A Life for a Life by Lynda McDaniel (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📖

Alex faced looming deadlines, and I’d let store duties languish. He drove to Asheville to work in the library and file some stories by fax, while I tackled the cheese counter and storeroom. I was surprised by how satisfying I found scraping down the cheeses. Cradling them in my hands, each cheese felt alive—pungent and ever-changing. Not to mention these frequent scrapings made them last longer.

As I worked on an aged gouda, I thought about how I was at a standstill with my efforts to exonerate Gregg. And at a loss about what to do next. At least he was out on bail, and with any luck, his attorney was worth his exorbitant hourly rate.

Alex still wasn’t home when I closed the store, so I ran down to the laundromat with some rugs. By the time I got back, Abit was romping around with Jake in the back meadow, and Alex was sitting in a lawn chair watching.

“What’s for dinner?” I asked, hoping he’d started something simmering on the stove.

“Reservations.”

“Very funny. I don’t think you can even make those here.”

“Okay, omelets.”

“Sounds good. I’ve got to go back down to the laundromat before eight o’clock when it closes, or I’ll have to pay a storage fee.”

Alex looked confused, but I just said, “Not worth explaining. I’m starving.” Abit ran on home without any coaxing. He didn’t even look sad—tomorrow was rolling store day, so he needed to be up early and out on the road.

Over dinner, Alex asked, “So what’s with Kitt?”

“What about her?”

“Why was Abit all worked up about her hugging the laundromat looney?”

“I asked Blanche about that today. I didn’t want to set Kitt off—not that I enjoyed talking to Blanche, but she seemed the better one to talk to. After she hemmed and hawed a while, she explained that she was Kitt’s mother, and they just didn’t want this gossipy town to know all about them. I let it go at that, but then in a weak moment she made some revealing comments about her laundromat and how it came in handy since they were both fed up with paying taxes and getting nothing for them.”

“Ha! I told you Mayberry had more crooks than you could imagine. And laundering money at a laundromat! Priceless.” He enjoyed that irony for a moment and then turned serious. “Did she say they got nothing for their taxes? Did you remind her about roads and sewers and schools and sheriffs? And volunteer fire departments and libraries and ....”

“No,” I interrupted, “I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. I told her I didn’t care what she and Kitt were up to.”

“Wonder why she came clean, as it were?”

“She was out of options, I guess. She may write all those bossy signs, but she’s kind of pathetic, and she’s a terrible liar. Anyway, I didn’t pursue it. It wasn’t that she said anything particularly incriminating, at least not until she said she’d get me back if I told anyone. I just said, ‘Tell anyone what?’ and she nodded, satisfied. Believe me, I do not want to tangle with that woman. I know what they’re doing isn’t right, but folks here have a hardscrabble life. Let ‘em have something extra at the end of the week.”

Alex left on Saturday. Abit gave him a bear hug before he got in the car. I’d done the same earlier. We both stood there a while after his car was out of sight.

“Well, let’s get back to our routine, Mister.” I thought that would cheer him up, but he looked sad.

“That’s okay for you, but now all I’ve got to do is sit here. Even Wilkie ain’t here today.”

“Isn’t. And what about that book on hubcaps? Why not start organizing yours and cataloging them? I know your Cousin Ned helps with that, but I’m happy to help, too. Though I don’t know the first thing about hubcaps—not even how to get them off in the case of a flat tire. But I do know about organizing. You could put labels on the back and put them into categories and such.”

“But I cain’t read what the book says about them.”

“Who says? Go get it, and we’ll see.”

He ran up the steps to his house two steps at a time, and when he came back, we spent some time between customers going over the twenty pages on hubcaps. I got him to read lots of words, and I filled in a few for him to learn. I grabbed some yellow sticky notes, and he wrote one word and its definition per note and stuck it on that page. I enjoyed watching him get excited.

“You can bring the hubcaps down and work in the shed behind the store, if you like,” I offered. “That barn of yours looks kind of snaky to me.”

“Oh, it ain’t bad, but I’d rather use your shed. That way I won’t piss off Daddy if I don’t clean up every last thing.”

We both worked away at the Coburn Country Store. That evening, it almost burned down.

Chapter 55: Abit

“Fire! Daddy! Help!”

I was running round to the back of the store and shouting up at the house. I smelled the kerosene right away, because I was hiding in the bushes. I’d seen what happened.

It was about ten o’clock at night, and Della and Jake were over at Cleva’s for the evenin’. The reason I was outside was Daddy and I’d had a big quarrel. Not worth goin’ in to—just another night of two frustrated people getting in each other’s faces. I got sick of hearing him go on, so I ran out and sat in my chair and fumed. The evening was cool, so I had on my black coat.

I guessed you couldn’t see me sitting in my chair out front of the store, because the firebug, who was also dressed in black, didn’t seem to notice me. Typical. Even people up to no good, people who shoulda been watching to see if anyone was round, didn’t see me. Anyways, he crouched down and waddled toward the back of the store.

I slipped round the other side of the store and used a yellow bell bush for cover. When he struck a match, I shouted out, “Hey, you there!” Of course, he run off, but I was more worried about the fire than trying to catch him. I heard a car start up and head off toward town.

That’s when I started shouting for Daddy. He was grumpy sometimes, but he wouldn’t ignore my call for help. In fact, he knew just what to do and showed up with an ax and hollered at me to get the hose and water going. Like I didn’t know to do that—I was already unrolling the hose from where we’d used it to wash the Rollin’ Store. He started hacking out the burning wood, and I got water on the rest of the area round it. I think he’d probably thought what if the store catches fire many a night when he owned it, because it was like he’d practiced.

Mama called the volunteer fire department, and they showed up to finish the job. (Fires could look like they were out, but they wasn’t.) Not long after that, Della and Jake rolled into the driveway, their nice evening ruint.

I guessed I looked a mess, my face all sooty, because the first thing outa Della’s mouth was, “Abit, are you okay?” I nodded and started telling her everything I saw. She had to stop me so she could get Jake back in the truck. He was nosing round and getting in the way of the firemen.

The next day, that stupid Sheriff Brower showed up, and, of course, he didn’t believe me. “Seen too many crime shows, son. I imagine Missy here left her percolator plugged in too long.”

“You’re full of shit, Brower, and a lousy sheriff.” That’s what went through my head; what I said was, well, nothin’.

Della took a breath or two, trying to tamp down her temper, before asking, “Can’t you get the fire department to test for accelerant?”

“And you’ve been watching too many crime shows, too. We’ve only got a volunteer fire department, which you’re lucky we have. We’re not going to get a fire investigator up here for a kitchen fire. Maybe your insurance company will conduct an investigation.”

“Not likely. And I’m not reporting it. Duane said he could repair it for under $500, which is lower than my deductible.”

“Okay, there you are. No one harmed, nothing stolen—right? Everyone’s happy.”

Not me, and not Della. Only him because he didn’t have to do no work. When he left, I asked Della, “Does this mean I don’t have a job no more?”

She just shook her head. She didn’t even correct my words. I decided to walk toward town, to see if I could see anything down where I’d heard that car start up. It’d been dry lately, so I couldn’t see no tracks to speak of. I wandered round in a stand of trees near the clearing, but still, nothin’. Then I noticed where a tree had been swiped—some of the bark was scratched off and the gash looked real fresh. Just behind the tree, I found a hubcap, kinda cool looking with sixteen really short spokes. At the time, I just thought about how lucky I was—a new one for my collection. I carried it back and showed Della, but she was busy on the telephone. I reckoned it was nothin’ special, so I took it to the shed behind the store where I was organizing my collection. 

Chapter 56: Della

“You’ve pissed someone off, and it’s time that lazy sheriff did something to help you,” Alex said when I called him about the fire. “‘Your percolator, Missy,’ my ass! He’s an idiot. All the more reason you need to give this shit up, Della. You’re in over your head with no backup.”

He was stunned when I agreed. I needed to let all the crazy detective work go. I couldn’t really help Gregg anymore—that’s what his lawyer was for—and I was exhausted from the turmoil. The night before, I was swearing like a card-carrying member of the Green Treatise. After I let it all out, I felt spent. Done. I wasn’t a youthful reporter anymore, and I didn’t want to die trying to find out why Lucy died. Or at least that was what I was telling myself. We were so close to the truth, I could feel it, but Brower figured he had his man. Even the SBI was sticking with