ father. We got—uh—separated for a while.”

“He has a lot of antiques,” I said quickly to Maynard, then added, to Grady, “Maynard is in the antique business.”

Grady brightened. “Really? My folks were in the business. I grew up in it. We owned House of Handley, up in North Carolina.”

The name meant nothing to me, but it did to Maynard. “No kidding? I have Wainwright House up the street. Come by and have a look.” Something occurred to him. “You aren’t planning to open a store in Hopemore, are you?”

“Hadn’t planned to open a store at all. I’m a lawyer. But I might like to work in a store for a while until I pass the Georgia bar. This seems like a nice town in which to raise kids.”

Next thing I knew, the two men and Selena were huddled at a table with Anna Emily on Selena’s lap and Natalie on Grady’s. I could hear snippets of the conversation.

“…need to find a place to live.”

“…we’ve got lots of space in our house for the time being, and the girls know us.”

“…come see Wainwright House this morning, see what I’ve got.”

“…got a house full of stuff, as soon as I can establish my claim to it.”

“Humph!” Gusta said to Jed and Meriwether, with a frown at Maynard’s table. “I should never have sold that house. Pooh’s isn’t antebellum, and I can’t see the courthouse from my window.”

“What are you going to do now?” Myrtle asked Hubert as she refilled his cup. He had chosen a seat at Maynard’s table with his back to Evelyn.

“Oh, get that mess cleaned up and see if I can put up something somebody will want to rent, I guess. After that? I don’t know. Grow watermelons, maybe. I miss having my garden.”

“What about you?” Myrtle asked Evelyn, moving over to pour her some coffee.

Evelyn darted a glance our way. “I might move over to Louisville and start a bed-and-breakfast. I’ve always wanted to run one, and now might be a good time to look into that.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Hubert turned in his chair. “You can’t leave Hopemore, Evelyn.”

She looked flustered. “Why not?”

He looked puzzled, as if he didn’t know the answer, either. “Because…because…because I’m here! Why don’t you move into our house and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast? It would be great for that. It’s even got an elevator.”

“What would Nana do?” Meriwether inquired. “Serve breakfast?”

“I’d move into that apartment upstairs in Wainwright House,” Gusta told her. “I’d get my old room back where I could see the courthouse.”

“Is that possible?” Jed asked Maynard.

“I don’t see why not. She’d need to put in an elevator.”

“I think I could manage that,” Gusta said in the tone of one stretching her resources to their outermost limit. “Florine will come live with me,” she warned Hubert. “You won’t have her around to help with your bed-and-breakfast.”

“Lottie might help with it,” Otis volunteered. “But not right away and not living in. We’ve been thinking of getting our own place and taking a trip or two.”

Hubert rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful! Then it’s settled.”

Evelyn was still staring at Hubert as if she hadn’t heard anything for several minutes. “I can’t move in with you.”

“Why not? You want to run a bed-and-breakfast, and I’ve got a great house for one. I’ll even help. I cook a mean breakfast.”

“It’s not…your house.” She floundered around like she wanted to say something else.

“I’ll buy it. Gusta, Jed, can I buy you all out?”

“Absolutely,” Jed said, getting into the spirit of the thing.

“If I can rent Maynard’s apartment,” Gusta said, wheeling and dealing as usual.

“It wouldn’t be proper!” Evelyn was as pink as a boiled shrimp, but she had her chin in the air and a spark in her eyes.

Hubert colored up. “Proper? I’ll show you proper, woman! We’ll get married.” He slid his eyes my way. “The judge here will do it—won’t you, Judge?”

“I did one wedding once,” I allowed. “Married Valerie, the girl who used to live with Edie Burkett, and her biker friend.
⁸
But it’s customary to have a proposal first, Hubert. That’s the way things are done.”

He looked over at Evelyn. She still had her chin in the air, but she nodded.

He took her hand. “I’m sorry about New Orleans, hon.” His voice was husky. “You willing to give me another chance? I think we could have a lot of fun together, and like I said, I cook a mean breakfast.”

Evelyn gave a choky laugh. “Okay,” was the only word she managed to get out.

As we drove home to dinner (Clarinda having agreed to cut her vacation short), I said, “Here I’ve been so worried about Otis and Lottie, and Gusta, and Hubert and Evelyn, and Selena and Maynard, and they didn’t need my help at all. They managed quite well on their own.”

Joe Riddley gave a grunt. “Hold on to that thought, Little Bit. Worry ages folks terribly. Giving it up might net you a few more years. But I’d better tell you, the sheriff called while Hubert and Evelyn were billing and cooing a while ago. He said he’ll meet us at the house around three. There’s still some loose ends to tie up, he said.”

That sobered me in an instant. “The biggest one is Bradley. You don’t reckon Selena and Maynard would adopt him, do you?”

“That will be entirely up to them. You can’t arrange everybody’s life to come out right.”

I sighed. “Heck, I can’t even arrange mine to come out right.” I was already wondering what I was going to do with all the free time I’d have now that the store was gone.

When Buster arrived, we sat in the living room. Although it was a gray, cold day outside, nobody suggested that we light a fire. We’d had all the fire we would need that winter. The house still smelled smoky, and I wondered if I’d ever get that odor out of my nostrils and my taste buds.

Clarinda brought in coffee and some of her pecan pound cake, and I curled up on the couch and told the sheriff about my two afternoon visitors the day before. I told him about Trevor’s confession, and Billy’s boasts. Then I told him how Trevor had tried to save Billy.

“Do we have to make it public that Trevor killed Robin?” I asked.

Joe Riddley asked from his recliner, “What is it the Bible says? ‘Let the dead bury their dead.’”

The sheriff nodded. “I don’t plan to say anything about it at all. However, if word gets around somehow that it was Billy, I don’t plan to contradict the report.”

“And I don’t think Natalie ever need know he was her birth father, either, do you?” I asked.

“Not until she’s grown, at least,” he said.

“Poor Bradley. I hope we can help him remember what a fine man his granddaddy was.”

We sat quiet for a few minutes of tribute to a hometown hero.

Joe Riddley looked at me over his cup. “Whose life you planning now, Little Bit?”

“Nobody’s. Not even mine. I was just wondering what I’ll do now.”

Buster stood. “I’d better be getting on. Just wanted to finish up the case. Walk me out, Judge?”

I got up and walked him to the door. He paused on the threshold. “About what you should do next, well, I’ve been thinking. This is the slow time for your business anyway, right? Even if a fire hadn’t wiped out part of it?”

I nodded. “Pretty slow for a few weeks now.”

“I don’t recall ever giving you all much in the way of birthday presents, anniversary presents, or Christmas gifts. So it seems to me I might owe you something for all the years you’ve put up with me.” He reached into his pocket and brought out an envelope. “Consider this a partial payment on that debt.” He handed it to me, then hurried down the steps.

I opened the envelope, and shrieked. “Joe Riddley, look! He’s bought tickets for a cruise for two. In the Far East! Three weeks! Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia…” The words sounded like music to my ears.

Joe Riddley took the tickets from me with a sour look. “I see he got the nonrefundable kind.”

From the kitchen I heard Clarinda. “Um-hmm. What did I tell you? Judge, you better take good care of this lady, or I know somebody who will.”

That’s why we are heading off next week on an airplane to Hong Kong. Once he gets his feet wet on the cruise, Joe Riddley may like foreign travel. He may want to see India, Africa, the Middle East, and Europe. So if you don’t hear from us for a while, picture us standing on a balcony in some distant place with smiles on our faces and the world at our feet. We’ll send you a postcard.