by CC Dragon
“Don’t forget, I’m going to the beauty shop soon. I have to look nice for the funeral tomorrow. Might be a slow day,” Gran said.
“Slow day here, but I’m sure the beauty shop will be busy.”
“Very. Do you want me to see if they can squeeze you in?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine. I just felt like a ponytail today,” I said.
“Don’t get lax about your appearance. It reflects on the effort we put into the business,” Gran said.
“I know. That’s the same message from college. Clean and neat in everything. This is better—you don’t want a hair in a smoothie, do you?” I asked.
Gran frowned. “No, I suppose having your hair up is more flattering than a hair net.”
“Exactly. The busier we get, the more it could happen, so this is a good look for work.” It wasn’t strictly necessary, but it made Gran relax.
Just then her four friends piled in, followed by most of the deputies working in Sweet Grove, including Gus. I suddenly felt bad for not dancing with him the night before.
Not about his feelings so much as I’d wanted to dance. He’d be great for Katie—a musician and he had that cowboy feel to him without all the accessories.
I wanted to spend time with a guy who didn’t know all the gossip and nonsense about my parents that had been passed down to me somehow. However, that wasn’t a good reason to spend time with someone. I needed to learn about him too. Life was just too hectic to focus on men at the moment.
But he’d know about my parents soon enough if he didn’t already, and helping Katie was more important than a dance. She’d helped me plenty when I needed it.
“You seem a million miles away,” Gus said.
“Sorry, what can I get you?” I asked.
He really did look good in his uniform. Something about it made his shoulders look even more broad and strong. Lou and Mike were along with him.
“Three breakfast specials. Two regular coffees. Extra shot in my coffee, please,” Gus said.
I got started on the coffee as Gran refused to take the money Gus offered.
“I heard the sheriff’s kids are in town,” Lou commented.
“I’d hope so. Poor dears,” Gran said.
“The nephew stopped by the Honey Buckle. He had to be turned away,” I said.
Gus shook his head. “Grief makes people do foolish things. He didn’t need to drink any more. I had a talk with him.”
“The kids are demanding answers. The body got released for burial, but the tox screen is backed up. They took samples just in case, but we can’t keep him on ice indefinitely. They embalmed him.” Lou drummed his fingers uneasily on the counter.
I handed over the coffees. “It’s good to have closure.”
“Thanks.” Gus handed out the coffees. “Better get to it.”
Lou and Matt headed out of the door with their bear claw pastries and coffees. Gus lingered.
“Something else, Deputy?” I asked.
“You know who the girlfriend is?” He leaned a bit closer.
I lifted a shoulder slightly. “Mike will too soon. Small town.”
Gus leaned in. “Mike wants to be interim sheriff. I do too and I think I can bring fresh eyes to this place.”
“Fresh, but not as tapped-in as people who’ve lived here forever,” I pointed out.
“You think I’m not qualified?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that.” I cleaned up some coffee grounds and wiped off the counter. “I’m not a tattle-tale. I don’t have proof or first-hand knowledge. I’m sure the funeral will be enlightening.”
“You shouldn’t be doing police work,” he said.
I gave him a sweet and innocent smile. “Who said I was? I paid a condolence call. People share things with bartenders and baristas. The wife should be more than willing to tell you.”
Gus clenched his strong jaw then relaxed it. “Thanks for the coffee, Ms. Baxter. Mrs. Baxter.”
“Goodbye, Deputy,” Gran called.
Things were growing chillier, but I didn’t know for sure that Lola was the other woman. Mrs. Monroe probably had enough proof and I had no reason to doubt her word, but Gran had given me Lola’s name. I had to find out today for myself, if possible. Choir practice had never seemed so interesting.
* * * *
I brought pastries to choir practice, as was good manners. The women went crazy for them. Lola hung back and made herself a cup of tea.
“You okay?” I asked as I filled up my water bottle.
“Sure, just a scratchy throat. Maybe some tea with honey will help,” she said.
“Smart. I’m sure you’re super busy with the funeral tomorrow,” I said.
Her face fell and showed her exhaustion. “The flower shop is swamped. I probably shouldn’t have left. With my voice and all, I’m more useful there.”
“The choir is singing tomorrow too. I’m playing during the service. It’s so sad, I wonder what happened.” I sighed.
“I’m sure the police will find out.” She sipped her tea.
“Mrs. Monroe seemed sure there was another woman, but why would she hurt him? What would she have to gain?” I wondered aloud.
Lola turned to me and shot me a hateful look. “I never expected you to be nosing around in other people’s dirty laundry. Your grandmother raised you better.”
“Lola, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to accuse anyone of anything or get into dirty laundry. I’m trying to prove it wasn’t any of the businesses being impacted by the investigation. They’re still holding pots, pans, my blender and a pitcher as possible evidence. No one else got sick. If it’s true, you should talk to the police and clear your name. Were you the only one?” I asked.
Lola rubbed her eyes. “How could you say that? Of course.”
“Sorry. Gran always said if he’ll cheat with you, he’ll cheat on you. I never forgot that saying and I’ve heard a lot of them.” I handed her a tissue.
She sniffed. “She’s not wrong, but he swore that once the kids were out of the house, he’d tell her and settle things. He wanted to be with me, but he was good to his kids. Isn’t that the right thing?”
“It sounds you could give him heaven and earth and he’d still want a tater patch in hell,” I replied.
She pressed her lips tightly together. “Your grandmother would never approve of any sort of cheating. Such an old-fashioned woman, and you’re just like her. Be glad your mother didn’t take you with her. If she’d have raised you, you’d be dead in a ditch somewhere.”
On most days, I was very glad my mom hadn’t returned. That didn’t mean I didn’t miss her and wish I actually knew her. I’d only ever seen pictures of her and some home videos. The fact that Lola knew my mother better than I did knocked me for a loop.
“The kids and nephew are in town. You might want to give the cops your alibi or clear your name before they try to accuse you. If Mrs. Monroe hasn’t named you, they might get her to.” I patted her arm.
She sniffed and nodded. “What would I have to gain by killing him? I didn’t want to lose him. His wife is a good woman, but she didn’t make him happy. Divorce happens. This is a small southern town, but it’s not the fifties.”
“You think she did it?” I asked.
Lola dabbed her eyes and stood up a bit straighter. “Who else stood to benefit? Someone might’ve wanted his job, but what else? The house, insurance money and all of that…right to the widow. Unless he had another arrangement in his will, but we never talked about that. I didn’t want this money. I just wanted him. Tomorrow I’ll have to stand with the choir and keep myself together instead of falling apart.”
“You can attend the viewing tonight,” I suggested.
Lola’s lips quivered. “I suppose I could, briefly. I don’t want to upset the family.”
“Do you have any family around?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I met him after I divorced my first husband. The sheriff stood up to my ex. He’d hit me a few times and
wanted to stay married because he thought he had me scared. It was Eddie Monroe who made me feel safe and strong enough to walk away. My ex married someone else and moved away. I stayed here. I felt safe with Eddie in power. He was just a deputy back then and his kids were little.”
“I was in the same grade as the older one, Eddie Junior,” I shared.
“You were too young to know of my drama. Don’t fall for a married man. It’s nothing but heartache. Even if he’s a good man,” Lola advised.
I bit my tongue rather than wonder how good could he be if he actually had the affair? If their love was that strong, he could’ve divorced his wife, given Mrs. Monroe her share of things and shared custody of the kids. People did it all the time, even in a small town. It could work out if they put the kids first and went on with their lives.
Bottom line, Lola was hurt but still in love. She had nothing to gain from killing the sheriff. Maybe something would come to light, but so far it felt like a dead-end.
“Ladies,” the pastor said.
“Coming,” Lola replied with a big fake smile on her face.
Luke came over and it was just him and me.
“How’s business?” he asked.
“Very good. Thanks, oh. I owe you a dinner.” I felt stupid. A southern lady didn’t offer a dinner and not extend a proper invitation. I was forgetting my small-town manners.
“No, no that’s not what I meant. Your grandmother had me over for dinner as a welcome when I first arrived. I was hoping I could take you out to dinner,” he offered.
“Oh, I’m not sure.” My brain fumbled for polite words. Was he with Lurlene? I’d been crushing on Gus and that band leader was attractive. None of that was appropriate to say.
Luke nodded. “I understand.”
“No, I wasn’t sure you were unattached. A single young pastor is usually a big target for the eligible young ladies,” I rambled.
“You’re not eligible?” he asked.
I tilted my head. “We both know my history. My parents.”
“Small town gossip is a shame,” he said.
“Yes, but the truth is the truth.” I folded my arms.
“And you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I wasn’t suggesting that. You should be proud of who you are. That’s all we get judged on,” he said.
I frowned. “How new are you?
He laughed. “That’s the only judgment that matters. People are always looking to downplay their own mistakes. About dinner. I’m not attached to anyone. I’m not asking you out of pity or anything else other than wanting to spend more time with you.”
“I’d like that, but people will talk. A lot,” I said.
He leaned in. “People talk no matter what you do. Avoiding life because of what-ifs only hurts you. We can do dinner in Nashville, fewer interruptions or eyes on us,” he suggested.
“People will find out,” I reminded.
“We could check out some other churches’ use of piano and music. I have a friend who is networked with a small group of churches. They tape their choirs and try to keep things lively. It helps keep people coming in. We could see the tapes then have dinner before we head back,” he said.
“That feels like a lie,” I said.
“You’re not interested in other churches’ music?” he asked.
“I never really thought about it. I love music, so I guess if you want my input, sure. No one from the choir coming along?” I teased.
“That would mean I have to choose. We have a variety of voices but only one pianist. If you can’t play it, we don’t need to consider it,” he replied.
“If you can get a better pianist, it won’t offend me. Just let me know when you’d like to go and I’ll make sure we don’t do anything too challenging. Practice.” I headed for the church.
Everyone was staring at me.
“Everything okay?” Lola asked.
“Fine. Pastor just wanted to make sure none of his new suggestions were too challenging for me. He knows you guys can sing anything but I’m just okay. I’m going to practice and go over the music so you don’t get too bored,” I answered.
“You’re great,” Lola said.
The woman nodded.
“And the Bible doesn’t change but the message is always fresh when you need it,” added Ms. Weaver.
“Thanks.” I got settled at the piano and warmed up.
Was the pastor really interested in me or was I a charity work? Was I convenient? Was I good for making Lurlene or some other woman jealous? Why was I so suspicious of people?
Lola gave me an encouraging smile. Part of me was beginning to like her.
Then again, maybe Lola had gotten sick of coming second and decided to end her relationship with Eddie in a way that hurt more than just him? She couldn’t divorce him, so she took him away from the people he loved and who loved him, sharing her pain?
A woman scorned…
* * * *
Gran and I walked up to Hodgkin’s Funeral Home and Crematorium a polite thirty minutes after the viewing had begun. The nephew, Hank, paced at the back of the funeral home viewing room like he needed a cigarette.
I handed the tray of freshly baked cookies to one of the Hodgkin brothers, who were perpetually in proper suits and at the ready with smelling salts or a fresh hanky.
The room hadn’t changed since the seventies, according to Gran. The wallpaper was a pale seafoam green and the carpet a darker green with paisley pattern. Rows of maroon upholstered chairs filled the room and a cross hung at the far end, above the casket.
The overwhelming fragrance of flowers hit me as I went from the back, where people lingered—like Lola, who didn’t even glance in my direction—to the empty middle section. I felt like a little kid again, or as if I was caught in a time machine. I looked up at the fans that were running and the popcorn ceiling. Nothing had changed.
The room was huge, but it was their only viewing room. People were either an acquaintance who shifted to the back after paying the appropriate respects, or very close to the deceased either as friend or family, which put them in the first five rows. People knowing their place was just good manners.
Catching up with Gran in the line, I brushed off any cookie crumbs that might’ve gotten on my good black coat. I nearly bumped the big picture of Sheriff Monroe but caught myself.
“I signed the book for both of us,” Gran said.
“Thanks.” I looked around, but the vibe was tense and that was never good.
The widow sat with her kids in the front row and received the line of mourners filing past the casket. The kids looked stunned. Behind them was the sheriff’s daughter-in-law and the grandkids, too little to really understand it all.
Gran checked the cards on the flowers and found ours without fondling them all. She nodded in approval.
We filed past the coffin and paused for a moment. The line behind us was long so we moved on and approached Mrs. Monroe.
“I’m so sorry, Bonnie. There are cookies in the back room. You make sure to have some and keep your strength up.” Gran always knew what to say.
“Thank you so much for the flowers and the homemade everything.” Bonnie hugged Gran.
Eddie Junior, who had been in my class, stood up and chatted with Gran. I repeated the kind words to Mrs. Monroe that she’d hear over and over. What else was there to say?
I moved over to Eddie. “I’m so sorry. Horrible reason for a reunion.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“I never thought Dad’s death would be a mystery. He was a cop. Being shot or stabbed. Even a high-speed car chase or something. This is just weird.”
I patted his arm. “Any way it happens, it’s not easy.”
“All I think about is my kids growing up without him,” he replied.
I patted his arm. “They have their grandma and your stories about your dad.”
“You’re lucky, Belle. I never thought of you as lucky, but family can be tense and complicated sometimes.” Eddie shook his head.
>
“Your mom is a strong woman. If there is anything I can do, let me know. Is everything as okay as you can hope for?”
He waved me off. “Sure. Just everyone has an opinion about burial or cremation. What to do with his clothes or books. Mom gets all the stuff and money, but she wants to get rid of a bunch of it right away. I don’t blame her, but we’re not ready to sort and purge his personal things yet.”
“That is a bit cart before the horse. Everyone has their own timetable for grief. You could compromise—get a storage pod, I suppose, so it’s out of the house, but you can go through it later to see if you want to keep some memories. You’re smart not to rush it,” I suggested.
“Maybe. Thanks. You’re always so practical.” He studied me for a moment.
Gran touched my elbow. “You’re holding up the line.”
“Sorry. Someone get the hook and yank me off.” I followed Gran and tilted my head sympathetically to Eddie’s wife. She seemed so occupied with the kids that she didn’t even notice.
“Too much chatting,” Gran whispered.
“He was one of the guys in high school who wasn’t a jerk to me all the time. I wanted to be nice.” I folded my arms.
She used the chair backs to help steady herself as she walked. “Let’s grab a seat in the back. We’re not family.”
Mrs. Monroe wanting her husband’s things out of the house so fast was odd. What was the rush? I knew about the affair, but if the kids didn’t, then it would feel very off to them. I thought she would’ve been more sensitive to her kids’ needs, at least.
We sat in the very last row and Gran puttered off to check on the cookie stock. Hank leaned on the back of the chair next to me and bit his nails.
“Why are you hanging back here? He was your uncle,” I said to Hank.
“I know, but I was a bit of a troublemaker in the family. I don’t want to upset the precious widow. She hates when I smell like smoke or like I’ve had a drink in honor of my uncle,” Hank snapped then caught himself. “I’m sorry. I’m not handling this well.”
I glanced at Lola at the other end of the row. She gave us a half nod of acknowledgment. Inspecting the people in the back section, I didn’t peg any other women who I thought could be mistresses of the deceased.
