Tucker crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. “Oh, it was definitely him.”
I cast a sidelong glance at my boyfriend. “I thought you didn’t care who did the actual deed.”
“I don’t. But come on. It’s painfully obvious. A high school girl having an affair with an older married man? How does that not end badly?”
He wasn’t wrong. Put everything we knew about Esther together and add in a secret married boyfriend—that was a recipe for disaster if I ever heard one.
I said to myself as much as anyone, “So how do we find out who this guy is?”
Tucker put his hand on my shoulder and turned me to face him. “We don’t. We take this to the police.”
“Tucker, I hate to argue, but I’ve been there and done that. They’re going to need more information if you want them to actually pursue a lead.”
Polly said, “Did you get in touch with her two stuck-up friends? Portia and Coralee? They might know something.”
I nodded. “I spoke to both of them, but neither seemed to know about the boyfriend.”
“I reckon the three of them weren’t quite as tight right there at the end. According to Ezra, Esther pushed them away, or at least quit hanging out with them so much. I always wondered if it had to do with Brock. Gossip around town was that he and Portia hooked up practically the minute Esther had her back turned.”
After meeting her, I’d assumed Portia was above reproach. But this new little nugget of information about her was quite disconcerting.
“Before graduation night?” I asked.
“I believe so.”
I thought for a moment. “Well, I suppose that in itself isn’t so suspicious. After all, Esther dumped him. Maybe he turned to Portia for comfort.”
“Or to make Esther jealous,” Callie pointed out.
Polly said, “Could have been both of them working an angle. I remember Portia wailing about her boyfriend cheating on her that last time I was over at Esther’s house. It was all she could talk about—Jack this, Jack that. I had to turn up my Walkman to tune her out.”
I cringed inwardly. Jack, my father, was cheating on Portia…with none other than my mother. I hoped no one else put that together besides me.
“Did she ever talk about Brock getting violent with her?”
Thinking for a moment, Polly said, “Not violent, really…Maybe with the other boys, but never with her, at least. She did often complain that he always had to have his way, though.”
I shrugged. “He was the big man on campus in their high school. Probably used to getting his way. You know the type—captain of the football team, homecoming king. Full of himself.”
When I noticed Callie covering up a laugh, I realized my faux pas and cringed again.
Tucker cleared his throat. “Um…I was the captain of the football team and homecoming king.”
I grasped Tucker’s hand and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I forget you were that guy. You’re so normal now.”
Up until a couple of months ago, I had mistakenly believed that my sweet Tucker was nothing more than a cocky jock with a bad attitude. Boy, was I wrong. I’d been the one with the bad attitude.
Tucker gave me a quizzical stare but said nothing.
I suddenly realized how pooped I was. “Thank you for speaking to us, Polly. If there’s anything more you can think of that might help Lela, you can call me at this number.” I gave her one of our B&B’s business cards.
“Will do. I hope they find out who really did this.”
Tucker’s expression had turned sad. “We do, too.”
Chapter 22
The next morning, Delilah bounded into my room while I was finishing braiding my hair. “We need to come up with a game plan for today. We’re adding to our list faster than we can cross people off. We need to divide and conquer again today.”
“Works for me.”
She handed me a piece of paper with a few names on it. “I hoped you’d say that. You’ve got Violet Huggins, who is one of the girls the Magnolias liked to bully. Then there’s Dennis Griffin, a former teacher who seemed to have it out for Esther. And…” She blew out a sigh. “Dad. From what you told me last night about him being Portia’s boyfriend, I think it’s very possible he might have some information we can use.”
“Okay. I don’t mind calling him.”
I minded that Delilah minded calling him, though. I wished she could find room in her heart for him. Of course he hadn’t been a good father. I knew that. But I didn’t feel like it was a reason to cut him from my life entirely.
Delilah said, “Great. And then of course you’ve also got Grady Stewart tonight. While you’re out having a nice dinner with your boyfriend, I’ll compile the info we get today and come up with the plan for tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m taking Elise Arnold-Thomas, another bullied classmate. She lives in Los Angeles now, so we’re going to skype later. I’ve also got the former principal of Reynolds High, Daniel Patton—not on Portia’s list, but hopefully he remembers what went on—and one of the teachers Portia mentioned, Sadie Thompson. I’m still looking for a guy named Tim Carter, a classmate who evidently loved Esther from afar. Like a stalker.”
“Ooh, that sounds promising.”
“I think so.”
“And potentially dangerous. When you find him, maybe we should go together or take Tucker along.”
“Maybe,” she said distractedly, grabbing her list back from me and making a note on it.
I ventured, “After talking to Polly last night, I think we need to get serious about looking at Brock Sheridan.” After a hesitation, I added, “And maybe Portia.”
My sister frowned. “Why Portia?”
“Because she and Brock started their relationship pretty much the minute his ended with Esther.”
“So?”
“So…especially considering Portia and Esther were besties…that seems a little…icky.”
She rolled her eyes. “ ‘Icky’ behavior does not a murderer make.”
I sighed. “I get it that you don’t want Portia to be a potential suspect, but that’s not a good enough reason to keep her off our list.”
“You investigate her, then. Because I’m not seeing it.” It was clear to me that my sister was finished with this Portia conversation, so I made a mental note to gather what info I could on her. D changed the subject. “By the way, you’re meeting Violet for coffee at ten at Goose Feathers.”
I smiled. “Okay, twist my arm.” That café was a Savannah staple. My interviews today were sounding more like fun than work.
“And FYI, I pretended to be you on the phone, so don’t go in there acting like you’ve never spoken to her before. She already knows why we’re looking to meet with her.”
I had to refrain from shaking my head. She was getting way too into this. Although to be fair, I had also impersonated someone over the phone yesterday. Not my finest hour, and an action I didn’t intend to repeat.
“Got it.”
“Our mission today is to find out the name of Esther’s secret boyfriend. I think that’s going to be our best lead yet.”
“I agree.” I had a thought and frowned. “What about Mom?”
“What about her?”
“We need to find her.”
Delilah shrugged. “She’ll come back eventually. Don’t worry—we’ll get the opportunity to talk to her about all of this at some point.”
“D, I’m not worried about interviewing her; I’m worried about her.”
“She’s clearly not worried that you’re worried about her. Otherwise she’d return your calls.”
My sister had a point, but I didn’t like it. Mom was definitely avoiding us, and I didn’t know what to do to change that fact. Maybe there was nothing I could do.
* * *
—
I cringed to myself as she got her drink and looked expectantly around the room for me. I caught her eye and beckoned her over to my table. The woman she’d pushed out of the way cast a disdainful glance at Violet as she passed her table. At least there was no one in here I knew, thank goodness.
“Violet Huggins?” I asked.
Her face lit up as she plunked her latte down and sloshed a few drops onto the table. “Quinn! It’s so nice to meet you in person. I tell you, I was so tickled when you called yesterday and asked to meet with me. I declare, I’m a self-professed gossip hound. Always have been; always will be! I want to know everything about this murder and your investigation. I’ve thought all these years that Esther up and ran away, and to think she was right there next door to her childhood home all along. It’s positively scandalous! Oh, and you have to dish about the other murder you solved. Why, you’re a local celebrity, you lucky duck!”
Oh, dang. I’d been fairly fortunate so far, mainly speaking to people who were slightly wary of the fact that Delilah and I had taken it upon ourselves to stick our noses into a murder investigation. Violet probably wouldn’t let me out of here until I’d satisfied her morbid curiosity. And that could take a while.
I smiled tightly. “Well…hello to you, too. And thank you for meeting me. If you don’t mind terribly, there are a few questions I’d like to ask you first.”
She slurped the foam from the top of her drink, leaving a ring of it on her upper lip. “Fire away.”
I didn’t believe for a moment that the woman sitting in front of me could have had it together enough to kill someone and hide the body, so I mentally crossed her off our suspect list. I decided to throw Portia under the bus, hoping Violet would get bent out of shape like she had at the counter and start spilling some useful—and quite possibly vindictive—gossip.
“Okay. Um…I’m going to be straight with you. Portia Sheridan gave us your name as one of a few students the Magnolias bullied in high school. I think she may consider you to be a good suspect for Esther’s murder.”
Violet stared at me with her wide-set eyes for a moment, then burst out laughing. Her laugh was so loud and obnoxious, people began turning in their seats to look at us. I wanted nothing more than to disappear, but I had to make this interview count.
When she finally managed to get hold of herself, she wiped her eyes and said, “Oh, Portia. Always with the stick up her butt. She hated me.” Sighing, she admitted, “I guess it was warranted. In third grade, I told everyone she wet the bed at a sleepover, which was true. When we were in seventh grade, I started a rumor that she had to shave her mustache every day, which was not true but still hilarious. Oh, and after graduation I told everyone that your dad dumped her for your mom, which was true and really made her mad. Especially since she’d decided your mom was totally beneath her and had kicked her out of the Magnolias earlier in the year.”
I hadn’t been able to wrap my head around the fact that my odd, free-spirited mother had ever fit in with society, let alone been one of the most popular girls in school. “I don’t know if you’ve spoken to my mother lately, but—”
“Of course I have, honey. She cleanses my aura once a month.”
“Okay, so you know she’s kind of…”
“A hippie?”
“Yes. I’m having trouble picturing her as a Magnolia.”
Violet shrugged. “I understand why, and I agree she didn’t fit their mold. She wasn’t like them in the slightest. She was nice and kind to everyone. She’d been friends with Esther forever, and it was Esther who brought her into the group. The other two never seemed to like your mama. They finally got their way and pushed her out.”
I was sure Violet would be happy to sit here all day and reminisce, but I didn’t have that kind of time. “Let’s talk about Esther. Had you ever heard a rumor about her having a new boyfriend after she ended things with Brock Sheridan?”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes—I started that rumor! But no one believed me. Everyone thought Esther was so sweet that she wouldn’t step out on Brock, but I’m positive she was seeing someone before she broke things off with him.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Esther was cheating on Brock?”
“Absolutely.”
“How do you know?”
She flicked her eyes away. “I…broke into her locker and found a love note. It wasn’t from Brock.” At least she had the grace to seem remorseful.
“Who was it from?”
“It was unsigned, unfortunately.”
“Then how do you know it wasn’t from Brock?”
Snickering, she said, “Because there were no misspelled words. And it was romantic. Brock never could have written anything like that.”
“Do you have an idea of who it might have been from?”
She sighed. “No. I wish I did. And trust me, it was not for lack of trying. I asked everyone I could think of if they’d seen her with another guy, but people were so enchanted by Perfect Esther they got all offended and wouldn’t talk to me about it.”
“Might you be willing to make an educated guess if I gave you some vague information from what we’ve uncovered?”
Jaw nearly grazing the table, she breathed, “Would I ever!”
I realized she was more interested in obtaining my information than helping me, but I still went ahead with it. “We know he was older—not one of your classmates. And we think it was possible he was married.”
I could practically see the gears grinding inside her head. After a significant pause, she finally said, “Given those criteria, I would say…her boss at the chicken place. You know, Earl, the owner of Earl’s Southern Fried Chicken? He wasn’t always such a fat slob.”
I frowned. “It’s not him, we don’t think. She quit her job because he was making unwanted advances at her. At least that’s what Coralee Marshall said.”
Violet let out a snort. “Well, if Coralee Marshall said…”
These women had done a number on Violet. I understood. I was on the receiving end of bullying in school, too. It wasn’t fun, and it messed with your self-esteem, even into adulthood.
Before I could continue with my questions, she leaned in conspiratorially. “You know what I heard about Coralee? I heard she hasn’t slept in the same bed as her husband in three years. And that he bought an apartment downtown a couple of months ago. They haven’t made their separation public, but it’s only a matter of time before everyone knows she can’t hold on to her man.”
I shook my head. “That’s not pertinent to—”
She couldn’t seem to contain herself. “My cousin Shawna is her housekeeper. She says she finds pills scattered everywhere when she cleans. Coralee must eat them like candy.”
“Maybe she has a medical condition.”
“I don’t know of a medical condition that calls for chasing your meds with booze. Shawna says Coralee and her husband would go through over a dozen bottles a week. Just the two of them. What’s worse is, after he started staying at his new place, she’s still going through well over a half dozen on her own.”
“Oka
y, Coralee is not on trial here. Would you care to hazard another guess about the mystery man?”
She sat back in her chair to think. “Maybe…I did see Esther chatting up some guy at her neighbor’s house once.” A blush crept up her cheeks as she admitted, “I might have spied on her a couple of times, hoping to see her with whoever she was cheating on Brock with. I didn’t live too far from her, so sometimes I’d wander around the neighborhood, pretending to be out on a walk.”
“Was he maybe a landscaper working next door? Or was it the man who lived in the house next door?”
“Definitely not the man who lived there.”
That much we knew—that Esther had been spending time with the help next door.
“We’re also assuming her boyfriend wasn’t one of the landscapers. Or the neighbor, for that matter. Anyone else come to mind? Any other older man you saw her have contact with?”
“I mean, maybe Mr. Griffin, our history teacher. I wouldn’t say he acted like her boyfriend, though. And he wasn’t married. He’d be more like a suspect. He always seemed to be angry at her for something.”
I nodded. “It happens that Portia said something similar. That he had some sort of ongoing conflict with Esther.”
“I was in his history class with her. Word was that Esther didn’t apply herself and that made him mad. He was one of those teachers who got personally offended if you didn’t take his class seriously. Although to be fair, he did stay after school for an extra hour or two every day in case any of his students needed help. Some of us took advantage of it. He’d have anywhere from one to a dozen kids stay daily, depending on when the next test was scheduled.”
“Did Esther ever stay for extra help?”
“I saw her in there a few times.”
“Surely that would have earned her a few brownie points with him.”
“It did, but…there was always more than meets the eye where Esther was concerned. She…she just caused an uproar everywhere she went, you know? Especially in Mr. Griffin’s class, for some reason. The boys were always drooling and gawking at her, and they’d fall all over themselves to help her out if she dropped a pencil or something. It was truly pathetic. I’d say there was at least one Esther-inspired interruption per day in history. Mr. Griffin wasn’t having it.”
Southern Harm Page 13