Finding Shelby Moore, Part VII

I was still hurting when we adjourned to the kitchen to discuss things. Shelby and Rachel sat at the glass and wrought iron table. I paced and kept myself from moaning, lest I look less than manly in front of the women.

“So what the hell are you guys up to? Conspiring with Carl on a publicity stunt?”

“Fuck you!” Rachel said. She got up from the table. If she took another shot at my midsection, I'd happily batt her in the head.

“Rachel, no!” Shelby said. Her voice was small, but commanded respect. And though Rachel clearly wanted to beat me until I peed blood, Shelby’s words stopped her. “Sit down, please.”
Rachel sat, but reminded me of a caged tiger.

“It was my idea,” Shelby said. “And it had nothing to do with Carl.”

“Shel!”

“Rachel, please. It was a stupid idea. We’re in over our heads and this guy might be able to help.”

“You don’t know him,” Rachel said.

Shelby studied me. Her eyes were a pale blue that would stop most mens’ hearts from beating. Her face was simple and beautiful and when she smiled, she induced you to want to take care of her. “You’re right. I don’t. But –”

“But nothing, Shel. You went from your father to Dom to Carl because you let your gut feeling guide you. Your gut feeling for men just sucks.”

I stopped myself from saying she didn’t have to worry about me. It was true, but neither of them knew that. They’d have to figure it out on their own.

“I thought you were working with Carl on this,” I said.

Working with that asshole? I’d like to shoot that asshole,” Rachel said. She stood and walked toward me.

I moved away a couple steps, but she went to the sink and got a glass of water. An audible sigh of relief wouldn’t have been manly, so I kept it to myself.

“Why did you meet him for lunch?” I asked Rachel.

“Because he’s about three steps behind you,” she said. “That son of a bitch. I told him off, but he definitely suspects something.”

“Suspects what?” I said.

They faked the kidnapping. But I wasn’t sure about the details. I’d thought Carl was in on it, but Rachel blew that theory away. I sat down at the table across from Shelby.

“You might as well tell me. I figured out most of it and all I need to do is dial the police and it’s all over anyway.”

Nothing happened. Shelby and Rachel locked eyes and tried to communicate with each other without saying anything. They remained locked that way.

I tired of waiting and pulled out my cell phone. Shelby reached across the table and put her hand on mine.

“Wait. Please.”

I put the cell on the table, but left it open. “I’m a licensed private investigator. That means I’m bound to call and let the authorities know that you’re here. If I don’t I’ll lose my license and go to jail. So you got some time to figure this out, but not much.”

They glanced at each other again and Rachel sat next to Shelby at the table.

*****

“Carl’s a loon,” Rachel said. “A dangerous loon. He decided he loves Shelby and that no one else should.”

I glanced at Shelby. She nodded. “He smothers me. I don’t feel comfortable around him.”

“He ever hit you?”

Another exchanged glance. “Yeah,” she said. “A couple times. He’s got a temper.”

I glanced at Rachel and back at Shelby. “Did he do…anything else?”

Shelby looked at the table and spoke. “There was one time. It was when things with my father were going badly. I got drunk and he was nice to me, and I kissed him. I shouldn’t have done it. But I did and he kissed me back, and…”

“Did he rape you?”

“No. It didn’t get that far. The phone rang first.”

I thought for a minute, during which both of them stared at me. “You got Internet?”

Rachel pointed at a laptop behind me in the living room. It was on, so I jiggled the mouse and the screen came to life. Within a minute I had what I wanted. When I picked up my cell, they both gasped.

“Relax, I’m not calling the cops.”

Carl’s wife answered on the third ring. I wondered whether she was loaded yet. “Hi, this is Shane Black. We, uhhh, talked the other day.”

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you about your husband, Mrs. Clayton.”

“Louise.”

“Okay. Did he ever hit you?”

She said nothing.

“It’s important, Louise.”

She remained silent. I waited her out.

“I, uhhh, I was young. And I angered him. He came home one night when we lived on base and he found me…I was unfaithful. He’d been gone for eight months and most of the time I didn’t hear from him. I knew he was cheating. Word gets around. Guys talk, even if they aren’t supposed to. And wives talk. I knew.

“He came home and I was with someone.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Carl beat him, then smacked me around. He can do that, you know, without making it obvious. It’s something he learned in the MPs. He smacked me around for a while. After that…well, the guy he beat didn’t press charges. He didn’t want other people to know.”

“You never did anything?”

“No.”

“He still beat you?”

“Once recently. He…after he told me that he didn’t love me anymore. I was drunk and I provoked him. He, uhhh, he also said that I was his and when he was done with me, no one would have me.”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t think he kidnapped Shelby Moore, do you?”

“I guarantee you he didn’t.”

“But—”“I have to go.” I flipped the phone shut and walked back to the kitchen. When I got there, Carl was there with the two of them. He held a gun on Rachel and Shelby.