by Gayle Leeson
“Thank you, Ivy.”
“Just doing my job.”
SHERIFF BILLINGS CAME in during the lunch rush and took a seat on the patio. He sat at the table farthest from the door even though he was the only person dining outside at the time. Jackie told me all of this when she came into the kitchen to give me his order for a burger and fries.
“I’ll get started on his food,” she said. “He asked to speak with you.”
“All right.” I slipped off my plastic gloves and went out the back door, rather than walking through the dining room.
Sheriff Billings started when I came around the side of the patio.
“Good thing I’m not a criminal mastermind,” I said, with a laugh.
“It is. But then I knew that when I sat down here, or I wouldn’t have left my back open like I did.”
I nodded, and it dawned on me that most of the time the sheriff—and Ryan, for that matter—sat with his back to the wall.
He took a breath. “I’m sorry if I was the cause of any conflict between you and Deputy Hall.”
“You weren’t. In fact, you were both right—I shouldn’t have been...sleuthing.”
“I owe you an apology for that too. Had you not been sleuthing, we might not have an important clue in our investigation. Ivy has brought certain facts to my attention that makes me think Gladys Pridemore’s death might be more suspicious than we’d originally thought.”
“The phone call,” I said.
“And the potato allergy.” He held up an index finger. “That doesn’t mean I want you meddling in my investigation in any shape, form, or fashion. But I would like to speak with you and Jackie later today about the phone call you received from the person claiming to be Gladys Pridemore on Saturday.”
“I’ll be happy to tell you everything I can remember.”
“Not right now,” he said. “I don’t want to interfere with your work. I’ll come back near closing time.”
“The special of the day is turkey tetrazzini. I’ll save you some if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that, Amy. Yesterday I had pizza, and I paid for it with heartburn all night.”
As I walked around the patio toward the kitchen door, I noticed that Sheriff Billings had switched seats. He was now sitting with his back to the wall.
I’d no more than stepped back into the kitchen when Shelly popped her head through the kitchen window.
“HJ Ostermann is here to see you, Amy,” she said, clipping an order onto the window.
I blew out a breath and looked at Jackie.
“Go.” Jackie jerked her head toward the dining room. “I’ve got this.”
“I’ll hurry back as quickly as I can. Sheriff Billings said he’ll be back around closing time to talk with us about the phone call.” I went into the dining room and looked around.
HJ Ostermann raised a hand and waved me over. I was glad. I wasn’t as familiar with him as I was with his parents, and I wasn’t sure I could’ve picked him out of the crowd.
“Hi, Amy.” He gestured toward an attractive woman sitting to his right. “This is Fran.”
“Hello.”
“We wondered if we could put up a flyer here about the corn maze,” HJ said. “We didn’t do as well our first week as we’d hoped. Maybe it was because it was opening weekend and people wanted to get feedback before trying it out.”
“Maybe it was because people were put off by that old lady’s death,” Fran said.
Before I could respond to HJ’s request to put up a flyer, a man with long, wavy cinnamon- colored hair walked over to the table.
“Dudes!” he exclaimed.
“Scott!” HJ got up and hugged the man. “Have a seat, bro.”
Scott pulled out a chair, sat, and winked at me. “Got any lemonade?”
“Yes, we do.” I turned to go back to the kitchen. As far as I was concerned, Shelly could bring winky-Scott his lemonade, and I’d simply sidestep HJ’s request to put up a corn maze flyer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to help spread the word about the corn maze, but these three had put me off, especially Fran with her snarky comment about the old lady’s death. How disrespectful could she be?
“Amy, wait,” HJ said. “May I put up the flyer?”
“Leave it at the register, and I’ll tack it up before I leave today,” I said.
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
“Dude, wait—is this chick the manager or something?” Scott asked.
I raised my chin. “I own the Down South Café. Why?”
“I’m looking for work,” he said. “I’m an actor, so I’m totally good around people, you know? And I’ve waited tables before. I can do handyman work—”
“That’s right,” HJ interrupted. “You made my mom some shelves, didn’t you?”
“They’re not finished yet,” Scott said. “I’m still working on them.” He turned his attention back to Amy. “So, if you need any help, I’m your man.”
“We’re fully staffed right now, but I’ll keep you in mind,” I said.
“Awesome.” Scott gave me a wide grin.
I was happy to reclaim my place at the grill.
Jackie opened the door to the dining room and then stepped back into the kitchen. “Who’s the pretty boy with the long hair who seems to be having the time of his life?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dude, that’s like Scott, you know? And he’s awesome and looking for work, and if we need any help, he’s our man.” I gave her an exaggerated wink.
Jackie was laughing as she walked out into the dining room. I was smiling too.
TRUE TO HIS WORD, SHERIFF Billings returned at closing time. I’d already boxed up the remaining turkey tetrazzini for him, and he asked for a slice of chocolate cake to go with it.
Since Jackie had plans with Roger, Sheriff Billings talked with her first. He took her out onto the patio, while Luis and I refilled the napkin dispensers in the dining room.
Luis and I finished our job before the sheriff and Jackie finished their talk. I gave the young man some cookies to take home and told him to have a good evening.
While I waited, I absently wiped the counter down again and tried to remember anything unusual about Saturday’s call...other than the fact that a person with whom I’d never spoken had called and insisted that the Down South Café deliver food to her late that afternoon.
Jackie came through from the patio, grabbed her purse, and told me she’d talk with me later.
Sheriff Billings followed Jackie into the dining room, sat at the counter, and took out a notebook. “Tell me everything you can remember about the call that came in on Saturday.”
“Honestly, the only strange thing about it is that the caller begged us to deliver the food,” I said. “I explained to her—at least, I think it was a her, but, of course, I thought I was speaking with Gladys Pridemore so the voice might’ve been disguised... Anyway, I said we don’t deliver. We have carry-out orders, but we don’t have the resources to offer a delivery service.”
“What did the caller say to that?”
“She continued to be adamant that she needed the food and had no way of getting it if it wasn’t delivered. She offered to pay extra.”
“Is that when you capitulated?” Sheriff Billings asked.
“No. What made me give in was thinking about Aunt Bess. I wouldn’t want my great-aunt to be without the food she wanted, nor would I want her out on the road endangering herself and everyone else in the vicinity.”
“Do you recall any distinguishing characteristics of the voice itself?”
“No. We were busier than usual on Saturday due to the farmers’ market, and I was in a hurry to get the caller off the phone so I could get back to work.”
Sheriff Billings was writing in his notebook.
“That’s the other thing, though,” I said. “Gladys Pridemore’s tenants—the Ostermanns—were here at the farmers’ market. They could’ve taken her the food.”
He looked up from his notes
. “So, either the caller didn’t realize that, or they thought you wouldn’t realize that.”
“I didn’t. It was Jackie who pointed out that fact to me. We even tried to catch the Ostermanns so they could take the food, but they’d left already.”
“Interesting.” He closed the notebook and returned it to his shirt pocket. “I’ll let you know if I have additional questions, and I trust you’ll get in touch if you think of anything else?”
“Of course.”
“Go ahead and lock up. I’ll hang around until you leave.”
Sheriff Billings went along behind me, ensuring that the doors were properly secured. Then he walked me to my car. For some reason, his protectiveness sent a chill down my spine. Did the sheriff know something he wasn’t telling me?
{ }
Chapter Nine
I
was relaxing in front of the television when Mom called. I’d heard her car go out only a few minutes before, and I answered the phone absentmindedly. I figured she was going to the store and was calling to ask if I needed anything. I was, therefore, shocked by the panic I heard in her voice.
“Amy, I need your help.”
“What happened? Is it Aunt Bess?”
“Yes! She took off in my car!”
“She what?” Aunt Bess hadn’t driven in nearly a decade. To imagine her behind the wheel of Mom’s SUV was a terrifying thought. What on earth had possessed her to take off on her own—especially this close to dark?
“Come get me,” Mom was saying. “We’ve got to find her.”
“I’ll be right there.” I ended the call, turned off the TV, and slipped on my shoes. I grabbed my purse and keys on the way out the door.
As I sped up the driveway, I called Jackie. I knew she and Roger had planned to go to a concert but thinking—or knowing—Jackie needed her would certainly compel Aunt Bess to leave the house with no warning and without waiting for Mom to join her.
Jackie didn’t answer. Either she’d silenced her phone or...I didn’t want to think about the or.
Mom was standing on the porch. It was beginning to get dark, and she’d turned on the porch light. She sprinted to the car and got in.
“Have you tried to call Aunt Bess?” I asked.
“No. I don’t want her distracted while she’s driving. She’s dangerous enough without my adding a ringing phone to the mix.”
“You don’t think something has happened to Jackie, do you?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Your guess is as good as mine...as good as anyone’s, as far as whatever is in Aunt Bess’s head is concerned.”
“What were you doing when she left?”
“Don’t blame this on me.” She snapped her seatbelt closed.
“I’m not trying to lay blame, Mom. I’m trying to figure out what happened.” I supposed Mom was being so defensive with me because she blamed herself.
“Clark called me, and I went upstairs to check my calendar.” She sighed. “I thought it would be fine. Even before Aunt Bess stopped driving, she wouldn’t have taken my car without permission.”
“Well, the main thing now is to find her.” We were at the end of the driveway, and I looked at Mom. “Which way?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s start with Jackie’s apartment,” I said.
Jackie’s apartment was dark when we got there, and Mom’s car wasn’t in the parking lot. Mom went to knock on the door while I tried again to reach Jackie by phone. Still no answer.
Mom’s hands were trembling when she got back in the car. “If something had happened to Jackie, Roger would have called us.”
Unless, of course, something had happened to both of them. I didn’t give voice to that thought.
“What should we do next?” Mom asked me.
“I’m calling Ryan.”
I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when he called me.
“Ryan?” I heard the incredulity and fear in my voice.
“Hi.” He sounded calm...even like he was trying not to laugh. “Sheriff Billings wants to know why your Aunt Bess is at our crime scene.”
“Crime scene?” I echoed.
“Yeah. There’s been a small fire at the Pridemore house,” Ryan said. “Aunt Bess is here taking pictures for all she’s worth.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Mom and I are on our way.”
AUNT BESS WAS GETTING a selfie with a handsome fireman when Mom and I arrived. After taking the photo, he handed her back the phone and kissed her cheek.
“I’m gonna make you famous!” Aunt Bess called to him as he rejoined his crew.
He lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
Mom took Aunt Bess by the arm. “You nearly scared us to death. What were you thinking?”
Aunt Bess jerked her arm away. “I was thinking I could get some excellent shots for my Crime Scene board—and I have too. It’s gonna be lit. Wait and see.”
“You took my car without my permission.”
Mom was speaking through gritted teeth, and it seemed to me that Aunt Bess and I had somehow switched places like they do in one of those movies like Freaky Friday. I could recall Mom giving me this same lecture—and same murderous glare—not long before Nana had bought me my Bug. I tried to lighten the mood.
“Are you going to use that photo of you and the cute fireman?” I asked Aunt Bess.
She smiled. “Of course! I tried to get him to pick me up—you know, to make it appear he was saving me—but he was afraid he’d hurt me.” She scoffed. “I’m not some delicate flower.”
“I don’t appreciate the two of you changing the subject,” Mom said, hands anchored to her hips and nostrils flaring. “Aunt Bess, you took my car and left the house without my knowledge.”
“I told you where I was going,” Aunt Bess said. “If you were upstairs talking to your new lover boy and couldn’t hear me, that’s not my fault.”
“How did you know the Pridemore house was on fire?” I asked.
“Somebody heard it on the scanner and posted it on social media.” She scratched the side of her face. “I need me one of those scanners. I nearly didn’t get here in time to get any good shots of the house.”
Mom closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
I could see both sides here. Like Mom, I’d been terrified at the thought of Aunt Bess racing off...in an SUV...behind the wheel...for reasons we couldn’t fathom. But Aunt Bess was focused on her goal...and she loved her Pinterest boards...and she did claim to have told Mom...although I wouldn’t have put it past Aunt Bess to have whispered so she could say she technically told her.
“Oh, there’s Ivy,” Aunt Bess said. “I need to go get an action shot of her.”
Mom sighed. “I’m going home. Wrangle that woman out of here as quickly as you can. Or not. Whatever. I’m going to take a bath and have a glass of wine.”
I watched her stalk off to her car. I started when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“Sorry,” Ryan said. “Your mom looks furious.”
“She is. I don’t think it’ll be as easy for her to ground Aunt Bess as it was for her to punish me the one time I took her car without permission.”
He grinned. “I admire Aunt Bess’s spunk.”
“Something tells me your boss doesn’t find my great-aunt’s spunk all that admirable at the moment.”
“He does not. He’s ready for her to leave.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “What happened here anyway?”
“It’s too soon to say. The fire was contained, so hopefully, there’s not a lot of damage.”
Before I could go in search of Aunt Bess, Sheriff Billings brought her to me.
“Amy,” he said, “good timing.” He took Aunt Bess gently but firmly by the shoulders and propelled her forward. “Good evening, ladies. Hall, I need you with me.”
“I’ll call your office for a statement,” Aunt Bess said over her shoulder to Sheriff Billings. She shook her
head at me. “You had to go and get caught talking to your boyfriend and ruin the investigating for both of us, didn’t you?”
RYAN CALLED ME A COUPLE of hours later. He said he was doing paperwork.
“Has the fire died down?” I asked.
“It has at the Pridemore house. How about there?”
“Barely.” I laughed slightly. “The embers are still glowing, so we’re all being careful to avoid stoking any lingering flames. Mom and Aunt Bess have gone to their rooms for the evening, and I’m back home.”
“I think your fire was worse than the one at the Pridemore house,” he said, with a chuckle.
“Do you know what caused the Pridemore blaze?”
“No. Now that the flames have been completely extinguished, Ivy and the fire chief are looking for the point of origin.”
“Was the damage as minimal as you’d hoped?” I asked.
“I believe so. It was completely confined to the basement, and there didn’t appear to be any structural damage.”
“That’s a relief. It would be terrible for the Ostermanns to finally be able to reap the benefits of their rent-to-own agreement and then have the house burn down.” I wondered what had—or would—become of Gladys Pridemore’s belongings. “Are Mrs. Pridemore’s things still in the home, or has someone come to pick them up?”
“As far as I know, Ms. Pridemore’s possessions are still in the house pending the reading of the will.” Ryan’s tone had become somewhat guarded, as it always did when I asked about something pertaining to an active investigation.
Jackie’s number popped up on my screen.
“Ryan, Jackie’s calling, and I need to answer. May I call you back in a few minutes?”
“How about I call you back when I get this paperwork finished?” he asked.
“Sounds good. Thanks.” I switched calls. “Jackie, hi.”
“What’s going on? I just turned my phone back on to see that I’d missed two calls from you.”
