Grits and Glory

by Ron Benrey

  “Now there’s a sight worth seeing,” Sheila said, stepping out of the darkness. “They’re not acting haughty today, are they? The snotty church lady and the nasty little gossip. It’s a treat to watch them squirm.”

  Ann heard Sean shift in his chair. She could almost feel the anger coming off his body.

  Dear God, don’t let him do something foolish.

  “What should we call you?” Sean asked. “I’m guessing your name isn’t really Sheila.”

  “No. My name is Gail. Gail Hayden, to be specific. Does that surprise you?”

  “Not really. It makes sense that you two are married.” Sean paused a moment. “Besides, Miles doesn’t seem bright enough to have designed this complex scheme by himself. I think that you’re the brains of this outfit.”

  Gail cackled gleefully. Miles fired a bullet into the floor a few inches from Sean’s right foot.

  “Safety tip,” Miles said. “Never offend a man who’s pointing a gun at you.”

  The roar of the gunshot made Ann’s ears ring. She muttered a silent prayer that someone nearby had heard the shot and would report it to the police.

  Miles waved away the small puff of gun smoke near his chair. “Don’t get your hopes up. This room is virtually soundproof. The combination of the wood walls, the thick stone facing, and the lack of windows means that what happens in Squires’ Place stays in Squires’ Place. Get it?” He laughed.

  Sean said, “That’s a thirty-two automatic, isn’t it?”

  “I’m impressed—the man knows his pistols,” Miles said to Gail. He waved the weapon at Ann and Sean. “By today’s standards, this isn’t a big gun. But there are seven more cartridges inside, each one more than powerful enough to kill you. So pay close attention to everything we say.”

  Ann knew what she had to do. Miles was too busy showing off to pay attention to what her nervous fingers were doing. Her chief threat came from Gail. But if the woman thought that Ann was afraid of her, she might ignore Ann and focus on Sean. It wasn’t a sure thing, but it was the only strategy Ann could implement while Miles had his gun trained on them.

  Ann averted her eyes. Look frightened and she’ll think you are frightened. Lord, please let it work.

  “Why did you bring us here?” Ann emphasized the tremor in her voice. “Is that gun really necessary?”

  “My my!” Sheila said, “Miss Trask isn’t cocky anymore. She’s downright petrified.”

  Ann tried to make her breathing echo her terrified expression. She knew that her behavior would upset Sean, but she prayed that he would catch on, or at least not do anything to throw attention on her hands.

  “I don’t hear any more clever insults from you this morning,” Gail said. “Well, I wonder how clever you’ll be when you find yourself part of Glory’s latest urban renewal project.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ann asked.

  Sean answered her question. “They’re going to destroy Squires’ Place.”

  “One convenient accident,” Miles said, “will eliminate all our problems simultaneously—including you.”

  “Richard Squires refused to sell you his property, didn’t he?” Sean asked.

  “He seemed interested a year ago,” Miles said, “but then he started dragging his heels after I’d invested a fortune in planning, site surveys and preliminary architectural work.”

  “But then one of you came up with the idea to send Gail to Glory, to spy on Richard,” Sean said.

  “That was my idea,” Gail said. She winked at Sean. “You got it right darlin’, I am the brains of this outfit.”

  Sean braced himself for another shot at the floor, but Miles merely laughed.

  “What can I say? My wife is an amazing lady. She cozied up to Richard Squires and wormed her way into his life. You have to admit, she pulled off a stunning accomplishment, becoming the hostess of this red-and-white eyesore.”

  “Absolutely dazzling,” Sean agreed. “And what she learned on the job was that Richard Squires never intended to sell his restaurant.”

  Miles shrugged. “How was I supposed to know that he was some sort of religious nut? My situation became even more precarious when Richard decided to make friends again with James Defoe. Richard planned to expand Squires’ Place with Defoe’s help.”

  “So you decided to kill Richard,” Sean said.

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Miles said. “Besides spending lots of money, I’d already brought serious investors on board and made promises I had to keep.” He made a sweeping motion with his right arm that took in the whole dining room. “When you start a major development project like this, you have to follow through.”

  “And now that Richard is dead, your next step will be to destroy this building. Right?”

  “No more questions!” Gail shouted. She scowled at Miles. “These two don’t need to know all our secrets.”

  “Don’t be a wet blanket,” he replied. “In another hour or two it won’t make any difference what they know. And their curiosity is keeping me from getting bored. We still have lots of time to kill.” Hayden laughed. “Get it. Time to kill?”

  “You get more simpleminded each day,” she said.

  “You need to work on your sense of humor.” Miles gestured at Sean with his pistol. “To answer your question, once we turn Squires’ Place into a heap of rubble, Jordan and Erin will rush to sell me the property.”

  “I see your point,” Sean said. “Destroying Squires’ Place makes their decision easy. They won’t worry as much about their father’s wishes, or have to consider his promises to James Defoe. But what I can’t work out is how you plan to demolish such a substantial building.”

  Miles smiled. “Substantial buildings burn down every day. There’s so much wood, paper and cooking oil inside this restaurant that it will burn like the proverbial torch. All that heat will weaken the structure and the walls will come tumbling down.” He added, “Jordan and Erin will collect a hefty payoff from the insurance company and I’ll pick up Squires’ Place at a fire-sale price. Literally! Everybody wins.”

  “Except for you two.” Gail cackled once more. “At eleven-thirty this morning, time runs out for Ann Trask and Sean Miller.”

  “I’ll bite,” Sean said. “Why such a specific time?”

  “Say ‘pretty please’ and I may tell you.”

  “Two reasons,” Ann said. “First, they want to start the fire before the staff arrives to start cooking. Squires’ Place is supposed to reopen for dinner this evening.

  “Second, they want to make the fire look like an accident. I’d guess they’ll try to simulate a short in the electrical wiring. In a few minutes they’ll switch on the fryers, coffee urns, hot plates and other appliances.”

  “And then at eleven-thirty, when everything is hot, BOOM!” Miles said, slamming his hands together.

  Gail glared at Ann. “All of a sudden you seem to know a whole lot about restaurants.”

  “Glory Community Church has a commercial kitchen that we use to prepare meals for weddings and other events.”

  Gail uttered an exceptionally malevolent cackle. “By noon today your kitchen administering days will be over—and your ability to muddy the waters in someone else’s pond.”

  Ann wrapped her arms around herself even more tightly. She clenched her right hand over her chest and forced herself to start trembling.

  Gail went on, “I hope you realize that all of this is your own fault. You brought it on yourself when you started talking to people in Glory, when you kept asking questions. You even spoke to Richard’s children at his funeral and stirred the pot some more.”

  “That was me,” Sean said, “not Ann. Let her go.”

  “I don’t think so,” Gail said, with a singsongy intonation. She peered at Sean. “Your little friend is terrified, but you don’t seem especially worried. Why is that?”

  “You’ve made so many mistakes so far, I’m confident you’ll bungle whatever you’ve planned for today.”

  “
Mistakes?” Miles leaned forward in his chair, clearly annoyed. “Show me a single mistake we made.”

  “Well, for one, you didn’t move Richard’s car. You left it in the rear of the church’s parking lot. It’s obvious that he wasn’t walking toward it when he was supposedly killed by the falling steeple.”

  Ann spotted Gail glowering at Miles and deduced what must have happened. “Miles forgot to take Richard’s car keys out of his pocket before burying him under the wreckage,” Ann said. “And then you saw Sean walking from the van to the church. You didn’t want to risk poking around in the rubble, so you left Richard’s car where he’d parked it.”

  “We won’t make that mistake a second time.” Gail held Ann’s handbag aloft. “I made a point of retrieving your car keys.”

  “Even so,” Ann said, “the fire department will find us.”

  “You mean that they’ll find what’s left of you in the ashes after the ruins cool down,” Gail said. “But what if they do find you? Half the people in Glory know that you and your boyfriend are obsessed with proving that you’re not responsible for Richard’s death. That’s why you snuck into Squires’ Place to look through Richard’s paperwork. You foolishly locked yourself in the file room and couldn’t get out when the accidental electrical fire started.” She cackled yet again. “What a tragedy. Both of you—toast!”

  “Let me share another mistake you made, Miles,” Sean said. “After you clobbered Richard, you positioned him flat on his back, then covered him with rubble. He wouldn’t have fallen that way.”

  “I told you not to place him faceup on the pavement,” Miles said to Gail, “but you insisted.”

  “Of course I insisted. We had no way of knowing what the correct orientation for his body might be, so the simplest position was best. Getting fancy can get you caught.”

  “You promised that you’d never quote another line from that stupid textbook on detecting you read at the Glory Library.”

  Ann had to hide her laughter behind a sudden coughing fit.

  Sean knew Ann was up to something, but he couldn’t figure out what. He’d stolen several glances at her face; one moment she seemed terrified, the next completely at ease.

  Figure it out later, he told himself. Right now, you have to focus your entire being on getting that gun away from Miles Hayden.

  Miles and his wife weren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer, but they’d been able to murder Richard at the height of a hurricane—and convince most of Glory that he’d died an accidental death. Their plan to burn down Squires’ Place with Ann and him locked in the file room could easily succeed. Sean knew that at most he’d get one opportunity to wrench the gun out of Miles’s hand; he’d have to be ready to act decisively when that time came.

  Sean studied Miles’s face. Discussing his mistakes seemed to have dampened his enthusiasm for more time-killing questions. He frowned when Ann raised her hand. “What do you want?” he said.

  “Can I use the bathroom before you lock us in the file room?”

  Gail immediately replied. “Sure you can, honey. I’d hate for you to die thinking of us as unkind.”

  “Don’t try anything,” Miles said. “My gun is aimed at your boyfriend.”

  “What can she try? It’s an ordinary ladies’ room. Everything’s bolted to the wall, and there’s one door and no windows.”

  Sean managed to catch a glimpse of Ann’s face as she stood up. Her bright eyes told the tale. She wanted to use the ladies’ room for other than the usual reasons.

  What did she plan to do? And how would Miles and Sheila react?

  He held his breath as Ann walked toward the Gritty Gal’s Room. Miles looked her way once or twice, but didn’t appear concerned by her demeanor.

  Sean began to count slowly to himself. Ann emerged from the ladies’ room when he reached 164. The look on her face had become almost blissful. How could Miles or Gail not notice the change?

  A doorbell rang.

  “That’s the back door,” Gail said.

  The bell rang again.

  “The cook staff’s not supposed to arrive until one.” Miles stared angrily at his wife. “I can’t trust you to do anything right.”

  “That’s not the cook staff—” Her explanation was interrupted by a heavy thumping on the steel door that reverberated throughout the dining room.

  “Get back there,” Miles said. “Shout through the door. Tell whatever nitwit’s out there to go away.”

  As Gail stood up, Ann said, “Sorry, but that won’t work. It’s the police. If you don’t let them in, they’ll break the door down.”

  The thumping became louder.

  “Don’t lie to me!” Miles hurdled out of his chair. “You had no way to contact anyone.”

  Ann held up the blue almond-shaped object hanging from the lanyard around her neck.

  “That’s not a telephone.”

  “Correct. It’s a miniature tactical police radio.”

  Sean could hear the sound of tearing metal along with the thumping.

  “The door’s about to give way,” Ann said.

  Gail slapped the back of her husband’s head, knocking his toupee to the floor. “You idiot! You fool! You’re supposed to know about radios! You’re a man!”

  Sean watched the veins on Miles’s temple throb as his face went red with fury. Miles moved toward Ann and raised his pistol.

  Dear God! Don’t let him shoot Ann.

  Sean leaped up and in one continuous motion took hold of the back of his chair and swung it like a golf club. The wooden seat caught Miles square on his chin. He tumbled sideways.

  Sean jumped on Miles, shoved him to the floor and yanked the pistol out of his grip.

  Ann heard a noise behind her and spun around as Rafe barged into the room. Sheila, she noticed, was standing perfectly still, her hand clasped over her mouth to stop from screaming.

  “Nicely done,” Rafe Neilson said. “I’ll take the gun.” Rafe extended his hand and helped pull Sean to his feet.

  Two other police officers whom Sean didn’t know appeared at his side. One took Gail in tow, the other tended to Miles, who was groaning softly.

  “Where did you get a tactical police radio?” Sean asked Ann, catching his breath.

  “Rafe gave it to me on the night Gilda arrived. You’ve seen it dangling from my lanyard all week.”

  “You could have reminded me that you had it.”

  “How?” Ann said, wrapping her arms around Sean’s neck. “Anyway, it was better that you forgot. You might have ruined everything by giving my secret away.”

  “You’re the one whose face shows everything,” he said.

  “Are you going to hug me or not?”

  “Not until I finish yelling at you.”

  “Why would you want to yell at me?”

  “Didn’t you think the man with the gun might get a tad upset when you told him you’d called the police and they were outside?”

  “Now that you mention it, I didn’t. All in all, I’m glad you were here.”

  “You’re a complete flake.”

  “Uh-huh. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t listen. Now it’s too late. You’re stuck with me.”

  “Yeah. I guess I am.”

  Sean took Ann in his arms and kissed her—long enough to lose track of the time.

  FIFTEEN

  Sean tapped his pants pocket and hoped once again that Ann didn’t notice. Still there. He opened the door to Squires’ Place and gently ushered her inside. They walked beneath the large banner that hung across the lobby: Welcome! Squires’ Place is Under New (and Old) Management!

  “I’ve never been to a small private party at a restaurant before,” she said. “Imagine turning the entire dining room over to nine people for dinner.”

  “Hello! Our guests of honor have arrived!”

  Sean cringed. James Defoe may have given away the game.

  “Since when are we the guests of honor?” Ann said.

  “Think about it. If y
ou hadn’t stopped the Haydens, I’d be back in Elizabeth City and this building would be a smoldering pile of ashes, topped with sixty fifty-pound sacks of roasted grits.”

  They moved into the dining room. Sean noted that four square tables had been arranged to create one long table that could seat nine people. The lights had been turned down, and the bright red-and-white decor seemed almost cozy and romantic.

  Thank you, James.

  “That’s strange,” Ann said. “We’re the first to get here.”

  Sean nodded. That had been his idea. If he and Ann got settled first, there’d be less chance of another guest spilling the beans with a grin or a giggle.

  He led Ann around the table so that they could read the place cards: Rev. Daniel Hartman, Lori Hartman, Sean Miller, Ann Trask, Rafe Neilson, Emma Neilson, James Defoe, Mimi Gallagher and Calvin Constable.

  “Oh, no,” Sean said, as he recognized the image on Squires’ Place’s newly designed place mats. It was Erin Squires Bradshaw’s watercolor of the interior.

  “What’s wrong?” Ann asked.

  “I don’t like this illustration. It looks amateurish,” Sean whispered.

  “Says who? This is a sophisticated rendering. Had you taken an art appreciation course in meteorology school, you’d know that.” Ann winked at him.

  Sean groaned. Here was another topic he could no longer be judgmental about.

  “We’re here! We’re here!” several voices said in quick succession. The other members of the party arrived, prompting a torrent of hugs and handshakes.

  The door to the kitchen swung wide. James Defoe entered, pushing a cart stacked high with the restaurant’s signature red plates and bowls. His red-and-white apron proclaimed, Eat My Grits!

  Daniel raised his hands. “My friends, please join me in prayer. Heavenly Father, we have much to be grateful for tonight. We’ve lost our dear friend Richard Squires, but his legacy remains with us. James Defoe has come home to Glory. We ask Your blessings on his work—and also on Ann Trask and Sean Miller, two young people who have fallen in love.”

  Sean heard someone at the table giggle. Daniel ignored the interruption and continued. “We give thanks for our food today. Bless it to our use and us to Your service. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”