The Mint Julep Murder

by CC Dragon

  The boys strolled in and Gran made a fuss about the changes and how they’d better pay up and spread the word. The four guys tried the smoothies and Milan and Joe were brave enough try the flavored coffee shots.

  “Fancy,” Freddie said.

  “It’s a start,” I countered.

  My huge smile was hurting my cheeks, but the bell over the door jingled and my smile was suddenly as fake as a pageant contestant.

  Lurlene had walked in. The evil popular girl who’d latched on to tormenting me as a kid and never let up. She still looked perfect.

  “Belle Baxter. I heard you were back.” She leaned over the counter to air-kiss my cheeks.

  I hated the fake girls!

  “I am. So kind of you to track me down to mend fences. Coffee? Smoothie?” I offered.

  “Interesting. I knew you’d be back to serve us all one day.” She sampled a smoothie.

  “I’m shocked you’re still here. I thought you’d be long gone and married to some rich, important guy by now,” I said.

  It was pretty much her plan and HS year book quote. She was going to marry well and move to Nashville at the least, take care of her parents and have gorgeous kids.

  “I’m picky. You can’t rush true love to the right man,” she said.

  “That’s true,” Gran agreed.

  “Like your mom and her tragic story. Did you ever find her, by the way?” Lurlene took a second sample.

  I counted to ten. “I went to college. I wasn’t looking for anyone. Gran is all the family I need.”

  “And you kept that dirty blonde hair. Brave.” She reached for another sample.

  “Vanity is a sixth sense. Can I get you something?” I offered.

  My hair was on the dirty blonde side and Lurlene loved to say it. Her blonde was perfect and straight out of a bottle. She viewed me as some weird competition, according to Katie. We both had long wavy hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and petite figures. Lurlene was a few inches taller.

  “I suppose I’ll take a smoothie. Skim milk unless you have almond milk,” she said.

  “Not yet. We’re still expanding the menu, but thanks for the suggestion.” I blended her up a berry smoothie and rang her up.

  “Biscuits, dear?” Gran offered.

  “Oh no, no carbs. Thank you,” Lurlene said.

  “Bye, dear,” Gran said.

  I’d be annoyed, but Lurlene had never been rude to my grandmother that I’d ever seen. Then again, I’d never done anything to Lurlene that I was aware of and she’d decided that I was the enemy.

  “What’s she doing now, Gran?” I asked after Lurlene was out of the door.

  “Oh, she works at her dad’s store. It’s mostly tractor supply and feed. I buy Duke’s puppy food there. They support local business too. I can’t complain, but she’s always been jealous of you.” Gran shrugged it off.

  Jealous wasn’t the word I’d use. Her family was intact and flawless, from what I knew. But I didn’t know everything about my own family, so who was I to make assumptions?

  Milan smirked. “Lurlene wants to marry the pastor. She talked about college when you first went, but there was always a young man she didn’t want to lose out on. Or her dad needed her help.”

  “Helping her dad is good.” If I couldn’t say anything nice, I’d keep quiet, but that was polite enough.

  “She wants to be taken care of,” Joe agreed. “Poor girl grew up with an old-school father. His way or it’s wrong. Mother keeps a perfect house but doesn’t work except when the family business needs her. She never said a peep. Lurlene and her sister didn’t know how to make a decision on their own. Your gran was a free thinker compared to some.”

  “Everyone has their faults and challenges. Belle, don’t you forget about the pastor and choir. You need to play piano,” Gran reminded me.

  “This afternoon. I’ll put a reminder in my phone.” I pulled out my cell and programmed a reminder.

  While things were quiet, I shopped online for a small fridge and a slightly used coffee machine.

  Before I could pick a model, the door opened and a group came in. Word was getting around. People in small towns where nothing changed loved new options. I mentally made a note to get a couple of big blenders, because Katie’s little one might be dead by lunch.

  * * * *

  I walked into the church and wandered around a bit. I checked the choir room and the pastor’s office. Finally, I found the pastor in the main church, where the piano was.

  “Hope I’m not late,” I said.

  “No, not at all, Ms. Baxter. Please get comfortable with your instrument.” Pastor Nelson vacated the chair. “There’s some music set out for you.”

  I took the bench and flipped through the sheet music. Nothing too tricky. Standard really.

  “Thank you, Pastor, but call me Belle. I am a bit rusty. I didn’t have my keyboard in Atlanta. I should’ve taken it, but between working and classes, there wasn’t much time to practice anyway,” I admitted.

  “It’s okay, and you can call me Luke. We’ve been muddling through without anyone since Mrs. Armstrong retired to Arizona.” He sat in the first pew. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Luke? That was way too familiar for a pastor I’d just met. Respecting the elderly was critical, but religious men got a lot of it too. It was just habit. I’d figure out the name thing later. He was good-looking and focused on his work without being stuffy or condescending.

  I wiggled my fingers and tuned out the rest of the world. I focused on the music and forgot anyone was listening. Piano was normal for me. I’d had lessons since I was four until fourteen because Gran had seen that I loved music. She’d steered me hard away from guitars or drums and toward the piano. I often wondered if my mom ran off with a musician or my father had been one. Maybe the rumor of my mom being musical was true?

  It didn’t really matter. On the piano, I could play any sort of music, and a small keyboard was just as portable as a guitar.

  Two songs in, I heard applause. My fingers froze.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You don’t need to do any more. You are more than talented enough to accompany our choir. Practice starts soon. I hope you can stay.” The pastor walked up the steps.

  “How often is practice?” I asked.

  “Once a week for two hours. But it’s afternoons so shouldn’t cut into the busy time at your gran’s shop. Of course, Sunday mornings at ten is our service, which is the big show, but Beatrice usually closes for service.” He held out his hand. “We’re blessed to have your talent.”

  “Thanks again, Pastor. Glad to help. I’ll just let Gran know not to expect me back soon.” I shook his hand and felt the extra squeeze he gave.

  “Luke, please. None of these church ladies will stop with the formality,” he said.

  Was the pastor flirting with me? I grabbed my phone and felt weird about using it here. “I’ll go into the entryway to make the call.”

  I glanced back and he waved. He was grinning pretty wide.

  Pastor Luke was good-looking and my age, but it felt a bit odd. If I somehow upended Lurlene’s plans for the pastor, I’d be the most enthusiastic piano player Sweet Grove Community Church had ever seen.

  Chapter Four

  Avoiding the parade of church-goers and the small talk was another perk of playing for the service. I was decked out in a nice green dress and brown flats. My hair was pulled back and the choir ladies had commented approvingly. We hung out in the back until service started, so no doubt Gran was fielding all sorts of questions about where I was.

  She was most definitely telling them where I was with pride. For me, it was about the music and maybe the cute pastor. But a little bit of it had to be about acceptance too. None of the choir ladies had asked about my mother or father. They’d only made polite conversation about my time in Atlanta so far.

  “Ready, ladies?” Luke walked out, looking very sharp in a dark gray suit.

  Service began and I tried not t
o think about anything but the music and my cues.

  When playing piano, I could easily get lost in the music. Any sort of music, really. I liked a variety, but even tried and true church music was fine when I needed a break from reality. Playing at church had only one problem—it meant most of the town was there and watching. Gossip that I was back had surely spread on day one, but now I was on display.

  My focus remained on sitting up straight and not playing so loudly that I overpowered the choir. The sermon about the prodigal son seemed a bit prickly and on point.

  Finally, the service was nearly over. I wouldn’t be a novelty anymore and we could just be normal.

  “A few closing remarks and announcements. I’d like to thank Belle Baxter for taking up the piano duties for our service and choir. She’s expanding the menu over at Bea Baxter’s shop, so check out the smoothies and coffee offerings. It’s lovely to have family businesses in town and we should support them. Wholesome homemade baked goods and an array of beverages that are kid-friendly—we need more of that. One last reminder to be the olive branch for your own prodigal sons and daughters and to support those who return. Go with God.” Pastor nodded.

  I played some music as people filed out, but my fingers wanted to hit the keys harder than I should. Was I prodigal? The sales plug seemed like charity. I tried to remember my marketing, that there was no such thing as bad publicity. I glanced at the crowd and felt their stares.

  One man caught my eye, and he wasn’t staring at me with pity or annoyance.

  That guitar player who was the new deputy, according to Katie. Handsome and sitting alone—in church. If he was single, he wouldn’t be for long.

  I also spotted Lurlene and her family. She sat with her parents and sister, who’d already gotten married. That must’ve stung. Surely Gran had mentioned the wedding, but I blocked out most of that information about them to keep my sanity.

  I pressed my lips together to avoid smiling. Lurlene was staring at the pastor like he was next on her list. Good luck!

  After church, there was a social hour of sorts with coffee and pastries. Gran, of course, had brought some preserves and rolls.

  After chatting with the choir ladies, who seemed pleased, I tried to sneak out.

  “Belle, you have to stay and mingle,” the pastor said.

  “Thanks, but that boost you gave the shop will probably create a stampede,” I said.

  “I wanted to help get the word out.” He blushed.

  Oh, was he crushing on me while Lurlene circled him like a vulture? That was the last thing I needed—but it was awfully nice.

  “I appreciate the mention—we’ll have to have you over for dinner. But you don’t need to say anything again. It’s a small town and people know everything about everything so quickly. I don’t want people thinking that I’m looking for charity. You understand.”

  “See you at practice and next week,” he replied.

  “Sure. Thank you.” I found Gran and hustled her away to the shop.

  * * * *

  The shop wasn’t packed, but it was certainly busier. I liked the Danish that Gran had made for the day and my smoothies were a hit. Kids dragged their parents in, using the pastor as an excuse. If it was good enough for a man of the cloth…right?

  Gran beamed when the pastor came in and ordered a large mint julep smoothie.

  It slowed down around noon. Sunday lunch or dinner with the family, depending on schedules, was a thing. But Gran had packed us a picnic basket of fried chicken and homemade mashed potatoes. Comfort food, if a bit traditional.

  “This is so good, Gran,” I said.

  She grinned. “I don’t know why we needed to leave the church so fast. I like socializing.”

  “Sorry, but after the pastor’s remarks, I knew we’d have some kids at least wanting to try something new.” I stood up a little straighter. “Next week you can hang back and talk up the specials for that day.”

  “I can do that. I’m not sure how much business you’ll get this afternoon. Family time,” she warned.

  I finished my lunch then put the silverware back in the basket. After tossing out the trash, I washed my hands. “I know, but your hours are until four, so we might as well see. Some parents might make the kids wait until after lunch and the smoothie is like a dessert.”

  Gran straightened up the counter. “Smart. The boys will be in soon. They always visit after lunch at the diner. They’re so predictable.”

  “Why don’t you go to lunch with them?” I asked.

  “I used to, but you’re here now.” She grabbed my hand.

  “Gran, you don’t have to change your life for me. I want you to enjoy your friends and everything. I just want to be here if you need me.” I wiped down the counter.

  “I’m not helpless. I’m not arguing, because I like having you back, but I’m fine. You didn’t need to move. Sometimes I get tired when I have too much to do and I forget one thing. One time I forgot to fold the laundry in the dryer for a whole week. I wondered why I was running so low on towels.” She chuckled.

  “Then don’t let me stop you from going out to lunch with the boys next week. I don’t think we’ll have a lunch rush and I can grab something from the diner or pack my own lunch.” I wanted her to enjoy her golden years, but the reality was that things wouldn’t get better. She’d forget more and grow more tired—I’d rather be here than get a terrifying call.

  The door opened and Gran’s four men piled in. Her smile said it all. They’d brought her pudding from the diner.

  I fussed over cleaning the already clean blenders so Gran and her harem could all chat without including me. Since when am I the fifth wheel, or sixth in this case? At least she hadn’t been lonely without me.

  The door opened again and a bunch of people poured in.

  “We talked you up to the diner crowd,” Joe said.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  Half an hour of nonstop flavored coffees and smoothies and I was beat.

  Just as I checked the time, hoping to flip the sign on the door, Sheriff Monroe and his wife strolled in.

  “Good afternoon. What can I get for you?” I asked.

  “Been behaving yourself?” The sheriff answered my question with a question.

  I was on my best behavior. “Absolutely. Working and playing piano in church. We missed you there.”

  His wife shot him a look. “I had a migraine but managed to kick it.”

  “That’s good. We have a triple berry or a mint julep smoothie, or flavored coffees on top of Gran’s usual delights.” I gestured to the food, but it was getting late in the day for that. The pastries were probably a tad stale by now.

  “I’ll try the berry,” Mrs. Monroe said. “This is something new, but do you think the trends will last?’

  I put my hands on my hips and gave a moment’s thought. “Adapting to what people want is part of the business. Some people have asked for blended coffee drinks.”

  “I’ll try a mint julep,” the sheriff ordered.

  I blended up the drinks and handed them over. The sheriff reached for his wallet.

  “No, no charge for police,” Gran insisted.

  She was sharp when she wanted to be. It was common practice.

  “No need. That’s kind, but we like to help.” The sheriff tried to pay.

  I shook my head with a polite smile. “On the house. You heard the boss.”

  “Thanks.” They sipped their drinks, seemed pleased and headed out.

  Behind them was the twelve-string guitar player guy.

  “Hello again,” he said.

  “Hi, I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” I replied.

  He reached out a hand. “Gus Haywood. I saw you at the bar.”

  “Right, you were playing. I’m Belle Baxter. Gran and her entourage are over there.” I pointed.

  Gran waved. “Nice to have some new men around.”

  “Katie said you’re a new deputy, I believe. Unless I’m mixing up the band me
mbers.” I didn’t want to seem fixated on the new guy. All the band members were new to me anyway.

  “No, that’s me. I’m not really a part of that band. I just like to sit in. It’s good practice. Like you in church,” he said.

  “Yes, practice never hurts. What can I get you?” I offered.

  “I’ll try the mint julep. Interesting little town,” he said.

  I blended his drink and gave it to him with a bit of a chuckle. “How is Sweet Grove interesting?”

  “Not many chain restaurants.”

  “True, we support local businesses more. There are a few fast-food places on the outskirts of town by the expressway ramps. Main Street doesn’t allow it,” I explained.

  “It’s nice, but I do miss a good coffee drive-thru. They’re everywhere in Atlanta and Nashville.”

  I looked around. “You’re from Atlanta? I went to college there and worked for a bit. How funny.”

  “Small world. I started out there. Moved to Tennessee and worked in Nashville.” He shrugged.

  “Big cities,” I countered.

  “What brought you here?” Milan asked.

  Gus chuckled. “I got tired of the big city. I grew up in the suburbs of Atlanta, but big-city police politics isn’t what I’m interested in. I wanted to help people. Get to know the people.”

  “You might not need as much coffee. Things are a bit slower around here,” Gran said.

  “Caffeine is my only addiction. I can’t give it up,” he said.

  “Not sure I can make this a drive-thru, but I’m considering getting a fancy coffee machine. I worked at a Starbucks in college, so I know how to make anything, though I’d customize it my own way, of course. Still, I need the right machine. Good to know there is some demand. People might judge you for your fancy coffee,” I warned him.

  He chuckled. “I’m not worried about that. Caffeine is necessary and trying a variety keeps things interesting.”

  “If you’re easily bored, you might not like Sweet Grove,” Milan called out.

  I studied Gus when he went over and introduced himself to Gran’s gentlemen friends. He had a casual but positive energy. He chatted easily with the seniors and came over, reaching for his wallet.