The Mint Julep Murder

by CC Dragon

  Was Hank drunk? Did he have a falling-out with Eddie Junior? Did he argue with his uncle? Hank’s mother was Eddie Monroe’s sister and she was very ill. Maybe it was just the stress of all that being on Hank’s shoulders and no more uncle to consult for guidance? I felt that with Gran and she wasn’t ill.

  Just then the deputies filed in in their dress uniforms. Some state troopers joined them. I found myself glancing at Gus too much. He looked very sharp, but this wasn’t the time or the place for flirting. Even if the theme of the day was that ‘life is short’.

  Chapter Nine

  One of Gran’s friends minded the shop the next morning. Most of the town had been at the viewing the evening before, but many had to work during the funeral, with it being a Friday. I had no doubt they’d done that on purpose. But Saturdays could be busy as well, so it was hard to plan for a turnout.

  I might’ve skipped the funeral if Gran had someone young to escort her. Her gentlemen friends were there, but they were all over seventy. Gran had trays of desserts to deliver as well—it was just courtesy, but she couldn’t carry those. I didn’t trust the old guys to not drop them either. If I wasn’t so curious about who was behind the sheriff’s death, I might’ve dropped stuff off and slipped away to the shop, but showing up was appreciated.

  The church service went off without a hitch. No one would misbehave with the pastor in the room. I was at the piano and the choir performed well. Lola looked like a zombie who hadn’t slept in days, but she sang along and didn’t make a scene.

  Mrs. Monroe shot Lola the side-eye more than once, but nothing could be done in the church. Lola was a loyal member of the choir, so they couldn’t ask her to stay home without addressing the issue. Awkward.

  But things got far more interesting once we were graveside. I wasn’t stuck at the piano anymore but standing among the group of mourners helping Gran over the uneven grass.

  Prayers were nice, of course, and people filed by the lowered coffin to drop flowers in. It was nothing fancy or special—the sheriff wasn’t in the military—but the state troopers did send a group in dress uniforms to honor a fallen man of the law.

  The other deputies were there as well. No one would do anything stupid with so many police officers around us. Right?

  Then one man walked by the grave and something other than a flower went into the hole.

  “Ew, he’s peeing!” shouted one of Eddie Jr.’s kids.

  The guy stopped and tried to sneak away.

  Gus grabbed the guy out of line and hauled him away from the area.

  Luckily, Gran and I were ahead of the splash zone. I was in a gray silk dress with a black jacket over it. Gran wore black slacks and a gray print blouse, a debate we’d had for half an hour. Slacks at a funeral weren’t a problem for a lady if she was a senior citizen, but she didn’t think of herself that way.

  “How could anyone act like that?” Gran asked.

  “He’s lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut.” I shook my head in disbelief. Gus had the guy in a squad car.

  “Who was that man?” Bonnie asked.

  “Dad was a cop, Mom. He made plenty of enemies.” Eddie Jr. stood beside her.

  “I’ll knock his teeth out, whoever he is,” Hank whispered.

  “None of that.” The pastor stepped out from the crowd as the final group dropped their flowers. “So sorry for the interruption. The Monroe family thanks you for your attendance, thoughts, flowers, prayers and kind words. Our service is concluded. You’re all welcome to the Monroe home for refreshments. See me if anyone needs the address.”

  “No one from Sweet Grove would act that way. That man is a stranger,” Gran said.

  We all headed for our cars and I passed by Gus. We exchanged a polite but knowing look—just getting through the day.

  “Gran, grab a ride with your friends. I’ll catch up,” I said.

  She waved.

  “Everything okay?” I asked Gus.

  The suspect was in the car. “Yeah, he was arrested by Monroe years back and got released a bit ago. We hadn’t been able to track him down, but he found us. I’m going to take him in and question him. Mike and Lou knew Eddie much longer than I did. I’ll handle this. Maybe the killer found us?”

  I smiled. “I’m sure they appreciate it, but they may have been part of his arrest and know him. I’m sorry things have been so weird.”

  “Me too. I’m not trying to use you to find out this town’s secrets. I like talking to you,” he said.

  “I believe you. I like talking to you as well. But I don’t think Lola had anything to gain. No money, no nothing. She’s the only girlfriend that I know of, but the only motive would be revenge on the fact that the sheriff didn’t leave his wife. Whatever was done to him wasn’t done in a rage. It just doesn’t add up,” I said.

  “That’s work for the police, not you. But I appreciate it. I found out about Lola on my own.” Gus grinned.

  “Good. I hope the tox screen comes back so you at least know what you’re looking for,” I said.

  “I just didn’t want you to think I was running off and being rude,” Gus said.

  “Of course not. You have a job to do. You’re going to the police station? Good luck.” I turned and headed for my car.

  I shivered and felt off. That chat had almost felt like he was going to ask me out, but with all the people filing by, I doubted it. That would be unprofessional and very public, though talking police business with me probably was too.

  I headed to my truck and found Lurlene leaning on the pastor’s car and crying. It was an act to get his attention. She really needed to get a life or a career she cared about. Unless she and the sheriff had been closer than I’d thought…but I couldn’t believe she’d be the other woman, ever.

  Hopping in my truck, I ignored her antics and patiently followed the procession of vehicles.

  Without Gran in the truck, I felt really alone. Odd, I’d never felt that in Atlanta. A big city made it seem normal to be alone for all sorts of reasons—like commutes. Here, I knew everyone but felt like I was a sad single.

  Maybe I was just a little jealous of all the couples? Then there was the sheriff, who’d had a full family and still kept a woman on the side. I felt bad for Lola again. She’d pinned her heart and hopes on a married man. Foolish and sad.

  I’d never let myself do that, but I wouldn’t be any less alone.

  I parked blocks from the house since I had no trouble walking. The elderly of Sweet Grove showed up in force for every funeral and deserved the closer spots. As I got out of my truck, Hank was there puffing on a cigarette.

  “Hi, Hank,” I said.

  “Hi. I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m not taking this well,” he said.

  “I understand. I’m really sorry about the sheriff. Your mom isn’t well enough to make it?” I asked.

  He shook his head and followed me as I rounded my truck. “She’s got Alzheimer’s and it’s pretty advanced now. Leaving her bedroom at the assisted care home freaks her out so much they bring all her meals in to her. I thought I’d be burying her long before Uncle Eddie. That sounds awful to think about, but you never know with this disease. Then someone kills Eddie. Who would do this? And that pissing thing. I’d like to beat that guy black and blue.”

  “It was very rude of whoever did that, but beating him up won’t solve anything. Gus took that guy to the station and I’m sure he’s handling it.” I opened the passenger side of my truck. “I hate to be the damsel in distress, but would you mind very much helping me with these?”

  “Sure thing. Maybe I can do one thing right today?” Hank put out his cigarette and carried two big trays of dessert pastries. I carried a smaller batch for the family to keep for later.

  “I appreciate cha,” I said, using a local expression.

  “Your grandmother is a nice lady. I got some coffee the other day. She made me take a muffin and told me to stop smoking.”

  I chuckled. “That’s Gran, feeding everyone and
giving out unsolicited advice. I know you have to get back to your mom, but make sure to get a coffee or smoothie for the road whenever you head back.”

  He nodded appreciatively.

  I held the front door open as he carried the trays inside.

  The house was packed. He set the trays down in the kitchen. “I’m going to go out for some more fresh air. Too stuffy in here.”

  “Thank you.” I began removing the protective wrap before moving the goodies to the dessert area.

  There was a full spread of sandwiches, salads and even soup courtesy of the ladies’ church guild. Gran was a part of it, but it was understood that she’d bring desserts. It was her signature.

  I found Gran with many of the other seniors, filling a plate. She waved me over.

  “Nice spread. Did you chat with the deputy?” she asked.

  “Sho’ ’nuff. Just a bit about that horrible man. I guess the sheriff had put him in jail and he got out. I’m sure they had to check on a lot of those as suspects. Revenge is a strong motive.” I sighed.

  “How odd that he’d bother to show up and be offensive. Speaking ill of the dead is certainly bad enough, but disrespecting their grave is disgusting. The man is dead—why come here to do that and upset his family? Rude.” Gran ladled some soup as something caught my eye out of the window.

  There was Hank smoking, but Lola was outside too and talking with him. She really didn’t belong here, of all places!

  Part of me wanted to go out there and shoo her away before someone else saw her. But it wasn’t my place.

  “Oh no!” Gran dropped her soup.

  The edge of her blouse had caught alight on the little can flame warmer under the tureen. Lou and I quickly smothered the tiny fire.

  “Get some water on it.” Lou led Gran to the sink.

  “I should get her to the doctor.” I took my eyes off her for a second and ruined her day.

  “It’s nothing. It’s not that bad,” Gran said.

  “I’m a nurse. Let me see.” A woman came over.

  It was Eddie Jr.’s wife, wearing a black dress and black pumps. Her long hair was up in a twist.

  “I’d forgotten you’re a nurse. I’m so sorry to be trouble.”

  She waved off Gran’s words, and, with Gran’s arm under the cool faucet, she peeled off her blouse and checked her skin. “Not too bad. Let’s get it cleaned and wrapped. You should see your doctor Monday.”

  Bonnie came in with all the commotion. “Use my bedroom at the end of the hall. There’s a first aid kit in the closet.”

  “So sorry about this,” I whispered to Bonnie.

  “Things happen, no matter what you do. Treasure your grandmother,” Bonnie replied.

  “I will.”

  The nurse led the way. We got into the bedroom and closed the door. It blocked out all the low conversation noise and I felt better. The bedroom was appointed with gorgeous furniture and a cozy blanket and the walls done in a cream and tan combo.

  “I should be the one apologizing. I’m so clumsy at times. I bake all the time, but I didn’t notice the flame keeping the soup warm.” Gran covered her face with her unharmed hand.

  “It could happen to anyone. They should’ve had it in a crock pot. My kids could’ve grabbed that and it would’ve been much worse. You spared us that.” The nurse brought over the first aid kit from the closet.

  Gran patted her hand. “I’m sorry, dear. I’ve forgotten your name.”

  “Jenni. I’m glad for an excuse to escape the crowd. So many people and the kids aren’t used to this. Nursing is what I know how to do.” She spread antibiotic cream on the burn and wrapped gauze around it.

  “How often should I change that?” I asked.

  “After she bathes every day. Let it dry thoroughly. It’s okay to let a little air get at it, but be sure to wash it gently when bathing, let dry then cover it thoroughly with antibiotic cream and a gauze wrap. That’ll get you through until Monday and make an appointment with the doctor as soon as you can. By then he’ll have a better idea how it’s going to heal. Burns can be moody. Some get oozy and others are super dry. This is barely first degree, so not worth a trip to Urgent Care.” Jenni checked that the dressing wouldn’t come off easily. “She’ll need pain meds.”

  “I don’t like taking that stuff,” Gran insisted.

  “Gran. Don’t tell me that this doesn’t hurt,” I said.

  “I have some pain pills left from the last time the doctor pushed them on me. If I need them, I’ll take them. I have plenty to get me through to Monday. We need to get back out there. This is so rude,” she said.

  “Hardly.” Jenni put the kit back together and looked at me. “She’ll need to drink plenty of water.”

  “Thank you. Okay, Gran, let’s try this again. I’ll make you a plate and you can sit with your guys.”

  “I’m not helpless,” she insisted.

  “You’re hurt. Let people help you. Do you want the guys to make you a plate?” I asked.

  “No,” Gran grumbled.

  I turned to Jenni. “If you need me to watch the kids while you eat, just let me know. I’m good with kids.”

  She sighed. “Thanks. You have your Gran and I have my kids. I just hope that Lola doesn’t come in the house. We’ll have World War Three then.”

  “Wait. You know about that?” I asked quietly.

  “My father-in-law thought he was sneaky, but his wife isn’t stupid or too quiet about it. I think she worried her sons would act that way, so she let them know what she thought of it and how he’d hurt her. No one speaks of it, of course, but Pandora’s box was opened long ago. I won’t tolerate cheating and my Eddie knows it.” Jenni shook her head.

  “Good for you. I’m sorry Eddie Jr. and you had to know about those things. No one should think less of their parents. They’re human, but that’s cruel to be put in the middle. Thanks again,” Gran said.

  “Gran and I would love a visit from the kids at the shop—if you have time,” I suggested.

  “Thanks. We’ll see.” Jenni put the kit away as I caught up to Gran.

  She was sitting with her guys, who were fussing. Milan got her something to drink.

  I filled a plate for her and one for me and joined them.

  “No soup—I’ll get it,” Milan offered.

  I took charge. “She needs to drink more water while her wrist heals.”

  Gran took a bite of potato salad. “Plenty of water. Also, we need to talk about the business, Belle.”

  “Okay, but this weekend you’re resting. I’ll bake and handle the shop,” I said.

  “We’ll make sure she only sits and visits,” Joe agreed.

  At least I had helpers to entertain Gran while I picked up the work. Her harem of men wouldn’t let her lift a finger. How does she have four admirers and I’m all alone? Life was a mystery.

  Chapter Ten

  “More butter,” Gran instructed.

  I added butter and stirred the batter. “We’re seeing the doctor at nine in the morning,” I reminded her.

  “I know. I made an appointment with the lawyer at eleven.” She puttered around the kitchen.

  “The lawyer?” I’d planted the seed about retitling things, but now seemed to be a rough time to push the issue. It was appropriate, but sometimes pushing something when people were most sensitive about it backfired.

  She tasted the batter. “Yes, we have to be practical. You were right. I’m getting old, and if something happens…even if I just break a hip and need to be in the hospital for a bit—you need to have the power to make decisions.”

  “Gran, it’s not about age. It’s about protecting you. You and Grandpa earned that social security. It’s not like we’re millionaires. If the shop has a decent year, you have to pay back some of your social security money? That could make things tight for you. It’s not fair to lose what you paid in. If I’m the owner, you don’t have to worry. You’ll get your checks and can work however many hours you like as an employee. I kn
ow you’ll share all your ideas and help with the baking, but if you don’t feel great, you can rest.”

  “It’s a good idea,” she agreed.

  She’d made my earlier suggestion her brilliant move. “Yes. And we’ll make sure you have a will and all of that squared away.”

  “I already do,” she replied. “The government isn’t going to steal my money. Your changes will make the shop hugely successful.”

  I poured the batter into the pan. “Your faith only scares me a little.”

  “You just have to be very sure you want to stay. I wanted to give you more time,” she said.

  “Time?” I slid the pans into the oven.

  She started to clean up silently.

  “Don’t get your bandage dirty.” I helped clean and started on some muffins. “What do you mean, time?”

  “If you didn’t want to stay,” she said softly.

  “Gran.” I wiped my hands on the kitchen towels covered in pictures of daisies. “I’m not flaking on you. I’m not running off like Mom. I grew up here. It’s home.”

  She nodded and sniffed.

  “I’m not Mom. This isn’t about guilt, either. You took care of me and I’m taking care of you. That’s what family does. That’s what you taught me. Mom couldn’t handle it. She wanted something else and I hope she found it, wherever she is.” I hugged Gran’s frail form. “You’re stuck with me, okay?”

  “Okay. But you need a husband. You deserve a family,” Gran teased.

  “Nice try.” I squeezed her tight and let go. “I need a successful business first. Worst case, if the shop doesn’t work out, we move to Atlanta. I have connections there and can get a job that’ll make us comfortable.”

  “And I just sit at home?” she asked.

  “There are senior social centers. Just like you and your four friends hanging out at the shop.”

  She set up the muffin tins, putting in the wrappers for the individual muffins. Her hopes were slipping.

  “Gran, I don’t want that. I prefer to be here. But I need a backup plan so that I know I can take care of you. Small businesses fail all the time and in small towns, one economic downturn and we’re all pinching pennies.” I could jump into a lecture on how entertainment and pleasure travel trips were the first things to go, along with eating out, when times grew hard, but it wouldn’t change her outlook.