by CC Dragon
“How are things with Harry?” I teased Martha as I drove us to the commuter college on the outskirts of Nashville.
Martha giggled. “He’s sweet. I’m not sure if he’s serious. Most men don’t want to take on kids.”
I rolled my eyes. “Harry isn’t a bad guy. He grew up in a house where the dads didn’t hang around or even visit. He wouldn’t be like that.”
“He’s taking things slow,” she added.
I nodded. “Good. No rush. Your ex being a jerk?”
She sighed. “He’s not thrilled. Harry and I aren’t even anything official yet, but men get territorial. I get it, he wants to know who is around the kids, but Harry is a good guy.”
“Darn right he’s a good guy. Katie’s brothers stood up for me when no other kids ever would,” I assured her.
“He is. I know he’s a great guy. The whole drama with Luke made me a little nervous, but clearly Luke was just more conservative.”
I bit my lower lip and tried to ignore the oil light that was on my dashboard. “Did Harry tell you exactly what went down with Luke?”
Martha fidgeted with her hair. “Larry wanted to talk to Luke. Harry found out about it because Larry was upset. That’s sort of how Larry’s sexuality came out. I think Katie knew, and a bunch of people who work at the bar. Larry got upset. I think Luke might’ve said something to someone or threatened to out him.”
“That’s awful. No wonder there was all that tension,” I pondered.
“Yeah, but neither Harry nor Larry would hurt anyone. I don’t know David as well, but I can’t imagine.”
“He’s been around less,” I agreed. “But he’s harmless. Hard-working like the rest of them.”
“Harry said he was training for a new job. Long-haul truck driving. I guess it’s good money.” Martha shrugged.
It made me think about Ed and how Luke had supposedly helped the wife and kid to get away, but I hadn’t seen Ed at the bar.
“You okay?” Martha asked.
“Sure.” I pulled into the right lane.
“You drove past the car place you said you wanted to get an oil change,” she reminded me.
“Right. I’m so frazzled.” I turned right, and luckily there was an access road on the side of the expressway. I got to the car place and they promised it’d be done in an hour with all the free checks.
“Just change the oil,” I replied.
We walked next door to the community college classrooms. It felt like something between high school, with all the bulletin boards and meeting signs, and a community center. The worn tiled floor and scuffed paint on the walls showed this was no fancy high-priced college. I found the room and it had theater seating and was pretty full already.
“There is a garage in town,” Martha commented.
We sat down and settled in. “I know, but then they want to fix everything. They see my old truck and think it’ll be a goldmine. I feel terrible because I can’t afford to fix half of the things it could use. I can barely afford what it needs. They need business, but it’s cheaper here.”
“I get it. If my parents weren’t helping, I’d be screwed. My ex only pays support because my dad threatened to come to his work with a baseball bat and call him out for being a deadbeat dad in front of his boss. Some men, it’s like they can’t just do the right thing—if it makes them look weak, they have to fight. He can’t give in to me, but my dad, well, that’s different.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Some weird knuckle-dragging genetic thing in their boxers region.” She blushed.
I laughed.
A guy walked up to the front and the chatter settled down. He began with a boring intro about who he was and how long he’d been bartending at the trendiest places in Nashville.
Then more boring parts. Go around the room and say why you’re here. Weren’t we all here for the same reason?
Then the second guy turned so he could see everyone. He was in one of the front rows. He was also the guy who’d been lingering around Luke’s funeral, the guy who no one had known. Rubbing my eyes, I wondered if I was imagining things. I tried to get a better angle and wished I had binoculars. He’d left the funeral before anyone had chatted with him enough. He also hadn’t signed the guest book or left a card. Pete had let me snoop a bit through things after the funeral.
“Hi. I’m Ray and I’m hoping to open my own bar in the future. This seemed like a good place to start. Get certified and work at a few in my off hours,” he answered.
“Dream big. I like it,” the teacher responded.
When they made it to me and Martha, we both had the same answer.
“My best friend owns the big bar in a small town and I help behind the bar sometimes. I’ve worked as a barista, so it’s a lot of crossover skills, but I want to be legit,” I explained.
Martha added that she’d love to create new cocktails, but that was that and we settled in for legal stuff—what we could do, couldn’t do and had to do to keep our certification. We got a little book of rules and a notepad to take notes.
I’d gone to college for hospitality and this felt like I was in high school detention. Normally I was positive, but I was going backward, not forward. Then again, if I’d done a community-type college, I wouldn’t have student loans to pay off. But my proper college experience was full of good memories and opportunities small-town life just didn’t have.
With my qualifications and experience, I could run a five-star hotel. I had never tended bar, so I’d never had this certificate. As he droned on, I realized I knew everything he was saying from working in a big hotel. Our bar had the same rules—even if I’d bartended there, I had to know those rules and enforce them in guests or patrons.
My brain kept wandering to Ray.
* * * *
When class ended, I walked down to the front and boldly introduced myself. Gran would never have approved. Young ladies don’t go chasing after men. Men do the chasing and a lady makes sure he’s of good quality before she lets herself get caught…
“Sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I think I saw you at the funeral the other day. For Pastor Luke?” I asked.
“I stopped by to pay my respects. I didn’t know many people there, so I didn’t stay long, I didn’t want to overstep. I’m sorry—you are?” Ray asked.
“Belle Baxter. Luke and I dated for a bit and I’m always curious to meet friends of his. Were you a member of his church, or maybe a friend from college?”
Ray looked uncomfortable. “Did you follow me here?”
“No, it’s a coincidence. My friend and I really are helping a friend who owns a bar. We need this certification, but I never imagined I’d find you here. I feel like I didn’t really know Luke. I guess it always felt like there was a distance.” I frowned.
“Yeah, he kept himself to himself. He had a men’s group where he talked about more traditional stuff. How men still feel defined by their work and responsible for their families. Women working doesn’t change those old-fashioned ideas. Men judge each other,” Ray explained.
“Were you part of that group?”
Ray nodded. “I was going through a divorce. You were dating him? Pretty and kind, seems right.”
“Yeah, but apparently there’s someone else. That’s a pattern of his?” I asked.
“In the bible, men had more than one wife. He had some out-there theories.” Ray rubbed the back of his neck.
“That’s insane,” I remarked.
Ray smiled. “Luke always tried to show one face to the public. He had another set of teachings for people who wanted to give up control and just believe—just follow no matter what. Like life would be simpler.”
“Definitely not me.”
“Then it wouldn’t have worked out with you two. I’m sorry for your loss, but he has a lot of enemies out there. If you’re trying to solve it, it could take years,” Ray warned.
“You think it was murder? A snake might just have been to scare him.”
M
artha walked down. “Sorry, I was chatting. Hi, I’m Martha.”
Ray shook her hand. “Hi.”
“Ray was telling me Luke has a lot of enemies out there,” I informed.
“Oh, enemy enough to track him down in a new town and new church?” Martha asked.
“Depends. Some people let stuff go and others brood on it and can’t move on,” Ray explained.
“Maybe we could talk about suspects or who he hurt. I know he fired some people and some relationships got complicated. It might help us to sort out suspects. We could call the sheriff,” I suggested.
“I actually have somewhere I have to be. I didn’t expect to chitchat after class. I’ll catch you next time and we can talk afterward.” Ray walked off into the darkness of the parking lot.
“Have a good night,” I called.
“Too much? Did I scare him off?” Martha asked.
“No more than I did.” I bit my lower lip as we headed outside for our walk back to the car place.
“Next time, we’ll bring Gus,” Martha added.
“You should ask Harry out to dinner. Find out if Luke overreacted or got seriously upset when he was confronted—was he a danger?” The two of them had been hanging out and circling one another but not made an official date yet. Katie suspected Harry was worried about Martha’s ex, unsure if Martha was ready for something real.
In my humble opinion, Martha needed something better and real.
Martha frowned. “That’s kind of forward. Even if we’re just trying to help the case.”
“You’re right. He wouldn’t talk about the really scary stuff to you. He wouldn’t want you to worry or feel unsafe,” I replied.
Martha murmured in agreement. I heard texting noises.
I walked up the service desk. “Here for my car, name is Baxter,” I informed them.
A guy stepped out from the back. “We did the oil change but noticed this in your back tire.” He set a baggie containing a nail on the counter.
“A nail in my tire? Really? No one pointed it out when we pulled up.” I folded my arms.
“We caught it before it made it into the tire. So we pulled it, plugged it and only charged you fifteen dollars.” He smiled.
“Oldest trick in the book. Take off the charge,” Martha insisted.
“Lady, we did you a favor. We could’ve left it,” he scoffed.
“That would be negligence. Why don’t I call the sheriff and let him sort it out?” I pulled out my cell phone.
“Fine, fine. No charge.” He crossed it off the bill.
I paid him and got my keys. I checked my gas gauge, my mileage and the emergency twenty I kept shoved under my ashtray. I got inside and Martha piled in as well.
“Everything else okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, lesson learned. I trust the garage in town not to pull crap,” I admitted.
* * * *
After dropping Martha off, I drove by the feed store. It was open until ten and it was ten minutes to.
“Miss Belle Baxter?” asked Lurlene’s dad.
“Hi. Sorry I’m here so late. I need goat feed and to order some sort of modular barn.” I smiled.
“How much goat feed?” he asked.
“Um, I have six regular-size goats and six pygmy-size goats. Can I get a month’s worth?”
“It’s not cheap,” he warned.
“I didn’t plan on getting the goats this soon, but they were a gift.” I shrugged.
“I see.” He flopped a book in front of me. “Modular barns.”
“Late-night shopping?” asked a familiar voice.
I looked up and saw Gus. “Hi. Goat feed and modular enclosure. What do you think?”
He leaned over. “I’d get that for the big ones and that for the little ones.”
“That looks like a doghouse,” I said.
“It’s about twice the size of Duke’s doghouse,” he agreed.
“Shouldn’t I just get one big barn?”
He flipped the pages and pointed out the price.
“And dog houses look reasonable.” I hoped the goats weren’t a mistake.
“That’s a goat shelter for at least ten full-size. We’ll put up a better fence around the pen to keep the wind and weather out. Lots of hay inside and some blankets. We don’t get that cold down here. Goats, cows and horses are tough animals—not house pets,” he explained.
“Pygmy goats, this should fit a dozen and it’s fully enclosed. Okay. Those two. Thanks.”
“You’re keeping them all then?” he asked.
“Yeah, I did want them. I can’t see returning them. If I wait until everything is perfect, I’ll never do it. I was saving up for it, so Luke did something nice for me. I don’t fully understand him, but I can appreciate that he wasn’t all bad.”
Lurlene’s dad handed me the ticket with the total cost. I initialed and pulled out my credit card.
“That includes delivery, right?” Gus asked.
“I’ve got a pickup. I can come get it,” I said.
Lurlene’s dad cleared his throat. “Free delivery and assembly when it’s all arrived. You can take the feed now, if you want.”
“Thanks, I will. Can we make the goat feed a monthly standing order?” I asked.
“I’ll set it up to charge your card automatically,” he offered.
“Fine. Lurlene isn’t working tonight?”
“She’s in class.”
“Oh, fun. I’m sure she’s top of her class in everything,” I said.
He ripped off a receipt. “Sign here and then you can pull around back. They’ll load the feed. Your enclosures will arrive in a week—we’ll call when we have the exact date. Here’s your receipt copies.”
I took my bunch of papers. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
“Good night.”
Gus walked me to the door.
“Aren’t you here for stuff?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I saw your truck. You had class too.”
We exited the store and he opened my car door for me. “I did. Not at the beauty school. Over at the community extension, for bartending certification. I got my oil changed right nearby, but you need to hassle that place. They tried the nail-in-your-tire trick.”
“Got it.” He typed a note into his phone.
“Last time I don’t trust local. Oh, and that mystery guy at the funeral is from one of Luke’s old churches. He’s in our class. He said there could be a lot of people who have stuff against Luke.”
“I’ve been checking out Luke’s old churches. I’m aware of some very upset people. He tried conversion counseling and group meetings for it. He’s not qualified to do anything mental-health-related,” Gus said.
“But so many pastors do.” I climbed in the pickup and started it.
“Leave that side of things to me and the deputies. A lot of people to touch base with. Some parents are upset he spoke to their kids without their consent. One kid that we know of killed himself six months after Luke left their parish. We’re looking into any connection with how Luke talked about subjects.”
“He was gay?” I asked.
“That and his mom was a single mom, never married. So he was a bastard. Luke was a bit more judgmental and a bit less Jesus-loves-everyone than most pastors around here. But go get your feed. Let the employees close up. I’ll follow you home and make sure you’re safe. Then I’ll swing by the shop tomorrow.”
“Thanks, but I can make it home,” I told him.
“Belle, I’m not being overly protective because you’re a woman. I’m worried that you poking around the case might make you a target. You got free goats, were his girlfriend publicly, and now you’re free and nosing around. Someone might think you’re the killer and want revenge. I won’t lose you,” he insisted.
“You know what people will think of that.”
“I don’t care. Once we solve this case, I’m going to ask you out, and no more Luke or Dina nonsense. Our exes are in the past.” He grinned.
/> “Fair enough.” I kissed his cheek and rolled up the window.
I pulled around, got the feed and headed home. Honestly, I only glanced back a few times, eyes on the road. But I knew he was there looking out for me. The important part, he’d never told me to stop trying to get answers or investigate. Gus wasn’t trying to change me or tell me how to be. True, he had more experience and authority, but my roots were deep in this small town. I wasn’t going to let murders just happen…but this one might reach beyond our little world.
Chapter Eleven
With the morning rush over, I was blending up a new flavor of smoothie while Gran kept knitting those onesies for the pygmy goats.
“Gran, I promise I have an enclosure coming next week. We’ll put hay and blankets in it. It’ll be fine for a southern winter,” I argued.
“But they’ll look so cute,” she countered.
I blended away with a mix of berries. The shade came out blue. I tasted it and liked it.
Pouring samples, I called Gran and her crew to the counter to try them.
The men liked it, but Gran wanted it a bit sweeter.
“You like strawberry. That’s all you want in there,” I teased Gran.
Just then the RV drove up and parked on the streets. The band guys piled out and entered the shop.
“What brings all of you here?” Gran asked.
“We lined up a few gigs in Kentucky. We’ll be gone maybe a week or two weeks, if things go great. We stopped by for coffee, smoothies and snacks for the road.”
“Sample this and I’ll kick off the coffee,” I said.
“That’s really good.” Dillon took another drink.
“Thanks.” I brewed coffee and bagged up pastries. Once all the guys had sampled it and approved, I poured out smoothies for them.
The bell over the door rang again and Gus and Jeff walked in.
“We’re here to look at the electrical box,” Jeff explained.
“Sure thing. It’s in the back on the far wall.” I pointed in the general direction.
Gus and Jeff headed back. I checked on them as I grabbed some beverage carry trays.
“We can expand things, but it’ll take a little rewiring and upgrading the fuses,” he planned aloud.