Down Home and Deadly

by Christine Lynxwiler

  “She and Elliott? Alone? This sounds serious. Is it? What exactly did she tell you?” Maybe Carly had finally decided to act on the fact that Elliott was the man of her dreams.

  “Jenna, please remember what curiosity did to the cat.” Honestly, sometimes Mama treated me as if I were the twins’ age. “Besides, she didn’t say much. Just that she was eating with Elliott today because they had some things to discuss, and that Zac would bring the girls and come for lunch and basketball as usual. Now you know as much as I do.”

  “How did she look?”

  Mama glanced around the auditorium then back at me with a frown. “What do you mean, ‘How did she look?’ She looked normal.”

  “Did she seem excited? Nervous? Happy? Or all of the above?”

  “Jenna, you’re a darling girl, and I love you very much, but you’re slightly batty sometimes. Actually, she told me over the phone last night. But when she slipped into church a few minutes late this morning, she looked normal. That’s the best I can do.”

  “I inherited my battiness from someone,” I said with a cheeky grin. “Either I got it from you or you married a batty man. Take your choice.” I patted her shoulder.

  Without cracking a smile, she retorted, “You got it from your dad’s great-uncle Jed. He was crazy as a Bessie bug.”

  I stared at her, and she started laughing. I joined her. The origin of my “battiness” might be in question. But there was no doubt where I got my sense of humor.

  *****

  “Carly? It’s Jenna. Call me when you get a chance.” I hated leaving a message, but I was dying of curiosity. Me and the cat. I patted Neuro, who stretched and yawned before returning to licking her paw.

  Okay. Just me.

  The phone rang, and I snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “Jenna? What’s wrong?” Carly sounded groggy as if she’d just awakened. I glanced at the clock. Nope. It was ten o’clock on Sunday night. Not too late to call.

  “Nothing’s wrong. At least, nothing’s wrong with me. Is something wrong with you?” I was babbling. “I mean, we missed you at lunch. Mama said you were with Elliott.” Suggestive pause.

  Silence on the other end of the line.

  “Is he still there?”

  “No.”

  “You want to talk?” Sometimes being blunt is the only way to find out what you want to know.

  Silence. Then a hesitant, “If you do.”

  “I can be at your house in. . .” I decided I was decent in my sweats and a T-shirt, “. . .ten minutes.” Who cared how I looked? My sister might have just gotten engaged. I had to know.

  “Why?” Carly sounded bewildered.

  “So you can tell me whatever it is you can’t tell me on the phone.”

  “Jenna, what in the world is wrong with you? You’re acting as crazy as—”

  “Daddy’s great-uncle Jed, I know. Mama’s already told me.”

  “I must be dreaming.” Carly had progressed—or regressed—from bewildered to completely befuddled. However, when she opened the door for me ten minutes later, she looked so normal that I had second thoughts about my engagement theory.

  “Let’s keep it low. The kids have school tomorrow, you know. They need their sleep. Besides. . .” She glanced around as if expecting a twin to pop up from behind the couch. “I don’t want them to know about this right now.”

  That concerned face was not the face of a newly engaged woman. “Car, what’s going on?”

  She looked over her shoulder at the kids’ rooms. “I can’t really talk about it.”

  Suddenly, I remembered our conversation the day we played checkers on the porch. “Is this about Travis?” I mouthed.

  She nodded and turned away. “But I don’t know anything for sure. I should know everything in a few days, and I’ll tell you then.”

  I knew she wouldn’t lie to me, so no doubt she didn’t know anything for sure. But the conversation I’d overheard on our trip to Jonesboro told me that she knew something she wasn’t telling me. And unless I was mistaken, her eyes were red-rimmed. Short of whining and begging her to tell me, I had no choice but to give her a hug. “Fine. Tell me when you find out. . .for sure.”

  “I will,” she said and guided me smoothly to the door. No doubt before I lost the tenuous hold I had on my curiosity.

  *****

  “Pass the popcorn.” I nudged Alex. We were watching one of my favorite movies, Princess Bride.

  “As you wish.” Alex handed me the nearly empty bowl.

  I elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, that was cute.” The movie had just come to the part where Grandpa explained that every time Westley said, “As you wish,” to Buttercup, what he really meant was “I love you.”

  “I really do love you. You know that, don’t you?” Alex turned toward me.

  “If you really loved me, you would tell your boss that you’re allergic to sunshine and beaches,” I teased. He was leaving for a conference in Miami, and we were enjoying a last evening together before his departure the next morning.

  Just as he leaned in for a kiss, the doorbell rang.

  I grinned. “It’s probably Zac. He said he’d try and come by and help me download some songs to my new phone.”

  “He can wait,” Alex said softly and dropped a gentle kiss on my lips. Then he pushed to his feet. “I’ll get the door, and you can refill the popcorn bowl.”

  “As you wish.” I grinned over my shoulder at him as I headed to the kitchen. I stuck a bag in the microwave and turned it on. Over the popping I could hear a female voice interspersed with Alex’s deeper male one. Not Zac, then.

  Alex came into the kitchen, followed by Gail. Her eyes were swollen, and her face was red and splotchy.

  “Oh no. What’s wrong?” I took the bag from the oven. “Was someone else murdered?”

  She shook her head.

  “I’ll take Mr Persi out for a walk while you and Gail visit,” Alex offered. Another thing I loved about Alex. He wasn’t nosy like me.

  “As you wish.” I smiled at him. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Gail’s puzzled expression. But it vanished immediately as tears came into her eyes.

  “Oh, Jenna, I’m sorry to just drop by like this, but I didn’t know what else to do.” She pulled a paper towel from the holder on the counter and rubbed her face. “Lisa told the police that she was at work on Friday night during the time of the murder.” She started crying. “But she wasn’t. And she told me I’d get fired if I told the truth.”

  “Here, Gail.” I motioned to a chair at the table. “Sit right here and let me get you some tea.” I poured her tea and set the glass in front of her. “Where was she?” I shook the bag of popcorn into the bowl and offered it to her.

  “I don’t know. She left early without saying where she was going. She does it all the time. Well, you know how she is, Jenna.” Gail absently took a piece of the popcorn. “She never stays as long as she’s supposed to.”

  “Right. Nor does she do the work she should do while she’s there.” I sat down beside Gail. “So she threatened to fire you if you said she wasn’t there?”

  She nodded. “I just don’t know what to do. I need that job, and besides, without you there, the place would really fall apart if I left, too.” Tears rolled down her face.

  “We have to tell Bob.” I reached for my cell phone. “Maybe he can get Lisa to tell the truth. And I know he won’t fire you.” I hit the arrow button down to the B’s. I raised my eyebrows, and Gail nodded.

  When Bob answered, I explained what Lisa had done.

  “I just can’t believe she did that. Are you sure?” Poor Bob. He just didn’t want to face the truth about his princess.

  “I’m sure.”

  “This is going to look really bad for Lisa, isn’t it?” He was the master of understatement. “What should we do?”

  “Look, the only thing you can do is convince Lisa to go see John. Have her tell him she was scared and so she lied.” I glanced over at Gail to see if she a
greed. She nodded. “If Gail has to tell them, it will be even worse for Lisa. Also, she needs to tell them where she was.”

  Bob agreed, and we hung up. Gail stood and pushed her chair back to the table. “I feel so much better now. Thanks, Jenna.”

  I walked her to the door. “Don’t worry, Gail. Bob and Lisa will go tomorrow to talk to John.”

  I heard the back door shut and knew Alex was back inside with Mr. Persi. Even though he didn’t ask, I told him what Gail had said and Bob’s response.

  When I finished, I frowned. “I wonder where she really was, though.”

  “Of course you do, honey. I’m sure the police will find out.” Alex guided me back toward the living room. “Let’s finish the movie.”

  After Alex left, I called and told Carly about Lisa’s false alibi. “Where do you think Lisa was?” she wondered aloud.

  “I think we need to find out. Don’t you?”

  “I’d like to tell you that you need to mind your own business, but I don’t think that’ll happen. And, after all, the murder did happen on my property. Let’s just try and stay safe this time, okay?”

  “Of course.” It’s not like I wanted to be face-to-face with a murderer. Again.

  *****

  *****

  Chapter Ten

  If it ain’t your tail, don’t wag it.

  Just like every day since the murder, I parked in the back of the diner parking lot as far away from the Dumpster as I could. I always had the creepy feeling that if I looked behind the Dumpster, I would see that little sports car. With a dead man in the front seat. I hurried inside, trying not to glance in that direction.

  But just like every day, the questions ran through my head. Who killed J.D. Finley and why? Why behind a Dumpster? I could think of plenty of answers for the first question, but I couldn’t imagine why J.D. was parked behind the Dumpster at the diner.

  As soon as I opened the door, the delicious scent of apples and cinnamon made my mouth water. Alice was expertly cutting the edges off the top crust of an apple pie. She opened the oven door and put the scallop-edged pie in with several others already turning golden brown.

  As I headed into the dining room, I snagged an apron off the hook and tied it around my waist. I grabbed an order pad off the shelf, stuck a couple of pens in my pocket, then looked around at the many empty tables scattered throughout the diner. I waved at John, sitting in a booth alone and in uniform. “We don’t seem quite as full today as we have been.”

  “It’s Tuesday.” Debbie offered no other explanation.

  “And that means. . .” That people aren’t hungry? Everyone runs home for lunch? What?

  She left me waiting while she took a piece of fresh apple pie over to John. When she came back, she said, “Oh, I figured you knew. A couple of the fast-food places have big Tuesday specials. This is usually our slowest day.”

  Seeing John gave me an idea. I could get Amelia off my back and use some easy questions about Ricky to get a conversation going with John. Then I would segue neatly into how the murder investigation was going. “Hey, I’m going to take a quick break.”

  Her brows drew together, and I could see she was thinking about the fact that I’d just arrived, but she shrugged. “Whatev.”

  I slid into the booth across from the police chief. “We need to talk.”

  He froze with a bite halfway to his mouth. “Look, Jenna, if this is about the murder, legally I can’t tell you anything. When are you going to understand that?”

  “This is your lucky day, then. Because my question has nothing to do with the murder.”

  He looked skeptical but put the bite in his mouth. “What?” he said as he chewed.

  “It’s about Ricky. . .”

  “Ricky? My officer Ricky?”

  I nodded. “Okay, I might as well just explain it. Amelia asked me to ask around about Ricky and see what people know about him.”

  John’s face grew alarmingly red, and for a minute I was afraid I was going to have to do the Heimlich maneuver.

  “Because of Tiffany, you know,” I said hurriedly. “I wouldn’t have agreed, but I owe her a favor.”

  He snorted. “The First Lady isn’t ever going to think anyone is good enough for her daughter.”

  “I know that.” I was a little ashamed that I’d even agreed to ask, but I had. So I needed to find out something. “Maybe you could tell me something that would reassure her.”

  “I think Ricky’s a good officer and a stand-up guy. He knows what he’s doing and doesn’t mind doing it. We were shorthanded when he applied. Frankly, he was an answer to a prayer.”

  I nodded. “Anything else?”

  He leaned forward. “Yes.”

  “What?” I leaned forward, too.

  “I thought this pie was free. I didn’t know I was going to have to answer a question for every bite.”

  I tossed my hair over my shoulder and gave him a mock glare. “Fine. Enjoy your pie.” I slid to my feet. John couldn’t even answer my questions without getting smart when they had nothing to do with the murder. No way was I going to get any pertinent information from him about J.D. Might as well not even ask.

  I walked back into the kitchen to cool off. Carly turned from where she was dishing up chicken and dumplings. “What’s wrong?”

  “John. He won’t cut me any slack.”

  She turned back to the stove. “In other words, he won’t give you any information.”

  “Basically. Anyway, I’m officially going to work now. While I was talking to John, I noticed people are starting to come in.”

  She grinned. “Slowly but surely we’re overcoming the slow Tuesday curse.”

  When I walked back into the dining room, more than half the tables were full. The word about Carly’s cooking was spreading. I quickly got into the rhythm of taking orders and delivering plates heaped with today’s specials.

  I mentally congratulated myself on doing such a good job. So far I hadn’t dropped anything or switched any orders. Although I did fumble a plate when I glanced over toward Marco’s section where Harvey had seated Bob and Wilma. I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was when seeing your ex-boss after you’d just found out he’d had an unusual past. Knowing he’d been a hippie in another life, I could easily envision him with a long braid and headband, à la Willie Nelson. I resisted the urge to flash him and Wilma a peace sign.

  Just as I made up my mind to go over and say hello, Bob jumped up and shook his finger in Marco’s face. I couldn’t hear the words, but even from a distance it was obvious this wasn’t a friendly conversation.

  I hurried over just as Marco backed up a couple of steps, his dark eyes wide in his ashen face. “I did not kill him. Why would you say that?” By now people at other tables were craning their necks to see what was going on. I stepped between them.

  “Hi, Bob.” I nodded toward Wilma. “And Wilma.” She gave me a weak smile and waggled her fingers toward me. “Something wrong?” I turned toward Marco. “Why don’t you go on and put their order in?” I pointed toward his order pad. “Maybe you can discuss this after they finish eating and there aren’t quite so many people here.”

  Bob looked around the crowded room, his face reddening. He sat down quickly. Marco headed toward the kitchen.

  “Is Lisa doing any better?”

  “At least she isn’t in jail.” Wilma answered for Bob who had his head down. “But now the police just won’t leave her alone.” She looked over toward the table where Seth and Ricky were enjoying their free pie after their lunch. “They act like they think she killed J.D.”

  “But she didn’t!” Bob jerked his head up and slapped his hand on the table. “Marco was the one who had a big fight with him. If he lets my little girl take the rap for something he did, I’ll. . .I’ll. . .”

  “Bob. Stop.” Wilma put her hand over his. “Jenna knows Lisa didn’t kill him. And if Marco did, well, John or those other policemen will find out.”

  “So why would you think Marco
did it?” I couldn’t imagine the soft-spoken foreign student killing anyone. Or even getting angry with anyone.

  “You know they worked together at the club. J.D. caught him stealing from the cash register, and Lisa fired him.”

  “Lisa fired Marco for stealing?” Why wouldn’t Gail have told me that?

  “Yes.” Bob worried the napkin wrapped around his silverware. “So maybe Marco hated him.” He glanced up at me. “And maybe he hates Lisa, too.” He sounded shocked at the thought that anyone could hate his darling daughter.

  “Now, Bob.” Wilma patted Bob’s hand. “Everyone loves Lisa.” I guess Mama was right when she said there’s no love like a mother’s love.

  He flashed his wife a look that said a father’s love was just as strong, but maybe not quite so blind. “Anyway, just because it was her gun, they think she did it.” He shook his head. “She told the police someone stole her gun a few days before the murder, but they act like they don’t believe her.” He took out each piece of his silverware and laid it on the table as if his hands couldn’t keep still.

  “Well, she doesn’t know exactly when it was stolen, does she?” I asked.

  He frowned. “She kept it at work in the desk drawer. It’s not like she pulled it out all the time.” His eyes brightened. “Maybe Marco stole it when he took the money.”

  “Do you know anyone who didn’t like J.D? Anyone besides Marco who had had an argument with him?” I just couldn’t believe Marco would kill anyone, but if I had learned anything, it was that you can’t tell a murderer by the way he looks. Or acts.

  “Well.” Bob and Wilma exchanged a look. “Harvey. . .” He froze.

  “Harvey? Harvey what?”

  Wilma cleared her throat and looked over my shoulder.

  I glanced back. Harvey was walking up behind me. “Hey, Harvey, what’s up?” I slid my pad and pen into my pocket and turned to face him.

  “Jenna, aren’t you supposed to be working? This isn’t even one of your tables. People are starting to complain.” His glare included me and Bob. “We’ve always prided ourselves on good service. I’d hate to think that now that we’ve sold, that’s all a thing of the past.”