by Emma Ames
Tizzy opened her car door and stood behind it. The open window framed her chest. He pulled sunglasses from his shirt pocket and put them on.
She brushed fine strands of her long dark hair behind her ear. “Marlene Weston was not a nice person. She wanted to control everything in her life and this town. People tolerated her, envied her, even feared her, but take my word, you’ll be hard-pressed to find someone who actually liked her.”
Tizzy’s tone caused Ridge to press harder. “You didn’t answer the other part of my question. Did you dislike her?”
She sat in the car, slid her hands up and down the steering wheel, then folded them in her lap. “Once upon a time, I hated her. But that’s in the past. Did I like her? No. Did I dislike her? No. Am I glad she’s dead? No. Am I sorry? No. I didn’t care one way or the other about Marlene Weston. As for going back to the cemetery, I’m not sure that’s where the crime was committed. But I’ll be happy to meet you there later this afternoon.”
Now he was more confused than ever. Didn’t she realize she could be a suspect? Most witnesses, in his experience, were guarded. Especially if they didn’t like the victim, and regardless of what she said, she disliked Marlene Weston. “Why do you think she wasn’t killed there?”
She started to answer but broke into a laugh. “Oh, my Lord! I almost said, ‘because she wouldn’t be caught dead in that cemetery.’ But she was!” Now with her head thrown back, she laughed so hard she gasped.
He couldn’t read her reaction. She found a body and now laughs about it? Odd.
She caught her breath and placed a hand to her chest. “I’m sorry, Trooper Cooper. I’m not laughing about Marlene being murdered. I’m laughing at the absurdity of it. Her being found in the cemetery she wouldn’t set foot in. Apparently, someone had a sick sense of humor.”
He rested his hand on top of the car, then leaned down and tilted his head to get a better view of her face. “What did she have against the cemetery?”
She reached for the key and started the engine. “I don’t have time to go into it right now, but I promise, this afternoon, I’ll tell you the whole Marlene Weston story.”
“She has a story?”
“Oh, come on, Trooper Cooper. In a small town, everyone has a story.”
He straightened. “Miss Donovan, you understand I’m not a state trooper, I’m a Texas Ranger.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know. I’ll see you about three o’clock in the cemetery, Trooper Cooper.”
As she drove away, he stared after her and reminded himself that evil wasn’t always ugly.
Chapter Three
Tizzy parked across the street from Sweet Thangs, adjusted her rearview mirror, and grabbed a tube of lipstick from her purse. She rubbed her lips together, spreading the shade, Boogie Nights, to get full coverage.
Unsure of what emotion she felt, she heaved a deep breath and tried to shake off the memory of the lifeless body. Marlene being dead didn’t make her less of a bitch, but Tizzy had never wished her dead. Maybe in a fleeting moment, but not seriously.
Distraction. That’s what she needed. She pressed fingers to her temples to stop the headache beginning behind her eyes. The best thing was to stay busy and throw herself into work. Bake. Tend bar. Schedule extra days at the bank and volunteer an additional evening at the clinic.
She glanced one last time in the mirror, straightened her shoulders, and headed into Sweet Thangs ready to apologize for being late. Her mother, Pattiecake, and Aunt, Sugarpie, though in their fifties, were as saucy and sassy as when they were in high school. They would scold her in a heartbeat.
“Sorry I'm late. I stopped at the station to offer babysitting services to Dan until Mandy delivers.” Tizzy took a deep breath. “Lord, I still can't believe Marlene's dead, much less, murdered.”
Pattiecake lifted her brows. “After all this time, Carl Weston is back on the market. Every available woman in the county is probably lining up outside his house with a casserole.”
“Momma, that's terrible.” Tizzy tried to sound sincere but thought how much better off Carl was. “While I was at the station, I met the ranger who’s investigating the murder.”
Rayann Harrison, Tizzy's best friend and employee of Sweet Thangs, flipped her long blonde hair back. “What's he like, old and big-bellied?”
For a moment, Tizzy said nothing, then picked up a cloth and wiped the counter. “Nope. He’s thirtyish, tall, broad shoulders and dark hair.” She hesitated, then spoke in a far-off voice. “He has piercing blue eyes.” She sucked in more air, buying herself time, and tried to sound uninterested. “And looks like his face would break if he smiled.”
Rayann pumped her hands in the air. “Whoop-whoop! You kind of like him.”
“I do not.”
“Oh, yes, you do. That’s the same expression you get when you’re about to go to a shoe sale, and we all know how you love those. You definitely like him. Ladies, can I get some back-up from the kitchen?”
Pattiecake and Sugarpie sang out in unison, “Amen.”
Rayann gave Tizzy a hip bump. “He’s gorgeous with piercing eyes?”
Their enthusiasm for the prospect of a new man in her life made Tizzy smile. All three women loved to play matchmaker. “I’d say more rugged than gorgeous.”
Sugarpie paused slicing coconut pie. “Is he single?” Her voice elevated. “Girl, don't say you don't know because we've taught you better than that.”
“He wasn't wearing a ring, but that doesn't mean he's available.” Tizzy donned her apron and tied the strings. She filled the pockets with an order pad and pencil, then grabbed a stack of menus, and distributed them among the tables. “I'm meeting him at the cemetery this afternoon to go over my statement.” Despite her attempt to make it sound casual, she failed.
Sugarpie laughed, raising her voice another octave. “Whoa! An afternoon rendezvous sounds promising.”
“Okay, enough already. I'm not in the market for romance, and I’m certainly not looking for a reason to spend more time in the graveyard.” Their expressions said they weren’t buying it. She needed to work on her game if she expected to persuade this group.
Sugarpie eyed her sister. “Maybe not, but you need to be open to the idea. Doesn't she, Pattiecake? Gracie's almost four. She needs a daddy, and if you admit it or not, you need a man. Girl, you're missing the best hanky-panky years of your life. Lor-dee, I remember being twenty-eight. What I'd pay to revisit that age again. Wouldn't you, Pattiecake?”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I'm just saying I wouldn't mind a little time travel back to my younger self. You remember how it was?” She closed and opened her eyes, then stared dreamily into space. Palm flat against her throat, she spoke in gasps. “You thought about him all day—you couldn't wait for him to get home—the minute he stepped inside—you were tearing at each other’s clothes. He couldn't get to you quick enough.” She fanned her face with both hands. “Whew! I need a glass of tea.”
They all broke into laughter. “I think we all need a glass after that.” Pattiecake rested a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Sugarpie's right. Gracie needs a daddy. And believe it or not, you need a husband, too.”
Tizzy stuck out her chin. “Gracie has plenty of positive daddy figures without me husband-huntin’.” She picked up the coffee pot and filled it with water. “I should’ve said the ranger was old and big-bellied. For all we know, he has two ex-wives and six kids.”
Pattiecake slid pieces of Italian Cream Cheese cake onto china dessert plates. “At your age, every single man you meet should be a consideration. Besides, this murder concerns me. Marlene was found at Boone's grave for heaven's sake. If you had a man around, I wouldn't worry so much.”
Tizzy emptied coffee into the filter and flipped the switch. “Her murder doesn’t have anything to do with me. Besides, the ranger's staying in Browning House, that's almost as good as having a man. He's only a scream away.”
Handyman, Freddy H
olt, appeared from the supply room. “Hey, Tizzy. Were you scared when you found the body?”
If the tightness in her chest was any sign, scared wasn’t the word. Terrified was more like it. “Yes. I was. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t run by yourself anymore. I could come and run with you.”
“That’s sweet of you to offer, Freddy, but I’ve been jogging through there for a long time, and nothing like this has ever happened before. Thank goodness.”
Rayann yelled from the end of the counter. “Heads up, ladies. We're about to meet the ranger because here he comes with Dwayne and Dan.”
The men ambled in and claimed a table near the entrance.
Tizzy folded napkins, pretending to be uninterested, but studied her mom and Sugarpie out of the corner of her eye. They made a beeline from the kitchen to the threesome.
Pattiecake stuck out her hand. “Hi, welcome to Sweet Thangs. I’m Pattiecake McAlister, and this is my sister, Sugarpie Monroe.”
“I’m her younger sister.”
Pattiecake shot her a look. “Yeah, yeah, you’re younger, and everybody knows you grew up, and I grew out.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I appreciate the box of muffins you left at Browning House.”
“You need to thank Tizzy for those.”
Tizzy caught her aunt’s eye, then called to her brother. “Hey, Dan, come here a minute.”
He rose, and as he walked toward her, he spoke into his cell phone in a syrupy tone. “Okay, baby. Okay, baby. Yes, baby. Okay, okay. I'll be right there. I love you.” He sauntered back to his companions. “I've got to run home a minute. It seems my four-year-old evil villain has been trying to kill my three-year-old island princess all morning, and her magic wand isn’t powerful enough to stop him. With Mandy's delicate condition, she's had all she can take.”
He turned and made his way to Tizzy. “What’s up?”
She lowered her voice. “What do you think about the ranger?”
“I wanted to talk to you about him. Privately.”
Dan followed her into the supply room and closed the door behind them. “Listen, a word of caution. Today, when you meet Cooper at the cemetery, be careful. I'm not saying lie to him. Answer his questions. Just don't say more than you need to.”
His words of warning caused the hair on Tizzy's arms to rise. “What do you mean? Does he think I had something to do with this? That's crazy. Why would I kill Marlene?”
“All I'm saying is, don't answer questions that aren't asked. Rangers are arrogant sons-of-bitches, so be careful. Besides, he’s a city boy, and there’s no way he thinks we’re anything but a bunch of hicks from the sticks. He already knows you and Marlene had a history from your conversation earlier. That’s reason enough for him to consider you a possible suspect. Do you understand?”
Guilt bubbled in her chest. Yes, she had a history with Marlene, but she’d never kill her. At least not now. Not after so many years. “Yes.”
He wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. “It'll be okay. Turns out, I gotta accept your offer for Annie Mae to keep the kids at your house. With Mandy this close to delivery, they’re getting on her last nerve.” He reached for the door, then paused. “Do you want me to come to the cemetery?”
“I don't want him to think I have something to hide, but now I’m worried. I never thought for a minute I would be a suspect. Maybe you should.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be there.”
When Tizzy returned to the front counter, Rayann elbowed her. “Here, take this order to Dwayne and the ranger. I’ll watch to see if I pick up on anything.” She nudged her again. “Go on now and strut a little bit. Give him something to think about as if your Texas Ta-Tas weren’t already enough.”
Tizzy clenched her teeth. “All right, I'm going.”
“Dan's tough as nails when it comes to the law. But when it comes to Mandy, he's like butter,” Bubba said.
Tizzy set the plates in front of them. “One of these days, Bubba, you'll find a woman who melts you like butter.” She glanced over her shoulder toward Rayann.
He jutted out his chin. “Maybe I've already found her. Ever think about that?”
Tizzy rested palms on the table and leaned forward. “I’m talking about a real woman, not one from hotcrotches.com.”
Freddy strolled by and repeated, “Hot crotches. That’s funny.” Then he broke into rowdy laughter.
Tizzy high-fived him. “You boys enjoy your sweet thangs.” She swept off before Bubba could get another word out.
~~*~~
Ridge shifted in his seat. The banter between Bubba and Tizzy made him uneasy. Why he couldn’t say, and that bothered him. They seemed an unlikely pair, but there was definitely something going on. “I noticed a child’s seat in Tizzy’s car this morning, but no wedding ring. I guess she's divorced?” Ridge asked.
“Naw. Widowed. Her husband, Boone, got killed in Iraq. He’d only been there for three weeks.”
A twinge of sympathy stabbed Ridge’s chest. It must be terrible to lose a spouse so young. “That's awful.”
“Worse than awful. Boone never knew about the baby. Tizzy didn’t even know she was pregnant until weeks after his death. She was in bad shape at first, but Gracie saved her.”
“Gracie?”
“Her daughter. She's a little doll. I'm sure you'll meet her. She’s a social butterfly. Sassy, like her momma.”
“Given your interest in Tizzy, you ever asked her out?”
“No. We’re just friends. I don't think she's been out with anybody since Boone's death.”
The remark caught him off guard. A woman that hot should have men lined up. “Really? How long has it been?”
Bubba squinted. “Let’s see. Gracie's three, going on four, so almost five years.”
A blonde woman approached. “Can I get y'all anything else?” She wiped Bubba's face at the corner of his lips. “You had a little whipped cream right there, but I got it.” She brought her thumb to her mouth and licked it.
He fidgeted in his seat. “No, we're ready for our ticket.”
She tossed her hair back, laid the ticket down, then offered her hand to Ridge. “Hi. I'm Rayann Harrison, welcome to Browntown.”
Dang, both young women Ridge had met since arriving were flirts. At least where Officer Tatum was concerned. Were they serious, or just liked giving Bubba a hard time? He couldn’t be sure. “Ridge Cooper. Nice to meet you.”
“Have Dwayne bring you back for our Wednesday special. I'm sure he will. He never misses it. Do you, Dwayne?”
Bubba’s face reddened like she’d invited him to a strip club. “I'll bring him.”
Once she was gone, Ridge finished off the last bite of his chocolate pie. “What's going on between the two of you, and why doesn't she call you Bubba?”
He huffed. “I don't know why—and there's nothing going on between us. Let's sit here a minute. I want to finish my tea.”
“What's Wednesday's special?”
“Better than Sex Cupcakes.”
Ridge chuckled. “I want to try those, for sure.”
Chapter Four
Vapor rose from the pavement in waves. Ridge parked under the shade of a big oak at Jenkins Cemetery and rolled down his car windows.
A crow sat on top of a tombstone watching his approach, jerking its head from side to side as if judging him. Ridge removed his hat and waved it to scare the bird away. Something about a raven in a graveyard gave him the willies.
The secret to Ridge’s investigative skills was his ability to appear cool and calm, while he concentrated on each facial tic, mannerism, and intonation of those he questioned. He waited like a trained assassin stalking his prey for the one mistake that would make or break a case.
When it came to women, he approached his interviews with a soft tone and a gentle manner. His easy nature drew them in. They didn't feel threatened. Quite the opposite. They judged him trustworthy, unassuming, and friendly. To
his advantage, that was their biggest mistake. He had a high success rate because suspects were comfortable talking to him. He expected Tizzy Donovan to be no different.
He found her sitting on a bench with her eyes closed. A gathering breeze caused fine strands of her long dark brown hair to float about her face. With sunlight stroking her skin like a whispered breath, she was beautiful. She smelled like fresh-baked cookies. The aroma settled on his tongue, and his mouth watered.
“Miss Donovan? I'm not interrupting, am I?”
Her eyes popped open. “No. Why would you be interrupting?”
Moving closer, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought you might be—uh—chatting with someone.”
Her lip quirked. “I guess somebody told you I talk to the dead. You think I’m crazy. Right?”
He focused on her face, scrutinized her appearance. “No. Not at all. Unusual. But not crazy. Why not ask them to help with the case? Find out if they saw anything.”
She scooted to the end of the bench and patted the area next to her. “Now, you’re making fun, aren’t you?”
He didn’t accept her invitation. Best to keep his distance. “No. I suppose it’s possible for certain people to communicate with the dead. How does it work? Do you ask them questions, or do they choose the subject?”
“Most of what they tell me is useless—plant pink tulips, collect state quarters, don’t buy a Snuggie.” She laughed. A sound so sweet his pulse quickened again. It’d been a while since a woman affected him this way. If the palpations continued, maybe he should have his heart checked.
“I was a child when it started.” She rose and moved toward a grave.
Ridge followed. The name on the headstone read Boone Andrew Donovan. Her husband. To lighten the moment, he said, “I suppose you know everyone buried here?”
She raised her hand to shade her eyes. “This is the only cemetery in the city limits. Arliss and Opal Jenkins donated the land when their first-born child died and was laid to rest here in 1892. I probably know relatives of everyone here.”
“The day of Boone’s funeral, I stood in this exact spot, closed my eyes, and let the stillness surround me.” Her voice sounded soft and soothing as she spoke. “The wind whispered to me. At first, I thought I’d heard Graceland. You know, Elvis’s home? I couldn’t figure out why someone wanted me to visit there. Then, three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant and realized the message was a name. Grace Ann.” A tear slid down her cheek.
