Chapter Seven - Spilled Sherry Tears Streamed down his face as C.C. confided to me that he was in dreadful trouble. “I would never have involved you if I had any idea that my mess would follow me here. I just needed a safe place to collect my thoughts and sort through my options. I had to put some distance between me and the chaos clouding my mind at home. I thought of you, but I, I was just thinking of my own needs” he stammered. “Justine,” he said, “I have to find a way to put this whole thing to rest; I need the twelve hundred miles and anonymity to think.” He seemed to be thinking out loud more than talking with me. “C.C.. you and your problems have always been welcome here.” I assured him. “Just give me a little heads up; fill me in.” Looking me straight in the eyes he nodded and said, “I had every intention of doing just that. Remember, we were going to grill steaks and talk? Well, that morning I received a call from someone who didn’t identify himself only to say that Lindsey and I were dead if I didn’t tell where Karla was.” “Whoa, C.C.” I said, “Who is Karla?” I was stunned at his danger and confused by lack of information. I had dozens of questions swarming me like angry bees shaken from their hive when the doorbell chimed. That usually friendly sound was an ominous reminder of our danger and the lateness of the night. “C.C”, I whispered, “Call the police.” “Hide!” he shouted, and then his shouts were matched by shouts from outside the door. “Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Carter, Let us in.” I recognized Detective Pearson’s voice and rushed to give him entry. He and two uniformed officers barreled through the door, knocking over the coffee table, spilling the glasses of sherry and pinning C.C. to the wall. We all gazed stunned as the sherry drop by drop mixed with the blood stain still there from earlier that day. When Pearson turned to me his eyes spoke of distrust and his voice was cool, “Just what is going on here?”