The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3)

by Lynette Sowell

“Not completely, though,” I tried to say as gently as I could. “I know you want answers. And you’ve got to be honest with the chief about what exactly happened. What if someone else made a copy of the key? A lot of people come into this office every day, and more than one of them could have a reason to lie in wait for Dr. Bradley … using the key they had made … and kill him.”

  “I didn’t want that to happen.”

  Didn’t?

  “I don’t think you did. And now something’s happened to Franklin too. What if it’s related to what happened to Dr. Bradley?”

  Eunice kept her gaze on her salad. She licked her lips, her face turning a shade of pink. “Poor man. He was released from the hospital today. He called here not too long ago.” Eunice frowned. “His poor nose is so swollen it sounds like he’s talking underwater. But he’s still going on with the health fair next weekend. He said his uncle would have wanted it that way. I tell ya, sometimes it takes a crisis to snap someone into action. Maybe that’s what happened with him.”

  “Maybe.” I tried not to sigh, but it came out anyway. “I still keep thinking about that breakin. I feel like we’ve all been missing something.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Not anymore.” Eunice slammed the lid onto her box, snatched it up, and stomped from the kitchen.

  My salad had wilted and the peanut sauce looked like it had congealed on the top of the grilled chicken slices. My mood wilted too. I’d pushed with my questions because I’d hoped Eunice was an ally. That she wanted to find whoever had killed Dr. Bradley. Or at least that’s what I wanted to believe.

  But again there was the whole narcotic prescription drug issue. Terrance could have had easy access to the narcotics. Still to give Eunice the benefit of the doubt, maybe she started noticing missing medication and making an excuse for Dr. Bradley to order more stock. However, it looked more like Eunice, not Terrance, had been pilfering the narcotics.

  Barkha said they didn’t keep a large supply on hand. But now that Franklin planned to expand the practice that would probably change.

  Barkha appeared in the doorway. “Hi. I have my recordings finished.” The phone rang in the main reception area, and Barkha glanced in that direction. “What’s wrong with Eunice?”

  I sighed. “I was sleuthing, and I upset her.”

  “Well, maybe it’s not as bad as you think. She’s pretty emotional. Once she releases some steam, she’s better.”

  “I hope so.” What I’d really hoped for were some answers.

  Barkha slid onto the chair Eunice had recently vacated. “I was going to wait to tell you this, but I can’t keep the news to myself anymore.” She smiled, a tired smile, but a smile that meant she had a good secret.

  “Did Jerry ask you out on a real date? Without his brother and sister-in-law and niece tagging along?”

  “No, um, he didn’t.” I couldn’t tell if that was disappointment I detected in her eyes. “Jerry has a suspect list, and I don’t want us to be accused of any conflict of interest, or that I’m giving him information unethically. Especially after what happened to me before.”

  “I’m sorry. It was a bad joke.”

  “That’s okay.” Barkha shrugged. “I’m learning patience. I realized Jerry has been here for me all along, and I just didn’t see it. Plus my parents are still here. We’re enjoying our visit. I think all three of us are relaxing around each other. I think they understand that in some ways I haven’t changed, but to me in the most important ways, I have changed.”

  I nodded. “I think I get that.”

  “Anyway … my news. She smiled.

  “Yes. Your news. What is it?”

  “I sent some of your soaps to my cousin, Gourab, in Atlanta. He’s in product development and acquisitions for the Purely Skin Care store chain. Have you heard of it?”

  “No. What does this mean, exactly?”

  “He’ll be calling you later this afternoon to see if you would come to Atlanta to meet with him. Monday morning, in fact.”

  “Why? Isn’t that kind of sudden? What does he want with my soap?”

  “He’s pushed it to the head of product development. It sounds like they might be interested in buying Tennessee River Soaps for their chain.” Barkha paused. I was grateful for that pause, because my mind was still on the trip to Atlanta part.

  “Wow. All I started doing was start making soap.”

  “I knew you had something special in that shop. And after what Franklin did by letting you go, I wanted to give you a little … help.”

  “Wow,” I said again.

  “You’re not mad? I know it wasn’t my business, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. If he didn’t think your product had merit, he wouldn’t ask for your phone number.”

  “Barkha, this is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has done for me.”

  “Well, you’ve been nothing but a thoughtful and kind friend to me ever since I came to Greenburg. I haven’t felt at home somewhere in a long time, and now I do, because of you and your family. Besides, your products stand on their own merit, and I had nothing to do with that.”

  I could feel my cheeks getting hot. “Thanks.”

  “I was happy to do a little something.” Barkha went to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. She popped the top and turned to face me, while I tried to salvage my salad. “So, tell me. What were you asking Eunice about that upset her?”

  “She knew that someone tampered with her office keys about a month ago.” I took a bite of my grilled chicken and got a mouthful of peanut sauce. My eyes watered at the sudden spicy flavor. “Ooh, hot. We know Terrance had a copy of that key. But I wonder if someone else did too. Dr. Bradley was found in his chair. If he’d surprised someone, he would have gotten up and confronted them. And I would have heard that on tape.”

  “That could be.”

  “But I was also trying to find out from Eunice who else has regular access to the practice? Are there delivery people, anyone who comes regularly?”

  “There’s the medical supply service. They come once a week, plus the lab courier who runs specimens over to the hospital lab. Usually twice a day.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought about them. The police probably have, though.”

  “And then there’s meal delivery—Oat Grass sends someone to deliver lunches, and every once in a while we order from Dial-A-Pizza to mix things up, but that’s been rare.” Barkha shrugged.

  I swallowed another mouthful of salad. “They probably aren’t here but long enough to collect their money and go.”

  “You’re going to worry yourself into a headache.”

  “So, doctor, what am I supposed to do?”

  “Pack up that wonderful husband and sweet baby of yours and go to Atlanta this weekend. Doctor’s orders.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “So in our study of other religions, we see how Hinduism clearly doesn’t line up with the Bible.” Roger, the teacher of our Sunday school class, passed around a handout of an overview of Hinduism. My mind was already drifting to whether or not we’d packed everything we needed for our first family road trip to Atlanta that afternoon. C’mon, Andi, wake up.

  I made sure I had my pen out. While I didn’t know much about other religions, I’d definitely grown up on the B-I-B-L-E. Yes, that’s the book for me, and all. It seems church on Sunday and calling oneself a Christian was synonymous with living in the Deep South for many people. But I wanted to understand the conflict between Barkha and her family. I knew she wasn’t rejecting her culture, but maybe to her parents she was.

  Barkha sat in a folding chair two rows ahead of Ben and me, her head bowed over her paperwork.

  “Karma, past lives, and future lives.” Roger wrote karma on the dry-erase board next to him. “Whatever happens to you, good or evil, is a consequence of your action in a past life. And, your future life depends on your actions now. Does anything in the Bible relate to this? Careful—trick question!”

  Someone toward the front of the r
oom said, “Isn’t that like the law of sowing and reaping? Doesn’t it say that in Galatians, what we sow we reap?”

  “Galatians does say that. But we never earn our salvation. Remember, that’s the big difference. We can’t earn our way into God’s favor. We can’t absolve our sins or change our ‘karma’ because of what we do. Let’s turn to Galatians and look at that verse closely.” He paused for a rustling of pages. “Another thing to note is that some Hindus do believe Jesus was a good teacher. But they don’t believe in the Trinity, or in Christ’s deity. That’s another reason the Bible and Hinduism don’t agree. Jesus said, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father but by me.’ Is everyone at Galatians?”

  Looking at those verses, it did sound as if karma was like sowing and reaping. But Roger was right; we didn’t reap salvation by the acts we sowed.

  I started doodling on the handout, and then had a suspect list framed with flowered scrolls. Someone said something about reincarnation, so I snapped my attention back to the class.

  One guy in the front—he was pretty new, and I couldn’t remember his name—raised his hand.

  “Go ahead, Mitch.”

  “Don’t they believe we can come back as other creatures—not just human?” He waved an arm. “It’s like, ‘Ooh, better be good or you’ll come back as a fly!’ Then here comes a windshield and—splat!” He clapped his hands and a few people chuckled. “Really, I don’t see how someone could believe things like that. It’s crazy.”

  I started to open my mouth, and realized I was ready to ream Mitch up one side and down the other. “Yes, but it doesn’t make—”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t really know you, Mitch, but I do want to make a point,” Barkha’s voice rang out. “It may be difficult to understand, but there are millions of people who believe this way. I don’t believe that making fun of what they believe will make them want to listen to us.” Her voice held an edge I’d never heard, except for maybe that one day when she faced Tushar down at the medical offices.

  Mitch swiveled in his chair. “Um, uh, I wasn’t trying to make fun of them.”

  “We should have compassion for them, even if their beliefs are silly to us,” said Jerry from somewhere behind us. “I don’t mean we have to agree with them. But I keep thinkin’ about that verse, where Jesus looked out over the city of Jerusalem, and was filled with compassion, because He wanted to gather people to himself, but they weren’t willing. People haven’t changed much over the years. From what I’ve been reading, it looks like many of these religions make you have to work your way to paradise, or heaven, or whatever eternity means to them.”

  “Good point, Jerry.” Roger picked up the dry erase pen and wrote works affect destiny next to karma. More discussion ensued, but my mind drifted to Barkha. I couldn’t imagine how her life had upended and what she’d given up by becoming a Christian.

  I wanted to go take the empty seat next to Barkha, or try to pass her a note, but this wasn’t junior high. Jerry passed by and touched Barkha’s shoulder. She looked up and nodded. He slid into the row and took the seat next to her.

  After class, Mitch from the front row paused by Barkha’s chair. They spoke for a few seconds, and it looked like they smoothed things over. I approached as Mitch continued on his way toward the door.

  “Hey, are you all right?” I asked.

  Barkha’s face flushed. “I feel so foolish. I shouldn’t have blurted out like that. I should have waited until after class, or never spoke at all.”

  “Well, I started to say something myself,” I said. “Jerry, you put it well. Plus that got the class back on track to what Roger was talking about.”

  “Yes, you did, Jerry.” Barkha placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

  “Um, well.” They stared at each other, and I had the sensation that I had just become invisible. “If we don’t see you after church, we’ll see you when we get back from Atlanta.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Barkha glanced at me. “That’s right. You’re driving out this afternoon. Have a safe trip.”

  We hit the road around one and pointed the Jeep in the direction of Atlanta. Six hours, one way. Our first real road trip as a family and as a couple. The only thing that went wrong was that a fast food restaurant shorted us an order of fries at the drive-through window, but Ben and I agreed we could just split the one order of fries. I knew my hips would thank me later.

  We checked into our hotel a little after seven, and spread out all of Hannah’s gear. I looked at the two-piece skirt suit I’d just hung up in the closet. “I’m so nervous, Ben. I can’t believe we’re meeting with a skin care company about my soap. What if they change their minds and say they don’t want to carry it?”

  Ben joined me at the closet. “Barkha’s cousin wouldn’t have asked to meet with us if they didn’t like your product.”

  “What if I say something stupid? I’m not a marketing person. I just like to cook up soapy things. And I’m certainly not a public speaker, not counting the time I taught Sunday school for the teenagers.”

  “Hey.” Ben grasped me by my shoulders. “We prayed about this whole trip. All we have to do is show up. And they asked us to bring Hannah. That doesn’t sound like they’re not approachable.”

  “I know. You’re right.” I touched the navy blue fabric. The jacket was comfy, even if a bit heavy for the hazy humid weather of Atlanta. “Maybe I’ll wear my other skirt, the gypsy print one and that blouse Trudy got me for my birthday. It feels more like me than the suit. I haven’t worn this thing in eons.”

  “Do you mean you’ll wear that white blouse with the stitching on it? That’s pretty on you.” He always knew what to say.

  I gave Ben a quick kiss. “I’m so glad we did this together. You’re here, and Hannah’s here. And right now even though I’m battlin’ butterflies, everything’s perfect.”

  Hannah started to whimper. She wanted to be held after all that time in the Jeep, and here I was hoping she’d take a nap. But our appointment wasn’t until ten the next morning.

  Ben picked up a light supper from the hotel restaurant while I gave Hannah a bath. Some mothers didn’t like to give their babies baths because of all the tears and drama. For me, it was one of those moments when the world stopped and it was just me and my little girl. She played with toys, and I gave her a baby shampoo soap crown.

  “I’m back. They had some burgers on the menu, so I got that plus something chicken for you, and a cheese sandwich for Hannah.” Bags rustled outside the bathroom.

  “Will you please get out her baby food?” My voice echoed off the tile walls. I’d have to try the jets on the tub later and have a bubble bath.

  “Sure, honey.” Ben entered the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid. “I’m ready to eat when you are.”

  “We’re almost done here, aren’t we, Hannah-B?” I picked up a plastic cup and poured away her shampoo crown. She’d have beautiful golden curls one day, just like her daddy.

  “I’m glad we got away. From the restaurant, from your store, from the whole investigation.” Ben reached for a thick white towel hanging from a chrome bar, and handed it to me.

  Hannah sneezed, and we both froze. A yellow booger dripped from her nose. I snatched a tissue and wiped it away. “There you go. Now for the towel.” I tossed the tissue away and wrapped Hannah in the towel.

  “Where’d that ugly thing come from?” Ben took Hannah from me and snatched another tissue from the counter.

  “From the last bit of her cold.” I pushed the button for the drain. “Barkha said her chest was pretty clear the other day, so not to worry.”

  I could barely sleep that night, as if the following day was an exam or a job interview or something else equally terrifying. But we made it on time at ten a.m. and only got lost once on the way to the Purely Skin Care corporate offices.

  As instructed, we brought Hannah, too, who was on her most angelic behavior except for her runny nose. Once we’d been escorted to the marketing and pr
oduct development director’s office, I realized we were on our last tissue.

  “I’ll just get some from the receptionist,” Ben said. “You go ahead in to the meeting and if they need us, we can come in later.”

  “Okay.” I’d worn my comfortable skirt and the blouse Trudy had given me. I felt like myself and not a suited-up version. I clutched my case of samples.

  The door to the inner sanctum swung open. “Please, come in.” A dark-skinned man in his late forties smiled at me. “I apologize for the short notice. I gather you found the offices without difficulty?”

  “We only got lost once, so I can’t complain. First time in Atlanta too.”

  “That can happen. It’s a large city.”

  Here goes. I smiled back and crossed the threshold.

  Windows overlooked the Atlanta skyline. A faint hint of smog touched the air. And the radio said today was a pretty clear day.

  “I’m Gourab Bhaduri, and it’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mrs. Hartley. Barkha has told me about you and your products.” He offered his hand, and we shook. “What have you brought me today?”

  “Well.” I opened the case and arranged the bars on the table. “Here’s the Peachy Keen, which you’ve sampled already. I’ve also brought Cherries Jubilee, and Mandarin Spice. Plus my newest scent, Vanilla Chai.”

  “That’s what I like about your business. We also use natural products from local distributors. It’s one way we can help the economy.”

  I nodded. “That’s what I thought too. My operation is local and small, but with the Internet, I get more business than foot traffic, usually.”

  “What if we were to set you up with your own lab, so to speak, and hire workers for you, and you sold your soap exclusively under the label of Purely Skin Care?”

  I must have looked skeptical, so he continued.

  “We own thirty stores in Georgia and Tennessee, and are branching into Florida.”

  “So do I need to interview or send you a résumé?”

  “I brought your product to our committee on Friday, and they unanimously agreed to get you here and make you an offer you can’t refuse.”