Dying for Dinner Rolls

by Lois Lavrisa

  “Why don’t we call yours Croce? After Jim, the singer. Your plant has that seventies vibe going on,” Annie Mae claimed.

  Scarlett nodded. “I guess so.”

  Needing to get back on track, I asked Scarlett, “Do you remember anything more about that box?”

  Scarlett placed the palm of her hand on her forehead. She sat down. “My nephew, my new associate, assembled the items in the box Lucy got.”

  “Oh?” Annie Mae raised an eyebrow.

  “I shouldn’t have let him.” Scarlett wrung her hands. “He’s new, and I wanted to make sure there was a mixture of useful items and such. Since I didn’t oversee things, let’s just say that it didn’t go as planned.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing.” Scarlett’s lips tightened. “He just didn’t have the knowledge to know what went in the box and what shouldn’t.”

  “Lucy told me she loved the plates, and especially a vase that was in the box.” I took in a deep breath, holding back my emotions from overcoming me when I thought of Lucy.

  “That vase was hideous. No offense to your store and all, but you sold that here?” Annie Mae shook her head.

  “Hideous?” Scarlett sucked in a breath. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Fearing Annie Mae might have insulted Scarlett, I quickly changed the subject. “What do you remember about the last time you saw her?”

  Scarlett crossed and uncrossed her legs at her ankles. “Let me see. She came by the day of her accident. She said her sorority group planned a dinner that night at a friend’s house.” She shifted in her seat as though sitting on pebbles. “That’s really all I know. You may want to talk with that group of hers.”

  It struck me as odd that Scarlett referred to Lucy’s death as an accident. But then again, maybe I was just oversensitive about Lucy. “Sorority group?”

  “Her Bible study group at church only meets in the morning,” Annie Mae said. “What group did she mean?”

  “Let me think.” Scarlett tapped a skinny finger against her cheek. “If my memory serves me, it had three Cs in the name, or it could have been a sorority such as the Tri-Cs? I was a Delta Zeta at UGA.”

  Then I thought for a second. “It’s not a sorority. It must be the Chubby Chicks Club. Our group.”

  “Why would any female purposefully call herself chubby?” Scarlett looked shocked. But then, she had that taut face with those permanently raised eyebrows and that stretched mouth, so who really knew?

  “Um, do you see me? I’m a full-figured woman.” Annie Mae adjusted her pastel blue blouse over her midsection.

  “We aren’t even all chicks.” I grinned sheepishly.

  Scarlett folded and unfolded her hands on her lap. “Lucy was a part of this chubby girls’ club?”

  “Absolutely. And we have one token male.” Annie Mae took her index finger and slid her eyeglasses up.

  Scarlett’s phone rang. With a wave of her hand, she excused herself and took the call.

  Annie Mae and I stepped out of the office to give her some privacy.

  In the hallway, packages wrapped in brown paper leaned against the wall. They all looked the size and thickness of framed paintings. One package was ripped in the corner, showing an ornate gold frame.

  A row of various-sized boxes lined part of a wall. One box sat half-opened, as if in the middle of being packed up, revealing the top of a blue-and-white porcelain item.

  “She sure has a lot of stuff here, doesn’t she?” Annie Mae pointed to another box that was open. “Hey, look here. One of those mystery boxes.”

  “How do you know?”

  She pointed to a sticker on the side that read “Mystery Box.”

  “Good going, Watson.” I patted her back.

  “Why am I Watson? Why can’t I be Sherlock?”

  “Because you’re a doctor, remember? Dr. Watson.” I bent down and began to look through the opened mystery box.

  Annie Mae followed suit. She pulled out a small, silver windup alarm clock. “I could really use this. I like old-fashioned clocks with their soothing ticktock. Like white noise to help me sleep. It’s awfully quiet without Ernie around the house.”

  The curtain was pulled open, and a freckle-faced young man walked over to us. “Hi, I’m Zachary. Can I help you ladies?”

  “We’re just waiting for Scarlett to finish a call.” I offered my hand. “My name is Cat, and this is my friend Annie Mae.”

  Zachary shook our hands.

  “How much is this mystery box?” Annie Mae lifted the box.

  “I’m not allowed to sell any of those. I sort of messed up the last box.” Zachary ran his fingers through his curly brown hair. “I don’t want to get fired.”

  “I wouldn’t want that to happen to you, either. I just assumed it was for sale.” Annie Mae set the box on the floor.

  “Why don’t you leave me your contact information so that I could call you when it’s ready to be sold?” Zachary reached over and tore a corner of brown wrapping paper off a package nearby and then pulled a black pen from his pocket. He handed both to Annie Mae.

  Annie Mae wrote down her information and gave it to Zachary.

  Beyond the boxes, I saw a stack of newspapers. “By the way, I see you have a big stack of newspapers back there.”

  “Those?” Zachary shot a thumb over his shoulder. “We use them for wrapping breakable items, which is pretty much everything in here.”

  “Where do you get them?” Annie Mae asked.

  “Out of a recycling dumpster on Jones Street,” Zachary told her. “About once a week, I head over there and grab a huge stack.”

  We needed to check out the recycling bins on Jones. Maybe we could find another newspaper similar to the one in Lucy’s mystery box. Perhaps this could lead us to the killer.

  “Does anyone here do the newspaper crossword puzzle?” I asked.

  “I’m not much of a puzzle person. And I know Aunt Scarlett is hooked on that numbers puzzle.” Zachary’s forehead furrowed.

  “Sudoku?” Annie Mae offered.

  “That’s it.” Zachary bobbed his head up and down.

  The office door opened, and Scarlett stuck her head out. “Zachary, you made it. Can you please go up front and open the register?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Zachary waved good-bye to us and made his way to the front of the store.

  “Pardon me, but I must get back to work.” Scarlett guided us down the hallway. She pulled the curtain aside, and we walked through.

  A jingle on the front door announced someone entering.

  I shook Scarlett’s hand. “Thank you so much for the tea and for your time. Would you mind if I called you if something came up?”

  “Just in case we have some questions,” Annie Mae added. “And I want to buy one of your mystery boxes. Zachary has my information.”

  Scarlett placed her business card in my hand. A large diamond sparkled on her right ring finger. “I’m so sorry about Lucy. I really am.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Oh, and just one last question. Does anyone around here do crossword puzzles or write with a purple pen?”

  Scarlett led us into the showroom. “I’m more of a Sudoku fan, and purple ink? I prefer black.”

  We said good-bye. Scarlett approached a group of four ladies who had just entered.

  Annie Mae and I exited Blue Belle.

  “Let’s eat,” Annie Mae said. “It’s way past lunch.”

  As we drove to the Green Truck, my mind kept obsessing about the newspaper recycling bin on Jones Street and the crossword puzzle.

  Did it mean that the murderer lived close by? Had he or she intended the crossword puzzle filled in with “your next” for someone else? Or had it reached the intended victim and then gotten disposed of afterwards in the bin?

  One thing I knew for sure.

  The killer was close.

  Chapter 10

  We finished our late lunch and got back in my SUV.

  “Poo
r kid.” Annie Mae buckled in.

  “Who?” I put my key in the ignition, started the car, and blasted the air conditioner.

  “That young man who works at Scarlett’s shop. He seemed sweet but a little shaken up. Didn’t he seem nervous about selling that mystery box?”

  Parked in the lot, I became distracted while looking at a toddler who waited outside the restaurant with a group of people. The toddler held a plush animal with one hand and a toy truck in the other. A woman held the little boy. I thought of my boys.

  “Cat? Are you listening?” Annie Mae turned on the radio.

  “Kids grow up too fast,” I mumbled. When I thought of holding my kids’ hands, my heart ached. Only the girls still let me hug and hold them. The boys, on occasion, would grant me a quick half hug. Hand-holding with them had ended years ago.

  “Right.” Annie Mae tapped my arm. “So what do you think about that kid in the antique store?”

  I refocused my attention back to Annie Mae. “Zachary?”

  “Yes, him.”

  “Sweet kid. Nervous but nice.” I made my way out of the parking lot and onto Habersham Street. “Something isn’t sitting right with me.”

  “The raw onions from your burger?”

  “No, they were fine.” I stopped at a red light at Victory Drive.

  “Then what?”

  “I think we need to go to the dumpster on Jones.” I looked at my dash. My gas gauge was a hair from empty.

  “I’ve always wanted to dumpster dive.” Annie Mae put her hands together in a triangle. “I’ve heard people find expensive paintings and other treasures that people discard. One thing, though, I won’t eat food from a trash bin.”

  I grinned. “We need to be discriminating dumpster divers.”

  I turned into Parker’s gas station and market. “I need to fill up.”

  “Since we’re here, I’ll get a diet soda with chewy ice. You want one?”

  “No, thanks.” I parked in front of a pump. “I’m going to call José.”

  “Then let me fill up while you do that.”

  “Thanks.” I handed Annie Mae my credit card. She got out and started the pump. Then she left for the market.

  I dialed José.

  He answered on the first ring. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Trouble? No.”

  “Good. I’ve been worried since you and Annie Mae have been playing amateur sleuths that you might’ve gotten yourselves in a bind.”

  “Not us.” Not yet. “Anyway, let me get you up to speed. We’ve unearthed a few things that you should be aware of. I’m not sure what it all means. I don’t know. Maybe it’s enough to reopen Lucy’s case.”

  “I’m not sure anything will. Tell me what you’ve got.”

  “First, Bert has a mistress. Her name is Susie Wells, and she’s the manager at the Red and White.”

  “So? A lot of men cheat on their wives.”

  “Not mine.” I couldn’t imagine Andrew with another woman. I hoped he couldn’t, either. Just to verify his loyalty to me, I needed to call him. “Oh, and Susie wears pink lipstick, like the color used on the note Lucy supposedly wrote.”

  José lowered his voice. “A lot of women wear pink lipstick.”

  “Yes, but Lucy wore red.”

  “Circumstantial.”

  “Maybe. But here’s another biggie. Bert was not fishing in North Carolina with his buddies the day Lucy died.”

  “You have proof?”

  “His friend James, who owns the lake house Bert was supposedly at, blinked two times.”

  José’s voice rose. “So?”

  “That meant that Bert was not with him.”

  I heard José snicker into the phone and then clear his throat. “Exactly what detective manual are you following?”

  “I know it sounds bizarre, but James didn’t want to rat out Bert. So we came up with signals he could use to tell us without really telling us.”

  “Blinking?”

  “And foot tapping and sneezing. It got confusing. But in the end, he shook his head no when we asked him if Bert was with him fishing.”

  “You do know none of this will hold up in court.”

  “Fine. But Bert did admit to us that he was with his mistress at a hotel the night Lucy died.”

  “And where does this get you? People cheat and lie all the time. Welcome to my world of investigation.”

  “But at least we’re making progress. You have to admit that.”

  “You gals should stop whatever it is you’re doing. I think it could become a huge disaster. Or worse.”

  “But we’re onto things.” The words spilled out. “I found out that that newspaper with the crossword puzzle filled in with purple ink was taken out of a dumpster on Jones Street. Can you see if anyone around there was killed recently? I mean, I’m so close to finding the killer. Really, I know it. Right now, Annie Mae and I are going over to Jones to poke around. This could be it.”

  “You’re not giving up?”

  “Nope.”

  A deep sigh. “I’ll get back to you.”

  Annie Mae climbed in the car and handed me my credit card and receipt. She put her drink in the holder and then fastened her seat belt. “You talked with José, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I bet he’s really impressed with our detective work, huh?”

  “You could say that.”

  But I wouldn’t.

  Chapter 11

  We parked in front of a row of houses on Jones Street, near Clary’s Café. Live oak trees lined the brick sidewalks. I could see the spires of Saint John’s Cathedral peering above the housetops. José had just said that a lot of men cheated on their wives. Even though I knew I had nothing to worry about with Andrew, I still needed to hear from him.

  “I’m going to call Andrew.”

  “Go for it. I’ll get out and walk around a bit. You know, do a little surveillance.” Annie Mae exited.

  I also missed my kids and wanted to check and make sure they were all right. Since their generation did not answer their phones, I texted Timmy and Teddy: How R U? Checking in. Call or text me. Love U. Mom.

  After I sent the texts, I called Andrew’s sister, Pricilla, who had the girls for the weekend. No answer. They were probably at the beach. I texted: All okay there? Sunscreen on? Life vests? Remember, Nina does not like her food to touch, and Nancy’s Dora the Explorer nightlight is in her bag. Thanks for having them. Please call me ASAP. Love, Cat.

  I pushed my speed dial number one.

  Andrew answered. “You girls having fun?”

  “We’re about to dumpster dive.”

  Andrew chuckled. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “I have a weird question. Men cheat on their wives. You’re a man.”

  Andrew interrupted. “Last time I checked. Where did that come from?”

  “José mentioned something a while ago about how everyone cheats on each other. It’s been gnawing at me. I know we love each other and all that. But still, I have to ask just to verify. So, yes or no? Would you ever cheat or even think about it?”

  “By the way, that was two questions.”

  “Okay, then. Give me two answers.”

  “I can barely handle you. What would I do with another woman? So no, I am not cheating on you, and no, I won’t cheat on you.” Andrew laughed.

  “Bert was having an affair.”

  “What a scum.”

  “I know, right?” I took a deep breath. “So are the kids okay?”

  “All is fine. I talked to my sister an hour ago. They were heading back to the beach for the rest of the afternoon. The boys are still at work. Your mom and I have everything under control. By the way, did your dad ever mention any accounting issues with the store?”

  “Not that I know of. Why?”

  “I’m having problems trying to make the books balance. I’m sure it’s just a learning curve, and I’ll make it work.”

  “If not, I can always take a look at the bo
oks.”

  “Well, don’t worry about that now. Enjoy your diving.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Be good.”

  I met up with Annie Mae.

  Annie Mae pointed. “Are we going to the alley over there?”

  “That’s where Zachary said he found newspapers to wrap stuff at Scarlett’s. That’s where the recent purple-filled crossword puzzle must’ve come from. There is a possibility that the person who uses purple ink is around here. Maybe we’ll find a clue. It’s worth a try.”

  We made our way over to a graveled alley that butted up to the back of carriage houses. Many of the Jones Street houses were four-story Italianate with brick or stucco over brick. They had courtyards separating them from smaller two-story carriage houses.

  We neared a large garbage can against a carriage house. Vines climbed the side of the brick exterior of the house. The trash stank of rotting food.

  “Whoa. That stinks. There is no way I’m going through that.” Annie Mae held her nose.

  “We’d never get the smell out of our clothes. Let’s start over here. Look in these recycling bins.” I motioned at a brown container with a bright yellow lid sitting in the alley. I opened one and found various plastic bottles, newspapers, aluminum cans, and glass bottles. “Let’s search each one.”

  “You get this one. I’ll do that one.” Annie Mae rummaged through a bin a few feet down from me. “No antiques in here.”

  “Remember, we’re looking for a newspaper crossword puzzle with purple ink.” I walked to another bin past Annie Mae.

  “Wouldn’t it be great to find a painting worth millions? Remember when a lady in Manhattan found an original painting by Rufino Tamayo in a dumpster?” Annie Mae pulled out a newspaper from a bin. “Just saying, it would really supplement my soon to be retirement income.”

  “And four future college tuitions.”

  “So I say after we finish looking through these recycle bins, let’s go down there and dumpster dive.” Annie Mae pointed to a large, green trash receptacle, next to a house under renovation. “I feel lucky.”

  I flipped through some newspapers. Sports section. News section. Advertisements. Then I found the crossword. Not filled in. I shoved the papers back in the brown container. Shutting the lid, I moved to the next bin. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead with the back of my hand. My shirt stuck to my back.