Finger Lickin' Dead

by Riley Adams

  He rubbed his eyes with a big hand. “I don’t mind telling y’all about this, because I know it’s not going to go any farther than the doors of this solarium. But having him know about it—having Cawthorn act all oily, like he and I were sharing a secret—it drove me nuts. But—I didn’t kill him. Just like you didn’t kill him, Evelyn.”

  There was a slight questioning rise to the end of Big Jack’s sentence. “No, I surely didn’t,” she answered coolly.

  “I know one thing I’m going to have to tell the police. I have a good idea who might have done it. Actually, who tried to do it. But I just can’t imagine that he actually was successful. Let me explain what I mean.”

  Big Jack cleared his throat and said, “You know Oliver, my cousin?” Big Jack had at least fifty to seventy-five cousins. Some were closer than others. It was one of the things Lulu thought made him a successful local politician. Half the town voted for him because he was family. And Lulu had heard from some of them who were her restaurant regulars that he did his best to help them out in return, even if it meant giving them a few dollars to tide them over from time to time. She’d always thought he had a heart as big as the rest of him.

  “Well, now, he came up to my door this morning, and it must have been two A.M. Lisa was hanging back, peeking behind me, sure there was some kind of marauder out there or else that we were getting some bad news. But there was Cousin Oliver. Y’all know how he’s usually a tidy, straitlaced dresser, right? Lotsa button-downs and loafers. But he looked like something the cat coughed up, he looked so bad.

  “Lisa was half asleep, but she went into the kitchen and brewed up some strong coffee—that Columbian stuff we keep in the pantry. And she made some cheesy drop biscuits that took her just a few minutes, but they were good. And Lisa even cut up some fruit to go along with them. I felt like I was having breakfast.” Big Jack was fond of his food and was digressing a little from the key points of his story. Since he was talking to two foodies, though, they were willing to cut him some slack. In fact, Lulu made a mental note to ask Lisa about her cheesy drop biscuit recipe.

  “Then Lisa goes up to turn back in. She’s almost cross-eyed she’s so sleepy. But Oliver was still a jittery mess. After a little bit of talking, though, he started to settle down some.”

  Big Jack paused and took another healthy, restorative gulp of his brandy.

  “All the time, I’m really just wondering what Cousin Oliver is doing in my kitchen in the middle of the night. I was sorry about his restaurant closing, and I’d already done what I could to get him a spot at another restaurant—which he took. But then he’d quit it because he just couldn’t stand working for someone else instead of having his own place. Which I can kind of understand.

  “Finally he told me, ‘I killed him.’ And he was really broken up . . . shaking and crying and everything else. So I ditched the milk and poured us a strong one instead and brought in a whole box of Kleenex. I thought I might have to start crying, too, if he’d just gotten me involved in this mess even worse than I was in already. And I remembered that damned answering-machine message!”

  “So you did know Adam was dead, then,” said Lulu.

  “No—not really. I finally got Oliver to stop with the crying and he just hiccupped every now and then, which was a big improvement. He told me that his wife, Tudy, had let it slip that Adam was the infamous Eppie Currian from the paper. He’d seen red, he said. The anonymous reviewer wasn’t even a woman. And the guy had come into his restaurant plenty of times—he was practically a regular. He’d never had a single complaint about the food—except maybe that he wished the portion sizes were bigger because he wanted more. And all the time, he’d been the one who wrote the review that shut them down.

  “So he’d looked up Adam’s address online and decided to shadow him in his car and I guess have some kind of showdown with him. And, typical Adam, he heads over to Beale Street to grab something to eat. The guy loves his food, you know. So he parks in a parking deck nearby and Cousin Oliver goes right in the deck behind him.”

  Lulu leaned forward.

  “Oliver tails him into a restaurant and confronts him. He told me that he’d really gotten wound up and pretty emotional, so he’s half yelling, half crying and letting Adam have it in the restaurant lobby. But Adam just laughed at him and pushed him right out the door and went ahead with his lunch. Oliver paced around Beale Street for a while, deciding what to do. He’s in a state. He decides to wait for Adam to come out so he can confront him again. When Adam finally does finish his lunch and leave, Oliver follows him to the parking deck and up the stairs. Oliver yells at him again and Adam just is sick of it by now, I guess. Oliver catches up with him on the stairs while Adam is just verbally telling him what a loser he was and what a loser his restaurant was. He’s waving his arms around and steps off balance for a minute. While he’s wobbling, Oliver pushes him down the stairs.”

  Lulu winced. “Those concrete parking deck stairs.”

  Big Jack nodded. “That’s right. So Oliver takes off in a panic and spends the rest of the day hiding out. Makes some kind of excuse to Tudy so she doesn’t think he’s missing. Then he comes by my place.”

  Big Jack stopped for a moment and took a sip of his drink. He seemed to be relaxing with the sound of the fountain behind them.

  “But he wasn’t dead,” said Lulu. “He wasn’t found there in that parking garage.”

  “That’s right,” said Big Jack, pointing a thick finger at Lulu. “In fact, I saw Adam later yesterday afternoon while we were both stopped at a stoplight near Beale. I just looked at the person in the car next to me and, sure enough, it was him. And he looked like he’d been in a fight—he had a bloody nose, and what looked like scratches and lumps coming up on him. Of course, you can also get those injuries falling down a concrete staircase.”

  Evelyn sat back on the floral sofa. “Well, shoot. I never thought meek and mild Oliver Hatley would have it in him to push somebody down a staircase.”

  “He must have been so relieved,” said Lulu. “I mean, when you told him that you’d seen Adam in the car and he was only banged up and not dead. He must have thought he’d killed him.”

  Big Jack nodded. “He did think he’d murdered him. And relieved is right . . . he started crying again. Which I sure didn’t need. All I wanted was to go back to bed and finally get some shut-eye. This is the first I’ve heard that Adam is dead. That’s bad news for Oliver and me both.”

  “Mercy!” said Lulu. She mulled it all over for a moment. “On Beale Street at lunchtime there must have been a dozen witnesses to that argument.”

  “Oh, easy,” said Big Jack with a nod of his head.

  “And that answering machine message means that they’ll want to talk to you, too.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be a nice little chat,” said Big Jack, trying to look unconcerned. But he looked glum when he noticed his glass was empty. “Oh, and Oliver was babbling about a blog, too. I guess he must have said something about Adam online. Anyway, the cops will likely make a beeline for the both of us.” He lifted his head and looked at Evelyn. “And you, too, I guess. If you’ve been in his condo and messing around with his answering machine.”

  Evelyn looked at him coolly. “I’m surprised they haven’t come by to see me already.”

  Chapter 8

  Back at Aunt Pat’s, Lulu felt like she’d landed back on earth from a foreign planet. Just seeing the cheery red and white checkered tablecloths and the paper towel rolls on the tables was a relief after all the expensive linens at the country club. Between a spa day and drinks at the country club, it had been a most overstimulating day.

  Sara took a break from waiting tables and joined Lulu out on the porch. “Lulu, Derrick should be back from school any minute now. I was wondering—do you think something’s been bugging him lately?”

  Lulu said, “Honey, I’ve been thinking the same thing. In fact, it’s funny you mentioned it to me today because I’ve planned on talking with hi
m this afternoon. He does ordinarily have a pretty serious look on his face, but I believe his expression has hopped over to the grim side lately. Do you think he’s having problems at school?”

  Sara’s brows drew together in an anxious frown. “I have the hardest time telling! I guess I just don’t have good teenage-emotion radar yet, since the girls are just nine. And then I’ve been so busy between the restaurant and the twins and my art that I haven’t really spent enough alone time with him to even ask him about it.”

  Lulu said, “My problem has been that the boy is wired up. Every single time I want to have a conversation with him, he’s got those earbuds plugging his ears up and he’s texting something on his phone. And I just know he’s blasting rock music so loud that he’d never be able to hear me. But this time I have a plan, Sara. I’ve reached back in my memory to the days when I had a teenage son myself. I remembered what made me the Great Communicator.”

  Sara said, “Fill me in on your secret, Lulu! I’m feeling desperate.”

  “Food,” said Lulu with self-satisfaction. “That’s the way to get through to a teenage boy. You have the fried stuff—the fried green tomatoes, the shoestring French fries, and the fried okra. Then you have the sweet stuff—the peach cobbler topped with ice cream, the chocolate floats, and the cookies. By this time, they’re just spilling all their secrets, they’re so desperate to make sure the food supply doesn’t get cut off.”

  “Brilliant!” said Sara. “That’s the best plan ever. Because, boy, that child can put away some food.”

  “And the second part of my plan is to pull those wires out of his ears. There’s no way he can listen to my pearls of wisdom if he’s got rock music cranked up to full blast. I’m calling this the Super Grandma approach. Or maybe Rambo Grandma.”

  “What’s on Rambo Grandma’s menu today?”

  “I started baking over an hour ago and I have some hot gingersnaps, peanut butter cookies, and a sweet and salty trail mix. I’m thinking I’m going to get somewhere with that. And you know that Peggy Sue is setting her granddaughter up with Derrick for a date.”

  Sara rolled her green eyes. “Lulu, I just don’t know if Derrick is date-ready. He’s been so withdrawn lately. What kind of a date would he be?”

  “He’ll be a great date. We—well, we just have to work on him a little bit. Get him to smile a little more. Or smile at all.”

  Lulu sat on the Aunt Pat’s porch, rocking with great determination in her rocking chair until the wooden floorboards creaked underneath her.

  Sure enough, Derrick slouched through the door right after school let out. He was wired up with his iPod and gave her a nod and wave of the hand as he headed back to the office to do his computer work for the restaurant. Then he stopped, drew in a deep breath, and unplugged from his music. He grinned at Lulu. “How’d you know I needed some cookies, today, Granny Lulu?” Lulu smiled at the glimpse of the old Derrick. She’d take any bit of the non-sullen version that he sent her way.

  “Oh, we grandmas just know these things, Derrick,” she said, now rocking gently in the chair and giving him a sweet smile. The last thing she wanted to do was to scare the boy off.

  He plopped down next to her and happily took a handful of cookies, plunking them down on a small plate. He took a big bite of his first cookie and his eyes rolled back a little. “Umm!”

  Lulu took a deep breath and decided to plunge right in. She knew Derrick was only going to stay put for a few minutes anyway. “Honey, how are things going at school for you lately? You’ve seemed pretty withdrawn—I was just a little worried about you. You know how we grandmas can be,” she said with a laugh.

  Derrick’s dark eyes looked warily at her over his milk glass. “What do you mean? Like I’ve been quiet?”

  “Don’t you think you’ve been quiet?”

  He shrugged and shifted as if he were going to stand up and retreat with his cookies, but then he hesitated. “I dunno. I guess so. It’s just that after I got rid of my old friends, it’s been hard on me. I don’t have anybody to hang with at school. So I’m quiet there and I guess it lasts over to the rest of my day, too.”

  Derrick’s old friends had been the first crowd of kids he hung out with when he moved to Memphis. They were a big reason behind the fact that he’d been in and out of trouble with the law for misdemeanors before cleaning his act up a few months ago. And one of Lulu’s happiest moments was when he’d taken to calling her “Granny Lulu” instead of “Lulu.”

  Lulu nodded. “I know that’s tough, Derrick. But you know you’ve done the right thing—those guys weren’t good enough to be your friends. You’ve got so much more promise than they do.”

  Derrick snorted, but his face brightened with the praise.

  Lulu took a deep breath and seized the moment. “By the way, honey? I don’t know if you’re dating anybody right now or not”—Derrick’s face went from partly sunny to instantly cloudy again—“but you know my friend Peggy Sue? She’s got a granddaughter. . . . Well, I guess technically it’s her step-granddaughter. But anyway, she was just dying to have you and this step-granddaughter of hers go out on a date.”

  Derrick opened his mouth up really quickly and Lulu reached across and handed him another cookie to sustain him through the conversation. “Here, honey. Now, I know this is incredibly inconvenient, and I’m so sorry about that. But this little girl apparently just moved to Memphis and Peggy Sue is trying to introduce her around. She doesn’t seem to go to your high school.”

  “Granny Lulu, I just—” He stopped. “I just don’t want to ask anybody out right now.” He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “The whole thing with school, not having any friends? It’s—rotten. I couldn’t call somebody I don’t even know up right now and ask her out.”

  Lulu could tell that the words were hard for him to say. But this was a boy whose mother had chosen to leave him for some man she was having a fling with. Was it any wonder he was having insecurity issues?

  “Well—guess what?” Lulu said in a falsely peppy voice. “Peggy Sue’s got it all set up. Yes, she’s really quite the organizer. Her granddaughter, Peaches, is going to call you soon and set up dinner and a movie. I think she’s one of those really modern girls. She might not even let you pay!” Lulu gave a forced laugh and Derrick groaned.

  “I’m so sorry about this, sweetie. Tell you what—I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. But if you could go out with her just this one time, it would mean such a lot to me. Peggy Sue is a dear old friend of mine. And maybe? Well, maybe this Peaches is cute. After all, Peggy Sue is cute! Or she was, back in the day.”

  “But you said that Peaches was her step-granddaughter.”

  “So I did,” said Lulu slowly. “Well, hon, maybe we can just hope for the best.”

  Derrick shrugged a thin shoulder, although Lulu could tell he wasn’t as unconcerned as he looked. “It’s just one date, right? If it doesn’t work out, then that’ll be it.” Derrick took a few big gulps of his drink, then hesitated. “There was one other thing I did want to mention to you, Granny Lulu. While we’re having this talk.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s probably nothing. But after what happened with Ella Beth, I thought I’d better bring it up. That guy who was murdered? I was working on the Aunt Pat’s blog and Aunt Sara and I figured it would be good for me to see other local restaurant blogs and find out what kinds of things they were doing. And I came across that guy Oliver. You know—the one who had that restaurant that closed down? I know he comes in here a lot, and his wife does. He said all kinds of things on his blog and Twitter page about the dead guy . . . Adam. He acted like he was really steamed. I thought you might want to know.”

  Another Oliver story, thought Lulu. She was going to have to check out what was going on. “There wasn’t anything really crazy on there, was there? Like him admitting he’d murdered Adam or anything?”

  “No, there wasn’t anything like that in there. But it was like he wanted to
ruin Adam’s job, you know? Because if all the restaurants knew who he was, it would make it harder for him to review them. Who knows if the paper would even want him? And Oliver had Adam’s picture on there and everything. He was really slamming him like he wanted to make it hurt.”

  Lulu sighed. “I sure appreciate your letting me know, Derrick. I guess the police will end up finding out soon enough and go to talk to him. I guess we have to presume he’s innocent, right? But still watch ourselves. There’s definitely someone dangerous out there. I just hope it’s not Oliver.”

  Derrick headed back to the office to start on the computer work again, leaving Lulu looking blankly out at Beale as she tried collecting her thoughts. Sara, taking a break from cleaning up the dining room, joined her. “How did it go?”

  “It went all right. He caught sight of the food and he sat right down. I think he’s doing okay,” said Lulu slowly, pursing her lips. “But he’s still fighting with that insecurity of his. Who knows—maybe this date will be a good thing for him. But he was worried about that, and worried about Oliver Hatley. When he was looking at other Memphis-area websites to help design ours, he came across all this angry talk from Oliver about Adam Cawthorn and how he’d ruined his life. Derrick was just letting me know.”

  Sara rolled her green eyes. “Of course Oliver was furious with Adam/Eppie/whoever. We were furious with him for the bad review and he didn’t even shut Aunt Pat’s down. But I don’t see Oliver as the murderer.”

  Lulu raised her eyebrows. “Who do you think did it?” “Ginger Cawthorn, of course. And I bet the cops do, too. The spouse is always the top suspect in all those police shows.”

  “But Ginger and Adam weren’t married anymore.”

  Sara shook her head until red spirals of hair tumbled around her face. “They were still married, remember? But they’d been separated for a while when Evelyn started seeing Adam again.”