“Two ladies just unlocked the door at the Biscuit Depot,” Justus said. “Are you going in?”
“Yeah, let me call Elvis first.”
The phone rang three times before Elvis’s voice mail message picked up. I hung up the phone and went to grab my purse out of the car.
A blue Mini Cooper drove up a few spaces down and parked. I stopped short of my door to see if it was Elvis. A young blond man hopped out and went inside. I checked my watch, then looked down Church Street to the front façade of the restaurant. Where was he?
I huffed and redialed. He picked up on the first ring.
“Morning, Evangeline. Have you seen Lady Ava yet?”
“Yes, now I’m at your restaurant, hoping to see you.”
“Then come inside. I’m here.” He hung up.
I closed the phone and looked around the place. “He’s here?”
Justus shrugged. “I guess so.”
All this mystery and drama had me hungrier than sugar ants near a fresh-cut watermelon. Now I realized why we women crave so much chocolate, because we didn’t get enough sleep. We do too much stuff. It’s probably why we struggle with our weight. At least I struggled with mine. Ava never struggled with anything until now.
Justus locked the car and we went inside.
The Biscuit Depot smelled like maple sausages, fresh coffee, and steamy butter-me-not biscuits. Have mercy. Like the exterior, inside the place resembled a railcar. Table seating was placed in rows of three. White chrysanthemums sat in mason jars on every white linen tablecloth. The place charmed me. I smiled.
I looked toward the baker’s counter where the older redhead was lathering icing on a hot batch of cinnamon rolls. One whiff of them told me that the woman stuck her foot in every dish she created.
It reminded me of the time Mom tried to teach Ava and me how to bake biscuits. We were ten and the kitchen floor was covered in flour and our tiny footprints. I covered my heart with my hands. If Elvis didn’t show up soon, this cute place would make a blubbery mess of me.
“What’s wrong?” Justus asked.
“I’m tired from yesterday.” I was two sniffles away from balling my eyes out, but there was no time to be weak. Actually, there had never been time for me to be weak, but whatever . . .
Justus’s phone rang. He peaked at his phone. “It’s Trish. Let me step outside and see what she needs.”
“Sure, I can handle this on my own.”
“I know, but do me a favor.” He stood at the door. “While I’m outside, please don’t scare or flirt with the man. You’re dangerous in both ways.”
I smirked. “I can’t promise you anything, so you better hurry back.”
He pointed at me, then stepped outside. He sat on a bench near the handicapped parking area. From the look on his face, I suspected the conversation had something to do with Kelly and her phantom boyfriend.
“May I help you, madam?” Red asked.
“Is Elvis here?”
Her eyes brightened. “Yes, wait right here.”
She walked through the dining room, turned toward me, smiled, and vanished into their office, I assumed. Now the only other person in the dining room with me was the blonde.
He sat in the last table near the exit. I couldn’t help but notice him. The restaurant could have been crowded and any woman with a speck of vision would have spotted him from across the room. Even from where he sat, I could tell his eyes matched the color of the smog-free day outside, a perfect baby blue.
He was far younger than me in appearance, but those eyes belonged to an old man, Cary Grant or Gregory Peck or Paul Newman. And they looked extremely wrong for me to be admiring at a time like this, especially with Justus near. More trouble. He had warned me.
If I wasn’t focused before, I was on point now. Pretty men can make a woman forget herself and her troubles. The trick was you couldn’t let his troubles creep up into yours. Because I promise you, pretty men come with plenty ugly trouble.
“Get it together.” Granny’s voice shivered through me. “Devon and Ava need you.”
I turned back toward the counter and reached for a menu on the service counter. I was definitely getting those cinnamon rolls.
“Evangeline Crawford?” some man asked.
For a minute I thought my desperate need for something sweet and my lack of sleep had me hallucinating, but then again . . .
I looked behind me. “Elvis Bloom?”
He stood up and wiped his eyes. It was the white man with the blue eyes. He had been crying. Those blue eyes probably resembled rain and sky now.
I grabbed one of those cinnamon rolls off the tray on the table and popped it in my mouth. I needed quick comfort.
Elvis left his table and walked toward me as I chewed and swallowed. I took note of the time. It was 1:00 PM. Not good. I needed to get ahead of Salvador’s investigation. If my memory served me right, he and Detective Dixon were lunching with the coroner. I had to know what they knew.
Elvis and I hugged. He smelled like figs and something sweet. I couldn’t put my name on it, but it was original, too.
“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” I said, still chewing.
“Same here.” He stepped back and looked me up and down. “I know I sound redundant, but you and Lady Ava really are twins.”
“I assume you’ve seen my sister without her makeup.”
He chuckled as he pulled out a counter stool for me to sit on. Then he sat down beside me.
“I know we don’t have much time, but what happened?” he asked.
“Someone stabbed Devon. Ava called the police and was charged with his murder.”
His eyes watered more. “It can’t be that simple.”
“Simple enough. I arrived just before the police. We all found Ava holding Devon’s head in her lap.” I thought about the bloodied knife lying at Ava’s feet and trembled. “It was horrible.”
“I cannot imagine . . .” He reached over the counter, pulled some napkins, two teacups, and saucers, then sat a pair in front of the both of us. “I need some tea to calm my nerves. What about you?”
I took some napkins to wipe my eyes. “That’s not necessary, as you said, I don’t have much time. Family matters. I’m just telling you what happened from my point of view.”
And trying to get a clue why Ava didn’t add you to the visitor’s list. I kept that question to myself. Mama taught me a long time ago not to disrespect the hand that fed you, else they might spit in your food.
He nodded, while pouring tea in his cup. “Do you think she killed him?”
I shook my head, but I would be lying if I didn’t have my doubts. “She’s not the killing kind.”
He poured tea in my cup. “Then you’re going to need something to drink.”
“Why?”
He placed the tea kettle back in its place on the other side of the counter. “Because by the look of things, you won’t be getting any sleep anytime soon.”
The younger redhead came over. She placed a basket of fish and fries in front of him. Justus returned to the dining hall. He spotted us and walked toward the bar.
The woman turned to me. “Would you like some fish and chips, miss?”
“If I ate that, I would fall a sleep where I sit.”
Her face wrinkled. “But you eat it all the time.”
Elvis touched her hand. “She’s not Lady Ava. This is her twin, Angel. Angel, this is my sister, Emma. Emma, this is Evangeline.” He made my name sound like a British dream.
She wiped her hands on her apron, then held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Angel. So sorry for the confusion.”
She had a sweet, shy voice and very soft hands.
“Nice to meet you. Don’t worry about it. I’m far from being an angel for sure.”
She giggled. “Well, if you’re anything like Lady Ava, then I beg to differ. But I should have known you weren’t your sister.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“She r
arely came here and never for tea.”
“Sounds like you’re in the wrong profession.” I drank my tea after all. “You could be a detective.”
“Or a reporter,” Elvis said. His eyes were locked on me.
“No.” I drank my entire cup quickly. “She’s too decent for that.”
Justus stepped into the group and introduced himself. He ordered a black cup of coffee. He didn’t look at me.
Elvis whispered something in Emma’s ear. She nodded and walked away. I wished Ava and I were that in sync with each other. We used to be. A shiver ran through me.
If we were close, then I could have prevented this disaster. She would have trusted me with her fears about her marriage. Maybe if she had stayed at my house instead of jetting off into the wee hours, this never would have happened. Then my heart sank into my gut. I almost dropped the tea. Had I not told her the truth about the Sentinel investigation, Devon would be alive today.
I shuddered.
“Are you okay?” Elvis asked.
I nodded. “Just had a tiny gut check. I’m good.”
“May I ask? What is your gut telling you?
I turned to Elvis. His voice was gentle and reassuring. His head was tilted, he was no longer crying, and his body language oozed calm. I sighed and breathed him in. Those dreamy blue eyes blazed a reserved confidence. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but I could read a man better and faster than I could read my twin sister.
And it led me to wonder . . . What was a successful white restaurateur doing moonlighting as an assistant to the largest black church in the city and the state?
“My gut tells me that your role at Big Faith is more than Devon’s assistant.”
He grinned. “Your sister was right. You have been out of the loop for a while.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I’m sure when you were working for the Sentinel you would have known all about me before we met.”
“Then you can rest assured that I don’t think you’re a suspect.”
He sat up. “For the bishop’s murder?”
“No, for framing my sister.”
“You don’t believe she did it?”
“You know my sister. God himself would have to come down, put the knife in Ava’s hands, then bless her to kill and force her hand to do it.”
Elvis’s eyes widened. “Blessed to kill? Wow . . .” His eyes wondered off. “So you’re searching for another suspect?”
“I want to, but Ava insists that I don’t.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that, among other things.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Ava and I haven’t been close in a long time.”
“Since the article you wrote about the bishop?” he asked.
My chest tightened. I turned to Justus. “Yeah, that.”
Elvis patted my hand. His were warm and steady. “You were just trying to protect your sister like you’re doing now. In fact, I wouldn’t be working here had it not been for that investigation. Besides, from what I hear, the church grew stronger and you resigned because of it, right? Why would anyone hate you for that? I don’t understand why you haven’t returned to the church. From what I hear, they missed you . . . miss you.”
His eyes didn’t flinch. I wanted so bad to believe him, but I didn’t trust Big Faith’s hired men. God was still working through me on that one.
I checked my watch. “We have to go, but I’ll talk to you later.”
“Of course.”
We stood up. Justus walked me toward the front, his hand on my back again. I welcomed it. I turned toward him and smiled. He smiled back. Our first fight was over.
Emma stood at the exit. She handed me a white box, which felt very warm in my hands.
“Emma packed you some cinnamon rolls to take to the kids,” Elvis said.
“That’s sweet. Thank you,” I said to them both.
Emma handed me a Styrofoam cup. “And some peach tea for you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. English tea was not my thing. “Thanks again. I wish I were here under better circumstances, like to eat all this good smelling food . . .”
Elvis smiled. “Once everything’s settled. You are more than welcome to visit again.”
“That would be nice. But before I go, can I speak with you outside for a minute?”
“No worries . . .” He opened the door.
I didn’t have time to do any adequate research on Elvis Bloom, but so far I could conclude he had just charmed the stress right off me. He followed us to my car. I unlocked the door and placed the rolls in the backseat. I wished I ordered something to take on the road for myself. That cinnamon roll and tea hadn’t quite hit the spot.
I turned to Elvis. His eyes were tearing again. Devon’s death must have him pretty shaken up. “I need to ask you something that you won’t like.”
Justus cleared his throat.
Elvis blinked. “What is it?”
“Is Greater Atlanta distancing themselves from my sister?”
His cheeks reddened. “Believe me, it was not my decision.”
“I don’t know if I can believe you like Ava does.”
His jaw clinched. Ooh, I hit a sore spot. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“I don’t know you well enough to do that, Elvis, but what I do know is you’re not just Devon’s go-to guy. And I know you wouldn’t dare share those problems with me.”
“Is that all?”
“I also know you love your sisters, so I know you understand how I felt this morning when I was told that the church—the one my sister and my brother-in-law founded and devoted their lives to—would let her sit in jail another day.”
He lowered her head. “I told them that was a mistake.”
“You told who?”
“The trustees.”
“No, you were wrong.”
He looked up. “I was?”
“You go back and tell them it’s a publicity nightmare.”
His brows creased. “Are you going to talk to the press?”
“No, Elvis. I am the press, and this kind of story would definitely get me back on the good foot with the Sentinel.”
Justus mumbled, “I thought you didn’t want that life anymore?”
I shushed him. Justus cleared his throat and turned away from us.
Elvis tucked his hands in his front jeans pockets and sighed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get Ava on tomorrow’s docket. Apparently she still doesn’t have a number. And bring some of that delicious food out to the house for the family later this week. My partner and I are going to be too busy finding the real killer to be cooking.”
Justus mumbled something I couldn’t understand.
“That’s all?” Elvis asked.
“No, do you have contact information for Rachel Newton?”
He shook his head. His eyes didn’t flinch, but his pinky finger twitched. “No, I don’t.”
“I don’t believe that either.”
He walked toward me, leaned toward me, and whispered, “I want to help you, but that information I don’t have. I’ve never had it; only your sister and the bishop had her number.”
Weird, I thought. “Do you know why I’m looking for her?”
He nodded. “I’ve heard the rumors.”
“But you won’t confirm or deny?”
He nodded. “I’m the bishop’s assistant, not his confidant. That would be Lady Ava.”
“Or his armor bearer?”
“One and the same.” He grinned and looked back toward the restaurant. “I would like to be more of service, but I have to help my sisters complete an order. They have a wedding to service today.”
“Could you do one teeny favor for me? It won’t take long.”
He stepped back and straightened his collar. “Of course.”
“Who’s this Rachel person?”
“She’s just a member of Greate
r Atlanta. She was one of Lady Ava’s armor bearers.”
“Do you think I could speak to one of the armor bearers? I need to purchase some nice clothes for Ava. What she wore when the police took her into custody wasn’t meant to leave the bedroom.”
“And what Angel left for her to wear wasn’t meant to leave her car trunk.” Justus scoffed.
I glanced at him. We had gotten a bit too comfortable with one another. I nudged him.
“Will do,” Elvis said.
“Thanks so much.” I shook his hand. “Can you have that person call me tonight?”
He nodded. “I can do better than that. If you want, you can meet them tonight. The armor bearers usually have their weekly meeting tomorrow, but with our tragedy, the women have been wanting to pray for Lady Ava, the family, and the church. Your presence could bring joy and confidence in this time of sorrow. If you like, I could request they come to your home tonight in lieu of tomorrow evening’s meeting.”
Boy, he knew how to lay it on thick. He reminded me of Devon for a minute.
“I would love to, but the kids are there, and they don’t know what has happened to their parents. And I don’t want them to know just yet.”
Justus reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed Elvis his card. “Have them come to our church in Sugar Hill. They can meet and pray there without the children being involved.”
No, we won’t. I gasped. We can’t meet there.
Elvis turned to me. “Are you all right?”
I didn’t realize he heard me or that my mouth had gaped open again.
Justus cut in. “No, obviously she’s under a lot of stress today and with little sleep.” His eyes were still on Elvis. “We’ll see you later. Thanks for your time.”
Elvis nodded and returned back inside.
After Elvis left, I turned to Justus. “We need to talk.”
“Not here we don’t. Let’s go. We have some things to do before the ladies come to Sugar Hill tonight.”
Oh, no. He didn’t just shush me. I threw my hands on my hips. “We’re not meeting at Sugar Hill, and I don’t need an escort or someone to think for me. Did I ask you to do that?”
“You didn’t have to, but let me tell you something.” He came closer. His nose almost touched mine. “I’m helping you, not because I’m feelin’ you, but because you need it. Lord, help me. You need my help.”
A Good Excuse To Be Bad Page 19