“If you get a chance to rattle his energy, would you please let him know I’d like to spend a good amount of time talking to him,” I said.
“Sure, but he won’t be able to come to me in here. Don’t know why, but this place is off-limits to him.”
“He mentioned that.”
“Oh, good, you’ve spoken to him some more.”
I sighed. “Tell me more about Everett.”
“Like what?”
I could see the wall build in her wary eyes. She was more willing to talk about ghost energy than the other dead person.
“You hung out with him quite a bit apparently.”
“What does that matter, Betts?”
“He was married, Gram.”
“Oh, pshaw, Betts. You’re assuming our relationship was more than a friendship.”
“That’s because that’s what you made me assume. You made lots of people assume that. I would love to know if it was different.”
Gram eyed Jim. “I’m not supposed to talk about it without Verna present.”
“And that’s good advice. But she didn’t mean you shouldn’t talk to me. You can talk about it with me, Gram, all you want, or are willing to.” In truth, Verna had meant that Gram shouldn’t talk to me either, but I was desperate enough to lie.
“Okay. This is what you need to know, Betts. Everett and I were friends, just friends. I knew he was married. I hadn’t met his wife, but I hoped to someday. I overheard Jim and Cliff talk about her timing. She came to Broken Rope last night because she found my business card on his nightstand and wanted to know what was going on with her husband. Even though I knew Everett was married, what I overheard gave me the impression that his wife didn’t know why he was away from home so much ‘working.’ ”
“Do they think she could have killed him?”
Gram shook her head. “She has a pretty strong alibi apparently.”
“What were the papers you and he looked at when you ate at the pool hall?”
Gram’s eyes opened wide. “How did you…? Oh, Miles.”
“Yes, Miles, but he didn’t know what the papers were about. What were you looking at?”
“I’m not telling you that, Betts. No way, no how.”
“Why not?”
“None of your business.”
“Were you searching for the treasure that Jerome allegedly hid?”
“How do you know about the treasure?”
“Gram, you’re in jail for murder. Of course, I’m going to try to figure out who the real killer is, but you have to help me. Or Jerome has to help me. I need to know what was going on. It was an assumption because of some things Jake and I found, one of them being a gold piece on Jerome’s tombstone.”
Gram’s eyes got big but she said, “Well, I’m not going to tell you what I know about the treasure, Betts.”
“Why not? Do you want it for yourself?”
“No! Give me more credit than that. I’m not greedy—you know that. Listen, Betts, this has nothing to do with any silly treasure stuff. Get over that right now.”
Jim shot us a look. I turned so my back was even more in his way.
“Well, at least I know for sure there’s a treasure,” I said.
Gram’s big eyes went into a squint. “I think I’m done talking to you, Betts.” She sat back on the bunk.
“Come on, Gram, give me something else to go on. Make this easier for all of us. If you won’t tell me, you need to at least tell Verna where the pieces of paper are that you and Everett were looking at.”
Gram nodded stiffly. She didn’t like being told what to do. No one did, but she had been infused with an extra dose of stubborn. The nod wasn’t to let me know she would talk to Verna. The nod was to get me off the subject, probably tell me again that she was done with me.
“Were they some sort of treasure maps?” I asked.
Gram suddenly sat forward again and put her mouth close to my ear. “Isabelle Anna Winston, I’m not going to tell you anything about any treasure, and I want you to stop whatever it is you think you’re doing. Clearly, it isn’t a safe way to live, and as I said I’m sure it has nothing to do with Everett’s murder.”
“You’re not telling me because you are trying to keep me safe?”
Gram sat back again and quit looking at me.
By nature, Missouri Anna Winston wasn’t a liar. She was honest to a fault sometimes. Even when truth might not be the best thing to share, she always would. It wasn’t in her to lie. The reason I hadn’t known about Jerome’s existence before now was because I’d never asked her about him, I’d never even considered the existence of a ghost. If I had, she would have told me what she knew no matter how strange, weird, or disturbing it was. If she was forced into lying, it was for a very good reason.
“Gram, I’m going to be fine. I’ll be careful.”
“You were shot at, Betts. You were shot at.” She still wasn’t looking at me.
She wasn’t going to say any more, and I suddenly understood why, though her silence still irritated me. I’d have to find the information another way.
“I gotta go, Gram,” I said. “Think about what I said. Think about talking to me or to Verna more. We’re both on your side, you know.”
Gram nodded as I stood.
There wasn’t much more to say.
Jim turned and watched me as I walked away from the cell and toward the front door.
“We’ll make it a good search for whoever was shooting at you and Jake, I promise,” he said.
“I know, Jim.”
“You be careful out there,” he said. “I’ve got Cliff posted right outside the front door, but watch yourself. We’ll take good care of Miz.”
“Good. And I will be careful.” I wasn’t in the mood to say thank you. “She’s innocent, you know that.”
“I don’t know that, but I hope it’s so.”
“She’s not young. Her arrest could cause her too much stress. You need to be aware of that,” I said.
Jim nodded.
“Oh, for giblet gravy’s sake, I’m right here. I can hear you both and I’m fine. I’m innocent but I’m fine. You two don’t need to treat me like I’m going to wither with the wind. Stop it,” Gram said from the cell.
Jim smiled at me and I hesitantly smiled back.
“Between you and Verna, I’m sure my treatment of the prisoner will be closely observed and evaluated,” Jim said.
I stepped outside to warm sunshine and Cliff leaning against a post at the front of the boardwalk. Even though it had been only moments since Jim had told me where Cliff was, I’d again pushed him to that place in my mind that didn’t want to be aware he was around. Another thread of surprise ran through me when he turned and watched me come out of the jail.
“Betts, you doing okay?”
“Fine,” I said. Even I didn’t like the tone of my voice.
“We’ll figure out who shot at you and Jake,” Cliff repeated Jim’s claim.
“I know,” I said. I wasn’t in the mood for a longer conversation so I stepped off the boardwalk and toward the Volvo.
“Betts,” Cliff said.
Damn, just about got away. I pulled the door open but didn’t get in the car.
“Yep?”
“I know you have a lot going on, but I was wondering if you’d be available for dinner this evening.”
Dear God, the man was inviting me to dinner at his house. His wife was going to cook, and I was going to have to act friendly and actually welcome her to town or something else equally as horrible.
“I have plans,” I lied, anger and bitterness lining the words so much that I embarrassed myself.
“I understand. Would you be able to meet for coffee, then? Later? How about coffee and pie at Bunny’s? Say about eight o’clock? I could pick you up or just meet you there.”
I, not we, not my wife and I. Although that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
I wanted to tell him that I didn’t ever see us being able
to have coffee and pie together at Bunny’s. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t need the conversation that he wanted to have. The conversation that would go something like “I’d love for you to get to know my wife, Betts. She’s really a wonderful person and you and she would be great friends. I know you’ll get along. Of course, you and I have both moved on from our past.”
I kind of wanted to punch him in the stomach for coming back to Broken Rope and ruining my perfectly mediocre life.
But then I saw that dimple and those eyes, and I realized he wasn’t trying to pull one over on me. He wanted to talk, and we did need to establish whatever it was we were going to become. I’d grit my teeth and get through it because it was bound to happen sometime. Might as well get it over with.
“Sure. I’ll see you at eight.”
He blinked as though he was surprised I’d agreed. “See you then.”
I got in the Volvo, turned down Toby Keith, and called my brother.
“I need you, Teddy. Get to the school.”
He hesitated only a second. “I’m on my way. This is about Cliff, right? He looks good, doesn’t he?”
“Get to the school, Teddy.”
I hung up the phone and turned Toby to extra loud. He was proclaiming his love for a bar, and at the moment that seemed like a much better option than loving any silly human.
The smell of wood smoke filled the car so quickly that I had to roll down the window.
“I think that fella’s got eyes for you,” Jerome said as he looked at me from the passenger’s seat.
“Jerome, your timing is…interesting,” I said.
“I’ve got some news for you—it’s about who was shooting at you.”
“Tell me.” I turned Toby off.
“You’re not going to like it,” he said.
“Seems like one of those days.”
“Oh, gotta go,” Jerome said. “I’ll be back shortly, though.” And then he disappeared, the scent going with him.
“Oy,” I said as I steered me, the Volvo, and Toby back to the school.
CHAPTER 12
I had no idea where my brother had gone after visiting Gram, but he managed to beat me to the school. He was leaning against his new truck and looking at his cell phone. He was still in the jeans and T-shirt he’d worn to the jail, and as usual, his hair was messy.
“Thanks for being here, Teddy,” I said as I got out of the Volvo and walked toward the school.
“No prob. What’s up, sis? You sounded major stressed on the phone.”
I unlocked the door and led the way inside. Teddy followed behind as we pushed through the swinging doors and into the kitchen.
“Whoa, what happened here?” Teddy said.
“No one told you about the fire?”
“No. I know about the murder. Maybe that trumped the fire. Holy smokes—uh, I didn’t mean to say that.”
“I know. It wasn’t good, but it could have been much worse. Even though Gram and I put it out, we should have called the fire department sooner.”
“Sparks?” Teddy said as he looked up at the ceiling.
“Yes,” I said.
My brother was a continually frustrating mix of contradictions. He was wild—he was a heartbreaker; the trail he left in his wake was baffling. He was also intelligent, though you’d never know it by the slow drawl he sometimes forced when he spoke. I could see the wheels turning behind his bright blue eyes. He was “seeing” what had happened in the ceiling, and he was silently calculating how bad it could have been. But despite whatever horror those thoughts might bring to mind, he’d look at the positive “fun” side. As I watched him I waited for the comment that was sure to be irreverent or silly.
“Gives a whole new meaning to cooking in the kitchen, huh?” he said, smiling.
He didn’t disappoint.
“Teddy, I need your help. I need you to get this cleaned up and then I have to ask for something else. I might need a few days of your time, starting today.”
“I don’t mind getting this put back together. I was already off today. I can take the rest of the week…well, I should ask what for though. For what?”
“You’re not going to like it,” I said.
“Well, then, let me commit right away. Tell me, Betts.”
“I need you to teach.”
“Oh, hell no,” Teddy said. “Not my thing, you know that.” He started looking for an escape, but I put my hand on his arm.
“Come on, Teddy, I really need your help. It’s Gram’s champagne cookies recipe tomorrow and between that and the cook-off, I just can’t do it all.” I didn’t mention the research and the conversations with a ghost that I felt I needed to have. I didn’t think he’d be quick enough to see that I was hiding these other activities.
“Why not? Gram might be in the hoosegow, but she won’t be there long. I’ll get this cleaned up, but other than a meeting or two about the cook-off, all you’ll have to do is teach. Not my thing, Betts. Not my thing.”
He hadn’t fallen for my trickery.
I didn’t notice the smoke smell this time, probably because Teddy and I were standing next to the stinky fire damage when Jerome appeared.
“Ah, your brother, I see,” he said.
I shot Jerome a quick look. “Teddy, there’s more to it than that. Jake’s helping me research some things and I need to be able to devote myself to that.”
“You’re researching something now? Can’t that wait until after the cook-off? Priorities, Betts.”
“Tell him about me,” Jerome said.
“I will not,” I said.
“You will not prioritize? Boy, that doesn’t sound like you,” Teddy said as he leaned against the butcher block. At least he wasn’t attempting to flee anymore.
“No. Teddy, I’m researching stuff about Jerome Cowbender. I think his…well, his history has something to do with the murder.”
Teddy laughed. “The bank robber who couldn’t shoot a refrigerator at two feet?”
“He has a point, but there really is more to the story, I think,” Jerome said as he rearranged his hat. “Tell him about me. You told Jake. You might as well tell Teddy. Maybe he can help.”
I ignored Jerome. “Yes, that one. It’s a long story, but I really need to give this attention. I can’t do that if I have to teach, too. You’re one of the best bakers in town and you make Gram’s cookies like a pro.”
Teddy’s culinary talents were yet another one of his contradictions. He was a natural in the kitchen. He was almost as instinctual as Gram, but even though he enjoyed cooking he had no passion for it. Even when we were kids, he’d whip up some amazing cookies that everyone would love but when we all asked him for the recipe, he’d just shrug and say he didn’t really remember it.
“Yeah, maybe, but I don’t like teaching. Those people drive me crazy. They ask questions and stuff.”
“There are a couple cute girls,” I said.
“I know. I’ve already…oh, never mind,” Teddy said.
“He’s dating someone. Got his heart in a little knot for her, too,” Jerome said.
“Who?” I said.
“Just never mind, okay?” Teddy said.
“Someone named Opie of all things,” Jerome said.
“What? No!” I couldn’t stop the words from coming out in time.
“Betts, what’s wrong with you? What does it matter who I…oh, all right, I might have had a small fling with that girl named Susan, but that was last fall and it’s long over,” Teddy said.
Jerome laughed.
“Teddy, I don’t care, really I don’t.” Except that I did if he was dating Opie, but I wasn’t prepared to fight that battle. “I just need you to teach. Please.”
He looked at me and then I thought he looked directly at Jerome. His eyes landed exactly where Jerome’s eyes were.
“Son?” Jerome said softly.
But Teddy turned away quickly and looked back at me. “You owe me big. In ways you might never have owed me before. B
ig.”
“I get it, Teddy, and I will find a way to sell my soul and repay you in whatever way you command. I promise.” I stepped forward and hugged him, which caught him off guard. He let me hug him but barely.
“Fine, fine. Get out of my way now. I need to get to work so I can have this finished for my students tomorrow,” he said with a sigh.
I eyebrow signaled Jerome that he was to follow me outside. I wanted to talk to him, but I didn’t want Teddy to overhear.
Just as we reached the swinging doors, Teddy said, “Hey, sis. I saw Cliff looking at your a—”
“Don’t! Even! Go! There!” I said.
Teddy and Jerome both laughed.
I pushed through the door, not holding it for the ghost behind me.
I hurried outside and toward the cemetery. Jerome followed dutifully, even though I couldn’t hear his movements. His feet didn’t make a sound as they hit the ground. His clothes didn’t rustle. The only ways I knew he was following were by catching sight of him out of the corner of my eye or hearing him clear his throat or make a noise that told me that climbing over the rope taxed some part of his dead legs.
I stopped directly in front of his tombstone and pointed at the coin. “What’s that?”
Jerome peered at the coin. “I do believe that’s a gold piece.”
“Why’s it on your tombstone?”
“I don’t know, darlin’. I truly don’t. Like I already told you, I didn’t put it there.” Whatever amusement twinkled in his eyes dimmed when he saw how serious I was.
“I guess what I want to know is was this the sort of thing that was in your buried treasure?”
“I don’t rightly know.” Jerome lifted his hat and swiped back his hair. “I don’t remember, Isabelle. That’s the problem. If I remembered any of it clearly, I would have told Miz where I put things. As I said, I don’t remember much of my life. I lived a long time ago. Even if my memory weren’t spotty, I might have forgotten anyway.”
If Fried Chicken Could Fly Page 12
