by Kate Young
He continued, “I’m going to give you one piece of advice, and I can’t elaborate further. It might be best for you to go back to Atlanta.” My back stiffened and he tightened his grip on my hands. “Just until this whole thing is settled.”
The back door burst open, and Betsy came rushing in. “Oh, my sweet Lord, Marygene! I just heard! It’s all everyone’s talking about. Some of those idiots even believe Jena Lynn is guilty. I can’t—”
She spied Felton holding my hands. He released his hold and rose to his feet.
“Felton, I wondered whose patrol car was parked outside. You better not be arresting her!” Betsy wagged her finger in his face. “She ain’t got nothing to do with Mr. Ledbetter’s death, and neither does Jena Lynn. Everyone at the diner is innocent! You should be ashamed of yourself. Does your granny know you’re over here persecuting God-fearing Christians for deeds they haven’t done?”
God bless her. Betsy was so outraged she was ready to take a swing at him.
“He’s not arresting me. Eddie asked him to escort me home,” I told her.
“I’ll see you later.” He reached out and squeezed my arm in a reassuring sort of way. “Think about what I said.” He gave a curt nod toward Betsy.
When the door closed, Betsy peeked out the window. “I just can’t believe it. Poppy Davis who works over at the Beauty Spot said the Ledbetters brought in some fancy-shmancy attorney from out of town.” She turned toward me. “Someone big from the DA’s office to prosecute Jena Lynn.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Chapter 10
“This stinks to high heaven.” Betsy paced the floor next to the counter, where she’d just placed the bags she’d carried in. “I brought wine.”
“How is wine going to help?”
“Honey, wine always helps.” She uncorked a bottle and poured two tall glasses full. “I bet the Ledbetters had him whacked because he was costing them money. Or it was Ms. Brooks. You heard her threatenin’ him, all brazen-like. They should have arrested her wrinkly old ass instead of Jena Lynn.” Betsy gulped down the entire glass.
“You better not let Yvonne hear you say that. I am planning on having a chat with Ms. Brooks, though, I certainly don’t believe she did it. She obviously has dirt on the old man, and, to establish a motive, we have to find out all that we can.”
“You know, I’m going to have a talk with Alex. See if he can do some investigatin’ on the side for us.”
I held my hand up. “I don’t think that’s wise. We don’t want to get him in trouble with Eddie.”
“We won’t. I saw him lookin’ at you while we were all waiting to be interviewed. He seems over you trying to kill him now.”
I closed my eyes and tried to count to ten—I made it to three. “I wasn’t trying to kill him!” I slammed my hand on the table for emphasis.
“You hit him over the head with a wine bottle and kicked him in the nuts before shoving him overboard.” Betsy smirked. She was always reminding me of why he and I hadn’t worked out. Even though he was her cousin, she hadn’t been on his side. “Not that your treatment didn’t serve him right, for allowing Rainey Lane to paw all over him. You should have flung her overboard. She deserved it most.”
“Oh, right, blame Rainey Lane, yes, she’s an evil, conniving narcissist, but Alex wasn’t doing much to shake her loose. In fact, he had a little smile going on.”
“Marygene, don’t be like that. It’s been years, and you were broken up at the time.”
“I’m not upset about it. I just don’t like it when everyone portrays him as the victim,” I muttered. “I’ve been over him for ages.”
“You always hold grudges. It’s not healthy.”
“No, I don’t.” Do I?
She scrunched up her face in disapproval. Okay. I was being completely foolish now. There was no way I was going to sit back and harbor sore feelings while my sister rotted away in prison.
“Yeah, okay, go ahead and call him. But feel him out about the case. Don’t go asking him to break any rules. He might say no.” I finished my glass of wine in two loud gulps. “I’m going to do a little digging on my own.”
“Good idea. ’Cause if the island believes Jena Lynn is guilty, no one will want to eat at the diner again.”
I held out my glass for a refill.
“I don’t trust that detective. He was really rude to me.”
“Me neither,” I said.
Betsy’s face scrunched up. “This is bad, Marygene. You could lose the business, and I’d be out of a job. It’s hard to find work on a small island like Peach Cove.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I don’t want to move to Savannah. It’s full of tourists.”
“Right, and just like everyone has mentioned on numerous occasions, this is the first murder this department has had to investigate. We have no confidence in Detective Thornton. He’s an outsider, who is only after a guilty verdict. He doesn’t care if she’s guilty or not. And Felton actually had the audacity to tell me to leave the island.”
Her mouth dropped open. “The nerve.”
“How can we possibly rely solely on the efforts of the department with that detective at the helm?”
“We can’t!” Betsy agreed.
“Exactly.” The wine was going to my head fast. “No one is more motivated to find the killer than me. And where the sheriff’s department’s perseverance may wane, mine will not.” Not that I believed Eddie would give up, but I had to face facts—his hands were effectively tied. Mine, if I stayed clear of the police, were free as a bird.
“Let’s examine what we know,” I said.
Betsy took a seat next to me. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“Someone canceled Jena Lynn’s order and put that poisoned sugar bag in the supply closet.”
She nodded and took a sip from the glass.
“The bag of sugar Jena Lynn used, I’d not seen in there. You?”
“No, but I don’t go in there often.”
“Well either it was placed there the night before or in the wee hours of the morning, or maybe—”
“Or maybe she overlooked it,” Betsy supplied.
“Charlie was working the night before, and now he is conveniently out of the picture.”
“Poor Charlie. He was such a nice man.” Betsy’s tone was laced with sorrow. “What did Eddie say about Charlie’s death?”
I tapped my forehead. I’d completely forgotten to ask any questions regarding Charlie. “I was solely focused on Jena Lynn when I was at the station.” I made a mental note to have a chat with Eddie.
“Poor Jena Lynn. I hate to think of her behind bars.” A tear leaked from Betsy’s eye and traveled down her cheek.
“I know,” I choked out. “But we have to be strong for her and focus. Eddie is looking after her.”
Betsy nodded and wiped her face.
“I have another piece of evidence I’m going to tell you about.”
Betsy sat forward.
“You have to swear not to mention it to Alex until Eddie does. I’ve told him about it. He’s supposed to come by and get it.”
“What is it?”
“When Mr. Ledbetter slumped over on me, he shoved a wadded scrap of paper into my hand. He had a death grip on my right hand, Bets.”
She stared at me in disbelief.
“He whispered to me not to trust anyone.” I relayed the letter and number sequence. I’d memorized it after I decided to give it over to Eddie.
“What does that mean?” She stared, unblinking.
“I don’t know. Another thing is that the reporter, Roy Calhoun, who was eating at the diner saw him give it to me. Or he suspects he gave me something.” I gave her a quick summary of what was said the day Calhoun dropped by unannounced.
“What if he’s involved and he’s worried you have information that will put him away?” Betsy made a point that I hadn’t thought of.
“What about fingerprints on the sugar bag?” she asked at random. “Maybe
his are on it.”
“They probably wore gloves. I would have.” Think like a murderer. Now, how does a murderer seek out his victims? It depended on the type of murder. “I think we need to go through all of Mr. Ledbetter’s belongings. There must be something in there to decipher what the letters and numbers are referencing. He probably wouldn’t have given it to me if it wasn’t a clue to the truth.
“The more I think about it, the more I believe the reporter Calhoun was right,” I said. “Mr. Ledbetter must have known his time was coming. But why? I mean, if you think about all the murders that take place, the common threads are usually a couple of things.”
“Money, love, or obsession,” Betsy supplied.
“Right, plus greed, ambition, jealously, or perhaps revenge. This doesn’t feel like a crime of passion. I don’t see some widow taking him out because he isn’t a one-woman man.”
Betsy laughed.
“I know the old goat wasn’t loved by everyone, like some of our elderly are, but,” she sighed, “he was honest, and that is a quality I appreciate in a man. He called it like he saw it.”
I wasn’t so sure about the honest part. He wasn’t so honest in his behavior when he was cheating on his wife in his younger days, or so I’d been told.
I poured myself another glass of wine.
Chapter 11
The ringing of my iPhone startled me into consciousness the next morning. I’d stayed up late drinking wine and strategizing, so it felt as if I’d just drifted off. It took me a second to orient myself. The large mahogany bedroom furniture was much nicer than the white girly furniture I grew up using. Ah, I was in Mama’s room—no, scratch that, my room. I vaguely recalled Betsy’s and my conversation when I’d announced I was kicking Mama’s ghostly butt out of the house by moving into her room.
Betsy and I had been drinking on the back porch, enjoying the breeze, and I’d officially worked myself into a tizzy with all the what-ifs going through my brain. “What if I can’t find the killer, Betsy?”
“You will. We’ll investigate everyone if necessary.”
An eerie howling had commenced through the trees.
“Oh God, do you believe in spirits?” Betsy had slurred, after having a few too many.
“I think I do.” I sat up straighter on the swing. “I believe Mama is haunting this place.” I told her about Mama predicting a death in the diner and my sister being charged with the crime.
Petrified, Betsy shouted, “I can’t sleep in no haunted house, and I’m too tipsy to drive home! We’ve got to do something about your spook mama!”
“We do! She hasn’t been any help, and when I tried to summon her, she never showed.”
“Typical,” Betsy snorted.
“Well, I’ll kick her out! I can move into her room and spread all my good juju. My room’s too small and doesn’t have its own bathroom.” Yes, that was exactly what I should do. “You hear that, Mama? I’m kicking you out!” I said to the porch ceiling with a chuckle of satisfaction.
“I’ll get some sage and burn it in your new room!” Betsy shouted upward.
“Let’s do it!” I hopped off the swing so quickly that I missed my footing and slipped, hitting my head against the porch rail. “Ouch, sweet baby Moses! I’m still taking that room!” I shouted at Mama and shook my fists toward the sky. I stood and rubbed my aching head. “She always had to have the last word. Well, not tonight!”
I kicked the porch spindles several times, just in case she was near, then stamped my feet.
“Get her, Marygene! Get her good!” Betsy had encouraged and started doing a little stomping of her own.
No wonder my head was aching now. Alcohol, Betsy, and superstitions didn’t mix well. My hand fumbled around on the bedside table until I managed to find the still ringing phone.
“Marygene, you awake?” my brother asked.
“Barely,” I mumbled, my face smashed into the pillow.
“Well, make some coffee! You’ve got to go to the emergency town hall meeting and stand in for Jena Lynn.”
I sat up. “What are you talking about? What meeting?”
“The mayor is hosting a meeting with the business and large beachfront property owners this morning. Those real-estate developers are close to a majority vote this time.”
The mayor never held an emergency meeting for developers. Why would he start now? “These are the same ones that failed to get enough interest a couple of weeks ago?”
“I think so. I got a heads-up call from a buddy of mine at the courthouse. Jena Lynn is unable to attend, so you should go. The Peach needs a representative. It starts in half an hour. Zach will meet you there.”
Something else to worry about. Great. Just great.
I showered and dressed in record time, choosing my cream linen pantsuit and white heeled pumps.
It had taken me ten minutes to find a place to park and haul it into the municipal building. The doors were closed in the largest courtroom, and I could hear voices inside. I was late.
I decided to go around and sneak in through the side door. The heavy steel door creaked as I slipped inside. The room was jam-packed. Heads turned in my direction. Embarrassment overtook me and my face burned.
Zach was seated over on the left side of the room. I scurried toward him, my head down, and slid onto the bench.
“You’re late,” he whispered.
“Sorry. But I’m here now.”
Zach was alone, so I assumed he was the one representing his family’s construction company.
The woman at the front of the room was tall and lean, with the darkest black hair I’d ever seen. She had a condescending air about her. She was giving the usual spiel. How nothing in our lives would change once the resorts were in place, except we’d be rich. That tourism would be a wonderful thing for our island. Our beaches would be protected and well kept. The increase of foot traffic would keep local businesses afloat. Blah blah blah.
I’d never been one to get involved in island politics. Now I would fight tooth and nail to keep my family’s business the way my nanny wanted it. In our family with no outside interference.
Nanny and Mama had fought the investors their entire adult lives. Now it was time to take up the torch and be the responsible business owner Nanny had always believed me to be. I wouldn’t let her or my sister down.
When the woman finished, the mayor, Bill Gentry, stood. He was a small, gray, round man in his late fifties. He always played Santa Claus at Christmas. The suit fit him perfectly. “Thank you, Miss Waters.”
“Tally, please.”
Mayor Bill smiled. “Now, this meeting will remain civil.” His voice boomed. “I open the floor for questions.”
“Is that the woman Jena Lynn had it out with?” I asked Zach.
He gave me a tight nod. That Jena Lynn had stood up to a woman like that made me even more proud of her.
“Have you spoken to her? Jena Lynn.”
“She’s getting bail.” I let out a huge sigh.
Ms. Brooks stood. “You said the offers you sent out would be increased by twenty or twenty-five percent?”
Yvonne sat next to her mama.
“If we can get a majority vote, then the offer will be increased to twenty-five percent,” Miss Waters replied. “Plus . . .”
Ms. Brooks leaned forward and cupped her hands beside her ears.
“. . . a signing bonus of ten thousand dollars to those who agree without stipulations.”
I snorted. She was making a deal with the devil.
I couldn’t believe Ms. Brooks was entertaining the notion.
“What counts as a stipulation?” Bonnie Butler, owner of Bonnie’s Boutique, the storefront next door to the diner, asked.
Miss Waters smiled. “Things like needing an enormous amount of time to pack and move off the premises.” Enormous being two weeks.
“Don’t you even think about it, Bonnie!” Gerald Collins shouted. “We discussed this at length a few weeks back. Now, after the Le
dbetter murder, they’re swarming like vultures and preying on our fears.”
“An island resident reached out to us, and we would like to extend our aid, Mr. . . . ?” Miss Waters asked smoothly.
“It’s Collins and I ain’t buying that for one second. These big-city developers don’t give a rat’s ass about us! They want to take our birthright from us and use it to line their pockets. I vote no!”
“Me too!” A chorus of voices went up.
“Calm yourself, Gerald,” the mayor warned.
A sudden hush fell over the crowd when Carl Ledbetter stood. This was the first time I’d noticed him among the audience. “My daddy loved this island. But even he saw reason in selling.”
That wasn’t what Mr. Ledbetter had announced to an audience at the diner the day he died.
“He was ready to sell, with the stipulation that he could live out his days in his villa.” Carl took a minute to compose himself. “Did he always feel that way? No.” Carl gave his head an exaggerated shake. “But he was up in age and, after the hurricane swept through several years back and he experienced a loss like a lot of people did, he began to wonder if the island could sustain itself without the aid of investors like Tally, who would bring in tourists’ revenue.”
The room was thick with mixed emotions. The weight of it made it hard for me to breathe.
“Carl, you should be ashamed of yourself. Your daddy’s body ain’t even cold yet and you’re betraying him!” someone shouted from the back of the room.
“Don’t you believe a word he’s saying!” Poppy Davis, owner of the Beauty Spot, said. “Joseph Ledbetter would never have agreed to sell!”
Carl’s face reddened. “What you people saw was a lovable and private man who didn’t speak his business outside the family.” Oh, he was laying it on thick now. Mr. Ledbetter used to let the world know his convictions.
“I’m grieving. My daddy was killed by a member of his own community.” Carl pierced me with an accusing glare. “I’m here for him. To carry out his wishes and to save this island from ruin.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I was on my feet. “You—” I cleared my throat. “You know good and well that Jena Lynn isn’t responsible. She would never have hurt your daddy. She cared about him. Just like she cares about all of you. This island means everything to her,” I said to the crowd and dried my palms on my capris. “She views y’all as her family.” Some made eye contact with me, but not all. I was a bit disheartened.
