Murder by Gravity

by Barbara Graham

  “Oh, yeah. Kenny I trust. The neighbor, not so much.” Nina’s voice held a note of anger. “I know exactly who she is. She was one of my ex-husband’s playmates.”

  Tony dipped a spoon into the jar and scraped some of the crystallized honey into his tea. His throat was closing up. He was at home, so he didn’t bother to stifle a painful groan. He glanced at Theo. “Don’t you need to be at work?”

  “About Kenny’s next-door neighbor,” Theo began. “What’s she like?”

  He quickly cut off her question. “You don’t need to know about that woman.”

  “Why not?” Theo seemed surprised by Tony’s reaction.

  He was usually more guarded than this about his opinions, even with her. Tony began humming, pretending he couldn’t hear her.

  She poked him in the ribs. “Your groupie is getting ready to marry a man that woman is reportedly too familiar with, if you get my drift. We can’t let Blossom make a terrible mistake if there’s something she should know. Tell her.”

  Tony knew he’d lost the war without ever getting started. What words would Theo find more tantalizing than, “I really can’t talk about it.” He sighed. “Promise me. You can’t tell anyone, especially not Nina. Even though she’s been hurt.”

  Theo promised.

  Tony knew his wife was actually very good about keeping promises and secrets. It was when she was left in the dark that she tended to get into trouble.

  “We’ve had a few calls over the years from the neighbor about her.” Tony thought he’d just give his wife the overview. Theo sure didn’t need any details. “The woman has some powerful delusions or fantasies. I know she is under medical care, but sometimes it isn’t enough. At times she has called to report Peeping Toms, obscene phone calls, none of which are real, and she dresses very inappropriately.”

  “Can’t her husband buy her some flannel jammies and dispose of, or at least hide, the sheer things?” Theo was happy none of their neighbors ran loose in lingerie. If they did and she kept the kids in the house, the curtains would have to be closed all the time. The prospect of being continuously locked inside with four active children gave her chills. “And Kenny?”

  “She creeps him out.” Tony finally smiled. “I think he likes the husband okay, but he’s very concerned about having his little girls encounter her when she’s off her medications. Even if he wasn’t planning to move into Blossom’s house after the wedding, I suspect he would be moving soon.”

  Tony thought he’d better talk with Kenny about the possible problems created by his admirer. As might be expected, the unexpected bad weather had kept Kenny at home. “Not great weather for a bricklayer.”

  Kenny smiled, seeing Tony on his doorstep, and ushered him in. Tony had left Wade slogging through paperwork. This was not expected to be anything more than a social call.

  “Coffee, Sheriff?”

  Tony accepted a cup and settled at the kitchen table. Kenny’s living room looked like it had been rocked by an explosion of some nature. Papers and books, and even Christmas decorations, littered the room. “Having fun?”

  Kenny groaned. “I’m not enjoying sorting through all this. It’s my own fault. I kept putting it off, but the wedding’s only a few days away now and I’m sure as heck not moving all of this into Blossom’s house. We’re starting a new life, not just moving trash from the old one.”

  Tony had to agree that sorting through papers was not his favorite job either. “So everything’s on track for the wedding?”

  “Yes, of course.” Kenny cocked his head to one side as if listening to words Tony had not said. “Is there something I should know?”

  Tony swallowed a large mouthful of coffee. “Blossom came to see me this week. And brought a pie.”

  Kenny laughed. “She just can’t quite give you up.”

  “No. It’s not that.” Tony hesitated a moment. “She feels she can’t ask for anyone’s help without somehow paying for it.”

  “Help? What’s wrong?” Kenny did look wounded now. “She couldn’t ask me?”

  “She’s been getting threatening notes.” Tony pulled a six-by-ten-inch, sealed, plastic bag from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of Kenny. It had a serial number on it and the word in the largest print read “Evidence” and was followed by “To Be Opened by Authorized Personnel Only.” The victim’s name was listed as Blossom Petals Flowers. Other highlights on the bag were “Chain of Custody” and “Case Number.”

  While Kenny stared at the bag, Tony flipped it over. Sealed inside the bag was a typed note. It read: “Kenny is mine. For your safety, leave town.” Tony watched as Kenny read it over and over.

  Kenny finally looked up. Confusion creased his forehead, pulling his eyebrows into a single line. “Why? Who?”

  “I—we—don’t know.” Tony shook his head. “It is not my job to give advice to the lovelorn but some of the threats go way beyond what I tend to think of as junior high behavior.”

  “What’s that?” Kenny blinked.

  Tony thought Kenny was having trouble absorbing all the information. “You remember, things like, if Johnny says he likes Sally more than me, then he can’t come to my birthday party.”

  “I forgot.” Kenny’s dark tan paled a bit.

  “About something you heard?”

  “No. I forgot that my sweet little girls will hit that phase long before I’ll be ready.” A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips and vanished again. Anger replaced all hint of humor. “But why would someone threaten Blossom? She’s so sweet and nice to everyone.”

  “What about your neighbor?” Tony watched for a reaction. He wasn’t denied one.

  “Ridiculous.” Kenny’s fingers pressed so hard against the surface of the table, it made half of each fingernail blanch. “That poor family. I’ll admit the woman is hard to raise children around, but she is really very nice and is extremely apologetic when her medications are balanced properly.”

  “Okay.” Tony did believe the story was true. It matched both the husband’s explanation and the woman’s. “Have you noticed anyone making doe eyes at you or smiling too much or . . . or anything?” Tony wasn’t sure how to phrase it. “An ardent admirer?”

  Kenny’s expression went from dumbfounded to almost amused to livid; all passed quickly except the anger. “She wouldn’t dare.”

  Tony reached for his pen. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Aspen.” Kenny’s face retained a fair amount of anger. “Aspen Flowers. She’s one of Blossom’s cousins.”

  “Which one is she?” Tony had met all of them at some time or another, but that branch of the Flowers family tree was less sociable and a whole lot less wholesome than Blossom, her mother and father, and all of her myriad sisters.

  “She’s the one that works at Kwik Kirk’s convenience store out on the highway. You’ve seen her. She’s too thin, and cranky all the time, maybe because she wears her ponytail too tight.”

  Tony thought Kenny’s description was spot-on. He knew exactly which clerk he referred to. Tony thought Sourpuss would suit her for a name. “Why would you think it might be her?”

  “Aspen’s been popping up everywhere I go, like she’s following me. If I go to the hardware store, she’s looking at hammers; if I stop for gas, she’s at the next pump, smiling at me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Sure, it could be a coincidence, but it doesn’t feel right. Too much, even in a town this size. And, she’s always smiling and needing help with something a two-year-old could handle. She’s come over to my house bringing me food. Really? I’m engaged to the world’s best cook, and she’s bringing me bad cookies—coals to Newcastle comes to mind. In this case, burnt coals.” Kenny took a deep breath. “And there are phone calls, day and night.”

  “Caller ID?” Tony finally managed to interject a question.

  Kenny nodded. “But there’s no name, just a number. The same number again and again.” He handed Tony a small piece of paper with a clearly written telephone number. The impres
sion of the pen had come almost through the paper.

  “Did you ever have a relationship with Aspen?” Tony hated to ask but it might explain the whole problem.

  “No. I’m just an ordinary guy, not rich, not handsome, and Blossom is the woman I love.” Just saying her name made Kenny’s smile extend across the entire lower half of his face. “I don’t even mind if she bakes you an occasional pie. You’ve been good about helping her, and I know there are some men who might have taken advantage of her sweetness.”

  “Anyone else show extra interest in you, or her?”

  Kenny shook his head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The sound of Quentin’s baritone voice filtered from the drunk tank into the jail kitchen. Daffodil Flowers Smith, whose kitchen it was, in everything except title, sighed and said to Tony, “I’m sorry to hear that song again.”

  Tony sighed too. Quentin Mize had been a frequent visitor to his jail until a couple of years earlier. He’d gotten clean and sober and started working for Gus, Tony’s oldest brother. Quentin’s best friend, Roscoe, had done a lot for Quentin, including finding him the construction job. Quentin’s last binge had been months earlier. “Last I heard, he was doing well.”

  Daffodil poured herself a mug of strong, black coffee and sipped it meditatively. “I heard him start singing early this morning when I came in to start breakfast.”

  Knowing Quentin didn’t usually start singing until he was almost completely sober, Tony sighed, then thought he was starting to sound like a lovelorn teenager.

  “Isn’t he still working for your brother?” Daffodil said.

  “As far as I know.” Tony hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “But Gus is taking a break from work. He and Catherine are taking a few days of personal time.” Tony expected they would surface soon. If not, he and Theo and Jane were likely to descend on the family uninvited. After years of disappointment and miscarriages, Gus and Catherine had received the gift of adoption. One baby girl.

  “That’s right.” Daffodil laughed. “I did hear that he and the missus got themselves a seven pound and nothing dictator. Dictatress? What’s a female dictator called?”

  Tony didn’t know either but he agreed with the rest of the summation.

  While they were talking, the head jailer had joined them. The man had run the jail for at least ten years, and knew all the tricks and most of the inmates.

  “No wonder Quentin’s feeling lost.” The jailer poured himself a cup of coffee and entered the conversation. “He’s ready to leave.”

  Tony dialed Roscoe’s cell phone.

  Roscoe picked up on the first ring and the moment Tony identified himself, Roscoe cut in, “Have you heard anything about Quentin? He’s not answering my calls.”

  “He’s safe. He’s locked in the drunk tank, but he’s about ready to leave. What do you think, should I take him home?” Tony was glad Quentin had someone who cared.

  “Oh, man.” Roscoe exhaled sharply. “Well, at least he’s safe.”

  Tony heard more than mild concern in Roscoe’s voice. “What’s going on?”

  “I have to take part of the blame. Since me and my lady love, the missus, moved, he’s got no one up there on his mountain.” Roscoe cleared his throat. “That’s not a good thing for someone like him.”

  Tony absolutely agreed. “Have you got any suggestions? If he doesn’t change or we can’t change something in him or in his life, I see nothing but disaster ahead.”

  “If he could find a lady love like I did, well, everything would be different, wouldn’t it?”

  Tony’s math skills weren’t bad, but he couldn’t figure what astronomical odds there were against some dream woman waltzing into Quentin’s world. “You met Veronica at a meeting for lovers of vegetable weaponry.” Tony knew that wasn’t technically accurate, but Roscoe didn’t object. “What are Quentin’s interests, besides drinking?”

  “Singing.” Roscoe hummed a little tune, off-key. “If we could get him on one of those reality shows, with his voice he’d knock ’em dead.”

  Certainly his breath could kill someone today. Tony thought those words but he said, “Not a bad idea. I’ll see what I can find out about auditions. We’re less than a day’s drive to Nashville. If there’s ever an audition over there, one of us could drive him over.”

  Roscoe hesitated. “It’s hard to imagine that working out well until Quentin gets hisself a bit more stable. Maybe we could start with finding a place for him to practice singing in public.”

  “A better one than the county drunk tank, I hope.”

  “Yessir. And not a bar. I was thinkin’ maybe a church might want him. Which one has the best choir?”

  Tony enjoyed the choir at the Methodist church, but he suspected the better singers in town were not a part of it. They made up with enthusiasm what they lacked in talent. “Maybe the Baptists?”

  “That’d be good. No booze. And a little religion wouldn’t hurt him none.” Roscoe quieted. “There could be a female going there who’s pretty desperate.”

  The vision of Quentin courting a desperate woman was, at least on second thought, not a bad idea at all. Tony wondered if it would be better to look for a woman who had never met Quentin or one who had never given up on the idea of redeeming him. Some women, he believed, loved to think they’d gotten a broken soul and mended it. At least Quentin had a job and land. If he built a house or replaced his decrepit trailer with something more functional, and added some indoor plumbing, the place could be very nice. Quentin owned, as the last living member of his family, a large undeveloped piece of real estate. Land rich and money poor.

  Roscoe said his goodbyes and Tony continued to sit and think. Strictly speaking, his job as sheriff did not include the duty to reform anyone. Reforming Quentin would make his job easier though. Tony hurried over to Theo’s shop because he couldn’t wait to hear her reaction to his playing matchmaker for Quentin.

  He wasn’t disappointed.

  “How are you planning to engineer this little romance?” Theo was incredulous. “Arrest some poor woman and put her in the next cell? Have a Sunday school field trip to the jail or a jail trip to the church?” Theo waved her hands as she paced back and forth. “Seeing a hungover Quentin in badly fitting orange jail clothes is sure to make any number of hearts go pitty-pat.”

  One of Tony’s favorite pastimes was winding Theo up and watching her reactions. She wasn’t disappointing him. Her expressions had covered the gamut from shock to amusement. He whispered, “Maybe we could hold a singles lunch at the jail. An old-fashioned box lunch with decorated cartons.” Tony fought hard to sound serious and not burst out laughing. He sneezed instead. “Or maybe it would be more effective to handcuff a woman to the Blazer and drag her up the mountain.”

  Theo finally surrendered. Her merry laughter filled her office.

  “We could hold a raffle.” Tony was semi-serious now. “It would serve two purposes: win lunch with your future spouse, lunch and conversation, and add some dollars to the food bank.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t let Quentin not talk.” Theo frowned. “Put him behind a curtain. He can win over a girl with that voice. It’s like chocolate.”

  “Actually,” he turned serious. “I thought maybe you and your quilters could help.”

  Theo stared at her husband. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. “You want me to find what?”

  “A girlfriend for Quentin.” Tony flashed her what she often called his pirate’s grin.

  She usually thought it was charming, but this was ridiculous. He’d trapped her into many things with that smile, and a sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. She was doomed. “A what?” She hoped if she asked the same question enough times the answer would change.

  Tony’s smile remained. “I think you know just about every female in the county and many who live fairly near here.”

  Theo sighed, fearing she’d lost. She certainly wasn’t going to argue against her wide and varied acq
uaintanceship with an astonishingly diverse assortment of women. Between her quilt-shop customers, the women she’d known since childhood, the members of the church, and women she’d met at various other sites, she felt like she did know most of the females in the area. “But Tony, it’s not like Quentin has a lot of good selling points.”

  “You like him.” Tony looked very pleased with his statement.

  “True.” Theo felt the trap close around her ankle. “I like cheese puffs too. That’s not the same as finding him a girlfriend. And as for that, why your sudden interest in his love life? I know you have plenty of work to keep you occupied.” She narrowed her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to North Carolina? I heard you have work to do there.”

  “There are several of us who are concerned. He’s up on that mountain now without his friends. No electricity and drinking stale water he stores in old milk jugs.” Ignoring her comment, Tony hesitated. The smile disappeared and left his face completely serious. “Roscoe and the professor are very concerned about Quentin being alone. Roscoe says they invited him to move onto their property but Quentin refused. He says he is not leaving the family land.”

  Theo mumbled a token last protest, “Still, Quentin’s not going to be an easy sell.”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy.” Tony draped a laughing baby over one shoulder and nibbled on the back of her knee. “Talk to the quilters; one of them might have a desperate old maid in the family.”

  Intrigued by Tony’s request, Theo followed him down the stairs from office to workroom carrying the second twin. As he handed the baby back, he whispered, “Now’s as good a time as any to start your new project.”

  When he left, Theo carried the girls into the workroom and handed them over to a couple of older ladies who stretched their arms out the fastest. Maybelle wasn’t expected for another fifteen minutes. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she thought, and said, “Does anyone know of a suitable woman for Quentin to date?”