“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Wanda Nell said. After a slight pause, she continued. “People are gonna be talking about Melvin. You know how that goes. But I have to tell you, I don’t think he did it.”
“Damn straight,” Ovie said firmly. She’d known Melvin since he was a boy and had worked for him before. “He’s a good man, and I don’t think he could do something like that.” Wanda Nell had filled her in on the situation, as much as she could, before she had asked Ovie to help out at the Kountry Kitchen.
“Good, then I can count on you,” Wanda Nell said, relieved. “I’ll come over in a little while and drop off the key I’ve got.” Melvin had insisted she keep one, in case of emergency. Neither one of them had ever expected something like this. “And if you got any questions, we can talk about it then.”
“I’ll be watching for you,” Ovie said.
Wanda Nell hung up the phone, her mind busy gathering the details of everything that needed doing. She ticked them off in her head: Tell Ovie where to find the spare cash Melvin kept on hand for the cash register. Explain what shifts everybody was supposed to work. Call the cook and the dishwasher and make sure they’d show up like they were supposed to. Just for a start.
Half an hour later, she had covered the basics. She was satisfied the Kountry Kitchen could open as usual on Monday morning. They should have enough food to get them through the day, but she’d need to talk to Melvin’s various suppliers to make sure deliveries would continue as scheduled.
Juliet came into the kitchen at some point and took over looking after the baby. Wanda Nell waved a hand at her gratefully, and Juliet smiled back.
Her last call was to her supervisor at Budget Mart. She explained the situation to Mr. Tompkins, and he agreed she could use some of her vacation hours on such short notice. “Ordinarily I couldn’t okay a last-minute request like this, Wanda Nell,” he said, “but seeing as it’s you asking, and you having such a good record here, well, I guess we can be lenient this one time.”
“Thanks, Mr. Tompkins. I sure appreciate it, and I’m sorry I had to bother you at home,” Wanda Nell said. “I’m hoping that it’ll only be for this week.”
“That would be good,” Tompkins replied. “We’ll look forward to having you back. Things get done like they should when you’re here.”
Wanda Nell breathed a sigh of relief as she hung up the phone. That had been easier than she expected.
“What all’s going on. Mama?” Juliet asked as she came back into the kitchen. “I put Lavon in his playpen in the living room and put on one of his Barney videos.”
That purple dinosaur gave Wanda Nell a headache, but Lavon loved him. “Sit down, honey,” she told Juliet and waited until the girl was sitting at the table with her before continuing. “I guess you heard what happened. I mean, about Fayetta Sutton getting murdered, and Melvin being in jail.”
Juliet nodded. ‘TJ. told me, but that’s about all he told me.” Her eyes grew round as she stared at her mother. “Mama, did Mr. Arbuckle do it?”
“No, honey, I don’t think he did,” Wanda Nell said. “Mr. Tucker’s taking the case, and I’m going to help out. I’m going to be looking after the Kountry Kitchen as long as Melvin’s in jail.”
“You think they’ll let him out on bail?”
“I don’t see why not, but you never know. I’m just hoping it’s soon, because I can’t take too long off from Budget Mart”
“Can I do anything to help, Mama?”
Wanda Nell patted Juliet’s hand. “You just keep on doing what you’re doing now, sweetie. Look after Lavon, and try to keep your sister going to work like she should.”
“I’ll do my best,” Juliet promised.
Wanda Nell checked the clock on the stove. It was nearly four. Miranda should be home soon, and Wanda Nell needed her car. If Mayrene hadn’t gone off to meet her new boyfriend, she could’ve borrowed Mayrene’s car.
A couple minutes past four, the phone rang. Wanda Nell answered.
“Mama, is it alright if I keep the car awhile?” Miranda’s voice had that whiny, wheedling tone that drove Wanda Nell crazy. “Me’n Chanelle’re maybe gonna go get a bite to eat It won’t be more’n hour or so. And since you don’t have to go to work tonight I thought it’d be okay...” Her voice trailed off.
Wanda Nell took a couple of deep breaths before answering. At least Miranda had called to ask permission, instead of just not showing up at home until the good Lord knew when, like she used to. “If it was any other time, honey,” she finally said, “I wouldn’t mind. Truly, I wouldn’t You’ve been working hard, and you deserve a little fun.”
“But not tonight.”
Regretting the hurt in Miranda’s voice, Wanda Nell spoke even more gently. “I’m sorry, Miranda. But something’s happened, and I’m gonna need the car for a little while. Mayrene’s gone, or I’d borrow her car. Right now, though, I need the car.”
A long sigh came down the line. “Okay, Mama, I’m on my way.” Then Miranda gave a squeak of alarm as the full import of her mother’s words finally sank in. “Whatta you mean, something’s happened? Is it Lavon? Is my baby okay?”
“Lavon is fine,” Wanda Nell said firmly. “It’s nothing to do with him. Something to do with work, and I’ll tell you about it when you get here. So just come on home.” Miranda promised she would, and Wanda Nell hung up the phone, feeling pleased. Miranda was changing a bit, too. She wasn’t as responsible or mature as her older brother, or even her younger sister half the time, but she was learning. Wanda Nell took heart at that.
True to her word, Miranda pulled into the driveway about ten minutes later. Wanda Nell quickly explained what was going on, leaving out a lot of the details, while Miranda stared at her, bewilderment on her face. “Good Lord, Mama,” she finally said. “That’s awful. That poor woman.”
Wanda Nell nodded. She didn’t want to think any more about what she had seen at Fayetta’s house. She squeezed Miranda’s arm. “Thanks for coming right home, honey. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise."
“That’s okay, Mama. I understand.” Miranda shivered. “I just can’t get over that poor woman.”
“I know,” Wanda Nell said. “Now you go on and help Juliet with Lavon, and I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”
“Yes, Mama,” Miranda said dutifully.
Wanda Nell grabbed her purse and picked up the chicken casserole she’d found in the freezer. After she had stopped by Ovie’s to drop off the key, she thought she’d make another stop, and the chicken casserole would give her a good excuse.
The drive to Ovie’s house, in a neighborhood near the high school, took only a few minutes. Wanda Nell handed over the key, gave Ovie a rundown on the things she needed to know, then politely refused a cup of coffee.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Any other time I’d love to, Ovie. It’s been a while since we’ve had a good visit. But right now I’ve got so much to do. You don’t mind?”
“Sure, honey,” Ovie said, “I know. We’ll catch up tomorrow at the restaurant.”
“Great,” Wanda Nell said, relieved. She dearly loved Ovie, but the woman could talk the horns off a billy goat. “I’ll see you then.”
Back in her car, she pulled a scrap of paper from her purse. Before she’d left home, she’d looked up Agnes Vance in the phone book and scribbled down the address. If she was remembering rightly, the street wasn’t far off the town square, in an old and slightly run-down, but still respectable, section of town.
She headed for Main Street and followed it all the way up to the square, casting a glance at old Mrs. Culpepper’s house as she passed it She turned off the square onto a street leading east, and a couple blocks later she found Parker Street. Stopping at the corner, she squinted in the mid-afternoon sun at the numbers on the street sign, then turned left.
Agnes Vance’s house, a modest one-story red-brick dwelling with a front porch and detached garage, was the next-to-last house on the right. Wanda Nell pulled her car to a stop i
n front of it and examined the house for signs that someone was home. She noted absently that the paint on the porch was peeling and the steps leading up to the porch sagged a bit, but she could see no sign of anyone at home. The garage door was shut as well.
Taking a deep breath, Wanda Nell grabbed her purse, picked up the casserole, and headed up the walk to the porch. Gingerly climbing the steps, she saw that everything was neat and tidy, despite the need for a good paint job. Holding the still-cold casserole dish in her left hand, she rang the doorbell with her right and waited.
She was about to turn and walk back to her car when she heard footsteps inside the house. The door opened slightly, and a face appeared in the opening, shaded by the screen door.
“Miz Vance?” Wanda Nell said. “I’m Wanda Nell Culpepper. I work at the {Country Kitchen. I’m real sorry about what happened, and I thought maybe this would come in handy.” She held up the chicken casserole for Mrs. Vance to see.
Wanda Nell peered at the older woman through the mesh of the screen. At first she thought Mrs. Vance was just going to shut the door in her face without even saying a word, but just as the silence began to get awkward, Mrs. Vance pulled the door further open and pushed at the screen door.
“Come on in, Miz Culpepper,” she said, standing aside and motioning Wanda Nell in with a hand.
Wanda Nell stepped inside, smiling uncertainly. Mrs. Vance’s voice was cold and distant, but her actions were welcoming.
“I worked for several years with your daughter, Miz Vance,” she said as the older woman accepted the casserole dish. “I can’t tell you how shocked I was when I heard what happened. It’s a terrible, terrible thing.”
Agnes Vance stood staring at her, the dish in her hands, saying nothing. Wanda Nell looked back at her, trying not to appear nervous, but the woman’s unblinking stare was beginning to unnerve her. Tall and gaunt, she must have been about sixty, Wanda Nell reckoned. She wore a neat but faded house dress, and her dark hair, streaked liberally with gray, was caught up in a large bun at the back of her neck.
“The Lord’s judgment is a terrible thing,” Mrs. Vance said, her voice taking on some color, “but now she rests in the arms of Jesus. I’ve been praying for her, Miz Culpepper, and I hope you will too. Pray for the Lord to forgive her for the sinfulness of her ways and the wickedness in her heart.”
Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Vance turned and walked down the hall. Not knowing what else to do, Wanda Nell followed her. The house was dark and chilly, and Wanda Nell shivered slightly as she walked into the kitchen behind Mrs. Vance.
Here at least was some light, the paint on the walls a bright yellow to contrast sharply with the darker colors of the hall. Afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, hitting the chrome legs of the kitchen table and chairs. Wanda Nell remembered her parents having a set like them when she was growing up. She stood there uncertainly, waiting for Mrs. Vance to say something.
The older woman set the casserole dish on a counter where several other, similar dishes resided, then turned back to Wanda Nell. She gestured for Wanda Nell to take a seat at the table, and she did, setting her purse on the floor beside her.
“You will pray for her, won’t you, Miz Culpepper?” Mrs. Vance regarded her intently.
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Wanda Nell said.
“You look like a good Christian woman,” Mrs. Vance said. “Would you like some coffee or some lemonade?”
“Lemonade would be nice,” Wanda Nell said.
Mrs. Vance turned away to get a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and a couple of glasses from a cabinet near the sink. She poured two glasses, then returned the pitcher to the fridge. Handing Wanda Nell one of the glasses, she sat down at the table across from her guest
Casting about for something to say, Wanda Nell took a sip of the lemonade to give herself a little more time to think. The lemonade was cold and tart, but delicious. She set the glass down on the table.
“How are the children doing, Miz Vance?” she asked. “I just can’t imagine what a shock this is for them.”
“The children were with me last night,” Mrs. Vance said. “Thank the Lord they were spared the sight of His judgment upon their mother.” She shook her head. “They’ve suffered enough from their mother’s wickedness, but now I can be sure they will be raised without the taint of evil in their lives.”
Wanda Nell wasn’t sure how to respond to this. “I’m glad they were with you,” she said. “They shouldn’t have to see, well, you know...” Her voice trailed off.
Mrs. Vance nodded. “They’ve seen enough already, Miz Culpepper. The things those children were exposed to, you just wouldn’t believe. I did my best raising that girl, I want you to know, and I never have understood how she came to be so wicked. Her father died when she was only twelve, and I reckon if she’d had her daddy to make her toe the line, she might’ve been a good girl. But I had to raise her by myself, and she was wild.” She sighed. “She was just plain wild, and nothing I could do or say made a bit of difference to her. I prayed on my knees every night for the Lord to show her the way to righteousness, but it never happened.”
Wanda Nell had some sympathy for Mrs. Vance, thinking about her own struggles with TJ. and Miranda. She had said more than a few prayers over them both, and she understood Mrs. Vance’s anguish.
“I’m sorry she was such a trial to you,” Wanda Nell said, trying to choose her words carefully. “I know what it’s like to have a wayward child. No matter what you tell them, they just have to learn things for themselves.”
Mrs. Vance nodded and sipped at her lemonade.
“Where are the children now?” Wanda Nell asked.
“They’re all in their room,” Mrs. Vance replied. “The older ones are doing their Bible study, and the youngest is taking her nap. With the Lord’s help I aim to see they’re not tainted with their mother’s wickedness.”
Wanda Nell didn’t say anything for a moment. She had no quarrel with the woman’s devotion to her faith, but she felt sorry for the children having to live under the care of someone who seemed not to have the slightest joy or humor in her. But there was nothing she could do about that It wasn’t her place, and it was Mrs. Vance’s right to raise her grandchildren how she saw fit
She remembered how Fayetta used to gripe about her mother. A time or two Fayetta had repeated the words Mrs. Vance had said to her, and the memory of the names Fayetta had called her mother almost made Wanda Nell blush now. She was thankful she and her own mother had had a very close relationship, nothing like the one between Fayetta and Mrs. Vance.
“If there’s anything I can do to help,” Wanda Nell said finally, “please let me know.”
“Thank you kindly,” Mrs. Vance replied. “As a matter of fact, there is something you can do, if you can. I heard they arrested Mr. Arbuckle. Is that true?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Wanda Nell said. “But I have to tell you, Miz Vance, I don’t think he did it It must’ve been somebody else, and if you have any idea who else it could’ve been, please tell me.”
Mrs. Vance’s eyes narrowed. “She was fornicating with that man, and the Lord only knows how many other men. As far as I’m concerned, they all ought to be in jail.” Wanda Nell clutched her lemonade. Obviously, she wasn’t going to get any help for Melvin out of Mrs. Vance.
“She had some money coming to her from work,” Mrs. Vance continued, “and I sure would appreciate it if I could get it. The children are going to need it and I barely have enough for myself as it is.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Wanda Nell said. She would talk to Tuck about it and between them they could figure out the money situation. There might be enough in the petty cash to pay Mrs. Vance whatever Melvin owed Fayetta. She also decided, right then, that she’d start taking up money at the Kountry Kitchen for Fayetta’s kids. All of Fayetta’s regulars, and hers too, would probably chip in.
“I don’t even know how I’m going to afford to bury her,” Mrs. Vance said.
“I have to trust the Lord will provide,” Mrs. Vance said, sighing tiredly.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Wanda Nell asked. Now was not the time to try to question Mrs. Vance about what she might know about her daughter’s life. Wanda Nell genuinely did want to help, despite the way she had felt about Fayetta. Her heart went out to Fayetta’s children, and she was determined to help them somehow.
Mrs. Vance just sat there, so quiet that Wanda Nell thought she hadn’t heard the question.
“I don’t want to go back to that house alone,” Mrs. Vance said, her eyes cast down. “But the children are going to need their things, and somebody’s going to have to clean up the house. Would you go with me? I don’t know who else to ask.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Wanda Nell said. “I’ll go with you.” She felt a little guilty, because this was what she had been hoping for. “I’ll find out from the sheriff’s department when they’ll let us do that, and I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Vance said. “I appreciate that.”
“I’d better be going,” Wanda Nell said, standing up. “Thank you for the lemonade. It was delicious.”
Mrs. Vance stood up and accompanied Wanda Nell to the door. The house was quiet except for the noise they made walking. If Mrs. Vance hadn’t told her the children were there, she never would have known it.
“If you think of anything else I can help with,” Wanda Nell said after she had stepped onto the porch, “you just give me a call. My number’s in the book, or you can call me at the Kountry Kitchen.”
Mrs. Vance nodded and thanked her again, then closed the door.
Wanda Nell made her way carefully down the porch steps and back to her car. She sat there a moment, feeling depressed by how horrible the whole mess was, then started up the car and headed for home. She didn’t look back. That house, so cold and quiet, had unnerved her, and she couldn’t wait to get back to her own, warm and full of life as it was.
Murder Over Easy (A Trailer Park Mystery Book 2) Page 5
