by Riley Adams
Lulu swallowed hard. “But Ginger was shot inside the parking garage. Not outside. And why the hell didn’t you phone the police, Big Jack? You could’ve stopped her before anything even happened.”
He lifted up his big, pawlike hands. “Now hold on a minute, Lulu. I didn’t do anything wrong here. I’m just telling you what I saw. Anyway, I saw her put the gun back in her purse. So I thought that maybe I just misinterpreted what I saw. Maybe they were just having this really animated discussion and Evelyn was showing Ginger her new gun.”
He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe they were acting out a possible scenario for when Adam was murdered, since Ginger was trying to avenge his death. Believe me, I don’t want Evelyn to end up being the murderer—and I had no intention of calling the police when I saw her with a gun. The woman practically made me and my political career. She’s one of my biggest donors. Of course I didn’t want to call the cops.”
Lulu looked over at the sleeping Evelyn. “I just don’t believe she had anything to do with it.”
“I don’t, either. I don’t,” he said quickly, in a firm voice. “But I felt like I needed to tell somebody about it. And there’s more.”
Lulu’s heart sank.
“She hasn’t been acting like herself since these murders, Lulu. Admit it, you’ve noticed it, too! She’s smoking like a house afire—have you ever seen her smoke before?”
Lulu hadn’t.
“Her drinking has gotten a lot heavier, too. This makes me think there’s something giving her a whole lot of stress and she’s dealing with it by developing some bad habits.”
Lulu said eagerly, “But it has been stressful—the whole thing, Big Jack! She was in love with Adam. She even thought they might get married again. She was absolutely crushed when she saw him cheating on her. And furious that he was cheating on her with her own money funding his dates. Then Adam died and Evelyn had to deal with guilt feelings about being furious with him and having him die. Then she became a suspect in Adam’s murder—if that’s not stressful, I don’t know what is.”
Big Jack didn’t look convinced. Lulu continued, “She became friends with Ginger, but that whole friendship was stressful, too. Ginger had a different opinion of Adam from Evelyn—she wanted to avenge Adam’s death and Evelyn was looking to heal from their horrible breakup.”
Big Jack said, “But Ginger really didn’t want to avenge Adam’s death.”
“But Evelyn didn’t know that. So the whole situation was very strange for her. And then Ginger dies a violent death on top of everything else going on. So then she’d lost a friend, too.”
Big Jack rubbed his forehead slowly. “I’d like to believe those are the only reasons she’s acting so different. Between her smoking and drinking, she’s definitely upset about something. I hope you’re right that it’s just regular stress and not that she’s murdered Adam or Ginger—or both of them. I don’t need to lose my biggest donor—and she’s a personal friend, too.”
Lulu said quietly, “I hope I’m right, too.”
Chapter 15
Tommie was up early the next morning, banging around in the kitchen and efficiently pulling together a hearty breakfast.
Lulu, used to many years of early rising for Aunt Pat’s, got right up. Evelyn had cleverly designed the house so her bedroom was farthest from the noises of the kitchen, thus enabling her favorite activity—sleeping in.
Like Evelyn’s Memphis kitchen, the lake-house edition was the kind of kitchen you could get lost in. It was completely covered with the finest granite and handcrafted wooden cabinets. But what really amazed Lulu were both the huge amount of kitchen equipment—from serious knife sets to steamers and processors—and the fact that everything had a place inside a cabinet. Lulu had some great kitchen tools at her small kitchen at home, but half of them lived on her countertop.
Tommie smiled at her, nodding her head at Lulu as she whisked eggs over a large china bowl. “I kind of thought you might be the first one up, Miss Lulu. Miss Evelyn isn’t one for getting up early unless she’s not feeling well and needs a coffee and a water for her headache.”
Lulu laughed. “I gathered that about her. But you know, she might be feeling a little bit under the weather this morning, so I wouldn’t be too surprised to see her in the kitchen.”
Tommie stopped whisking. “Don’t tell me. Too much drinking? Was she in bad shape?”
Lulu shook her head. “Not so bad. But enough to make her sleepy. She fell asleep on Big Jack’s boat last night. I drove the car back to the house, actually. But after all the food we ate last night, I think everybody was sleepy.”
Tommie set her lips together in a thin line and whacked the whisk against the side of the bowl.
Lulu decided it might be a good idea to change the subject. “The food last night was delicious, Tommie. I live most of my life at a restaurant, but this was totally different. The presentation on the plates was gorgeous. And the food absolutely melted in your mouth. The peach sauce was to die for. And they had haricots verts.” Lulu looked innocently at Tommie, knowing she was going to pooh-pooh the last food.
She wasn’t disappointed. Tommie snorted. “Haricots verts, my big toe! We’re here in America and here in America they’re green beans. Or string beans. Or snap beans. Fancying them all up to be haricots.”
“Well, whatever they were, they sure were good. They were a little bit thinner than the snap beans I grow in my garden. And they didn’t look anything at all like the way I usually fix them. . . . You know, I let them sit in a soup pot all day with a ham hock and put some brown sugar in there with them to stew for a while.”
Tommie nodded. “Of course you do. That’s how snap beans are supposed to be fixed.”
“Well, they fixed them a little different. They’d cut up some summer tomatoes in there and some green onion. I thought I tasted some lemon, too. I’m going to have to fix them that way myself, the next time I cook them.” Tommie looked unconvinced. “It’s all New South cooking, Tommie.”
Tommie sniffed. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know what was wrong with Old South cooking. Don’t you go and get too elegant for us, Miss Lulu. We need as many down-home cooks as we can get right now. And country food satisfies me a lot longer than some of that classy cooking. The main thing I have a problem with at those fancy restaurants is the way they think that if it’s pretty enough, it doesn’t even matter how much they put on the plate. Like it’s art or something. It’s nice if it’s pretty. I understand where they’re coming from with that. But it doesn’t mean I want just a tiny dab of it. I don’t like seeing any white spaces on my plates. If I’m serving somebody a special meal, I want them to have enough food to be able to taste it. And they can have as much as they like, too. If they want seconds? Well, then, that’s just a compliment to the cook as far as I’m concerned.”
Lulu hid a smile. Tommie definitely subscribed to the “more is better” philosophy of food. Lulu didn’t think she’d ever gotten a plate from Tommie’s capable hands that wasn’t positively groaning with delicious food. “What treat are you delighting my taste buds with this morning, Tommie?”
“Honey, I’ve got you something that’s going to start your day off with a bang. This here is my special grits breakfast casserole. A big helping of this and you are going to be set for food for your day.”
Lulu’s tummy rumbled on cue. “So I’m guessing some eggs, grits, shredded cheese, and maybe some sausage?”
“And not just that—but a box of cornbread mix. That’s going to give it some sweetness, you know.’Cause we need something sweet at the start of the day to help us get going.”
Lulu sighed in anticipation as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the impressive-looking coffeemaker on the granite countertop. “What about Evelyn? Do you think the sausage will sit well with her? She might be feeling a little puny this morning.”
Tommie looked grim again. “Well, I’m used to this nonsense, so I have both hot and mild sausage in the fridge. I
’ll be nice this time and pull out the mild one. Although maybe she deserves a taste of the spicy stuff.”
Lulu put some cream in her coffee and a spoonful of sugar. She sat at the kitchen table, stirring the coffee. “I did want to ask you about Evelyn a little, Tommie. Do you think she’s doing okay?”
Tommie snorted. “She sure seems okay to me! Going out and partying and all kinds of foolishness. I’m not feeling too sorry for her, that’s for sure.”
“But do you think it’s normal for her to be acting this way?” pressed Lulu.
Tommie, frying up the sausage, looked over her shoulder at Lulu. “She’s always been someone who enjoys her cocktails, Miss Lulu. Do you think there’s something wrong?”
“Not really,” said Lulu slowly. “It’s just that she’s started up smoking again and then last night she did act like she’d had a lot to drink.” Lulu shook her head and then took a big sip from her coffee. “Just ignore me, Tommie. Everybody lets off steam now and again. And Evelyn’s had a lot of steam to let off.”
“That Adam was the devil himself,” said Tommie darkly. “He’s the reason she’s been so upset lately. Then that Ginger, who was just about as bad. I don’t know where a lady like Miss Evelyn picks these thugs up.”
Lulu hesitated. “You haven’t ever seen Evelyn with a gun, have you, Tommie?”
Tommie looked sharply at Lulu as she drained the grease from the sausage. “No, ma’am, I haven’t! What makes you think that Miss Evelyn is toting a weapon around?”
“Big Jack last night. I was talking to him on the boat . . . while Evelyn was sleeping. He said he’d seen her having an argument with Ginger the day she was killed. He said that Evelyn looked furious and was waving a gun around.”
“Bah! I don’t believe a word of it. If anybody had a gun, it would be that Ginger. She was probably around nasty people all day and needed a gun to protect herself from their filthiness.”
“But wouldn’t Ginger have a serious-looking gun? It does sound a little more like Evelyn to be carrying something around that’s dainty looking.”
Evelyn was pouring the hot grits, cooked sausage, and eggs into a big casserole dish and mixing it together with the box of cornbread. It seemed to be an activity that was taking all of her concentration. Or maybe she was just figuring out what she was going to say.
“You could tell me that you saw Miss Evelyn shoot Ginger in the back with your very own eyes and I wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth. I’d be convinced you’d had a strong cocktail at lunch or that your new medication was interactin’ poorly with your daily vitamin. I’d know you were wrong. And this is just wrong, Miss Lulu. Besides, there’s not an inch of this house or the main house that I don’t know in and out and top to bottom. There’s not a handgun anywhere in either one.”
Lulu opened her mouth to tell Tommie what Big Jack had said but shut it again as Tommie suddenly cocked her head to one side like she was listening and held up a hand. She smoothly slid the casserole into the oven as Evelyn sleepily entered the kitchen in a silk bathrobe.
She covered a yawn, then said, “Sausage? Something smells good.”
“Grits breakfast casserole,” said Tommie. “It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes, honey.”
Evelyn was already pouring herself a large cup of coffee. “Tommie, do you know where the aspirin is?” She made a face at Lulu. “Sad, isn’t it? That wine from last night is talking back to me.” She took a big swallow of coffee and rolled her head around to loosen her neck. “Have y’all been telling secrets this morning?”
Lulu guiltily looked away. But Tommie took out her dish towel and started cleaning up the countertop. “Don’t be silly. What secrets would a respectable lady like Miss Lulu possibly have?”
Evelyn snorted. “I don’t know, Tommie. But how well do we really know someone? Maybe Lulu has her own secret life. We just think she’s a mild-mannered owner of a favorite local barbeque establishment. But in reality , she’s an international spy, using Aunt Pat’s as a home base. Or,” she added grimly, “maybe she’s a restaurant critic. It would be a perfect cover. Who’d ever guess that a reviewer would be a restaurant owner, too?”
Lulu and Tommie exchanged glances. “What a thing to say, Miss Evelyn! You’ve just got restaurant critics on the brain, that’s all.”
Evelyn glumly stared down at the kitchen table. “I guess. Although that’s perfectly understandable, isn’t it? And, really, I think I’m more into secret lives instead of restaurant reviewers. Because that was the first shock—finding out that Adam was a restaurant critic instead of just a former restaurant owner. Like Holden.”
Lulu said soothingly, “But everybody knew that Holden was a restaurant critic. I remember seeing him come into Aunt Pat’s. He had his little notebook and pencil with him and proceeded to look around the dining room, making notes. Nothing obvious about that, right?” Lulu hooted.
Evelyn said, “Maybe we all knew what Holden was back then, but I’m not so sure what he is now. He was always just this innocuous bald little man with an old-fashioned suit and a bow tie. Meek and mild. Now all he thinks about is getting back with the newspaper. He was trying to talk to get his old job back at Adam’s funeral, and then he was talking to some of those men from the paper last night at Big Jack’s fund-raiser.”
Lulu frowned. “I thought he was acting really professional last night. Every time I looked over at him, he was taking a picture of Big Jack with his arm around somebody important.”
Evelyn said, “Yes, but he also found time to ask the newspaper men to put in a good word for him at the paper. He was working all the angles.”
“Networking,” said Tommie decidedly. “That’s what that is. No secrets there. Just a man who lost his job who needs to work. That’s all there is to it. Why’re you trying to make some big deal out of it, honey?”
“There’s something fishy about him,” persisted Evelyn. “Remember how he got upset with Ginger and decided to follow her around with a camera while he was building up his portfolio? And so he took a bunch of pictures of her . . . but stopped taking them just a couple of hours before her violent death? I just don’t see it.”
“So what do you think happened,” asked Lulu.
“I think he was so mad when Ben told him about Adam being the new restaurant critic that he packed heat, tracked him down, and shot him. Ginger had aggravated him about something, too. . . . Maybe she caught him taking pictures of her and antagonized him again. So then the hothead in him got all riled up and he shot her.”
Lulu wasn’t about to argue with Evelyn when she was all wound up like she was. Plus the fact that Evelyn hadn’t had her full morning requirement of coffee yet and was hung over from the night before.
“Well,” Lulu said slowly. “It could have happened that way. Who knows, maybe it did.”
“That’s my story and I’m sticking with it!” said Evelyn decidedly.
“I meant to ask you, Evelyn,” said Lulu, “about something I heard that you and Ginger talked about. Something about Ginger knowing that someone came to a meeting with Adam prepared to kill him?”
“Now who on earth could possibly know about that conversation?” asked Evelyn, folding her arms across her chest. “I swear, sometimes I think Aunt Pat’s has ears. Anyway, yes, she did say something like that to me. I didn’t mention it to you because it sounded like such a ‘duh’ moment for Ginger. The man was shot to death—yes, someone did meet with him prepared to kill him.”
“I guess she meant that she knew who had come prepared to kill him. Do you think she meant Oliver?” Lulu thoughtfully pursed her lips, and then continued. “We know he was upset with Adam and that he was mad enough to push him down the stairs. Was he also mad enough to carry a gun?”
Evelyn made a shooing motion. “I still say it’s Holden. After all, he was furious with Adam. He had gobs of motive.”
Evelyn was clearly done with all discussion on the murder because she moved with great determination onto o
ther topics of conversation, saying, “Tommie, I’m going to take a peek at those grits. I’m thinking they’ve got to be done. They smell done.”
Tommie reared up. “Don’t you be messing around in my oven! Get!” She waved a spatula around threateningly as the buzzer went off.
“See!” said Evelyn. “It was done, after all.”
Considering all the delicious food she’d enjoyed the night before, Lulu was shocked at how much breakfast casserole she was able to put away. But it was scrumptious. The cornbread mix added that sweetness that Tommie had mentioned, and the grits and eggs made it filling. Lulu gave a happy sigh. This was one recipe she was going to make sure to take back home with her.
No matter how much fun Lulu had when she left town, she always breathed a sigh of relief when she came home again. After a relaxing morning in Evelyn’s hammock, Tommie made a delicious arugula and peach salad with a chive vinaigrette for lunch before they headed back to Memphis. Evelyn dropped her off at home, and as Lulu happily walked inside her front door, across the old, creaky hardwoods, and smelled the mixture of old wood and old books that permeated the air, she smiled to herself. Home sweet home.
The drive home had made her a little sleepier than usual. When she looked at the clock and saw it was only seven thirty, she decided to try to stay up a little longer and read for a while.
Lulu would have sworn that she hadn’t fallen asleep. The last thing she remembered before the phone rang was being curled up on her plaid sofa with her head propped up with the overstuffed pillows. She’d covered her legs with one of Aunt Pat’s old knitted afghans, put on her reading glasses, and opened up her book.
When the phone buzzed abruptly into the hush of Lulu’s house, she jolted awake. Blinking, she looked around for it. It felt like the middle of the night, but when Lulu glanced at the clock, it was still a little before midnight. She’d been asleep for hours! Her skin prickled with unease; nobody ever called her past nine o’clock when she was at home.
