Eugene never did make eye contact with Betsy. I did detect a muscle jumping along his jawline. Might be nothing more than him clenching his teeth, but one never knew. Betsy finally released the edge of the table and folded her hands on the menu in front of her.
The calvary came in about that time, and I had to take off and seat the men and women trickling in from the crime scene. Regina and I traipsed back and forth trying to keep up with the orders, drink refills, and the flow of desserts.
Elizabeth got a little overwhelmed, so Mary stepped in to help her out by slicing up the cherry pies, scooping up ice cream and stirring around a new batch of gravy when we ran out. The sauerkraut was getting low, but I eyed the crowd, the time, the fact there were no more people in line, and decided we’d have just enough until closing.
“How do you remain so calm? I’d be a worried mess.”
“I keep up with portion size and can guess real close as to how much I have on hand at all times.”
Mary placed a small crock of butter on the bread plate and slid it through the pass to me. “William’s bread is wonderful. I never would have thought to make whole wheat sourdough.”
“Since this diabetes has hit, it’s the one thing I told William had to happen in this restaurant. Every recipe has to be healthy—lean and mean to oil the machine.”
As the crowd trickled to a couple of heads, I absorbed nothing new about Aidan, other than what Regina had already conveyed, which was the usual list of posthumous criticisms. “He was mean-looking.” “Those dark eyes.” “A loner.” “He didn’t do much with that jewelry store.” “Never once had a sale.” And on and on it went. Even Eugene and Betsy offered little sideshow revelry other than her strange reaction when I announced the murder. Whenever I observed them, they were busy shoveling food in and staring out the window or at people around them. A happily married couple, to be sure.
I finally shooed Mary, Regina, and Elizabeth out the door. “I can handle things from here.” I flipped the sign to Closed.
Regina stuck her head back inside. “I’ll see you in my chair tomorrow at one.”
Chapter Fourteen
I can’t tell you how good it felt to be sipping a hot mocha in my favorite chair with my stocking feet propped up on the ottoman and Hardy snoring away across the room. Though peeling off the hose would have helped raise the comfort level, I hadn’t bothered. Too lazy. What had begun as a sprinkling of rain when I left the Goose turned into a deluge as I got within a few hundred feet of home. I was sure glad to be out of the weather, though I guessed the crime scene crew wasn’t too happy to have their evidence washing away.
Just as I suspected, Hardy had woke up at some point and sucked down the broth. The ice puppy was nothing more than a soggy washcloth folded into a cute shape. What can I say? I did it for years for my children to soothe them when they were in pain and give them something to smile about.
At some point I wanted to repaint; the tired room needed something refreshing. A nice blue, or maybe a soothing green. It would be a present to ourselves to celebrate our fortieth. That’s when a bulb popped in my brain. I plucked up the cordless and pounded out Shayna’s number. She didn’t answer, so I hauled myself up, preparing to leave a message and not wanting Hardy to hear.
“Shayna, baby, it’s Momma. I was just thinking about our fortieth anniversary coming up soon. Do you think you could round up the others and have them come here as a surprise to your Daddy? Don’t call me back. I’ll give you a call later on. We’ve had some excitement today. The new guy to town was found shot. I’ll give you details when we talk. Love you.”
Replacing the phone in its charger, I settled back in to my chair, satisfied with my idea. With a grin, I watched the drool drip from Hardy’s mouth to the already plentiful puddle on the pillow. He’d have a pruned cheek when he woke, and I wasn’t waking him.
Mentally, I listed the things I still needed to investigate. First off, Chief Conrad needed to know about William’s whereabouts and the strange reaction to the news of Aidan’s death by Betsy and Eugene Taser. I also wanted to know if he’d checked Dr. Cryer’s whereabouts, since the whole thing with the necklace might have given him motive.
I retraced my impressions about the crime scene, wondering if the Dumpster behind Regina’s shop had become part of the cordoned-off area. It was a long alley, and Regina’s Dumpster was far away from the back door of the Goose and the place where Aidan’s body was found. Still, police tended to secure a large area. Too small an area meant they might miss a vital clue.
Chief’s mention of a silencer meant it would have been possible for someone to shoot Aidan without a hiding William hearing the gun go off, but not possible for William to leave the one-way-in, one-way-out alley and not trip over Aidan’s fallen body. Unless . . .
Which is when it dawned on me to ask William if he’d left the alley any other way. For a car, there wasn’t another exit, but for a person legging it, there were narrow footpaths between buildings.
And on that note I sank down into the mire of a sound sleep.
Hardy’s the one who shook me awake. Good thing, too, because my neck was hurting something powerful. I hauled myself vertical and shuffled myself up the steps with Hardy trailing me. Our new, obnoxious alarm clock with numbers three inches high shouted the time as two-twenty-eight in the morning. Hardy moved like a mummy, lurching about as he changed clothes, then dove under the covers as if the room temperature was below freezing.
I slipped in beside him and pulled him in close. “How you feeling?”
He moaned, “Like they were drilling for oil in my gums.”
“He give you a prescription?”
“Um-hm.”
“We’ll get it filled in the morning.”
He nodded against my shoulder and, within seconds, fell into a deep sleep, his lips poofing out on each exhale. I trailed my finger over those lips, kissed his swollen cheek, and closed my eyes.
I woke up refreshed and ready to go. Well, my mind was ready anyhow. My body demanded more naptime, but I ignored the signals my brain was receiving from various body parts and got vertical. I then spent the first minute on the hardwood, doing the funky chicken walk while my feet got used to the cold, unpadded floor. It was a morning ritual for me. Hardy, not so much. I assumed my weight had something to do with the pain in my feet in the mornings. Or maybe all the walking I was doing for exercise.
I groaned and made it to the bathroom for my morning weigh-in, another habit I had started when I began my quest to lose-weight-or-else. I’d lost another pound. Heaven opened up and the angels descended, playing their horns. I closed the door of the bathroom, turned on the shower, and flushed the toilet, all a warm-up to cover the noise of my whooping little boogie dance.
Hardy stuck his head in the door, eyes rolling all crazy-like. “LaTisha, gotta get! We’re being stampeded by a herd of pachyderms.” He cocked his head. “Why you looking so crazy?”
Mid-jig, I had frozen, one hand pointing a finger in the air, the other hand at the floor, Stayin’ Alive–style. I straightened and snatched a towel off the rack. “Never you mind, you just scoot before you get hoofed into the ground by that stampede.”
I caught his smirk as he turned.
I rolled up the hand towel real quick-like and followed him out into the room, letting go on his backside. We chased another pound off my body as I whipped up on that boy, him howling with laughter and yelping with the sting of the towel snaps I laid on him. In the kitchen, Hardy realized he was trapped.
“Mercy!” He ran at me, arms spread wide. It was supposed to be his version of the body slam. It ended up being a body bounce, because that’s exactly what he did off the front of my body. Twenty-five pounds less, but I was still three times the body he was. Poor, scrawny thing. Not that I hadn’t tried to fatten him up in all our years of marriage. Some people are born with metabolism. Hardy was one of those.
Watching him fall against the counter, clutching his midsection and laughin
g like a lunatic got me to going. I wrapped that boy in my arms and we hee-hawed ourselves to the floor. When our laughs slipped away, we still held each other.
“Didn’t think you’d be so perky.”
Hardy grimaced, or was that a grin? Hard to tell with his swollen cheeks. “Got up a few hours ago and took the last of the sample packs he gave me.”
“Which reminds me to get that prescription filled quick-like. Need to get to the Goose too. Elizabeth can’t do it all herself.”
Hardy lifted his head, his cheeks still swollen, his words still garbled. “I can help. I’m feel okay.”
“Right now. In a couple of hours it’s going to hit you all over again. Your cheeks are puffy. No, you take the day off and do some prowling around for me until you get so tired you need to lay yourself down.”
Hardy went still, his face averted. “You don’t like my teeth, do you?”
His question caught me by surprise, but it shouldn’t have. We knew each other real good. His cocoa eyes were looking for the truth now, and I knew I’d better lay it out. “I’m guessing it’s the full set. I’ve looked at your gold tooth all these years, it just seems strange to be staring at all those teeth in your head.”
“I miss my gold one too. I was thinking about asking Dr. Cryer to go ahead and plate one of the front ones.”
I caught his chin between my finger and thumb and titled his head. “Smile for me.”
He did, and I studied the situation up close, gums still swollen and red. I hated the thought of him finally getting his teeth fixed and me telling him I liked him better the old way. “You know, I think it’s just going to take some time, but a gold tooth in front would help.”
We helped each other up off the floor. Hardy rubbed his stomach, and I knew what was coming. “What do I get to eat this morning?”
“Grits, oatmeal, or chicken broth.”
He scrunched up his nose.
“Take it or leave it, but I gotta scoot.”
He opted for chicken broth, not being an oatmeal fan, and went upstairs to take his shower. Grits would have been a fine choice, but he likes them with some ham or bacon most times, to give them some flavor. His choice worked for me. I gave the broth a spin in the microwave, set it on the table with a spoon, and beat it toward the door. I had my hand on the knob when I paused. I no longer heard the shower going, so I yelled one last thing up the steps at him. “You keep your ear to the ground!”
No answer. Must be standing in his shorts staring at himself in the mirror. He did it every morning. And they say women are vain.
“Hardy!”
No use. Sometimes the old methods get the best results. I backtracked to the broom handle leaning against the table in the foyer and beat it straight up against the ceiling, satisfied to see a string of new dents. This was my tried-and-true method for getting Hardy’s attention.
“I heard you, woman, don’t you go beating anymore dents.”
“There’s gonna be a dent in your head if you don’t stop ignoring me.”
No answer.
I tapped at the ceiling.
He howled. “I’ll stop by Dr. Cryer’s office and talk to him. And I’ll spend some time walking around town and seeing what I can pick up on.”
“Especially Aidan’s jewelry store,” I reminded.
“That too.”
Satisfied, I replaced my stick and slammed the door to let him know I was gone.
William surprised me. Not only was he working, but he had already started Elizabeth on kneading a batch of grain bread for the evening meal. He must have come in real early to get bread started and to this point. He lifted his hand in a little wave my way when I came into view.
Elizabeth, flour dusting her upper lip, winked. “William was here when I arrived. Since he was mixing up some dough, I figured I might as well learn his secrets.”
William kept watching Elizabeth’s kneading. As usual he acted as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. I wondered what had pushed him to come out this morning, though I was mighty happy he had. Breakfast is one of the easiest meals for me to handle, and with the extra help of Elizabeth, I knew they would make out all right if I took off to do a little detecting.
I caught the scent of cinnamon and lifted a corner of a towel covering a large tray. An entire pan of sweet cinnamon rolls stared right back at me.
William came up beside me and shooed my hand away. I got the message and lowered the towel. I turned to him and tilted my head toward the back door. His eyes went huge and he shook his head. I bulged my eyes out, tilted my head toward the back door again, then ran a finger across my neck.
William beat me out the door.
“You can’t keep this up forever,” I started in on him once we hit the door and it closed behind us. I sucked in a deep breath of the rain-saturated air. Police tape hindered us going more than three feet off the back landing. They had cordoned off the entire alley, as I’d suspected they would. “Elizabeth isn’t a fool and she’ll figure it out soon enough. Most folks will.”
He lowered his head.
“You’ve made the first step toward coming back, why not go all the way?”
I would let him stew on that for a while. I pointed my finger up the alley toward Regina’s salon. “Is that the Dumpster you hid in?”
He nodded.
“While I’m thinking on it, Elizabeth is my new help. I hired her last night. She lost her little girl a few months back and is doing her best to pay some bills. Do you think you could bake up some bread to sell at a fund-raiser in their honor?”
William didn’t even flinch at the news, though I saw the compassion in his eyes. He worked his mouth, priming it to produce words, I hoped. “I can do breads. I spent most of the evening thinking about Aidan and working on dough.”
“Here I thought you got here nice and early to take out those cinnamon rolls to thaw.”
He got a sheepish look and shrugged. “All they needed was to rise. My DLX can mix a lot of dough, so I brought it in to make things here.”
Poolish. The starter thing he’d done at my house. “You used a what to mix dough?” I felt caught up the middle pages of some slang dictionary.
My question squeezed a smile out of William. “DLX is the brand mixer I use. It holds a lot of dough and kneads it for you.”
It intrigued me. Really. My aunt raised me on homemade bread. “Why don’t we do up some breads this weekend at your place? I’ve got a chocolate cake to make for a little girl. You can help me with that too.”
His grin reached his ears. “That would be fun.”
We needed to hurry through this conversation and open up. I dove right in. “Chief talked to you yet?”
“No.” He stared off down the alley in the direction of Regina’s shop. “I didn’t see that man. Didn’t hear anything.”
Looking at his profile, the shadows in his eyes, I believed him. “Did you go out the alley that way?”
“No. I walked down the path between Regina’s and the grocery store.”
Bingo. “Did you see anyone?”
A line formed between his eyes. “I saw Eugene and Betsy going into the grocery store.”
Chapter Fifteen
When William mentioned the grocery store, a storm brewed in my brain. What a perfect cover. To do the deed, then slide into the grocery store for a little shopping. Act dumb when the murder is mentioned or . . . Did Betsy’s shock mean she thought Eugene had a reason to shoot Aidan? I huffed, my brain sizzling with all the possibilities. First off, I’d have to check with some of the cashiers and Shiny to see who came and went around the time of Aidan’s death. I had some peaches to pick up at the store anyhow, why not do some detecting?
“I didn’t do it, LaTisha. I promise you.”
Under normal circumstances, I would be shy on believing someone so bent on declaring his innocence. It always held true with my babies, from the time their tongues wagged fast enough to stir trouble, the guilty one among them always yelped the loudest
.
Instead of answering, I popped open the heavy exit door. William followed me back inside. One glance at the kitchen showed no sign of Elizabeth. I figured she was doing something in the front and trundled through to the counter area only to discover Elizabeth sitting across from George. Neither of them appeared happy. Wisdom told me to retreat, but I could see through the window of the front door, my line of early-morning regulars waiting for me to flip the sign and unlock the door. Torn, I went out far enough into the dining room to raise my eyebrows at Elizabeth.
“Vultures are waiting for the morning feed. You two need a few more minutes?”
George turned his face my way. “Go ahead. If I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late for work.” He rose and leaned over to land a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek. Her answering smile lasted until he turned his back.
Seeing this made me wonder if George, even in his state of grief, would abandon Elizabeth for a woman like Betsy. Some things don’t make sense, and that made as much sense as a recipe for fried tofu.
Elizabeth jumped up and joined me as I let George out and flipped the sign to Open.
“Sorry, LaTisha, they probably saw me let George in and thought we were open earlier than normal.”
I dismissed her explanation. “Nah, it’s the same crowd that hovers around here every morning.” That’s when I laid down the bomb. “I’m going to leave things to you and William. Be gone through lunch. I’ve got myself some loose ends to tie up.”
Elizabeth’s flash of enthusiasm left me feeling old. “It’s not a problem. Hardy needs you. I’m sure we can handle things.”
Well now, she assumed it. I saw no need to serve up the real explanation. I made my exit through the back kitchen door, wanting to eyeball what I could.
Technicians worked with little enthusiasm. Rain, a crime scene technician’s enemy, would no doubt have slowed the clue-gathering process. Clues are too easily washed away, plus they didn’t know about William in time. I expected the scene would be released sometime today, which meant I could do some serious looking soon. Until then, I’d satisfy myself with getting a lay of the scene.
Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) Page 9
