by Gayle Leeson
“So?”
“So I don’t want to come across that way, Homer. I want to be seen in this community as a strong, competent businesswoman.”
“You are.” He patted my hand. “I’m sorry these hooligans are giving you grief. If it comes as any comfort at all, Hanh once said, ‘Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we’re okay.’ Right now, you’re okay. Hold on to that knowledge and don’t let the Carver boys rob you of the present.”
“That’s good advice.”
“I’ll also go talk with Phil Poston after I’ve eaten my sausage biscuit and see if he has any other advice.” He shook his head. “Joey is bound to have given Phil’s granddaughter trouble after she stopped seeing him, based on the amount of aggravation he’s causing you.”
“Thanks, Homer. I appreciate that.”
He caught my hand before I turned to go make his biscuit. “One last thought. Hanh also said that hope is important because it makes the present less difficult to bear. I want you to think about how far you’ve come. I was here with you when you had some of those dark days after Lou Lou Holman’s death. You sailed through that hardship and made your dream of owning a café come true.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “You’re the best friend anyone in Winter Garden could ever have. Breakfast is on me today.”
“Nope. I always pay for breakfast. It’s my routine.”
“Then I’m sending you home with a piece of cake or pie,” I said.
“Can you make it two? I’ll take one to Phil. He’s always more open to chatting if he can do it over something sweet.”
Chapter 14
I was happy to see Sarah and her boss, Billy Hancock, come into the café for lunch. At least, I was until they asked me to join them for a moment before Jackie took their order. I could see that whatever they wanted to talk with me about was serious.
Billy removed his black-framed glasses and cleaned the lenses with his napkin. “Sarah says you’ve been having a little trouble with Joey Carver and his cousin Brendan for the past couple of days.”
“A little bit.” I looked from Billy’s blue eyes to Sarah’s warm brown ones.
“They came into the office today,” he said. “They wanted to file a civil suit against you for refusing them service here at Down South Café.”
My jaw dropped. “Wh-what?”
Sarah nodded. “Of course, Billy refused to take the case—you’re our client.”
“And even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t have taken the case,” Billy added. “It’s a hassle. They don’t have a leg to stand on.”
“The Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibits restaurants from refusing service to patrons on the basis of race, color, religion, or natural origins.” Sarah raised an index finger. “But in these particular circumstances, Joey had previously come in here yelling at you and issuing veiled threats. And then this morning, he and Brendan had been rowdy and had made you feel uncomfortable. You have witnesses to that.”
“I didn’t know that, of course—the boys certainly weren’t going to tell me—until after they left and I discussed the situation with Sarah,” said Billy. “But based on what she told me, you had every right to ask the young men to leave.”
“But . . .” I prompted.
“But they might find another attorney who’ll take their case.” Billy ran a hand through his short, steel gray hair. “If the matter does go to court, I’ll represent you and I feel confident the matter will be thrown out.”
“Don’t forget to get that cigarette butt,” Sarah reminded me. “In fact, call your mom and see if she can go down and get it now before those idiots think about it—if they are, as we suspect, the ones who left it there—and go get it themselves. You need that piece of evidence in your arsenal.”
“Okay, I’ll do that right away.” I turned to Billy. “Do you really think they’ll take this trumped-up mess to another attorney and try to sue me?”
“They might.”
“What do they want?”
“Money.” He spread his hands. “But you have incidents—and even more importantly, witnesses to these incidents—to attest that these young men behaved inappropriately.”
I nodded. “Right.” I frowned. “What story did they tell you, Billy?”
“They told me you threw them out for no good reason. I knew better. Then I spoke with Sarah and surmised that this was merely another attempt to get under your skin.” He spread his hands. “Hopefully, nothing else will come of it. But if it does, we’ll handle it.”
“Thank you.” I took out a pad and asked for their lunch orders. Billy requested a cheeseburger and fries. Sarah asked for a chef salad. I thanked them again and took the order to Jackie.
I pulled her aside. “Could you please take care of this? I need to step outside and make a phone call.”
“All right. Is everything okay?”
“Probably not. I’ll explain everything to you as soon as I can.”
I went out the back door, glanced around to make sure no one was around to overhear me, and I called Mom.
“Hi there,” Mom answered brightly.
For some reason, hearing her cheerful voice made me want to cry. But I couldn’t do that. I needed to be strong. “Mom, I need a favor.”
“Okay.”
“I need you to take a pair of tweezers and a ziplock plastic Baggie and go down to my back gate. About two feet toward the driveway, you’ll find a cigarette butt. Pick up the butt with the tweezers, place it in the Baggie, and close it. I’ll get it after work.”
“You’re scaring me,” she said.
“There’s no need to be afraid. I’ll explain everything to you after work.” I thought a second. “In fact, would you and Aunt Bess mind if I invite a few people to your house and make dinner for you? That would make it easier to get everyone’s input.”
“Sure. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll go get that cigarette butt right now.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Be careful, all right?”
“Always,” I said.
Not long after I returned from calling Mom, Ryan came in for lunch. I gave him my perkiest smile. He saw right through it.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Let’s discuss it after work,” I said softly. “Don’t you get off early today?”
“Yeah. I’ve been putting in a lot of overtime, and I’m getting off at four o’clock.”
“Good. I’m going to invite a few people to Mom’s house for dinner, if that’s okay, and I’d like for you to come.”
“Sure. That works for me.”
I smiled again—a real one this time, not like the fake one I’d tried to fool him with. “I’ll explain everything then. I promise.”
“It must be something pretty bad if you’ve called a family and friends meeting.”
“Not as bad as all that.” I laughed. “Nothing a piece of chocolate pistachio pudding cake can’t fix.”
“Well, by all means, bring me one. Along with a chili dog and some homemade chips.”
“Coming right up.”
• • •
Homer came back to the café just before closing to tell me what Phil Poston had said about Joey Carver.
“I told Phil that Joey was pestering you and that we wondered how we could get rid of him.”
“What did he suggest?” I asked.
He shook his head. “He said that getting the ticks off of a junkyard dog was easier than getting rid of Joey Carver.”
“That sounds rough. He and his cousin Brendan went to see Billy Hancock today to try to sue me for refusing service to them here at the café.”
“Of course, Billy told him to hit the bricks. Didn’t he?”
“He did. But that doesn’t mean Joey and B
rendan won’t take their case elsewhere.”
“How can I help?” Homer asked.
“I’ve asked a few people to come to Mom’s house for dinner to help me sort things out. I spoke with Sarah just a few minutes ago, and she can’t come—she and John have plans. But Jackie, Roger, Ryan, Mom, and Aunt Bess will be there. I’d like for you to join us.”
“I’d be honored.” He gave me a little bow that reminded me that his hero of the day was a monk, and then he told me he’d see me later this afternoon.
Jackie came up and put her hand on my shoulder. “So what are we making for this war party?”
“It isn’t a war party. I prefer to look at it as a planning session.”
“Okay. What’s it going to be? Shish kebabs?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I feel like we need two main dishes and plenty of sides to satisfy everyone. I’d like to make something new to see how they go over so I can possibly offer them as specials next week.”
“Like what?”
Jackie was one of those people who was reluctant to try new things.
“Like chicken paillard with couscous.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What is paillard, and what is couscous?”
“Paillard simply means that the chicken is pounded until it’s thin and cooks quickly. And you know what couscous is.”
“No, I don’t. I’ve heard of couscous, but I don’t have a clue what it actually is.”
“It’s . . . you know . . . wheat.”
“Aha!” She grinned. “You don’t know what it is either.”
“Couscous is couscous! It’s little balls of wheat . . . just wait and see what it is.” I made sure the back door was locked and began walking toward the front. “Just promise me you’ll try it.”
“I’ll try it. What else are you having in case I hate it?”
“Chicken pot pie made with bacon and cheddar biscuits. And for dessert, a butterscotch cake and a strawberry pie.”
She nodded. “That last chicken dish you mentioned sounds way more up my alley.”
I stopped and turned to look at her fully.
“But I really will try the other chicken with the coochie-coos.” She rolled her eyes, making me laugh.
I was glad she’d waited for us to leave together . . . and that she was going to the store with me. It wasn’t like me to be a ’fraidy cat, but Joey and Brendan really had me on edge.
• • •
From the grocery store, Jackie and I went straight up to the big house and began making dinner. Mom joined us in the kitchen.
She took the cigarette butt out of a drawer. “You’d probably better put this in your purse before Aunt Bess sees it and decides to dust it for prints. She’s been on a crime show kick lately.”
I nodded toward the chair where I’d hung my purse. “Can you drop it in there? I need to get the strawberries sliced for the strawberry pie.”
Mom did as I’d asked her and then sat at the table. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about while it’s just you, me, and Jackie?”
“No. I don’t think there’s anything I have to say that I can’t discuss in front of Aunt Bess. It just confounds me as to why those two little creeps want to cause me so much trouble.”
“It does me too,” Jackie said. “I mean, shouldn’t Brendan be concerned about who killed his father? Instead, he’s giving Amy grief.”
“He was a complete shock to me after I met Madelyn, his sister.” I topped a strawberry and cut it in half.
“Let me help.” Mom got up, retrieved a paring knife, and sat back down. “Why was Brendan such a shock?”
“Well, for one thing, Madelyn is so nice. And she talked about him like he was a sweetheart,” I said. “She couldn’t say enough good things about him. Then I met him, and he was a jerk to me from the get-go. And I didn’t do a thing to him.”
“With some people, you don’t have to do anything to them.” Jackie put butter into a saucepan and turned on the stove. “They’re just jerks.”
“True. I even thought at first that maybe the guy was grieving for his dad.” I popped the strawberry I’d cut into the strainer. “But he spoke to Madelyn as if he didn’t even care that Stu was dead. He said his stepdad had been the only real father he’d ever had.”
“If he doesn’t care about Stu or helping to find his father’s killer, then what’s he still doing in Winter Garden?” Mom asked. “Is he waiting for the funeral or the reading of the will to be over? Or is there something else keeping him here?”
“Yeah, and how’s he so close with Joey?” Jackie whisked flour into her melted butter. “I thought the Carver kids never visited their dad in Winter Garden.”
“According to Madelyn, Stu used to take Joey with him when he went to visit sometimes,” I said. “And Joey was a bully to Madelyn. So I don’t understand why Stu kept taking him back to Cookeville with him.”
“Me either.” Mom topped another strawberry, halved it, and tossed it into the strainer. “Unless Madelyn never told him how she felt about Joey.”
• • •
After we were all seated around the dinner table—I’m happy to report that both chicken dishes were hits, by the way, especially the chicken pot pie—I thanked everyone for coming and then told them why I’d asked them to dinner.
“I mean, besides your wonderful company,” I said with a light laugh.
No one else laughed. They were too eager for me to get to the point. So I did.
“As I believe most of you know, this whole thing with Joey Carver began when Ryan and I spotted a truck similar to that of Stu Landon Carver leaving Winter Garden the night before I found Stu.” I let found Stu suffice instead of going into detail about how I’d found Stu. Everyone already knew that and didn’t need a gruesome reminder at the dinner table.
“A few days after that, I went to Sarah’s house and was tailgated by a truck similar to the make and model of the one driven by Stu Landon Carver,” I continued. “Sarah yelled at the driver before she got into my car, and she told me the truck was being driven by Joey Carver. I informed Ryan of that thinking that it might’ve been Joey’s truck rather than Stu’s that he and I saw leaving Winter Garden that night.”
“Joey denied that, by the way, so we still aren’t sure whose truck we saw,” Ryan said.
“After talking with Ryan, Joey stormed into the café and accused me of calling the police on him—which I suppose I technically did—”
“I never gave Joey any indication that I’d learned about the truck from you,” Ryan interrupted. “However, I did mention that he had been tailgating a yellow Beetle.”
“I’m guessing he put two and two together after Sarah yelled at him,” said Jackie. “There aren’t that many little yellow Bugs in Winter Garden, after all. He probably drove by the café and spotted it.”
“Good point,” I told Jackie. “After that initial dust-up, Madelyn told me what a vindictive person Joey had been to her. In particular, she told me he’d once slashed her bicycle tires when she threatened to tell on him for something he’d done.”
“And Stu didn’t tan that boy’s hide?” Aunt Bess shook her head in disgust. “Sounds to me like that boy needed a trip to the woodshed. When he came out, he wouldn’t have been as eager to tear up someone else’s belongings.”
I merely nodded and then picked my story back up. “The next morning, Brendan and Joey were driving by my house as I was going to the car. They stopped in the road and talked with me.”
Ryan sat up a little straighter. “What? You didn’t tell me about that. What did they say?”
“Nothing. It was completely harmless. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you.”
“But you were awfully glad to see me at the café that morning.” He arched a brow.
“Of course I was. I’m always happy to see you. Plus, I
didn’t want to be there alone in case they decided to follow me.”
“You know, if that happened more than once, it’s stalking,” said Homer. “Joey stalked Phil Poston’s granddaughter.”
“Did it happen again, Amy?” Ryan asked.
“I believe someone might’ve been in my backyard last night.” I explained about Rory’s barking fit and then finding the cigarette butt this morning. “That’s why I asked Mom to gather and preserve the evidence.”
“Ha!” Aunt Bess shouted. “We’ll get the DNA off that cigarette butt and have somebody thrown in jail.” She lowered her voice in a feeble attempt to imitate the voice-over actor from Law & Order. “The criminal justice system is represented by . . . a bunch of important people . . . and they’re fixing to haul somebody off to the hoosegow! Da DUM da da da DUM!”
Jackie raised her brows at me and then interrupted Aunt Bess before she could continue her . . . whatever it was she was doing. “Shelly told me that Brendan and Joey acted like a couple of pigs this morning. They were throwing innuendo all over the place and even blew kisses at you from outside the café.”
“True.”
“I wonder how those punks would like to end up on my People I’ve Outlived Pinterest board,” said Aunt Bess.
Mom patted her hand. “Now, Aunt Bess, let’s not get too excited. I’m sure Ryan has everything under control. Right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It’s like Homer said, what Joey and Brendan are doing could very well be considered stalking. In the state of Virginia, stalking is defined as repeated conduct that makes a person fear for his or her life, of being sexually assaulted, or suffering a bodily injury.”
Homer nodded. “The magistrate who issued Phil’s granddaughter a stalking protective order against Joey said that the stalker’s actions could range from making threats to simply showing up wherever she was and waiting on her every day.”
“So Joey has an active stalking protective order issued against him,” Ryan said.
“Yes, he does,” said Homer.
“Good. That fact alone lends credibility to Amy’s assertion that Joey is stalking her.”
