by Carol Durand
“I don’t know that I’ll ever get tired of you, but I’m willing to test the question,” he waggled his eyebrows comically.
“Lucky me,” Missy replied, savoring a plump crawfish.
Chas was about to respond, when his phone buzzed insistently from its place next to his plate. Glancing at the screen he told her that he had to take the call, and stepped outside as a courtesy to the other diners. Missy buttered a moist and dense piece of cornbread, enjoying the quintessentially southern treat while she waited for him to return.
“Bad news?” she asked, when she saw the look on his face as he returned to the table.
“Work,” he replied, sighing. He signaled the server and asked for a to-go cup for his sweet tea and a box for his lunch. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”
“Wouldn’t you know it…just when I get freed up and am available, something comes up for you at work,” Missy smile ruefully.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, putting his leftover container in a paper bag and kissing her quickly. “Will you be okay with catching a cab?” he asked, concerned.
“Of course, you go ahead. Don’t worry about me,” she smiled, pushing him toward the door. “I’m going to take my sweet time finishing dinner, and then head home to read my book,” she explained when he hesitated. “Now git!” she ordered playfully. With a grateful grin, Chas headed for the door.
**
Toffee and Bitsy greeted Missy with wagging tails and doggy grins when she returned home from dinner with Chas, so she quickly dashed upstairs to change into jogging clothes, and took them to the park for an impromptu game of fetch. As usual, Bitsy tired long before the lanky golden retriever, and panted happily at Missy’s feet, watching the antics of Toffee and their owner. They stayed for about an hour, then headed for home when the sun began to sink toward the horizon. Missy made sure that her furry friends each had a treat and that their food and water bowls were full before making her way upstairs for a bath, a book and bed.
Slipping into the tub for a relaxing soak, Missy thought about how fortunate she was to be able to scale back her time at work in order to live life more fully, even though she still checked in with Ben and Cheryl numerous times a day. The Bayou Baker had completed its first season with great ratings, and the producers had promised Missy that they would be renewing her contract. Now that she wasn’t working at her shops full time, filming the show wouldn’t be nearly as stressful, and she was actually looking forward to the upcoming season.
As Missy toweled off after her bath, relaxed and ready to read, she heard the text tone on her phone go off and sighed. Wrapping a fluffy robe around her, she padded over to her nightstand to check the message. It was from Sam, the newest member of her book club.
“I need to talk to you when you have a chance. Please call me when you can,” the young nurse had texted.
Missy glanced at the clock radio that had been her dad’s, which now resided on the nightstand. It was already nine o’clock, if she called Sam now, she wouldn’t have any time to read before she grew too sleepy, so she decided to put off the call until morning, feeling a little bit guilty. She had been working on seriously guarding her personal time, and felt that occasionally saying no, or doing things on her own terms was a good thing, but she still felt twinges of guilt.
After reading five chapters, her eyelids beginning to droop, Missy was startled when her text tone went off again.
“You awake?” Chas wanted to know.
“I am now ;)” she replied.
“I’m coming over.”
Thinking it odd that he told her rather than asking her, as was his norm, she said, “K,” and pulled on some yoga pants and a t-shirt. Trotting downstairs, Missy went to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea, wondering what could possibly be prompting the ever-courteous and conscientious detective to invite himself over after ten o’clock at night. Just as she poured steaming water into two oversized mugs, there was a soft knock at the front door, and Chas let himself in.
“You’re not supposed to leave the front door unlocked,” he reminded her, moving in for a hug.
“It’s LaChance, Chas. I think I’m pretty safe,” she smiled into the most incredibly blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“I’m not so sure,” he turned serious, releasing her gently.
“What do you mean?” she asked, handing him a mug of tea and worried by his somber tone.
Chas put his mug of tea down on the kitchen counter, then took hers out of her hands and did the same, taking both of her hands in his. “Sweetie, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s been a murder. That’s why I had to leave at dinner,” he explained.
“Oh Chas, that’s awful,” she shook her head, dismayed that something heinous had happened in their sleepy town.
“Missy…it was Sally Higgins who was killed,” he said, cupping her face in his hands.
Missy gasped as though she’d been punched in the stomach. “Sally? But why? She was the sweetest of souls – she’d do anything for anyone,” she shook her head in disbelief, plopping onto a barstool next to the counter.
“Our investigation hasn’t turned up anything yet, and it’ll be a while before physical evidence will be processed, so for now, we’re focusing on talking with friends and family members to try to see if someone might have had reason to be upset with her,” he explained as silent tears slipped down Missy’s cheeks. “She was in your book club…did she mention having issues with anyone?” he asked.
Missy shook her head. “No. As far as I know, everyone in town loved Sally. She did a ton of charity work, had a lot of friends in the community, was the leader of our book club…I can’t imagine who could’ve done such a thing.”
“I’m so sorry that this happened to a friend of yours,” Chas sat down next to her, pushing her mug of tea into her hands. “But I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened,” he promised.
“Oh my goodness!” Missy made a sudden realization. “I bet that’s why Sam wanted me to call her. She works at the hospital, so she must have heard about Sally’s death,” she mused. “Poor thing, she was probably upset, and I didn’t call her back.”
“Who is Sam, and what are you talking about?” Chas asked, eyes narrowed.
Missy explained that Sam was a new book club member who had texted when she was getting ready for bed.
“When you talk to Sam tomorrow, find out what she wanted, but don’t say anything about Sally,” he advised, seeming a bit preoccupied.
“Okay…but why?” Missy asked, puzzled.
“Because there’s no way that Sam should’ve known about Sally, even if she is a nurse. Sally wasn’t taken to the main part of the hospital, she was pronounced dead on the scene and was taken straight to the morgue to await the coroner’s autopsy,” Chas said grimly. “How well do you know Sam?” he asked.
“Not well, she’s new, but she seems nice,” Missy said, worried. She suddenly remembered the tense conversation that she’d overheard between Sam and Sally at book club, and related the story to Chas, who took notes.
“I’ll need her contact info,” he said, pen poised.
Chapter 4
Samantha Lemmon sat at the nondescript laminated table in the interrogation room across from Detective Chas Beckett, whom she’d never met before today. She was dressed in the scrubs that she had worn to work, and her hands twisted nervously in her lap.
“Can you tell me about the last interaction that you had with Sally Higgins?” the detective asked, taking in the young woman’s clueless demeanor and nervous motion.
“Umm…sure. I, uh, called Sally yesterday morning. We were supposed to head up the Garden Walk committee this year, and I needed to know what I should be doing for that. Sally told me that she and Marsha had always done the planning and that it didn’t seem fair for her to replace Marsha without asking her if she still wanted to be involved,” she explained, avoiding eye contact with the intimidating man in front of her.
&nbs
p; “This is Marsha Mueller?” Chas clarified, having already spoken with her.
“Yes,” Sam nodded. “Marsha is the one who introduced me to Sally. Sally is…or was, the leader of our book club,” she said sadly. “We had become such good friends in such a short time. Actually, I became closer with Sally than I was with Marsha, even though I’d known Marsha longer.”
“I see,” the detective stared at her, looking for non-verbal clues. “How did you respond when Sally told you about the need to consider Marsha for the committee?”
“I was disappointed, but I told her that I completely understood and that I’d be willing to help out in any way that I could.”
“And did she indicate whether or not you’d be able to help with the project?” Chas persisted.
“She said that she’d look into it,” Sam shrugged.
“Did you and Sally ever have a disagreement?” he probed, remembering what Missy had told him that she witnessed in Sally’s kitchen.
Sam shook her head. “No, not that I can think of…we got along really well together,” she answered guilelessly.
Chas questioned Samantha for another hour or so, then sent her home, letting her know that she shouldn’t leave town without notifying him, in case he needed to contact her for more information. The detective tapped his pen on the cheap laminate table, thinking. Something about his interview of Samantha Lemmon bothered him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it just yet.
**
Missy was going over a delivery order with Cheryl at the front counter of the LaChance shop when the bells over the door jangled, announcing the arrival of a customer. It was Marsha Mueller, and Missy immediately came out from behind the counter to give the fragile-looking woman a hug.
“Marsha, honey, how are you holding up?” she asked, knowing how close she had been to Sally Higgins.
“I still just can’t believe she’s gone,” Marsha replied, gazing despondently at the floor.
“Here, come sit down,” Missy led her over to a somewhat secluded table in the corner. “You get comfortable, and I’ll be right back with cupcakes and coffee,” she directed, resorting to the most comforting measures that she knew. She returned to the table with two steaming mugs of freshly-brewed Costa Rican coffee and two Cardamom Brulee cupcakes. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry about Sally,” she said, patting Marsha’s hand.
“It’s so crazy, it doesn’t even seem real,” the distraught woman shook her head. “And to think it all happened because of the stupid Garden Walk committee,” she took a sip of coffee and started to peel back the foil from her cupcake.
“Wait…what?” Missy was confused.
“Sally had started developing a really close relationship with Sam after I introduced her to the group, so when she mentioned the Garden Walk committee that she and I do every year, Sam thought that she intended to give her my spot. Well, that wasn’t the case at all, and when Sam found out that she’d made an incorrect assumption, she was furious. She said all sorts of horrible things to Sally and me, and was so unpleasant that Sally finally agreed to let her help out, but that wasn’t good enough for Sam. She wanted me out of the picture so that she’d have Sally’s friendship all to herself. When Sally, stubborn soul that she was, wouldn’t budge, Sam just kind of…snapped I guess, and now Sally’s gone,” she bit back a sob and dabbed at her shocking blue eyeliner with a lace hankie.
Missy sat staring at Marsha with her mouth hanging open in shock. “Do you really think that sweet little Samantha killed Sally?”
Marsha nodded. “I think little Samantha isn’t nearly as sweet as she seems, and now my best friend is gone because of her.”
Chills ran up and down Missy’s spine at the thought. She didn’t want to believe it, but it certainly made the hostile behavior that she’d witnessed in Sally’s kitchen make much more sense. Sam had clearly been trying to drive a wedge between Sally and Marsha with her insinuations. As much as she wanted Samantha to be innocent, Missy planned to tell Chas about this conversation as soon as possible. If Sam really was the killer, he needed to know about it sooner rather than later.
Chapter 5
Missy was busy gently arranging mulch around the newly planted petunias in her front garden when a shadow loomed over her suddenly, startling her. Pulling out the buds that had been delivering 80’s pop into her ears, she whirled around to see Samantha Lemmon standing behind her. Heart beating a mile a minute, Missy gasped.
“Goodness, you startled me!” she exclaimed, turning off her iPod, and halfway wondering if she was going to become the next victim.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha plopped down on the grass a few feet from where Missy was working. “I guess you didn’t hear me talking to you because of the music.” She was wearing denim capris and a v-necked black t-shirt rather than her typical outfit of scrubs, and Missy realized that this was the first time she’d ever seen her in normal clothing.
Putting down her bag of mulch and peeling off her work gloves, Missy tried to act normal, all the while wondering if she was staring into the eyes of a killer. When she told Chas about her conversation with Marsha, he had said that the grieving woman had already told him the same thing herself, and now here Missy was, face-to-face with a suspected murderer.
“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” she asked, hoping that she sounded cheerful.
“I needed to talk to someone, and you always struck me as someone who was kind and thoughtful and intelligent enough to make her own decisions,” Samantha said sadly.
“Well, thanks – I try,” she attempted to joke, but, considering the circumstances, it fell flat. “So…what’s up?”
“They haven’t formally charged me with anything, but, because of the way they’re questioning and treating me, I think the police believe that I killed Sally,” Sam said, her eyes wide with pain, whether real or feigned. “I could never have done that. Sally was never anything but nice to me…I loved her like a sister.”
Missy didn’t know what to say. “She was a wonderful person,” was the best that she could come up with.
Sam studied her carefully for a moment. “Well, it looks like they have you convinced too,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. “All of my friends have turned against me,” she cried. “I was at work all day on the day that they found poor Sally. How could they think that I had time to kill someone when I was working all day? It’s just crazy,” she shook her head, despairing.
“Sam, I…” Missy began, reaching a hand toward her.
Sam shook her head. “No, never mind. Forget it. I thought that you might be able to see past the accusations and actually be my friend, but I guess that’s just too much to hope for. You’re just like all the others,” she accused, standing and swiping the blades of grass from the seat of her capris. “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore,” she called over her shoulder as she ran from the yard, tears streaming down her face.
Missy frowned as she watched her go. The evidence that had been discovered to date, pointed in Sam’s direction, but it still seemed inconceivable that a person who appeared to be so incredibly good and harmless could have committed such an act. She felt scared that she might have just angered someone who was capable of killing, while feeling sorry for someone who might have been wrongly accused, and she had no idea which feelings to trust.
**
“The safe thing to do at this point, is trust your fear,” Chas advised Missy when she told him of her encounter with Samantha. “She obviously knows where you live, but I’m sure she also knows that the police department is watching her every move, so you should be safe, but take extra precautions. Lock your doors and windows, even if you feel that LaChance is the safest place on the planet, avoid being alone after dark – I’ll be happy to help you with that one if you’d like,” he teased, “…and try not to make her angry if you happen to encounter her again. If what Marsha says is true, she apparently has a hair-trigger temper that can end up being lethal. Keep your cell phone on you
at all times, and don’t be afraid to call me or the station if something is scaring you, okay?”
Missy nodded. “It all seems so surreal. Last week we were all just a happy group of women, drinking wine and talking about books, and now, one of us may be a murderer, and one or more of us may be in danger, it’s just so crazy.”
“It is very strange,” Chas agreed. “I’ve been looking into Sam Lemmon’s past and the woman is squeaky clean – graduated with highest honors, has been an exemplary employee at every job, no nasty divorces or break-ups that I can find, no criminal record of any kind, not even so much as a parking ticket. I really wonder what’s going on here,” he admitted.
“Aren’t the most heinous criminals often the ones that seem the most nice and normal?” Missy asked in a small voice.
“Absolutely,” he agreed grimly. “So it will behoove us to be on our toes until the case is solved,” he warned her, then took her in his arms.
Chapter 6
The Burgundies and Books ladies showed up at Crème de la Cupcake on the Tuesday after the murder, somber and quiet. They took seats at their normal table, leaving the chair where Sally used to sit unoccupied. Missing from the group was Samantha, and during the course of their conversation about how awful it was not having Sally with them, no one even mentioned Sam’s name. Missy served fresh, hot coffee and the Cupcake of the Day, the Fluffernutter, a peanut butter cupcake, filled with molten chocolate and capped with marshmallow crème, then sat with the gals, who all seemed, understandably, to be in a state of shock.
“Who’s going to host book club on Thursdays now?” Tamela asked, wiping crumbs of peanut butter cupcake from her fingers with a napkin. “I mean, I think that Sally would definitely want us to go on meeting and enjoying each other, don’t y’all think so?”
