Dying to Call You

Helen winced. “That must have hurt.”

Savannah shrugged. “She was young. She didn’t mean it.”

Again, she was the protective momma.

“Laredo said she was going to make it big. She would live in a mansion, marry a rich man, wear pretty clothes and be part of Lauderdale society.”

“Did she say how she was going to do this?”

“No, that’s how young girls talk. I figured that’s why she took that part with the theater. She was hoping to make it as an actress. There’s a lot of movie roles here in South Florida, if an actress can get the right showcase. A Shakespeare play would have been a big step forward.”

Maybe, but Helen thought Laredo’s talk of a big score sounded like trouble. Her plate seemed to be empty. She must have eaten the whole mound of food. Savannah had a few bites of grits and eggs, but she let the waitress remove her nearly full plate.

Savannah took a long drink of beer. “I know something’s wrong. I told the police that, but no one believed me. I got this feeling Laredo’s dead. Then you called. It was the call I’d been dreading, but it was a relief, you know?” She started peeling the label off her beer bottle.

“But I don’t know,” Helen said. “All I know is I think I heard a woman strangled. The police disagree. They say it was a movie. But that was no movie. It was about the worst sound...” Helen stopped. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting she was your sister.”

“No, go ahead,” Savannah said. “Don’t spare me the details. What makes me crazy is everybody saying nothing is wrong. Just tell me what happened.”

“Your sister knew a guy named Henry Asporth, right?”

“He hung around the restaurant,” Savannah said. “Hank liked to flirt with the waitresses. There were a lot of guys like that. Men with more money than sense, trying to forget middle age was creeping up on them. Laredo went out with him for a while.” She pulled away another strip of label.

“Our survey files say she lived with him,” Helen said.

“She stayed over weekends sometimes, but she never moved in. That was more wishful thinking. She did that survey thing as a joke. She came home laughing about it. Hank was talking business with the boys one night, and Laredo was bored. Some survey taker called and asked boo-coo questions. Laredo made up a bunch of stuff about how she lived with Hank in that big house and was an actress. She was always pretending to be somebody else, even when she was a little kid.”

Helen heard Laredo’s teasing voice again, like a forties movie star: “You’ve been a very bad boy, Hank. You’re just lucky I like bad boys.”

Another strip was gone. Savannah’s beer bottle was half-naked now.

“Laredo wanted Hank to marry her, but that was never going to happen. Hank never treated her right. She finally walked out on him. Had to, for her own self-respect. I was proud she did that. Takes courage for a girl to walk away from a man with money.

“Laredo told me all about it, why she finally pulled the plug. She was over at his house. She was all ready for a little lovin’ when he got a business call on his cell phone. He answered it. He kept talking on the phone while they were doing it. He finished up, still talking on the phone. He got out of bed and went into the living room. Didn’t say a word to her.”

“What a pig,” Helen said.

“Oh, yeah. He woulda been a prize swine at the state fair.

Hank’s call lasted for hours. Laredo could see him in the other room pacing around bare-naked, with the lights on so the neighbors could see him.”

Savannah hit a tough patch of label, but kept picking at it.

“Laredo said she read a magazine, then played around on his computer. She liked video poker. Hank never did come back to bed,” she said. “She was good and pissed. When he finally returned, Hank said he’d be tied up all night and sent her home in a cab. Laredo told me she never went out with him again. Said no man was going to treat her like that.”

Pick. Pick. The label was stubborn. But so was Savannah.

“Your sister told you all that?” Helen trusted her sister, Kathy, more than anyone in the world. But there were some hairy escapades in her past that even Kathy didn’t know about.

“Laredo knew I wouldn’t judge her. I know she kept stuff from me, but she told me most of her adventures. She was so mad at ol’ Hank, she had to tell somebody. I thought she might put sugar in his gas tank or something.” Pick. Pick.

“Did she have any particular plan for revenge?” Helen said.

“Not really. She said when she finished with him, he’d be sorry. She said he’d be begging her to marry him. She was going to be one of the fine ladies of Lauderdale.” The last of the label gave way, and Savannah had a little pile of crinkled paper on the table.

“But that was Laredo, all talk and dreams. I couldn’t see how she was going to make Hank marry her—she wasn’t pregnant, she wasn’t going out with him and she made fun of him. She said he was always looking in the mirror and combing his hair to cover his bald spot. He was getting those hair plug things. Once she said he was making so much money that he could afford the best defense lawyers.”

“What did she mean by that?”

“She didn’t say. It was just a casual remark. They were definitely finished.” Savannah took a final drink. The beer bottle was empty, inside and out.

“Then why was she at his house the other night?”

“I don’t know,” Savannah said. “I don’t for the life of me.

All I know is she’s gone and I haven’t heard from her in a week.”

“I heard her say ‘It’s the coffee.’ Does coffee mean anything special to Laredo?” Helen said.

“Well, she had to have a cup first thing in the morning, Savannah said.

“Listen, Savannah, do you really think it was your sister I heard? Maybe it was someone else who got... who...”

“I know it’s her. But I figured you’d ask that question.

That’s why I brought this.”

She dug around in the floppy purse again. This time, she pulled out a dented cassette recorder and a tangle of wires and sponge that were headphones.

“I thought it might help if you could hear her voice. She was working on her lines for that Shakespeare play. She’d tape them. Helped her memorize them. She was going to play Lady Macduff.”

“She was in Macbeth?” Helen said.

“Yes. She had a big scene where she...” Savannah stopped, and her pale face went even whiter. She took a deep breath. “... Where she got murdered. Laredo told me the play was bad luck. You couldn’t even say the name in the theater. They called it ‘the Scottish play.’ Laredo slipped and said ‘Macbeth’ during the audition and they made her go outside, turn around three times and ask permission to come back in because it was such bad luck. Laredo laughed, but she did it. She really wanted that part. I helped her with the script. I read the other parts, the murderers and the son.”

Savannah turned on the clunky old tape recorder and pushed a button. “I’ve got it at the right place.”

Helen put on the headphone. The sound was tinny and it was hard to hear over the clatter of plates and restaurant conversation. She took a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine would help her concentrate.

Helen recognized Savannah’s voice. “Okay, Lady Laredo, are you ready?”

There was a giggle like the one on the answering machine. Unfortunately, the woman Helen had heard on the phone wasn’t giggling.

Then another voice, younger and lighter: Laredo. “I’ve been practicing my screams. I think I’m getting good at them.

Erin told me it’s like being an opera singer. You’ve got to open your lungs. Let me take a last drink of water and let’s do it.”

Savannah was talking again: “I’m reading the parts of the murderers and the son. You’re doing Lady Macduff, right?”

“Right.” Helen guessed that’s what Laredo said. “Born to be Wild” was playing on the restaurant sound