Mississippi King

by Celia Aaron

  The secretary hung up. “He’s not answering, hon. I’ll try him again in a bit and tell him to call you.”

  “Can I get his number?” I pulled out my notepad.

  “We aren’t supposed to give that out.” She blinked.

  “This is a murder investigation. Double homicide, and now an arson. I think he’d be okay with letting me have the number.” I held my pen at the ready and stared her down.

  She swallowed hard. “All right.” She rattled off the number and seemed relieved when we turned to go.

  Out in the hallway, Porter and Benton whispered to each other while Logan stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall.

  “Judge isn’t in.” I walked to Logan as Benton burned holes in my back with his eyes. “We’ll have to find him out and about. I’ll drive over to his town house and then his farm. Go ahead and start that canvass and go see what Sal has on tape. Oh, and send Brody over to Letty Cline’s house. We can’t have any more evidence going up in flames.”

  “Will do. You heard from Chief?”

  Something inside me pinched at the thought of questioning Garvey about his visit to Randall King. “Not yet.”

  I turned on my heel and marched down the hall, Benton right behind me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Logan elbowed his way past Benton.

  “With Arabella.”

  “No. You’re going home.” Logan turned even gruffer. “You’re still a suspect as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Slow your roll, Logan.” Porter’s warning tone reverberated.

  “This isn’t a county matter, Sheriff,” Logan shot back.

  I whirled. “I’m going alone. Logan, you’ve got your marching orders. Porter, if you want to help, send one of your deputies over to the firm and have them salvage anything they can. And give Logan a ride while you’re at it.” With that, I hurried down the steps and to my cruiser. The wind had picked up, a cloud bank on the western horizon.

  “Wait, Arabella.” Benton followed close at my heels. “Let me come with you.”

  “You’ve helped me as much as you can, all right? I can handle it from here on out. Go on home and get some rest. You’re beat. I’ll call you if I find anything.” I sank into the car and closed the door.

  Benton opened the passenger door and plopped down.

  “Hey!” I turned to him. “Boundaries!”

  “I’ve known Judge Ingles my whole life. He’ll be more likely to talk if I’m there.”

  “Benton, I know you’ve—”

  “Let me help, okay?” His earnest gaze melted me a little. “I can’t sit at home knowing my father’s killer is out there. I won’t get in your way. I swear.”

  Logan knocked on my window and pointed at Benton.

  I rolled it down. “It’s fine. He may be able to help loosen up the Judge.”

  “I don’t like it.” Logan narrowed his eyes. “Not at all.”

  “You don’t have to. Get to work.” I rolled the window up and backed out of my parking spot as a rumble of thunder shook the air.

  Logan scowled but piled into the Sheriff’s SUV with the rest of the Kings.

  “You’re pushy.” I turned onto Main Street from the square.

  “I’m desperate.” He clasped his hands in his lap.

  We passed the hospital, and I spied Chief Garvey’s cruiser sitting in the lot. He must have been with Lina during the fire at the firm. I needed to confront him, but I didn’t mind back-burnering it until after I spoke with Judge Ingles.

  An alarm went off on my phone. “Shit. Is it three already?”

  Benton tapped the silver watch on his wrist. “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “I have to pick up my daughter from preschool.” I don’t have time for this. Guilt hit me in the gut at the thought. I always had time for Vivi. Always. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” He scratched the scruff along his chin. “Though I’d hoped I’d be a little more cleaned up when I met your kid.”

  I stopped hard at the four-way just past the hospital and gave him a “what the hell?” expression.

  “I mean.” He coughed into his palm. “Not that I was thinking about meeting your family, just that I thought maybe I would meet your daughter at some point, that’s all…”

  “Way to make it weird.” Despite my words, I thought it was sweet that he wanted to meet Vivi. Most men ran far away when they found out I was a single mom with a spirited four-year-old. Then again, Benton wasn’t like most men. He was straight-laced and haughty on the outside, but beneath that, he was sensitive. His father’s death had laid that part of him bare to me, though he didn’t seem to show it to anyone else.

  “I just meant—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “It’s okay.” I smiled and followed the side streets until I got close to her preschool. “But she’s shy, so don’t expect a lot. The only man she really knows is Logan, so she might take a while to warm up to you.”

  “I think I can handle that.” His lips quirked into an ironic smile. “You aren’t the first who’s told me I’m tough to warm up to.”

  “I’m certain that’s the truth.” I flashed my blue lights and cut to the front of the pickup line.

  “That won’t make you any friends.” He glanced at the stopped cars.

  “This is the only time I’ve used my lights to cut in line. I think they’ll forgive me, especially since everyone in town is talking about the murders and looking to me to solve them.” I pulled to the curb.

  Vivi ran toward my car, then seemed to remember the school rules and stopped, then forced herself into a cautious walk as a teacher scolded her lightly.

  “She looks just like you.” He waved at her as she approached.

  “Vivi, baby,” I called. “Go ahead and get in the back.”

  Benton got out and opened the door for her, and she climbed in. He snapped her seatbelt on without being asked.

  “Who that?” Vivi stared at him as he got back into the front seat and we pulled away.

  “This is Mr. King.”

  “Benton.” He turned around and smiled at her.

  “He in trouble?” Her eyes were wide.

  “No. What makes you say that?”

  She pointed to the roof of the car.

  “Oh, no, honey. The lights were just so I could pick you up first.”

  “First?”

  “Yep. Didn’t have time to wait in line.” I smiled at her in the rearview, but she kept her gaze on the stranger in the front seat.

  “Did you have a good day?” I turned back onto Main Street and cruised toward Razor Row. We’d moved off the Row several years back, but we didn’t go far.

  “I don’t like Sarah Ellen.”

  “Aww, honey. You say that every day, but every day you play with her the most. Your teacher always tells me so. Why can’t you two get along?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “She’s mean.”

  “Is she a frenemy?” Benton turned his head, but didn’t give her his full attention. Smart. She’d get spooked if he looked at her straight on.

  “Fremmy?” Vivi squinted. She still had baby-like features, her chubby cheeks reminding me of when she was still small enough to carry around everywhere. But she was clever for her age, sharp enough for her teachers to recommend she start reading early.

  “A frenemy.” Benton shrugged. “You know, someone you play with every day, but sometimes you feel like they’re not being nice to you. You still play with them, though.”

  “I play with her, but she takes all the money.” She let out a frustrated huff.

  “The money?” Benton asked.

  “They’re learning how to count money at school,” I explained.

  “She takes it all. I can’t count it. She takes it. She mean.” Vivi huffed again.

  “When I get home tonight, we’ll practice counting, okay?”

  “You don’t come home last night.” Her pout verged on heartbreaking.

  “I know, baby.
Mommy was busy. But I’ll see you tonight before bedtime.”

  “Promise?” She finally looked at me in the mirror.

  “I promise.”

  A smile broke across her face and she kicked her legs. “Bennon too?” She returned her gaze to Benton.

  “I, um—”

  “Benton has to go to his house for bedtime, baby.” I stole another glance at her. “If you keep doing your nose like that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

  “Bennon?” She’d dismissed me and was staring at him expectantly.

  “I, um.” He looked at me with something that could have been hopefulness.

  I shook my head. No way was I inviting him into my home. It didn’t matter that he was good-looking, intelligent, and clearly good with kids. He was a King, and also a snob, and also maybe a suspect.

  “Bennon?” She kicked the back of his seat.

  I cooed, “Baby—”

  “Sure. I can come for bedtime. Sure.” He nodded.

  She squeed and clapped. “Bennon!”

  I dropped her off at home. May Bell was just finishing up her breathing treatment, the nurse packing the medical equipment.

  “Who’s that in your car?” May Bell peered through the front window.

  “Bennon.” Vivi plopped down on the couch and grabbed her tablet.

  “Benton King.”

  “A King?” May Bell coughed into her palm.

  “He’s riding along on the investigation. It’s a long story.”

  “Shame about Letty Cline.” She turned to me, her eyes grave. “I need you to be careful out there, all right?”

  I hadn’t heard worry like that in her voice in years. “I’m fine.”

  “Keep it that way. I’m too old to chase this little devil around for much longer.” She looked at Vivi, unmistakable love in her eyes.

  “I’m careful. I’m also striking out, but I think Judge Ingles knows something he hasn’t told me. I’m going to see him next.”

  “I bet he does. That old coot has his fingers in half the pies in the county.” She sat down next to Vivi.

  “What do you mean?” I dashed down the short hall to the bathroom to relieve myself while she talked.

  “Just that he seems to have come into some money a few years back. He’s the one that invested in the square renovations. The burger place, the antique shop, even Letty Cline’s place. You know that big, new sign and all the fancy coolers and flowery crap inside? They say he paid for it.” She snickered as I washed my hands. “I mean, Letty paid him back if you know what I mean.”

  “I thought Letty was with Randall King,” I called.

  “She was. And Judge Ingles. And the mayor. And god knows who else. You might want to check with the fellas at the retirement home over on Spring Court.”

  I walked back into the living room, trying not to seem bewildered. “How do you know all this?”

  “Belly, I go to dialysis once a week. I sit there for four hours with all the other sick old ladies in this town. Our eyesight is too bad to read our—” she covered Vivi’s ears, “—s-e-x novels anymore, so we spend that time talking. About everyone and everything in this town. The real question is, what don’t we know?” She coughed again, but it sounded a little clearer than usual. The breathing treatments helped keep her airways open.

  “Any idea who’s been killing Azalea’s citizens?”

  “Not yet, but maybe I’ll find out in my quilting circle tomorrow night.” She grinned, the light brown skin next to her eyes crinkling.

  I bent over and kissed Vivi on the forehead. She was busy playing one of her math games on her tablet.

  “I’ll be back for bedtime.”

  “Bennon.”

  “Yeah, maybe him, too.”

  “You’re bringing a man home? A King, no less?” Mom’s eyes brightened.

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  “Bennon’s coming to bedtime,” Vivi said with finality.

  “I’ve got to go.” I ducked the curious look in Mom’s eyes and opened the front door. “And go easy on the juice before bed, all right? I think you know what happens when you don’t.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Mom cuddled Vivi into her side.

  “There’s a storm coming.” The wind was whipping through the tops of the old oaks scattered throughout the neighborhood.

  “Just go. And be careful!” Mom shooed me away with a wave of her hand.

  “Love you.” I pulled the door shut and hustled to the car.

  Benton shot a glance to the small house on the dumpy street. “Vivi’s cute.”

  “Trust me, she knows it.” I pulled into the street and headed back to the more affluent part of town.

  “I didn’t realize you lived over here.” He cast a glance down a few blocks to Razor Row. “I didn’t mean to insul—”

  “Don’t sweat it.”

  He smoothed his palms down the tops of his thighs. “You know, my father and Judge Ingles always said I had a knack for public speaking. They thought that’s why I’d make a good trial lawyer. And, turns out, they were right. I’ve always been able to get a jury into the palm of my hand and push them whichever way I wanted them to go. But with you, all I seem to be able to do is jam my foot into my mouth until I get the full flavor of my shoelaces.”

  I fought my smile, but it won. “How do they taste?”

  “Not so good.” He frowned. “Could we sort of start over?”

  “You mean could we pretend we didn’t meet while I was investigating your father’s murder and you were a suspect?”

  “Yeah, well no. That part doesn’t bother me since I know I didn’t do it. I just mean that over the past couple of days, I’ve been kind of a…”

  Dick.

  “Jerk.” He pointed to the next street. “Faster if we get onto Pecan Street.”

  “Sure.”

  “Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m not as big of an asshole as I seem. At least I hope I’m not.”

  “You’re under a lot of pressure. It’s barely been twenty-four hours since this whole mess got started.” I turned onto Pecan Street, the namesake trees dropping nuts onto the car’s hood in the wind, each crack reminiscent of a gunshot.

  “Thanks.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “I do have a question, though.” I took another right and caught sight of Judge Ingles’ house up ahead on the left, the front façade a stark white Victorian.

  “What’s that?”

  “Where did you go last night after you left the firm?”

  16

  Benton

  The word “shit” lit up my mind in bright neon as she nonchalantly asked me where I’d been when I was supposed to have been at home.

  “I know you didn’t go straight home. Brody finally checked in with me a couple of hours ago. We compared notes. You should have been home an hour earlier than you were. Where were you?”

  I swallowed hard and weighed the value of the truth versus the damage I’d do if I lied. One hard glance from her told me that coming clean was the right answer.

  “I went to my dad’s house.”

  She nodded, as if she already knew that little tidbit. “Why?”

  “To see if we’d missed something.”

  “Like what?” She pulled past a beat-up pickup truck parked at the curb and into Judge Ingles’ drive as the first fat drops of rain plopped on the windshield.

  She put the car in park and faced me, one eyebrow slightly raised and her lips pressed into a thin line.

  I angled my body toward her so she could look me in the eye. “I should have told you this before.”

  Her eyebrow lifted even more. “What?”

  “When I was going through the files at the firm, I noticed that something was missing.”

  She dug her notepad from her pocket and clicked her pen. “And you didn’t find this important to tell me?”

  “No, I did, but I…”

  “But you what?” The blunt edge of
her irritation hit me in the gut.

  “I thought I could figure it out by myself.”

  “Oh, really?” She furiously made some notes. “Good to know that you should be lead detective instead of me. Go ahead and tell me the solution. Who’s the murderer, Miss Marple?”

  “I searched for about an hour last night.” I swallowed hard and continued, “I suspected a file was missing, so I went to Dad’s to see if I could find it.”

  “What file is missing?”

  “I don’t know. It was in the real estate section of the file room, but that’s all I could tell.”

  “And now I guess we’ll never know since the firm burned to the ground, right?” She stowed her notepad. “Pretty convenient for you.”

  “I didn’t burn the firm. I was with you all day, remember?”

  “I remember.” She gripped her door handle. “I also remember you promising me that you wouldn’t impede this investigation—”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You did.” She yanked on her door handle and stood quickly, slamming the door on my reply.

  I jumped out after her. “I fucked up, okay? I’m sorry. I should have told you about the file. But I was hoping I’d find it at Dad’s. Then I would have shared it.” I followed her up the front steps as the rain began falling harder. “I didn’t trust you. Not then, anyway. But now I know you’re solid.” I grabbed her arm, then let go just as quickly as she whirled on me. “I would have shared it, okay?”

  “I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” She shook her head, water droplets soaking into the dark strands.

  “Yes.”

  “Not a chance.” She raised a hand to knock, but the door opened before she made contact.

  “Oh.” A man who looked to be in his early thirties, with shaggy red hair, a pot belly, and wearing a worn t-shirt and jeans, had almost walked right into Arabella.

  “We’re here to see Judge Ingles. You are?” Arabella’s crisp tone cut through the man’s surprise.

  “Leonard was just leaving.” Judge Ingles appeared behind the man.

  The man didn’t need any other prodding, because he hurried past us and down the steps.