“Sure, I’ll think about coming sometime,” Lexie responded. In a pig’s eye, she thought silently. Someone would have to literally hog tie her and drag her screaming to the Moose Creek Junction Book Club and sign her up as a member. She would rather swallow rat poison than sit through an hour of that torture.
Carma certainly thought a lot of the club and herself. Another thing Lexie remembered about Carma from high school was that she had been mousy and withdrawn—a true loner with no real friends. These days, she was outspoken, irritating and still believed everyone should see things her way. She remained a loner and from what Lexie knew, had few friends. No doubt people became annoyed when she bossed them around. The book club was probably her only opportunity for social interaction.
Lexie wondered what Lucy would think about being involuntarily elected, by none other than Carma Leone, to the presidency of the most gossipy group of women in town. Of course, Lucy gossiped with the best of them, and while she hated that trait in others, she couldn’t see it in herself.
“You do that,” Carma said, a smirk on her face.
What was up with her? Lexie said good-bye and hustled back outside, a funny feeling washing over her. Inside the truck, she handed the bag to Aunt Gladys.
“You’ve been gone about a million years,” Aunt Gladys growled.
Lexie buckled up and started the sputtering truck. “I got you a present. Not the toilet paper.”
Aunt Gladys glanced inside the bag and pulled out the bathroom tissue. “What in God’s name did you buy these silly things for?”
Lexie drove down the street, refusing to let Aunt Gladys get to her any more. “To keep you busy and out of trouble while you’re staying with me. You got a better idea?”
Aunt Gladys peered inside the bag again. “Hell’s bells, paint-by-numbers? I can’t even paint my own toenails let alone those little peckers with colored pee pots. These things are for digits and midgets.”
“You’ll learn.” Lexie gripped the steering wheel tighter as she turned a corner. “Here are the rules. You’re not allowed anywhere unless one of the family is with you.”
Aunt Gladys snorted. “I’m under house arrest?”
“Call it what you like. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble. You’re also not to light candles in your room and I insist you stop smoking in the house.”
“Well, fine, you friggin’ Nazi. You didn’t say anything about smoking in your rattletrap truck, though.” Aunt Gladys promptly produced a cigarette, lit up, and proceeded to pout and puff, pout and puff.
For heaven’s sake, Lexie thought as she rolled down her window for fresh air. The name of the game was survival. Hopefully, Cousin Bruce would soon arrive to collect his mother and life could resume some sense of normalcy. Lexie and Lucy could get back to their investigation, unless Deputy Dog or patootiehead Otis had managed to finger the murderer by then, which she doubted very much.
It was impossible to go sleuthing with Aunt Gladys in tow and Lexie was dying to check out a few things, especially after Elton’s accident. Gabe Stevenson would not appreciate her nosing around, but tough. Once Cousin Bruce came to collect Aunt Gladys, she planned to snoop to her heart’s content.
The week passed uneventfully, except for a dark car that kept cruising by Lexie’s house. On a couple of occasions, Lexie thought she saw it following her. Every time she looked up again to try and get a license plate number, the car vanished. She called Otis to let him know about it, but he was unwilling to do anything unless she had a license plate number. Lexie maintained a vigilant watch for the vehicle, hoping sometime she could get a good enough glimpse.
Business was slow at the Saucy Lucy. Lexie hoped it was just the time of year and people were busy preparing for the upcoming holidays. No matter how she tried to rationalize the situation, in her heart she knew it was a bunch of hooey, as Aunt Gladys would say. In a small town like this, word got around fast and she was afraid people really were staying away because of Whitehead’s murder.
It was an unsettling and disappointing thought. How could she take care of her family if her business went down the toilet? The money Cousin Bruce had wired would help keep food on the table and bills paid for a while. But that was it: Once it was gone, what would she do?
Lexie was up early Saturday morning, ready to start the workday. She showered and dressed and as she was putting her hair up into its usual ponytail, she noticed the lovely orange and red sunrise that illuminated her room. She crossed to the window and looked outside at the neighborhood, bathed in an ethereal, golden glow. No doubt it’s going to be another warm day, she thought. Lexie was about to move away from the window when she noticed the dark car parked by the curb across the street.
It was back!
It was impossible to determine the make, model or license plate numbers from this distance so, heart hammering, she hustled downstairs and slipped outside. By the time she reached the curb, her lungs were slamming against her ribs and the car was nowhere to be seen; as if it had never been there. Maybe I’m losing my marbles, she thought. Maybe the dark, mysterious car is all a figment of my imagination.
She was under so much pressure these days— could be she was cracking. Then again, Bertie Creekmore had mentioned she’d seen a dark car parked at Whitehead’s house the night of his murder. Lexie sensed there was a connection between the strange vehicle and recent weird activities. Without being able to get a good look at the vehicle or license plate numbers, Otis couldn’t help her and she figured Gabe couldn’t either.
Annoyed, Lexie went into the kitchen, put coffee on to brew, then rummaged through her larder and produced flower, sugar, spices, and other baking supplies. She prepared the day’s menu with a vengeance. At least for the time being, cooking would take her mind off the confusion.
Fingers and flour flew and by the time she was done, she had produced six loaves of bread consisting of oatmeal raisin, sourdough, and rye, all set to rise on the counter. She switched on the two large commercial ovens to preheat, and stirred together a big pot of golden colored corn-bacon chowder for the soup special. The chowder smelled heavenly by the time she started to put the finishing touches on a couple of apple and peach pies.
Bringing with her a whirl of orange and yellow leaves and a warm breeze, Lucy walked in through the back door. She left it open and latched the screen door. “Phew, it’s hot in here. We need some air.”
“Good morning,” Lexie said, wrinkling her brow in consternation. For once, Lucy’s complaints couldn’t be attributed to menopause. The weather was still unseasonably warm and it was alarming. If this wound up being another dry season like last year, the mayor and city officials had plans to institute further water restrictions. That would ruin her chances for a garden with fresh vegetables for the café. She might as well kiss off all the hard work she’d put into getting the Victorian’s lawn, shrubs, flowers, and rose bushes to flourish. It was frustrating to even think about.
Lucy set her purse down and slipped a white frilly apron over her dowdy brown and yellow housedress. With her sturdy brown loafers, support, hose and hairnet, she was in perfect uniform. “What’s with the prune face? You look like the Crypt Keeper again.”
Lexie frowned harder. “I hate this drought.”
“Stop with the long face, already. We’ll live. People throughout time have dealt with water problems all over the world.” Lucy washed her hands at the sink and dried them on a paper towel. “Guess what?”
It was like when someone says; knock, knock, and you’re supposed to say, Who’s there? Lexie decided she was supposed to play the game. “What?”
“Doc said the gout in my big toe is nearly gone.”
Lexie blinked. “I didn’t know you had gout.”
“Didn’t want to bother you, but I’ve been having pain in my right foot. The medication he put me on has helped, thank the Lord.”
Lexie shoved her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting? I would have insisted you take some t
ime off.”
“And spend more time at home where Otis can fuss at me?” She hooted. “For Pete’s sake, I’d rather stand around with a sore big toe than be at the man’s beck and call to run errands, thank you very much. Besides, you can’t manage this place all alone.”
“I still feel awful. I thought I saw you limping a little this week—I should have asked you about it.”
Lucy shrugged. “All’s well that ends well. How’s the dragon lady doing today? Has she started any fires or stolen anything?”
“She’s not up yet, I’m happy to say. Are you sure you can’t take a turn having her at your house? She’s driving me batty.”
“Sorry.” Lucy held her hands out in supplication. “Otis would have my head on a platter. It simply wouldn’t work.”
Lexie sighed, irritated by her sister’s missing sense of family duty. When the phone rang, she picked it up and said, “Saucy Lucy Café, this is Lexie. May I help you?”
There was a moment of silence, then someone at the other end of the line hung up. Lexie stared at the receiver, puzzled.
“What happened? Wrong number?”
“Don’t know.” Lexie plugged in the corn chowder crockpot and pulled out the chicken and dumpling soup and beef stew tubs from the refrigerator and poured them into other crockpots to warm. “They hung up without saying a word.”
“That’s odd. Maybe it was one of those recorded telemarketer calls. Sometimes they get mangled up.”
“Or maybe it was Barnard Savage. He’d do anything to get enough information to spin stories about all the awful things going on.” The odd feeling she was being watched began to churn in Lexie’s stomach.
“Ick.” Lucy shivered. “That leech of a man.”
The phone rang again and Lexie gave it a dirty look. “Maybe I ought to unplug it.”
“No,” Lucy said. “I’ll get it. If it’s Savage, I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. She picked up the receiver and said, “Look, you, mind your own business and quit hounding us!”
Suddenly she quit speaking and her face went white. She slammed the receiver down on the cradle as if it had bitten her.
“What?” Lexie wiped spills off of the stove.
Lucy put her hands to her cheeks and leaned back against the counter. “That … that person, or whoever it was on the phone said, ‘Go back where you came from or you’ll die!’”
Lexie’s fingers went limp and she dropped the sponge. “Oh, my God.”
“I’ll tell Otis. He’ll know what to do.” Lucy picked up the phone and called her husband at the office. She jabbered at him for a few seconds about the threatening call and hung up.
“What did he say?”
“That he’d have someone at the department tap your line. Stalkers have to stay on for a certain length of time in order for the calls to be traced. He said the last one probably wasn’t long enough. But if they call back …”
“Dear Lord, let’s hope they don’t.” Lexie put a hand over her racing heart for a few seconds.
“Let’s get these pies finished,” Lucy finally said. “It’ll get our mind off the strange calls.”
The sisters turned their attention back to the pies. After pinching the edges on the crusts, they sprinkled the cream-colored pastry with a mixture of cinnamon and sparkling sugar. The preheat lights had gone out on the ovens and Lexie popped pies in one of them. Lucy put the properly risen bread loaves into the other.
Glancing at the teapot-shaped clock on the wall, Lexie decided everything should be done about the time customers began to arrive. That was if they had any customers.
“You know you’re taking home some of this food if we don’t get any customers today.”
Lucy raised a brow at her. “Why wouldn’t we get customers?”
“Just a feeling I have.” Lexie thought of the strange looks she’d been getting from the townspeople lately. “People are concerned about the murders and Elton’s accident. It’s like I’m tainted. They must think I’m involved in all of this.”
Lucy waved her hand. “They’re all just superstitious. They’ll get over it.”
“What is everyone saying at your book club? And by the way, Carma Leone says you are going to be the next president.”
“President?” She shuffled uncomfortably and began to wipe counters. “Over my dead body. I like the book discussions, but I don’t have time for their nonsense full time. The ladies think Henry’s murder and Elton’s accident are unfortunate.”
Lexie grabbed a broom and started sweeping. “What are they saying about me?”
She was quiet a moment. “That it’s too bad you’re caught up in the middle of all the trouble.”
“Truthfully.” Lexie cocked her head.
Lucy sighed. “You’re determined to drag it out of me, aren’t you?”
Lexie nodded.
“Well, the ladies start to whisper whenever I come into a room, but I’ve overheard snippets of conversations.” She sighed. “They think pretty much what you suspected.”
“I knew it!” Lexie leaned on the counter and put her head in her hands.
“It’ll be all right, Lex. Everything will blow over soon.” Lucy patted Lexie’s back, mothering her as always. “You’ll see.”
“In the meantime,” Lexie said, looking up at Lucy, “plan on taking home some food. Aunt Gladys and I can’t possibly eat it all. In fact, you and Otis may have to plan on feeding us when the café goes belly up and Cousin Bruce’s money runs out.”
“There you go again, being all melodramatic. Things simply cannot be all that bad.” Lucy stared into space for a moment then snapped her fingers. “Say, didn’t you tell me you have a date with Jack Sturgeon tonight?”
Lexie leaned back on the counter and rubbed her eyes. Leave it to Sister Lucy to think a date would cure everything. “That’s right, I do. I was so concerned about that mysterious car parked in front of the house this morning I completely forgot.”
“It was out there again?” Lucy made a frustrated noise. “Did you get any plate numbers or the model? Otis will want to know.”
Lexie shook her head. “By the time I got outside, it was gone.”
“Just keep a look out, dear. I have confidence the police will eventually take care of the situation. These things take time.” Lucy shook her finger at her in a motherly fashion. “Now, about this date …”
Lexie suffered through Lucy’s lecture, about the millionth one, about how she needed a man in her life, etc. She was looking forward to the date with Jack, nevertheless, she intended to keep her excitement under control. It would be a pleasant evening. She didn’t want to read more into it. Eva volunteered to drive home from Westonville this afternoon and keep an eye on Aunt Gladys while she was gone. A break from the lovable looney would be a welcome relief.
She had to admit though, as Lucy preached to her about the church’s stand on marriage and morality, she did miss male companionship. Not just the physical part, although that had its benefits. She missed having someone to share her day with, someone to discuss her thoughts and feelings with. Hopefully, Jack really was as nice as he seemed, but only time would tell if they continued to see each other. A delicious shiver of anticipation traveled up her spine and she instantly quelled any further anticipation.
Maybe I should be concerned about my track record with men, she thought to herself. Violet Whitehead really had a point when she’d accused Lexie of causing trouble for the men she got involved with. An inner voice warned her to put off dating anyone until Whitehead’s murder was solved.
Who knew how long that might take?
“What I want to know,” Lucy was saying, “is how you managed to get a date with the most eligible bachelor in town?”
“He asked me.”
“Hallelujah.”
“It is surprising,” Lexie said.
“He’s a widower, you know. His wife died of leukemia. He cared for her up to the very last.”
“He sounds like a good guy.”
/>
“Oh, he is. Which is why all the single women in town are after him. He hasn’t dated since Emma died, so I didn’t think he was ready yet. It’s been a year.”
“It’ll be nice to get to know him.”
Lucy clasped her hands. “You have to tell me all about your date tomorrow, you know.”
Lexie rolled her eyes. “Nosy.”
“Who loves ya, baby?” Aunt Gladys, wearing a leopard print caftan and enough beads to sink a ship, entered the kitchen. She danced around and sang, clapping and kicking her long legs in the air.
“Oh my,” Lucy said. “Do you think she thinks she’s back on stage in Vegas?”
“Probably.” Lexie shook her head. “There’s no telling with her.”
Exhausted and out of breath, Aunt Gladys suddenly stopped and her face melted into a royal pout as she glanced around the kitchen. “Where the hell am I? What kind of bar is this?”
“Aunt Gladys,” Lexie said firmly. “Remember, you’re staying with me.”
Aunt Gladys glared at her. “Hell’s bells, you could at least put cocktail peanuts and appetizers out for the patrons. I’m hungry as a mule train.”
“Do you want me to make you some eggs or pancakes for breakfast?”
Aunt Gladys shook her head. “Good God, no. I have to have my special shake.” She tapped her forehead. “Keeps me sharp as a tack up here where it counts.”
Aunt Gladys proceeded to bulldoze her way through a few cupboards then bellied up to the counter and mixed eggs, milk, and her special drink powder. She pushed a button and the blender whirred into action. Before long the gray, unappetizing drink came to life and Aunt Gladys seemed happy as a clam as she poured it into a tall glass, humming to herself.
“For Pete’s sake, is she like this all the time?” Lucy asked.
“Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of it,” Lexie told her.
Noon came and went; yet there was no familiar ring-a-ling from the bell on the door to announce customers. An hour went by, then two. Aunt Gladys, cussing and fussing, pulled out her paint-by-numbers and busied herself at the kitchen table dabbing color on a black velvet picture of a mountain stream. Lexie and Lucy stirred around the kitchen, waiting and watching for signs of life and trying to be hopeful.
The Saucy Lucy Murders Page 18
