Hit and Run (4 page)

‘Deserves a vacation, yes,' her mother said. ‘But that's entirely different than taking one. I don't understand why Phyllis … well, she kind of invited herself along, now, didn't she?'

‘To be fair, I included her. I figured she'd be able to convince you to come to Hart's shindig.'

‘Did you think I'd let you go by yourself?' Daisy asked, crinkling her sun-freckled nose.

‘No, I thought you'd guilt me into
not
going.'

‘AnnaLise. Of all people, you should know better than to turn a noun into a verb,' her mother scolded as they saw Phyllis step out of the side entrance to her apartment with a piece of luggage and turn to lock her door. ‘I would
shame
you, not guilt you.'

As an aid toward keeping her mother's mind sharp, AnnaLise had convinced Daisy to oversee the town's blog. It was a responsibility the older woman was taking exceedingly seriously.

‘I've created a monster,' the journalist muttered as she climbed out to open the sedan's driver's-side rear door.

‘Might as well have walked clear around the corner to your place,' Mama groused, ‘you making me cross traffic like this.'

AnnaLise stepped out into the lane that separated the business side of Main Street from the small public beach. ‘What traffic? You said yourself that November is nearly the only time of year we have the town to our—'

‘Phyllis, is that a
carpet
bag?' Daisy interrupted as her life-long friend derricked herself into the rear seat.

‘I found it buried in my attic,' Mama said, settling the thing on her lap. ‘God knows what my ancestors did to the Yankee who'da been carrying it.'

‘Wherever they put him, he can't smell as bad as that thing does,' Daisy said, wrinkling her nose. ‘AnnaLise, why don't you put it in the trunk?'

Her daughter went to reach for it then backed off. ‘With our luggage?'

Daisy's eyes narrowed, probably thinking about her expensive lingerie. After all, what woman wanted her knickers smelling of mothballs and worse?

‘Oh, don't make such a fuss, you two,' Phyllis said. ‘It's a short ride and I'll be keeping my traveling companion right here next to me, thank you very much.' She reached out and pulled the door shut. Hard.

With a shrug, AnnaLise climbed behind the wheel, rolling down the window as she did. The distance between ‘downtown' Sutherton and Hart's estate might be short as the crow flies or boat sails, but approach-by-auto took a bit longer.

‘I don't understand why, all these decades after the Scout Camp closed down,' AnnaLise said as she slipped the gearshift into reverse once more, ‘we still don't have a road that parallels the east side of the lake, like on the north, south and west.'

‘Two words,' Daisy started, and then interrupted her own self this time. ‘You're not going to back all the way across the road to turn around, are you?'

‘AnnieLeez, this here's angle-parking,' Phyllis chimed in. ‘And you're at the wrong angle. You have to go round the block to head the other way.'

Their daughter willed herself not to lift her face toward the sky and let out a primal scream. Picking Mama up on the restaurant's side of the road, AnnaLise would have had to execute the very same maneuver about which she was now being scolded. ‘Don't be silly,' she said, continuing to back up. ‘There's nobody—'

Eeeeeeeee … whoop, whoop, whooooop …

‘Told you,' the two older women chorused, as though they'd been spending their leisure hours practicing the chant.

The window already being down, AnnaLise didn't have to lower it. ‘Afternoon, Chu—'

But it wasn't AnnaLise's high-school flame, Police Chief Chuck Greystone, who swung open the cruiser's driver's-side door and stepped out – it was the mayor. And there was a passenger in the front seat beyond him.

‘Bobby Bradenham,' Phyllis piped up from the back, ‘whatever are you doing in that police car? The job of mayor isn't enough to keep up that big house of yours now that Ema's not around to put the squeeze on Dickens Hart?'

AnnaLise saw Bobby flush, even as Daisy turned to her childhood friend. ‘Shame on you, Phyllis. The boy not only just lost his mother—'

‘God rest her soul,' Phyllis interjected as she made the sign of the cross. Even less a papal person than she was a people person, Mama nonetheless enjoyed dusting off the occasional ritual.

‘Ema Bradenham's not dead,' AnnaLise reminded her.

‘She is to me.' Phyllis settled back into the seat, her arms crossed.

‘But Bobby's had to adjust to a whole new family,' Daisy continued, unfazed. ‘The Smoaks, of all people.'

The mayor cleared his throat. And uncomfortably, at that. ‘Umm, that's just what I was going to—'

‘Gotta be uncomfortable, that's true.' Phyllis hadn't stayed quiet long. ‘What with the fact that Bobby is having sexual relations with his own father's widow these days.'

AnnaLise felt her eyes go wide. ‘Mama!'

‘No, Phyllis is right about that, technically speaking,' said Daisy. ‘Though it's not anywhere near as bad as it sounds. Nobody knew that Rance was his father when Kathleen and Bobby took up.'

‘After Rance's death, thank the Lord.' Another sign of the cross from the hit-and-miss Catholic. ‘Kathleen should be thanking her lucky stars that the womanizing drunkard she had the misfortune of marrying is dead and she now has a man like Bobby – stepson or not.'

The mayor didn't look pleased at the awkwardly phrased compliment.

‘We're on our way to Dickens Hart's shindig,' AnnaLise said in a weak attempt to change the subject. ‘Are you coming?'

Bobby shook his head. ‘Can't. Rance's father—'

‘The very tree that rotten apple didn't fall far from,' Phyllis opined.

‘Now what kind of tail-first sentence is that?' Daisy demanded, twisting around to face her friend. ‘I keep telling you: subject, verb, direct object. Rance – the rotten apple – didn't fall far from the tree, meaning his equally shady dad—'

‘Roy Smoaks?' AnnaLise was peering past Bobby toward the man in the passenger seat of the squad car.

‘That's the one,' Daisy confirmed. ‘The most power-hungry chief we've ever had, though Rance was a close se—'

‘No.' AnnaLise pointed.

Daisy waved for her daughter to sit back so she could see past her into the marked car. ‘Roy Smoaks?'

‘That's what I said … ouch!' AnnaLise yanked her hair out from under Mama's hand, the older woman having grabbed the driver's headrest to lever herself higher for a closer look.

Roy Smoaks – Rance Smoaks' father and, as a result, Bobby Bradenham's newly discovered grandfather – doffed his Miami Dolphins ball-cap from his seat in the car. ‘Afternoon, Phyllis, Lorraine. Good to see you again.'

Bobby seemed surprised by the graciousness of the greeting, especially given the grammar lesson Daisy had just directed to Mama, with Roy as bad-apple illustration. ‘Like I started to say, Roy came up from Florida for the holiday.'

‘Had to see the new addition to the family,' Smoaks said, leaning forward to see past that new addition at the wheel. ‘What with Thanksgiving and all.'

AnnaLise nodded politely, not knowing quite what to say about this development. Until three months ago, Roy Smoaks had simply been Sutherton's retired police chief, and not a very popular one, at that. Now, as it turned out, he was also Bobby's grandfather.

Forced to step down at sixty-five, Roy had groomed his son, Rance, to take over the office. Four years later, though, a shake-up in town government led by Dickens Hart, whose plans to redevelop the prime land where the defunct White Tail Club stood were being blocked, signaled the end of the Smoaks' dynasty and the appointment of a new chief, Chuck Greystone.

Chuck and AnnaLise had dated in high school, before he realized – or admitted to himself – that he was gay. AnnaLise had already moved to Wisconsin by the time Chuck was named chief, but she'd heard the appointment was bitterly opposed by the Smoaks, who'd attempted to oust the new chief. The mud-slinging had had nothing to do with ability and everything to do with Chuck's sexual orientation. And now here was one of the ‘slingers' dirtying the chief's car. ‘Where's Chuck?'

AnnaLise colored up as Bobby cocked his head at what had to seem like a non sequitur, given that even he, her oldest friend, couldn't read her mind. ‘I mean, since you're driving the …' she waved vaguely toward the ‘Sutherton Police' logo on the side of the cruiser.

‘Oh, that,' Bobby said. ‘I drove Chuck and his mother to the Charlotte Douglas International. His personal car wasn't big enough for them and their luggage, and neither was mine.'

‘As luck would have it, my flight was arriving just as theirs was pulling out, so Bobby here could kill two birds with one stone.' Roy, who had to be in his seventies, winked at AnnaLise. ‘And you, pretty lady, are …?'

Legend was the Smoaks males came roaring out of the womb with facial hair and a sex drive. Apparently they limped toward the grave the same way.

‘You know my daughter, AnnaLise,' Daisy snapped.

‘My, my. Sure grew up pretty,' Smoaks said appreciatively.

‘You'll do well to keep your hands – and eyes – off her.' Phyllis let go of the headrest abruptly, sending it snapping AnnaLise forward again.

The journalist rubbed the back of her head. ‘Where are Chuck and his mother going?'

‘Dublin,' Bobby said. ‘His—'

‘Ireland?' This from Daisy.

‘That's the one.' Bobby seemed relieved by the change of subject. ‘His mother still has family there, though she'd never visited before now. Given how quiet it is in Sutherton late November into mid-December, I encouraged Chuck to go now. His mom's not getting any younger.'

Chuck was Irish on his mom's side and Cherokee on his deceased dad's, resulting in the blessed combination of green eyes and strong facial features.

‘That's wonderful,' AnnaLise said. ‘How long will they be gone?'

‘Two weeks,' Bobby said.

‘Two weeks?' Phyllis echoed.

‘Coy Pitchford will be in charge during his absence,' the mayor assured them. ‘With the county for backup, of course.'

Coy was a good guy, but it was his wife and fellow officer, Charity Pitchford, who, in AnnaLise's experience, had the real brains in the couple. Still, in the department Coy outranked Charity, so that, as Mama would say, was that.

‘Wouldn't have found me out of my town, much less the country, for two weeks,' Roy grumbled. ‘Not when I was chief.'

‘I'd have paid for him to go myself,' the voice behind AnnaLise piped up.

Bobby, always the diplomat, looked like he'd already debated the subject – perhaps the whole two-and-a-half hours back from the airport in Charlotte. He held up a hand. ‘Enough, Roy. You're not in charge here anymore.'

Smoaks sat up straight. ‘Well, now, aren't we high-and-mighty? Best remember, boy, that
you're
not Sutherton ar-is-to-cra-cy no more, neither.'

AnnaLise rose to her friend's defense. ‘No matter what the gossips said,' she worked at keeping her eyes from flicking back toward Phyllis, ‘Bobby never believed he was Dickens Hart's—'

‘No matter,' Smoaks interrupted. ‘Ema Bradenham put on airs, too, living in that big house she named after herself and acting like she was better than the rest of us. And, as it turns out, she wasn't.' He grinned at Bobby. ‘Though that there is water over the dam. Right, boy?'

The mayor didn't respond but stood, jaw clenched, staring at his shoes.

AnnaLise once again opened her own mouth, but Roy Smoaks apparently wasn't done flapping his. ‘Now, as for King Dickens Hart, I heard tell of this party for his bastard offspring all the way down to my condo in Florida. If I'da known we were invited—'

‘
You're
not invited,' Bobby said between tight lips. ‘And I'm not going.'

‘I reckon that's up to you, but I'm thinking we'll have a bird's-eye view from across the lake just the same and it sure does sound interesting.' Disappearing momentarily, Roy Smoaks straightened up with a pair of binoculars. ‘Even brought my … You might call 'em my soap-opera glasses.' He laughed at his own joke.

With an audible groan, Bobby gave AnnaLise an apologetic look and got back into the cruiser. ‘We'd best be going.'

‘Same. Have a good … um, weekend,' she said awkwardly.

Bobby mouthed,
yeah, right
, but said only, ‘You, too.'

‘My sentiments exactly,' Roy Smoaks said, raising the binoculars as they pulled away. ‘We'll be … seeing you all.'

‘A
sshole.' The pseudo-Catholic in the backseat had been the first to break the silence as they drove eastward on Main Street.

‘God rest his soul,' AnnaLise muttered.

Daisy looked sideways at her daughter and started to giggle. The other two joined in and soon tears were streaming down all three women's faces as AnnaLise tried to keep the car where it belonged on the narrow road.

‘Oh, dear,' Daisy finally managed. ‘This looks to be quite the holiday on the lake. I'd love to be a fly on the wall during Thanksgiving dinner at Bradenham.'

As Smoaks had alluded to, Bobby's mother had, ever so modestly, named their ‘McMansion' on the western shore of Lake Sutherton ‘Bradenham.' Now there was just Bobby there.

‘I'm not sure that dinner with Bobby and his grandfather could be any worse than what we're going to face,' said AnnaLise.

‘Kathleen might not agree with that,' Mama said.

Phyllis Balisteri had a point. Bobby Bradenham had proposed to Kathleen Tullifinny at the age of eighteen, but the honey-haired beauty had turned the mayor-to-be down in favor of the older, already police chief Rance Smoaks. After Rance's body had washed up on the beach, victim of a gunshot wound, the two high-school sweethearts had rekindled their romance, only to discover mere days later that Bobby was Rance's blood-son from a long-ago teenage fling.