The Battered Body

FIFTEEN

James didn’t remember driving to the Realtor’s office. It seemed in one moment he was in the library, and then he blinked and found himself seated at Joan’s conference table with a pen in his hand and a glass of water by his elbow. She prattled on and on, pointing to the highlighted sections of the thick stacks of legal-sized paper so that he’d apply his signature to dozens of pages of unfathomable documents.

Though James followed her directions, Joan’s voice failed to penetrate his bubble of happiness. It was as though he was listening to her talk underwater. Occasionally, phrases like “inspection” or “home warranty” or “escrow account” would make their way into his psyche, but it wasn’t until Joan pointed at a line in the contract and mentioned “removal of adhesive stars,” that he finally paid attention.

“Can you repeat that, please?” he asked her.

She smirked. “I thought you’d fallen into a coma! It’s pretty normal for first-time home buyers to feel overwhelmed by all of these terms. Why don’t we take a break and eat supper. It’ll give you a chance to ask me any questions you might have.”

James noticed the cardboard takeout containers from the Dim Sum Kitchen. His stomach gurgled in anticipation. “When did this arrive?”

“You really were in a trance!” Joan laughed. “My assistant brought our dinner in while I was reviewing the guarantee of title insurance.” Noting the blank look on her client’s face, she handed James three containers. “I took the liberty of ordering you the healthiest things I could from the menu. I remembered some mention of you seeing a nutritionist, and I didn’t want to get you in trouble by ordering General Tso’s chicken.” James searched her face for an indication of mockery, but Joan seemed sincere. “Here’s your miso soup, steamed rice, and beef and broccoli. Enjoy!”

“This is really nice of you,” James said gratefully as he popped off lids and pulled open white cartons, allowing steam to burst out of the apertures.

She waved aside his thanks. “I owe you one. Not only did I get a commission from the sale of the Hickory Hill Lane house, but I got a delightful finder’s fee for placing your friend in a Mountain Valley Woods apartment.”

“Right. Willow.” James hungrily slurped down his soup. “What did you think of her?”

Joan poured reduced-salt soy sauce on her rice and shrugged. “She told me what it was like to work for Paulette Martine. I knew exactly what that poor girl went through. I used to work for a horrible woman when I first got into the real estate business. She was the tyrant of Northern Virginia, I tell you!”

“Willow seems much happier now than when I first met her,” James said as he followed suit with the soy sauce. “I just hope she can make some friends her own age.”

“Seems keen on one of your library twins,” Joan replied, animated by the idea of exchanging gossip. “Doesn’t he like her?” James didn’t expect the name Russ DuPont to pass across Joan’s lips, but he had to create the opportunity for his real estate agent to discuss Willow’s personal life in as much detail as possible.

“I believe he does. But she needs more than one friend. Did she mention anything to you about her social life?”

“Let me think.” Using her chopsticks, Joan expertly lifted a clump of soy sauce-saturated rice into her mouth. “She talked a lot about Quincy’s Whimsies. I think the space they want to lease downtown will be perfect, by the way. And she adores Milla. Apparently, Milla is a lot like her own mother. Other than that, the only other people she mentioned were you and your supper club friends. She’s very obliged to you for giving her a fresh start.”

James decided to change direction. “I thought the apartment complex she chose was kind of pricey. I guess she must have gotten a decent security deposit back from her New York studio, because she doesn’t exactly have an income right now.”

“She must have more than the security deposit by now,” Joan stated with conviction. “My friend who handles all the leases for that complex told me that Willow marched into her office two days ago and paid for six months rent in advance.”

The large piece of broccoli James was about to swallow stuck in his throat. He took a large swig of diet soda and tried not to allow his surprise to register.

Where did Willow get all that money?

“ Maybe her folks are helping her out,” he said aloud, and then quickly gestured at his paperwork. “What was that you were saying about the star stickers?”

Taking the bait, Joan pointed at the contract. “The sellers took off $300 of the final price because they didn’t have time to remove all those glow-in-the-dark things from the ceiling of the second bedroom.”

As James recalled the dozens of stickers affixed to the white ceiling, he was struck by a delightful vision. He saw Eliot lying in a twin-sized bed, staring up at the illuminated planets and shooting stars with a sleepy but contented smile on his sweet face. “Oh, I don’t mind them being there.”

“Either way, I’m sure you could use the extra money,” Joan remarked. “You’ve got a whole house to furnish after all.”

Including a room for my son, James thought, and he was instantly too overwhelmed to speak. He was dying to shout out news for the entire world to hear, and even though Joan had been especially pleasant to him, she was not the person he most wanted to tell.

After dinner, James signed the rest of the documents in a state of polite impatience. It wasn’t until Joan placed an envelope containing the house keys in his hands that he allowed himself a moment’s pause. He dumped the two sets of keys onto his palm and was satisfied by the weight of their cool metal against his skin. He jiggled them in awe.

“Feels good to hold something solid, doesn’t it?” Joan smiled at him. “I never get tired of watching people receive their keys. That’s why I’m a top seller. I just love what I do!”

After gathering up the folder containing his paperwork, James gave Joan a brief hug. He thanked her, rushed out to his truck, and headed for home, practicing what he would say when he got there as he drove through the blue-black evening.

The words of his well-plotted speech deserted him the moment he entered the house, however. He hung up his coat, cast his eyes around the clean kitchen, and spent a moment listening to the peaceful gurgles of the dishwasher.

Jackson and Milla were in the den watching television. Orange-tinged light from a floor lamp gave the room a feeling of quiet, which was only interrupted by the voice on the television and the rhythmic clicking of Milla’s knitting needles. James nearly tiptoed in, gripping the photo album under his arm. He waited in the threshold for a commercial break and then bounded forward and switched the TV off.

“What do you think you’re doin’, boy?” Jackson grumbled. “Ain’t no one tells me when I should go to bed!”

“Pop.” James ignored his father’s gruffness and knelt down in front of him.

Jackson was taken aback by his son’s abrupt proximity and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “If you’re thinkin’ of proposin’, I’m already taken.”

Knowing that his father preferred plain talk over embellishment and theatrics, James tried to get straight to the point. “Something happened to me today, Pop. Jane, my ex-wife, came to see me at the library.”

“What the hell for?” Jackson snarled. “Didn’t she do enough to you? She back to drum up more misery?”

“No.” James shook his head. “Jane’s really changed. I know that sounds like a cliché, but I think she’s truly different now. She has a strong motivation to be a better person.”

“And why are you yammering to me about this?” Jackson raised his furry eyebrows in an impatient arch. “I’m watching Law & Order.”

Glancing at Milla, James pictured her in the kitchen teaching Eliot how to bake the perfect chocolate chip cookie. She looked up from her knitting and smiled at him, and her warmth made him grin in return. He turned back to his father. “Pop, Jane’s moved to Harrisonburg. She’s started a whole new life, but I’m going to be a part of it again.” He raised his hand to indicate that he was not to be interrupted. Amazingly, Jackson remained silent. “Jane was pregnant when she left me, Pop. She thought the baby’s father was her boyfriend Kenneth. That’s that guy she left me for. But Kenneth wasn’t the baby’s father. I was. I mean, I am.”

“What did you say?” Milla leaned forward in her chair, her needles still in her lap.

Without looking away from Jackson, James continued, “I have a son, Pop. He’s four years old, and his name is Eliot. I met him today.”

Jackson blinked and stared, blinked and stared. “You’ve got a kid?”

Instead of answering, James placed the scrapbook on his father’s lap and opened it to the last page. “This must be a pretty recent picture of him, because this is how he looked today, except for the racecar scarf and the green frog boots.”

“He sure looks like a Henry,” Jackson stated with pride. “Strong hands, even for a little tyke. Look at ’em! Bet he’s smart too. Like his daddy.” He gazed at James briefly. “Lord, I think he’s got my chin.”

James examined the photograph closely. “I believe you’re right, but let’s hope he didn’t get your eyebrows.”

“Or your back-talking tongue,” Jackson shot back cheerily. “Milla! There’s another Henry loose in the world. Come on, come on! We gotta pour us a glass!” He tapped rapidly on the scrapbook page, a brilliant grin lighting his wrinkled face. “I’m a granddaddy. I’m gonna tell the boy to call me Pop-Pop.”

“Oh my goodness gracious! You have a son!” Milla was openly crying, her kind face flushed with pleasure. “When do we get to meet this child of yours?” She asked, jumping out of her chair to embrace James. “I can’t wait to get my hands on him. I bet he’s cute as a button.”

“He’s perfect. You’ll meet him soon.” James released her and poured three glasses of Cutty Sark. His hands were shaking as he passed out the drinks.

The three toasted the arrival of Eliot Henry into their lives. After another hour of speculation about the little boy’s family resemblance, mannerisms, and likes and dislikes, they all went to bed with smiles on their faces. James lay awake for several moments making mental lists of the books he needed to buy for Eliot’s room at 27 Hickory Hill Lane.

Somewhere between the titles Goodnight Moon and Caps for Sale, he fell asleep.

The next morning, James was showered, dressed, and in his truck before seven. He didn’t notice the biting coldness of the air or the old Bronco’s reluctance to rumble into life and travel at a brisk pace through the slumbering town.

“This is your new driveway,” he told his beloved truck, patting it affectionately on the steering wheel as he turned off the engine in front of his little yellow house.

Practically skipping to the front door, James fit the key in the lock and stepped into his new home.

The first thing he did was switch on all the lights. He then inspected the empty rooms one by one. The previous owners had hired a cleaning service to give the place a thorough once-over and the aroma of Pine Sol and Clorox clung to the floorboards and bathroom tile. Digging a color palette from his coat pocket, James held the cheerful hue he had chosen for the kitchen against one of the walls.

“You get painted first,” he informed the room and pointed at the paint square. “Honeydew for the kitchen and Desert Dune for the living room. Milla thinks that’ll look good with the red sofa I ordered.”

He swiveled around in the empty space.

Suddenly, there were so many things to do. Paint supplies had to be purchased, new carpet for the bedrooms ordered, furniture delivery scheduled, and a pizza dinner with Jane and Eliot arranged.

“I think I’ll bring them here,” James said, tapping on the kitchen counter. As he glanced out the window at the dormant grass and leafless trees, he saw two squirrels chasing one another across the boughs. Watching their antics, he was struck by an inspirational idea of how to make his first meal with his son memorable.

Whistling, James locked up his house and drove to the hardware store to pick up his paint, drop cloths, rollers, and brushes. He also bought a few cans of spray paint, some rope, and some pliable wire.

When he arrived at the library a full thirty minutes before opening, he saw two young women chatting together on the front steps. When Lottie noticed James, she waved goodbye to Willow, walked over to the book bin, and slid two novels through its slot. They fell into the metal cavity with a clank.

“Good morning!” James called out to her and was rewarded by a hesitant smile. He then turned his attention to Willow. “Are you really this excited about checking out a book or are you here to see me?”

“I need to talk to someone,” Willow murmured, displaying traces of her former downtrodden body language. “I’ve already smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and I haven’t had one since Paulette died.”

Unlocking the front door, James beckoned her inside. “Let me pump up the heat and put on some coffee. We can talk in my office. While I’m doing those things, would you mind switching on all the lights and computers? It’ll keep you from smoking the rest of that pack.”

Moments later, James took a grateful sip from his new favorite coffee mug, which was embellished with a black shelving cart and the words That’s How I Roll. He watched Willow cradle her warm cup in her hands and softly invited her to share what was on her mind.

“I know it’s only a matter of time before Lucy comes knocking on my door, so I thought I’d practice my confession on you.” She spoke with a catch in her voice. “She’s bound to arrest me and the life I wanted to begin here will be over before it really started.”

Observing the young woman carefully, James asked, “Why would she arrest you?”

Willow didn’t answer immediately. She looked at the window, drank from her cup, and then ran her pale blue eyes over the items on James’s desk. “With Chase’s murder, the police are bound to review Paulette’s death too. I didn’t kill her, Mr. Henry, I swear. But if she was murdered, and I think she was now that Chase is dead, I’m in for it. I was with her at the bed-and-breakfast and I hated her.”

“And Chase? Did you hate him too?”

Distracted by the sounds of the twin’s laughter in the parking lot, Willow glanced in their direction and smiled. Then the happiness on her face melted quickly away. “I didn’t hurt Paulette, but Chase may have.”

Suddenly, James had a theory as to how Willow received her influx of cash. “You were blackmailing him,” he stated.

She didn’t bother to deny it. “He and Paulette got into a huge argument the night before she died. He came to the Widow’s Peak to ask her for a loan, but she told him he had enough money and that she wasn’t going to give away her hard-earned money so Chase could jet off to Europe with one of his mistresses.”

“Ouch!” James let out a little laugh. “I bet Chase didn’t take being turned down too well. After all, he was Paulette’s favorite .”

“Not that night, he wasn’t,” Willow remarked solemnly. “He actually replied, ‘Isn’t that how you got your start, Mother? As someone’s mistress in Europe? And then a TV producer’s mistress in New York? And so on?’”

James was shocked. “He said that to his own mother?”

“They really were two of a kind.” Willow didn’t seem surprised at all. “Anyway, at the end of their conversation, Chase promised that he’d get the money from her one way or another. He was very calm. It didn’t sound like a threat, but after she died, I had to wonder.”

“Why didn’t you tell Lucy about this right away?” James demanded.

“I honestly didn’t think he killed her! He respected her,” she argued. “Besides, her death was ruled an accident.”

“In your opinion, did Chase love his mother?”

Shrugging, Willow examined her nails. “I don’t think Chase or Paulette loved anybody but themselves. They lived for money and recognition and the freedom to treat regular people like dirt.” She sighed. “When Chase came back to town for the ash scattering, I told him that I’d heard his last conversation with his mother. At first, I was just trying to scare him into giving me my final paycheck, but he offered me a lot more. After all I’d been through with the Diva, I figured I’d earned it and… I took the money.”

Suddenly, the promise Willow had made to Chloe and Wheezie in the hotel lobby that she would take care of Chase made perfect sense. James had eavesdropped on the three women right before Willow decided to blackmail Chase. She had been successful and he had given her a generous payoff. Though she’d made an error in judgment, James doubted Willow was a killer. If she was, then why confess to blackmail?

“I’m certain you earned every penny,” James told the fraught young woman kindly. “Paulette underpaid you for years.”

Willow seemed surprised to discover that James wasn’t angry. “As much as I’ve tried to justify my behavior, I know it was wrong. When I heard about Chase’s death, I knew I had to tell someone, but I was afraid to go to the sheriff by myself.” Her face crumpled. “What will Milla think of me now? And Francis?”

“They’ll think you’re human, just like the rest of us.” He walked around the desk and raised her from her chair. “I’ll ask Lucy to come over and listen to your story. While we’re waiting for her, why don’t you ask Francis for a book recommendation? That would make his day. And might I suggest you also tell him about your ‘mistake’? If you two are going to be a couple, you don’t want secrets between you.”

James waited for Willow to leave the office before phoning Lucy.

“I’m with Wheezie right now trying to figure out if she knows Russ DuPont,” Lucy whispered into her cell phone. “I’ll be over as soon as I’m done.”

By the time the library officially opened, Francis and Willow had their heads bent together behind a spinner rack of science fiction paperbacks. Scott was near the checkout desk, placing books onto the shelving cart with unusual roughness. He looked completely dejected.

“What’s wrong, Scott?”

“I went outside to empty the book bin, Professor,” Scott answered as he gripped a book called Women in American Journalism: A New History. “And I saw boot prints in that muddy spot that never dries up between the sidewalk and the book drop. They were the same boot prints Francis and I noticed during our Christmas Eve stakeout.”

“Uh-oh,” James whispered.

“It didn’t take much brainpower to figure out who checked out the books in the bin because there were only four in there. Two were borrowed by Lottie and two by Mrs. Finke. I’ve seen Mrs. Finke in here for years and there’s no way she wears high-heeled boots. That means those boots are Lottie’s.” He put his head in his hands. “My girlfriend is Glowstar’s kidnapper!”

James frowned. He couldn’t argue with Scott’s logic, and he didn’t have the faintest idea what had motivated Lottie to inflict such a cruel prank on her own boyfriend. Feeling angry on Scott’s behalf, James reflected on the fact that neither of the twins possessed an ounce of real meanness and yet, someone had deliberately tried to cause them anguish.

“I’m sorry, Scott.” James put his arm around the lanky young man’s shoulders. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay, Professor. This is no time for words!” Scott said heatedly. “I’m already planning what to do. First, I’m going to send a certain reporter on a little goose chase. Next, I’m going to get Glowstar back, and then I’m going to drink Red Bull and play video games until I go blind!”

“Before you lose your sight, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Doing his best to contain his happiness in the face of Scott’s misery, James told Scott about Eliot. He then explained what he wanted to create before he saw his son again that evening and begged for Scott’s assistance.

“You are going to be such a cool dad!” Scott exclaimed when James was done, momentarily forgetting about revenge.

The two men returned to their librarian duties, leaving Francis free to sit with Willow until Lucy arrived.

“Can you ask Milla to meet me here too?” Lucy paused on her way into James’s office. “The name Russ DuPont meant nothing to Wheezie. Everything rests on Milla’s memory now. There has to be some connection between their past in Natchez and the two deaths. Milla may be the key to solving this entire puzzle, whether she realizes it or not.”

James hurriedly complied and phoned his father’s house, but there was no answer. He left a message and then turned his attention to an elderly patron who needed help searching the Internet for the best airfare to Fort Lauderdale. James then took care of the monthly budget, and by the time he was done paying bills, Willow, Francis, and Lucy had vacated his office.

Willow shot James a look of gratitude and left the library with Francis glued to her side. Assuming his employee was merely walking his girlfriend to her car, James settled at his desk and checked his e-mail. His face glowed as he read a message from Jane.

Eliot is so excited to see you again. Where would you like to meet us? We have supper at six and he only likes cheese on his pizza.

Those few words were enough to light up his morning. He quickly typed his answer.

I’d like you to be the first guests in my new house! #27 Hickory Hill Lane. 5:30. I’ll have dinner waiting. I can’t wait.

Lucy tapped lightly on his office door. “Were you able to reach Milla?”

“No.” A flash of lavender passed by his window. “Hold on. She’s here.”

While James handled a telephone query, Lucy shepherded Milla and Jackson into his office. It took every ounce of James’s concentration to complete his phone call and gently hang up the phone. In all his time as head librarian of the Shenandoah County Library, his father had never stepped foot inside the building where his son worked. Milla was slowly changing Jackson back into a social creature.

“It’s nice to see you, Pop.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow and then scowled at Lucy. “Let’s get this over with, girl. Milla here’s got a list a mile long, and I wanna get back home by suppertime.”

Ignoring Jackson’s grumbling, Lucy led Milla to a chair and sat down next to her. “I’m going to ask you to try really hard to remember something about your childhood. Take your time to think through my question. Try to recall families from school, your neighbors, church members, store clerks, anyone and everyone.”

“I’ll try,” Milla promised.

Satisfied, Lucy leaned forward a fraction. “Did you ever know a family named the DuPonts?”

Three pairs of eyes focused on Milla as her gaze drifted around the room, finally settling upon James’s coffee mug. She grinned as she read the slogan and then her eyes grew distant. Her observers could almost sense her journeying back in time, shuffling faces and names through her mind, discarding one and then searching for another.

After two full minutes of silence, she shook her head. “No ringing bells. I’m sorry.”

Something Milla had told him back in December suddenly came back to James. “Milla? Do you remember when you were telling Pop and me about Paulette’s girlhood? You said she was called Patty then and there was a woman who taught her how to bake. What was that woman’s name?”

Milla sat erect in her chair. “Mrs. D.!” Her shoulders instantly slumped again. “But that’s all I know. Just the initial. I don’t know if that stands for DuPont or not.”

“What about the street address?” Lucy’s predatory look flared in her eyes. “I could call some neighbors. I could ask Wheezie who the old-timers are in your former neighborhood and talk to them. I’m reaching here, but I’m getting a strong feeling that we’re on the right track.”

Closing her eyes, Milla murmured. “We lived on Idle Day Drive. To get to Mrs. D.’s I’d walk down our street, turn right onto the main road, and then a left onto… oh! I can almost see the street sign. That big live oak always blocked the first half of the word… Cobble something! Cobblestone Court!” She smiled triumphantly. “The house number was one. I remember that because she had one dog, one cat, and one child. I don’t think she had a husband either. Seems to me she lived on a wing and a prayer and by selling her baked goods.”

Scribbling the information into her notebook, Lucy asked James if she could use his phone. He led his parents back to the checkout desk and spoke to them in between accepting late fees and handing patrons their scanned books and receipts.

“Your materials are due back February twenty-third,” he told a little girl who had checked out five books from the Baby-sitters Club series.

Milla watched the child walk away-her pigtails swinging back and forth like a metronome’s needle. “Wait until Eliot learns he can bring home piles of books from his daddy’s library.” She moved closer to James. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get me on the phone, dear, but me and Jackson were busy. We got married this morning.”

“You did?” James looked from her beaming face to Jackson’s. He noted that his father’s expression showed a mixture of both pride and relief. “That’s wonderful! You just went ahead and did it! Congratulations!” He hugged Milla tightly.

“You’re not angry?” Milla sighed in relief. “I worried you might feel excluded, but my dear, I was in such a rush to make things official. When I meet your boy I want to be his grandma, not just Pop-Pop’s girlfriend!”

Jackson tapped the face of his wrist watch. “My wife’s been on the run all mornin’. The van’s loaded to the roof with crap. Toys, pictures, lamps, curtains, a rug. I think she bought out the damn toy store. I haven’t even had my third cup of coffee yet,” he growled.

Milla linked her arm in Jackson’s. “I couldn’t help myself! I’ve wanted to be a grandma so badly and now I am one! James, get ready, because I plan to spoil your son rotten!”

“Your son ?” Lucy’s voice came out as a croak. She stared at James in disbelief. “Did I hear that right?”

James hadn’t stopped to consider how this news might affect others, like his supper club friends. He’d simply assumed that everyone he knew would share his joy and would congratulate him on his happy reunion with his son. But there was an ashen appearance to Lucy’s face that made him realize that the revelation he had a child with his ex-wife might not be welcome news to some people. As he struggled to speak, James suspected that, if Lucy still harbored any romantic feelings for him, they were about to be irrevocably destroyed.

As his parents sidled quietly away, James opened the scrapbook he kept close at hand. He opened to the last page and showed the photograph to Lucy. “It’s true, Lucy. I only found out yesterday. This is Eliot Henry. My son.”

Without making a sound, Lucy glanced at the picture, looked up at James with wounded eyes, and fled.