“So where does the funeral dress figure into the family tradition.”
She chuckled. “You’ll be glad to know it starts with a criminal, my great-grandmother Vivian Chase.”
“That’s okay. Everyone has at least one relative that climbed out of the wrong side of the gene pool.”
“She was a robber back in the 1940s, banks, drugstores, anyplace with cash. She left Grandma at Rachel’s House when Grandma was eight years old because she knew she couldn’t raise her and rob banks too. But, whenever she could, she came to see Grandma, and she always gave some of the money she stole to Miss Moore, the lady who ran the home, to make sure they took good care of Grandma. One night after she dropped off some money, her partner showed up. They got into a gunfight right out on the curb and shot and killed each other. Miss Moore used some of the money to pay for my great-grandma’s funeral and for the dress. Grandma named my mother after her. And this,” she said, fingering the gold chain and cameo around her neck, “belonged to my great- grandmother.”
“That’s a nice keepsake.”
“She left it to my grandma, who gave it to my mother, and she gave it me. It keeps us connected.”
“You must have told that story to Brett Staley a hundred times when you were growing up.”
“Didn’t have to. His grandfather Bobby Staley drove my great-grandma Vivien to the hospital the night she died and dropped the dress off at the funeral home the next day. He and I grew up hearing the same stories.”
“And you ended up with the house.”
She did a slow turn, one arm extended, fingers tracing a pattern on the wall. “Sometimes I think we’re trapped in this house.”
“It’s just bricks and mortar. You can always sell it.”
She shook her head. “Grandma says it would never sell, not in this economy and not with all the things that need to be fixed that we can’t afford to fix.”
“Can’t you borrow against the house to pay for the repairs and pay the loan back when you sell it?”
“Not now. Grandma borrowed against it to pay my mom’s medical bills. There’s not much equity left, if any, the way home values have dropped.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to ride it out until the economy gets back on track.”
She shivered, wrapping her arms across her chest. “I hope we can. Sometimes this place feels like ivy wrapped around my ankles, creeping up my legs, and one day it’s going to strangle me if someone doesn’t take me away from here.”
“I thought you didn’t want to be rescued.”
She tilted her head to one side and loosened her arms, a sad smile capturing her ambivalence. “I don’t, but if that’s the only way out, I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“Why not just leave?”
“And go where? Do what? I’ve got to take care of my mom, and sooner or later, I’m going to have to take care of my grandma, and they will never leave. I’m stuck, so I’ve got to find a way to make it work, one way or the other.”
The doorbell rang. I looked at my watch. Quincy Carter wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes.
Roni left me in the receiving area, returning with an older man, his eyes beaming, grinning like a pauper who’d been invited to see the prince. He was tall, his hair sand and silver, his features fine and handsome. He was missing the top third of his right ear, his only visible defect. Roni made the introduction.
“Terry Walker, say hello to Jack Davis.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Lilly didn’t say anything about other guests,” Terry said.
“That’s because she didn’t invite me,” I said, extending my hand.
“I invited Jack,” Roni said. “Grandma and Mom are in the morning room. You can go on back.”
He brightened again, his smile stretching his face. “Nice to meet you,” he said, giving my hand a quick, firm shake, turning to Roni. “I’ll find my way.”
I waited until Terry Walker had disappeared into the house. “Who’s he?”
“An old friend of my grandmother’s. They knew each other when they were kids. He moved away. He’s in town on some kind of business. They haven’t seen each other in years.”
“Quincy Carter is on his way here to question you in a murder case, and your grandmother is having a reunion?”
“It’s not a reunion, and I didn’t tell her about Detective Carter until I got home a few minutes ago. I didn’t want her to worry. Besides, it’s a big house. Anyway, you might as well meet the rest of my family.”
I followed her through the living room with its intricate woodwork and fireplace flanked by matching sculptures of cherubs, into the kitchen where Queen Anne had given way to Frigidaire and Corian countertops and into the morning room. White wallpaper with a green leaf pattern gave it an outdoor feel. Sunlight poured in through large double-hung windows on the west side. A mirror hung over a fireplace, the reflection making the room seem larger than it was.
A woman in a wheelchair, her head held in place by cushions on either side of her face, sat in the center of the room. She opened her mouth wide when she saw us, a sound coming out I didn’t understand, though Roni did, bending to give her a kiss.
“Hi, Mama. I love you.”
Her mother answered. This time her gurgle was easier to decipher. “Love you too.”
“I don’t blame you,” Roni said, both of them giggling.
Terry Walker stood next to Lilly Chase at the windows, one hand on her shoulder, Lilly’s gaze fixed on the mid-distance; then she turned toward us, watching Roni and her mother.
Lilly was red-haired with an oval face, her green eyes not dulled by age. She must have been a beautiful woman when she was young, and she was still attractive, her back straight and her carriage square and confident.
Roni’s mother stirred in her wheelchair, raising her left hand, tapping the armrest, smiling a crooked smile. Lilly knelt besides her, squeezing her hand as they exchanged looks and murmurs.
“Martha needs to lie down. I’ll take her,” Lilly said.
“I’ll help you,” Roni said, following her mother and grandmother.
Terry circled the morning room, admiring the view from the windows, running his hand along the backs of the furniture, taking inventory.
“Good to be home?”
He looked at me, eyebrows raised, cocking his head to one side.
“Roni told me,” I said, answering his unspoken question. “She said you lived here as a kid but moved away. What’s it like after being away so long?”
“It’s more strange than good. Nothing’s what it was when I left, including Lilly and me.”
“What made you decide to come back after all these years?”
He shrugged. “I’ve spent my whole life on the road, always looking for the next stop and never thinking about where I’ve been. Now I’m of an age where there’s a hell of a lot less in front of me than behind me. Got me thinking that maybe it was time to circle back, see if any of my old crew was still kicking around. I lived down the street from Lilly. I came to have a look at the old neighborhood and saw her sitting on the porch. Hadn’t seen her in fifty years, but I never forgot that red hair of hers. Some things just burn into your memory.”
“You planning on staying this time?”
“Not likely. Wasn’t enough to keep me here when I was a kid, and I doubt there’s enough now. I imagine I’ll say my hellos and good-byes and be on my way.”
“What about family?”
“Had a brother, but Lilly told me he’s dead. Got shot robbing a liquor store thirty years ago, which isn’t much of a surprise since he was born bad.”
“In the DNA, huh?”
“Hard to say if it’s the blood or the time and place.”
