“Who do you think sent these?” Jerry slid one set of photos into an evidence bag, along with its manila envelope. “Evidently someone who wants to stir something up. Who would have written that note: ‘Ben may say he’s innocent, but is he really?’ ”
My first thought was Roland Thacker, but I didn’t want to go there. I couldn’t fathom Roland being able to get pictures like this in a short amount of time. Besides, Roland was too busy to stalk like this.
“Ben, please explain.” I’d gotten to Jerry’s office at the police station before Ben did. I should have run to Ben, but instead I’d found myself at the police station. Closer than Honey’s Place. Plus, I didn’t want to stand in the dining room and try to figure out where that picture had been taken. Or succumb to my initial reaction of making a scene and hollering.
“I have an explanation for both.” Ben’s face flushed as he leaned forward and pointed at the top picture. “See? I’ve got a smudge of pie on my cheek. Honey was flirting. I mentioned I hated banana cream pie, and she flung some at me. That happened, oh, about two weeks ago. I told her as nice as I could that she needed to back off. And the other one? I let Junker Joe borrow my truck. He needed to pick something up for Honey, a new fryer a couple weeks ago. I think, uh, they made a detour.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think I needed to. We’ve been all around this when I was on the road.”
Thankfully, Jerry was the only witness to this conversation. He seemed to be studying the pictures taken at the hotel room.
I felt Ben’s strong, warm hand sending some strength into mine. “I believe you. I do. Because I know you, and I know your heart. And I trust you.”
“You know that guys on the road get lots of offers and many don’t refuse. But I did. I was always here with you.” His words resounded in my ears, and the look in his eyes touched my heart.
“I’m sorry y’all are going through this,” Jerry interjected. “But this may help our investigation. We’ll send these off to get analyzed.”
“Thanks, Jerry.” Ben and I still had more to talk about. At least I thought so. “All of this makes me wonder if somehow my aunt’s death and Honey’s could be related. There’s Aunt Jewel’s boyfriend, Bobby Johnson.”
“Whoa, wait a second.” Jerry swiveled his chair, and it squeaked in protest. “You think the cases are related? How’s that?”
“The night before I found Aunt Jewel there was a really bad storm that woke me up. I saw someone in our watermelon field. Ben and I ran outside, but whoever it was drove off.”
“You should have called me.”
“Jerry, it was, like, three in the morning. We didn’t see the vehicle very well, and no harm seemed to have been done.” I held up my hands. “What would have been the point in calling? Greenburg didn’t have any murder cases. But now. . .”
“All right, calm down. You didn’t know then. I get that.”
“It’s because I found Aunt Jewel, and then the next morning, Honey was dead.”
“I don’t see an immediate connection, at least with the suspects we have at the moment.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Who’s at the top of your list?” Jerry glanced at Ben. No, not Ben.
“Gabe Davis.” Ben nodded. “He hasn’t come around the restaurant again since the last day he showed up, angry. The day before Honey died. We’re trying to find him. His wife claims she doesn’t know where he is. Sounds like he’s fleeing, doesn’t it?”
Jerry’s phone rang, and when he answered it, Fleta’s shrill voice carried across the line loud enough for us to hear. “That new doctor is on the phone, the one with the funny name.”
“What’s she calling about?” Jerry placed his hand over the phone. “Y’all can go,” he whispered to us.
“Someone’s towing her Beamer, saying they got a complaint about her car blocking the alley behind the offices downtown.”
“I’ll head over there.”
“You aren’t sending someone else?”
“No, I’ll go.” When Fleta started arguing, Jerry told her that he’d go on whatever calls he felt like.
With that, Ben and I left. The corners of Ben’s mouth twitched.
“What?” I smiled at him, despite what had just occurred in Jerry’s office. “Did I miss something?”
“I think my little brother has a crush.” Ben held open the front door of the police station for me.
“Huh?”
“The new doctor. Dr. Mukerjhee.”
“Wow.” I grinned. “Is she the new woman at church?” I’d noticed the newcomer late in the spring. She looked different for Greenburg, and I overheard her comment one Sunday that she enjoyed participating in the midweek Bible study. I’d missed the study because of all the planning going on for the festival. That, and some nights I was just plain tired.
“I think she’s the one. Dr. Bradley added another associate to his practice.”
“How’d you find this out?”
“Baby, I run a restaurant.”
“I thought you didn’t eavesdrop.” I couldn’t resist taunting him on that one, after the times he’d scolded my overactive imagination when I overhead conversations.
“I don’t, but sometimes you can’t help but hear things. You can’t feel guilty for hearing conversations. It happens all the time.” He stopped at his truck, and so did I.
“We seem to be doing this a lot, taking separate vehicles.” I rubbed my arms. The image of Honey with one arm slung around Ben still taunted me.
“As long as we wind up at the same place, I don’t mind.” Ben pulled me close. “I decided one thing, though. I’m taking the afternoon off.”
“Off?”
“Well, we are newlyweds.” After a quick kiss, he said, “Race you home?”
I ran for the Jeep.
Ben lit the grill after we decided to have an early supper. He brushed some sweat from his forehead. “We ought to think about putting in a pool one day.”
“Sounds good to me.” Clouds had piled up to the west and thunder rumbled in the distance, making me thankful that Ben and Steve had built a covered patio off the back entrance to the house. No rain on our barbecues. “Maybe once we see where we are financially with the restaurant.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said as we sat down to eat our delectable Bongo burgers, Ben’s signature dish.
“About what?”
“I should have told you about Honey. She only made that one advance with the pie. Really. I think it’s a big coincidence that someone had a camera and snapped a picture of us.” Ben leaned against one of the awning’s support beams. “Unless they kept coming back, trying to find a way to make me look bad.”
“Ben, it’s done. And I trust you. I would have liked to have known, because it bothered you. I don’t think we should keep our struggles from each other, just to spare each other. That’s what I’m here for, to support you, like you’ve supported me. Through the good, the bad, and the really ugly.”
“It’s different now. On the road, it was like my road life was separate from my life here. I guess I was doin’ the same thing with the restaurant. If that makes any sense.”
I nodded. “It does. Sort of.”
“So you’re not mad?”
“I wasn’t mad. Disappointed you felt you didn’t need to tell me, but now I understand why.” Thunder rumbled in the distance. “That picture taken at the restaurant. . .do you remember anyone bringing a camera for a party or something?”
Ben shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you for sure when. People bring cameras to the restaurant quite a bit. Birthdays, get-togethers, lunches, you name it. Sometimes for no special reason.”
“I still think the deaths are related. Honey’s and Aunt Jewel’s. I wonder who else might have known Bobby Johnson, Honey, and Aunt Jewel.”
“What about Honey’s family? I know they weren’t close, but we’re talkin’ at least thirty years ago. They were all a lot younger. I think we could look the
m up, if Honey named them in her will.”
“You’re right. I’ll go get the copy of her will.” I went inside and shivered at the change in temperature. Our copy of Honey’s will was tucked neatly in our bill folder.
Ben followed me inside and joined me at the kitchen table. “It’s too hot to stay out there. Hope we get rain to cool things off. Not like we need more.”
I scanned the paperwork. “Okay. She names a sister, Gretchen Wilkes, who lives in Selmer. Says Gretchen’s not getting a dime, thank you very much. She didn’t say why. But you already told me about Gretchen always asking for money. Honey also named two cousins, and it’s the same thing. Nada. Oh, and that they’d better not expect anything.”
“We could always call them and ask.”
A few minutes later, Gretchen Wilkes’s phone was ringing on the other end of the line. I didn’t want to sound like a salesperson. Maybe she wasn’t home and I’d be off the hook, no pun intended.
“Hello?” The woman’s drawl sounded like it could melt butter.
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but my name is
Andromeda Hartley—”
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not wanting. Put me on your no-call list.”
“I’m not selling anything.” My throat tickled. “I knew your sister, Honey, and I’m trying to find. . .an old friend of hers.”
“Won’t find any here. She and I ain’t talked in almost ten years. Not countin’ earlier this year for about five minutes.”
“I’m sorry. I have a sister, and I can’t imagine how you must feel. But what I’m looking for was a friend she knew about thirty years ago. A Bobby Johnson.”
“What did you say your name was again?”
“Andromeda Hartley.”
“You’re the one who got the restaurant. You and your husband.” The sweet tone now held an edge to it. “It ain’t right, because you ain’t her family. Never will be. I don’t have to tell you nothin’.” The phone went dead in my ear. I set the phone down and looked at Ben.
“I heard.” Ben shook his head. “Evidently the big Haggerty voice runs in the family.”
“Oh, Ben. I sure hope this doesn’t cause trouble for us. What if she contests the will because I called and upset her? I didn’t mention anything about that, but still. . .”
“I don’t think your call made her any angrier than she already was. And, if she does contest the will, it’s not like she has a big case. She admitted she hadn’t talked to Honey in almost ten years, even though she’d show up at the restaurant plenty enough.”
“Wait!” I smacked the table. “I know who I can talk to. Esther. Do you think she’d know something? She’s older than Honey by almost twenty years, but she’s been around Greenburg forever.”
“It’s worth a shot.” The phone rang on the table between us, and Ben picked it up. He spoke for a few moments, mostly monosyllables like, “Yes, no, okay. Oh. That’s bad. Go on home.” He ended the call. “Jonas has a family emergency. I need to go.”
“Is Esther working tonight? Because if she is, I want to tag along and talk to her.”
“She’s there. She’s training one of the newer waitresses, and I asked her to help keep an eye on the dining room. I think she’d make a great assistant manager.”
“You don’t say.”
“I need to change.” Ben headed to our bedroom to add to our pile of laundry.
“I think it’s great you’re training her,” I called down the hallway. “Does this mean she gets a raise?”
“Yup. I know she’s used to getting tips, but maybe having a raise will offset that.” He emerged from our room with a fresh T-shirt on. “I’m thinking of getting matching polo shirts for all the staff to wear.”
“Nice.”
“But I don’t want to act too quickly. If anything happens and they contest Honey’s will. . .”
“Don’t think about that. We’ll have to pray about that whole situation. Plus, if Gabe Davis is innocent, wherever he is, I hope you’ll give him his job back.”
Ben took me into his embrace once more before we left for the restaurant.
Esther sat across from me in the storage room/pantry of Honey’s Place. We lounged on metal folding chairs in the makeshift break room. She kicked off her loafers and started rubbing one of her feet.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Esther worked on her big toe joint. “Twelve hours on these old bunions is a killer.”
“Um, go right ahead.” I sipped my diet soda, reminding myself I needed to go back to Shapers. After all, I was paying for a monthly membership and I’d been only once in the past two weeks. “I wanted to talk to you about Honey. You knew her a long time. She and my aunt were friends, and I’m looking for someone they both knew. Bobby Johnson.”
“Oh, you’re right. I knew Honey way back. Still remember years ago when she went off one weekend to Bossier City, Louisiana. Won big at the casinos. I don’t know how much, but wow. She won enough to buy this land and building and turn it into a restaurant.” Esther shook her head. “She hired me when my husband died, was always very good to me. I’ve been here about twenty-eight years. And I’m still here after she’s gone. Either you loved her or hated her, but nobody felt much in between about Honey. Man, I need a cigarette. You got any more questions?”
“Do you remember my aunt or Bobby Johnson?” She hadn’t really answered my question before.
Esther nodded. “Crazy in love. Knew they were bound to run off at some point. Guess they did, right before Honey struck it big in Bossier. I don’t know if they did for sure, and Honey never said if she knew. One day they were just gone and no one ever saw them again.”
“Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.” I watched her slide her cushioned shoe back on.
Esther touched my shoulder before leaving the storage room. “Not a problem. I know you’re tryin’ to find out about your aunt. I hope you find what you’re lookin’ for.”
So did I.
When I entered the kitchen, I glimpsed someone with a head of red hair in the dining room. The sight made me pause.
“I know,” said Ben. He stood at the order board. “She looks a lot like Honey, doesn’t she?”
“Gretchen Wilkes.” I couldn’t keep from staring, just like a driver passing by a wreck on the highway. Looking at the woman from a distance, it was hard to tell which sister was older. “Are you going to introduce yourself?”
“I don’t know.” Ben looked thoughtful. “It used to drive Honey crazy, just seeing Gretchen sitting in a booth and eating lunch. Honey told us once that Gretchen probably buys her hair color from the same beauty supply store that Honey does. Or did.”
Gretchen kept flipping through the menu. She placed it on the table in front of her. Then she studied the walls. One wall, the one behind the cash register, had autographed photos of different celebrities who’d stopped at Honey’s Place. Gretchen pulled a notepad from her purse and started writing. She squinted at the ceiling and the lamps that hung over each booth and the ceiling fans that hung above the center of the room. I had to admit the pressed tin ceiling was a classy touch.
“Ben, I hate to say this, but it looks like she’s casing the place. Or at least appraising it.” I frowned. “I need to find out what she’s doing here. If she sees you come from the kitchen, she’ll know it’s you. Or know you work here. And that I’m with you.”
“What good will it do to find out why she’s here? We already know that Honey left her out of the will because of their strained relationship.” Now Gretchen was flagging down a waitress. She pointed at the menu.
“Because I want to know. If there’s a threat to our livelihood, I want to see it coming. I’m not going to ignore it or pretend it won’t happen.” Gretchen started to turn to look into the kitchen, so I ducked behind the warming racks around the corner.
“I’m not pretending there’s not a problem.” Ben moved to the order board, where slips of paper from the order pads hung. “She can contest the will all
she wants. But it’ll take a judge to decide if she has any grounds to lay claim to the restaurant.”
“And all it takes is a sympathetic judge to believe that a blood relation has more rights to this place than whoever Honey chooses. Do you want to share the restaurant with her, or worse, lose it altogether?” I dared not look around the corner again.
“There’s no arguing with you, and I’m not about to start.” A flare-up at the grill caused Ben to dart in that direction and grab a spatula. “But if she starts getting suspicious, just go ahead and leave. I don’t want to stir up more problems if she thinks we’re spying on her.”
“She’s spying on us. I mean you.” “I have nothing to hide, darlin’.”
“Well, I’m going out the back door and come back around the front. There’s a dirty booth across from her table. Can you get Esther to clean it off? I’ll sit there. And whoever’s station I’m in? Tell them not to let on they know who I am.” I joined him by the grill. “Love you. And now I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Just don’t start any trouble.” He went on to coordinate the culinary dance in the kitchen without me.
Chapter Eleven
I left through the back door of the restaurant, pinching my nose at the odor wafting from the Dumpster. The large metal box gave me a flashback to last summer, when I was arrested for Dumpster-diving and attempted stealing from a Dumpster. But I didn’t take anything, and just Dumpster-diving by itself isn’t a crime.
Slow down. My heart hammered in my chest. I wished Ben understood I was doing this for him. If Gretchen had plans, then I wanted to know about them. Forewarned and forearmed. Not that we could stop her.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. I felt as if I’d run laps around the parking lot as I pulled open the glass front door and entered. That booth had better be cleaned off. I couldn’t very well sit at a dirty table if there happened to be a clean one nearby.
The Wiles of Watermelon (Scents of Murder Book 2) Page 9
