Apples and Alibis
Page 1
Apples and Alibis
A Down South Café Mystery
Gayle Leeson
Grace Abraham Publishing
Bristol, Virginia
Table of Contents
Title Page
Apples and Alibis (A Down South Cafe Mystery Book, #4)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Recipes from the Down South Café
Also by Gayle Leeson
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Copyright © 2019 by Gayle Leeson.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
Gayle Leeson/Grace Abraham Publishing
13335 Holbrook Street, Suite 10
Bristol, Virginia 24202
www.gayleleeson.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover design by Bridgeforth Design Studio.
Book Layout ©2017 BookDesignTemplates.com
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the “Special Sales Department” at the address above.
Apples and Alibis/ Gayle Leeson.—1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-9967647-7-3
Dedicated to Tim, Lianna, and Nicholas
Chapter One
D
illy Boyd stuck her head inside the door of the Down South Café and called, “Big Harry Ostermann needs a bandage! He got a splinter from his apple crate!”
At least, I thought it was Dilly. All I could see was her blue floral sunbonnet. But I was pretty sure it was her.
“I’ll get it.” I was ready for a break from the kitchen. Hosting a farmers’ market during the fall Saturdays had been Dilly’s idea—an idea that I’d thought was wonderful—but I hadn’t realized how much extra work the market would mean to me and my staff. Today, in addition to Jackie, Shelly, and Luis, our part-time waitress Donna was on hand and Luis’ younger brother Oscar was helping out at the cash register. Our “uniforms” consisted of jeans and blue t-shirts with the Down South Café logo in yellow. Since we sold the t-shirts at the café, having Oscar “suit up” hadn’t been a problem.
I could only hope that all the extra work would mean a big boost in revenue. So far, the extra work had, in large part, consisted of pouring coffee and doing things like finding bandages and making change.
I stepped outside, squinted in the mid-September sun, and looked for the Ostermanns’ booth among the crowded area. I’d roped off a third of the parking lot on the side of the building that housed our screened-in patio. Vendors with canopy tents or pickup-truck tailgates formed a semi-circle in which shoppers stood shoulder to shoulder as they sought the best produce, honey, eggs, and handcrafts Winter Garden had to offer. Winter Garden was mostly farmland, and the Down South Café was surrounded by pastures and fields of goldenrod.
The Ostermanns had a canopy tent and were using the back of their pickup truck as well since they had bushels of Golden Delicious and Red Delicious apples for sale in addition to pumpkins, tomatoes, peppers, squash, green beans, cucumbers, and cabbage.
I gasped when I approached the tent and saw that Harry was removing the splinter with his pocketknife. I was afraid he might need more than the small bandage I’d brought by the time he was through.
The big man chuckled. “Now don’t be squeamish, Amy. This works as well as a pair of tweezers.”
My eyes flew to Harry’s wife, Nadine. She just smiled and shook her head. I handed her the bandage.
“Um...if you guys need anything else, please let me know.” I looked back at Harry. “Unless you need an ambulance. For that, you’ll need to call 9-1-1.”
“I don’t believe it’ll come to that. I’ll be inside in a little bit for some breakfast.”
“All right.” I hurried back into the café to find Jackie filling to-go cups with coffee for a couple of shoppers.
She handed them the cups and directed them to Oscar, who was ringing up another customer. As I stepped behind the counter, Jackie took my arm.
“Did you go by and say hello to Ryan’s mom?” she asked.
“There were several people standing in front of her tables. I thought it best to come on back inside.”
Jackie—my cousin-slash-best friend—just nodded. She knew me well enough to know that I was avoiding Ryan’s mother.
Ryan. Should I call him my boyfriend? I’d been on several dates with the handsome deputy in the past few months, but I didn’t know if I should be so brazen as to refer to him as my boyfriend just yet.
I hurried back into the kitchen to work on the three orders that had come in while I’d taken the bandage outside. I washed my hands, slipped on plastic gloves, and broke several eggs into a large bowl.
HALF AN HOUR LATER, Jackie joined me in the kitchen and handed me an order.
“Harry Ostermann wants a stack of buttermilk pancakes with a side of bacon, and Homer is here for his sausage biscuit.”
“It’s ten-thirty already?” I glanced at the clock. It was 10:27. Homer Pickens was a regular customer who came in every day at ten-thirty for a sausage biscuit.
When I had both orders ready, I took them out myself rather than waiting for Jackie to pick them up. I took Harry’s order to his table first.
“I wanted to make sure you still have both hands,” I joked.
He held them up. “I do. And I plan on eating with both of them.”
“Is Nadine manning the booth while you eat?”
He nodded. “She’s not big on breakfast anyway. She’ll be in for lunch.”
“If there’s anything else you need, just give Jackie a holler.”
“Will do. By the way, you should come out and visit our corn maze tonight. It’s opening night, and we’re having a bonfire, s’mores, hot cocoa, cider, ghost stories, a hayride... I guarantee you’ll have fun.”
“It sounds fantastic. I’ll do my best to get out there.” And I would get out to the corn maze...just probably not tonight. I had a feeling I was going to be exhausted.
Harry seemed to read my mind. “Well, if you don’t make it tonight, we’ll be open every weekend—Fridays and Saturdays—through the first weekend of November.”
I nodded and took Homer his sausage biscuit. “How are you today?”
“I’m doing well.” He jerked his head to the left. “Impressed by all the vendors you have outside. I think I’ll check everything out after I eat.”
“You should. Who’s your hero today?”
Homer Pickens, n
ow in his late sixties, had grown up without a father and, as a result, chose a new hero every day. Homer came into the Down South Café every morning at around the same time and ordered a sausage biscuit and a cup of coffee. I thought maybe he had a photographic memory. Even though Homer grew up poor and dropped out of school in tenth grade to go to work, he chose a new hero each day and could spout a variety of quotes attributed to the individual. Today’s hero was Victor Hugo.
“Hugo wrote, ‘There is only one thing stronger than all the armies of the world, and that is an idea whose time has come.’ I believe the idea of your hosting a farmers’ market here in Winter Garden has certainly come.”
I lowered my voice. “Between you and me, I’m glad I’m only doing this for five weeks. I didn’t anticipate it being this much extra work.”
“But look at the opportunities and fun you’re bringing to the town.”
Smiling, I patted his hand. “Thanks. I needed that encouragement.”
“Amy—phone!” Jackie called.
I took the call in the kitchen where I could put on my headset and work while I talked. I figured it was my mom calling to see how everything was going. “Hello.”
“Is this Amy Flowers?”
“It is.” I didn’t recognize the voice.
“My name is Gladys Pridemore. I live on the outskirts of Winter Garden on the Meadowview side. I don’t cook as much as I used to, and I wondered if you would bring me a few things.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Pridemore. We don’t deliver food to our patrons.”
“But I’ll pay you extra!”
“That’s not the issue,” I said, as gently as I could. “We simply don’t have the resources. We’re hosting a farmers’ market outside the café today, and it’s taking all our staff—and then some—to handle our workload today.”
“I don’t need the food right away. It’s for tomorrow. You could bring it to me after closing. And it’s just this once. I promise!”
I sighed. I wished Ms. Pridemore had made her request to Jackie. My dear cousin would have had no problem telling the woman, “Sorry, but that’s not how we do things.” I, on the other hand, could hear the desperation in Ms. Pridemore’s voice...and could imagine it being Aunt Bess who wanted the food...
“Don’t you have someone who could come in and pick it up for you?” I asked.
“No,” she wailed.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll do it...just this once! Give me your address and tell me what you’d like for me to bring.”
“I’d like some potato salad, deviled eggs, and ham biscuits. It’s for a casual party I’m having tomorrow.”
After talking with Ms. Pridemore, I got to work on my next order—an omelet with ham and Swiss.
Jackie opened the door to the kitchen. “Everything all right?”
I shrugged. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Ryan’s here.”
“Could you finish up this omelet for me?”
“No problem.” She tightened the band on the ponytail that held her copper hair up before coming on inside and taking over so I could go out and say hello.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
“Take your time. I’ll enjoy hiding for a minute or two.”
I was sure she would.
My heart raced a little when I saw Ryan sitting there at the counter. He was so gorgeous with his dark brown hair and milk-chocolate-colored eyes. It was his day off, so rather than being in uniform, he was wearing a black t-shirt.
He smiled at me, and my stomach somersaulted. In a good way.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi, yourself. How’s it going?”
“It’s a madhouse around here today.”
“Mom is thrilled with how many people have turned out. Have you been outside to talk with her?”
“No, the only vendor I’ve had time to talk with today has been Big Harry Ostermann, and that was because he had a splinter and needed a bandage. But I did look over at her table and saw that she had attracted a good crowd.”
“I appreciate your allowing Mom to participate. She loves doing her crafts and sharing them with other people.”
I remembered Ryan saying that his mom knitted, crocheted, and did some woodwork.
“I’d like to take you both to dinner tonight to celebrate,” Ryan continued. “My dad is out of town, and it would give you and Mom a chance to get to know each other.”
“That sounds great...it really does...but I promised to take an order out to the far end of town. It’s a one-time thing for an elderly woman...”
“We can wait for you. That’s no problem. I’ll go tell Mom.” He gave me a bright smile before sliding off the stool and heading for the door.
I looked over at Homer, who was sitting on the stool beside the one Ryan had vacated.
“Why don’t you want to go?” Homer asked quietly.
“Was it that obvious?”
“Probably just to me.”
“I’m afraid she won’t like me,” I said.
Homer answered with another Victor Hugo quote. “Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she has wings.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means everything will be all right.” He winked.
“Do you think Ryan knows how nervous I am to be around his mother?”
“More than likely. And I imagine he’s nervous around your mother.”
With perfect timing, Ryan sauntered back into Down South Café with one arm around Aunt Bess and the other around my mom. “Look who I found!”
“Oh, yeah,” I muttered to Homer. “He’s an absolute wreck.”
AT THE END OF THE DAY, I looked around at my weary staff. Anyone would’ve been able to tell we were bone tired. Even sixteen-year-old Oscar, who’d tackled his first day at work with gusto, was stifling a yawn.
“Everyone did a wonderful job today,” I said. “May I count on all of you to be back next Saturday?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Oscar said. “I had fun.”
“I’m glad. Could I ask one more thing of you before you go?”
He nodded.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Luis try to hide a grin. He knew what was coming—it was our usual Saturday routine.
“Would you help me divvy up the desserts in the display case?” I asked. “New employees get to choose first.”
Oscar’s brown eyes danced as he hurried over to the display counter and chose chocolate chip cookies and brownies.
“Anything else?” I asked.
He glanced at Luis for approval. I could see that Luis was shaking his head, so I cleared my throat.
“Just this once,” Luis said.
“May I please have two pieces of the caramel apple pie for my parents?”
“Sorry, you’re going to have to take the whole half pie.” I shrugged. “We don’t do slices at the end of the day on Saturday. Whatever’s left has to go.”
“Thank you, Ms. Flowers.”
“Please call me Amy.”
The boys said their goodbyes and left, Luis with his arm around his brother’s shoulders. I smiled at their retreating backs.
“They’re sweet, aren’t they?” Shelly asked.
“They sure are.” I turned to her. “Shelly, won’t you please take this banana pudding home with you?”
“Honey, if I did, I’d have it eaten by tomorrow morning, and I’d be sick as a dog. Besides, I’ve got my figure to watch. Grandma always did warn me about the middle-age spread.” She waved as she headed for the door.
“Donna?”
Donna was our part-time waitress. “I’d love to take a few slices of that chocolate cake to Bill and the kids.”
I boxed up what was left of the chocolate cake and handed it to Donna. “Anything else?”
She shook her head. “This is more than enough. Thanks, Amy.”
“Thanks for coming in today,” I said.
“Glad to help.”
I turned to Jackie. “It’s just you and me. What are you taking?”
She blew out a breath. “We can’t eat all that. The boys should’ve taken more. I think Oscar was too shy, and Luis was trying to set a good example.”
“Well, I’m taking food out to Ms. Pridemore, so I’ll include the banana pudding with her order free of charge. It’ll be a bonus.”
“What’s up with that? Since when did we start a delivery service?”
“We didn’t.” I shook my head. “I wish she’d have talked with you, and then I wouldn’t be driving out there.”
“You’re darn right you wouldn’t. How’d she rope you into doing it?”
I lifted and dropped my shoulders.
“Let me guess,” Jackie said. “Guilt trip?”
“Pretty much. I could just imagine it being Aunt Bess.”
“Wait a minute...Pridemore...” Jackie raised her eyes to the ceiling as she wracked her brain. “Pridemore...” She brought her eyes down to meet mine and then hurried out to the parking lot.
“What is it?” I hurried behind her.
“I was checking to see if the Ostermanns were still here. If so, they could’ve taken the food to Ms. Pridemore. They live in a mobile home on her property.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten about that. Their farm is actually her farm, isn’t it?”
Jackie nodded. “I heard they have some kind of lease-to-own deal, or that they get the farm after Ms. Pridemore dies or something. But, yeah, they could’ve taken the food.”
“Maybe she didn’t know about the farmers’ market...or didn’t realize it was in our parking lot. Still, how weird is that? The first time she ever calls us for food—and begs me to deliver it—her tenants are here.”
“Yeah, that sounds fishy to me. Want me to go with you?”
“No. I’m sure it’s all right. She’s probably just old and stubborn,” I said.
“Still, you’ve never met this woman before. And what if she has a big mean dog or something?”
“I told her I would call when I got there. If nothing else, maybe she can come out to meet me.”
“I still don’t like it,” Jackie said.
“Fine. You can come along.”