by Amy Lillard
“A crime scene?” Sam’s eyebrows almost disappeared under the fringe of hair covering his forehead.
“That’s where Wally…” She didn’t say the words, but Sam understood.
“What was he doing up there?”
“Apparently he decided that was the best place to end it all.”
“So it was a suicide? I heard rumors, but you know how that can be.”
She did. Gossip was one of the drawbacks of living in such a small town, but it was one worth living with. “Yeah. It appears that way.”
“And he jumped from your third floor?”
“It would seem so.”
“Why?”
That was the question everyone was asking, but no one had an answer to. “Who knows? Mads and Jason have searched it for clues. They didn’t find much.”
“Did he leave a note?”
“Just a scrawled message on a piece of printer paper saying I’m sorry. He didn’t even sign it.”
“Hmmm…”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
That wasn’t a nothing sort of noise, but Arlo didn’t question him. There was too much about the situation that didn’t click and if Wally hadn’t killed himself, she was afraid all fingers would end up pointing at Chloe.
“Monday night we’re having a book club meeting at the store if you’re interested in stopping by.”
“Book club?”
She nodded. “We’re reading Wally’s book. Normally we meet on Friday, but since all this, the ladies wanted to meet again.”
“I wouldn’t want to come in during the middle.”
“We just started. It would be the perfect time to join.”
“Ladies, huh?”
She laughed. “Slow down, stud. It’s Helen, Camille, and Fern.”
“Johnson, Kinney, and Conley?”
“You got it.”
“I see.”
With that lineup, she was sure she would get a definite no. But she wasn’t giving up on getting a younger crowd to read, then meet to talk about it.
“I don’t know,” he said, absently stroking his chin as if deep in thought. “I’ll consider it.”
* * *
Arlo pulled on the hem of her dress and sighed. She wished it had a couple more inches on the bottom. When she went home after the mixer to change, she had almost put on her standard black dress to come to the banquet, minus the sweater she wore over it to funerals, but she knew Chloe would have a fit. So here she stood in a dress that made her feel a little exposed and a lot uncomfortable.
“Would you stop that?” Chloe hissed. “You’re going to ruin it.”
Like she was ever going to wear the dress again. When the class reunion date had been announced and Wally had RSVPed, she knew it was her chance to promote her store. All eyes would be on her—at times anyway—and she wanted to look her best. One special shopping trip to Memphis later and she was the proud owner of a designer dress that “showed off the length of her legs and rounded out the rest of her tall frame.” At least that’s what the salesperson had said. Chloe had agreed, and the short dress with a heart-shaped bodice and small pieces of chiffon that passed for sleeves went home with Arlo.
Note to self: never buy a dress while high on advertising opportunities. A person’s self-confidence is fickle, and you never know when it will slip.
Like now.
“If we were in school, they would not let me stay because I can’t pass the fingertip test.” She stood straight and pressed her arms to her sides. Her fingers touched the skin of her thighs. All of her fingers. Even the pinkie, though just barely. But still.
“Good thing we’re not in school then.”
Arlo sighed again, or maybe it was closer to a groan. At least they would be sitting soon at the various tables the reunion committee had set up for the evening. The white tablecloths draped over each one would hide her legs from view. One positive note for certain. Now if they would call for everyone to sit down, she would be all right.
She glanced at her wrist to check the time, then groaned again. She wasn’t wearing her watch. And she always wore a watch. She wanted to know what time it was without messing with her phone, but tonight Chloe had made her leave it in the car, saying it ruined the look she was going for. Arlo hadn’t realized she was going for any look in particular, but there you had it.
“Hey.”
She turned at the sound of that deep familiar voice. “Mads.” She had been kind of hoping that he wouldn’t show tonight. That maybe the SSHS baseball team would pick tonight for their annual initiation ritual. They made the incoming freshmen take a dunk in Marty Harper’s cow pond. Disgusting, yes. Dangerous, not really. So everyone turned a blind eye. But sometimes it got out of hand. Why couldn’t tonight be that time?
Or maybe she should ask herself why she didn’t want to face both Mads and Sam in the same room? What was in the past was in the past. And it had been a long time ago. And a stupid mistake on her part. Years had gone by since then. Everything was different now.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” Arlo said.
“I’m gone.” Chloe waggled her fingers in a quick farewell, then disappeared in the milling crowd of partygoers.
“I almost wasn’t.” He chuckled. “Jason graduated from here too, so we drew lots to decide who would come.”
“And you won?”
“No,” he said, the one word clipped and uncomfortable. “I lost.”
Arlo almost laughed. Almost.
Mads shoved his hands into his pockets and surveyed the room, his gaze sharp and attentive. And she was glad she hadn’t actually laughed at his joke. He wasn’t there for pleasure; he was working a case!
“You don’t think Wally killed himself, do you?”
Mads settled his attention on her, and once again she was reminded of how handsome he was and what a mistake she had made all those years ago. “Let’s say the crime scene isn’t as cut-and-dried as I wish it was.”
“Really?” That perked her interest. Simply because she was worried about Chloe. “How so?”
He shook his head. “I am not going to discuss an ongoing investigation with you.”
“Right.” She switched tactics. “When do you suppose you’ll release my third floor?”
“Do you have stuff up there you need?”
“Sam wants to look at it for office space.” And Arlo and Chloe’s Books & More could use the extra income for sure. All she had stored up there were some boxes of used romance novels and a case of coffee filters she should have thrown out weeks ago. They didn’t use them these days, what with the espresso machine and the Keurig. Maybe she should make a wreath out of them. The coffee filters; not the books.
“Sam?”
She nodded. “He’s staying in town to be with his mother. He’s a private eye now, did you know?”
Mads’s jaw tightened and took on a this-town-ain’t-big-enough-for-the-two-of-us slant. “I knew.”
“I think it will be good to have him home,” she lied.
“Can I have your attention please?” The request was followed by an earsplitting squawk of microphone feedback. “I need everyone to take their seats. Your name will be on the place card on the table. Seating arrangements were done by random drawing. So please, no swapping. Get to know your SSHS alum neighbor. Bon appétit.” Another ripping blare of feedback, then everyone was in motion.
“I don’t care where he is, he better stay out of my investigations.”
And that was when she knew. Some hurts never went away. Like being left at the prom when your date went home with someone else.
* * *
Sunday dawned with bright sunshine and a pink punch hangover. Arlo pulled herself out of bed and managed a couple of Tylenols and a cup of strong coffee. She scraped her hair into a ponytail,
pulled on some yoga pants and a T-shirt that said I read. What’s your superpower? and headed out the door.
She needed a superpower today. She needed the superpower of patience. Waiting for the reports from the coroner was about to do her in. She needed the superpower of friendship. She had to do something to keep Chloe on the ledge instead of jumping—figuratively speaking. Maybe that wasn’t the best analogy, but her brain was still sloshing around in a sea of ruinous pink punch. Which brought her to the third superpower she wished for: the ability to fight hangovers in a single bound. Or something like that.
“You look awful.” Chloe stepped back from the door and allowed Arlo entrance.
“Thanks,” Arlo drily replied. She knew she looked like death warmed over. She didn’t need her bestie reminding her. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Chloe closed the door behind them, then pushed a curled lock of hair from in front of her face. “What was in that pink stuff?”
Arlo chuckled, then groaned as the sound echoed in her teeth. “I don’t think we want to know.”
“Breakfast at The Diner?” Chloe asked.
“I thought you would never ask.”
They turned back toward the door.
“It’s on me,” Chloe said.
“But there’s a catch?” It wasn’t exactly a question.
“You have to drive. I’m still seeing double.”
* * *
Once upon a time The Diner had had a real name—Ford’s or some such—but over the years it had become known as “The Diner.” It had been called that for as long as Arlo had lived in the town and she suspected the shift had occurred way before that. Tyrone and Neddie Porter had owned it for as long as she could remember, and the change had happened before them.
The Diner was quiet at this time on a Sunday morning, mostly because the majority of the good citizens of Sugar Springs were in church. There were ten churches in town. Yes, that was a lot for a town their size, but five of them were Baptist churches that had split over some disagreement or another. If nothing else, it made for an interesting parochial softball season but was a little confusing to any newcomers. When a new Baptist family moved into town, the race would be on to capture them as part of the church membership. It was the Freewill Baptist versus the First Baptist versus the Southern Baptist versus the Fourth Street Baptist versus the Missionary Baptist. And all around like that.
Chloe usually attended the nondenominational church but had fallen victim to the class reunion the night before. Or maybe it was the combination of lethal punch and Wally’s death.
As it was, the two of them had The Diner to themselves, save for Joey from the dry cleaners and Cable from the menswear store. The men had straightened when she and Chloe walked in the door. It was obvious that they were a couple, but they kept it hidden as much as possible. No PDA or wedding rings. Same-sex marriage might be legal, but there were some towns still where a person or persons needed to keep something like that to themselves. Sugar Springs was one of those places. The town could abide as long as it wasn’t flaunted. Maybe that should have been the town motto: If you don’t acknowledge it, it ain’t happening.
“Sit anywhere,” a voice called from somewhere in the back. The Diner was set up in the traditional way with a small but long window where the diners could see into the kitchen. There was a bar for eating with stools that swiveled and stacks of gum and chips behind the cash register.
Chloe and Arlo chose a table on the opposite side from Cable and Joey. It wasn’t much, but at least it was a little bit of privacy for the pair.
Ashley Porter appeared from the back. Ashley was good friends with Courtney, who worked part-time at the Books & More. They were on the cheer squad together and could often be seen walking down Main Street arm in arm. They were an unexpected pair—Ashley with her dark skin and long weave of braids and Courtney with her blond hair and perpetual tan. They were always smiling and made everyone around them smile as well.
Ashley’s folks owned The Diner and took turns as to who cooked on Sunday and who got to go to church. They were Freewill Baptist. Not that it made any difference to Arlo. Except for what she would order. Neddie, Ashley’s mother, made the best biscuits and gravy, while Tyrone, her father, could make an omelet that would melt in your mouth.
“Who’s behind the grill today?” Chloe asked as Ashley approached their table. She had already grabbed the coffeepot and two mugs from the stacks behind the counter, next to the gum and chips.
“Mama.” Ashley plunked the cups down onto the table and filled one of them with coffee. “Two biscuits and gravy?” she asked without taking out her notepad. They had done this many times before.
Chloe and Arlo nodded.
“One side of bacon. One side of sausage. I’ll be back with your hot water in a sec.” She didn’t wait for them to answer but turned on her toes and sauntered back toward the kitchen. She called out their order and finally wrote it down on the ticket book she usually carried in her pocket.
“So how does it feel to have Mads and Sam back in the same town again?” Chloe raised an eyebrow at Arlo.
Arlo gave her a look, then reached for the creamer. “With everything else going on in the world, this is what you want to talk about this morning?”
“Yep.” Chloe tore the end off of three packets of sugar at the same time and dumped them into her cup. She swore that was the only way she could stand the tea in The Diner, but the same trick didn’t work for the coffee.
“O-okay.” Arlo stirred her coffee, added a little more cream, then tentatively took a sip. “It’s weird.”
Chloe sat back in her chair as Ashley approached with the coffee urn filled with hot water. “And?” she prompted.
Arlo waited until Ashley had retreated back to her perch behind the cash register before continuing. “It’s weird.”
“It’s more than weird.” Chloe dunked her tea bag into the water and pinned Arlo with her toughest stare. Not that it had any effect on her. They had been down that road too many times.
“It’s just weird.”
“Please…” Chloe’s eyes clouded over and Arlo knew what her friend needed from her: a diversion. Something else to think about other than her own problems.
“I guess I never thought I’d see Sam again.” Most everyone who left the small town found reasons to never come back. Like that took much effort. Unless a person had family or good friends in the town, there wasn’t much call to return. Or stay. Arlo was the exception. She needed someplace to belong. Sugar Springs had become that place for her.
“He’s come back before,” Chloe pointed out. “To visit his mama.”
“Yes.” But more often she had heard of Sam sending for his mother to come visit him. “When he left, I figured he’d be like all the others, and once they saw how the town looked behind them, they never wanted it in front again.” And then there was Mads…
“What about Mads?”
Was Chloe reading Arlo’s mind?
“That was so ten years ago.”
Chloe spooned up a small taste of her tea, tried it, and added some cream. “I’ve seen how he looks at you.”
The words sent a pang through her heart that extended down to her stomach. “He doesn’t look at me any differently than he looks at Frances from dispatch.” But there were times when she wished he might. But she had been young and stupid all those years ago. She’d broken Mads’s heart and Sam had broken hers. She supposed that was poetic justice.
Chloe opened her mouth to respond but stopped as Ashley slid a full plate in front of her.
Two plates of biscuits and gravy with hash browns on the side, a shared plate with sausage and bacon, and two bowls of grits. A carb lover’s dream. Though after last night, Arlo should have ordered the steak and eggs to soak up all the alcohol.
“Can I get you anything else?” Ashley asked. “Ketc
hup? Hot sauce?”
“No,” Chloe replied, as Arlo said, “Yes. Both.”
Ashley pulled them from the table behind them. “Don’t know why I didn’t bring them out before.” She smiled and went to check on the other table. They only had about an hour before the church crowd would be released, but Arlo knew Cable and Joey would be gone long before that. She and Chloe would most likely be gone as well.
“Don’t you want to know how he looks at you?” Chloe asked.
Arlo did her best to give one hundred and ten percent of her attention to getting the ketchup out of the glass bottle. Who had ketchup in glass bottles these days? Didn’t they all come with squeeze tops now?
“Arlo?”
“Just a minute.” She stuck a knife into the bottle.
“You’re dodging this,” Chloe accused.
“I’m trying to get ketchup.” Because she didn’t want to hear how Mads looked at her. It might get her hopes up.
Wait…it wasn’t like she was still in love with him or anything, but he was a good man. That was all.
“And so is Sam,” Chloe said.
Had Arlo said those last words out loud? She really had to be more careful with her runaway mouth.
“Yes, they are both good men.”
She could admit that without divulging her little secret: that she had wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t thrown over Mads for Sam. But to keep things equal, she also mulled over how her life might have been if Sam hadn’t had his own plans that were bigger than Sugar Springs, Mississippi. What if, what if, what if… That kind of thinking got a person nowhere. But it lingered there in the back of her mind, and she didn’t need Chloe fueling it with proclamations of Mads looking at her one way or another.
“Wally…” Chloe said the one word with such reverence that Arlo abandoned her attempts at ketchup for her hash browns and instead turned her attention to her friend.
“Chloe?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He wasn’t a good man,” she said, “but I loved him.”
Arlo clasped Chloe’s hand where it lay on the tabletop and gently squeezed. “Everyone deserves love, even if they don’t appreciate it.”
