The Mint Julep Murder

by CC Dragon

  “I’m not fake. I don’t want to run the town shelter, and who would want to be woken up at two in the morning?” she asked.

  “If someone was hurt, without a place to stay, or something like that—and you’ve got a safe warm house? A pastor’s wife should want to help. You need to think about your man of interest. There are plenty of other targets. With the pastor, you have to be more of a help to him, more direct about taking some of the stuff on to help, and less needy. People don’t want to hear about how much she does or how hard it is. Get on board with the Christian generosity or, otherwise, you’ll make a terrible pastor’s wife.” I neatened up behind the bar as she drained her glass again. “Another?”

  She shook her head. “Water, please. You know, I don’t remember you having that bartending certificate thingy you have to in order to legally dispense alcohol. Maybe I should tell Gus about that when he gets here?”

  Katie cut in like a drunk groomsman at a wedding. “You have sixty-some days to get it, once hired. She’s not even permanently hired yet. Any complaints about the drink?”

  “No,” Lurlene said with a smile.

  “Good. Quit stirring up trouble or I’ll have one of my brothers take you home,” Katie warned. “Belle, you might want to apply for that permit just to cover our butts. It’s only a five-hour class.”

  “Will do.” I pulled out my phone and added it to my ‘do when I get a second’ list.

  When I looked up, Gus was sitting next to Lurlene. She was eyeing him like fresh meat.

  Maybe my well-intended advice was a bad idea?

  “Belle, hey. Can I get a water with lime?” Gus asked.

  “Sure thing. I hear congratulations are in order, Sheriff. You’re playing tonight?” I teased.

  “I am, just a guest. Everyone knows then?” he asked.

  “Small town.” Lurlene leaned in. “My offer still stands to help you get the lay of the land.”

  “Thanks, I think I’m good,” Gus replied.

  “Too bad you’re not married, Gus. The sheriff’s wife does a lot of charity things. Raises money to help the policemen’s funds, plans the policemen’s ball, and even helps with the firemen’s events—the fire chief isn’t married. Lots of public events and helping the town.” I poured the drink and stirred the pot a bit myself.

  Lurlene was smart and knew this town as well as I did. But she was also desperate for something that was her own. She’d set her sights on a husband like her mom and granny had had before her. The world was different now, even in a tiny backwoods town. She was jealous that I’d gotten out.

  Coming back was a choice and Lurlene didn’t have many of those.

  “No, no wife. We’ll see if I get elected next year or if I’m run out of town on a rail,” he joked.

  Lurlene shot me a cruel look.

  The lead singer came over and chatted with Gus for a bit, with their backs to the bar so I couldn’t hear them.

  “You just want me miserable,” Lurlene said.

  I frowned. “I really don’t. The right guy isn’t whatever guy turns up next.”

  She slapped money on the bar. “Good night.”

  “Lurlene, wait,” I said.

  “What?” she asked.

  I leaned over. “I get working in the family business isn’t great fun. You can still do something you want to do. There aren’t a ton of choices here, but it’s what you make of it.”

  “You want me to run off to the city like you, so you have less competition?” she asked.

  “Life isn’t a competition, but if it’s what you want…go to the city. Or go to beauty school—maybe take a nail tech course, then work at the salon. You always look perfect. Why not at least help others look their best? Do something you like.”

  She stared at me for a minute, trying to think up a good comeback. “I do like makeup and nails. I did the makeup for my sister and her entire wedding party. That’s pressure.”

  “If you like that more than working for your dad, it’s worth looking into the cost of beauty school. You’d have to take a test with the state, just like me to serve alcohol. No big deal,” I added.

  “Then someone else can take my job at the store. Someone maybe who needs the work,” she said.

  I nodded. “Everyone wins and maybe your workday is more fun?”

  “Thanks. I think,” she muttered.

  “Are you okay to drive? How many did you have before me?” I asked.

  “None.” She shook her head.

  The lead singer saved me from an awkward talk. “Pretty lady, you can’t leave before I perform.”

  Lurlene blushed and looked around.

  “You are who I’m singing to tonight, so you have to stay.” He kissed her cheek. “Want to help me set up?”

  Lurlene grinned like the cat that ate the canary and followed the singer to the stage.

  “Tell him I appreciate that, please,” I said to Gus.

  “Sure enough. You know she hates you.” He smirked.

  I scrunched my nose. “Good southern girls don’t hate anyone. It’s against our upbringing and etiquette, but it’s mutual. Just keep an eye on her. Don’t let him get out of hand or let her drive home while she’s still buzzed.”

  “It’s my duty as your sheriff.” He winked.

  “Watch that too. Don’t get too smug or you’re suspect number one,” I warned.

  “I’ve knocked you off the list for sure. Also, I’ve cleared my deputies. The coffin-pissing criminal had an alibi—he wasn’t in town when the poisoning could’ve occurred.” Gus sighed.

  I shrugged. “I’m still at wife or girlfriend, but neither strikes me as evil enough. In all those years, if they didn’t make a move then—why now? Unless one of the kids harbors a grudge about the affair, and they do know, then maybe one of them? The daughter-in-law is a nurse, so maybe she had access to some sort of drug.”

  He made a note on his phone. “I’m also looking into other released criminals that Monroe put away who held a grudge.”

  “Smart. I guess in reality it’s someone obvious, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Usually, but people can hide their motives well. Everyone has secrets. Plus, who you’d lay blame on in a certain situation might not be who someone else would blame. It’s only obvious once you know the whole story.” Gus looked over at the dancefloor as the song changed from fast to slow. “Come on, let’s dance before it gets busy again.”

  “It’s busy because everyone knows you’ll be here tonight playing. I have to tend the bar.” I put my palms on the bar like I was holding my ground.

  He winked. “Come on. One dance.”

  “Go.” Katie shooed me away.

  I didn’t even bother taking off my apron before I was on the dance floor, wrapped in his muscled arms. It was heaven, yet such a terrible temptation. I knew people were looking, so I didn’t lean in too far. The music was too loud to talk, but that only made it better. The other senses took over and I felt safe in his arms.

  The room was hot, yet I had the chills when the dance was over.

  “Murderer!” someone shouted.

  That sent a different sort of chill down my back.

  But who was the shout directed at?

  “Thanks for the dance.” I headed back to the bar.

  “Drunk idiots come with the territory,” Katie reminded me.

  “That’s why I sell coffee. Sober idiots need more and more to function after you’re done with them, but I never have to worry if it’s safe to let them drive home.” I went back to work, helping my friend.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hank slipping from the back into the crowd and heading for the door. That was odd—maybe he’d stopped in because of Gus? I wanted to follow him, but I couldn’t bail on Katie. Then I saw Katie’s brother, the one who had been in the back. Was Hank his make-out buddy?

  Chapter Twelve

  Gran fussed as we sat in the room, waiting for the doctor. “I’m fine.”

  “I know. But the doc wanted
to check your wrist and talk about your meds,” I reminded her.

  “We need to be at the shop, not running around appointments all the time. We don’t both need to be here,” she replied.

  “It’ll make me feel better.”

  The doctor knocked and shuffled in. “Morning, ladies, sorry I’m running a tad late. The detailed blood work came in on our late sheriff.”

  “And?” I asked.

  The doc wagged a finger at me.

  “Well, if it clears something up…that’d be great,” I added innocently.

  The doc opened Gran’s file and sat down. “Nothing except the killer probably liked that show Breaking Bad.”

  “What show?” Gran asked.

  “You didn’t watch it. It was about making meth and selling drugs,” I explained.

  “You watched it?” Gran frowned.

  “A guy I was seeing in Atlanta liked it.” I couldn’t tell her I enjoyed that violent a show or she’d be worried. Mostly I liked the crime-solving shows, but it had been intriguing. “Lily of the valley?”

  “Don’t change the subject to gardening. You were talking about meth and drugs. The sheriff wouldn’t take those,” Gran said.

  I bit my lower lip for a moment to keep from hypothesizing too much. “It’s relevant, I promise.”

  The doc sighed. “It takes a lot to kill someone. You’d want to mask the taste with something stronger. He wasn’t ill the day or so before, so it wasn’t a buildup. Honestly, your mint julep smoothie would’ve been a good choice.”

  “But I don’t have access to that plant. Gran doesn’t have a garden, just some flower boxes,” said.

  “No lily of the valley there. I prefer mums,” Gran replied.

  “Plenty of people have big gardens and it’s a common plant. There’s a garden walk every summer,” the doc said. “I’m sure someone has plenty of it. Plenty of people probably don’t even know they have it and that’s the thing. So many plants are poisonous, if only people knew how easy it would be to get away with murder.”

  “It couldn’t be accidental,” I said.

  “No, there are berries, but eating just a few would make you feel sick. Enough to kill a man the sheriff’s size quickly without time for medical intervention would take a lot mixed into something he liked eating. But it’s in the cops’ hands to find whoever had it around and had motive.”

  “Thanks, doc,” I said.

  “Now, Bea. How’s the sleeping going?”

  “I’m sleepier now with those pain pills. I’m fine, just check on the wrist and let’s get out of here.” Gran held out her wrist.

  The doc undid the bandage and looked it over. “Very nice. Healing well. Okay, if your arthritis is acting up a lot or you’re feeling too sleepy with that med, I want you to come back and we’ll find something else. I know side effects make it hard, but we can find a balance that works for you.”

  Leaving the doctor’s office, I saw there was a bit of an argument happening on the sidewalk.

  “Why can’t we park here?” the lead singer of Snakebite demanded.

  “Park yes, you can’t stay here two days,” Deputy Lou replied. “We’ve got a trailer park with hookups on the outskirts of town.”

  “We just come in for a day or two to play. We can’t afford the overnight fees,” he said, then caught my eye. “Hey, Katie’s friend.”

  “Dillon, right?” I asked.

  “Katie talks about me?” He grinned.

  “Her name is Belle,” Gran cut in.

  “Belle,” Dillon repeated. “Yes, ma’am. You are?”

  Where are my manners? “Sorry, Dillon and his band Snakebite. They play at Katie’s bar. This is my grandmother, Mrs. Baxter.”

  Gran shook hands with the long-haired guy in town jeans and a tank top showing off a few tattoos. He was very polite.

  “Mrs. Baxter. Sorry for the annoyance, but I’m just trying to find a place to park. We’re from Kentucky and try to keep our costs down,” Dillon admitted.

  Gran’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it doesn’t belong on Main Street. People need to park and see to cross the street. But that trailer park is full of families and it’s meant for more permanent residents. They don’t want a band coming in all hours of day there.”

  “Where else do you think, Mrs. B.?” Lou asked.

  “They seem respectful enough,” Gran replied, looking at me.

  I shrugged. “Katie’s brothers would’ve kicked them out if they weren’t playing nice.”

  Gran sighed. “They can park on my property.”

  I tried to hide my shock. “That’s really nice, Gran.”

  “It is. You’re sure, ma’am?” Dillon asked.

  “My late husband and I have five acres. He used to ranch goats in addition to his day job. I sold off the goats when he passed. I’ve been thinking about doing something with the land again. I don’t want to sell it off, but I want the land to earn its keep. Maybe goats, maybe horses. But a start is letting other people on my property,” she said.

  “What’s the fee?” Dillon asked.

  Gran looked at the RV. “Just run the fence and make sure it’s solid. Clean up the land of any debris.”

  I pressed my lips together. “Gran, they’re musicians, not ranchers.”

  “No, it’s good. Physical labor we’ve got, keeps us in shape. It might take a lot of overnights to clear five acres,” he said.

  “I understand. No parties on my property, no fireworks, no leaving beer or any litter around. No girls knocking on my door looking for a phone or a ride,” Gran warned.

  He grinned. “We’ll behave. Plenty of other places to party. If we’re playing Sweet Grove, it’s the music.”

  “When did we become mini-Nashville?” Gran asked.

  I shook my head. “No idea. Maybe he likes Katie?” I teased.

  Dillon folded his arms. “Katie is great. She runs a good place. I try not to mix business and personal stuff.”

  “Smart.” Gran pointed at Lou. “Can you show the boys to my property?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but are you sure?” Lou asked.

  “It’s my property. I have the room. There’s water and septic hookups on the south side of the house. My late husband had a brother who RV’d all over the country and visited in the summers. Might need some cobwebs kicked out, but you boys can handle it.” She wagged her finger.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Baxter,” Dillon called.

  “We need to get back to work,” I said.

  “See you later.” Gran waved.

  “That was very nice of you. I really don’t know those men,” I said.

  “Charity takes many forms. Sometimes opportunities to be kind pop up. I sort of miss the goats,” she said.

  I followed her, watching for traffic. Gran was livelier than I’d seen her in years. Musicians, goats or simply an expanded business—whatever it took, her life was going to be better.

  * * * *

  Back at the shop, Milan looked comfortable behind the counter. “The banana nut muffins were a huge hit, Belle. Got any more?”

  “No, but thanks,” I replied. “I’m open to suggestions for tomorrow.”

  “Belle, you have a visitor.” Freddie pointed to a woman at a table by herself, staring at her phone.

  “Trish? What are you doing here?” I asked as I went over.

  “Oh, hi, Belle!” She stood up and hugged me. “Sorry to just drop in, but I have a job interview in Nashville in a couple hours and I thought I’d swing by here first since you’re pretty close. I miss you,” she said.

  Trish was dressed to impress in a charcoal skirt suit and heels. Her jet-black hair was swept up in a twist, and she had perfect makeup and everything.

  “You look great! I miss you too. There are really only a handful of people I miss from Atlanta but you’re one.” I heard the men mumbling. “Sorry. Where are my manners? Gran and her gaggle of men, this is Trish, a friend from where I worked in Atlanta. Trish, Gran and the gang.”

  “Hi,” Trish
said.

  “Hello. What brings you to Tennessee?” Gran asked.

  “A job interview in the city. If I get it, maybe I can see Belle more? They have multiple positions. I can ask if you can still get an interview.” Trish nodded at me.

  I shook my head. “Thanks so much for thinking of me. With friends like you, I don’t feel so cut off from my old life. But I can’t split my focus right now. If this is going to work, it needs my full attention.”

  “Nashville isn’t that far away. People even commute from here. Everyone is so friendly.” Trish shook her head.

  “I know, small towns are like that. You’re right, some people do commute, but not people with small businesses here and no one else to look after relatives that might need something at the drop of a hat. It’s mostly the dad going into the city and a lot of moms work around here, so if the kid gets sick or hurt…unless they have a grandparent close by and are able to… It’s just very complicated,” I explained.

  “The family obligation expectation here is higher.” Trish sipped her coffee. “Well, if I get the job, I’ll let you know. That way you have an in if you’re looking for something. The pay is good and full benefits. You’ll have to get something for self-employed people and that costs money. I know you, of anyone, can make this work, but you’re giving up a lot of security and free time.”

  “I’m aware. But it’s home. I really appreciate cha stopping by and thinking of me. If things go sideways, I’ll be bugging you. Did you get a muffin?” I asked.

  “No, I’m fine with coffee. I need to hit the ladies’ room and get on the road. I don’t want to be late looking for a building. You know me, worst sense of direction in the south. I can have the map on my phone and I’ll get turned around.” She laughed.