by CC Dragon
“Now hold on,” Gran said as she walked in. “What are you doing?”
“We need better electrical, Gran. The charging stations were a bit too much for the system.”
“Well, I don’t own the building. We have a lease. I’ll call the owner and see if he wants to do the changes or pay for it,” she suggested.
“Okay. Come on, guys, and try this. Free pastries for your efforts.”
Gran was poking at her phone as I served up more smoothies. “Gran, want me to call?”
“I’ll call. He’s probably at work. I’ll leave a message.” She waved at me.
I never wanted to treat her like she was helpless, but people out there in the real world took advantage of the elderly sometimes.
“Why don’t you have him call Gus and review what needs to be done? We don’t get all that electrical stuff,” I replied.
“Good idea.” Gran brightened.
I turned and Gus was there. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of her either.”
It was like he read my mind. “Thanks. Berry Blues Smoothie?”
He tried it. “Good. Blues?”
“It came out blue and my favorite songs from those guys are the bluesy ones.” I smiled.
Jeff sipped his coffee. “Well, I’m available whenever. Anyone looking for a handyman can find me at the motel.”
“Hey, it’s not handyman work, but we could use someone to help us on the road. Drive, make sure no one steals our gear and that we stop drinking in time for shows,” Dillon explained.
“Driver, roadie and chaperone?” Jeff laughed. “Why not?”
“What’s it pay?” Gran asked.
“Food, place to crash and beer at the show,” Dillon offered.
“He has room and board with Pete,” I countered.
“Here I’m earning it. I’ll go, but what about when I get back?” Jeff asked.
“I have some handyman stuff you can do around the house and help the boys when they go on tour. Plus here, if the landlord is fine with it. Maybe get your contractors’ license or something,” Gran suggested.
“Get your electrical certs in order,” Gus agreed.
“That’s a lot of guys in an RV,” I teased.
Jeff waved it off. “I can pitch a tent in the summer. I’ll find a place by winter.”
“Oh, the goat enclosures. He can help put those up. We might need a real barn?” I suggested.
“Sounds like a welcoming little town.” Jeff smiled. “I’m not very musical, but I can drive and help with stuff. But I don’t drink anymore.”
“Let’s go,” Dillon said.
The guys had coffees, smoothies and pastries for the road. The band plus Jeff piled into the RV. We waved them off as they headed out of town down Main Street.
Gus sipped his coffee. “Always something in small towns.”
“Not bored of us yet?” I teased.
He looked like he wanted to kiss me, but there were way too many people in the room for that.
Martha walked up. “Hey, what’s going on?”
Gran filled Martha in on the band development and Jeff going along.
“How are the goats?” Gus asked.
I smiled. “Being fed and watered daily. Making a mess. But a few people have already inquired about a baby goat or goat milk.”
He smiled. “Glad you’re adjusting.”
“Do they bother you?” I asked.
Gus shook his head. “Gifts from exes happen. Dina’s ring has been returned.”
“Good call.” I nodded.
“I’ve got to get to work. See you later.” He grinned and headed out.
“He’s sweet on you,” Gran teased as soon as Gus was gone.
“We’ll see. You watch the front. Martha and I have dishes in the back,” I replied.
“Fun.” Martha tied on her apron and followed me.
I cleaned out two blenders. “Sorry. I needed a break.”
“I got you. Gran forgot to soak these bread pans, so they’ll need extra muscle. What’s with you and Gus?” Martha pulled out the dish soap and scrubber.
“Nothing new yet. You and Harry?” I teased.
She blushed. “We had lunch at work. Harry admitted he threatened Luke for what he said to Larry. Luke backed off and that was it. They have no snake connections. He said if he wanted to do something with a snake, he’d put a rattler in a hollowed-out bible or the lectern.”
I laughed. “That’s creative.”
“But could they handle a rattlesnake well enough to do that? I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure you can cross them off the suspect list. Now we should talk about the class. Did you do the reading?”
I shook my head. “It’s all stuff I had to know for my degree, I just never took the certification. I’ll look over it before tomorrow night.”
“The girls really want to come over and see the goats. The mini ones,” Martha said.
“Any time. They are cute.” I smiled.
My phone beeped and Martha’s did as well.
I checked my phone while her hands were still soapy. “Katie needs us both to work tonight.”
“Sure thing.” Martha gave me a thumbs up.
I texted Katie that tonight was good but just a reminder that we had class tomorrow night. Katie replied with a thumbs-up.
Martha wiped off her hands and replied.
“What’s so big tonight? The band left town,” Martha commented.
I shrugged. “No clue, but it’s good practice for class. You can quiz me.”
“Don’t think I won’t. You might like to sit at the back of the room, but we’ll be at the top of the class,” Martha teased.
“You can have good grades no matter where you sit. There’s a trick to avoiding the mean girls, creepy guys and learning without the drama.”
“High school wasn’t much fun for you, was it?”
“Sure. You’ve just got to learn to make jokes first and ignore what others say. Sassy remarks just fly off the tongues of southern girls. Like…he’s so dumb he sits on the TV and watches the sofa—bless his heart,” I snarked.
Martha laughed.
I was happy to help a friend, but the license wasn’t the SATs. It felt really wrong that I was looking forward to choir practice. Snooping about Pastor Luke and the murder was something I felt like I could make progress on. I just couldn’t relax and enjoy small-town life with a murderer out there…
* * * *
The whispering stopped when I walked into the choir room.
I was used to that feeling. People loved to gossip. My grandparents had always been where my parents should’ve been, so some people would politely ask if my parents had died in a car crash or a fire… Others would eagerly fill them in on the truth.
Her daddy ran off before she was born so Maury couldn’t tell him he was the father…
Her momma dropped that bun and left like she was deathly allergic to gluten.
She’s the do-over baby, but what do you expect after how her momma turned out?
Bless her heart, that girl never had a chance…
Kids were mean and judgmental. Southern women were worse.
I was walking into the usual group of church ladies who’d been nice enough to me before, very nice to my face when I was dating the pastor and now looked at me like I had something to do with this.
“I don’t know why we’re even meeting. We don’t have a new pastor yet. Or a guest one. The mayor is looking into hiring one,” said one of the veteran members.
Mrs. Woodson nodded. “The mayor asked that we keep everything very status quo until we got a new pastor. Rehearse your normal stuff. Maybe you should elect a choir director for the interim?”
The women looked around.
“Luke always said a choir director caused stress. He preferred to work closely with us,” Megan explained.
“It’s just temporary so people don’t feel like they’re wasting their time. One person ta
kes the lead for now. I could help, but I’m not musical,” Mrs. Woodson admitted.
“Let Belle do it. She’s just playing piano,” someone suggested.
“Why her?” Megan asked.
A couple other women shared a look at Megan’s overreaction.
“She isn’t competing for solos or who sings what part. She knows music but just plays whatever,” someone explained.
“It seems like a fair compromise. It should only take a few weeks or months to get a new pastor,” Mrs. Woodson commented.
“No, not me. You don’t want me,” I insisted.
Megan glared at me. “Sweet and not at all competitive. No one believes your little act.”
“Act?” I asked.
“Everyone knows you’re trying to be Little Miss Perfect, but the truth is in the raising and the blood. Luke tried to help you, heal you and get you on the right track in life, but it didn’t work. He wanted to look like a hero and you’re the little darlin’ who did nothing wrong but be born…”
“He was dating me for his image? Is that what you’re trying to say?” I pressed.
“I can’t believe Pastor Luke would.” Mrs. Woodson began defending him.
Megan started to look a bit pale with a tinge of green.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She waved us away. “Mrs. Woodson, so loyal and kind. You’d never say a mean word about anyone you worked for or with or even met in your life.”
“No, I wouldn’t. But I don’t think that squabbling about things is any way to honor his memory,” she scolded.
“I agree. Why don’t we put this on hold and worry about it once we have a new pastor?” I suggested.
Mrs. Woodson nodded.
“Fine.” Megan’s word caught in her throat.
“But first you two girls should apologize and shake hands,” Mrs. Woodson demanded.
We both looked at her like she was the mean schoolteacher.
Megan and I were roughly the same age. We weren’t close to being friends, but this wasn’t a respect-my-elders situation.
“I think walking away politely is fine,” I suggested
“Your momma never taught you no manners,” Megan taunted. “Oh sorry, your momma ran off and left you like the runt of the litter.”
“Megan,” Mrs. Woodson warned.
I walked up to her and held out my hand. Gran was always telling me to be the bigger person, but right now I felt like Godzilla and people were shooting missiles at me no matter what I did. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Megan. You seem unwell. I hope you feel better soon. Just remember that liars and gossips are conjoined twins.”
She smacked my hand away and covered her mouth.
“She’s going to be sick.” I tried to step away to find the bucket they kept around for Sunday schoolers.
It was too late—she puked on my cowboy boots. Rage, disgust and the urge to vomit myself were all things I fought. I gently kicked the excess off my boots.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. Woodson asked Megan.
“I’m fine. I’m so sorry. I must’ve eaten something that didn’t agree with me,” Megan lied.
“Please, you’ve been looking nauseated since before the funeral. You should see a doctor, because the flu doesn’t last a month, Megan. If you’re sick, please stay home so as not to spread it around. If it’s something else, I’ve heard dry toast or crackers help.” I turned and stormed out of the church.
I threw my gross boots in the back of my truck and drove home barefoot.
I’d never been so grateful that I picked my boots this morning. None of that evil woman’s puke got on my skin. I’d just have to hose down the boots and my truck bed at home, then re-protect my leather.
What is wrong with that woman? She always looked like she was feeling ill. I’d thought it might be for sympathy before, because she’d lost Luke. Clearly it was something deeper. If the woman hadn’t had the brains to take a pregnancy test, she should. With those symptoms, she wouldn’t fool people for long.
Chapter Twelve
The puke incident was the talk of the town. I was getting smiles and nods at the Buckle. It was kind of embarrassing, someone throwing up on my shoes. But I’d stood up for myself and I wasn’t the one getting sick.
Martha laughed after hearing the full story, despite her being one of the nicest people I knew. “You’re mean, Belle Baxter.”
“Mean? I had to take two showers after I rinsed, scrubbed and polished my boots perfect again. These weren’t ‘mucking the goat pen’ rubber boots—these were my only pair of cowboy boots. Seriously, don’t go out in public if you’re ill or can’t control yourself in the morning. It’s just gross. She should be ashamed. That girl has her nose stuck up so high in the air she’d drown in a rainstorm. I never said she was pregnant. I don’t know for sure.”
“That’s the rumor around town,” Katie explained.
“Rumor? No one knows. She should’ve seen a doctor,” I argued.
Katie held up a hand. “It’s not our business. And if it’s Luke’s, you are the very last person on the planet who should reach out to her.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest or expose. I can’t believe she’s trying to hide it for this long.”
“I’m sure someone else in the choir who is a friend of hers is handling it. I’ll make a few calls. You’re not the only person in the world who can help,” Katie claimed.
“I feel awful. I didn’t know. I didn’t even really suspect. I dismissed the idea—who wouldn’t use protection?” I asked.
“Someone who wanted a baby. Maybe she thought she’d trap Luke into doing the right thing. A pastor playing games like that?” Katie shook her head as she typed on her phone.
“What’s the draw tonight that’s got this place so full? I know the band is off for a bit.” I tried very lamely to change the subject.
“Line dancing. Gus promised to help lead. Can you help too?” Katie asked.
“No, I’m bartending. Dancing isn’t work,” I argued.
Martha walked up and put an order in. “Oh, Belle. The girls and I dropped by your house to see the goats after school. You were in choir practice, but Gran was so sweet. We got a few photos of the pygmy goats in the outfits. Look.” She flipped through pictures on her phone.
“Those are really good, Martha,” Katie agreed.
“Just with my phone.” Martha grinned.
“No, those are adorable. I could hang those in the shop,” I said.
“What do goats in knit onesies have to do with preserves?” Katie asked.
I shrugged. “Nothing, but it’s homey. They’re great pictures. Especially the ones with the girls holding the goats. Personalize the place. Goats are another family business. Unless you don’t want me to hang the ones with the girls.”
“Are you kidding? They’ll think they own the place,” Martha warned. “They’d love it.”
“The band should get you to take their promo photos. Men don’t pay attention to lighting or angle unless it’s boobs,” Katie joked.
We all laughed.
“Men always think things are bigger than they are,” Martha agreed.
More laughing from the women just as Gus walked up to the bar. Without his uniform, it felt a bit personal. I walked over. “What can I get you, Sheriff?”
“Look, I appreciate the help, but maybe a little less sleuthing?” Gus asked.
“What? I haven’t been.”
He cocked his head and rested his muscled arms on the bar. He was in a nicely fitting T-shirt and jeans. I couldn’t not notice.
“You riled up some things at choir practice,” he accused.
“No, Megan puked on my boots at choir practice. She’s the talk of the town and I never spread rumors, even though I knew a while back she was knocked up. I should be the one pissed. My boyfriend at the time going behind my back. What sort of woman is Megan to behave like that?”
“You have the moral high ground—you want to slap her down? It’s only making
you look like you had something to do with Luke’s death. Another motive,” Gus replied.
My jaw dropped. “She trashed me. Ask Mrs. Woodson. You know, I’m sick of trying to be perfect and when I stand up for myself, people act like I’m the bad one. He was the cheater, but she knew about it. She let me be the fool. Now she wants pity?”
“She didn’t want it announced,” he explained.
“I didn’t announce it. I suspected from her symptoms but that’s not the same as seeing a test. I asked why she was still sick. I never slept with Luke—why would I assume she had?” I asked.
He smiled. “I get it, but when you’re tough on someone, people take notice.”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t tough on her on purpose. But she deserved it. I don’t know why people care what I think. I know they’re really hard on me, like Megan was. If I can take it, so can she.”
“I guess people think you’re better than that,” Gus replied.
I pulled out a shot glass and tapped it on the bar. “I try, but I take crap for my parents bailing on me. I step one toe away from being Miss Perfect and I’m the bad seed. Do you know how frustrating that is your entire life?”
He put his hand on mine to stop my tapping. “I’ll have a shot and beer. You don’t owe them anything, but if you’re going to butt your nose in on investigations and try to solve murders—that’s pushing into people’s lives. You’re not a cop and you have to go in with sympathy, even with suspects.”
“I wasn’t trying to talk to her about the case. It was just about a new pastor. But between us, I think she’s your new main suspect.” I poured the drinks.
“Would she really kill the father of her child?” he asked softly.
“Nice to see you rebounding. Belle doesn’t stay single for long,” Lurlene called from the other end of the bar.
I shot Gus a look.
He smirked. “Her you can be mean to. But you can also choose to dance with me.”
“I don’t like line dancing. Besides, my boots are trying to recover from today. I’m in gym shoes,” I said.
Gus downed his shot. “I’d still rather dance with you than anyone else.”
“Sweet.” I looked around. If I let him go, plenty of other women would swarm. “But I’m working.”
