Southern Fried Son of a Gun (A Willow Crier Cozy Mystery Book 4) (Willow Crier Cozy Mysteries)

by Lilly York

“What is his estate worth?”

  “With everything, a little over 2 million bucks.”

  Willow whistled. “I wonder if Jordina knew about it.” And to herself she thought, she just ended up on the top of the suspect list.

  Chapter 11

  Willow stood at the kitchen sink and rinsed their breakfast dishes. Embry had been silent the entire drive home. She’d been upset. That was understandable, but the whole fiasco hadn’t been her fault. Besides, if the police hadn’t of shown up she wouldn’t know about the change in the will. Jordina really did have a motive for murder, even if she played innocent, pointing the police toward her grandfather to cover her own guilt. Willow sighed. She would have to ween herself off the pain pills if she was going to do any more snooping. She doubted she’d be able talk Embry into taking her any time soon.

  She looked through the freezer. Comfort food. That’s what she needed. She pulled out the pint-size ice cream container. She’d stopped bringing the gallon-size home. She’d eat it all. She dipped her spoon in the mocha ice cream. A new flavor for the shop and it was heaven. Tomorrow she’d wear her new sandals and take herself to work. Tonight, she was having dessert first. She turned on Midsomer Murders and settled in for a good whodunit.

  About 5 minutes into the show, Clover started barking. Willow peeked out the front door. Steve. She opened the door for him then sat back down with her ice cream. Commiserating with each spoon full she shoved in.

  “Are you in here pouting?”

  “No. Well, maybe. Just a little though. I was, then I wasn’t. I guess I got caught up in thinking over the suspects. Ice cream always makes me feel better.”

  He smiled. “Can I have a bite?”

  She fed him a spoonful.

  He closed his eyes and savored the sweet treat. “You’re right. I feel better already.” He looked around. “Did you eat supper yet? Or is this your supper?”

  “I was thinking about heating up some leftover soup. Want some?”

  “I’ve had a chuck roast cooking in my crock pot all day for some French dips. You interested?”

  Willow smiled. “I’m pretty sure you already know the answer.” She put the lid back on and stuck the remainder of the ice cream in the freezer. “Want some help?”

  “Nope. I think you’ve done enough for today. Sit back down. I’ve got this.” Steve ran to his truck and returned with his crock pot. The aroma nearly bowled her over. Willow got out of her chair, hobbling towards the kitchen.

  Steve looked up. “I thought I told you to sit down and rest.”

  She waved her hand, cutting off any future protests. “I just need to use the ladies’ room!” Her voice trailed off as she walked to the bathroom.

  Suddenly he heard a piercing scream.

  Steve ran towards the bathroom and pushed the door open with a crash. Willow was in the tub, as far away from the toilet as possible. He leaned over and saw a small snake floating in the toilet bowl. A small plastic snake. Steve laughed. Uncontrollably. Willow turned to glare at him as he got ahold of himself and reached to help her out of the bathtub.

  “What is so funny!?” She exclaimed.

  Steve reached for the toilet brush and used it to lift the lifeless snake from the water. “Why don’t you asked Embry,” he muttered, trying hard not to laugh again. “You might have deserved this one.”

  Steve went back to the kitchen, leaving Willow to stew, knowing that food would settle her down. Steve pulled the roast out of the hot liquid and sliced the meat, or tried to, as it fell apart. He removed most of the liquid and put it on the stovetop to reduce. While that was working, he buttered the rolls and toasted them on the griddle.

  After a lengthy reprimand for Embry, Willow hung up the phone then answered the call of her growling stomach. She could no longer ignore the aroma that filled her house. The smells wafting from her kitchen were giving her belly many reasons to out and out protest.

  When the buns were finished Steve placed some chopped roast on the griddle and melted both Mozzarella and Provolone cheese over it before adding it to the buns. She listened to him whistle as he moved from stove top to table and back again, the sizzle of the cheese adding rhythm to his melody.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he placed a plate before her. Willow dipped her sandwich in the steaming liquid, then took a bite. She made several noises, none of them intelligible. After swallowing she asked, “How did you learn to cook like this? This is incredible.”

  He smiled. “I’ve been single for nearly 45 years. Do you think I always go out to eat or sponge off my sister?”

  “You can cook for me anytime. Anytime at all!” She finished her sandwich and wiped her mouth. “And feel free to make these again.”

  He nodded. “Feeling okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m tired. I’m surprised a simple toe procedure took so much out of me.”

  “Anytime you mess with the body, it’s taxing. Even a toe.” He tightened his lips. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”

  Willow nodded. She knew his serious face by now and he had her concerned.

  Steve cleared his throat. “You’ve never brought up Embry’s dad.”

  She waited for him to go on.

  “I imagine he will be coming here for Embry’s wedding and I just want to know what I’m going to be up against.”

  She reached out and took his hand. “You won’t be up against anything. Embry’s father was never in the picture. I was young and stupid. I loved him. I thought he loved me. Turned out he loved drugs more than me and the baby. I tried to make it work with him, I did. I gave him every chance to step up and be a father. He didn’t want the responsibility. To be honest, I’ve lost track of him. He’s never paid a dime in child support. He doesn’t have a single picture of his daughter. Not one. He won’t show for Embry’s wedding. You don’t have a thing to worry about. She doesn’t have a father.”

  “Were you two married? Didn’t he have a legal responsibility?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m glad too. The whole situation would have only been more complicated.” She squeezed his hand. “Everything worked out. He may have had a legal responsibility, but I never pushed the issue. I would never have trusted him with her.”

  Steve smiled. “Yeah. She’s pretty precious. I can understand you doing what you did.”

  She pulled him close. “And I’ve never wanted to share her.” She kissed him. “Until now.”

  Chapter 12

  Willow felt guilty for being away from the ice cream shop for so long. Three days of playing hooky was enough. She sauntered through the back door. “Hey, Janie, I’m back.”

  Janie yelled out from the walk in. “I’m taking inventory. Be out in a sec.”

  Willow helped herself to a muffin. She would have stolen a quiche but she wasn’t sure if they were already spoken for. Sometimes customers would order them for pick up. She didn’t want to cause her friend any more stress. Having to cover extra hours was enough.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I own this place, remember?”

  She harrumphed. “Yeah. And I also remember you had a toe procedure and your propensity for doing more than you should sooner than allowed.”

  Willow gave her a half smile. “I feel useless.”

  “You’re not. You just need to get better.”

  Two part-timers walked in. Janie addressed them. “Girls, guess I won’t be needing you today.” They both groaned. Janie smirked.

  “Fine. You’ve got it covered. I get it. I guess I’ll run some errands then rest at home. It’s getting boring though. A few more days then I’m back, understand?”

  Both girls sighed with relief.

  Janie walked Willow to the back door. “They both need the money. Stay away for a few days.”

  Willow sulked back to her Jeep. She turned the air on full blast before closing her door then contemplated her options. Smiling to herself, she pulled out and headed to the city.

  Willow rang the doorbell an
d waited. She rang it again then heard a shout from inside.

  “Hold your horses. I’m comin’.”

  The door swung wide and Birdie’s jaw dropped. “Willow? Um, what are you doing here?”

  Willow didn’t respond. Two things distracted her. First, Birdie was covered in welts. Big ugly swollen welts. Her face. Her arms. Her legs. Pretty much everywhere that wasn’t covered by clothing. Second, was Garth, the handy man from the gun range, standing in the living room like he belonged there. Until he saw Willow, that was. Upon seeing who was at the door he went all business like, disappeared into another room altogether then reappeared with what looked like a tool box. He nodded to Willow as he passed her on the front stoop. Without a word to Birdie. That was odd.

  Willow found her voice. “What happened to you? And what was Garth doing here?”

  Birdie answered Willow’s second question first. “Garth was here to fix my stove. I asked him the day of the potluck. Just my luck that it would go out right before the Southern Fried Chicken Cook-Off at the fair. I know my stove so well—I didn’t want to have to learn a new one right before the contest—and well, he’s so handy, I thought he could fix it for me. Turns out, I thought right. He knew exactly what to do. She stepped aside and invited Willow in.

  “As for these red bumps, well, I had a run in with some bees. I’m pretty certain they won.”

  Oh, that’s what happened out at Clancy’s. “I’m so sorry. That must be painful.”

  Birdie paused, as if in thought. “Yes, well, it isn’t a picnic, that’s for sure. I’m itching all over and it’s driving me to drinkin’.” She walked away and naturally expected Willow to just follow. Typical Birdie.

  Willow thought about beating around the bush then thought better. Best to just come out with it. “So, what were you doing at Clancy’s the other day?”

  Birdie’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?”

  “The day he was murdered. You were out to his house. Why?”

  “Oh, that.” Like she had actually forgotten. “I had borrowed his mama’s old recipe for biscuits. Best biscuits I ever had. Just wanted to return the recipe before his heirs came a lookin’ for it. It’s a family secret, or so he said. Wouldn’t want to put anyone out.”

  “Oh. And is that where you…” Willow motioned to the red bumps on her body.

  “Yes. I parked a ways away—always thinking about exercise you know—then walked through the woods. It was such a lovely day and I’d just eaten all that fattening food. I thought the walk would do me good. Boy was I wrong about that.”

  Willow nodded in agreement.

  “I already told the police all this. Why are you around asking?”

  “Oh, so the police have already questioned you?”

  “Sure have. I wouldn’t have any reason to hurt old Clancy. I barely knew him.”

  Willow agreed with her. It wasn’t like biscuits was a reason to do anyone in. She changed the subject. “Well, what I really want to know is if you have any pointers for me for the Southern Fried Chicken Cook-Off. I need all the help I can get.”

  Birdie glanced at her, her eyes narrowing just a little. “You’re entering?”

  “Yep. Sure am. The only problem is, I wasn’t raised on fried chicken.”

  “So, you’ve never made fried chicken before?”

  “Nope. I mean, I’ve been practicing at home but I’m doing something wrong. It’s just not quite…there.”

  Birdie slowly nodded. “What method of frying are you using?”

  “I bought a deep fryer.”

  “Huh. Well, that should do the trick. I’m not one to share secrets, especially seeing I’m entering the cook-off myself. I will tell you this much, the judges like simple tried and true fried chicken.”

  “Is that what you do?”

  Birdie’s eyes quickly shifted to the kitchen counter then back again. Willow followed suit to see what she had been looking at and Birdie closed the gap and scooped up whatever it was. “Yes, that is exactly what I do. Keep it simple.” She walked to the front door and opened it.

  Willow took a slight detour when she saw the trophies lined up on the fireplace mantle. “You won all these?” She picked one up and read the inscription. “First Place Cake Bake Off. Wow. I’ve only won one First Place trophy. Nice.” She picked up a second and read it to herself. “You must be a fantastic cook. I didn’t think you cooked much since you didn’t bring anything to the potluck.”

  “If you must know I simply ran out of time. Preparing my entries is more important to me than cooking for a potluck.”

  “Then why’d you go to the potluck? If you were short on time that is.”

  Birdie stammered then said, “Are you finished? I have things to do and I don’t have time for chatting it up with you.”

  Willow could take a hint. She thanked Birdie for her time and walked to her Jeep. She turned to see Birdie staring at her and waved. Not bothering to wave goodbye, Birdie stepped back in the coolness of her living room and closed the door. “I guess our visit was finished. Simple? Maybe so, but a little help wouldn’t have killed her.” Thank goodness for friends like Molly. She had several suggestions and Willow was determined to make the best fried chicken she could possibly make.

  She stopped at the grocery store, then the butcher’s and bought two whole chickens. She had already seasoned her new cast iron skillet. It was true, she had tried the deep fryer but it just didn’t produce the results she was looking for. She called Steve, Embry, Janie, and Molly and invited them all for dinner the next evening, a sort of early engagement dinner for her and Marshall. And some much needed practice making her fried chicken. Chicken is such a fickle thing. She wished she had spent more time with her grandmother at the kitchen stove. Her fried chicken had been something to swoon over. She sighed.

  Upon arriving home, she cut her chicken up then added it to gallon-size freezer bags with her secret marinade. This time she knew she had it right. She could feel it. Once the chicken was in the fridge, she peeled potatoes and put them in cold water and stuck them in the fridge as well. Might as well get as much done tonight as I can. After making a hot fudge pudding cake for dessert, she propped her foot up and took a pain pill. She might have overdone it. Well, she did, but then where is the fun in taking it easy all the time?

  Willow gave up for the night on trying to figure out why Garth was at Birdie’s. Her explanation made some sense, she guessed. The recipe on the kitchen counter which Birdie had tried to hide made her curious. She was running out of partners in crime to go on her breaking and entering road trips. She’d have to figure something out herself.

  She made a tuna fish sandwich and settled in her recliner to watch Midsomer Murder when the doorbell rang. Clover was barking up a storm which made Willow wonder who was on the other side. She opened it then nearly choked on her sandwich. Jordina was at her doorstep.

  Chapter 13

  “Jordina, what are you doing here?”

  “I had to talk to you. I just had to.”

  Willow stepped to the side and invited her in. “Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  The young woman held up her water bottle. “I’m good, thanks.” She sat down and crossed her legs at the ankle. She’d certainly been taught manners by someone. Perhaps her grandmother before she had passed on. She quickly pulled a letter out of her pocket and shoved it to Willow, as if the piece of paper was poison. “I found this and knew I had to show it to you. You’ll know what to do with it. My heart is just breaking. I love him so much.”

  Jordina began to cry as Willow opened the letter. Big fat tear drops that certainly conveyed her compassion and hurt over the whole situation. Willow liked the girl more and more. She hoped she wasn’t involved in any way. The letter was addressed to Clancy and it was written by Abel.

  The letter went on and on about Clancy doing what was right, about him coming forward and telling the truth. Abel also made some pretty heavy handed threats if Clancy didn’t do what was
expected of him. “Where did you get this?”

  “Right after we left the potluck, Grandpa left me at home then took off. He was sweating when he left, like he was worried about something, but when he came home he looked relieved, like he’d worked whatever was wrong out. We got to talking and he was laughing and sharing stories with me. Well, he must have forgotten about the letter in his pocket. When I was doing laundry I came across this letter. When I read it, I knew for certain that my grandfather was at fault. He did this horrible thing. I just know he did.”

  Willow tried to comfort her. Jordina had lost her parents when she was young, her grandmother as a young teenager, and now it looked as if her grandfather would be going to prison. The poor girl. Willow didn’t know what to say. How do you console someone who has been hit so hard by life?

  “Will you make sure the police get the letter? It breaks my heart but I had to do the right thing.”

  “Yes, of course. Are you going to be okay? Is there anything I can do?”

  Jordina nodded and started for the door. “There isn’t much anyone can do but I’ll be all right.”

  Right before Jordina opened the door Willow said, “One good thing is you won’t have to worry about money. Not with you being the primary beneficiary in Clancy’s will.”

  Jordina stopped walking and hastily turned back toward Willow. “Who told you that?”

  “The police. You didn’t know?”

  Jordina studied Willow for a moment before replying. “No, I had no idea. I was asked to come to the reading of the will which is tomorrow after the funeral, but I had no idea why. I guess I found out a little early.” The waterworks started back up. “I guess he felt guilty about what he did to my grandpa.” She stifled a sob and ran for her car.

  Willow watched her leave then called Steve. “I’ve got something you should probably see.” She recounted her visit with Jordina then waited for him to arrive.

  After Steve read the letter he shook his head. “I really didn’t want this to be true. I like Abel. He’s such a good guy. Or at least I thought he was.” He shrugged and tucked the letter in his jacket pocket.