Chapter 23
Vera had no choice but to drive home to change.
On the way she called Eve, which would hopefully distract her from the smell.
As always her sister wasn’t happy about getting a call during working hours, but after hearing the story Luna had revealed, she forgot all about being irritated at the interruption.
“What happened was self-defense!”
Eve was right—for the most part.
“If what she states happened can be proven, it would certainly be considered self-defense,” Vera agreed. “The trouble lies in her leaving the scene without providing assistance.”
“Is that a law?”
Vera slowed for the turn onto Good Hollow Road.
“To my knowledge there is no specific law that would require her to render aid. But there are moral and ethical issues. Societal expectations. That sort of thing. The right lawyer could make something of her decision to walk out. There could be a civil suit from someone like Geneva.”
“Geneva won’t stop until she finds the right lawyer to do just that.” Eve hissed her frustration. “I don’t know if Hayworth is it, but even if he only pokes around, it won’t be good for Luna.”
“The upside,” Vera pointed out, “is that no one else knows. For now. But as upset as Luna was while telling me, this thing is obviously weighing heavily on her conscience. She could break down and tell Jerome any minute now. If Geneva gets wind of this . . . well, that would be bad. Really bad.”
“But Luna said the furniture was put back into place,” Eve argued.
“There was no one else in the house. Jackie must have done it, which would mean she didn’t die until the second fall down the stairs, and Luna wasn’t there.
Obviously the woman felt well enough to tug around nursery furniture.
A crib and a changing table. Even a small dresser.
How much damage could the first fall have done? ”
“Valid points. Still, the initial injuries may have contributed to the second fall. Adrenaline after an event like that may have given her the strength to move the furniture around.” Vera shook her head.
“Not to mention this is Luna’s version of what happened.
We can’t technically confirm it. This is a slippery slope, Eve. Luna needs to keep it to herself.”
Silence invaded the line between them.
“The way we did about Sheree.”
That damned memory of dragging their stepmother’s body down those stairs flashed in Vera’s head. She glanced at the passing landscape that proclaimed she was nearly home. “Yeah. The way we did.”
Even after the world around them knew what they had done and no legal charges were deemed appropriate, she and Eve had still paid the price on a level that might never go completely away.
The whispers . . . the furtive looks. They would always be notorious for a mistake they’d made as kids .
. . for an event that wasn’t even their fault.
“What’re we going to do?”
Vera wasn’t sure how to answer that question.
“In light of this new information, there are things I need to figure out. Like how exactly did Jackie get that fracture to her left leg if she didn’t hit that spindle.
Clearly it wasn’t fractured before the second fall, or I wouldn’t think she would have been able to move that furniture around.
Unless there was a whole hell of a lot of adrenaline flowing. ”
“Unless,” Eve countered, “someone else came over and helped her.”
Vera stopped in the middle of the road. “Luna was gone for well over an hour, so that’s a definite possibility.”
“Maybe her husband came over belatedly to help, and she made the whole thing sound like Luna’s fault. He could have decided it was the perfect opportunity to be rid of her,” Eve harrumphed. “I don’t know how the man has put up with her all those years.”
Vera and Bent had already had this conversation. It was certainly possible. “The question is, Do we have a reason that suggests he would want to be rid of her?” Vera moved her foot from the brake back to the accelerator.
“I don’t know. She treated him like crap their whole marriage. Maybe he was done with her. I know I would’ve been.”
As logical as the argument was, without evidence it was nothing more than a theory.
“Luna has never mentioned her father-in-law being unhappy. From what I’ve seen he still bent over backward to make his wife happy even thirty-odd years into their marriage.” This was the big sticking point for Vera, no matter that spouses were typically the most logical suspect.
“That’s why you’re the detective and I’m a mortician.”
Vera laughed. “And you are a very good mortician.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How is Suri enjoying her conference?” Vera felt bad for not asking about her before now. Murder was like that, always getting in the way of other things—like life.
“She’s enjoying the seminars, but she’s ready to come home.”
Vera grinned. “She misses you.”
“Yeah. Okay, I gotta go. Keep me posted. I’ll check on Luna when I’m done here.”
“Talk later.”
Vera ended the call and made the turn into her driveway. She and Eve hadn’t been this close since they were kids. Just one of the many benefits from moving back home.
The vintage Volkswagen Bus parked in her driveway was an unexpected and odd sight.
Vera was reasonably sure she had never known anyone—didn’t know anyone now—who owned one.
Had to be someone looking specifically for a Boyett—most likely her.
It wasn’t like anyone just happened by the farm.
It was way too far off the beaten path. But just ask anyone in the vicinity, and they were happy to give directions.
It was the way of things in the country.
Then she spotted the license plate. Louisiana.
Maybe some member of the Parson family. She’d been expecting a call from the brother.
An in-person visit was all the better even if unusual, considering the geography.
Though she did wonder why they hadn’t gone to the sheriff’s office.
Maybe because the only name she’d left was her own.
Vera shut off the engine, draped the strap of her bag over her shoulder and reached for her door, phone in her free hand. She would know soon enough. The man on the porch turned to watch her come up the walk. On cue the stink of vomit rose around her like a fog.
“I’m assuming you’re not lost. This would be an unlikely place to find yourself unless you’re looking for someone specific.”
He started down the porch steps to meet her. “I assume you’re Vera Boyett.”
She stopped a couple yards away from where he stood at the bottom of the steps, partly not to get too close to a stranger and in part because she stunk of puke.
“That depends on who’s asking.” Vera pulled up her recent call list and tapped Bent’s name.
“Larry Parson.” He thrust out a hand. “You left a message for me about my brother.”
“Hey, Vee.” Bent’s voice floated from the speaker of her cell as Vera shook the stranger’s hand. “I’m assuming you made it back from Nashville.”
“I did. Yeah. Listen, I’ve got a fellow named Larry Parson at my house. He’s driving a vintage, sort of orange, sort of rusty-yellow Volkswagen Bus.”
“A ’78. The best year for the Bus,” Parson put in.
Vera ignored the comment and studied the man as Bent explained he would be there in five minutes.
Five minutes would be pushing it, but knowing Bent he might just make it happen.
“You have some ID on you, Mr. Parson?” Vera slid her phone into her bag. As if the movement had stirred it up, the odor of vomit emanated anew from her clothes. She might not have time for a shower, but she definitely had to change.
Parson fished out his wallet and displayed his driver’s license, which confirmed he was who he claimed to be.
“Thank you, Mr. Parson.”
“Call me Larry. So you are Vera Boyett.”
“I am, and I thank you for coming. I’m going to ask you to please stay right here on the porch until the sheriff gets here.
I have to go inside and change clothes.” She waved her hands at her attire.
Too bad she’d decided to take her work-at-home garb up a notch since she was visiting the hospital.
A simple T-shirt would have been far more forgiving than this silk blouse.
“Sure. Sure. But do you mind telling me what’s going on? I’ve been trying to reach my brother since Monday night, and he’s not answering his cell.”
Not surprising, since he’d likely been murdered by then. Vera would much prefer that Bent make the death notification.
Parson turned his hands up. “I mean, I’m guessing it’s not good since he’s out of touch. Is he in jail?”
“It would be better if you waited for the sheriff.”
“Oh hell.” Parson’s face tightened with pain. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Please, Mr. Parson, I really need to change. My pregnant sister threw up all over me, and if I don’t get out of these clothes, I may do the same thing.”
He settled onto a step as if his knees had given out on him and put his head in his hands. “I told him this was a bad idea.”
As much as Vera was dying to know what Parson meant by the statement, she could not endure the smell of vomit any longer.
“I’ll be right back. Please don’t go anywhere, Mr. Parson.”
Vera started around him, and he looked up at her. “You don’t have to worry about that, lady. I’m not going anywhere until I know what happened to my brother.”
“Sheriff Benton will be here soon, and I’ll be back out in five minutes.”
Vera unlocked the door and stepped inside. She relocked it and reset the security system. She didn’t know this guy, and no matter that Bent was on his way, she wasn’t taking the risk. Bent could be delayed.