The Wiles of Watermelon (Scents of Murder Book 2)

by Lynette Sowell

  “I can tell Papaw.” My voice squeaked in my ears. Confirmation of my suspicion didn’t console me much.

  Momma nodded, but I didn’t think she really heard me. “Thank you, Jerry. I appreciate you coming by. Sure you don’t want that slice of cake to take home for later?”

  “No, but thank you again, Mrs. Clark. Uh, I can have her sent to Warner’s when we’re done, if you want. Then you can call them to make arrangements.”

  Another nod from Momma. “But how did she die? Can they tell that from. . .from what’s left?” She frowned and reached for a napkin.

  “The medical examiner is still performing tests on samples from the bones, and we’re still waiting to hear back on the final reports.” Jerry touched Momma’s shoulder. “I tell you what. I’m praying they find some answers for you. Not many families get the answers they want, or any that’ll satisfy.”

  “We appreciate what you’re doing, Jerry,” Daddy said.

  With another nod to me, Jerry left the way he came, and Di’s luscious cake was left on the table with all of us gawking at it.

  “Let’s have some cake.” Momma kissed Daddy on his forehead and went to get some clean plates.

  Di and I stared at each other. Di finally spoke. “Momma, it’s so sad.”

  Momma whirled with a stack of plates and faced us. “I mourned her a long time ago. I lost her before she disappeared. Ran with a different crowd of friends. Maybe that’s why Honey Haggerty gave y’all that restaurant. She and your aunt. . .”

  I took the plates from Momma’s hands and placed them on the table. “What? I know they were a few years apart in age.”

  “They were always out and about.” Momma reached for a knife, bit her lip, and started slicing cake. “Jewel didn’t like to be home. It was boring. Our parents were too old to know what fun was, she said. She, Honey, Bobby Johnson, Joe Toms, a few others all ran around.” The knife clinked on the plate. I sure hoped it wasn’t Di’s good china.

  “One night Daddy caught Jewel sneakin’ out. Oh, but your Papaw had a temper back then. Still does, sometimes. He never liked Bobby, either, and that boy had a temper to match Daddy’s.” When Momma glanced at Stevie and Taylor, who sat perched on the edge of their seats listening to her, she fell silent.

  “It’s all right, Momma.” Di glanced at Steve. “We’ve told the boys what we know as best we can.”

  “Jewel and Bobby were neck-deep, flat-out in love. I don’t know why they didn’t just get married. Daddy, probably.” Momma found the forks and passed them around.

  “When Aunt Jewel. . .disappeared, were any of her things missing?” I asked. “Was she trying to leave town?”

  “I think some of her clothes were gone, and a suitcase. My momma and daddy were devastated. I had you, Andromeda, to help me smile. Plus Diana came not long after, needing my attention. My two consolations.” Momma blinked hard and reached for a fork.

  I dared not ask more. Momma’s information had caused more questions to swirl through my mind. Tonight, especially with the boys around, I didn’t want to keep dredging up the past. The pain of it lurked in Momma’s eyes. Sure, Momma might have mourned her sister years ago, but tonight’s confirmation must have made her feel like she’d lost Jewel all over again.

  After I managed to eat half a slice of cake, Di and Steve decided to leave, and they offered to drop me by the house. I could see the glow of the Honey’s Place sign as we passed the side street off downtown. A few cars remained in the parking lot, and I glimpsed the hood of Ben’s truck.

  “I’m sorry we had to spring the news about our move at supper tonight.” Di looked over her shoulder from the front passenger seat. “We were plannin’ on tellin’ y’all before one of the boys did. If we’d have known Jerry was coming by, I don’t think we would have said anything to Momma.” She smiled fondly at Taylor, who leaned back in the seat, eyes closed, mouth gaping in sleep.

  “That’s all right. It was a lot to hear at once.”

  “We can both call Momma tomorrow to see how she’s doing. I imagine she’ll want to plan a funeral.”

  “Probably. First Honey, and now this.” I shook my head. Steve turned the van, and we entered our driveway. Watermelons studded the field. Oh, Aunt Jewel. And Honey.

  After a hug and a wave, they left me opening my own back door. Spot zoomed to meet me when I stepped inside the kitchen, and I closed the door before she got any ideas about prowling in the field that night. No more surprises.

  Papaw had a temper, especially back then. But he wouldn’t have killed Aunt Jewel for trying to leave, would he? I didn't want to think about that.

  Spot mewed for some food, so I filled her dish while she pranced around the kitchen. Honey said that Ben and I ought to start our family. Tonight I missed him more than ever, and I blamed Honey for it, dead though she was. He had taken the responsibility of running the restaurant seriously, I knew, and I couldn’t fault him for that. If only he had a different job, with regular hours.

  Then I recalled Ben hadn’t shared his suspicions with me about Honey leaving us the restaurant. Her letter remained tucked in my purse where I’d put it after closing the store that afternoon.

  I retrieved the letter and scanned it once more. I’ve got too many regrets to name. I just pray this one act makes up for what I’ve done in the past.

  Honey, what did you do?

  Chapter Eight

  Thanks to Honey, I had my responsibilities for the Watermelon Festival to keep me busy. I spent the next morning at the shop, making phone calls to other committee members and haggling over themed booths proposed by various vendors. No, we didn’t want inflatable swords in every color of the rainbow or other county fair junk.

  The door clanged open, and in came Vivian Delane. I hung up the phone. “Hi, it’s good to see you.”

  “You, too.” She ran one of her manicured fingernails along a display of soaps then picked one up and sniffed it. “You haven’t been by the gym in a while.”

  “Oh, well, um. . .” I already felt like I’d put on five pounds with her just walking into the store. “It’s been pretty stressful around here lately. I’ve had a lot to do with work, my family situation, the Watermelon Festival.”

  “I see. You know, exercise can help ease stress. Which is why I do so much of it.” Vivian grinned then continued her elegant prowl around the shop. “Oh, how lovely. Lavender. I’m making gift baskets. Several birthdays in my family are coming up this fall and I want to get ahead.”

  The woman was in better shape than I’d ever been, and now she just showed she was better organized, too. “Super. I can help you put some collections together.”

  Twenty minutes later she had three piles of coordinating soap products in Lavender Luxury, Wily Watermelon, and Gardenia Frenzy. The last scent I assured her would be ideal for her teenage niece starting college. Sweet, with a hint of spice. Sadie had helped me come up with that scent while we experimented one rainy afternoon earlier in the summer.

  “I can’t believe she’s already out of high school. Seemed only months ago I was helpin’ my sister burp and feed the little bundle.” Vivian sighed. “Curtis and I always wanted children, but I guess I ended up experiencing parenthood through my sister.”

  “Your niece must have been fun to spoil. I have nephews, and I’m not sure how to handle them sometimes.” I glanced at the clock. Sadie was due to arrive around two o’clock to work because I had a laundry monster threatening to invade the kitchen if I didn’t deal with it.

  Vivian nodded and focused on the soap covering the counter. Her long lashes blinked. “She was. What about you? You don’t have kids yet, do you?”

  “No, not yet.” I bit my lip. “Eventually. Someday.”

  “Oh, that’s what Curtis and I always said. Until we tried. And then I found out I couldn’t have children. Ever.” Her lips twisted into a wistful smile. “Take my word for it. Don’t put off a family, sayin’ you will when you can afford it.”

  Her tone made me paus
e. Vivian, sharing from her heart? She didn’t seem like the sharing kind. “Thanks for telling me that. You’ve given me some things to think about.”

  “Well, you’re welcome.” She fumbled with her wallet and pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill as I totaled her purchase. “Don’t know what got into me. This place is so peaceful. Relaxin’.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” I carefully wrapped her purchases. “Come back anytime.”

  As I watched Vivian leave, I thought about the softer side of her that I’d just witnessed. She reminded me of the trainer on that weight loss reality show on TV. She could always get an extra dozen crunches or leg lifts out of a client.

  I was relieved she didn’t ask about the body in the field. Evidently the news had been overshadowed some by Honey’s death. Aunt Jewel’s disappearance had been overshadowed, too, Momma had told me earlier that morning. But the news that temporarily helped sell a few newspapers years ago still remained important to our family thirty years later.

  I frowned at the dirty socks, grease-stained T-shirts, and multiple pairs of jeans. And that was just Ben’s stack of work clothes. He’d made a pointed remark last night about having only one pair of clean socks left in his drawer. He changed clothes more than anyone I ever knew, and that counted women, too. He’d spend twelve or more hours at the restaurant, then come home and shower and change again before going outside to hammer and nail on his latest project, if time allowed. Multiply that by six days, and I had the makings of a Rocky Mountain right here in Tennessee. And that didn’t even count his workout clothes. Married life really had no glamour when it came down to everyday stuff like laundry or planning meals.

  Speaking of which, I dared not serve leftovers again tonight. Honey used to send extra food home with Ben quite often, but I really needed to try to pick up a cookbook. I knew Ben didn’t want to come home to have to cook again.

  “Romance is highly overrated,” I said to the jug of detergent.

  “Baby, I’m home.” My Prince Charming came through the back door, smelling like french fries and hamburgers. “I brought us a late lunch. Or early supper if you want to call it that.”

  “Wow, thanks.” How would I ever learn to cook, with Ben bringing food home? “You didn’t have to. I was going to throw something together.” Never mind that our stainless steel Crock-Pot was still in the box in the guest bedroom, along with a copy of Fast Fix-It Meals from Diana.

  “I’ve got some news. The Chamber of Commerce contacted me about assuming Honey’s membership. Guess I’ll be rubbing elbows with the rest of the crowd.” He gave me a little-boy grin. “Maybe I should get a tie.”

  “Right!” I tried not to snort. “Don’t get a tie. It’s not, um, you.”

  “Roland Thacker and a few other businessmen have asked me to join them for a supper meeting at the Riverfront Grille.”

  “Wow, now that’s something.” The laundry couldn’t wash itself, so I quit stalling. I snapped the water temperature to hot and started tossing socks and other whites into the washer. “What’s the meeting about?”

  Ben removed his shirt, which bore the brunt of his labors that day. “They want to give me a few business pointers. They know I’m new to running a business and want Honey’s Place to stay afloat.”

  “I wonder if any of them have their eye on it.” I closed the washer lid and turned to face Ben. “What if they want the restaurant to go under, and by bailing you out, they make it look like they’re doing you a favor?”

  “Don’t be so suspicious. The way they put it, Honey’s Place benefits the town. We employ ten Greenburg residents and provide good competition for other restaurants. Plus great down-home cooking.” Ben took my hands. “The restaurant is a great opportunity for us. Tonight I get to do some detective work, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I asked Honey’s accountant to print out the last year’s worth of transactions, just so I can see where we are. Honey always handled the books herself. Anyway, I noticed somethin’ strange. For the last five months, she made large cash deposits once a month. For the same amount each time.”

  “Why’s that strange?”

  “Her receipt book in her office shows they were received from ‘a debtor.’ A thousand dollars a month.”

  The words slammed into me despite my doldrums.

  “Was it a business arrangement?”

  Ben shrugged. “I have no idea. I can’t find papers or anything showing she had a deal going on with anyone.”

  “What if she knew a secret and was blackmailing someone, or felt they owed her something? Hmm. Roland couldn’t stand Honey. Maybe she was hitting him in the wallet every month because of the past. If he was just payin’ back a loan, he’d make sure it had a paper trail. But those deposits were cash. And someone like Roland doesn’t ask for loans. Not that way.” The whole thing smacked of a payoff.

  “That’s why I’m going to dinner with them. I don’t think I’ll ask him outright if they had financial dealings.”

  I bit my lip. “You think I can go, too?”

  “Well, uh, they didn’t say anything about bringin’ wives. Now don’t go lookin’ sad.”

  That figured. Another dinner for one and a CSI rerun. “I. . .I don’t like that you’re gone so much.” I detested the quaver in my voice. “I thought for a while your job at Honey’s was a good thing. We’re content, our bills are paid. We paid for the house as we went along building it. But I feel like you’re on the road again, and I’m left with reminders of you while you’re gone.”

  Ben pulled me close, and I caught another whiff of grill. “Shhh. . .I’m here now. Anytime you want to see me at the restaurant, you can come by. You know that. And I promise, whatever Roland tells me, I’ll tell you and we can figure it out together.”

  That wasn’t what I meant, but I could try. He sure supported me when Tennessee River Soaps first opened, and I knew deep down he was probably afraid of failing. The news about Honey’s accounts piqued my interest, even as I clung to Ben.

  “Okay,” I murmured into his shoulder. The ringing phone called me to the kitchen.

  “Momma.” Two calls from her in the space of six hours, a record for her.

  “I just heard from Jerry again. He had more infor- mation from the coroner about Jewel. Somethin’ he couldn’t share last night in front of the kids, he said.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Jerry said Jewel had been strangled.”

  I entered the police station, bypassing Fleta at the desk. She looked a little annoyed at my ignoring her. Jerry was seated behind his desk, and I could see him through the glass windows of his inner sanctum. Ben had left to swing by the restaurant before meeting the other businessmen for supper, so I figured I’d see if Jerry could tell me more about Aunt Jewel.

  “Jerry, Momma just called me. What’s going on about my aunt Jewel?”

  He sighed, looking ten years older than he really was. “Your aunt’s case is now a homicide. Unfortunately, they can only do so much with the current case going on.”

  “You mean Honey’s.”

  Jerry nodded. “Your aunt’s case won’t be ignored.”

  “I’m sure, since there’s no statute of limitations on murder.”

  “You’re right, there’s not.”

  “What about Gabe Davis? Did you find him yet?”

  Jerry shook his head. “No news in that department.”

  “Well, as far as Aunt Jewel’s case is concerned, I’ll do what I can to help.” I meant it as a promise to both Jerry and to Aunt Jewel. “If I find anything out, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Do you know anything helpful about your aunt Jewel? Your momma’s not the most forthcoming woman.”

  “My mother said there was a guy, a Bobby Johnson. He and Jewel were in love. He had a temper. So did my Papaw, who didn’t approve of them seeing each other.”

  “Your Papaw, you say? How’s his mind holding up?”

  “Momma says he has good days and ba
d days. I’m going to visit him tomorrow. What do you think about having someone meet me there? Maybe he’ll remember something about back then.”

  “It’s worth a shot.” Jerry rubbed his chin. “I want to have someone out there to talk to him while someone from the family is there. If you’d rather not be there when we talk to him, maybe your mother would come to the nursing home?”

  “It’s okay. I’ll be there. Momma’s got enough to worry about right now. I’m planning on being there first thing in the morning, say, around nine, before I open my shop.”

  “I’ll make sure someone meets you there.”

  Chapter Nine

  The CSI rerun ended, and I’d dozed off. So much for learning the solution to the team’s case. I shifted from my awkward sprawl on the love seat. In a huff, Spot hopped from her own lazy position on my legs.

  “Sorry, Spotter.” She rubbed against my ankles when I sat up. Then I heard the rumble of Ben’s truck coming up the driveway, his headlights making a bouncing arc as they passed the windows.

  I dashed to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. If Ben had news about Roland, I wanted to hear it and wouldn’t let Ben tell me he was too tired to talk. Not tonight, anyway.

  “Back again,” he said. “Wow, The Riverfront Grille makes a great rib eye.” He enveloped me in a hug and gave me a kiss.

  “Stop. I’m jealous. But I made coffee so we can stay up and talk. It’s still early.” I kissed him back before turning to grab two clean mugs from the dish drainer. “Tell me more than what was on the menu. Who was there?”

  “Roland Thacker, old Mr. Forrest who runs the drugstore, and Mitchell McCoy.”

  “What’s he do?”

  “He has that new organic health-food café. Oat Grass.”

  “Oh. Organic health food. In Greenburg?” Why anyone would try to open an eatery in Greenburg that didn’t serve anything deep-fried, I didn’t understand. I believed in eating healthy but wasn’t so sure how the rest of the population felt.