The Battered Body

SIXTEEN

James gave the gum-chewing, iPod-wearing pizza delivery teen such a generous tip that the young man actually paused his music in order to say thanks. Smiling, James shooed him from his doorstep, slid the pie into his warmed oven, and then put the finishing touches to the makeshift dining table.

The doorbell sounded at exactly five-thirty, sending a shiver of pleasure up his spine. Here he was, James Henry, answering the door of his house for the second time that evening. And on the other side of that solid piece of wood was not a pimply-faced, skinny teenager wearing a backwards baseball cap, but his four-year-old son.

“I love this house!” Jane exclaimed as soon as she stepped inside. “You have such a huge yard! And a front porch too! It’s just perfect for sipping lemonade in the summer and setting out jack-o’-lanterns in October, right Eliot?”

“Can we make a scary one?” Eliot asked James, his golden brown eyes wide with excitement. “Like a monster from Where The Wild Things Are?”

“When Halloween comes, we can carve whatever face you’d like.” James was dying to scoop the little boy into his arms and cover his face with kisses, but he settled for ruffling Eliot’s wavy soft brown hair. “I know the best pumpkin patch too! We can have a hayride and jump in a giant bin of corn kernels and you can go on a pony ride.”

Eliot nodded. “I like ponies. ’Specially the ones with spots.”

“Me too. And I’m glad to hear you’re an animal lover,” James said warmly. “Because we’re having supper at the Hickory Hill Zoo tonight.”

Cocking her head quizzically, Jane unzipped Eliot’s coat and, after removing her own, looked around for a place to put them. “I’ll just toss these on the kitchen counter. Eliot, you go with Daddy and find out what this zoo is all about.”

Eliot reached out his hand and James enfolded it with his own. Daddy! He thought. I’ll never get tired of hearing that word.

Wondering how long it would take for Eliot to start calling him by that title, James led his son into the living room, which was lit by battery-powered hurricane lanterns. James had spent his lunch hour in a bout of frenzied painting and had managed to transform the largest of his cardboard moving boxes into zoo animal chairs. There was a zebra, a lion, a giraffe, and an elephant. The heads were made out of shoe boxes and the giraffe’s neck and elephant’s trunk had been formed using part of a dryer vent. Scott and Francis, who had built the cardboard furniture while wolfing down bacon double cheeseburgers during their lunch break, had rigged all the heads with wire so they bobbed gently when touched. Given their uncanny technical skills, the twins weren’t happy until the animals were given added features. James was delighted when they showed him how to attach a battery to some narrow wires in order to turn on the small light bulbs that would create a pair of illuminated eyes inside each animal head.

“They’re not real, right?” Eliot asked, his high voice growing shriller in amazement.

“No, they’re not. And that’s probably a good thing considering our dining room table is a crocodile,” James teased.

Scott and Francis had taken a rectangular box made for storing an oversized painting from their landlady’s garage and transformed it into a green reptile with a long, spiked tail (another dryer vent cut in half) and jagged, Styrofoam cup teeth. To make the beast less threatening, the twins had painted the croc with neon pink polka-dots and a Cheshire Cat grin. James had set their plates, napkins, and cups on the table and had added another hurricane lantern in the center to enhance the safari-like atmosphere.

“Mommy!” Eliot screeched. “We’re eating pizza on a crocodile!” He swiveled around the room. “I’m going to sit on the lion’s chair!”

James served Jane and Eliot pizza on animal-shaped plates and filled paper cups covered by tiger stripes with cold chocolate milk. When Eliot asked to have his pizza cut up, James smacked himself in the forehead for not considering that a four-year-old might not want to eat pizza with his hands. Jane seemed completely unfazed, however.

“You’re supposed to be a young lion,” she admonished their son playfully. “So act like one! Rip that pizza apart with your giant lion teeth! Like this!” She tore at her slice and chewed with a satisfied growl. Giggling, Eliot copied her.

“How does a giraffe eat?” he asked James.

James sat very straight in his chair, stretched his neck out, bit off a mouthful of pizza, and did his best to chew it using only his molars, thus exaggerating the side-to-side motion of his jaw. Jane agreed that zebras chewed much like giraffes, and copied James’s absurd style of pizza eating. Soon, all three of them were laughing.

After dinner, while savoring raspberry frozen custard pops from the Custard Cottage, Eliot told his parents what he had done at preschool. He went into great detail over which kids were his best friends and which ones made him grumpy because they repeatedly knocked down his block tower. As he licked his custard, Eliot listed all the words he knew that began with the letter G and confessed to the number of marshmallows he’d consumed on the sly while supposedly pasting a marshmallow snowman onto a sheet of blue construction paper. By the time his ramble was done, everyone had finished dessert and Eliot began to yawn and rub his eyes.

“I think we’d better head home,” Jane suggested.

James nodded reluctantly. He didn’t want the evening to end. “Can I show him something first? I’ll be quick. I can see that our young zookeeper is getting tired.”

“Go ahead. I’ll clean up our plates and bring your trash bag out to my car. It’s pickup day at our place tomorrow, and since you haven’t officially moved in yet, I’m going to assume you don’t have a garbage can.” She smiled as James realized that he didn’t even know what day to put a can out-not that he had one. “It’s okay. Everyone goes through this when they move. It’s going to take a while for you to figure out the rhythm of this place.”

“At least I know who my mailman is,” he said and felt comforted by knowing that Bennett would be passing by his house five out of seven days a week.

Beckoning Eliot to follow him, James led his son into the small bedroom whose window faced the backyard. “Okay, you’ve got to lie down on the floor for the magic to happen. No, roll over. You’ve got to be on your back for this trick. Good. Now close your eyes. Ready?” James waited until Eliot nodded. He turned off the lights and settled next to his son. “You can open your eyes now.”

“Wow!” Eliot’s voice came out as a whisper. “Magic stars! How’d you do that?”

“The house just came that way,” James answered enigmatically. “Do you think you’d like to hang out in this room? I mean, would you like this to be your room?”

Eliot leaned back on his elbows and surveyed the space. Solemnly, he replied. “Yes. I like it.” He then asked, “Am I moving here, Mom?”

Jane stood in the doorway, surveying the stars. “You’re going to have two homes, Eliot. Isn’t that cool? Sometimes you’ll sleep at my house and sometimes at Daddy’s.” She glanced quickly at James. “But you and Daddy need to spend more time together before you start having sleepovers, okay?”

Her eyes met James’s and he nodded in recognition that what she was saying was both wise and true. He did need to become more familiar with his son’s habits before taking charge of him without Jane present as a chaperone. “Listen, buddy,” he touched Eliot lightly on the hand. “I’m moving into this house over the next few days, but I haven’t picked out stuff for your room yet. I don’t really know how to decorate it. Maybe if you told me the name of your favorite book, I could make this room really special for you.”

Yawning again, Eliot replied. “That’s easy. I like Curious George the best. He’s always getting in trouble.”

“Come on, my little monkey. Time to go,” Jane commanded.

Eliot gave James another of his rapid hugs and then submitted to being tightly enveloped in a coat, hat, scarf, and mittens.

“Are you free Sunday afternoon?” James asked Jane as she took Eliot’s mittened hand.

“We sure are. Let’s spend some time going over our calendars then. I figure Eliot’s going to need to stay with me during the weekdays so he can get to school on time, but you could come to our place in the evening and he can come here on weekends. You know, not overnight at first, but for the day anyway.” She drew Eliot close to her. “Why don’t I take care of supper Sunday night? I’ve actually learned how to make a few dishes, believe it or not.”

Recalling what an atrocious cook Jane had been during their marriage, James shook his head. “Pop’s wife will never speak to me again if she isn’t allowed to stock my fridge. I know it’s early on in this whole getting-to-know-each-other thing, but could Eliot’s grandparents stop by for a bit Sunday? Maybe just for dessert? They want to meet him so badly.”

“Of course!” she responded, and then instantly lowered her voice. “But I remember your father all too well. Is he going to hurt me after… how I treated you?”

James shrugged nonchalantly. “If Pop comes at you with his fists clenched, just use Eliot as a human shield. He’d never hit his only grandchild.”

Giving him a playful punch in the arm, Jane waved goodbye and then gave their weary son a piggyback ride to the car. James watched as she buckled Eliot into his booster seat and then fired up the Volvo’s engine. Eliot placed his small hand against the glass of his window and wiggled them in farewell. The car rolled slowly down the driveway and turned onto Hickory Hill Lane.

James stood on the front porch until the bright red taillights grew as small and distant as the winter stars.

Saturday was painting day. James dressed in a ratty sweatshirt and jeans and loaded a thermos with vanilla hazelnut coffee. Carrying a portable CD player and a copy of Curious George under his arm , he used his free hand to unlock the front door to his new house. He paused for a brief moment, allowing images from his pizza dinner with Jane and Eliot to bring a smile to his face, and then made preparations to paint the kitchen. As he listened to Sugarland’s new CD and sipped coffee, he removed switch plates, filled in nail holes, and applied tape around the windows and woodwork trim. Dipping his brush into a can of white primer paint, James wondered what his friends were doing at the moment and when they’d get together in order to talk about the case. He wanted to tell them about Eliot too, but that kind of news had to be delivered in person.

He had just finished the primer coat when the doorbell rang.

“Surprise!” The supper club members shouted in greeting and filed into his house, rubbing cold hands together as they immediately began to inspect their surroundings.

Gillian strode into the center of the living room and plunked down a green hemp purse embroidered with lavender dragonflies. “Everyone stop right there! I’m going to perform a cleansing ritual called smudging that is practiced by the Native Americans of the Northwest.” She dug out an apparatus resembling a torch from her bag and lit it with a purple Bic lighter. “I’m going to allow the smoke from this cluster of sage, cedar, and sweetgrass to graze the walls in every room. I’d like the rest of you to quietly visualize James living a life of peace and happiness in this house while I purify the air.”

Murmuring to herself, Gillian spun around the room, directing a waft of torch into each corner. Bennett stared at her, in a state of bemused mystification, but Lindy stood with her eyes closed and her hands clasped, inhaling the pleasant scent of the burning herbs. James decided this might not be the best time to ask where Lucy was or if she had spilled the beans about Eliot.

Once Gillian was safely out of sight purifying the master bedroom, Bennett strolled into the kitchen and picked up a paint roller. “In addition to burnin’ bushes in your new house, we’re here to work. What color should I paint these walls, my man?”

“I can’t believe you guys!” James was touched by the offer. “It’s good enough just to see you. You don’t need to spend your day off slaving over cans of paint.”

Lindy threw her coat on the hall floor and pushed up the sleeves of her paint-speckled artist’s smock. “Many hands make light work. Lucy’ll be here by lunchtime, so let’s get something done before then. Where do you want me, James? Should I start priming the living room? Oh! Look at these adorable animals!” She pointed at the crocodile table. “Those look like the twins’ handiwork.”

Picking up his copy of Curious George, he said, “Scott and Francis are the marvelous animal creators, yes, but I’m also in need of your particular artistic talents, Lindy. I’ll tell you why in a second.”

James waited for Gillian to reappear in the living room. She had him extinguish the torch and asked him to inhale its revitalizing fragrance. Only after she’d waved the smoke over every inch of his body was he permitted to gather his three friends around his scrapbook.

They received his announcement exactly as he had expected them to: with shouts of joy, warm embraces, and dozens of questions.

“And you want me to paint his room?” Lindy exclaimed with misty eyes. “I am so honored!”

Bennett clapped James on the back. “Man oh man, you sure know how to throw one in from left field. I can’t wait to see your Mini Me. Eliot Henry. Congrats, my friend. Congrats.”

“Oh, I just adore the auras possessed by young children,” Gillian sighed rapturously. “And to know that your blood and a part of your essence is encapsulated in this child… James, I can’t wait to lay my eyes on this boy!” She looped her arm through Bennett’s. “I feel jittery already.”

“That’s it, woman,” Bennett teased her fondly. “No more tree-bark tea for you.”

“I’ll introduce all of you, I promise. But I don’t want to overwhelm the poor kid. He’s going to meet his grandparents tomorrow night. I have another reason to be happy, because Milla and my father are now officially man and wife. They had a quick wedding down at the church.” James tapped the scrapbook and then drew in his breath. “Oh no! I’ve been so wrapped up in my own affairs that I haven’t done a thing to celebrate their nuptials. I haven’t even bought them a gift! I was going to send them on a nice little honeymoon, but I don’t have the time or the money to do that now. What am I going to do?”

“I imagine your coffers are a bit bare right now,” Bennett remarked.

James nodded. “You can say that again. New carpet on Monday, furniture delivery on Tuesday, and flat broke by Wednesday.”

“We’ll brainstorm while we paint,” Gillian suggested. “The cadence of our bodies moving our brushes and rollers up and down, up and down, might just stimulate the creative centers of our minds.”

“Don’t let that woman near your CD player,” Bennett warned. “She’ll put on some yoga mumbo jumbo and we’ll all be chanting like Gregorian monks.”

The four friends finished looking through Eliot’s scrapbook and then got to work. They bantered, painted, and chatted all morning long. By noon, the kitchen and living room looked clean, fresh, and bright, and Eliot’s room had been primed and was ready for Lindy’s hand-painted designs.

“This is very cathartic,” Gillian stated as she set down her paintbrush. “Do you have a nice, serene color chosen for your bedroom? I’m certain we could get that finished today.”

James shook his head. “I hadn’t expected this painting party, but I could go buy some. I think Lindy’s going to need a few more colors for Eliot’s room. And I’d love to treat for lunch. It’s the least I can do.”

“Hello!” Lucy called out as she let herself into the house. “Lunch is served!”

Bennett moved forward to remove one of the two plastic bags from Lucy’s hands. “What have we here?”

“Meatball subs. Except for Gillian’s, of course. She’s having provolone, mozzarella, tomato, and a pesto spread on herb focaccia.”

James pushed a twenty dollar bill into Lucy’s hand. “Hi,” he said shyly as she looked down at the money.

“I’m not taking this.” She breezed past him into the kitchen and laid the bill on his counter. “I missed half of my painting shift, so the least I could do was pick up lunch.” Gazing into the living room, she smiled. “I call the zebra chair!”

“I thought you might be angry with me,” James whispered to Lucy once the food had been handed out and the rest of the supper club members were making themselves comfortable in the living room.

Lucy feigned great interest in a Benjamin Moore paint chart. “I was just shocked, that’s all. I… I’ve got to get used to thinking of you totally as a friend. And you are my friend, so don’t worry. Come in here and eat your sub. I’ve got an update on our investigation.”

After settling in the lion chair, she spread a napkin on her lap. “I ate half of my sub in the car, so let me take a few bites while it’s still warm, and then I’ll tell you about the phone calls I made to Natchez.”

James couldn’t believe how famished he felt. Is there a chemical in the paint that induces hunger or is painting more of an aerobic workout than I thought? he wondered.

Without bothering to consider that the contents of his hero might be too warm to chew, he released his sandwich from its tight package of aluminum foil and bit into the end of the sub, inviting molten marinara sauce and a large piece of scalding meatball into his mouth.

“Ahhh!” He felt as though he might breathe fire. “Hot!” Lindy shoved a water bottle into his hand, and he washed down the burning food as his friends looked on in amusement.

Bennett tossed him a snack-sized bag of baked potato chips. “Better start with those, my man. Okay, Lucy, whatchya got for us?”

“Russ DuPont is Mrs. D.’s grandson,” Lucy began as she placed the remnants of her sub on the crocodile table to cool. “Russell DuPont’s mother never married. She also died at a young age from alcohol poisoning. According to the neighbors, she’d always been a wild girl. Russ often went without meals or electricity, and he missed more days of school than he attended.” She pried open her bag of potato chips and halted her narrative in order to eat one.

“That poor boy,” Gillian sighed.

Lucy agreed. “I think he’s lived a hard life. His grandmother ran out of money and was sent to a state-run home when Russ was ten years old. After his mother’s death a year later, he was placed into foster care and, if I can believe what these Natchez ladies told me, was one angry boy. He got in trouble all the time.” She raised her sub to her lips. “He’s got an extensive juvenile record. From vandalism to petty theft to selling his grandma’s prescription drugs on the street, this kid’s done it all.”

“The neighbors told you all that?” Lindy asked in disbelief. “Must be a smaller town than I thought.”

Once she’d swallowed Lucy replied, “No. I called the Sheriff’s Department and told them all about our case. They were very interested in helping me get a full picture on Russ. I guess he’s got them out of bed more than once with his criminal activities. They’re faxing me copies of his records.”

“So we’ve got a hostile young man who drove to the Shenandoah Valley and got a job on a goat farm where he produced bacteria-infested eggs that he somehow gave to Paulette.” James poked a meatball with his fingertip. “Sounds like a complicated and deliberate plan. Russ is no dummy.”

Gillian’s expression was sorrowful. “It sounds like that young man was consumed by a desire for revenge. Instead of trying to live a life based on higher principals, it seems like he’s chosen to live one based on blame and the baser of our human emotions.”

Lindy looked perplexed. “Am I missing something here? Why would this boy hate Paulette? Did she do something to his mother or to his grandma?”

All eyes turned to James. “That’s an integral question and I’m hoping you can answer it.” Lucy’s voice held a plea. “If not you, then Milla.”

A thought had been forming in James’s mind while Lucy had been speaking, and now he spoke it aloud. “Milla told me about their neighbor, a Mrs. D. She was an older woman who had hundreds and hundreds of recipes in her possession. She had shoeboxes filled with them. All the recipes were created by Mrs. D. from scratch. What if-?”

“The Diva stole her recipes!” Lindy shouted. “And published them as her own!”

“And don’t forget got rich and famous off ’em too,” Bennett added. “While the DuPonts stayed poor and downright miserable, Paulette was autographin’ cookbooks and hostin’ television shows.”

They all chewed thoughtfully on their sandwiches as they tried to imagine Russ DuPont somehow discovering that his grandmother’s recipes had made another woman extremely wealthy.

“Our hypothesis makes sense,” Lucy determined. “If Paulette did make off with the recipes, it would certainly explain why she never returned to Natchez. Still, without a confession from Russ, our theories are circumstantial.”

“And there’s no sign of Russ right now,” James pointed out. “Do you think he’ll go back to the goat farm, or is he done exacting his revenge and is now on the run?”

Gillian drew in a frightened breath. “Is Chloe in danger?”

Lucy considered the question. “As the next beneficiary of Paulette’s estate, she may be.” Her blue eyes gleamed. “But if Russ is following the Diva’s money trail, it would mean that he won’t leave town-that he’s merely lying low someplace until he can get at Chloe. We’ve called dozens of hotels, but none of them have Russ DuPont registered as a guest. Still, he could be checked in anywhere under a false name.”

“I’ll tell you one thing.” Bennett balled up his trash and scrutinized the crushed foil in his hand. “Aunt Wheezie ain’t gonna be much help fending off an angry boy bent on murder.”

“Don’t worry,” Lucy assured them. “Chase’s death lit a fire under Sheriff Huckabee. With all the media attention zeroing in on Quincy’s Gap because of Murphy’s damn book, he doesn’t want to look inept. He’s got two deputies keeping an eye on Wheezie and Chloe. Someone’s watching them round the clock.”

“Uh, that book !” Lindy spat out the word.

“Would someone please tell me what happens at the end?” James pleaded. “I know it’s off subject, but everywhere I go someone mentions the ‘shocking ending.’ Would someone just put me out of my misery?”

Lindy shook her head in refusal, but Lucy gave her friend a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, Lind. I know Murphy’s written it so that I get shot in the face in the final chapter. Donovan’s read the section aloud in the station at least six times by now.”

“She kills your character?” James was aghast. Only the danger of his last meatball falling from its cushion of bread was able to distract him from such a shocking announcement. “That’s so-”

“Nasty, cruel, vindictive, abusive, and childish!” Gillian supplied him with several apt adjectives. “I’ve pretty much summed up all our characters right there!”

“I thought you weren’t going to read it?” James remarked in accusation.

Gillian toyed with a tendril of hair. “I gave in to the temptation presented by my ego. And I regret it too. We should always be wary of giving in to our desire to see ourselves painted in a flattering light.”

“My character doesn’t die!” Lucy shouted. “I’m just a bit disfigured, that’s all,” she added caustically. When James and Gillian again began to splutter in indignation, she crossly gesticulated at the pair of them. “Hello! We’ve got a murder case to talk about! Can we just forget about that dumb book and…,” she trailed off, but James noticed that her eyes had darted toward Eliot’s scrapbook at that moment.

“What are our options?” Lindy inquired innocently. “If Chloe’s being guarded until she returns to Florida, there’s nothing we can do. Short of sneakin’ her away from her surveillance crew and leavin’ her in a place where Russ is sure to come for her, our hands are tied.”

James imagined Chloe standing on the edge of the cliff from which her brother had been pushed, and he shivered. “Russ must’ve written Chase a note to entice him to the overlook earlier than everyone else. You didn’t find any evidence of that?” When Lucy shook her head, he sighed. “Then this guy has to be caught in the act. We need to have some kind of private affair-a reason to keep Chloe and Wheezie around a little longer.”

Bennett stroked his mustache. “Yeah man, some kind of get-together? If there’s a bunch of folks around, Russ might feel like he can slip in and try to get to Chloe. And if Milla bought goat’s milk goodies from this guy, she’d be able to recognize him in a pinch. She could whisper in Lucy’s ear, and our favorite deputy would take him down!” He smacked his fist against his palm and then turned to James. “Got it! Is there gonna be a funeral for Chase?”

“Not here,” James answered. “The ‘merry’ widow phoned Milla and said that she felt that the father of her children should be buried near where they live. Personally, I think she wants to dance on Chase’s grave, but Milla wanted the girls to be able to visit Chase, much like she wanted to visit Paulette.”

“If there’s no need for a mourning ceremony,” Gillian grinned, “why not host a surprise party instead? I believe you are quite close to a couple who have recently exchanged commitment vows. Right, James?”

“A party for my parents!” he exclaimed. “To celebrate their wedding! That’s a brilliant idea, Gillian!” His face fell. “Except for the fact that I’m totally penniless.”

Lindy made a dismissive sound over his despair. “This is Quincy’s Gap, James!” She leapt up, grabbed her purse from the hallway, and pulled a pocket calendar from within. “Yes. I believe Wednesday would be a lovely evening for the supper club to host a surprise wedding reception in honor of Jackson and Camilla Henry. Does everyone agree?”

“We do!” James’s friends shouted in unison and, still laughing at their response, they returned to their painting duties. Ideas and party plans were batted about as brushes and rollers covered the walls with warm hues.

At one point, Lindy came into the kitchen for more paint. Brandishing her cell phone at James, she said, “You stay out of your son’s room until I’m done. I’m going to create the ultimate Curious George bedroom for him and call in a few favors from our friends and neighbors. We teachers are all blessed with the ability to multitask.”

As she disappeared down the hall, James slung his arm around Bennett. “If Luis doesn’t get down on one knee pretty soon, I’m going to have to take a baseball bat to his leg.”

“Well,” Bennett mumbled pensively, “that would get him down on his knees. But Lindy didn’t say she was lookin’ for a proposal. What she wants is for him to show the rest of the world he’s her man. In public.”

“Like you did on national television?” James teased.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Bennett growled. “And no, that’s not what I’m sayin’. I do believe a good old-fashioned kiss would do the trick.”

“In front of a group of people, such as the throng we’re going to gather together for our surprise party?” James inquired.

Bennett winked at him. “I couldn’t think of a better time for that man to lay one on Lindy. We’ll just have to help that happen, now, won’t we?”

“Yes, we will.” James dipped his brush into a bucket of primer. “But I’ll bring my baseball bat. Just in case.”