by Duffy Brown
Chapter Fourteen
“WHAT are you doing here?” I asked Boone when he sat down across from me. “Just happen to be in the neighborhood and thought you’d catch up with the local felons and the soon to be incarcerated?”
“Pillsbury called. Said Chantilly was booked on her second murder in less than a week and you were keeping her company. Couldn’t turn that one down, now could I?”
“Someone’s out to frame Chantilly and right now it’s not all that hard to do. She’s innocent this time just like before, though I doubt you or anyone else around here believe me.”
“I believe you’re loyal to a fault and would jump under a bus before you threw a friend there.”
“Chantilly didn’t even know Suellen; why would she kill her?” I pushed back my chair and paced, sitting still driving me nuts. “Chantilly got a text to come to Simon’s condo for information that would prove she didn’t kill the man. We went in and found the body.”
“We?”
“There’s a murderer running around and it’s a little scary going to meet someone you don’t know at midnight. Chantilly came to get me. We went to Simon’s and there was Suellen. I wonder who called the cops?”
“Ross said that someone in the building heard a scuffle and yelling.”
“See, there you go. There was no scuffle or yelling. The door was open so we went in. The body was on the couch and . . . Wait a minute,” I said, my brain starting to function. “My guess it that whoever killed Suellen was watching the condo. When Chantilly and I got there they called the police.” I spun around and faced Boone. “Chantilly still has that text message that said to come to the condo on her phone. That proves someone set her up, got her there to pin the murder on her.”
“Not quite.” Boone sat back in his chair, looking as if he were at Tubby’s having lunch. “The cops think Suellen saw Chantilly kill Simon. Suellen tried to blackmail Chantilly and Chantilly panicked and whacked Suellen over the head with Simon’s Employee of the Year trophy.”
“The trophy? You have got to be kidding.”
“Like I could make that one up. The cops traced the text on Chantilly’s phone. It came from Suellen’s phone, and no one can find it. The cops think that after the murder Chantilly texted her own phone from Suellen’s, then ditched it. That would make it look as if Chantilly got set up. She got you involved to add substance to her story.”
I leaned across the table. “You really think UPS Chantilly could come up with that big, detailed, well-thought-out plan after killing Suellen and being scared half to death? This is way beyond riding a horse naked, this is the work of someone who took time and planned the whole thing beginning to end to frame Chantilly. She’s at the top of the list for Simon’s murder. It’s easy to stretch that into two murders. Doesn’t that smack of a little too convenient?”
“Chantilly has motive, method, and the opportunity for killing Suellen. She knew the code for Simon’s building and probably still had the key. And there’re fingerprints.”
“Chantilly was in that condo a week ago having a last-minute coronary over Simon marrying Waynetta.”
“That adds to her motive for killing Simon in the first place. It all goes to motive.”
“Are they going to arrest me, too?”
“The only thing you’re guilty of is stupidity. A strangler? That’s the best you could come up with for an alibi?”
I shrugged.
Boone’s brows arched and he sat straight in his chair. “It’s true?”
“For heaven’s sake, Boone, it’s all true. Every single word I’ve told you, and I have no idea how to prove it or find the real killer. Any suggestions?”
“None you want to hear. You were run off the road, attacked, and now set up for murder. I think it’s time you butt out and let the cops do their work.”
“Would you butt out?”
“I’m me and you’re you and I’m not going to be the one to put your neck in a noose. Stay out of trouble for a change. Go home, sell some clothes.”
Go home? Sell clothes! I braced my arms on the table and met Boone eyeball to eyeball. “I’m going to find this killer and I don’t need your help to do it.”
I grabbed up Old Yeller, slammed the door behind me, paid homage to the nearest vending machine, and walked out of the station. This time the police would hold Chantilly without bail, I was sure of it. I was exhausted from no sleep and a sucky night of hide-and-seek in the Dumpster. With the police station on Bull Street and Cherry House a good forty-five-minute hike away, I ate my Kit Kat and headed for the bus stop as a gray SUV pulled up beside me, the window powering down.
Pillsbury stuck his head out the window. “Coffee?”
“Throw in a burger and you got yourself a deal.”
“See Chantilly?” Pillsbury asked as I got in.
“No. I hate this.” I broke my Kit Kat in half and shared, Pillsbury popping the offering in his mouth.
“I’ll drop by, see how she’s doing,” he said around a mouthful of candy. “Give her survival tips. I got cop friends who owe me.”
“You got them a good price on a hot car?”
“Good advice on a hot stock.”
“Maybe you should stay away from Chantilly.”
I got a hard look in return that made me reconsider whom I was talking to. “You and her dad duking it out during visiting hours isn’t going to help her case, you know. Why were you at Simon’s wedding?”
Pillsbury’s jaw clenched. “Chantilly caused a commotion once naked and chances good she’d repeat the performance one way or another. She was hung up on that Simon dude. You don’t like me much, do you?”
“I know you like Chantilly and would do anything to have her for yourself.”
“Like off Simon?” Pillsbury laughed deep in his throat, a sinister grin curling his lips. “That part no sweat, but I don’t let my woman go down for my deeds. You best be thinking who you give orders to, white woman.”
He pulled up for a traffic light and I hopped out of the SUV, the friendly portion of our conversation having come and gone. I swallowed, trying not to look petrified. “I’m doing what I think is best for Chantilly.”
Pillsbury jabbed his finger in my direction. “Don’t much care for what you saying, you got that.”
“Just stay away from her for now.” The light changed and Pillsbury drove off. Well gee, here it was a little after twelve and so far I’d gotten threats from Sugar-Ray, told Boone to take a flying leap, and royally ticked off the hood. It was shaping up to be quite a day. Being that I was a quart low on caffeine and trans fats and a block away from Cakery Bakery, I decided on a detour. Maybe Percy had some information other than that GracieAnn was the love of his life.
Savannah in the summer is living under one giant canopy of oaks and awnings. Walking from one to the other was the only way to survive. I started to open the door to the bakery and caught sight of Tipper Longford sitting alone at one of the outside tables off to the side, his gray Confederate hat kittywhumpus on his head, his face buried in his hands. Not that Tipper and I were BFFs but something was wrong. Besides, how could I turn my back on a soldier so ready to defend this fine city?
“Are you okay?” I asked Tipper, taking the seat across from him.
He looked up, eyes bloodshot and sad. “She’s gone.”
“Delta?”
“Lordy, no. That woman’s still alive and kicking. It’s the good who die young. My Suellen is gone. Delta will live forever. How could such a thing happen?”
In the mad dash to find Chantilly innocent I completely forgot about Tipper and Suellen. Last time I saw them together at the Pirate House they were all smiles and snapping pictures. Tipper sniffed. “The only consolation is that the police found the person who killed her. They say it was the same girl who killed Simon.” He gazed at the bakery. “I was happy here once, but that was a long time ago when Delta and I were first married. We sort of just drifted apart. Now I have no one.”
“Did Suellen ever mention Si
mon?”
A tear slid down Tipper’s cheek, which he quickly wiped away. “The police think Suellen must have seen Simon’s killer at the wedding then got herself killed so she wouldn’t tell who it was.”
Meaning your little girlfriend was into blackmail and extortion. Not that Tipper needed to hear that right now. “Want me to bring you out some water or sweet tea?”
“Don’t tell Delta I’m here; she wouldn’t like it. We’d just fight and I’m not up for it right now. I didn’t know where else to go and I’ve always loved the bakery. The person who runs it, not so much.”
I went inside and eyed the one and only sprinkle doughnut, just waiting for me in the display case. For sure it was the best thing to happen to me all morning. GracieAnn cut off my mouthwatering view with, “Well now, looks like your friend, Chantilly, got herself into even more trouble. Imagine that.”
“What?”
GracieAnn grinned, a sinister glint in her eyes. “I hear she got arrested for killing off that waitress at the Pirate House and she’s sitting in the slammer this very minute just where she belongs.” GracieAnn tipped her chin and folded her arms. “Guess there’ll be none of her getting out this time.”
“Except she’s innocent,” I said, peeking around GracieAnn to Delta slipping my sprinkle doughnut into a white pastry bag and handing it off to another customer. You weren’t supposed to cry over spilled milk and I figured that applied to lost doughnuts as well, but I was sorely tempted.
“What goes around comes around,” GracieAnn droned on. “I do believe justice is served right well now and you’ll have to accept that.”
Sounded like Walker Boone, part two. I wasn’t in the mood for him or GracieAnn. “Did you ever get over to Boone’s office to talk about the case? He’s been wondering where you are. You should catch up with him at his house. He spends a lot of time there.” I grabbed the pink order pad and cupcake pencil from her apron and jotted down the address. “Big white house with geraniums and petunias. Just keep going back till you connect with him. He’d consider it a personal favor.”
GracieAnn’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t have anything good to say about Chantilly. Why are you sending me to Boone? I’ll just prove her guiltier, and I thought he was out to prove her innocent.” A sassy grin pulled at her thin lips. “But I wouldn’t mind spending a little time with that man all the same. He sure is fine.”
I held up my hands all little Miss Righteous. “Boone just wants to get at the truth. It’s the way he is. Like you said, what goes around comes around. You should know he talks about you. I told him you were coming to call and he said, ‘Me?’” I didn’t see any reason to add the why in front of the me.
“Is that right.” GracieAnn smoothed back her hair that didn’t need smoothing since it was trapped under a net. She strutted off humming what sounded remarkably like “Happy Days Are Here Again.” Either she was a closet Democrat or tickled pink about seeing Boone. For sure I was tickled pink about her seeing Boone but it made me wonder about her loyalty to Percy.
The undercover repairman was nowhere in sight. I’d have to catch up with him later. I bought two glazed doughnuts always in abundant supply at any bakery and added a supposedly low-fat brownie for Auntie KiKi. I never really trusted the no-fat part. My food philosophy was if it tasted good, it landed on your hips no matter what the sign said. I left the bakery and gave Tipper one of the doughnuts. He took a few bites and gave me a little smile. He looked a little better, a bit more relaxed. I headed down Broughton and pulled out the other doughnut just as Percy yanked me into a side gravel alley between the bakery and the art supply store.
“How’s Chantilly doing?” he asked.
“I think I just chipped a tooth. Chantilly’s getting strip-searched and fitted for a new wardrobe of bright orange. I’d say her day’s pretty crappy.”
Percy wrung his hands together, worry creasing his forehead. “I’m not having much luck getting information on the real killer. Mostly this place is just a bakery with lots of butter and sugar. I’ve put on five pounds.” Percy pinched his middle to show his flab.
“Delta seems pleased that Tipper’s girlfriend got knocked off,” he went on. “GracieAnn thinks those two were fooling around when Delta and Tipper were still married, though best I can tell it wasn’t a great marriage anyway for a lot of years. Maybe I should give it up here and work Chantilly’s case with you; the girl’s in a world of hurt. I could be asking questions like I was before instead of just fixing stuff that’s not really broken.”
Oh, Lordy. I’d stirred up enough problems on my own without bringing Percy onboard. “See if you can find out if there was any connection between Simon and Suellen. There was some reason she was at his condo. How are things with you and GracieAnn?”
Percy rubbed his chin. “Well, she’s a little possessive. Yesterday she saw me chatting with Pastor Liz. GracieAnn followed me home and parked outside my apartment in the bakery truck for two hours just staring at my window.”
“You sure it was GracieAnn?”
“Cakes and pies painted on the sides, but I was too afraid to go check it out for sure. GracieAnn and Delta are the only ones who drive that truck. It’s a little scary, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s stalking.” Or GracieAnn’s a sociopath, but I didn’t want Percy to fret even more. “Stay in public places, lock your doors. Be careful. Don’t get in that truck.”
“That bad?”
“She bakes dead-people cookies. Keep nine-one-one on speed dial.”
By the time I got back to the Fox, Auntie KiKi was running around the shop like a headless chicken trying to check out customers and take in consigned clothes. The brownie perked up her spirits, the sight of customers perked up mine, but neither of us had time to put two thoughts together till five when the last customer left. I flipped the sign in the bay window as Reese Waverly stormed in the front door before KiKi could lock it.
Not many men in Savannah shopped the Prissy Fox unless their wives gave explicit instruction like, Honey could you please pick up that there pink sweater hanging in the front window for me or maybe if they were a performer at Club One and in need of a new sparkly dress and accessories for their act. Reese’s wife died ten years ago and last I heard the man hadn’t taken up life as a cross-dresser, though that sure would be some sight and draw one heck of a crowd.
“I think you know why I’m here,” Reese said, his eyes cold and calculating.
“You wanted to buy a little something to support the cannon for down on River Street?” I ventured, trying to defuse the moment.
Reese ignored me and kept his eyes focused on Auntie KiKi. He braced his hands against the checkout counter. “You took something that belongs to me and I want it back.”
Auntie KiKi mixed and mingled with the best families in Savannah and took no prisoners when someone got on her turf, messed with her kin, or especially if they got in her face while doing it. She braced her hands on the counter and leaned right into Reese. “The last time I was visiting your home was to offer my sincere condolences for your most tragic loss, Reese Waverly, and that I took something from you is outrageous. What in the world could you have that I could possibly want?”
“You swiped a flash drive that has information on it. I what that drive back.”
KiKi’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t come around here accusing me of being a common thief. I believe you need to get yourself out of here.”
“Or what?” he sneered.
“Or I’ll tell your mamma how you came barging right in here all full of unwarranted accusations and embarrassing me to no end. She can still take a piece out of your hide like all good mammas can. You best mind your manners, Reese Waverly.”
Fear flickered in Reese’s eyes. Good Southern mammas had that kind of effect. “I suggest you and your interfering niece here keep what’s on that drive to yourself if you know what’s good for you,” Reese went on. “This here is business, my business, that no one needs to know about. S
tay out of it.”
“I don’t take orders from the like of you, Mr. Waverly,” Auntie KiKi declared. “I’ll do what I want, when I want, and how it suits me.” KiKi pointed a stiff finger at the door. “Go intimidate your employees. They have to put up with your undignified behavior, but I sure enough do not.”
“You two are always sticking your noses in where they don’t belong and this time you’re playing with fire. Be careful or you’ll get burned.” Reese turned on his Italian-loafered heel, then slammed the door behind him, rattling the glass in the bay window.
“Sweet Lord!” I said, watching Reese drive off in his black something-expensive car. “Maybe we should just give him back the flash drive.”
“He’s fishing, honey. There were tons of people in his house that day and he has no idea that I’m the guilty party.”
“I think he’s considering our reputation.”
“There is that, but I won’t be intimidated by that upstart. His mamma and daddy owned a bait store over there in Whitemarsh. Not that there’s one single thing wrong with a bait store, mind you, and his mamma and daddy are the salt of the earth kind of people, but now he acts so high and mighty like he’s better than anyone else. Putter comes running every time that rich hypochondriac calls. He’s always thinking he’s having a heart attack and dying. If he wasn’t dabbling around in shady tomfoolery, he wouldn’t have heart problems in the first place, now would he?”
“But why is he so upset over a fake golf course that doesn’t even exist?”
“I think our embarrassment theory hits the nail right square on the head. He got duped and Waynetta nearly married the scallywag who did it to boot. That makes Reese Waverly a laughingstock in anyone’s book. He surely can’t let that happen, no sirree.” KiKi let out a deep breath. “Well, that’s enough excitement for today, and I have yet to hear about your sojourn to the police department this morning. Did you drop Chantilly off at her apartment before you came here?”
“Detective Ross saw fit to give Chantilly a change of address. I just hope it’s not permanent.”
