by Tegan Maher
"Well, we'll just have to agree to disagree," she said as she finished her wine and headed to the fridge. “You do realize that I have magic and could stop myself if something went wrong, right?”
“What if you pass out from the bends or something?” That was a thing, right?
I folded a towel over the rolls and popped them into the warm oven to proof.
"You know what your problem is?" She asked, pointing a bottle of ketchup at me. "Your problem is that you're stuck in a rut. You work, you come home. That's it."
"That's not true. I volunteer at the shelter and do fundraisers for them."
"Yeah, but that's like, what? Once a month or something? And besides—that's boring. You have zero excitement in your life."
Aunt Adelaide chose that minute to pop in. "She's kinda right, sugar. You used to love going places and doing things. Shoot, you haven't even had a speeding ticket in a couple years, and when was the last time you two went out for a night on the town?"
They were right, but I had Shelby to think of now. Just keeping her out of trouble was a full-time job. We couldn't both be irresponsible, and I said as much.
"Oh honey," Addy said. "You can't stop living just because you have responsibilities. You have to have fun, too. That's what life is all about."
Max raised his head from his bed in the corner. "Exactly. I see more action than you do, even in this form." He waggled his wooly eyebrows. "There are a few advantages to being knee-height."
"Yeah, and look where that attitude landed you! And ... eww!"
With a derisive humph, he stood up and circled like a cat, then lay back down with his back to me.
I knew they were right, and with the extra money I was making from the pastries lately, I could afford to do something at least once a week. The more I thought about it, the better it sounded. Then I remembered the extra taxes and sighed.
Raeann smirked. "See, I'm not the only one who thinks you've turned into a fuddy-duddy."
Scowling, Addy's transparent body shimmered and she wagged a finger. "You're no better, young lady. You're just the opposite. Didn't I teach you not to run with scissors? First bridges, now airplanes. What's wrong with you? If I were alive, I’d go upside your head with somethin’!"
She disappeared in a puff.
Raeann and I paused for a minute, then laughed. "Well, I guess she told us."
The air shimmered above the table, and Aunt Adelaide's face appeared, three times its normal size. "Oh, and Noelle, don't let the handsome hunk of a man get away. He's taken a shine to you. You're not getting any younger." She disappeared again, popping out of sight like a soap bubble.
"And on that Aladdin-like note," Raeann proclaimed as she popped the last of her burger in her mouth, "I have to get home and get to bed if I'm going to be worth a diddly tomorrow."
"Okay. And think about what I said about skydiving, okay? It seriously scares the crap out of me every time you do something like that."
"Fine," she said, giving me a hug on her way out the door. "Come up with something I'll like better and I'll consider it."
She was already out the door before I remembered I was doing something risky tomorrow night—I was going on a motorcycle ride. Though on a scale of one to jumping-out-of-an-airplane, that was probably only a solid three.
Chapter 17
A
fter I dropped the pastries off at Brew4U the next morning, I made my way to Bobbie Sue's and began the process of opening. Since it was a weekday, it probably wouldn't be busy except for the couple of hours when people took lunch breaks, so I took my time and did everything by hand. I even had time to call Camille and leave yet another voicemail. I was starting to get seriously worried about her.
My first customers didn't roll through the door until almost noon; by then, I was about twenty minutes past bored out of my mind.
I grabbed a couple of menus and rushed to the table to greet them. A few more people started filtering in and before I knew it, the lunch rush was in full swing. Yay me.
As usual, the flood turned into a trickle around twelve thirty. I was cleaning the salad area and restocking the tea when the door jangled. Anna Mae was standing at the hostess stand and waved when I looked up.
"Hey, Noelle! How you doin', sugar? I brought Hank's family in for lunch. Anywhere in particular you want us to sit?"
"Nah, just sit anywhere. Teas?"
"You betcha!"
They chose a booth by the window, several seats down from the door. I took their drinks to them and handed them menus.
Hank's dad was a large man, girthy and balding. His eyes sparkled with humor which, to be honest, pleasantly surprised me. I expected an older version of Hank, except maybe sleazier because he'd had a few more decades to practice.
A man dressed in wranglers, cowboy boots, and a plaid button-up with mother-of-pearl buttons that was about two sizes too small for him was sitting in the booth with Anna. He could have passed for Hank's twin if you added a few years. The slime ball was looking at me like I was the best thing on the menu while doing his best to cop a feel on Anna's knee under the table. She kept shoving it off, and he kept creeping it back on. Definitely Hank's brother.
I wrinkled my nose and had a near-uncontrollable urge to punch him in the throat.
Hank's mother was just the opposite of her husband and son. Whereas Mr. Doolittle was a little rumpled and dressed casually in khaki pants, a button-down white shirt, and well-worn loafers, she was wearing a tailored beige pants ensemble. Her silver hair was perfectly styled in an elegant updo, and her makeup was flawless as she gazed scathingly at her surroundings.
Anna Mae moved her purse so it was between her and Hank 1.2, then introduced me. "Mama and Daddy Doolittle, James, this is Noelle. She was there when Hank ... well, she's a friend of ours."
"Mr. and Mrs. Doolittle, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry about your son," I lied.
Hank's mother perused me head to toe over the rims of her reading glasses and looked like she'd sunk her perfectly straight, obviously false teeth into a lemon. "Thank you, Nolene. Though it's just like him to go and get himself killed just before we were getting ready to leave on our cruise. He always was inconsiderate like that."
I blinked and tried to keep a neutral expression. Not the response I was expecting. I didn’t even bother correcting her on my name because that wasn’t even a blip on the radar if you were looking at things wrong with that exchange.
Hank's dad patted her on the hand. "Now, Mama. You know he was just rambunctious. He had a big personality, is all."
Mrs. Doolittle waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, come on. Let's not pretend Hank was anything other than what he was—a selfish, thoughtless bully and a philanderer, though lord almighty knows where he—where either of them—got it." She waved her hand toward her other son. "I suppose boys will be boys," she sighed.
I looked at Anna Mae, unsure what to say. I'd never found myself in such an awkward situation. I mean, it wasn’t like I disagreed with the woman that her sons were pigs, but still. Anna just shrugged and smiled, but when I looked closer, it was the same smile she'd worn for the Ms. BBQ Bash beauty pageant in high school. Fake as Aunt Minnie's pearls, and a little maniacal. She was just as out of her depth as I was, except she couldn't escape.
I turned my attention back to Mrs. Doolittle. First Mama, then Aunt Adelaide had taught me every single rule that applied to any social situation, but I promise you Miss Manners did not cover this.
I followed the only rule that was even remotely applicable here: I kept my opinions to myself. "I'm sure you were a wonderful mother, ma'am," I made a fuss over pulling my order pad from my apron.
"So," I ventured, "when's the funeral?"
Anna Mae shook her head, slapping James's hand away again. "We don't know. They haven't released his body yet, but that new deputy said it'll likely be later today."
"Ah, so maybe Friday, then." I said, distracted by Anna Mae’s distress. I furrowed my brow at him and
pursed my lips. If he thought her leg was so hot, then so be it. I imagined the surface of her jeans to be just the right temperature to fry pancakes, then watched out of the corner of my eye as he laid his hand on her knee again.
He jerked it back so fast he busted his knuckles on the underside of the table, then cradled it in his lap. Anna Mae looked puzzled but relieved and I just smiled at her.
"Absolutely not," Mrs. Doolittle declared, snapping my attention back to the conversation at hand. "Only poor people have funerals during the week. It'll be on Sunday. He's brought the name low enough; we'll at least lay him to rest with some class." If only she knew how little rest he was likely getting.
"The wake will be held at Anna Mae's residence rather than that run-down excuse for a funeral home," she continued. "We'll host a full buffet. He spent his life lordin’ it over people around here, so free food's likely the only thing that'll bring anybody around to keep Anna Mae company."
I frowned at the implication; she was right that nobody would show up for Hank, but Anna Mae was a different story. Keyhole's covered-dish brigade had already been to see her once, and Coralee had been keeping her company in the evenings too. Poor Anna Mae had apparently reached the end of her rope. Between the handsy James and the thoughtless, condescending mother-in-law, she looked like she was going to cry, and that burned my bacon.
"That's mighty considerate of you. Anna Mae's well-loved around here, though. If anything, she'll have more of a support system now than she did before Hank died." The woman's beady eyes snapped to mine, but I refused to back down. It was the truth. She'd said as much herself.
"I suppose you're likely right," she said before breaking eye contact and looking down at the menu.
I looked over my shoulder at the empty restaurant like I was busy and asked, "So. Do y'all know what you'd like to eat?"
I quickly took their orders and backed away from the table, feeling horrible for Anna Mae. And I thought my family was dysfunctional. A few issues with an unruly teenage witch, a perverted talking donkey, and a dead aunt who still showed up for dinner was downright normal compared to that freak show.
After I'd delivered their food, I retreated to the waitress station to cut lemons. Somebody tapped me on the shoulder and I about jumped out of skin. I spun around to find Anna Mae standing there. She grabbed my arm so hard her acrylics were leaving marks.
"Noelle, I'm beggin' ya—use some of that Flynn juju to solve this before that woman really does drive me to murder." A denial formed on my lips but she rolled her eyes and gave me the oh please look. She poked her thumb in the direction of the table. "You think that back there was crazy? You ain't seen nothin’.
"She's gone through my underwear and thrown away my good ones because she said they weren't proper for a widow. She's ordered new wallpaper with giant mauve roses on it for my living room—my beautiful, eggshell living room, with my eggplant accent wall and all my Home Interior decorations! You gotta get rid of her!" she pleaded.
"Anna Mae, calm down! It's gonna be fine. Hunter will find who did this in no time."
"Be serious," she snapped. "You know as well as I do he’s gonna be lookin' at me for it. It's always the wife." I raised an eyebrow at her and she scowled. "You know what I mean. Now please, find who killed Hank before Satan's older sister over there plasters those hideous roses all over my living room!"
She grimaced when Mrs. Doolittle called, "Anna Mae, while you're talkin' to Nolene, would you tell her to be a dear and bring us some of that peach crisp with a scoop of vanilla ice cream? And whatever you want. It's not like you have to worry about those hips anymore."
Anna Mae plastered on her Miss BBQ Bash smile before she turned and called back, "Yes, Mama Doolittle," then hissed, "God Almighty, Noelle, find 'em. Fast."
I shook my head as she walked back to the table. I couldn't wait to tell Raeann about this. Some stuff you just can't make up.
I WAS JUST FINISHING my shift when Raeann sent me a text saying Anna Mae had called it right. They’d just arrested her.
That wasn't a conversation to have in a text, so I just responded that I was on my way to the coffee shop. Since my feet were killing me, I jumped in the truck even though it was only a few blocks away.
I looked at all the quaint little shop windows as I drove through town and wondered which one of them was harboring a murderer. I mean, sure, Hank was a first-rate jerk and I wasn’t sorry he was gone, but he'd been riding roughshod over people around there for years and nobody'd done it yet. Why now?
Since it was nearly closing time, there were plenty of spaces in front of Brew. When I walked in, only one couple was lingering over coffee and gazing all starry-eyed at each other.
Raeann was wiping down tables, but stopped what she was doing and motioned toward the hallway that led to the supply closet. As soon as I turned the corner, she grabbed my arm.
"Oh my god, Noelle! Can you believe it? The sheriff's department just hauled Anna Mae in. They searched her house lookin’ for whatever killed him I reckon, and found a copy of a life insurance policy in the amount of half a million dollars. They called the company and verified that Anna Mae is the sole beneficiary and that she'd been the one to buy the policy. Two years ago last month—long enough for the two-year contestability period to end."
"No way," I told her, shaking my head. "Anna Mae's not a killer. If she was gonna kill him, she woulda done it years ago, when he first took up with Cheri Lynn or any of the other tramps he's had a go with."
"I agree, but Coralee stopped for coffee and apparently it was like we thought—he was poisoned, and nothin' says fed-up wife like poison. To be fair though, she doesn't think Anna Mae did it, either."
"Do you have any idea what kind of poison it was?"
"No. The only people who actually know are Hunter and the coroner. They're keeping it under wraps until they find the killer. Of course, they'll have to release the information to her lawyer, but he won't be here until tomorrow afternoon. The Doolittles are bringing one down from Atlanta because they don't trust anybody from here."
I couldn't honestly say I blamed them. Hank had most of the ones here in his pocket, if rumors were to be believed. Of course, now that he was gone, all bets were off. "What's Anna Mae saying about it?"
"Well, of course she's saying she didn't do it. She says she took the policy out because she figured he'd end up eatin' himself to death eventually, or else somebody else would speed the process up for her."
I quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. "I can't really say as I blame her. If I'd been in her shoes, I probably woulda played those odds, too. She probably shouldn't have said that last part out loud, though."
"No doubt," Raeann agreed. "Oh, and the Doolittles have offered a fifty-thousand-dollar reward to the person who finds the real murderer."
"I met them today. Those people are as messed up as soup sandwiches." I told her about the conversation at the diner. "It says something when even your own mama doesn't like you."
"Well, maybe that's why he was the way he was—mommy issues."
"Yeah. Or maybe he was just a dick."
"True story, regardless."
Chapter 18
I
helped her finish closing up, then we went to the diner to grab a bite to eat. The Starlight Diner had opened back in the '50s and hadn't changed much since then, even though the third generation was now running it.
They still had the speckled white Formica tables and bar, and the booths and stools were upholstered with red Naugahyde. James Dean, Vivien Leigh, and Elvis smiled down from numerous pictures, and snapshots of the town through the decades stood witness to how much things had changed, yet managed to remain pretty much the same.
An old-fashioned soda machine squatted on the counter behind the bar, ready to serve up its next coke float, and the comforting smells of bacon and coffee had permeated the walls so they were as permanent as the paint.
The food was affordable, greasy, and delicious, the shakes were thic
k and rich, and the service was always good. There was a reason they'd stayed in business for almost seventy years.
We chose a booth and flipped open the plastic-covered menus even though we both knew what we wanted.
Becky, the owner's daughter, came and took our orders. While we waited for her to make our shakes, we talked about the real estate investor. Something about that just creeped me out, especially considering somebody’d cut my brake lines just a few days before. That meant there could still be somebody out there who considered me more valuable dead than alive.
"So, who do you think he talked to?" she asked. "Probably a quarter of the male population is tall with dark hair. I mean, that covers Hunter and Jake, even. I don't know that I'd really describe many of the guys in this town as polished though. I mean, our guys are classy, but I'd describe them more as rugged. Polished sounds kinda pansy-ish to me."
"I know. Maybe the guy was working for Hank. I mean, he practically admitted to cutting my break lines, and he didn't make any bones about wanting the farm. He would have had to rubber-stamp the permits and what not too. I'm not going to borrow trouble."
Raeann rolled her straw paper up into a little ball and fidgeted with her napkin. "I don't know, Noelle. You know he always had his hands in a dozen different shady deals at a time and this feels a little above his pay grade. I think you should tell Hunter about it, at least."
I sighed. "I guess I should. There's not much to tell, but at least if something happens, he'll have a place to start. The guy gave me his business card."
Our food arrived and we were too busy stuffing our faces to say anything else.
After I polished off my cheeseburger and fries, along with every drop of my strawberry-banana shake, I felt like I'd eaten an entire cow. I needed a nap.
"What do you have planned for tonight," I asked, leaning back in the booth because my jeans were suddenly two sizes too small.