The Sisters Hemingway Read online

  Chapter 26

  Martha

  MARTHA WAS RELIEVED WHEN THE CRIME-SCENE TAPE was taken away from the perimeter of the garden. She was even more relieved when the Ozark County coroner was finished exhuming the body buried there, and his van disappeared down the driveway for the last time on Friday morning.

  The sheriff, for his part, kept his distance from the sisters after asking his initial round of questions, and Martha did her best to stay in the house and out of his line of vision. She’d also stayed out of Hadley’s line of vision as best she could. She was still angry at her sister for not telling her and Pfeiffer about their mother’s plans to move all those years ago. Martha hadn’t known they had money trouble. She’d known that money was tight, but money was tight for everyone in Cold River most of the time. What she hadn’t known was that her mother could no longer maintain the farm, and if Hadley had kept that piece of information a secret, she wondered what else she’d kept secret. What if their mother had done something awful out of desperation and Hadley knew about it?

  Martha shook those thoughts from her head. Hadley was secretive, but she always had been. Surely, she wouldn’t keep a crime like that a secret. She seemed just as surprised as everyone else by Brody and Old Crow’s discovery. Besides, it was just like Hadley said—their mother would never hurt anyone. Not on purpose, anyway.

  “What are you doing up here in the bedroom?” Pfeiffer asked, standing in the doorway. “You look like you’re in a trance or something.”

  “Just thinking,” Martha replied, lying back on the pillow. “I was going to take a nap, but I can’t sleep.”

  “Well, your phone’s been ringing off the hook for the last five minutes. Same number.”

  “Why didn’t you come up here and get me earlier?” Martha asked, sitting back up. “It could be something important.”

  “I thought maybe you heard it and chose to ignore it,” Pfeiffer replied. “That’s what I would be doing right now if anyone were trying to call me.”

  “I never ignore my phone,” Martha replied. “It just hasn’t been ringing a lot lately.”

  “Well, someone is pretty desperate to get ahold of you.”

  Martha pulled herself up off the bed and followed her sister downstairs. As they neared the bottom of the stairs, she could hear her phone ringing from its precarious position on the back of the couch.

  “Hello?”

  There was a crackling and then silence on the other end. After a few moments, Martha could hear her agent’s voice. “Mar . . . Mar . . . are you there?”

  “Hang on,” Martha yelled into the phone. And then, to Pfeiffer, she said, “I swear, this place is a dead zone.”

  “In more ways than one!” Pfeiffer called after her.

  Martha covered the receiver with her hand until she got outside. “Hello? Rodney, are you there?”

  “Martha? Can you hear me?”

  “I can now,” Martha replied. “Sorry. The cell reception isn’t great where I am.”

  “Do you get Internet?”

  “I don’t know,” Martha admitted. “I haven’t tried. Why?”

  “There’s something you need to see.”

  “What is it?”

  There was a pause, and then Rodney said, “There were some pictures posted on a Nashville gossip website today.”

  “And?”

  “And they’re mostly flattering,” Rodney replied. “That’s the good news.”

  Martha took a breath. Rodney always had a way of drawing out the inevitable. “What’s the bad news?”

  “There is one of you with a man, and he’s pointing a gun at the camera,” Rodney replied, sounding miserable. “They’re calling you Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Martha replied. “Everybody in country music loves them.”

  “Well,” Rodney began, “the site is also suggesting that you’ve hit rock bottom after your divorce and the subsequent death of your aunt, and you’re hiding out in the Ozarks to drink with the locals.”

  “They can tell all of that from one picture?” Martha replied, her tone sarcastic. “Jesus, Rodney. Men were harassing us with cameras on my own property. Everybody around here carries a gun.”

  “Not everybody points it at paparazzi.”

  “They’ll move on soon enough,” Martha replied. “Maybe it’ll even boost a few sales of my older albums.”

  “It might’ve,” Rodney said, “if they also hadn’t posted pictures of the coroner leaving your farm amid reports of a body found on the property.”

  Martha closed her eyes. “Shit.”

  “I tried to tell you that you needed to come home,” Rodney replied.

  “I’m sorry,” Martha replied. “But you know I can’t leave. Even if I were willing to leave my sisters, and I’m not, I doubt the sheriff would let me go. He’s been asking some questions.”

  “Do you need a lawyer?”

  “I don’t know,” Martha said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Is there anything you need to tell me?” Rodney asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  “God, no,” Martha said. “I didn’t kill anyone, and nobody I know did either.”

  “But they found a body in your yard,” Rodney replied.

  “It’s been there for a while,” Martha replied. “If someone I knew killed whoever it is, and that’s a big if, then that person is long dead as well.”

  “Martha, there’s one more thing,” Rodney said. “You weren’t the only one with fresh, new pictures on that site.”

  “Travis?” Martha asked, even though she already knew the answer. “Who was he with this time?”

  “Missy Lion.”

  Martha took a deep breath in and then let it out, but it did nothing to dissolve the mix of tears, jealousy, and rage that was boiling up inside of her. “So, while he’s out there wining and dining Missy Lion, I’m here in the boondocks hitting rock bottom?”

  “That’s what it seems like.”

  “Jesus Christ, Rodney.”

  “Do I need to come out there?” Rodney asked. “To make sure you won’t do anything stupid?”

  “No,” Martha said. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll call me if there are any more problems?”

  “I will,” Martha replied. “Or if I need bail money.”

  Martha pressed end call on the screen and shoved the phone into her pocket. For once, she was glad she didn’t have access to the Internet to see the pictures and accompanying story that had been posted. Before she’d come to Cold River, that’s how she’d spent her mornings, with a cup of coffee, scanning the gossip columns. She could never decide if she was insulted or relieved when they left her alone.

  When she got back inside, both of her sisters were sitting at the kitchen table, eating cold SpaghettiOs out of the can. Despite Rodney’s phone call, the sight made her smile. It was something they’d done since they were children. Their mother had been a wonderful cook, but they’d all loved eating SpaghettiOs straight out of the can while watching Saturday-morning cartoons.

  “Don’t worry,” Pfeiffer said, her mouth half-full. “We saved you a can.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Who was on the phone?” Pfeiffer wanted to know.

  “My agent,” Martha replied. “You know the guys Brody and I caught taking pictures of us the other day?”

  “Yeah,” Pfeiffer said. “Did they get some or something?”

  “They did,” Martha replied. “They got an especially interesting one of Brody pointing his gun at them while he told them to get off our property.”

  Hadley looked up from her can. “Brody pointed a gun at someone?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” Pfeiffer murmured.

  “Ashby Bean deserved it,” Hadley replied. “He was meaner than a snake and twice as slimy.”

  “Snakes aren’t really slimy,” Pfeiffer said.

 
“You know what I mean,” Hadley replied, rolling her eyes. “He was going to shoot his own dog for barking at him.”

  “I would have barked at him, too,” Pfeiffer replied.

  “I remember that dog,” Martha said. “Wasn’t he a bloodhound or something?”

  Hadley nodded. “And Brody took him and brought him home. When his dad found out, he had to return him.”

  “And then the dog escaped from Ashby and came back!” Martha finished. “I remember now.”

  “Brody always has been good to his animals,” Hadley said. “It’s almost a shame he didn’t want to become a vet.”

  “He’s good to his people, too,” Martha replied, eyeing her sister. “He’s loyal, you know?”

  Hadley averted her gaze and said, “So what are you going to do about these pictures?”

  Martha shrugged. “You know just as well as I do that there’s nothing I can do. They’re up for the whole world to see. It wouldn’t matter what I say; people are going to believe what they want.”

  “I know,” Hadley said. “The worse the picture, the better the money.”

  “It’s Friday today, isn’t it?” Martha asked suddenly, standing up. “It’s open-mic night at Mama’s.”

  “Are you going to go?” Pfeiffer asked.

  “We are going to go,” Martha replied. “All of us.”

  “It’s a bar,” Hadley told her. “Are you sure you need to go to a bar?”

  “You think I’m going to be able to stay out of bars forever?” Martha asked. “Besides, it’s either I play music tonight or I drink tonight. I don’t have to leave the house to drink. All I have to do is open that cabinet over there.”

  Hadley sighed. “I guess you’re right. And we could all use a night out after the week we’ve had.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I went out and did anything,” Pfeiffer said. “It’s been months and months.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Martha said. “We’re going out. And you’re both going to borrow my clothes and let me do your makeup.”

  Hadley and Pfeiffer exchanged a look.

  “I’m not letting you anywhere near my face,” Pfeiffer replied.

  “Oh yes you are,” Martha replied, grabbing Pfeiffer’s arm and pulling her up. “Come on. Let’s get this party started.”

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, the sisters were upstairs in the bathroom, staring at their reflections in the mirror. Martha regarded her creations proudly, Hadley and Pfeiffer wearing more makeup than an entire Texas beauty pageant. They were showing more skin, too.

  “I’m afraid my face will crack if I talk too much,” Pfeiffer said through tight lips. “How do you wear this every day?”

  “I don’t wear it every day,” Martha said. “Just when I want to be seen.”

  “We’re going to be seen all right,” Hadley replied, adjusting the straps on her pink tank top. “I don’t like showing my stomach. It makes me feel like I’m trying to rewind twenty years.”

  “You look twenty years younger,” Pfeiffer told her. “Your arms are so . . . toned.”

  “I work out three times a week in D.C.,” Hadley replied. “For what I pay that trainer, they better be toned.”

  “I should work out,” Pfeiffer murmured.

  “What?” Martha asked. “You’re tiny. You can eat whatever you want.”

  “So?” Pfeiffer replied. “People still mistake me for a teenager. If I cut my hair off, people think I’m a teenage boy.”

  “I guess nobody is really ever happy no matter how they look,” Martha said. “I know I’m not.”

  “That’s Travis talking,” Hadley replied. “He never did appreciate you like he should have.”

  “I didn’t appreciate him either,” Martha said. “But that’s over now, and it’s time to move on.”

  Hadley put her hand on Martha’s arm. “I know it’s hard.”

  Before Martha could respond, there was a heavy knock on the front door, causing all three of the sisters to jump.

  “Was someone supposed to come by?” Martha asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Pfeiffer replied. “Unless it’s someone about the . . . you know . . . body.”

  “They wouldn’t be here this late,” Hadley replied.

  Martha followed her sisters downstairs, feeling slightly wobbly. She was nervous about singing in front of an audience, especially because she had a new song to play that she hadn’t told anyone about. She’d been working on it for the last couple of days. She didn’t know if, when she finally got up to sing, she’d be able to. She reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to see Hadley open the door to Mark, standing in the doorway, still wearing his sunglasses even though it was getting ready to rain.

  “Mark?” Hadley asked. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t think it was necessary to tell me that you found a dead body in your front fucking yard?” Mark asked, stepping inside the house and pushing past Hadley. “A simple phone call would have been nice. I had to find out through my campaign manager at four a.m.”

  “I tried to call you,” Hadley said, taking a step back. “You didn’t answer. Like always.”

  “I don’t have any missed calls.”

  “I can’t help that.”

  “This could be bad for my campaign,” Mark said, finally ripping his sunglasses from his face. “Please tell me you didn’t know anything about it.”

  Martha studied the man in front of her. He was short; some might even call him diminutive. Martha made a crack about his height at his and Hadley’s rehearsal dinner, and Mark responded with a glare so cold she’d been afraid to look him directly in the eyes ever since.

  “We were just on our way out the door,” Pfeiffer said, taking a step closer to Hadley. “You’re welcome to come with us if you’d like.”

  “You look like you’re headed to a hoedown,” Mark replied. “Hadley, what are you wearing? You look positively country.”

  “And you look like you’re about to conduct a ribbon-cutting ceremony for the farmer next door’s new pigpen,” Pfeiffer snapped. “What are you doing here, Mark?”

  “I came here to speak to my wife,” he said. “I should have known leaving her alone with the two of you for this long would result in . . . this.”

  Pfeiffer opened her mouth to speak, but Hadley put up her hand. “It’s fine,” she said. “You and Martha go on. Mark and I will catch up later.”

  “Hell no,” Pfeiffer replied. “I’m not leaving you here with him.”

  A flicker of gratitude crossed Hadley’s face before she said, “Go on. We need to talk, anyway.”

  “Let’s go,” Martha said, nodding toward the door.

  Pfeiffer sighed. “Fine. But you call me if you need anything, Hadley.” She sent a withering glare to Mark.

  “Where’s my guitar?” Martha stood at the doorway with her hands on her hips. “I put it right here before we went upstairs.”

  “I don’t know,” Hadley replied. “I didn’t see it when I came down.”

  “That’s so weird,” Martha said.

  “It’s in here!” Pfeiffer called from the kitchen. It’s leaning against the chair again.”

  “I swear that’s not where I left it,” Martha said. “I swear.”

  “Whose dog is that?” Mark said from behind them. “Underneath the kitchen table.”

  “My dog,” Pfeiffer replied. “And her name is Lafayette.”

  “What kind of a name is that?” Mark wanted to know.

  Pfeiffer turned her attention to Hadley. “I cannot believe you married him sometimes.”

  “Let’s go into the living room, okay?” Hadley asked Mark. She wanted to keep her sister and her husband as far away from each other as she could.

  Martha picked up her guitar and ushered Pfeiffer outside, the two of them rushing toward the car before the sky opened up on them.

  Chapter 27

  Hadley

  HADLEY WATCHED HER SISTERS LEAVE, WISHING MORE than anythi
ng she could go with them. She hadn’t even realized how much she wanted to go until she couldn’t. She knew that she wouldn’t be following along later, and certainly not with Mark.

  She turned around to face her husband. “Why are you here, Mark?”

  “You need to come home with me,” he said. “Now.”

  “Why?”

  “My campaign manager says it’s best.”

  “Well,” Hadley replied, waving her hands in the air, “if your campaign manager says it’s best . . .”

  “You agreed to make this as smooth a transition as possible,” Mark said. “We agreed.”

  “That was before my aunt died and left me a rickety old farmhouse with a body buried in the lawn,” Hadley replied. “I can’t come home right now. There is too much going on.”

  “I need you in D.C.,” Mark replied.

  “I can’t go to D.C.,” Hadley said.

  “Think about how it looks if you stay here,” Mark said. “Think about what people will say, what the papers will write.”

  “They’re going to write about what’s happened whether I’m in D.C. or not,” Hadley said.

  “I saw that picture of your sister,” Mark continued. “The one of Martha with your old high school boyfriend. Have you been seeing him?”

  “Is that what this is about?” Hadley asked. “You’re worried I might be spending time with Brody?”

  “Are you?”

  “No,” Hadley said. “Well, not really.”

  “Think about how it’ll look if your picture gets taken with him,” Mark told her.

  “It’ll look like a picture,” Hadley replied. “Besides, everybody already knows.” She paused, swallowing. “They already know we plan to file for divorce after you’re reelected.”

  “The voters don’t know!” Mark exclaimed. “And I’m willing to bet you haven’t told your sisters either.”

  “I’ll tell them,” Hadley said. “When the time is right.”

  “Just like we’ll tell the voters when the time is right.”