by B L Crumley
Fern came padding in a few minutes later, feather duster in hand with Moose close on her heels. “Oh, how I hate dusting,” Fern mumbled.
“Me too,” I concurred. “Probably why I never do it.”
“Well, it’s been several months, and the knitting group is meeting here this afternoon, so I figured I might as well do a little cleaning.” At the breakfast bar, Fern stacked several items, pausing to glance at my notebook, where I was trying to sort out details on the case.
“Say, when you talked with Cole yesterday, did you ask about the suitcase full of cash? I feel like that’s one of the best leads they have.” She continued to study the page.
“No, I didn’t even ask. Things got tense when he found out I’d talked with Floyd, and then we were interrupted by Harper Mitchell,” I grimaced. “Have you met her?”
Fern nodded. “Once at some civic event your dad wanted the family to support. I remember her being attractive and polite, but it was only a brief introduction.”
Well, that was more than I could say for her yesterday.
“How does someone like her get elected? She’s a transplant in a community where people are skeptical of outsiders, and she’s young. How much experience could she possibly have?” I asked.
“I’ll give you two words. Money and looks. The Mitchells are loaded and campaigned heavily for her.”
“But no one campaigns here. That’s why it’s so funny when my mom makes such a big deal out of it,” I replied.
Fern’s mouth pinched together, highlighting her displeasure. “And there you have it. Lee Hines didn’t even bother to put signs up this election. There were Mitchell signs everywhere with her picture on them, not to mention a commercial.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” To my knowledge, no one running for local office around here had ever had a commercial. Most people didn’t have the money or really care that much. That, and at least half of the races were uncontested.
“Nope. She won because of name recognition and she’s pretty,” Fern stated disgustedly. “When people went to vote, they recognized her name, and since Hines had done no advertising or campaigning whatsoever, he faded into the background. And he’s not thirty and blonde with assets.” Fern looked at me knowingly.
“Yeah, I noticed.” I picked up a bowl of dough and set it in the warm oven to rise. “She dresses to draw attention to herself. It’s probably a cool sixty-five degrees inside the sheriff’s office and she had on a sleeveless top and a short, tight skirt.”
“Well, hon, don’t you worry. I’m sure Cole sees right through that,” Fern winked.
“Fern, there’s nothing—” The doorbell rang, cutting me off mid-sentence. “I’ll get it.” I dropped the dish rag on the counter and headed for the door.
As I opened it and caught a glimpse of who was on the other side, my heart sank into my stomach.
“Good morning, Charlee.” Cole’s somber expression revealed his intent, making me feel sick.
“Hi, Charlee,” Troy waved from behind him. If Cole had brought a deputy, this was definitely not a social call.
I pressed my lips together. Everything that I wanted to say I couldn’t because it was rude and snarky and wouldn’t help the situation.
“Is Fern here?” Cole looked into my eyes and I saw a shadow of concern.
“Yes.” I stepped to the side and allowed them entry. “Fern,” I called out, walking to the kitchen, the officers following close behind. “The sheriff is here.”
My aunt emerged from the kitchen and met us in the living room. For a moment, we all stood staring at each other, and it felt very awkward.
“Fern, I hate to do this, but you are under arrest for the murder of Earl Henderson.” Cole got straight to the point.
My aunt swallowed and managed a stiff nod. I stepped in front of her, as I had developed a habit of doing lately. “On what grounds?” I snapped defensively.
Cole sighed. “Charlee, please don’t do this. I told you yesterday—”
“You said this might happen, or could maybe happen, but now you’re here a day later and arresting her. Has anything changed? Because from where I stand you’ve got next to nothing to go on,” I fumed.
“Earl was killed on Fern’s property, with her shovel that contains her prints. She also admitted to having conflicts with the victim, including an altercation the night he died,” Cole rattled off quickly.
“That’s all circumstantial. What about the cash I found? Did you ever figure out how that ended up in Fern’s barn? Thousands of dollars is a much stronger motive than some silly argument over trespassing alpacas.”
Cole frowned, and behind him, Troy cracked a smile.
“Charlee, I’m not going to argue with you about this. Please step aside and let me do my job,” he commanded.
“Charlee.” Fern wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. Just give Preston a call. He’ll get this sorted out.”
I turned to face my aunt. “Fern, this is serious. This isn’t about a little moonshine. It’s murder.”
“I know,” she said calmly, but I could see the worry in her eyes. “It will all work out. Things always do.” Fern took a step toward Cole. “If you’ll let me grab my jacket and purse, then I’ll be ready to go.”
He nodded, and Fern left the room with Troy trailing behind her.
Tears pushed themselves to the surface, and I blinked them away.
“I’m sorry, Charlee,” Cole said from beside me.
I kept my gaze on Fern’s bohemian patterned rug, unwilling to let him see that I was on the verge of crying. “This isn’t right.”
His hand wrapped around mine, urging my gaze back to his. “It’ll be okay, Charlee.”
“She didn’t do it,” I blinked, sending a tear rolling down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away.
He leaned in close, his mouth near my ear. My breath hitched. “I promise nothing is going to happen to Fern. But I need you to promise me that you won’t interfere.”
I turned my face to meet his. There was no way I was agreeing to that.
“Okay, let’s go,” Troy said from across the room.
Cole quickly moved away from me.
“Charlee.” Fern’s voice diverted my attention from Cole. “Would you please text my knitting group and cancel for me? I left my phone on the counter, since I can’t have it anyway.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “And I’ll call Preston. We’ll get you out soon,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
“I know, hon,” Fern smiled, and was then led outside by Troy. I followed them out, stopping at the doorway. Cole turned as he stepped outside, and gave me a serious smile, which I took to mean, be good, Charlee.
Well, as long as Fern was in custody, all bets were off. I had a killer to catch. But first I needed to call Preston, and I felt like there was something else I was forgetting.
Oh no, my bread rising in the oven!
By the time I made it to the police station, it was a little after two in the afternoon. I had to finish baking the bread and cancel Fern’s knitting group. That should have taken all of a minute, but I wasn’t sure who was even in her knitting group, and it took several phone calls to get it ironed out.
It probably would have been faster to just post a note on the bulletin board down at Lulu’s Steamin’ Beans. Everyone would have known within minutes. But I also didn’t want to field questions about why the gathering was canceled. I certainly wasn’t going to start the gossip chain that Fern had been arrested.
With my large purse swung over one shoulder and a lunch cooler in my other hand, I entered the station foyer to find my dad pacing the worn-out floor tiles and Preston sitting on a bench with his briefcase beside him.
“Charlee.” My dad stopped pacing when he saw me. “Are you doing okay?” Worry lines were etched on his face.<
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I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was here for Fern, but I suspected he was here to do damage control. With Fern being his sister, I’m sure he and my mom thought this scandal was of biblical proportions, when in reality I don’t think anyone cared.
“I’m fine. What’s the plan?” I asked.
Preston rose from the bench and came to join us. “Fern is being processed, or should have been by now, and we’re waiting to hear about her arraignment,” he explained.
That wasn’t helpful. “I need to see Fern.” I held up the lunch cooler. “I doubt they fed her, and she’s got to be starving.”
“I’ve already asked to see her.” Preston glanced at his watch. “Hopefully, we’ll hear something soon.”
I admired Preston’s calm demeanor through all this. Granted, Fern wasn’t his relative and he did this all the time, but still. He must have sensed my nervousness as he smiled. “It’s all going to be fine, Charlee.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. “Dad, what can you tell me about the Mitchells?”
His mouth twisted into a frown. “They’re outsiders from back east, Virginia, I think. They bought Maritime Manufacturing about eight years ago. Their daughter will be the new DA come January.”
“You do know she’s the reason Fern got arrested?” I asked brusquely.
“What?” asked my dad, clearly surprised.
I repeated to him and Preston what Cole had told me about Harper. If I’d sensed that my dad didn’t like the Mitchells before, well, now there was fire in his eyes. “They think they can throw their money around to get whatever they want!” he raged.
What I didn’t understand was why Harper would have anything against Fern. Everyone liked my aunt. Well, my mom wasn’t a big fan of hers, but that was beside the point.
It felt as if there was this rivalry between the Kings and Mitchells, except in my opinion there was nothing to fight over. On a basic level, I think it boiled down to pride. Male pride more specifically.
My dad liked being in charge, and the influence (at least locally) that went with being a King made him feel significant. The Mitchells, despite not being local, had money. Lots of it. And I would guarantee that my dad felt threatened by them. That he would be replaced as the primary leader of this community.
It was possible that Harper’s pushing for Fern’s arrest had nothing to do with the fact that Fern was a King, but rather that she was trying to make a name for herself and show that she had what it took to get the job done. But at what cost?
“Ben,” Preston interjected in his calm, yet authoritative, lawyer voice. “I know this is upsetting, but we can’t prove any of this. And honestly, with Fern being your sister, it doesn’t look good if you try and go after Harper.” My father nodded, but remained tense.
While I agreed with Preston, I still didn’t like it. It was apparent that Harper was calling the shots, but ultimately, the current DA, Mr. Hines, had ordered the arrest, so on paper everything looked above board. Thankfully, my depressing train of thought was interrupted as Cole came walking toward us.
“Mr. King, Mr. Brooks, Charlee,” he greeted us stiffly, visibly uncomfortable. As I would expect. My father was Cole’s height if not a little taller, and could be intimidating, especially when he was angry.
“Sheriff,” my dad replied, not offering to shake Cole’s hand.
I tensed. It was one thing for me to be upset with Cole, but seeing my father treat him coldly bothered me, forcing me to acknowledge that I cared about Cole’s feelings. I cared about him. And that terrified me.
“Do you know when Fern will be arraigned?” Preston asked.
“Unfortunately, not today. Hopefully, tomorrow.” Cole looked even more uncomfortable if that were possible, probably waiting for us to lash out. My father remained silent, his icy glare aimed at the sheriff.
I braved the question I already knew the answer to. “Does this mean Fern has to stay here tonight?” I substituted the word jail, thinking maybe then it wouldn’t sound so horrible. It didn’t help.
“Yes, Charlee. I’m sorry,” he offered sincerely.
“May we see Fern now? I brought her lunch.” I held up my cooler.
Cole nodded. “Yes, I’ll take you to her.” We followed Cole through a door and down a hall to what appeared to be an interrogation room. Through the window, I could see Fern seated at the table. Thankfully, she wasn’t cuffed.
“Charlee.” Fern brightened when we entered the room. I skirted around the table to give her a hug, setting down the lunch in front of her.
“Are you doing okay?” I asked.
“Oh yes, I’m just fine. A little hungry, but it looks like you’ve brought food.” She unzipped the top. “Ben, Preston, nice to see you.”
Cole left, closing the door behind him, and Preston took the chair opposite Fern. My father, still in his angry silent mode, leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.
“Well, Preston, what’s the plan?” I asked.
He briefly glanced at me before focusing on Fern. “Your arraignment will likely be tomorrow, which means you’ll have to stay overnight.”
“I’d gathered as much,” Fern sighed.
“I’m hopeful we’ll get a lenient judge that will release you on little to no bail,” Preston continued.
“Fern, no matter what, we’re getting you out of here tomorrow,” my dad said determinedly.
“Then we wait,” Preston said. “Hopefully they’ll find the actual killer, and the charges will be dropped. It’s possible, with the evidence being weak, that a judge would drop the charges regardless. That would be ideal,” he theorized.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much confidence that the police were going to find the real killer. “Don’t worry, Fern. I still have another lead to talk to,” I reassured her with more optimism than I felt.
Preston’s eyes darted to mine worriedly, as if he was silently questioning the soundness of my plan, but thankfully didn’t say anything.
“I’m not worried, Charlee.” Fern squeezed my hand. “I believe in you.” Her encouragement was the boost I needed. Fears pushed aside, I knew it was time for me to track down Sting Ray.
Chapter Sixteen
W hen I arrived home later that afternoon, I packaged up the bread and loaded it into my vehicle. I’d already told my mom I would drop it off at the church, and now I was glad I did, for two reasons.
First, I needed to stay busy to keep my mind off worrying about Fern; and second, I wasn’t in the mood to talk with my mom, and had she come over to get the bread, I’m sure she would have had plenty to say about Fern’s arrest. Namely, how it affected her, my father, the King family, and so on.
After making the delivery, I drove down to the port and parked in front of the shop that Fern had taken me to a few days ago. Was this what I wanted?
At one time it was. And in some ways, it still was.
What was holding me back then? Fear of failing, of being miserable living in this small gossipy town, where inevitably I would run into Kenny and Ashley, and Cole…
I actually wouldn’t mind running into Cole. Honestly, I had no idea how I truly felt, and now probably wasn’t the best time to be making such a big decision.
When I returned to Fern’s, I made myself a cup of coffee and went through my notes, jotting down any other details I could remember, however insignificant. I felt like I was trying to piece together a puzzle where a few key pieces were missing, and there wasn’t a picture on the box to tell me what the finished puzzle looked like.
My hope was that by writing everything down, something would click, and the pieces would all fall into place. But I wasn’t there yet, and time was running out.
Moose jumped up on the table and rubbed his face against my hand. Instead of putting him back on the floor like I usually did, I gave in and
petted him. Like me, he was probably missing Fern. This house was way too quiet without her here.
My stomach rumbled, prompting me to get up and search for something to eat. Just as I opened the refrigerator, I heard a knock at the door. Closing the fridge, I went to answer it.
Kenny stood on the covered porch holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a giant bag of kettle corn in the other. My first thought was that I was glad I’d chosen to put on my black yoga pants instead of the baggy gray sweats.
My second thought was that I hated how much I still cared.
“Hey, Charlee,” he gave me a half smile. “How are you holding up?”
I assumed he was talking about Fern, but the flowers and kettle corn were sending me mixed signals. “I’m fine,” I said, for like the tenth time today.
“May I come in?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” I stepped aside so he could pass. It was frustrating that after all this time, I still felt a bit off-kilter around Kenny.
There was a part of me deep inside that didn’t want to acknowledge that I was still attracted to him. I kept it buried because I didn’t want to be drawn to someone who was the cause of the most monumental pain of my life.
In the kitchen, I searched the cupboard for a large vase for the flowers.
“I’m sorry about Fern.” Kenny watched me as I organized the flowers in the vase. “Everyone knows she didn’t do it. I’m sure it will get cleared up.”
I nodded, barely hearing what he said, having been sucked back into a memory from my past. Kenny used to drive me in his beat-up truck to look for wildflowers in the woods. He knew I loved irises and I’d pick purple and yellow ones, giant bunches of them. Staring at the pretty arrangement in front of me was a painful reminder of what we used to have. I was so young and blissfully happy then.
“Charlee?”
“Huh?” I looked up and met Kenny’s concerned gaze.
