by Celia Aaron
Old family photos yellowed around the edges and covered the hall walls. Babies and kids who had long since grown up and moved away, or perhaps remained in Azalea and started families. Benton stayed a couple of steps behind me, which was a good thing. I didn’t want to look him in the eye, not after my little confession in the car.
“This way.” Mrs. Lagner crossed the hallway once more and entered a galley kitchen, the floor tiles old but clean, and the counters some sort of green Formica straight from the 70s. Pulling open the back door, she ushered us into the darkness beyond. “Watch your step. That big rain left the grass kind of mushy back here.”
I clicked on my flashlight and took the few stairs down to the turf, then turned right and picked my steps toward the bean poles.
“Oh!” Mrs. Lagner exclaimed.
I turned around to find Benton helping her along as she glued herself to his side. He gave me a brief eye roll that I could barely see in the dark.
“Thank you, sugar,” she purred. “I mean, Deputy.” If I could have gotten a better look at her, I was certain she’d be blushing.
I came to the edge of the dirt marking a large square of tilled earth, though most of the area had sprouted winter weeds amongst the husks of decaying vegetable plants.
“The okra’s along the back,” she pointed.
I followed her direction and walked another dozen feet or so. My breath plumed in the cool air, winter seeming more like a promise than a hint.
“You see?” Mrs. Lagner and Benton caught up to me.
Training my flashlight on the tall stalks at the corner of the garden, I found four rows of okra, none of the plants looking too happy with this recent turn of weather. Their leaves were drooping, the stems already turning dark. Bending over, I inspected the closest plant. Just as Mrs. Lagner said, okra had been harvested from the stalk. The same was true for the surrounding plants, too.
“So, you’re saying that someone came out here and cut the okra from your plants?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I made a show of turning around and staring into the distance at the neighbors’ houses. Outside of town like this, the plots of land were bigger, the homesteads farther apart. The nearest house was at least a quarter of a mile away, its lights faintly glowing through the trees. “You suspect a neighbor?”
“No.”
God, I needed more coffee. “Let me back up. Do you have anyone in mind that you think could have done this?”
She finally let go of a relieved Benton. “I suspect it’s the same people who have been messing around in my garage at night.”
“And who might that be?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking Chief Garvey to figure out.” She latched onto Benton’s arm again. “And now that I have this fine young deputy out here, maybe I’ll get some answers.”
I reminded myself that Chief Garvey told me that if I didn’t get Millie Lagner off his ass that he would think about promoting Logan to lead detective and putting me back on traffic patrol with Brody. Was he kidding? Yes. Did he sound like he was kidding? No.
“Let’s take a look at the garage.” I skirted the mucky garden and stepped onto the worn gravel tire track leading to the white clapboard garage. Shining my light through the open door, the back of an old car, more rust than metal, appeared in the gloom. “Is there a light switch?”
“Not out here. No.”
“Hang on.” Benton disentangled himself from Mrs. Lagner. “I’m going to head on in with Detective Matthews. Will you be all right out here?”
“I’d feel better if you were here with me.” She added a slight shiver to her voice. “But I understand the importance of your investigation.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Lagner.” Though his words sounded too sweet to be real, Mrs. Lagner didn’t seem to notice the difference because she gave a little giggle.
Benton walked past me and pulled open the other door. It creaked and groaned, but swung open to reveal the rest of the car along with a smattering of yard tools, a couple of dusty hay bales, plus several other rusted or discarded items.
“There’s a path through all this beside the car.” Benton moved along the side of the rust bucket as I followed, keeping the light ahead of us.
“I don’t think anyone’s bothered with the garage since this car got parked.” I swung my flashlight to peer into the murky window. “Or maybe not.”
“What?” Benton turned to look at what I had trained the light on—a blood smear on the glass.
I leaned closer. “It’s on the outside. Someone’s been in here. Recently, by the looks of it.” I turned and yelled to Mrs. Lagner. “Go on inside. We’re going to keep searching. Let you know if we find anything.”
“Are you sure? I can stay—”
“We wouldn’t want you to get cold. A pretty lady like you needs taking care of.” Benton shrugged at me.
Another giggle filtered through the door. “It is chilly out here. I’ll go in and wait for you, Deputy.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He dropped his voice and bent his head close to mine. “You think the okra thief accidentally cut himself during his pilfering and is hiding out in the garage?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe his last okra caper didn’t go the way he’d planned.”
“Okra accidents happen all the time.” His smile matched my own, and I elbowed him lightly in the ribs.
“What do you know about okra?” Before he could make a joke, I continued, “In any case, someone may be in here, and we don’t need your new girlfriend getting hurt over some okra.”
“My girlfriend? Hmm. Do you think she’ll put out if I solve this okra thing for her?”
I smacked him in the arm. “There is something wrong with you, Deputy King.”
“Jealous?” He leaned closer, his lips pressing against my hair. “Don’t worry. She’s not my type.”
“Too young for you?”
He laughed, the sound too loud but also just right.
“Shhh.” I shimmied past him and continued deeper into the dark garage. “Let’s get this done so we can be on our way.”
“Right behind you.”
I turned sideways to edge my way past an overturned wheelbarrow, more pitchforks than a normal person should own, and a smattering of automobile parts. “There’s a door back here.”
“And a ladder.” He pointed to my left.
A wooden ladder, the rungs promising splinters and tetanus, rose into the low rafters. There was a small landing up there, but I couldn’t be sure the ladder would hold for me to even take a look.
“Let’s try the door.” I tested the handle. It turned easily and swung open to reveal a large shed—the sort you can buy at home improvement stores—with front windows, a door, and a light burning inside.
“Does someone live here?” Benton walked to the closest window and peered inside.
I was too short to look, so I tried the front door. Locked. “See anything?”
“A bed, one of those all-in-one stove, fridge, sink things. No one’s home, but someone does live here.”
I’d had enough of the okra chase. Just based on what I’d seen, I couldn’t tell if Mrs. Lagner had picked the okra and forgotten she’d done it, or if whoever lived on her property…“Her son. She mentioned it on the phone. Her son must live here.” I’d forgotten that fact, buried it under an avalanche of information on Randall King and Letty Cline.
Benton scratched his chin. “It seems to me that her son had a late-night hankering for some okra, took it, and didn’t want to admit to his mom that he had done it. Or maybe he just likes watching her chase her tail about stolen okra. Some guys are assholes.”
“You sure you’re a lawyer? Maybe you missed your calling. Okra investigator is more your speed.”
“I think you’re right. I should’ve run for sheriff instead of Porter. I guess I’ll have to chalk that up in my missed opportunities column.”
Despite the teasin
g, he was right. There was zero evidence that someone else came onto the property and took any okra. “Come on. Let’s give her the news and get out of here. I’ve got bigger fish to fry, and just coming out here for this should get Garvey off my ass.” I struck off toward the house, but Benton gently grabbed my arm.
“Hey.”
I turned to face him, our breaths mingling in the dark. Staring up into his eyes, standing too close—it was like he saw me. Not the detective. Not the single mother. Not the girl from Razor Row. Warmth spread through me, though I tried to will myself into discomfort.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
“For what?” The question came out too breathy, too interested.
“For letting me meet Vivi. For bringing me along. For trusting me enough to walk into a creepy garage with me. I know you didn’t have to do any of those things. But I’m glad you did.”
And just like that, I was utterly out of my depth.
* * *
We left Mrs. Lagner’s in a hurry after promising to look further into her okra matter. And I wasn’t lying. I intended to pass the case off to Logan as soon as I could. He could look into it right after we solved the murders.
“Where to now?” Benton fiddled with the heat.
“I’m going to drop you off at your place and head by the station.”
“Okay.” The hint of disappointment in his tone cut me a little.
“It’s just that I need to speak with Garvey and follow up with Pauline and Logan. I’m not trying to…” What was I trying to say here?
“I understand.” He turned one of the center vents toward me. “I need to check on Charlotte anyway. Porter is there with her, but she isn’t in the right headspace at the moment.”
“Are you afraid she’ll break down?” The streets were dark and shiny from the earlier rain, and the icy wind had me fighting with the steering wheel every so often.
“She already did that. No, I’m more worried that she’ll go off half-cocked or go out looking for trouble.”
“I didn’t take her for a scrapper.”
He smirked. “That’s one of her gifts. She seems so sweet and nice, but she’s tenacious. If she finds out who did it before we do…” He trailed off and shook his head.
His sister had just moved up in my estimation. “Then definitely keep an eye on her. We don’t want to add any more murders to our list.”
His smirk faded.
“I’m sorry.” I gripped the wheel tighter to keep myself from reaching for him. “That was bad wording on my part.”
“No. You’re right. I need to keep the family I have left safe. Losing Dad has been hard enough. And I still haven’t really processed it. I keep trying to, but my brain seems to lock up whenever I think about his office or him in it.” His voice broke at the end.
Though it was a mistake, I reached over and took his hand in mine. It was cold, so I gave it a squeeze and pulled in front of the vent. “It was a shock. It’s going to take time. But you can get past it. You’d be amazed at how many things we’re able to get past, no matter how bad they are.” A mirror image of myself flitted through my memory, my left eye black, my lip split, my stomach swollen with Vivi. That had been one of the last times I’d seen Dale. “You’ll be stronger in the end. And you can rebuild.” I returned his hand to his lap, but he didn’t let me pull mine away.
“One day I hope you’ll tell me what made you so strong, what you had to get past.” He grazed his thumb along the inside of my wrist, back and forth in slow arcs. Such a small touch, but one that resonated deeply.
I pulled away and cleared my throat. “Once I drop you off, I expect you to stay at your place. No late-night jaunts to your father’s house or any of the crime scenes. Got it?”
He sighed. “I’ll stay at my place. Unless something comes up.”
“Nothing is going to come up that Logan or I can’t handle.” I turned onto his street. “So stay home.”
“I promise… Unless there’s an emergency.”
“Do they teach you that in law school?” I pulled to a stop at the curb, behind Porter’s SUV.
“No. I’ve been difficult since the day I was born.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “At least that’s what my mother always told me. And Porter can attest that I haven’t changed a bit.”
I shook my head and reassured myself that this wasn’t flirting. “I’m pretty sure I can attest to that too.”
He leaned closer, his clean scent wafting to me. “I think you like that about me.”
A dozen thoughts raced through my head, the loudest of which was that I did not need to get involved in anything like this during a murder investigation. Especially not with the victim’s son. Even so, I couldn’t resist his invitation to spar. “I’m pretty sure I don’t like anything about you.”
“You must be joking.” He smiled. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I was named Azalea’s Most Eligible Bachelor last year by the Gazette.”
“I didn’t take you for the sort of guy who went for that kind of popularity contest nonsense.”
He shrugged. “Maybe it was a practical joke by Porter, and maybe I got pissed off enough to stop talking to him for a month—but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.”
He was too close and far too attractive for his own good. I shot a glance to Brody in his cruiser across the street. He looked away quickly. Damn. He had probably already radioed Logan about us talking and the windows beginning to fog.
I grabbed the gearshift and put the car into drive. “Well, thanks for your help with the okra investigation. It was one for the history books. Stay put, and I’ll give you a call if I find out anything new.” How quickly I’d gone from “I’m not telling you shit” to “let’s share information” wasn’t lost on me. But in our short time together, I’d built up a modicum of trust with Benton. My instincts told me that he wanted to find his father’s killer just as much as I did.
He moved away, the mirth fading from his eyes. “Be careful out there, okay?”
“I will.” I patted the grip of my gun. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it.” He opened his door and got out. He paused, as if he were going to say more, then thought better of it and closed the door gently.
With one last look at Benton, I pulled away and drove toward the police station. Though I wasn’t looking forward to it, I needed answers from Chief Garvey about why he was visiting Randall King in the days before his murder.
20
Arabella
Chief Garvey’s cruiser was parked out front as I climbed from my car and entered the station. My stomach roiled, and I wiped my hands down my jacket to alleviate the cold sweat. I gave Helen, our dispatcher, a curt nod as I hurried past. She was on the phone with someone and waved in response.
Logan sat at his desk, his feet propped up and a VHS tape in his hands.
“That from Sal’s?” I peeked toward Chief Garvey’s office. His door was open, the light on.
“Yeah, I got it from him before he closed up for the night. Problem is, the last VHS player we have is busted.” He cast a glance to a beaten-up TV/VCR combo that had been collecting dust in the storage room for the past decade. “We haven’t needed it in forever. But Sal still depends on technology from 1985, so I’m going to have to rustle one up from somewhere. I’m just trying to figure out where.”
“Call Porter. I’d be willing to bet the County Sheriff’s Department has a VHS player for tapes like this. If that doesn’t work, get Sal on the phone and ask if we can stop by his store to use his VCR.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I asked Sal if I could use his VCR. He says he doesn’t have one. All he has is a recorder, and he religiously changes the tape every morning when he gets to work. But he’s never had a reason to look at them.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me right now.”
Swinging his legs down from his desk, he said, “I wish I was.”
“Call Porter. If he can’t find one, get in touch w
ith Lewis at the pawnshop. Surely he’s got one sitting around somewhere in the back.” I was just wasting time, trying to pull myself together before confronting Chief Garvey.
“I’m on it.”
“You got anything else for me?”
“Nothing good. No one has seen hide nor hair of the judge—”
“That reminds me—tell the guys to be on the lookout for a man with a Jersey accent and light eyes.”
He cocked his head, his tired eyes incredulous. “That’s all you got?”
“For now. I saw him at the diner today, but got the call to go to the firm fire, so I missed him.”
“Why is he a person of interest?”
“Just a feeling. He didn’t do anything in particular, but his accent doesn’t fit, and even Benton agreed that there was something off—”
He rolled his eyes. “Benton, huh?”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything, but it seems like you have a new partner on this case, and it’s not me.”
“You’re my partner. We’ve just been dividing and conquering today. Though we’re pretty short on the conquering part.”
“No shit!” Chief Garvey’s gruff yell came from his office. “Quit stalling and get your ass in here, Arabella.”
Logan tried to look amused, but I could sense the worry beneath the surface. We’d been too close for too long for me to miss it.
“Wish me luck.” I adopted a swagger I didn’t feel and walked into the lion’s den.
Chief looked even more haggard than usual, his tired eyes perusing me, the dark circles beneath them like pools of unrest. “Sit down.”
