Southern Sass and Killer Cravings

by Kate Young

  Zach pulled on my arm, urging me to sit.

  “My sister was the one going by Mr. Ledbetter’s villa checking on him after his knee surgery.”

  Betsy had informed me of that. That got a few smiles and head nods.

  “Where were you, Carl?”

  Carl’s brow beaded with perspiration. This wasn’t a man overwrought with grief. This man was desperate. Why?

  “Jena Lynn wouldn’t hurt a fly!” someone shouted.

  “This isn’t the time or the place, Marygene,” Mayor Bill said. “The case is under investigation. We need to leave this to the authorities.”

  Felton, who had been standing at the back of the room, started making his way to the front.

  I ignored the warning glare he shot me. “She’s innocent and everyone with a brain here knows it! Over our dead bodies will we ever vote to sell!”

  Miss Waters gave me a cunning smile. A worthy adversary, her eyes were shouting.

  That was when I recalled the threat she’d hurled at my sister. Did she make good on her threat to make my sister pay for calling her out? Would an investor go to such lengths to secure a deal? If so, she would need an accomplice, someone who knew the diner well and Jena Lynn’s routine. That person had to be someone I knew, someone close to my family. My blood ran cold.

  It hardly registered when Carl began speaking again.

  Miss Waters and I were still locked in on each other when everything spiraled out of control. People were on their feet shouting. She gave me a little nod, which I took as a concession for this round of the fight. She knew as well as I that no vote would be taken today.

  Chapter 12

  Betsy came trudging down the stairs late that afternoon. She had slept the day away. She gave no indication she was feeling the aftereffects of last night’s wine-drinking binge. She was quiet as I told her about the meeting. Her bottom lip poked out slightly before she said, “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me. I’m your wingman.”

  “You can be my wingman and drive me to the square in the morning. I want to talk to Poppy and then maybe Ms. Brooks.”

  She followed me into the kitchen, where I made a sandwich for each of us.

  “I’ll call Yvonne later and see if her mama’s up for a visit.”

  “I’d just pop in,” Betsy said. “You don’t want her to have time to fabricate a story.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” If anything, Ms. Brooks would probably be more likely to embellish than hold back. When the cheese was melted, I pulled the sandwiches from the griddle and plated them.

  “You know, only a fool would buy what Carl was selling. Old man Ledbetter would never sell out.” I handed her a plate and tossed her a bag of chips.

  “Agreed. What did you hear about the confrontation between Jena Lynn and that Tally Waters?” I sat down at the table and took a bite of my sandwich.

  “Only what I told you at the diner. Jena Lynn was hoppin’ mad, though. That woman called her a couple of times to increase her offer.” Betsy popped a chip into her mouth. “She came into the diner a couple of times too. Went on and on about how great the Sam’s Surf and Turf Burger was.”

  “Which I’m sure Sam ate up.”

  Flattery got women everywhere with Sam.

  “Yeah, he took her out too.”

  “What?” My brother dated the woman who had it out with Jena Lynn? He never said a word about it. Maybe that was why he didn’t offer to go with me this morning. Could my own brother be inadvertently aiding this woman? It wouldn’t be all that difficult for her to manipulate Sam. He wasn’t stupid or anything, but he was weak when it came to women.

  Betsy nodded. “Yep. She’s scary, if you ask me. She has cold, lifeless eyes. Like a zombie.” She gave an elaborate shiver and got up to refill her glass. “Want a Coke?”

  “Sure.”

  “What kind?”

  “Don’t care.”

  She handed me a Sprite. “That reminds me. I waited on her the first time she came in. She was a real snot. I asked if she wanted a Coke or some tea? She said Coke, so I asked her what kind. She and her assistant started laughing. Went on about how Southerners referring to all soft drinks as Coke was absurd. They laughed like I wasn’t even standing there. I could have slapped the spit out of her. But I’m a professional. Didn’t even spit in her food.”

  I nearly choked on the chip I’d been chewing. “Good for you,” I said when I managed to catch my breath.

  “Anyway, she and Sam only went out a couple of times. That was before Jena Lynn gave her what for.” Betsy drained her glass.

  “She probably thought he could influence Jena Lynn.”

  Sam and I were overdue for a conversation.

  “I’m going to get my laptop and do some googling on Tally Waters. Then I’m going over to see Jena Lynn.”

  “Good idea. I’ll drive you to see our girl.” Betsy said.

  “That’d be great, thanks.” I got up from the table and retrieved my laptop from one of the boxes that had been sent over. I’d opened them to see what the housekeeper deemed worthy to pack. She’d chosen well. Especially if she’d been restricted to just a few boxes.

  “How’s she holding up?”

  “Eddie said she’s hanging in there. She’ll feel better when she sees us.” I sat back down at the table and typed Tally Waters’s name into Google. She had a Facebook page; sadly, it was private. The only information visible was her divorced status and place of employment. Her other social media pages were much the same. I found a couple of write-ups about her success within her company. After a few more searches, I closed the computer no wiser regarding the woman on a mission to shake up our lives.

  * * *

  I wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror. It was 10 a.m., and I had received a call from my attorney at 9 a.m. with the news that Peter had signed the papers and, as of that moment, I was a free woman. It was the good news I needed after yesterday.

  I didn’t have to feel bad anymore. Peter’s opinion of me no longer mattered. There would never be another trip to the emergency room with a broken finger or a black eye that I was forced to explain away as an accident. That part of my life was over and I had no intention of allowing anyone to control me again. Ever. Two and a half years of ups and downs. The last accident, my bruised neck, brought an end to my denial that he would change. I no longer believed the lies he told about the demon I’d brought out of him. His sickness was on him. And dammit, I knew my worth! I was my nanny’s granddaughter. A survivor. It was in that moment that I knew I had to come home, rip Peter out of me by the roots, rebuild my relationships with my family, and start anew.

  Perhaps the marriage had jaded me in some way. I was more suspicious of people. That was why Mr. Ledbetter’s warning had rung true. I had trust issues on top of my trust issues.

  I stared at my reflection. What did people see when they looked at me? A strong, independent woman in her prime? Perhaps they saw a young woman trying to find her way. Heaven forbid if they still saw Clara Brown’s indiscretion.

  I firmly believed my trials in life had strengthened me. I was a survivor. A trait Betsy and I shared. And it was what connected us on a level only women like us could understand. Would Jena Lynn be stronger after all of this? Perhaps. Though, her situation was completely different.

  I pulled out my hair dryer from under the sink and retrieved my makeup bag from the second drawer of the vanity. Even though I didn’t feel like making myself up, I had to. The bags under my eyes were a dead giveaway I was having trouble sleeping. Not that anyone would blame me. But there were people I needed to speak with today, and showing up with a face like a raccoon wouldn’t do.

  Down the hardwood stairs I went, in a pair of white capris, a turquoise top, and jeweled flip-flops just as there was a knock at the front door. I was expecting Betsy.

  It was Eddie. He was dressed in his weekend clothes, navy cargos and a Hawaiian fishing shirt, quite a contrast from his usual uniform. It was a relaxed look, yet
his posture was stiff. It took years off him.

  “Come in,” I said the second I opened the door.

  He did, closing the door behind him. “I hear you started a ruckus at that meeting yesterday.”

  “No more than Nanny or Mama used to.”

  He grunted in response as he followed me into the kitchen.

  I poured a cup of coffee for each of us. “Jena Lynn out on bail? I hated having to visit her in custody. Poor thing tried to be strong, but it was clearly visible to me just how frightened she is.”

  Eddie had made sure she was as comfortable as possible while awaiting arraignment. She was never even put in the general population, and for that we were all eternally grateful. Not that the little jail was overrun or anything, but my sister didn’t belong with convicted criminals, no matter how petty the crime.

  “Yes. Zach put up their beach house for the bond.”

  “Good.” I turned and leaned against the counter.

  I didn’t ask about the case. He wouldn’t discuss it with me openly. Rumors of Detective Thornton’s influence were everywhere.

  “Hey, what do you know about Tally Waters?”

  “Not much.” He leaned over and took a pastry off the white pedestal stand. “She’s the representative of the Malcom Investment Corp. Why?”

  I’d found out that much from my Google search.

  “You know she threatened Jena Lynn?”

  Eddie pointed his finger in my direction. “Don’t go poking your nose in, Marygene. Let us handle the investigation. I’m not going to let your sister be convicted.”

  “So, you have leads then?”

  He grunted again.

  “Don’t be like that. That detective thinks she’s guilty. He isn’t going to want to hang around here while you investigate other leads, now is he?”

  “This is my job, little girl. Don’t you go telling me how to do it.” His tone was gentle yet firm. “Where’s the paper Ledbetter gave you?”

  I pressed. “He probably has his suspicions about us, too, you know?”

  “The paper.” Eddie held out his hand.

  After I retrieved my purse from the breakfast table, I unzipped the side pocket and held the thin folded square between my fingers. I wasn’t sure why I was hesitant to hand it over. I’d already taken pictures of the front and back with my cell and memorized the numbers. I turned to face him; his hand was still out. “The only people who could have known about the delivery that day to cancel it were those closest to her.” I held out the paper, which he took from me with a napkin and placed in a little ziplock bag. “Diner employees.”

  Eddie showed no emotion; he had probably thought of this too.

  “Charlie would have had access to that information. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to find the order forms and numbers on the computer at the diner. Her credit card information would be simple to copy. Jena Lynn keeps her purse stowed in the bottom drawer of the desk in the office. It’s awfully convenient that Charlie isn’t around for questioning.”

  “Charlie died of a heart attack. We don’t have any proof that someone else placed the order.” He regarded me with what I hoped was respect. “But it’s a case that can be made in court.”

  “You’re working that angle?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Felton and Alex are working it with you?”

  He leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. “Trust me. I’m doing everything I can.” He put his mug down on the island. “Go see your sister. She isn’t as strong as you are. And, Marygene,” his tone was serious, “stay out of this.”

  Chapter 13

  “Hey, Bets.” I slid into the cream-colored leather seat of her red Camaro. “I’m a divorcée!”

  “Woot! Woot!” Betsy cheered and we high-fived. “Now you can buy yourself a decent ride.” She turned around in the front yard and drove down the driveway.

  “I’ll probably run into Savannah to that big car superstore and pick out another Prius.” Betsy took a left on Cloverdale.

  “You don’t want another Prius. Buy something flashy and fun. In fact, I can run you over to Keith’s Car Palace. Keith will get you a great deal. I bought mine from him.” She caressed the steering wheel. “I love my baby.”

  It wouldn’t hurt to take a gander at what Keith had in stock. The lot was tiny and his inventory limited, but he always had decent deals. Plus, he wouldn’t dare sell any lemons. That would kill his business. Reputation was everything on the island.

  “I hate to be a buzzkill.” Betsy furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together as she reached between the seats. “Did you see this?” She deposited a copy of The Island Gazette in my lap.

  Jena Lynn’s face was plastered on the cover. The headline read, “Death by Chocolate.” Underneath that was, “Local business owner indicted for murder.” The article went on to describe the scene of the crime. With some colorful foodie additives, such as “killer cravings” and “dining experience not so peachy for local man.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” My mouth went slack. There was a tingling in my chest.

  “It’s bad, I know.” Betsy reached over and gave me a pat on the shoulder. “This is going to be so bad for The Peach, even after we exonerate Jena Lynn.” Betsy sounded so confident that we would succeed.

  My fingers fumbled on the power window button on the doorframe. Several gulps of salty air later, I managed to calm down. Who had the audacity to write such an article? I nearly burst a blood vessel when I spied the name of Roy Calhoun. He didn’t even work for the Gazette. His paper was out of Atlanta.

  “It gets worse,” Betsy said. “Page seven.”

  A nervous laugh left my lips. “How could it possibly get any worse?” I fumbled through the pages. Tally Waters had been interviewed. She stated that the investment group was excited about the prospects of igniting the economy and restoring the island to its glory days. She was photographed with Bonnie Butler, owner of Bonnie’s Boutique, and Carl and Rainey Lane Ledbetter. “We are close to a majority vote” was written under the image.

  My phone buzzed in my wristlet. “Are we in The Twilight Zone? What is wrong with everybody?” I dug out my phone.

  “Feels like it,” Betsy agreed.

  The text on my phone read, “I can explain the article. Let’s meet tonight at 8:30. I’m at the Inn in room 14.”

  “I can help,” came through next.

  Then came, “This is Roy Calhoun.”

  How did he get my cell number? He was a reporter; of course he could easily track it down. Get it together, Marygene.

  “Who is it?” Betsy asked.

  “Calhoun. He has some nerve wanting to meet up after that article.” Whether I should meet Calhoun or not wasn’t an instant decision. I stared at the text, my phone gripped tightly in my hand. “The sheer gall of that man.”

  Betsy said, “I wouldn’t be so quick to tell him off. He could be useful.”

  She was right. He could. He had somehow weaseled his way into our local paper and was able to get quotes from Bonnie, Tally, and Carl. People talked to him. “Sometimes you surprise me, Betsy Myers.”

  “Why thank you. I surprise a lot of people by not just being a pretty face.”

  We both laughed.

  My shoulders relaxed and I texted back, “I’ll try.”

  “Listen,” I began after she drove around the square for the third time in search of a parking space. “Just let me out and I’ll run over and speak to Bonnie.” I wanted to know why she was so interested in selling out all of a sudden. Had Tally tried to intimidate her the same way she had Jena Lynn?

  “Okay. I’ll pop in and speak to Poppy, and we can meet in the middle.”

  Betsy let me out in front of The Peach. The building was dark and empty. I rubbed the sore spot that had developed within my chest. As God is my witness, my sister will have her precious diner back. I forced my feet to move.

  Located on the other side of The Peach was Bonnie’s Boutique. I glanced
at my watch. If memory served, she was usually styling the mannequin in her front window at this time of day. Bonnie was doing just that now, and she caught me scrutinizing her activity. I smiled, waved, and started toward the store. She returned my wave, but her smile wavered slightly. Crap. That didn’t bode well. The sign on the front door still read CLOSED, forcing me to knock. The heavy sigh that sent her shoulders up and down made me wonder if she would even talk to me. When she flipped the sign and opened the door, I let out the tentative breath I’d been holding.

  With the brightest smile I could manage, I greeted her. “Morning.”

  The scent of gardenia-blossom candles and cool air-conditioned air encompassed me.

  “Morning, Marygene.” She returned my greeting with much less vigor. Bonnie was a fashionable woman in her late sixties. She was plump, with a round face and big dyed red hair shaped like a football helmet. Today she was dressed in tan capris and a blue-and-white striped top. Her giant anchor earrings dangled to her jawline. “Can I help you find something in particular? With that figure, you could wear any style you please.”

  Women the age of my late mother constituted the clientele who kept the establishment afloat. There was absolutely nothing here I would wear. The designs were boxy, heavily floral styles with a large supply of striped patterns strategically designed to hide the imperfections of fifty-plus-aged women.

  “That’s so nice of you.” I tried desperately to find the words to broach the subject. If I led off with an easy question, she might open up about Tally Waters. “I’m terribly sorry to disturb you while you’re working, but I was wondering if you happened to notice any unusual activity the day of Mr. Ledbetter’s passing?” There, that sounded nice.

  Her orangey red–shaded lips pursed. “I have already given my statement to the authorities.”