“But what if it wasn’t His plan?” Uh oh. I didn’t really say that out loud, did I?
Both pairs of grey eyebrows raised.
“I mean, what if…what if it wasn’t supposed to happen the way it happened? Or on that day?”
“Ain’t no changin’ it now. Just hope when it’s my turn, I go to the same place she is now.”
Kenny grasped his walker and hefted himself to his feet.
“Now, Kenny Carner, you know as well as I do how to be sure of that. We’ve talked about it many a time.” Aunt Dot lifted a hand toward him.
He shrugged. “I know how to. Just don’t think the man upstairs’ll have an ol’ codger like me.” He tipped his head toward me. “I’ll leave y’all to your talkin’ now. Nice meetin’ you.”
“I’m not going to stop praying for you,” Aunt Dot called to Kenny as he shuffled out the door, then fixed her gaze on me. “Now, what was that all about? Do you know something you haven’t told me?”
Chapter Eight
Aunt Dot knew me too well. “I don’t exactly know, but Karen has felt uneasy about the whole situation from the beginning.”
“I have all day to listen, darlin’.”
I filled a vase with water and arranged the purple and yellow freesias, then set the vase on the windowsill next to Harry’s roses, pleased to see how perky they still looked after several days. I straightened Aunt Dot’s modest kitchen area and wiped down the counter. I culled a couple of dead leaves from her geraniums.
“Callie.”
I wished I hadn’t said anything. How could I tell her that her best friend might have been murdered?
I perched on the edge of the chair Kenny had vacated and squeezed my eyes shut tight for a minute. I had to tell her. I opened my eyes and searched her face. Erma’s death had hit her harder than anything I’d seen in the last couple of years. I took a deep breath. “Karen doesn’t think Sister Erma died of a heart attack.”
Her hand flew to her throat. “What do you mean? I thought that’s what the paramedics told her.”
I made a face. “They did, sort of. There wasn’t anything to indicate it was anything else, and she was quite…old, so everyone sort of surmised that’s what happened, I guess.”
“But?”
“Karen didn’t go into the house that morning. Supposedly, Sister Erma had passed by the time the paramedics got there, and Karen arrived after they had already pronounced her dead. She didn’t want to see Erma like that, you know?” I rolled my shoulders, trying to loosen the knots in my neck muscles. “When Karen went into the house the next day, she noticed that it looked like someone had dug through Erma’s stuff. And she also noticed a plate with some of Erma’s cocoa-butterscotch cookies on the side table next to her recliner.”
Aunt Dot wrinkled her forehead. “I don’t understand. Karen thinks Erma ate too many sweets and went into a diabetic coma?”
That sounded like a reasonable assumption to me. “No. Karen thinks that someone might have…killed Sister Erma. Maybe poisoned her. Sounds far-fetched to me, but Karen is convinced that Erma died from something other than natural causes.”
“How horrible.” She sank back into her wheelchair. “Why would someone do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does Karen have a specific reason for thinking that? I mean, how would Karen know if the paramedics didn’t even know?”
“She’s gone to all of Erma’s doctor’s appointments with her and said both her blood sugar and her heart were fine. That, and the fact that it appeared someone had been in Erma’s home that shouldn’t have been there.”
“Is the sheriff not investigating all of this?”
I shrugged. “Karen’s asked them to, but to her knowledge, not much has been done so far. I’m planning to talk to Todd to see what he can do.”
“Good. We’ll pray that he’ll be able to get to the bottom of it. How is Karen doing? She’s such a dear young woman.”
“She’s pretty upset about it.”
“I don’t doubt that, especially since she’s Erma’s only family nearby.”
Angry voices rose from outside her door.
“I don’t care if you want to or not, Kenny!” A female voice. “There’s more at stake here than your pious, ill-gotten—”
“I know what I did and didn’t do, and I’ve suffered for it for all of these years. Ain’t you or your coward of a husband or the law goin’ to stop me now, if it’s the last thing I do ’afore I die.”
Aunt Dot and I exchanged glances.
I rose. “Maybe I should get someone to help.”
“It’s that June Blackman. She keeps coming over here and stirring things up with Kenny. I don’t know what he’s ever done to her, but last time she was here, I thought they were going to come to blows.”
June Blackman. Where did I know that name?
I peeked out the door to see her in Kenny’s doorway, looming over him as he held himself steady with his walker. Ah, the woman who didn’t like books. Or tea. The one who had come into my store looking for antiques.
She raised her umbrella.
I sprinted across the hallway and snatched her arm from behind. “Stop it! Stop right now.”
She struggled against my grip, surprisingly strong. “Let go of me! This old goat deserves—"
“I’ll take over now, ma’am.” A voice behind us caused both of us to turn. I breathed out a sigh of relief. The security guard was Chad, a young man I knew from church.
I dropped June’s arm as Chad strode forward.
Willowbough’s manager, Veronica, hovered in Kenny’s doorway. “Mrs. Blackman, last time you were here, I informed you that you were not allowed back on the Willowbough campus. Now, I’m going to ask you to leave immediately, or I will have you removed from the property.”
The Blackman woman straightened the sleeve of her blazer and glared at me, then turned to Kenny. “We’ll finish our business later.”
Kenny’s face flushed, and he mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.
“Ma’am.” Chad pointed toward the door. “Now.”
He marched out behind June, and I collapsed in the nearest chair.
Veronica rushed over to Kenny. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Carner. I don’t know how she got in here again. Did she harm you?”
He shook his head, his eyes dull. “Can’t believe we ran out of time. Piles and piles of papers. And then there was them dang biscuits. I should have known.”
What? Maybe Kenny was more rattled than I had thought. I stood as a harried-looking attendant bustled into the room.
“Y’all havin’ a bad spell again, Mr. Carner?” She brushed past me to take his arm. “You’re okay now. Why don’t you sit right down here, and we’ll get you a glass of tea?”
I followed the manager’s cue and slipped into the hallway, where Aunt Dot regarded us from her wheelchair. “Is everyone all right?”
I nodded.
Veronica adjusted her skirt over her hips. “I’m so sorry, ladies. I know this is distressing to you, Dot.” She turned to me. “Thank you for coming to Mr. Carner’s aid. Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Security may have a couple of questions for you, if you don’t mind sticking around for a few minutes.”
“Of course.”
Chad appeared at Aunt Dot’s door within minutes with a grin. With his blond crew-cut and strong jaw, he always reminded me of my younger brother Jason. “Little excitement at Willowbough this morning, huh, ladies?”
I rolled my eyes. “More than I needed today, thank you very much.”
“Oh, that was nothing, Callie.” He chuckled. He leaned against Aunt Dot’s door frame, his arms folded over his chest. “Yesterday one of the female residents snuck out to the parking lot and talked a random visitor into giving her a ride to the dollar store. Told him a big ol’ story about the staff not feeding her enough. Said she was starving and needed food.”
Aunt Dot cleared her throat. “I ca
n guess who that was.”
“I’m sure you can.” They exchanged meaningful glances before Chad got down to business. “Callie, can you tell me what happened? I have a pretty good idea, but I’d like to hear it from your perspective.”
I related the incident as clearly as I could, still shaking my head over it. What a bizarre event. Who goes around whacking elderly people with an umbrella? Or threatening to, at least? “I’m so thankful I caught her before she actually hit him.”
“Who did you catch this time, Calendula?” Harry’s voice preceded him into the room. “Looks like y’all are having a party in here.” He bent to kiss my aunt on her cheek, then stood. “How come no one invited me?
“You didn’t miss a thing. Except for Callie taking down June Blackman.” Chad slapped his thigh. “You should have seen her, Harry. Callie practically had the old gal in a headlock.”
“Chad. I did not.” I glanced at Harry when I heard him guffaw.
“Wish I’d been here to see that.” His eyes sparkled. “What was June doing? Trying to talk one of the residents into parting with his money? She’s good at that.”
“Harry!” Aunt Dot frowned at him.
He turned away from her, his shoulders shaking. Chad joined in, and soon I couldn’t help but giggle. It was pretty ridiculous, but Aunt Dot was not amused.
Chad headed toward the door. “Gotta run. Thanks again for the help, Callie. Stay out of trouble now.”
“I’ll try.”
Harry drew a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “How in the world do you get mixed up in these things, girl?”
“It’s not on purpose. I moved down here to Texas for peace and quiet. Now I’ve got crazed real estate agents wielding umbrellas, not to mention a mysterious postcard and a murder case.”
“Whoa. A murder case?”
Chapter Nine
I picked at the granny-square afghan at the foot of Aunt Dot’s bed. An identical one in all shades of the rainbow graced the back of my couch at home. “Karen thinks Sister Erma’s death was not from…shall we say, natural causes.”
Harry’s eyes widened, and my cheeks heated as they did every time I thought of it. Surely it hadn’t been my muffins that dispatched Sister Erma to Heaven prematurely. Ack. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Karen I had given her aunt muffins with chamomile in them. Surely someone couldn’t die from an allergic reaction from muffins.
Harry’s eyes widened. “What does Todd have to say about it?”
I grimaced. “I haven’t asked him yet.”
“Because?”
I squirmed under Harry’s scrutiny, trying to decide if I should tell him about the cookies or not. “At first, I thought Karen was grasping at straws.” That much was true, at least. “She told me yesterday that she’s still struggling with it and is more convinced than ever that her grandma didn’t die from a heart attack. And this morning she gave me a big box of papers to look through, but I haven’t had time to do that yet. I guess I’m not totally convinced that Karen isn’t making this into something it’s not. Plus, I’ve been extra busy with the funeral and everything else I’ve got going on.” I looped my hair back over my ear. “Have you made any headway on the postcard?”
“Not much. I did a little poking around on the internet to learn what I could about the area in Kansas where it was postmarked. Some little farming town near Topeka, looks like.” He started pacing again. “But that didn’t help much because I don’t know who wrote the postcard to begin with.”
“God knows where Jim is.” Aunt Dot folded her hands in her lap. “We’re not going to give up praying.”
I nodded. “Where do you think he and Marianne went when they left, Harry?”
He rubbed a hand down his throat. “I know Marianne had family in Kentucky. I’ve always wondered if they headed that direction. But her family swears they didn’t. Like I told you before, Callie, it’s as if they disappeared into thin air.”
“But you think they’re still alive.”
He stared over my head for a long minute, tensing his jaw, before meeting my gaze. “Most days.”
I knew what that was like. Some days, I felt so assured…standing strong in faith for what I believed God had told me He was going to do in my life. Then other days…
He cleared his throat. “Anyway, if you’re not going to talk to Todd about Erma, I am. If there’s a lunatic on the loose here in Short Creek, we need to do something about it.” He planted himself in front of me. “Look what happened last year with that yahoo of a sheriff we had in office.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m trying not to think about it. Ever again.” A fat lot of good that was doing me. The rough nights were growing fewer and further between, but still. Something happens to your psyche when you have a gun pointed at your head. I didn’t think I would ever completely forget that feeling.
“Thank God we have Sheriff Wayne now. He’s a good man.” Aunt Dot squeezed my hand. “Psalm 91,” she murmured for my ears only.
Leave it to Aunt Dot to remind me of God’s constant care and oversight of my life. I didn’t need to be afraid of getting involved with the authorities again if I needed to, and it seemed that I needed to. I squeezed her hand in response. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.”
I finally made it to C. Willikers at ten o’clock, hoping I hadn’t missed many customers. My quick visit to Aunt Dot at Willowbough had turned into a couple of hours. Good thing I’d left the dogs at home today. I flicked on the lights and grabbed my feather duster, then set about my morning routine.
I watered the African violets, pleased to see that the new shipment of Russian hybrids were on the verge of blooming. Their thick, fuzzy leaves complemented the airy fronds of the rabbit’s foot ferns I grouped around them. The sizeable southern-facing window provided a perfect spot for the violets, at least in the winter.
My phone vibrated, and I yanked it out of my jeans pocket, nearly dumping my watering can over.
Mona.
Mamm appt. Noon today. Plz pray!!!! Praying hands, scared face emoji, praying hands.
Wow. Usually, Mona texted like she talked—nonstop, lots, and with no breaks in between. She must be more on edge than I’d hoped.
I’m praying right now. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?
Yes. I’ll come by after. Hope you have donuts. Smiley face, donut emoji, smiley face.
I laughed out loud. Mona’s go-to comfort food ranked last on my list of treats, but if my friend needed donuts, I’d find her donuts.
Donuts will be waiting. Love you.
I glanced at my watch. Mona probably wouldn’t be here for at least an hour, which meant I had time to start sifting through the box of Erma’s paperwork. Had I brought it in the shop with me? I thought I had. But it wasn’t under the counter, which was the most logical place I would have stashed it.
I sighed. Too much stuff in my brain at once. I’d probably left it in the van. I stuck my too-often used “Back Soon” sign on the door but didn’t bother to lock it. I’d check in the van for the box of papers, then head down Main Street to the Donut Hut for Mona’s treats.
I opened the sliding door of the van and poked my head in. I remembered now that I had wedged the box between those two antique brass plant stands that I’d been meaning to carry into the store for a week. But it wasn’t there. I straightened up, bonking my head on the door frame. What had I done with the stupid box of papers?
I slammed the door and headed down the street on foot. Sister Erma’s papers would have to wait. It’s not like it was an emergency at this point.
My phone dinged, and I snatched it up, hoping it was Todd. It was my mother. I stuck it back in my pocket. I didn’t really want to deal with mom today.
I kicked at the gravel in the parking lot. I hated feeling so grumpy, but really. How many stressful things did I have to deal with in one day?
Lord, please calm my spirit. I took a deep breath as I neared the donut shop. I had driven or walked past the aging estab
lishment nearly every day since I moved here, never once darkening its doors until today. Of course, twenty years ago or so, Uncle Garth had loved to take my brother Jason and me here when we visited in the summers. I wrenched the door open, a whoosh of greasy, sugar-scented air greeting me. Yep, smelled the same as I remembered.
I squeezed into the tiny building behind a line of six people. Who knew donuts were such a hot commodity? I glanced around. The floor was hardwood, like the floors in my shop, only this floor hadn’t seen a lick of care since the last time I’d been in here, from the look of it. On the wall behind the glass display cases were old, framed photos, most of them black-and-white. A mounted deer head, complete with enormous antlers, gazed stonily from above the ancient cash register. A hand-painted, now faded sign, proclaiming “M, K and T Donuts Established 1952” hung precariously over the doorway to the back room.
M, K, and T? I’d learned a little Short Creek history by now, enough to know that the small town I now called home had sprung up over a hundred years ago along the railroad—the Missouri, Kansas, and Texas line.
Creative name for a donut shop. That would also explain the dusty model train engines on the counter, I guess. I inched my way up in line, trying to see over the man’s shoulder in front of me. I knew for sure that Mona adored jelly donuts, especially the ones with raspberry in the middle, but what if they were out of those? I stood on tiptoe and found myself staring at one of the old photos on the nearest wall. The young man in the picture looked familiar. But I wouldn’t know any of those people. I’d only lived here for a couple of years, and besides, the picture was so old, the man could be dead and gone by now.
I shrugged and picked out half a dozen donuts, including the last raspberry-filled one. Surely Mona wouldn’t eat more than six donuts, would she? Hmm. I told the girl to throw in another half-dozen of the apple fritters. That should do it. And if she didn’t want them, Todd would be happy to eat a couple. At least. I smiled, feeling a little better.
I stepped out of the donut place and straight into Todd’s chest. “Hi.” I backed away and smiled up at him, hoping I hadn’t smooshed Mona’s donuts. “I was just thinking of you. Are you on lunch?”
Where There's a Will Page 7
