by Tonya Kappes
“You’re a good friend.” I smiled. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes and get out of here.”
I had just enough time to get Duke home and head back to Luke Jones’s house, where the town council held the city meetings.
“Keep them.” She practically pushed me out the door. “Keep them on so when you are cooking, you can at least give him something to look at.” She winked and shut the door behind me.
“This here just might be our ticket to re-election,” I told Duke when I got back in the Jeep. He didn’t bother picking his head up to acknowledge me.
As the Wagoneer rolled down Main Street on our way to Free Row, Duke popped up with his paws on the ledge and big ears flopping around while his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth.
I was happy to find my house all in one piece. I put away my sheriff’s things and took another look at myself in the mirror before I swiped on some lipstick and ran a brush through my hair. Katy Lee was right. The outfit was adorable. It was a shame that I was going to waste it by trying to fry some okra.
“You be a good boy.”
I put a scoop of kibble in Duke’s bowl and headed on out the door.
The council meeting would fill up fast and I wanted to make sure I got there and greeted everyone. Like Bartleby Fry said, it would be election time soon and I was going to have to shake hands and hold babies. Plus help the Sweet Adelines to their seats, though I was sure Mama had already threatened them within an inch of their lives if they didn’t vote for me.
It was a hard spot for my mama. She didn’t like the idea of her daughter being sheriff and in somewhat dangerous situations, but she didn’t like to lose either. And that meant that no matter what, she’d walk the streets and knock on every single door and not leave until they swore on the good man above that I had their vote. Gotta love a good southern mama like my own.
The street out front of Luke and Vita Jones’s house was lined with people on both sides. It was great to see that the community came out to the council meetings even though they were held in a basement.
Luke was an entrepreneur of sorts. He owned the Pump and Munch filling station in the middle of town, where he was the mechanic as well as the cashier of the mini-mart inside. It was a good place to go if you only needed to pick up a few items. Other than that, everyone went to Dixon’s to grocery shop.
Luke also ran the movie theatre in Cottonwood, which also happened to be in the basement of his house. He loved movies and most nights he’d invite half the town over to watch, so when he and Vita bought this house, he decided to turn the big basement into a movie theatre with a pull-down screen and even a popcorn maker. Most nights Vita stood in the back making all the popcorn and handing out Cokes.
From the looks of the posters hanging on the wall inside, Luke was showing romantic comedies—Sweet Home Alabama was this week’s feature.
“Let’s come to order.” Mayor Ryland banged the gavel on the podium at the front of the room. The rows of folding chairs were filled and it was standing room only. “Order!”
Mayor Ryland was in his sixties. He was very debonair with freshly dyed black hair that he slicked back. He had a strong jaw that even his goatee couldn’t hide.
“Shut up, everyone.” Doolittle Bowman stood up and tried to calm the crowd. She didn’t mind taking over. She was good at it. She was the county clerk and always had her nose in everyone’s business.
The room quieted down and the council went over all the regular business and the fiscal calendar, as well as the budget and how everyone was on plan. All the regulars were there except Rowdy Hart. He was generally the one who set up the chairs for Luke.
“Where’s Rowdy?” I asked Vita, who was next to me.
She shrugged. “He never showed.”
A strange nervous unease came over me. I couldn’t recall a meeting where Rowdy wasn’t there. I looked forward to him coming by the office tomorrow to find out exactly where he was.
“Is there any other order of business?” Mayor Ryland asked.
I pushed off the back wall and put my hand in the air to be called on. I couldn’t wait to propose the new sheriff’s office site, knowing it’d been a long time coming.
“Stanley Godbey.”
The mayor skipped me and called Stanley up to the podium.
“This should be good,” Poppa mumbled from next to me. I tried not to look at him and bring any attention to myself.
“Mayor, council members.” Stanley’s eyes scanned the room and stopped when our eyes locked. “Sheriff.” He nodded.
My gut told me to hold on. Something was about to go down.
“It’s come to my attention that there has been a slew of break-ins, thefts, and murders in Cottonwood. I, not only as a citizen, but as a beloved brother to one of those murder victims, feel unsafe in the very place I lay my head.” Stanley wasn’t fooling anyone. His words were thrown at me like a dart. And they were meant to hurt. “Now, when Sheriff Sims was alive, God bless his soul, he was able to keep crime at a minimum. He kept me and my Inez safe. We were able to go to sleep and not worry about our crop.”
He made a hand gesture to Luke Jones. Luke flipped a switch and the movie screen scrolled down.
“As you can see in this video footage, someone keeps getting into my crops. Clearly on the second night of the week, you can see someone with the same build and size as the first night. You all know that no one can make an okra crop like my mama, Rae Lynn.” He frowned. “I know Mama and Sheriff Sims are in heaven right now eating some of her good fried okra.”
“Don’t you bring Rae Lynn into this,” Poppa warned, his fist in the air as if he was going to give Stanley a good pop in the kisser. “Kenni, stop this man right now.”
I bit my tongue and kept my ears open. I also couldn’t help but notice that the okra crop didn’t seem to be healthy looking. It was droopy and dry.
“After the last rash of crimes that hit Cottonwood, I had to put in a security camera just so me and my sweet Inez could get some sort of shut eye.” The video of someone sneaking into their crop fields played over and over. It was so grainy that you could only make out two legs running up to the crop and then leaving. “I can deal with someone trying to come in and steal whatever they are trying to take from the okra crop since I don’t farm it anymore, but I will not stand here and let people break into our own homes just like someone did in our own Sheriff Lowry’s home.” He pointed his finger at me and shook it with a passion.
A collective gasp blanketed the room and the chair legs squeaked when everyone turned around to look at me.
“If she can’t keep her own home safe, how is she going to keep our community safe?” he asked. There was some scattered applause. His voice escalated over the crowd like one of the evangelical preachers you see on the television when they are building up for an uproar in the audience. “It’s almost time for election season to begin, and I don’t know about you, but I want to bring our safe community back and the only way we can do that is for Lonnie Lemar to come out of retirement and run for sheriff.”
“Sit your ass down!” my mama screamed from the front row. “Right now, Stanley Godbey. Rae Lynn would be ashamed of you.” Mama wasn’t above shaming anyone in public.
Daddy put his arm around Mama and pulled her up to standing. I thought she was going to faint then and there. He grabbed her by the shoulders and ushered her out of Luke’s basement. We glanced at each other as they passed, Daddy giving me a sympathetic look while Mama had her head buried in his shoulder.
“Now I don’t mean no disrespect to Sheriff Lowry, but I do think we need someone with a proven track record that’d helped keep us safe. That’s why I am announcing that Lonnie Lemar is officially coming out of retirement.” Out of nowhere, Lonnie jumped up on stage with his arms spread wide open and a big grin on his old wrinkly face.
I looked down to make
sure I had on those white pants. Because about right now, I felt like I’d been caught with my pants down.
Chapter Sixteen
“Lonnie is about as useless as a screen door on a submarine, Kenni-bug.” Poppa tried to talk me down on my way home. “He can’t hold a candle to you. He’s too old to take on Cottonwood.”
“Maybe, but he sure is going to try.” I was gripping the steering wheel so hard, I could feel my heartbeat pulse in my fingertips. “It’s more important now than ever to bring Owen’s killer to justice. Earlier I thought we had some time, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What did you make of the video footage?” Poppa asked.
“Not much. According to Sandy, Owen had snuck over to Stanley’s and got a soil sample. Apparently it’s pretty expensive to get one of those analyzed and Owen used all his money to have it done and that was all he had left for his arthritis meds.”
“Something is missing. A key ingredient.” Poppa reached over and tapped the cookbook that I never let leave my sight. “Stanley sure did hit below the belt when he said something about someone breaking in your house.”
“He made me look incompetent.” That angered me more than him wanting someone to run against me. “Trust me, if I were home when they tried that, they’d have had a bullet in their foot.”
Finn’s Charger was sitting by the curb outside of my house when we pulled up. He was leaning up against the hood in his fancy jeans with the stylish rips in them and a gray V-neck t-shirt. He was on the phone and smiling while talking.
That was just another turn of the knife put in my back by Stanley.
“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told the other person as I walked up.
“Where’re you going tomorrow?” I asked. I held the cookbook and the folder Katy Lee had given me.
“You gave me the weekend off to go back to Chicago, remember?” He tilted his head and looked at me all confused. “You look nice.”
“That was before there was a murdered Owen Godbey found and we have no one in custody.” I glared at him, knowing that my anger was stemming from a lot of things. At the moment it was mostly the fear of me losing my job to crotchety old Lonnie Lemar.
“Is something going on?” Finn pushed himself up to his feet. “Because if there is, I can go home and start packing for my weekend. I thought it would be fun to try to cook the recipe and see what all the fuss was about.”
“No. I’m sorry.” The last thing I needed to was to be all alone. “I went to the council meeting to propose a new site for a sheriff’s office.” I held up the file.
“Very cool. I’ll look at it inside.” He reached into the Charger and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “To complement the okra. Toots gave it to me when she came by to give her statement.”
“Kenni,” Poppa warned. “You can’t do wine.”
“Great.” I grabbed the bottle. “I’ll get us a couple glasses. Come on.”
Duke had already jumped the fence in the backyard and ran around.
“What’s the purpose of the fence if he can jump it?” Finn looked out the kitchen window while I poured the wine. He dug his hands into the Dixon’s bag and took out all the ingredients we’d bought earlier before the meeting.
“To keep the outside world out.” I handed him a glass. Our fingers touched and lingered.
“You do look nice.” He pulled away first. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything other than the brown uniform or jeans and a sweatshirt.”
“So you don’t find me disturbingly attractive in my everyday clothes?” I imagined his girlfriend in a black lace nightie, flowing black hair pulled over her shoulder, her long and lean nicely waxed tan legs probably a mile long as she lounged on his bed back in Chicago.
“Prettiest sheriff I know.” He clapped his hands. “Now, where is that cookbook?”
It was obvious that I’d made him uncomfortable by crossing the line. I was fully aware of his masculinity under that tee. He ran his finger down the ingredients and read them out loud. I didn’t hear a single thing. My eyes were focused on his bicep that seemed firm without him even flexing.
“Don’t you think?” he asked, turning around. “Kenni?”
“Yep.” I came out of my Finn coma and took a big gulp of wine.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked and continued to cut the okra per the instructions.
“Yeah. Umm...no.” I shook my head and took another big gulp.
“I said that Sandy and Owen were a lot chummier than we thought, according to Toots.”
“According to Toots, we are having a date.” My pinkie finger gestured between us, the stem of the wineglass held with my other fingers. I took another drink. “Toots is wrong. Way wrong.”
“Is she?” he asked and looked over his shoulder, the knife up in the air.
“I don’t know if she is or not.” I picked up the wine bottle and poured myself a very generous glass because I wasn’t sure if he was referring to Toots being wrong about Sandy and Owen or if he meant this was a date. I decided to put my strange feelings aside and chalk up his question about Toots to be about Sandy and Owen. “You saw Sandy’s reaction when she talked about Owen. She was angry about how he used all the money for the soil report.”
“Which I did look up online while I was waiting for Toots.” He ran his finger down the recipe while I got the cast-iron skillet ready for the frying. “I made a few calls to labs that do specific soil treatment. I found the one Owen sent his sample to. They received it twelve days ago and it takes at least two weeks to get it back. They are going to fax the sample results to me when they are completed.”
“You got all of that information through a phone call?” I asked. We both knew that in order to get results from a lab, a warrant was usually involved.
“A little sweet talking never hurt anyone.” He dipped the cut okra into the buttermilk like Rae Lynn’s recipe called for before he dredged it in the cornmeal, cayenne pepper, flour, salt, black pepper, and garlic mix that I’d combined in a bowl. “I wonder what this means.” He read from the book, “Continue using the seeds from the very first plant in the first row for each new harvest before you till the old.”
I shrugged and took another drink.
“Maybe you can sweet talk Stanley Godbey into thinking I am a good sheriff and that there’s no need for Lonnie to come out of retirement to run against me.” The wine was starting to make me a little light headed.
Finn checked the hot skillet by flicking a drop of water into it and watched it sizzle. I continue to wash and cut ends off of more okra before cutting it into four pieces and dragging it into the breaded mix.
“What?” Finn carefully added the breaded okra into the hot skillet. “Lonnie Lemar?”
I held the glass up and tilted it Finn’s way before I took another gulp. “Before I could even propose the new building for our office, Stanley Godbey took the floor during the open docket and told everyone that since I took office, the crime rate has shot up and a new sheriff is in order. Suddenly Lonnie appeared out of nowhere and Stanley announced Lonnie was coming out of retirement to run for sheriff in the election.”
“Isn’t he pretty old though? I mean to want to run for sheriff?” Finn asked and used the tongs to take the fried okra pieces out of the skillet.
“I just can’t believe that Lonnie would even listen to Stanley.” I shook my head. “That low-down dirty sonofa...” I slurred my words as the anger and wine bubbled up in me.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Finn sucked in a deep breath. “We’re working on finding out what is so special about this okra.”
“What? This isn’t a date?” I smiled and pretended to joke, losing my balance when I took a step backwards.
“Okay.” Finn grabbed me before I went down to the ground and stuck me in the kitchen chair. “You stay while I finish this u
p. Then we will have you sobered up in no time.”
“I told you not to have the wine.” Poppa leaned up against the table.
Duke ran over with his ball in his mouth and dropped it at Poppa’s feet. He barked at Poppa.
“He’s going to keep barking until you throw it,” I said to Poppa. “Duke, Poppa doesn’t want to play. He’s mad that I’m drinking wine.”
“Are you okay?” Finn walked over and kicked the tennis ball from underneath the table, sending Duke off in a frenzy after it.
“I’m fine.” I waved my hand in the air before my head smacked the table.
Chapter Seventeen
“Oh, Duke.” I pushed the big lug off me on the first snooze alarm. Then my memory kicked in that if I didn’t drag myself out of bed, I’d have a big puddle of pee to clean up. “Oh, Duke!”
I jumped out of bed, only to have to steady myself from the gonging in my head.
“Oh no,” I groaned and rubbed my head. I stumbled down the hall into the kitchen and opened up the back door before Duke could relieve himself on the kitchen floor. “Coffee.”
I eyed the sticky note on the coffee pot.
“Coffee already made for you. Just turn it on,” Finn had written on it. “Good morning. Take two aspirin and don’t worry about Lonnie Lemar.” I flipped the switch on.
A smile flooded my entire face, my cheeks balled. I couldn’t deny that I liked spending time alone with Finn, even if it was drowning my sorrows in wine, and even if he did have a girlfriend.
“Yep. I told you not to drink wine.” Poppa sat in a chair at the table. “You couldn’t even taste the okra that boy made because you passed out.” The shame was written all over Poppa’s face. “I even started to like him because he took nice care of you.”
“Now you like him, after I find out he’s taken.” I eyed the fried okra Finn’d made and left on a plate sitting on top of the stove. The coffee pot was only half brewed, but I had to have a jolt. Finn had even put a mug next to the pot along with the aspirin.
