Mint Juleps, Mayhem, and Murder

by Sara Rosett

  Henry’s hand dropped away from his bloodshot eyes and glanced self-consciously around the room, then he said in an undertone, “Not a lot I can do. You’re breastfeeding. If you’d pump a bottle, I’d get up and feed Tyler.”

  I developed an intense interest in my enchilada.

  Megan pushed her food around her mostly bare plate. She’d skipped on the chips and dips as well as the fried rice. She had a teaspoon-sized portion of the refried bean dish and half an enchilada. “When am I supposed to do that? I’m feeding him all the time and doing everything else around the house, too.”

  Henry said quietly, “Maybe if you dropped one of your workouts, you’d have time.” Megan’s eyes narrowed as Henry stood. He included me as he spoke in a normal tone of voice, “Sorry. I’m a terrible traveler. Jet lag gets me every time. I may have picked the wrong profession.” His last words drifted into sarcasm and he cut a glance at Megan before saying, “I’m going to get some of those cookies. Want one, Meg? Just one?”

  “No, no cookies for me,” she snapped and looked as horrified as if he’d asked if she’d like some arsenic. “I’m not going back in the kitchen or I’ll want a cookie and a slice of the cake I brought. Here, take this or I’ll eat the rest of it,” she said, holding her plate out to him.

  I watched Henry walk to the kitchen, thinking about his line about the wrong profession. The assignment to the remote aircraft must still be a sore spot. I didn’t know what to think about the tension between Henry and Megan. Was it a result of the assignment or the strain of parenthood—sleep deprivation could turn anyone into an irritable, whiny person—or were they always like this?

  Megan was busily rearranging the toys on the handle of the car seat. “I appreciate you getting that package for me.”

  “Package?” I dunked a chip into the salsa. “What package?”

  “The one that’s supposed to arrive tomorrow,” she said while adjusting the tilt of a bumblebee with the exactness of a seamstress about to cut a very expensive cloth. “Thanks for watching out for it. I don’t want it to sit on the porch for a week. I’ll give you the code to the garage and you can shove it in there.”

  So we were going to pretend everything was normal. “Sure. No problem,” I said, remembering Megan’s phone call from earlier in the week. I made a mental note to run by Megan’s house sometime tomorrow afternoon. She was flying to California early tomorrow morning for her sister’s baby shower. Henry was scheduled to leave on another TDY that same afternoon.

  She picked up Tyler’s sock that had fallen off his foot and slid it back over his chubby toes. “It’s just like Henry to leave on the same day I do. I still don’t see why they have to stay overnight in Atlanta that first day.”

  I asked, “It’s that medical training flight again?” She nodded and I said, “I think it has something to do with loading equipment.”

  “Whatever.” She sat back in the chair. “It’s a Fitter Fanny Exercise kit.”

  I chewed the enchilada slowly, a frown on my face as I tried to figure out what she was talking about.

  “The package, I mean.” She made eye contact with me and relaxed now that we were on the safe subject of exercise. “It’s got everything—an exercise ball, a balance board, cords, a step, and three videos. I’ve got to stay on top of my workouts. I’ve lost point-four pounds,” she announced cheerfully. “I think the cardio really helps.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know you could get a scale with such exact measurements.”

  “Oh, they’re great. You should get one. Mine’s digital and does body fat, too.”

  Just what I didn’t want—my weight down to the tenth of a pound and a body-fat analysis. That would keep me from focusing too much on my weight.

  I continued to shovel the salsa onto the chips as she said, “I got it at the same place I got my pedometer. That’s another great thing that helps me stay on track.” She tilted the pager-sized black box with a digital readout clipped to her waistband. “See, I’m already over ten thousand steps for today.” She went on and told me more about her workout plan than I wanted to know. When she confided that she wanted to try a colon-cleansing product, I said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, especially if you’re breastfeeding.” I glanced down at Tyler. His arms jerked in his sleep, then drifted back down.

  “But they say you can lose up to ten pounds in a week.”

  “You know what they say about things that are too good to be true.”

  “Yeah, but ten pounds! It’s safe, too. It scrapes fat from the intestine walls—”

  I caught sight of Nathan looking at a vase on an end table and interrupted her. “Nathan’s about to get in trouble,” I said and escaped before I could hear any more. Shouldn’t colon cleansing be a taboo topic, especially during dinner?

  I swept Nathan up before he could touch the vase and removed him to the backyard where the rest of the kids were playing. Nathan wanted to swing, so I pushed him until he transferred his interest to several Tonka trucks. Mitch was circulating. Now he was chatting with a group on the patio, so I went back inside and helped clean up in the kitchen.

  Bonnie was setting out dessert plates and making coffee while Abby washed the dishes. I wiped down the countertops, then tied the handles of the plastic garbage bag and yanked it out of the trash can. I carried it out the kitchen door. Dusky half-light cast the carport into shadows. I looked around for their outdoor trash can, but didn’t see it.

  I leaned back into the kitchen and said, “Bonnie, where’s your trash…” My voice trailed off as I realized she’d left the room.

  “She’s in the living room,” Abby said, splashing water and soap bubbles onto the counter as she rinsed a dish. “Looking for the trash cans? Try around the side of the carport or maybe in the backyard. We can’t leave our trash cans within sight of the street, that’s one of the rules. You know, if they’re going to tell us what type of hook to use to hang pictures, they’re certainly not going to overlook telling us where to put our trash cans.”

  A free spirit like Abby had a hard time with all the rules in base housing, which covered just about every conceivable aspect of life. Going out of town? Thermostat should be set to fifty degrees. Want to wash your car in the driveway? Not allowed. Left your bicycle on the sidewalk? That’s a notice, the first step in a chain of warnings.

  “Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised after the reaction to your Fourth of July display.”

  “Oh, don’t get me started on holiday decoration regulations,” Abby warned.

  Since I’d already heard this rant, I said, “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just don’t use sparklers next year and everything will be fine.”

  She shut off the water and braced her damp hands on her hips. “You know, now it’s like a challenge. How far can I push it? Can I find a loophole? Wait until you see what I’m planning for Halloween.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear this. At least that way, I can plead the Fifth when you’re hauled in for violating the rules,” I said before I went back to the carport.

  I finally found the large trash cans tucked back behind a bush on the outside wall of the carport. I dropped the bag in and made sure the lid snapped into place—that was a rule, too, I’d learned the last time I visited Abby. Someone hadn’t secured the lid of their trash can and raccoons got into it, spreading trash over two lawns. Everyone got notices and no one was happy the next day.

  I heard someone walking along the concrete of the carport. The screen door creaked, then Bonnie said in a low voice, “So? Any news?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “No.” I recognized Colonel Barnes’s voice. He spoke quietly, too, but with such sharpness that I slowed my steps. I was still on the outside of the carport. Colonel Barnes probably hadn’t seen me when he walked up the driveway, since I was behind the bushes, and I didn’t want to pop into the carport now.

  “I can’t believe General Crabtree hasn’t done anything about the position. He’s got to know that it would be bet
ter to get someone in as commander instead of leaving everyone in limbo. Did you call him?”

  “No.”

  “But, you said you would,” Bonnie’s voice took on a familiar whiney tone that I’d heard so often in my conversations with Livvy and Nathan.

  The scent of citronella from the tiki torches drifted on the air as Colonel Barnes said, “He’s TDY and won’t be back until next week. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

  “So he’s going to let it go…let everyone hang for another week?”

  “Yes, apparently so,” Colonel Barnes said, and I heard his footsteps move across the carport to the kitchen door.

  “Where’s he TDY? If you knew where he was, you could call Lodging and—”

  Colonel Barnes stopped walking. “Bonnie, I am not going to badger the man. He may not want to intervene in the process at all. He might let things run through normal channels.”

  The command handled the assignments at the squadron commander level, but I knew that sometimes people with influence, like a general or colonel, could have input on assignment decisions.

  “But you’re the best person for the slot—he’s got to know that. You’re here. You’re already acting as temporary commander. You know the squadron and everyone in the wing. It would be a seamless transition.”

  I couldn’t see Bonnie, but I knew she was ticking the items off on her fingers as I’d seen her do many times at the squadron coffees.

  “And the slot really should have gone to you instead of Lewis in the first place,” she added.

  “Bonnie…I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s been a long day. We’ve got guests. Let’s put it on hold at least for one night.”

  I glanced behind me to see if anyone on the block had noticed me standing motionless by the hedge, but the street was empty for the moment.

  “If we let this opportunity slip through our fingers, who knows when we’ll get another one?” Bonnie said. “You said yourself when Lewis got this commander slot that you had to take care of yourself because no one else was going to do it. I’m not going to slack off on this. I think I might need to give Gina a call.”

  “Don’t do that,” Colonel Barnes’s voice was weary. “Calling his wife would be the worst way to do this.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll find out where he is,” Colonel Barnes said, his voice resigned, “if you promise not to call Gina.”

  Bonnie huffed, then said, “Okay, but you’ve got to do it soon. Time’s slipping away.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow. Now forget about this for a while.” The screen door creaked as they went inside.

  I stayed where I was. I didn’t want to follow Bonnie and Colonel Barnes inside right away, so I leaned against the carport wall and scanned the shadows lengthening over the neighborhood’s perfect yards. Lights began to glow in windows as twilight waned. After listening to that conversation, it seemed Bonnie was much more concerned about the move to squadron commander than Colonel Barnes. Was she the ambitious one, not him? Or maybe they were in it together? Had they worked together to create an “opportunity” for Colonel Barnes to move up in the squadron? I shuddered in the warm evening. I didn’t want to go back inside and have to put on a smile and pretend everything was fine.

  I saw a movement down the street. I only noticed it because I’d been standing outside long enough that my eyes had adjusted to the growing darkness. The slight shift of a figure near the trunk of a magnolia tree down the street made me uneasy. I watched the deep shadows for more movement, then reminded myself that it was a safe neighborhood. Abby didn’t think twice about jogging at five in the morning when it was still dark during the winter. Parents felt comfortable enough to let older kids play up and down the street and even walk to the Shoppette by the gas station without adult supervision.

  So why was I staring at the murky outlines of the tree, feeling wary? Nothing moved. The tree was in the front yard of a house with its windows still wide open, the lights inside a bright contrast to the growing darkness. It was dark enough now that I could see inside the house and even pick out the couch, a bookcase, and a lamp with a cream shade. Wait. I knew that room. That was Denise’s living room.

  I scanned the front of the house again and confirmed that it was Denise’s house. I hadn’t recognized the exterior of the house in the darkness from this angle. I suddenly remembered the encounter I’d had with Colonel Barnes earlier today in Denise’s house. The graveside service had been so weird that’d I’d completely forgotten about it. I had to tell her about it.

  I saw movement again. A figure meandered down the strip of concrete that ran from the front door to the sidewalk for a few steps, then the person circled back and rambled toward the house. I could tell it was a woman. I squinted as she stepped into the pool of light from the window and stood for a moment, gazing in the window. Light reflected off a pair of oversized glasses and I recognized the short haircut and the statuesque body type. It was Denise.

  There was a burst of laughter from the backyard and I heard Mitch’s voice. I hurried around the carport and entered the backyard.

  Mitch stood with a group of guys on Bonnie’s patio. Nathan and Charlie were attempting to throw balls into a miniature basketball hoop. I touched Mitch’s arm and pulled him slightly away from the group. I told him what I’d seen and that I was going to check on Denise. I looked at the time and said, “I won’t stay long. We need to get back home. School night and all that.”

  “Okay. How about I wait fifteen minutes, then round up the kids and pick you up at Denise’s house?”

  “Sounds good,” I said with relief. I wouldn’t have to cross paths with Colonel Barnes tonight.

  Denise was still in her front yard when I arrived. I walked up the sidewalk and stepped into the grass beside her. She held a royal blue shawl loosely around her shoulders over a cotton robe printed with daisies. Her fuzzy yellow slippers stood out against the dark grass. I recognized the weave of the shawl, which was shot through with silver thread. Denise had been knitting it during one of our spouse coffees and about half the group wanted her to make one for them. She’d laughed and said she didn’t know if she was ready to go into the knitting business. Abby had looked at her and said, “Honey, you already are. At the pace you’re going, you could crank out a couple of those a week and have a nice little side income.”

  Denise hadn’t said anything else at the time, but about two months later, she’d announced that her Web business, Yarn Crazy, was up and running and she was taking orders to make shawls, sweaters, and throws. She also began teaching knitting classes at Wool Works.

  “Denise,” I said softly. I didn’t want to startle her. She didn’t respond at all. “Denise, are you doing okay?”

  “Ummm?” She jerked toward me and looked delighted when she focused on me. In a dreamy voice she said, “Oh, Ellie, look at that.” She pointed to the window. “Doesn’t it look nice? All warm and shining. From outside, it all looks normal, doesn’t it? Like someone, a family, lives there and they’ll be home in a few minutes.”

  The living room did look cozy with the soft lamplight bathing the reds and browns of the cushy chairs. Another shawl like the one Denise was wearing was draped over the arm of the leather couch, but this one was a pale yellow shot through with gold thread and was only half-finished. A mug sat next to a jumble of books and magazines on the coffee table.

  I patted her shoulder. “It does look nice. Do you want to go inside now?”

  “No,” she said with a huge sigh. “Once I get inside I can feel it—it’s not right in there.” Her words were slow and breathy. “Lewis isn’t coming home. It looks so much better out here.” She took a step and stumbled on the uneven ground. “We used to have some chairs out here…don’t remember where Lewis put them…I wanted to sit out here and look inside…maybe they’re in the back.”

  I wondered if she’d been drinking. This slow, rambling demeanor was so far from her normally whip-sharp personality. “I know it�
�s not the same, but why don’t we go in there and sit down?”

  I’d expected her to resist, but she meekly said okay and let me guide her up the steps. The front door was unlocked, so I steered her into the living room and she plopped down on the couch.

  I picked up a mug from the coffee table. It contained tea and was cold to the touch. “Do you want some more of your tea? I can warm it up.”

  She plucked at the yarn in the shawl. “No. It’s not doing a thing to make me sleepy. That sleeping pill isn’t working either,” she said, gazing vaguely around the room.

  “It might be working better than you think,” I said, relieved to know she’d at least been trying to get some rest. “How long ago did you take it?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know. I stared at the ceiling for at least an hour, so I thought I’d get up and make some tea. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do if you can’t sleep? Or is it warm milk?” She shuddered. “That sounds awful. No warm milk. I’ve never had trouble sleeping before. My head touches the pillow and I’m out. I always thought people who couldn’t fall asleep were…namby-pamby. They just didn’t do enough during the day…” She trailed off, staring at her reflection in the opaque window.

  “Let’s get these curtains closed,” I said as I moved around the room closing curtains, then I picked up her mug and warmed it in the microwave. I returned it to her and she absently sipped from it.

  “Is your sister here? Is Nancy here?” I asked.

  “No. She had to go. Joey set the kitchen on fire last night—left a grocery bag on the stove.” Denise grinned, her gaze focused on the floor. “That kid is always eating, my nephew. He’s a teenager…”

  So Nancy had left and Denise was alone. No wonder she was having trouble sleeping. I sat down in the chair beside her and said, “Denise.”

  She looked up at me, eyebrows raised as if to keep her eyes open. I told her about discovering Colonel Barnes in her house today. I didn’t know if she’d be coherent enough to talk about it, but I figured it was worth a shot. I was here, after all.