“Anyway, they were helpful. Said I’d been tossed a loaded plate and wanted to help make sure Honey’s Place succeeds.”
“Okay, that’s nothing new from what we knew before you went to dinner. What about Roland? Did he act weird or anything?” We poured our coffee and sat across the table from each other. This was how I liked it. Us talking and sharing. It reminded me of when we dated, even with him out of town. We always caught up. Until he got the job at the restaurant, that is. I stirred a spoonful of vanilla creamer into my coffee.
“He actually asked me an interesting question.” Ben took a sip from his cup. “He wondered how the accounts were, if the receipts have maintained. I told him I’d consulted with the accountant who took care of Honey’s records. I told him the business is in the black. Didn’t want to embarrass him in front of the others by asking if he’d made those cash payoffs, but I asked if anybody knew about Honey loaning money, because she’d made some rather large cash deposits in regular amounts. Roland sputtered on his iced tea. Nearly spewed it across the table at us. Coughed a lot. The others didn’t know, but said I ought to check with her lawyer.”
“Did Roland say anything that made you think he knew about any payoffs?”
Ben shook his head. “He plowed through dessert and paid his part of the check in a hurry.”
“You need to let Jerry know. I bet the police have already gotten Honey’s financial records.” I took his hand. “Vivian Delane believes Honey and Roland had an affair at one time.”
“Hmm. . .and maybe this was a payoff for her silence?”
“Could be. But Honey’s receipt book might not be proof of anything. Nothing connects Roland to those deposits, even with the antagonism he and Honey showed toward each other. Besides, if the one making those payments was Roland, why ask for payment for silence after all this time?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I still say we let Jerry know.”
“We’ll figure it out. Together.” He turned my hand over and ran his thumb over my palm.
“Together. I like that.” What I liked more was Ben was finally home, and I had him all to myself.
The front doors of Leisure Lodge Nursing Home closed behind me, shutting out the humid air. Still, the air felt stuffy inside the entry. That, and someone had burned the toast this morning. I stopped at the front desk as a familiar figure emerged from the east wing. Curtis Delane. He gave me half a smile and the briefest nod. His carefully gelled hair wasn’t budging in any weather, that was for sure. Someone else had cut out from work that morning, too.
“Andromeda.”
“Curtis, hello. I’m, um, visiting my papaw today. Do you have family here?”
“My mother. I try to see her as often as I can.”
I nodded. Silence fell between us. Something about nursing homes made people forget how to speak, or if they did speak, their voices rose or lowered to unnatural tones like ours had.
“Well, I’ll see you at Shapers, I’m sure.” I glanced at the clock and signed my name in the book, notating that Jerry was with me. I’d called the director and explained about Jerry coming to ask Papaw some questions. I didn’t want anyone wondering why Greenburg PD had shown up. Curtis continued past the reception desk and headed toward the front doors.
As Curtis exited, someone else entered. Jerry, in uniform. He gave me a nod. “I figured I could take a few minutes.” He held up a small cardboard tray with two covered paper cups. “Stopped by Trudy’s on the way out of town.”
What a sweet brother-in-law. I sure hoped he’d find a sweet lady one day. But then I didn’t know of anyone I could picture as a match for him. And this morning I needed to remind myself he acted as police officer today, one conducting an investigation at that.
I accepted the cup he offered me. “Oh, thank you. Let’s go see Papaw. I sure hope he’s having a good morning and can offer you some helpful information.”
“I’ll wait and have you introduce me first. That way, maybe he won’t be too confused. Sometimes the uniform upsets people.”
Jerry and I walked to the wing where Papaw stayed and found his room empty. We tracked him to the tropical-themed dayroom where he sat at a table playing dominoes with two other residents. Evidently Papaw had just lost. He scowled at the other players before rising to his feet and shuffling away from the table. When he caught sight of me, he smiled.
“Lookit who showed up. Andromeda Jean. Come and give your papaw a hug.”
This was the Papaw I remembered so well. I hugged him, praying that somehow his mind could stay like this always. He could still hug me like an overeager boa constrictor, and according to Momma, his heart was in good shape, too. Just his mind escaped him at times, and when that happened, no one could reason with him.
Once Papaw released me, we sat at an empty table next to a palm tree mural. “I should’ve come sooner, but we’ve been pretty busy.”
“I know. Where’s my Bertie?”
Nana had been gone for five years. “Um, Papaw. . .”
He frowned like a small child. “Wait, a minute. Wait, wait, wait. I remember now. She’s gone.”
“You’re right.” I glanced at Jerry, who joined us at the table. “Papaw, this is Jerry Hartley. He’s Greenburg’s police chief, and he wants to talk to you.”
Papaw’s eyes flashed. “It weren’t me drivin’. They took my license away, the fools. I still know how to steer.”
Jerry quirked a smile as he removed a small voice recorder from his pocket and pushed a button. He and Ben had the same kind of dimple in their cheeks. “I’m not here about anyone’s driving today. I’m here to ask you about your daughter Jewel.”
“She’s gone, too. I know.” Papaw slammed his fist on the table, and I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. Our coffee cups jiggled. “Noodle-headed girl. I was ready to padlock her door, runnin’ out at all hours with that boyfriend of hers.”
“She didn’t run away with him,” Jerry said. “Your granddaughter here found Jewel’s remains in a field just outside town.”
I watched Papaw’s reaction and took a sip of my coffee. Did he understand his daughter hadn’t been just gone for thirty years, but was now confirmed dead, too? He fumbled with his shirt collar, then cracked his knuckles.
“Crazy girl.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Told me she and that punk were gonna get married. One time she sat me and Bertie down to break it to us gentle. . .”
Papaw paused, and I opened my mouth to speak. Jerry shook his head.
“Weren’t nothing gentle about it. I could’ve strangled that girl for bein’ so stupid. About to throw her life away.”
Strangled. I sucked in a breath and a leftover whiff of burnt toast. Was he speaking figuratively? Papaw had no way of knowing how Aunt Jewel had died, unless. . . “Jerry, do you have to keep asking him questions like this?”
Jerry pushed a button on the recorder and put it in his pocket. “Mr. Kincaid, we believe someone killed your daughter. Can you think of who might have wanted to do that? I know she really upset you and your wife, but what about the boyfriend?”
“That Bobby Johnson.” Papaw’s eyes glistened. A tear streaked from the corner of his eye. “Treated her like she was something he bought and paid for. Like that car he was so fond of waxin’. Her momma tried to tell her. Warn her.”
“But she wouldn’t listen.” I touched Papaw’s hand and tried to catch his eye. But he’d drifted away and his focus seemed to be on something thirty years ago. I glanced at Jerry. “Maybe we should go. I think he’s tired. And he’s got a lot to think about.” I couldn’t imagine fighting to keep my mind drifting through time.
Jerry and I stood at the same time, but Papaw’s hand clamped around my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” Papaw squinted at my face, then studied my neck. “And what’d you do with that locket? Paid good money for it. Some respect you show us, losing your birthday present.”
“It’s me, Papaw, Andromeda.” Oh, Papaw.
“Stop tryin’ to pu
ll one over on me. Ran off with that Bobby Johnson, and now ya come crawlin’ home. Shoulda taken you over my knee more when you were younger.” He stood and started to pace the dayroom. I wondered if I should get a nurse or let him walk it off.
Maybe he’d come out of his moment of confusion if I kept reassuring him. “Ben and I bought Doris Flanders’ property, and I found a body in the watermelon field.” He continued to pace as I spoke. “They found out it was Jewel by her dental records. She never left us, Papaw.” My heart ached to see him like this. “That’s what Jerry and I have been trying to tell you.”
“Never left.” Papaw sank back onto his chair. “All this time. . .I’m sorry. I thought for a minute. . .I hate gettin’ confused.”
“Don’t worry. It’s all right. Jerry is going to find out how she got there. So we’ll know what happened.”
“That redheaded snip might know, too.”
“Honey.”
“Harriet Haggerty. More mouth on that woman than common sense inside her.” Papaw shook his head. “Pearl, you watch your girls around her. Bad news.”
“Papaw. . .” I’d lost him again, even as he sat subdued in his chair. The past had flowed into his mind like a rising tide and become the present. I reached for his hand and felt Jerry’s sympathetic gaze. “I’ll be careful.”
“Gimme a hug before you go. Bring those kids next time, you hear?”
“I’ll come back soon.” It was my turn to give him a squeeze and kiss his forehead. Jerry and I left the dayroom and headed for the front of the building and the entryway. I didn’t even stop at the reception desk to sign us out.
We stopped at Jerry’s squad car. My earlier shock at Papaw’s words made my own thoughts tumble out. “What’s next? I heard as well as you did. He said he could have strangled her. You’re probably already thinking like I am. Could Papaw have done this? You know I don’t think so, but he has a temper. What if he tried to keep her from leaving, and in a moment of anger. . .” I shook my head and shut my mouth.
“Your papaw is an old man, and I don’t think it would be hard to get a doctor to show he’s not mentally competent, even if he were put on trial. Looking at the worst case scenario, that is.” Jerry leaned on the driver’s door and rubbed his chin. “I need to speak to your mother next.”
“Jerry, you need to find this Bobby Johnson. Besides Papaw, he ought to know. Wherever he is. What can talking to my momma help?”
“She might remember more than she thinks.” Jerry unlocked his car and got inside. “One person at a time. I’m going to talk to everyone around here who still remembers your aunt Jewel.” Then he shut the door.
I gave him a wave before heading to my Jeep. “Lord, I’m missing something here. I feel like I’m looking at a giant puzzle that’s been tossed on the floor. You see all things and know the past, present, and future.” All I could see was Papaw’s anger, especially at Aunt Jewel wanting to be with Bobby, and his anger at Bobby. If he did kill Aunt Jewel in a rage and bury her in the field, then filing a missing persons report would be a perfect cover. I hated the very idea, but any investigator would put Papaw up high on the suspect list. Learning about the missing persons report had surprised Momma. I couldn’t imagine Papaw not telling his family about that. Unless he didn’t want to raise more questions from them. My head hurt, and the coffee Jerry had brought had already cooled. I pulled out of the nursing home parking lot.
The road back to Greenburg took me through gently rolling hills covered with majestic pines. The hills looked larger up close, but from a plane they’d probably be mere ripples far below. Did our problems and dilemmas seem that way to God? Mere ripples on the ground? No. Jesus had walked this earth, too, and had seen us up close, with our mountains and rolling hills.
Bobby Johnson. Of course. I needed to find out what I could about him. As far as I knew, the guy had disappeared when Aunt Jewel had. I decided to call Roland Thacker first. If they were all around the same age, maybe he knew what had happened to Aunt Jewel’s old boyfriend. Jerry could talk to Momma and whoever else he wanted. But I wasn’t about to let Papaw’s name be ruined. It couldn’t happen. Besides, Greenburg now had two open murder cases that needed solving, and Jerry and the force only had so much time. No doubt Jerry had competence and the best of intentions, but with Honey’s murder, I didn’t want Aunt Jewel’s case to slide to the proverbial back burner. When that happened, pots were forgotten.
Before I lost my nerve, I headed straight to Roland’s office. Real estate, investments, and abstract business facts and figures had made Roland a pile of money over the years. He even owned some real estate close to Nashville. No, he definitely wouldn’t have needed a loan from Honey Haggerty.
His receptionist greeted me from her desk in the slick, contemporary office decorated in chrome, black, and white. The design definitely didn’t encourage visitors to linger but to get their business done and get on with it.
“Mr. Thacker is on the phone right now.”
“I can wait. I have a quick question that I need to ask him. It should only take five minutes at the most.” I settled onto a black polyresin chair and tried not to slide off. No music to set a mood, just the whine of the computer tower’s fan on the reception desk.
It wasn’t quite the lion’s den, but Roland emerged from his office a few minutes later and my palms started to sweat. “Mrs. Hartley. I trust you’re doin’ well.”
“Yes, thank you. I just need five minutes of your time.”
“I’m due in Franklin this afternoon. If you don’t mind talkin’ while I look at a lunch menu? I’ve got to grab something before I head out of town.”
“Not at all.” I followed him into an equally stark office. His black leather chair had plenty of cushioning. A black lacquer credenza had a row of white vases on the top. Roland moved to the credenza and took a stack of menus from the top drawer.
“Question away.”
“As you know, the remains found in my field belonged to my aunt Jewel. Before she disappeared, her boyfriend was a guy named Bobby Johnson. I’m trying to find him. I think he might know what happened to Aunt Jewel. Did you know him? Or his family?”
Roland studied the menu for Oat Grass. “Hmm. . . Cynthia is always harping about my cholesterol. Should probably order from here today.” Either he was being really rude, or he was giving himself time to think of an answer. Or both.
“My brother-in-law calls that place the oats and granola diner.”
“Ha. Is that so? He may be right.” Roland paused and blew out a breath. “I’ve got to say that your purpose for visiting today relieved me. I thought you were going to talk about. . .other things.”
“I didn’t want to intrude too much on your time, but I thought I’d ask around before getting neck-deep in public records.”
“Bobby Johnson was a dropout. We didn’t really know each other.” Roland settled back in his chair. “I think he lived near Doris Flanders. Family had an egg farm. Not much money. Played guitar and sang like a young Elvis. Made us guys want to plow him into the ground sometimes, he had such a big chip on his shoulder. Don’t know what Jewel saw in him.”
“Any brothers or sisters?” “Not that I know of.”
I could see the conversation was screeching to a halt. “Thanks for your help.”
As I rose to leave, he looked up from his menu and picked up his phone. “You guessed about me and Honey. Our, um, indiscretions. But then you’re smart. And people talk to you.”
“I added up some things, but. . .”
“She said she’d tell Cynthia. Ancient history, but Cynthia said she’d leave me if anything ever came up again. I can’t afford that, in more ways than one.” His brow furrowed, as if reflecting the burden on his soul.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you won’t say anything. You know what I’ve lost already.”
“I’m sorry, Roland. In a few years Melinda will be free.”
“We’re never really free from what we�
��ve done in the past.” Roland set the phone down. “But Cynthia can’t know about Honey.”
“It’s not my place to tell her.” I slung my purse over my shoulder. “Have a good trip to Franklin.”
My hands were shaking when I unlocked the Jeep. Poor Roland. We’re never really free from what we’ve done in the past. Of course, I’d heard his unspoken wish that I hadn’t looked into the real cause of his daughter’s death last summer, that I’d refused to believe it was anything more than an unfortunate accidental allergic reaction. Melinda and Roland would always have to live with what they’d done. No peace, unless they accepted forgiveness from God. And even then when God forgives us, some of us can’t forgive ourselves.
I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and decided to swing by the post office on the way to the store, where I was due to relieve Sadie at one. Once inside, the air-conditioning provided relief from the humidity. I shivered as I unlocked the box for Tennessee River Soaps. A few supply catalogs—I’d have to check those out and get busy on my fall soap scents, a few bills from vendors. And a plain nine-by-twelve manila envelope. The envelope caught my interest immediately. No return address but postmarked Corinth, Mississippi, about thirty minutes south of Greenburg. Interesting.
Instead of venturing into the heat, I stopped at a small counter where they kept free envelopes and mailing labels and opened the envelope. A small stack of four-by-six photos slid onto the counter. And a note.
I snatched the photos up. Ben and Honey, at the restaurant. Ben had that goofy look on his face, the one he gets when he’s amused and is trying not to laugh. Honey was laughing, an arm around him, one of her hands reaching for his face. The other picture, of which there were several copies at different angles and close-ups, had no people. But it did show Ben’s truck and Honey’s Harley parked side by side at the Riverbend Inn.
Chapter Ten
Ben’s hand held mine in a grip so strong my fingers almost turned white, but I barely felt it. Explanations. I wanted them now. The accusing pictures lay on Jerry’s desk, next to a duplicate set he’d also received in the mail this morning.
The Wiles of Watermelon (Scents of Murder Book 2) Page 8
