A Sinister Slice of Murder: A Jessie Delacroix Murder Mystery (Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book 1)

by Constance Barker

  “Kitchen’s closed, folks,” I said to the reporters, “but you’re welcome to stay and have beverages for another hour or so.”

  I sat with the Lamberts for a short visit.

  “Long day, Molly?”

  “They’re all long when you run your own shop, Jessie. You know that.”

  I felt a little guilty because I had a lot of help.

  Wally spoke up. “And we still have to go back and bake the Danish rolls for the morning coffee rush. The rest we can do when we get there at 5:00”

  “Don’t worry about us now, Jessie.” Molly smiled and patted my hand. “We’ll serve ourselves. You just go and get your kitchen squared away and relax a little if you can. We’ll take care of those tables over there too.”

  What a nice couple – even if Wally is a normal man. I did want to get into the kitchen and debrief Granny a little bit before I went to bed.

  As soon as I stepped through the kitchen doors, I could hear the bickering.

  “Mother, he was really busy all day. He’ll get the place cleaned up after his nap.”

  “Don’t make excuses for him, Kat! And look at this! He’s using mayonnaise from a jar instead of making it fresh. He’s going to ruin our reputation, I tell you!”

  “Mom, Gran…it’s been a long and hectic day with reporters and police and the governor. Let’s just settle down and have a nice talk.”

  “I’m going to have a nice long talk with this so-called chef when he wakes up, I can tell you that.”

  Mom and I ignored the outburst, and Granny seemed to simmer down. There were two cases of bottled tea and fruit beverages stacked next to the stainless steel prep table, which seemed like a good place to sit down.

  “So, Gran…did you find out anything from Mr. St. George‘s…ummm spirit?”

  “Yes, some, dear. He’s very distraught and, well…not all there – no pun intended. He hasn’t quite figured out what’s happened yet.”

  “What does he remember?”

  “He’s confused because he could feel himself being carried out towards the swamp and remembers flying through the air and then hitting the mud, but then he woke up with a headless body there in that cold morgue, and then people started cutting it open. He doesn’t know why he’s there. He doesn’t know it’s his body.”

  “Jessie,” Mom said, “He’ll remain with his body for several days, or at least until he understands that he is dead. But I think part of his spirit might still be with his head.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, but from what Grandma says, he sounds much more scattered than any newcomer we’ve seen before.”

  “He’s like a child – not much intellect there, Jessica.”

  “He doesn’t know his head was cut off?”

  “Not a clue. He says somebody was dragging him by the hair, and there were reeds and tall grass hitting him in the face. Then they threw him very high, and he landed in the mud. Someone was standing over him, talking to him, He tried to get up and hit them, but he felt like he was paralyzed. I guess that what it would seem like if you didn’t have a body. There were frogs jumping on his face – hundreds of them, and he couldn’t swat them away. Then he heard someone say, ‘How do you like that, Mr. big-time designer man?’ He was very woozy, and didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. Then he woke up in the morgue.”

  I sat with my chin in my hand and tried to digest that for a while. “How about the FBI? Did they have anything interesting to say?”

  “Yes, but I’ll tell you in the morning.”

  Carlo woke up with a huge snort, as if he hadn’t had a breath for a long time.

  “Are there any orders?”

  “Kitchen’s closed, Carlo.”

  “Well, then, I better get this place cleaned up before your grandmother sees it. I would hate to disappoint that dear woman.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being facetious or not. “I’ll help you, Carlo. I think we’re going to have to get you an assistant to cover the breakfast shift. Then you can start at 11:00 and work lunch and dinner.”

  He looked at me like I had insulted him or maybe threatened his job.

  “This is my kitchen and my reputation. Every minute this place is open, I will be the one to prepare the food, Jessica.”

  “That’s just what Granny used to say, but she took you under her wing so that the restaurant could carry on when she was gone – and she created a great chef in the process. An apprentice might not be a bad idea, Carlo. These long hours everyday are going to kill you, and then I’ll have to get Ralphie and Elmer to prepare the food.”

  Carlo’s eyes got wide. “I will consider this apprentice idea, Jessica.”

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  Chapter Eleven

  It seemed like things were coming to a standstill with the case. By Tuesday evening the police crews had packed up and left, and with no more news conferences from law enforcement on the horizon at the Inn, most of the reporters left too. A few stayed, and some went to Stony Point close to the Sheriff’s office. The solarium and courtyard were finally ours again. Alicia and the three children were still staying in town at the request of Sheriff Muldoon, and they still had the Spectral Suite at L’Auberge Hantée.

  After a few damp, drizzly days, the sun finally made a warm and welcomed appearance on Wednesday morning, so I took Arthur for a walk on some of my favorite old paths heading south through the pine forest, following the bend of the river. I had him on his leash in case he decided to go chasing after any raccoons (which would probably rip him to pieces), or alligators (which would happily eat him).

  He was thoroughly enjoying our long walk, and then the forest opened into a sunny meadow on the edge of the swamp.

  “Let’s go down and look at the butterflies, Arthur.”

  On the edge of the meadow, the soft marshy ground sprouted tall swamp grass, weeds, and reeds.

  “I used to go into the swamp here to catch frogs when I was a girl, Arthur. You would have loved that, I think.”

  Arthur suddenly began barking and pulling hard on the leash.

  “What is it boy?”

  He really wanted to run into that swamp, I was afraid that maybe he smelled an alligator. More of them were starting to come over to this side of the river lately, it seemed.

  The sun was directly overhead now. “You’ll get all dirty in there, Arthur – and you might get eaten! It’s time to go back for lunch. Let’s run!”

  There’s something about going back to your roots that is so comforting. It just fills you up with happiness and makes you remember who you really are and what’s important in life.

  The tips of the tall loblolly pine trees were whispering loudly a hundred feet above us when we emerged from the forested area behind the Inn. The air was calm down where we were, but it must have been blowing way up high – or else they had a story to tell. Maybe they did.

  I could see the Sheriff’s car on the edge of the horseshoe driveway in front of L’Auberge with the light red and blue lights spinning.

  “Let’s go, Arthur!”

  We ran up the steps to the porch on the side along the Nirvana Tea Room and on to the front of the Inn. Sheriff Muldoon was just coming out the front door with Alicia St. George – in handcuffs!

  Kyle’s CSI squad car was also there with lights flashing, and he was walking up the steps to join the Sheriff.

  The woman was in disbelief, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Why are you doing this, Sheriff? I didn’t do anything.”

  Cassie had come down the stairs and into the lobby with her wide-eyed stepbrothers and stepped up to the doorway with one of the twin boys under each arm.

  “I knew you killed my daddy, you little bitch! You just whored your way into his life so you could kill him and steal his company!”

  “I didn’t do it, Cassie! The police are wrong! I loved your father.”

&n
bsp; The boys ran to their mother and hugged her, trying to pull her back inside.

  “I’ll be back, my little heroes. Be brave for me. Go with your sister now.”

  Maddy comforted Cassie and then led the three into the Nirvana. The two deputies, Edgar and Rodney, gave the sheriff a nod and escorted them. Maybe a nice lunch would help a little. Probably not. This was a lot to take for these kids – or for anybody, for that matter. First their father, then their mother – not to mention their little brother last summer.

  Cassie was still shouting curses through her tears. It appeared that deputies had been assigned to guard the kids and probably would be standing watch at the door to the suite when they went back upstairs. Had there been some kind of threat?

  “I hope she rots in hell! Actually, this is probably the best birthday present I could have asked for.”

  That’s right…she’s 18 today.

  “I’m sorry your children had to see this, ma’am.” Sheriff Muldoon handed Alicia off to Kyle. “Officer Carnigan, I want you take her to your little holding cell in the Dairy…um…in your City Hall. There’s no need to create a spectacle in front of the press back in Stony Point or to take her so far from her children. Read her rights, and we’ll detain her for 24 hours. The FBI is asking the judge to extend that to 72 or 96 hours. They have reason to believe that the murder weapon may be a matter of national security. After that we will have to charge her with the murder or release her. They will be there soon to interrogate her.”

  They headed toward his squad car, and I heard her say, “Officer Carnigan, they always think it’s the spouse, but they’re wrong this time. Whatever evidence they think they have, you’ve got to help me prove I’m innocent.”

  This was unsettling and unexpected. Mom and Granny were waving me into the lobby, then they disappeared into the solarium. Arthur and I followed them. I was really confused and hoped that Mom could help me figure out what was going on. I mean, how could Alicia be the killer when she was right there in the room with us? There was no blood on her, and her husband’s head was gone.

  “Mom, what’s going on? Why did they arrest Alicia St. George?”

  It felt good to be in the solarium again, but the haunting memories of that night still echoed in my mind. I sat on the old restored chaise lounge, and Mom and Granny hovered over the coffee table.

  “Could you guys maybe…sit?”

  It was a little uncomfortable to talk to floating ghosts. They sat on the long davenport across from me.

  “Better?”

  Mom smiled, and I nodded.

  “Well, Jessie, of course when they looked for motive they had to consider the fact that Mrs. St. George stood to gain the most. She stood to gain total ownership and control of the DSG brand and fortune.”

  Granny added her slightly more opinionated contribution too. “And everyone knows she fancied herself to be the talent behind the new growing success of the company. Even Dane credited her in an Elle Magazine article with the design of their most popular new boots and several of their large new handbags. And what would a pretty young lady like that want with an old man, like that gentleman who lost his head here last week, except for fame and money?”

  “That doesn’t prove anything, Granny, and when did you start reading magazines?”

  “I’ve got a lot of time on my hands these days. And I like to know who’s staying in my Inn.”

  “Not to get picky, but it’s my Inn, Gran.”

  I thought Mom was going to have a heart attack. Granny was pretty possessive about her beloved Inn. Mom’s jaw dropped and her eyebrows hit her hairline. She turned white as a…well, she turned even whiter. But Granny didn’t seem to mind the remark.

  “Every girl wants to be successful, Granny, and a lot of women like a more mature man – especially southern girls like Alicia – because they’re more stable and appreciate a woman more. Most men don’t grow up until they’re 40 or 50 anyway, and maybe she had an immature creep for her first husband. Besides, Dane St. George was only 53.”

  Mom recovered from her near-life experience. “Jessie, Alicia St. George was never married before she met Dane. I heard the officers questioning her after the murder. The twins were from an affair with some young intern when she worked in marketing for DSG.”

  Granny leaned toward Mom. “I think they call that a ‘hook-up’ now, Kat.”

  I had to chuckle and roll my eyes a little at my groovy Granny, but I guess she was from the Woodstock generation.

  “So…why do they think she did it?”

  Maddy looked over her shoulder from the front desk to see who I was talking to, and then just kind of shook her head.

  “I’m not crazy or talking to myself, Maddy!” I hollered out to her.

  She looked at me skeptically. “Prove it, then, Jessie!”

  “Granny, tell me something only she could know.”

  Granny disappeared into a blue streak of air, and I saw Maddy jerk. Then Granny was back on the sofa.

  “She’s got a parking ticket in her purse from Stony Point and poodles on her panties!”

  “Granny! It didn’t have to be quite that personal!”

  “I thought so…you can’t do it.” Maddy gave me a smug look.

  “You’ve got a parking ticket in your purse from when you went shopping in Stony Point last week.”

  “Kyle could have told you that!”

  Hmm…okay then, Little Miss Skeptic. “…and poodles on your panties.”

  She stood erect with a jolt, adjusted the bell of her skirt, and then walked over and slid the doors closed on the solarium.

  Arthur had been restlessly lying by my feet and suddenly got up and started looking around the room. I looked to make sure Granny was still on the sofa with Mom. She was. Then he put his muzzle to the floor and started sniffing. He started in the middle of the room and sniffed his way to the curtains near the edge of the opening to the courtyard. Then he stood rigid, almost like a pointer who spotted a pheasant, looking straight out toward the edge of the pines with his tail erect.

  “You better get your pup,” Granny said. “He’s going to bolt.”

  I stood up. “Arthur!”

  Just as I spoke, he took off like a shot toward the pine forest.

  “Come back here right now, Arthur!” I hollered at the top of my lungs.

  Fortunately, Lionel was trimming the grass near the trees and startled Arthur enough to break his focus on whatever he was chasing.

  “Git on back there now, dog!” Lionel took a step toward Arthur, and my dear doggie stopped in his tracks. He let out a little sneeze and then obeyed my desperate calls to come back inside.

  “You little stinker!” I looked at Granny and smiled as I rubbed behind Arthur’s ears.

  “Your little stinker was following the murderer’s trail, Jessica,” Granny insisted.

  “Oh, don’t be silly. He just heard a squirrel or something.” I sat, holding Arthur firmly on my lap this time.

  “Your grandmother may be right, honey.”

  “I am right. A beagle is a hound, so his sense of smell is better than most German Shepard police dogs. Only a blood hound…”

  “…and maybe a Basset hound…” Mom added.

  “…has a better sniffer than a beagle.”

  “Since when did you two become experts on hound dogs and their noses? Where did you learn this stuff?”

  “Matlock,” Granny said, dead seriously. “He got a pretty good sniff of Mr. St. George and his bloody neck at the morgue, you know. And he was following the sprinkle of his blood that was on the floor after the murder. He wanted to keep following the trail.”

  “I thought the law enforcement guys already had dogs here, and they had all those boats out in the river too.”

  “Yes, but like I said, those were police dogs. They lost the trail when they got into the swamp.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I heard them talking.”

  Okay, fine. Now let’s get back
to the topic at hand. “What do you know about Alicia St. George, and what evidence do they have against her?”

  “The Sheriff didn’t say anything today, but I told you what I heard from those FBI guys at the morgue.”

  “Just that they thought that the murderer must have used some futuristic light saber or military-grade device to cut off Mr. St. George’s head. That’s why they’re staying involved.”

  “Yes. It was too fast and bloodless to be anything they’ve seen before. And I told you too that they had cloned the wife’s phone to see who she was calling or texting. Maybe they found something incriminating. If she did it, she obviously had to have an accomplice who could run off with his head.”

  Something just didn’t feel right to me about this. Alicia was just so nice, and I admired her for being so strong for her family. Maybe she wasn’t strong…maybe she just didn’t feel sad because she was a cold-blooded killer and planned the whole thing. I don’t know.

  I had lunch in the kitchen with Carlo and Lexi, ordered the fresh veggies we would need for the next day, and put in the big weekly order from the food service company.

  “Make sure you get only fresh fish and chicken, Jessica – and don’t forget the fryer oil. Get two. The nights are getting cooler, and the people will be ordering more hot appetizers.”

  “I think I got everything, Carlo, but I’ll let you check it over before I push the Order button. So, have you thought of anybody who could help you out here yet?”

  “I called my good friend, Joe Randall. He has a cooking school in Savannah. He’s looking.”

  “Oh, wow. Yeah, I’ve been to his restaurant at the cooking school. His Savannah Crab Cakes are to die for. But, can we afford a real chef?”

  Carlo gave me a look.

  “I mean, another real chef from a classy culinary school? We’re just a small shop.”

  “We need someone who knows the processes needed to run a clean commercial kitchen, has knife skills, and can create real flavors, Jessica. Nobody understands flavors like Joe. Your Tea Room will be the toast of the town if we add his crab cakes, some oyster dishes, and some good southern-style cooking.”

  “We’re a Tea Room, Carlo, not a big fancy restaurant.”