Southern Harm

by Caroline Fardig

  Delilah swiveled toward me on her barstool and took a long sip of her drink as she eyed me over the rim of the mug. “What was it you were saying about him not being a freak show?”

  “It stands to reason that bringing up Esther Sinclair would strike a nerve with him. They had a strained relationship, so news of her death might have affected him in an unusual way. Also, maybe he’s afraid he’ll end up being a suspect. I’m sure if we found four people to suggest he could be to blame, the police had to have spoken to him. He probably doesn’t want to talk about it any more.”

  “Well, he’s going to, if I have to sit here all night.”

  Chapter 26

  “All night” consisted of about an hour, and then Delilah and I had to head home. Dennis didn’t resurface during that time, which didn’t help D’s impression of him. She of course had a field day telling me how guilty it made him look. I still had my money on either Brock Sheridan or Earl Settle, or possibly one of the landscapers.

  We made sure to be attentive to our surroundings walking to Delilah’s truck and on the drive home. As best we could tell, no one followed us, and no one seemed to be lurking, either. That was at least one less thing to worry about, but it did beg the question—who would feel the need to spy on us? Part of me thought we must be on the right track if we’d struck enough of a nerve to prompt someone to stalk us, but the other part me was scared out of my wits. The sooner we finished this case, the better.

  Delilah had scheduled a Skype call with Elise Arnold-Thomas, another classmate Portia mentioned had been bullied at the hands of the Magnolias. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but the perfectly coiffed woman in a power suit staring at me through the computer screen was not it.

  She adjusted her designer glasses and snapped, “I have a dinner meeting to get to, so we’ll have to make this quick.”

  Delilah replied, “We should only need a few minutes of your time.”

  “Let’s get down to it, then. What do you need to know about the Magnolias, aside from the fact that they all peaked in high school?”

  Delilah had informed me before the call that Elise worked at a PR firm in Los Angeles. Judging from her brazen demeanor, fast speech, and lack of accent, she’d definitely shed her Southern roots.

  D chuckled under her breath. “As I mentioned in my email to you, Esther Sinclair was thought to have run away on graduation night, but in fact, she was killed. We realize you weren’t her biggest fan, but do you know of anyone who would honestly want to see her dead?”

  “I did.”

  My sister and I shared an uneasy glance.

  Elise went on. “That girl and her stupid queen bee friends made my life a living hell during high school. Your mom was one of them, you know. She didn’t join in with the ridiculing, but she also didn’t ever stand up to them and put a stop to it.”

  I nodded. “We’re sorry to hear that. If you met her now, you’d never imagine she’d been one of them.”

  “Well, after they kicked her to the curb, she was okay, I guess. Our senior year they bullied her as much as they bullied me.”

  “Did anyone they bullied ever get violent in retaliation?”

  “Never. If you tried to backtalk them or even defend yourself, it only made things worse. You had to stand there and take it, hoping they’d get bored and move on to their next victim.”

  Delilah said, “And you don’t think anyone would have ever tried to get revenge on them, maybe after the fact?”

  “I suppose anything’s possible. By the way, I didn’t do it, in case that’s not clear to you. I didn’t care enough about them to go to the trouble of killing one of them. I was too busy trying to make something of my life.”

  “We get that,” I said.

  Elise shook her head. “I honestly don’t understand why you two care about this. Esther got what she deserved. Case closed.”

  I replied, “They have the wrong person in custody for her murder. It’s not about Esther. It’s about the woman who’s being unfairly blamed.”

  “Oh. In that case, what can I do to help?”

  D said, “Maybe point us in the direction of someone who’d been angry enough to kill Esther—and bold enough to go through with it?”

  She let out a bark of laughter. “Did you consider her ‘friends’? Your mother can attest to the fact that they turn on their own kind.”

  This lady was obviously still bitter, but I could sympathize. I had harbored ill feelings toward Tucker up until a couple of months ago for something I mistakenly thought he’d done to Delilah in high school. It was only a recent development that I found out I’d been wrong all along. But judging from what we’d learned, Elise’s resentments were well-founded.

  “How about the history teacher, Mr. Griffin?”

  Her eyebrows shot up, but her perfectly smooth forehead didn’t budge. “He was my hero. He was one of the few teachers who didn’t cower to the Magnolias and the vise grip they had on the whole school. Mrs. Thompson didn’t, either. She was who I went to when things got really bad. I would have gone crazy if it hadn’t been for her. We still keep in touch.”

  “Do you by any chance keep in touch with Tim Carter? We’re having a hard time locating him.”

  She snorted. “Did you check his mom’s basement?”

  D bit back a smile. “We did not check there.”

  “Worth a shot. Anyway, I have to go. Good luck getting your friend’s name cleared. I know I’d hate to be punished for something that made the world a better place.”

  Elise ended the call. Delilah and I sat there gaping at each other.

  She said, “I like her.”

  I laughed. “I figured you would. She has some definite opinions on Esther and the Magnolias.”

  D shrugged. “I’m sure she’s not wrong. Portia is great now, but I don’t think I would have wanted to hang out with the high school version of her.”

  I thought back to my conversation with Coralee Marshall. Aside from my deep respect for her philanthropic work, I didn’t know that I would have wanted to hang out with her even now, let alone her catty high school self.

  “Same. Did you notice that she gave Dennis Griffin a glowing recommendation as a human being?”

  “He’s still on my list.”

  I removed my glasses and rubbed my temples. “You know, we’ve talked to several people today but haven’t really made any progress.”

  “True,” Delilah murmured, her attention on typing something into the Google search bar.

  “Whether or not we figure out who killed Esther, we need to track down someone who can corroborate Lela’s innocence. I wonder if we should make more of an effort to find the neighbors. So far we’ve only spoken to one of the neighbors and Esther’s brother. You would think someone would have seen something. Burying a body takes time.”

  Frowning, Delilah replied, “I’m betting it happened in the middle of the night while everyone was asleep. Otherwise, yes, someone would have seen or heard something. The problem is, if one of the neighbors had seen Esther’s body being buried, surely they would have gone to the police, either back then or now that it’s been on the news nonstop.”

  “For all we know, someone could have told the police, and they could have already investigated the situation. You know they don’t share things like that with the public.”

  “Right. Do you think you can use your connection to Rufus or Detective Flynn to get them to divulge anything about the case?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I seriously doubt it.”

  “No harm in asking.”

  “Actually, there is. They don’t seem to know we’re investigating this case, and I’d like to keep it that way. It’s certainly been easier this time without the constant reprimands from them. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  She shuffled through some papers on her night
stand. “Interviewing whoever I can track down tonight. I’ve got Tim Carter; Luther the landscaper; and Angie Potter, the coworker from Earl’s, on my list. Oh, and as many neighbors as I can scare up. We can divide them tomorrow once I have the contact info.”

  “That’s a lot of work for you to tackle alone tonight. What can I do?”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Fix breakfast in the morning by yourself while I sleep in for the first time in years.”

  “Deal.”

  Chapter 27

  Cooking and serving breakfast without Delilah’s help was not an easy task. I even dialed back the difficulty on some of the dishes, going for quick and simple, but even then, breakfast was late.

  Once we’d served the guests and were working on the mountain of dishes, Papa Sal said, “Tell me again why you gave your sister the morning off?”

  “She’s doing a lot of behind-the-scenes work on Lela’s case. I bet she was up well past midnight with her research.”

  “What is she researching? Lela’s alibi surely isn’t somewhere on the Internet.”

  “No, but people who might be able to give her one are. She’s tracking down phone numbers and contact information for people we might like to talk to.”

  His brow furrowed. “You two still taking it easy?”

  I pushed away the feeling of uneasiness bubbling up as I considered the fact that we might have picked up a stalker. I had zero proof, plus we were being overly cautious as a result, so I replied, “Absolutely. Yesterday I met a nice lady for coffee, a chef at his restaurant, and a bartender at a posh bar. I also skyped Dad and a high-powered PR lady out in California. All upstanding citizens.”

  “Eh, I suppose.” Regarding my dad, Papa Sal held similar feelings to Delilah’s. “Make any headway?”

  “Unfortunately, no. And today is Lela’s initial hearing.”

  “Initial? Awful late for that, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “It’s Christmastime. There have been a slew of robberies lately, and I’ve heard the courts are slammed. The wheels of justice are turning slowly this week.”

  As I finished with the breakfast mess and got everything in order to be away from the B&B for a while, I tried not to dwell on the hours to come. I reminded myself of what Rufus had said to me a couple of months ago—the initial hearing was not that big a deal with regard to the overall court process. Its purpose was to formally inform the arrestee of his or her arrest charges. But it would be a big deal to Lela and Tucker, therefore it was a big deal to me.

  Tucker greeted me with a long face, not that I assumed he wouldn’t. We were quiet on the way over to the courthouse, my nerves frazzling as we had to go through a metal detector and be scrutinized by security when we entered the building. Once we were seated, Tucker’s knee wouldn’t stay still, his nervous energy needing some sort of outlet. I held his hand as his aunt was brought before the judge and the quick proceeding began. We weren’t allowed to speak to her, but we did manage to catch her eye and give her encouraging smiles. After it was over, we went to the police station to visit her. I’d never seen Tucker be this silent for so long. We waited what seemed like an eternity and were finally granted permission to see Aunt Lela.

  She looked decidedly more frail than the last time I’d seen her. She’d lost weight and her skin was pale and almost gray in color. I held back the tears pooling in my eyes.

  Tucker went straight to his aunt and embraced her. I wished I’d thought to stay outside so they could have time alone, but it was too late now.

  I said, “Hello, Aunt Lela,” and gave her a warm hug.

  She was too choked up to reply.

  Tucker and I sat at the table, across from her. He said, “What can we do for you?”

  Aunt Lela wheezed, “Get me the hell out of here.”

  Tucker’s jaw clenched. “I would love to. Quinn and Delilah have been working night and day talking to everyone they can think of, trying to find someone who can vouch for your innocence.”

  She waved a hand. “That won’t do any good. The police think that girl died the night of her graduation, that Friday night. I was dead drunk, home alone. I got no one to vouch for me.” Her gaze fell on me. “To get me out of this mess, you’re going to have to figure out who actually killed her.”

  Tucker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s dangerous.”

  I put my hand over Lela’s and looked pleadingly at Tucker. “It’s also our best shot.”

  “I don’t like it, Quinn,” he said tersely.

  I murmured, “Well, we’re kind of already doing it.”

  He froze. “You’re what?”

  “Look, don’t get mad. It’s just that when you start opening cans of worms, you learn things. When people start talking about murder, they sometimes want to point fingers. D and I aren’t going to stop them.”

  He pointed at the door. “Then why aren’t you out there turning over what you know to the detectives so we can get Aunt Lela out of jail?”

  “Like I said before, that doesn’t work with them. They’ve got their suspect, and now they’re off working another case. They’re not going to circle back around to this one without some kind of major development to cast doubt on the evidence they have.”

  The door opened, and there stood Rufus and Detective Flynn, both staring me down. Were they listening to our conversation? If so, surely that was some kind of violation of Lela’s rights.

  I said, “May we help you, Detectives?”

  “You can come to the room next door and answer some questions,” Rufus replied, his expression borderline angry.

  Tucker was up out of his chair instantly and had his hand protectively on my shoulder. “What’s this about?”

  Flynn stared him down. “That’s for us to discuss with Miss Bellandini.”

  I patted Tucker’s hand. “It’s okay. I’ll be back soon.” I dutifully followed the detectives out of the room. I didn’t dare glance back at Tucker for fear I’d break down. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was sick with worry.

  Once the three of us were seated around the same type of uncomfortable metal table as in the room next door, Rufus said, “Quinn, I thought you were done with the amateur sleuthing.”

  Evidently Delilah and I had not been as low-key with this investigation as we’d thought. There was no use lying to a couple of detectives, especially ones who knew me as well as these two did.

  “Okay, fine. You know I think Lela is innocent. Did you think I could stand by and watch a poor old lady get charged with a murder she didn’t commit?”

  Flynn snorted. “That ‘poor old lady’ in there has a rap sheet. She caused all kinds of trouble back in the day—assault, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly. I realize you don’t want your boyfriend’s aunt to be a criminal, but that doesn’t change the fact that she is.”

  “I know that. But I also know she’s no liar. If she says she didn’t do it, then she didn’t do it. Which means someone else out there did. And furthermore, why would she let us dig where she knew she’d buried a body in a shallow grave? I mean, seriously, that should account for something.”

  Rufus held up a hand. “We could debate this all day. What we want to impress on you is that we’re not messing around this time. There’s already been one complaint against you and your meddling, and there—”

  I gasped. “What? Who?”

  “Coralee Marshall pulled me aside at Bible study last night and informed me that you’d been harassing her about her friend Esther’s death.”

  Coralee Marshall tattled on me to the police? “That’s a stretch. I wouldn’t call asking her a few questions ‘harassment.’ ”

  Flynn said, “Don’t try to snow us, Miss Bellandini. You’ve no doubt been beating the bushes to find someone else to pin this on.”

  Crossing my arms, I replied, “That’s becaus
e I’d like to see you ‘pin this on’ the right person.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

  “And if you recall, I turned out to be right.”

  Rufus shook his head. “Quinn, please. Your safety is important to me. You go around town accusing people, and some aren’t going to take it as kindly as Coralee Marshall.”

  “I haven’t accused anyone of—”

  He cut me off. “Let me finish. You’re either going to get slapped with a formal harassment complaint, or heaven forbid, someone might retaliate against you physically. Neither of those things is acceptable to me. You’re going to have to stop this investigation of yours.”

  “If I stop, then who’s going to stand up for Lela? She has a right to try to prove her innocence.”

  Flynn said, “Yes, she does. We can’t ask a suspect to suspend a private investigation. But we can ask you to quit sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “I can speak to whomever I want.”

  “Not when it interferes in a police investigation.”

  “But you’ve stopped investigating, because you supposedly have your man.”

  The vein in his forehead was beginning to show as he fought to control his temper. He stood and walked to stand beside me so he could tower over me. “Miss Bellandini, you are not a professional investigator. You don’t have the credentials for what you’re doing to be considered anything besides harassment of other citizens.”

  Even though I was quaking in my boots, I didn’t allow my gaze to waver from his. “Maybe I should get some credentials, then.”

  He shook his head and grinned in spite of himself. “I’ll give you this—you’ve got a lot more guts than the last time we crossed paths.”

  Rufus said, “And that’s part of the problem, Quinn. While I’m happy to see your confidence blossom, I’m afraid it could make you overly bold and get you into a situation you can’t get out of.”

  I nodded. “Message received.”