by Cathy Tully
“No,” Tina said. “I forwarded the office number to my cell phone. There were no calls until after, uh, the accident.”
Susannah forced herself to ask, “Are you sure?”
Tina nodded. “Yup. Keith and I ate breakfast with my phone in the middle of the table, so I wouldn’t miss any calls.” She looked at Susannah sheepishly. “Keith plays the TV hella loud while he gets ready for work.” She rolled her eyes. “But he got called in early that morning, so I know I didn’t miss any calls on account of him. He was out of the house before 7:00 a.m.”
Susannah nodded, relieved that Tina and Keith had been accounted for at the time of the murder.
“But I was thinking...” Tina tilted her head in Susannah’s direction, color rising in her dark complexion. “Maybe Ms. Alvarez came here because she wanted to get adjusted. Or maybe she wanted to talk to you. Y’all are in that business club together, right?”
“Now hang on,” Larraine interrupted. “If she wanted an appointment, why was she in the back parking lot?”
Susannah’s eyebrows went up. “That’s exactly what’s been bugging me. Why wasn’t she at the front door?”
Tina shook her head.
“I have no earthly idea,” Larraine said. She fingered her cardigan again. “Patients always park in the front parking lot. Most of them don’t even know that we come in this way.” She tilted her head to indicate the back door.
“Maybe she didn’t park in the front because she didn’t want to come in,” Tina whispered. “Maybe she parked there so she wouldn’t be seen.”
All three women turned to look at the door. Tina pulled the curtains aside, and they watched as the sudden movement caused Rusty to scamper away with his tail down. He crossed the gravel lot slowly, and Tina held the fabric aloft until his paws touched the grass of the field next door.
“It’s secluded,” she said. “Keith always tells me that the back lot is too secluded. He can’t see it when he drives by because of the trees that line the pasture on Piney Grove. He wants me to park in the front lot when we’re working late.”
“But Anita was here in the morning. Why would that matter?” Larraine asked.
Tina tittered. “Ms. Larraine, you so sweet.”
Larraine looked confused.
“If she met someone, it wasn’t me,” Susannah said, looking at Larraine pointedly. “She didn’t want to be seen.”
“Oh,” Larraine said, blushing. She shook her head, making a soft tsk-tsk sound. “Y’all should know better than to gossip about someone who’s passed.”
“Let’s say it’s speculation,” Susannah said. “And it stays inside these walls. All we know for sure is that she was here, and she didn’t park in the patient lot. We think she didn’t want an appointment, or she would have been at the front door. And we think she was meeting someone in secret.”
Tina nodded her agreement. Larraine pursed her lips and then leaned toward Susannah and said, “Speculation is just a fancy word for gossip.”
Susannah took Larraine’s hand in hers, drinking in her fair face. “It’s not gossip if we don’t tell anyone else.”
Larraine thought it over and allowed herself a slight smile.
The three women parted, each with their own thoughts.
CHAPTER NINE
Susannah sat at her desk watching Henry swim about his tank and search out hiding places. She had considered buying him a snail or a ghost shrimp for company, but in the end had settled on a moss ball. The round green plant was a colorful addition to the environment. Henry seemed satisfied. She, on the other hand, was not.
She swiveled her chair and gazed out the window at the peach orchard across the street. The fruit hung heavy on the trees, the earliest varieties already ripening. Watching locals lug bushels of peaches to their cars was preferable to writing insurance reports. She pushed away from the desk.
This is a colossal waste of time. I need to get out of this office and start asking questions.
Bitsy picked up on the first ring.
“How about we meet for a late breakfast?” Susannah asked.
“Just what I was thinking,” Bitsy said, and Susannah could hear her smiling. “Just give me a few minutes. Andrea is due here at eleven.”
Susannah was about to reply but gasped as a familiar vehicle came into view.
“What is it?”
“We might have to put off lunch. Detective Withers just pulled into my parking lot.”
“I’ll be right there!”
Susannah crept down the hall as two thoughts battled for dominance. The first registered danger and urged her to flee. Waffles sound good right about now, it said. The second thought came from her upbringing in a house full of law enforcement officers. Stand your ground, it said. Nothing good comes of cowardice.
She entered the waiting room, a layer of perspiration on her upper lip. The detective leafed through a pamphlet, which she tucked back into its Lucite holder as she faced Susannah, her eyes giving nothing away. Today her kinky blond hair was collected into a loose bun, her face sharp angles with those poisonous eyes.
“Dr. Shine, I wanted to have a word with you about Ms. Alvarez and why she was here the other day.”
“As I told you, I don’t know why Anita was here.”
The detective grunted low in her throat. “You told me that when you arrived here, you weren’t aware that Ms. Alvarez was in your parking lot?”
“That’s correct.”
“She didn’t contact you?”
“No.”
“When did you speak to her last?”
“At the Business Association meeting,” Susannah said. “Wednesday morning.”
“What did you discuss?”
“Nothing much, just chitchat.”
“Chitchat? Could you be more specific?”
Susannah sighed. “Chitchat, you know, ‘How are you,’ ‘Thanks for the coffee,’ ‘See you later.’”
“Mmm-hmm.” The woman excelled at nonverbal expressions. “I understand that you and Ms. Alvarez were by yourselves for part of the meeting, and that was all the conversation you had?”
“Yes.” Susannah swallowed. She didn’t think admitting that she told Anita the story of Rusty, the “cat burglar,” could be integral to a murder investigation. “She was busy. She was in and out of the kitchen. There was some kind of issue going on in there.”
“What do you mean?”
Susannah explained that she had heard an argument coming from the kitchen and that Tomás sounded upset.
“And you didn’t get involved in this issue?” The detective asked, emphasizing the word issue.
“No.”
“Could you hear any of the argument?”
“No.”
“Did you perhaps peek into the kitchen to see who was in there?”
“No.”
“Did you go into the kitchen at the Cantina Caliente at any time?”
“No.”
“Are you sure you didn’t get involved in this ‘issue’?” The detective lifted her head and jutted her chin.
“No. Why would I?” The hum of a vehicle interrupted her thoughts. A door slammed. Footsteps neared, and the outer door flew open.
Here we go, Susannah thought, as Bitsy’s figure loomed large in the doorway.
“Oh, am I interrupting?” Bitsy said, crossing the room and clasping Susannah’s arm. She smiled at the detective. “We had a Waffle House date.”
Detective Withers stood with her feet apart and her hands folded in front of her belt and regarded Bitsy.
“We’re almost done,” Susannah told her.
The detective raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Bitsy flopped into a chair. “I’ll wait.” The chair groaned as she shifted and plucked her phone out of a side pocket of her handbag.
“Are you finished?” the detective said, her words sharp and final.
Bitsy swiped at her phone. “You two go right ahead, you won’t bother me none.”
; Detective Withers didn’t move for a few seconds, but when Bitsy didn’t look up, she faced Susannah. “I won’t take up much more of your time, Doctor,” the detective said. “Getting back to Wednesday morning, were you in the kitchen with Anita Alvarez?”
“No.”
“So, to make it clear, you weren’t curious about what you heard, and you didn’t look into the kitchen?”
“I was curious, who wouldn’t be? But it was none of my business, so I went to sit with Bitsy.”
“That’s right,” Bitsy interrupted. “I can vouch for that.”
The detective gave Bitsy a prolonged deadeye but got no reaction, as she never wavered from her game. “Dr. Shine, did you argue with anyone at all while you were in the restaurant?”
“No, Detective. I didn’t get involved in Anita’s argument or in anyone else’s conversation. Why do you keep asking me this?”
“Because according to witnesses, after a somewhat rancorous discussion about...” She held up a finger and then reached in her pocket, making a show out of removing her notebook and flipping through a few pages. “Ah, here it is. A peach pie-eating contest,” she continued, shooting a quick glance at Bitsy, who had momentarily stopped tapping. “You left the restaurant looking...” She glanced at the notebook again, cleared her throat, and read, “‘As jittery as a june bug.’”
She flipped the cover of the notebook closed. A look of satisfaction crossed her face but was soon replaced by irritation as a loud guffaw filled the room. Bitsy jumped up with a surge of unconstrained energy and approached the detective. One hand clutched her phone, which displayed small colorful gems moving across the screen.
“Who all said that?” she asked, grinning. “That expression is so country. I haven’t heard that one in a dog’s age. It had to be Johnnie Turner. Was it old Miz Turner?” She pushed Susannah to the side and approached the detective, her dreads bouncing airily, but there was a cold gleam in her eyes.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Well, whoever said it was wrong. I was right there, and I sat with Dr. Shine and walked out with her. She wasn’t jittery as no june bug.”
Detective Withers gave Bitsy a frosty look, but she didn’t break. “And you are?”
Bitsy reached into her purse and pulled out a business card with a peach logo. “Bitsy Jean Long,” she said, “proprietress of Peachy Things, a boutique in downtown Peach Grove.” The detective took the card and gave it a fleeting glance, then shoved it into her rear pocket. Her gaze returned to Bitsy, who scrutinized the detective’s shoes and pants with a pained expression. She shook a finger at the detective’s shoes. “You come and see me, and I’ll fix you up with some real dainty shoes. Just because you have a blocky foot doesn’t mean you can’t wear a pretty shoe.”
The detective’s jaw muscles bulged. Her expression didn’t change, but Susannah could see the displeasure in her eyes. Susannah knew that Bitsy wanted to get a rise out of Detective Withers, like she did to Marcie at the PGBA meetings. Those who didn’t know her thought Bitsy was an airhead, but the detective was not falling for it.
“Excuse me. I need the little girl’s room.” Bitsy turned, in that way that she had that was part ballerina swirl and part graceless stumble, and scurried away. Her footsteps resounded down the tiled hall.
Detective Withers watched her go. “A very entertaining person,” she said dryly, then narrowed her eyes. “Returning to the argument in the kitchen, did Ms. Alvarez tell you what it was about?”
“No. She didn’t say anything about it, and I didn’t ask.”
“She made no comments to you of a personal nature?”
“No.”
“And she didn’t contact you about an appointment?”
“No.”
Detective Withers said nothing, but she jotted a few words in her notebook. She placed the notebook in her pocket and as an afterthought said, “Dr. Shine, are you an herbalist?”
“No, I’m a doctor of chiropractic.”
“You sell herbal medications out of this office, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“But you are not an herbalist. Are you a nutritionist? Do you have some kind of certification to sell supplements?”
“I sell supplements under my license as a chiropractor.”
“I see.”
Susannah didn’t like the sound of that. She tried to think of something to say to change the direction of the conversation. “Detective, you never said how Anita died.”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details.”
“So it could have been natural causes?” As soon as she said the words, Susannah knew that she had erred.
The detective faced Susannah, her gray eyes hard. “Would I be talking to you if she died of natural causes?”
CHAPTER TEN
“What was that all about?” Bitsy asked as Larraine and Tina trailed Susannah down the hall. They joined Susannah at the window as she watched the detective drive away.
Susannah shook her head, tapping a nail on the glass until the detective was out of sight. “I don’t know.”
“I think she’s trying to rattle you,” Tina said. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger, scowling. “I don’t like her. Keith’s not fond of her either.”
“You heard?”
Tina and Larraine nodded guiltily.
“How much?”
“All of it,” Tina said. “We didn’t mean to spy on you.”
Bitsy placed one hand on her hip and scolded Susannah with the other. “You needed ear-witnesses. You know, in case they try to entrap you and claim you confessed when you didn’t.”
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t you worry none.” Bitsy sat down, swiping at her phone. “We’re all looking out for you. Little Junior has his ear on the situation too. He knows to call if anything serious comes up.”
“So that wasn’t serious?” Larraine asked, her face powder barely covering blue veins.
“You know what I mean, Ms. Larraine. She was just fishing around, trying to get Susannah here to incriminate herself.”
Larraine grasped Tina’s arm, and they both lowered themselves silently onto a sofa.
“How could she think it had anything to do with you?” Larraine breathed. “It seems obvious Anita was meeting a man, once you think about it.”
Bitsy’s eyes went wide, and Susannah filled her in on the conversation she’d missed.
“So y’all think she was seeing someone on the down low?”
“That’s what we think.” Tina looked serious, worry lines creasing her brow. “But there’s no way to prove it.”
“With all the questions about what happened in the kitchen, do you think something illegal could be going on at the Cantina?”
“Like maybe drugs?” Larraine asked.
“I don’t rightly know,” Bitsy said, rubbing her hands together, thinking. “I never heard anything like that. My family has its finger on the pulse of the county, but it’s a healthy pulse.”
Susannah gazed around the office, replaying the detective’s questions in her mind. From growing up in a law enforcement household, she knew that reticence was a common trait among those “on the job.” Her father had been a man of few words, and her brothers had followed suit. But sometimes, what they didn’t say spoke volumes. She inhaled. Could something illegal be happening in the kitchen at the Cantina? “You know what else I want to know?”
“Why a detective dresses like she’s going hiking?” Bitsy interjected.
Tina laughed, and Larraine shook her head disapprovingly but said nothing.
Susannah’s eyes bored into Bitsy, urging her to be serious. “No. I want to know who hated Anita enough to kill her. I also want to know what is going on in that restaurant. We’ve got to get over to the Cantina and talk to some servers.”
Bitsy shook her head. “There’s a sign in the window saying they’re not open for the next few days.”
“I’d love to talk to Anita’s
family,” Susannah said. “I know her mother lived with her, but I can’t just knock on her door.”
“Why don’t we go get some wings? I can’t think on an empty stomach,” Bitsy said, looking from Tina to Larraine to Susannah. “And much as I hate to admit it, Marcie Jones always has the gossip. Maybe she knows something.”
Larraine politely declined. “Too early for me. I never eat before noon,” she said as she headed back to her computer.
Tina mentioned that she had a lunch date with Keith. “But you're right. If there are any nasty insinuations in the air, Marcie would know.”
BITSY PULLED UP TO the Wing Shack and wedged her Explorer in next to a red Ford F-150. In the passenger seat, Susannah chewed a cuticle while replaying the detective’s last comment.
“You coming?”
“Remember,” Susannah said, narrowing her eyes as Bitsy’s stomach rumbled, “when we see Marcie, don’t tell her the detective was at the office. I want to ask the questions. The last thing I want to do is give the Queen of the Peach Grove Grapevine more gossip to use against me.”
“Don’t worry. I promise to keep my mouth shut. Except for when I’m eating.”
At the door, Bitsy pointed to the stenciling on the window glass, which proclaimed the wings to be the hottest in six counties. “I don’t know about all that. My cousin Paul Smoot makes deliveries for a Vietnamese barbecue joint and—”
The door opened, and out stepped Billy Jones, who filled the doorway with his bulk. He was clad in a bright red apron that came down to his knees. “Y’all coming in, or are you going to stand out here jawin’?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Bitsy said, stepping through the door with a quick bow. Susannah chuckled, but she followed Bitsy as Billy held the door open with his hip.
“How’s the back?” Susannah asked.
“Much better.” He smiled, lifting his apron to expose the wide brace that underpinned his polo shirt and single-handedly held his pendulous gut aloft. “This thing is a lifesaver.”
Susannah smiled. Bitsy scraped the feet of a steel-backed chair across the linoleum floor and plopped onto the red padded cushion. Her large frame swallowed up the round seat. Susannah worried that the tiny chair might not hold Bitsy’s weight, but Billy showed no sign of alarm.
