by CC Dragon
Gus ignored our interaction. Dina stuffed the ring into his pocket and I headed for the door.
“I didn’t help rip up any gardens,” Hank insisted.
“Never said you did.” Gus nudged Hank along and read him his rights.
Hank struggled getting in the back, but Gus managed it.
“I didn’t touch the gardens. I’d never hurt Lola.”
“Is she your birth mom?” I asked.
Hank froze and the car got very quiet.
Gus shook his head. “Wait until we’re at the station. We need to record the interrogation.”
“She’s not,” Hank said.
I looked back and his head hung in defeat.
“We know you’re adopted. I don’t blame you for being angry at your birth father. He was a good uncle, but that’s not nearly enough to be a father.” I caught his gaze.
He shoved himself back into the seat.
“He never took care of them. Any of them. He just cast them off if they were too much trouble,” Hank replied.
“How many kids did he have?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I meant the mistresses. I’m the only bastard, as far as I know. Lola isn’t my mom.”
“Who is?” I asked.
“Birth mom? She died a few years back. Lung cancer. I couldn’t take care of her the way I do my adopted mom. I swear, I wanted to tell everyone the truth about Eddie, but no one could know. Lola told me it’d be wrong to hurt my cousins. She found out about Uncle Eddie’s history. I swear he only had his sister adopt me so she’d be taken care of by someone. He dumped me on her to get out of two obligations. I have two half-brothers who don’t know I’m their half-brother. That’s still a secret.” He shook his head. “It’s bad enough when no one wants you, but when they use you—put you close enough to watch but far enough away where they don’t have to really care. Not like a father.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“What made you do it?” Gus asked.
Hank looked out of the window. “He told me he was going to cut Lola loose. She was demanding that he leave his wife. He said she made threats about telling people. Ruin his job or something else. I tried to calm her and told him to leave it. He started telling her he’d leave his wife again and she was okay.”
“You were trying to help,” I said.
He shrugged. “I wanted what family I had. Lola was nice to me. I love my mom, adopted mom. I do, but she’s ill. She’s not herself at all anymore and doesn’t even know who I am. I don’t want to upset her when I visit her. Lola let me vent and acted like a mom. Bonnie didn’t want to be bothered with me. She treated me like the no-good nephew. It was fine—I wasn’t hers. But he just kept using and hurting people.”
“You put a stop to that,” Gus said.
“I didn’t plan it. It just came out,” he said.
I turned to look at him but held my tongue.
“Out?” I asked. I bit my lower lip. “You got that much lily of the valley together on the spur of the moment?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t for him. I collected the berries of a bunch of poisonous plants. I crushed them, kept the juice just in case for Mom. I’d been gleaning from work for over a year. If she got too sick, she wanted a way out. Fast and certain death. I just couldn’t do it.”
“But she has Alzheimer’s. Can she make that decision now?” I asked.
Gus looked at me. I couldn’t fault her either.
Hank shook his head. “No. It’d be me making the call and I can’t do it. I’m a coward. I’ve always been a coward.”
“No one is saying your position was an easy one. Eddie should’ve helped more with that sister of his. But using that poison on him… How did you do it?” Gus asked.
Hank sighed. “Lola and I talked that day. I texted him that I wanted to talk about Mom. He came over after dinner. He was raving about that smoothie of yours, Belle.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
“I offered him coffee and I put it in there. He said it tasted funny. I told him it was a chicory blend. He drank it all and asked for a refill in his to-go mug. I was just glad he made it home.”
“You just did it. Cold and planned? That’s not you, Hank,” I said.
Hank looked everywhere but at my face. A tear ran down his cheek.
“I told him it was wrong to cast off Lola. You don’t dispose of family, no matter what. He said she wasn’t family. That’s when I asked if I really was his family or if, once Mom passed, he’d cut me loose.” Hank sniffed.
“And?” Gus asked.
Hank shrugged. “He said I was a grown man. I was his nephew as long as I didn’t upset his real family or embarrass him.”
“Embarrass how?” I asked.
Hank shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I did it. For my mom, my birth mom, for my aunt or stepmother and for Lola.”
“I don’t believe you. You told him, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Told him what?” Gus asked.
Hank looked down, but his face was bright red. “Nothing to tell.”
“I saw you at the Honey Buckle. You came out of the back like you’d been caught. You were there making out with… It was you. I walked by,” I said.
“I don’t think anyone begrudges him having a girlfriend,” Gus said.
Hank looked up. “It’s not a girl. Sheriff’s gay nephew. He said he’d rather I was dead.”
“That’s what made you do it,” I said.
He looked down. “I told him I’d never say a word. I’d move away after Mom died. No one would know. He calmed down, I got him a whiskey and added the poison to that. Coffee was a lie. We drank to the new plan. He couldn’t get out of my house fast enough after he had a good stiff drink. Like the sight of me made him sick.”
“He was really sick and died shortly after getting home,” Gus said.
“That man’s selfishness had controlled so many lives for so long. He wasn’t going to control me for another minute. I’d rather be in a literal prison than one of his making.” Hank exhaled deeply and the tension seemed to ease away.
“I’m so sorry, Hank.” I meant it. I was also sorry for Katie’s brother.
“I know. You’re a good one, Belle. I’m sorry you got any blame or suspicion on you.” Hank nodded.
Sliding a look at Gus, I couldn’t read his expression. We’d found the killer, but nothing was black or white.
“Get yourself a good lawyer, Hank. Juries are human—you tell your story. You’re under arrest on suspicion of murder. The rest isn’t up to me.” Gus sighed.
I smiled slightly at him. If we could keep Gus, we had a good sheriff.
Epilogue
Dinner with the pastor was one thing I’d put off. Not out of wanting to get avoid it, but with so much going on with the funeral, Gran and solving a murder. Musical research for the church or a date wasn’t my top priority. I kept my commitments to practice and service, but life in a small town proved far busier than I remembered.
We’d sat through an hour of videos, but dinner was the real event. There was no mistaking that. I freshened up in the ladies’ room of a nice restaurant. I’d gone with a blue sundress. Not too formal but not too casual. I didn’t regret it until he said Italian. Pasta sauce splattered on my dress showed how inelegant I could be at times.
I touched up my lipstick and added a bit of perfume. One last check of my phone to make sure Gran or her fellas hadn’t texted, then I was done. I headed to our booth and settled in.
“Would you like some wine?” Luke asked.
I looked up from the menu. “No, thank you.”
“You don’t have to be extra anything because I’m a pastor,” he said.
“I’m not. I have the grand reopening tomorrow. It’ll be an early and very long day. I might have a glass of wine tomorrow night after all the work.”
“Smart.” He held up his hands in defeat. “I should’ve waited for this until after the reopening.”
“No, it’s bee
n too long. I agreed to this and I was looking forward to it, but then so much happened. I appreciate your patience. I never planned to get so involved with…” I sighed.
“Gus?” he supplied.
“No, Gus and I are just friends right now. There may have been a flirtation, but I found out he just very recently broke off an engagement. He’s a great sheriff and everyone has a past, but not everyone is upfront about it. I don’t mean to gossip, but you deserve the truth about where things stand.”
He put his hand on mine as I held the menu. “It’s not gossip when it happens to you. But there is some stuff that people don’t want to talk about early in a relationship. In those first couple of dates, it’s seeing if you’re compatible and have chemistry.”
“Very true. Let’s just have a nice dinner and find out if we want to do it again?” I suggested.
“Sounds wonderful,” he said.
We ordered and talked about the music.
“I heard your grandmother was allowing a rock band to park on her property when they’re in town?” Luke asked.
“She is. I was surprised but, you know, random acts of kindness… They’re helping clean up the acreage. I think she’s going to bring in goats.” I chuckled.
“Goats?”
I nodded. “I remember when she sold them off. I cried. Baby goats are adorable, but she needed the money. They eat anything but they eat a lot of it.”
“Sold for?” Luke asked with trepidation.
“Meat. I mean, the baby ones could go and be part of a dairy or petting zoo. Some people adopt them for pets now. Very different. A dairy with a petting zoo or adoption option would be the smart thing. Fancy cheese and milk—when the goats get a bit on in age, sell them off to a meat distributor. Goat is as good as beef.”
Luke looked around. “You’re lucky this isn’t hardcore cattle country. Those could be fighting words,” he teased.
I laughed. “True enough out west. Barbecue goat isn’t a big business here, but there’s a market. Cattle ranching would just be too much money, work and too big animals. We’d need staff. I think the goats we could get along, and have some teens from town coming in and feeding them, cleaning up a bit, and so on.”
“They could run a dairy?” Luke asked.
I chuckled. “No, just to get started. That dairy thing is more of a pipe dream. Lots of equipment and trained staff. We’re not in a position for that. But ranching goats for pets or dinner is feasible. Grandpa did it with no help and he worked a full-time job.”
Luke grinned and tried to hide it.
“What?” I asked.
“You in that pretty blue dress, so proper playing the piano. I can’t imagine you chasing around a goat pen all muddy.”
“I’ve done my share of manual labor. Mucking goat pens or picking up after Gran’s dogs. Cooking and baking are now just as menial to some. Where did the pride in service go?” I asked.
“The world is not what it used to be. That’s why I’m grateful to be in a small town. Working with your hands is every bit as important as pushing papers or online businesses. If the world lost its power or Internet connection for a week, how would people live?”
“Don’t tell me you like zombie and apocalyptic stuff?” I asked.
“It’d be slightly wrong for a pastor to admit, but considering the rapture potential and tribulation is all coming, preppers aren’t all crazy. Some are, but not all,” he said.
“That’s another reason goats are smarter to ranch than cows.”
He frowned and cocked his head. “Why?”
“Think about it. If you have your family or a small group, say fifteen people, and if you butcher a whole cow, it’ll take a while to eat through all that meat. How do you refrigerate it?” I asked.
“A huge problem,” he agreed.
“A goat is a smaller animal. You’ll be able to use up the meat more efficiently without waste. Plus, they breed faster, have more than one kid at a time, and don’t eat nearly as much as a cow.” I sipped my water.
“What’s your favorite zombie show?” he asked.
I grinned. The pastor’s shining exterior had given way to actual interests and we had something more than music in common.
* * * *
The grand reopening was packed beyond my hopes. People enjoyed the smoothie samples and coffee drinks. The tension of murder was gone and now the truth was out.
“Oh, my, Belle, were you really there?” Martha had her two girls while her mom hung back a bit.
“I was. I got an email from Hank about how he couldn’t make this and I didn’t know he delivered for a nursery. It just clicked. He’d been hanging around Sweet Grove more than normal. I thought it was for his aunt, but…” I waved at the cute girls who had their mom’s hair and big brown eyes. “Who are these cuties?”
“Bonnie had no use for Hank.” Martha winked at me. “Glad you and Gus got the mean man. This is Melissa and Cecilia, better known as Missy and Cissy. Girls, this is my friend from high school, Belle.”
“Like Belle from Beauty and the Beast?” Missy asked.
“It’s spelled the same. Short for Annabelle,” I said.
“They should’ve called you Ella, then you’d be a princess, like Cinderella,” Cissy shouted.
“Belle is a princess and she has a library,” Missy argued.
“Cinderella is better,” Cissy sniped back.
“You know what, you two look like the princesses here. Would you help me test out a new smoothie? It’s called the Princess Smoothie! Expert taste testers needed,” I said.
The girls looked at each other, even putting their foreheads together. Then they turned and in unison said, “Okay.”
“Don’t let them be any trouble for your work,” Martha’s mom said.
“No trouble at all. It’s new and it has to be just right,” I said. “Can I get you something?” I looked at Martha and her mom.
“Just a coffee, plain,” Martha’s mom said.
“Martha?”
“I’ll try one of those coffee iced flavored things,” she said.
“Any flavor specifically?” I asked as I led the girls behind the counter and put them in stool high chairs. “Stay here. Your thrones need you.”
The girls sat up straight. Martha stayed close on the other side to keep an eye on them.
“Hazelnut, if you have it,” Martha said.
Gran laughed from behind the register. “She’s got everything. Belle, the bread is cooling. Last batch in the oven.”
“I can help, if you need it,” Martha offered.
“Thanks. I think we have things under control for now,” I replied.
Lurlene sauntered up to the counter. “This caramel mocha iced coffee is too much mocha and not enough caramel.”
“Wicked witch,” I heard Cissy whispered to her sister.
“Girls,” Martha scolded.
I filled the blender with fruit and milk and a bit of food coloring to give it that popping princess pink. As I blended, Gran added caramel syrup to Lurlene’s drink.
“If you want another one, I’ll remake it,” I offered.
Lurlene smiled politely. “No. I’m just more of a caramel girl, I guess.”
“Let us know if needs more or you want a different one. We could make one just for you? The Caramel Bomb.” I never said I was good at naming drinks.
“Like a cherry bomb.” Martha laughed. At least she got it.
Katie and her brothers came in and I couldn’t miss them.
Lurlene glanced over. “This is perfect. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I called. “Gran, Martha’s mom needs a black coffee, plain, please.”
“On it.” Gran clapped her hands together.
I had a mix of fruits but added a bit of fruit punch flavoring for the kid’s smoothies and blended it extra smooth. I started Martha’s iced coffee while I was at it. Gran’s guys were mainly on cleanup and stocking today with so many people out there. The preserves and muffins were fl
ying off the shelves.
“You know what else you should sell? These little mason or preserve jars are adorable. Mason jar mugs for coffee and tea, and like cute little regular mugs with uplifting sayings. And those tumbler things for iced coffee or tea. Do you have sweet tea on the menu?” Martha asked.
“Don’t tell people their business,” Martha’s mom scolded as she took her coffee from Gran.
“Those are great ideas, Martha. It’ll cost a bit to stock the inventory, but if I can find a place to start small, there is room here for more shelves.” I pointed to the walls that needed paintings or a little merch for display.
The beeping from the back made me stop. “Oven.”
“I’ll get it in a minute.” Gran looked overwhelmed with the people.
“I can handle an industrial oven.” Martha scooted back behind the counter. “Is that okay?”
“Martha, you’re a lifesaver,” I said.
“An hour late and I’m replaced.” Katie made it to the counter.
“Never.” I hugged her and whispered in her ear, “Please help Gran with the register. She’s good, but slower than molasses in January.”
Katie winked. “Gran, you need a break. I’ve got the register.”
“No, you’re our guest,” Gran insisted.
“Gran, she came to help us like I help her at the bar,” I called.
“Uncle Milan, Gran needs a break. Take her to the diner,” Katie overruled.
“You girls just want to talk boys and have fun. I could use some air,” Gran relented.
She got applause as she left.
“Boys are dumb,” Missy said.
“Some of them definitely are,” Katie agreed.
I poured their drinks into non-breakable glasses and grabbed the whipped cream. “Now the crowns.”
I tried to get them as high as I could as the girls cheered. Then I added sprinkles and straws.
“Princesses, please taste your smoothies,” I said.
Martha’s mom had her cell phone out and recording. The girls sipped and dabbed their fingers in the whipped cream.
“Excellent!” Cissy declared.
Missy stuck her nose in the air. “I like purple better, but it tastes really good!”
“Color options. Good note. Purple, pink, rainbow?”
