by Gayle Leeson
“You have,” I said. “Have I told you how glad we are to have your help?”
“Yes, ma’am. You make me feel like a true member of the Down South family.”
“You are!”
Jackie, Scott, and I spoke at once.
“I’ll be on the opposite side of the road from you,” Scott told Homer. “Jackie, Luis, and Oscar are going to hold down the fort here, so I can give out cookies too.”
Homer nodded. “You know, it would be optimal to have four distributors—two on either side of the car. I could possibly recruit someone.”
“I’m going to see if Donna and her children would be interested.” I knew I should’ve asked them long before now, but it had been a tough week. Besides, if push came to shove, two people handing out cookies should be enough. Parades move slowly.
Still, I made a mental note to call Donna as soon as I’d served Homer his sausage biscuit.
While I was in the kitchen preparing said biscuit, Adam Tate came into the café and sat beside Homer. I knew this because over the Christmas music and the sound of the few diners in the café, I heard Jackie’s raised voice.
“What’s up with you, Adam? Did you get hungry while you were lurking in the bushes waiting for my cousin to come outside?”
I hurried out of the kitchen with Homer’s sausage biscuit on a plate hoping to diffuse the situation. Jackie was more protective than a Doberman Pinscher and twice as fierce.
After placing Homer’s food in front of him, I went over and put a hand on Jackie’s arm.
Before I could speak, Adam said, “I’m really ashamed of how I behaved this morning. I was so upset over my sister being taken into police custody that I completely lost it.”
“What did you do?” Scott asked, stepping closer to me. He hadn’t been at work yet when Ryan, Jackie, and I were discussing the morning’s events.
Luis came in from the kitchen and stood nearby as well. I appreciated my crew closing ranks, but I felt perfectly safe here in the café. I’d have loved to have had them on hand this morning, though.
Playing devil’s advocate, Homer said, “Mr. Rohn—a man wiser than I—once said that effective communication is twenty percent what you know and eighty percent how you feel about what you know. It appears to me that Adam’s concern for Belinda swapped those numbers and hampered his attempt at expressing himself.”
“I don’t care how upset a man is,” Jackie said. “He doesn’t have the right to creep around a woman’s home before daylight.”
“Sorry,” Homer said to Adam. “She’s got you there. You really botched whatever it was you were trying to do.”
“I know I messed up,” Adam said, “and I sincerely apologize. If you don’t want to serve me, I understand.”
“Of course, we want to serve you,” I said, ignoring the daggers shooting from Jackie’s eyes. “What would you like?”
“Scrambled eggs and hash browns would be awfully good.”
“Coming right up.” I returned to the kitchen. That call to Donna would have to wait a few minutes longer.
Within two minutes, Jackie was storming into the kitchen to stand beside me at the grill. “That guy has a lot of nerve. He’s trying to find out from Scott if the police have mentioned what evidence they have on Belinda.”
“Why? Do you think he knows Scott’s sister is the department’s crime scene tech?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I believe he thinks small-town officers are such hayseeds that they discuss their cases at the local café. It’s insulting! Not even Andy Taylor and Barney Fife would do such a thing—unless it was some sort of setup.”
“I know.” I transferred Adam’s eggs to a plate. “But please settle down. Getting this worked up can’t be good for you on your first day back at work.”
“It’s not going to be good for Adam Tate either if he doesn’t keep his big mouth shut.”
IT WASN’T UNTIL AFTER Homer had finished his sausage biscuit and left that I was able to phone Donna.
“Hi, Amy!” Donna always sounded as if she were delighted to hear from me. “You sound funny—is everything all right?”
“Everything is great. I’m on my headset, so that’s probably the reason I sound strange.”
“Gotcha. What’s up? Need me to pull an emergency shift?” she asked.
“Nothing like that. I just wondered if maybe your kids would like to walk along beside my car—which is serving as a float with a huge dummy cake on top—and hand out cookies to onlookers at the parade on Saturday.”
“Oh, darn. I wish I’d known sooner, but they left this morning going to Elizabethton to spend the weekend with their grandparents.” She sighed. “Would you like me to help?”
“No way,” I said. “Enjoy spending some quiet time with your husband. I’ve got it covered—I just thought it might be a fun thing for them to do.”
“I know they’d have loved every second of it. In fact, I’m not going to tell them they missed out.”
“Good thinking. Thank you, Donna. I’ll talk with you soon!” As I ended the call, I berated myself for not calling her sooner. It would’ve been fun for the kids, and I’d have had two extra pairs of hands. Oh, well, Homer and Scott were up to the task. And, if not, maybe I could talk Mom into driving the Beetle so I could help hand out cookies.
“Hi, folks!”
Frowning, I went to peep through the window into the dining room. Although that booming voice sounded familiar, I couldn’t place it until I spotted Bryson Neal.
“Are you all as excited about tomorrow as I am?” he asked.
“We’re pretty pumped,” Scott said.
Adam looked up from his plate. “What’s tomorrow?”
“Why, it’s the Christmas parade,” Bryson said. “And these fine people have a float that’s going to be the talk of the town. You must not be from around here.”
“I’m not.” Adam stood and walked to the register. “Must be nice not to have anything more to worry about than a parade.”
Scott met him at the register and rang up his order.
Bryson walked over there too. “What’s got you so down?”
Adam shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me. I’m the town manager. Maybe there’s something I could help you with.”
“Can you get my sister released from jail?” Adam asked.
Shrugging, Bryson said, “Maybe. Depends on what she’s done.”
“She hasn’t done anything. Her name is Belinda Carpenter, and she’s being held without any justification.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Let’s you and I go over to the Sheriff’s Department and find out what’s going on.” He nodded toward Scott and me. “I’m sorry to run out like this, but it sounds as if this matter needs my immediate attention.”
As Bryson and Adam left the café together, Jackie turned to me. “Should we call the Sheriff’s Department and warn them?”
“The number is already dialed,” I said.
{ }
Chapter Twenty-Four
I
called Ryan to let him know Bryson Neal and Adam Tate were on their way over to the Sheriff’s Department.
“I don’t know what Bryson hopes to accomplish,” I told him, “but I thought you should be forewarned.”
“Thanks for calling, sweetheart. I’ll go let Sheriff Billings know.”
After speaking with Ryan, I stepped into the dining room and saw that the café was currently devoid of customers. Knowing that would quickly change, I asked Scott, Jackie, and Luis, “What do you think Bryson hopes to accomplish by taking Adam to talk with Sheriff Billings?”
Scott leaned against the counter. “I think it’s politics. The guy has only been in office for a month, and he wants to either make a good impression or take some sort of stand.”
“He could want the town to know he’s a caring person and that he’s concerned about its citizens,” Luis said.
“You’re both wrong.” Jackie st
arted making a fresh pot of decaf. “That guy is nosy, and he’s dying to know what’s going on in Devon’s murder investigation.”
Chris Carpenter came in and apparently overheard Jackie’s answer. “I hate to interrupt, but I’m nosy too. Who’s trying to find out about Devon’s case?”
“Bryson Neal, the town manager,” I said. “He and Adam Tate left a few minutes ago. Bryson said they were going to see the sheriff about why he’s holding Belinda.”
“I’m not sure I’d trust either of those guys,” Chris said. “One’s a politician, and the other just strikes me as sketchy.”
“Were you and Devon close?” I handed Chris a menu.
“About as close as two cousins who live five states away from each other could be, I reckon.” He took the menu, opened it, and laid it flat on the counter. “We saw Devon for a week or two every summer. I always looked forward to that. We’d get to do stuff we didn’t usually do when Devon was in town.”
“Like what?” Jackie asked.
“We’d go to whatever carnival was in town or nearby, go to the water park, go get ice cream...” He shrugged. “Momma always felt sorry for Devon. She said his daddy was no-account and that his momma had trouble making ends meet.”
“Is that why she left him the property?” I asked the question, even though Belinda had said Devon had bought the house while Chris had previously said his mom had left it to Devon. I wanted to see which story I’d get from Chris this time.
“Nah, we didn’t have much either. Just because we were doing better than Devon and them didn’t mean we were rich,” Chris said. “When I said our momma left that property to Devon, it was a lie. He bought that place off me when he came up here from Florida. It was Daddy’s old hunting cabin. I wasn’t using it, and Devon needed it. I told him he and Belinda could live there for as long as they wanted, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said he wasn’t a freeloader.”
“How do you feel about Belinda?” Jackie asked.
“I don’t trust her any more than I do her brother.” He looked up from the menu. “Could I get a hot dog, tater tots, and a chocolate milk shake?”
“Coming right up.” I headed to the kitchen as the parking lot started to fill for the lunch rush.
AFTER CLOSING, SCOTT and I were cleaning the windows.
I looked around to ensure no one else could hear us before asking, “How’s Ivy?”
“Morning sickness is totally kicking her butt,” he said softly. “Right now, it’s more like all-day sickness. But I’ve been reading up, and hopefully, the sickness will be gone by the second trimester.”
I sat back on my heels and looked up at him. “You are the greatest brother in the world.”
“Face it, Amy-Girl. I’m pretty fantastic period.”
Laughing, I said, “Yes, you are.”
Ryan and Michelle came into the café together.
“This is a nice surprise,” I said.
“How did the meeting go between Bryson Neal and Sheriff Billings, buddy?” Scott asked. “Are we talking Law and Order or People’s Court?”
Ryan scrunched up his face. “More like Let’s Make a Deal, but Sheriff Billings wouldn’t play. Poor Bryson Neal isn’t much of a town manager. I expected him to come into the station with guns blazing—figuratively speaking—and demand that the sheriff either charge Belinda Carpenter or let her go. Instead, he asked Sheriff Billings if he could speak with Belinda and Adam alone.”
“Is he an attorney too?” Michelle asked.
“He is not, Mom. That’s why the sheriff told him he could only conduct his meeting in the presence of an officer. They went back, Bryson asked Belinda if she was being treated well, she said she was, and then Bryson and Adam left.”
“Gee, what a doormat,” Scott said. “He’s not getting my vote.”
“Is he running for something?” I asked.
“Not that I know of. But if he were, I’d vote for the other candidate.” Scott finished the window he was working on. Then, with a wide grin, he went and held open the door. “I see trouble, and she’s headed this way!”
Aunt Bess grinned all over her face. “You know it, handsome.” She kissed his cheek. “If I was twenty years younger, this one wouldn’t be single.”
Michelle looked at me. “It appears Scott is practically a member of the family.”
“You bet he is,” Aunt Bess said. “Are you and Ryan here to see the surprise too?”
“We sure are,” Ryan said. “I can hardly wait.”
Ryan, of course, knew about the cake, but this was the first time any of us were seeing it assembled.
“Scott, would you give me a hand?” I asked.
He applauded.
I shook my head.
“Oh...with the c—surprise,” he said.
“What a wit you have,” Aunt Bess told Scott. “I should probably help you two as well.”
“You’ll stay right here with me,” Mom said, gently taking Aunt Bess’s arm and keeping her from following Scott and me.
Aunt Bess folded her arms across her ample chest. “You’re just afraid I’ll see the surprise first.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
In the kitchen, Scott and I assembled the tiers. I clasped my hand over my mouth. The cake looked even better than I’d hoped it would.
“You did an awesome job,” Scott said.
“We did an awesome job.” I blinked back tears. “They’re gonna freak!”
“Yeah, they are.” He moved to the far end of the cake board so he could back out the kitchen door into the dining room. “Get your end and let’s go make their mouths drop open.”
“Everybody, turn around until I say you can look!” I called.
I got my end, and Scott and I gingerly carried the cake into the dining room and sat it on a table in the center of the room.
“All right,” I said. “See what you think.”
They all turned. Michelle, who’d been watching the cake progress throughout the week, merely smiled.
“Oh, my gosh!” Mom exclaimed, hurrying over to get a better look.
Ryan laughed. “That’s amazing!”
“That’s too pretty to eat,” Aunt Bess said.
“It’s a good thing you think this cake is too pretty to eat,” I said to Aunt Bess. “The layers are made of Styrofoam.”
She frowned. “Why the dickens would you spend all of this time on a cake you can’t eat?”
“Because I’m putting it on top of the Bug and driving it down the road in tomorrow’s Christmas parade,” I said.
Gasping, Aunt Bess said, “I call shotgun!” She quickly looked at Mom. “You can’t because I’ve already called it.”
Mom chuckled. “You can ride shotgun.”
“Yes, indeed, I can.” Aunt Bess waved her fists in the air. “I’d drive if Amy would let me.”
“I’m not going to let you,” I said. “Michelle had the great idea of handing out cookies as further promotion for the café. She’s been here baking every evening.”
Scott went into the kitchen and brought out a box filled with bagged and tagged mini cookies. “Homer and I are handing these out.”
“Yeah, Homer thought it would be better if there was a team of four,” I said, “but I believe two will be plenty.”
“I can help hand out cookies,” Mom said. “I bet Clark would be game for it too. I’ll call and ask him when we get home.”
“What should I wear?” Aunt Bess asked.
I went to the merchandise rack behind the cash register and got some t-shirts. “How about a Down South Café t-shirt?” I handed two to Mom—one for her and one for Clark—and one to Aunt Bess.
Aunt Bess handed hers back. “No, thanks. You all wear what you want to. But if I’m being in a parade with the whole town turning out to see me, I’m gonna give them something to see.”
“Atta girl!” Scott laughed. “Ah, if I was twenty years older, you wouldn’t be single, Aunt Bess.”
{ }
/> Chapter Twenty-Five
W
alter and Dilly came in excited about the parade on Saturday morning.
“The car looks fantastic!” Dilly exclaimed.
Thanks to Scott and Luis, not only was the cake on the roof, but it had been draped with Down South Café banners on each side.
“We’re going to have the perfect weather,” Walter said. “Sunny and cool, but not so cold that our noses will run while we’re watching the parade.”
“Do you know anything about Belinda?” Dilly asked. “The newspaper said she hadn’t been charged, but I haven’t heard whether or not Sheriff Billings is still holding her.”
As she was speaking, Chris Carpenter came into the café. “I heard you talking about Belinda.” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “I wish the sheriff would go ahead and charge her with accessory to murder because, in my opinion, that’s what she is.”
“Really?” Dilly patted the chair beside her. “Tell us more.”
Chris took the seat. “Belinda told me and her brother, Adam, that she called her best friend, Sheila, in Florida to talk about Devon. She thought Devon was running around with another girl.”
Jackie stiffened. “I’m going to do some extra prep work. We’re going to be slammed when you and Scott leave.”
“All right.” Loudly enough so Jackie could hear, I added, “Belinda told me that as well, and I know her fears were completely unfounded.”
“I know it too,” Chris said. “Devon was as loyal as the day is long. But her friend, Sheila, is Devon’s old partner’s girlfriend now, and Uncle Cyrus told me Ricky was awfully worried about what Devon might say to the feds.”
“Oh, my gosh.” I lifted my hand slowly to my chest. “Do you think Ricky thought Devon was talking with the feds rather than to another woman?”
“That’s exactly what I think.” He waved to Scott as he walked by. “Hey, could I please get a cup of coffee?”
“Sure, man.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve offered. I got too engrossed in our conversation.”
