Chapter Ten
The phone rang nonstop for an hour after I came home. I finally answered, deciding I couldn’t avoid talking to Violet any longer. She apologized profusely, and although she didn’t deny that Mike forced Steve into the date, she didn't admit to it either.
The next afternoon she came back to take care of the rest of Momma’s things. While we sorted through boxes and photos in Momma’s closet, we discussed what to do with the house. Violet was adamant we split it fifty/fifty. We decided to have a couple of real estate agents come give us an estimate of the value of the house and go from there.
The next morning was Monday. Time for me to go back to work. I set my alarm earlier than usual since it took me a bit longer to get ready than it used to—the only downside to my new hair.
I walked into the DMV, my thermal mug of coffee in my hand, expecting the stares of my coworkers but still not fully prepared either.
“Well looky at you, Miss Rose, all purty.” Betty crooned. “What happened, did ya go and find yourself a man?”
I laughed, feeling a blush creeping its way up my neck. “No, my aunt came to visit. She’s a hairdresser and she cut my hair. It’s no big deal.”
Suzanne, shot a sneer in my direction. “Somebody got new clothes, too. What happened to the gunny sacks?”
I shrugged.
“Looks like your mother’s death agrees with you.”
Her smug tone confirmed that she knew I was a suspect. I ignored her.
The morning went by quickly with lots of customers. Thankfully, most were pleasant and easy to please. Working at the DMV was a soul-sucking job. If I was changing the rest of my sad life, why not change my job too? The idea lit a spark of hope and I began to daydream about possible career choices. I called the next number and glanced up to see Daniel Crocker standing in front of me.
My eyes almost popped out of my head.
And from the look of him, his did too.
“You?” he asked.
I took his paperwork off the counter, wondering how he had gotten it back and why he hadn’t processed it already. But then I remembered his insurance card had expired. Maybe he had just got it replaced.
He rubbed his chin, then leaned his forearm on the counter, looking down at me in confusion. “Weren’t you the girl who fainted last time I was here?”
I gave him a tiny smile. “I don’t know, maybe.” I checked his paperwork. Everything seemed to be in order this time.
“How many of y’all faint around here anyway?” he asked in amazement.
“Well… I guess I’m the only one.” I answered, trying to shrink into my chair.
“Sloan isn’t your brother, is he?”
Crap, crap, crap. “Why do you ask that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice cheerful and professional.
“He’s a cop, isn’t he?”
My head shot up, my eyes wide in shock.
He leaned his head over the counter. “So I guessed right, huh?”
I had no earthly idea what he was talking about. “You really must have us mixed up with someone else. Sloan’s just a bartender and I work at the DMV.” I grabbed a sticker out of the drawer and stapled it to his registration paperwork. “See? I process license plates,” I said with a forced smile. “Everything is in order this time and you’re all set.” I handed him his forms. “You have a nice day now.”
He gave me a snarly glare, then walked away, looking over his shoulder.
“Jeez, I’m glad you processed him,” Suzanne said. “He stalked this place all last week. He’d come in and look around and leave, sometimes coming in a couple of times a day. I wanted to call the police but Betty wouldn’t let me. Guess he had a thing for you. Go figure.” She said the last part with disgust. Almost as if she were jealous.
I tried to figure out what happened. Why did he ask if Sloan was a cop? And even if he was, what did that have to do with me? I didn't have time to dwell on it, because the rest of the day was one big swarm of customers with complicated issues. It didn't help matters that I told one man he would be in a fender bender the next day and a woman that her deep freezer got unplugged.
By the time we closed, I was worn out and couldn't wait to get home to take a bath. I could enjoy one as long as I wanted without Momma pounding on the door, telling me I was taking too long. I tried to find some guilt over the thought, and finally found it, but I had to dig deep. I was sorry she got killed, but I didn’t miss her harping on me all the time.