“What about Brad Huffman? He stopped by one day to see Marcus.” Sera wrote Brad’s name above Charlie’s on the paper under the heading SUSPECTS. “The gun shop owner reminded me that I read about Brad’s collection in one of the entertainment magazines. It stood out to me because most people living in California think guns are Satan’s sticks.”
“But he’s so handsome.” Lil frowned at Sera as she jotted down the famous actor’s name.
“He was here during the window of opportunity,” Maggie said.
Window of opportunity. Lil committed the phrase to memory.
“Yes, he was.”
Marcus knocked on the doorframe, but the adoring look he usually wore around Sera was nonexistent. “Sera, what’s going on here, and why are you discussing Brad? ”
“I thought you were out scouting more locations,” Sera said. “How long have you been standing there?”
“That cabin turned out to be a cheap gardening shed, and I’ve been here long enough to hear a few things I don’t like. You need to let the sheriff take care of those stolen guns.”
Sera capped the marker and let out a breath. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”
Marcus stepped into the room, his hands on his hips and elbows out, taking up more than his fair share of the space. “What? You ladies suddenly think you’re Charlie’s Angels or something?”
Lil rather liked picturing herself as Bri, the Kate Jackson angel. Smart and no-nonsense.
“Marcus, you don’t understand. These are Abby Ruth’s guns and we have to—”
“I think I do understand. But what I don’t understand is how you’d think Brad, an old friend of ours, would steal your new friend’s guns. Have you completely lost it?”
“No. We’re just following all leads, hon.”
“Do not embarrass me with my colleagues, Sera. I get it. You’re having a little fun, but stolen guns are serious and dangerous business. This is real life. Not television. You can’t honestly believe Brad would break into a horse trailer and scrounge around for guns. First of all, how would he have known they were there? And second, the man has plenty of resources. If he wanted a gun, he could damn well buy it for himself.”
Sera lifted a shoulder, but it was clear she wasn’t backing down and she wasn’t intimidated by her husband’s skepticism. “First, this is a small town and people talk, so Brad could’ve heard about Abby Ruth’s eccentric collection that way. A few of the guns were quite rare. And you know as well as I do that many of the Hollywood types aren’t particularly good about hearing the word no.”
He scowled at Sera. “You used to think everyone was good at the core. What’s happened to you? I’ve indulged your need to be back in Summer Shoals. Hell, I’m starting to see why you love the place. But now you’re turning your new life against our old one. From one day to the next, I’m not sure where we stand.”
“It’s not personal, Marcus. That’s the way this private investigation thing works. We have to explore every possibility even if it makes us uncomfortable or sad. We’ve brought down criminals who were members of this community. It doesn’t make us happy, but it does expose the truth.”
“I said I don’t know where we stand, but the reality is I’m afraid it’s worse than that. I don’t know who you are anymore.” He shook his head and left the room. Then the sound of the front door opening and closing filtered to the dining room.
“Oh, Sera—” Lil started.
But Sera held up her hand. “Can we table that little scene for now? I know Marcus is upset, but I will go talk with Brad. Let’s finish our brainstorming session for now and figure out what else we need to do.”
Unfortunately, Lil was fairly certain the next thing she needed to do was pay a visit to Angelina Broussard.
Chapter 14
Oh, Lordy had the poop hit the propeller when Abby Ruth returned from Jenny’s the evening before. She’d stomped around in those boots of hers, mumbling and grumbling, even pulling at her short hair.
Had Abby Ruth not already dropped the bomb about her cancer, Lil might’ve been inclined to chastise her for clomping around like that on the heart pine floors, but Abby Ruth had clearly been devastated, and seeing her like that was like meeting a stranger. At one point, her eyes had filled with tears. Those guns meant the world to that woman.
When Maggie tried to wrap her in a hug, Abby Ruth pulled away and blew her nose like a foghorn, claiming seasonal allergies. They’d let her get away with the fib.
But this morning, it was clearly time to investigate further. And although Lil was having a hard time believing Charlie could’ve had a darn thing to do with Abby Ruth’s stolen guns, she had to do something to cross him off their suspect list.
So she selected a nice pantsuit from her closet—one with elastic for the back of the waistband since she’d yet to lose all the weight she gained in prison camp—and applied her signature pink lipstick.
It didn’t do to go into a lion’s den without the proper precautions.
When she walked into the parlor, Maggie and Abby Ruth were watching television.
“Well, don’t you look nice,” Maggie said to Lil. “Where are you off to?”
“To talk to Angelina.”
Maggie’s lips went tight, and she shook her head and glared at Lil.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Maggie?”
Abby Ruth’s back went straight, and suspicion swarmed her face. “Are y’all talking code behind my back?”
Oh. Oh, no. Lil, would you like to allow any other cats to stroll out of the bag?
She felt like a big old dope because she’d been so focused on her visit to Angelina to clear Charlie’s name that she hadn’t thought about Abby Ruth sitting there.
“What?” Abby Ruth demanded. “What are you two up to?”
“You’re being paranoid,” Maggie said.
Maybe it was better to stick with the truth as much as possible, and it might soothe Abby Ruth to know they were doing something to get her guns back. “I’m going to talk to Angelina about the young man who rented your room. I don’t believe for a moment that he’s got anything to do with your missing guns, but I can see that it would be irresponsible not to—how would you phrase it?—pull that string of possibility.”
Abby Ruth muted the TV and looked at Lil, one of her eyebrows doing a move Lil had only seen when Sera folded herself into a yoga contortion. “Why wouldn’t you suspect him? Or did you rent my room to more than one person while I was gone?”
Lord, would this woman forgive Lil for running her own house the way she saw fit? “We very carefully packed up your belongings and stored them with thought.”
“You might’ve thought to lock my trailer,” she grumbled.
“You’re absolutely right. That was careless of us. Which is exactly the reason we’re trying to make this right by finding every last one of your guns.”
“You should’ve told me what happened the minute I drove up. Or texted me while I was gone.” Abby Ruth turned and gave Maggie the stink eye. Lil didn’t have a fancy phone, so she couldn’t be held responsible for that oversight.
“Do you really think you were in any shape to hear the news then?” Maggie asked gently.
Abby Ruth ignored her and looked Lil up and down. “You sure put on the dog for Angelina. That woman. I don’t trust her further than I can throw her with my left arm. And you know how well that damn thing is working right now.”
Lil picked up her purse and looped it over her arm. “Regardless of how any of us feel about her, I’m hopeful she’ll make this as painless as possible.”
“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. “This is important to all of us. Why are you the one talking to Angelina?”
“Because I’m the one who said yes when she asked for a favor, and that’s when this whole mess started.”
Abby Ruth pushed against the divan and rose to her feet. “I can promise that you’re not going to interrogate Angelina Broussard without me.”
A
s Abby Ruth stalked toward the front, Lil said to Maggie, “Maybe we shouldn’t tell Jenny about this.”
“You think?”
Lil hurried outside, her chest tight from having made such a misstep.
Of all the reasons she still mourned the fact that she’d been forced to sell Daddy’s Tucker 48 lookalike to Angelina, Abby Ruth’s jumbo-size truck was the biggest of them. She tried half a dozen times to climb into that Goliath without success. Finally, Abby Ruth came around and gave her a boost with her good arm. And not a gentle one. She put a palm under Lil’s fanny and shoved her up like she was a human shot put.
Now, they were headed down Main Street toward Angelina’s, with Abby Ruth driving like she was competing for pole position and Lil sitting in the passenger seat, her feet hanging off the edge like Lily Tomlin in those old rocking-chair skits. Something about being unable to touch the floor made an old woman feel silly and small.
She wrapped her hands around the seatbelt, trying to stay upright as Abby Ruth took the turn onto Angelina’s street.
“If we get to Angelina’s alive, I’d appreciate it if you would stand back and let me ask the questions,” Lil said.
“Would you let someone else do that if your children had been kidnapped?”
“It’s not like we’re talking about Jenny and Grayson here. Please try to keep this all in perspective.” Lil looked out the side window to disguise her eye roll. If she’d ever been fortunate enough to have children, she wouldn’t have named them Glock and Ruger. It was surprising Jenny wasn’t named Kimber after that fancy gun Abby Ruth loved so much. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that you and Angelina have a history of rubbing each other the wrong way. This isn’t about making a power play. It’s about getting information in a friendly way so we can get your belongings back with the least possible fuss.”
Abby Ruth didn’t do much more than grunt, but when she approached Angelina’s house, she pulled the steering wheel slightly to the right, just enough that the wheels on Lil’s side of the truck ended up over the curb and in the front yard. Lil sighed to herself.
If Angelina caught sight of Abby Ruth’s parking job, she’d have a fit, but the positive side was Lil wouldn’t have far to step down from the truck.
They rang the bell, and a few moments later the front door swung open to reveal Angelina, dressed in a pair of silvery jeans that looked as if they’d been sprayed on her legs in an auto body shop. Her blouse was a riot of abstract colors with sleeves so full she looked as if she might take flight at any second. “Hello?”
“Angelina,” Lil said, “we need a few minutes of your time.”
Angelina cast a quick look past Lil, toward the house next door that matched the blue-and-pink color of her own, except in reverse. “I still have guests at the B&B. I was about to run over and—”
“It won’t take a minute.” Lil stepped forward and put on her best society smile as she slid past Angelina and into the foyer.
When Angelina turned to protest, Abby Ruth stalked inside as well. Angelina’s face scrunched up like she’d eaten a big bowl of peeled kumquats, but she quickly waved an arm in welcome as if she’d been the one to invite them inside. “What can I help you with?”
Goodness, just like young people these days, always wanting to get right down to business. What happened to the days when a hostess asked if she could take your bag or if you’d like a cup of tea? Manners never went out of style, but they’d certainly been forgotten by many. Surely this investigation stuff would be much more pleasant over tea and cookies.
Maybe Lil needed to write a handbook: Lillian Summer Fairview’s Guide to Crime Investigation Etiquette.
“We have a few questions about that lowlife you brought over to Summer Haven,” Abby Ruth said.
“Excuse me?”
First copy of that handbook will go directly to Abby Ruth.
“What Abby Ruth means is we’d like to send a thank-you note to Mr. Millet. We wondered if you might have his address.”
Angelina’s eyelashes, thick with mascara, looked like moth wings as she blinked slowly. “You want his contact information?”
“Don’t you send all your customers a follow-up note?” Lil asked. “It seems like good business sense to me.”
“Are you insinuating that I don’t know how to run my own B&B?” She crossed her arms, making her colorful shirt’s arms flap like a bat heading out at sundown to find her dinner. “Or maybe you’re planning to try to give me a run for my money? I hate to tell you this, Lillian, but Summer Haven isn’t zoned for commercial use. If you have a mind to start accepting paying boarders—” she shot a scathing look in Abby Ruth’s direction, “—then you can think again. That would be illegal.”
“Then why were you so hot to foist ol’ Charlie off on them in the first place?” Abby Ruth shifted her weight and rested a fist on her cocked hip. “Didn’t have a problem with it when it suited you, I see. Maybe that was because you and Charlie have a little something-something going on the side.”
“Excuse me? My husband is the most successful doctor in Summer Shoals, why would I need—”
“Not that kind of something-something,” Abby Ruth snapped. “But how can we be sure you didn’t stash him at Summer Haven to do recon for you?”
Abby Ruth’s face was darned near the color of her flaming red boots, and sweat was forming at her temples. If she fell out right here on Angelina’s floor, Jenny would never forgive Lil. Take a breath, Abby Ruth. Jenny was right. Keeping Abby Ruth out of this stuff wouldn’t be easy, but it was necessary. She didn’t need this kind of stress on top of her health concerns.
Lil placed a hand on Abby Ruth’s shoulder, hoping to calm her.
Angelina swung her head around like she was part owl. “Why would I care what’s happening at that old place?”
Her dismissive tone hit Lil right in the pride. Still, she tried to keep the peace. “Abby Ruth, why don’t we—”
“Maybe because you wanted him to scope out any valuables,” Abby Ruth cut in.
Angelina slid a sideways look at Lil. “The way I hear it, there’s not much of value in that house anymore. So not only is what you’re insinuating ridiculous, it’s insulting. Having Charlie stay at Summer Haven was an emergency. A one-time thing.”
“Maybe she’s worried you’re better at this inn-keeping thing than she is and wanted Charlie to spy on your breakfast menu,” Abby Ruth said to Lil.
Angelina huffed. “That’s silly—”
“Angelina, I promise I have no intention of turning Summer Haven into some revolving door boarding house.” But if Lil took in the occasional business traveler, who would ever know? “If you’ll simply give me Charlie’s home address, phone number, and email, Abby Ruth and I will be on our way.” Lord, these two women were exhausting. The rate this was going, she’d need a senior citizen’s nap when she returned home, and it was only ten in the morning now. “In fact, I’ll be happy to sing your B&B’s praises in my note to him.”
Angelina sniffed. “I’ve worked too long and hard to put Broussard B&B on the map to let someone snatch it all away from me.”
Lil glanced at Angelina’s perfect gel nails. She’d bet a hundred dollars—money she didn’t have to spare—that Angelina had hired others to work long and hard for her. Good grief, her B&B only had half a dozen rooms, yet she had a full-time manager on staff. “I understand completely. You should be proud of what you’ve built here.”
Behind Angelina, Abby Ruth opened her mouth wide and poked her finger inside, mimicking making herself sick. When the other woman whirled around to reach for a pad of paper on the entryway table, Abby Ruth quickly dropped her arm and stood there as straight and innocent as a choir boy.
Angelina quickly jotted something on the paper. “Here’s all his pertinent information. Charlie Millet. 555 Duffer Mill Way in Minden, Louisiana. And he always calls so I don’t have his email address.”
“That’s fine. I think those electronic thank-you notes are tacky anyway.
I’ll send him a personalized notecard.”
Angelina handed over the page with Charlie’s details on it, and Lil folded it twice, sharply creasing the edges before slipping it into her handbag. “Thank you so much, dear. We’ll get out of your hair now.”
When they were outside on the sidewalk, Lil said to Abby Ruth, “See what you can catch with sugar instead of vinegar?”
“If I know Angelina—” Abby Ruth never slowed her purposeful stride toward the truck, “—then I’m pretty sure what you caught was a big ol’ pile of stinking hot bullcrap.”
Chapter 15
When they returned to Summer Haven, Abby Ruth stomped upstairs, and Lil huddled in the kitchen with Maggie and Sera to give them an update. “I got Charlie’s contact information from Angelina.”
“I’m surprised Abby Ruth didn’t call him from the truck.”
“No telling what she would have said to the poor man. I didn’t give her the chance.” She tapped her handbag. “The information is safe right here in my bag, but I do think it’s time to clear Charlie once and for all. I’m calling him right now so we can move forward finding the real culprit.”
She picked up the landline and dialed. Ring, ring, ring. Finally, the call clicked to connect. Unfortunately, all she got was a recording.
“Hello, Charlie. It was so lovely to have you at Summer Haven. After you left, I realized I’d love to have your mother’s Brunswick stew recipe, the one you were telling me about. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would appreciate a return call.” She recited the phone number then set the receiver back in its cradle.
“No one home?”
“I got voicemail, but the message was recorded by a woman who said her name was Robin Polaski,” Lil said.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Maggie said.
“It could be his girlfriend’s number,” Lil protested, then turned to Sera and held out the piece of paper. “Angelina didn’t have his email, but she gave me this address.”
Sera whipped out her tie-dyed cheaters and studied the page. “I can do a Google search on his name and the city.”
Under the Gun Page 13
