Dead Men Don't Lye (Book 1 in the Soapmaking Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

  “There’s something urgent we need to discuss. Molly, it’s important.” I had to tell her about my sister’s relationship with the victim before she heard it from someone else.

  “Let me get them started, then I’ll be in soon. I promise.”

  I went back inside to find my entire family waiting for me. It was a grand inquisition that few suitors had been able to face over the years, though Bob and Kate had somehow found spouses willing to put up with all of us. Neither of their partners had expressed any desire to join the family business though, a decision Mom had heartily approved. I couldn’t blame them; I’d been born into the family, and I sometimes found the Perkins clan a little too much to take myself.

  They all started talking at once, pelting me with more questions than I could possibly answer. I ignored them all and looked around the building, waiting for everyone to calm down long enough to let me speak. We were in the back where the production line was. There were no fancy faux finishes on the walls here, though the space did share the same heavily patinaed floor that the boutique section had. The wood had been there as long as the building, and I loved the character it brought to the place. I could see through the open connecting door that the lights of the shop were on, and I wondered if the front door was still locked. There were shelves stocked with soaps that ranged from the simplest to the most complex offerings possible, and I caught a glimpse of the crafters section, brimming with supplies, molds, and accessories.

  It was pretty obvious they weren’t going to shut up on their own. I held up my hands and they finally quieted. “Here’s how things stand right now. Jerry Sanger is dead. It looks like whoever did it broke his neck and splashed him with lye. That’s all I know. Molly will be in as soon as she can.”

  I should have known that wouldn’t satisfy any of them. Cindy and Kate were on either side of Louisa, offering more than just moral support. It appeared that the two of them were holding her up. All three of my brothers—Jim, Bob, and Jeff—were standing at the windows watching the techs work up the crime scene. Jim, the second son and third child, said, “It looks like somebody beat us to it. That guy got just what he deserved.” He was quite a bit huskier than I was, more solid and stronger as well, my “little” brother in name only.

  At his pronouncement, Louisa started crying again, and my other sisters led her back to our break room.

  Mom shot Jim a frown before joining them.

  Bob patted Jim’s shoulder. “Nice going, Bro. You missed your calling; you should have joined the diplomatic corps.” Bob was the style rebel of our crew, his hair grown long and pulled back into a pony tail. His wife Jessica was constantly trying to get him to cut it, but my otherwise easygoing brother had flatly refused. He considered himself the artist of the family, and he wasn’t about to change his appearance.

  “Are you trying to tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing?”

  Jeff, my youngest brother, said, “Come on guys, we need to stick together on this. Ben, what do you think?” Jeff had a slight frame and unfortunately was starting to lose his hair. He was the dreamer of our clan, the positive spirit who constantly sought to buoy the rest of us.

  “I think we should let Molly handle it. She’s not going to suspect Louisa. She’s known her all her life.”

  Jim said, “You’re dreaming. We all know she had every reason to do it.”

  Bob said, “Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?”

  Jim started for the door. “I’m on the family’s side, where else would I be? I’m going to see what’s going on for myself.”

  This had the potential to get ugly fast. One of my roles since the others had come along was to act as peacemaker, no matter how conflicted I felt myself. I put a hand on my brother Jim’s chest. If he really wanted to get past me, I wasn’t sure I could stop him. “Guys, let’s take it easy, okay? We need to let Molly do her job.” Jim started to protest, but I cut him off. “I don’t care what any of us think; we’ve got to present a united front here. Quiet down, here comes Molly.”

  She’d circled the building and came in the front door, then offered her greeting to my brothers. Molly Wilkes had been a part of my life for so long she was an honorary member of the family. “Can I talk to you alone, Ben?”

  “Why can’t we stay?” Jim asked.

  Bob took his arm. “Because we’ve got a problem with the line, and I can’t fix it without your bumbling help.”

  Jeff said, “Come on guys, let’s go. We’ll leave you two alone.” His gaze lingered on Molly. It was obvious my baby brother still had a crush on her, but he felt like she was out of his league, so he’d never asked her out. It didn’t keep him from pining away for her, though.

  After they were gone, Molly said, “I’ve got to be honest with you, Ben, this doesn’t look good.”

  “What are you talking about? You can’t possibly think one of us had anything to do with this.”

  She shrugged. “Ben, I’ve known Louisa almost as long as I’ve known you. It’s no secret she was dating the victim, I saw them together at Falling River last weekend having dinner. Ordinarily I’d say there was no way she could have done this, but your sister’s had a tendency to overreact in the past when it’s involved love.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ernestine Gentry,” she said softly.

  “You’re bringing something up that happened in high school?” I asked. “That was fifteen years ago.”

  Molly said, “She pushed her down the steps to the gym when Ernestine stole Kyle Medford from her.”

  “That wasn’t Louisa’s fault. Ernestine tripped over her own feet. She was the biggest klutz in school.”

  “Then why did they suspend Louisa?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to control my temper. “You know full well that Jack Gentry owned half of Harper’s Landing back then. He wanted blood, and Principal Boggess gave it to him.”

  “It’s a pattern, Ben; that’s all I’m saying.” Molly stared at her polished black shoes, refusing to meet my gaze.

  “What is it?” I asked. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  Molly said, “I should probably learn to keep my mouth shut, but I guess you have a right to know. There were splashes of lye on the upper steps, but not on the lower ones. We need to examine Louisa’s clothes.”

  “So, what does that matter? Oh my word,” I added as the meaning struck home. “Whoever doused him did it from above, from the back doorway of the shop.”

  “That’s how it looks to us,” Molly agreed. “I’m afraid I need to speak with Louisa right now.”

  “She’s in the break room with the other women.”

  Molly would have probably rather faced a gun-toting robber at the moment than the women in my family, but I wasn’t going to make it any easier for her.

  When I didn’t offer to summon my sister, Molly said reluctantly, “I’ll go get her.”

  I followed her to the break room, a family gathering spot littered with easy chairs and a worn sofa. The best part was that it was always stocked with cookies, cakes, and pies that Mom provided. I had to walk four miles every morning before the shop opened just to hold my weight down. I can turn my nose up at the most elegant torte or mousse, but when it comes to my mother’s baked goods, I have no will of my own.

  I couldn’t make Molly face the four women in there by herself, no matter how angry I was that my sister was her main suspect. I stopped her at the door and said, “Why don’t you let me get her for you?”

  Molly’s look of relief was thanks enough.

  I stepped inside and called to Louisa, “Come here, Sis. Molly needs to talk to you.”

  Louisa clutched the handkerchief in her hand tightly, but Mom put a restraining hand on her arm. “She’s in no condition to talk to the police, Benjamin, even if it is Molly. Tell her I said so.”

  I wasn’t about to add an obstruction of justice charge into the mix. “Mom, Molly has every right to speak with her. It’s her
job.”

  My mother frowned, then said, “Yes, but she’s got to understand; we’re family.”

  “That doesn’t matter right now. Come on, Louisa.”

  Cindy and Kate started to follow. I added, “Just Louisa, ladies.”

  Mom nodded to the girls. “You two open the shop. We can’t let our customers down. They’re counting on us.”

  Cindy asked, “We’re really opening after this happened?”

  “We can’t do anyone any good by keeping our doors bolted. Now do as I say.” Mom turned to me and added, “Benjamin, you’ll stay with Louisa, yes?”

  “I’ll do what I can,” I agreed, wondering how I was going to sell that to Molly. Truthfully, being beside Louisa was exactly where I wanted to be. As much as I loved my sister—she was born eleven months after me and we’d been close from the start—she had a tendency to speak first and consider the consequences later. It was a trait that could get her into more trouble now than she’d ever had in her life.

  It was clear Molly was not happy about my presence as Louisa and I walked out of the break room together. “I need to speak to her alone, Ben,” she said.

  I started to protest, but Louisa touched my arm lightly and said, “It’s okay, Ben, I’ll be fine.”

  “You shouldn’t say a word unless you’re with me or our lawyer,” I said firmly. Harry McCallister handled our corporate account, but I doubted the aging barrister had any experience in criminal cases. I had an ace in the hole, though. An attorney named Kelly Sheer was a soapmaking enthusiast, and a new convert at that. She’d taken nearly every class we offered at Where There’s Soap in the past few months. She also happened to be a big-gun lawyer from Charlotte who’d moved to Harper’s Landing to raise her daughter after a bitter divorce. Kelly had offered her services a few times in jest, but I could see that she’d been serious beneath the smile, and I knew I could count on her.

  Molly said, “You know, it might not be a bad idea to call your attorney.” She turned to Louisa and said, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Where are we going? I don’t have to look at the body again, do I?” The prospect clearly intimidated my sister.

  “No, but the only way we’re going to get through this is if we do the interview in my office. We need to examine your clothes, too, so you might want to get one of your sisters to meet us downtown so you’ll have something to wear home.”

  “That’s going to have to wait,” I said. “I’m calling Kelly Sheer first.”

  Molly’s eyebrows arched. “Do you know her? I didn’t realize you traveled in such rarified circles, Ben.”

  “When it comes to my family, only the best will do.”

  Molly nodded. “I don’t blame you a bit. I understand completely.”

  After they were gone, I called Kelly at her office. She readily agreed to head over to the sheriff’s department and represent my sister. There was no doubt Louisa needed her, for moral support if nothing else. At least I hoped that was the only reason Kelly’s presence would be required. Despite my feelings for my sister, I had to acknowledge the fact that she was Molly’s prime suspect for a very good reason.

  I just hoped there was no lye on Louisa’s shoes or clothing. Things were bleak enough as they stood without anyone throwing gasoline onto the fire.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as Louisa and Molly left, Mom started grilling me near the front registers. “You didn’t go with your sister? Benjamin, what’s wrong with you? You need to be there.”

  “Easy, Mom, I called Kelly Sheer. She can do more for Louisa than I can.”

  That mollified her instantly; she was a big fan of Kelly’s. Mom patted my cheek, as she said, “That was the smart thing to do. That’s why you handle such things. So, do you know what you should be doing right now?”

  “Helping the guys fix the production line?” I asked, hoping against hope that she’d say yes.

  She waved a hand in the air. “Benjamin, leave the mechanical problems to your brothers. You have more important things to do.”

  “Is that the CEO talking, or my mother?”

  Her lips pinched together for a second before she spoke. “It’s both of us, smart boy.”

  I waited patiently for her to fill in the blanks, then I shook my head the second I realized her intent. “No way, Mom, I’m not going to do it, so don’t even go there.”

  “Go where?” she asked innocently.

  “It’s Molly’s job to investigate this, not mine.”

  Mom looked pleased with herself that I had come to the right conclusion, despite my protests. She asked pointedly, “And where is Molly now?”

  I reluctantly admitted, “She’s questioning Louisa downtown.”

  Mom nodded her head in agreement. “So if she’s focusing on your sister, how is she going to catch the real killer? Answer me that.”

  “I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” I said. “I handle missing wallets and rude customers. On occasion I track down a waylaid order or an AWOL vendor, but I’ve never investigated a murder before.”

  Mom said, “I have faith in you, Benjamin. You always were clever in figuring such things out. Do you think the family will rest until Louisa’s name is cleared? Will any of us sleep at night, knowing this cloud hangs over your sister’s head? You must realize we’d rather have you working to clear Louisa’s good name than working with us here. Do this, with all our blessings.”

  There was a time to stand up and fight, and there was a time to give in. Since I knew I’d already lost this battle before it started, I did the only thing I could do: I agreed. “I’m still going to teach my class, but I guess I could snoop I around some and see if I can come up with anything in the meantime.”

  She patted my cheek, then gave it a little tweak. Depending on how she felt, Mom could make her pinch a gentle caress, or take off some skin. “You’re a good son. Now get out of here and find out who really killed the late Mr. Sanger.”

  I walked out the front door around the building to where our cars were parked in back. One reason I chose the long route was because the forensics team might still be working the back stairs, but the more pressing reason was that I was in no hurry to go through the gauntlet of my siblings. The gardens in front were beautiful, carefully tended for more reasons than aesthetic ones. There were sections in the five-starred grid where we grew lavender, rosemary, sage, and a dozen other herbs for our soapmaking.

  When I got to our parking area in back, I was happy to see that the police van was gone. I wondered what they might have found there, and if Molly would share the information with me. It was going to be a delicate situation digging into this while Molly was investigating, but Mom was right. I couldn’t just leave Louisa’s fate in anyone else’s hands. I got into my emerald green Miata, still not clear as to what I should be doing. I didn’t know Jerry Sanger all that well, so I couldn’t exactly check out his haunts or his house. That was Molly’s job, and I wondered how I should begin my own unofficial investigation. I was going to have to tackle the problem from another direction. Louisa had said something about two other girlfriends on Jerry’s local route. That was certainly a road worth taking. Maybe the salesman had indeed been killed out of jealousy, but by a different girlfriend on his route.

  At least I knew the other suspects, since I was focusing on Jerry’s customers. I drove to nearby Sassafras Ridge and parked in front of The Soap Bubble, an upscale boutique that fought to be everything we weren’t. The building had once been a residential cottage before Monique had converted it into a shop. The white picket fence in front was carefully weathered, and Monique’s sign hanging from a verdigris standard looked as if it could have been a hundred years old. The cottage had ivy growing directly on the stone wall in front, and the door was painted a shocking shade of red that grabbed the attention of anyone walking past it.

  It looked more like a Hollywood set than a soap shop. The ultimate truth was that the owner didn’t believe in the intrinsic value of her product. To Monique Whi
te, soap was just a commodity, a widget to sell, whereas my Perkins clan had a love for soapmaking that was unquestioning. We had taken something that was a rather mundane household item to most folks and turned it into an art form. It was truly amazing how soap could be personalized using aromas, textures, colors, and shapes to cleanse, soothe, and rejuvenate the spirit as well as the body.

  I’d run into the boutique owner a dozen times over the years. Monique was in her late thirties, though plastic surgery and a heavy application of cosmetics struggled to disguise the fact that she’d long ago left twenty-five behind. She had fine red hair, always coiffed in the latest style, and wore simple outfits that probably cost a fortune. She’d married well, and as she liked to say, divorced even better. The shop was a place for her to mingle with her friends and play at working. The store was deserted, most likely because her particular clientele probably hadn’t crawled out of bed yet.

  “Why if it isn’t Ben Perkins, the Soap Master himself. What brings you here? Looking to copy my image and style?”

  Hardly. “Your style is uniquely your own, Monique,” I said, the truth of my intent eluding her.

  “So it is. I’m still waiting for an answer, though. Why are you here?”

  There was no easy way to do it, so I just blurted out, “I’m afraid I’ve come to deliver some bad news. Something’s happened to one of our suppliers. Jerry Sanger is dead.”

  Monique looked at me as if I were joking, then she must have seen the severity in my face. “Ben, that’s not funny.”

  “I’m not kidding, Monique.”

  She stared at me a few moments, then in a halting voice, she said, “He’s really dead?”

  “Murdered, actually.”

  “No, it can’t be. He was supposed to come by the shop this afternoon. I can’t believe it.”

  “It’s true,” I said. “How well did you know him?”

  Softly crying, Monique buried her head in her hands for a full minute. I was beginning to suspect she’d forgotten I was there. Was she acting, or was this the first she was learning of Jerry Sanger’s death? I honestly couldn’t tell, though I considered myself a pretty good judge of character and the honesty of people’s reactions. I’d never thought of Monique as particularly vulnerable, but maybe I hadn’t given her a fair chance.