by Gayle Leeson
“Congratulations on all your hard work.” David raised his tea glass in a toast.
“Thank you.” I clinked my glass to his.
Ryan held up his glass and we also “clinked.” Michelle ignored us.
“I hope that waitress comes back soon,” she said. “I’m ready to order. I’m having the filet mignon with garlic butter and a loaded baked potato.”
“That sounds good,” Ryan said. “Amy, what’re you having?”
“I’m considering the Parmesan crusted chicken.”
“I think it’s wonderful that you’re so cautious about your diet,” Michelle said. “Someone in your line of work could gain a lot of weight in a hurry if she weren’t careful.”
“Fortunately for me, no one in my family has ever had a weight problem,” I said.
David sighed. “Michelle, would you please try to relax and enjoy the evening?”
Ryan and his dad shared a smile, but Michelle pouted throughout the meal.
FOR SOME REASON, I woke up with Sheriff Billings on my mind. I called Mom and asked her if she thought it would be all right to invite him for lunch.
“I know it’s traditionally just you, me, Aunt Bess, and Jackie, but I feel really sorry for him with his wife out of town taking care of her sister.”
“When is she supposed to be back?” Mom asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, it’s all right with me if you invite him, and I’m sure Aunt Bess would be thrilled.”
“I’ll see what Jackie thinks,” I said. “I do hate to break precedent.”
“Well, as much as I enjoy our special Sunday lunches, we can’t expect things to stay the same forever.”
“I know.” I blew out a breath. “I don’t even know if Sheriff Billings can or will come, but I’d like to invite him if it’s all right with Jackie.”
After clearing it with Jackie, I called the police station.
“Billings,” was the abrupt answer I received.
“Hi, Sheriff Billings. It’s Amy Flowers.”
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I didn’t see you yesterday and wondered if Molly’s back home yet.”
“Not yet. But I knew how busy the Down South Café would be with the farmers’ market going on, and I didn’t want to get in the way. I just ate my sandwiches and chips yesterday.”
“We were busier than we were last Saturday,” I admitted. “I even had to throw together a batch of brownies and bake some cookies so that Oscar, Luis, and Scott would have some goodies to take home.”
“Scott? Is he new?” the sheriff asked. “I remember Oscar from last week—he worked the cash register. Is Scott another of Luis’s brothers?”
“No. He’s a friend of HJ Ostermann.” I didn’t want to divulge the whole story of Scott’s identity and connection to Gladys Pridemore, so I changed the subject. “I’m calling to invite you to lunch at the big house. If you’re unable to leave your post, I’ll be glad to bring a plate to you at the station.”
“As long as I keep my phone and radio handy, there shouldn’t be a problem with my leaving here for an hour or so. I’d be honored to have lunch with you ladies. Before I forget, though, how was dinner with Ryan and his parents?”
I hesitated.
“That bad, huh?” the sheriff teased.
“No. Not really. You were right about the dynamics, though. Ryan’s father seemed to like me, and his mother definitely did not. She intimated that I needed to watch my weight, doesn’t seem to care for my career choice, and asked if it bothered me that Ryan and Ivy had dated.”
“She believes Ivy and Ryan were an item?” He hooted with laughter. “Ivy’s husband won’t be happy to hear about that.”
“Ivy is married?” I asked.
“Yes, but you didn’t hear that from me. Ivy Donaldson is the most private person I know, and she’d shoot me if she knew I divulged one of her secrets.”
“So...we’ll see you at the big house at noon?”
“I’ll be there!”
I DIDN’T REALIZE WHAT a monster I’d created until I got to the big house.
Mom met me at the door. “Hi, sweetheart. I didn’t want Sheriff Billings to feel out of place being the only male here, so I’ve invited Clark.”
“Oh...okay.” I went into the kitchen where Jackie was paring apples as if she had a serious grudge against them. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t look at me. “If I’d known we were going to completely break with tradition, I’d have invited Roger to join us today.”
“Then call him,” I urged. “And ask him to bring another dozen eggs while he’s at it.”
Aunt Bess had wandered into the kitchen and heard our conversation. She patted my shoulder. “No good deed goes unpunished. You’d better invite Ryan, or else he’ll wonder why he was left out.”
“You’re right,” I said.
“Of course, I am. I’m always right.” She laughed as she trailed back into the living room.
When I called and invited Ryan to lunch, he said, “I thought Sunday lunch was reserved for you, Jackie, your mom, and Aunt Bess.”
“Normally, it is. Today, we’re making exceptions.”
After talking with Ryan, I walked over and put my hand on Jackie’s arm. “I’m sorry I turned today into a fiasco.”
“You didn’t...not really.” Jackie smiled slightly. “We all knew our Sunday lunches would change one of these days.”
“But you hate change,” I said.
“True...but it’s inevitable.”
“Only for this week. Next week, everything will go back to normal.”
Jackie merely smiled and preheated the oven for the rolls.
{ }
Chapter Thirteen
A
unt Bess insisted on sitting between Sheriff Billings and Clark Bennett at the dining room table. Almost immediately, she tried to get the lowdown on Gladys Pridemore’s death.
“Do you believe Gladys was murdered, Sheriff?” she asked.
“Now, Bess, you know I can’t tell you anything about an ongoing investigation.”
“I’ll take that as confirmation of the killing.” Aunt Bess winked and nodded.
“Now, don’t put words in my mouth,” the sheriff said.
“Gladys Pridemore...I read her obituary in the newspaper,” Clark said. “Professional curiosity, you know—I always need to check to see if any of my patients have died.”
Mom laughed.
“But you’re new here in Winter Garden,” I said. “I hope your patients aren’t dying off already.”
“I hope so too.” Clark chuckled. “Again, checking the obits is a habit. I’ve done it every morning for years.”
“You’re probably fine as long as you don’t come across your own,” Roger said, as he scooped hash brown casserole onto his plate.
“That’s true.” Clark turned to Sheriff Billings. “What was Ms. Pridemore’s cause of death? The newspaper mentioned that she died after falling ill at her home, but what was the etiology?”
I saw Ryan and Sheriff Billings exchange glances.
“That’s the part that’s under investigation,” Sheriff Billings said. “We aren’t at liberty to discuss it.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Clark nodded. “It just piqued my interest—that’s all.”
“It makes me curious about the goings-on in Winter Garden myself,” Aunt Bess said. “And I think it’s a shame that people who are dining at my table won’t even talk with me about a murder that practically took place in my own backyard.”
“Don’t worry—you’re safe.” Sheriff Billings reached for a ham roll. “And we’ll talk about everything as soon as we’re able to do so.”
“What about the fire?” Aunt Bess asked. “Do you think it was set in order to destroy evidence? Because I do. I was there, you know.”
“I am aware of that, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way anymore.” He bit into the roll.
“Really?” Clark asked. “That’s fascinating. I’d like to see those photos after lunch if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind in the least.”
As Aunt Bess looked like the cat—the dangerous cat—who swallowed the canary, I studied Clark Bennett from across the table. I got the feeling he was avoiding my eyes, and I wondered why he was so eager to see Aunt Bess’s photographs. Was he nosy, patronizing, or downright guilty of something?
LATER THAT EVENING, Ryan and I were at my house watching a movie. While the movie was paused for drink and snack refills, I asked Ryan what he thought of Clark.
“I don’t really know him,” he said, returning the jug of sweet tea to the refrigerator. “I thought he seemed nice enough at lunch. What do you think of him?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about him. I get the impression he’s hiding something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re the detective. That’s why I want your take on the man.”
“I don’t have one. Do you truly believe Clark is hiding something, or would you simply rather the man date someone other than your mom?”
Pouring party mix into a smaller bowl, I said, “I don’t have a problem with Clark Bennett dating my mother.”
“Uh-huh.”
I rolled my eyes at the unbridled skepticism I heard in his voice. “Fine. I do have a problem with it, but I wouldn’t have any issues with the man whatsoever if I didn’t suspect he’s playing games with Mom.”
“What kind of games?” Ryan asked.
“Well, he’s still awfully friendly with Shelly.”
“Have you shared your concerns about Clark with your mom?”
“No. I don’t want to hurt her,” I said.
“You know what hurts? What hurts is having a member of your family be dismissive of someone you’re dating due to a silly misconception or misunderstanding.”
Though Ryan had spoken softly, the words struck me hard. I hadn’t considered how Ryan’s mother’s behavior had made him feel. I stepped over and hugged him. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t owe me an apology,” he said, as his arms came up and held me close.
“I’ll talk with Mom later.”
“Later is good.” Ryan kissed me.
AFTER RYAN LEFT THAT evening, Rory and I walked up to the big house. It was still light enough that I didn’t need a flashlight, but the frogs and crickets had come out to serenade us. Rory stopped to sniff at every fence post, marking his territory at various intervals.
When I neared the house, I saw a candle burning on the porch. I knew Mom must be outside because she always burned a citronella candle to keep the bugs away if she sat on the porch in the evening.
Rory ran on ahead and was standing on his hind legs with his front paws on Mom’s lap when I reached the porch. Mom was scratching the terrier’s head and telling him he was a good boy.
I took a seat on the white wooden rocker beside Mom’s chair.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Mom said. “I missed talking with you today...you know, just us.”
“I missed that too. And I’m sorry for the way I treated Clark. I didn’t give him a very warm welcome, and that was wrong of me.”
“You weren’t unkind.” Mom was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I like him.”
“I know. And that scares me because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Jenna laughed. “Welcome to my world! Can you imagine how I felt when you left for college?”
“Not really.”
She shook her head. “No. You can’t. Not until you have children of your own. But, sweetheart, getting hurt is a possibility in any situation and in any relationship. You simply have to trust me to use my best judgment, just like I trust you to use yours.”
“Speaking of best judgment, where’s Aunt Bess?” I asked.
“She said she was going up to bed, but it’s more likely she’s trying to figure out how to get Sheriff Billings to deputize her.”
I laughed. “Do you realize the fire crew is crazy about her?”
“Oh, yeah,” Mom said. “They adore her. I think she might even be an honorary member of the crew.”
“Just as long as they don’t put her behind the wheel of a firetruck.”
ON MONDAY MORNING, I got a call at the café before we’d even officially opened. The call was from a tour director who’d be passing through Winter Garden with a church group in approximately two hours and would like to stop for breakfast at the Down South Café.
Dilly, Walter, and Jackie came through the door just in time to hear me say, “Our staff will be delighted to accommodate your group.”
“What group?” Dilly asked.
Jackie groaned. “What’s this about being delighted?”
“There’s a church group coming through here from Roanoke,” I explained. “They’re going to be here in a couple of hours.”
“We should call Donna in,” Jackie said. “I’ll need to help you with the cooking, and Shelly will need all the help she can get.”
“True. I’ll make the call.” As I put on my headset to call Donna, I heard Dilly lamenting the fact that they were too hungry to wait for two hours until a church group showed up to eat.
“But I sure would like to know where they’re going,” she said.
“I’ll let you know,” Jackie promised.
I went into the kitchen and called Donna so I could start on my prep work while I talked. Donna told me she could work but that she could only be there during the time the church group would be there since she had a dental appointment at eleven. I told her that’d be fine and expressed my appreciation for her pitching in on such short notice.
As soon as I’d ended the call to Donna, I tore off a piece of bread from the end slice and put it between my lips before I began chopping onions so the onions wouldn’t make my eyes tear. This was how Jackie found me when she came to deliver the bad news that Shelly was sick and wouldn’t be in today.
“What?” The bread tumbled from my mouth onto the floor. “She has to work! What are we going to do?”
“Is Donna coming?”
“Yes, but only during the time the church group is here. She has a dental appointment.” I picked up my bread and tossed it out the back door. “Did Shelly sound like she was truly sick?”
“I don’t know.” Jackie put her hands on her hips. “Do you want me to go over there and examine the woman myself?”
“No. I can’t spare you.” I took off my gloves and retrieved my phone from my purse beneath the counter. I scrolled through the contacts until I found Scott. “I’ll call Scott and see if he can come in.”
“Is Scott that sweet young man who was waiting tables on Saturday?” Dilly asked.
“He is.” I called Scott and he agreed to come in as soon as he could get ready. I directed my attention back to Dilly and Walter. “Now that our crisis is averted, what would you like for breakfast?”
Dilly ordered French toast with a biscuit on the side for the raccoon, and Walter asked for pancakes with a side of oatmeal. Before I could head into the kitchen to get started, Dilly had more questions about Scott.
“How did you meet this fellow Scott?” she asked.
Since there were no other customers in the café at the time, I felt obliged to chat for a moment.
“He’s a friend of HJ Ostermann, and he works at the Ostermann’s corn maze.” I frowned slightly. “From what I can gather, he hangs around there a lot.”
“You talk like that’s a bad thing,” Walter said. “Why is that?”
“I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing. It’s just that when the Pridemore basement caught on fire, Aunt Bess went out there and took some photographs and someone look
ing like Scott was captured in a couple of shots.” I flipped my palms. “Don’t get me wrong—Scott admitted he was there, and he told me he believed Malcolm Pridemore set the fire.”
“But you don’t sound convinced that you can trust the young man,” Walter said, as he added sugar to the coffee Jackie had poured for him.
“Too bad Gladys isn’t still alive,” Dilly said. “She could’ve told you pert near anything you’d want to know about Scott, the Ostermanns, the mail carrier, the people visiting the corn maze.” She chuckled.
“Ms. Pridemore was inquisitive then?” Jackie asked.
“Inquisitive?” Dilly laughed even harder at that. “Gladys Pridemore was as nosy as a four-year-old boy at his big sister’s sleepover. Why, she even kept her husband’s binoculars by the dining room window to make certain she never missed a trick.”
“You think Gladys spied on the Ostermanns?” I asked.
“Honey, that woman spied on everybody...or, at least, everybody within binocular range.”
I didn’t know how Gladys Pridemore had been murdered, but Dilly might’ve provided one heck of a motive. Could Gladys have discovered someone’s secret—a secret someone would kill to keep?
BOTH DONNA AND SCOTT arrived at the café about half an hour before the church group arrived. I was relieved to see them, and I imagine Jackie was too. Just before the servers’ arrival, a photography class from a nearby college had stopped in for coffee and baked goods. One of the students said they were going on a hike and would be taking photos of some of the local flora and fauna.
As the church bus pulled in, Jackie muttered to me, “It’s unusual to be this busy on a Monday morning...and it’s not even nine o’clock yet.”
“What’s the most unusual is that Shelly called in sick for the first time I can remember—today of all days.” I shook my head and then greeted the group as they filed through the door.
When the dust settled and both the church group—who were on their way to West Jefferson, North Carolina to see the churches of the frescoes painted by the renowned artist Ben Long—and the students had gone to pursue their various adventures, Donna said, “Well, that was kinda fun.” She looked at the rest of us. “Wasn’t it?”
