Southern Harm

by Caroline Fardig

  “The couple who just checked into the blue room brought along a dog.”

  I frowned. “It clearly states in our check-in policy that we don’t allow dogs.”

  “Oh, well, the snippy lady who owns the dog informed me that her shih tzu is a service dog.”

  “How is a tiny ankle biter of a dog going to help anyone do anything?”

  “Evidently he’s a support dog for her anxiety.”

  I shook my head as I heard an incessant barking begin overhead. “How is that yapping going to do anything but give people anxiety? Why not a big dog? They’re much quieter.”

  She made a face. “She couldn’t fit a big dog in her designer purse.”

  “How long are they staying?”

  “Five days.”

  I loved dogs, but that barking was beginning to get on my nerves. “Oh, joy.”

  Delilah waved her hands. “Forget her. What did you learn from the landscaper?”

  I filled my sister in on our interview with Mike McLeod, only for her to let out a whoop and jump up and down when I handed her the paper with the names on it.

  Fizzing with excitement, she said, “You’re on desk duty. I’m going to track these guys down. Oh! And guess what?”

  I smiled, happy that she was so in her element. “What?”

  “I called my gossipy pal Lucy, who works at the tag office, so of course she knows everyone and their business.”

  “At least where their vehicles are concerned.”

  Her pal Lucy’s dirt on people wasn’t always factually accurate, but it was probably close enough that we could use what she knew as a starting point.

  “And who they’re related to. So guess whose cousin is a cousin to your friend Callie?”

  Lots of people around here were cousins. That narrowed down nothing for me. “I don’t know.”

  “Esther Sinclair!”

  “Who’s the cousin?”

  “Polly Gibbons.”

  “Oh, I know Polly. She comes to our gigs all the time to support Callie.”

  Three of my friends and I had started a rock band in high school, and we still played together regularly. It was my guilty pleasure. In fact, we had a gig coming up tomorrow night.

  “Exactly. Maybe she’ll be at your show tomorrow.”

  “I’ll get in touch with Callie and see if she can talk Polly into it.”

  Delilah took the stairs two at a time. I loved seeing her with such fire in her eyes. She’d grown bored of the B&B life in the past year or so. I wondered if it was time for a change for her. I didn’t want to do this job without her, but if it meant that she was fulfilled, then it would be worth it.

  I settled in behind the check-in desk and decided to try calling Mom again. Like last time, I got her voicemail. It wasn’t like Mom to ignore our calls. I left a message for her to get back with me as soon as she got a chance. If she didn’t return my call and didn’t come for breakfast tomorrow, I was going to go looking for her.

  Delilah was quite the whiz at finding people. It didn’t take her long at all to come bounding back down the stairs armed with her information. I’d finished checking all of our guests in and making sure their rooms were to their liking, so we had some downtime. Delilah seemed to have a plan; I hopped in her truck with her and let her lead the way. She filled me in as she drove. And then the conversation got weird.

  “I ran into Uncle Frank upstairs. I asked him if he knew anything that could help us, or if he could point us to someone with some answers. Of course he always talks in riddles when it comes to this stuff, so I’m not sure yet how this is helpful.”

  I’d never been able to figure out if she was making this nonsense up to get under my skin or if she honestly believed she had conversations with our dead great-uncle. Either option was upsetting to some degree. Plus the “clues” Uncle Frank allegedly gave us were so vague you could make them fit any situation. Delilah took them as gospel. I played along.

  “What did he say?” I asked dutifully.

  “He said, ‘If you want to drive away sorrow, come and hear this song tomorrow.’ Do you think he’s talking about your gig tomorrow night? Maybe something about Polly being a useful resource?”

  “Sounds like a good guess.”

  She parked her truck, led the way into Staples, and asked to see the manager. Ezra Sinclair, Esther’s younger brother, met us in the office furniture section. His demeanor was somber, and he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping much.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  I felt guilty for bothering him. But wouldn’t he want the correct person who’d hurt his sister behind bars?

  Delilah introduced us and said, “We’re so sorry to bother you, and we’re sorry for your loss. Esther was a friend of our mother’s.”

  His eyes showed recognition. “You’re Dixie Bellandini’s kin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Her and Esther grew up together. Inseparable for a while, until those other girls decided she wasn’t good enough for them.”

  That fit with what we’d heard from Portia and gleaned from the yearbooks.

  Delilah said gently, “I know you’re probably happy that the police have a suspect in custody, but—”

  “Old Lela?” He snorted. “She didn’t no more kill my sister than I did.”

  My jaw dropped. “You think she’s innocent?”

  “Heck, yeah. I’ve known that woman practically my whole life. She’s a pistol, and she sure enough set fire to my sister’s car, but she’s no killer. I told the police as much, but they had some kind of evidence, they said. I heard she’s got a good lawyer, so I hope he can get her off.”

  Delilah said, “We do, too. Since she’s stuck in jail, and we’re some of the few friends she has. We’re out hoping to find someone who can help prove her innocence.”

  Ezra blew out a long breath. “I don’t know that I can do anything to help prove her innocence. I’m going on my gut.”

  I said, “Well, what can you tell us about graduation night?”

  His cheeks colored slightly. “I admit I don’t recall much. Me and my buddies, the JV baseball team…we were underclassmen, but we partied hard. We were out carousing until all hours of the night. I barely remember stumbling home and climbing through my bedroom window.”

  “Do you know what Esther’s plans were? Or did you see her out anywhere you went?”

  He shrugged. “I saw her at a couple of the parties. She was with her friends and seemed to be having a good time.”

  “She’d evidently been planning to leave home that night. Did she say anything to you about that or had you noticed her acting differently?”

  “She wasn’t drinking at the parties, which she normally did. That was different. Although if she was planning to run away from home, maybe she thought she needed to keep her wits about her.”

  “Makes sense,” I replied. “How about before that night? Was she acting differently earlier in the week?”

  He thought for a moment. “She’d been sneaking out more than usual. Especially after her and Brock broke up. I thought maybe she had another boyfriend, because one of her friends complained to me that Esther had been ditching them all of a sudden. But you know how brothers and sisters are. We didn’t talk about stuff. We mostly bickered, but we did always have each other’s back when it came to pulling the wool over our parents’ eyes.”

  Another boyfriend? That was an interesting angle, especially since Esther had been spending notably less time with her friends. It made sense that the start of a new relationship would take up a great deal of her time—more so than a dying relationship with Brock.

  Delilah asked, “Do you know who she might have told about the other boyfriend?”

  “Maybe our cousin Polly. They were pretty close, even though Polly’s a couple years older
than us.”

  Delilah shifted toward me enough to discreetly nudge me with her elbow. Now we really did need to run down Polly.

  She said, “And you think maybe she didn’t tell her friends?”

  “I’m going to say probably not. Again, just a feeling I had, but I felt like those Magnolias—the dumb name they gave themselves—weren’t getting along as good as usual.”

  Knowing part of the answer already, I asked, “Who all were the Magnolias?”

  “Well, your mama used to be one, but like I said, then she wasn’t.”

  “Wait—our mom was one of them?”

  Delilah and I shared an incredulous glance.

  “Yeah, until their senior year, I believe. The others were Esther, of course, then Portia Sheridan and Coralee Marshall.”

  I stared at him. “Savannah’s biggest philanthropist?”

  Coralee Marshall was my philanthropy idol. I’d worked with her several times at the local soup kitchen and at various other events she’d spearheaded. There was no charity event in this town where she wasn’t present. And she wasn’t just a figurehead. She got in the trenches and worked harder than anyone. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized her from the yearbook, but the plump, matronly woman I knew looked nothing like the rail-thin It Girl in her yearbook photo. In fact, I’d always assumed she was well into her sixties rather than only her early fifties.

  “Yep. Wouldn’t have thought it during high school, but she turned out to be a fine lady. Portia, too.” He chuckled. “And I guess Brock’s okay, for a politician.”

  Delilah asked, “Who broke things off—Brock or your sister?”

  “My sister. He didn’t take it well.”

  “How so?”

  “He said some nasty things. I think I walked in on their breakup, actually. I got home and found him yelling at her in our backyard and immediately put a stop to it. With my fist. I believe he left her alone after that.”

  We definitely needed to take a hard look at the councilman.

  Ezra cocked his head to the side. “All these questions about Esther while she was still alive…how is any of what we’re talking about going to help Lela?”

  Delilah replied, “The truth? If we can find someone with a better reason to have killed your sister, maybe the police will let Lela go.”

  “Oh. I can’t imagine Brock hurting her. He loved her.”

  I asked, “How about the landscapers who were working at Lela’s house around that time? I talked to their boss earlier, and he said your mom had to call him one time to try to put a stop to them bothering your sister. Did you ever see any of them making any moves on her? Or were they only being verbally abusive?”

  After frowning for a moment, he said, “Those guys. Pieces of work. I had to tell them to shut up multiple times.” He shook his head. “But Esther, she was nice to them. I don’t know if she liked the attention or that it upset Mom and Dad, or what she was thinking.”

  “Your parents were pretty strict, weren’t they?”

  “The strictest. They had us spend hours every week in church—not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know how easily teenagers get bored. They had a rule that we couldn’t date until we were eighteen, which neither of us complied with. Of course no drinking, swearing, tobacco, or drugs. Or for that matter, dancing, playing cards, or going to the movies. If it was fun, you couldn’t do it. Our curfew was eight on weekends. Seven on weekdays unless we were scheduled to work.”

  Delilah asked, “Esther had an after school job?”

  He nodded. “Another Sinclair family rule. We had to work for our own money. Esther was a cashier at Earl’s Southern Fried Chicken.”

  I barely caught myself before making a face. That place was disgusting and always had been. It was widely known that you could count on some sort of gastrointestinal distress after a visit to Earl’s. Delilah, however, swore by it as surefire hangover prevention. If she got too tipsy, she finished her evening at Earl’s with a greasy two-piece chicken and tater wedges. She said it warded off nausea. For me, it was quite the opposite.

  Delilah said, “What about jealous classmates? Esther was pretty and popular. Did anyone ever target her because of it?”

  Ezra stroked his chin. “Hmm. That’s a tough one. I don’t know. With me being two years behind her, I only knew the classmates she brought home, which was mainly her handful of friends. I’d say ask your mama.”

  I nodded. “We’ll do that. Thank you so much, Ezra. I’m sure this wasn’t easy for you, and please know that you have our deepest condolences.”

  Delilah said, “Yes, we appreciate you taking the time to talk with us.”

  He shook my hand and Delilah’s. “It was my pleasure. You tell your mama I said hello.”

  I replied, “We will.”

  As soon as we were out of the store, D squealed, “Jackpot! I never dreamed Ezra would have so much to say.”

  “I’m still reeling from finding out Mom was a Magnolia, even for a little while.”

  “Mom is an enigma I can’t understand.”

  “True. Well, anyway, I’m happy to hear he thinks Lela is innocent. The more of those people we find, the more chance we have of getting her some reasonable doubt. Thanks to him, we have so many more people we need to interview. This case is getting huge.”

  She linked her arm through mine and dragged me toward her truck. “Which is why we have to keep working. Next stop is a dinner meeting.”

  “Dinner? Where? Don’t say Earl’s.”

  Laughing, she said, “No.” When she saw the look of relief on my face, she added devilishly, “We’ll go to Earl’s for dessert.”

  Chapter 18

  We ended up at a run-down diner that wasn’t much cleaner than Earl’s. A few moments after we were seated, an older man came in and acted as if he was looking for someone. Delilah waved him over, and he slid into the booth, across from us, and introduced himself as Ford Newton, former employee of McLeod Landscape. His pleasant demeanor was endearing, and he didn’t come across as the type of man who’d harass a young girl. But thirty-three years was long enough to have mellowed.

  We had to halt our small talk as the waitress came to take our order. I opted for pancakes, thinking they’d at least have to be freshly prepared to order rather than having sat for hours in a steam tray.

  Delilah got right to the point. She plunked down a twenty-dollar bill in front of him. “Okay, Ford. Tell us everything you can remember about the time you spent at Lela Heyward and Beau Habersham’s house back in May of 1986. Especially regarding the interactions between your crew and the next-door-neighbor girl, Esther Sinclair.”

  Ford gave us a toothy grin. “That was many years ago, but I’ll do my best. I was unofficially in charge of the other two chuckleheads who worked the job. Zack and Luther. Lazy louts. All they wanted to do all day was drink beer and leer at the little girl next door.”

  Delilah smirked at him. “And you never joined in?”

  He didn’t seem offended. “Nah, at least not where the leering was concerned. I had a daughter about her age. She was a child to me, but to those guys, who were only a few years older than her, she was fresh meat. As for the drinking, well, I might have joined in a few times. Only to quench my thirst in the heat, of course.”

  “Of course. Did you ever have to step in and put a stop to your guys bothering Esther?”

  “Many a time. I told that girl to keep away from them if it bothered her. But it didn’t seem to. She flirted right back, so I quit worrying about it. That is, until her mama called and yelled at Mr. McLeod. After that, I had to start worrying about it again.”

  I asked, “Do you know if either of your guys ever asked her out on a date or had her meet them somewhere after hours?”

  “Not that I know of, and not for lack of them trying. They’d ask her daily f
or dates, but she always told them she had a boyfriend.”

  “Did they ever get angry when she turned them down?”

  He shrugged. “I reckon they did a few times. They were both hotheads. Always popping off about something.”

  I exchanged an uneasy glance with Delilah.

  She said, “Did you ever see either of them approach her in an aggressive way?”

  “Not that I can recollect.”

  “How about Lela Heyward? She’s currently in jail on suspicion of having killed Esther. Is there anything you can tell us that might prove she’s innocent?”

  Our food came then, so we had to suspend our discussion for a while. Once we were settled back in, Ford said, “That lady Lela was a hothead, too. Gave me what for several times. Couple of those times she was drunker than a skunk. But I don’t know about anything between her and that girl. I always tried as best I could to mind my own business at a job site.”

  I said, “Did you ever notice Esther having a strange encounter with anyone else? A friend, maybe? Or Beau Habersham? Anyone come to mind?”

  He frowned. “That snake Habersham looked at that girl like she was a piece of meat. She didn’t seem to mind that, either. Maybe she had a liking for older men. I don’t know.”

  We fell into an uncomfortable silence as we ate. It made so much sense on paper that one of these worker guys—who everyone seemed not to think very highly of—finally took things too far with Esther. They would have known they could bury her in Lela’s backyard and no one would be the wiser once the sod went down. It made perfect sense, except no one had seen them really cross a line—a violent line, at least. They’d crossed a verbal line evidently on a daily basis, although from everyone’s accounts, Esther made no attempt to remove herself from the situation, sometimes even encouraging them. She clearly didn’t see them as a threat to her personal safety, so either they weren’t putting off a dangerous vibe, or they had her fooled.

  As we were finishing dinner, Ford said, “If you two girls are going to go talk to Zack and Luther, you best be careful. I’ve not seen either of them in decades, but I can’t imagine they’ve mellowed too much. You go even hinting at accusing them of something, and you’re in for a fight. If you got a big burly brother or boyfriend, I’d take him along.”