“Just perfect, indeed,” Clayton muttered.
“I would love the address and directions, Mrs. March. Maybe we’ll be able to make a trip over there.”
Clayton leaned back in his chair and gave a mock groan. “Now you’ve done it, Mrs. March. We’ve just lost a day to his infatuation with tea leaves.”
Archer playfully hit Clayton’s arm, then gave Nan one of his most charming smiles, the type that made heterosexual women completely forget that he wasn’t the least bit interested in them. “Pay him no attention,” he said. “I don’t.”
A schoolgirl giggle escaped her. Then, hailed by one of the other guests in the dining room, she excused herself.
Clayton closed his quilt booklet and lifted a brow. “What was that super-gay act all about? You ‘adore’ tea parties,” he said, using the same patently and clichéd gay tone that Archer had used on the innkeeper.
“The tea,” Archer said.
Clayton spread his hands in a “what about it?” gesture.
“It’s the tea,” Archer said again, reaching across the table for the booklet featuring Ana Mae’s quilt and its individual blocks.
He flipped forward until he found the page featuring the teapot and teacup. “The tea,” he said again. “Ana Mae’s tea. Don’t you remember?”
“I have not the first clue as to what you’re babbling about,” Clayton said. “And,” he added with emphasis, “we cannot spend all day at a tea shop. I have clues to . . .”
His words fell off when Archer gave him a pointed look. A moment later, the lightbulb went on for Clayton.
He clasped his hands together on the table, serious now and his voice bearing it out. Clayton said. “Tell me about the tea, Archer.”
“Remember the other day at Ana Mae’s house? I found tea. Really excellent tea. A box of those vile bags that people call tea was on the counter, but I found Ana Mae’s good tea while hunting for a coffee cup. I’d decided to bear coffee rather than submit to a Lipton tea bag.”
Nodding now, Clayton clearly remembered. “The tea in the tin that Delcine thought was marijuana.”
“Marijuana?”
Clayton waved away the question. “The thing is . . .”
“Where did Ana Mae get tea leaves? Real tea. Really good tea,” Archer finished. “Clearly it didn’t come from the Piggly Wiggly or the Food Lion.”
Clayton grinned. “Quilt block number four is about the Carolina Tea Company.”
Archer nodded, grinned, then took a sip from his cup.
Slipping away from both her sister and her husband proved easier than JoJo ever would have thought. Delcine slept like the dead, complete with eye mask and earplugs. When JoJo tried to rouse her to tell her she was running out, Delcine muttered something that sounded like a swear word or two and turned over in Ana Mae’s bed.
Lester had been even less trouble when she announced that she needed to go get a few feminine things.
Her rude, crude husband would sooner agree to be given a blow job by a midget in a clown suit in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip than walk into a store and buy tampons. That aversion served JoJo nicely as she gave a final touch to her lipstick, then spritzed her neck and between her breasts with an alluring scent. She blew a kiss into the bathroom mirror, then for extra measure cupped her big breasts and thrust them up in her already low-cut, white-lace-edged blouse. Satisfied, she made her way in kitten heels and tight jeans to Ana Mae’s car.
Not long afterward, she parked in the side lot adjacent to Eddie Spencer’s junk store and sashayed her way inside.
She didn’t worry that he might not be open so early. It was barely nine in the morning. He was, however, expecting her.
And it looked like Eddie had also spruced himself up in anticipation of their get-together. His hair, recently barbered and shaped up, had a nice wave pattern in it. He was clean-shaven and had on a pale blue shirt, jeans, and boots.
“Josephine.”
“Hey, Eddie,” she said.
The hug he gave her included a slight butt grab that made JoJo wince.
Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a good idea, after all.
“I was real glad to hear from you, Josephine,” he said leading her through the store.
As they passed through, JoJo caught glimpses of furniture that should have been sent to the dump rather than put up for sale, a lot of dishes and bicycles, and even a couple of lawnmowers.
“To tell you the truth,” Eddie Spencer said, “I didn’t think you’d call since you told me you were married.”
He led her into his back office—a space that, unlike the front of the store, was actually decorated with some class. The desk, made of a dark hardwood and truly an antique, as opposed to one of the clapboard pieces for sale out front, gleamed with the care of frequent polishing. A telephone, a tablet and pen, and a laptop computer were the only items on the surface. A nice picture of a flower garden, not a print but made with real paint, hung in a frame that almost matched the wood of the desk. Eddie produced a couple of cups of takeout coffee with the Day-Ree Mart logo and a bag of doughnuts. JoJo sat on the loveseat and angled her body a bit so that she was sitting on the edge while Eddie settled back, getting comfortable. He took a sip from his cup before putting it on the floor and placing a hand on her knee.
“But there are some things I’m still very much interested in,” he said. “You being one of them. I never got over you, Josephine.”
She patted his hand. “Don’t be silly, Eddie. We were always just good friends.”
He licked his lips, took her hand in his, and said. “And we still can be. Good friends, that is.”
“I didn’t mean that kind of get-together when I called you, Eddie.”
His face fell, and he let go of her hand and bent to retrieve his coffee.
In that moment, JoJo realized two things.
First, he’d gotten a haircut and shave and probably put on clean underwear in anticipation of a romp with her. And second, maybe someplace deep in her subconscious, she really wanted it to be that kind of reunion.
She’d never cheated on Lester—although she couldn’t be entirely sure Lester had been faithful to her—and she didn’t plan to start breaking her vows now. That would come via a Nevada state judge’s signature on a divorce decree. Until then . . .
“Eddie, it’s been a long time. I just thought we could catch up.”
So they did, over the next twenty minutes or so, laughing and reminiscing about high school and old friends until JoJo got around to the real reason she wanted to reconnect with Eddie Spencer.
“Since I’ve been home for the funeral,” she said, “I’ve been doing some thinking and wondering about something.”
“What’s that, darling?”
JoJo glanced at him, shy and hopeful and wondering why it was easier to talk to an old flame about this rather than to her own flesh and blood.
She took a deep breath and then let the words tumble out before she lost her nerve. “Ana Mae left us the house, and I know neither Delcine or Clay will be interested in it. So I’ve been, well, I’ve been thinking about moving back here,” she said. “You know, to Drapersville or Ahoskie, or maybe even Murfreesboro or Elizabeth City. I’ve been in Vegas for a long time. The life there is . . . ,” she shrugged, “well, it’s fast and it’s rugged, and I think I’m ready for a change.”
“Well, now, Josephine,” he said on a low drawl, “I personally would love to have you back in town.”
“Eddie, I told you . . .”
“I know, I know. Just friends, ’cause you’re married. But something tells me that husband of yours might not be all that interested in moving to North Carolina. From what I hear tell, he’s a big-city kind of fella.”
JoJo pursed her lips but did not confirm nor deny the speculation.
Eddie Spencer grinned and patted her jeans-clad knee before getting up to go to his desk. Bending over, he started opening drawers.
Not quite sure what he was doing or looki
ng for, JoJo continued, although a bit wary now. Eddie Spencer used to be kind of wild, the sort of guy who knew people who could make things happen to people.
For a moment, she conjured the image of the old-time Vegas gangster. She could easily see Eddie, though he was black, in that role.
Was he looking for a gun?
“I, I was wondering what it’s like here now,” she said. “You know, jobs and the economy and whatnot.”
“Somewhere in here is a . . . ah, here we go,” Eddie said. “I knew I hadn’t tossed it out.”
He pulled out a pocket-folder envelope with a white glossy cover and handed it across the desk to JoJo. She glanced at the cover and saw both the North Carolina state flag and a couple of logos she didn’t immediately recognize.
“What’s this?”
Eddie came around and leaned on the front of his desk.
“The Chamber of Commerce put those things together a while back,” he said. “It’s like a newcomer’s guide to the county, with info about housing and jobs and things to do. They wanted all of us to learn some of the facts and share ’em with customers. As if anybody who comes in here is a tourist.”
JoJo opened the folder and found slickly produced color brochures and multiple rainbow-hued pieces of paper. Flipping through, she saw information about living, working, visiting, and vacationing in Hertford County, North Carolina.
“Thank you,” she said. “This will be helpful, I’m sure.”
Eddie folded his arms. “Waste of a few trees, if you ask me. But I held onto it, and now you need it, so I guess it was a good use of their money. ’Course, the truth is that’s just a bunch of propaganda. We’re all struggling here, just like everybody else in the country. The whole of Hertford County is about twenty-four thousand people or so. I’ll bet one of them big hotels in Vegas has that many people in it on any given night.”
JoJo nodded. “You’re probably right, counting all of the employees, guests, and people in the casino, restaurants, bars, and shops.”
“We don’t have a lot of crime, and that’s a good thing,” Eddie said. “Every now and then somebody will up and go crazy and do something stupid that brings down all the TV reporters from Norfolk. But mostly folks around here still go about their business just like they did back when y’all all lived here. Not much in the way of jobs, either. And if you’re looking for a big-city paycheck like you’re probably used to out there in Las Vegas, you’re gonna have to go to Raleigh or Charlotte, ’cause we ain’t got nothing much here.”
JoJo almost laughed out loud at that.
People tended to think that everybody who lived and worked in Las Vegas raked in the cash like a slot machine paying off a big jackpot. The reality was that working-class folks were the backbone of the city and worked hard just to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table.
The slower pace and lower cost of living in this part of North Carolina appealed to JoJo on a lot of levels.
Surprising her with his knowledge, Eddie gave her some more statistical information about Drapersville, Ahoskie, and Hertford County. He may not have realized it, but he was actually a good pitchman for the area.
What JoJo didn’t realize when she left, about ten minutes later, was that as soon as she drove off in Ana Mae’s car, Eddie Spencer pulled out his mobile phone and called over to Junior Cantrell’s place.
He had some inside information now. He wanted to make a long-shot bet and to put his money on JoJo.
17
A Theory About Howard
Emily Daniels missed Ana Mae Futrell’s funeral, but she wanted to pay her respects to the family. Because Emily took her mission very seriously, she kept meticulous records about all activities at The Haven.
Miss Futrell, one of The Haven’s biggest supporters, played a key role in its expansion and was to receive the Volunteer of the Year award. Now that Ana Mae had died, though, Emily wanted to make sure that Miss Futrell’s family received the posthumous honor and knew all that she had done for the defenseless residents who found shelter at The Haven.
She put the finishing touches on the package. Then, remembering a photo the family might like, she went to her computer and found the file. A quick glance at the clock told her she’d have enough time to make a nice print and find a frame.
“Melinda, I’m going to run out for a bit. Will you be okay by yourself until Sam gets in?”
The college student who worked at the no-kill animal shelter in the summer and during school breaks planned to be a veterinarian, and Emily knew she was more than capable but wanted to check just in case. Emily tended to worry.
“Oh, sure, Ms. Daniels. I have a few more kittens to see to, but I should be all right.”
Max, a long-haired Persian found abandoned after a hurricane and named by shelter volunteers after the storm, brushed against Emily’s leg. She knelt and gave the cat a bit of love, then picked up the materials for the Futrell family. “I shouldn’t be too long. You have my number if you need anything else.”
“We’ll be fine, Ms. Daniels.”
Emily, already rehearsing what she would say to the bereaved, waved as she left The Haven.
“I don’t want to impose,” she said a while later.
Emily caught Clayton just as he was leaving Miss Futrell’s house. He was about to get into a car in the driveway when she pressed on her horn at the curb and got his attention.
It had taken much longer than she anticipated to select a frame that went with the photograph. And then, it seemed only natural to have the entire presentation gift wrapped. Choosing the right paper and ribbon had taken an inordinate amount of time.
“It is no imposition,” he said. “Come on in.”
Emily’s heart beat a little faster. He was a handsome man. Not quite as handsome as her Howard, but still . . .
He opened the door and held it for her. When she walked by, Emily caught a hint of a manly fragrance that brought back so many memories. It had been a long time since she had known the comfort of a man, felt the yearning stir within her core and lost herself to the magic of unbridled passion.
Her breathing grew deeper.
“Miss Daniels?”
It took Emily a moment to remember where she was, with whom and why. Then, embarrassed, she blinked and cleared her throat.
“You, you remind me of someone I used to know,” she told him. “I, I was thinking of him.”
“Pleasant thoughts, I hope.”
“Oh, yes,” Emily said as she entered the small mudroom and then through it to the kitchen. “Very pleasant memories.”
“We need to go out to the cemetery.”
“The one where Ana Mae is buried?” Archer asked.
“Yes. I think we’ll find our mysterious Howard there.”
Archer closed his laptop and grabbed the keys. “If you say so.”
On the drive to Antioch Cemetery, Clayton shared what he had learned from the odd Emily Daniels. “She is a cat lady in every sense of the word,” he said.
“Meaning?”
“Mid-fifties, obviously single, and she was wearing one of those long peasant skirts. Cat hair was all over it.”
“I wondered why you peeled out of your clothes the moment you hit the door. I thought maybe you just couldn’t resist me.”
“There is that,” Clayton said with a grin. “But before she left, she grabbed me in this extreme hug. She was cuddling me, Arch.”
“You’re cute. But remember, dude, you’re gay and you’re mine.”
Clayton thrilled at the declaration, but couldn’t resist adding. “She wanted me.”
Archer rolled his eyes. “So why are we going to the cemetery?”
“Howard.”
“Howard is at the cemetery?”
Clayton nodded. “At least I think so. Emily Daniels came by to tell me all about Ana Mae’s work at an animal shelter called The Haven. Apparently, Ana Mae gave them a lot of money and volunteered there. That’s where she got Baby Sue.”
; “Baby Sue?”
“The cat. It and the other one are over at Rosalee’s.”
Archer nodded. “Ah, yes. The cats. They would be the ones that dear Lester believed had jewel-encrusted collars.”
“I do not see what JoJo sees in that horrid man.”
“It’s probably the sex,” Archer said. “Never underestimate the power of what goes on between the sheets.”
“Archer.”
“What? You know, Clay, this place is turning you into a little Puritan.”
Clayton snorted. “Not likely.”
“Back to the cemetery,” Archer said, prompting Clayton again.
“The cat lady said Howard disappeared. He was apparently her boyfriend. And, according to Miss Daniels, I resemble him . . . a lot.”
“I thought you said she was in her mid-fifties. Isn’t that a little old for any son of Ana Mae’s?” He paused. “Ah, the cat lady is a cougar.”
“Bingo,” Clayton said.
“So what makes you think her guy is, first, our guy and, second, dead?”
“She said Howard disappeared about six or seven years ago. Left town without a trace.”
“She probably wore him out and he needed to escape.”
Clayton laughed. “That could be likely. But it was the photograph that made me think of the cemetery.”
“What photo?”
“I left it at the house,” Clayton said. “She had it in a really nice silver frame. But it’s of Ana Mae and a lot of cats and kids, and in the background is Antioch Cemetery.”
Archer glanced over at Clayton. “All right, Hercule Poirot. You are going to have to explain it a little better for the unwashed masses here. What does a picture of Ana Mae with some cats have to do with this missing nephew of yours?”
“Well, it might sound a little crazy,” Clayton said.
Hidden Riches Page 21