Murder at Mabel's Motel

by G. A. McKevett

  “Yes,” Stella said. Although, thinking the world of the Tuckers as she did, she could hardly bear to admit it. “Exactly like what he was wearing.”

  “There are a lot of blue sweaters in this town,” Savannah said. “I’ve got one myself. You’ve got one, Gran. I’ll bet you do, too, Sheriff.”

  “Two actually,” he admitted, “but last time I checked they were plain old wool from sheep, not fancy angora rabbits.”

  “Can’t be too many of those in town,” Stella said sadly. “Folks can’t afford them . . . unless maybe they’re president of a bank.”

  Stella stuck the tape back into the envelope and handed it to Manny.

  When he took it from her, he noticed the sad expression on her face. “I’m sorry, Stella,” he told her. “Believe me, I’d much rather think Earle or Deacon did this killing. But I have to go where the evidence takes me. I don’t believe for a moment that either of those knuckleheads own a sweater like that.”

  “Unless they stole it from Mr. Tucker,” Savanah added. “But since they wouldn’t wanna wear it and couldn’t sell it for drugs, I can’t imagine they’d bother taking it. Besides, you just saw him wearing it.”

  “I’m afraid she’s right, Stella.” Manny tucked the envelope and the magnifier back into his pockets.

  “She usually is,” Stella said, proud as always of her oldest grandangel, but wishing, at least this once, that her remarkable Savannah had been wrong.

  Chapter 17

  Later , when the chores had all been accomplished, Alma thoroughly celebrated, and there wasn’t a brownie left on Stella’s best company platter, the children went to bed. Even Savannah retired, though she was loath to do so with Sheriff Gilford still around. She lived for his visits, hung on his every word, and gazed at him with goo-goo eyes every moment she was in his presence.

  Manny has that effect on females, Stella had told herself many times, mostly to justify her own infatuation. A handsome man in a uniform . . . us gals just can’t help ourselves.

  But when she walked him to the doorway to tell him good-bye, and he asked her if she would step outside with him for a moment, she knew it had nothing to do with his uniform or his good looks.

  Manny Gilford was one of those men who made a woman feel safe. Even a strong woman, who took pride in the fact that she was self-reliant, found it reassuring to know that a man would place himself between her and danger without the slightest hesitation.

  It was a trait she found most endearing.

  So, when she walked out with him onto the porch, and he reached down to take her hand in his, she was enjoying the feeling that all was right in the world—at least, in her world at that moment.

  Until she looked up into his eyes.

  What she saw shocked and troubled her. Something was wrong. Badly wrong.

  She had seen Manny angry, troubled, and when Lucy had passed, he had been beside himself with grief for months. But even in his darkest times, he had always been able to look her in the eye. Now, for some reason she couldn’t even imagine, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Manny, what on earth’s wrong with you?” she asked, squeezing his hand. “Come on, darlin’, you can tell me.”

  To her surprise, he reached out, pulled her into his arms, and held her tightly against him. She felt him kiss the top of her hair before he finally released her.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ve put this off as long I can. I have to tell you, before somebody else does.” He looked around, then nodded toward the porch swing. “Let’s have a seat. You’d best hear this sitting down.”

  Suddenly, she was afraid. What news could he have that was so bad she couldn’t be told when standing on her feet?

  “Manny, you’re scaring me to death,” she said, allowing him to lead her to the swing and ease her down onto it.

  “Don’t be afraid, Stella.” He sat beside her and eased his arm around her shoulders. Pulling her close, he added, “I have something to tell you. Actually, that’s why I asked you out for dinner the other night. I was going to take you for a walk along the river and tell you then, but, well, Dolly came running in, and you know the rest.”

  A walk along the river? she thought. The river that bordered to the south end of town was the prettiest and most romantic area in McGill. Most fellows took their ladies there to propose marriage, and considering how many dark, secluded areas there were along the river’s edge, it was commonly known that a sizable portion of the town’s population had been conceived along that stretch.

  He had wanted to walk along the river with her. Why?

  Was he going to propose the other night? she wondered.

  He certainly didn’t look like a man who was about to declare his love, let alone ask a woman to be his wife. He looked more like a sheriff who was about to inform someone that their loved one had passed away.

  She couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Manny, tell me. The suspense is killin’ me here.”

  “Okay.” He drew a deep breath. “I don’t know if you’re going to consider this good news or bad news. I suspect a bit of both. But a few people in town have found out, so it’s just a matter of time until you hear it. I wanted you to hear it from me.”

  “Go on then. Lemme have it.”

  “I got a call from a guy I know, a corrections officer, who works there at the prison where Shirley’s at.”

  Stella gasped. “Oh, no! She hasn’t gotten herself killed, has she? Those kids couldn’t bear it, if she did.”

  “No. She’s started some pretty bad fights, which will go against her when she comes up for parole, but she’s healthy enough.”

  “Then what?”

  “Seems they’ve allowed her some visits with your son.” He paused, then added, “Alone.”

  A light came on in Stella’s brain. “No. No, no, no!” she said, trying to keep her voice low and not shout. “They should know better than that. Those two are worse than jackrabbits and—”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t tell me that she’s—”

  “Yes. She sure is. Five months along.”

  “Heaven help us. Another young’un’s the last thing they need.”

  Stella pictured Shirley in her jail cell, her tummy swelling with yet another baby inside her. What a horrible situation to bring an innocent child into.

  A wave of nausea swept through Stella, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick.

  “I know the Lord loves little ones,” she said as tears clouded her vision. “But why would He allow such a thing to happen under those circumstances?”

  Manny chuckled, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in the sound. “I don’t suppose Shirley and Macon asked for heaven’s blessing once that cell door was closed. I don’t believe ‘forethought’ has been high on their list of priorities over the years.”

  “That’s for sure. But then again, if they’d been more sensible, I wouldn’t have had some of those precious faces that you saw around my table tonight, and what a loss that would’ve been.”

  “True. I know you wouldn’t take a million dollars for any of them.”

  Stella laughed. “Actually, this afternoon I would’ve taken a wooden nickel for Marietta, but I do have faith she’ll come around. One of these days. Maybe after I’m long gone.”

  “You’re not going anywhere soon, Stella May,” he said, giving her a tight hug. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  “Thank you, Manny, I appreciate that. And thank you for being the one to tell me about this. You were right. It ain’t news I’d wanna hear from anybody else.”

  “Well, prepare yourself, because a couple of her old drinking buddies from the Bulldog know about it. So it’ll probably be all over town by tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, goody. Something to look forward to. I can just hear them now. ‘Hey there, Miss Stella. I hear you’re fixin’ to be a granny all over again. Too bad that daughter-in-law of yours is a jailbird.’ ”

  He nodded. “That sounds about right
. The more polite among them will say, ‘Congratulations, Stella. Another rose to add to your bouquet.’ ”

  “Then they’ll walk away snickerin’.”

  “Probably.”

  Suddenly, Stella thought of something, and the very idea of it filled her with a powerful mixture of emotions: joy, dread, excitement, and terror.

  “Oh, Manny!” she said, her pulse racing. “They won’t let her keep that baby. Sure as shootin’, they’ll take it away from her as soon as it’s born.”

  Manny looked down at her, his eyes filled with kindness and sympathy.

  Stella realized this was why he had been so reluctant to tell her. The fact that Shirley was pregnant, once again, was only half of the story.

  “They will take it from her, darlin’,” he said. “Obviously, she can’t raise a baby in a place as dangerous as a prison. Plus, some of the charges that put her in there in the first place were felony child endangerment, neglect, and abuse.”

  “Then what’s going to happen?” Stella asked. “What’ll they do with that sweet little baby?”

  Manny cleared his throat, then said, “I reckon they could put it into foster care, if—”

  “No! That ain’t gonna happen, Sheriff Manny Gilford. That little one belongs here with its brother and sisters. If somebody besides its mama’s gonna raise it, then that’s gonna be its grandma.”

  She turned toward him on the swing and placed her hands on either side of his face. She could feel the scruff of his beard on her palms. The usually meticulously clean-shaven sheriff hadn’t shaved or slept for days.

  He was obviously exhausted, and yet he had taken the time to come out here to her home and tell her this difficult news, just so that she could hear it from a friend rather than a casual neighbor on the street, someone who would have no idea what this turn of events would mean to her personally.

  The last thing she wanted to do was ask him for yet another favor, but she had to.

  “Manny, you helped me get custody of my grandbabies. Without you and your influence with Judge Patterson, it never woulda happened. Do you think you can help me this time? I can’t let that little grandbaby get put into the system. You know I can’t. I’d never have a moment’s rest, wondering what’s happening to it.”

  He pulled her close until her head was resting on his shoulder. Stroking her hair, he said, “You know I will, Stella. I’d do anything for you, for those children that were around your table tonight, for the one who’s on its way into the world. You know that.”

  She nestled into his warmth, his comfort, his strength, taking it all in and making it her own. “I know you would, Manny. God bless you.”

  “He does. He blesses me all the time. He gave me you.”

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, the instant that Stella reentered the house after seeing all the grandchildren onto their school bus, her telephone rang. Even before she picked it up she knew who it was or at least had a strong suspicion.

  It’s bound to be Manny, she thought. He’s gotta be wonderin’ how I feel about the news he gave me last night. He wants to know what I’m thinking now that I’ve had a chance to “sleep on it.”

  Not that she had done a lot of sleeping.

  “Good morning, kiddo,” he said with a voice that didn’t sound as exhausted as he had last night.

  Seems at least one of us got a little sleep, she thought. That’s good. Heaven knows, he needed it more than I did.

  “Good mornin’, Sheriff,” she replied, trying to sound as cheery as she could.

  “Did you get any sleep at all last night?” he asked.

  “There’s no point in tryin’ to fool a lawman, is there?”

  “Depends on the man, I’d say. I just sent Mervin out to buy some neon lightbulbs for the desk lamp here.”

  “But that desk lamp don’t take neon bulbs. Just regular ones.”

  “I know. But I needed some peace and quiet, and I didn’t want to look at his face for a little while. So he’s the hardware store’s problem at the moment.”

  “You ever think of firin’ that boy?”

  “Only every day and twice on Sunday.”

  “When’s Augustus gonna be back from his honeymoon?”

  “Next Wednesday. Or in other words, not soon enough to suit me.”

  “Buck up, darlin’. Could be worse.”

  “How? In two days I’ve had an attack on a young lady and the murder of a guy that everybody in town hated and wanted to see dead.”

  “But you had me to help you out and add a bit of sunshine to your rainy days.” She laughed. “Nothing like tootin’ my own horn, huh?”

  “It ain’t braggin’ if it’s true. You been a lot of help to me, and while we’re on the subject . . .”

  “Yes?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager.

  “What are you intending to accomplish this morning there at home?”

  “Laundry. These kids go through a lot of clothes.”

  “Oh, well . . . I don’t want your grandkids running around dirty on my account. I couldn’t bear to have that on my conscience.”

  “Then your conscience is way too sensitive, boy. Whatcha got to offer as alternative entertainment?”

  “Billy Ray’s autopsy results? Herb just called me and said he’s finished. You wanna go with me?”

  “I’ll be there in eight minutes. Five if you promise not to gimme a speedin’ ticket.”

  “Make it four, and I’ll pin a deputy’s badge on you.”

  * * *

  It took Stella ten minutes to arrive at the sheriff’s station, because her old truck didn’t start right away. Most days she considered it ancient and herself not even close to ancient. Unlike her vehicle, she was just a tad weathered, with a six-figure mileage reading, but a lot of good miles ahead.

  After hearing Manny’s news and a sleepless night, she felt every bit as old as her truck.

  On the way to the station, it occurred to her that with a newborn baby in the house she wouldn’t have these hours of the day free any longer, while the children were in school.

  “There’s a reason why the good Lord doesn’t give babies to women my age,” she whispered to herself as she pulled in front of the station and parked. “But, then again, it seems sometimes He does. One way or the other.”

  As she climbed out of the truck and walked up to the station’s door, she looked heavenward and whispered, “I consider it an honor that you think I’m up to the task. But I’m afraid you have more faith in me than I have. You’re gonna have to help me, Lord. How are you at changin’ diapers and two a.m. feedings?”

  It occurred to her that some people in her church would’ve considered her prayer blasphemous. But they were the same folks who claimed it was a sin to wear sandals to church on a hot summer day, so she didn’t worry too much about whether or not she rose to their highfalutin standards.

  If the Lord above was half as loving and wise as she’d always thought He was, she figured He’d understand that she wasn’t gung-ho with the idea of signing up for several more years of dirty diapers and forgive her for it.

  She’d done far worse than that over the years, and she and He were still on speaking terms.

  When she entered the station, she overheard a snippet of conversation between Manny and his deputy that made her chuckle.

  Mervin Jarvis was holding the desk lamp in one hand and trying to screw an odd-shaped bulb into its socket. “Are you sure, Sheriff, that this is supposed to fit in here, ’cause it don’t seem to.”

  “How am I supposed to know, Deputy?” Manny said. “You’re the one who bought it.”

  Manny was gathering some papers off the top of the desk and putting them into a large manila folder.

  Stella recognized it as the sort he used to store the documents relating to a case. No doubt, that was Billy Ray’s file, and it was bound to get thicker before the day was over.

  Manny looked up, saw that she had entered, and gave her a smile. “There you are. Le
t me guess, that truck of yours wouldn’t start again.”

  “I had to talk to it nice and promise to fill it up with gas later.”

  “Whatever works.” Manny grabbed his jacket off the back of the desk chair and told Mervin, “I’m off to the funeral home. I want to hear if anything important comes up. Right away. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.” Mervin glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s about time for Zach Walters to take his garbage out. He’ll be calling to complain about his neighbor’s dog barkin’ at him.”

  Manny gave him a long, annoyed stare. Then he said, “Deputy Jervis, if you call me away from a murder investigation to bother me about a barking dog—one that we hear about every dadgum morning—I will beat you with your own billy club. Do you understand?”

  Mervin didn’t look particularly terrified, as he continued to work on getting the tiny bulb base to stay in the much larger socket. “Gotcha, Sheriff. Ten-four.”

  With his hand on her back, Manny hurried Stella out of the station. Once they were outside and walking down the sidewalk toward his cruiser, Stella said, “He wasn’t exactly shaking in his boots over that billy club threat of yours.”

  “Deputy Mervin Jervis is a seasoned lawman. He hides his terror well. He was petrified.”

  “Hm. Reckon he’ll get over it?”

  “Naw. He’s scarred for life.”

  At that moment they heard Mervin whistling a merry tune, no doubt still working on replacing that lightbulb.

  Stella giggled. “Brave little soldier.”

  “I know. I hope to be just like him when I grow up someday.”

  * * *

  Stella didn’t like having to go inside Herb Jameson’s funeral home.

  In particular she didn’t like going in with Manny. Between the two of them having lost their mates at early ages and under tragic circumstances, they both had more than their share of bad memories of the place.

  So, when they went in together, she felt as though her grief was doubled. It was almost more than she could bear.

  But then, she supposed most people felt that way about funeral homes.

  Herb had done his best to make the place cheerful and comfortable with the flower beds brimming with nasturtiums and petunias beside the door. The colonial columns that supported the Southern antebellum façade were always freshly painted. The circular brick driveway in front was always swept clean, thanks to Herb’s daughters, whom he was having to raise alone, since their mother’s passing.