Lindsey backed into Jeff, who grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. “She’s in there, isn’t she?” Lindsey whispered.
But, again, Ray shook his head. Jeff stepped in front of her. “Stay here.” Then he trotted over to the wreckage. Ray prowled around the debris in the trunk, which to Jeff looked mostly like old clothes. The entire wreckage smelled like mold and dead fish.
“Anything?” he asked.
Digging through the wet fabric, Ray spotted a leather strap. Tugging hard, he pulled a small leather bag free. He smeared away clinging tags of fabric and algae and unzipped the bag. “Right,” he muttered as he lifted out a revolver.
“Spent shells?” Jeff asked.
Ray popped the cylinder free and checked it. “Two. Four unused.”
“Apparently, he didn’t need them.”
Ray snapped the cylinder back into place. “RuthAnn may not be here...”
Jeff finished. “...but she’s not coming back.”
* * *
“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
“I’m right here. I’ll take care of you.”
Jeff’s words echoed in Lindsey’s mind. The caring look on his face and the intensity of his voice made her chest tighten and almost took her breath away. She knew that the events of the last two days had pushed them closer, but his declarations had caught her off guard. She wanted to push back, to tell him that she just was not ready for anything more.
Yet she didn’t. The words never came to mind when she needed to say them. She also thought back to the unexpected and impulsive invitation she’d issued for a grilled cheese. What’s happening to me?
“Lindsey?” June bent her head and peered closer at her sister. “You all right?”
Lindsey started and looked up, blinking. The buzz of the customers’ conversation hovered in the background of the restaurant.
June’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to April’s and rest?”
Behind June, April paused, a pan of fresh biscuits in one hand, the other pressed hard in the small of her back. “Seriously, Lindsey, you look drained. I’m sure the officer outside would be glad to take you over to the house. Your stuff is already in the guestroom, and—”
Lindsey slipped off the stool where she’d perched to make a batch of chicken salad. “No, I’m fine. Really. I just got...distracted. That’s all.”
And she’d been distracted ever since Jeff had dropped her at the diner. They’d left the quarry, sharing few words. The implications of finding RuthAnn’s car hovered over both of them. Lindsey had entered the back door of the restaurant, locking it behind her, and had taken up residence on a stool near her worktable, hoping chicken salad would keep her mind occupied. It hadn’t.
“That distraction wouldn’t happen to be dark-haired, about six-two, would he?” April teased, as she wiped one hand on the apron she wore over her jeans and oversize T-shirt. Flour smeared on the front of it, and an unruly strand of strawberry-blond hair slipped from beneath her headscarf.
“Yeah. Kinda lanky for my taste, but I hear he’s quite the gentleman.” June’s voice held a gentle tease, but Lindsey didn’t feel up to her sisters’ ribbing.
Lindsey opened the fridge and pulled out grapes to add to the salad. “Please don’t do this right now.” Lindsey noticed the look that April and June exchanged, but ignored it. “I really need to focus on other stuff.”
Another look, and June set down the pan of beans she had been holding. “You mean like the fact that someone is trying to kill you?”
Lindsey shrugged one shoulder as she limped back to the table and perched on the stool again. Her mind felt numb, and weariness plagued every muscle. “Can we just work?”
“Doubt it.” June took the grapes from her and pushed the chicken salad back. She wiped her hands on her apron. Then, bracing herself against the table, June hoisted her own petite frame up, sitting where the salad had been a moment ago. She took both Lindsey’s hands in hers as April joined them.
“Look, little sister, you’re not in this world by yourself anymore. We both know what it’s like to hit the streets and make it on your own. We know what it does to your mind. But you’re back in a family now, and surrounded by folks you can really trust, like Ray and Daniel and even Mr. Lanky. I know how much you rely on God, and He’s still there at your back. We’ll try to give you space, but we’re also going to fight with you and for you. But you have to help us out, too.”
Lindsey looked from June to April, amazement setting in. Since she’d been back, her sisters had been fun and supportive, but in a “life is good and without problems” kind of way. After being away for so long, she had no idea that they’d want to stand with her against a killer. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I just found you again.”
April’s eyebrows arched. “Like we haven’t been before. Like we didn’t grow up with a man who could have killed us at any time.”
“This guy is a lot bigger and meaner than Daddy was.”
June slid off the counter, slivers of her brown hair escaping her headscarf. “No matter. You’re not facing this alone. So get used to it.”
Lindsey pulled both of them into a tight hug, leaning heavily on June’s shoulder. “And this may date back to that time.”
Her sisters leaned back, their faces pinched with curiosity. “What do you mean?” asked June.
Lindsey explained what her attacker had said during the fight, her dream, the diary and what Jeff had drawn out of her. “Do either of you know who Karen is? Or her husband?”
April shook her head. “Never heard of her, and I thought I knew everyone in the neighborhood.” She glanced through the service window into the dining area. “I need to check the tables. Don’t say too much without me.”
She headed out, and the din from the tables increased as she began to circulate with a fresh pot of coffee. June picked up the beans and put them in the warming oven. “You know, I may be able to help with the GTO. I talked to Troy, over at the garage, and he said it was a beauty, mostly original parts, but some had been replaced.”
“Jeff is tracing the title. They found that and a book in the glove compartment.”
“Yeah, but he may not get too far with that title. My guess is it’s been scrubbed.”
“Scrubbed?”
“Cleaned and reissued.” June paused and cleared her throat. “Back in my more, um, troubled days, I used to help a car theft ring in Nashville clean the titles of the ones they stole.” She stopped and shook her head, as if to banish a bad memory. “Never mind how. The point is that if—or when—the title dead-ends, he might be able to trace some of the replacement parts. Wichita is the best place for classic GTO replacement parts, and I know some of the dealers there. I could get their info to him. They tend to be pretty persnickety about who they talk to, for a lot of reasons.”
“How would that help, if the title has been cleaned and transferred?”
“Shipping addresses. Most folks don’t actually travel to Wichita to get the parts. They have them shipped. So even if the title trace goes cold, the parts dealer could easily have a shipping address.” She checked the dining room with a quick glance. “You mentioned a book in the car. What book did they find?”
Lindsey shrugged. “An old copy of Catcher in the Rye. Looked like it had been waterlogged at one time. It was all beat up and wrinkled.”
June grew still, her eyes narrowing. “Catcher in the Rye? For real?”
Lindsey studied her sister. “Yes. Why?”
April poked her head through the service window. “June, get out here. The coffee is getting low.” She looked at Lindsey. “Get back to that chicken salad. We have two new orders for it. And put your thinking cap on for new employees.”
Lindsey scowled. “Where are the Schneiders?”
>
June headed toward the door. “They called earlier. Their mom needs their car until noon. They’ll be in after that. But we’ve been buzzing. You need more than two people running this place, especially if your business keeps growing.”
“June, what about the book?”
June waved a hand in dismissal. “Probably nothing. I’ll tell you later.” She disappeared into the dining area and the noise increased even more.
Lindsey grabbed the grapes and started slicing them in half, her scowl deepening. She didn’t really want to hire extra people—not yet—but she couldn’t keep asking April and June to fill in, with RuthAnn gone and her injured. They had lives—busy ones—that didn’t include working here.
Tomorrow. Surely they’ll find RuthAnn tomorrow. Or, better yet, she’ll call and say she just took a vacation and the burglary happened after she left. Or maybe she managed to escape from some monster... The knife slashed through grapes with increasing speed. Lindsey refused to consider the obvious and most immediate assumption about RuthAnn—that she would never be back.
“It’s just wrong,” she muttered, “to hire someone to replace her so soon.” But if June was right about how the business seemed to be picking up...
“I’d hate to be a grape right now.”
Lindsey yelped, bounced off the stool and spun around, knife held at the ready. Her heart thudded, and her breath stopped as she faced the new arrival in her kitchen.
Max Carpenter took a step backward, hands up, face white. “Oh, Lindsey, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me come in.”
Lindsey stared at him, her breath caught in her chest, not quite believing it was just Max standing before her. Fear froze her in place for a moment.
“Obviously not,” she whispered, still not able to breathe properly.
He lowered his hands. “I’m really sorry.”
The drone of the dining room seemed to fade as the buzzing in her own ears increased. “I thought...”
Max stepped forward and eased the knife from her grip. “Breathe, Lindsey. You’re still holding your breath.” He placed the knife on the counter.
Lindsey stared at him, her hands still raised in a protective posture. “I thought the back door was locked.” She gasped in a good breath. “I know I locked it.”
Max shook his head slowly, peering at her through the thick lenses of his glasses. “It wasn’t locked. It wasn’t even latched. I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear me over the folks in there.”
Lindsey shook her head, still wary even as the fear eased away. She glanced toward the back of the kitchen. The door where she accepted deliveries and where her employees came and went was down a short hallway that also held the small office for the restaurant. She knew she’d locked it. Double-checked it even. So who had opened it?
“Don’t worry. I closed and locked it.”
She looked back at Max. “Why are you here, Max?”
He stepped away, glancing around the kitchen nervously. “I came to see if you needed anything. And if you’d heard anything from RuthAnn. I heard about your, um, incident at RuthAnn’s last night—”
Lindsey snapped to attention. “How did you hear about that?”
Max ran one hand through his black hair. “Went over to see if I could start cleaning up RuthAnn’s house. The officer wouldn’t let me in. Said it had become a crime scene all over again. You know nothing in this town remains secret for too long.”
Lindsey let out a long sigh. “I know. And, no, we haven’t heard anything from RuthAnn.”
Max’s face scrunched in a puzzled look. “Really? I heard this morning that they found her car in the old quarry that’s flooded. Twenty feet under water.”
Lindsey nodded, the adrenaline of the fright easing away. “But it was empty. Almost as if it had been stolen and dumped.”
The puzzlement on Max’s face deepened. “Empty. Really? That’s odd.” He looked away and his eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to figure something out.
Lindsey stared at him. “Why is it odd?”
He shrugged. “Well, I’m no criminal, but why would you dump a perfectly good car if it weren’t to hide evidence or a body?”
The casual callousness of his comment appalled Lindsey. “Max, we’re talking about RuthAnn here! Your tenant and my friend! She’s not evidence and she’s not just a body to be dumped!” Tears stung her eyes, and she slapped her hand on the table. No! I will not break down. Not now!
Max jumped. “I’m sorry. I just came to see if I could help.”
“Yes!” June shouted through the window. “Max, grab a tray and get out here and bus tables.” She pointed at the chopped grapes, then Lindsey. “Mix now. Cry later.” She disappeared again.
Silently, Lindsey pointed at the stack of trays they used for bussing. Max grabbed one and disappeared into the dining area. Lindsey grabbed the bowl of chicken salad and began to fold in the chopped grapes, sniffing back any semblance of tears. Leave it to June to command even her tears.
Lindsey grabbed two plates and pulled down a bag of croissants. She was spooning out the salad, when she felt a tickle on her calf and looked down. The neighborhood cat looked up at her and meowed.
“Tulip! What are you doing in here?” Moving smoothly, Lindsey scooped up the cat and headed to the back door, scolding her. “You can’t be in here. You have no idea what kind of trouble you’d get me in.”
Lindsey entered the hallway and stopped cold. The back door to the restaurant stood wide open.
EIGHT
By the time Jeff picked her up that evening, exhaustion so consumed Lindsey that she almost fell asleep in his car. They said little on the way to April and Daniel’s. She skipped supper and settled into one of the guestrooms upstairs. The room’s elaborate and comfy decorations closed around her, and the heavy four-poster bed felt safe and secure, but Lindsey barely noticed her surroundings. She dropped into a dreamless sleep, exhausted from the day’s drama.
Waking just before her alarm, she padded awkwardly through the rambling antebellum mansion into the industrial-size kitchen to make a cup of tea. Darkness still cloaked the house, but April had scattered night-lights throughout, their dim light providing a clear path. Lindsey’s hip and ankle were still sore, but this morning she felt more rested than she had in days. Pushing through the swinging door into the kitchen, she stopped, blinking in bright light. Every light in the kitchen glared, vanquishing all darkness.
“Good morning. You must be Lindsey.”
Lindsey blinked again, looking at the older woman sitting at the scarred wooden table. Her long, gray hair cascaded over her shoulders, the strands beside her face tucked behind her ears. Her hands curled around a heavy porcelain mug. Beside her chair, a white German Shepherd sat, her alert eyes focused on Lindsey.
“You must be Mrs. Stockard.”
The woman smiled sweetly. “Aunt Suke. Everyone calls me Aunt Suke. Even those who aren’t kin.” She dropped her hand to the Shepherd’s head. “This is Polly.” Nodding toward the stove, she continued. “Kettle’s already on. April said you liked tea.” Aunt Suke pointed toward one of the dark wood cabinets. “Tea’s in there. Sugar, honey and cream are here on the table.”
“Thank you.” Lindsey picked through the boxes in the cabinet, plucking out a tea bag of English Breakfast blend. “I didn’t expect anyone up this early.”
“Been an early riser all my life. Leftover from when this was a working farm, I reckon. Did April explain earlier that this was my ancestral home?”
Lindsey poured hot water over her tea bag, then looked around the large kitchen as it steeped. “Yes. And that you gave it to them as a wedding present.”
Aunt Suke nodded. “Daniel’s been like a son to me. I have no heirs, and after his father died, we just seemed to adopt each other.”
Lindsey
smiled. “I do love this kitchen. You could run a nice bed-and-breakfast out of here.”
Aunt Suke chuckled. “Been told that before. Thought April might take it on, once the house passed to her, but I think she’s content to use it for her jams and jellies business. She doesn’t want to overload her schedule anymore. Especially not now.”
“But it was your family home. Surely there are relatives somewhere.”
Aunt Suke scoffed. “Trifling folks, all of them. None worth passing the time of day with, much less giving them my home. It’s been here since before the Civil War, when my great-great-great-granddaddy helped settle Caralinda. They would have had it in shambles in a week. April and Daniel love it. They’ll take good care of it.” She paused and took a sip of tea, watching Lindsey over the edge of her cup. “And I know what it’s like not to have family here.”
Lindsey dropped her tea bag in the trash and joined Aunt Suke at the table. She reached for the sugar. “You mean the three Presley sisters moving in with no other family?”
“And Daniel. When his daddy was killed, he didn’t have anyone else. Now he has April. And you and June.”
“And you.”
Aunt Suke shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been around since he was a baby. Friends, but not kin.” She motioned around the kitchen. “And this place was far too big for me to keep staying here alone. April and I more or less swapped. We fixed up her cottage, and I moved in. Daniel looks after both places.” She gestured at Lindsey with her cup. “And your Mr. Gage comes over and helps a lot, too. Quite the carpenter, that one.”
Lindsey felt heat building in her cheeks. “He’s not my—” She stopped as the second part of Aunt Suke’s sentence registered on her sleep-addled mind. “He’s a carpenter?”
Aunt Suke nodded. “So was his daddy and now his stepdad. The two of them—him and his stepdad—added a second story to their garage for his apartment. They could help you with that new restaurant of yours. Folks kid him about still living with his folks, but that’s been a good thing. That family’s been through a lot, too.”
Memory of Murder Page 9
