Bed, Breakfast and Murder (A Ryli Sinclair Mystery Book 4)

by Jenna St James

  I could tell by the huge intake of breath he was going to remind me of my role—a reporter, not a detective. “Oh, Ryli. What am I going to do with you?”

  Love me. Marry me. Have babies with me. Eek! Where had that last part come from?

  “Please be careful,” Garrett said, interrupting my crazy thoughts. “Keep me posted. The game just started so we’ll be up late. Let me know how things go.”

  “You bet.”

  I hung up and walked out into the bedroom area. Aunt Shirley was on the bed putting on her shoes. They were typical “old lady” shoes. White patent leather strappy sandals with a one-inch heel. Cushiony on the inside, and slippery as heck on the bottom. There’s no way she was going to be able to run in those if we needed to run. And with Aunt Shirley, usually we needed to run.

  “Hope we don’t need to outrun anyone tonight,” I said, hoping she’d take the hint.

  “I don’t have boots. I should probably invest in boots now that I have this dress. Maybe I can get Old Man Jenkins to take me to a honky-tonk in Brywood when I get back.”

  I laughed at the thought of ninety-year-old Mr. Jenkins line dancing at a bar. Although, he was nuts about Aunt Shirley, so I’m sure if she asked, he’d go.

  Aunt Shirley picked up her oversized patent leather pink purse and headed toward the door. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. A forest green cowgirl dress, white dress shoes, a bright pink purse, and purple hair on one side of her head. You couldn’t miss Aunt Shirley if you tried.

  Mom and Paige were waiting for us in the hallway. They were talking with Olivia and Brian Banner. Even though I was happy to see the Banners had made up, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all an act. Two scenarios ran through my head for the Banners.

  Either Brian was lying about his alibi and he already knew where his wife was going, drove down early this morning, and waited for an opportune time to kill Trent. Then waited and surprised her with his confession to make up.

  Or scenario two was that they were in it together. Olivia came down under the pretense that her and her husband had split, but in actuality, they planned on murdering Trent the whole time. Their convenient make-up session was just a ruse on getting away with murder.

  So while they weren’t at the top on my list of suspects, they were definitely still there. I was still leaning toward Stewart Collins, one of the Wainwrights, Bessie, or Dayna. If I had to pick—I was hoping for Stewart.

  “Have a good night,” Mom said to the Banners as we made our way down the hall.

  “We will,” Olivia said.

  The four of us tiptoed down the stairs. We didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. We hopped in the Falcon and Paige pulled up her navigation app. She plugged in the coordinates, and I pointed the Falcon toward Millsap. It was nice to get out of the house for a while.

  It only took about twenty minutes to get to Millsap. The Lazy J Saloon was located on the outskirts of town about three miles. I pulled onto a gravel road and slowed the Falcon down. No sense ruining the paint job. After about two miles I saw lights.

  When the Lazy J finally came into view, my first thought was it was more of a shed than an actual building. A really big shed…but still a shed. The parking lot was only half full. Of course, it was still considered early by bar-hopping standards.

  I parked the Falcon and we carefully made our way to the Lazy J Saloon. A big burly bouncer stopped us at the door to check our IDs. I dug into my purse and handed him my license.

  “Next?” he motioned with his hands.

  I turned to look at Aunt Shirley. “Give him your license so we can get through.”

  Aunt Shirley made a face. “I don’t have it on me.”

  “Look lady,” Big Bad Bouncer said as he slowly scanned her from head to toe and took in her crazy outfit, “no one gets in without proper ID.” He leaned over and looked around Aunt Shirley to make sure no one else was standing there. The movement cause his shirt to ride up on his arms. I could make out the bottom half of a USMC tattoo.

  While one part of me understood his need to follow the rules, the other part of me wanted to shout at him that obviously he could see that Aunt Shirley was older than Methuselah and that made her well over twenty-one. Heck, anyone with eyes could see she was well over seventy-one.

  Aunt Shirley must have seen the tattoo also, because she got that look on her face that said, “We are kindred spirits.” She reached over and patted Big Bad Bouncer on his shoulder.

  He looked at his shoulder then scowled down at Aunt Shirley. She was not intimidated. “Marine, let me tell you why I didn’t bring my ID with me this evening. I knew we would be doing reconnaissance work tonight. And if things went south, I didn’t want my name known.”

  Big Bad Bouncer stared at Aunt Shirley, then slowly one corner of his mouth lifted and he let out a little chuckle. “Is that right, Ma’am?”

  “Yes, sir. Me and my girls here are on a mission to find a murderer. And we’ve been given special permission by Sheriff Simpson to ferret out this bad guy and take him down. There’s a gentleman in this here saloon that may have the information we need to make this takedown possible. But if things go bad—and I will admit, past history shows that sometimes they do—I don’t want to be easily identified.”

  By the time Aunt Shirley finished her ridiculous speech, Big Bad Bouncer was wearing a full-on grin. He must have liked what he heard, because he nodded his head. “Makes sense.” He looked over his shoulder then back at Aunt Shirley. “Okay. This one time I’ll let you in. But only because it’s been a long time since I’ve been involved with a recon mission, and something tells me I’d like to see you in action.”

  Aunt Shirley grinned. “You wait and see. By the time I come back out tonight, I’ll have the answers I need.”

  Big Bad Bouncer shook his head but lifted his arm to signal us in. We hurried around him and made our way inside before he changed his mind.

  Chapter 13

  It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The only real light was by the actual bar and the glow of neon lights from signs plastered around the room. Directly in front of us was a large dance floor that took up most of the space in the shed. There were approximately fifteen people jammed around the bar located on the left side of the shed, six people playing pool in the back-left corner, a handful more watching them or just talking with each other, and maybe ten people on the dance floor line dancing. Toward the back of the shed on the right, a couple people were already riding a mechanical bull. The music was loud enough it almost bordered on annoying.

  “Let’s grab a table near the dance floor,” Aunt Shirley shouted. “That looks to be the best place to observe.”

  Mom grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to her. Aunt Shirley and Paige kept walking toward an empty table near the dance floor. “I heard Aunt Shirley tell that man that past experiences has you two with a lot of failures and you guys running. Do I want to know what that’s about?”

  I hesitated for only a minute. “You know how over-the-top Aunt Shirley can be. It’s not as bad as she makes it out to be.”

  It’s worse.

  Mom slowly closed her eyes. I wasn’t sure if she was praying or not…but if she knew the disasters Aunt Shirley and I usually got tangled up in, she’d definitely be praying.

  Mom finally opened her eyes. “Lead on. This should be an interesting night.”

  I grinned at her. “Yeah. I mean, you could be at the farm trying to avoid Wayne. Instead, you’re here with us girls ready to sniff out some clues and capture a murderer.”

  Mom frowned but said nothing more as we caught up to where Aunt Shirley and Paige were already sitting waiting on us. Aunt Shirley clapped her hands together. “Let’s order drinks.”

  “Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Mom asked. “Aren’t we here to ask a man a couple questions? How can you drink and do that at the same time?”

  Aunt Shirley snorted. “Sometimes when you talk, Janine, it’
s like my sister is still right here in front of me.”

  I stiffened. Rarely does Aunt Shirley talk about her sister—my mom’s mom and my grandma. The only thing my mom ever said about the relationship between grandma and Aunt Shirley was that Aunt Shirley had always been a wild child and ran away to California in the early sixties.

  My grandma was the complete opposite of Aunt Shirley. She married my grandpa right out of high school. She was always a stay-at-home mom. She could cook like a professional chef—which is where my mom got it from—and she was always kind and sweet. And, most importantly, she was a teetotaler.

  “I’ll take a water,” Paige said, trying to diffuse the suddenly tense situation.

  “And I’ll take a white wine,” Mom said tightly.

  I suddenly panicked. I didn’t know what to do. Usually I blindly follow Aunt Shirley’s lead, but with Mom in the picture, I didn’t want her to see how easily manipulated I was by Aunt Shirley. Because the truth was, as much as I complained about Aunt Shirley, I liked hanging out with her and getting in trouble with her.

  Mom must have seen the battle going on inside me. She laid her hand on my arm. “Order whatever you want. You two know how to do this interrogation stuff more than I do.”

  I grinned. “Gin and Tonic.”

  Aunt Shirley smiled appreciatively at me. “The ole Gin Rickey. Nice choice.”

  One thing I’d learned from the crazy neighbors of Aunt Shirley’s a couple months ago…how to drink like a woman. Lovey, Dotty, and Virginia instilled in me an appreciation for traditional cocktails.

  Aunt Shirley walked toward the bar and flagged down a jeans and plaid-shirt wearing waitress and gave her our orders. The waitress then pointed to a guy that was drinking at the bar.

  “Larry’s here and at the bar drinking,” Aunt Shirley said when she came back. “I figure we have our drinks and let him get down in his cups a little more before we go question him.”

  A few minutes later the waitress came by with our drinks. We sipped silently and watched the dancers on the floor. By the time we finished our drinks, and watched the dancers some more, a good thirty minutes had passed.

  Aunt Shirley looked over at the bar. Larry looked to be having a good time. “I say we strike now.” She finished off the last of her margarita and stood up. “We’ll go to him.”

  Mom held up her hand. “I think I’m fine staying right here and watching the dancers. Paige, if you want to go, that’s fine. I’ll watch our purses.”

  Paige looked at me gave me a half smile. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll wait here, too. I’m starting to get awful tired.”

  Aunt Shirley nodded. “We’ll be back soon. I don’t foresee this taking too long.”

  We made our way through the crowd of people who were now milling around. In the half hour we’d sipped our drinks and bided our time, the saloon had pretty much filled to capacity.

  I gauged Larry Tubbins to be in his fifties or sixties. It was hard to tell with the big cowboy hat on top of his head. He was a little on the short side but had a solid build on him—if you didn’t count the massive beer gut he was sporting.

  Aunt Shirley and I pushed through the last of the patrons to stand next to Larry. He looked over at Aunt Shirley and did a double take.

  “Well, hello there, doll face. Don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts.”

  I rolled my eyes and knew we were in trouble. Mainly because I knew what a sucker Aunt Shirley was for these lame one-liners men threw her way.

  Aunt Shirley shimmied a little so her fringe flew. “My niece and I are here on vacation. We have a mutual friend, Gary Wainwright.”

  Larry’s face split into a grin. “Then it’s my lucky night. You’re here to see me.”

  Aunt Shirley stuck out her hand. “You can call me Twila, and this is my niece, Ryli.”

  I snorted. I was fairly certain Gary Wainwright had told Larry who he’d be meeting, but Larry must’ve had too many drinks to realize Twila was a made-up name.

  “Twila.” Larry slurred a little as he turned to face Aunt Shirley fully. “Now that right there is a mighty purdy name for a mighty purdy lady. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Actually,” I interrupted before Aunt Shirley could agree, “we just need to ask you some quick questions.”

  Larry Tubbins smiled. “Little lady, around these parts, nothing is done quickly.” He gave Aunt Shirley a lewd wink.

  I groaned when Aunt Shirley tittered and batted her eyes at Larry.

  “So here’s my proposal,” Larry went on drunkenly. “As you know, I can’t give you any personal information. But maybe if you ask the right questions I may give you something that can help you. Here’s the catch—you want to ask a question, it will cost you a shot.”

  “We have to buy you a shot for every question we ask you?” I asked incredulously.

  “Nope. Twila here has to take a shot with me for every question you two ask me.”

  Aunt Shirley grinned. “Deal.”

  If I’d been standing at the bar I would have plunked my head down on the counter. This wasn’t going to be good.

  Larry threw his hand up in the air to signal the bartender. “What’s your shot of choice?”

  Aunt Shirley didn’t even hesitate. “Tequila.”

  Larry grinned. “You ain’t married are ya?”

  Aunt Shirley laughed. “Not yet.”

  I turned around and looked at our table. Paige and Mom were whispering and staring at us. I sent them a pleading look for help, but Mom just smiled and shook her head. I turned back around as the bartender finished pouring each of them a shot.

  Aunt Shirley reached over and selected three limes from the white compartmentalized container sitting in front of her. She placed the limes on her napkin and then grabbed the salt shaker.

  “I want to know about a box in your post office,” Aunt Shirley said.

  “Drink,” Larry commanded. Aunt Shirley picked up the salt shaker and shook salt on one of the limes. They both took the shot. Aunt Shirley bit into the lime and smiled at Larry.

  “Okay,” Larry said happily. “That’s one question.”

  I frowned. “That wasn’t exactly a question.”

  Larry grinned drunkenly at me. “It is if I say it is.” He motioned the bartender to pour them another. “What do you want to know?”

  The bartender backed away and Aunt Shirley and Larry picked up the shot glasses and toasted. I noticed Aunt Shirley didn’t even bother with the salt and lime this time. “I want to know what you can tell me about the person that rents the box.”

  They both threw back the drinks, shook their heads and let out a yell. Larry banged his fist on the counter. “You can hold your booze there, little lady.”

  Aunt Shirley grinned. “Years of practice.”

  Larry grunted. “Gary said y’all were working with Sheriff Simpson on this case. Here’s the thing, I can’t give you precise information. Gary did give me the box number, so I’m familiar with the box you’re talking about.”

  I motioned to him with my hands. “And?”

  Larry’s brow furrowed in thought. “And I can tell you I’ve never personally seen the person that comes and gets the mail out of the box. They probably sneak in during the night to come get it. As long as you have a box, you have a key to get in the building. So they probably come in when no one else is around. If we had cameras, I’d say it would be an easy thing of Sheriff Simpson getting a warrant, but we don’t have cameras.”

  My heart sank. This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that Trent Starnes came in and opened the box and he was the one that collected the mail.

  Larry signaled the bartender for another round. Why I didn’t know. We had no more need of Larry Tubbins.

  “But…” Larry grinned wickedly.

  Aunt Shirley put some salt on a different lime. “But you remember something that may help us?”

  Larry held up his shot of tequila and clinked it with Aunt Shirley
’s glass. “Twila, you are not only beautiful, but smart.”

  They grinned at each other and took their shot. Aunt Shirley bit into the lime and grimaced. She’d better not get sick in the Falcon or I’d make her walk. Of course, I’d seen Aunt Shirley toss back way more tequila than she was now, but you never know how things will go with Aunt Shirley.

  Larry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a loud belch.

  Classy.

  “See, I was the person that opened the account for the box.”

  I leaned in close. “And?”

  He looked at me and swayed a little on his feet. His skin was pale and sweaty underneath the ruddy red from his cheeks. I had no idea how he was getting home that night, but he was going to need that ride soon. Larry didn’t break eye contact with me but threw up his hand to signal the bartender.

  “One more,” he yelled drunkenly before turning around.

  Aunt Shirley looked at me and rolled her eyes. She was still sober as a nun and this all was just a game for her.

  She painstakingly put salt on the last of her lime as the bartender shook his head. I couldn’t help but wonder what this little interrogation was going to cost us. Those shots were probably six or seven dollars apiece. I calculated the total in my head and groaned.

  Larry held up his glass. “Before I tell you what the person looked like that opened the box at the post office, I’ll make a little wager with you.”

  Aunt Shirley narrowed her eyes. “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll give you a full description of the person and pay for all these drinks if…” Larry trailed off and leaned closer to Aunt Shirley, “you ride the mechanical bull over there.”

  “No,” I said. “No way. You will break a hip.”

  Aunt Shirley scowled at me. “It’s my body…my decision.”

  Okay…different approach.

  “You’re in a dress,” I said. “Aren’t you the one that said you can’t straddle a horse in a dress that it would be tacky?”

  “Yep,” Aunt Shirley agreed. “Good thing it’s a bull and not a horse.”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “That makes absolutely no sense!”