by Kate Young
We both went down onto the floor. His left hand had a death grip on my right hand. He pressed something into my palm.
He gurgled next to my ear, “Don . . . trus . . . anyon . . .”
Everything exploded into chaos. Betsy called for an ambulance. Heather was in tears. Jena Lynn was shaking all over as she stared at Mr. Ledbetter, who was now foaming at the mouth beside me.
Someone was shouting, “Call nine-one-one!”
I sat there helplessly. The man from my table was on the floor next to us now, trying to revive the unconscious old man. Rainey Lane and Carl were standing off to the side, faces drawn in panic. Carl began yelling, calling out his dad’s name. The other patrons were staring on from their tables in utter shock.
I longed for the sound of sirens as tears streamed down my cheeks.
The man from my table made direct eye contact with me. His square black frames slid down his nose. His face was grim as he panted, “This man is dead.”
Chapter 4
My shopping basket was full when I rounded the corner to the toiletries aisle of Mason’s Market. I was operating on autopilot after the ambulance had hauled Mr. Ledbetter away.
Yvonne was standing in front of the nail polish display. “I’ve been trying to call you!” she shouted and dashed toward me. After an awkward hug, both of us holding baskets, she said, “I got home two hours ago and was bombarded with bad news.”
I nodded. “It was awful. I just can’t get the image of that poor man out of my head.” I swallowed over a lump that had developed in my throat.
“I can’t even imagine. You poor thing.” She lowered her voice as an elderly woman passed by. “What did they say happened to him?”
I twirled a stray strand of hair around my finger. “I overhead Carl telling Felton that his dad mixed up his medications sometimes, so maybe it was that.”
“Maybe. Did Peter really have your car repossessed?” She gasped upon confirmation.
“I’m too shaken up to go into it now.” I stared at the shelf that held the shampoo.
“Oh, of course.” She shook her head, her blond curls bouncing. “How insensitive of me.” She brightened. “I guess I have to get used to this again. You’re bound to run into everyone at the only grocery store in town.”
“That’s true.” I was thankful for the subject change.
“Do you like passion pink or lilac rose?” She held both shades of nail polish, wiggling the bottles.
“Lilac rose, definitely.” I picked up a bottle of hydrating shampoo. Menial tasks. That was what I needed right now.
Yvonne looped her arm through mine as we continued to move through the store. She was a couple inches taller than me. She was wearing a blue-and-white Lilly Pulitzer dress tonight. We essentially were the same size, despite the height difference. I wouldn’t mind borrowing the lovely sundress, along with the white heeled sandals that made a dainty little clip-clop sound when she walked. We strolled toward the checkout lane, where I plunked my basket on the small conveyer belt.
“You want me to drive you home?” She put her bags in the trunk of her cute little red convertible.
“No. I’ve got to get Rust Bucket back home.”
When she appeared confused, I explained. She nodded, cringed, then hugged me. “You’re going to get through this, and when you do, you’ll come out on the other end a force to be reckoned with.”
“Thanks for that.”
Before we parted ways, she casually mentioned Alex Myers, saying she’d run into him and he’d asked about me.
“I’m not even divorced yet. Plus, he’s with Olivia Townsend.” I glanced down the street. “Last I heard, anyway.”
She opened the car door. “Not anymore. They broke up a few months ago.”
“Not that it matters. I’m not ready to consider another relationship.”
Alex and I had been attached at the hip from junior high through our early twenties. I’d thought he was, the one. It hadn’t ended well.
“No, but you will be.”
I waved bye as she drove away.
The warm breeze was nice tonight, and before poor Mr. Ledbetter’s passing, today had been good. I’d been surprised how much I enjoyed churning out pastries and fresh bread. After I was granted free rein in the kitchen, Jena Lynn had become giddy at all my suggestions and ideas. She’d even gone so far as to encourage me to experiment, which gave me high hopes for our relationship moving forward. Everything here was simpler, slower paced. Down the street, Harold’s Hardware Store had its front door open, and the faint strains of eighties music reached me. To the left, a smiling Bonnie Butler was locking up her boutique for the night. She threw her hand up and wiggled her fingers in the air as she strolled to her car.
The Peach in the center of the square was lit up bright; the glossy painted peach on the sign was glimmering in the moonlight. The tables by the windows were full, and, from what I could see, the counter was too. Betsy was hustling tonight with a full section. She balanced her serving tray with ease as she placed the plate on the table at the window. Her high ponytail swung around as she refilled glasses. She paused, pitcher still in hand. She was waving like a loon as she leaned over her male customer. “Hey, Marygene!” I could read her lips.
I waved back as the customer said something that must have been harsh because she wagged her finger in his face. The rest of the table roared in laughter as she spun on her sneakered heels toward the kitchen.
As I climbed into Rust Bucket, my mind drifted back to the night before. Mama. Her prediction came true. How could that be? I’d heard of people having weird dreams before the death of a loved one or someone close to them, but this, I couldn’t wrap my head around. I remembered that what Mr. Ledbetter had given me was in my pocket. I smoothed out the crumpled piece of scratch paper and examined the series of letters and numbers scribbled there in blue ink, AP081587F. Why had Mr. Ledbetter given this to me?
* * *
The aroma of coffee percolating and freshly baked chocolate muffins brought a smile to my face, even after the horrible events of yesterday. I slogged into the kitchen, where my sister was fist deep in dough. Shadows were visible under her eyes.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night either, huh?” she asked.
“No.” I reached the commercial coffeepot and proceeded to pour us each a cup. “Seeing poor Mr. Ledbetter zipped up in the body bag . . .” I shuddered and we sank into silence.
Jena Lynn continued her task of removing muffins from the pan and let the subject drop. “The new order came in this morning, thank God. Our stock shelves are overflowing. I gave the delivery guy a piece of my mind too. That mix-up was unacceptable.” Chewing out the delivery guy wouldn’t do a bit of good. It was the equivalent of shooting the messenger.
“You spoken to Eddie yet?” She brimmed with optimism.
I pushed my hair out of my face. “I’m going to.”
“Good. He loves you, you know.” She checked the croissants in the proofing box.
Of course I knew he did. I loved him too.
“Don’t let a bad decision on his and Mama’s part ruin the relationship you can now have.”
“You’re right.”
She smiled.
“I promise I’ll call him after work today.”
Sam strolled in without a word and went to fry himself some breakfast. He didn’t like to talk before coffee either.
Jena Lynn and I went to sit at the counter and have a pastry before customers started arriving. And, for the first time in years, my sister and I were on good terms.
Sam took a seat next to me as Betsy shuffled through the door. “I had the worst night.” Her eyes were red rimmed and began to fill up with tears. Maybe her bad night had more to do with Darnell than Mr. Ledbetter.
Jena Lynn’s face was unreadable. “You okay, Betsy?”
You had to tread lightly with Betsy. If you joined the bash-Darnell bandwagon and then they made up, like they always did, you’d be on her bad side
. One minute she was a basket case, sobbing and carrying on, the next she was ready to knock your lights out for bad-mouthing the man.
I slid the entire box of pastries Jena Lynn and I had been working our way through over to Betsy.
Betsy sat her plus-sized figure down next to the container. “I’ve had it, y’ all. Yesterday was a wake-up call for me. Life is short. This time, it’s really over.”
Jena Lynn and I exchanged a weary glance.
Betsy glared from my sister to me. “I mean it! Y’all know that little gal Kelly Crawford that works down at Tuckers?” Tuckers Jiffy Lube was the only gas station and mechanical shop in town.
Jena Lynn’s face contorted in disapproval.
“You referring to that scantily clad girl who runs the register?” I asked as Jena Lynn hopped up to retrieve the coffeepot.
“That’s the one.” Betsy curled up her lip in disgust.
“That girl is barely legal!” I was outraged.
“I know! I’m going to tell her granny. She’ll take a hickory switch to the girl when she finds out what she’s been up to. She was all over Darnell.” Betsy wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She was right about that. Her granny wasn’t the type to spare the rod; she parented old-school style.
Jena Lynn’s tone rose as she stirred raw sugar into her coffee. “You caught them?”
“Well, I called him after what happened with poor Mr. Ledbetter—”
We shook our heads.
“—told him I was going to be late ’cause I was taking that extra shift. Guess he thought late meant real late ’cause when I got home, they were rootin’ around on my couch, the one my meemaw gave me last spring when she had her house redecorated.”
We sat in stunned silence.
“I threw his junk out last night. And when he still didn’t budge from the TV”—she paused for effect—“I set it all on fire, right there in the front yard.” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her expansive chest.
“That’s harsh.” Sam stacked his empty plates. “Maybe it wasn’t Darnell’s fault.” Jena Lynn and I gave him a disapproving glare. He appeared oblivious to his offense, and the moron had the audacity to reach into the container for a cream cheese Danish.
“Sam, if you value that scrawny hand of yours, I’d pull it out real slow or you’ll be drawing back a nub,” Betsy warned.
“Sheesh!” Sam jerked backward. It was obvious he didn’t doubt her for a second. He marched toward the kitchen and dropped the plates in the bus tub with a loud thud.
“He should know better. You don’t touch a gal’s comfort food in a time of crisis,” I said, and my sister nodded in agreement.
Jena Lynn patted Betsy on the arm. “Ignore him, Bets. He’s a man.”
I stood. “And if I may be so bold as to speak for all the women of the world who have been unfortunate enough to be in your shoes, we applaud you.”
A satisfied smile spread across Betsy’s lips. “Thank you.” She took a little bow. “That’s why my eyes look like they do. Smoke got to me.” She leaned in closer. “I threw all his high school football trophies into the blaze while he was hollering at me. The whole neighborhood came out to watch.”
I chuckled. The thought of Darnell Fryer running around watching all his belongings go up in smoke was hilarious. I wished I’d been there. “Did anyone try to step in and help Darnell?”
“Hell nah. He owes his buddies so much money from borrowing to pay his gambling debts, the ones that came out brought their camping chairs and watched the show while tossing back a few cold ones.” She got up from the counter to scoop a glass full of ice and filled it with Diet Coke from the fountain. “Y’all, I gotta lose this weight now I’m back on the market.”
Betsy was one of a kind.
The jingling of the door and flashing blue lights broke into our little powwow, and, for the second time this week, my world was rocked. Edward Carter, my biological father, had a powerful gait. Being the sheriff did that to a guy. He was a little grayer than the last time I saw him. His grayish blue eyes, the exact same shade as mine, surveyed the room before landing on me.
When he reached me, he hesitated a moment. We both bobbed around like chickens, him wanting to hug me and me thinking I’d pass. We’d been close once during a few years’ spell when Mama let him hang around without kicking him out every other month. That had been before I’d been told the truth. What he’d seen in that woman I’d never know.
“Eddie, what’s up?”
We settled into an awkward side hug.
“I came by the house last night and tried your cell a few times,” he said.
“Sorry. I meant to call you back.” I felt a tad childish.
He nodded before getting to the point of his visit. “A forensic team is on its way here. There seems to be some suspicion surrounding Mr. Ledbetter’s death.” He released me. “Where’s your brother?”
I pointed to the grill line.
“Sam!” he called.
“What’s going on, Dad?” Sam raised his eyebrows and joined us.
“What do you mean, suspicious?” Jena Lynn asked at the exact same time I did, “Where did this forensic team come from?” Peach Cove certainly didn’t have one handy.
His deputies, Felton Powell and Alex Myers, walked into the diner, dressed in their brown uniforms. They both nodded when they saw I’d noticed them. Where Felton was bald, tall, and lanky with a pudgy middle, Alex was on the shorter side and sturdy. He had untamable black hair that curled around his ears, and the most animated dark eyes I’d ever seen.
“The team is on loan from the state. The body has been scheduled for an autopsy. We won’t know anything until the reports come back. I received a call from a buddy who’s a statie. He gave me the heads-up that Carl Ledbetter is using his connections to have the process expedited, and they want the diner searched and evidence tested.”
“Oh, my Lord!” Betsy rose from the counter. “Surely they don’t think one of us killed the man!”
“Now, Betsy,” Eddie put a hand on her shoulder, “no one said anything about murder. Carl has had a shock, and he wants answers. It happens sometimes when a death occurs suddenly.”
But the mere mention of murder and a forensics team on the way here did mean someone certainly had their suspicions.
Eddie opened the door to admit the team of uniformed men loaded down with equipment. I wondered what they had in their little cases. None of the men made eye contact with me as Eddie asked us to step outside.
“I don’t like this,” Betsy said as we stood outside the diner.
The way the team had swarmed in, as though they were busting Colombian kingpin Pablo Escobar, had us all on edge. We watched as a couple of guys carried out large open bags full of our baking supplies. How were we supposed to run a diner without the ingredients to fill orders? Jena Lynn couldn’t stand still.
“That order just came in, Eddie,” Jena Lynn said. “None of those supplies have even been touched yet.” Jena Lynn’s bottom lip quivered as she watched the bags being hefted into the back of the giant black van.
We were starting to draw a crowd.
“Calm down,” Eddie placated, but Jena Lynn wasn’t soothed. “The supplies can be replaced.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her back from the van.
“What are we going to do?” Her voice shook.
Before I could answer, Bonnie Butler had made her way over from her boutique. “Eddie, what in tarnation is going on? Who are all these people?”
Eddie took the older woman off to the side to have a word with her. I watched him nod at Alex, who had popped his head out of the door. Alex went on crowd-control duty.
“This is bad,” Betsy stated the obvious as she moved to the other side of Jena Lynn, her face pale.
“I know,” Jena Lynn hissed. “It won’t even matter that we didn’t have anything to do with the death. With all this commotion,” she flung her arm in the air, “rumors will fly an
d people will be afraid to eat in the diner.”
“What’s going on?” Heather hurried to cross the street, weaving around pedestrians, her apron tossed across her left shoulder.
Once I filled her in, she was beside herself with worry. “We are going to be able to open, aren’t we?” Unshed tears were visible when she’d spoken. “I’ve got my youngest’s asthma appointment with that specialist scheduled for next week. My deductible has skyrocketed.”
Jena Lynn wrapped her arm around Heather’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. I won’t let you lose that appointment. It took months to get him in.”
I stepped aside as my sister consoled Heather. Her tone sounded much stronger.
Sam was pacing up and down the sidewalk grumbling to himself. Betsy was gnawing on her fingernails, and Mama was standing beside the van. Mama?
“I told you. Why didn’t you listen?” Mama scolded.
Heaven help me. I turned my back. “Betsy,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, “Do you see her?”
“Who?” Betsy asked as quietly as I had.
With my right hand, I reached across my body and pointed over my left shoulder.
“Bonnie? She’s gone.” Betsy was staring straight toward the van. She would have to see Mama. She was standing less than half a foot away.
“I know this is going to sound crazy,” I turned around, “but, Ma—” My voice died in my throat. She was gone. I needed a breather. “Be right back.”
With my lower back resting against the masonry wall in the alley, and my hands on my knees, I took a couple of deep breaths. My pulse jittered. Had I really seen her? Heard her? Perhaps my brain was addled by sleep deprivation and a twisted imagination. No, she’d been there.
“Marygene,” Alex said and I glanced up, panting. “God, are you okay?”
“Well . . .” I couldn’t think of how to phrase what I was experiencing. “I’ve just been . . . I think I’m losing it, Alex.” I wiped my clammy hands on my shorts. He was in front of me now. Familiar and safe. I threw my arms around him and buried my head against his chest.
