by Maddie Day
“Of course not, Lieutenant.” He looked at Buck like he was nuts. “I was at school. And we haven’t had snow yet this winter. Nothing to shovel.”
“Did you ever happen to see or hear Toni argue with Shirley?” I asked.
Sean examined the stamped tin ceiling for a moment, as if it helped him think. “There was one time, I think in September, and Ms. Franklin was actually home. I’d turned off the mower to empty the bag or add gas or something. The windows were open and the two of them were pretty much having it out.”
Buck grew quiet. I knew that meant he was paying close attention, but he let me lead the conversation.
“What were they disagreeing about?” I kept my voice low.
“Ms. Csik was super mad about the condition of her apartment,” Sean said. “Ms. Franklin had had dudes in doing work on her half for a couple of weeks, but I guess she never fixed stuff or improved the other apartment.”
“That doesn’t sound fair.” I wanted to ask a million questions but decided to wait for the story to unfold, instead, even though I could get called away any minute now.
“Yeah.” Sean shook his head. “Ms. Franklin kept telling her—”
Danna waving at me caught my attention.
Turner passed by with an armful of dishes. “Sorry, but we need you, Robbie.” He pointed to the cash register, where a small line of shoppers had formed.
“Gotcha.” I stood. “Sorry, guys. Sean, tell Buck all about what you heard, okay?”
“Okay.”
I headed to my customers and my livelihood. What had Toni kept telling Shirley? I hoped Sean would finish the story. And that Buck would tell me.
Chapter Thirty
I didn’t get back to Buck’s table for another twenty minutes. Sean had left, and things weren’t exactly calm, but business was down to a dull roar instead of a literal feeding frenzy. Buck’s table contained only the slightest traces of their lunches. A smear of soup sat in Sean’s bowl, an orphaned scrap of lettuce rested on Buck’s plate, and not a speck of abandoned brownie crumb remained on either dessert plate. They both qualified to be high-ranking officers of the Clean Plate Club.
“Told young O’Neill I’d cover his lunch.” Buck pointed to where Sean had sat. “He said he had to go do something for his grandma and to tell you good-bye. You was too busy to interrupt.”
“Thanks.” I stacked the dirty dishes. “Did he finish telling you about Toni and Shirley’s fight?”
“Yep. He heared Toni say if Shirley didn’t like the cheap rent, she could move out. That Toni had lots of people asking to rent the place.”
“And? That was it?”
“Hold on to your team of wild horses, there, Robbie. No, that wadn’t it. Shirley told her landlady she’d take her to court about all the bits and bobs what didn’t work in the apartment. And that’s not all the two of ’em said, neither.”
I clasped my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t reach out and shake his slow-talking shoulders.
He finally continued. “Toni upped and declared in that case she’d broadcast Shirley’s secret from the rooftops.”
Secret? “What secret? Her brother being in prison? That’s not really a secret around here, from what I can tell.”
“You’d be right about that. I don’t rightly know what Shirley’s hiding.”
“Wow.” Maybe Adele would know.
“Way I figure it, we’re all hiding something, ain’t we?” He tilted his head and leaned back in his chair.
I blinked. Was he implying I was hiding something? Or maybe that he was. I glanced around the restaurant, which wasn’t crazy busy at the moment. I wasn’t done talking with him. I could take another minute or two. “Buck, I wanted to tell you something Jamie Franklin told me this morning. He said Kristina was terrified of attics. That Toni had locked her in theirs when they were young girls. So whoever killed Kristina must have coerced her up to the attic.”
“Or killed her somewheres else and dragged her body there.” He drummed his long, bony fingers on the table. “Thank you. I’ll pass that tidbit on to Octavia. Who, by the way, spent the morning with her nose in them journals you gived her.”
“I already texted her about it earlier, after Jamie mentioned it.” I studied him. “Here’s something else. What do you know about Toni’s husband’s death?”
“Tug Franklin.” Buck nodded slowly. “At the time of his demise, back three years, we investigated the circumstances pretty careful. Jamie had a lawyer who pushed us to do so. Sure Tug was old and kinda cuckoo, but he passed on sudden-like. We was looking into the possibility of smothering. You heared Toni inherited all his considerable funds, I suppose.”
“Yes. And that she blew through them so seriously she had to sell the house.”
“That’s true. Welp, Coroner Carl, he couldn’t find nothing suspicious, neither did the autopsy. Seems old Franklin’s heart just upped and stopped.”
“Certain drugs or poisons can mimic a heart attack, can’t they?” I leaned forward.
“Robbie, all’s I can tell you is that we didn’t find nothing.”
“All right. What about now? Do you think the same person killed both twins? Or are there two murderers wandering around out there.” A shudder ran through me and I hugged myself.
“I surely can’t say, but I’d best get back to it.” He unfolded his extra-long self and handed me enough money for both orders and then some. “You take care now, Robbie. I don’t want to hear you been doing none of your amateur sleuthing. That can be a dangerous proposition in times like these.”
I stowed the money in my pocket, finished clearing the table, and loaded up my arms. “Yes, sir. I hope this business gets solved soon. I’d hate to see anyone else be killed.”
“You and me both, hon.” He ambled away.
I carried the dishes to the sink. As I rinsed a sinkful and loaded the dishwasher, all I thought about was secrets. Shirley’s mysterious one. Toni’s saga of cruelty to her twin. Jamie sitting on those journals for a full decade, and his hatred of Toni. Kristina and Jamie’s affair they kept secret from William—or had they? Marcus’s apparently volatile temper. The now-revealed secret of his birth. And Buck seemed to imply he was hiding something, too. Was I? I didn’t think so.
Danna finished loading two plates, hit the bell, and stepped back from the grill. “I have to take a quick break, Robbie.”
“Go. I’ll take over there.”
She whipped off her apron and walked at a brisk clip to the restroom. I turned off the water, wiped my hands, and picked up both spatulas, which by now felt like extensions of my arms. Three tickets still hung from the carousel. I frowned at one. It included a breakfast order of grits with three links and two scrambled, but we’d run out of grits and nobody had erased it from the board. The lunch order from the other person at table five wanted pea soup. I checked the pot. Exactly one bowl left. Whew.
Turner arrived to pick up the ready order.
“Can you please erase all the specials?” I asked him. “We’re out.”
He checked the big wall clock. “A little over an hour until we close. Not worth making more, I guess. I’ll wipe the board after I deliver these.”
I thanked him. I’d laid on two meat patties and turned the sausages when Phil blew in. He strode to the grill.
“Hey, Phil.” I took a closer look at his uncharacteristic frown. “What’s up?”
He glanced around. “Where’s Danna?”
Uh-oh. This had to be about Marcus. “She’s in the bathroom.”
“I asked around about her new brother. A woman in the music department attends the Quaker church and she knows him.” He shook his head. “It’s not good, Robbie.”
“What’s not good?”
The door to the store opened. Two dozen women trouped in, chatting and laughing. My feet ached, we were an hour from closing, and a tour bus had deposited its excited hungry contents in my establishment. Danna emerged from the restroom, saw them, and hurried toward us.
>
Phil shook his head. “Shoot. I’ll have to tell you later.” He plastered on a bright face. “Hi, Danna.”
“Yo, Phil.” She gave him a fist bump. “You eating?”
“No. I wanted to stop in to say hi. Looks like you guys have your hands full.”
“Looks like it,” she agreed. “Catch you around.”
I wanted to mouth “Text me” at him but Danna was looking at both of us.
“See you, Robbie.” Phil made a What can you do? gesture and headed for the door.
“You good here?” Danna donned a clean apron and grabbed an order pad.
“Yeah. We’re out of specials, though.” I pointed to the now-empty board.
“Do we need to put in an order for tomorrow?”
“I’ll check. We have until three if I put a rush on it.” I watched her head toward the newcomers. Too bad I was a responsible business owner. What I really wanted to do was run after Phil and find out what he’d learned. Instead, I focused on finishing the current orders before twenty more flooded in.
Chapter Thirty-One
I locked the door after Danna and Turner left for the day at three o’clock and collapsed into a chair. The three of us had managed to feed and satisfy the big group and still get them out of the place by closing time. We’d pushed to clean up and reset the tables for tomorrow in a record half hour, but now I was totally bushed. Danna had also reminded me to put in the order in the nick of time. We hadn’t had a minute to talk about specials, though.
I knew I should get busy prepping for the next day’s breakfast, since I would be at Abe’s tonight. That could wait a few minutes. I trudged into my apartment, cracked open a beer, poured it into a pint glass, and tucked my feet up onto the couch. Birdy coiled himself to leap onto the arm, commencing a thorough wash when he got there.
After a long drink of cold hoppiness, I set down the glass and stood. I paced the small area of my living room with a million questions nagging my brain. I could address one of them. I pulled out my phone and hit Phil’s number, but then glared at the phone when he didn’t pick up.
“Phil, it’s Robbie. Please text or call me with whatever you learned about Marcus. Thanks.” I jabbed the Off button. So that was a dead end for now. I was also itching to know if Octavia had made progress in finding who caused either death. Wondering how the twins died. Perplexed by why Toni had treated her tenant so badly. Curious about how I could learn more from Jamie. Considering if Clive had told the truth about how much he loved Toni. I ended up pondering William Geller. If what Kristina had written was true, this apparently upstanding medical doctor had been so cruel to his wife she’d been plotting a secret getaway.
It reminded me of the death a year ago and another abused wife who had taken steps to extricate herself. At least I didn’t fear abuse from my Abe. He’d never been anything but kind to me and to all he met. He’d been shocked and disgusted last year at hearing about the treatment the woman had had to endure, as had his father.
My eyes widened. It was Saturday afternoon, when the Nashville Santa would be in his workshop hearing children’s wish lists. Adele had said William Geller volunteered at the workshop. Maybe I could swing by there and have a little chat with him. I gazed with longing at my exercise bike in the corner. I knew I needed a heart-rate-lifting, mind-clearing hard ride. Right now? I needed to clear some of this mystery first. I promised myself a good ride tomorrow afternoon, and a double one on Monday, my day off.
My phone dinged. I glanced at it to see the notification that the delivery was here. Today’s response was record quick. They must have put extra people on for the holidays. I carried my beer into the store, letting Birdy dash ahead of me. Visiting Nashville would have to wait a bit.
By the time I had the perishables—meats, milk, eggs, fruit, peppers, lettuce, and more—put away, I’d kind of gotten my second wind. Might as well get my prep done now while I was in here. As I measured out baking powder, salt, and brown sugar, I thought back to what Jamie had said about Toni earlier in the week, before she’d been found dead. He’d called her evil. I mixed the dry ingredients into the whole wheat flour. “Evil” was a strong word expressing an extreme sentiment. Could his anger at her marrying his father apparently for money have boiled over into murder this week? He’d clearly loved Toni’s twin and knew about Toni’s being mean to her, so that might have factored in. But why ten years after he’d lost Kristina?
I dumped the dry mix into a big plastic container and secured the lid. Kristina seemed to be a focal point in this mess. Who would have known her well, besides her lover and her husband? The two likely suspects would be Corrine and Adele. Both ladies knew everything about everyone. Before I started on the biscuit mix, I dusted off my hands and jabbed Adele’s number.
I was again greeted with a voice-mail greeting instead of an actual person. I sighed and asked her to call me when she could. Corrine, on the other hand, picked up right away.
“How’s it shaking there, Robbie?”
“Good. I was going to head over to Nashville in a couple minutes, and I have something I want to ask you about. Need to do any shopping?”
“Do I ever! Haven’t bought one thing yet, hon, and now I’m thinking I’d best pick up a gift for my boy, too.”
“Nashville’s the place to do it.”
“You are correct about that. I’ve got to be over there for a dinner at six, anyway. Meet you in half an hour?”
“Perfect.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
I hung back from the hubbub at Santa’s workshop where Corrine and I had agreed to meet. A naturally round-bellied man with his own snowy white beard sat in a big easy chair in front of the evergreen-bedecked wooden structure, his red suit and black boots true to legend except for the pipe. Excited children wearing rosy cheeks and red sweaters lined up to sit on Santa’s lap. Most looked delighted, but one little boy clung to the back of his mother’s coat with tear stains on his face. She juggled a baby in one arm and leaned down to pat his head, murmuring reassurances. Why was she so determined to get in a visit with Santa? The four-year-old didn’t want to be here, and surely the baby didn’t care.
When I became a parent, no way was I forcing my kid to sit on some booming-voiced stranger’s lap if he or she didn’t want to. Prioritizing a holiday photograph over your child’s needs would not be in my mothering tool kit. I guessed I was jumping the gun a bit. Abe hadn’t even proposed, although we had started talking about a future together. I couldn’t imagine anyone else I wanted to spend mine with.
William Geller, clad in a black wool coat and green scarf, sat at a table taking money and swiping credit cards. A poster on a stand read, PURCHASE PROFESSIONAL SANTA PHOTOGRAPHS, TEN DOLLARS EACH. FUNDS TO BENEFIT SICK CHILDREN CHARITY. The logo on the bottom was for a Hoosier medical professions association. I would have thought the booth would be subsidized by the Nashville Rotary or Chamber of Commerce. And maybe it was, but the photo franchise was given to the doctors’ charity.
I frowned. He was way too busy to make casual conversation with. I shivered and pulled my scarf closer around my neck. Even though the workshop was in a courtyard between shops and all the lights and illuminated shop windows looked warm and welcoming, the temperature was dropping as fast as the sun.
A hand clapped me on the back. “Quite the festive scene, ain’t it?” Corrine asked. She was clad in a red wool coat, with black stretch pants tucked into red fur-topped heeled boots. Corrine, true to form. “Santa’s coming to South Lick tomorrow evening when we light the tree. You’ll be there? Down at the gazebo.”
“Of course.”
“Shall we get shopping?” she asked.
“Sure, but first, what do you know about William Geller there?” I pointed my chin at him. “And did you know Kristina well?”
“Funny you should ask. That detective was over the house inquiring about the same thing this very afternoon.”
“Octavia?”
“The same. The twins was five years ol
der than me, so I didn’t know them real good when we was coming up. Funny how two eggs in the same batch can come out so different.”
That was one way to refer to twins.
“Kristina never really stuck up for herself,” Corrine went on. “She was smart, but way too sweet for my tastes.”
I must have made a sound, because she glanced over.
“Nothing wrong with sweet, okay?” Corrine pointed at her chest. “It’s that I’ve always been the more rambunctious type. Toni could be sorta abrasive, but she had herself some spunk and definitely had opinions on near about everything. She went after what she wanted. Usually got it, too. I like that in a gal. Sure is a shame she got herself killed.”
A woman in a puffy white coat bustled up to William and conferred. He stood, ceding the seat to her in an apparent shift change.
“Let’s go say hi to the doc.” I pointed.
Corrine gave me the side eye. “This a friendly meet and greet or a interrogation?”
I smiled, lifting a shoulder. “A little of both?”
“I like it.” She followed me to intercept the good doctor.
“Howdy there, Doc.” Corrine stuck out her red-gloved hand. “Merry Christmas.”
He started and narrowed his eyes for a brief second. Summoning a smile, he shook and said, “If it isn’t Madam Mayor. And Ms. Jordan.” He narrowed his eyes again at me.
I waited for him to dredge up the business with Marcus being a terrorist, and his own threat to never set foot in my store again.
“Welcome to Christmas in Nashville,” he added.
Whew. “Hello, Doctor Geller.” I smiled. “You’re part of the group running the workshop?”
“We provide the photography part of it. We used to raise a lot of money to support children in the hospital and their families. Now everybody takes their own pictures with their phones.” He spread his hands. “What can you do?”
“I didn’t get a chance yesterday to express my condolences on your sister-in-law’s death,” I said.
“Thank you. Not that the police are making any progress on finding who murdered her. They certainly haven’t arrested that terrorist I told them about.”