Chapter Thirty-Five
I turned the doorknob and pushed open the restroom door. Only thing, I got the wrong door. The door I opened was to some sort of small meeting room. Fred and Roberta were inside, obviously arguing.
"God damn it, Roberta, you promised!" said Fred.
"I promised? What about you? You knew that woman was going to be here. How could you? What are you planning to do? Go up to one of the rooms with her? Or were you just going to go at it right there in the middle of the party?"
Someone's hand reached around me and grasped the doorknob. I looked up at Zach's face as he quietly pulled the door closed. I felt about two inches high.
"I'm sorry, Zach. I was going to the ladies room and opened the wrong door." I slipped under his arm and practically ran into the ladies room. I glanced over at him before I went in. He just stood there watching me, his hand still on the doorknob of the meeting room door, his face expressionless.
I went into one of the stalls to try and compose myself. How could I have been so damned stupid? Theresa Luray probably thought I was an idiot. Maybe I was the one who was a pod person. I was still beating up on myself over my back-to-back no-brainers when the door to the ladies room opened and someone came in.
"Nice party," Nancy Winslow said.
"I guess. To be perfectly honest, I've never much cared for those Sheffields," Beth Turner said.
I very quietly sat on the toilet seat and stuck my feet up on the stall door. It's not every day you get a chance to be a fly on the wall.
"I know what you mean. They're just so fake, or something. That Marty, especially."
"I know. She's the worst," Beth said.
I almost went out and showed her just how fake I could be, but they each went into a stall. I waited to see if they were going to keep trashing me.
"So," Beth said, "the thing with you and Fred is really over?"
"Yep. He lied. I should have known he wasn't going to leave her. I just couldn't take it anymore. I got tired of being the other woman."
"Nancy, I've been wanting to ask you this for awhile now, but I didn't want to offend you. Please don't take it the wrong way. Were you sleeping with Warren?"
Nancy didn't answer right away. Finally she said, "Yes. It started at the regional tournament. Fred and I had a huge fight and Warren comforted me. Are you mad?"
"No, of course not. Warren and I were finished a long time ago. I'm just glad to know he'd found someone."
Nancy and Wart? I didn't even want to think about that combination. I accidentally dropped Charli's purse. Beth and Nancy were real quiet. I scooped up the bag and took off out of there. As I opened the door to go back to the party, I heard Beth say, "Nancy, who was that?"
"Beats me."
"Shit. I didn't know anybody was in here."
I popped my head around the corner. "It's just me," I said. "You know. The real Marty Sheffield. Don't worry. As far as I know, the 'fake' one never has to pee."
Neither one of them answered me. I let the door swing shut before I started laughing.
Charli met me outside the ballroom door. "What are you laughing about?"
I told her.
"What a couple of dummies. You'd think they'd have the sense to look under the doors before they started gossiping."
"You'd think. Listen, here's something even better." I told her about Nancy and Wart being together.
"Yes!" she said. "It's really coming together now. Give me back my purse."
I handed her purse over. She peeked inside. "You took the betting slip and the recorder! Give them back. Right now!"
"No." I hugged my purse to me. "I'm not going to let you do anything stupid."
"Girls!" Mom put a hand on each of our shoulders. "What has gotten into you?"
She gave us each a task. I discussed the loudness of the music with the disc jockey and looked around for Zach. He sat at a table all by himself, chin resting on his left hand. I sucked up my embarrassment at having eavesdropped on his parents and went to talk to him.
"You okay?"
He shook his head. "Not really. He's going to leave her. He told her right before we left the house." His eyes glistened.
"I'm so sorry. I wish I knew what to say."
"Not much to say." He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "That argument you overheard, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anybody."
"What argument?"
He smiled. The twinkle was back. "Thanks. Did I ever tell you I think you're swell?"
"Swell? That's not exactly what I was shooting for here."
"Cool? Neat? Groovy? Hot?"
"All of the above."
We grinned at each other like a couple of idiots.
"So, wanna dance, you swell man, you?" I said.
We danced almost non-stop for the next two hours. My legs felt like rubber and I was sure the makeup the girl at the salon had so carefully applied was running down my face. I leaned on Zach's arm and rubbed my leg. Thank God, I'd worn sensible shoes. Not like Charli, who'd worn two inch heels.
"Drink. I gotta have a drink." I said.
"Me too. I'll go grab us a couple of beers and a plate of munchies and meet you outside in that little sitting area. Okay?"
"Sounds great."
I retrieved my purse from the DJ and went to the restroom to see how bad I looked. The makeup was okay until I rubbed my hand across my lips, making a red streak across my cheek. I tried to repair it without smearing it worse. No luck.
A woman with a blonde 'dear Abby' hairdo came out of one of the stalls and turned on the water at the sink next to me. After she washed her hands, she took out a compact and touched up her face. I watched her in the mirror, hoping to figure out how to go about fixing my own face.
Her eyes met mine. "Hi," she said.
"Hello."
I washed my hands and grabbed at a towel.
"I like your dress," she said.
"Thanks. You look nice too."
"Thanks. Um, er, um, I was wondering, um, I mean, if it isn't too much to ask, um, er, well, um, could I ask you a favor?"
My autograph. She was embarrassed to ask, they all are, but it's really no big deal. I put on my best publicity shot smile and rummaged in my purse for a pen. "Sure. Do you have some paper?"
She looked confused. "Paper? I think so. Anyway, this favor, it's not for me, it's for my daughter. See, she's a huge fan of Ricky Ray Riley's and well, I know you used to date him and well, I was wondering, actually, if you could maybe get him to come and sing at her birthday party next week? She's going to be sixteen."
A light bulb went off. "Well, I may not be able to get him to sing at the party, but here's something even better. Let me see that paper."
I took the cap off my ink pen and wrote Ricky Ray's private phone number on the paper. His grandma loves me to death and gives it to me every time I see her. "Here. This is Ricky Ray's personal line. Give this to your daughter and have her call him. In fact, tell her to have all her friends call him, too. I'm sure he'd be just thrilled to hear from them."
She smiled happily. "I don't know how to thank you."
"No problem. No problem at all. I get my thanks just from knowing I've made folks happy."
I stuck the pen back in my purse and started out the door. Another light bulb. "Hey, you can help me. Would you show me how to get rid of this red streak without totally screwing up my makeup?"
After she touched up my makeup, I went down to meet Zach at the conversation area. He wasn't there yet. I sat down on one of the chairs to wait for him. Warren's Grandma Turner came out of the ballroom and sat down in the other chair. She had on a black chiffon dress with black over-the-elbow gloves, black hose, and black shoes. She'd had her hair dyed black. And I mean black. It also had been teased and, as usual, stuck out in every direction.
"Hi, Miz Turner. You look lovely tonight."
She squinted at me. "It's you. The one that stuck my poor Warren in that nasty trash can. You still goin
g around spying on people?"
"No ma’am. I wasn't spying. I was just looking for a soda."
"Looked like spying to me. I told Stevie about it too. When he finished talking to Mr. Thompson, I went right in there and told him you was spying on him."
My mouth sort of dropped open. "He was talking to Fred Thompson? But..."
I didn't finish. What was it that Steve had said? Something about not caring if he got arrested. What would Steve and Fred have been arguing about? And Zach had told me that Fred wasn't at the visitation. Said he'd been afraid he wouldn't be welcome. Was I missing something? I had to find Charli, see what she thought.
"Well, It's been nice talking to you, Miss Turner, but I've got to go talk to my sister for a minute. Bye now."
"Wait," Gramma Turner said, "I know a secret. Do you want to know what it is?"
I sighed. "Sure, Miz Turner. What's your secret?"
"Guess."
"I can't. I'm sorry, but I really have to go. Talk to you later."
She stuck out her bottom lip. "Well, be that way, then. It's a good secret."
"Okay, is it animal, vegetable, or mineral?" I felt stupid.
"It's a letter."
"A letter? You mean like A, B, C?"
"No. Like this."
She handed me a folded up piece of paper. I opened it and looked it over.
"Miz Turner, where did you get this?" It looked similar to the letter that Mom had gotten on the day of the murder: typed on a piece of lined paper.
"I found it."
"Where Miz Turner? Where did you find it?"
A sly look crossed her face. "I can't remember."
"When did you find it?"
"I can't remember."
"Tonight? Was it tonight?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"Please, Miz Turner. It's very important."
"Give me twenty dollars and I'll tell you."
"I don't have twenty dollars on me. I'll give it to you later."
She thought about it. "Okay. You can owe it to me. It was when they were playing that song I like. You know, the one that good-looking boy wrote about you."
"Bye-Bye, Baby…?"
"Yes," she said. "That one. I love that song."
About thirty minutes.
"Good! Try to remember if you saw anyone drop the letter. I'm going to go talk to my sister for a minute. You wait right here."
"Give me my letter."
"No, ma’am. I need to keep this. I have to give it to the police. It's important."
"No. It's mine. You give it to me right now." She snatched the letter from me and stuffed it down her dress.
"Miz Turner. Please give me the letter. Now."
Charli came out of the ballroom. "Whew, it's hot in there."
"Miz Turner, give me that letter, right now!"
"Marty, don't yell at Miz Turner," Charli said. "That's not nice."
"Have you seen Tim?" I asked her.
"Not for a couple of hours. Why?" Charli said.
I grabbed her hand. "Do you have your car keys?"
"Yes."
"Come on. We've got to go. Somebody's in trouble. We've got to hurry."
I looked back at Gramma Turner as I pulled Charli out the door. She was reaching down into her dress to retrieve the note.
"Marty, are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Charli asked.
"When we get to the car. Here, give me your keys. I'll drive."
Charli thought about arguing with me, but one look at my face must have changed her mind.
I slipped behind the wheel of the Crown Vic and started the engine. It was dark out. I pulled on the headlights and backed out of the parking space.
"Okay, Marty. What's going on?"
"We've got to go to Morley park. Someone is in great danger."
"Who?"
"I don't know. I just hope we aren't too late."