Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)

Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4) Page 14

“Coffee, Margaret?” I leaned over to touch her arm.

Margaret nodded impatiently. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve talked with Detective Johnson,” she muttered. “The man’s an idiot.”

“Margaret,” Matt said softly, in an effort to deflect her.

My sister sighed deeply. I could tell she was trying not to ruin the evening. I also knew that Julia’s ordeal was constantly on her mind.

Margaret had made it her mission to see justice done—more than justice, vengeance. The man responsible for hurting her daughter should be strung up, in her view, and left hanging in a public square. That sounds medieval, but it wasn’t much of an exaggeration. If he was ever arrested and brought to court, she’d sit through every minute of his trial and cheer when a guilty verdict was read. I was just as outraged as she was, but I didn’t have the same passion for revenge. Don’t get me wrong; I wanted this man found and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Margaret wanted that, too. But she also wanted him to suffer for what he’d done to Julia. She was obsessed with it.

I hurried to the kitchen to start a pot of decaf, and while it brewed, we managed to finish the meal without any further mention of the incident. It didn’t come up again until we sat in the living room with our coffee and dessert.

“Does anyone know the name of a good private investigator?” Margaret asked unexpectedly.

“Whatever for?” Matt demanded.

“What do you think?” Margaret lashed out. “The police aren’t doing a damn thing. I want to hire someone who will.”

“Margaret…”

“Don’t Margaret me,” she cried, pinching her lips together in a way that told me she was determined to see this through. “Do you want this…this bastard to strike again? Next time, the victim might not be so fortunate. Julia’s arm was broken, but if she hadn’t rolled away, she could’ve been hit by an oncoming car. We’re both aware that our daughter could have easily been maimed for life or killed.”

“But she wasn’t,” Matt said gently, patiently.

“The next victim might not be so fortunate, did you think of that? This man needs to pay for his crimes and be prevented from ever doing it again. And if the police aren’t going to see to that, then I am.”

“It’s the responsibility of the police to find him, not some investigator we hire. We’re already paying taxes to support law enforcement. Give them a chance first.”

Margaret’s response was a derisive snort.

“More coffee anyone?” I asked, hoping to divert an argument.

Both Matt and Margaret shook their heads, and Brad and I shared another glance. Thankfully, Cody got home a few minutes later, bursting into the house with his usual enthusiasm. Chase bolted into the living room eager to greet his master, tail wagging madly.

“Can I have some cake?” Cody asked, looking at the empty dessert plates—and at Matt, who was eating a second piece.

“What did you have for dinner?” I asked.

Cody paused to think about it. “Roast beef with potatoes and gravy, peas and salad. Mrs. Martin’s a good cook. Not as good as you, though.”

That boy certainly had a way with words. “I’ll see what I can do about that cake,” I promised, not bothering to hide a smile.

Margaret stood and Matt finished off the last bite of his dessert before joining her.

“We should be getting home,” Margaret said. “I don’t like being away from the girls for so long.”

Matt looked as though he wanted to comment but apparently changed his mind. “Lydia, Brad, we can’t thank you enough for dinner. It was delicious.”

My sister had already reached for her raincoat and purse and seemed anxious to be on her way. I’d lost count of the number of times she’d phoned home, and I wondered if she thought no one had noticed. Or maybe she simply didn’t care.

Brad and I walked them to the door and stood on the front porch while they dashed through the rain to their car, which was parked at the curb. With the insurance money, Matt and Margaret had purchased a replacement car. This one was used and about as plain as they come. Margaret had no intention of risking a repeat of Julia’s experience.

After they drove off, Brad heaved a sigh of relief. “How do you think it went?” he asked.

“Definitely not as well as I’d hoped,” I admitted, leaning against him. He brought his arm around my waist.

“Matt said Margaret’s up till all hours of the night, obsessing over this. She can’t sleep.”

“Neither can Julia.” I wanted to hug my precious niece and reassure her. I only wished I had the words to comfort her and Margaret, too.

“Do you figure Margaret was serious about hiring a private investigator?” Brad asked as we went back inside. He closed the front door and turned the lock.

Before I could answer, Cody came into the living room, overhearing the end of our conversation. “What’s a private investigator?”

“It’s like a private detective,” I explained.

“Can I be one when I grow up?”

“I don’t see why not,” I said, ruff ling his hair. He wrapped his arms around my waist and grinned up at me. I hugged him back. I could hardly imagine how I’d feel if anyone hurt Cody. The thought filled me with such apprehension and sudden fear, I found myself holding on too tightly. I wanted to stand between him and the world, keep him safe from all harm.

Those were the same emotions my sister was feeling. After the attack on Julia, Margaret must have felt she’d somehow failed as a mother.

CHAPTER 10

Alix Townsend

Alix stepped out from the bridal shop’s dressing room and stood before Tammie Lee Donovan, waiting for her reaction.

She wasn’t disappointed.

“Oh, Alix! It’s perfect, just perfect,” Tammie Lee sighed. She covered her mouth with both hands and when she looked up at Alix, her eyes were tender.

Alix loved this dress. She’d picked it out shortly after Jordan had given her the engagement ring. The minute she saw the white gown with its simple, elegant design, she’d known this was the dress for her.

“It’s nothing to get mushy over,” she said a bit more brusquely than she’d intended. Tammie Lee sometimes flustered her. Jacqueline’s daughter-in-law was one of her best friends, which was why Alix had asked Tammie Lee to be her matron of honor. What unnerved her was how the other woman’s emotions simmered so close to the surface. Tears came with the slightest provocation. Tammie Lee possessed an earthy kind of honesty, another reason Alix liked her so much. Besides, it was pure pleasure listening to her speak. Tammie Lee’s words sounded like they’d been dipped in honey. Alix had read that somewhere, and it described her own feelings exactly. But while Tammie Lee had a genuine sweetness, there was nothing cloying or false about her.

Tammie Lee was someone she could trust. And because Alix didn’t want Jacqueline anywhere near her wedding dress, she’d invited Tammie Lee to accompany her to this fitting.

“I hated the idea of a dress with a lot of lace and fancy detail,” Alix said, finally daring to look at her ref lection in the mirror. The white silk dress had cap sleeves, and a row of seed pearls sewn along the neckline and the hem. It cost more than she wanted to think about, but this was one expense she was picking up all on her own. From the moment she’d quit smoking, Alix had put her cigarette money aside for an extravagance, and this wedding dress was it.

“I can’t get over the transformation—from tough girl to…to Audrey Hepburn,” Tammie Lee said, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “You’re going to be a beautiful, beautiful bride.”

Despite herself Alix blushed. She hadn’t thought there was any comment that could possibly bring a flush to her cheeks, least of all a compliment. Alix stared at her ref lection. She wanted to be beautiful—for Jordan. And she wished with all her heart that she could be the virgin bride Jordan deserved. Her past was nothing she felt proud of. She’d never been in love before Jordan, and the sexual encounters she’d indulged in during her days on the street had been meaningless. Tawdry and desperate, without joy or affection. In fact, they’d meant so little to her, she couldn’t even recall names or faces.

She’d told Jordan everything. She’d told him because he had a right to the truth. He’d listened and then assured her that everything she’d done was in the past and forgiven. Christ and His grace had made her whiter than snow—those were the words he’d used, and they’d given her great comfort. In confessing her sins to her husband-to-be, Alix had taken a tremendous risk. But he’d proved himself that day, proved his love.

As Tammie Lee continued to praise the dress, the seamstress arrived with a pin cushion attached to her wrist and a tape measure draped around her neck. She instructed Alix to stand on a raised platform, then quickly and expertly pinned the skirt hem.

Afterward, Alix was reluctant to change back into her T-shirt, jeans and combat boots. Wearing this wedding gown, she could believe that her wedding was going to be as perfect as the dress itself. She reminded herself that all the stress and worry associated with the ceremony—and the reception—would soon fade. It was just one day, as Jordan kept saying.

“Did I ever tell you about my cousin Savannah O’Brien-Jones?” Tammie Lee asked unexpectedly when Alix emerged from the dressing room.

“I can’t remember if you did or not,” Alix said. Tammie Lee was famous for her stories. Whenever she wanted to make a point, she did so in the form of a story.

“She’s my aunt Frieda’s youngest sister’s girl. She grew up in New Orleans and was about as cherished as an only child can be. Then she went away to college and fell in love with a boy from Knoxville. It was as if her mother, my aunt Freida’s—well, I already told you how we’re related. Anyway, it was as if my aunt Dorothea had been waiting her whole life for this wedding.”

Alix figured that sooner or later Tammie Lee would get to the reason for this particular story. She slipped her arms into her leather jacket and zipped it up.

“Big wedding, was it?” she asked.

“Oh, my goodness, Mama told me it cost as much as a new car and we’re not talking a Ford, either.” Tammie Lee paused to catch her breath. “Savannah had ten—count ’em, ten—wedding showers.” She shuddered extravagantly. “Just think about writing all those thank-you notes! Her mama spent weeks planning every detail of that wedding, and I mean every single detail. She ordered orchids from Hawaii. She went to the city’s top caterer for the reception dinner. She even chose the six bridesmaids.”

“Six?”

“She wanted eight but Savannah put her foot down.”

Alix and Tammie Lee left the bridal store. Shivering in the dreary March weather, they walked toward the parking garage. The wind was cold and the dark sky once again threatened rain.

“In my opinion, things would’ve gone better if Savannah had spoken up sooner.”