by Gayle Leeson
Shelly had just finished making a fresh pot of coffee and had overheard our conversation. She stepped between us. “Money is probably going to win out over her dead daddy’s wishes . . . and his bees . . . especially where Brendan is concerned.”
“Yeah, and I’m thinking he can sway her opinion about anything,” I said.
“True.” Jackie shook her head. “I think it’s odd that Madelyn was all anti-Joey and pro-Amy—even going so far as to give Amy her cell number and asking her to call if she was needed because she didn’t entirely trust her brother to do it because he was hanging with Joey—and now she acts like Amy is the most terrible person she’s ever met.”
“It doesn’t surprise me at all,” said Shelly. “Of course, I’m older than you girls, but I’ve seen it time and again. Blood always trumps everything else.”
“Where does Joey’s family live?” I asked. “Is it close to Stu’s property?”
“They adjoin, hon.” Shelly waved to a customer who was walking in. “Be with you in a second!” She turned back to me. “Why?”
“Well, Mr. Dougherty must really think he has something in that area. He’s been talking with Chad Thomas, whose farm is on one side of Stu’s land—”
Shelly interrupted me with a groan. “Dang. I hate to see people that sorry come into a boatload of money like that.” Then she pasted on a smile and went to greet our customer.
“She’s right,” Jackie said. “To think of Chad Thomas and the Carvers becoming filthy rich by having a huge chunk of Winter Garden dug up—”
“And the bees displaced,” I added.
“I don’t like it much myself.”
I wasn’t happy about it either. But I didn’t want it to sound like I was miffed because there was a possibility of a natural gas reserve under the Carver and Thomas properties when there had been none under ours, so I didn’t say anything. I was merely afraid to see what a mining operation would mean to Winter Garden.
• • •
Fern Thomas came into the Down South Café at around two o’clock that afternoon. She appeared more timid and out of place than she had the first time I’d met her, waiting by the door, eyes darting left and right.
I went to rescue her. “Hi, Fern. Welcome back.”
“Thank you. I want a cake. Or a pie. Whatever you’ve got. It’s for the Carvers.”
“Are you guys celebrating together?” I asked with a smile.
She scrunched up her face. “Are we what?”
“Celebrating.” My smile faded. “I saw Mr. Dougherty with Madelyn Carver earlier, so I thought maybe there was a natural gas reserve that spanned both your properties.”
“Oh. Oh, goodness. Chad won’t like that.”
“Excuse me?”
“N-nothing,” she said. “I’ve been busy today and haven’t had time to make something to take to the Carvers before the wake. Stuart Landon . . . Carver’s wake is tonight.” She spoke almost mechanically.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that.” Nor did I mean to appear insensitive. “I should’ve known.”
“Do you have any whole cakes or pies for sale?” Fern asked.
“Yes, we do.” I gently propelled her toward the display case. “Take your pick.”
“Which would be better for a sad family gathering—cake or pie?”
How should I know? I don’t go around asking people if they prefer cake or pie for their sad family gatherings. “It seems to me that a cake would serve more people.”
“Then give me a cake—that Bundt cake there with the white icing.”
“Good choice.”
I boxed up the cake for Fern, she paid for it, and I hurried to hold the door open so she wouldn’t drop it on her way out.
After she left, I linked my arm through Jackie’s as she was passing by. “Tell me, Jacqueline, do you prefer cake or pie at sad family gatherings?”
“Have you been drinking?”
I laughed. “No. Fern Thomas asked me which would be better at a sad family gathering—cake or pie?”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I thought a cake would serve more people,” I said. “What would be your choice?”
“At a sad family gathering, I prefer wine.” She chuckled. “Poor Fern. Any family gathering she’s at is bound to be sad. It’s like a little black cloud follows wherever she goes.”
“No wonder. Have you met her husband?”
“Yeah, I have. Once again, I’m choosing wine.”
• • •
That evening, Ryan and I went to dinner and a movie in Bristol. We were almost back to Winter Garden and were laughing about some of the funny scenes in the movie we’d watched when we heard sirens coming upon us. Ryan’s eyes flew to the rearview mirror, and then he pulled to the side of the road. Two firetrucks raced past us.
“No, no, no . . .” I started fumbling in my purse for my phone.
“Everything’s okay.”
“You don’t know that. Joey Carver could’ve set the café on fire . . . or my house. Rory and Princess Eloise might be in the house! Oh, no. The big house!”
“Calm down. Joey’s at the wake, remember?”
“But he could’ve slipped out. Or not even gone.”
“Let me find out what’s going on before you panic.”
Ryan retrieved his phone and dialed the Winter Garden police station as I found my phone. I was as afraid to call Mom as I was not to call her, but I waited to see what Ryan learned from the dispatcher. If everything was fine at home, I didn’t want to scare her half to death.
Only being able to hear Ryan’s side of the conversation was torture, but I could tell—or thought I could tell—that it wasn’t anything as serious as I’d initially believed.
He ended the call. “There’s a dilapidated barn on fire out in a field near Winter Garden. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere.”
“Then why are they sending two firetrucks?”
“Because it’s been so dry lately. They’re afraid the fire will spread.”
“Oh. That makes sense.” I pulled up Mom’s contact on my phone. “I’m still going to check with Mom and make sure everything is okay with her and Aunt Bess.”
I phoned Mom, and of course, all was well. Except now Mom was worried about why I’d called out of the blue to see if they were all right. When I told her about the firetrucks and the dilapidated barn, she said that was sad.
“Is it the barn near Old Cedar Cove?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t think the dispatcher gave Ryan that much information.”
“I just wondered because I know Stu had a couple of hives out there. I hope they don’t get destroyed.” She paused. “Do you think anyone is taking care of his hives now?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything else. I mainly wanted to make sure you and Aunt Bess are okay.”
“We’re perfectly fine. She went to bed a few minutes ago, so I’m enjoying a little quiet time.”
I laughed softly. “Well, go back to enjoying it. I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”
“Good night.”
When I ended the call, Ryan asked, “What was she wondering when you said you didn’t think the dispatcher gave me that much information?”
“She wanted to know if the barn was near Old Cedar Cove because Stu Landon Carver had some hives out there.”
We drove on to Winter Garden. I was relieved to see that the café also appeared to be fine. My house and the big house were still in one piece too.
“I have to admit that I’m glad Roger bought those security cameras,” I said. “But I’m not ready to tell him that just yet.”
Ryan smiled. “I’m glad too. And you don’t have to tell Roger that either.”
We went inside, and I offered Ry
an something to drink. He declined, and we sat down on the sofa.
Both Rory and Princess Eloise came running to see Ryan. Princess Eloise sprang onto his lap.
I laughed. “That’s the funniest thing ever. I think that, other than Mom, you’re her favorite person.”
“What can I say? I’m charming.” He stroked the cat’s chin. “Right, Princess?”
Her response was a loud purr.
Ryan’s cell phone rang. He had to put Princess Eloise on the cushion beside him so he could stand up and check to see who was calling.
“It’s the sheriff. I have to take this.” He answered. “Hey, Sheriff Billings. What’s going on?”
After listening for a few seconds, he replied that he’d be right there. He ended the call and slid the phone back into the holder on his belt.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“Is it about the fire?” I asked.
He nodded. “Sheriff Billings is asking everyone on the force to meet him at the barn. The firefighters found something suspicious.”
“Be careful.”
“I will.” He gave me a quick kiss and left.
I sat down beside Princess Eloise, but she raced over to the table by the window so she could look out and see where Ryan had gone.
Feeling out of sorts, I called Mom.
“Hey, honey. Is anything wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Ryan just got a phone call and had to leave. Sheriff Billings has asked everyone on the force to meet him at the barn because the firefighters found something strange.”
“And you’re scared.”
“I wouldn’t say scared exactly . . . maybe a little freaked out.”
“Would you like to come spend the night with Aunt Bess and me?”
“No. I’m fine. It’s a comfort, though, to know that you guys are nearby.” I chuckled. “How weird is it that I’m a grown woman and yet when something semi-scary happens, I call my mom?”
“I don’t think it’s weird at all. That’s what families are for,” she said. “Did Ryan give you any indication what the something strange might be?”
“Actually, his words were something suspicious. I’m guessing there was something that made it appear that the fire was arson.”
“That makes sense, but I wouldn’t think the entire Winter Garden Police Department would be called in to investigate one arson.”
“No,” I said. “I wouldn’t either. It would make more sense if they found bones or something, don’t you think?”
“It would. But, you know, we have a lot of coyotes around here. If the firefighters did find bones, they are likely the remains of a coyote’s prey. They do target livestock, so that would mean larger bones and could be confusing to the firefighters.”
“Sure.” We both knew she was merely trying to placate me. If a coyote’s prey was large enough for its bones to be confused with those of a human, the coyote wouldn’t have been strong enough to carry it off. It would have eaten what it wanted of the animal on-site. Besides, experienced firefighters wouldn’t mistake animal bones for those of a human. And Mom and I were speculating. We didn’t even know what suspicious thing had been found at the barn.
I told Mom good night and that I’d talk with her sometime tomorrow.
“I’m here if you need me,” she said.
“Ditto.”
I ended the call and sat on the sofa staring at the opposite wall. So much had happened lately with Brendan and Joey Carver that I expected them to be involved with the burning of the barn somehow. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but then there wasn’t much that was making sense to me these days.
Mr. Landon Carver was found murdered in my parking lot, although it was believed he was killed elsewhere, placed in his truck, and driven to the Down South Café parking lot. Of all places to take the man, why take him to my café? Whoever had killed him had obviously wanted him to be found. Had they not, they’d have driven the truck to his house. I figured that if he’d been there, his body wouldn’t have been found for days.
Walter Jackson said he’d come here to make peace with Stu. Plus, he didn’t appear to be physically able to kill Stu, put his body in the truck, drive the truck to the café, move the body to the driver’s seat, and then somehow get back to wherever he’d left his vehicle.
That brought up another question in my mind. How had the killer done all that and then made it back to his or her vehicle without being spotted? Even if the murder had taken place in the wee hours of the morning, the person responsible would have inevitably been covered in blood and needing to escape after leaving Stu’s truck in the Down South Café parking lot. Had the murderer had an accomplice?
Rory was snoring softly on the floor at my feet when Princess Eloise came, pounced onto the sofa, and lay by my side.
I was touched by this unusual display of affection for me by the cat. I stroked her fur, and she purred loudly. Both pets were a comfort to me this evening.
Chapter 17
The next morning, I was on my way to the car when Ryan pulled into the driveway. I walked over to his car. His hair was tousled, his face was dirty, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“You look awful,” I said.
“Thanks. You look beautiful.”
I blushed. “I’m sorry. I just meant that you look as if you’ve been up all night.”
“I have been. I’m just now going home to get some sleep. Sheriff Billings sent some of the others, including Ivy, home at around midnight. They came back before the rest of us left.”
“Would you like some breakfast?”
“No, thanks. I need to get home. I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold my eyes open much longer,” he said. “But I’ll call you when I wake up.”
“All right. Be careful.”
“I will.” He hesitated. “Keep this to yourself, but we believe the barn to be the primary crime scene in the murder of Stu Landon Carver.”
I gasped. “But how—”
He shook his head and yawned. “I’ll tell you more when I can.”
When I arrived at work, Luis was already there waiting and Jackie was parking her car. I quickly maneuvered into my usual spot, hopped out of the Bug, and ran to unlock the door.
“I’m sorry!”
“You’re running late this morning, Amy.” Jackie winked at Luis. “Was there an early morning rendezvous we should know about?”
“No . . . well, yes . . . but it’s not what you’re thinking. Ryan came by on his way home from tending to that burning barn last night.”
“Is Ryan a volunteer fireman as well as a deputy?” Luis asked.
“Um . . . no.” I struggled with what to say that would be the truth but not reveal too much. Not that I actually knew anything, but still. “The sheriff asked some of his people to come in and help investigate. He said the firefighters thought it was suspicious.”
“That’s weird. Who’d burn down an old barn?”
“I imagine the property owner,” said Jackie. “It’s an eyesore, and it isn’t good for anything. But would it be considered arson if you burned down your own barn?”
“I guess that depends on whether or not you tried to collect any insurance from the damage,” I said.
We went inside. Jackie made coffee, Luis restocked the napkin dispensers, and I started the kitchen prep for breakfast.
Dilly came in and called out a hello to all of us.
I stuck my head out of the kitchen to say hi.
“Did y’all know the barn that stood in the middle of that field near Old Cedar Cove burned down last night?” she asked.
“Amy was telling us about it,” Jackie said.
“When I drove by, I saw that there’s crime scene tape up all over and a lot of official-looking cars and trucks parked around out there. I don’t know why,” Dilly said, “
unless they’re afraid the barn is going to fall the rest of the way down and hurt somebody. Is that it? Are they tearing it the rest of the way down?”
I said I didn’t know.
“Back about twenty or thirty years ago, there was a rash of barn burnings in Winter Garden and the surrounding area.” Dilly came to sit on her favorite stool as she warmed up to her story. “I don’t know whether the hooligans responsible were ever caught and punished. But I doubt that old gang would take up barn burning again after all this time . . . unless it’s something they thought up in the old folks’ home.” She laughed at her own joke, and the rest of us joined in.
“Of course, I hope nobody else has got that foolish thought in their heads about burning barns,” she continued. “It was awfully troublesome back then, people being afraid that somebody would burn down their barn in the middle of the night.”
“Did the barn burners back then set fire to abandoned barns or barns that were in use?” Jackie asked.
“Eh, six of one and half dozen of the other. It didn’t seem to make much difference to them either way. Some of the barns were empty, but others had hay or tobacco. They never hurt any animals that I know of.” She shook her head, setting her white curls to bouncing. “I never will forget the night Aldus Hawkins’s barn burned to the ground and his burley tobacco crop went up in smoke. Gracious sakes, that man was fit to be tied up and dragged.”
“I imagine so,” said Luis. “That was a lot of money that he lost, unless he had insurance or something.”
“I doubt he did back in those days,” said Dilly. “I reckon we’ll know what happened at the Old Cedar Cove barn in a day or so. In the meantime, I’d like to try one of those quiches Amy has as the special today. Are quiches good for breakfast?”
“They’re perfect for breakfast or lunch,” I said.
“I’ve had them for dinner too,” Jackie chimed in. “You just can’t go wrong with a good quiche.”
“Well, then I’ll have one. And a biscuit, of course.”
• • •
Just before nine o’clock that morning, a well-dressed woman who appeared to be in her mid-fifties came into the café. She stood by the door looking uncertain until Jackie asked if she could help her.
