Music, Murder, and Small Town Romance

by K C Hart

  “Hey, yourself.” Katy decided to take a bite of the apple anyway. Misty wouldn’t know she was talking with her mouth full.

  “Look, I can’t go to the funeral home tonight after all. Momma has got me lined up to help her feed her women’s circle from church, and she won’t let me out of it.”

  Katy tried to swallow, but the peanut butter stuck to the top of her mouth. “It’s alright,” she tried to answer, but it sounded more like “is auwite.”

  “What are you eating? Sounds good.”

  “Apple and peanut butter.” Katy sipped her tea and pushed the sticky bite down her throat. “I was trying to say it’s alright. I’ll get John to drop by with me after church. I want to snoop around a little and see if I can talk to Rob Clay’s cousin.”

  “I’m sure you already know about Emma Robinson, poor girl. I’m going by to see her in a few minutes.” Misty paused. “Do you think I should take her some lunch, or will her family be doing that for her?”

  “I guess somebody from the station will get her a sandwich or something,” Katy answered. “I don’t think she can depend on her family for much support, poor girl.”

  “Well, I’m going to pick her up something and see if they will let me eat lunch with her.”

  “That will be great Misty. She needs to know that we still love her and aren’t going to abandon her.”

  “Okay, I’m heading over there now. You can save the apple for later and come with me.”

  “I think I’ll pass.” Katy didn’t want to talk to Emma yet. She wanted to have some good news the next time she saw her. She said goodbye and finished the apple. Knowing that Misty was going to see Emma made Katy feel better. Emma worked at the bank where Misty’s husband was president. A visit from Misty would let her know that everyone believed she was innocent. Now, if Todd would just get back in touch with her.

  Chapter Seven

  Victory Jones and the other junior high girls Katy taught on Sunday mornings cornered her like a flock of shiny flamingos as she walked out of the church house Wednesday night. Their gangly arms and legs poking out from the wide array of brightly colored, over-the-top teen attire made Katy smile.

  “Mrs. Katy, did you know that they’ve arrested Emma Robinson for Mr. Clay’s murder?” Victory’s much too heavily lined eyes looked at Katy in disbelief. She had always been the leader of this little pack and loved to be the first one to share interesting information.

  “Hello, Victory. Hello, girls,” Katy said, hugging the shoulders of each one gathered around her. “Yes, Victory, I’m afraid I do. She really needs our prayers right now.”

  “She sure does,” Victory agreed, bobbing her head up and down in exaggerated fashion, again reminding Katy of a flamingo. “You know she took guitar lessons on Tuesday nights from Mr. Clay at Mr. Gibson’s house. Jennifer told us she was there every week.” Her long straight hair flew over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side. “I wonder if that’s why they think she killed him, because she was meeting with him like that.”

  Katy frowned down at the young girl. She was a natural born gossip already. “Victory, I hope you’re not saying things about that woman that you shouldn’t. There is absolutely nothing wrong with taking guitar lessons.” She put her hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side, mocking the young girl’s posture. “I happen to play the guitar myself, remember?”

  Victory grinned at Katy’s stance and waved her hand in the air as if she was slowing down traffic. “No, no, no, Mrs. Katy. That’s not what I mean at all. I just mean, well, Jennifer said her uncle, well...” Victory paused and poked her bottom lip out trying to figure out how to phrase her sentence without being offensive to her Sunday school teacher. “Let’s just say Mr. Clay had a lot of lady friends. You know what I mean, Mrs. Katy?” She rolled her eyes up in Katy’s direction and waited for an answer.

  Katy blew a long breath of air upward causing her hair to fly off her forehead. “I know exactly what you mean, young lady. I also know that Emma really was at Mr. Clay’s house taking guitar lessons. I don’t know who Jennifer is, but you don’t need to be listening to her.”

  Dana Phillips, one of the girls standing nearby shoved Victory’s shoulder. “See, I told you that Jennifer was making that stuff up.” She looked up at Katy and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t believe Jennifer, Mrs. Katy. Everybody knows she lies. She’s just mad because she got dropped from the lead in the play for this year. Now she’s doing and saying anything she can to try to get some attention.”

  “Who is this girl?” Katy asked, trying to follow the rapid-fire conversation of the young teens. “Did you say that Mr. Clay was her uncle?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Victory responded, refusing to give up her role as spokesperson for very long. “She’s Mr. Gibson’s daughter. She used to live with her momma, but when she turned twelve this summer she moved in with her daddy. She’s in our drama class,” Victory said, wagging her finger between herself and Dana.

  “Now girls, listen to me.” Katy looked each girl in the eye. “Emma Robinson is a sweet person and a friend of mine. And besides all that, you shouldn’t be gossiping about people no matter who they are. Next time this Jennifer tries to smear Emma, or anybody else for that matter, you just tell her you have better things to do with your time than listen to rumors.” She stared at each young face as she spoke, knowing that some would take the advice to heart, but some would forget what she said before they took three steps.

  The girls wandered off together, laughing and talking like teenagers do. Katy walked across the parking lot to where John was waiting. She climbed in the passenger’s side of his truck. “You been waiting long?” she asked, sitting her Bible down beside her.

  “About ten minutes or so. We only had a couple of men in our prayer group tonight.”

  “We had seven in ours, but I got cornered by my Sunday morning girls on the way out.” Katy rubbed her forehead. “They were wanting to gossip about Emma.”

  John started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. “Did you set them straight?” The corners of his mouth tilted up as he glanced at his wife.

  “You bet your bottom dollar I did, not that it did any good.” She reached in her purse and grabbed a pen. “I did find out something interesting, though. Donnie Gibson, Rob Clay’s cousin, has a teenage daughter who just moved in with him this summer.” She jotted the girl’s name down on her grocery list notepad before she forgot it.

  “How is that interesting?” John asked, not following his wife’s train of thought.

  “Well, I figure I might meet her tonight at the funeral home. I think it would be good for me to invite her to church, since I would be her Sunday school teacher.” She slipped the notebook back into her purse. “From what I picked up from the girls, it sounds like her parents are divorced.”

  “Oh,” John chuckled as they pulled into the funeral home parking lot. “I was thinking about this murder. I thought you were going to tell me she was involved somehow.”

  “No, that would be awful.” Katy’s eyebrows drew together. “After what the old men told me today, I’m thinking that the young guy in the silver truck probably came back and did it.” She stepped out of their vehicle and shut the door. “I just have to figure out who that young guy is.”

  “What did Todd say about all of that?” John slipped his hand in Katy’s as they walked through the almost empty parking lot. “Apparently Rob Clay didn’t have a lot of family or friends who felt the need to show their respect.”

  “Todd said he talked to Donnie Gibson this morning.” Katy glanced around at the empty spaces. “Donnie said that Emma was at his house on Tuesdays taking guitar lessons from his cousin just like she said. He said that as far as he knew their relationship did not go beyond that. So that was good news. But something ain’t right.”

  “What’s wrong?” John turned to look at his wife who had stopped walking. “You forget something?”

  “No, I mean something’s not right
about what Donnie Gibson said. He never mentioned dropping off Rob Clay at the auditorium or the fight or anything.” She bit the tip of her fingernail. “Todd didn’t ask him about any of that because he didn’t know any of it when he spoke to him. But wouldn’t the man have wanted to share any information he had?”

  “Not necessarily. He might be too shaken up and just didn’t think to tell Todd, or maybe he doesn’t want to get involved.” John paused, releasing her hand. “If he’s going through a divorce and trying to get custody of his daughter, he might not want anybody to know that he was fighting in the parking lot over the weekend. There could be lots of reasons.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Katy’s forehead smoothed back into place as she started walking again. “We won’t stay long, okay?” She grabbed John’s hand before he opened the front door. “I just want to pop in and out.”

  “Fine with me,” John said, stifling a yawn. “I’m dog tired anyway. I want to get in bed before one tonight, if at all possible.

  The front parlor was empty except for the attendant. They signed the guest book and went into the small side room where the body would be. The casket was across the room next to the back wall. It was closed. At first Katy thought this room was empty, too, but as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, she looked around and noticed a few people sitting in chairs along the walls. None of them were talking.

  She glanced from face to face. A young girl with straight brown hair and a slight case of acne was sitting next to the door alone, looking at her cell phone. Was this Jennifer Gibson? She looked about the correct age. Several chairs away, a woman with blue-black hair and heavy makeup sat next to a young man who was obviously related to her. They had the same straight nose, wide eyes, and slender profiles. The man wore a goatee, probably to disguise his weak chin. He leaned over and whispered in the woman’s ear and they both stood in unison. Both had tattoos covering their arms, and the woman also had what Katy supposed was a fairy tattooed on the side of her calf. They walked past Katy and John talking in low tones.

  “What did you expect?” The man’s eyes cut around the room suspiciously. “You had to know that you weren’t his exclusive.”

  The pair moved on before Katy could hear anymore. From what the young man said, it sounded like the woman might be one of the ladies that Mr. Clay was romantically involved with. She looked around the rest of the room but didn’t see anyone else. Katy tugged John’s arm and they walked over to where the young girl sat, immersed in her phone screen. “Can we sit by you?”

  “Sure,” the girl answered, not bothering to lift her head.

  They sat down. John looked at Katy, nudging his head in the direction of the girl. He obviously was trying to tell Katy to introduce herself. Katy responded by wrinkling her forehead and puckering her lips.

  She turned back to the girl. “My name is Katy Cross, and this is my husband John.” The girl still did not look up. Katy leaned in toward the girl, invading her personal space. “What’s your name?”

  The girl sighed, taking the hint, and stuck her phone in her purse beside her. These old people obviously would not leave her alone until she talked to them. “I’m Jennifer. My dad is Uncle Rob’s younger cousin.”

  “I think you might go to school with some of the girls I teach in Sunday school.” Katy smiled. It was very plain to see that this girl did not want to talk to her. “Do you know Victory Jones?”

  “Yeah, I know Victory. I have a couple of classes with her.” The girl paused, her eyes traveling up and down Katy, taking her in from head to toe. “Victory is nice enough, I guess. Where do you go to church?”

  “The big church on the corner here in town, Crossroads.” Katy pointed in the direction of the church. “I would love to have you come visit our class. It’s all junior high girls, and I imagine you know every one of them.”

  Jennifer bit her lower lip. Her braces made her top lip protrude slightly. “I might. I don’t know. I’ll have to ask my dad about it first.”

  “You know, he could come too. He would be in the class with my husband.” Katy pointed back at John, who leaned forward and smiled.

  Jennifer waved her hand casually at John. “I’ll tell him, but I doubt he will. You see, my granny died not long ago, and now my Uncle Rob just died. I don’t think my dad is gonna want to meet a bunch of new people till he kind of gets used to being alone.” She paused and bit her lip again. “Alone except for me,” she mumbled.

  Katy reached over and patted the young girl on the shoulder. “Well, look, you can come with or without him. We would love to have you either way, but you’re right. Make sure you get his permission first.” She looked around the room one more time. “Have you been here all evening?”

  Jennifer followed Katy’s gaze around the room. Her eyes stopped at the coffin. “About an hour, I guess. Dad was here, but a woman came in, and dad said he needed to talk to her. When she left he followed her. He told me to sit here until he came back.” She turned her gaze back to Katy. Her eyebrows shot up as a new worry popped into her head. “They won’t close this place with me in here, will they?”

  “Oh, no, dear. They wouldn’t do that. Besides, I’m sure your dad will be back in a minute.”

  She sat silently for a minute trying to think of something else to say. “Did you just call Mr. Clay your uncle because your family is close? I take it he was your dad’s first cousin, not his brother.”

  “No, we are definitely not a close family.” Jennifer’s eyes drifted back toward the coffin. “Uncle Rob always insisted that I call him Uncle Rob. I never have really thought about it much.” She stopped abruptly as Donnie Gibson walked through the door and over to the group.

  Donnie did not look anything like his older cousin. He was short, slightly overweight, and had the same nondescript brown hair as his daughter, only his was falling out with male pattern baldness. The comb over did not help his looks at all.

  “You ready, Jen?” he asked, walking up to their chairs.

  “Yeah, Dad.” Jennifer stood up and grabbed her purse. She turned back to Katy and John as an afterthought. “Oh, Dad, this is Mrs. Katy and, umm,” she paused and looked at both of them. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your husband’s name.”

  Katy and John stood up in unison. “That’s okay, Jennifer.” John stuck his hand out toward the man offering a handshake. “My name is John Cross. We just wanted to stop by and offer our condolences and see if we could help you out in any way.” He stopped and looked again at Jennifer. “My wife also wanted to invite your daughter to church. She teaches her age group every Sunday morning.”

  Donnie reached across and shook John’s hand after a moment’s hesitation. He studied the couple with a blank expression as he listened to John’s invitation to church. After an awkward pause he finally responded. “Thanks, but we aren’t really interested.” He reached down and put his hand on Jennifer’s arm. “Come on, Jen, we need to get going.”

  Jennifer mumbled good-bye, and Donnie quickly steered his daughter through the door and out of sight. Katy turned and looked up at her husband, her chin set in a firm line. “I think we just got told to butt out, dear.”

  The corners of John’s mouth turned up slightly at his wife’s look of indignation. “I think you’re right.”

  Katy looked around the now empty room. “We might as well go, too.” She stepped toward the doorway but stopped and grabbed John’s elbow. A woman dressed in a loose-fitting, black shift dress that hung to her ankles stepped quietly through the door and went straight to the coffin. The woman wore a black hat with a large brim. A black net covered her face and hair, making it impossible to see any of her features.

  John leaned over and whispered in Katy’s ear. “She looks like a beekeeper for the grim reaper.”

  Katy elbowed him in the ribs and bit her lip to keep from smiling. The woman clearly did not want to be recognized, but the get-up she had on tended to draw attention to her instead of making her blend in. The woman didn’
t notice them when she entered. Her eyes were fixed on the coffin, ignoring everything and everyone else. Katy took John’s hand and led him from the viewing room.

  “Come on,” she said, leaving the building and heading back to the truck.

  “What’s the rush?” John asked, as Katy practically dragged him along.

  “I want to be in the truck and out of sight when the beekeeper in black comes out,” Katy said as they reached their vehicle. “Maybe we can figure out who she is from out here.”

  They didn’t have to wait long. The woman exited the building about two minutes later, walking swiftly across the parking lot. Katy and John ducked down out of sight as she passed by their truck and crossed the street. They peered out as she continued to walk on to the next block. She finally got in a red compact car parked on the side of the road.

  “Want to follow her?” John asked as he cranked the truck.

  “Do you think we should?” Katy asked, surprised at her husband’s suggestion.

  “Why not? At least we’ll know who you need to be wary of.” John eased onto the road and headed toward the taillights as they disappeared from sight.

  They followed the car through town and into the garden district. Katy used to see patients in this area all the time but had requested to be taken off of this route after the incident last year with Jessa Williams. After Jessa’s murder and Katy’s involvement in finding the killer, she didn’t feel it would be right to keep going into Jessa’s neighbors’ homes. They would be tempted to ask questions that Katy did not want to answer.

  They passed the Brown mansion driveway and continued on for a couple of blocks. The car finally pulled into a nice ranch-style house at the very edge of the higher-end homes. John slowed down as they neared, but no one got out of the car. He passed on by and turned around after a couple of blocks and came back by. The woman must have gotten out and gone in while they were out of sight. At least they knew where she lived.

  “Whose house is that?” Katy wrote down the address number off of the front door.