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Erica noticed Kim and the attendant glance at each other.
Everyone in Luke's knew about Tiffany's affair with Rachel's professor husband, Tom, and they knew that Rachel only came in to intimidate her. Before learning about the affair, she'd never stepped foot inside Luke's. Erica admired the woman for being so confrontational, visiting her husband's mistress every day. She had balls and was taking a stand. There was no mistaking that the woman was strong and Erica liked strong.
“Just a cup of coffee, please,” Rachel said to Erica, smoothing out her skirt and sitting down.
Soothed by the woman’s presence, Erica reached for the pot of coffee.
“They’re out searching the woods by the Johnston's old place now,” the attendant said. “I hear the brush is so bad out there, it could take hours to cover just a few-hundred feet.”
“Searching the woods? Am I missing something?” Rachel asked, tearing open a packet of sugar. Erica studied Rachel's long, thin fingers, her polished nails, clear and beautifully shaped. She admired the elegant way her hands moved as she tore open the small square package. Rachel was perfect just like her mother.
“Tiffany,” Kim a
Rachel's eyes darted from Kim to the attendant. “Missing? What do you mean missing?”
“No one's seen her in two days. She left her Mustang in the parking lot over at Provost's Saturday night. Never made it home.”
Rachel dropped the sugar packet she was holding and granules spilled onto the counter. She stirred her black coffee although she hadn't dropped any of the sugar into the cup. She looked disturbed and Erica noticed a tremor in her hand. “They have any idea where she could be?”
“Sheriff talked to her boyfriend,” Kim said. “He says he don’t know where she is. No one knows much else.”
The diner went silent.
The attendant pulled her tube of lipstick from her pocketbook and smeared it against her thin lips. As always, she smeared it just outside of the lines, in hopes of making her lips look fuller, when all it did was make her look like a clown. Erica noticed that every now and again, she would study Rachel. She wasn’t sure if it was out of envy, curiosity. . . or suspicion. People in Grand Trespass were generally suspicious of folks who stood out and most women didn't seem to particularly care for Rachel, but Erica believed it was only because they were jealous. Like Erica's mother, Rachel didn't talk like the other ladies. “Sugah,” “sugah dahlin,” and “cher,” this and that. “Cher bebe and Mon cher!” She didn't dress in muumuus and walking shorts and leave the house in old sweats. No, Rachel had pride, grace, style, and an education. . . assets that ruffled the feathers of so many of the women in Grand Trespass.
Erica had admired her since taking her first writing course at the community college. And now she was taking a writing course for each of the summer terms. She was one of the few people Erica had ever grown to like. And she liked her a lot. She was the closest thing to her mother she had ever known.
“Haley Landry was the last to see her. They went to Provost's together,” the attendant said. “Sheriff’s been making his rounds, talkin’ to folks. The Perrons organized a search party. Folks have been searching the woods all day.”
“Any signs of foul play?” Rachel asked, fingering a gold te
“Not that we know of,” Kim said. “That’s why I think all of this is bullshit. If she was someone else, no one would get questioned for at least another day or two. I’m convinced she’s just run off. Either a stunt for attention or she’s found some new boy.”
The attendant shook her head, lipstick stuck to a yellowed top tooth. “I don’t know. Haley and Tiffany are best friends. She’d know if Tiffany just ran off. Poor gal looked like death when she left. And after the horrible, horrible way her daddy died, bless her little heart. I hate to say it,” she said, crossing herself. “But I don't have a good feelin' about the Perron girl. Not a good feelin' a'tall.”
Chapter 12
AROUND TWO-THIRTY, Sheriff Hebert walked into Luke’s clutching his campaign hat between his thick hands. “’afternoon,” he said, nodding to the group. Slightly bowlegged, the 60’ish man sauntered to the counter, set his hat down, and took a seat next to the attendant. Purple circles, the shade of Easter egg dye, framed his crinkled lower lids.
“Sheriff,” the attendant said in greeting.
“Sheriff,” the others said.
“How’s the search going?” Chris asked.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “I suspect it’s goin’ just fine.”
“I’ll head out there around four if there’s no news before then. Join the late shift,” Chris volunteered. “If there still is one.”
Hebert nodded. He reached into his shirt pocket, took out a pack of unfiltered Camels, and then returned them. His laugh was gravelly. “Tryin’ to quit, but don’t believe in goin’ cold turkey.”
Erica set a cup of coffee in front of him and picked up Rachel’s still full cup. She’d left minutes ago, her face pale.
“You care for a sandwich? Some soup? Gotta mean cream of mushroom back there,” Chris said.
Hebert shook his head. He surveyed the room. His blue eyes were as cool as lake water, but still more stern than any eyes Erica had ever seen. He was a quiet man, preferring to talk very little, but when he did, he easily took command. “There’s goin’ to be a young fella from Chester comin’ by to speak to a few of ya’ll about the Perron girl sometime tomorrow. Will you be around, Chris?”
“Absolutely.”
“Haley Landry on the schedule?” he asked, his thick, stained fingers returning to the cigarette pack. Before they got there, he lowered his arm.
“Mornin’ shift.” Chris said.
“I’ll tell the detective she’ll be here in the mornin’ then. Name’s Eddie Guitreaux. Seems like a decent young man from what I’ve seen. Bright, somewhat hungry. Ex-football hero. Used to be a real big shot in Baton Rouge. He’ll be comin’ around to ask folks some questions. Since I’m short a deputy, I need all the assistance I can git. I trust everyone will be as helpful as possible.”
He took a long slug of his coffee. “It’s also been brought to my attention that there’s been a peepin’ Tom in town for the last couple of months. Not sure if it’s related. And it’s never smart to jump to conclusions. Besides, there are no signs of foul play here. Hard facts, that’s what the detective will be lookin’ for. I expect that's what he’ll git.”
Kim’s eyes lit up. “Peeping Tom?”
There was nothing Kim liked better than a juicy piece of gossip. Her mouth served as the town’s FOX News.
The Sheriff set his coffee cup down. “Yes ma’am, someone peekin’ into folks’ windows. He’s been doin’ it in Chester for as long as I can remember. In Weston, too. We can’t seem to find the bugger and seems as though he’s becomin’ more active. Scarin’ more locals. Same folks been gittin’ prank calls, too. They think it’s the same fella.” He paused. “But I reckon I shouldn’t say anymore about that right now. I just ask that ya’ll keep yore eyes peeled. Call the station if you see anythin’ out of the ordinary. In the meantime, I’m sure Guitreaux will be keepin’ everyone fine company.”
Chapter 13
ERICA RIPPED A page out of her notebook and crumbled it up. She tossed it to the floor and scowled at the next blank page. Tears stained her cheeks.
The scenes still weren’t working, and when she tried to write them anyway, they sounded contrived. She would have to start all over. Write something completely different.