Rosemary and Crime

by Oust, Gail

  “Maybe I’m diabolically clever,” I offered.

  “Maybe you’re innocent,” he countered.

  “Almost done, Mom,” Lindsey called out, garden hose in one hand, dripping sponge in the other.

  I was grateful for the interruption. McBride’s assertion had left me momentarily speechless.

  “I just want to go over the tailgate one more time.” Lindsey turned her attention back to the truck. Casey, tired of play, snoozed in the grass alongside the drive.

  “Have at it,” I told her when I regained my voice. I decided right then and there to take a leap of faith. I turned to McBride. “Reba Mae and I have been conducting an investigation of our own and came up with a list of suspects. She suggested we lay our cards, so to speak, on the table since you’re more experienced in these matters.” He rolled his eyes, the gesture reminiscent of Lindsey’s, but I forged ahead undaunted. “Tony and Mario go way back. According to Tony’s wife, Gina, Mario weaseled out of a deal and left Tony in the lurch.”

  “Go on,” he prompted. “Who else is on your list?”

  “Mario owed money and refused to pay both Pete Barker at Meat on Main and Danny Boyd, who used to be Mario’s sous chef. Neither of them have alibis. Being new in town you might not be aware of Mario’s reputation as a ladies’ man. He’s had affairs with both Diane Cloune and her friend, Vicki Lamont. The killer could be a woman.”

  “Or a jealous husband.”

  “Exactly,” I said with satisfaction. “Reba Mae and I are on the job.” I briefly considered telling him about the diamond, but changed my mind. No telling if it was even connected to the murder at this point.

  He frowned at hearing this. “Didn’t I warn you just last night about interfering with police business? I meant what I said. It’s dangerous, and I want you to keep your nose out of it.”

  Wanting to head off another lecture, I deliberately changed the subject. “You’re somewhat of an enigma around town, McBride. Tell me a little about yourself.”

  “Not much to tell.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. You seem the strong, silent type.”

  “Is that how you see me?” The corners of his mouth quirked in a wry grin. “What is it you want to know?”

  I pondered the matter for all of half a second. “Well, for starters, are you married, single, or divorced?”

  “Widowed.”

  “Widowed…,” I echoed. That option hadn’t occurred to me.

  “Got married while I was in the army. My wife, Tracey, died in a car crash less than a year later after a night of heavy partying.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

  He stared into the near distance. “It was a long time ago. Shit happens.”

  Case closed. I could tell from his shuttered expression my interrogation was over. I sat quietly contemplating what he’d just told me. Judging from the fact he hadn’t remarried, my guess was that Tracey had been the love of his life. Her death undoubtedly hit him hard.

  “Truck’s spick-and-span,” Lindsey announced, coming out from behind the vehicle and depositing the cleaning equipment by the front steps. “Can we go now, Mom?”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, Lindsey?”

  She stared at me blankly before comprehension dawned. “Oh, yeah.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I apologize, Chief, for causing so much trouble. I promise I won’t do it again.”

  “Apology accepted, Lindsey,” he replied gravely.

  “Jump in the car, sweetie, and I’ll be right with you.”

  I slowly rose to my feet. McBride did likewise and walked with me toward the Beetle. “Have you given any more thought to your near miss the other night?” he asked.

  “Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “Like I told you last night, it all happened so fast I didn’t get a good look at the car or driver.”

  “Remember,” he said as I cranked the engine. “Something might still trigger a memory. When it does, call me.”

  CHAPTER 29

  CJ’S PLACE WAS trashed. At a glance, it could easily be mistaken for the town dump. Beer cans and half-empty liquor bottles littered the entire lower level. Crystal bowls and china saucers had been used in lieu of ashtrays. The house reeked of stale tobacco and spilled beer.

  “Open the window and let in some fresh air,” I instructed Lindsey. “Meanwhile, I’ll see if I can find some trash bags.” Call me a pushover if you will, but I felt sorry for my girl after seeing how much elbow grease was required to make this place fit for human habitation.

  We worked for over an hour and gradually CJ’s grandiose two-story began to resemble a home and not a frat house. I had just finished hauling the last of the debris out to the bins when CJ pulled into the garage. I was happy to see he was alone and not accompanied by Amber. What I had to say was for parents only. Not parents and homewrecker.

  “Hey, Scooter,” he hailed me as he climbed out of his Lexus. “What brings you here?”

  “I took mercy on our daughter and helped her with some chores.”

  He popped the trunk, removed a garment bag, and slung it over one shoulder. “I don’t make Lindsey do ‘chores.’ Chores are why I pay a housekeeper.”

  “How do you propose Lindsey learn responsibility if nothing is expected of her?”

  He brushed aside my concerns with a wave of his free hand. “She’s got plenty of time to be responsible. You need to lighten up, darlin.’ Let the girl have some fun.”

  I trailed after him into the kitchen where Lindsey was putting the last of the dirty glasses in the dishwasher. “Hey, baby.” CJ put a pudgy arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “How was prom?”

  Lindsey, her face pinched with worry, shot me a nervous glance. “Um, fine.”

  I cleared my throat to get CJ’s attention. “We need to talk.”

  “Uh-oh.” CJ winked at Lindsey. “Never a good sign, baby, when a woman says those words.”

  “Lindsey,” I said, turning to my daughter, “would you give me some time alone with your father?”

  She dried her hands on her jeans. “Er, sure. I’ve got some homework to do.”

  As she ran off, I wondered if homework translated meant calling or texting friends to compare notes. Cynical me. Shame, shame, shame.

  CJ flung the garment bag over the back of a chair and headed for the living room, where he lowered himself onto an imported Italian leather sectional the size of Milan. Late-afternoon sunlight streamed through windows that overlooked the golf course. “Okay, Scooter, what’s all the fuss about? Our newly appointed chief of police hasslin’ you? Threatenin’ to throw you in the pokey?”

  “No, of course not,” I snapped. “How can you even say such a thing?”

  CJ merely grinned, the caps on his teeth gleaming pearly white. “I can see it now. Think of the headlines.” He extended both arms, wrists cocked, thumbs angled at ninety degrees to form an invisible picture frame. “PROMINENT ATTORNEY DEFENDS EX-WIFE ON HOMICIDE CHARGE.”

  “I thought, citing out ‘history’ together, you refused to be my lawyer. That I needed a criminal lawyer.”

  “Let’s just say I reconsidered after thinking of all the free publicity your case would bring. I’m talking appearances on the Today show, interviews in People. Can’t put a price tag on that kind of exposure.”

  He wanted to see me lose my temper, but I refused to be drawn into his mean-spirited little game. “I’m here because I wanted to inform you that your house was turned into party central last night. The police had to be called.”

  “Damn…” He bit off a more colorful expletive. “Listen here, Piper, when I informed Lindsey that Amber and I had box seats for a Braves game and intended to spend the night in Atlanta, she said not to worry. She’d stay at a friend’s house.”

  “Which friend?”

  “Sorry.” CJ scratched his head and did his best to appear perplexed. “Don’t recall the girl’s name just now.”

  Too restless to sit s
till, I prowled the width of the room. “Seems as though Lindsey invited the whole gang here for the afterglow. You might want to check your liquor supply. Your inventory might be running low.”

  It amused me to watch CJ leap from the sofa, his indolent pose abandoned, and stride over to the bar. He rummaged through the liquor cabinet to check what was left of his stock, then let out a loud sigh of relief. He straightened, triumphantly brandishing a bottle of Wild Turkey. “Lucky for me, those kids missed the full bottle I hid at the back.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” I snapped. While I looked on, hands on hips, foot tapping impatiently, he poured a double bourbon into what must have been the only clean glass on the premises. He didn’t offer to pour one for me.

  “Lindsey doesn’t realize how fortunate she is that McBride didn’t arrest the lot of them for underage drinking along with a slew of other charges. Think how those headlines would look,” I added for good measure.

  CJ tipped his head back and took a deep swallow. “Sumbitch would like nothin’ better ’n to embarrass me.”

  “This isn’t about you, CJ,” I reminded him. “It’s about Lindsey.”

  He ran his fingers through dyed hair. “It’s not easy raising a daughter,” he said, slumping back down on the sofa.

  “Tell me about it.” I sank onto the opposite end of the huge sectional, only to be nearly swallowed whole in its cushy softness. “That’s not all I wanted to talk about,” I said, struggling to regain my balance—and a modicum of dignity. “Lindsey needs more supervision. Her grades are failing, not only in math but in language arts, which used to be her favorite subject.”

  He frowned into his bourbon. “So, what are you gettin’ at?”

  “School will soon be out for the year. I’d like you to insist that she spend more time at my place and less time at yours.”

  “Fine,” he agreed. “Much as it pains me, darlin’, I have to admit you’re right when it comes to our daughter. Between dealin’ with new clients and keepin’ up with Amber, doesn’t leave much time for supervisin’. Would hate to see her turn down the wrong path’ cause her daddy paid her no nevermind. Consider your request a done deal.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. His answer came much too quickly for my suspicious mind to accept. “A done deal…? Just like that?”

  He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

  The leather cushion wheezed as I shifted my weight to better see his expression. “You usually fight me tooth and nail whenever I broach the subject of Lindsey spending more time with me. What’s up? Why the change of heart?”

  He took another sip of bourbon, then gave me a sheepish grin. “I finally convinced Amber to move in with me. We could use some privacy. Havin’ a teenager hangin’ around sorta cramps my style … if you get my drift.”

  “Oh, I got your drift all right, but will Lindsey?” I pushed myself out of the sectional’s cloying embrace. “Our daughter’s not going to be happy being displaced in favor of Miss Peach Pit.”

  “Wh-what…?” CJ sputtered, his face flushed.

  “Did I say Miss Peach Pit?” I retrieved my purse from where I’d left it. “I meant to say fiancée. How quickly I forgot that teensy detail. I’ll let you explain the situation to Lindsey. And,” I added, “you might want to give our son a heads up on the current state of the union.”

  After saying good-bye to Lindsey, I returned to my car, knowing I’d erased the self-satisfied smirk from CJ’s face. Casey woke from his doggy nap on the front seat and greeted me with a series of excited yips. His small body fairly hummed with joy at my return. I rubbed his head, pleased at the unabashed response. As I drove away from CJ’s palatial home, I prayed my daughter’s fondness for the pup would help lessen the sting of her father’s defection in favor of a blond bimbo in a short skirt.

  * * *

  The following afternoon I was leafing through a food magazine when Melly entered Spice It Up!, accompanied by her friend Dottie Hemmings. “Hello, Piper,” Melly smiled. “Quilting club ended early so Dottie and I thought we’d stop by to say hello.”

  “Lottie Smith spilled sweet tea all over the bunny quilt she’s making for her niece’s new baby.” Dottie wagged her head sorrowfully, but her helmet of teased blond hair didn’t move one iota.

  “Poor dear was inconsolable,” Melly explained. “We voted to end our meeting early.”

  “Did you hear about Buzz Oliver?” Dottie asked eagerly. Before I could answer, she launched into a tale of woe. “Buzz had gall bladder surgery. In and out of the hospital the same day. Imagine! When I had mine removed years ago, I stayed in the hospital a whole week. Had one of those little tubes that drained awful yellow-green bile. My husband, the mayor, stayed by my side night and day.”

  “Poor Buzz,” I murmured. “How’s he doing?”

  “Oh, he’s doin’ fine. Becca Dapkins buzzes over him like a bee around honey.”

  Melly straightened a stack of mail I had yet to sort. “Becca’s probably got a guilty conscience from feeding the poor man a steady diet of casseroles featuring creamed soup.”

  Dottie nodded. “Maybelle Humphries heard the menu that set off Buzz’s attack was turkey à la king. But Becca swears it wasn’t the cream of mushroom soup. She’s blaming it on the chopped turkey she found in the freezer.”

  “Unfortunately,” Melly said, pursing her lips, “Becca doesn’t remember if the turkey was from last Thanksgiving … or the year before.”

  Dottie patted her hair. “Rumor’s flying around about a wild party after the prom. Don’t suppose by any chance Lindsey mentioned the details.”

  “Dottie Hemmings!” Melly looked shocked by the suggestion her precious granddaughter would be privy to such information. “Lindsey has far too much sense to be even remotely involved in such goings-on.”

  “Simmer down, Melly,” Dottie was quick to protest. “Don’t get all high-and-mighty on me. I was curious, is all.”

  Melly fingered her ever-present string of pearls. “Lindsey happens to be dating Jason Wainwright. From everything I’ve heard, Jason is an upstanding young man destined to follow in his father’s footsteps.”

  I bit my tongue at the “upstanding young man” comment. In my opinion, Jason was nothing more than a spoiled boy with a lot of growing up to do. But in all fairness, Lindsey had a lot of growing up to do as well. She hadn’t demonstrated much maturity of late.

  Dottie gave me a sly smile. “Jolene Tucker told Gerilee Barker that after Beau got back from helping the sheriff reroute traffic early Sunday morning, he spotted Chief McBride’s truck parked outside your shop. Anything cooking between the two of you?”

  Indignant, Melly turned to me. “Piper, tell Dottie that Beau was mistaken.”

  “Tsk, tsk,” Dottie scolded. “Shame on you, Melly. You didn’t always used to be such a stick-in-the-mud. I remember a time or two, you liked to kick up your heels. Besides,” she continued, “Wyatt McBride’s a right-handsome tall drink of water. If I was younger—and single…” She giggled.

  The idea of Melly Prescott kicking up her heels was giving me a headache. “Actually, ladies, Chief McBride was here,” I admitted, boldly deciding on a white lie—if there really is such a thing—rather than trash my daughter’s reputation in front of her grandmother. “The chief was kind enough to inform me personally that the security system at CJ’s home had been breached.”

  Melly’s blue-veined hand flew to her pearls. “Oh, dear. Was everything all right?”

  “A malfunction of some sort. The chief quickly managed to get the situation under control.” What I’d just told her hadn’t been a total lie. I failed to mention the security system in question wasn’t a fancy electronic method, but rather CJ’s next-door neighbor. “Since I was listed as a contact person,” I continued, “McBride thought I should be notified.”

  Melly frowned. “Where was CJ when all this was going on? He never breathed a word to me he was leaving town.”

  “Goodness gracious, Mel,” Dottie
chimed. “CJ’s a grown man. You can’t expect him to run everything by his mama for approval.”

  Dottie had a good point, I mused. Given a chance, Melly would have nipped his affair with Amber Leigh Ames in the bud. Wait till she discovered he planned to have Amber move in as a permanent houseguest. Sparks would fly. “I’m sure he meant to tell you, Melly,” I said, adopting a placating tone. “With all those new cases his billboards have brought in, it probably slipped his mind.”

  “Yes, dear, but I am his mother” she said. “CJ tells me everything.”

  “CJ had box seats for a Braves game. Rather than drive home late, he decided to stay overnight.”

  My explanation brought a smile to Melly’s lined face. “CJ’s been a Braves fan since he was a boy.”

  Not long afterward, Dottie made her excuses and left. The headache that had started small but was steadily worsening made me long for some fresh air. On impulse, I turned to Melly and asked, “Would you do me a favor and mind the shop while I run a couple errands. I promise, I won’t be gone long.”

  “No trouble at all, dear.” Melly beamed. “Take your time.”

  I grabbed my purse and was out of the shop in a wink. The sky had changed from sunny to silver with a hint of rain in the air. The gloom mirrored my present state of mind. Head down, I nearly collided with Ned Feeney, who emerged from Gray’s Hardware, with a can of paint in one hand and spackle in the other. A putty knife protruded from the pocket of his jeans.

  “Hey, Miz Piper.” He gave me his slightly lopsided grin.

  “Hey yourself, Ned,” I said, but kept walking. Ned was as big a gossip as Dottie, and I wasn’t up for more questions about wild parties or why McBride’s truck was parked outside my shop in the wee hours of the morning.

  I paused to examine a display of estate jewelry in the window of Yesteryear Antiques when Diane Cloune barreled out. She either didn’t see me standing there or chose to ignore me. Whichever, I thought her attitude off-putting for the wife of a man running for public office. You’d think she’d want to curry favor from one of his constituents. Diane apparently had more important things on her mind than being polite to little ol’ me. I watched her slide into a car, which was parked at the curb.