Perfect Justice

20.

THE NEXT DAY WAS heaven-sent—not a cloud over the hilltops—so Ben and Belinda decided to walk to Mary Sue’s boardinghouse. As they strolled down Maple together, Ben took the opportunity to learn what he could about his newfound companion.

“So tell me about yourself. What was it like growing up in—what was it, Montgomery?”

“Right. Well, the poor country on the outskirts of Montgomery, actually. Both my parents were killed in a car wreck when I was eight. My sister and I were shipped off to live with my aunt, my mother’s sister. Her husband had a small piece of land he sharecropped. They had four kids already and barely enough to go around. They didn’t need two more.”

“But they took you in?”

“Didn’t have too much choice, really. I got my first job when I was ten, sweeping out stores after hours. I spent most of my time trying to help make ends meet. And trying to keep my younger sister out of trouble.”

“How much younger?”

“We’re four years apart. Cindy Jo was a handful. Was—still is. Any kind of trouble you can think of, she’s probably been in it. And I was always the one who had to come in and try to make it better. Nothing against my aunt, but I took care of Cindy Jo.”

“And now you take care of everyone,” Ben commented.

“I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. Not that that makes me anything special. Jones told me you’ve been known to do some legal do-gooding yourself.”

“I went to law school because I wanted to be in a position to help other people. In between keeping my head above water and trying to ward off starvation, I try to remember that.”

Belinda beamed. “I went into law for exactly the same reasons. I think many people do. But most of them won’t admit it.” She jostled his shoulder affectionately. “Maybe you’re not such a bad sort after all, Kincaid.”

Ben led Belinda to Mary Sue’s front door. The sign on the porch still indicated that she had vacancies, although Ben doubted she would be any more willing to extend one to him than she had been the day before.

They slipped into the foyer together. Mary Sue was not at the Dutch door, although a clattering in the kitchen suggested she was home.

“I’d better handle this one,” Belinda said. She directed Ben to stand against the wall in the hallway. “You just stay out of sight.”

“All right.” Ben glanced up the staircase. Christina was nowhere in sight. He pressed against the wall so he could see Belinda and hear what was said without being seen by Mary Sue. “But watch out for her shotgun. She’s not quite the Donna Reed clone she appears to be.”

“Point taken.” Belinda rang the bell on the table.

A few moments later Mary Sue emerged from the kitchen. She was wearing a blue dress this morning, but she still had the apron tied around her waist. Her movements were slow and halting; her eyes seemed unfocused. She paused in the middle of the living room, as if momentarily unsure how to find her way to the Dutch door.

“May I help you?”

“Yes. I’d like to take a room, if that’s possible.”

“Of course.” Mary Sue brought out her guest book and opened it to the proper page. “How long will you be staying?”

“I’m not sure. At least a week.”

“That’ll do fine. We’ll just take it one week at a time.” Mary Sue offered Belinda the feather pen, then brought it back suddenly. “You’re not”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“a lawyer, are you?” She pronounced the word as if it were a synonym for child molester.

“Why, yes,” Belinda said. “Why do you ask?”

“Are you associated with Donald Vick?”

“In a sense.”

Mary Sue withdrew the pen and closed the book.

“I’m with an organization called Hatewatch,” Belinda explained. “We investigate hate crimes and file lawsuits to make groups like ASP financially responsible for their actions.”

“Oh!” A relieved expression washed over Mary Sue’s face. “Then you’re not with that other gentleman.”

“Other gentleman?”

“Well, I use the term lightly. The Tulsa lawyer. He came here, you know.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes. Wanted a room. Practically demanded it.”

“How awful. What did you do?”

“I told him in no uncertain terms that I didn’t permit his kind of riffraff in my boardinghouse. And when he wouldn’t take no for an answer, I brought Old Sally into the discussion.”

Belinda didn’t have to ask who—or what—Old Sally was. “My office is not connected to Mr. Vick’s defense,” she explained. “In fact, most people would say we’re on the opposite side.”

“Oh, well then. That’s all right.” She handed Belinda the pen and reopened the book.

“I understand Vick lived here.”

“That’s right. He was my tenant. Room six.”

“Did he cause any trouble?”

“Not at all. Quiet as a church mouse. Only saw him in the evenings. Most nights he didn’t even come to dinner. By the way, I’ll need a first night’s deposit.”

To give herself more time for casual questioning, Belinda slowed the check-in process as much as possible. “Of course. Did Vick get many visitors?”

“Only in the last week. Before that, he had been quite the loner.”

“I don’t suppose you remember who his visitors were?”

“I didn’t know who they were at the time. Didn’t know it was going to be important.”

“Probably men from that awful training camp outside of town.”

“No,” Mary Sue replied. “You’d be amazed—the man who came to see him two nights before the murder was Vietnamese.”

Belinda’s eyes widened. “You’re certain?”

“Of course. How could I mistake something like that? I thought it was a hopeful sign—maybe the two groups were finally learning to get along. And then tragedy struck.”

“Do you think you would recognize this Vietnamese man if you saw him again?”

Mary Sue reflected for a moment. “I don’t know. Just between us chickens, those Vietnamese all look the same to me.”

Belinda reached into her purse and made a slow show of counting out the first night’s rent. “Do you remember anything distinctive about Vick’s other visitors?”

Mary Sue hiccuped. “Excuse me. Well, of course, his caller the night before the murder was a woman.”

Belinda became intensely interested. “A woman! Can you describe her?”

“Oh, dark hair, slim figure. Sorta like you. Maybe a tad shorter.”

“Why was she seeing Vick?”

“Well, I was afraid”—her neck stiffened—“that something not quite proper was taking place. But it turned out I was wrong. They talked for about half an hour. Then she left.”

Belinda phrased her next question delicately. “You’re certain they just … talked?”

Mary Sue’s darting eyes moved over Belinda’s head and up the stairs. “I happened to be in the hallway outside his room. I overheard them talking.”

“Did you overhear what they were saying?”

“Of course not. What do you take me for, a busybody?”

Ben suppressed a guffaw.

“I do remember this,” Mary Sue said. “The woman’s voice was almost hysterical. She was crying, gasping words between sobs. I became concerned and listened more carefully. I heard her say, ‘I don’t know what to do,’ and then, not too long after that, I heard a sentence that ended with, ‘a baby.’ ”

Ben committed the remarks to memory.

“Sounded to me like they had done something they shouldn’t and Donald was pressuring her to—well, you know. Men are like that. Only one thing on their minds, and once they’ve had it, they don’t care what happens to you.”

“Did you hear anything else?”

“No. After that, I went downstairs for Old Sally. I figured the two of us would intercede before he compromised that poor girl any further. But by the time I got back upstairs, it was too late. I heard a banging noise, and for the first time ever I heard Donald raise his voice. And then the woman left. Went flying out of his room, ran down the stairs, and disappeared.”

“Have you seen this woman since that time?”

“Nope. Never saw her before, never seen her since. Don’t know where she went.”

Well, Ben thought, they would just have to find out.

“I don’t suppose you were at the fight the next day,” Belinda asked. “At the Bluebell Bar?”

“Indeed I was. Quite an eye-opener.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“It was pretty much like the paper described it. The Herald don’t make many mistakes.” Ben attempted to contain himself. “There was one detail they left out, though.”

“What was that?”

“Well, the article made it sound as if Donald just walked up to Vuong and started slugging. Not so. Believe me, I was there, and I watched them the whole time. Donald talked to Vuong for two or three minutes first. They were whispering, but I could tell it was a heated conversation all the same.”

“And then?”

“I guess Vuong said something Donald didn’t like. I never saw anything like it before. Donald’s face just changed—it was like Jekyll turning into Hyde. He became enraged. Grabbed Vuong by the collar and slung him across the bar. That’s how the fight began.”

Belinda nodded. “Thank you so much for your kindness. I’ll be in late tonight, probably after dinnertime.”

“That’s all right, sweetheart. I’ll put a cold plate in the fridge for you.”

“That would be wonderful. Say, is something in the kitchen burning?”

“Oh my!” Mary Sue skittered back toward the kitchen, banging her leg on the coffee table on her way. Belinda took advantage of her absence to grab Ben and pull him out the door.