“Can you get off me now?”
“Oh, sorry.” I let my sister go and sat on the edge of the bed, head in my hands. I didn’t know the right answer. Darned if I did and darned if I didn’t.
Delilah’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. “Hey, Tucker. Quinn and I wanted to offer to look into your aunt’s case so you don’t have to hire a private eye. Come over for breakfast and we’ll talk.”
My jaw slack with shock, I said, “What did you just do?”
A twinkle of excitement in her eye, she replied, “I put the Bellandini sisters back in business.”
Chapter 9
To say I was jittery as I made breakfast was an understatement. I dropped several eggs on the floor. I spilled milk, coffee, and orange juice on the kitchen counter and on myself. I let the grits boil over onto the cooktop. And to top it off, I dropped an antique teacup, which shattered into a million and one pieces all over the kitchen floor.
Papa Sal stared at me. “Quinnie, maybe you should go back to bed and start the day over later.”
My lower lip trembled as I held back tears. “I’m sorry, Papa Sal.”
He stepped around the shards of teacup to give me a hug. “It’s okay, honey. It’s just a cup.”
Delilah sighed. “It’s not just a cup. Tucker’s aunt Lela was arrested last night for Esther Sinclair’s murder.” She conveniently left out the part where she completely freaked me out by insisting we put our sleuthing caps back on and investigate said murder.
“Oh, how terrible. How’s Tucker taking it?” he asked, getting out a broom to clean up the broken teacup.
“Not well,” I replied. “We invited him over for breakfast.”
He nodded. “That’s good. You two girls keep his spirits up and his stomach full. Kindness goes a long way toward mending a hurt.”
I smiled at his use of one of Grandmama Hattie’s favorite sayings. We all especially missed her at Christmastime. She’d always gone above and beyond to make the holiday season special for us. I usually strived to follow in her footsteps in that regard, but with everything going on the past week, I’d failed miserably.
Busying myself with the task of finishing breakfast and transferring the food to serving dishes, I tried not to stew over the bigger situation. But judging by the fact that I garnished the cheesy grits in Grandmama Hattie’s antique tureen with a handful of sugared cranberries and sprinkled shredded cheddar cheese across the festive cranberry-pistachio scones, I was stewing plenty. Delilah noticed my mix-up and pushed me out of the way so she could fix my mistake.
“Quinn, go get some air. We’ve got this,” she said, struggling to keep the edge out of her voice. I knew I was being more trouble than help.
I went outside to wait for Tucker. I paced the sidewalk, blind to the tranquillity of Pulaski Square mere steps away. Was it my duty to help Aunt Lela however I could, even badly? Or was it better if I didn’t muddy the waters, even if it meant stepping back and not helping? I didn’t know if I’d be able to come up with the right answer, no matter how long I considered the situation.
“You’re miles away.”
I jumped a foot in the air before realizing it was Tucker who’d spoken.
He smiled. “Sorry I startled you.”
“It’s okay. How are you doing?”
Shrugging, he said, “Better than Aunt Lela, I’m sure. I told her I’d visit first thing this morning.”
“Let’s get some breakfast in you, then.”
We walked inside and headed for the kitchen. Delilah and Papa Sal had taken care of serving breakfast and welcoming our guests, so there was nothing left for me to do. I was grateful to have a family who didn’t hesitate to come to my rescue.
Delilah and Papa Sal greeted Tucker, and we all sat down to eat at the kitchen table. No one quite knew what to say to him after that, besides an overly polite, “Please pass the butter,” or a “Thank you.”
Finally, my sister couldn’t take it anymore. “Tucker, Quinn told us about your aunt. Is there any good news?”
Tucker wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Not especially. It’s too early to know much. She has a lawyer—Bob Stiles—working on her case.”
Papa Sal nodded his approval. “He’s the best.” His expression said what he was really thinking—He’s pricey.
Delilah said, “That’s good to hear. How’s she holding up?”
Tucker’s face became pained. “I’m going to see her shortly.”
Delilah opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes shifted to Papa Sal. She seemed to think better of what she was about to say and closed her mouth, returning her attention to her breakfast plate.
I saw right through her. She didn’t want to bring up her offer to Tucker to investigate Aunt Lela’s case in front of Papa Sal. The last time we’d gotten ourselves tangled up in a murder case, our grandfather had been adamantly against our involvement. Even though we were adults, he still saw it as his responsibility to keep us safe, and sometimes he went a little overboard. While we didn’t want to sneak around behind his back, it wasn’t the best idea to speak openly about it in front of him. Especially since I was not at all convinced that we should get involved, or that Tucker would stand for it, either. Even though he and I weren’t dating a couple of months ago, he still didn’t totally approve that Delilah and I had run around town speaking to possibly seedy characters. He might voice a resounding “no” and nip the whole conversation in the bud.
Out of lack of conversation, everyone had put their full attention on eating, and as a result we wolfed down our food in record time.
Papa Sal hopped up and said, “Delilah and I will clear the dishes. You two take some coffee out onto the porch and relax awhile.”
Tucker pushed back from the table and gave me an apologetic frown. “As nice as that sounds, I’m going to have to take a raincheck. Aunt Lela’s expecting me.”
I nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”
Not to be deterred, Delilah was hot on our heels as we set out for the foyer. “Hey, Tucker, I was serious when I said Quinn and I would look into your aunt’s case so you don’t have to hire a private eye. I’m sure after paying Bob Stiles you don’t have two pennies to rub together.” Nothing like cutting right to the point.
“D, I’m not sure—” I began to murmur, but Tucker’s sigh of relief cut me off.
His rigid posture relaxed as he said, “I didn’t want to ask you outright. But the fact that you’re offering means the world to me. Yes, I would love your help.”
Not at all the reaction I was expecting from him. I fought to keep a neutral expression on my face. If I was being honest, I’d hoped he would be against this whole thing. But I’d be dipped if I’d let on.
He continued, “And you’re right—Bob is crazy expensive.” Shaking his head, he admitted, “Aunt Lela’s worth is all tied up in her house. It’s really all she has. A good chunk of her pension goes toward keeping up the old place, so she hasn’t got much in the way of savings. Dad of course won’t lift a finger to help her, so I’m funding her legal bills. Which may be a little more than I bargained for, considering this season is notoriously slow in the contracting business. No one wants their house torn up during the holidays. Add all that together, and it means I can’t afford to add a professional investigator to the payroll.” He put an arm around each of our shoulders. “Good thing I have such talented friends.”
I pasted on a smile, but didn’t trust myself to speak.
Delilah’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “I’m happy you’re taking us up on our offer. We can start anytime. Right, Quinn?”
I cleared my throat, which had suddenly become tight. “Um…of course.”
Tucker’s expression became serious. “Considering the danger you found yourselves in last time, I want to be consulted every step of the way. I want to know who you’re talking to, and when a
nd where you’ll be meeting these people.” He wagged a finger at us. “There will be no going to speak to anyone you think could be a potential murderer. This is strictly a mission to find some reasonable doubt for my aunt. I could care less who did the actual deed—all I want you to try to look for is proof that Aunt Lela didn’t do it. There will be no meet-ups at biker bars or the docks, nor will there be any covert spying on unsuspecting people. And if there is danger of any kind—perceived or actual—we pull the plug. Got it?”
I let out the pent-up breath I’d been holding. Thank goodness! I’d been worried he was throwing caution to the wind since he was so adamant about getting his aunt out of jail. This was the Tucker I knew—safety first. I could get behind an investigation that didn’t involve surveillance, talking to scary people in icky locations, and nearly getting myself killed. Basically he was asking us to reminisce about the good ol’ days with a bunch of old people and maybe encourage a little gossip here and there. That I could do.
He still wasn’t finished. “And you tell Sal everything or I will. I won’t be the cause of you keeping things from him, especially since he was so upset with you two last time.”
From the set of her jaw, it was clear to me that Delilah wasn’t liking the stringent rules. I was sure they were making her feel encumbered and patronized. But she hadn’t been the one who stared down a murderer and lived to tell about it. I was perfectly happy to play it safe.
“Deal,” I said.
Delilah shook her head. “You’ve got enough on your plate without worrying what we’re doing. We’re grown women, and we don’t need big strong you to protect us.”
I winced. It was a good thing Tucker and Delilah were such good friends. She often rubbed strangers the wrong way if she got agitated.
Tucker put out his hands. “It wasn’t my intention to come off misogynistic, and I apologize if that’s the way it sounded. I simply don’t want any harm to come to either of you, especially because of me. I’m only basing my stipulations on certain events that occurred a couple of months ago where—let’s face it—you two got in over your heads and it came back to bite you.”
Delilah retorted, “Over our heads. Pfft.”
I rolled my eyes. “Really, D? He’s not wrong.”
“Okay, fine. So we got a little overzealous once or twice. We learned our lesson. No need to mother us, Tucker.”
“Fine.” He got out his wallet and thrust a dollar bill into her hand. “Consider me your boss. Get out of line, and I fire you altogether.”
Delilah’s eyes got huge. “You are not the boss of us.”
My sister had received a double helping of the Bellandini stubbornness, and Tucker was no slouch when it came to sticking to his guns. I listened to them continue to argue back and forth, neither of them even considering backing down, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
Finally, I shouted over them, “You’re both acting like children! Do you think bickering like this is doing Lela any good?”
They both stopped to stare openmouthed at me. Yelling really wasn’t my thing, and I sounded ridiculous doing it. My voice always shook like an old lady’s and cracked like a teenage boy’s. It was not easy on the ears.
Delilah shook her head, and Tucker uttered a contrite “no, ma’am.”
I took a moment to gather my composure. “All right, then. Delilah, I’m sure we can agree to be more careful. Tucker, we will discuss our plans with Papa Sal and stick to working on proving Aunt Lela’s innocence.” When Delilah began cutting in to disagree, I added, “And if in our research we find that we might have a lead on the actual killer, we will discuss our next steps together.”
“That’s still too constrictive,” Delilah griped.
“D, we have to start somewhere. Besides, this is a three decades’ old murder case. You seriously think we’re going to manage to happen onto the killer? Finding Aunt Lela some reasonable doubt is going to be infinitely simpler than trying to track down who did the deed.”
Tucker seemed satisfied. He gave me a peck on the cheek. “Sounds good to me. I’m heading to the station. Do you two want to go along and get the ball rolling by talking to Aunt Lela?”
I smiled. “Yes, but first we need to get breakfast cleaned up and talk to Papa Sal. We’ll meet you there.”
He nodded. “Good. That’ll give me some time alone with my aunt to explain the situation. See you soon.”
The moment he was out of earshot, Delilah said, “You just had to side with your boyfriend, didn’t you?”
As I walked ahead of her toward the kitchen, I waved a hand in dismissal and said in a breezy tone, “Oh, don’t get all hot under the collar. I’m siding with common sense, not Tucker. We have absolutely zero to go on, and everyone’s memory of one random night thirty-three years ago is going to be garbage. We’ll be lucky to find enough to get Aunt Lela off the hook, much less come up with a viable suspect.”
“Exactly, because with all of Tucker’s stupid rules, we won’t be giving it our best and most aggressive shot. Therefore, we will never find out who did it.”
“Who did what?” asked Papa Sal, who I almost ran over as I barreled into the kitchen.
I cast a glance at Delilah, whose expression reminded me of all those times when she was waiting to get into trouble for something she’d done as a wayward teenager. “Papa Sal, we need to talk.”
Chapter 10
While Papa Sal was somewhat leery of the thought of his granddaughters poking around in another murder investigation, he agreed that we should do what we could to help Lela and Tucker. And he was relieved to hear that we weren’t going to be “chasing around another murderer.” He approved of our plans to find some kind of information that could help clear Aunt Lela’s name. It also didn’t hurt that I mentioned Tucker would be watching us like a hawk every step of the way.
After the breakfast dishes were cleaned and put away, Delilah and I hopped into her old pickup truck and headed for the police station. She’d put a wreath with a big red bow on the front bumper so it looked like one of those trendy shabby chic trucks depicted in Christmas art and ornaments. But neither of us was feeling so festive as we pulled up in front of the station. We’d both been quiet on the short ride over. The last thing I wanted seared into my brain was the image of poor old Aunt Lela incarcerated, but that was likely what I was about to get.
We walked inside and didn’t have to wait long to be shown to a small room where I’d been before to visit a friend in jail. I had an eerie feeling of déjà vu as the door swung open and I saw Tucker sitting across from his aunt Lela. Thank goodness she wasn’t shackled to the metal table, but she was wearing a government-issued jumpsuit and canvas shoes. I fought to contain a simultaneous shudder and urge to cry.
“Hi, Aunt Lela,” I said quietly as I sat in the chair next to Tucker. “You know my sister, Delilah.”
Delilah nodded and murmured a “hello,” to which Aunt Lela replied with a grunt. I hadn’t expected her to be very enthused to have to tell her story again to me and to my sister, whom she barely knew. She did have a tendency to clam up when she was tired or around people she didn’t know very well.
Tucker said, “We were discussing how you two are going to try to gather some information to help the case.”
I smiled. “That’s the plan.”
Except that we had no plan. Delilah had dumped the idea of sleuthing on me this morning. I’d freaked out about it until Tucker got involved and set his ground rules. Then we hadn’t had much time to decide what kinds of questions we should be asking. I thought back to how we started the investigation last time—making a list of people who might have wanted to kill the victim. Well, that wouldn’t work this time, because we weren’t trying to figure out who killed Esther Sinclair. In theory, it seemed easier to try to prove that Aunt Lela didn’t do it. But without gaining some kind of proof that someone else did the deed
, were we going to be able to show Aunt Lela’s innocence? I wasn’t entirely convinced we could do one without the other.
I cast a glance at Delilah, wondering if she was mulling over the same dilemma. I said, “Um…Aunt Lela, I guess we could start by asking you a few questions about your relationship with Esther Sinclair. Specifically why the police began looking at you in the first place, other than the fact that her body had been buried in your yard.”
Aunt Lela stared blankly back at us, making no move to give us any information. This was not going so well.
I tried a less open-ended approach. “Did you have an issue with Esther Sinclair that other people knew about?”
She nodded.
After doing a bit of quick math, I realized Aunt Lela was around my and Delilah’s age when this thing with Esther Sinclair occurred. I couldn’t imagine having a beef with a high schooler. But then again, I didn’t have a skirt-chasing husband with a wandering eye to worry about.
“I don’t mean to be indelicate, Aunt Lela, but was the issue that…Beau had taken a special interest in her?”
She nodded again. Well, that was a heck of a motive right there. Something told me Aunt Lela’s innocence was going to be quite difficult to prove.
“Did you ever, um…catch them together?”
“Not in the biblical sense.”
“But you caught them, what, talking?”
“Flirting.”
“Did you put a stop to it?”
She shrugged. “Tried to a couple of times, but it didn’t take. She kept coming around.”
“Do you remember what you said?”
“Something along the lines of, ‘Stay away from my husband, you little hussy.’ ”
“Did anyone overhear you?”
“Probably the old busybodies who lived around me.”
I was surprised Imogene McAlfrin hadn’t thrown that in Tucker’s face like she had every other bit of biting gossip when we’d spoken to her. She hadn’t mentioned hearing Aunt Lela yelling at Esther. I hoped there weren’t other nasty neighbors intent on making trouble for Aunt Lela, although according to Bob Stiles, there were two neighbors who’d told the police they saw her set Esther’s car on fire. The neighbors would be a good place to start interviewing, but what was the likelihood that people would be living in the same homes after thirty-three years?
Southern Harm Page 5