Click. Too late. Scooter Lovell had hung up, but he’d given me some valuable information first. If I wanted to talk to him, I knew exactly where he’d be come Tuesday night.
Had Spencer and Hudson been friendly? Or maybe they’d been poker rivals—if that was even a thing, most of my knowledge of the game came from TV and movies where shady people smoked cigars and assessed each other from under beetled brows.
Still, to get to Bandy’s, I was going to need a driver or my own wheels, so I called Mrs. Tipton and asked about the car I’d sorta inherited.
"I guess since the town was granted the property in probate, we could sign the title over to you, and it would be all legal." I wasn't sure she sounded entirely confident. "Do you know where the title is? If you can find it and get here before we close, I'm happy to do up the paperwork."
The only way that was going to happen was if I left work now.
Figuring I wouldn't be more than five minutes away and could come back if the underwriters or applicants needed me, I set up the email to forward to my phone, and closed up shop. No one else seemed to care about being there, and since I wasn't being paid hourly, I'd take my chances.
Mom had pointed out a plastic filing bin in one of my kitchen cabinets. She’d only glanced through its contents quickly, but it held all the receipts and instruction booklets for the appliances and whatnot, so I hoped it contained other paperwork as well. Otherwise, I’d have to turn the house upside down looking for the title to the car.
I heard the lawnmower and saw the tail end of David's truck when I turned down my street. I'd forgotten he was planning to come and mow again. Or that dad had asked him to take a look at the attic. By my watch, I had less than an hour to make it to the town office with the paperwork on the car, and wrangling with David dropped down a notch on my priority list.
He saw me fumbling with the key and waved but kept on mowing. Already cloudy, the day threatened to turn wet, so I assumed he was trying to play beat the clock. Churlish as I felt around him, I had to admit the lawn looked less like a hayfield than it had.
Inside, I made a mad dash for the filing bin and set it up on the table to leaf through the contents. About halfway through, I hit pay dirt with a folder labeled: Car. Not only was the title there, but she’d maintained meticulous records of its upkeep.
Snatching up the title and the car keys, I headed for the garage.
“What are you doing?” I hadn’t heard the mower shut off, but there was David standing right outside the door as it rolled up. He stepped inside and planted himself in front of the Buick.
I spared him a glance as I popped open the glove box and searched for the registration. “I’m going to the town office to get this thing registered. A girl’s gotta have wheels.”
“It’s not registered or inspected. That’s a double ticket if you get pulled over. Better let me take you.”
I didn’t have time to argue with him, but it didn’t look like he planned to move out of the way, either.
“Fine, let’s go before Mrs. Tipton leaves for the day.” I pulled out my phone, leaned in, and snapped a shot of the mileage indicator. “I’m ditching work for this, so I need to get it done and get back before I end up getting fired.”
Okay, that was a mixture of truth, and stuff I wasn't sure was the truth. Still, I appreciated that he didn't resort to small talk during the short drive. Nor did he offer to accompany me inside, but his voice sounded pleasant enough when he said, "You go ahead, I'll wait right here."
Mrs. Tipton asked me about the house while she sorted through the documents I’d brought. “I’ll need proof of insurance, but everything else looks in order. There might be time if you run over to Smith Agency for a quote while I get everything underway.”
"Thanks, Mrs. T, but it's the digital age. There's an app for that." By the time she had the new registration and title application made up, an ID card had hit my inbox, and I was finalizing the process of getting a quote on the house.
"My daughter bought me one of those smarty-pants phones," Mrs. Tipton said. "She hooked me up to the Twitter and the Facebank. No, Facebook. Land sakes. What a rat's nest that turned out to be. Why everyone on God's green earth thinks they need to blast out their opinion on every little thing is beyond me."
I leaned my elbows on the counter and gave her a smile. As far as I was concerned, Mrs. Tipton was magic, and if she didn’t want to Tweet her personal business, it wouldn’t change my opinion one single bit. Since I’d come to town, she’d managed to get me into a house and put me behind the wheel of a car inside of a week.
“Thank you, Mrs. Tipton. You’re a treasure. In fact, I think you might just be my fairy godmother.”
“Go on, you cheeky girl. I only did my job.” But her face had pinked up with pleasure at the compliment.
Not even having David waiting for me could wipe the grin off my face, and if I wasn’t mistaken, old sourpuss cracked a tiny smile when I bounced into the seat beside him carrying my new license plates and registration.
One more step toward my new life.
House. Check.
Job. Check.
Car. Check.
Or nearly, as David had pointed out. I still needed to get the car inspected before it was fully legal.
Hudson’s voice nearly sent me out the window. “Take it to my buddy Bennie over at Pine Tree Auto. He knows the car already. Slap a sticker on it in no time.”
Not only could Hudson pop up whenever and wherever he pleased, but little things like the laws of physics didn’t make a dent in his ability to hover half in and half out of a moving pickup truck.
"Matter of fact, he doesn't close up before five, and he's got a thing for the ladies. Flirt with him a little, and he'll get you right in. The car doesn't need anything, and he knows it hasn't been driven much."
I felt David’s eyes on me as Hudson faded back out, and I tried not to react. But I’d sucked in a breath when he’d shown up, and probably twitched enough to draw attention besides.
To cover, I pulled out my phone and checked my email again. No new messages from work, and when we’d passed, I hadn’t seen Spencer’s car out front, so I was probably safe enough on that front.
But still, David watched me more than he seemed to watch the road.
“Listen, thanks for the ride.” The first drops of rain pattered gently against the windshield. “You don’t need to hang around and look at the attic today. Or ever, for that matter. My dad can be a little pushy at times, only you don’t even notice what’s happening until it’s too late. He flashes those puppy dog eyes and the next thing you know, you’re falling right into place.”
That time I know I saw his mouth twitch.
“It’s a finely honed skill, but it works every time. I’m just glad he only uses his powers for good.” The last thing I wanted David to do was think I was making fun of my dad. “Imagine what would happen if he decided to go into politics.”
“I think the world would be a better place if men like your father were running things.”
There was a deep level of admiration in his tone. Enough to drag my defenses against him to a lower point. “Agreed.” We’d pulled into my drive by that time. “Again, I appreciate the ride, and I don’t want to seem rude, but if it’s at all possible to get the car inspected today, I have to run. Raincheck on the attic?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be by after I’m done for the day.”
“It’s a date.” Panic. “I mean a plan. Not a date. I’m never dating again. Not ever.” Shoving the door open, I practically tumbled out onto the ground in my haste to get away from an awkward situation.
And that time he laughed right out loud. “Somehow I doubt that, but I’ll come by around five. We still need to have that talk.”
Already headed toward the garage, I waved a hand over my shoulder in dismissal.
CHAPTER 23
I didn’t need to use my womanly wiles on Bennie, and I wouldn’t have done so in any case. It seemed a
grapevine tendril had already snaked its way into his shop. He met me at my car door.
“You must be Everly Dupree.” Hudson had been wrong about him. I wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or relieved, but Bennie only had eyes for the Buick.
“I am. Have we met?” I didn’t remember him, but that wasn’t a sure sign of anything.
"No, Ma'am, but I did hear you'd bought Miss Catherine's place, and this is her car, so I put two and two together. I take it you're putting her back on the road." Smudges of grease and grime had settled into the grooves on his face, but Bennie's brown eyes sparkled kindly. "They don't make them like this anymore."
“Isn’t that the truth. That’s the plan. Do you have time to give her a quick inspection?” Why were cars referred to as she or her? Maybe this one was a dude.
His face clouded over, and I thought he was going to say no. "You were the one who found Hudson dead." It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.
“I was.”
"Good man, Hudson. He used to come out and help me once in a while. Wouldn't take a penny for it. I can't figure out why anyone would want to kill him like that." Bennie reached for my keys, then thought the better of it. "Pull her right in. Won't take a minute."
While Bennie set the arms of his lift in place, I said, “Had Hudson helped you recently?”
“Naw, but he did come in and put a new set of brakes on his truck before he sold it.”
I waited until the high pitched buzz of the air impact gun wound down, and Bennie rolled my front wheel out of the way.
“I bet he hated to see it go.”
“Had me looking out for a replacement. Something he could fix up, but wouldn’t cost too much to buy. Needed the money to pay off some debts.”
That jived with what Ernie had said.
“Was he being threatened? You know, to pay off the money he owed?”
My wheel went back on before Bennie replied. “Not like you mean. Scooter Lovell would take an old lady’s dentures as payment if he thought he could make a buck off them, but he ain’t no killer or nothing.”
A stellar character reference if I’d ever heard one.
“Do you know anything about the trouble he had at work?”
Before he answered, Bennie raised my car up higher and inspected the exhaust. Enough time passed that I’d decided he either didn’t know or wasn’t going to tell any of his friend’s secrets.
“He made a stupid decision, but it come out of knowing how a boy might grow up to be a man and wonder if he’d lost his chance at one of his finest moments in life because he didn’t get to play that last game. ‘Specially since it mighta been his last one ever.”
While Bennie flicked the lights on and off and tested the horn, I put two and two together and decided to make a stop at the grocery store on my way home.
On the plus side, with an acre of trunk space, I could stock the kitchen in a single trip.
“You coming to the funeral tomorrow?” Bennie had finished attaching my new sticker and was writing up the bill.
I hadn’t even considered it, though I should have. Should I go? Hudson’s mother wasn’t exactly thrilled with me, though I didn’t credit her threat as anything more than the lashing out of a distraught woman. Plus, I’d been the one to find him, and even though Ernie wasn’t looking at me as a suspect—or at least I didn’t think he was—others might. Especially if Viola Montayne had anything to say about it.
Confronting her might have been on my to-do list, but her son’s funeral didn’t seem like the right time or place to check it off.
“No, I think I’d better not.”
"I think you'd better rethink your decision." Having Hudson pop up unexpectedly was becoming the norm, and for once, I wasn't even startled. "Whoever killed me might be there, and you're not doing a whole lot to figure out who that is."
“Thanks, Bennie.” I paid, and with Hudson following behind, got in my car and backed out of the garage bay.
As soon as we cleared hearing distance, I inhaled and then lit into him. “You have to stop showing up like that. Can’t you see that man is mourning your loss? And I’m doing the best I can. In case you haven’t noticed, my life has taken a turn for the weird and not everything I’m dealing with revolves around you.”
I might as well have been talking to thin air.
“Sorry.”
He wasn’t.
“Getting you to move on is a priority in my life. Trust me, there’s nothing I want more. But it’s not like you’ve been super helpful, and I’m not exactly equipped to be tracking down a murderer. What do you think I’m supposed to do if I figure it out who it was? Hmm?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Ev. I don’t know.” Then he was gone.
Navigating the grocery store aisles, I returned the few curious glances tossed my way with smiles. Let them wonder about me, let them speculate, but damned if I was going to hang my head in shame I hadn’t earned.
Not even when Miss Flippity Do from the employment office scanned me up and down, noted my professional attire, and cocked an eyebrow. Just for fun, I walked right over to her and said, “Well, hello Carlene. It’s good to see you again.”
“I … uh … hello Everly. Still job hunting?”
"No, I found something." Unless leaving early meant today was my first and last day, but she didn't have to know that, did she? And so what if I did get fired. Jacy was right, I could open a B&B if I had to, or maybe start some kind of shop out of my house. I didn't really want people running tame in my living space, but I decided, right there in aisle three of the grocery store, I'd do what I had to do to stand on my own two feet.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of shopping to do.” With that, I pushed my cart toward the produce section where I planned to buy a head of iceberg lettuce.
Oh, I know that doesn’t sound like something you’d do to declare your independence, but I’d been living with a man who had vastly strange ideas of what constituted acceptable foodstuffs. And while I liked romaine just fine, I didn’t think there was a single thing wrong with making a nice cob or wedge salad out of a crisp head of iceberg lettuce. Perfect with the pork chops that would round out my utter disdain for Paul’s finicky meal choices. Those I added to a cart already full of basic staples like flour, sugar, spices, and the kind of tea I preferred.
At the checkout, I got behind a couple of men, one carrying a twelve pack of beer and the other a bag of beef jerky.
“Ten bucks says the Watson kid pitches a no-hitter,” Beer guy said.
Jerky dude swiped his forearm to wipe across his nose. “Nope. Fool’s bet. Kid’s got a hell of an arm on him. Gonna take the state title this year. Last time we brought home the pennant—”
“Yeah, I know. You was the big hero sliding into home base. I’ve heard this one a thousand times.”
"Everyone's heard it." Smiling to take the sting out of the words, the clerk rang up the beer and jerky.
When it was my turn, I made polite sounds to the clerk and picked up the donation box with the boy’s photo on it.
Now that I was paying attention, I recognized the car he was leaning againt. Same blue sedan, same dented fender, and even though only the E and an L were visible, I'd lay money I'd seen that bumper sticker before.
The day I'd come back to town, that car had been parked in front of Hudson's room at the Bide A Way.
I committed the boy’s name to memory. I also added another couple of dollars to the collection just in case the search for answers to Hudson’s death turned up something that would make his life even more difficult.
Neena sat on my top step when I got home looking pale and angry.
“Do you know what that witch went and did?” Rightly assuming she meant Hudson’s mother, I was glad not to be the one on the receiving end of her temper.
“Look! Just look at this!” She handed me the newspaper clipping of Hudson’s obituary. “She called the paper and had them remove my name.”
“Come inside,” I said, motioning for her to stand. “You need a friendly face and a cup of tea.”
"You're only half right unless tea is a euphemism for hard liquor, and then you're bang on the money."
I settled her at the table, put the kettle on to boil, and went back out for the groceries. From the look of her, Neena needed a few minutes in a safe space. I couldn’t imagine it was easy living with Hudson’s things all around, and having to deal with his mother on top of everything else was enough to try a saint’s patience.
Neena didn’t strike me as the patient type as, watching me over the brim, she blew on her tea to cool it enough to drink.
"What am I supposed to do now?" The question burst out of her, and I knew she wasn't just talking about the funeral. "I sent him to that motel to teach him a lesson."
By banging the headboard on the wall? I bit my tongue before the question popped out of my mouth.
"You're not the only one with regrets, you know. I clapped a pillow over my head and went back to sleep. If I'd stayed up a little longer, I might have heard the scuffle."
Sorrow in her eyes, Neena said, “Coulda, woulda, shoulda. And in the end, it was Hudson’s fate.”
My aunt had meant the world to me, and when she’d passed, I’d tried to believe it was fate, or destiny, or her time. Or any one of the other comments people make when they're trying to understand why tragedy falls down on this person or that person and misses them.
I took a deep breath and decided to come clean with her about running into him before he died. “I found him walking that evening and gave him a ride to the motel that night. He must have been coming back from selling the truck. I’d like to say we had some deep and meaningful conversation about some sort of epiphany he’d had, but we didn’t. Mostly, I apologized for being a typical teenager and breaking up with him in a way that nicked his ego so hard he carried a grudge. He forgave me, and …” The next part was a lie, but only a white one. “… he told me how much he loved you.”
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