Curried Away

by Gail Oust

  “Whatever,” she said, handing me a five-dollar bill.

  I could see my tutorial on fenugreek had been wasted. It wasn’t the first time I’d gone on and on about a certain spice and in the process bored my audience comatose. Time for a change of subject. “Reba Mae stopped by earlier,” I said casually. “Too bad you missed her.”

  “Daddy mentioned that the two of you were best friends.”

  I wasn’t quite ready to hand the fenugreek over until I had a couple questions answered satisfactorily. “Why did you lie to your father about the time rehearsal ended the night Sandy was killed?”

  Madison tried to snatch the spice from me, but I held the bag out of reach. “What makes you think I lied?” she challenged me.

  “Bunny Bowtin told me rehearsal ended between nine thirty and nine forty-five, not close to midnight like you told your father. If you’d rather, I can confirm the time with other cast members. I’m sure they’ll be happy to tell me the truth. What are you hiding, Madison?”

  “Nothing!” Madison glowered at me. “If you must know, I went with Caleb Johnson for a bite to eat. I called him when rehearsal ended, and he picked me up. He dropped me off at my car afterwards, and I came straight home. No big deal.”

  I gave Madison the bag with the fenugreek and opened the cash register to make change. “Where do you usually park while you’re rehearsing?”

  “In the small lot behind the opera house. That’s where most of us park.” She stared at me for a long moment, lips pursed, then seemed to reach a decision to come clean. “Look, Piper, I was afraid Daddy might object to my going out with Caleb. The two of us met and got talking when I brought my Miata in for an oil change. Caleb’s a nice guy, and really cute, but Daddy would prefer someone with a college education—engineer, lawyer, med student. You know how fathers are.”

  I didn’t, not really. My father had been a blue-collar worker in an auto plant in Detroit. All he ever wanted was for me to marry a man I loved. That had been good enough for him and my mother. They’d celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary next year.

  “Caleb and I are just friends,” Madison continued. “It’s not like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Besides, I don’t want Daddy to read too much into my dating Caleb. It would cut into our time together.” Madison dropped the change into her purse, turned, and left the shop.

  Heaven forbid that Madison adjust to her new environment. I struggled not to resent the girl for driving a wedge between her father and me. She was young, I reminded myself. Nothing in her life thus far had prepared her to cope with the violent death of someone she knew personally. But I’m far from perfect. Even as I decided to be more patient, more understanding, resentment wriggled through my resolve.

  I had walked to the door, intent on locking up for the night, when a face peered back at me. “Reba Mae!” I said, clutching my chest. “You scared the daylights out of me.”

  “Sorry, hon.” She waltzed in, carrying a pizza box. “Decided I’d share my news over pizza and a nice glass of wine. I brought enough pizza to share with Lindsey in case she’s home.”

  I locked up behind my friend and switched off the lights as we made our way toward the stairs. “Linds was home long enough to take Casey for a run in the park before taking off again. She and her buddy Taylor are working on a school project.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember. Those days are gone in the blink of an eye.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  We trooped upstairs, where Casey treated Reba Mae to a lavish display of affection, wagging his tail and bouncing around, making her smile and stoop down to pet him. I scooped dog food into his dish and gave him fresh water. Next I brought out two wineglasses and a bottle of wine. Reba Mae, who knew my kitchen as well as her own, got out the plates.

  “No need to waterboard Dorinda Kunkel after all. Wouldn’t you know, she has a rock-solid alibi for the night Sandy was killed,” Reba Mae said after we’d devoured our first slice of gooey pepperoni and mushroom pizza at the kitchen table. “She and her daughter, Lorinda, took her sick grandbaby to the emergency room with an ear infection.”

  I sighed as I took a second slice. “Another one bites the dust—which translated means another name scratched off the list. As for the cast, we still need to confirm the alibis for Wanda, Bunny, Mary Lou, and Marcy.”

  We’d polished off the last of the pizza and taken our wine into the living room when Lindsey bounded up the stairs. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Miz Johnson. I just saw Sergeant Tucker getting out of a police car out back.”

  “Did you speak to him?” Reba Mae’s hand visibly trembled as she set her wineglass on the coffee table. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  Lindsey scooped Casey into her arms. “He said he’d already been to your house, Miz Johnson, but no one answered the door. He asked if I knew where you might be, so I told him you were probably talking to Mom.”

  Just then a fist pounded on the door downstairs. Her eyes distended with fear, Reba Mae rose unsteadily to her feet. “I got a sick feelin’ in my stomach that has nothin’ to do with the pizza we just ate.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “I’M NOT HERE to make an arrest,” Beau explained to Reba Mae from outside my back door. “Chief wants me to bring you down to the station for further questioning.”

  “Did he say why?” I asked, pressing for details. In the light spilling out of Spice It Up! I could see that Beau’s usually jovial expression was absent.

  “No, ma’am, he didn’t say.”

  Beau and CJ were poker-playing buddies. I’d known the man for years. His more formal “ma’am” spoke volumes about the seriousness of his request. I placed my hand on Reba Mae’s shoulder for reassurance.

  Reba Mae wrapped her arms around her waist. “What does the chief want to talk to me about? Can’t he come to the house where we can discuss things real civil-like over a nice glass of sweet tea?”

  Behind me, I sensed Lindsey inching closer. Casey, on full alert to potential trouble, crouched at our feet, a low growl humming in his throat. Beau shot him an uneasy glance and hitched his utility belt higher around his belly.

  “Don’t worry, Reba Mae.” I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “McBride most likely only needs to tie up a few loose ends. With the hotline and all, he probably can’t get away from his office.”

  “You can ride with me or follow on your own, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep the chief waitin’ with the mood he’s in.”

  “I’ll drive you,” I said to Reba Mae, then addressed Beau. “Go ahead; we’ll be right behind you.”

  Reba Mae’s lower lip quivered, and she looked ready to burst into tears. “I swear on Butch’s grave, I never laid a hand on that woman.”

  “Chief just wants to talk,” Tucker said gruffly, then turned and walked toward his patrol car.

  “Don’t worry, Reba Mae.” I grabbed a sweater off a hook by the door. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

  “Mom, what can I do?” Lindsey asked worriedly.

  “Call your father and have him to meet us at the police station.” I raced upstairs, my internal engine in overdrive, and grabbed my purse, car keys, and cell phone. Lindsey had completed her call to CJ by the time I ran back down. “Give Clay and Caleb a call. Let them know what’s happening with their mother.”

  “I’m on it.” Lindsey gave Reba Mae a swift hug. “It’ll be fine, Miz Johnson. You wait and see.”

  Reba Mae swallowed back tears. “Thanks, sweetie. Tell my boys not to worry. Their momma’s gonna be right as rain.”

  Reba Mae and I hurried down the trail in the hard-packed earth behind my shop to my VW. “Try not to read too much into this, Reba Mae,” I said in true cheerleader fashion, trying to sound more confident that I felt. “McBride’s most likely talking to everyone a time or two.”

  “I suppose,” Reba Mae said as she climbed into the passenger seat but didn’t sound convinced.

  I slid into the driver’s side and switched on the ignition. “Remind McBrid
e, flat out, you didn’t mean anything when you said you wanted to strangle Sandy. It was a comment said in the heat of the moment. After all, it’s not as if you have anything to hide.”

  Reba Mae stared straight ahead, her mouth set in a line. She didn’t say a word.

  I darted a sidelong glance at her as I turned onto Lincoln Street. Her silence unnerved me. “Reba Mae.” I spoke in a hushed tone. “Please tell me you don’t have anything to hide—or do you?”

  Reba Mae swallowed noisily but didn’t confirm or deny. It was as if she had suddenly been struck dumb. She either had suffered a stroke or was guilty of withholding information from her BFF—moi. Oh, boy! To quote an old movie: Fasten your seat belts; it’s going to be a bumpy night.

  I didn’t speak again on the short ride to the police department. First my body and now my brain shifted into overdrive. What secret was Reba Mae keeping from me? We told each other everything and had since our babies were in diapers. At least I thought we had—until tonight.

  Precious acknowledged our arrival with a nod that made the beads in her black braids clack together. Judging from her expression, her sunny optimism had taken a leave of absence. “Chief’s waitin’ on you, Miz Johnson. Go right on back. Piper, Chief said if you came along you were to wait out here.”

  I caught Reba Mae’s sleeve before she started down the hall to McBride’s office. A hallway I’d come to think of as the “walk of shame.” “Don’t say a word until CJ gets here,” I advised. “Remember, you have the right to have an attorney present. You have the right to remain silent.”

  “Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law,” Precious volunteered.

  Her face pale, Reba Mae nodded grimly and slowly walked toward McBride’s office.

  “Coffee?” Precious offered. “I have a feeling this is gonna be a late night.”

  “Sure, coffee sounds great.” I accepted the Styrofoam cup from Precious and slumped down on one of the hard wood benches to wait.

  “Those durn phones been ringin’ day and night. I swear I can hear ’em in my sleep.” As if to prove her point, the phone rang again, and she transferred the call to the newly established command post. “Gerilee and her niece been working those lines like pros. Even sent out for food. McBride said to put it on the expense account. We’re already over budget on overtime. Once they knock off for the night, it’ll be up to me to log in callers.”

  I wished I’d had the foresight to bring reading material—and a seat cushion. I was leafing through a year-old issue of Field & Stream when CJ steamed through the double-glass doors. My ex’d had a serious makeover since we met as camp counselors in northern Michigan. He’d been a Southern charmer with sun-bleached hair who’d swept this li’l Yankee off her feet. Much to my parents’ dismay, I’d dropped out of school my senior year of college to support him through law school. Now he was slick as a newly waxed floor and still oozed charm he could turn on and off like a spigot.

  “Hiya, Scooter.” He grinned, showing off a mouthful of pearly whites.

  “Hey, CJ. Reba Mae’s in need of your legal expertise.”

  “Lindsey phoned as Amber and I were about to sit down for dinner. What’s up?”

  “McBride had Beau bring Reba Mae in for questioning in Sandy’s death.”

  “The man can’t seriously think Reba Mae guilty of anythin’ other than puttin’ hair rollers too tight.”

  “Sandy replaced Reba Mae in Steel Magnolias. Understandably, Reba Mae was upset and happened to make a remark that could be misconstrued. Dottie Hemmings overheard it and, after Sandy was killed, ran straight to McBride.”

  “What kind of remark you talkin’ about?”

  I shifted my weight on the hard seat. “She said she wanted to wrap her hands around Sandy’s neck—or words to that effect.”

  CJ let out a low whistle. “That it?”

  “I’m not sure.” I flung the magazine aside. “She’s acting kind of weird. I’ve got the feeling she’s holding something back.”

  “Appreciate the heads-up.” CJ nodded thoughtfully. “Good thing you had Lindsey give me a call. I’ve been brushin’ up on criminal law. Plan to diversify. I want to be known as more than a stereotypical trip ’n fall, fast-settlement attorney.”

  “Glad to hear you have higher aspirations.” I made a shooing motion with my hands. “Now quit wasting time. Go do your lawyer thing.”

  He tugged on the lapels of his navy worsted blazer, shot his cuffs, and straightened his tie. He turned to Precious, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping on our conversation. “Please notify Chief McBride that Chandler Jameson Prescott the Third is here to represent Ms. Reba Mae Johnson.”

  “Go on back. Chief’s waitin’ on you.” Precious rolled her eyes behind his retreating back. “How long were you married to the guy?”

  I retrieved the magazine. “Long enough.”

  The Johnson boys were the next to arrive. “Hey, Miz Prescott,” Clay said, “got here fast as we could.”

  “I was showerin’ when Lindsey called and didn’t hear the phone,” Caleb explained. “Clay stopped to pick me up on his way here.”

  “Glad you boys came.” Standing, I gave each one a hug even though they were so tall I had to stand on tiptoe, then sat down again. Seemed like yesterday that I was wiping their snotty noses and bandaging scraped knees along with Chad’s, then treating the three of them to chocolate-chip cookies.

  “I was out working on the chief’s place.” Clay took a seat next to me. McBride, I knew, had purchased a fix-it-upper outside of town and was busy renovating. Clay’s experience in construction made him a logical choice for doing most of the grunt work.

  Caleb ran his fingers through his longish hair. “What’s up? What’s Momma doin’ in a police station?”

  Scooting over to make room, I patted the bench and motioned for him to sit. I explained the situation best I could, leaving out my suspicion that their mother was keeping a secret. Best not to give them even more cause for concern.

  “We’re not leaving here without her!” Clay declared when I finished my recitation.

  Caleb nodded in agreement. “Even if it takes all night.”

  Reba Mae was right to feel proud of her sons. Identical twins, the boys were strapping six footers with chestnut hair, their daddy’s hazel eyes, and athletic builds. They were fond of sports, beer, and girls and adored their mother. They lived at home while holding down jobs and attending a technical college part-time.

  From time to time, Precious would glance our way, wag her head sympathetically, then return to her work. An hour crawled by, then two. Field & Stream lay open in my lap. I no longer pretended an interest I didn’t feel in fly-fishing. Clay sat hunched forward, hands between his legs, his gaze fixed on the gray-speckled linoleum. Caleb rested his head against the wall, eyes closed. From his casual pose, one might think he was sleeping, but I wasn’t fooled. His young body so close to mine was tense as a drum.

  After what seemed an interminable amount of time, I heard a door open and the sound of voices. This was the cue needed for Caleb, Clay, and me to surge to our feet. Even Precious quit tapping away on her keyboard. At last Reba Mae, followed by CJ, emerged from the hallway. CJ whipped a monogrammed handkerchief from his blazer and offered it to her. Reba Mae accepted it, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. I was relieved not to see any wrist jewelry in the form of handcuffs.

  “Momma, what’s goin’ on?” Clay asked.

  “You okay, Momma?” Caleb said almost simultaneously.

  “Your momma’s fine—for the time bein’,” CJ answered, “but I’d advise her not to speak with that sumbitch without her attorney present. Her attorney bein’ me.” He thumped his chest for emphasis.

  Aware that Reba Mae and my ex were more often sparring partners than allies, I raised a brow. “You sure on that score, Reba Mae? If you’d rather, we can find you a real lawyer.” I shot CJ an apologetic glance. “Nothing personal, CJ, but you’re out of your element in a homicide case
.”

  Reba Mae paled at the word “homicide” but smiled bravely. “I’m fine with CJ lookin’ out for me. This is bound to blow over ’cause I did nothin’ wrong.”

  “Make that almost nothin’, darlin’,” CJ said, shepherding us out of the police department and toward our vehicles. “McBride’s mighty unhappy about you lyin’ to him about bein’ home alone the night of the murder.”

  “Momma!” Clay exploded. “Why go and do a fool thing like that?”

  Caleb tugged the collar of his jacket higher around his ears. “Cripes, Momma, you drilled ‘always tell the truth’ into us since we were knee-high.”

  “I know, I know. It was a dumb thing to do,” Reba Mae cried, “but I got scared! I knew how bad it would look after that dumb remark I made about wantin’ my hands around Sandy’s throat till she squawked like a chicken.”

  Caleb and Clay groaned in unison.

  “How did McBride discover you weren’t home alone?” I asked Reba Mae as CJ jumped into his Lexus and prepared to make his escape.

  “Blame it on that blasted hotline,” she grumbled.

  CJ switched on the ignition. “An anonymous tipster. The caller swore they saw Reba Mae walkin’ near the opera house on the night of the murder.”

  “An anonymous tip…?” I echoed.

  Sniffling, Reba Mae started toward Clay’s pickup. “Someone has it in for me. I looked around real good when I left the opera house but didn’t see a single soul.”

  This time it was my turn to groan.

  CHAPTER 16

  WORD ABOUT REBA MAE’S session with McBride spread through the town like a California wildfire. Though we hadn’t talked since leaving the police station the night before, I vowed first chance I had I’d rake her over the coals for not telling me the whole truth and nothing but the truth. In the meantime, however, I had a business to run.

  News had also spread about my petition. Today I’d gotten up even earlier than yesterday and baked a double batch of Melly’s famous gingersnaps. Spice It Up! was redolent with the wonderful scents of ginger, cloves, cinnamon, and cardamom. I’d added some crystallized ginger, sometimes called candied ginger, for an extra zing. I’d even swiped a small piece to nibble.