Apple of My Eye: Tiger's Eye Mysteries

by Alyssa Day

  "Before we eat," Uncle Mike said sternly. "You should have called us, Tess."

  "I know. I just didn’t want to upset you. I figured I'd tell you about it at lunch."

  Jack, standing in front of the house with bags that were almost certainly filled with various meats, smiled at Uncle Mike when we walked up.

  My uncle aimed a narrow-eyed gaze at Jack. "Been gone a while."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Not much word."

  "No, sir."

  "Tess deserves better."

  Jack glanced at me, back at Uncle Mike, and then squared his shoulders. "Yes, sir."

  I threw my hands up in the air. "How about you two Neanderthals let me decide what I deserve? Now. Are there steaks in there or not?"

  Jack grinned. "Many, many steaks."

  I turned to Ruby, who was visibly gathering steam for another rant.

  "Did you make pies, or do we need to go buy them, now that you're so busy being mayor?"

  "Tess!" She lifted her chin. "Of course I made pies!"

  Hint: To change any uncomfortable subject with a Southern woman of Aunt Ruby's generation, imply that her hospitality or pie skills are not quite up to snuff.

  She led the way into the house, a stream of commentary following her about how she didn't know why the mayor was in charge of kids shooting stop signs, what kind of woman did I think she was, not to have pie, and if she got her hands on anybody leaving me scary gifts, she'd go after him with a rolling pin.

  Jack smiled at me, but his expression was tinged with sadness, and I pulled him aside in the front room after Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby headed for the kitchen.

  "Listen, you. Don't get any ideas. Uncle Mike's just poking at you, because he's overprotective. Don't think this gets you out of our date tonight. I have plans for you, my friend."

  My teasing had the desired effect and maybe even worked too well: his smile turned predatory, and I suddenly felt overly warm and a little bit tingly.

  "I have plans for you too, and friendship has nothing to do with it," he murmured, and then he sauntered off, leaving me biting my lip and wondering if I'd made a mistake.

  Maybe we should just be friends. Maybe…

  Just then, he looked back at me and shook his head a little, as if he could hear my thoughts—I knew he couldn't; I'd asked—and the nerves just flowed right out of me. I knew Jack. He was my friend and my business partner. He'd risked his life for me and I'd risked mine for him.

  He'd seen me with bed head.

  And we still liked each other. A lot. Maybe…

  Maybe even more.

  We were going on that date, come heck or high water. And I was definitely turning off my phone this time, so no calls about break-ins at the shop or anything else would interrupt us. What a waste of the best red dress in the history of the world that had been.

  Uncle Mike started pulling steaks and chicken and ribs and who knew what else out of the bags and chortling.

  "Well, at least you're a carnivore. Remember that vegetarian Tess dated, Ruby? He wanted to make us tofu meatloaf." He pointed at me. "If you hadn't broken up with him, I might have shot him, just to save us from the tofu."

  Jack turned his head to look at me. "Really? When was this?"

  "Last week," I lied sweetly—it had been years ago. "Too bad you were gone, Jack. But, as you say, you snooze, you lose."

  Aunt Ruby dropped the silverware she was holding. "How can you all joke about… about tofu at a time like this? Some lunatic is threatening Tess with dead bodies. Again."

  "And expensive sapphire rings," I added helpfully.

  "I don't care about the ring," she shouted.

  Yeah. The ring was really not the point, but I was trying for distraction.

  Uncle Mike, surprisingly, as overprotective as he was, decided to be the voice of reason for once, instead of threatening to lock me in my childhood bedroom.

  “As scary as this is, we'll handle it. I don't know why Dead End is suddenly the center of a crime spree this year, but we'll find out who did this, and the sheriff will lock him up.”

  "Or her," I pointed out. Some of the crimes had been perpetrated by women.

  "Or her," Uncle Mike agreed.

  “Susan won't be the only one looking for him,” Jack said, a hint of a snarl in his voice.

  “I promise to be extra careful at home and at the shop, Aunt Ruby.” I gave her a hug. "Now. What kind of pie do you have? I'm starving!"

  "You can't have your pie first," she scolded, allowing me to change the subject. I didn't doubt that I'd hear more about it, but—for now—we were going to enjoy our Sunday lunch and not think or talk about the kind of person who cut off fingers and left them as gifts.

  By the time Jack and Uncle Mike finished grilling, Aunt Ruby and I had the potato salad, bean salad, and fruit salad on the table, and I was setting out plates and glasses. We took the pitchers of water, lemonade, and sweet tea out of the fridge just as Jack put an enormous platter in the center of the table.

  I stared down at it. "That's a lot of meat."

  Uncle Mike beamed. "Isn't it great?"

  "There are only four of us."

  "What's your point? Jack's a tiger. He needs to keep up his strength."

  I gave my uncle a suspicious look. "Since when do you defend Jack's right to, as you put it, 'eat you out of house and home'?"

  "Since he bought all the steaks!"

  Jack started laughing and piled four steaks on his plate. This did not even make a dent in the mound of meat. I took a steak and a chicken breast, figuring I'd have a little of both and take the leftovers home to Lou, who was also a carnivore, after all.

  Uncle Mike snatched the potato salad bowl away from Jack's reaching fingers and scooped a large portion onto his own plate, then passed it to me.

  "Better get some while you can," he muttered.

  I shook my head but spooned out a generous helping and then handed the bowl to Aunt Ruby. "What happened to male barbecue solidarity, Uncle Mike?"

  "Oh, that was only about the steaks and chicken. When we get to the side dishes and the pie, it's every man for himself."

  "And woman," pointed out his wife, the mayor, who'd actually baked the pies.

  I poured myself a glass of water. "What kind of pies?"

  "I have two apple, a lemon meringue, and a chocolate cream," she said. "I didn't bother with pecan, since yours always turn out better than mine, anyway. You're making pies for the Swamp Cabbage Festival, right?"

  "Sure. I never win anything, but it's fun."

  Jack polished off his first steak, poured himself another glass of lemonade, and then looked at me. "Will you remind me what swamp cabbage is?"

  "People everywhere else call it hearts of palm. The sabal palm, also known as the cabbage palm tree," I said. You can't grow up in Dead End and not know the particulars of swamp cabbage. "It looks like a bunch of logs when it's harvested and then you cook it up. One tree gives you about a quart, cooked."

  "But isn't the sabal palm Florida's state tree? And when you take the heart, it kills the tree, right?"

  I put down my fork and stared at him. "How do you know these things? Like Boron?"

  He shrugged and held up his glass. "I know things. I drink lemonade, and I know things."

  "Don’t we have any beer?" Uncle Mike started to get up.

  "Not for Sunday lunch after church," Aunt Ruby told him sternly. He sighed but sat back down.

  I pointed at Jack. "Quit misquoting Game of Thrones at me."

  "So," he persisted. "Wouldn't it be illegal to cut down the trees?"

  "Not here," Uncle Mike, Aunt Ruby, and I all said simultaneously.

  "What do you mean, not here? Not here, the trees don't die, or it's not illegal here in Black Cypress County, with your—our—special charter?"

  As Jack knew very well, either or both could be true in a magical, mystical town like Dead End. The special charter that founded the town and county predated the founding of the United States
and meant that most state and federal laws didn't apply here.

  "It's not illegal here. And the trees don't die. We had a garden witch put a spell on the grove," Aunt Ruby said matter-of-factly. "Also, we need somebody new to dress up as the swamp cabbage, since Marvin became a vampire and started taking the night shift as driver of the blood bank donations bus,"

  I nodded. "Right. Even if he could take off work, that suit is too old to be sunlight-proof, and it would scare the kids if the festival mascot burst into flames in the middle of the pie tasting."

  "Nobody wants to see that," Uncle Mike said, grimacing. "That would totally ruin the pies too."

  Jack sat there and stared at the three of us, eyes wide and a stunned look on his face.

  "Do you… is there… the pie tasting might be ruined, is the part you're worried about?"

  Uncle Mike took another helping of fruit salad. "They're very good pies."

  Aunt Ruby and I nodded.

  "Is Mellie going to enter this year, after Mrs. Frost tried to get her disqualified last year because she's a 'professional' baker?" I pushed my plate back, unwilling to even look at another bite. "I don't want to miss her famous swamp cabbage pie. That may be the best pie I've ever eaten."

  "And it tastes like chocolate and raspberries, which you wouldn't expect," Aunt Ruby said, putting her fork down.

  "Not as good as your chocolate cream pie," Uncle Mike told Aunt Ruby, giving her such a tender smile that it almost made me tear up. Those two were such a good example of what a great relationship should look like. I'd sometimes been afraid I'd never find anyone who could live up to my ideal, after growing up with these two.

  I snuck a glance at Jack, who was—shockingly—not eating. He was still staring at me.

  "What?"

  "A vampire drives the blood bank bus?"

  "Sure." I shrugged. "He takes his salary in a percentage of what he collects."

  Made perfect sense to me. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Mike were nodding too.

  Jack shook his head. "Every time I think this town can't get weirder, you all prove me wrong. Next you'll tell me a leprechaun is in charge of the peanut butter."

  I rolled my eyes. "Jack. Don't be silly. I only made those sandwiches for the leprechauns as a one-time special deal. Anyway. Pie?"

  Aunt Ruby jumped up to help me get the pies and ice cream, and Jack cleared the lunch plates while Uncle Mike set out the dessert plates and grumbled about how much he'd appreciated the weeks when he didn't need to worry about who was eating his desserts. When we were all seated and served—two pieces for me, two for Uncle Mike, one for Aunt Ruby, and four for Jack—Aunt Ruby pinned me with her mayoral gaze.

  "All right. Let's work this out. Has there been anyone showing undue interest in you recently?"

  "I've thought about it and thought about it, but I can't think of anyone. It has just been a really normal time since Hurricane Elvis almost hit us."

  "And the vampire's buddies left a foot in your shop," Jack put in, his eyes hard.

  My shoulders slumped. "I am tired of the body parts. I mean, what the heck? Nobody else I know gets dead body parts."

  "Well," Jack said, looking a little sheepish. "There was this incident in Texas…"

  Uncle Mike, who'd been steadily eating and was now eyeing a third slice, suddenly smacked a hand on the table, making me and Aunt Ruby jump in our seats. "I am tired of people threatening my niece."

  "Michael Callahan! She's my niece too. And don't you do that when we're all nervous already," Aunt Ruby scolded him.

  "I'm not nervous," Jack said calmly, sliding the chocolate cream pie toward himself when Uncle Mike was distracted.

  "Ha! I knew it wouldn’t be long before you were eating the food right out from under me!" Uncle Mike grabbed the lemon pie and moved it out of Jack's reach. "Don't you have somewhere to go?"

  "Mike!" Ruby swatted his arm. "Manners! This nice young man can stay as long as he likes."

  "I do have somewhere to go," Jack said, grinning at Uncle Mike. "I'm finally taking Tess on our first date this evening. What do you think about that?"

  Uncle Mike's eyes narrowed. "I think you and I are going to have a little chat."

  I smacked my fork down on the table and started to stand. "Enough, already. I can't breathe for all the testosterone in here, and… Oh."

  I fell back into my chair, put my head in my hands, and moaned. "Oh. What about Brig?"

  Uncle Mike and Aunt Ruby both sighed, and Jack just looked at us.

  "Who?"

  "Brigham Hammermill the Fourth," Uncle Mike told him, his face making that 'just bit into a lemon' expression.

  "What the hell is a Brigham Hammermill? And why are there four of them?"

  Aunt Ruby narrowed her eyes. "Language."

  "Sorry. I forget sometimes how to act around civilized people," Jack said, flashing her an apologetic smile which not only made her forgive him but apparently caused her to believe he needed more pie. She nudged an apple pie toward him.

  "Hey!" Uncle Mike said indignantly.

  I tapped on the tabletop. "Can we focus? Jack, Brigham Hammermill the Fourth is a guy I met at the Swamp Cabbage Festival maybe five years ago. He drove his very expensive car—Ferrari?" I glanced at Uncle Mike, who shook his head.

  "Lamborghini. You can't trust somebody who drives a foreign car." He folded his arms across his chest. "Thank goodness you saw the light and drive a Ford now."

  "Yes, yes, we get it, Uncle Mike." I turned back to Jack to explain. "Anyway, back to Brig. He walked up to me at the jams booth—I was watching it while Lauren Rollins, she owns Lauren's Deli, you know? Anyway, she had to run to get something out of her car, and I watched over the booth, because Mrs. Frost's hip went out on her when she was at archery practice—"

  "Little old Mrs. Frost, who is probably ninety years old? The swamp cabbage pie baker?" Jack's eyes widened. "At archery practice?"

  "You've seen that crossbow she carries in her purse. Anyway, so Lauren was on her own, and I couldn’t leave the jams unattended because of what happened the year before—"

  "Oh, right, the time Rooster Jenkins brought that mule with him, and it ate the jams and the booth too," Aunt Ruby said, nodding.

  "No, that was the year before that," I told her. "I'm talking about the year Darla Holliday promised to reveal her recipe for her famous Lemon Lush, and Mrs. Quindlen and Granny Josephine got in a wrestling match over the last copy and knocked the booth over."

  "Never did get that recipe," Uncle Mike grumbled. "I love that Lemon Lush too."

  "Anyway, the jams booth can't be left unattended."

  Jack, whose eyes were glazed at this point, nodded. "Sure Sure. And this Hammermill character comes in how? He was in the wrestling match with Mrs. Quindlen and Granny Josephine?"

  "Please. They'd demolish him," Aunt Ruby said, laughing.

  "Anyway," I repeated. "Mr. 'I'm Brigham Hammermill the Fourth, you can call me Brig, everyone must admire me' walked up out of the blue and started hitting on me."

  That woke Jack up. "He did, did he? Where does this Brig live now?"

  "I turned him down flat, and it seemed like he wasn't used to rejection, because he started sending me unwanted gifts. Flowers, candy, a bracelet—"

  "Those were actual diamonds, Tess," Aunt Ruby interrupted. "I still think you should have kept it or sold it. You could have bought Lou a lot of cat food with that money."

  I laughed. "Right. But no, in spite of my aunt's materialistic tendencies, I didn't keep any of it. I gave the flowers and candy to the Dead End Senior Center, because I wasn't going to spend my money to return them to him, and I mailed the bracelet back certified mail with extra insurance, signature required. After that, I didn't hear from him again."

  Jack gave me a steady look. "Do you think he might be reminiscing about old times, with the festival coming up again?"

  I threw my hands in the air. "No. Maybe? No. it just doesn't make sense. For one, it's been years. Two, it's a long way from
flowers and candy—"

  "And jewelry," he said, his voice low and calm.

  "Yes, okay, and jewelry, to amputated fingers."

  "Tess." Uncle Mike reached over and took my hand. "Wounded pride makes men dangerous."

  "Not only that," Jack said, pushing his chair back and standing. "There was, after all, jewelry in that box. Maybe this is escalation."

  I stood too. "I don't think—"

  "You're probably right. But you also just so happen to know a private detective," Jack said. "I'm going to spend the afternoon doing some detecting."

  "But… Okay." He was right. He was the detective, and if he could find out something that ruled Brig out of the suspect pool, that would at least be something. "I'll wait to tell Susan about this until you find something out. No use adding to her work if he's out in Fiji on his yacht or something."

  "He has a yacht?" Aunt Ruby looked wistful as she started gathering plates. "I always wanted to go somewhere on a yacht."

  Uncle Mike took the plates out of her hands, put them on the counter, and then pulled her close for a hug. "Well, my love. I happen to know a handsome fellow who's crazy about you and has a canoe. How about we go out on the water this week?"

  "As soon as we're sure Tess is safe," she said, but she smiled at him. "Now help me get this cleaned up, since Jack has detecting to do."

  I hugged them both, and then Jack and I took our leave. When we walked outside, I glanced over at the barn.

  "I'm just going to go give Bonnie Jo another apple or two. Are we still on for our date? In spite of all this craziness?"

  Jack touched my cheek. "It will take more than dangerous stalkers and Brigham Hammermill the Fourth to drive me away. I'll see you at six?"

  I grinned. "I'm almost afraid to say this, but… it's a date!"

  All the way over to the paddock, I kept waiting for the meteorite to hit me on the head.

  6

  I was slightly nervous when I went home. I parked as close to my porch as I could without running over my hydrangeas, and craned my neck to try to see if anybody had left anything on my porch. It didn't look like it, but the present the night before had been on the back porch, after all.