Destined for Trouble (A Jules Cannon Mystery Book 1)

by Claudia Lefeve

  “Now why would you get a discount?”

  Even though my aunt owned the place, it wasn’t like she went around handing out family discounts. Aunt Lula always presented us with gifts from her store, sure, but she would never allow any of us to purchase anything at below retail. It would mess with her profit margins, she was fond of saying.

  Damn. I still hadn’t told her about working at Palmetto Pink. She was going to flip a lid for sure once I told her. “Uh, because I’ll be working there for the summer,” I finally said, waiting for the inevitable you-know-what to hit the fan.

  “You’re going to be doing what?” Mom exclaimed on cue, her arms suddenly stuck on pause from drying the last of the serving platters.

  My dad, on the other hand, found it somewhat amusing. I swear the man only commented on things that he considered funny or downright ludicrous. “That’s wonderful, Butter Bean. You could learn a lot from the old gal.”

  “Like what?” Mom echoed my sentiments exactly, her body back in motion as she resumed drying the platters, scrubbing them to the point I thought the intricate floral patterns would rub off. I, too, wondered what exactly I could learn from working retail.

  He glared at the two of us. “Learning the value of a dollar for one thing. Seeing the inner workings of a business from the inside,” he explained. Daddy made it sound as if I were twenty-one again and fresh out of college.

  “She already has a job. A good one,” Mom protested. She quickly turned her attention back to me. “One that I sincerely hope you go back to. Sooner rather than later.” I avoided the glare in her eyes as she offered her two cents.

  I almost laughed at her defense of my career. When I first started at the bureau five years ago, she’d cried for weeks, thinking I was going to put myself in danger, despite my insistence that I was a civilian employee and sat behind a desk all day. For months she urged me to come home and forget about working for the FBI. Never mind that I lived in the burbs, a good fifteen-minute drive—if there was no traffic—from Washington, DC, just out of reach of what she considered to be the plight of the nation.

  It wasn’t like my mother and I were always at odds with each other. We just had very different viewpoints on the ways of the world. She was strictly old school, having grown up in Louisiana before marrying my dad and settling here in Trouble, while I, on the other hand, spent more than half my life living as a carefree island local. My poor father often served as the intermediary during many heated arguments over the years, but for the first time in years, Mom and I were on the same page—half the time we weren’t even reading the same book.

  “I tried to tell her I wasn’t cut out for retail, but you know Aunt Lula . . . ,” I said.

  “I have half a mind to call her myself,” Mom said.

  Daddy sat there and listened to me and Mom agree that working at Palmetto Pink was a bad idea. “Both of you need to stop complaining long enough to look at the advantages of the situation,” he finally said. “Jules needs to do something while she’s here. She can’t very well stay cooped up in the house the entire summer. And Lula obviously needs help, or she wouldn’t have asked.”

  I felt like it was a bad time to mention my plans for getting a tan this summer, so I kept quiet. Nobody, not even Mom, could argue with Daddy’s logic—at least not right away. Somehow she always managed to get her way with Daddy. Eventually, he’d come around to her way of thinking, but I was stuck for the time being. I sighed as I helped my mom put away the last of the serving pieces.

  So thanks to the girl who unexpectedly quit and Daddy’s infinite wisdom, it was beginning to look like I was stuck having to work at Palmetto Pink.

  “It’s going to storm,” my dad said, looking out the window above the kitchen sink, breaking me from my thoughts. “I better make sure we brought everything inside.”

  I stopped him from getting up. He’d done enough already throughout the day, grilling and frying enough fish to feed the entire island. “Don’t worry about it, Daddy. I’ll go out back and see if we left anything important outside.”

  I did a quick sweep around the deck, looking for anything we might have left outside that we didn’t want ruined during the storm, and checked for any items misplaced by our guests.

  As I approached the side of the house, near the gated exit, I noticed a brightly colored object flapping against the Gulf wind behind the air-conditioning unit. Even with the massive cloud coverage from the impending storm, there was still enough light from the moon to see there was something wedged between the unit and the gate.

  I walked closer to investigate further and screamed.

  And that was when I found Harvey Boyette’s body.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  To say my mother was beside herself upon learning a dead body was on her property was an understatement. She was beyond inconsolable—but not for the reasons one might think.

  “What will the neighbors think?” Mom asked no one in particular. “No one will ever want to be entertained at our home again.”

  “Now, Livy dear, we don’t know what happened,” Daddy said, doing his best to calm his wife. “From the looks of it, it seems Harvey had himself a heart attack.”

  “I told you not to double fry the catfish,” Mom chastised my dad. “Everyone will think all that fried, greasy food we served killed him!”

  It was my turn to try to console her. “Take it easy, Mom. I don’t think anyone’s gonna blame the food for Harvey’s death,” I said. “It’s probably like Daddy said, a heart attack. He owned a restaurant for Pete’s sake.”

  Harvey’s restaurant, The Poop Deck, was considered an institution on Trouble Island and everyone’s favorite restaurant in town. Normally, a seafood menu is considered healthy, but half the items on the menu at The Poop Deck were either stuffed or fried. It was more akin to a crab shack than a fine-dining establishment, but he’d put his heart and soul into the place. He had even gone so far as to name his restaurant after the countless seagull droppings that gave the outside deck a permanently stained whitewash appearance.

  Mom shot me a look that could have killed, which would have made me the second dead body of the evening, so I stayed quiet after that.

  It seemed everything Daddy and I said only made my mom feel worse about the entire ordeal. She didn’t even wait for the ambulance and cops to arrive before retiring to her room to tend to her migraine. Mom always fell victim to migraines when confronted with something unpleasant.

  Justin arrived at the house shortly after the responding officers and EMT unit. I don’t know why I was surprised to see Justin back at the house. He worked for the department; it was part of his job. Even if Harvey had dropped dead of a heart attack, police presence was standard protocol.

  “We gotta stop meeting like this,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  I nodded. “Poor Harvey,” I finally said. “We think it might have been a heart attack.”

  Justin scratched his chin in thought. “Possibly, though it’s still too soon to tell.”

  “Maybe all the restaurant food finally did him in,” I said. As soon as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I felt bad for talking about Harvey like that when he was still lying in our backyard.

  “It’s anyone’s guess at this point,” Justin said.

  I stopped by The Poop Deck the next day, despite the recent tragedy. Even with Harvey’s death, it was still business as usual at the restaurant. According to the town’s gossip—arriving right on schedule, just before breakfast—the newly widowed Mrs. Boyette had insisted it stay open. “Harvey would have wanted it that way,” she had said. As much as the town disliked Harvey’s wife—again, according to town gossip—I’m pretty positive she was right on that count.

  My eyes roamed for an available seat. I didn’t want to sit in the main dining area, so I scouted for a seat at the bar, although the restaurant didn’t have much of one. If you w
anted a solid margarita, you had to go over to The Crooked Gator. But a nice glass of wine was just what the internal psychologist ordered. I also wanted to check in on Abby Lee, who worked at the restaurant. She couldn’t have been taking the news of Harvey’s death well. I hadn’t even known she was working there until my mom mentioned it in passing the night of the party.

  Abby Lee’s grim smile upon seeing me stroll over to the bar only confirmed what I already knew. She was saddened by the loss of her friend and boss. “That didn’t take long,” she said, pretending to look at her watch. “I gave it at least another day before your parents got on your nerves and you found your way here.”

  I had only been in town two full days before seeking solace somewhere other than my parents’ house. “That was being generous,” I said. “How are you holding up?”

  “As good as can be expected under the circumstances. I really loved ol’ Harvey, ya know? I just can’t believe he’s gone. None of us can.” Her face pinched up, as if she were about to cry, and I bet it wouldn’t have been the first time since she heard the news.

  My heart went out to her. Not only had she lost her boss, but quite possibly a good friend. I’d been gone a long time, but even I could tell, from her demeanor alone, just how much of an impact his death had on her.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  Abby Lee wiped a single tear that had rolled down her cheek, but feigned a smile to let me know she was OK. “So what’ll it be?”

  “Just a glass of house wine,” I said. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time to call on my friend, but since I was already here, I might as well have a drink.

  “Coming right up.” She pulled a bottle from behind the bar and poured me a generous glass of red. “How long do you have? I’m off in about thirty.”

  I took a sip of the house red and allowed it to linger. It wasn’t great wine, but I wasn’t picky. It cured what ailed me. “I’ve got time. Just come over when you’re done with your shift,” I said. “Hey, is that pecan pie I see Mrs. Wysong devouring over there?”

  Her face brightened. The first genuine smile I’d seen on her face since I arrived. “Sure is. Just made it this afternoon.”

  “That pairs well with wine, right?” I asked, not caring in the least. I loved pecan pie just as much as I loved most desserts, crème brûlée notwithstanding.

  Abby Lee chuckled. She knew I really didn’t expect an answer to my question. “I’ll go grab you a slice.”

  While I waited for my pie and for Abby Lee to get off her shift, I checked my phone for any important e-mails and texts from the office. Even though I was technically on vacation and wasn’t supposed to respond to work e-mails, it still didn’t stop people from trying to contact me—one of the downsides of working for the federal government.

  As I perused the unopened e-mails, Abby Lee managed to slide a fresh piece of pie my way before heading back to attend to the customers seated in the main dining area. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Heather Clegg having dinner with her family. I internally groaned in annoyance. I had nothing against her family, but two Heather sightings in the span of two days was two too many. I didn’t want a repeat confrontation with her, so I went back to my e-mails before she eventually caught me staring at their table.

  My attempt to go unnoticed was in vain. “Well, look who it is,” Heather said, walking up to where I was seated at the bar. She cast her eyes down at me hard enough to make me squirm. This was exactly why I was only a civilian employee with the FBI. I wasn’t very good with confrontation. I liked to think of myself as the behind-the-scenes type; I wrote reports, made lists, and kept the agents organized, all things that were strictly task oriented.

  “Nothing gets past you, does it, Heather?” I said. I didn’t like her, and she clearly detested me, so why did she purposely go out of her way to make conversation? No, scratch that. I knew the answer to that one. Her sole purpose in life was to annoy me. Just like back in high school.

  “Do you plan on seeing Justin while you’re here?” Heather asked. “Because he’s taken.”

  “Good for him.” It wasn’t worth the energy to explain the jig was up. Justin had already told me they were no longer an item, so she could cut the act. Or maybe she hadn’t received the memo. I knew she was only trying to rile me up, but I wasn’t biting. No sense getting into a jealousy match over someone I dated back in high school.

  With limited options, since I was waiting for Abby Lee and couldn’t very well leave, I had to figure out a way to get rid of Heather, and fast. “Hey, it’s been great catching up, but I gotta run to the ladies’,” I finally said. In an attempt to ditch her for the second time in two days, I left a speechless Heather alone at the bar as I went to the bathroom to wait her out.

  I waited a solid five minutes before heading back to my spot at the bar. I could have stayed in the bathroom an additional five minutes, but there was only so much primping I could do in a public restroom that boasted a small mirror situated much too low for my height and with only a tube of lip gloss in my purse.

  After mentally counting to ten, I headed back to my seat. I breathed a sigh of relief as I slid back onto my stool and did a quick survey of the dining room. Heather and her parents had left the restaurant. Crisis averted for the time being. My gut told me I was going to be doing a lot of dodging over the next two months.

  Still waiting for Abby Lee to clock out, I nursed my wine and went back to my unread e-mails. I responded to the few friends who wanted to make sure I was OK post breakup with James. I assured them in harried e-mails that I was fine, more than fine, in fact, better than fine—all lies, of course.

  No sooner had I finished shooting off the last message than I glanced up to find Abby Lee sliding onto an empty bar stool next to me.

  “That was fast,” I said, glancing at my watch. I still had half a glass of wine. I’m no lush, but I generally drink faster than that. Had thirty minutes already gone by? I knew I hadn’t spent that much time checking my e-mails and texts—I didn’t have that many friends to get back to.

  “There’s only two tables left, and Pete said he’d cover for me and close up,” she said. “Was that Heather I saw you talking to a second ago?”

  Even the mention of Heather’s name irked me. “Yeah. Seems she was peeved I was talking to Justin at my welcome-home bash yesterday.”

  Abby Lee’s eyes got big. “You know, I wondered about that.”

  “What, Justin?”

  “No, Heather. I saw her mingling at the party. Was she even invited?”

  I shook my head. “Not even my mom is that polite. I think Heather knew Justin would be there, took a chance, and showed up. Guess she figured that while she wasn’t officially on the guest list, with that many folks around no one would have the nerve to ask her to leave.”

  “You’re probably right,” she said. “So what about Justin? What did he say to you? Doesn’t he look good?” Abby Lee didn’t waste a second to let her slew of questions start flying. She knew all too well about our high school romance, having been placed on the back burner one too many times to count when he and I got hot and heavy. “But more importantly, what did she have to say when she saw y’all talking?”

  “Not much. Justin ran off pretty quickly, and I excused myself and left her standing there. It was almost as if he couldn’t wait to escape her.”

  “That sounds about par for the course. He’s been dodging her the last couple of weeks.” She laughed, then got serious. “That girl harasses just about anyone she thinks is making a move on Justin. I’d watch your back while you’re here.”

  I didn’t take Abby Lee’s warning seriously. I mean, we were talking about Heather Clegg. As far as I was concerned, she was an inconvenience at best and an insignificant person in my life. The woman was hardly someone I would waste my time worrying about.

  “When did they break up, anyway?” I asked. “S
he seems to think they’re still an item.”

  Abby Lee flashed me a mischievous grin. “Trying to rekindle old flames while you’re in town?”

  “Of course not! That was ages ago,” I said. “Call me curious.”

  “It’s been off and on. After Justin came back from college, she staked her claim on him, but it didn’t last long. Then they went out a few more times this past spring. I guess they decided to give it another go, but that didn’t last long either. Justin seems to back off just as soon as they get together,” she said. “But again, I’d watch out for her. She’s like a vulture circling her prey.”

  I laughed at the imagery. If memory served, Heather was exactly that. A vulture. “Thanks for the warning, but I can take care of myself.”

  I downed what was left of my wine and stared longingly at the pecan pie I hadn’t had a chance to eat. Reluctantly, I left the uneaten pie on the counter for the server to clear away. I would have taken it home, but Mom would throw a fit if I brought back a dessert that she hadn’t personally baked herself.

  Abby Lee grabbed her purse, and together we walked out into the thick island Gulf air. I took a big whiff, instantly becoming intoxicated by the salty air. The humidity wreaked havoc on my hair, making it so frizzy no amount of hair product could tame it, but I soaked in the heavy layer of dampness, grateful to be home again.

  The island was roughly ten miles long, and while you still needed a car to get from one end to another, almost everyone took advantage of the cool Gulf Coast breeze and walked pretty much everywhere within the half-mile radius of the town center or drove around in a golf cart (if you were a member of the AARP) or dune buggy (if you were under twenty).

  “How are you doing, really?” I asked. Now that it was just the two of us, I wanted to offer her my shoulder. The news of Harvey’s death must have devastated her.

  Abby Lee seemed to know what I was getting at. “I’m still in shock. Harvey took me under his wing when I moved back and gave me a lot of responsibility at the restaurant. I was thinking I might even go back to school and get my culinary degree.”