The Sassy Belles. Beth Albright
She began to tear up. “I swear, Blake. With God as my witness, I do not know where he is or where he went. He was laying right there on this bed, dead and stiff and naked. He was stiff and naked before, but I swear…” She paused and looked at me in the eyes. “You believe me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Of course.” I pulled her frizzy red head under my chin and held her. “You know you will have to go into all the details with Sonny? He’s the chief investigator for the police department. You need to tell him everything. I still can’t believe Sonny married Laura Logan.” I couldn’t help it from blurting out. I knew now was not the time to be gossiping, but seeing Sonny again had stirred something up inside me.
“Oh, my God! Laura Plain and Tall?” Vivi recalled Laura’s elementary school moniker. “I haven’t thought about her in ten years. I guess the whole convent thing really didn’t pan out for her.”
We both let out a laugh. It relieved the heaviness of the situation. It felt good to almost forget where we were, even for just a moment.
Harry pushed back through the little room and touched me on the shoulder.
“Blake, is Vivi able to talk to Officer Bartholomew?”
“Yes, she’s much better. Let’s go outside.”
We stepped out into the warm afternoon air. The police inside kept up their search for anything that might lead us to Lewis, and the evidence was stored in plastic bags—including the big blue rubber penis. I saw the wrecker pull out from behind the motel with Lewis’s red Corvette attached. They would take it to the police station and hold it until it had been fully searched and swiped for evidence.
I hesitated on the sidewalk as Harry, Vivi and Sonny walked through the dusty parking lot over to Sonny’s truck. I knew every hair, fiber and drop of semen could be used against Vivi if they ever found Lewis’s body. For a moment my eyes began to fill with tears, but then anger took over and I thought, No! Over my dead body. Then I thought, There is no dead body. And with no dead body, there was no murder. Only a missing person. I sniffed and wiped my eyes, then put my lawyer face on. I felt transformed into a heroine for all Southern women: Scarlett O’Hara and a Steel Magnolia all in one. I joined the group already gathered at the truck. However, my bravado may have faltered a bit as I stumbled in the parking lot, realizing that high heels were definitely not the appropriate foot fashion for gravel. As I approached them I overheard Vivi.
“Harry, I just cannot discuss this.”
“Vivi, you have to. You have no choice. You were the last one with Lewis and you reported him dead—although his body is, well, not where you left it. You are still at the center of this investigation. And Officer Bartholomew is the chief investigator. You have to tell us the details of the day as you remember it.”
“This will help us find Lewis,” I explained to Vivi. “Harry, I think we better move this discussion elsewhere if you want all of this from Vivi. This is the scene of the…well…whatever it is, and Vivi has already fainted once. Let me help you with her and we’ll get all we need.”
I turned to talk to Vivi.
“It’s okay, honey. I’ll be right there with you. What do you need?”
“Oh, Blake, I can’t possibly discuss this tête-à-tête in mixed company. I’ll die of total embarrassment.”
“Sweetie, you don’t have a choice.” We all stood there in silence waiting for Vivi to tell us what would make this easier for her. It was an awkward moment. We knew what we were asking her to do. We knew what we would be hearing. The very last dirty details of the sexual escapades of Lewis and Vivi. It was a lot to ask for any of us to sit through that! But everyone stood there, the hot sun baking the long minutes that dripped by like molasses from a hot spoon. Then finally—
“Well, okay,” Vivi said, letting out a deep breath. “About five Long Island iced teas might do it.”
“What, honey?” I asked.
“You asked me what I need, right? So I’m tellin’ you. I’ve got to have a drink or three or this story will, through no fault of my own, stay locked in my head. It’s just not somethin’ I can discuss without lots of help, from Jack or Jim…. As in Daniel’s and Beam—drinks I mean, not more men!”
“Okay,” Sonny said, “let’s run over to the Tutwiler. It’s close by and the bar opens at four, and that’s right about now.”
Harry and I looked at each other and nodded our heads in agreement.
“Fine,” Harry said.
So, we would go to the Tutwiler and sit and watch Vivi get stone drunk while listening to her recount her last day with Harry’s estranged baby brother, Lewis, screwing his brains out till he was dead, while my former lover sat across from us taking notes. Yes, it looked like Harry and I would have our anniversary date at the Tutwiler, after all.
3
We got in our cars and headed back across the bridge to the Tutwiler, looking for all the world like some sort of procession. Driving across the Warrior River to downtown, I looked over at Vivi. She sat motionless, white-knuckling the door handle as we rode to the old historic hotel.
“I can’t do it.” The words shook loose from her mouth. “Blake, I just cannot tell all this to Sonny. You can’t tell me they need to know everything.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Why in the world do they need to know that Lewis was a licker?”
“What?” I said, in utter confusion at what I thought she said.
“You know. A licker. He wasn’t much of a kisser but, God, he sure loved to lick. Can you tell me just why Sonny needs to know that?”
I started feeling drops of perspiration dripping down between my breasts, and my breath had left me. But I grabbed Vivi by the arm and explained, “We are trying to clear all of this up so we can find Lewis.”
“And by learnin’ all about Lewis lickin’ me from my knees to my neck, I’m a free woman?”
I slammed on my brakes, realizing we had reached our destination and I was about to jump the curb getting into a parking space. Vivi and I looked at each other.
“Maybe we can leave that little detail out.” I was already feeling nauseous. “It’ll be fine,” I said, hoping I was right. “Let’s go.” I parked and we got out.
The Tutwiler was so elegant. It was a regal 1920s hotel with most of its original architecture still intact. Dapples of yellow and cream splashed the walls, shadows of the afternoon sun dancing and darting up and down the curving banisters and sprinkling light across the 20-foot ceilings. Sunlight peeked through the palms planted in oversize ceramic pots scattered throughout the lobby. White ceiling fans whirred slowly, just enough to stir the jasmine-scented air and cause the palms to wave in their breeze. The large French doors around the lobby opened onto the courtyard at every corner, and the three-layer fountain stood in the center offering a watery lullaby to the early evening. Every sense was stirred here. It was intoxicating.
Harry and Sonny had arrived first, and I could see them in the shadows of the bar off the lobby. Sonny was propped up on a bar stool, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and Harry was talking to the bartender. Harry motioned to us. I wanted to linger a little longer.
The courtyard beckoned, and I was swept back ten years earlier when Harry, fresh out of law school, stood in the spring sun in the middle of the Tutwiler courtyard. He had a martini in one hand and a peach-colored rose in the other. God, he was gorgeous. Dressed in navy dress pants and a heavily starched, crisp white shirt, silver wire frames and his wavy mass of dark hair, he looked straight out of a magazine. His cuff links glistened in the sunlight.
I loved that Harry wore cuff links. I’d never known anyone who wore cuff links. They made him seem elegant and refined,