by Teresa Trent
Even though Bunny Donaldson was a royal pain in the behind, I was beginning to feel sorry for her. She was right. No one in town ever wanted to talk to her. But then again, why should they when she constantly berated people for ruining the planet. She spread guilt around like fertilizer on an ailing garden. The death of her sister made her lonely life even more burdensome.
I rolled down the window as Leo started driving. Just because she could be belligerent and rude didn’t mean I had to be the same. “I don’t know if I said this to you before, Bunny, but I am so sorry for your loss. I don’t know what I would do without my family around me. They do mean the world to us, don’t they?”
A tear formed in Bunny’s eyes, and then it slipped down her pale skin. “That they do.” With that, Bunny walked away, holding the clay pot next to her heart.
Pulling myself back to the problem of Sarah, I leaned back and tapped Tyler on the knee. “Tyler, Mr. Butler wants to thank you personally for what you did.”
Tyler blushed. “It wasn’t anything. I was walking to Demarcus’s house, and there she was standing on the handrail of the bridge. She was wobbling like hell—”
“Tyler, language,” Leo said.
“Sorry. Anyway, I could tell something was wrong and just started talking to her. I was really scared I’d say the wrong thing, and she’d jump.”
“I know that had to have been scary for you,” Leo said. “But you must have said the right thing, after all. Oh, and one more thing. The fact that you saved Mrs. Butler’s life is wonderful, but you’re still in trouble for dumping the babysitting duty on Zach…again.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Coco can get into a whole lot of trouble if you don’t watch her. You should know—”
“That’s right,” Sarah said, still in a trance. “She gets into trouble. That’s why. That’s why she was on the bridge. I’m so sorry. So sorry. Didn’t mean…”
We were quiet for a moment as she drifted away. “What was that about?” Tyler asked.
I scratched the side of my head in thought. “I’m not sure, but I think it might have something to do with Poppy Donaldson.”
I focused on the bloodstains Sarah had on the bodice of her dress. They were still bright red in some spots but drying. “I might not be a crime expert, but stains I know. That’s blood.”
“I don’t know, but it’s all over her,” Tyler grimaced.
Vic met us in the driveway of his home. Leo and I jumped to help him with Sarah. She was still in a trance state but went along willingly with Vic. “Wait here, one minute. Will you?” he asked.
When he came back through the front door, he shut it quietly. “Thank you again. I can’t tell you what a favor you’ve done for me…for Sarah today.”
“Did you see the blood on her shirt?” Tyler asked.
“We need to call the police,” Leo said.
Vic’s shoulders stiffened. “No, we don’t. Nothing bad has happened here. Your son saved her life. Celebrate that and let this be the end to it all.”
Nothing bad happened? Was he being serious? His wife is walking around with blood on her dress and he was telling us it was a nothing to worry about. I was a little surprised at how quickly Vic was willing to let this go. It was as if he was trying to sweep it under the rug, making me think this was not the first time this had happened. Maybe he knew something about Poppy Donaldson’s death? It was just a theory, but I had to try.
“Is this what you did after Poppy went over the bridge, and you knew your wife was involved?” I asked.
Vic’s head jetted up. “Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you are implying that my wife had anything to do with Poppy Donaldson’s death, then you are way out of line.”
His last statement proved to me that this was a secret Vic had been keeping to protect his wife. He loved her so much, I was sure he would lie about a suspicious death for her.
“When we walked up,” I said, “Sarah was talking about how Poppy went over the bridge. She said she felt guilty about it and even said it was her fault. Could it be that Sarah was sleepwalking, and she and Poppy got into a physical altercation sending Poppy over the bridge to her death?”
Vic looked down, took in a breath, and then returned his gaze to mine. The coldness in his eyes surprised me.
“You’ll never prove it.”
“Are you saying she did it?” Tyler asked.
“Like I said, you can never prove it. Everyone knows that Poppy Donaldson’s death was an accident. Even your own grandfather has put that in his report. You’re young, but I think you can understand I love Sarah and will do anything to protect her.”
“Even if she’s responsible for somebody else’s death? You would cover that up?” Leo asked.
“I need to see to Sarah—”
Before Vic could get his next word out, the Pecan Bayou Community Church bell rang in the distance. Someone had found the golden pecan.
“Damn. I need to be there,” Vic swore.
“Is there somebody that you could call to watch Sarah?” I asked.
“Let me think,” Vic said.
“Or we could have Tyler stay with her. I think she trusts him,” I suggested. Leo gave me a questioning look. This was my way of extending trust to Tyler. He had been the one to find her. After what I had just seen on the bridge, I believed he could handle it.
“But what about the blood?” Vic twitched slightly, and he looked nervous. He was right. I had just offered to let my son babysit a potential killer. Whoever said stepmothers were evil?
“Vic, I know you’re not going to like this, but we’ll call my dad and have one of his deputies come over to be with Tyler,” I said.
“Are they going to arrest her?”
“No. They’re just going to make sure both of the people we love are okay. Is that fair?”
“I suppose that’s the best deal I can broker in this instance. I’ll be back just as fast as I can.” Vic eyed Tyler. “Keep her here.”
As Vic walked away, Tyler looked toward the house.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “You said you wanted us to trust you. Here’s your chance.”
We got to the church where a crowd assembled on the freshly-watered green lawn. It was midafternoon, and the summer heat was beating down mercilessly. There was a slight murmur among the crowd as they waited for the news of the winner.
Maggie and Ruby were standing near the back. “You made it,” Maggie said with excitement in her eyes. “Did you find it?”
“No, it wasn’t us, but we did find something, or should I say someone else. So, I’m guessing you don’t know who the winner is?”
“Nobody knows. We thought it was you,” Ruby said, fanning herself with her visor.
Heat and frustration had reduced the crowd of treasure hunters down to about half. I looked around, trying to take a mental roll call. If none of these people found the prize, then who did? As we waited for Rocky to emerge from the church with the winner, my father graced the steps. The crowd hushed as he turned to face us.
“Golden Pecan treasure hunters, there was a winner. But—”
“Who was it, Judd? It’s too hot to stand out here and wait for you to get to it,” someone shouted from the crowd.
My dad gave a brief smile. “I really hate to have to tell you this, but the winner was found dead just a little bit ago.” A gasp went up from the crowd. Once more, I surveyed the gathered group of treasure hunters. Who was missing?
My dad pulled out his small black notebook, flipped it open, and began to read aloud. “Earl Brown found his brother Bosco dead at 3:45 p.m. in the basement of Benny’s Barbecue, also the last clue location in the treasure hunt. Bosco Brown was holding the golden pecan when his brother Earl found him. Mr. Brown was the victim of a blunt force trauma. Now, normally, we would not give you this much information upfront but because emotions are running high with the treasure hunt, The Pecan Bayou Gazette and the chamber of commerce are calling off
this year’s event.”
What my father didn’t know was that Sarah Butler had been located, with fresh blood stains on her dress. I needed to get him alone right away.
Chapter 16
“What was the answer to the final clue?” Stan asked as he leaned against the red brick sign that read Pecan Bayou Community Church.
“That one was a real stretcher of our clue-finding abilities,” Josiah said. “What was cold and dank?”
“Oh.” My dad scratched the side of his head. “That would be the basement of Benny’s
Barbecue. Frankly, I think it was a little underhanded for Rocky to choose a location that most people have never been in. The only way you could’ve figured it out was if you had used the facilities and even if you did, the cellar door said Employees Only. There was a tiny yellow arrow next to the restrooms pointing to the cellar door. No clue box, just the arrow. It was no bigger than a pencil, but I guess hunting for a big prize like this needs to be tough. That’s all I have to say for now.”
I knew all about Benny’s basement. I had just helped Benny and Celia reorganize it. After getting strict instructions that we were not to go to the crime scene, most of the crowd milled over to Benny’s with a sudden desire for brisket. The restaurant was still in operating order, but the restroom area where the door to the cellar was had been taped off. A deputy was posted in front of the area.
“Why are we here?” Leo asked as we walked into the crowded restaurant and found what looked to be the last vacant table.
“To find out what happened. Look around you. The rest of the town is here. Why not join them?” The string of jingle bells attached to the door rang incessantly as more treasure hunters crowded into Benny’s restaurant.
“May we join you?” Maggie and Ruby now stood at our table.
Leo grimaced. “Why not? The more, the merrier. Besides, I don’t think there’s an empty table in the entire restaurant.”
Maggie squeezed in next to me and then leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Have they brought Bosco up yet?”
“I don’t think so. You know Art was out on a fishing trip today. He can’t be too happy that he was called back for two murders.”
Rocky came up to the table and made a scooting motion with his hands intending to share half my chair. “Word has it you helped Benny and Celia reorganize and redesign their cellar storage area. Unbelievably, your knack for straightening things might actually come in handy this time. Is there a possibility you could draw me the room? We could use the graphic in the paper.”
Good old Rocky. We were shocked by yet another grisly murder, but he was busy planning the layout of the next issue of the Pecan Bayou Gazette.
“I guess I could.” I grabbed a large white napkin and Rocky’s pen.
“Let’s see.” I quickly scribbled out the details and labeled each area. “There’s shelving on the right and then a turntable organizer in the middle. They have refrigerators on this wall and a freezer on that wall. Don’t forget, the cellar has two doors. One in the restaurant and one that faces the alley for deliveries.”
Rocky examined my drawing and pointed out a space between the organizer and the freezer. “That means whoever killed Bosco probably dropped him in this area.”
Ruby put her zebra-striped fingernails on Rocky’s arm. “Do we know who might have murdered him yet?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but the competition this year was pretty aggressive. Usually, this treasure hunt is fun. Goofy even. Whoever got to Bosco was violent. Benny’s wife Celia said there was blood everywhere,” Rocky said.
Maggie piped up. “You talked to Celia?”
“Well, I didn’t get to hear everything, but she was so upset that they called out Reverend Dansby to come talk to her. I guess she came down the stairs to pick up more pickles when she found Earl trying to call 911 over the dead body of his brother.”
“And still the million-dollar question is, do they know who killed him?” I asked.
“I haven’t heard a name yet,” Rocky said. “I hate to say it, but they always suspect family members first.”
Earl had carefully kept the information about his brother being a convict secret from the town for years. Maybe he was embarrassed by his brother’s prison record. I couldn’t imagine he would want to kill him, but Earl’s livelihood—really his whole existence—had been threatened by Bosco showing up on the scene. Earl had always been thought of as a trustworthy member of the town. Now it seemed we were lumping Earl in with his brother. That had to be a big concern for the local barista. There was a rumbling at the back of the restaurant as the cellar door opened. The crowd went silent. The paramedics rolled Bosco out completely encased in a black body bag.
“Why didn’t they use the alley door?” Leo whispered.
“Mayor Obermeyer’s truckload of water. It’s still blocking the alley,” Rocky said, reaching for his phone to snap a picture.
Behind the stretcher, Lieutenant Boyle came out with the object that had been the desire and focus of the residents of Pecan Bayou. The golden pecan. The sparkling gold glitter was now spattered by the dulling effects of dried darkening blood and encased in a clear evidence bag.
“I’ll be back,” I said.
“Where are you going?” Aunt Maggie said as I started in the direction of the bathrooms. “You know you can’t use the restroom until they take down the crime scene tape.”
“I know. I need to talk to Dad about something we saw.”
Leo nodded. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, I think I can handle it,” I answered as I reached for the crime scene tape in order to slip under it. One of my dad’s volunteer deputies had been posted at the door, and his big frame loomed within it.
“Now Betsy, I know you think you got special rights at all your daddy’s crime scenes, but I can’t let you go down there.”
“I know that, but I just need to say something to Dad. It won’t take a minute.” From the look in his eye, I could tell the man was thinking about it. “It has to do with the case. I might have some information that could help.”
“What kind of information?”
“I saw someone in town covered in blood,” I answered quickly.
He moved aside. “Don’t trip on the stairs.”
Even though the body was gone, there were still rivers of blood staining Benny’s nicely resurfaced floor. A shaft of light came into the cellar from the door that was open to the street. Looking macabre against the creeping red puddle, a giant yellow banner had been hung from the ceiling tiles congratulating the winner of the Golden Pecan Treasure Hunt. There was a lingering scent of vinegar in the room. Some of the shelving Benny, Celia, and I had carefully planned and placed was now on its side along with jars of pickles that had smashed on impact. The glass crunched under my feet, causing my father to look up from his notes.
Dad stood with his hand on his chin, turning at my footsteps. “Betsy, what are you doing here?”
I would like to say he looked happy to see me, but it was just the opposite. Annoyed might be a better word.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Dad. I know how busy you are, but I needed to tell you about something that happened just before we came to the diner. We found Sarah Butler.”
“Wonderful. That’s one thing off my mind. I think that’s the first good thing that’s happened today.”
Before he could celebrate his lightened workload, I added, “And she was covered in blood.”
“Where is she now?”
“Tyler’s sitting with her at her house.”
“Did she injure herself?” he asked, still not making the connection with Bosco’s murder.
“She didn’t seem to be hurt.”
“I see. Do me a favor and go ask Benny if Sarah had been in the restaurant earlier,” he said, sending me back up the rickety wooden stairs.
Benny was working in the kitchen, turning ribs and giving out orders to the wait staff when I found him.
“Plate
those and get them out to table five,” he said to his son, Jerome.
“Benny,” I said.
“I’m a little busy, Betsy.”
“I was wondering if you saw Sarah Butler in your dining room earlier.”
Benny, sweat on his brow, looked at me with frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve been too busy to notice who’s sitting out there. They order food. I cook food. That’s about all I’ve been doing. First, we’re the only place open in town, and now we have a crime scene that every gossip in three counties wants to get near. It’s crazy. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. Go back to the ribs.”
Sarah could have slipped in, but why would she choose to go to the cellar? Could she have been in a dream state and stumbled down there thinking Bosco was part of the nightmare? It was a stretch to be sure. I texted my father.
With the contest now officially over, many of the participants were heading home. If there would be a prize, it would surely go to Earl.
“Well? What did you see?” Rocky asked when I returned to the table.
“Pickles.”
Rocky started to write that down and then looked up. “Pickles?”
“Oh, and broken glass,” I added. “There wasn’t a lot to see. There was some blood, but that was about it.”
“Well,” Maggie said as she rose from the table. “I suppose that’s a blessing. This old girl’s tired. Let me get my son from your house. Time to make a fresh batch of sweet tea and put my feet up. Do you want to come over, Ruby?”
Ruby let out a sigh. “Nah. I think I want to be alone. I was sure we were going to win this year. Oh well, I suppose we can try again next year, but chances are the prize won’t be as good as a cruise.”
“I heard Lester Jibbets was thinking about donating something for next year,” Rocky said.
“The Port-a-Potty king? Oh Lord, just one more thing to get depressed about.” Ruby slung her bag over her shoulder.
“I’m heading home for a nap,” Leo said in my ear. “Care to join me?”
As enticing as the idea was of curling up with Leo in the air conditioning and letting the day recede away, I decided it was time for some nice hot coffee. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in just a bit.”
