The Morning After (22 page)

Nikki took her mother’s hand and was surprised that it felt bony and small. Her rings were so loose the stones kept sliding toward her palm. “Would that be so bad?”

For a second Charlene’s chin wobbled, then she looked into her daughter’s eyes. “So, you think I’m crazy, too.”

“Not crazy. Depressed.”

“Isn’t it the same thing?”

“Not at all. There’s a big difference.” Nikki tried to be kind. But it was tough when the truth had to be said. “It’s just that you seem so unhappy, Mom.”

“Well, there’s a brilliant observation,” Charlene snapped angrily, then caught herself and extracted her fingers from Nikki’s grasp. “I’m fine. Fine. Don’t worry. Please.”

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway and again her mother’s lips pursed slightly, as if she could barely stand to be in the same room with her husband. She managed a tight, forced smile just as Big Ron walked into the room carrying two short glasses. Ice cubes clinked in a pale gold liquid. “Here ya go,” he said, handing one glass to Nikki.

“She said she didn’t want a drink,” Charlene said.

“Did she?” He winked at his daughter. “Guess I didn’t hear that.” Clicking the rim of his glass to Nikki’s, he said, “Here’s to more big scoops and bylines on the front page.”

“Thanks.” She took a tentative sip, found the drink tolerable, and tried to ignore the tension in the air.

To mollify her mother and because she was starved, she stayed for dinner, listening to her father’s golf stories and fishing stories and trying to lure Charlene into conversation to no avail. They took dessert in the family room, eating the pie and sipping coffee while Nikki tried not to notice how late it was getting. She’d nearly finished when it hit her that she’d forgotten all about Simone. Again. Good Lord, she was turning into one of those flaky friends she hated. “Oh, geez, I’ve got to run,” she said, leaving half a piece of pie and all her coffee on an end table.

“Where’s the fire?” Her father was seated in his favorite worn leather recliner. His legs were raised, his shirt unbuttoned and he’d lifted a pant leg to unbuckle the holster he wore at his ankle. He’d always carried a hidden weapon after an attempt had been made on his life, the result of a particularly unpopular courtroom decision.

“I told Simone I would meet her at the gym,” Nikki explained as she picked up her purse. She glanced at her watch. “If I hurry, I can still make it.”

“But we never get to see you,” Charlene complained as Big Ron rubbed his calf muscle. He’d placed his holster and pistol upon the coffee table.

“Pick that damned thing up,” Charlene said, jabbing a finger at the gun. “The last time you left it out Lily came over with Ophelia!”

Big Ron didn’t move except to change the channel on the big screen with his remote.

“Oh, for the love of God.” Charlene’s mouth drew into an unhappy, persecuted line.

Nikki hated to leave. A fight was brewing. “I’ll be back. Soon. Promise.” She dropped a kiss on her mother’s head, then gave her father another hug before streaking out of the house. Her parents had come to an uneasy truce. They’d be okay. Yet, she crossed her fingers.

How had she forgotten her friend? As ambitious as she was, she didn’t believe in work to the exclusion of all else. Family and friends were important. And yet she was ditching out on her folks, hadn’t called her sister back in two days, had left Trina to deal with Aimee and Dana the other night and now had nearly stood up her best friend. “Oh, yeah, Gillette,” she reprimanded, “you’re a great friend.”

She drove home pushing the speed limit, stopped by the owner’s apartment where she was handed two shiny new keys and was told that the new locks were “guaranteed to keep unwanted boyfriends out.”

“Thanks,” she’d said, flashing a smile and racing up the stairs. She hesitated as she slid one key into the new lock, but the door swung open and her cozy little apartment was just as she’d left it. At least, she thought so. Agilely, Jennings hopped down from the kitchen counter to rub around her legs. She took the time to pet him, give him some new food, and change. She then called Cliff Siebert on his cell and explain that she’d meet him at the Weaver Brothers truck stop, but that she was running late because of her date with Simone. Then, with only a modicum of guilt at leaving the cat again, she locked the door securely behind her before flying down the stairs. She had five minutes to get to the gym before the class started.

Unfortunately, it was a twenty-minute drive.

CHAPTER 14

“…that’s it for tonight. Thank you.” Jake Vaughn bowed, clapped his hands together and smiled at the class as he straightened. Nikki, her body drenched in sweat, felt muscles she hadn’t remembered existed. She’d gotten to the kickboxing class ten minutes late and missed stretching, but had managed to squeeze into a vacant spot next to Simone as her friend had worked out and ogled the instructor.

“You’re embarrassing,” Nikki said, swiping at her face with a towel as most of the other class members gathered their gear and walked out of the gym with its gleaming hardwood floors, high ceilings and basketball hoops.

“You think?” Simone laughed. Her black hair was pulled atop her head in a loose, seemingly casual knot that Nikki suspected took half an hour to get just right. Her skin was a natural golden tone, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of the workout, or from being so close to Jake, Nikki wasn’t sure which. “I didn’t think anything could embarrass you,” she said, dabbing at her forehead with the ends of the towel she’d draped around her neck.

“You were wrong.”

“Then, prepare yourself for being mortified.” After shooting a “watch this” look at Nikki, Simone walked boldly over to Jake who was stowing some of his athletic gear into a nylon Nike bag.

Nikki couldn’t hear the conversation but assumed Simone was asking him out. He was smiling broadly, nodding, then shaking his head. Letting Simone down easy. What was wrong with the guy? Simone was a knockout in her leotard and tight little shorts. Jake
had
to be gay. Why else would Simone be interested in him? She was always attracted to the guys who were unavailable—either married, recently divorced, or somehow emotionally damaged. This was the first time that Simone had been interested in someone who wasn’t physically interested in her. A real blow to her ego. Except the guy was probably just not interested in women.

Nikki slung her towel over her neck as Simone and Jake parted ways. “He’s busy,” Simone said, her good mood replaced by confusion. Her dark brows were knit, her lips compressed.

“Because he’s gay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Bet?”

Simone sighed dramatically. “No! That’s a dumb bet. But since Jake can’t join me, how ’bout you? Dinner?”

“I love to be second choice,” Nikki mocked.

“Oh, for the love of God, Nikki, that’s not fair. You’re always blowing me off for some other person, usually not even a cute guy—just some”—she made air quotes at this point—“big, and I mean really, really big, assignment.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I’ve been a flake, okay?” Nikki glanced at her watch. She had to meet Cliff in less than an hour.

“Right. So make it up to me. And don’t complain about being my second choice. Besides, you’ve got to eat. You can convince me that Jake’s all wrong for me over shrimp and fries.”

“I thought you wanted barbecue.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I wanted Jake, too. A girl can change her mind, can’t she?”

“I had dinner at my folks’.”

“Then, keep me company.”

“For a while,” Nikki acquiesced.

They drove in separate cars to the Bijou, a little hole in the wall off the waterfront. The atmosphere was lousy, the place noisy and crowded, but, as Nikki knew from experience, the shrimp, oysters and crab cakes were to die for. A dozen tables with red and white oilcloth covers were wedged into a small room where ceiling fans, now decorated with Christmas lights, swirled overhead. Semi-private booths with high backs and coat hooks rimmed the perimeter of the establishment. Three teenagers were just leaving when they arrived, so Nikki and Simone grabbed their small, vacated table near the kitchen.

Minutes later their order had been taken by a waitress with purple streaks in her hair and several rings in her eyebrows. Before Nikki could convince Simone that Jake, their kickboxing teacher, was off-limits, Simone’s seafood platter and Nikki’s iced tea were deposited in front of them.

“Sure you don’t want a bite?” Simone asked, dredging a strip of clam through a trough of hot sauce.

“I’m stuffed, really.”

Nikki nursed her tea and tried not to look at her watch every five minutes as her friend devoured coleslaw, French fries, shrimp, clams and crab cakes. “Jingle Bell Rock” played for the second time.

“Okay, so I can’t have Jake. I can live with that,” Simone said philosophically. “I got over Andrew, didn’t I?”

“Better than most of us.” They rarely talked about Andrew or the fact that he’d broken up with Simone one week before he died. Nikki was far from certain that her friend had gotten through the experience emotionally unscathed, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue.

“What about you? Why are you always holed up in your apartment or at work? I’m beginning to think you’ve got some secret lover squirreled away somewhere.”

Nikki almost laughed out loud. It had been several months since she’d had a date, a long time since she’d split with Sean, her last serious boyfriend. “Go on thinking that. It makes me sound intriguing.”

“You are.”

“Me?” Nikki shook her head and stole a French fry. “I’m an open book.”

“An open book that works way too much,” Simone said as the waitress refilled Nikki’s glass and someone played an old Jimmy Buffett tune on the jukebox. The strains of “Margaritaville” played over the rattle of silverware and the buzz of conversation.

“Some of us don’t have cushy jobs with the city planning department.”

“Bo-ring, cushy jobs listening to city planners fight and haggle and…I don’t know, it’s just not how I want to spend the rest of my life. At least you love what you do.” Simone set her fork on the table. “Okay, I guess I’d better tell you what’s going on with me.”

“Besides trying to convert a gay man straight.” Nikki finished her tea and crushed an ice cube in her teeth.

Simone ignored the jibe. “I’m thinking of moving.”

“What?” Stunned, Nikki set down her glass. Nearly choked on the ice.

“You heard me.”

“But where and why?”

“I’m not sure where I want to land. But somewhere else. Richmond, maybe.”

“Richmond?” Nikki couldn’t believe her ears. Never had Simone mentioned leaving Savannah.

Simone began picking at the tail of a shrimp. Avoiding Nikki’s eyes. “Or Charleston.”

“Where did this come from?” she asked as the couple at the next table scooted back their chairs noisily.

“Oh, come on, Nikki, you know what I mean. You’ve been talking of leaving for years. New York or Chicago or San Francisco or L.A. I’m not talking about a crosscountry move. I want to be close enough to visit my folks when I want to, but far enough away to have some space, my own space. I’ve got to face it, Nikki, I’m in a rut here. I have been since Andrew died. I need a change.”

She had a point. Not only was Simone the only child of a wealthy old-money Savannah family, but she’d also been the beneficiary of Andrew’s estate. Andrew had owned land he’d inherited from Nana and a healthy bank account. It had always been a sore spot between the families that Simone, rather than Andrew’s parents, had ended up with part of the family fortune, but it had never bothered Nikki.

“I figured you’d understand,” Simone was saying. “You’re always on the lookout for something exciting. You get that rush through your work.”

“Oh, yeah, writing such hot stories as what the historical society’s next project is or who’s been elected to the school board is a real high.”

“You helped bust Dickie Ray Biscayne.”

“And the world is better off,” Nikki mocked, remembering the bastard cousin to the Montgomerys. A lowlife bottom feeder if ever there was one.

“It is,” Simone insisted as a busboy neatly pocketed the tip left at the neighboring table before picking up the dishes and swiping the oilcloth with a wet towel. “Dickie Ray was organizing dogfights.” She shuddered. “Awful stuff. You did the world a favor. And now you’re on the trail of that Grave Robber, right?” Simone’s eyes brightened. “I read the article this morning. You’re on to something,” she said with a smile, then leaned across the table as if about to share a secret. “I’m no investigative reporter, but I’m willing to bet from the way you’ve been checking your watch and cell phone you’ve got something more going, someplace you need to be, right?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah. I’m willing to bet it has to do with the murders, right?”

Nikki hedged. “I can’t say much, but for the first time in a long, long time I get the chance to prove myself to Tom Fink and I’m not going to blow it.”

“Oh…” Simone nodded as she bit into a shrimp. “So, that’s it. You know, Nikki, the Chevalier trial was a long time ago.”

“It seems like yesterday.”

“A lot longer than that. More like ten or twelve years. I was there. I remember.” She shuddered and Nikki noticed goose bumps raise on her forearms. “I heard Chevalier was getting out or had gotten out a few weeks ago. Can you believe it? The psycho hacks up his girlfriend and most of her family, gets sent to prison and then gets released on some kind of technicality?” Simone was suddenly serious as death, her face pale. “You know, there is definitely something wrong with the system, if something like that can happen.”

Nikki couldn’t agree more, didn’t want to think about LeRoy Chevalier and his brutal crime, or how she’d nearly jeopardized the case against him by reporting information she’d heard from her father, the judge overseeing the trial. She’d nearly cost her father his job, probably had ruined any political ambitions he might have harbored. And now Chevalier was a free man. She agreed with Simone; it just wasn’t right. She checked the time and apologized to Simone. “I’m sorry, but I really do have to run.”