by Gayle Leeson
I got out of the shower, slipped on a terry robe, and wrapped my hair in a towel.
I couldn’t let myself think that Lou Lou’s killer wouldn’t be caught. If her murderer went free, my reputation here in Winter Garden—as well as the reputation of the Down South Café—would be ruined. I sighed. I had to believe that everything would work out fine.
Stan had gotten so defensive. I remembered his asking me, “Are you calling my daddy a coward?” He’d looked furious . . . like he could kill me. If Lou Lou had belittled Sherman to Stan, it might’ve been just enough reason to push him over the edge. He could very well have struck her out of anger without intending to kill her.
I took down the towel, spritzed a styling spray onto my hair, ran a wide-tooth comb through it, and began blowing it dry. Thank goodness, it was beginning to look normal.
On the other hand, that might’ve been the reason Stan came to Winter Garden in the first place, to get revenge on Lou Lou for allowing her father to run Sherman out of town. I decided to call Ryan and talk my theory over with him.
I thought I heard something in the hall and switched off the dryer. I listened for a second, didn’t hear anything else, and finished drying my hair. I ran my hands through it. It felt smooth and soft and free of gunk.
I heard a crash. This time I was positive it wasn’t my imagination. And judging from the chill that ran down my spine, I didn’t think it was one of the animals either.
Chapter 23
I tightened the belt to my robe and stepped out of the bathroom. My bedroom looked as I’d left it. The bed was made, the decorative pillows were as I usually placed them, and there was only a slight indentation on the bedspread where I’d sat to take off my shoes.
I eased into the hallway and looked into the kitchen. I gasped. Stan Wheeler was sitting at my table drinking a bottle of water.
He looked up and smiled humorlessly. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“W-well, you s-sure did. What . . . what’re you doing here, Stan?” My eyes darted around the kitchen. I saw that Stan had placed a chair in front of the doggie door so Rory couldn’t come inside.
He followed my gaze. “The dog was outside when I came in. I thought it best that he stay out there.”
“I see.” My mind scrambled for some means of escape. “You know, Ryan—the deputy—is on his way over. I have a date with him this evening.”
“We’d better get this over with, then.”
“G-get what over with?”
“You’ve already made your mind up that I’m the one who killed Lou Lou. I mean, you’ve been digging around in my past, asking me all these questions . . . even calling my dad up in Pulaski and getting him all bent out of shape.”
“N-no, I don’t have any idea who killed Lou Lou . . . b-but I’m leaning toward Pete.”
He nodded toward the chair opposite him. “Sit down.”
“I . . . need to get ready . . . for my date.”
“We both know that’s a load of bull. Sit down.”
I slumped onto the chair across from Stan. At least, maybe I could figure out a way to get out of the house . . . run screaming to a neighbor’s. The man had broken into my house and had all but practically confessed to killing Lou Lou. There was no way he was planning to let me leave.
“Why do you say I’ve made up my mind that you killed Lou Lou?” I said. “Did you?”
He nodded. “Didn’t mean to. I was out in the rain trying to patch that stupid roof, and I flew mad and left to go see her. When I drove by the Joint, I saw her van still there. I went in to have it out with her. And I took my hammer with me because I felt like she had something that belonged to me.”
A hammer. “And I guess you did have it out with her.”
“I sure did.” He lifted his bottle and took a drink, keeping his eyes on me while he did so. “I told that woman what I thought . . . about everything. She and her family had treated my daddy like dirt. Dad told me there was a secret compartment in the wall behind the desk. He’d heard that bank robbery story, and he’d seen Lou putting something in there once.” He brought the hand that had been on his lap onto the table. In it, he clutched a claw hammer. “I took this hammer so I could get it.”
I gulped. “Why didn’t you get into the secret compartment, then?”
“We were arguing, and I told Lou Lou she wasn’t going to treat me the way she’d done my daddy and that I intended to have what was coming to me. I raised up the hammer and started toward the wall behind the desk. Lou Lou said that was Pete’s money. She was saving it for him. Well, I thought it should go to Daddy’s other son.”
“Why would she save the money for Pete?”
“Because the guy’s lousy with money, and she knew it. When I shoved her out of the way so I could bust through the wall, she went to screaming and grabbed the phone. I knew she was going to call the police. So I hit her.”
“Was the one blow all it took?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m stronger than I look.”
I clasped my hands together, desperately needing something to hold on to. “You could say it was self-defense, Stan. I’ll back you up.”
“How’re you going to back me up?” he asked. “You weren’t there.”
“I know, but anyone could see how you . . . well, y-you had to defend yourself. Everybody in Winter Garden knows Lou Lou was a bully. They wouldn’t be surprised if you told them she pulled a gun or a knife on you or something.”
“I appreciate the thought, but I believe I’d be better off going with my own idea.”
I gulped and dreaded for him to continue.
“After I left here a while ago, I knew it was only a matter of time before the police would come knocking,” Stan said. “You’d found out too much about my past and my family’s history with the Holmans. I thought a better story would be if you confessed to killing Lou Lou and then killed yourself.”
“I had no reason to murder Lou Lou,” I pointed out.
“Sure you did. You wanted the Joint, and she wouldn’t sell it to you. You picked up the nearest thing you could find—this hammer—and struck out in a fit of rage. But, lately, your conscience has gotten the best of you, and you can’t live with the guilt.”
I shook my head. “Nobody’ll buy that, Stan, and you . . . you’ll go to prison for two murders. At least, you can try to pass off Lou Lou’s death as something that happened in self-defense . . . or in the heat of the moment.”
“You only want to think no one will buy that story, sweetie pie. Everyone knows you wanted Lou Lou to sell you the Joint and that she didn’t want to. Pete was trying to talk her into it, but it’s not likely he’d have been able to. Plus, you’re the one who found her.”
“Stan, I . . . I’ve told people about your connection to the Holmans and that you’re Pete’s half brother.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re getting ready to write a confession.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” He placed the hammer on the table, stood, and took a pistol from the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m not. I . . . I guess you’ll have to shoot me without the confession.” The sound of my heartbeat was filling my ears.
Stan leveled the gun at me.
I made a whimpering sound, but I refused to break down or scream or beg. I was still thinking there might be a way I could get out of this.
Hedging my bets, I stood, pushing the table up and against Stan as hard as I could. He cursed as I spun around and ran back to my bedroom. I slammed the door, locked it, and climbed out the window. I heard him smashing through the door. I ran toward the street. I wondered how close Stan was to me, but I didn’t dare look. I’d seen enough horror movies to know that when the girl looks back to see where her attacker is, she trips and falls and then gets cut to bits. Or, in my case, shot.
I’d just got t
o the road when headlights blinded me. I waved my arms to flag down the truck.
It was Roger and Jackie!
“Get me out of here!” I cried. “Stan’s trying to kill me!”
As I leapt into the truck beside Jackie, Stan ran up beside the porch and began shooting at us.
Roger said a few choice words as we sped toward the police station.
* * *
The police apprehended Stan between my house and the trailer Stan had been renting from Lou Lou. I guessed he was going to grab whatever he could from his home and leave town.
Luckily for me, I’d sent that embarrassing selfie to Jackie. She saw a shadow at my bedroom window in the photo. She tried to call me right after that, but I was in the shower. She convinced Roger that they should leave their dinner in Bristol and come to check on me. Good thing she did.
Pete was devastated to learn the story behind Stan and his father. He refused to go talk with Stan, but he did drive up to Pulaski to meet Sherman Harding. Pete also bought his truck, and Chris Anne’s brother became his partner.
Sheriff Billings traced the money that had been hidden in the wall and discovered that it was the money that had been stolen from the bank in North Carolina all those years ago. Grady might’ve wanted to paint himself as a hero to his family—or maybe that had all been Ms. Carter’s doing—but he hadn’t given the money back. Still, he and Bo had fallen out over the money and had never reconciled. That was a shame.
Epilogue
It was a beautiful day—the last day of June, in fact—when we had the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the Down South Café. Aunt Bess was there in a yellow dress and a big blue hat. I wasn’t sure if she thought she was going to the café’s grand opening or to the Kentucky Derby, but she’d said she wanted to match the decor.
Mom was there. She wore the same outfit that Jackie, Roger, Homer, the café staff, and I wore—blue jeans with a Down South Café T-shirt. The construction crew had taken their lunch break during the ceremony. Sarah’s boyfriend had even skipped class so he could be at the grand opening with her. Billy brought his wife. Pete and Chris Anne stopped by. Dilly and several of the regulars from Lou’s Joint had come by to help us celebrate.
We’d invited everyone we could think of, including the media. Ms. Peggy was there to personally do a front-page write-up on the café. Her photographer was snapping pictures left and right, and I was afraid we might all go blind from the flash. And there was a news crew from the local television station.
I was glad to see Sheriff Billings put in an appearance. And, of course, I was glad that Ryan was with him.
I gave a brief speech before cutting the yellow ribbon in front of the door of the café. I told guests about Nana and how much I appreciated her love, kindness, and generosity, and I got choked up. I thanked Mom, Aunt Bess, Roger, Jackie, and Sarah for their support, and I shed a tear or two. And I told Homer, the café staff, and the construction crew how grateful I was for their hard work. And then I welcomed everyone to the Down South Café before I really began crying in earnest.
Jackie, Mom, and I had set out a buffet along the counter so the guests could help themselves to lunch. I made sure the dishes were both familiar and diverse. We served potato salad, baked tomatoes with hazelnut bread crumbs, macaroni salad, roasted portobellos, beef and vegetable kebabs, fried chicken, biscuits, garlic herb bread twists, three-bean salad, mocha cake, and caramel apple pie. Our beverages were sweet tea, coffee, water, and pomegranate punch.
I proudly watched everyone go through the line. I felt someone beside me, and I turned to see Ryan there.
I smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, returning my smile. “The place looks fantastic.”
“Thank you. We—especially Roger and his crew—put a lot of work into it.”
“Don’t downplay your role. I was here on more than one occasion when you were covered in dust or paint or—”
“Panic.” I laughed. “And you even saw me with giant hair. You’re right. I did my part in making all this come together.”
“And in crime solving.”
I was glad he didn’t say the actual words “solving Lou Lou’s murder” out loud. I doubted anyone was paying attention to us, but I certainly didn’t want to run the risk of reminding people of what was bound to be right beneath the surface anyway.
“Sheriff Billings would probably hire you on if you’re interested,” Ryan continued with a grin.
“I think I’ve got plenty to keep me busy right here.”
He took a small clear bag out of his shirt pocket. Inside was the necklace Nana had given me and that I’d lost in Lou Lou’s office so long ago. “As promised.”
My eyes welled with tears for the umpteenth time. “Thank you.”
Ryan took the necklace from the bag and held it up. “May I?”
I turned and held up my hair so he could fasten the necklace around my neck. I could practically feel Nana smiling down at me, proud of what I’d been able to accomplish.
Author’s Note
When Amy shudders suddenly at the funeral home, she thinks, Somebody just walked over my grave. This saying originated in the eighteenth century from an English folk legend that stated an unexpected cold sensation was brought about when someone walked over the place where one was eventually to be buried.
Recipes from the Down South Café
Grandmother’s Meat Loaf
Yield: 8 servings
1½ pounds ground beef
2 eggs
2 cups bread crumbs
¾ cup diced onions
1 tablespoon salt
⅛ teaspoon pepper
½ cup cracker crumbs
1 cup tomato juice
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Mix all ingredients except tomato juice well. Add tomato juice gradually, making mixture solid enough to handle. Form into a loaf. Bake in a loaf pan for 45 minutes.
Granny’s Oatmeal Pie
(Contributed by Suzie Welker)
Yield: 10–12 servings
1 pie crust (Directions for pie crust below.)
4 large brown eggs
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (You can take cinnamon sticks and grind them yourself for a better-tasting pie.)
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup light corn syrup (Do not use dark.)
¼ cup softened butter (I use only butter, never margarine. Soften by leaving out of fridge about an hour; do not put into mixture hot/boiling, as this will cook the eggs, creating a bad-tasting pie.)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup quick-cooking oatmeal, uncooked
Preheat oven to 350 for metal pan or 325 for glass.
Beat eggs until frothy. Sift sugar, flour, cinnamon, and salt in a small bowl. The sifting mixes the dry ingredients together for a better blend. Add eggs to the dry mixture. Stir well. Mix corn syrup, butter, and vanilla in a separate bowl. Add to the first mixture. Slowly mix in oatmeal. Stir 2–3 minutes to ensure even distribution of oatmeal.
Pour into pie crust and bake for 45 minutes.
(Optional diced apples, raisins, or cranberries can be added for additional flavor. If adding apples, use 1 cup, diced very small; 1½ cups if using cranberries or raisins. I prefer the golden raisins but any can be used.)
PIE CRUST
1¼ cups all-purpose flour (Do not use self-rising.)
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup butter cut into small squares (cold, not warm/softened)
¼ cup cold water
Mix flour and salt then sift. Using a pastry cutter (a pastry cutter is best, but you can use your hands), cut in the butter until the dough resembles coarse crumbles. Slowly add ¼ cup water, 1 tablespoon at a time.
Roll into a ball and chill in freezer for 1 hour. After 1 hour, ta
ke out and roll out using a heavy rolling pin. Place in metal or glass pie dish, then crimp edges with fingers or mash down with a small fork.
Baked Cinnamon and Sugar Doughnuts
(Contributed by Jessica Potts of http://ahappyfooddance.com/)
Yield: 12–15 regular-sized doughnuts or about 30 minidoughnuts
DOUGHNUTS
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1½ cups all-purpose flour
1 egg
½ cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
5 tablespoons butter, softened
½ cup sugar
TOPPING
½ cup butter, melted
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Lightly oil a doughnut pan.
In a medium bowl, combine baking powder, salt, and flour. Set aside.
In another bowl, add egg, milk, and vanilla and beat mixture lightly. Set aside.
In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream together the butter and sugar.
Add the wet ingredients in two parts, alternating with the dry ingredients, and finish by beating until everything is just combined.
Transfer the dough to a piping bag or a large plastic baggie with the tip cut off. Pipe into the doughnut pan, filling only halfway full.
Bake for 10–12 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.
Remove from the oven and transfer to a wire rack, allowing to cool just enough to handle.
While the doughnuts are baking, melt the ½ cup butter. In another bowl mix the cinnamon and sugar together for the topping,
To cover the doughnuts, dip each doughnut in the butter and then roll in the cinnamon-and-sugar mixture.
Country Ham with Redeye Gravy
(Contributed by Robin Coxon)
Yield: 2 servings
2 slices country ham (¼ inch thick)
2 tablespoons butter
