Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6)

by Teresa Trent

  "Yeah, yeah, Lester Jibbets was just saying the woods of Pecan Bayou are getting quiet. The animals know when a storm is comin'. "

  "He said that? If we could just get Lester on the payroll at the weather bureau," Leo said, still searching.

  "He's too busy with his port-a-potty empire to work for you. I just hope that with all this running around you're doing for the storm that you don't forget my baby here is about to have a baby."

  "It’s crossed my mind a time or two."

  "Well that's good to hear."

  "You have to admit I am juggling quite a bit right now. This storm could be another Katrina." Leo walked over to the refrigerator and looked inside, pushing aside plastic containers and ketchup bottles. "You know, maybe I’ll just pick up a biscuit on the way," he said, closing the door.

  My father continued. "Don't make me do SWAT team drills to get her to the hospital."

  "Your so-called SWAT team practice mostly involves running in and out of Earl's Coffee," I said. "Their timing was great right up until Earl took out that fresh batch of coffee cake."

  "You know we still need to talk." I said, reminding Leo of our phone conversation before the baby shower.

  "And we will, but I have to get going right now," he said, kissing me on the cheek and heading out the front door.

  My father's walkie talkie cackled on his shoulder.

  "Judd? Are you there?" He tapped on his radio.

  "Yes Mrs. Thatcher. I'm here having coffee at Betsy's."

  "Oh. How is she doing? Is the baby coming?"

  "She's fine. Just checking on her. "

  "Wonderful. You tell her to put her feet up. She needs to take it easy because we don't want to hurry that little guy."

  "I'll be sure to share that with her. Is there something you need, Mrs. Thatcher?"

  "Oh. I almost forgot." Mrs. Thatcher chuckled on the other side of the line. "We have a bit of a situation, Judd."

  "And what would that be?"

  "I need you to get over to the town square to the Charlie Loper statue."

  "This is a first. Don't tell me the statue is disturbing the peace."

  "You could say that."

  "What's going on?"

  "Well, for the first time in more than one hundred years we have a horse thief among us."

  "Pardon?"

  "Charlie's horse. It's been stolen."

  Wanting to be a part of tracking down the first horse thief in a century, I grabbed my flip flops and followed dad to the crime scene in the town square. Even with the heat, there was a crowd gathered around the statue. I spotted Rocky, the ever-vigilant reporter making his way to the front. Rocky might be an old guy, but a good news story wasn't going to slow him down. Behind him, Stan from NUTV followed with a camera on his shoulder. This was big news when both outlets of the Pecan Bayou media showed up at once.

  "Unbelievable. You'd think these people would all have jobs to go to," Dad said, a little too loudly.

  As we came closer to the statue of Charlie, we found him standing his corner, but now instead the horse reigns in his outstretched three fingers, the pointer and ring finger had broken off when the thief disconnected the reigns. Charlie Loper was effectively flipping off anyone who passed by him.

  "There goes the tourism dollar," I said.

  "Who in their right mind would want to steal a giant fiberglass horse? What is this world coming to?" Judd said.

  "Do you think they can glue some fingers back on it?" I asked.

  "Hell if I know."

  "Why don't I call Libby to see if they have any leather riding gloves in the museum that we could put on him," I said.

  "Yeah, and while you’re at it, tell her that her daddy's horse has been stolen. She's going to love hearing that."

  My father walked over to where the horse had been standing. He drew in a breath and then expelled it as he looked around. "I can see some tire tracks where the perpetrator pulled up on the curb."

  I was dialing Libby on my phone, but turned around to see her approaching us, her phone ringing. I ended the call as Ruby Green stepped out of the crowd to walk with her. Obviously I hadn’t been the only one to think of calling Libby. The Charlie Loper Museum and Ranch was a few miles outside Pecan Bayou so she made good time getting here. Libby looked as if she jumped in her Caddy with her robe still on reminding me of the first time I met her. On that day she had been under the influence of some sort of drug and was hanging out of her upstairs window shouting at me to clean her house.

  Libby placed her hand on the statue as if he were a living being.

  "Oh, Daddy. I'm so sorry about this. I know how much you loved Ol’ Bess."

  We stood awkwardly by while she conversed with the dark brown lump of metal. As she started to give it a kiss, I spoke up.

  "I was just wondering. How heavy was the horse?"

  "Yes," my father added. "How many guys would it take to load it onto a truck?"

  Libby turned away from her father's bronzed face. "I don't know. It could be pretty tough to lift. That's why we put wheels under the hooves. We needed to move it around to dust it at the museum."

  "So somebody might have rolled him right up a ramp into a truck."

  "That means it could be a person acting solely on their own," Rocky said, now standing behind us. "Which brings us back to the first question. What kind of lunatic steals a giant toy horse?"

  "Quite possibly one of our fine citizens of Pecan Bayou," my father said, gesturing to the crowd of onlookers.

  "I was really going for the drifter angle," Rocky said.

  "Well, if it was someone here in town, it would pretty hard to hide a life-sized horse," I said.

  "Unless of course our thief stole Ol’ Bess and plans to put it in a Putt-Putt golf course or some drugstore cowboy tourist trap."

  "There is another dude ranch in the valley who’s been stealin’ my business," Libby said. "Maybe they stole Daddy’s horse as well."

  "Will you be using the same guidelines for punishment they did one hundred years ago?" Rocky asked.

  "No," my father said flatly. "We will not be stringing anybody up for this."

  Rocky scowled, disappointed he didn’t have a hanging to cover.

  I looked over and realized Stan had been filming the entire conversation for NUTV. I nudged my father, who then walked over and put his hand on the camera lens.

  "Not right now Stan. Can’t you see Miss Libby is in her robe?"

  "Will there be a press conference?"

  "Not likely," he said. "And don't be using that film without my permission, ya hear?"

  Stan shut off the camera. "Back to the farm report, I guess." It was his top rated show.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Once Libby brought out some leather riding gloves and put them over Charlie’s poor mutilated hand, the crowd thinned out. I started to head for home, but couldn’t stop thinking of Benny’s Cocoa Pecan Pie. I stopped over at Benny’s Barbecue, though he hadn’t officially started serving lunch yet. Benny was in the back, turning pieces of chicken. From the sweat on his brow, it looked like it was over a hundred degrees by the stove. Benny took a towel and swiped at his face.

  "Hey Betsy," he called through the rectangular opening between the kitchen and front counter. I noticed an attractive brunette waitress standing in the corner, texting on her phone. She was a new addition to the staff, which was unusual in a family-run business.

  "Hi, Benny. You’ve hired help."

  "Oh." He came out, wiping his hands on the towel. "Sorry." He gestured the waitress over, and she jammed her phone in her apron pocket. Benny put his arm around the woman whose uniform looked a little tight around the bust line. Who was I to judge? None of my clothes had fit for months. Right now, I was walking around in the equivalent of a flowered tent that hung over shorts.

  "This is Sasha. She’s my new waitress. I just hired her."

  "Nice to meet you Sasha." I nodded and then looked to Benny. "I didn’t know you hired outside of fami
ly."

  "Well, Celia and I have handled it for years, but Sasha here came in and asked for a job. Celia’s studying for her accounting exam, so it just worked out."

  "Good for her," I said.

  "Sure. Celia kept the books here since we bought this place. She has a talent for it."

  Sasha smiled and turned to me. "I’m newly divorced." As if needing a rim shot, she snapped her gum.

  "I’m sorry to hear that."

  "Don’t be."

  "Okay." An awkward pause settled between us so I tried to get my mission back on track. "So, I’m here to…"

  "Nope. I already know. I have my psychic hat on today." From under the counter Benny pulled out a brown paper bag, folded down neatly at the top, with my name on it. "Benny’s Cocoa Pecan Pie. On the house."

  I gasped. Was I that predictable?

  "You’ve been in here practically every day since you found out you were pregnant. Benny’s pie is your craving. Do you know what it is? The cocoa. It’s a triple cocoa blend I order special from King Arthur Flour. You can’t just get it anywhere. No ma’am. I’m so proud that I’ve been such a big part in making this baby."

  That didn’t sound right, somehow, but I liked Benny too much to say anything.

  "How much longer?" Sasha asked.

  "Oh…" I ran my hand along the curve that was my baby. "…not too much longer. Probably a couple of weeks."

  "Is this your first?"

  "No. I have a son and a stepson."

  "The new America. Blended families," Benny said, as if explaining current sociological trends was also something she needed to know to be a waitress.

  Sasha, who had been leaning on the counter, bosom spilling over, now stood up straight. "Yeah, well at least my ex and I didn’t have any kids, although there were times I thought it might be nice."

  "Children are wonderful," I said.

  "Maybe so, but my ex-husband was a real head case. Always kept talking about how much he wanted to go live out in the country somewhere. Wanted to homestead or something. Like, who does that in this century? I told him, if I’m not within five miles of a mani-pedi it just ain’t worth it. You know, you never know who you're married to until you're married to him."

  "Ain't that the truth," Benny said.

  "I thought I was marrying some up-and-coming artist. Then I saw his work. All I had to do was see how he signed every painting to know that the guy wasn’t firing on all cylinders."

  "How did he sign his work?" I asked.

  "He signed it with his initials and a smiley face. A smiley face? Seriously? What professional artist signs his work with a smiley face? A third grader? I finally told him to pack up and go live out in the country somewhere. Paint by candlelight in a log cabin. That’s what he wanted. Where did we live? A lousy rental house on the other side of town. When he wouldn’t leave, I packed up and left. I’m in a better place now." She kissed Benny on the cheek and went into the kitchen.

  Benny and I exchanged glances. "Well, at least now you can give Hooters a run for its money. Thanks for the free pie!" I said, grabbing my bag and heading out the door.

  As I unlocked the door at home, I decided to go upstairs and sit in the newly decorated nursery to eat my pie in private. Yes, not all of the furniture was assembled and in place yet, but it still felt like a special room. This would be the baby’s room and sitting in it made me happy, peaceful even. Once I got myself situated in the rocker, Butch came over and put his large head on my knee. His big brown eyes gazed adoringly up to me—or the pie. I couldn’t be sure.

  "Not for you, boy. Sorry." All for Mama, I thought. I took one bite of Benny’s pie and sighed. He was right. It was the cocoa. My sigh turned into a yawn. The house was quiet and still. As I glanced up at the decals of teddy bears on the wall, I wondered what this child would be like.

  This pregnancy was so different from my last. My first husband, Barry, was haunted by the idea of Down Syndrome. He had never been comfortable with having Danny in the family. I would catch him staring at Danny when he didn't think anyone was watching him. As we came closer to the due date, Barry became distant, working long hours and rarely returning a phone call during the day. By the time I was ready to have our baby, Barry was long gone, disappearing into the night on the premise of making an unnecessary trip to the drugstore. I didn't see him again until years later.

  Leo was a distinct contrast to Barry. Where Barry could be very secretive, Leo was open. Barry feared the unknown; Leo welcomed it.

  I thought about Sasha Holman and her comments about her ex-husband. It was true; you don't always know who you are marrying until you’ve lived with them for a while. She didn't know her husband wanted to live a more simple life in the country. I felt sure I knew Leo, but still in the back of my mind I questioned if he missed living in Dallas. He was a part of the weather bureau in this area and he was closer to the action of hurricane season, but did he miss his job up there?

  In our marriage, so far he had made all of the significant compromises. When we met he had a job in Dallas, and I had a life in Pecan Bayou. I could have written my column anywhere, for any newspaper willing to carry The Happy Hinter. Still though, he found a job in meteorology in this part of Texas with the weather bureau. That was Leo, willing to give up something dear to him to make our lives work together.

  After finishing the mouth-watering pie, I returned the container to the bag. I stood up and turned the white plastic knob on the baby's mobile. The gentle tinkle of the music box filled the air. I watched the little stars appliqued on the blue denim squares go around and around. The mobile could have been pink or blue, but I didn’t want to reveal the sex of our baby. It was our little secret. As I listened to the lilting notes of the lullaby, I sat back in the rocking chair and hummed along. I found myself getting sleepy as I rocked back and forth. I drifted off to sleep.

  "Betsy?" I heard a gentle voice in my ear. I lifted my head and Oliver Canfield came into focus. He was my husband's old business partner and the first body I ever stumbled upon.

  Aunt Maggie and I had been in the old tuberculosis hospital hunting for ghosts when I found Oliver Canfield’s shoe. I screamed when I realized his foot, a ghastly gray-green, was still inside it.

  Today, he wore the same suit he had on the day I found him dead, but today it looked clean and ironed. Obviously there must be a vibrant dry cleaning business on the other side. He turned his head slightly to the side and then grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Oliver had been a con man extraordinaire, and I was sure this must have been the smile he used to bilk women out of their life savings.

  "Oliver?"

  "You remember me. That's so kind of you."

  "Aren't you dead?"

  "Technically, yes. But, you see I'm right here now."

  He was right. He was standing in front as solid as any living person. I still wasn't sure if I trusted myself with his powers of persuasion. He squatted down, putting his hands over each arm of the rocking chair. I felt surrounded and began to panic.

  "You did me a favor bringing my killer to justice. I wanted to thank you for that. We both know I didn't really deserve it. I wasn't such a good guy in life. Never thought my wrong would be made right by a woman."

  "Uh. You're welcome."

  "Your baby will be here soon."

  "Yes."

  "Barry never had the heart of a father. I'm glad you've changed course and have a new life."

  "Yeah. Thanks."

  "A better life. I heard once our existence is but a crack between two eternities. Who said that?"

  "Uh. I don't think I know." The phone ringing down the hall jolted me out of my sleep. Oliver's hands were no longer on the arms of the chair. When I looked down, Butch’s head was resting on my lap. I pulled myself up out of the rocker and headed for the telephone. Butch trotted along behind me. I grabbed the phone.

  "Hey is Leo there by chance?"

  "No," I said stifling a yawn. "He's not. Can I take a message?"

  "This
is J.J. over at the weather service. We have the okay from the Air Force 53rd Weather Reconnaissance Squadron for him to go on the ride into the cloud. I know he’ll be happy. It's quite an opportunity." I froze as I listened to J.J.'s excitement.

  "I see. I hope he has a very good parachute."

  "The only thing that gets a parachute is the dropsonde, the little device that will measure the wind speed. If they get into trouble they are better off ditching the plane."

  "I’ll be sure and let him know. He's been difficult to stay in touch with because the battery on his cell phone keeps running down. I'll tell him you called."

  "Great. Thanks Betsy." After hearing this, I wondered if a new pint of Ben and Jerry's was warranted.

  I heard the creak of the door opening downstairs. "Bets? Are you up there?"

  What was Leo doing home this time of day? Had something happened with the boys? Maybe there was something going around with the men of Pecan Bayou, and he wanted to rent a room at the Super Stay Motel? Between the sleepiness and the pie crumbs all over me, boy was he going to be disappointed.

  "Yes, I'm up here."

  "Well, come on down," he said, in his best Don Pardo voice. "Do I have a surprise for you."

  I made my way downstairs to find Leo in the living room surrounded by a number of pastel gift bags and boxes.

  "What's this?"

  "They had a baby shower for me."

  "Who did?"

  "The weather bureau. They have a policy that it doesn’t matter if you are a man or a woman, if you are expecting a first baby they give you a shower."

  Their generosity was wonderful, but after Aunt Maggie’s shower for me, all I could think about was another set of thank you notes to write.

  "Wow. I can’t believe they gave a baby shower." I wondered if they made him play the stupid games. I could just see the egghead meteorologists playing pin the diaper on the baby doll. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful, just tired.

  "Between the two showers, there’s nothing we need to buy for the baby."