Southern Harm

by Caroline Fardig

  “I suppose you’ve heard she’s been arrested.”

  “Yes.”

  She wasn’t giving me much to work with, but I kept talking. “The police think she killed your friend Esther Sinclair. Some of Lela’s family and friends—like me—are trying to help her lawyer find someone who might possibly clear her name. We’re asking everyone we can think of who knew Esther at that time if they might have any information we can use. Did you ever see Lela confront your friend?”

  A pained expression crossed her face. “Yes, but…Lela is a good woman. Sure, she’s got a quick temper, but she’s been instrumental in several charity events I’ve planned. I find it hard to believe the police think she’s a killer.”

  I fought to control my excitement. The more people who believed Lela could be innocent, the closer we were to finding something concrete that could get her released.

  I said, “From what we’ve been able to put together, Esther’s life was somewhat unbalanced the couple of weeks before her death. Looking back, do you remember anything out of the ordinary that might have made you think something was wrong?”

  She set down the box she’d been carrying and closed her eyes. “Esther was very dear to me, and the news about her this past week hit me at my core. I’ve had to keep my head down and focus on my charity work.”

  “I understand this is difficult. And I would never bring it up if Lela wasn’t in desperate need of help.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at me. “What can I tell you that might help Lela?”

  “Tell me something only one of Esther’s closest friends would know. Was she seeing someone new after she broke up with Brock?”

  Shaking her head rapidly, she said, “I don’t…I was never sure about that.”

  “Okay, then do you know why she got fired from her job?”

  “She quit. Her boss kept making passes at her.”

  Earl neglected to mention that. What a surprise. “That’s terrible. I’d like to speak with some of her old coworkers about that. Do you by chance know who any of them are? Did she ever mention their names?”

  “Grady Stewart used to work with her. He’s the head chef at Cucina Fresca. He has catered my fundraising events many times.”

  Yes! “From making minimum wage at Earl’s Southern Fried Chicken to head chef at an upscale restaurant. Quite a change.”

  Mrs. Marshall had managed to calm herself now that we weren’t speaking so much about Esther. Stepping over to the next table, she continued on with her task. Or maybe she was just trying to get away from me. “It is.”

  “My sister and I spoke with your friend Portia Sheridan yesterday. She mentioned that some of your classmates and possibly even some teachers were jealous of Esther and might have had a reason to hurt—”

  She cut me off. “Portia can gossip all she wants. I’m not going to go pointing fingers at anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “To be honest, that’s exactly what I’m asking. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not rounding up a list of names to take to the police as potential suspects. I’m speaking with each person individually to try to paint a picture of what was happening around the time of Esther’s death in order to—”

  Approaching me to stand close, she said quietly, “I’d love to be able to help Lela. I really would. But I can’t be a part of this. Please don’t contact me again about this matter.” With that, she turned on her designer heels and marched away from me.

  * * *

  —

  I finished helping out at the soup kitchen, trying to avoid Coralee Marshall as much as I could. Granted, she wasn’t giving me the evil eye, even though I’d clearly upset her. But she didn’t speak another word to me, either. All in all, though, my conversation with her did net me some great information. When I got home, I filled Delilah in about Esther’s hostile work environment.

  She narrowed her eyes. “That fat snake. He sat there and lied right to our faces.”

  “Not much of a shocker that Earl is a liar. The sign on his restaurant says ‘Best Chicken in Town,’ and we all know that is unequivocally untrue.”

  “I say we go confront him.”

  I held out my hands. “Slow your roll there, sister. Why don’t we talk to Grady Stewart first and get his take on the situation? If Earl was making passes at Esther while she was on the job, the others working there would have noticed.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Fine. But at some point I’m giving that lowlife a piece of my mind!”

  “Fair enough. Let’s just make sure he isn’t the kind of lowlife who’d kill a young woman before you go jerking a knot in his tail, okay?”

  Waving a hand, she said in a haughty tone, “I don’t have time to worry about that peasant right now anyway. I need to go get myself coiffed and prettied up for my high tea.”

  I smiled. “Yes. You go do that.”

  While my sister went upstairs, I settled into the desk in our “office,” which was a glorified closet just off the foyer. I got online and made a dinner reservation for two at Cucina Fresca for tomorrow night. Tucker and I could kill two birds with one stone—we could have a relaxing dinner and also have an excuse to speak with Grady Stewart. I smiled to myself, remembering our first date, which was a similar circumstance—dinner and an interrogation.

  I had some time on my hands, so after doing a bit of bookkeeping, I took out the contact information Delilah had found on the McLeod Landscape workers. Remembering what Ford Newton had said about Zack and Luther being unsavory characters, I thought it might be best to do phone interviews with them. I knew it would probably be better to meet them face-to-face, but I really did want to play it as safely as I could this time.

  I dialed the number D had found for Zack Robinson.

  A woman answered the phone. “Hello?” Her voice was harsh and gravelly.

  “Hello. I’m looking for Zack Robinson.”

  “He don’t live here.”

  “Okay, then could you tell me where I might find him?”

  “No.”

  This woman was gatekeeping for him. I thought fast, hoping I could catch her before she started to hang up. “I’m a former classmate of Zack’s. My name’s…Amy Smith. I wanted to invite him to our class reunion coming up. Some of his old friends are making the trip in from out of town and want to see him.”

  I didn’t like lying. It made me feel dirty and dishonest. But Zack Robinson was one person we really needed to contact. He had been smack in the center of the situation and knew the players involved. Plus, he had worked literally on top of the crime scene.

  “Oh.” She paused for several seconds. “You sure you’re not a collector?”

  “No. Absolutely not. I’m a…” I paused for a moment to think. He had to be older than my mother, who, if Delilah and I had gotten down to business, could easily be a grandmother several times over. “Grandmother.”

  “You sound young.”

  I winced, having to heap more and more lies on the ever-growing pile. “My grandkids keep me young and…hip.”

  She grumbled under her breath, but then finally said, “Okay, but don’t you be giving his number out to anyone else.”

  “I will not do that.” At least there was one truth I could tell the woman.

  She rattled off his cell number, and I wrote it next to his name. I thanked her and hung up, then dialed the number.

  A man answered this time, his voice as gruff as the woman’s. “Yeah? Who’s this?”

  “Hi, Zack. I’m Quinn. I wanted to speak to you about a job you did years ago at Beau Habersham’s house.”

  “Who?”

  “Um…I realize it was over thirty years ago, and you’ve probably done a lot of landscape projects since then, but this one you might remember since you got fired from it. It has to do with Esther Sinclair—the girl whose
bones were found in the backyard of the residence where you were working.”

  “I already told the police I don’t know nothing. And I’m not talking to any nosy reporters, either.”

  The line went dead.

  Ding dang it. I was two-for-two today with ticking off potential witnesses. Surely my luck had to improve at some point.

  Chapter 21

  My luck didn’t improve, but Delilah hit the mother lode of information during her tea party with Portia Sheridan.

  She burst into my room and announced, “Your sister is awesome.”

  I looked up from the book I was reading and smiled. “That’s not news to me.”

  Hopping onto my bed, she continued, “I managed to get not one, not two, not three, not four…but five names of classmates and teachers from Esther’s past who might have had a bone to pick with her.”

  “That’s fantastic. Portia wasn’t naming names yesterday. What changed?”

  “I told you we’re BFFs now.”

  I grinned at her. “Look at little old you rubbing shoulders with Savannah’s elite.”

  She gave me a pointed look. “Says the girl dating Tucker freaking Heyward, whose parents are the king and queen of Eliteville.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Doesn’t count. They hate me.”

  “No one hates you, Quinn. You’re too nice.”

  “Could you please explain that to Dr. and Mrs. Heyward?”

  She patted my knee. “Give it time. And not for nothing, but I totally warned you not to accuse the good doctor of murder, if you recall.”

  I huffed, “I recall. Anyway, speaking of my less-than-competent sleuthing abilities, I did not do so well today. I talked to Zack Robinson on the phone, who told me nothing and then hung up on me. And Coralee Marshall told me never to contact her again about the Esther Sinclair business.”

  “Ouch. That stinks.”

  “I did manage to get the name of one of Esther’s coworkers, though. He’s the chef at Cucina Fresca, so I made a rez for Tucker and me to go there tomorrow.”

  “Hey, we’re moving forward. That’s all we can do.” Springing off my bed, she said, “Now glam up and slither into those leather pants of yours. Isn’t Tucker picking you up in an hour to take you to your gig?”

  Nodding, I smiled, thinking an evening of rocking out with my band was exactly what I needed.

  * * *

  —

  The bar where we regularly played was decently full for a Tuesday. Ever the gentleman, Tucker held an umbrella over me as I clutched the gig bag, holding my guitar tight to my body so it would stay dry. Thank goodness I’d had the good sense to skip the leather pants tonight. They looked great onstage, but they were a nightmare if they got the slightest bit wet.

  My bandmates were setting up as we arrived. When they saw us, they all immediately stopped what they were doing and pulled us backstage. They gathered around us for a group hug.

  Pepper Fox, our lead singer, bass player, and unofficial band manager, said, “We’ve been worried about you guys ever since we heard about Lela’s arrest. Is your aunt okay, Tucker?”

  He shrugged. “She’s hanging in there.”

  Our keyboardist, Rhetta Turner, gave him a pat on the back. “I hope you’re hanging in there, too.”

  “I’m okay. I’m just worried about my aunt, that’s all.”

  Callie Drayton, our drummer (and new mommy to a beautiful little girl), said, “Good news—my cousin Polly will be here tonight, and she is happy to answer any questions you guys have. She wants to make sure the right person is punished for hurting Esther.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe today wouldn’t be a total loss for my side of the investigation. “Thanks, Cal.” I smiled at my friends. “Now, who’s ready to rock?”

  * * *

  —

  Some music therapy definitely improved my mood and my outlook. Judging by the smile on Tucker’s face and his relaxed posture, it had done him some good, too. After our performance, Callie led me over to a table where a woman about my mother’s age was sitting. The genealogy was a bit confusing—Polly Gibbons was also Esther’s cousin, but Callie was no relation to the Sinclairs. Polly was related to Callie on her mother’s side and Esther on her father’s side. And that was why, aside from it being bad manners, you should never gossip about a Savannahian to another Savannahian. Too many people were kissing cousins around here.

  I beckoned Tucker over so Callie could introduce us. After we exchanged pleasantries, the four of us sat down and ordered drinks.

  Callie said to Polly, “Like I told you on the phone, Tucker is Lela Heyward’s nephew. He and Quinn are working to find a way to prove Lela’s innocence so she can beat this murder charge.”

  Polly smiled sympathetically. “I know Lela from way back, and I remember your mother, too, Quinn. There’s no way Lela’s guilty. I’ll allow that she set Esther’s car on fire.” She let out a bark of laughter. “My aunt Ada and uncle Bert lost it over that incident. I thought it was funny at the time; I was only twenty, after all.”

  I asked, “What else can you tell us about what was going on at that time? Is there a reason you think someone else would be a more likely suspect than Lela?”

  I could feel Tucker’s gaze on me, but I didn’t look at him. I knew he would disapprove of my question, especially since I led with the big bomb. If I’d learned anything from today, it was to get to the point before the other person got tired of talking.

  Polly said, “Esther wasn’t the perfect little sweetheart everyone thought. She was so sheltered by her overbearing parents, she felt strangled. As a result, she acted out every chance she got. The thing about Esther was that she was good at covering her tracks.”

  Unease bubbled up in my gut. “Any specifics you can give me?”

  “She preferred older men, for one.”

  Tucker’s face went pale. “Did she actually have an affair with my uncle Beau?”

  She shook her head. “Nah. She always said he was gross.”

  I said, “How about the landscapers Beau hired? I heard they gave her some trouble.”

  “They were trouble all right. At first, she loved the attention. Her little friends did, too. I was there one day when those guys came over. Ada and Bert taught an after-school Bible study every day, so they were never home when this was going on. Those guys started off being charming, and they even gave us beers. Then they proceeded to say all kinds of lewd things they’d like to do to us. I told them to leave, but Esther told them to stay and me to mind my own business. So…” She blew out a breath. “I went to her mother. Aunt Ada skipped Bible study the next day and monitored what was going on, from her bedroom window. She caught one of those guys cozying up to Esther and went nuts. She called their boss, and that was the end of it. The guy got fired. Unfortunately for me, Esther put two and two together and figured out I was the one who tattled. We weren’t as close that last week or so before she disappeared.”

  “I hate to hear that. But it sounds like it’s a good thing you said something.”

  She huffed out a plume of smoke. “Lot of good it did her.”

  “Do you feel like one of those guys could be to blame?”

  “My money’s on someone else.”

  I shared a glance with Tucker. “Who?” I asked.

  “Her cuckolded boyfriend, the good councilman Brock Sheridan.”

  My jaw dropped. “Did you tell this to the police?”

  “No,” Polly answered.

  “Why not?”

  “One, the police didn’t ask me. Two, I have nothing to back it up. I’m not going to go around bashing some rich, influential politician. I’m a business owner in this town. That’d be about as smart as poking a rattlesnake with a stick.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to center my thoughts. “Okay, let’s back
up a little. You said ‘cuckolded.’ So Esther really did have another boyfriend.”

  “She did.”

  “My sister and I talked to Ezra, and he had his suspicions. Do you know who the boyfriend was?”

  Polly shook her head. “She wouldn’t tell me, even before she got mad at me. I was surprised she was so tight-lipped about him. She usually told me everything.”

  “Did you know she was planning to leave town or why?”

  “She talked for years about getting away from her parents and leaving this town behind. I know she was counting the days until she could be rid of them. But I didn’t know she was planning to leave on graduation night. She never told me goodbye.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand.

  Callie put a hand on her cousin’s arm. “I know that hurt. But maybe she was planning to and never got the chance.”

  Polly shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I knew there was more to uncover about Brock Sheridan, but I couldn’t quit wondering about the other boyfriend. I waited until Polly had had a chance to drain her glass and light up a cigarette before asking, “Did she talk about her mystery boyfriend at all? I know she wouldn’t tell you his name, but was there anything about him that she mentioned?”

  Polly nodded. “I know he was older. And that there was a reason she didn’t want to tell anyone his name. She said it would ruin him and their chance at happiness.”

  “I wonder what that meant,” I murmured.

  Callie let out a disgusted snort. “It meant he was married.”

  Polly said, “That was my guess.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “That opens up a whole new can of worms. If the guy was married, he could have wanted to get Esther out of the picture to cover up his affair before his wife found out. Or, if his wife had already found out, she could have turned her wrath on Esther.”

  After mulling over my words, Polly shook her head. “I don’t know. The way she talked about the guy, he was some kind of prince. Kind and gentle and the nicest man she’d ever met.”