Tangled Roots (17 page)

“I’m eating, Joy. What are you doing here?” I said sarcastically.

“Mighta been looking for a job after what happened at your uncle’s restaurant,” she said with a sly smile.

“What happened?” I asked, my head jerking up out of my cake plate.

“The health department showed up today for a surprise inspection. Said they got an anonymous call about an employee with an infectious skin disease working at the restaurant.”

Great, as if I didn’t already feel horrible. Now I’d caused trouble for Alex because of my prank on Noreen. But I didn’t feel bad enough to confess that it was me and my fictional case of ringworm that had prompted the visit from the health department. Apparently, Noreen wasn’t taking my abrupt departure, or my mooning her, very well.

“That’s insane. Who in the world would tell a lie like that?” Personally, I think I missed my calling as an actress.

Joy shrugged and lit up a cigarette. A waitress walking past us to serve another customer set an ashtray in front of her, and Joy shot her a dirty look. “It was probably that pissed-off ole biddy from last month. Remember the one who got all shitty with Alex when he told her she couldn’t make any substitutions on the side items for the special? Nasty bitch ranted and raved that she’d make sure nobody ever ate there again. Guess she was serious about that shit. But that man from the health department was only there a few minutes. Seemed kinda pissed that he had to come out at all.”

Thank God
, I thought, breathing a sigh of relief. Against my better judgment, I decided to ask Joy about the painting she’d done for Rollins’s office.

“I saw the picture you did of Morris Rollins for Holy Cross, Joy. It was a lot tamer than your usual work. I was impressed.”

She rolled her eyes but I could tell despite her usual funky attitude that she was pleased by the compliment.

“I guess I’m ’sposed to be flattered that you like that piece-of-shit painting? I only did it ’cause I needed the money.”

“I’m curious. How’d you even get a gig like that?”

“One a the secretaries in the art department at Kingford goes to that church. She told me they were lookin’ for an artist. I gave ’em the cheapest estimate and got the job.”

“So, what was it like working there?”

“Why are you all up in my business? How’d you even see the painting, anyway? I know you don’t go to church. So, you musta been either on your knees or on your back
prayin
’ with the good reverend, right? Wonder what that man a yours would think if I told him?”

“Why do you always have to be so nasty? All I did was ask you a question. You make me sorry I even tried to talk to you.” I started to get up from my stool when she stopped me.

“Damn! You can’t even take a joke. You need to chill, for real, Kendra,” she said, laughing spitefully.

She and I both knew she hadn’t been kidding. I sat back down only because I really wanted to know about her experience working for Holy Cross.

“It wasn’t too bad workin’ there,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “They mainly left me alone to do my thing. But the reverend’s sister-in-law was a trip. Always breathin’ down my neck and tellin’ me to repaint shit. Like I didn’t know how to paint. So, I got even with her ass. I painted the painting I wanted to paint. You shoulda seen the look on that heifer’s face when she saw
my
interpretation of her precious brother-in-law. She went off. That was some seriously funny shit.” She laughed and, imagining Bonita’s shock at seeing what Joy had done, I laughed with her.

“Yeah, I’ve met Bonita Kidd. She’s definitely uptight all right.”

“You’d a thought she was the wife instead of the sister-in-law. Her husband was cool, though, with his too-tight-clothes-wearin’ ass.”

“You get to meet Rollins or his wife?”

“Nope. After she threatened not to pay me, I redid the painting, and got straight the fuck outta there. That’s the last time I’m doin’ some shit like that. I’m an artist. I can’t have anybody fuckin’ with my artistic vision like that. Where the hell is that waitress?” she asked, looking around fiercely.

Since my chocolate therapy session was over, I paid my bill and headed to my car. Then I remembered something that seemed a little strange to me from when I was at the hospital. Rollins had shown up. But Nicole wasn’t with him. Was she at home? Did I dare go to their house to see her? I figured I had nothing to lose and, filled with chocolate-induced courage, headed over to the reverend’s home.

Morris Rollins lived on the north side of Willow. I found this out by making a quick call to Gracie’s Gowns Galore and talking to Mona Carter. One good thing about living in a small town is that, if you didn’t know something about someone, you were usually only a phone call away from someone who did. According to Mona, Rollins had shunned living in the ritzy, exclusive area known as Pine Knoll in favor of the next most expensive area in Willow called Briar Creek. It was much newer than Pine Knoll and severely underdeveloped. Only four streets made up Briar Creek. The development had been abandoned when the builder went bankrupt, and only twenty of the planned fifty-plus luxury homes slated for construction had been built. The area behind the development was densely wooded and rumored to be home to packs of vicious stray dogs and homeless people.

The Rollins home sat majestically at the end of a culde-sac on a street called Rose Lane. It was a huge brick two-story that looked like a miniature castle and even had a small tower. Living modestly apparently isn’t something that appeals to Reverend Rollins. There were four other equally large homes on the street, all with expensive cars in the driveways, except Rollins’s, whose driveway was empty. The yards were immaculate with beautiful landscaping but it all looked a little too neat, a bit too artificial to me. I parked on the street and put on a pair of sunglasses before walking up the winding driveway to the front door. I rang the doorbell and heard it echo through the house. After about a minute, a short, middle-aged white woman in a nurse’s uniform and a bulky blue sweater answered the door. She looked annoyed, like answering the door wasn’t her job and she didn’t appreciate having to do it.

“Hello, I’m here to see Nicole Rollins. Is she in?” The nurse rolled her eyes. What was wrong with everybody today? Was there something in the water that was giving everyone a shitty attitude?

“Mrs. Rollins is sleeping right now. She’s ill and I have strict instructions from her husband that she not be disturbed for any reason,” she said and started to close the door. I wondered why a nurse was answering the door. I was surprised the Rollinses didn’t have a maid. Or did they?

“Is Florence here?” I asked, dredging up the first name that came to mind. I sure hoped this woman had never seen
The Jeffersons
.

“Who’s that?” she asked, looking confused.

“You know, Florence, their maid,” I said impatiently, giving off some attitude of my own.

“Reverend Rollins told me their maid is on vacation. I never knew her name.”

“How long have you been Mrs. Rollins’s nurse?”

“A week, and who did you say you were?” She was looking at me suspiciously, probably trying to figure out what in the world a woman wearing dark sunglasses and a headband, looking like a reject from Prince’s entourage, wanted with Nicole Rollins.

“I’m Mona Carter. I own Gracie’s Gowns Galore and Mrs. Rollins had scheduled a fitting today for a new dress. She asked me if I wouldn’t mind coming out here to do it. I’m sure she told me to come today.”

The nurse looked like she wasn’t quite sure what to do. I looked past her into the large, brightly lit foyer. From the little bit I could see it looked like a very beautiful house. But I hadn’t really expected anything less. I even thought I detected a hint of Morris Rollins’s cologne.

“I’m sorry, Miss —”

“Carter, Mona Carter.” I could see by the look on her face that this wasn’t going to work.

“Right. I’m sorry, Miss Carter, but Reverend Rollins was very adamant about not disturbing his wife. And to be honest, I really need this job and don’t want to mess it up. You understand, don’t you?”

The only thing I understood was that I desperately needed to talk to Nicole Rollins and this woman was in my way. I didn’t know when I’d get another chance to see her with her husband out of the house. I wanted to get this over with so I could tell Harmon and Mercer everything and go on with my life, which now involved looking for a new job.

“I had no idea Nicole was even sick. What’s wrong with her, anyway?” I whispered, hoping maybe she’d throw me a crumb about what was going on with Nicole. No such luck.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that. Now, if you have any more questions, I’ll have to ask you to consult Reverend Rollins.” She closed the door in my face before I could say another word. Shit! What was I going to do now?

I started to walk back to my car when a large truck bearing the name Lehman’s Used Furniture turned into the driveway. The truck stopped next to me.

“Are you Mrs. Rollins?” asked the muscular brother driving the truck.

“No. I don’t live here. But Mrs. Rollins is home.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” he said, and continued up the driveway.

I stopped and watched him park in front of the house. The driver jumped out and opened up the back of the truck while his partner, a short, squat, older black man in a baseball cap, rang the doorbell. I crept back up the driveway and hid behind a clump of bushes near the truck. I was hoping there would be a chance to sneak into the house while the door was open for the deliverymen. But from the conversation I could hear the driver’s partner having with the nurse, it sounded like she might not let them into the house, either.

“Look, sweetheart, all I know is that we’re scheduled for a delivery today at this address. Now, we can bring it into the house or leave it right here in the driveway, makes no nevermind to us. Either way, it’s not stayin’ in our truck. We got pickups to make and there ain’t no room with that thing back there. So, what’s it gonna be?” There was something distinctly familiar about the man’s voice. But I couldn’t place it. The truck was shielding my view of the front door so I couldn’t tell who he was.

“Reverend Rollins never told me about any delivery. Go ahead and unload it and I’ll call the reverend to see where he wants you to put it.”

I ducked down low as the deliveryman went around to the back of the truck to help the driver. Minutes later the two men unloaded a large pine armoire, the kind people use as a second closet. Dang. Did Nicole have that many clothes? Or maybe it was for the reverend himself. The nurse still hadn’t come back to the door to tell them where to put it, so it sat in the driveway behind the truck. The drivers waited by the front door, smoking cigarettes. Finally, the nurse came back to the door.

“Okay, guys, the reverend said you could bring it on in. It goes in the maid’s room here on the first floor, just off the foyer. I’ll hold the door.”

I had to think of something quick ’cause it didn’t look as if I’d get a chance to sneak in with the nurse standing at the door and I couldn’t take any chances. I looked at the unattended armoire and made a hasty decision I hoped and prayed wouldn’t land me in jail. While the deliverymen were stubbing out their cigarettes with their backs turned, I ran over and jumped inside the armoire. I had plenty of room to stand up and turn around. I was able to close one side of the armoire’s double doors. There were no handles on the inside allowing me to close the other door and I knew I’d be found immediately. I started to panic. I heard one of the deliverymen talking.

“Hey, man, grab that tape measure from the truck. I don’t think the door’s wide enough. We gotta measure.”

I got an idea and rooted around in my purse until I found some dental floss and quickly pulled off a long piece. I wrapped it around the screws on the inside of the door that attached the handle and pulled it shut. I then wrapped the dental floss around the screws holding both handles in place until the doors were tightly closed from the inside. It was dark and airless inside the armoire, just what I imagined being in a pine coffin would feel like, and I was starting to feel claustrophobic. Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand it, I felt the armoire tip backwards as it was being lifted. I braced myself and remained as motionless as possible.

“Damn, this thing is heavy!” exclaimed a strained voice I recognized as the driver’s. “I must be tired ’cause I sure don’t remember it being this heavy when we unloaded it.”

“I just hope we can get this big bitch through the door. We already runnin’ behind schedule,” replied the other familiar-sounding man breathlessly.

“Just be happy we don’t have to take it upstairs.” I heard the other man murmur in agreement.

Technically speaking, I couldn’t feel too insulted since they didn’t know I was inside. But I was still embarrassed, and vowed to cut back on the pizza and hot fudge cake. I held my breath, foolishly thinking it might make me lighter. A few minutes later, after successfully navigating the front door, I felt the armoire being set down and tilted forward to an upright position. But in the process my sunglasses, which I’d stuffed in my pocket, fell out and hit the bottom of the armoire with a clatter.

“What was that?” I heard the driver ask.

“I don’t know,” said his partner. I thought I would wet myself as one of the men started trying to pull the doors open. But, I held on tight to my dental floss, wincing in pain as it bit into my fingers. The tug of war lasted about a minute before they finally stopped. I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“Ain’t there a key to this thing?”

I looked down and saw a small keyhole under the handle of the door on the left-hand side.

“It must still be in the truck. I’ll go look for it. Why don’t you get that nurse to sign for the delivery?”

I listened closely to the footsteps as they left the room. I needed to get out quickly before they came back and discovered the key didn’t work. I didn’t hear any movement in the room so I unwrapped the dental floss, opened the doors and got out. I looked quickly around the small, minimally decorated bedroom. But, I soon found out I wasn’t alone. As I headed towards the door of the bedroom, I heard a gasp of shock and whirled around. One of the deliverymen, the short older man with the baseball cap, was still in the room, sitting against the headboard of the bed. He was staring at me like he’d seen a ghost. I finally found out why his voice was so familiar.