by Vickie Fee
“Hey, Liv,” Renee said as I walked through the door of Dixie Donuts and More.
“Hey, girl. I just wanted to check with you on doughnuts for each of the event sites in the morning.”
“We’re good to go. We’ll have a mix of doughnuts and muffins,” she said. “Fred will make deliveries to the church gym and the country club before seven AM. Someone’s coming by to pick up pastries for the work crew out at the farm, and Winette is stopping in to pick up boxes to take to her office for the planning committee.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Renee, I really appreciate that you and Fred are donating breakfast, not just for tomorrow, but for several of the planning meetings and even the town-wide kickoff meeting. You’ve been very generous.”
“We’re glad to do it,” she said. “Our schedule doesn’t allow us to volunteer with Residential Rehab, so this is a small way we can help out. And I think we’ve picked up a few new customers who happen to like our muffins even better than the diner’s, which is flattering. But I wouldn’t even try to compete with Mabel’s pies.”
“You’ve got the market sewn up on doughnuts and decorated cakes, and the diner has pies covered. So I guess the two of you can divvy up customers when it comes to muffins. Everybody wins.
“And speaking of muffins, I ran out the door without breakfast. Let me have one of those large blueberry muffins.”
“You’re in luck,” Renee said. “I’ve got some just out of the oven.”
I couldn’t resist taking a bite out of the warm, fresh muffin as soon as I got in the car. I drove the whole block and a half and parked in front of my office.
Winette called to me from the front door of Sweet Deal Realty.
“Liv, have you got a minute? I think we may have a bit of a problem.”
Great. I felt a case of indigestion coming on and I’d had only one bite of my muffin. I followed Winette into her office.
“What’s up?”
“I know we already gave Felix a final count for the dinner, but this morning I have four more people who want to come. Could you ask Felix if he has enough food to accommodate four more diners?”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Whew, you had me worried for a minute. Felix always orders a bit extra, just in case. But four more people willing to pay a hundred dollars apiece to benefit RR? I’ll give them my and Larry Joe’s dinners if that’s what it takes.”
“If it comes to that, I’ll share my dinner with you,” Winette said with a laugh. “I’ll call those folks back and tell them we can accommodate them—that is, if they can drop their checks by my office sometime today.”
“I’ll call Felix and give him the heads-up. We’ve got less than thirty-six hours til showtime.”
“Ooh, don’t remind me,” she said. “I’m already developing a nervous twitch. Just look at my left eye,” she said, turning the left side of her face toward me slightly. “I look like a crazy woman.”
I finally made it up to the office, but I was having a hard time concentrating. I blamed Dave for that. I really wanted to talk to Di, since the sheriff had insinuated he had already questioned her, but I hated to call her while she was working. I finally texted and asked her to call me if she had a chance. Seconds later, my cell phone started buzzing. I picked up.
“Hey, I suppose Dave gave you the inquisition, too,” she said. “I made him stand on the front porch to talk to me. Told him he’d need a warrant to come in.”
“Are you at work?” I asked.
“No. I heard Lucinda was going to eulogize Morgan, and I thought that was too good to pass up. I called Legs Findlay and asked him to fill in for me. He’s retired and always up for the chance to play postman for a day.”
“Legs?” I said.
“If you’d ever seen him in Bermuda shorts, you’d understand the nickname,” Di said.
We compared notes on our respective interviews with Dave.
“He had the nerve to ask to look at my SUV, like he thought I may have tried to run Lucinda down,” I said. “And he didn’t seem to appreciate my suggestion that Lucinda staged the whole thing.”
“Yeah, he didn’t much like it when I mentioned that, either. Actually, Dave’s theory seems to be that Dylan may have stolen or borrowed a dark SUV for the evening. There were acceleration marks on the hotel parking lot where the SUV gunned it toward Lucinda. Likely the only reason Dave hasn’t already arrested Dylan is that the tires on his SUV don’t match the tread marks shown in the photos. So Dave checked your tires. And I’m sure he checked Nell’s, as well,” Di said.
“Dave was kind enough to tell me that you and I have the weakest alibis among the usual suspects. I was at home with Larry Joe. But presumably a husband might lie to cover for his wife.”
“The only reason I have any alibi is that after you left I went for a walk to clear my head. My neighbor waved to me as I was coming back to the trailer around nine. But she couldn’t be exact about the time.”
“Dave told me Nell and Sindhu’s alibis,” I said. “I wish I knew what the other alibis are.”
“I can tell you that. I quizzed him after he said my alibi was pretty weak. Winette was at some real estate association meeting. She and Mr. Sweet carpooled and didn’t get home until after nine-thirty. The Wythe sisters were at home, but the lady who helps take care of Miss Annabelle didn’t leave until about eight forty-five. Billy and his crew were catering an event in Hartville until something like ten o’clock. Oh, and Bryn always calls her mom at nine on Thursday nights. Her housekeeper says she brought Bryn a cup of tea just as she was dialing the number,” Di said.
I told Di I’d see her later at Morgan’s funeral, then forced myself to get to work on my long to-do list. I put some coffee on and listened to voice mail while I savored the rest of the muffin. Fortunately, no bad news. Of course, if there were problems I’d rather hear about them today than tomorrow.
I phoned Felix to tell him we had four more for tomorrow night’s dinner. He mumbled that was fine and hung up. Our Cajun chef had his hands full with a dinner tonight at the country club. It would have been more convenient for me if the country club didn’t have a dinner tonight so we could start setting up today. But since they’re donating the space and Felix and his staff are donating their time for the fund-raiser, it’s definitely better for the country club not to forgo revenue two nights in a row.
Almost all the food, materials, and labor for the Halloween fund-raiser were being donated. Just thinking about how much money we’d be able to raise for Residential Rehab and how many people would be helped made me feel good, despite my anxieties about being able to get everything done in time.
I fielded phone calls and marked off and refined my checklists all morning. At twenty-five minutes until eleven, I made a quick stop in the ladies’ room and put on some lipstick before going to the funeral. I drove to Dixie Community Church, the nondenominational church I’ve attended since childhood. The main parking lot was full, so I had to park in the overflow lot.
I didn’t see Larry Joe’s car when I pulled in, but he walked around from the side of the building and fell in step with me as I approached the front.
Mama waved at us and elbowed Earl to scoot over. The rest of the people on the pew scrunched together to make room. Larry Joe reached across Mama to shake hands with Earl, and we all settled in and listened to the organist play traditional hymns.
“I hope they don’t play ‘Precious Memories,’” Mama said to me in a stage whisper. “I always boohoo when I hear ‘Precious Memories.’”
For everyone’s sake, I hoped they didn’t play “Precious Memories.” Once Mama gets started, she can boohoo as loud as any paid mourner.
There wasn’t a viewing before the service. I wondered if that was because the funeral home couldn’t get that horrible expression off Morgan’s face.
I looked around at the congregation. I couldn’t see everyone from where I was sitting, but with her unusual hair color it wasn’t hard to pick Nell ou
t of the crowd, even from behind. Billy was sitting on one side of her and Sindhu was on the other side. I saw Miss Maybelle seated near the front of the church. Again her hair, a white cloud, served as a beacon. She appeared to have left her sister at home, no doubt with a sitter. Probably a prudent decision, seeing as Miss Annabelle is given to outbursts at inopportune moments. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Winette. Just about everyone from the retreat was present, except Jasmine. I didn’t see Bryn, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. I couldn’t locate Di in the crowd, either. However, the church was packed, including the seldom-used balcony.
At straight up eleven, the funeral director and his assistant began rolling Morgan’s white lacquer casket down the center aisle. The organist played “Amazing Grace” as Morgan’s parents, Randall and Rose Robison, along with a few relatives, walked slowly behind the coffin. Mr. Robison and another man were on either side of Morgan’s mother, gripping her by the elbows. It looked as if they were all that was keeping her on her feet.
Mama grabbed my hand and held it tightly. I knew she must have been thinking about how difficult it would be to lose my sister or me.
One of the cousins read a letter written by Morgan’s parents as a tribute and farewell to their only child. My heart went out to Morgan’s folks, but I was having a hard time thinking about anything except Mama’s death grip, which was beginning to cut off my circulation.
There was a wave of whispers across the sanctuary as Lucinda walked up to the pulpit. She recited a perfectly composed script about her fond memories of Morgan as a childhood friend and former roommate, and how glad she was that they had the chance to reconnect before Morgan’s untimely passing. Her speech hit just the right notes of warmth and affection with a touch of humor. It sounded as phony as her breast implants to me, but maybe my personal encounters with Lucinda had prejudiced me a bit.
Mama eventually let go of my hand to dig around in her purse for a tissue. Earl gallantly passed her his monogrammed handkerchief.
The pastor’s comments about Morgan were clearly drawn from her parents and not from any personal knowledge. But then a funeral isn’t the time or place to speak the unvarnished truth about the deceased.
Pastor Caleb Duncan ended with a comforting prayer and the organist started playing the recessional. Pallbearers, designated by a white rose in their lapel, walked alongside the coffin. Morgan’s parents and relatives followed solemnly behind it.
Everyone stood quietly until the last family member had filed out of the auditorium. The preacher announced that the graveside service would be a private, family-only affair.
After Brother Caleb’s comments, a whir of whispers quickly escalated into the roar of normal tone conversations, except for Mama and a couple of other women, whose normal speaking voice was always a few decibels above most people.
“Liv, why don’t you and Larry Joe stop by the house for lunch. I’ve got a cold cut platter, some potato salad, and an apple pie.”
Mama’s homemade pie was tempting, but we told her we had to get back to work.
“We offered, of course—the church ladies—to fix lunch for the family,” Mama said. “But they were having it catered, or some such. Honestly, I don’t think Rose is going to make it through the graveside service. She could barely stand upright. She needs to go home and lie down. Bless her broken heart.
“I’m so excited about the mystery dinner tomorrow night, hon,” Mama said, quickly changing gears. “Is there anything I can do to help you get things together for the fund-raiser?”
I thought about that offer for a nanosecond before replying, “No. I don’t think so. With Holly and Winette’s help, I believe we’re in good shape.”
“Wait til you see my costume. I haven’t even let Earl see it yet,” she said, looking over at Earl.
I think he was trying to look excited, but it’s hard to tell with Earl.
Larry Joe and I made our way out of the church, speaking to everyone and stopping for hugs and handshakes along the way.
Larry Joe gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and we parted ways at the bottom of the church steps. I caught a glimpse of someone waving at me. It was Di.
“Hey,” I said. “I didn’t see you inside the church.”
“I got here late and ended up sitting in the balcony,” she said.
“That was some performance Lucinda gave, huh?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, she didn’t look like somebody who’d just been run down by a car. I had hoped to see some contusions,” Di said.
“I know, me too. I guess that’s pretty awful of us,” I said as we started strolling toward the parking lot across the street.
“I don’t feel awful about wanting to see Lucinda roughed up a bit after what she put us through with that tarantula business,” Di said before suddenly grabbing my arm.
“Well, looky who’s chatting up Miss Daisy over there.”
I turned to look in the direction Di had indicated and spotted Deputy Ted, all smiles, having what seemed to be an animated conversation with our wallflower, Daisy.
We walked in their direction.
“Maybe we shouldn’t interrupt,” I said.
“Are you kidding?” Di said.
“You’re right. I’m dying to know what’s going on.”
Chapter 23
“Hi, Ted. Hi, Daisy,” Di said, before introducing Daisy to me.
“Hey, Di,” Daisy said. “Ted and I were actually just talking about y’all. I’m afraid I owe you two a huge apology.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Di said.
“As we were walking out of the church, I happened to overhear Ted telling the sheriff he needed to go by the office to feed the tarantula,” Daisy said. “And since one of my pet tarantulas went missing yesterday, I asked him about it. He told me the whole story about how Tango, that’s his name, somehow ended up in your car and spooked you so bad that you ran off the road.”
“So the tarantula belongs to you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how he could have ended up in your car. The only thing I can imagine is that he must have climbed into your mailbag yesterday while we were talking on the porch. When I didn’t see him right away, I thought he was hiding under the dresser. He does that sometimes.
“And I’m sorry I rushed you off so rudely yesterday, Di. But I had a couple of my spiders out of their containers and I don’t like to open the door when they’re loose. But it’s hard to imagine he could have traveled all the way to the front door that quick. I guess Tango hitched a ride on my shoe without me realizing it. Sorry about all the trouble.”
“Well, it obviously wasn’t your fault,” Di said. “It gave us quite a scare, that’s for sure. But Ted explained how tarantulas aren’t deadly to humans. And there was no real damage to the car.”
“I’m so glad no one got hurt. Please let me treat you ladies to lunch,” Daisy said. “It’s the least I can do. Ted and I were fixing to go over to Taco Belles. Why don’t you join us?”
“We don’t want to intrude,” I said.
“No, really,” Ted said earnestly. “We’d love to have you join us.”
Ted had a line of perspiration above his lip and the temperature was maybe in the upper 50s. So we agreed to go along.
Di and I took my car to the restaurant.
“Well, it looks like Ted has found someone who shares his odd spider obsession,” Di said. “Who knew?”
“I know, I can’t believe it. And Daisy the wallflower is suddenly all chatty,” I said. “I wasn’t sure if we should go along or leave them on their own, but Ted seemed to be pleading with us to join them.”
“Yeah, I think he really likes her and has a case of awkward schoolboy nerves,” Di said.
“I feel kind of bad with Daisy being all apologetic about the spider getting out,” I said. “We both know that tarantula didn’t crawl into your mailbag.”
“No. He must’ve crawled into that ca
nvas tote bag when we broke into her house, which means he was in my car all night Wednesday and most of the day yesterday,” Di said with a shudder.
“Do you think we should grab the check?” I said. “I don’t feel right letting her buy us lunch after we broke into her house and unintentionally kidnapped her pet spider.”
“I’m okay with her paying for lunch,” Di said. “It was her pet tarantula that caused us to have a car accident, and it is thanks to us that she and Ted have gotten together, at least in a roundabout way. And let’s face it, both of them would be hard up to find mates willing to put up with their peculiarities.”
Ted and Daisy had already nabbed a table for four by the time Di and I arrived at the crowded restaurant.
It turned out Daisy has a license to import spiders, mostly for her own collection. But she also sells some of them and is a bit of a celebrity in the arachnid world. She writes for a spider journal, as well as runs her own blog. And I was actually right about her selling little Victorian-style insect and spider collections—apparently that’s what’s in the boxes the UPS guy picks up.
“Daisy, do tarantulas ever make any sounds? We certainly didn’t hear anything in the car when Tango suddenly surprised us,” I asked coyly, curious about the hissing sound we’d heard inside Daisy’s house.
“Some do,” Daisy said. “When they feel threatened they’ll make a hissing sound as a warning for predators to stay away. But they don’t have vocal chords. They produce sound by rubbing special bristles on their hind legs together, similar to the way crickets create sound.”
“That’s fascinating,” Ted said.
Daisy’s definitely an odd girl, but Ted was all moony-eyed over her, obviously smitten.
“It must have been fate or something that brought me to the funeral today,” Daisy said, giving Ted a shy smile. “It’s embarrassing to admit, but I only went so I could get a look at Lucinda Grable in person. I never even met Morgan. Is that awful of me, crashing a funeral?”
“Believe me, most of the people at the funeral weren’t any closer to Morgan than you,” I said, wondering silently if anybody had really been close to Morgan.
