Southern Discomfort

by Caroline Fardig

  “Can you please not use that phrase this week?”

  “Oh, right. Too soon. Sorry.”

  * * *

  —

  Delilah and I found the buffet, which was overflowing with delightful food. I recognized a couple of the waitstaff from Abercorn Bistro, but lucky for me, Scarlett Owens wasn’t one of them. I’d prefer to stay dry tonight. I didn’t see Mark Potter anywhere, either, which was for the best as well. Surely on a Friday night he was neck deep in his head chef duties. When we got to the buffet, I noticed Ross Cline hovering near it, seeming to be taking inventory of the items there. As we approached, his gaze landed on me, and I gave him a little wave.

  “Hi. Quinn, right?” he said, offering both Delilah and me an empty plate.

  “Yes. Hi, Ross. The food looks fantastic.”

  “Thank you. Despite the leek soup incident on Monday, Mark still chose me to oversee the catering tonight.”

  I laughed. “Well, you’ve done a marvelous job.”

  Delilah and I moved down the buffet, choosing several delicious-looking selections until our plates were full. Just when I had stuffed a crab puff into my mouth, Ross Cline appeared at my side.

  “I need to speak with you,” he said, his expression serious.

  Delilah raised her eyebrows at me, but otherwise made no reaction. I set my plate down on a nearby table and followed Ross to a quiet corner of the room.

  “You know that guy I told you about? The older guy who had an argument with Jason?”

  “Yes,” I replied, an excited flutter filling my gut.

  He chin-nodded toward the other side of the room. “He’s here.”

  Jackpot! How lucky to stumble onto Ross’s mystery man, the man who Ross heard fighting with Jason over pulling out of their partnership agreement because Green’s debts were too high.

  “You’re sure it’s the same man?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, who is he?”

  Ross pointed. “That guy. The one who keeps telling that stupid story about the gator on the golf course.” Ross’s finger was pointing straight at Jed Heyward.

  Chapter 23

  “No…Not him,” I said, my breath catching in my throat.

  “Why not him? You know him?”

  “Sort of. He seems…nice…”

  Ross shrugged. “Nice or not, he was the one I saw.” When he saw my distraught expression, he added, “Hey, it doesn’t mean he killed Jason. It just means he’s smart enough not to do business with him.”

  True. But Jed Heyward now had two connections to Jason—the business partnership and his interest in buying Green outright. This news was not sitting well with me.

  I sighed. “I know. Thanks for the heads-up. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Be sure to stick around for dessert. We’re setting up a crepe station.” With a wave, Ross went back to overseeing the buffet.

  I trudged over to Delilah.

  She took one look at my face and demanded, “What did he say to you? Do I need to go give him a piece of my mind?”

  “No, mama bear. But you are going to be the one who’s most upset by what Ross said to me.” I took a breath. “He said he saw Jed Heyward at Green late one night having an argument with Jason. They were talking money, and supposedly Jed told Jason he wouldn’t continue their partnership because he had a problem with the amount of Green’s debt.”

  Delilah stared at me. “The Heywards are in the vacation rental business, not the restaurant business. Why would he want to partner up with Jason in the first place?”

  “Beats me. But I figure the Heywards have enough money to throw around that they might consider branching out into other ventures. Nothing says they can’t.”

  “I know that, but just because Jason and Jed had a disagreement over business, it doesn’t mean one of them killed the other. In fact, it would make more sense if Jason had killed Jed because Jed refused to help him.”

  Nodding slowly, I said, “I can’t disagree with you there. But what if on Monday they ended up having another late-night argument, and like you suggested, Jason decided to get violent. What if Jed was defending himself and ended up killing Jason by accident?”

  She hissed, “By sticking a knife in his back? I doubt that’s a defensive move. And besides, Jed is head and shoulders over Jason and fit as a fiddle. He’s probably only, what—fifty-five? Jed could take Jason in a fair fight.”

  “Which could be why Jason is dead instead of Jed.”

  Delilah rolled her eyes. “I mean, it wouldn’t have got to that. Look at Jed’s big hands. One punch and Jason would have been down for the count.”

  My sister made a good point, but I still didn’t like the double connection. “So instead of going into business with Jason, Jed decides to wait until the place folds and buy the building. Seems to me like he’s got insider information not a lot of other people have and is just waiting around to cash in on it. Maybe he got tired of waiting and gave the situation a little goose.”

  “Do you hear how absurd you sound?”

  “This whole thing is absurd!” I cried, lowering my voice as I got some disdainful side-eye from the other guests. “When have you ever heard of a murder happening and a dozen people having really good reasons to kill the victim?”

  “Well, during last weekend’s Netflix binge-watching, I seem to recall in this one episode of—”

  “I mean in real life, D.”

  “Oh, well in real life it’s always the spouse.”

  Had I not been saying that since day one? I blew out a breath. “Yes, Valerie is still numero uno on our list. But I think that Jed Heyward is worth a look.”

  Delilah held up her hands. “I disagree, and I’m not going to be a party to interrogating Tucker’s dad.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it on my own.”

  Trying to appear nonchalant, I grabbed a glass of champagne and started wandering in the Heywards’ direction.

  I managed to insert myself between Charlotte and the painting she was looking at. When she looked me in the eye, I said, “Mrs. Heyward? Oh, hello. Do you remember me? Quinn Bellandini from Pulaski Square.”

  “My heavens, yes!” she replied, beaming. “Why, you’re all grown up now.” She gave me a wink. “And you seem to have caught my son’s eye.”

  Ooh, I’d forgotten about my rocky situation with Tucker. Maybe he hadn’t told his parents yet that I’d called him the worst person ever. His mama would not appreciate that.

  “Oh, we’ve been reacquainted since he’s living next door. He’s done a lovely job with it.”

  “He surely has.” She turned around and snagged her husband’s sleeve. “Jed, come say hello to Tucker’s girl, Quinn.”

  Good gravy. I was “Tucker’s girl” now? I had to put a stop to this.

  Jed came over and shook my hand. “Good evening, Quinn. The last time I saw you, I think my wife was giving you what for about a broken pot of petunias. No hard feelings, right?”

  I forced a smile. “Right. Of course. How are you, Dr. Heyward?”

  “Finer than frog hair, thank you. I hope you’ve recovered from your excitement on Monday night. Tucker said he had to provide an alibi for you, young lady.”

  I fought the grimace pulling at my mouth. Tucker was going around telling people that? Hadn’t the police told him to keep his mouth shut?

  Charlotte came to my rescue, giving her husband a cuff on the shoulder. “Oh, stop it, you old coot. You said that like she’s a common criminal.” She said to me, “You poor dear. I’m sure it was simply awful to find a dead body like that. Has the shock worn off yet?”

  “Somewhat,” I replied, hoping this was a good segue into my questioning. “It was surreal, to say the least. And the fact that Jason’s brother, Drew, has been arrested for it is absolutely devastating.”
r />   “Why is that?” Jed asked.

  “Because I know Drew, and I know he didn’t kill Jason.”

  Both of their eyebrows shot up.

  Jed said, “Well then who did?”

  “I’d love to find out. Jason had several enemies in town. He had some shady business partners. Plus there were people lined up waiting for Green to fail so they could buy the building. What if one of them decided it would be better for them with Jason out of the picture?”

  Charlotte’s mouth formed a little O, and her cheeks tinged pink.

  Jed decided to go on the offensive. “You sound like an armchair detective. If the police have enough to arrest your friend Drew, he’s probably guilty.”

  “I disagree. People make mistakes, even the police. Say, for instance, that I was considering going into business with someone. Everything looked good until I found out that their financials were in bad shape and they were in some major debt. If I’d already signed a contract, I’d have made a big mistake, and that would be bad. Bad enough to make me want to get out of that contract any way I could.”

  Jed’s eyes flashed with anger, but he held control of himself. He turned to his wife with a sweet smile. “Darling, I see that they’ve put out the crepe bar. If you hurry, you’ll be first in line.”

  “Oh! So I will,” Charlotte said, clearly getting the hint from her husband to take a hike. To me, she said, “Sorry to rush off, but Abercorn Bistro’s crepes are my absolute favorite,” as she hurried toward to the crepe station.

  Jed took a step toward me and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, or where you’re getting your information, but I’ll give you a word of advice—don’t try to go up against Jed Heyward. You’ll lose every time. I caught your insinuation loud and clear, and I didn’t kill Jason Green. And if I have even an inkling that you’re going around spewing lies about me and ruining my good name, there’ll be hell to pay, missy.”

  Oh, sugar.

  “What?” I squeaked, my voice going up an octave. “I—I wasn’t accusing anyone of anything. I can’t imagine you thought—”

  “Can it. Keep your nose out of my business. And stay away from my son.” With that, he turned on his heel and left me standing there, shell-shocked.

  A moment later, Delilah sidled up next to me. “That looked like it went well,” she said sarcastically.

  I moaned, “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, do your little dance. Sing your little song. Remind me what a horrendous, witless investigator I am.”

  Instead of doing any of that, she put her arm around me and walked me toward the door. “Nah, it’s no fun if you’re actually sad.”

  Chapter 24

  After the Jed Heyward debacle, I did not feel like putting on a happy face for the crowd at Sister Wildfire’s gig tonight. I did my part and played my guitar, but my heart again wasn’t in it. During the first set, I did about as well as I had on Tuesday night, when Tucker had shown up and ruined my concentration.

  While we were backstage in the utility closet taking a break before our next set, Callie came back from the restroom and announced, “Tucker’s here! Quinn, are you two dating yet or what?”

  “Or what. I’m pretty sure he’s not here to see me. We did not leave things well last night.”

  “What did you do?” Callie demanded. “Surely you couldn’t have messed things up already—even if you’d tried.”

  “Well, he overheard me talking about him to Delilah, and I said some pretty mean stuff.”

  Pepper laughed. “Coming from you, ‘mean stuff’ normally sounds like a compliment. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “I called him the worst person I’ve ever met.”

  “Ooh, that’s bad,” Rhetta said.

  “Not to mention untrue,” Callie said. “You need to get over your issue with him. Everyone else has, including your sister.”

  I squared my shoulders. “While I appreciate your concern and intrusive interest in my love life, or lack thereof, I’m going to have to ask y’all to kindly butt out. This thing with Tucker was over before it started. So there’s nothing else to say.”

  Callie frowned. “Fine. Be alone. We’re only trying to help you because we love you.” She brushed past me and waddled back out to the stage.

  Rhetta simply shook her head and followed.

  Pepper threw her arm around me. “I say we should all let the universe do its job. If you and Tucker are right for each other, then it’s going to work out, plain and simple. If not, it’s not, there’s nothing anyone can do to change it, so just go with the flow. And get that head of yours in the game. If you flub one more guitar solo, I’m going to get a big cane and use it to jerk you offstage.”

  I smiled. “Okay. I’ll get my act together. Promise.”

  And I did. The next set was much better, but I had to use every ounce of self-control to train my gaze on something other than Tucker Heyward, who I was convinced was sitting in the audience staring daggers at me. Then again, if he was so upset with me, why did he show up here at all? Was it possible that he truly liked our music and it was nothing more than that?

  I put it out of my mind while we finished the set. There was a pitiful crowd tonight, so we decided not to go for a third set. It was just as well—I was tuckered out, in more ways than one. Unfortunately, I still had work to do. I’d seen CJ and his buddies from the sporting goods store sitting in the back, so I had to take my opportunity to talk to him.

  After saying good night to my bandmates and studiously avoiding Tucker, I headed straight for CJ’s table. He and his friends were already bleary-eyed, and it wasn’t even ten yet. This should be fun.

  “Hi, CJ?” I said to the most frat-boyish-looking man at the table.

  “Hey, baby. What can CJ do for you tonight?”

  Eww. “Um, my name’s Quinn. Can we talk at the bar?”

  “Only if you’ll have a drink with me.”

  I probably needed a drink to get through this. “Sure.”

  His buddies chuckled and catcalled as we walked away. Once we were seated at the bar, CJ waved at the bartender and held up two fingers.

  I said, “I’m a friend of Drew and Jason Green. I’m sorry about the loss of your friend.”

  CJ’s cocky demeanor deflated at the mention of Jason’s name. “Me, too. I didn’t even get to go to his funeral. My boss wouldn’t let me out of the business trip I was scheduled for, so I missed it. By, like, only a few hours. It sucks.”

  I nodded. “Yes, it does…um…suck. You know Drew, right? I’m sure you heard he’s been arrested for Jason’s murder.”

  “Yeah,” he said, running his hands through his bleached blond hair. “I wouldn’t have thought Drew had it in him.”

  “Right? See, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. Drew didn’t do this, but someone out there did. The police aren’t doing anything, so I told Drew I’d talk to some people and try to find out more about what happened that night.”

  CJ regarded me for a moment. “So you’re like a PI?”

  “Not exactly, but sort of, I guess.”

  “That’s hot.” So much for him being normal.

  I resisted the urge to slap some sense into this guy. “Anyway, what I wanted to ask—”

  “Hey, our Jägerbombs are here. Sweet.”

  Jägerbombs? Did anyone over the age of twenty-two actually drink those? If I was lucky, I might manage to “spill” the shot and sip the Red Bull. I was much more of a white wine spritzer type of girl. But before I could move, CJ grabbed both shot glasses and dropped them down into the two larger glasses. The Jäger was in there now.

  “Ready?” he asked, shoving my drink toward me. “You know you have to chug it, right?”

  “Um…yes.” Heaven help me.

  “Here we go. One, two, three!”

  CJ tipped his glass
back, letting some of the drink leak out onto his cheeks as he chugged. I sipped it, utterly disgusted by the taste as well as the concept. Plus, if that shot glass came crashing down and hit my face, it might chip a tooth or something.

  He banged his glass down on the bar and looked over at me. His jaw dropped when he saw my still-full glass. “No way. You gotta drink.”

  I took another sip and pasted on a smile. “Mmm. So, CJ, like I was saying—”

  “You promised you’d have a drink with me,” he whined. “I’m not answering a question ’til you chug that Jägerbomb.”

  Good gravy. I quickly drank the offensive concoction, trying not to gag. After slamming my glass down on the bar top, I said, “Now we talk. Do you know of anyone with a vendetta against Jason? Did he tell you about anyone who was out to get him?”

  Shrugging, he replied, “Not really. I mean, Jason wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity, but I wouldn’t say anyone actually had it out for the guy. As for people out to get him…well, I’d say his old bag of a wife.”

  I snickered before I could help myself. “What about her?”

  “She was torqued about the restaurant being in the crapper and all the money trouble they were having. She was always on him to close or sell the place so it would quit costing her money. I kept telling him to kick her to the curb, and he finally took my advice. Good riddance.”

  I already knew plenty about Valerie. Surely there was something else CJ knew. “Drew said something about Jason owing money to a bookie and thought you might know something about it. Is there a possibility Jason owed a lot of money and the bookie decided to collect with his life?”

  A slow smile spread across CJ’s face. “Baby, I said I wasn’t answering a question until you had a drink with me. I answered a question. Now you owe me another drink.”

  “As I said before, my name is Quinn. And I’ll buy you as many drinks as you want. Just answer my question.”

  “No, no, no. I mean you’re drinking with me.” He leaned close and made a drunken attempt at puppy-dog eyes. “I lost my best drinking buddy, remember? I need someone to console me.”