The Bogus Biker (17 page)

Penelope realized the other man still stood at the foot of the gurney.
“If I have to.”

The questions were mercifully few. Whoever the man was, he already seemed to know everything and was only verifying the facts. “I think that’s all, Sgt. Pembroke,” he said formally. “You can drive your mother and Miss
Bayliss home. We’ll send their luggage on tomorrow.”

Penelope sat up.
“My purse. It has my mother’s Rosary in it.” 

“And Pawpaw’s gun,” Bradley finished for her. “They’ll send it on, Mother.”

“We’ll need to get the money tomorrow,” the man said.

Penelope didn’t ask how the man knew about the money or how Bradley knew about the gun.

“Where is it?” Bradley asked. “The money.”

“In Nan’s No-No.”

He startled, then smiled again, this time with more humor. “Nan’s No-No.”

“I left you a note on the whiteboard in the utility room.”

“I haven’t been to the house. Aunt Mary said she’d take care of Abijah.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t fanged her to death?”

“I don’t think so. Are you ready to go home?”

“I never wanted to leave.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

(Monday)

Penelope poured two cups of coffee and set one in front of Mary Lynn. “I can’t talk about anything that happened.” As soon as she sat down, Abijah—somewhat leaner from lack of treats not provided by his temporary caretaker—sprang into her lap. She rubbed his stomach and was rewarded with a comforting rumble.

Mary Lynn cast a look of disgust at her recent charge. “I didn’t come to ask questions about that, just to look at you and know for sure you’re okay.
You and Shana both.”

“
Rosabel Deane is coming by later to take her out to Pembroke Point and help pack the rest of her things to ship home. Then Bradley’s driving her to the airport in Little Rock tomorrow.”

“So she’s going home to stay.”

“There’s nothing for her here.”

“Where’s Jake this morning?”

“Where else? Having coffee with the Toney Twins and regaling them with tales of his wonderful vacation.”

Mary Lynn laughed. “Mr. Kelley always did know how to enjoy life.”

“Who wouldn’t enjoy a five-star hotel, a credit card, and a sporty little rental car?”

“Good for him.” Mary Lynn hesitated. “Have any arrangements been made for Travis?”

“When I go with Rosabel and Shana, I’ll pick out a suit to send over to Caret’s. Bradley shouldn’t have to do that. He…” She sipped her coffee and stared into space.

“This has got to be eating on him. I’m sorry.”

“The body…” Penelope had to stop for a moment. “The medical examiner hasn’t released the body, but it’s just a formality according to Bradley.”

“Hal Greene did a nice job on the story in the
Bugle.
He made sure Travis was exonerated from blame for anything and cited the ongoing investigation as to why he couldn’t write the details of what really happened.”

“Well, Travis deserved that. He was a womanizer, but he was honest as they come in his business dealings. People liked him.”

“Everybody accepted him for what he was. Maybe they shouldn’t have, but they did.”

Penelope shrugged. “That’s just how it goes.”

****

The house at Pembroke Point looked worse in the daylight. “We didn’t leave it this way,”
Rosabel apologized, “and I don’t think the others did either.”

“The others,” Penelope prompted.

Rosabel cut her eyes away. “You know I…”

“Yes, I do know. Sorry. But whoever came in afterwards made a blessed mess.”

“I told Sgt. Pembroke I’d check for any actual damage,” Rosabel said. “Maybe we can get somebody in here to clean up before he comes out again.”

“As bad as it sounds, Bradley’s going to have to be the one to take care of it. I’ll help him, but he needs to supervise putting things back the way they were.”

Rosabel started up the stairs behind Shana. “You’re right, of course, Mrs. Pembroke. Will you be all right with what you have to do?”

“Yes. Actually, I’d rather do it alone anyway.”

Shana and Rosabel turned left on the landing, and Penelope went right toward Travis Pembroke’s bedroom, the one she’d shared with him and in which she’d conceived their son. It took her a moment to gather her courage before she opened the door. It was like stepping back in time. Nothing, not even the drapes, had changed in the years since she’d moved out. The room still smelled of his cologne, the same one he’d used since she first met him.

I’m glad we found some common ground before he died. I just wish he hadn’t died that way.
Died for nothing.

She moved to the closet and began to rifle through the clothes hanging there.
He wasn’t a suit-and-tie man, just when he had to be. He was a hands-on cotton grower. I think he was happiest out in the field getting his hands dirty. I remember he told me once about out-picking everybody else one day when he was only twelve.

After she’d chosen a navy suit, she moved to the dresser to look for a tie. It was harder opening the drawers where his most intimate possessions reposed…tastefully monogrammed handkerchiefs, a handful of jewelry including the tie
tack  he said belonged to his father. She willed herself to select carefully, even when tears began dropping on the neatly folded handkerchiefs.

I don’t know why I’m crying. I didn’t love him…hadn’t loved him for a long time even before we separated…but he was my son’s father. That has to count for something.

Finally she packed everything into an cracked plastic suit bag emblazoned with the logo of a tuxedo rental store in Little Rock and carried it downstairs. In Travis’s study, she inspected the panel behind which the safe was hidden, but it appeared not to have been tampered with.
Probably because no one could tell any difference between it and the rest of the paneling. Travis said it was foolproof, and I guess it was. Made to last a dozen lifetimes, he said. And it outlasted him, didn’t it?

When Shana and
Rosabel brought the last box downstairs, Penelope offered to have them picked up rather than hauling them back to town. “I’ll be coming out here again with Bradley. Just leave your address, and I’ll get some labels.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Shana had been distant since that night in the parking garage.

“I don’t mind at all, Shana.” Penelope turned to Rosabel. “Come to dinner tonight.”

“I’d like to, Mrs. Pembroke, but I’m on duty.”

“Then come sometime when you’re not.” She looked around. “Is that it?”

Shana nodded. “That’s it.”

Penelope picked up the garment bag. “All right then. Let’s get out of here.”

****

(Wednesday)

Two days later, the people of Amaryllis, Arkansas, turned out in droves for Travis Pembroke’s funeral at the Methodist Church. Penelope and Jake sat on the front row with Bradley between them, and the
Hargroves on the other side. Harry delivered the eulogy, and the remaining members of the football team—the Coyotes of 1966—served as pallbearers. The Amaryllis Police Department, all wearing full dress uniform, followed the hearse to the family cemetery at Pembroke Point for the private committal service.

Penelope found it difficult to concentrate on the minister’s words as she stood beside the casket poised over the open grave.
I thought I’d said goodbye the day I walked out of the county courthouse with my divorce decree in my hand, but I guess you never say goodbye to someone who’s been part of your life. He wasn’t a bad person, just flawed—and aren’t we all?

She searched the faces of the by-invitation-only mourners, all familiar to her, and felt a stirring of disappointment.
I’m standing here burying my ex-husband, knowing his death finally  makes me a widow in the eyes of the Church, and I’m looking for Sam. Who was he? Where is he? And why do I even care?
Bradley’s arm went around her as she shivered in the summer heat.

“In sure and certain hope of the resurrection…” the minister intoned.
Don’t be too sure. I knew the man better than anybody, and I’m not entirely certain he was ever really sorry for anything he did. I just wish I were certain I’d put all this behind me someday.

Her lips moved in The Lord’s Prayer.
I wonder what Sam believes in. Maybe not anything.
She shook herself mentally. 
It’s a sin thinking of that man, especially now. I’m losing my blessed mind, that’s what.

Only the three of them—Penelope, Jake, and Bradley—remained until the casket was lowered into the gaping hole. “In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy
Sprit,” Jake murmured. Penelope and Bradley crossed themselves and joined his “Amen.” Then, arm in arm, they walked up the rise toward the house.

****

Over supper put together from a myriad of dishes brought by friends and neighbors, Bradley mentioned he was taking his father’s will to the attorney the next day. “I know Dad meant for the Point to stay in the family, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with it.”

Jake helped himself to more pasta salad. “You’ll figure it out, son.”

“I’d rather not.”

“It’s just one of those things you have to do.”

Bradley’s shoulders sagged like they bore the weight of the world. “I know, Pawpaw. It’s just that…”

“And there’s the Pembroke jewelry,” Penelope interrupted as she saw Bradley’s mouth tighten.

“I don’t know what to do with that either.”

“I’ll put it in my safe deposit box at the bank,” Jake offered. “As I remember, there’s some pretty pricey stuff there. You’ll have a bride to give it to one of these days.”

Lord, don’t let it be Abigail the librarian.
Penelope hoped Bradley couldn’t read her mind.

“It was nice of you to take Shana to the airport,” Penelope said.

“I wanted to do it. We had a good talk.”

“Cleared the air, did you?” Jake asked.

“I told her to just put all this behind her. One mistake shouldn’t color the rest of her life.”

“It’ll take her a while to forgive herself,” Penelope said.

Bradley nodded. “She made a mistake, a big one, but so did I. I turned her off by being too overbearing. I have that in common with my father, I guess.”

“People can change,” Jake said.

“This whole thing has made me take a hard look at myself, that’s for sure. I thought I knew it all after going to school over in Little Rock and getting my own office at the PD. Boy, was I wrong.”

Jake touched his arm. “You’re a good officer, Bradley. Everybody says so.”

“I’d rather just be a good man like you, Pawpaw.”

Jake chewed his lip. “Well, son, it’s a lifelong thing, being a man the best you can be. And it’s never easy.”

Later, when Jake had gone to his room, Bradley helped his mother clear up in the kitchen. “I’ll help you whenever you’re ready to go out and work in the house,” Penelope offered.

“Thanks, Mother. Maybe I’ll get started next weekend.”

“Anytime. Just let me know. Bradley, I got the impression there was a connection between you and Sam.”

“That’s one of those things I can’t talk about.”

“I understand. Could you just tell me who he is?”

“Not even that. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

He put the last container in the refrigerator and closed the door. “You need to get somebody out here to fix that hole in the floor in Nan’s No-No. The two agents who came for the money made pretty much of a mess.”

“I’ll call Jerry Bentley.”

“He can do the job. Do you have termite inspections regularly?”

“Every year.”

“I didn’t see any sign of them, but it’s damp between the floor and the dropped basement ceiling.
A good breeding ground for mold.”

“I’ll see about that, too. Do you want to spend the night here?”

“No, I need to run by the station, and then I’ll go on home.”

She put her arms around him. “Remember the old song your Nan used to sing about how tomorrow will be a lovely day?”

Bradley hugged her back. “It will be, Mother. For all of us.”

****

A pervasive, weary loneliness followed Penelope from the kitchen and made the stairs steeper, the hall longer, and her bed emptier. Her mind returned to her thoughts at the graveside.
Now that Travis is dead, I’m really free. That’s a terrible thought, but it’s true. I accepted the fact I couldn’t marry again and still receive the sacraments, and I made a choice. Now that I don’t have to spend the rest of my life alone, I suddenly resent the fact I am.

She turned over and buried her face in the pillow. A thousand images catapulted through her mind, including the blood-soaked bodies on the garage floor and the sound of him calling her name almost with his last breath.

Already, her odyssey felt removed from reality, the stuff of a third-rate movie. It was her attraction to Sam, a man who might well have set them all up for death, that haunted her.
If I just knew who he was, that would help. Bradley knows, but I understand he can’t talk about what happened. At least he doesn’t know how Sam affected me…how he made me feel. I can’t even confess that. Fr. Loeffler would think…what would he think? I just know I can’t confess it to him.

She turned over again, clutching the sheet under her chin, and listened to the silence, then to a broken silence. It came again, too real for her to pretend she hadn’t heard it.

Gravel against her window.