by Maisy Morgan
“Can you tell us what you know about the affair?” Officer Preston asked.
“I don’t know any more about it than everyone else does,” Jenna said. “I didn’t know anything until yesterday when Kristin broadcasted their affair for the whole town to see. Oh, I was so humiliated, but this? Wait… you don’t think someone hurt my husband over that, do you? Do you think someone went after him because of Kristin’s little slideshow?”
“We’re not sure who did this, Jenna,” Officer Preston said. “But I can assure you that I’m going to find out. We’re already building upon our investigation, and I can answer any questions you may have. But first, I’m going to get you home. I’ll take you home and wait with you there until you can get some family to come be with you. Is that okay?”
“Oh… yes… oh, I’m so sorry, Mary, here I am bawling on your couch!” Jenna exclaimed wiping her tears.
“It’s quite all right, Jenna,” Mary said. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know. I thought you were… I don’t know, in denial or something. I’m sorry that I threw that on you in the way that I did.”
Jenna nodded, and she allowed Officer Preston to help her stand. “Thank you, Preston,” she muttered.
“I’m going to get Jenna home,” Preston told Mary. “Thank you for calling me.”
“Of course,” Mary said, sighing heavily. “Jenna, if you need anything… please, let me know.”
Jenna nodded at her and continued to follow Officer Preston outside. Once they were gone, Mary closed the door and exhaled deeply. She called up the stairs to Tripp to let him know that he could come down, but she didn’t get a response from him. She was sure he was annoyed at her for sending him to his room. Either way, she was still craving pancakes despite the crazy morning. She started pouring everything into a mixing bowl, and she pulled out a frying pan. The smell of pancakes soon filled the kitchen, and it must have trickled upstairs because she could hear Tripp jump out of his bed. “I figured that would do it,” she said, Sniffing the air, the subtle scent of apple pie overthrew much of the smell of freshly baked pancakes.
“I know you smell it!” Mary shouted. “You might as well quit pouting and come down here for breakfast before the pancakes get cold! They’re fresh!”
She could hear Tripp stomping down the stairs, and she shook her head. He had a little bit of an attitude that morning it seemed more than likely due to the fact he had been chased back up the stairs rather quickly. He rounded the corner and plopped himself down at the kitchen island. “Whoa, did you make apple pie?” he asked.
“Jenna, Pastor Josiah’s wife, made us the pie as a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift,” Mary said as she smacked his hand away from the pie with her spatula. “Breakfast first, big guy.”
Tripp huffed then thanked her as she put a large plate of pancakes in front of him.
Chapter Nine
Tripp took a bite of his pancakes, and Mary could tell the young man was less than enthusiastic about them. “Everything all right?” Mary asked.
He shrugged. “You going to tell me what all that craziness was about earlier? I mean, I saw two cars pull up from the window, and I know Officer Preston was here. He looked a little freaked out, and I honestly don’t like the way he talked to me.”
Mary huffed. “Well, Tripp, if you had listened to me first, he wouldn’t have said anything to you about going up the stairs.”
“Now,” Tripp said in a mocking tone. “You think he’d be a little nicer to me since he’s dating my grandma, right? It was really annoying.”
Mary crossed her arms. “Tripp, I hope you know that something serious happened for both me and Officer Preston to want you to get upstairs like that. And frankly, young man, if I want to send you up to your room, then I will.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. So, what was going on? You going to tell me?”
Mary glared at the boy who was now fiddling with the pancakes, poking them with his fork as though he was testing to see if it would jump up at him suddenly. “Yes, I am going to tell you. I was planning on telling you this morning what happened last night, but then Jenna showed up and things got a little crazy,” Mary explained. “While I was out with Preston, he received a phone call about a homicide in Brooks.”
“Whoa,” Tripp said. “Didn’t think stuff like that happened out here.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “Pastor Josiah was killed.”
“The guy who Ms. Kristin made that slideshow of?” he asked to confirm.
“That’s the one,” Mary said. “He was killed, and whoever did it was not caught. Now Officer Preston is leading up an investigation.”
“You could have told me that,” Tripp said a bit bitterly. “Why did I have to go running upstairs just because Officer Preston showed up at the house?”
“Jenna, Josiah’s wife, showed up with an apple pie before he got here,” Mary said. “She didn’t know that her husband had been killed because her phone had been turned off.”
“Oh,” Tripp said, his voice softening a bit. “I didn’t know who was here.”
“Right, and I’m sure the last thing you wanted was to be down here dealing with all of that,” Mary said. “So, next time I tell you to go to your room, how about trust that I’m not just being a cranky old lady, all right?”
Tripp rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, fine.”
“So, you now know how my date ended last night,” Mary said. “At a crime scene, unfortunately. How did yours go?”
“It wasn’t a date!” he snapped, shoving his plate of pancakes forward.
“Okay, clearly you don’t like those sorts of jokes,” Mary said. “Something wrong with the pancakes?”
“No, they’re fine,” he said and pulled the plate back towards him and continued picking at them.
Mary made herself a plate of pancakes. They were light and fluffy, a slight golden brown. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why this kid didn’t like her pancakes. There was a knock on the door around the time Mary started to make herself a second helping. She hurried to answer it, and she was glad to see Officer Preston had returned – she wanted to ask him how things had gone with Jenna. “Come in,” Mary said, inviting him towards her kitchen. “I made pancakes. You had breakfast?”
“No, and it doesn’t look like I’m going to have much time for a lunch today… do you mind?” Preston asked, looking longingly at the large stack of pancakes.
“Go right ahead,” Mary said, grabbing him a plate.
Officer Preston fixed himself a plate. He glanced at Tripp. “Tripp, would you mind giving your grandmother and I the room for a bit?”
“You can take your pancakes with you,” Mary said.
Tripp shot a filthy look in Preston’s direction. “You kicking me out of the downstairs again? This isn’t even your house.”
Preston was a bit taken back by this comment, but Mary was outright livid. “Upstairs!” Mary shouted.
Tripp jumped up off the barstool. “Fine. Pancakes sucked anyways,” he said and stormed upstairs.
“Honestly!” Mary exclaimed, stomping her foot. “Don’t come back down here until your attitude changes!” She could hear his door upstairs slam. “What on Earth was that about?” she questioned.
“I have no idea; the pancakes are amazing,” Preston said, clearly uncomfortable from Tripp’s outburst. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries with Tripp. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about discussing the case with him in the room.”
“No, I prefer it this way, thank you,” she said. “I know I must have mentioned last night how I used to do a bit of investigative journalism before my retirement. I’d like to help if I can.” Her eyes wandered towards the stairs a short distance off, and she wondered what exactly had set Tripp off that morning. “How was Jenna?”
“She’s taking it pretty hard,” Officer Preston said. “A friend from church came to sit with her, so at least she’s not by herself.”
“What have you learned so far
about the case?” Mary asked.
“I got some information from the forensic pathologist that was quite surprising,” Officer Preston began. “For starters, we know that he was beaten to death. Some sort of blunt object like maybe a bat or a crowbar. We’ll get measurements of any breaks or bruises soon that may give us a better idea of a murder weapon.”
“How awful!” Mary exclaimed. “That poor old man. I half expected you to tell me this was some sort of hit-and-run scenario because of how we had found him on the side of the road like that.”
“It appears he got out of the car. His rear fender had some mild scuffs on it like he got into some sort of fender bender. Our bet is that whoever hit his car last night is the one who beat him to death. This could be a case of road rage, or it could be personal. After what happened at the Brooks Day event, I can’t help but to think that Pastor Josiah was targeted,” Preston explained. “I have a hard time believing the same day he’s outed as an adulterer that some stranger decided to murder him over slamming on his brakes or something like that.”
“Okay, so if our killer hit him with his car maybe to get him to pull over, can you start looking for vehicles that may have a forward fender in need of repair?” Mary suggested.
“I can, but that’s a pretty common repair. Our killer could be from Senoia, Brooks, or any number of towns near here. Fayetteville, Coweta, and Spalding are all pretty close to where Josiah was found. Even if I extended my search just to those counties that would be a crazy number of repair shops, and that’s on the hope that our killer is dumb enough to bring his car in for a repair after fleeing a murder scene,” Preston said, shaking his head and taking another bite of pancake. “I don’t care what your grandson says, these pancakes are amazing.”
Mary shrugged. “So, what about the murder weapon?”
“We’ll definitely keep an eye out for it, but bats and crowbars are not exactly uncommon items,” Preston said. “Not sure if that’s going to help us narrow it down too much either. I’m hoping to find some DNA evidence, but we’re going to need suspects to compare DNA to.”
“How tight is Jenna’s alibi?” Mary asked. “I know she seemed sincere about not knowing about her husband being killed, but as the scorned woman that’s got to put some suspicion on her.”
“Looking into it,” Officer Preston said. “But as of right now, I’m not thinking so. I checked out her car when I brought her home, and there wasn’t any damage as far as I could tell. Not that there was a lot of damage on Josiah’s vehicle to suggest that the killer’s vehicle would have been totaled or anything. Could just be a bit of scraped paint for all I know.”
“Any luck on figuring out what the locket meant?” Mary asked.
“Not yet. Not sure what the initials ESH stand for,” Preston said. “But that was a good find. We almost missed it completely. Good thing you were checking out the perimeter for us. And that footprint should help. I’m almost certain our killer was a man based off the size of the print. We’re gathering what evidence we can, but it’s time to start talking to people and narrowing down a suspect list that we can pool from.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Mary asked. “Anything else the forensic pathologist found?”
“Yeah.” Officer Preston took another bite of pancake. “And this is perhaps the most shocking part of it all. Josiah had alcohol in his system.”
“Is that really so shocking?” Mary questioned.
“Are you kidding? Pastor Josiah was a borderline fire-and-brimstone type of preacher,” Officer Preston explained. “He was one of those old-fashioned Southern Baptists. Drinking is totally off-limits. He did an entire sermon series on it about a year before he retired. Not only did he have alcohol in his system, but the man had to have been highly intoxicated. He was certainly in no condition to be driving. If he had gotten pulled over, he’d be in jail.”
“At least then he would still be alive,” Mary said. “So, he was drinking and driving, and this was out of character for him?”
“As far as I know,” Preston said. “But after what happened yesterday, I can see why he might have decided to give drinking a go. He was probably worried Jenna was going to leave him.”
“I wonder what made Kristin decide to show that slideshow all of a sudden?” Mary questioned. “Based off the age they seemed in the pictures, I’d say that the affair had to have happened almost twenty years ago.”
“Who knows?” Officer Preston questioned. “But the point is, she did it. She’s a potential suspect as much as Jenna, but again based off the footprint we found I’m not so sure we’re dealing with a woman. Yet, those two are our most likely suspects at this point.”
“We can start by following up with Jenna’s alibi, which would be her niece – that’s where she told me she stayed last night. See if her niece can account for Jenna’s presence at the time of murder and then meet with Kristin to see if she will cooperate with an investigation. I’m sure she will because she’s not going to want to get pegged for murder. Then do the same for her and follow up with any alibi she might have for where she was that evening. At that point, I’m thinking we can revaluate depending on what answers we come up with,” Mary suggested.
Officer Preston smiled at her. “Looks like we’ve got a game plan. I’m going to go follow up with Jenna’s niece and then see what I can do about contacting Kristin for an interview.”
“And I’m going to see if I can find out what’s bugging my grandson this morning and then head to my shop. I’ve got to get that place opened in time now that I’ve handed out fliers telling everyone about the grand opening,” Mary said, laughing slightly at the thought. She had a lot of work to put into the shop still to get it ready for the grand opening.
“Sounds like a plan,” Officer Preston said, standing up from his seat. “I appreciate the breakfast, Mary. But now I’m off. Good luck at the shop.”
Mary nodded as she walked him out the door. “Good luck with the investigation.”
Chapter Ten
The oven timer at the shop dinged, and Mary excitedly scurried across the kitchen and flung open the oven door, pulling out a new batch of cookies that she quickly put on the cooling rack. “Ooh, doesn’t that just smell amazing?” Mary asked, and Tripp shrugged.
He had been lingering in the kitchen area of the shop impatiently for the past ten minutes waiting on those cookies, so she knew he was just being a bit smug after their little spat that morning. Tripp hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of her dragging him to the shop that day, but under the guise of her wanting to try out the kitchen equipment, he had eventually agreed to come out to be her taste tester while she worked on some decorative aspects and final touches to the shop’s interior.
“These are going to need some time to cool,” she said, turning the oven off and taking another whiff of the air. “I wanted to start simple. It’s just chocolate chip, but when we get back from lunch, I’m going to whip up something a bit more complicated. I’ll try out some new recipes. You can help me pick which cookie can be the cookie of the month for our opening date. Sound good?”
“Sure… so, we’re going out for lunch then?” he asked.
“I mean, you’ve got to get tired of pizza eventually, right?” she asked. “I was told by Preston that we’re a short drive from this little town called Senoia. It’s supposed to have a bunch of nice places to eat on Main Street.”
This seemed to perk Tripp up a bit. “Sure, okay.”
“Great. So, lunch first, and then we’ll come back and try out these cookies and start on some more recipes?” Mary suggested, and he seemed pleased with this plan.
It was about a ten-minute drive to Senoia from the shop, and when Mary pulled down the road and crossed over a train track into the downtown area, she noticed that Tripp had perked up a bit. Senoia was a quaint little town, though its Main Street was a lot busier than Brooks. There were people walking around from shop to shop – mostly antique shops it seemed, and there were people taking w
hat appeared to be walking tours. “What are the walking tours for?” Tripp asked curiously.
“I heard they did some filming for different shows out this way,” Mary said.
This made Tripp smile. “So, I guess we’re not out in the boondocks too much, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say so,” Mary said with a laugh. “We’re basically in a small-town version of LA if you really think about it. There is a filming studio here in Senoia, and there’s a very large studio out in Fayetteville too. From what I read about the place, a lot of small-town scenes are filmed out this way.”
“That’s actually cool,” he said, as Mary struggled to locate a parking spot.
They eventually found some parking on a parking lot made entirely of bricks with bits of grass growing up between each of the stones. They began walking, not entirely sure which of the little restaurants they were going to be eating at, when they heard the faint sound of bagpipes. A sign pointing towards a set of stairs headed underground indicated that they were near an Irish pub. “That sounds good to me,” Tripp said, and they followed the signage down the flight of stairs and into a basement-like dwelling where they were greeted by a hostess.
The bagpipes weren’t live, but there was definitely Irish music playing through the speakers. There was an enormous and very welcoming fireplace right as they walked in, a bar to their right, and a number of wooden tables and booths to their left. Once they were seated, Mary could tell that Tripp was quite pleased with their little find. “This place is different, but I like it,” Tripp said, looking around. “Check out the copper ceilings.”
Mary looked up; it was a bit dark in the cellar-like restaurant, so she hadn’t noticed the lovely tile work on the ceiling. They ordered an interesting sounding appetizer from the hostess who sat them: Irish nachos, which turned out to be just nachos except with kettle chips, though the extra crunch they had was satisfactory. A few minutes went by before their server came to introduce herself, bringing pretzel chips rather than bread for them to snack on and apologizing for the delay in getting over to them. “Okay folks, here’s your pretzels, and I see you already got your drinks and appetizers. What else can I get for you?” the woman said, and Mary had to glance up at her a second time before realizing she knew their server.
