Garden Gazebo Gallivant

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Like money. Do you need some money? I can lend you some.”

  “Lend me?” I said and laughed. “According to you, I don’t have a boot to piss in or a window to throw it out of.”

  “What?” he laughed. “What does that mean?”

  “No money. And no way to get any. So how you expect me to pay you back?”

  “Ha. Ha,” he chuckled. He sure was finding me funny. “Well, your, uhm, let’s see . . . What do they call them down here? Your beau, soon to be husband has a little money, I’m figuring. You can get it from him to pay me back.”

  “I could get it from him in the first place. Or, like you said, from my ‘Daddy’ so I don’t need you, or your money. And,” I emphasized. “I don’t need any money from anybody anyway. I have my own. I made money for my work on Stallings Island, and for finding that fish that was thought to be extinct. And I earned a little for my time at Track Rock Gap. Plus I have my credit cards.”

  “Track Rock Gap? Isn’t that the place you broke into?”

  I rolled my eyes. “That has nothing to do with the money they paid me to excavate there.”

  “You have turned into an out-of-work archaeologist, turned criminal-slash-detective.”

  I wanted so bad to disagree with him. But it was the truth. That was my life.

  What in the world was I doing?

  I changed the subject. “You wanna ride into Augusta with me?” I rolled off the bed, straightened out my clothes, and went over to the mirror.

  “We just came from Augusta. Plus, I have jet lag.”

  “Boy, you were on that plane for an hour, if that,” I pushed up my hair, and twisted a couple of curls.

  “One hour from Atlanta to here. Two hours from home to Atlanta and we had a layover. We were at the airport at four this morning.”

  “C’mon.’ I turned to him. “I need to get a new phone.”

  “What happened to your phone?”

  “Death by dog saliva.”

  “Gross.”

  “Right?” I said and laughed.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll go. But I’m not going to be running up and down the road with you the whole time I’m here.”

  “This is just one time,” I said and wrinkled my brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you. You probably have a ton of things still to get for the wedding,” he said. “I’m not doing any shopping stuff.”

  I chuckled. “No one asked you to, and,” I said, “I’m all ready for the wedding.”

  “Yeah, like I believe that.” He shook his head. “And I know Ma will need something from the mall before it’s all said and done. I should have ridden down here in the car with Dad.”

  “Oh my goodness,” I said. “You’re complaining about stuff that hasn’t even happened yet. Calm down and enjoy being with your baby sister.”

  “Enjoy being with you?” He looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah. I can’t ever remember a time when that happened,” he said then looked at me and winked.

  Chapter Ten

  We left my mother with Miss Vivee. They were playing a game of putt-putt on the miniature golf course installed in the backyard of the Maypop. Then Miss Vivee explained, she planned on giving my mother a tour of her greenhouse and gardens.

  I made Miss Vivee promise that she wouldn’t tell my mother about me helping her solve the murders we’d been inundated with. Then I made her double promise she wouldn’t mention anything about it being my destiny.

  Miss Vivee made an “X” over her mouth then bounced the Scout’s honor salute – right hand palm facing out, the thumb holding down the little finger – off the brow of her forehead.

  I blew out a sigh of relief, and pulled Micah out the door.

  We rode up to Augusta and chatted the entire time, mostly about his non-paying clients, who’d wake him up in the middle of the night with ideas about how to work their case. Not with any real legal remedies, he said, but from information they got off the Internet or on the TV. He said dealing with them had made him wish he’d become a ditch digger. He’d rather be stuck in a hole than deal with them.

  Because of the age difference between my sister, Courtney and I, Micah had always been the one that was stuck taking care of me (although he did more irritating than nurturing). But that had made us close, and I knew him better than anyone. And one thing I knew for sure, Micah didn’t have a lot of patience. He should have known that too. So why he’d chosen to go into a profession where he had to deal with people, who for the most part were going through rough times – needing an ear to listen, and a shoulder to lean on, was a mystery to me.

  “There’s a T-Mobile store in RadioShack,” I said after arriving at the mall.

  “How do you know?”

  “I Googled it.”

  Why would he think I’d drive all the way here and not know where I was going?

  This wasn’t the first time I had to replace my phone since coming to Yasamee. The first time was when I had dropped it into a fruit cup Renmar had made. I had been startled by Bay, who at the time I only knew as the “FBI Guy.” I thought he was on my trail for illegally trespassing on federal lands. I smiled at the memory.

  “What are you grinning about,” Micah asked, evidently noticing my unexplained smile.

  “None of your business,” I said. My lawyer brother, already making a comment about Track Rock Gap, didn’t need to know I had any fond memories of my criminal activities.

  “Hmmp,” he grunted. “You’re as crazy as your mother. Smiling about nothing.”

  “She’s your mother, too,” I said. I grabbed his arm and pulled him along as I walked. “I’m not sure where RadioShack is. I need to look at this store map.” I had spotted the large display guide at the entrance to the mall, and luckily for us, I discovered I had parked at the entrance it was near. Okay,” I said. “It’s right over there.” I pointed. “C’mon.”

  “How long are you going to be?” Micah asked following behind me reluctantly.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “As long as it takes to get a phone.”

  “Okay, well, I’ma go find the food court.”

  “Why don’t you just wait for me? I might want something from the food court.”

  “I don’t want to stand around in RadioShack. It’s takes a while to get a phone. I could be doing something else.”

  Men. They seem to hate any kind of shopping.

  “Fine,” I said. I knew “something else” only meant eating.

  “Do you need me?” he asked.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I don’t need you.”

  He hadn’t even bothered to ask if I wanted something.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t figure out why I had asked him to come to the mall with me in the first place. I guess just the excitement of having my big brother with me in Georgia took over my good sense. He was a “brother” through and through. Whether he did it or purpose, or it just came naturally, he was always on the opposite side of what I thought, or what I wanted to do. All the time. How could I not remember that? I just always wanted to tell my parents on him. Tell them to make him stop like I used to do, but I was too old for that now, so most times I just punched him. That always blew off some of the frustration he caused me.

  I knew that if I really needed something, he’d be right there. He would stay with me and endure whatever it was I wanted him to do. He had his own way of showing it, but I knew he loved me – a lot – and would go to the ends of the Earth to help or protect me. I also knew that it was because he loved me that he worried about me and wanted to make sure I did the right thing. To him it wasn’t a good thing that I was almost thirty and wasn’t working, didn’t have my own place to live, and was running around with old people.

  And I adored my big brother, and I wanted to make him proud of me.

  I have to do better, I thought.

  I watched Micah walk aimlessly down the mall and head in the opposite direction
of the Food Court clearly marked by huge signs.

  Wonder how long he’ll be lost. I looked at the T-Mobile stand right inside the door of RadioShack. No other customers were there. I knew it wouldn’t take me long.

  I’ll probably have to go and find him, I thought as I saw him disappear around a corner.

  Geesh.

  I gave the RadioShack clerk my phone number, driver’s license, and picked out a phone. I drummed my fingers on the counter as he called in my information and downloaded the data from my old phone to the new one. I looked out toward the mall and back at the clerk taking his time getting my new phone operable. My stomach started rumbling.

  I wish I had told Micah to bring me something back.

  Finally, the clerk handed me my phone, my ID, and a small shopping bag with the phone’s accessories in it.

  “Thank you,” I said as he left to take care of another customer. I laid my wallet on the counter, opened it and started to put my driver’s license away when I heard a low voice, close to my ear, its tone acerbic saying something to me.

  “You have something that belongs to us,” he said.

  “What?” I said and spun around. A man, dressed in dark blue skinny jeans, and a black button-down shirt stood next to me. He swung his head, throwing his shiny black hair from his eyes and stared at me.

  I turned around to see if perhaps he was talking to someone behind me, then back to him. “You talking to me?” He tilted his head. I thought I saw a faint smile come on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said and shook my head. I looked around again to see who the “we” included. “I don’t have anything of yours. Or of anyone else’s.”

  “I saw you pick it up. Right next to that girl. You know, that dead girl.” He gave a nod, and slowly walked past me. Deliberate like. Never taking his thin, hooded eyes off me. But, once he got on my other side, he looked past me and his taunting gaze disappeared. I turned to see what it was he’d seen. It was Micah coming back from the food court. When I turned back, he was gone. Micah may have been skinny, but he was muscular, and with his height he could appear menacing.

  “Did you see that guy?” I asked Micah when he walked up.

  “What guy?” he said and took a bite of his soft pretzel.

  “That guy who was standing here next to me.”

  “No,” he said, his mouth full. “I didn’t see nobody.” He raised an eyebrow. “You still trying to talk to guys? I thought you were getting married?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Never mind,” I said shaking it off.

  That guy must be crazy, I thought.

  Micah took a sip of his giant-sized lemonade and then another chunk of the pretzel, gobbling down half of it in the one bite.

  “Did you get me anything?” I asked.

  “No.” He frowned. “You could buy your own if you had a job.”

  “I do have a job.”

  “What job?”

  Okay, so I didn’t have a job.

  “I can afford to buy myself a pretzel,” I changed my retort.

  “Only if you can pay for it with a credit card,” he said.

  “I’m going to get a job,” I said. “And I’ll buy my own pretzel and pay for it however I choose.”

  “Good. Get a job.” He smirked. “Then you can buy me a pretzel, too,” he said and stuffed the last of it in his mouth. “‘Cause I could really eat another one. I’m starving.”

  I hope he chokes on that pretzel, I thought eyeing him chomping down on his mouthful.

  “Well. What are we waiting on?” he asked still chewing. “Did you get your phone?”

  “Yes. I got it.” I grabbed my bag off the counter and held it up so he could see.

  “So, let’s go,” he said. “You don’t need anything else, do you?”

  “No. We can go,” I said. I stuck my wallet in my pocket and took one last look around for Crazy Guy.

  Chapter Eleven

  Frankie had taken over Renmar’s kitchen, and she had only been there half a day. She was baking, taking special orders from customers, and even had a petition going around to add lunch and dinner service to the menu. Everyone knew that the Maypop only served breakfast and dessert, unless it was Friday, then their patrons got lunch.

  And much to Renmar’s chagrin, she was schmoozing with the guests, buzzing around from table to table.

  Micah and I got back from the mall and found my mother and Miss Vivee seated in the dining room.

  “Did you get your phone?” my mother asked.

  “Yep.” I held up my shopping bag.

  “Good thing you had insurance,” she said. “Did you have fun, Micah?”

  “At the mall?” he asked as if she couldn’t have thought that.

  “With your sister,” she said.

  He shook his head again as if he couldn’t believe she could think that. I punched him and he chuckled. “Okay, I’m going to find something to eat. Is it okay if I go back to the kitchen?” He pointed toward the back of the house and looked at Miss Vivee. She nodded.

  I slid into the seat opposite my mother. “What you guys been up to?” I asked.

  “Watching her,” my mother said quietly and pointed with her head toward Frankie. “She hasn’t sat still all morning.”

  “She was gallivanting all over the globe,” Frankie was waving her hands around speaking to a table full of guests. “Like those Harlem Globetrotters. Only she wasn’t from Harlem.” Frankie tilted her head and blinked her eyes. “And she didn’t play basketball.” She slung her hands on her hips. “And she wasn’t black.” Frankie waved her hands as if it didn’t matter that her analogy wasn’t any good. “But isn’t it nice that she can – could – enjoy her young life like that?” Everyone at the table nodded. “Which is good, ‘cause as ya’ll know she got started off like a herd of turtles.” They all laughed, apparently understanding what she meant.

  “Poor little Kimberly,” Miss Vivee leaned in and whispered. “Stuck with a crazy stepmother.”

  My mother laughed. “A love hate relationship,” she said. “Just like Logan and I have.”

  “Ma,” I said. Didn’t want her airing our dirty laundry, Miss Vivee didn’t need any more ammunition to use against me, she gave me enough grief already.

  “Same with the two of us,” Miss Vivee said nodding her head. “I think she’s just hard to get along with.”

  Now they’re just ganging up on me.

  “Yeah, but at least she isn’t keeping secrets from you,” my mother said.

  “Secrets?” I said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Miss Vivee told me how you’ve been down here solving murders. That’s why you haven’t been out on any digs.”

  “I have not,” I said.

  I didn’t know why I lied like that.

  “So are you saying that Miss Vivee isn’t telling the truth?” My mother lifted an eyebrow.

  I wanted to say so badly that it wouldn’t be the first time Miss Vivee lied. In fact, for Miss Vivee it was a full-time pastime. I took in a breath, and instead said, “I was going to tell you about it. But there have just been so many things going on.”

  My mother gave me a look that told me we’d talk about it later.

  I don’t know why that made me nervous. I was nearly thirty. But our parents had been so good to the three of us, putting us all through college and then grad school for me, law school for Micah. No matter how old a child gets, I guess, they don’t want to disappoint their parents.

  “Your mother has agreed to help us solve Kimmie’s murder,” Miss Vivee said.

  I gave Miss Vivee that same I’ll-talk-to-you-later look I had gotten from my mother.

  I looked over at Frankie flitting from table to table and remembered what she’d said. “We don’t know that it was murder, Miss Vivee.”

  “You know it is.” Miss Vivee narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t act like that because your mother’s here.”

  “Act like what?” I asked.

  “Pers
nickety.”

  Mouth dropped open, I started to say something. Instead, I shut it and clicked my teeth together. I took in a calming breath as to not sound “persnickety,” whatever that meant.

  “I don’t even know what that word means,” I finally said.

  “Look it up in your Funky Wagnall’s,” she said.

  My mother started laughing. “That’s funny, Logan,” she said and nudged me. “You get it? It’s really Funk and Wagnall’s.”

  How am I going to deal with the both of them at the same time . . .

  “I don’t know what that is either,” I said.

  “All she knows is Google, Miss Vivee,” my mother said and reached over and patted my hand.

  “Like I said, it might not be murder,” I wanted to get the conversation back on track and away from me.

  “Oh, we didn’t tell you,” Miss Vivee said. “While you were at the mall, the Sheriff came by. He was looking for Bay.”

  I held my breath. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what was coming next.

  “He said that Kimmie was murdered.”

  “He said,” my mother said respectively over talking Miss Vivee, “that he couldn’t say it wasn’t murder. At least not right now. He was concerned that if Kimmie did die from being stung by an Asian Hornet, he didn’t want to rule homicide out until he could find how the insect got in Yasamee.”

  “Right,” Miss Vivee said nodding her head in agreement. “She was murdered.”

  My mother closed her eyes and chuckled. I chuckled too, but what I found humorous was knowing my mother would soon learn all about Miss Vivee and what a handful she really was.

  “So, if I am going to help you solve Kimmie’s murder like you’ve asked,” my mother said. “I’ll need to know something about her.”

  “See,” I said. “That’s exactly how I got roped into this stuff.” I looked at Miss Vivee. “Her innocent charm.”

  “I think it’ll be fun. Doing a little sleuthing. And Miss Vivee explained that the Sheriff actually asks for her help, and that we’d be able to get it all done before the wedding.”