by Penny Reid
“Is that why they’re outside her house now? Watching and listening?” Cletus tapped his fingers on the table lightly. “They don’t believe her story?”
“Oh now, see, that’s something Jackson wouldn’t talk about.” Ashley lifted her eyebrows, her eyes getting big. “Anything about the night of the murder and all the evidence and suspects, he was happy to answer all my questions. But when I asked where they were getting the money to keep Diane under that kind of watch—’cause you know the sheriff doesn’t have that in his budget—Jackson clammed right up. But he did say it was, uh, he said something like, ‘That’s not my jurisdiction.’”
“And they’re not making a secret about it either,” I piped up. “They wave to me every time I drive past. It’s like they just want to intimidate her or something. And none of them are from the sheriff’s department. I don’t know these people.”
Cletus’s gaze lingered on me, and I got the sense he didn’t want me to volunteer what he’d learned from his friend Alex, that the bugs in my momma’s house were FBI. He also looked like he was making a mental note of something.
“One thing at a time. Let’s get back to Diane.” His fingers ceased tapping and he lifted his chin toward Ashley. “Why else is she a suspect. She won’t talk, they don’t believe her story, but what else do they have?”
“They have a partial fingerprint on the car, where someone with bloody hands touched the door, and they think it’s hers.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep, but they can’t be sure because she won’t submit to being fingerprinted. And she won’t leave her house, so they can’t lift one off a discarded coffee cup, a grocery store cart, or something like that.”
“My momma’s fingerprints have to be all over the lodge. Why not take one from there?”
“The lodge is private property. Lots of people’s fingerprints are all over the lodge. Unless they can prove a fingerprint is hers one hundred percent, then they can’t link her to the partial print. Jackson seemed real frustrated about it. Also, Diane has the most obvious motive. Everyone knows their divorce was bitter and contentious, even though she was able to keep almost everything in the end except that vacation home, all that lawyering must’ve cost her buckets of money. Oh! And last year I guess Diane said she wanted to kill Kip? At least that’s what Elena Wilkinson told the police.” Ashley ticked each reason off on a separate finger.
“So Elena talked to the police?” Cletus seemed to find this surprising. “I thought she lawyered up that night too?”
“She did lawyer up at first. However, a day later, she went in and made a statement on her own.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Do you know what Elena told them?”
“I think so, or I can tell you what Jackson told me. Elena said Kip had been drinking that night, real sore he wasn’t invited. He got in the car and she was worried, ’cause he’d been drinking, right? So she got in the car and he drove them to the lodge. She said she tried to stop him from going in, but he was crazy, and she couldn’t talk sense into him. Elena made it real clear that Kip had every right to be there, since his daughter was getting married.”
I felt my heart harden with every word Ashley spoke. My father had no right to be there. He’d forfeited those rights the moment he’d lifted a hand to me. He’d forfeited them way before that, you just forgave him too easily.
Ashley stretched, grimacing. “Sorry, can one of y’all get me a soda water or a ginger ale or something? If I stand up, I get dizzy, and then sometimes I’ll be barfing again.”
“Yes, absolutely.” Cletus shot out of his seat, crossing to the fridge with quick steps. “Jenn, do you want anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Oh, Jenn. This is important.” Ashley turned to me. “Elena also said, and I thought y’all should know this, she felt the restraining order last year against her and Kip was served just for the purpose of screwing him over in the divorce settlement. She felt like they would’ve gotten more money—more than just the vacation house and boat in Key West—from Diane if Jenn had dropped the charges. She blames Jenn for losing Diane’s money and the stake in the lodge.”
“I—” I shook my head, horrified. They’d assaulted me and that was somehow my fault? “What a—”
“Raging bitch,” Ashley filled in. “It’s fine. You can say it. You’re with family.”
I chuckled, feeling tired all of a sudden. My emotions were giving me whiplash. One minute I’m having a hard time talking about my father’s murder, now I’m having uncharitable thoughts about the man and his mistress. I didn’t understand myself.
“Anyway.” Ashley sighed. “We all know what happened next. Kip and Elena walk in, cause a fuss, blah blah blah. Jackson and the other deputy walked them back to the car. They leave. Then—”
“Wait.” Cletus twisted the cap off a bottle of ginger ale and set it down in front of Ash. “Who was driving?”
“What?”
“Who was driving? When Elena and Kip left?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Elena said Kip had been drinking, right? And he sounded like it at the party. I bet Elena was driving when they left. Jackson wouldn’t have let a drunk man drive.”
“That’s true.” I nodded. “I was thinking the same thing at the party, when my—when he was talking. He wasn’t just buzzed, he was drunk.”
“Do you want me to ask Jackson?” Ashley looked between Cletus and me. “I can call.”
“Yes.” Cletus reclaimed his seat and lifted the coffee cup. “But only if interacting with him won’t agitate your stomach.”
Ashley sent Cletus a glare. “Jackson is nice. Y’all need to stop treating him like an enemy. That stuff with us in high school is all in the past. And besides, I think it’s pretty obvious he told me all this stuff ’cause he wanted me to tell you.”
“Say again?” Cletus lowered his coffee cup, never taking a sip.
“Jackson can’t be seen or heard talking to you. He knows someone has Diane under surveillance—hopefully you’ve already figured that out. Anyway, he probably figures he can’t talk to you without someone listening in or it raising red flags. But, off the record, since we’re old friends, he can talk to me. I’m not being watched. He gave me a picture of the rope for hootenanny’s sake. What am I going to do with pictures of the rope?”
“Crabbing rope is expensive. Perhaps he thought to tempt you with a fishing trip.” Cletus narrowed his eyes, but I could tell he was just teasing his sister.
“Come on, Cletus. Jackson said—and I quote”—Ashley dropped her voice to imitate Jackson’s—“‘Let me know if any new questions arise, or if someone has any good theories about where we should be looking’ end quote.”
“Hmm.”
“I see you, stroking your beard. I see that glimmer in your eye.” Ash lifted her soda bottle toward Cletus. “You like Jackson, admit it.”
“I don’t dislike him.”
She took a swig of the soda, her mouth curving on one side. “Well, anyway. I don’t have much longer before I gotta go, so let me finish.”
“You’ll find out who was driving, still an unknown, but we do know Elena and my father drove away.”
Ash nodded at my statement. “That’s right. According to Elena, they didn’t make it home. They turned around because Kip said he wasn’t ready to leave and wanted to get Diane alone, to see if they could come to some sort of understanding about walking Jenn down the aisle at the wedding.”
“Pardon me?” Cletus’s lip curled.
“Elena said Kip regretted causing a scene, and all he really wanted was to be recognized—or some such nonsense—and given his proper due as Jenn’s father.”
“Ugh.” He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Now I think I may need to empty my stomach.”
“Right?” Ash snorted, sending her brother a commiserating look. She glanced at me and her gaze turned immediately contrite. “Oh gosh, Jenn. I’m sorry. Listen to me, I’m awful.
That wasn’t very nice of me. And—oh, I’m so sorry. I’m not feeling my best. I should’ve been more sensitive. He was your daddy and—”
“No. It’s fine. I know it’s frowned upon to speak ill of the dead, but the thought of my father walking me down the aisle makes me want to barf too.”
Ashley reached for my hand and squeezed. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is walking you down the aisle?”
“I asked Billy.”
Ashley’s grin was immediate.
“You did?” Cletus’s question drew my attention to him. The wrinkles lining his forehead, and the way his eyes had widened with what looked like wonder, struck me as incredibly cute.
“Yes. I know this might not make a lick of sense y’all, since I think I’m only about ten years younger than your brother, but he’s been very . . . paternal with me. You know? Or what I figured having an interested father would be like. Giving me good advice and always caring about what I’m thinking or feeling, checking in. He even remembered my birthday and told me he was proud of—of—what? What’s wrong?”
Ashley, quite abruptly, had burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I’m so sorry, it’s just—yes. I know what you mean. I know exactly what you mean.” Withdrawing her hand from mine, she covered her face. “These stupid hormones.”
Cletus’s gentle smile told me he approved of my choice. He then abruptly frowned. “Wait. Can he walk you down the aisle and be my best man?”
“You haven’t asked Billy to be your best man yet?” Ashley’s tears dried up as quickly as they’d started. “What the heck is wrong with you? Have you asked anyone?”
“I was getting around to it.” He sniffed, looking down his nose at his sister. “I have a list.”
“Well a list is no good if you don’t ask!” She banged a fist on the tabletop. “Jenn asked us ages ago.”
I nibbled my bottom lip, wondering if I should pick someone else to walk me down the aisle. I hadn’t meant to usurp Cletus’s intentions for his brother.
“Don’t fret, Jenn. Billy can do both, no rule against it. He’s used to multitasking. But—you—ask him soon. And everyone else on your list.” Ash narrowed her eyes on Cletus. “The wedding is a little over a month away. Time’s a tickin’. There’s tuxedo fittings, all sorts of things to schedule.”
“What? A tuxedo? No.” Cletus lifted the coffee cup again, and this time he did take a sip. He flinched, making a face like it was still too hot.
“You’re not wearing a tux?” His sister looked truly dismayed. “You better be in a tux. This wedding is going to be beautiful.”
“Nope. I want my groomsmen to wear coveralls. The real nice kind. Dickies.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together, knowing that Cletus was teasing his sister. He might not have asked his groomsmen yet, but he’d already bought the tux he’d be wearing months ago from Billy’s bespoke suit tailor.
Ash leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “And you want me to make you the godfather of my child.”
Cletus, enjoying himself way too much, affixed a somber façade to his features. “Let’s stay on topic, shall we? What happened—according to Elena—when they got back to the lodge?”
“Fine. Elena says they parked. After that she doesn’t remember.”
“What?” I asked, the levity from moments ago forgotten. “She said what?”
“She says they parked the car. The next thing she remembers is the sheriff waking her up in the woods.”
“How is that possible?” I pressed, feeling my blood pressure spike.
“She was hit over the head.” Ash said, like this explained Elena’s loss of memory.
“In the car?” Cletus stroked his beard.
“She can’t say. But I do know she was definitely hit over the head. When I was with her that night, she was disoriented and had a legitimate contusion, a blunt force head trauma.”
Still stroking his beard, Cletus leaned forward. “Anything else?”
“Yes. Here’s something interesting. That list I gave you? They tested everyone on it for gunpowder residue. That’s what the marks next to the name are. Elena’s results came back positive—”
“Then she did it!” I sat up straight, jabbing an excited finger into the air.
“No, listen,” Ashley addressed me. “Her hands had gunpowder residue, but she explained this away by claiming she and Kip had gone shooting earlier in the day. Her story checked out, they had gone to a range. Plus, when they found Elena unconscious, she was wearing gloves, and the gloves had no residue on the outside.”
“What about my mother?”
Ashley gave me an encouraging smile. “Her test came back completely negative. No residue.”
“I have two more questions,” Cletus announced, waiting until we were both looking at him before asking, “When did Elena ask for a lawyer?”
Ashley licked her bottom lip, then bit it, her gaze dropping to the table. “I don’t know. Before I showed up, though. I can ask Jackson about that too.”
“Do that. Okay, second question, what kind of gloves did she have on?”
Ashley blinked, then stared straight ahead. “I don’t know. They were, uh, brown, I think? Sorry.”
Cletus smiled. His gaze, sparkling with mischief, came to me. “I think we have what we need.”
Chapter Twelve
*Jenn*
“All wars are civil wars because all men are brothers... Each one owes infinitely more to the human race than to the particular country in which he was born.”
Francois de Salignac de La Mothe- Fenelon
We chatted for a bit longer, about the wedding mostly, as Ashley stood from the table very slowly and sipped on her ginger ale.
“I’m so excited, and I can’t wait to see Duane and Jess.” She smiled despite how the color seemed to drain from her cheeks the moment she straightened. “I’ve always wanted a big, splashy wedding.”
“And so you shall have one. Take ours.”
“Very funny, Cletus.” Her nose wrinkled and her lips curled like his words smelled bad. But, in fairness, she’d been wearing a face of slight disgust since walking in the door. Morning sickness.
“When the time is right”—I cut in, sending Cletus a quelling look—“your wedding to Drew will be wonderful, and please let me help.”
“Thanks, but I honestly don’t know if we’ll ever get married.”
This seemed to frustrate Cletus because his eyelids drooped and his mouth mashed itself together, but he said nothing, just glared at his shoes.
“Can I ask why not?” I was curious. She’d done such a great job with our wedding and had really seemed to enjoy herself. Plus, she’d just admitted to always wanting a big, splashy wedding. “No pressure. If it’s just not your thing—”
“No, no. It’s fine. This might sound strange, but I imagined planning it with my mother. Now that’s she’s gone, I feel so stuck. On the one hand, I don’t want to plan something without her. But on the other, I’m not willing to compromise on the dream.” Ashley snorted lightly, like she found herself silly. “It’s such a dumb dream. But it almost feels like, if I elope, it’s like I’m admitting that my mother isn’t here anymore, that she’s gone, and some dreams will never be.”
Oh my heart.
I’d never wanted a big wedding. Perhaps because of my youth. How I’d been thrust into pageants, beauty contests, and all nature of splashy events at my mother’s insistence. That said, I didn’t mind what our wedding had morphed into. I loved that Ashley and my mother had seemed to have the time of their lives planning it. I loved that my mother had been made happy and distracted over the last year.
But mostly, I loved that the wedding—just like the plans for the engagement party—had become a family affair, with all of Cletus’s siblings and significant others pitching in. It was shaping up to be beautiful, yes, but also a demonstration of their love for Cletus, and me, and for each other. And I loved that.
“You know, I eve
n have my grandmother Oliver’s wedding dress? My momma had it restitched, certain I’d wear it for my wedding. I tried it on last October, on the anniversary of my momma’s death, just to feel closer to her. And . . .” Ashley pressed her fingers to her lips and swallowed a few times before she could continue. “It fit like it had been made for me. And that made me so sad ’cause she’ll never see me in it.”
Cletus sniffed, lifting glassy eyes to his sister, but his silence persisted.
“I don’t know what to do.” Ashley laughed, wiping at her cheeks and giving her head a subtle shake. “But I do know I want to marry Drew. Maybe we should just . . . elope and be done with it.”
“Don’t do that,” Cletus said, his voice low and rough as he stood and walked to grab her coat. “You deserve to live your dreams, Ash. Give it time. There’s no rush.”
Ashley turned big eyes to me, and now she laughed in earnest. “Oh? Really? Mr. When-will-y’all-get-married-already?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
His sister lifted an eyebrow at this statement.
“It does happen!” Holding out her jacket, he crossed to her. “Now put this on. You’ll be late for work.”
“I won’t, I have another half hour before I have to be there. But I should go. I want to stop by the OB’s office to pick up the sonogram pictures. Their printer was broken when I had it done.”
“Can you snap a picture of the sonogram?” he asked. “With your phone?”
“Sure, but—Cletus—there’s not much to see yet. Wait until week eighteen, when I’m out of the first trimester. I know I can’t wait for this nausea to stop, I feel so gross all the time.”
“Well, just the same.” He pressed a kiss to his sister’s cheek. “By the way, you’re gorgeous, Ash. You’re going to make a great mother.”
“Thank you, Cletus—”
“And I’m going to make the best godfather.”
