Fixin' to Die

by Tonya Kappes

  “Yes, of course.” I nodded. “Sterling found him before Toots got here for work. You and Doc were friends; did you know he would see patients without appointments?” I asked, fearing this was going to be my biggest obstacle in the case.

  “He was an old-time doctor. If someone needed to be seen, he wasn’t going to turn anyone away. Not so uncommon in small towns such as Cottonwood.” Max filled out the usual information on the sheet on his clipboard. Name, occupation, address of death, hair color, and clothing.

  There was an outline of a dead body and he quickly made notes on the visible stab wounds. Finn and I watched as Max pulled out his camera and took pictures of Doc and all the evidence markers.

  “All the puzzle pieces will fit together somehow,” Max said, squatting down to get closer pictures of the mercury granules.

  It was exactly what Finn had meant when he said the walls had eyes.

  An hour went by before Max was ready to put Doc Walton’s body on the church cart and put him in the back of the hearse. He’d taken all sorts of photos of every room in the house.

  “You never know what you can find in a photo with a magnifying glass.” Max’s brows rose.

  “Formal statements will be ready tonight. I’ll get them to you when Wyatt has them typed up.” A sobering feeling hit my gut as the back door of the hearse slammed shut.

  “Sounds good.” Max’s lips pressed in a thin line. “We’ll find who did this.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  I waved him off and watched him drive down the now muddy driveway.

  The sun was starting to peek out. Cottonwood could use a little sunshine and much-needed relief from the rain, because the beginning of this week was turning out to be far from fun.

  “I guess we can get these divided up. You take some and I’ll take some.” Finn walked outside with the stack of patient files.

  “What do you say we grab a bite to eat?” I felt a little lightheaded and hoped it was from not eating breakfast this morning.

  Finn nodded. “I could use some food.”

  “You can follow me to town. I know just the right place.” I made sure the house was securely locked up and the police caution tape in place before I got back in the Wagoneer. “Duke! Come!”

  Duke sauntered down the steps. His droopy brown eyes slid down his face, disappearing into his floppy cheeks.

  I ran my hand over his light brown furry head and down his long tan ears.

  “You are such a good boy.” A long-needed sigh escaped my lips. Duke always made me happy. “Poppa knew what he was doing when he gave you to me.”

  Duke shook his flappy ears and let out a little howl as though he knew what I was saying. We got in and I put the Wagoneer in drive, watching Finn in my rearview mirror.

  “Charger.” I adjusted the mirror, taking a look at Finn’s fancy police car. “Oh well.” I rubbed the dash of my old Jeep. “We don’t need a fancy car.”

  Duke let out another howl before he stuck his head out the window and let his ears fly in the wind.

  Within a few minutes, I pulled up to the curb in front of Lulu’s Boutique on the north side of town. The small boutique was really an old clapboard house turned into a cute shop owned and operated by Lulu McClain. She had local items along with knick-knacks, candles, some clothing, and other accessories for the home.

  I put the Jeep in park, leaving enough room for Finn to park behind me.

  Duke howled in delight when he saw the On The Run food truck. He was about to get a treat and he knew it.

  On The Run, Jolee Fischer’s mobile café, was parked on the side of Lulu’s.

  “Kenni!” Lulu trotted down the front steps of her shop looking very stylish for her age. She wore her black hair in a short, shaved Twiggy kind of way, a little longer on the top, enough to be parted on the side. Her black ruffled blouse was partially covered with a white and black speckled fur vest with leggings and knee-high black boots. Silver bangles jingled up and down her arm as she waved in the air, screaming my name. “Kenni!” There was something in her hand.

  “Good morning, Ms. Lulu.” I swung the Jeep door open and Duke jumped over me and out the door, bolting up to the food truck.

  “Good morning.” She put a little extra oomph on the “ing” in morning as her eyes rolled up and down Finn, who was next to my door before I could turn the Jeep off. “Well, it’s technically early afternoon.” She grinned, not taking her eyes off Finn.

  “Good afternoon.” Finn smiled, pulling the sunglasses off his face and hooking them in the pocket of his fancy suit coat. He ignored Lulu’s lustful stares.

  “Well, well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Ms. Lulu pushed between us, tucked whatever it was in her hand in her back pocket, and stuck her manicured hand out in front of her. The bracelets jingled down her arm and came to a rest on her wrist. “I’m Lulu McClain. I own Lulu’s Boutique. You must be the fancy cop from out of town that everyone is talking about.”

  “I don’t know about fancy.” Finn’s voice faded, losing that steely edge. “Yes, ma’am. Finn Vincent from out of town.” A flash of humor crossed his face. “News travels fast.”

  “Faster than you know.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I can’t help it if I called Betty Murphy to get the recipe for her chess bars. Missy Jennings is sick and I know chess bars will be just the thing to pep her up.” Lulu patted her free hand over the top of Finn’s hand, still shaking it like she was shaking out the water on her dishrag.

  “Chess bars, huh?” Finn’s mouth turned up in a big ole smile, exposing those perfect teeth.

  “I’ll make an extra batch.” Lulu winked, still rubbing the top of his hand. “Betty told me about Doc Walton. Shame.” Her brows cocked up. She heaved a deep sigh and shook her head.

  “Thank you for making me some chess bars. They sound delicious.” Finn’s mouth was still open in a bright smile.

  “Were you yelling for me?” I asked, reminding her of her frantically yelling my name when I pulled up.

  Lulu cleared her throat, turning her attention to me.

  “Yes, Kenni.” Her face was turned toward mine, but her eyes were glued on Finn.

  “Focus, Ms. Lulu.”

  I waved my hand in front of her.

  “Oh, Kenni.” She sighed, pulled the stashed item from her back pocket, and held out the thing toward me. “I know your mother would love this monogrammed scarf. It’s a perfect color for her.” She held it up to my face. “I mean, it looks good up to your olive skin tone and you are a mini-me of her. Plus, she does love a monogram.”

  I smiled a dreary smile, knowing exactly what Lulu was up to. My rocky relationship with my parents wasn’t a big secret in our town—and I was sure it was a topic the circle of coffee talk shared—but Ms. Lulu was on a mission for me to reestablish the bond with my parents that came completely unglued when I decided to go to the police academy. After I graduated from the academy, I worked on the University campus police force, which I guess my mama thought was playing pretend.

  When Poppa died, it was election year, so I threw my hat in and won. My mama absolutely threw a hissy fit when she found out I was running. I didn’t even want to remember how she acted when I actually won. I thought I was going to have to take her to the nearest hospital, a forty-five-minute drive east into Lexington.

  “And she about died when I called her about Doc Walton—um,” Lulu’s eyes flew open, “I mean, when I let it slip about Doc Walton while I was telling her about Missy Jennings. Because I know she’d get a burr in her saddle if she found out some other way since she and Missy are Euchre partners.”

  “You let it slip, huh?” I asked in a monotone voice, knowing it was exactly why she called my mama: to stir the pot.

  Lulu was definitely a good pot-stirrer.

  “Why, ye
s.” Lulu’s southern drawl drew out even more, my keen judge of character telling me she was lying right there to my face. She leaned in and nudged me with her elbow, the smell of vanilla oozing from her every pore.

  “Is there a serial killer among us?” she asked. “I won’t tell.”

  “Serial killer?” Finn’s smile faded. His crow’s-feet deepened.

  “No.” I shook my head. “There is no serial killer. One killer.” My face reddened. “One crime. Only one.” I held my finger in the air.

  “Mark my words.” She stomped her fancy boot on the ground. “I told the city council one year ago not to build those condos out there by the river. I told them building those would bring all sorts of seedy people to our little town. But no.” She swayed back and forth, her finger wagging in the air. She looked like she was in Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” video. Not that I was a Beyoncé fan. Not that I wasn’t. “No one wanted to listen to me. And now this happens.”

  “Thank you for voicing your concerns. I’ll be sure to put it in my notes.” I had to be sure every citizen was heard. Part of the job. “I’m sure you’ll see Mama before me.” I tilted my head. “We have to go.”

  “Right. Crime to solve.” Her solemn face took a turn on a dime and her sweet southern smile was right back. She turned to Finn. “Do you know who did it?”

  “I’m holding you to those chess bars.” He winked. She giggled. My stomach growled.

  It was my cue to leave and get in line for food. Finn could fend for himself; I left him to say goodbye to Lulu. A few minutes later he walked up next to me.

  “That was wrong. All sorts of wrong,” I said.

  “What?” he asked in a dumbfounded voice.

  “You know what. Flirting with an old lady,” I growled, though I secretly found it a little endearing.

  “It made her drop the questioning.” He held the file up in the air, following closely behind me. “Here are the files. We can go over them at the table.”

  I picked up the pace. The line for On The Run was getting longer and the day was slipping away. There was a lot more I needed to get done before the sun went down.

  “Nice dog.” Finn laughed at Duke.

  My ornery pup had made his way to the front of the line and was quickly eating up any food that accidentally fell out of the cardboard cartons Jolee used to serve it.

  “Everyone knows Duke,” I said.

  He nodded. “Getting back to town was easier than I anticipated.” Finn looked up and down Main Street. He was trying to make small talk to fill the space. “And the rain has stopped for now.”

  “Huh?” I asked. There were only a few streets between Doc Walton’s house in the country and the town. It wasn’t like Cottonwood was a big city or anything.

  “When I was trying to find the crime scene, I stopped and asked someone for directions.” He pulled out a piece of paper from his suit pocket. He flashed it toward me. There was some scribble on it.

  “Oh no.” I closed my eyes in anticipation. The way we southerners gave directions was nowhere near the fancy GPS most people used.

  “I repeat, the exact directions.” He held the piece of paper up to his face. He said in his best hillbilly accent, “That’s way out yonder. This is what you are gonna do.” He looked up at me and continued, “You are gonna drive straight down this road until you get to the outhouse on the cement blocks where there isn’t a stitch of grass. Anyways, you are gonna turn right right there. Well, it’s really a curve, but go slow because Grant Henry took that curve and ended up knocking that outhouse down. That’s why it’s on cement blocks now.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Finn Vincent was getting a good dose of how the local folks gave directions. We understood yonder and down there.

  “Oh, it doesn’t stop there.” He held the piece of paper up to his face again. “Now you are gonna keep going, keep going down a real long piece, but slow down because that girl sheriff we got will give you a ticket. Eventually there is gonna be a fork in the road, you gonna go left. Now there is a cross in the middle of the road where that fork is because someone died there, but stay left of that cross. That’s the street you want because Doc Walton’s house is on that street.”

  Finn busted out laughing, shaking his head. His eyes danced with a little twinkle and his teeth sparkled.

  “You don’t have a fancy GPS on your phone?” I asked, taking a step closer to the order window.

  “I do, but the cell service is spotty around here.” He let out a deep sigh.

  “Ohio?” I asked, trying to figure out where his accent came from.

  “What?” Finn’s brows furrowed.

  “You’re from Ohio?” I asked, patting my leg for Duke to come back to me.

  It only made sense that Finn was from Ohio. It wasn’t too far from Cottonwood and he definitely wasn’t from anywhere in Kentucky.

  He shook his head. “Chicago. But I’ve been with the Kentucky State Police Reserve Unit for a few years now. What kind of café is this?”

  “Something Jolee Fischer came up with to piss Ben Harrison off.” I smiled fondly, remembering the fight the two of them had at the town council meeting. After that night, Jolee was on a mission to make Ben miserable and she was doing a pretty good job of it. “Jolee graduated from culinary school and thought she’d land a cooking job at Ben’s. He handed her an apron and an ordering pad.” I pointed to the yellow clapboard home behind us and then to the silver streamlined trailer. “That’s when Jolee bought this camper and turned it into a food truck. Genius idea, really.” I ran my hand over Duke, giving him a good scratch behind his ears, his soft spot. “She travels to local businesses and sets up shop. Like Lulu’s Boutique.” I pointed back to the house. “Lulu hosts a crochet class, knitting class, beading class…come to think of it, she teaches a lot of classes.” I waved my hand in the air, trying to forget I had my monthly Euchre group coming up.

  They would definitely bombard me with questions about the murder, plus my mama would be there. Maybe not, since Missy Jennings was ill.

  “Jolee shows up with little goodies for them to buy and take into class. She just kinda shows up everywhere. With the right permits, of course.” I made sure he knew I was doing everything right so he couldn’t go back to the state police and say I wasn’t doing my job. Not that I would care, it just wasn’t a hassle I needed.

  “How does this work here?” Finn looked at his fancy gold watch I was sure didn’t come from the local Walmart.

  “You order from Jolee’s food truck and take it into Lulu’s craft room to eat at one of the tables. The two of them have some sort of commission percentage worked out. This way Jolee doesn’t have the overhead a restaurant would.” It all made perfect sense to me.

  Finn took a couple steps up to the pop-out counter. He was so confused he didn’t know whether to scratch his fancy watch or wind his ass.

  I stepped up to the window.

  “What’llyahave?” Jolee’s words strung together, leaving Finn with a dazed look. Her smile grew with each chomp of her gum. Her blond hair was just long enough to be parted into pigtails that dangled right past her cheek. The freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose made it look like she had a nice bronze tan all year round.

  His mouth hung slightly open, his brows furrowed.

  “Well?” I shrugged.

  “Excuse me.” Finn leaned a little closer. “What did you say?”

  “To eat?” Jolee jerked her head back. “Where you from?”

  “Chicago,” I said before he had time to answer.

  “Oh. A Yank.” She took a couple good chomps of her gum, moving it from one side to the other. “I suggest the Kentucky hot brown sandwich. A little oozy, but a whole lot of goodness.” She shifted to the side and planted her hand on her bony hip, waiting for Finn to agree with her.

&nbs
p; “I’ll just have a plain turkey on white, thank you.”

  “Yankee,” Jolee scoffed and turned her back on us.

  “Aren’t you ordering?” he asked.

  “She knows what I want.” I waited patiently but my taste buds were already oozing.

  “Sunny Goose Sammy for you.” Jolee put my usual in a paper carton on top of the counter, a cup of coffee next to it. “And a Yankee sandwich for you.” She sat Finn’s plain turkey sandwich next to mine.

  “Pepsi?” Finn asked.

  “You didn’t order a Coke.” Jolee was getting a little feisty.

  “Right, I’m ordering a Pepsi…” he said, trying to figure her out.

  “Well.” She straightened her shoulders and twirled one of her pigtails with her finger. “When you ask nicely.” She grinned back. “One problem, we only serve Coke.”

  “That’s fine,” Finn stuttered, not knowing how to handle Jolee.

  “Every little thing…” The sounds of an acoustic guitar and a low almost-whisper of a voice sang the late great Bob Marley’s song. Very fitting for the community at this time.

  Finn pulled a dollar out of his pocket when we walked by the guitarist and glanced around. “Where’s his tip jar?” he asked. His eyes held a sheen of purpose.

  “Oh, he doesn’t take tips.” I nodded over to the steps leading up to Lulu’s Boutique craft room. “He just plays around town to get in practice for his band.”

  “Huh.” Finn’s brows crossed.

  I ordered Duke not to move away from the door. Who was I kidding? The dog did what he wanted. Everyone in town knew him, so if he did meander off, he’d be fine.

  We walked inside the craft room where there were only two small tables that weren’t taken.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said Jolee came up with a great idea.” Finn looked around the room. The aroma of Jolee’s home-cooking swirled into the air.

  “We are eating high on the hog now.” My mouth watered because I knew what I was about to eat.