Marriage and Murder: Solving for Pie: Cletus and Jenn Mysteries Series Book #2

by Penny Reid

  She smacked him lightly on the shoulder, rolling her eyes. “We’ll see.”

  “Who else is in contention?” he asked, making me wonder if he had plans to launch a smear campaign.

  “I’m not telling.” Ashley turned to me and pulled me in for another hug, speaking to her brother while she did, “And don’t go trying to pump Drew for info either.”

  “Did I miss the party?” Jethro shuffled into the kitchen, an empty plate in his hand. He was showered and dressed but looked exhausted.

  “Did you know Ash and Drew are pregnant?” Cletus squinted at his oldest brother.

  “I did.” Jethro placed his dish in the sink, and then turned, winking at his sister. “Why? Didn’t you?”

  Cletus made a sound like harrumph and crossed his arms. “Oh, by the way, you wanna be a groomsman?”

  “Sure.” Jet’s smile widened and he looked a little more awake. “Do I need a new tux, or . . .?”

  “We’re wearing Dickies. Coveralls, ” Cletus said flatly, sending Ash a grumpy look.

  “Oh good Lord.” She appealed to the ceiling.

  “Cool.” Jethro nodded, shrugged, and shuffled toward Ash, placing a kiss on her cheek, stopped in front of me and placed a kiss on my cheek, and then paused in front of Cletus. He hesitated for a second, then placed a kiss on Cletus’s cheek, wrapping his arms around his brother. “Thanks for including me.”

  Cletus frowned, saying, “You’re a dummy,” but he returned his brother’s hug.

  I looked to Ashley and found her eyes watery again. “I need to get out of here before I start crying again. Jenn”—she gave me an unsteady but happy smile—“don’t worry about the wedding shower. We’ll have it here. Tell your momma I’m happy to take over the planning.”

  “Are you sure? I can—”

  “No. I’m sure. I love to help.” Ashley’s smile spread. “Okay, see y’all later.”

  Meanwhile, Jethro had released Cletus and was now shuffling toward the kitchen doorway. “We got to go too. Shelly is upstairs with Ben. Ash, I’ll walk you out.”

  Cletus came to stand next to me, reaching for and holding my hand as we watched his siblings go. When we heard the front door close, he turned to me. “What are your thoughts?”

  “About what?” Goodness knows we’d covered a lot of ground with Ash.

  “About your father’s murder.” His gaze moved over my face. “I hope you know I wasn’t trying to be insensitive with my questions. But we needed information she had.”

  “I know. It was hard, especially when y’all were talking about the mode of . . . you know. But I agree. And now I feel like we should’ve done something sooner. Why do I feel like they’re planning to arrest my momma any day now? And Cletus—” I stepped closer, lowering my voice even though he’d said no one was listening to the Winston house “—why are the FBI and DEA involved?”

  “I’m still puzzling over the DEA and your house. I need to talk things over with Alex, see what he thinks. Speaking of which, let’s go back to the carriage house. I need to message him.” Cletus used his leverage on my hand to pull me to the kitchen table. He picked up the pictures of the rope and the list of suspects, tucking them in his back pocket. He then steered us to the back door.

  “And the FBI?” I asked, following him outside.

  “I suspect the FBI is invested in the case because of Repo.”

  “How so?”

  “The Iron Wraiths have been on the FBI’s radar for a long time. Repo knows where all the bodies are buried, but—more importantly—he’s the money man. I suspect they got a tip that Repo and your momma are involved. If I had to guess, and this is pure conjecture, I’d say they’re putting pressure on your mother to help them bring in Repo.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Like lining up dominoes. Diane is charged with Kip’s murder, first degree. They negotiate a lower charge—manslaughter, maybe—and she brings in Repo. Repo turns state’s evidence and brings down the Wraiths.”

  “That man.” I ground my teeth, my temper spiking. “Why did he have to pick my mother?”

  Cletus didn’t respond, so I inspected his profile. “Please. Don’t tell me you still think he loves her?”

  “Then I won’t tell you.”

  I pulled us to a stop. “Cletus. You can’t be serious.”

  “I theorize the FBI thinks using your mother as leverage will make Repo turn state’s evidence. If I’m right, then Repo cares about your mother a great deal, enough to turn against his club brothers, and that’s no small thing.”

  “He’s probably the one who shot my father in the first place. Maybe Repo doesn’t want my momma telling the FBI that. Maybe that’s why she won’t leave the house, because she’s afraid of him.”

  “No.” Cletus shook his head. “No. I don’t think Repo shot your daddy.”

  “Then why was he there? To see my mother?”

  Cletus opened his mouth as though to answer, his eyebrows pulling together, but we were interrupted by Billy exiting the carriage house.

  He stopped short at the sight of us, waited for a beat, then said, “Hello.”

  “We’re staying for a bit, in the carriage house.” Cletus announced.

  A little smile played over Billy’s lips. “Miss my company, Cletus?”

  “No. Also, you’re walking Jenn down the aisle?”

  My features twisted in an apologetic grimace, but Billy sent me a don’t worry about it look as he responded to his brother. “Yes, I have that honor.”

  “You think you could also handle being my best man? If not, I’ll find someone else. Jenn’s request takes first priority.” Cletus crossed his arms, his tone and expression grumpy, and that made no sense.

  As I looked at how Cletus held himself, stiff and straight and bracing, I saw the hint of vulnerability there. Of course Cletus was acting grumpy. He hated being vulnerable.

  Billy, who knew Cletus and his moods better than anyone, including me, seemed to understand this too.

  “I guess I’ll be doubly honored.” His smile grew soft and his eyes, always thoughtful but usually a bit aloof, warmed until they shimmered. “Thank you.”

  “Well.” Cletus nodded, and kept on nodding. “You are welcome.”

  “Does this mean I get to plan your bachelor party?”

  “Never mind, I rescind the offer.”

  Billy chuckled, finally walking toward his car. “Too late. I have Jenn as a witness. What’s done is done.”

  Cletus turned as Billy brushed past. “This shall not stand!”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. I believe your stripper friend—George, right?—I believe he rappels from the ceiling, if memory serves. No standing involved.”

  The rest of the weekend passed too quickly. I did end up going into the bakery and making Ashley those lemon custards, which I dropped off to Drew at their place before she’d returned home. Cletus and I spent the night in the carriage house both Saturday and Sunday but didn’t take that shower together. The second bedroom didn’t have an en suite bathroom. Out of respect for Billy and the thin walls, restraint was the order of the day.

  Now, you might be thinking, This woman is nuts. Thinking about shower sex while her mother is being hustled by a criminal and being targeted by the FBI, her own home has been tapped by the DEA, and her father’s murder was just weeks ago. But, y’all, when shit is going down and there’s no way to stop it, you need nice things to look forward to.

  For me personally, during these trying times, being close to Cletus was the nicest, best part of my day.

  However, yes, I also thought it was nuts how often my mind wandered to thoughts of Cletus, naked, wet, in the shower, soap gliding along his—

  OKAY! See? This is what I had to deal with. And don’t lie, now you’re thinking about it too. I think we can all agree, the man is distracting. Moving on.

  Cletus and I did a lot of talking, and that was nice. But not much of it centered on my father’s unsolved murder until Sunday night. While ge
tting ready for bed, Cletus had marched into the room and declared, “Elena did it.”

  I’d been putting moisturizer on my face and turned from the mirror. “What?”

  “Elena. She’s guilty.”

  He hadn’t been forthcoming with any of his theories yet, saying he needed time to let it marinate, so this proclamation seemed significant. “You think Elena was the strangler?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I think so too.” I set the moisturizer container down and finished rubbing it on my face as I rushed to say, “Let me tell you why.”

  “Perfect. Tell me. I’m ready to compare notes.” Cletus sat on the mattress, giving me his full attention.

  “A few things, actually. First, because of what you asked Ashley, about who was driving. You’re right, Jackson wouldn’t have let my daddy drive away drunk.”

  “Excellent.” He gave me a single nod, looking proud.

  “Elena must’ve been the one to drive, which means she turned them around and brought him back. My guess is she made sure he was good and drunk and helped him into the driver’s seat. Then she got in the back and—well, you know.”

  “Exactly my thoughts.” Cletus twisted his lips to the side, inspecting me. “Are you okay?” he asked, then winced. “Sorry, I promised myself I wasn’t going to ask you that.”

  I thought his question over. “I’m . . . not okay. But right now my focus is on clearing my momma’s name. And, on that note, the gloves are also weird.”

  “The gloves.” Cletus’s small smile returned, his eyes twinkled, and he looked at me like I was wonderful.

  “She scratched your face at the party, no gloves. But in the forest when they found her, she’s wearing gloves. Why did she have gloves on? Sure, it was chilly, sixty-five or so, but not glove weather right after sunset—”

  “What about the rope?”

  “Okay, yes. I don’t know. Tell me about the rope. I don’t know anything about rope.”

  “The knot. A farmer’s knot instead of a traditional noose. Elena grew up in farm culture, we know that from last year and all those chickens. She’d know how to tie that knot, no problem. And you use that kind of knot as a sorta hook or a handle, it doesn’t slip, much better than a real noose if the killer were someone small and needed all the leverage they could get.”

  “What did you mean in the kitchen yesterday with Ashley? When you said something about sinking rope?”

  “Oh, yeah. I can’t figure that out. The rope the killer picked is incredibly strong, heavy, and it sinks. It’s usually used for fishing , crab traps and such. There’s got to be a reason why she picked sinking rope. It’s an unusual feature for rope, but not an unusual rope.”

  I thought for a minute about that. “Maybe she—she’d planned to throw it in the pond after? Let it sink to the bottom?”

  “Maybe . . .”

  We both simmered in our thoughts for a moment.

  “Why do you think . . .”

  “What? What is it?” he pressed.

  “What is her motive?”

  “That’s a good question.” Cletus nodded somberly, glancing up at the ceiling. “Maybe we’ll find out tomorrow at the reading of the will.”

  “Oh. I forgot that’s tomorrow. Shoot.”

  Cletus watched me for a moment before saying, “You don’t have to go.”

  “No, no I want to go.”

  “You want to see if your brother shows up.”

  “Yes, actually. I’m sure my father’s will reading itself will be a waste of time. My guess is he probably wrote a letter to tell me how disappointed he is in my choices.” I wasn’t looking forward to any of it except the possibility of seeing Isaac.

  “Why do you think he asked for Billy to be there?”

  “I guess we’ll find out.” I shrugged. “He always liked Billy, maybe he left him something?”

  “Too bad your momma won’t be there. It’d be helpful to get her side of the story.”

  “I wish I could get her to leave the house. She’s . . . it’s weird, Cletus. I think it’s more than the shock of seeing my father dead, more than the police watching. It’s like she’s shut completely down. There’s something else going on with her. She’s scared, I think.”

  “Facing murder charges is scary business. Having the FBI breathing down your neck is difficult.”

  “But she didn’t do it.”

  “No, I don’t think she did. But she saw something. She was there right after. She put her hands on Kip, maybe to stop the flow of blood.”

  “I can see her doing that, just being totally in shock. Do you think she saw the shooter?”

  He nodded sadly, free of any artifice. “I think she must have.”

  “Then why won’t she just talk to the police? Why won’t she talk to us? I brought her dinner tonight and she wouldn’t even get out of bed. But what can I do? I can’t say anything. The FBI is listening.” I was so worried about her.

  “I do not yet have the answers to those questions.”

  I sat down heavily on the mattress next to him. “We need to figure out who did it. If we clear her name, the FBI will have to back off.”

  “It could be anyone who wasn’t in the barn when your daddy was shot, anyone on that list of suspects Jackson gave us. Like Posey Lamont and Roger Gangersworth, they hated your father, felt he stole money from them when their business venture failed. In some cases, like Danvish for instance, and Miller, they lost everything, their farms, their livelihoods. Everything.”

  “I just don’t see any of them being a killer.”

  “What was Miller doing at the party? You were right. I double-checked and Miller wasn’t on the guest list.”

  “You know he wants his cows back. He was probably hoping to get a minute with my mother.”

  “Jenn, none of them have a solid alibi, some of them have no alibi.”

  “According to the list, you and I don’t have a good alibi either, but we didn’t kill him.”

  Cletus huffed. “Heck, Old Man Blount could’ve done it. He wasn’t invited, but he threatened to kill your daddy last year. Remember that? In the hospital when your momma was found next to his bee boxes?”

  “He was raving, Cletus. He’d just lost all his honey producing bees. I think he’s threatened to kill everyone in town at least once, or they’ve threatened to kill him. No. I think it must’ve been Repo.”

  Cletus didn’t look convinced.

  “Well, one thing is for sure.” I stood, screwed the cap back on my moisturizer and returned it to my toiletry bag. “We need to get my mother out of her house and talking. The sooner the better.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  *Jenn*

  “You have to do your own growing no matter how tall your grandfather was.”

  Abraham Lincoln

  “That woman is two drumsticks short of a picnic,” Cletus muttered, his gaze trained on Elena Wilkinson. Or rather, the shrouded figure we assumed was Elena Wilkinson.

  We’d pulled into the parking garage in Knoxville with a few minutes to spare. Cletus then texted Billy, letting him know we’d arrived. Not three seconds after he’d finished, my father’s BMW pulled up and parked about three cars over from us.

  A woman in a long black skirt, black shirt, and a black lace veil covering what looked like blonde hair stepped out. She locked the car with a keyless fob and strolled toward the elevator. It was my father’s car, the one he’d been murdered in and, at this realization, my stomach rolled.

  I followed her progress in the passenger side mirror, knowing I was making a face. “She kills him by strangulation and wears a black veil to the will reading. Unbelievable.” A hollow sort of hardness sat in my stomach, pressing against the bottom side of my lungs. Cynicism.

  That’s what it was.

  Cletus unclicked his belt, reaching over and squeezing my hand. “Are you ready?”

  Gathering his hand between mine and turning it palm up, I traced the lines with my fingertips. I loved his hands. They
were big and strong, scarred, rough with calluses, but so incredibly gentle whenever he reached for me, or held me, or touched me. I loved how much of Cletus could be understood by his hands.

  Bracing myself for what was to come, I let the worry fall away. With Cletus here, by my side, I’d be in good hands. “I think—”

  “Get away from me!” Elena’s forceful screech interrupted our quiet moment, and we both turned.

  I tried to peer out the back of the car, but Cletus had the better view. His side faced the elevators.

  “Uh oh.” He bolted out of the driver’s side door.

  I was a little slower to follow since I still had my seatbelt on. But as I opened my door, I heard more angry shouts.

  “She’s just as responsible as he was,” a voice I recognized as belonging to Nancy Danvish hollered over the others. “And we’re here to see that we get our land back, our money back, like shoulda happened last year.”

  Coming around the car, I stopped dead in my tracks, struggling to comprehend the scene. Everyone was there—not everyone who hated my father, but a lot of them—all the suspects on the list Jackson had given to Ashley, plus Richard Badcock and Old Man Blount. They blocked the elevator, barring Elena’s entry, all enraged faces and unveiled aggression.

  “You signed over that land. We bought it fair and square, Nancy.” Elena’s typically timid tones had adopted an edge of hysteria, and she flinched away as Cletus stepped between her and the crowd. “Don’t you touch me, or you’ll be sorry.”

  Cletus held his hands up. “I have no wish to ever sully myself thus, Ms. Wilkinson.” Then to the crowd he lifted his hands higher in the universal gesture for settle down. “Y’all shouldn’t be here.”

  “We know y’all are meeting with the attorney, it’s public record. We want assurances y’all are going to do the right thing and sign our farms back over to us. Where’s Jennifer?” Vanessa Romero stepped forward, pointing an accusing finger at both Elena and Cletus.

  “And I demand the restitution for my bees! Kip dragged his feet long enough to die, don’t think I’m letting his estate off the hook for what’s due me.” Old Man Blount might as well have been holding up a pitchfork.