The Mint Julep Murder

by CC Dragon

  “See? You need the help.” I finished my drink then went around behind the bar and bussed the glass.

  “One more?” Katie asked Gus.

  “No, I’m fine. Good night.” He dropped payment on the bar.

  Katie shook her head. “No charge.”

  “That’s not a smart way to do business.” Gus headed for the door.

  An hour later, we were largely cleaned up as far as tables and bar top went. The other bartenders were stocking for the next day. I was sweeping the floors while Katie polished the brass on the bar and the door handle.

  “Gus really seems to like you,” Katie teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not getting my hopes up. It was enough that Lurlene didn’t get her claws into him yet.”

  Katie giggled and sighed. “Just be careful. I think those deputies would be thrilled to pin it all on you.”

  “Why? I mean, I get they want to solve it, but they want the real killer. I hope it was all just a big accident,” I said.

  “An accident? How?” she asked.

  “If nothing from the diner, my stuff or the sheriff’s home tests positive for poison, maybe he got something some other way? Maybe he accidentally took too much of a medication. Someone could’ve slipped him a medication or spiked a drink,” I suggested.

  “Like GHB. Some women won’t accept drinks from men even if I take it over. They don’t trust it hasn’t been tampered with. They want bottled water that’s sealed. They open their own beer bottles. Usually they’re visitors, but it freaked me out the first time,” Katie said.

  “That’s all the time in the city. Locals are trusting of each other. But it’s possible someone could’ve done that to the sheriff’s coffee or anything, really. I guess we have to wait for the tox screen,” I said.

  Katie held up her hand. “If I were you, I’d get back to normal. Make your smoothies and coffee drinks.”

  “It won’t be tacky?” I asked.

  “Name one after the sheriff. Like in tribute. You did nothing wrong and you know it. You’ll be at the funeral, but you know you’re innocent and the business must go on.” Katie put her hands on her hips like a superhero.

  “Thanks. I needed that. I think I will.” I grabbed the dustpan and brushed the dirt into it. “People are still going to try to blame me.”

  “You just got back into town. No mysterious deaths before that. I know it’s a coincidence, but you have that going against you over every other person in Sweet Grove,” she pointed out.

  “Darn right,” I agreed as I dumped the dirt into the trash can.

  “Thanks for the help. Go home and get some sleep. You have an early morning,” she said.

  “Always. I’ve learned to live on less sleep.” I grabbed my purse and headed out to my truck.

  There was a note under the windshield wiper. I grabbed it and unfolded the piece of paper.

  Cowardly Killer

  I didn’t recognize the handwriting. Probably a joke from Lurlene to try to get rid of me.

  Coming home was always going to be hard, but this was taking the cake! I crumpled up the paper and hopped in my truck. Tossing the paper and my purse into the passenger seat, I had the keys in my hand. I took a moment to breathe then shoved the key into the ignition and turned.

  I drove toward home with a slight detour past the shop. There was a big box on the porch. Why would someone deliver something to the front of a business?

  I parked the truck around back and went inside. Once I’d opened the front door and used my body to hold it open, I slid the heavy box inside. The shades were all down and I immediately locked the front door behind me before I proceeded to push, kick, nudge and shove the large box behind the counter. I didn’t need Gran tripping on it or trying to move it if she decided to beat me in to work in the morning.

  I heard the door rattle.

  Ducking down, I slid the box where it was totally out of the way and peeked over the counter.

  I saw a figure trying the door. I kept silent and they went away. Only then did I approach the door and make sure all three locks were engaged. I made my way out back and checked the alley before I walked out.

  It looked deserted. I locked the door behind me and dashed for my truck. Driving home, I obeyed every speed limit and traffic sign like I’d just gotten my license. No one appeared to be following me.

  By the time I parked at Gran’s, I felt less paranoid. Someone had been trying to get into the shop. That wasn’t my imagination. But who and why?

  Maybe there really was a killer loose in Sweet Grove?

  Chapter Six

  Sleeping hadn’t gone all that well, so I was up and at the shop before Gran. Normal coffee was brewed and I’d changed my sign.

  Sheriff Monroe Mint Julep Smoothie Special

  I cut the price in half and propped up the sign. After prepping my area for the special, I turned to the big box with its fancy coffee maker. The tape on it was industrial strength. I dug through the office drawers for a pair of scissors and scrounged up a box cutter instead.

  I walked back to the main area and found Gran and her four admirers sitting and chatting already.

  “Wow, it’s really quiet back there,” I said.

  “Morning, dear. Yes, they had some soundproofing put in. It was that way when I rented the space. Helps when you need to make a phone call or do paperwork.”

  “I bought this new coffee and espresso maker. I’m going to set it up. Don’t mean to be rude, but don’t mind me.” I waved at the men.

  Gran came over with a scone on a plate. “Eat some breakfast first. What are you up to?”

  “Scones? Are we British now?” I teased.

  “I had extra blueberries from the muffins. Things are a tad slow,” she said.

  “My fault. But I’m not giving up. Smoothies are back on the menu, in memorial, and fancy coffee drinks.” I sliced open the box, adjusted down the blade and put the box cutter in my back pocket for safe keeping. “We might be a little slower while they investigate, but things will bounce back.”

  “None of this is your fault.” She patted my cheek.

  “Thanks, I just know you need your business to increase and so far, I’ve not helped a bit.” I looked down. “Gran, you’re wearing two different shoes.”

  She looked down. “Oh, navy and black. I need to turn the lights on in the closet. The bulb burned out.”

  “I’ll change it when we get home,” I said.

  “See? Having you here helps. People like new—it just takes them a bit to adjust. We must remember the poor sheriff and his family. Business can be recovered, but death is forever.”

  “I’m sorry, I know. I can’t fix that, so I’m doing what I can,” I replied.

  “I know, but you don’t need to meddle or change things up right now. Don’t need to be riling people up,” she said.

  “I’m not.” I attempted to lift the coffee machine from the box. “Darn.”

  “We can help.” Milan offered.

  “Thanks, but I don’t want anyone to pull a muscle. It’s very heavy,” I said.

  “We’ve got this.” Milan held up his hands.

  The four men studied the project. I sighed and broke off a piece of the scone.

  “Belle, I know you’re a good girl, but people are talking. You need to lie low,” Gran said.

  “I didn’t do anything. I’m tired of being guilty for nothing that I did.” I went to the front door and flipped the sign to open.

  Gran supervised the project and I prayed no one here had a heart attack. I’d definitely get the blame.

  “They got it out of the box,” Gran announced.

  I walked over and put down a mat on the counter so the machine wouldn’t scratch the wood.

  “Much obliged. Let me help.” I took a corner.

  “You’re a tiny thing. It’ll crush you,” Gran argued.

  But I was much younger and not a weakling. I’d seen these things installed and it took a couple of strong men to lift it
easily. I had to help.

  We tried twice but didn’t clear the counter.

  We were trying again when the bell over the door jingled.

  “Crap!” someone said and the machine slipped to the floor.

  “Let’s take a break. We’ll get some coffee and food in us,” I said.

  Gran was waiting on the customer. I finally looked over, hoping to find Gus or even the pastor. Any strong young man. But it was Lurlene.

  “That is so sweet. You know, Belle, your true calling is in hospitality.” Lurlene smiled wide. “But maybe not this.”

  “Do go on.” I refused to take the bait.

  “Honestly, no. Think about it. A retirement home might be just the thing for you to run. The smoothies would help for those who have trouble eating. You have the patience for it. You already have five seniors here. You’ll never be alone or friendless. There will always be more people getting old. That way you don’t have to worry about finding a husband or all of that. Or making a business that is on trend,” she mocked but sounded so sincere.

  I almost said something rude, but the door opened. Gus and Lou walked in, both in uniform.

  Gran pushed scones and coffee on them.

  “Official already?” I asked Gus.

  “Yes, ma’am. We need to talk, Belle,” he replied.

  Gran shook her head. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

  “No, ma’am. We just want to get more information. We can talk in the back,” Lou said.

  “Shame you’re a suspect. Good luck,” Lurlene called as she left.

  I led them to the back.

  Gus paused behind the counter. “Let us help.”

  He nodded to Lou and they lifted the machine onto the counter.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  In the back office, I sat at the desk.

  “Tell us what happened the night you were pulled over,” Lou said.

  I sighed. “I’m sure there was a report. I guess I was speeding a bit. I was tired and no one was on the road so I wasn’t watching my speedometer like a hawk. He pulled me over, I had insurance and registration up to date. He let me off with a warning. That’s all.”

  “Did you see anyone in his police car? Was there anyone around?” Gus asked.

  “I didn’t see anyone,” I answered.

  “Did he seem upset or distracted?” Lou asked.

  I shook my head. “Nope. He seemed like any other day. I just got back to town, so I don’t know if he’d had any problems with anyone lately.”

  “We’ve spoken to the widow. She said he complained a lot about your traffic stop,” Gus replied.

  “That’s how slow of a day he had. I usually fall asleep on night patrol.” Lou chuckled.

  “I’m sure Mrs. Monroe is just beside herself with grief and wants to blame anyone and everyone.” I knew Gran had taken pastries to the woman, but beyond that, we couldn’t do much to help.

  The deputies shared a look. Lou closed his notepad.

  That look was weird. Like maybe the widow hadn’t been so lost in grief.

  “Don’t leave the state, Belle. Okay?” Lou asked.

  I smirked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  The deputies took their scones and coffee to go. Gran and her friends were playing with my new machine.

  “Please be careful—I just bought it.” I walked up.

  “Can we try one?” Gran asked.

  “First tell me if Mrs. Monroe was really upset about her husband’s death,” I said.

  Gran frowned. “Of course she was. She didn’t show it. It’s not ladylike to be sobbing and helpless all the time. Especially with visitors. I’m sure she’s had private grieving.”

  “You’re sure, or you’re being polite and their marriage wasn’t what it used to be?” I asked.

  “Belle, that’s not our business,” Gran said.

  “It’s not gossip if we’re trying to find out who the real killer is.” I looked at the time. “I’ll take the widow some scones.”

  “That’s nice, dear,” Gran said.

  “We’ll get this set up for you. Men are good with machinery,” Milan called.

  “Thanks!” I replied. Under my breath, I whispered, “Please don’t break it.”

  * * * *

  The sheriff’s home was an immaculately maintained white colonial with carved columns on the front porch that gave it an old-school southern feel. The flower boxes were perfectly filled out and the Cadillac in the driveway shone like new.

  There was another car parked out front, but it wasn’t a police car.

  I parked on the street and checked my makeup in the rearview mirror. Scones in hand, I headed up to the front door. Only the screen was shut, so I could see the pastor and Mrs. Monroe sitting in the living room.

  “Hello, Belle. How nice of you to visit.” Pastor Luke stood up.

  “Yes, come in.” Mrs. Monroe sounded less enthused than the pastor. “We were discussing funeral plans.”

  “Sorry to interrupt. I wanted to drop by with some scones.” I handed over a container.

  “I think we have everything we need. I’ll be in touch. If you need anything, Mrs. Monroe, let me know.” The pastor headed for the door.

  “You don’t need to leave,” I insisted.

  “It’s fine. Sit.” Mrs. Monroe gestured to her overstuffed La-Z-Boy couch. Not at all what I’d imagined.

  “I was so sorry to hear about this. I know Gran stopped by, but if there is anything I can do…” I began.

  She bit into a scone. “These are good.”

  “I’ll tell Gran. I’ve named a smoothie in honor of the sheriff. I hope you don’t mind.” Better that she hears that from me and not anyone else.

  She sipped her coffee. “Not at all. He liked your drink. I liked mine. It’s all bad timing and people found out you were pulled over that night.”

  “Circumstances make people connect things.” I shrugged it off.

  “Exactly. You’re newly back in town, got pulled over, served him a new concoction and he died. People. I’m sorry, would you like some water or something?” she offered.

  “No, I’m fine. Thank you. Do they have any idea what happened? Maybe an accident with his medication?” I asked.

  “You’re so sweet to think it wasn’t deliberate. I know it wasn’t you. Well, I know he wasn’t sleeping with you. Your Gran raised you better than to sleep with a married man, no matter how your mother acted—you’ve done Bea proud.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t kill him or anything either. You think he was having an affair?” I asked.

  “I know he was. At least one. No, I’m sure you didn’t kill him. Over a warning or even a ticket. People are so silly and dramatic. There are much better reasons, reasons that would make someone do something drastic.” She patted the couch.

  A little white dog hopped up beside her and settled in Mrs. Monroe’s lap.

  “I’d never have imagined the sheriff would ever do anything like cheat on you. I’m sure you’ve told the deputies anyone you suspect. Will your kids be coming home for the funeral?” I asked.

  “That’s why we’ve had to delay. That and the testing. But a couple of days. It’ll be in the papers tomorrow.”

  One of the kids was my age, working in Louisville, and the younger one was in college.

  “It must be so hard to lose a parent so young,” I said.

  “You lost your parents much younger.” Mrs. Monroe gently stroked the dog. “Luckily we have life insurance and the house is paid for. That other woman will get nothing.”

  “Did he know you knew about this other woman?” I asked.

  She chucked. “He threatened to leave me once a week.”

  “Why didn’t he? Or was it all just to get your feathers ruffled?” I asked.

  “I think part of him wanted to. I had my lawyer picked out and ready to take him for all I deserved. I raised the kids on my own because he worked all the time. I did all the school stuff, little league and all the wifely duties
of an elected official and sheriff. Charity work. I cooked, cleaned and looked after his elderly parents as well as my own.” She took a deep breath. “All that work is worth nothing today.”

  “You’re right. You did so much for him. He wouldn’t leave you really—he’d never win another election. People would turn colder than a banker’s heart on him.” I started to suspect Mrs. Monroe a bit.

  “Of course he would’ve—once he was ready to retire. A younger woman without all that baggage or anything to hold over his head? I think he felt he needed to keep the family together until our youngest was out of college and had a place of his own. Ed didn’t want to ruin their childhoods.” She shook her head.

  “I’m so sorry. Do you think the other woman is behind it?” I asked.

  She smiled slyly. “I’d imagine so. They’ve been seeing each other for well over a decade and he never left me. She probably got fed up that he wouldn’t ever and slipped him something lethal.”

  “But he was with you all Sunday afternoon, right?” I asked.

  “Most of it. He always slipped out to meet a friend or take a call from a law enforcement buddy. Networking with troopers and local police…he always had an excuse to go mentor someone or talk to a retired officer. I gave up trying to figure out what was real and what was a lie. Except his sister being ill, but that’s real. Her son Hank needed to vent and was handling a lot on his own.” She toyed with the string of pearls around her neck. “I know it wasn’t you.”

  “Could you mention that to the police? I feel like people are making me the easy target,” I admitted.

  “I did. They didn’t find anything in your blender. They don’t have any answers, so they’re sitting on it. That’s what cops do. Trust me, I was married to one for so long. If they don’t know, they string it out. They keep digging, chasing clues and leads. They won’t rule out a suspect without a full alibi or other proof. Just wait it out and hope something shows up or guilt gets at a person. Most of the time, they get it right.”

  “Thanks for the advice. At least the police have a solid lead with the other woman. I’ll let you rest. If you need anything, Gran and I are happy to help,” I offered again.