Janet Evanovich - Full Bloom

"What?"

"Annie knows the truth," Danny said. "Her mother-in-law gave her an earful at the memorial service."

Wes sighed and raked his hands through his hair. "I was planning to tell you."

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say. I don't even want to look at you. What I do want is for you to leave this house immediately."

"I don't work for Eve anymore, Annie. In fact, I gave her a full refund, including her retainer. I'll bet she didn't bother to tell you that, did she?"

"I don't care if you gave her the Hope Diamond. You're a liar and a phony, and I don't ever want to look at your face again." She staggered from the room and up the stairs.

"I think she means it," Danny said. "I'd start packing if I were you."

"That's going to make things real convenient for you, isn't it, Gilbert?"

"Don't blame me, friend," Danny said. "You managed to screw up all by yourself."

When Annie opened her eyes the sun had gone down and her bedroom was bathed in shadows. She could barely make out Danny's form in the corner chair. "Is he gone?"

"Yes. I stayed with him while he packed so he wouldn't be tempted to knock on your door."

"Thank you."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I should be in ICU."

Danny moved to the bed, sat down, and took her hand. "Listen, I've got some time off, so I'm going away for a while."

"How long is a while?"

"Actually, I've had a job offer in Charleston."

"I didn't know."

"I'm supposed to report to work in a couple of days."

"So you've already decided."

He nodded. "I think a change would be good for me."

"How will I reach you? Will you still have the same cell phone number?"

"No, I'm going with a different plan." He paused. "How about I call you once I find a place to live and get settled in?"

"That'll be great. Charleston's only a little more than an hour away. I can come on a Saturday or Sunday morning and stay all day."

"Yeah." He reached up and mussed her hair. "Be good to yourself, Anniekins."

Annie watched Danny leave through her bedroom door, and instinct told her he would not be calling anytime soon, if at all. She sat in the growing darkness, knowing she had never felt more alone. Wes was gone, and one of her very best friends had just said good-bye.

She had a choice: she could either sit in bed and feel sorry for herself or move on.

She would move on, because that's the way she was.

Annie entered the kitchen some minutes later, once she'd run a brush through her hair and brushed her teeth. She needed to eat; maybe the food would absorb whatever alcohol remained in her stomach. She found Theenie, ice pack pressed against her head and a bottle of Extra Strength Excedrin in her hand. Her other hand held the phone to her ear. She glanced at Annie.

"Thank you for calling," Theenie said. "I'll be sure to pass the news to Annie … No, she's not mad at you." Theenie hung up.

"I hope that wasn't Doc. If he sees us like this he'll put us down for sure."

"Guess what?" Theenie said as she opened the bottle in her hand.

"I could use a couple of those," Annie said. "Maybe three."

Theenie shook two tablets into her palm and passed the bottle to Annie. "That was Lamar Tevis on the phone just now. And guess what?"

"Okay, what?"

"Donna Schaefer just confessed to murdering Charles. The charges against you have been dropped."

Wes checked into a motel, grabbed his knapsack from the bike, and went inside the room. He dropped his bag on the bed, switched on the TV set, and went into the bathroom, where he threw cold water on his face. In the mirror over the sink a tired, haggard man looked back at him. Wes paced the room, picked up the remote, clicked on several channels, and turned off the TV. Finally, he kicked off his boots and lay down on the bed.

He awoke shortly before 11:00 p.m. with an empty stomach.

Some ten minutes later Wes pulled into a diner where a neon sign flashed the words: We Never Close. Inside, a jukebox wailed a Patsy Cline song, competing with the loud, steady hum of voices and occasional laughter.

Wes glanced about, noted the full booths, and took a seat at the long counter. A TV set anchored to the ceiling played the eleven o'clock news. He tried to listen once the Patsy Cline song came to an end, but Jimmy Buffet took her place.

A young waitress with hair that had been bleached one too many times sauntered toward Wes, the gleam in her eyes making it clear she liked what she saw. Her uniform was short, the top button undone, giving Wes an unimpeded view of plump, youthful breasts. "What'll you have?" she asked.

He averted his gaze. "Large milk and a stack of pancakes."

"Want hash browns with that? We're running a special."

"No thanks."

She stood there for a minute, tapping a pencil against her bottom lip. Her mouth was slick with gloss. "You're new in town, aren't 'cha?"

He glanced up at the TV. "Yeah. Just visiting."

She smiled. "I saw your bike when you pulled in. Awesome. I love motorcycles, but I've never ridden on one."

Wes kept his eyes glued to the TV. "Will my order take long? I'm in a hurry."

"No problem. I'll put a rush on it." She scribbled something on her pad and turned.

Wes blinked and straightened on his stool when Lamar Tevis's face suddenly flashed on the screen. "Hey, wait, can you turn up the volume on the TV real quick?"

"We're not supposed to."

Wes smiled. "Please."

She ambled toward it, reached for the remote control, and turned it up a notch. Lamar's face disappeared, was instantly replaced with a photo of Donna Schaefer, followed by what appeared to be a home video of her leaving a hospital with a baby wrapped in a blue blanket tucked in her arms. She pulled the blanket back, and there was a close-up shot of the baby, red-faced and squint-eyed, his tiny fist pressed to his mouth. A smiling Norm Schaefer stepped into the frame, wearing the look of a proud new father.

Wes strained to listen, but the jukebox drowned out the sound. "I still can't hear the TV," he told the waitress when she delivered his milk.

"You wouldn't be able to hear a freight train coming through with that music blaring," she said. "Just hold on." She disappeared through a swinging door. In less than a minute, the jukebox died. Several people began to complain.

"I'm sorry," the waitress shouted, arms flailing as though she had no idea what was going on. "I'll bet the dang thing blew another fuse."

Wes grinned and slapped a ten-dollar bill in her palm.

* * * * *

Annie, Theenie, Lovelle, and Destiny were crowded around the TV set in the sunroom as the newscaster gave the latest details on the investigation of the murder of Charles Fortenberry. Jamie and Max had called only minutes ago to let Annie know the local news station was airing a news conference.

All four women were quiet as they watched Lamar step up to a microphone while one young officer in the background did his best to make sure the camera got a shot of his face. He smiled, waved, and mouthed the words, Hi, Mom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Lamar began in an authoritative voice. "As you know, this office has been investigating the murder of thirty-year-old Charles Fortenberry, who was found buried in his wife's backyard less than two weeks ago. Mr. Fortenberry had been missing for more than three years. Thanks to the hard work of my excellent investigative team, we have solved the case. In record time, I might add."

"Excellent investigative team, my butt," Jamie muttered.

Lamar glanced down at his notes. "At approximately three p.m. today, thirty-five-year-old Donna Schaefer, a lifelong resident of Beaumont, was admitted to Beaumont Memorial Hospital for fatigue and depression. A staff physician immediately saw her, and our office was contacted. Mrs. Schaefer gave a statement to me from her hospital bed, admitting that she was responsible for the death of Charles Fortenberry."