Murder on Pea Pike

by Jean Harrington

  “I surely am, Sheriff. I want to know all about her.”

  That was no word of a lie, either. I did want to know who he was seeing, but most of all I wanted to know why Lila Lott would bother making love to any other man in this whole wide world when she had Sam Ridley crazy for her.

  It was a rainy Sunday, the kind of Sunday that didn’t cause you to feel guilty for lazing around the house in a robe and bare feet, reading the paper, putting clothes in the washer, taking finger food out of the fridge. The kind of Sunday when you screwed up the courage to phone your friends and apologize before they called to see if you were back to normal—whatever that was.

  The kind of Sunday you spent wondering, what now? Should I tell myself what I’d seen in the parking lot didn’t mean a thing? Lila was just showing her gratitude to Trey? I tried that thought on for size, but it didn’t fit. Yet, I’d never be able to go up to Sam, lay a hand on his arm and say, “Darlin’, your beloved is a two-timing bitch.” Watching the light die in his eyes would kill me too.

  Chances are he wouldn’t believe me anyway. Then I’d have to drag in Matt to tell what he’d seen and after that … oh God Almighty … there’d be no staying at Ridley’s Real Estate. True, when wedding bells chimed, I’d hit the highway, but Christmas wasn’t rolling around anytime soon. And I wasn’t ready to roll yet, either.

  But if I didn’t warn Sam in some way, he was bound to marry Lila, put his whole life in her hands, and as sure as I was slopping around in my ratty chenille robe, she’d destroy him.

  Try as I might, no shiny new answer flooded my mind, only the same old, same old—wait and see, he wasn’t married yet. Somewhat soothed by that notion and by the rain softly falling against the windows, I whiled away the day, waking to a Monday bright with sunshine and filled with possibility. Something would happen. I knew it right down to the tips of my toes.

  Something did, but not what I expected.

  With the weather channel calling for warmer than normal temperatures, I searched in the back of my closet for last summer’s favorite outfit. Not quite corporate, not quite party, the pink-flowered skirt and snug pink top suited my mood for something light and breezy. I was tempted to add my prettiest necklace, the one made out of big pink shells from the Gulf of Mexico, but I figured it was a bit much for work. Instead, trying not to sigh, I screwed pearl studs in my lobes and settled for some pastel-pink lip gloss. A straw tote, the ivory pumps, and I was good to go.

  Eight a.m. and Josie’s was jumping. The sausage and hot-cakes aroma spilling out onto Main Street lured in anybody who had the price of a greasy good breakfast.

  I yanked open the door, hoping for once I’d find an empty booth. Ah …. on the end, down near the far wall.

  “Well, well, well. Aren’t we looking mighty fine this mornin’.”

  The sugar voice halted me midstride, though I should have ignored it and stomped on by.

  But I didn’t for some reason. “Morning, Saxby.”

  He eyeballed me in that leering way he’d perfected and I hated. “Miss Honey, there’s one thing about you that’s undeniable. You sure can move your real estate.”

  The pig. I should have known better than to stop.

  He waved a hand at the bench opposite him. “Don’t rush off. Sit and have breakfast with me.”

  “Now why would I want to do that, Mr. Winthrop?”

  “Because you never know what interestin’ news I might be persuaded to impart.”

  He had me, the blabbermouth. If I endured his company for a spell, maybe I could pick up a little useful information. I shrugged. “All right. Why not?” I slid onto the empty bench.

  Josie came over, one eyebrow raised.

  “Put my order on his tab,” I said.

  At that, her brow came down and the corners of her lips went up.

  “I’ll have a burger patty, fries, sliced green tomatoes, raisin toast dry, and a large black coffee. Oh, and one more thing. A cinnamon Danish to go.” That’d be for Mrs. Otis. She’d find her treat all the sweeter knowing Saxby paid for it.

  “A burger. I give up.” Without writing a thing on her pad, Josie took off to give Tommy Lee the bad news.

  I swung my attention back to Saxby. “If you put a hand on mine, try to play footsie, or brush my arm with a single finger, you’ll get scalding coffee. In your lap.”

  He reared back against the booth.

  “That’s not nice. What with me payin’ and all.”

  “Exactly. Just so you’ll know. Also, when you leave, give Josie a big tip.”

  “Always do. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

  “I don’t mean one of your little-bitty tips.” I smiled a saccharine smile. “I’m talking about money.”

  “Oh, Honey, you’re hard. Very hard.”

  If that was my cue to refer to him, he was bound to eternal disappointment. “So now that I’m sitting here, what do you have to impart?”

  He took a sip of his sugar-laced coffee. Four packets of Dixie Crystals. “Will you pardon me if I gloat a tiny bit?”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible, but you can try.”

  “I sold Sloane’s acres right out from under your boss’ nose. My client wouldn’t even consider letting Ridley’s handle the sale.”

  My coffee came. Josie prided herself on always serving super-hot java, so I’d let it set for a while to cool. “We’ve both had a sale on Pea Pike, so if anybody’s tallying, we’re even. Of course, the Norton farm is still available.” I foolishly tried a sip of coffee. Lava. “So far, you haven’t told me anything you can gloat about.”

  He ripped open another sugar packet and dumped it in his mug.

  How can he drink that stuff?

  “Here’s where the gloatin’ part comes in.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  His gaze fell to my chest. “Not quite.”

  “Don’t be tiresome. You have something to say, say it.”

  “I’ve got a client hot to trot on the very Norton property you just mentioned. Said she wanted to consummate,” he grinned, “the deal today.”

  I so want to smack him.

  He glanced at his watch. “She’s due to meet me here shortly. “Comin’ in special, all the way from Fayetteville. With a check for the full amount. So add it up. You and Sam got one sale out on that pike. I got two.”

  “Is Earl Norton claiming the farm’s a diamond field? If so, I’m on my way to the sheriff’s office.”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist over nothin’. Earl’s Uncle Henry found some little diamonds down in Murfreesboro years ago. Had a diamond scam in mind but never had the guts to give it a try. Violet was about to, though. Poor ol’ gal. Tough way to go.” He actually looked upset.

  “Why you softie, you.”

  He gave me a sly smile. “Don’t go jumpin’ to conclusions, missy.”

  Josie came on over with a plate of fried eggs and grits in one hand and a coffee carafe in the other. She plunked the eggs in front of Saxby and topped off his mug.

  “Your burger’ll be out in a minute, Honey, but I’ve got to tell you something. Tommy Lee’s all riled up again. Next time you come in, could you order hotcakes or something?”

  “I promise.”

  She nodded and took off.

  “So far, the gloating doesn’t amount to much, Saxby.”

  Egg dripped off his fork. “You want more, well hear this. Somebody else contacted me about another no-account piece out there on the pike. The one at the top of the ridge. It don’t even hold scrub grass most of the year, so I’m tellin’ you, Honey, Pea Pike’s hot, and Winthrop Realty’s got it all sewed up.” He stirred his coffee, banging the spoon against the mug. “Too bad you left me for Sam Ridley. But I’m a forgivin’ man.” He stopped fiddling with the spoon for a moment. “I’d consider taking you back.”

  I nodded as if thinking about his offer. “You know what I’d consider?”

  He shook his head, but a light leapt into his eyes.

  “Spil
ling coffee on your crotch.”

  “A woman scorned.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Sax. I’m the scorner. You’re the scornee.”

  “Here’s your breakfast,” Josie cut off his retort, “or whatever it is you call it.”

  I dug in, too hungry to just get up and march off. Besides, eating gave me a chance to keep quiet and think. Whoever was buying up that land on Pea Pike did seem to like Winthrop’s more than Ridley’s.

  I shot a quick glance at Saxby. He was scarfing down his grits. Not a pretty sight.

  Somehow, I didn’t think he’d figured out there might be an underlying reason for his recent sales. Or that those sales might be connected to the two murders.

  But those weren’t reasons to dismiss him as a rival. Far from it. He’d had great success in his own wily, back-slapping, dirt-scuffing way. By being a good ol’ boy whose family helped found Eureka Falls, whose great-granddaddy fought in the War Between the States, whose momma bestowed blue ribbons each year on the best rose growers in the garden club …. The list went on.

  Coffee halfway to his lips, he peered out our window onto Main Street. “Well, bless my stars.” He thumped down his mug. “That must be my Fayetteville client now. Right on time too. Said she’d be wearing a black pantsuit with a gardenia in her lapel.” He squinted through the glass. “That look like a gardenia to you?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tall and willow-slim, except for her well-filled jacket, the blonde strode to Josie’s door and stepped inside. She stood by the cash register for a moment and glanced around, no doubt searching for Saxby. I wondered how he’d pictured himself to her. Balding, overweight, oily. Not likely.

  Anyway, he slammed down his fork, jumped up as fast as his belly allowed, and hustled over to her. She looked familiar, the hair, the smile, the way she moved her hands. As they approached, an alarm bell bonged in my head. She was the receptionist from IP. The one who gushed into the phone the day Senator Lott called.

  My, my. I swallowed the last bite of burger, put on my shades, and flung my purse over a shoulder. Grabbing the doggy bag with Mrs. Otis’ Danish, I got up from the booth. No need to sit and chat. This girl was what my daddy would call a shill. Someone I’d call a messenger for the big boys. Sent to do a simple task, she’d have no information to impart.

  Still, I didn’t fancy being recognized, so without giving Saxby a chance to introduce us, I said, “Thanks for breakfast, Sax. Sorry, have to run,” and dashed for the door.

  Mrs. Otis was thrilled with her Danish, but I wasn’t thrilled that Sam wouldn’t be back from the conference until late afternoon. I had so much to tell him, but on the other hand, so much I couldn’t tell.

  Still, there wasn’t time to fret about it. This would be a busy day. Every Sunday, Ridley’s placed full-page ads in the Star, so on Mondays our phones rang for hours. Mrs. Otis, with her talent for sorting out good leads from bad, forwarded only the most promising to Sam or me. Today I’d have to handle them all. Oh well, business was business.

  I’d hardly settled behind my desk when the phone lit up. “Honey Ingersoll speaking. How may I help you?”

  “I assure you, we’ll find a way.”

  At the smooth voice oozing through the line, I stiffened in my chair and forgot all about swiveling.

  “This is Trey Gregson,” he said. “I’m interested in buying a condo here in town. Thought of you right away, Honey.”

  “Oh, that’s so nice to hear. But wouldn’t you like to deal directly with Mr. Ridley? He’ll be back sometime this afternoon.”

  “No, I expressly asked for you. The other evening you struck me as someone I’d enjoy doing business with.”

  “Well, that’s downright flattering, I must say. I’m sure we can work something out, Mr. Gregson.”

  “Trey.”

  “Tell me, ah, Trey, what do you have in mind?”

  “Essentially a bachelor pad, for when I’m in town. The senator’s been most hospitable, but it’s time I had a place of my own here. Nothing too pricey and it needn’t be large. A main room, some kind of efficiency kitchen. A deluxe bathroom would be nice. One bedroom will do.”

  I’ll bet.

  “Garage?”

  “Yes, thanks for reminding me. I hate leaving my car out in all kinds of weather.”

  “Understandable.” Wouldn’t want that backseat to get wet.

  “The senator and I are returning to DC in a few days, so I’d like to get on this as soon as possible. Today if you can manage it.”

  “Well, I surely can. Just give me a little bit of time to check Multiple Listings.” I glanced at my watch. Nine o’clock. “How about right after lunch?”

  “I never eat lunch.”

  “Neither do I, as a matter of fact. Twelve then. Can you meet me here at the office?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  The phone went dead. I hung up and rode the swivel chair like my granny used to ride her rocker whenever something heavy weighed on her mind. Trey’s call coming in so soon after Saturday night couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Wanting a private place to crash when he was in town made sense. But why search for one today, practically the first minute we’d been open since his backseat tryst? Besides, even if he did want a condo, guaranteed he had another reason for calling. And I surely did want to learn what that might be.

  After asking Mrs. Otis to hold all calls, I closed my cubicle door. Being cooped up usually made me feel like a bug in a box, but today I couldn’t let a prissy thing like that stop me. By ten I had a printout of three possibilities and by eleven the owners’ okays for afternoon walk-throughs.

  At eleven thirty, I refreshed my makeup then set the GPS in the Lincoln. I slipped in a classical music disc too. Something called Handel’s Water Music. The little tinkling sounds did kind of remind me of something running down the walls, but that was about all I could say for it. I’d rather hear Mariah stomping out a tune, but what kind of impression would that make on the senator’s elegant aide? Humph.

  Back inside, her Danish long gone, Mrs. Otis was munching on a ham and cheese sandwich. She swallowed. “I have five hot leads lined up.”

  “Sounds good. Why don’t you give them to Sam when he comes in?”

  I placed a sheet of paper on her desk. “These are the addresses of condos I’m showing this afternoon. I’ll be with the senator’s aide, Mr. Trey Gregson. If I don’t come back or call you by five, I want you to contact Sheriff Rameros. Tell him to come looking for me and give him these addresses. That’s his cell phone number on the bottom.”

  Mid-chew, she looked up, worry lines furrowing her brow. “What are you saying, Honey?”

  “Being cautious is all. Not to worry.”

  She snorted and seemed about to retort when Trey walked in ten minutes early.

  A ready smile sprang to his lips as he hurried over to take my hand. “Thanks for meeting me on such short notice.”

  “Why it’s my pleasure.”

  “And mine,” he replied, his smile still in place.

  Despite his pockmarked skin, he had an easy, polished air about him. Not hard to see why he might be a famous politician’s right-hand man. And in striped blue and white shirt, tailored tan pants, and tasseled loafers, he was one of the best dressed clients I’d ever had.

  Hoping he wouldn’t see through it, I decided to put an old realty game plan of Saxby’s into play. You start with the least saleable property on your list and stress whatever good points it had. “Ahead of the viewing, talk it up,” Saxby had said. “Then. when you walk in, keep your mouth shut and let the place do the talking. Make sure the next one in the same price range shows a little better. Save the best for last. After going through a couple of dogs, it’ll look like a palace in comparison.” Though I never took a shine to head games like that, today, dealing with Lila’s lover, I didn’t feel like abiding by the Girl Scout oath of honor.

  Bottom line, Saxby’s sneaky trick did work. When we got to number three
, Trey’s eyes flared open, a surefire sign of client interest. On the edge of town, farther out than the first two, this condo had all the bells and whistles on his list: a high-ceilinged great room, a galley kitchen with new stainless appliances, a tiled bath featuring a corner Jacuzzi big enough for two, and a single bedroom with plenty of space for a king-size bed. Best of all, on the top floor of the Eureka Arms, the condo offered a sweeping view of the surrounding hills, all decked out in their early summer finery.

  “I like it.” He nodded. “I like it a lot, but do you mind if I get a second opinion?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s one thirty. You have time?”

  “Of course.”

  He strolled into the kitchen with his cell and stood talking as he stared out the window. I couldn’t hear who he was talking to, but my heartbeat picked up anyway, kind of like it does, I expect, when a grizzly’s coming after you. He hung up, and after fifteen minutes of chitchat that I struggled to keep light and carefree, in came Lila. In riding pants, a crisp white shirt, boots to the knee, and her shiny black hair held back from her face with a velvety ribbon, she was, as always, a sight to behold.

  No wonder Sam had fallen in love with her, and from the way Trey rushed to open the door at the chimes’ first ring, he had too.

  She greeted me with a thin smile and a nod. Wasting no time on small talk, she strutted through the empty rooms, her boot heels clicking on the hardwood floors. Her tour quickly over, she returned to the main room, frowning as if she hadn’t seen a thing to her liking. “Well, I suppose it will do, Trey. But I don’t see the necessity for it. You know you’re welcome to stay on with Daddy and me. Just as you always have. In fact, Daddy would prefer it.”

  “Perhaps so.” His voice was chilly. “But your father understands my need for privacy.”

  She looked past him, directly at me, her eyes dark and lustrous. Was there nothing about this woman that wasn’t downright beautiful? I heaved a mental sigh.

  “Are you aware, Honey, that my father, Senator Lott—”