“And Deputy Donovan just let this go on?” James asked, shocked. It was a man’s duty to intervene when a young lady’s reputation was being insulted. Then he remembered how he had done nothing to stop Brinkley’s insinuating remarks to Whitney on Homecoming Day.
Lucy jumped in. “That man is a walking toad. He was probably enjoying every minute of it. He loves to see any woman kept down.”
“If we could all just learn to love one another!” Gillian wailed.
Bennett ignored her and turned to Lucy. “He did seem to be wearing a sheep-eatin’ grin, Lucy, I won’t lie to you.”
“So that was it?” James wondered.
“No. Whitney leaned over the counter and grabbed one of the boy’s shirts. She practically pulled him out of his chair she was so spittin’ mad. ‘I’m glad that son of a bitch is dead!’ she yelled. ‘I hope it was slow and painful and bloody as hell!’”
There was a long stretch of silence.
“Right in front of Donovan.” Lucy looked at her friends mournfully. “He hears her say that and then finds out about her daddy’s Coumadin and . . .”
“So she hated Brinkley for how he treated her.” Lindy threw her hands in the air. “Who wouldn’t? Doesn’t mean she killed that boy.”
“I’ve got to find a way to help her.” Lucy gave an appealing look around the table. “Any ideas?”
“Can you get in the . . . ah . . . prison cell to talk to her privately?” James asked.
“I think so. Why?”
“The more we all know about Whitney and her relationship to Brinkley, whatever it was, the more info we’ll have on what both of them are like as people. It could only help.”
“That’s true,” Bennett agreed. “But aside from trying to clear this little lady, we need to put our sights on who could have given him the Coumadin instead of Whitney.”
“Exactly!” Lindy joined in. “Do you know when he was supposedly given the drug, Lucy?”
“Yes, sometime during his meal Saturday at Dolly’s. It was in the ME’s report. I found it on Donovan’s desk while he was out for one of his two-hour lunch breaks.” Lucy smirked. “Of course, he never gains a pound.”
“I’ll ask Dolly if she noticed anyone near Brinkley’s food after Clint dished it out. You never know.” Bennett volunteered.
“And I’ll discreetly ask some of my current students if they know of any enemies Brinkley had,” Lindy said.
“Or who he hung out with,” Gillian added. “Ten to one I see some of their mamas in my shop, and my place is a hotbed for gossip.”
James searched for something to say that would show his willingness to assist Lucy. “Do you want me to come with you to see Whitney? I could bring her some books and magazines to read.” He cleared his throat nervously. “And give you moral support.”
“And I’ll send you some prayer beads and a healing crystal. That girl’s going to need all the help she can get.” Gillian pronounced.
Lucy smiled. “Thanks, guys. I feel so lucky to have y’all here tonight. I may have only lost two pounds this week, but look what I’ve gained. Four friends.”
“I lost four pounds!” Lindy declared triumphantly.
“Three for me,” Gillian added.
“Me too,” said James. “Bennett?”
Bennett’s dark eyes twinkled. “Five big ones!”
“Good for you, Bennett. Though, truth be told, I guess I was expecting more,” Lindy said. “But I have to admit, I did some cheating this week. Being on a diet was harder than I thought.”
James listened as all four of his friends confessed that they had cheated several times by eating their favorite treats.
“What about you, James? Any cheese puffs?”
“Four snack bags,” he groaned. “I just felt hungry in the afternoon sometimes and didn’t want celery or an egg or whatever I was supposed to have. I wanted . . . well, a treat that actually tasted like one.”
“Amen to that! Speaking of cravings, what’s for dessert, James?” Lindy asked hopefully.
“Sugar-free chocolate pudding.”
Everyone sighed collectively.
“We should be proud about losing what we did,” Gillian said enthusiastically as they were eating the pudding. “But I think we could do even better.”
“I told you we need to be exercising,” Lindy muttered.
“I’ve been reading this book,” Gillian went on, “called Filling Your Life With Light. The author suggests that when you make any kind of life-altering goal, you should use something physical to keep you on track. Most people need visual reminders of what they’re reaching for. Now I—”
“What kind of reminder would we use?” Lindy quickly asked before Gillian could get too much wind in her sails.
Gillian clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “We could all bring a piece of clothing to our next dinner. Something that we can’t wear now, but hope to fit in within, say, two months.”
“What would yours be, Gillian?”
“Oh, I have this psychedelic tank top that I got on a trip to San Francisco. The thing is, it’s got horizontal stripes.” She placed her hands around her torso. “Right now, I am a human barrel supported by a decent pair of legs. I want smaller arms and a waist that is smaller that my hips, not the other way around. When I’ve got one, I will wear that top.”
“Okay.” Lindy smiled. “I’ve got something I’d like to wear one day as well. This is a great idea, Gillian. I like the idea of fitting into clothes as our goal instead of seeking certain numbers on the scale.”
“Whose house shall we go to next week?” James inquired, anxiously. Eventually, he would have to have them all over. That would mean introducing the Flab Five to his father and he was not looking forward to that event.
“We can use mine,” Bennett volunteered. “It’s small, but there’s room enough.”
Lindy put one of her delicate-looking hands on top of Lucy’s larger one. “Please e-mail us after you talk to Whitney. I’m sure we’ll all want to see if there’s anything we can do to help her. We may need to get together before next Sunday.”
“After James and I visit her tomorrow, I’m hoping we’ll have something new to tell Sheriff Huckabee. Something that will prove her innocence.”
“If she’s innocent,” James almost whispered. Four pairs of eyes let him know that for the second time in one evening, he had said exactly the wrong thing.
Quincy’s Gap had only one jail. It had been in place in the basement of the old brick courthouse since the early 1800s. James had dawdled at the library, undecided as to which books or magazines to bring to an incarcerated young woman. Finally, he had appealed to the twins for help and now he bore a paper grocery bag filled with beauty and celebrity magazines as well as Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven.
“That’s to give her hope,” Francis had said, handing James the book.
“Good luck, Professor Henry.” Scott shook his hand gravely, as if he were headed out to war. “We’ve known Whitney for years.” He wiggled the arms of his glasses back and forth in a fidgety manner. “Not well, you know. But she likes fantasy books and science fiction. We talk about that kind of stuff with her.”
“She has always been nice to us,” Francis added, implying that not all of the women their age had been as kind.
At twelve thirty, Lucy appeared at the top of the white slate steps leading up to the courthouse. She wanted a few minutes alone with Whitney before Keith Donovan returned from lunch. Keith was treating himself to a meal at the Italian restaurant, Il Pomodoro, in celebration of his excellent police work. If Keith returned and noticed that Lucy was not at her desk, ready to answer the phone or Donovan’s smallest whim, then he might discover that she was visiting Whitney. For now, Lucy wanted to keep her investigation separate and hidden from Keith.
“This is one benefit over my old job,” James remarked as he and Lucy stepped into the courthouse lobby. “I can take an extra long lunch break if I need to with
out checking with a superior. I mean, I had a schedule at William and Mary, but sometimes my office hours or the endless department meetings made me feel so trapped. Here, I can take off knowing that the library is in good hands with the Fitzgerald twins.”
“I wish I had some of that freedom,” Lucy replied wistfully. “But let’s worry about getting Whitney hers first.”
James followed Lucy down a dimly lit stairwell leading to the basement. Here, there were storerooms, filing areas, and holding cells. A sleepy deputy sat at a wooden desk guarding the entrance to the cells.
“Mornin’ Glenn,” Lucy offered a dazzling smile. “Brought you some Krispy Kremes from the Winn-Dixie. You been here all night?”
“Yep.” The young deputy sat up straighter as he examined the box of donuts. “Chocolate frosted. Thank you kindly.”
“Professor Henry, this is Deputy Glenn Truett. Glenn, Professor Henry has brought Whitney some library books. We’d like to take them to her and see how she is. That okay?”
Glenn was already happily occupied with his breakfast. Wiping his hands on a paper napkin, he did his duty by taking a quick glance through the bag of books and magazines. He paused for a long moment to admire a photo of Angelina Jolie in a low-cut dress, and then brought Lucy and James back to Whitney’s cell. She was in the third cell in a row of six. The other cells were empty except for one. The last cell of the row contained a middle-aged man who was snoring like a locomotive as he lay splayed out on his narrow cot.
“Old Wilbur’s sleepin’ off another one?” Lucy asked conspiratorially.
“Yep. Gotta keep him away from his old lady when he gets like this. How’s ten minutes, Lucy? It’s not officially visitin’ hours yet.” Glenn unlocked Whitney’s cell. The young woman had her face buried in her hands and did not even look up as the barred door was slid open with a squeak.
“Just fine,” Lucy replied gratefully.
“I’ll give a holler when it’s time.” Glenn called over his shoulder, hustling back to his box of donuts.
“That’s some willpower, Lucy,” James said with admiration as they waited for the deputy to return to his desk. “Having Krispy Kremes that close to you.”
“Believe me, I was tempted.” Lucy answered under her breath as they went into the cell. Lucy leaned over the cot so that she could whisper to Whitney.
“Whitney. Look at me, honey. We don’t have much time.”
The young woman met Lucy’s eyes reluctantly. “I already told the sheriff that I didn’t do it.” Whitney turned a blotchy face toward Lucy. “And I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me.”
“We don’t think you did it either. I’m not a deputy. I’m here just as a friend. You’ve met Professor Henry, right?”
Whitney sat up a tad straighter and managed a small smile for James. “I’m glad you’ve come, but . . .” She gave a helpless shrug.
“You’re wondering what we can do?” Lucy finished for her as James sat down on a stool in the corner of the cell. “We don’t know either, and we can’t promise to get you out of here, but we’d like to help. Okay?”
James was impressed by Lucy’s gentle, forward manner. He watched Whitney’s shoulders relax and her creased forehead slacken as she placed her trust in them.
“Now, the whole town knows that Brinkley Myers was a horse’s ass, pardon my language,” Lucy began. “And that afternoon at Dolly’s, before the football game, he was harassing you, right?”
Whitney nodded.
“Did he do stuff like that all the time?”
“Only when he had an audience,” Whitney replied, grimacing. “He didn’t have much to say to me if no one else was around. He was a show-off, ya know?”
“Sure as the crow flies. Now, I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Were you two ever an item?”
“God, no!” Whitney was clearly appalled. “I may not be in school full-time now, but I’m going to finish college and get a good job. I’m only going to date men who have the same ambitions as me. That boy wanted to do as little work as possible and still act like the town’s greatest gift.” She clenched her fists. “Trust me, the only feeling I have ever felt toward Brinkley Myers was that he grossed me out.”
Lucy put up her hands in a placating gesture. “Just checking. I didn’t really think you were ever together. Not for a second. Back to Saturday, did you serve Brinkley his meal?”
“No, Dolly did. I was busy behind the counter for most of the shift. The professor was pretty much my last table on the floor.”
“And do you know what Brinkley ordered?”
“Everyone got the same thing. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes with gravy, and collard greens. That’s what Dolly always serves for Homecoming. No one gets to order off the menu. She’s superstitious about that meal. Says that we always win if the whole town eats her meatloaf.” Whitney smiled fondly.
“That’s true.” Lucy laughed. “I had forgotten about the Victory Loaf.” She was lost in thought for a moment. “And neither Clint nor Dolly bore any grudge against Brinkley?”
Whitney waved the suggestion off. “No. You know them, they love everybody.”
“Isn’t that the truth? How about other girls your age? Was he ever obnoxious to any of them that you know of?”
Whitney looked down at her hands. “I’d imagine so, but I don’t know which ones.”
“Hmm.” Lucy gazed around the cell, unseeing. “Guess it still keeps coming back to your daddy’s pills. You never touched them?”
“Never. Daddy keeps them in his bathroom and I don’t go through his things, let alone steal them to kill somebody with,” she added with a trace of sarcasm.
Lucy allowed silence to fill the cell. Finally, she turned to James. “Professor?” Her blue eyes bored into him. “Can you think of anything?”
James shook his head, feeling immensely useless. He handed Whitney the bag of books and magazines as Lucy stood to leave.
“Hang in there,” he offered foolishly, but Whitney clamped an anxious hand on his arm and squeezed, as if trying to communicate her appreciation more forcefully. “Thanks so much for coming. It’s nice to have people who believe that I didn’t . . . that I would never . . .” Her eyes welled up with tears.
“Time’s up!” Glenn barked down the short hall.
“I’ll be back, Whitney. You won’t be here long.” Lucy gave the younger woman a hug and thanked Glenn as he walked down the corridor, jingling his key ring.
Glenn had consumed three donuts and, hunger satisfied, his interest in Lucy’s actions was suddenly aroused. “Whatchya talkin’ about to our prisoner?” he asked in a proprietary tone, picking his teeth with a decrepit toothpick.
“Just books,” James blurted quickly, smiling. The spark of curiosity in Glenn’s eyes died immediately.
“Good thinking,” Lucy said in approval as they walked back upstairs. On the landing, they both found themselves short of breath from having climbed the steep flight of stairs. “I’ve got to go back to work, but would you be willing to meet me afterwards to pay a visit to Whitney’s parents?” Lucy fanned herself, her face pink with exertion.
“Think they might know something?” James wondered, trying to contain the pleasure he felt in having been asked to accompany her again.
“Doesn’t hurt to talk to them. We’ve got to find out every detail,” she added with a serious expression. “That’s how all of the world’s great detectives work.”
Lucy offered to pick James up at the library after her shift was over. He waited in the lobby, hungry, excited, and doing his best to ignore the celestial glow of the snack machine. He had completely forgotten to pack the green apple and Tupperware of peanut butter meant for his afternoon snack. He could just visualize taking a dollar bill from his wallet and inserting it into the snack machine. Only the possibility of Lucy’s imminent arrival prevented him from indulging in another cheat. For the third time, he peeked out the front door for any sign of Lucy’s brown Jeep. Finally, running fifteen minutes late, she pulled e
rratically into the parking lot and honked the horn.
Slightly irritated, James opened the door to what appeared to be Lucy’s garbage can on wheels. Empty paper cups sprang from the doorjamb to the ground and a pile of papers, fast food bags, and receipts prevented him from even seeing the surface of the passenger seat.
“Sorry,” Lucy said, hastily scooping up the debris on the seat and hurling it into the back seat.
James climbed in reluctantly. He was a man who cherished neatness and order. He cast a sideways glance at Lucy. Her caramel hair was pulled back into an untidy ponytail and her turquoise blouse, which was so tight that James could see glimpses of skin in between the straining buttons, had several stains along the neckline. While her hands were neatly manicured with shapely, rounded nails, the polish was a garish red and was chipped around the ends. James began to wonder if he was really compatible with someone as sloppy as Lucy.
They pulled up in front of the Livingstones’ brick house a few minutes later. Lucy had thoughtfully brought some pumpkin muffin tops from the Sweet Tooth as a gift for Whitney’s troubled parents.
“They’re open again?” James pointed at the bakery box.
“The next business day. Megan’s a single mom, so she can’t afford to stay closed. They just mopped the floor Sunday night and opened up again first thing Tuesday morning.”
“And . . . the sheriff,” James was going to say Keith but thought better of it, “allowed that?”
Lucy shrugged, ringing the doorbell. “Guess he felt there was no more evidence there once they had removed the body.”
James was about to ask what had happened to Brinkley’s cell phone when a woman in her late forties with Whitney’s ash blonde hair and heart-shaped face opened the front door. Wringing her hands together anxiously, she took a step back. “Come on in. We sure appreciate you visitin’ our gal this mornin’, Miss Hanover.”
“Please, call me Lucy. And this is James Henry, our new librarian.” She handed Mrs. Livingstone the box of muffin tops.
“How nice. Thank you, kindly. I’m Caroline. Sorry not to have met you yet, Mr. Henry. I’m not much of a reader,” she added apologetically and led them to a living room in which all of the furniture looked like it had come from an earlier decade. The floral fabric on the sofa, curtains, and rug was worn, but the room held a comfortable, lived-in air instead of one of neglect.
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