by Tonya Kappes
“You can’t tell me the tiniest bit?” She lifted her fingers an inch apart in front of our faces. “Fine.” She seemed to be satisfied at my “no” face. “I’ve got the annual Shabby Trends summer fashion show today.”
Shabby Trends was a clothing line that Katy Lee sold out of her house, kinda like Tupperware, only clothing. It wasn’t just any clothing line. They were fancy duds that I rarely wore, but I supported my friend and attended all her parties.
“I sent you an invitation and you did RSVP.” Her lips twitched to the side and her eyes glanced past my shoulder toward the crime scene. “I guess you have a valid excuse, though I do have the cutest dress that would go great with your hair color.” There was always a piece that Katy picked out for me. Usually the most expensive. “I’ve held it back for you.”
“Thank you. Do you have a full house?” I asked. I’d actually forgotten about the fashion show.
“Yes. And your mama was here earlier.” A broad smile crossed her face. “I’m going to pick out some pieces for you and let her buy them. She said she’d pick them up from me at the agency. Now that you have a boyfriend, you need to have some new clothes for dates.” She winked.
Katy Lee’s family owned Hart Insurance Agency in the strip mall. She was an insurance agent during the day and Shabby Trends consultant the rest of the time.
“Did you send Mama an invitation?” I found it particularly odd she’d invite Mama since Shabby Trends was more of a clothing line for the ages between twenty and fifty and she’d never invited her before. Though Mama insisted she felt my age, she certainly wouldn’t dress in Shabby Trends clothing.
“Nope. I figured she knew about it because of you.” Katy Lee shook her head. “She was coming down out of the stairway door while I was coming down the hall to set up the fashion show. We practically ran into each other. Well, she did run into me, as if she were in a rush.” She rolled her eyes. “They put us in that old library room. I wish there was another room we could use, but it’s the biggest when you move all those old dreary tables out of the way.”
“She was coming out of the stairway?” I asked.
Mama never took the stairs. She said they made her sweat, and Mama didn’t like the slightest bit of sweating.
“Yes. She seemed upset, so I figured I’d tell her you liked this one particular shirt and she must see it. Anything having to do with you takes her mind off whatever upsets her.”
“Do you remember the time?” I asked.
“It was around supper time because my stomach was growling when Nanette served the guests a meatloaf to die for.” Katy Lee smacked her lips together, referring to the hotel’s owner and manager. “Speaking of food, do you know how your mama’s meeting with Frank went?”
“A meeting?” I asked urgently.
“Kenni Lowry, are you okay?” She drew back, staring before she narrowed her eyes and slightly shifted her head to the side, looking at me all side-goggling.
“I’m fine, but Mama didn’t have her meeting until tomorrow.” My head was all foggy. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. Mama had motive and opportunity to kill Frank Von Lee.
“Hmm.” Katy Lee pressed her lips together. “I thought I overheard her ask Nanette what room number Frank had.” She gave a slight shrug. “Oh well. I probably heard wrong and just assumed they were getting together.”
“They did have the initial meeting at Ben’s in the early afternoon. Is that what you mean?” I asked.
“No. She was here earlier, but I couldn’t say anything to her then because I was packing in all my clothes. But after she ran into me, that’s when I talked her into buying you some new clothes,” Katy said.
“What time was it that you got here?” I didn’t want it to seem so obvious that I was trying to get a timeline for Mama’s whereabouts.
Her nose curled and her lip twitched as though she were searching for the time up in her head. “Sometime around four-ish. I think.” She waved her hand at me. “You know me. I was so focused on getting set up that I didn’t pay much attention to it.”
“There you are. People are waiting to fill orders before you close up.” Whitney Hart had stopped at the top of the steps that lead up to the rooms. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, her gold earrings dangling. She wore a denim shirt dress with a big braided belt around the waist and a pair of sandals with gold straps. “Kenni, how are you? I heard about that fancy food critic. Shame.”
“Hi, Mrs. Hart.” I offered a sympathetic smile. The last time I’d directly talked to her was when I had to tell her about Rowdy, her son. He was murdered a while back and I knew this was bringing back some hurtful memories of that time.
“It’s a shame.” I nodded.
“If it was a heart attack, it’s the way to go. Sudden.” She placed a hand on Katy Lee. “Come on, your daddy’s at home waiting on me.”
“Bye, Katy Lee, Mrs. Hart.” I waved to them.
The walk back to the room seemed long as I thought of Mama coming to the inn with her pot pie—which seemed like a bribe. If she did ask Nanette his room number and go up there, that put Mama at the scene. Not to mention a good motive to kill him was in the written words he’d put on that piece of paper. Not good for Mama if Frank Von Lee was murdered.
Chapter Ten
It took a few snooze buttons, a hot shower, and a couple cups of coffee to get me going the next morning. The investigation into Frank’s death had gone late into the night with very little evidence gathered to make it seem like a murder. Finn hadn’t called or stopped by. Max Bogus hadn’t called. And Poppa wasn’t around.
I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or worried. Either way, it was a new day and I still had a job to do and a possible murder to solve. The Cottonwood Chronicle was delivered every morning around five a.m. and I couldn’t help but think when I saw Mama sitting proudly next to her freshly baked pot pie from her interview at the diner she’d be proud as a peach this morning even though her dreams of being on the television show were dashed.
A little bit of recognition in the Chronicle would make her happy. Or at least temper her mood about the death of Frank Von Lee and her lost chance.
“Duke.” I stood with my back up against the counter of my kitchen, my legs crossed at the ankles, a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other.
Duke had just gobbled up the last bits of his kibble and his droopy eyes looked up at me.
“You ready to go bye-bye?” It was the trigger word he knew meant get in the Jeep and get out of here.
His growl and loud bark followed by the prance to the door signaled he was ready to go. I grabbed my cell off the counter along with my sheriff’s bag, took the keys from the hook, and headed out the back door.
I’m not going to lie. I looked down the street toward Finn’s house to see if he was home. When I didn’t see his Dodge Charger, I wondered where he’d gone so early. Come to think of it, I didn’t see his car there when I let Duke out before bed, which was around midnight. Maybe he had a lead on the handicap sticker investigation and was checking into those.
“You still have a hankerin’ for that boy.” Poppa appeared in the passenger seat of the Jeep. Duke jumped to the back.
I pulled the Jeep to a complete stop at the stop sign at the end of the street.
“What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but I figured since I’d not seen you since the inn that you were gone.” I was searching for answers that my gut told me I feared most. “I’m guessing Frank’s death wasn’t accidental.”
“You’d be right.” Poppa stared at the window. “I guess you better head on over to your mama and daddy’s to check on her.”
“Is that a mere suggestion or are you telling me to go?” There were two sides to Poppa, his loving family side and his sheriff’s side. His voice told me this was his sheriff’s side.
“I think you know what’s going to come down the line” were Poppa’s last words before he ghosted away.
In frustration, I smacked the wheel with the palm of my hand. What good was having a ghost deputy if there were more questions than answers?
I jerked the wheel to the right and headed in the opposite direction of the department, downtown toward my family home. Normally I’d have called Max Bogus by now to see what the initial autopsy had said and what the plans were for Frank’s body, but I couldn’t bring myself to find out the answers too quickly considering that I already feared the worst.
My childhood home was a modest three-bedroom brick ranch. There was a long covered porch on the front and a nice patio on the back. If you came in through the left side of the house through the garage door, it led into a laundry room with a full bath, traveling into a kitchen nook, passing through the kitchen and into the family room that led to a hall with the three bedrooms and a bath at the end. In the front of the house, through the front door was a small entryway that spilled into the hallway, or you could go left into the living room.
The living room was the fancy room with the expensive furniture that Mama had bought down at Goodlett’s Furniture. You couldn’t sit in there unless it was Christmas. That’s where we opened presents. Mama insisted on having the furniture in the Christmas photos, never mind that my hair was stuck up all over the place and the wrapping paper was strewn all over the floor.
It was also the room where she’d hold court with her Sweet Adelines and whatever other social gatherings she’d have.
I walked up to the front door and knocked. Dad opened the door. I looked up at him. He still towered over me, and for his age, he remained in good physical shape. His brown eyes were tired and sagged a little more than usual. His brown hair was starting to get a little grey in it, but if I dared to say anything, Mama would have him down at Tiny Tina’s for a color. I wasn’t going to put him through that again.
“You don’t want to come in here.” He rolled his eyes. “Your mama acts like it’s a funeral in here.”
Duke shoved his nose in the door and pushed his ninety-pound body into the house.
“He does.” I laughed and stepped into the foyer. “What’s going on with Mama?”
The corners of Dad’s eyes drooped. “She’s been up all night. She came home and told me about Frank.”
“What did she do all night?” I asked.
“The funny thing is that she did nothing.” Dad shrugged. “I waited to see if I needed to call Dr. Shively to get your mama some of them relaxing pills, but she simply grabbed her robe and went to the bathroom where she took a long bath and read one of her romance books while she soaked.”
“She didn’t say a word?” I thought that was strange.
“Not a single peep.” Dad shook his head.
“Stayed up and read all night. You and I both know that ain’t like your mama. It all started yesterday afternoon after she said she was taking you to a mother-daughter lunch. What happened on that lunch?” Daddy had a curious look on his face.
“She didn’t have any intentions of having any daughter time.” I cocked a brow. “She took me to the barbecue restaurant in Clay’s Ferry that was going to be her competition.”
Dad’s face held a blank stare before he closed his eyes for a brief moment.
“That explains the weird cooking talk she did after she came home.” He suctioned his tongue on the front of his teeth like he always did when he was thinking.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I had a nigglin’ that every single moment of Mama’s whereabouts needed to be accounted for.
“She came in, muttered something about needing some creamer for a new recipe, and took off again. She seemed really distant.” He shrugged.
“Did she do anything different to the pot pie she’d been making?” I’d questioned the comment he made about creamer because I knew Mama used milk.
“Not a word. She just left, and I didn’t see her again until she came in last night when she told me about Frank.” He smacked his lips together when we heard movement coming down the hall.
“Kenni.” Mama walked into the foyer with a big pair of black sunglasses covering her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Dad walked away, but not without running a loving hand down Mama’s arm.
“Mama.” I reached out my arms. She was in a time of need. I bet she’d been crying all night from the news of Frank Von Lee and Dad didn’t even notice. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you okay?” I ran a hand down her arm. In the background I could hear Daddy and Duke in the kitchen eating God knows what.
“I’ll be fine.” Mama brought the back of her finger up to her nose and gave a little sniffle.
“I’d love a cup of coffee,” I suggested, since Mama wasn’t about to offer me nothing.
“Not today.” She sighed a little weepily and turned back around.
“Well, I’m having a cup of coffee.” I pushed past her. She jerked around, her glasses falling to the ground. “Mama!” I gasped and drew my hand up to my mouth when I saw her big black and blue eye. “What on earth happened?”
“It’s nothing. Act as though you never saw it and you must not speak a word of it,” she whispered and scurried off toward her bedroom.
“Daddy. Daddy,” I called on my way to the kitchen. I pointed behind me toward the hall. “What in the hell happened to Mom’s eye? Did she fall?” I wondered if she’d slipped getting out of the tub.
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.” He threw a piece of his toast to Duke, who gladly snapped it up.
“She’s got a black eye.” My jaw dropped. “Dad.” I gulped and rushed over to the kitchen table, sitting down next to him. “What happened?”
Dad stood up. “You need to ask her. I think she’s lost her cotton-pickin’ mind over this television show and now that the chef is dead, she’s really gone bonkers. She won’t tell me how she got the black eye.”
“Dad, how did she get the black eye?” I demanded. “How do you not know? You live with her.”
“I told you to ask her. She tells me not to worry about it.” He gave me a kiss on the forehead and put his dish in the dishwasher.
My mind swirled back to Frank’s written review. I’d seen Mama strike someone with her words and they could do damage, but I’d never seen her get into a physical altercation. Had she with Frank? There were two things that were strange to me. One, Poppa was here and he only came when there was a murder. Two, Mama was at the Inn around the time of the murder and now she has a black eye. Poppa being here told me Frank was murdered. But what did Mama know, if anything, about it?
“Kenni!” Betty’s voice pierced my ear through my walkie-talkie and brought me out of my head. “Get over to Max Bogus’s right away. It’s urgent. He’s got some results.”
“Results?” Mama poked her head in the room. “Did she say Max Bogus?”
“On my way, Betty.” I grabbed Duke by the collar and dragged both of us out of the house as Mama continued to nip at my heels. “Mama,” I turned around after I’d gotten Duke in the car, “I don’t know what Max wants. I’ll let everyone know when I find out.”
Mama gnawed on the edge of her lip as I left her standing in her driveway when I pulled out.
“I don’t like this one bit, Kenni-bug.” Poppa ghosted himself next to Duke, holding on to the handle of the Wagoneer as we drove to Max’s place with the siren blaring and lights flashing.
“Don’t put the cart before the horse. Maybe Max is going to tell us that Frank had a heart attack and all this worry is for nothing.” If ever there needed to be a bright side to anything, it was now.
In no time, I parked the Jeep in front of Cottonwood Funeral Home, the only funeral home in our town. The county morgue was in the basement. Like most businesses, the funeral home was in an old Victorian hous
e that’d been remodeled. The old wood floors and dark crown molding were preserved but still gave me the creeps.
A few minutes later, I found Max standing over Frank Von Lee’s body in the morgue with his lab coat on, gloves and many gadgets scattered around the small metal table next to him. Frank was hooked up to the lines that were draining him of his blood.
“I came as quick as I could.” Out of breath, I stood at the door and looked at the dead body. No matter how many dead bodies I’d seen, it didn’t get any easier. I felt a little queasy.
“You aren’t going to like what I have to say.” When Max looked up, I could see the look in his eyes I’d only been seeing in the last couple of years.
“Frank Von Lee didn’t die of a heart attack?” I asked hesitantly.
“He did. But with the help of a little-known poison called Compound 1080. Also known as sodium fluoroacetate. It was found in the preliminary test I ran last night with a blood panel. I also pulled some samples of the food in his stomach and bowels to see if I can pinpoint to source the 1080 was disguised in because the poison has no taste once cooked.” Max’s eyes did a slow glide from Frank’s body to me. “He was murdered.”
Chapter Eleven
“I’m not so stupid.” Poppa jabbed his head with his fingertip. “Things are addin’ up. And it don’t look good for your mama.”
“Shhh.” I closed my eyes and waved my hand in the air, shaking my head. “Stop!”
“But I thought you’d want to know all the facts as I got them, like we always do.” Max’s voice was tight as he spoke.
I opened my eyes.
“No. No. Not you,” I said to Max and looked around for Poppa. He wasn’t there. Finally, my lungs fully filled and some oxygen made it into my brain, clearing away the fog. “My head is throbbing. I was doing that whole talking-to-myself thing that’s all the rage. Like how women say something to themselves in the mirror to help them feel empowered.”
Max looked at me like I had lost my marbles. I wanted to tell him that he was right. I had lost every bit of sense I’d possessed, because it was right about now that I wished I’d stolen that review and the food. But it was not time to fuss over it now. Now was the time to get the evidence and get Mama off my list of suspects.