Saturdays at Sweeney's

by Ashley Farley

  She felt sick to her stomach. Lovie knew most of her recipes by heart. The question was whether she could remember them in her current state of mind. “Thanks for trying.”

  “I can have some of the guys bring the safe to your house this afternoon,” Jared said.

  “That would be great. They can put it in the garage. I’ll leave the side door open for them.”

  Sam held the file and checkbook to her chest as they walked together toward the front of the lot.

  “I’m glad I ran into you, Sam. I was going to call you this afternoon. We’ve turned the investigation over to the police. For obvious reasons, I didn’t want to say this in front of Donna, but we’re almost certain arson was involved. We found two containers of gasoline in the dumpster.” He waved his hand at the big green dumpster beside her mother’s car. “Heavy duty or not, I’m surprised your safe survived. It appears that area is where the fire started.”

  Sam collapsed against his SUV. “I don’t understand why someone would do something like that.” She thought about her encounter with Donna. “Unless someone did it out of vengeance, like Donna Bennett. She’s had it in for my family for a long time.”

  He removed an index card from his pocket and scribbled Donna’s name on it. “I’ll look into it. But you should know your mother is our primary suspect.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open. “That’s absurd! Captain Sweeney’s means more to her than her own children. What motive could she possibly have to destroy it?”

  “I can’t answer that. But we can’t ignore the fact that she was already at the scene when we arrived. She was talking out of her head. Some are suggesting that she was confused and didn’t realize what she was doing.”

  Jared’s cell phone rang, and he removed it from the clip on his belt. “Rhodes.” He listened for a minute and said, “I understand,” and hung up. He returned the phone to his belt clip. “That was the chief. The police are on the way to question your mother now. Have you spoken with her this morning?”

  Sam stared at him wide-eyed. “She’s not answering her phone.”

  He squeezed her elbow. “You should probably get over there. Whatever you do, don’t let them question her if she’s confused like she was last night.”

  #

  As she hustled across the street to her car, Sam called Faith and explained the situation.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Faith said. “Mike came home from the hospital for lunch. I’ll bring him with me to gauge Mom’s mental stability.”

  Sam hung up with her sister and tapped Eli’s number.

  “I’ve just been made aware of the situation,” he said. “Because of my relationship with your mother, I’ve recused myself from the case. But I promise to make sure we handle it by the book. I won’t lie, honey. It doesn’t look good for her.”

  “The whole thing is ridiculous, Eli. She has no motive.”

  “She was not in her right mind last night. You saw it. I saw it. The whole fire department and half of my coworkers saw it.”

  “Regardless of her state of mind, no little old lady is capable of filling two containers with gasoline and setting fire to a building.” Sam made a right-hand turn into her mother’s complex and saw patrol cars parked haphazardly in front of Lovie’s town house. “Get over here, Eli.” She counted the cars. “There are five units here.”

  “I’m a mile away. Wait for me out front.”

  “Like hell I will,” Sam said, and hurled her phone to the passenger side floorboard. She slammed her car in park in the middle of the lot and jumped out of her Jeep. She stomped up the front steps and through the town house to the sunroom out back. Her mother was cowering on the sofa, surrounded by a half-dozen policemen. She wore the same dirty nightgown as the night before, and her face was still smeared with soot. Sam barged through the uniforms. “Leave her alone! Can’t you see you’re scaring her? What are you thinking, badgering an old woman like this?”

  A rookie officer Sam had never seen before stepped forward. “She’s our primary suspect in an arson case, ma’am. We have no choice but to question her.”

  “Who the hell are you?” she asked, staring him down. She felt certain he had a pea brain to match his tiny head.

  “Officer Goodall, ma’am,” he said with a salute. “And who the hell are you?”

  Eli entered the room. “She’s my wife. That’s who the hell she is.”

  Officer Goodall gulped, causing his Adam’s apple to bulge. “Sorry, Detective.”

  “You damn well better be,” Eli said. “Where is Detective Brunson? He’s the one assigned to the case, and the only one who should be questioning Mrs. Sweeney right now.”

  One of the officers sitting beside her mother stood to face Eli. “Brunson sent us here to bring her in.”

  Eli pointed at the door. “Well, I’m ordering all of you to get out of here right now.”

  The five of them departed the room in a single file.

  Eli called after them, “Tell Detective Brunson, if he wants to question Mrs. Sweeney, he may do so in her home. And only when I’m present.”

  Sam and Eli sat down on the sofa on either side of Lovie. “Are you okay, Mom?”

  Eli drew his mother-in-law close. “I’m so sorry, Lovie. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

  Lovie’s teeth chattered and her body trembled and her words were incoherent when they tumbled out of her mouth.

  “Shh.” Sam stroked her mother’s leg through her nightgown. “It’s all right now.” She removed the wool afghan from the back of the sofa and draped it around her shoulders.

  By the time Faith and Mike arrived, ten minutes later, Lovie’s breathing had evened out.

  Mike sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of Lovie. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he said, placing his hands on her knees. “We’re having a tough day, aren’t we?”

  She stared back at him, but no words came out of her mouth.

  “Can you tell me what happened last night before the fire?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you remember anything at all about the fire?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Louvenia Spencer Sweeney,” she mumbled.

  “And who’s the president of the United States?”

  “The man with the funny hair,” Lovie said, patting herself on the head. “Donald Trump.”

  They all giggled and let out a collective sigh of relief.

  Mike straightened. “She should definitely not be talking to the police right now. And I don’t recommend her staying here alone until she feels more like herself.”

  “She can stay with me,” Sam and Faith said at the same time.

  “Why don’t y’all talk about this in the other room?” Mike said, cutting his eyes at Lovie.

  The sisters went to the kitchen, where, after several minutes of intense discussion, Faith won, arguing that it made the most sense for Lovie to stay where Mike could observe her behavior. Sam was secretly relieved. In addition to the challenges her small house presented, her mother, in her current mental state, would need full-time supervision. Sam had tried to be everything to everybody once. As a result she’d lost her way and found herself in a bottle of booze. She would not let that happen again.

  FIVE

  Faith

  Mike went with Eli to pick up sandwiches while Sam and Faith helped their mother pack some of her things and clean out the refrigerator. Sam then went ahead in her Jeep, and Faith followed with their mother. As Faith pulled away from Lovie’s town house, she saw a single tear slide down her mother’s cheek. Lovie knew without having to be told—her days of independent living were over.

  Faith tried to carry on a conversation on their way back to town, but when it became clear that it would be one-sided, she allowed her thoughts to wander. She didn’t mind Lovie staying with them for a while. Taking care of her loved ones made her feel needed. She’d always wanted a big family, but she wa
s never able to have more children after a difficult pregnancy and delivery with Bitsy. Not that she’d have cared to have any more of Curtis’s children. Protecting one child from an abusive father was enough. She and Mike had talked about adoption. They were even working with an agency. But the wait was long, and their chances seemed smaller and smaller with each passing day. She would turn forty-five next month. No adoption agency in its right mind would give her a baby. Mike remained hopeful that he’d come across a situation in the emergency room—a pregnant teenager interested in finding a good home for her baby—but Faith considered that a long shot.

  Faith watched for her mother’s reaction to the burned-out building when they drove past the market. With her eyes glued to the windshield and her expression impassive, Lovie neither flinched nor cried nor uttered a word. Faith wondered what thoughts were running through her mother’s mind.

  As much as she liked working at the market, Faith didn’t love it the way her mother, sister, and nephew loved it. Which was why she’d decided to let Jamie take over her duties. After graduating from high school, she’d taken a few accounting classes at the local community college. She’d learned enough to manage the finances at the market, but not enough to get a job in an accounting firm. She was good at it, but bookkeeping wasn’t her passion. Whatever that was had thus far eluded her. She yearned to make a difference in the world. She’d thought about becoming a nurse but been intimidated by the entrance requirements for study. She’d tried writing a romance novel but had trouble organizing her thoughts. She continued to explore her options, hoping that something or someone would inspire her.

  When they arrived home, Sam unloaded the suitcases from the car while Faith helped her mother out of her soiled gown and into the shower. Once the guys arrived, Sam joined them in the kitchen to help prepare lunch. Faith was arranging her mother’s things in the chest of drawers and closet when Lovie emerged from the bathroom in her robe. She went straight to the bed and turned down the covers.

  “I know you’re tired, Mom, but you’ll sleep better if you eat something first.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Lovie mumbled as she slipped between the sheets.

  “I’ll bring you a sandwich anyway, in case you change your mind.” When Faith came back with the lunch tray five minutes later, her mother was sound asleep, snoring softly with her mouth wide open. She left the tray on the nightstand, closed the blinds, and turned out the light.

  Faith returned to the kitchen for a pitcher of sweet tea and four glasses before joining the others at the table on the screened porch. “Mom is zonked. She’ll probably sleep all afternoon.”

  She relaxed in her chair and drew in a deep breath of salty air. The sun shone bright in the periwinkle sky, its rays glistening off the water. The weather was perfect for taking a long walk or working in her yard. Tomorrow morning she would take her mother to the garden center and purchase some annuals for her containers.

  Faith never tired of looking at the marsh, not after years of living with Curtis in a ramshackle trailer in the woods. Their house on the inlet was nothing fancy. Built ten years earlier, with gray HardiePlank siding, black shutters, and a red front door, the craftsman-style home was set off Creekside Drive on a wooded lot, offering privacy from their neighbors on either side. A center hallway split the single-story home, with three bedrooms on one side, and family room, dining room, kitchen, and breakfast room on the other. The porch stretched across the back of the house above a walkout basement that provided storage space for Mike’s fishing and hunting gear.

  She removed a pastrami and Swiss on rye from the tray. “Do the police really have a case against Mom?”

  “It looks that way,” Eli said, spreading Dijon mustard on his ham and cheese. “The first responders confirmed that she was already at the market when they arrived. It would help our case if you can prove the market was in good financial standing.”

  “The desktop computer was destroyed in the fire,” Sam said.

  Faith pointed her sandwich at Sam. “But the files are backed up to the cloud. I can access them from any computer.”

  “Great,” Eli said. “Print a copy for me so I’ll have them if I need them.”

  “You need to bring Donna Bennett in for questioning,” Sam said. “If anyone in this town would do something like this, it’s Donna. She hates our family.”

  “She hates you, Sam, not our family,” Faith said and popped a chip into her mouth.

  Mike furrowed his sandy brow. “Who is Donna Bennett?”

  Sam set her vegetarian sandwich down on her plate. “Remember Christmas before last, when Jamie brought that awful girl, Sophia, home for the holidays, and you had to make a house call when she got drunk out of her mind?”

  “I remember,” Mike said. “That was right before your wedding. But what does this Donna Bennett person have to do with that?”

  “Donna went to New York that week and left her children at home alone. Her daughter, Rachel, was Sophia’s sorority sister at USC. They had a raging party in her mother’s absence, hence the reason for your house call.”

  Mike nodded. “Go on.”

  “A couple of nights later, Donna’s younger child overdosed on cocaine supplied by Sophia and Rachel. The poor kid nearly died. Donna blames Jamie, even though he wasn’t at the party that night.”

  “Didn’t Donna make some sort of threat to you?” Faith asked.

  “It was more of a confrontation than a threat,” Sam said. “Bottom line—she holds me responsible for what happened to her son.”

  “We’ll check her alibi for last night,” Eli said. “But it’s going to be difficult to make a case against her based on a personal vendetta. This thing with Sophia happened eighteen months ago. It makes no sense that she’d wait until now to threaten you.”

  “It makes more sense than these allegations against Mom,” Sam said. “She would never do something like this, Eli. The market was her life. Your buddies on the force shop with us. They know my mother.”

  “I realize that, Sammie. But they saw for themselves that she wasn’t in her right mind last night.”

  “She may have set the fire without realizing what she was doing.” Mike reached for Faith’s hand. “You told me earlier that your mother claims Oscar Sweeney visited her in a dream, warning her there was trouble at the market. What concerns me is that she referred to him by his first and last name, not as your father or her husband. For all we know, it was a hallucination and not a dream. And who’s to say this apparition didn’t tell her to start the trouble at the market instead of warning her about it?”

  Faith yanked her hand free of Mike’s. “Whose side are you on?”

  “I’m on Lovie’s side, of course. I’m simply playing devil’s advocate. I love your mother dearly. But I’m a physician, and I’ve seen normal people exhibit strange behavior during times of confusion. What if it turns out she started the fire? Correct me if I’m wrong, Eli. But she won’t be held accountable based on her mental instability, will she?”

  Eli wiped his mouth with a napkin. “The family would face a complicated court battle with their insurance company, but no judge is going to send an eighty-five-year-old demented woman to jail.”

  Faith tossed up her hands. “So now she has dementia.”

  “Calm down, honey,” Mike said, resting his arm on the back of her chair. “You shouldn’t be surprised by any of this. We’ve seen this coming for some time. I’m glad she’s staying here with us so I can keep an eye on her, but I think we need to schedule an appointment for her to see a neurologist as soon as possible.”

  “I can do that,” Sam said, raising her hand. “I’ll see if I can get her in with the same doctor she saw before.”

  After a similar spell several years ago, they’d taken their mother to see a neurologist at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston. She’d passed all his tests at the time, but he’d warned Faith and her sisters to expect more of the same behavior down the road.

  Fa
ith stared out across the water. “What if she has Alzheimer’s?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “We’ll deal with it,” Sam said. “Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

  Faith nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

  Sam lifted the top slice of bread off her sandwich. “I know the Island Bakery is the best place to buy gourmet sandwiches in town, but the bread’s stale, the lettuce is slimy, and the avocado is brown.”

  Faith looked at the untouched sandwich on her own plate. How could her sister be thinking about food at a time like this?

  The three of them offered to help her clean up, but Faith insisted they get on with their day. She wanted time alone with her mother. They needed a quiet afternoon to recover after being awake half the night. Faith hoped that doing ordinary things like shopping for groceries and cooking beef stew for dinner would snap her mother out of her confused state of mind.

  After tidying up the kitchen, Faith sat down at the breakfast room table with her laptop computer. She accessed the files she needed in her Dropbox account and printed all the documents necessary to prove the market had been in good financial standing. As an afterthought she printed copies for Sam as well, in case she needed to borrow money from the bank.

  She waited as long as she dared, but at two thirty she finally woke her mother. She did not argue when Lovie paired a plaid cotton blouse with seersucker slacks. She’d been dressing that way for years. The sisters viewed their mother’s odd attire as her way of expressing her quirky personality.

  As she drove the short distance to Bitsy’s school, Faith asked her mother a series of questions to test her stability—simple things about their family to which she should know the answers. But Lovie, her face pinched in confusion, shook her head in response to every one.

  Bitsy was thrilled to see her grandmother. On the way home, she chatted about the invitation she’d received for a sleepover on Saturday night. Instead of quizzing her granddaughter about the party, Lovie sat slouched over in her seat, staring straight ahead at the road in front of her. Faith watched her daughter through the rearview mirror, her dejection at her grandmother’s disinterest becoming more pronounced with each passing mile.