by Cathy Tully
“Now what can I get you?” He spread his dimpled hands and indicated a laminated menu affixed to the countertop with cellophane tape. Behind him, a sallow-faced teen in an identical red apron placed wings into a fryer. There was no sign of Marcie. Susannah ignored the menu.
“I’ll have a grilled chicken salad, mild please.”
Bitsy looked aghast. “You don’t come here for mild and greens.” She blinked at Billy. “You come here for the heat and the meat. Don’t you, Mr. Billy?”
He played along with Bitsy, folding one arm against his waist and taking a theatrical bow. “Sure enough,” he said, rounding out the vowels so that sure became show, and then pulled a pen out from behind his ear and pointed it at Bitsy. “Triple order of the nuclear?”
“You bet.”
“French fries, slaw, and hush puppies?”
“You got it.”
He grinned and turned to his cook, Zach Johnson. “Three orders down.” Billy wrote the order on a paper ticket and pointed his pen at Susannah. “Doc? Anything to go with that salad? Sweet tea or cola?”
“She never drinks sweet tea,” Bitsy informed him. “When we order tea, the sweet is for me,” Bitsy rhymed, pleased with herself.
The rear door opened, and a teenage girl with long blond hair entered. She wended her way through the kitchen and gave Billy a hug. “Hey, Ms. Bitsy,” she said, pushing her hands down into her pocket.
“Hey, Miss Hayle,” Bitsy said. “Come and see me. I got some new purses.”
Hayle nodded. She pulled Billy aside and spoke to him quietly. He reached into his pocket and handed over a twenty-dollar bill. She grinned and left.
“We heard about Anita. Marcie and I were shocked,” Billy said, shaking his head as he filled paper cups with ice. “Simply shocked.” He kept his gaze on Susannah and returned to the table, placing the drinks down, concern in his eyes. “How are you, Doc? I don’t mean to pry, but I heard you were injured.”
“I’m doing fine.” She tipped the cup in Bitsy’s direction. “She’s taking good care of me.”
Bitsy beamed at her. “It’s what I do.”
“I heard you were there when Anita was killed. Did you see anything?”
“No. I had no idea anyone else was around.” Susannah dropped her gaze, feeling queasy, not from the concussion this time but from a jab of guilt. What good was it to have police training if you couldn’t remember any of your skills? She sipped on her water. “I wish I had gone to the back of the building first. Maybe I could have helped Anita.”
Bitsy reached across the small table and patted her arm.
Billy wiped his hands on his apron. “Let me get your salad,” he said. He shifted his weight as if to leave, and then asked, “Do the police know how she died? It wasn’t on the news.”
Susannah shrugged. “No idea.”
“What’s gonna happen to the Cantina, I wonder?” Bitsy mused.
Susannah tried to imagine the Cantina Caliente without Anita. She turned over the thought that Tomás could be the culprit. Could he be selling drugs out of the kitchen? Was that why they had been arguing? It didn’t seem likely. Anita would not have been so flip about that kind of “trouble in paradise,” would she? Susannah knew that Anita had a teenage daughter, Dolores. Would she inherit the restaurant, or would Tomás have the opportunity to buy it? She glanced at Bitsy, who scrutinized the cook as he placed her wings in a fryer basket.
“Tomás is keeping it open for now,” Billy said.
“Really?” Bitsy asked, pulling her eyes off the food and glancing at Billy.
“Yes,” he continued, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling as he piled Susannah’s salad greens into a bowl. “Marcie called over to Tomás when we heard.”
Bitsy arched her eyebrow. Susannah mirrored the action.
“You know,” Billy continued, “to ask if she could be of any help. Marcie’s thoughtful like that.”
“Uh-huh,” Bitsy replied, eyes returning to the fryer.
“Tomás said that Anita’s family wanted to keep the restaurant open.”
So the family is still in charge, Susannah thought. A bang interrupted her thoughts. Zach eyed the rear door nervously. Billy busied himself at the grill as Marcie, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, entered the kitchen. Taking in the kitchen and dining area in one glance, she glowered at Billy, who turned his head away.
“The trash bin in the parking lot hasn’t been picked up,” she said, pulling an apron off a peg and slipping it over her head. She stood at a small sink and bent to let the water cover her slender hands as she snatched up a small brush and scrubbed with such vigor that Susannah thought she might be readying to perform surgery.
Zach dumped a basket of wings into a large metallic bowl and drizzled the contents of a red squeeze bottle over them. Marcie shut off the faucet with her elbow and in one step pulled the bottle from the boy’s hand. “We measure the sauce,” she told him, shooting a withering look at Billy, who returned the glare.
Susannah was surprised to see a reaction out of Billy. He always seemed immune to Marcie’s bullying.
“Y-yes, ma’am,” Zach said, his voice quivering.
Bitsy leaned into Susannah. “I told you she was skimpin’ on the hot sauce.”
They watched as Marcie lectured Zach.
“Sucks to be him,” Susannah murmured.
Billy came around the counter, placing their order on the table with a tiny flourish. Susannah noticed the slightest tremor in his hand. He avoided making eye contact and left without his usual quip. There was no doubt that Marcie could be daunting. Susannah would have to ignore it if she wanted information.
Bitsy snatched a wing from the top of the pile and cleaned the bone in seconds flat. She reached for another, and Susannah started on her salad. Marcie stepped to the counter and frowned at the sauce covering Bitsy’s fingertips. She wiped her hands on her apron and fixed Susannah with an eager expression.
“A shame about what happened to Anita,” Marcie said, but the glint in her eye said the exact opposite. Marcie lived for gossip, and nothing gave her greater pleasure than sharing it. “Couldn’t be good for your business.”
“It sure ain’t good for Anita’s business,” Bitsy muttered through a mouthful of chicken. She licked hot sauce off the tip of her thumb. “Or for Anita.”
“No, of course not.” Marcie waved a hand at Bitsy apologetically. The refrigerator behind her kicked on, throwing an electric buzz into the air. “It’s terrible. But you know how people love to trash talk. And before you know it, your livelihood suffers.” She glanced at Billy with a knowing look.
Susannah regarded them.
“Who’s talking?” Bitsy asked.
“Well, I don’t want to say,” Marcie began, as if she would enjoy spilling her guts, “but I heard that the Peach Grove PD is fixing to get a search warrant.” She cut her eyes toward Susannah. “Randy’s waiting to get the go-ahead.”
Susannah felt her ears getting hot but forced herself not to flinch. She was sure Detective Withers would love to search her office.
“Old news,” Bitsy said, piling her food onto her plate. “It’s Detective Winters who’s in charge now. Not Randy.”
Marcie’s face brightened, her eyes filled with anticipation.
“Yessir,” Bitsy continued, ignoring Susannah’s kick, “my cousin Little Junior told me that the mayor’s gonna fire Randy.”
Marcie gasped. A crescent-shaped lock of hair spilled forward onto her jaw. “How can that be? I was just talking to him,” she cried, realizing too late that she had divulged her source.
Bitsy shook her head as if considering this. She lowered her voice, “Maybe he doesn’t know yet. Junior says they’re keeping him in the dark.”
Marcie’s face fell. She turned away from them and pulled her phone out of her apron pocket.
“Why did you say that?” Susannah hissed. “She’s over there group-texting the entire town.”
“I got carried away. Let’s get out of
here before she finds out I’m fibbin’.” Bitsy looked down at her plate, which was empty except for a small pile of French fries. “I guess I don’t need no takeout boxes today.” She grabbed the remaining fries and tossed them in her mouth.
Susannah sighed. The lunch hadn’t been a total failure. She had found out that Tomás would still manage the Cantina for the family. Perhaps that was one less motive for him, but it left the question of whether drug dealing or other crimes were taking place in the Cantina. She pushed the door open, making a mental note to leave Bitsy at home the next time she questioned Marcie.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Susannah entered treatment room three, glad to have a patient to treat. Since Marcie’s comment that the Peach Grove Police Department wanted to search her office, she had been jumpy and distracted. Finding out she was high on the suspect list was not what she had expected when she decided to pay a visit to the Wing Shack. She had wanted to gather some tidbits on Tomás and discover what was going on in the kitchen at the Cantina Caliente, but her search for nasty insinuations had bitten her in the butt. She pushed her worries aside and greeted Fiona Bailey, who lay face down, waiting for an adjustment.
“Good morning,” Susannah said.
“Good morning, Dr. Shine,” she replied, not bothering to turn her head. Her soft Irish accent gave her words a soothing rhythm. Fiona wore a denim work shirt with black and gray jodhpurs. Her strawberry-blond hair fell down her blouse in a long braid. She was a horsewoman and regularly turned up in jodhpurs and riding boots. As usual, her attire was spotless. If she didn’t already know it, Susannah would never suspect that Fiona spent most of her day in a barn.
“Good to see you, Fiona,” Susannah said, reviewing her chart. Fiona had frequented Peach Grove Chiropractic since its opening, and Susannah reviewed her history of spills and injuries related to her equine endeavors. “Neck acting up again?”
“You know it is. It’s only been a week, and those knots are killing me.”
Susannah steadied her fingers, lightly palpated Fiona’s upper back, and forced herself to concentrate. She put some pressure on the right side of Fiona’s neck, and Fiona flinched. “I see,” commented Susannah. “These knots in your neck have knots.”
Fiona chuckled, and Susannah smiled, relaxing. She had this. Palpating muscles and adjusting spinal segments was second nature to her, and she moved her fingertips along Fiona’s spine like an artist exploring an untouched canvas.
“I know you’re going to fix me up,” Fiona said.
Susannah performed the adjustment, which caused a resounding pop. Her skills as an adjuster were excellent, and Fiona sat up, smiling, and flexed her neck.
“Better?”
“Oh, yes. I dare say it is.” She pronounced dare as dar and rolled it into the next word, making it sound like the name Darcy. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You know, Dr. Shine, I wanted to let you know that you’re welcome at the stable anytime.”
She got up off the adjusting table and wiggled her shoulders. “That feels great.” She grabbed her purse and smiled. “Come on out, and I’ll give you a riding lesson.”
“Oh, I haven’t been near a horse in years,” Susannah said, not in the least interested in learning to ride. She considered horses elegant and beautiful, but not a form of transportation she was keen on using. The mere thought of balancing on top of a moving beast made her queasy and gave her vertigo flashbacks.
“We have to change that,” Fiona said. “I’ll chose a gentle mount for you.”
Susannah was about to protest, but Fiona drew closer and lowered her voice. “Besides, I have a few things I’d like to tell you. Not to speak ill of the dead,” she began, pronouncing the words spake ell, and then crossed herself with a bent forefinger, “but just because someone dies does not mean they were a saint in life.”
Susannah found herself tongue-tied.
“You might be surprised to learn that Anita had more than a few enemies.”
Susannah blinked. “How do you know that?”
“Because she owed me a lot of money, and I’m not the only one. She got into disputes with her vendors and was at odds with a few merchants in town. In fact, I heard she had a run-in with Colin Rogers at the restaurant one evening. You can ask Tomás about that.” She tapped her phone to check the time. “I’m running late. Come and see me when you have time, and we’ll talk.”
Susannah’s heart skipped a beat as Fiona left the room. She had thought Tomás was the missing piece to the puzzle, but now other pieces were falling into place. The Cantina wouldn’t be open until Wednesday, when Anita’s family planned to hold a memorial service, so speaking to Tomás would have to wait. In the meantime, there was a new name on her radar.
“Ciao, bello,” she greeted Henry as she entered her office. She checked the temperature of Henry’s tank and gave him a wave. She eyed the green moss. “Ciao, verde.” The man at the pet store had told her the round plant’s growth rate was five millimeters per year. That meant it would slowly go from the size of a golf ball size to a tennis ball. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. A Marimo moss ball baby picture.
She put the phone aside and eased into her chair. Staring out the window, she planned her next move. A bee, apparently diverted from its trip to the peach orchard, buzzed against the glass. “Buddy, you’re in the wrong place,” she said aloud.
“Maybe he’s just where he’s supposed to be,” Tina replied from the doorway. She smiled timidly and knocked softly before she entered.
Susannah beckoned her in and grimaced as Tina placed a few file folders on the desk. Tina was dressed in a bright set of scrubs, the top decorated by a parade of topsy-turvy penguins; the whimsical design suited her personality. She turned to leave and then paused, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. She and Keith had been married a year, and sometimes Susannah saw her worrying that ring as if she were wishing on a magic lamp.
“Is something on your mind?”
“I-I can come back. I don’t want to interrupt you.”
Susannah crinkled her brow, intrigued. “I could use the change of topic.”
Tina stared at her hands, finally leaving her ring alone. “I know you have a lot on your mind, but I have something to tell you.”
“Go on.”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted and then smiled. An enormous grin spread across her face and lit her brown eyes. Almost as soon as her face brightened, it collapsed into tears.
Susannah came to her side and took her hand. “What’s wrong? This is happy news.”
“I know, I know, but...” Tina swiped at her tears. “I haven’t told Keith yet.”
“Is there some reason he shouldn’t know?”
Tina looked up, tears glistening on her lashes, and laughed. “No, no. Nothing like that.” She swatted at Susannah like she was swatting away an annoying fly. “You so bad.”
Susannah led her to a chair, and she sat. “Why haven’t you told him?”
“You see, when Keith and I got engaged, I made him promise not to go on active duty again.” She snuffled, an undainty, phlegmy sound.
Susannah nodded, pursing her lips, determined not to interrupt again.
“I was so worried all the time. When I was a kid, my dad was with the Atlanta Police Department. I watched my mom worry every time he left the house. Every shift, she walked him to the door, and she kissed him like she would never see him again. When I was thirteen, my dad transferred to Peach Grove PD. My mom became a new woman. It was like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. When Keith went into the Army, I felt that same weight on me.”
“So, now you’re worried that there’s a killer in town.”
She frowned, her fingers finding her ring again. “Yes and no.”
Susannah frowned back at her. “Yes and no?”
“Yes I am, but that’s not the only thing I’m worried about.” She met Susannah’s eye, her hands quiet in her lap. “The Pe
ach Grove PD doesn’t pay a lot of money. We both knew that in advance. But we love it here, and it’s safer than other areas, so I was thrilled when he signed on. I promised Keith I would work for a while, and we would hold off having kids until we got some money in the bank. But with one thing and another, like my car...” She lifted her hands in a gesture of frustration. “We haven’t done a very good job of that.”
“I’m sorry you’re so worried,” Susannah said, “but you don’t have to go through this alone. Keith will make a great daddy. He’s going to be overjoyed when he finds out.”
Tina smiled. “You think so? I don’t want him to think I went back on my word.”
Susannah squeezed her hand. “It takes two to tango. I think you should let him in on the secret, so we can all celebrate. If it makes you feel any better, your job here is always open. Plus, you have two built-in babysitters for when you need a night out.”
Tina threw her arms around Susannah, grinning. “I’m going to tell him tonight,” she said. “I’ll fix his favorite meal, and we’ll have us a nice little talk.”
“Good,” Susannah said. “Is there anything else?”
“Since we’re done for the morning a little early, is it okay if I go to lunch?”
“Sure.”
Tina scooted out the door, listing off ingredients she needed to buy for Keith’s dinner. Susannah checked the time on her phone. There was plenty of time to put her plan into motion. She closed the door and leaned against it, making a gun out of her forefinger and thumb and aiming at Henry as he poked at the moss ball. Henry the First had been her good luck charm. They had been through thick and thin until he went belly-up. Henry the Eighth gave her a swish of the fin, and she responded with a determined grunt.
This office needed to stay open, not just for Susannah’s sake but for Tina and Larraine’s as well. She would have to make sure it did.
Bitsy picked up on the first ring.