by Tonya Kappes
She stood behind the screened front door inside the Inn.
The hinges on the old door creaked when she pushed it open and it smacked closed behind her.
“Mama? What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Since I won the cook-off, all sorts of local restaurants have asked me to cook something for them.” She tapped the Vote For Lowry pin stuck proudly on her chest. “Now, don’t you worry that pretty little head that I produced with this here body.” She dragged her hand down her body, starting at her head and ending at her toes. She was good at reminding me where I’d come from, like I didn’t know. “I’m still working for your election. Free of charge, I might add.”
“Thank you, Mama.” I was grateful that Mama had taken over my re-election campaign. I just wasn’t sure if she was hurting or helping, since she was going around either pushing my re-election propaganda on the citizens or threatening them. Either way, Mama was very persuasive. “Did you pick up Duke?” I asked, though I already knew.
Mama had a key to my house, and she let herself inside whenever she felt like it. It was a bit of a privacy issue, but it was typical of family in a tight-knit community.
“I did.” She sashayed down the porch toward me and eased herself into one of the many rocking chairs Darby had strategically dotted along the front porch of the Inn. “His little brown droopy eyes just tugged on my heart after I’d spent all morning over there using your oven.”
“You used my oven?” I asked.
“Honey, I had to get my hot browns cooked so your daddy stayed at our house keeping an eye on those while I got my Derby Pies cooked at your house.” She acted as if I should know her calendar. “I knew I was going to see you at Euchre, so I just brought him along.”
“Good evening, Kenni.” Darby had ambled around the Inn with a basket full of colorful leaves that’d already fallen off the trees. Her brown hair was swept up in a knot on the top of her head. Her almond-shaped brown eyes stared at me for a moment before she turned to my mama. “Your Derby Pie is the talk of the Inn. I’m going to need about five more for tomorrow.”
“I have plenty that I made today and put in the freezer. I’ll put them on the windowsill tonight to thaw and you can warm them at three hundred and fifty before you serve them. You know a little scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of that warm pie is just a slice of heaven.”
Don’t get me wrong, Mama had always made good country homemade suppers when I’d lived at home and even when I’d come home during college visits, but I never knew she could win a cook-off.
“Perfect.” Darby sat down on the porch’s top step and scooted all the way up to the wood railing to let some arriving guests pass by. “I can taste it now.” She licked her lips.
“Business must be good.” I noted the flurry of activity.
“Didn’t you hear?” Darby’s forehead puckered. “Beryle Stone’s estate is being auctioned off this week.”
“Really?” I was a little taken aback. Beryle Stone was a famous author who was from Cottonwood.
Estate sales around these parts were a dime a dozen. I tried to recall if I’d heard through the grapevine about Beryle’s auction, but I couldn’t remember. There was so much gossip flung around, my immune system had gotten used to it and I was good at drowning it out.
The estate wasn’t far from the Inn and it too overlooked the Kentucky River. Probably the best view of the river in Cottonwood. “I thought that place was dilapidated. I wonder what state she finally decided to spend the rest of her life in.”
It wasn’t as if Beryle Stone was young.
“The state is six feet under,” Darby said. She pushed herself up to stand. “You’ve been living under a rock, Kenni Lowry.”
“Six feet under? Beryle is dead?” I gulped and looked at Kiwi.
“It’s been the talk of the town for a while now. Ruby Smith is rumored to be the executor of her estate.” Darby seemed to know more than rumors.
“Executor?” I asked, a bit shocked. “Ruby Smith and Beryle were that good of friends?”
I found that strange since I’d never heard Ruby mention Beryle. I was sure it was all over town, especially since Beryle was a big-time author. Unfortunately, I’d never read anything she’d written nor did I have time to visit the gossip circles Mama and Darby were participants in.
“I hate to hear this.” There was a tug of sadness on my heart. It was a shame to hear when anyone passed. “Was she sick?”
“Must’ve been. She’s dead, ain’t she?” Mama said. Darby simple shrugged.
“There was an announcement in one of those fancy estate sale papers and online about her items being sold. Most of the Inn’s guests are all the people who are here to get their hands on one of Beryle’s things.” She leaned in and whispered, “It’s rumored that Beryle has a tell-all manuscript that was only to be auctioned off after she died.”
“Juicy.” Mama’s brows lifted as she vigorously rubbed her hands together.
“A tell-all? Like how to be in love, or what?” I asked, knowing that Beryle had been famous for her romances and feisty love scenes the women in Cottonwood swooned over. Even Mama.
“Oh, your daddy and I could use some of that feisty love.” Mama’s shoulders did a little wiggle. I rolled my eyes out of disgust.
“I heard it’s about her life and some buried secrets.” Darby’s tone was a little too excited. Her brows lifted along with her smile.
Mama’s nose crinkled. “Interesting.” Mama’s voice dripped with a southern drawl.
“Buried secrets?” This was starting to become very suspicious.
“Uh-huh.” Darby slowly drew her chin down to her chest and stared at me under hooded brows.
“I’ll definitely have to go to my auxiliary meeting this week to get the scoop on what Beryle Stone had over on someone.” Mama perked up like a steaming pot of coffee.
“I don’t ever recall hearing anything about Beryle Stone other than she was a nice woman.” I didn’t like all the gossip.
“Even nice women have buried skeletons.” Mama winked.
“Now, Mama,” I warned. “Don’t be going and packing any tales where there is no tale to pack.” I patted my leg and Duke came running up the steps. “Anyways, I checked on Hattie. All the critters are gone. She didn’t have her hearing aids in either.” Mama and Darby snickered. “Duke and I are going to head on over to Tibbie’s. I’ll see you over there.” I gave my mama a hug. “Let’s go, Duke.”
“I guess I better get in here and shut up the windows. It’s gonna be a cold one tonight.” Darby brushed down the front of her shirt and picked up the basket of leaves.
No doubt in my mind she was going to use those leaves in some creative decorating technique. The Inn had the perfect touches to make it nice and cozy.
I waved goodbye to Darby on my way to my Jeep Wagoneer, and I couldn’t help but look at Kiwi. No doubt I’d heard the bird correctly repeating something one of the Inn guests had said, though I did think them saying they were glad Beryle was dead seemed a little harsh.
Duke jumped in the passenger side with his head stuck out the window, the chilly night air pinning his ears back as we sped down the old country road back into town.
“How was Hattie?” The voice sent my heart galloping inside my chest.
My eyes peered into the rearview mirror. An uneasy feeling smacked my gut.
“I’m back,” the ghost of my poppa, the ex-sheriff of Cottonwood, said as he arched a sly brow.
Chapter Three
The tires screeched to a halt. My hand gripped the wheel. Duke turned himself around to face the backseat, wagging his tail at the sight of Poppa’s ghost.
“Where have you been?” I asked. The feeling of death crept in my soul and settled with an empty feeling in my heart. “As soon as we got the Godbey case settled, you vanished. It was like you died all over
again.”
It’d been almost six months since Owen Godbey was found dead and Poppa had come back to be my ghost deputy.
“It just happens that way.” Poppa ghosted himself up in the front seat next to Duke, making it a little tight. “We’re learning as we go.”
“What does that mean?” My eyes narrowed. “You mean that for you to be my guardian ghost, there has to be a crime committed?”
“I’m not sure. It seems that way, though.” He shrugged.
“Are you telling me that there has been a crime committed?” I asked and looked down at my shoulder where my dispatch walkie-talkie was strapped. “Because I haven’t heard a peep out of dispatch about any shenanigans going on around here, other than Hattie Hankle’s critter.”
Poppa smacked his knee and cackled. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as the smile grew across his face. He brushed his fingers through his thinning gray hair, fixing the stray strand that had escaped from the comb-over.
“You mean to tell me that Hattie Hankle is still claiming she’s got critters?” he asked.
“Yes. She’s gotten a little more eccentric.” I chose my words wisely. I knew that she and Poppa had been good friends and were probably the same age.
“She’s a bird,” he joked, using the endearing term we called people who were a little on the odd side. “But that doesn’t give me reason to be here.”
“Maybe we’re wrong.” I bit the edge of my lip, hoping there wasn’t any crime brewing in Cottonwood. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Me too, Kenni-bug.” Poppa shifted to face the windshield and put his thin-skinned hands in his lap.
Hearing him say my childhood nickname chased away the chills of the season and warmed me inside and out.
“We’ve got Euchre tonight.” I threw the Wagoneer in drive and pulled off the shoulder of the road. “How long have you known Hattie?” I questioned, trying to push Duke’s ninety-pound body into the backseat with my right elbow.
He loved Poppa and, for some reason, he could see Poppa’s ghost.
“Long time.” His brows furrowed. “I don’t recall exactly when we met, but she’s been there a while. I’m sure Darby can tell you. It was awful nice to take her in.”
“Yes, it was.” I continued into town to Tibbie Bell’s house. I wasn’t sure why Poppa was there; all I knew was that I was happy.
The comfort of Poppa’s ghost presence had become a reality a little more than a year ago when Doc Walton was found dead and someone broke into the jewelry store. I had a hard time believing that Poppa had come back in ghost form, much less that he’d come back to help me solve any and all crimes that had or were going to take place in Cottonwood. It’d taken my parents a long time to even accept that I was in law enforcement, but when I ran for sheriff of Cottonwood, it nearly put Mama one foot in the grave. So the little secret about Poppa coming back probably wouldn’t sit well with her or the other residents of Cottonwood. They’d think I’d done lost my marbles, so I kept Poppa’s ghost a secret.
Over the past few crimes, Poppa and I became a team again, like old times when he was sheriff and I was a kid. We’d sit around and come up with all sorts of scenarios on who committed crimes like putting together a puzzle. Of course, Mama threw a fit that Poppa would encourage such behavior for a young lady, and she took to the bed when I entered the police academy. Mama could be a bit dramatic now and then.
Tibbie’s house was on Second Street, off the town branch that was a left turn off Main and a right turn off Oak. We affectionately referred to it as the town branch due to the fact there was a creek that ran right through the middle of that part of town. In fact, most of the houses were built behind the creek and you had to drive over a little concrete bridge driveway to get to them.
Luckily, Tibbie’s house was a small ranch that sat in front of the branch and parking was prime along the street curb.
“Woo-wee.” Poppa looked outside the window. “Looks like a lot of gossip is going to go on in there tonight.”
I put the Jeep in park and bent my head down to look out Poppa’s window.
“Looks like you’re right.”
I eyeballed Lulu McClain and Stella standing on the front porch. Both women loved to gossip, and by the way their heads were pushed together and their lips were moving, they sure had something to say about someone.
Before I got out of the car, I reached in the back for my bag where I kept an extra set of civilian clothes. There was something about my sheriff’s uniform that stopped the henny-hens from squawking.
The “henny-hens” was what my friends and I lovingly called the old gossipy women. Mama was a hen. I’d learned from Poppa that if I showed up in my uniform, the gossip ceased, but when I put on my civilian clothes, I was one of the girls. They flapped their lips, and you could learn a lot from flapping lips.
“Evening, Sheriff.” Stella ambled inside the house after she greeted me and I nodded back. Lulu nodded too.
“Hi, Lulu.” Duke and I walked past her and headed inside Tibbie’s house.
The house smelled heavenly. It was the one night of the week where the women tried to outdo one another with their cooking. They took pride in the slightest of compliments.
Everyone was gathered in the front room on the left where Tibbie always set up the card tables for the food and drinks. The sound of chatter and laughter echoed off the walls. Next to the front room was the small powder room. Duke headed for the food, and I went to change.
“I just can’t believe that after all these years we’re going to know the truth about what happened out at the Stone estate.” I heard a muffled voice through the air-conditioning vent while I changed. “Now, you know I’m a God-fearing woman,” Instantly I knew it was Stella. She loved calling herself that, which only meant to me that it made her feel better to gossip. “And I’m not packing tales, but I heard that Ruby Smith was the executor.” Her little bit of information was greeted with a collective groan.
I hurried and got my clothes on. It did pique my interest to see exactly what truth she was talking about that was buried in the Stone estate and why it was such a shock that Ruby Smith was the executor. Beryle Stone was the biggest thing that’d ever come from Cottonwood. Obviously, Ruby hadn’t arrived at Euchre yet or I’d have heard her voice. Of course, these women were only going to gossip about it until Ruby got here.
Quickly I threw my uniform in my bag. My stomach was growling and my curiosity was up. I needed to feed them both.
“This looks so good.” I stood at the first table and grabbed a plastic plate.
The table was filled with at least three Crock-pots full of something delicious. The next table had four different casseroles and the last table had oodles of desserts. If I didn’t feel Mama’s eyes on me, I’d have gone straight to the dessert. I was in no mood to hear her lecture me on how I didn’t get enough exercise and I ate poorly.
“What are you ladies talking about?” I asked after I’d moseyed on over to Stella and Toots Buford.
“You know,” Toots chomped on her gum, “just the usual gossip that don’t mean nothing.”
I nodded and plucked a grape off the fruit plate and tossed it in my mouth. Stella didn’t miss a mark.
“You hear about the Stone estate going up for auction?” she asked.
“Why do you have to gossip with the sheriff?” Toots clucked and rolled her eyes.
“It’s Kenni.” Stella gave me a sideways glance. Obviously she needed to make herself feel better about telling me because she followed up with, “She might know something. I bet they’re going to need extra security.”
“I heard some rumblings about it,” I said and cocked my head to the side. “What did you hear?”
“Well, I heard Beryle Stone died and her estate is selling her stuff,” she said.
“That’s juicy gossip?” I asked, looking at Toot
s. “People die every day. Sounds like nothing to me.” I shrugged. “Now, if you know who the executor of her estate is, that would be juicy.”
Stella opened her mouth but quickly shut it when Toots gave her the wonky eye. So Stella just slowly shook her head.
“Come on.” Toots smacked her lips together. She elbowed Stella. “Let’s go pick out our table. Maybe our teams can play each other first.”
I rubbed my hand over my chin, wondering what those two were up to. They whispered back and forth. Before they turned the corner to go into the room where Tibbie had set up all the Euchre tables, Stella glanced back at me. Toots still held a grudge against me from when I accused her of killing Doc Walton. After I did catch the real killer, I’d apologized to her, but she wasn’t going to have anything to do with me. She was a grudge holder and everyone knew it.
“I guess you must be starving after hunting critters all day.” Jolee snickered, bringing me out of the long slow stare Stella had disturbingly given me.
“How on Earth did you hear about that?” I asked and glanced over at Mama, knowing that she’d done spread it all over town. “Never mind.” I shook my head at my best friend. “How is business?”
“It’s great, but that mama of yours sure did do a number on me.” Jolee owned the On the Run food truck. She had a pretty neat business, actually. She had gotten permits from all sorts of places over the county where she could just pull up and open shop. She even parked right outside of the church after Sunday meeting with fresh coffee and donuts for all the members.
“You’re talking about her winning the cook-off, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes and she nodded. “I was so shocked that she entered. I had no idea.”
“Ben Harrison apparently knew she could cook. That sneaky dog.” She looked down at Duke. “No offense, buddy.”
Jolee had really started On The Run to bug another restaurant in town owned by Ben. They’d had the competition cook-off between their two restaurants. Mama was on Ben’s team and she won, which meant that he won. Something Jolee wasn’t too happy about. But if anyone asked me, I thought Jolee had a hankering for Ben that went beyond just friendly competition.
