by Kate Bell
“Who do you know, besides me, that bakes gingerbread men? I know it’s Christmas and it could be anyone, but, is there someone that stands out to you?” I asked her.
“Yes, Charlotte Moody.”
“I remember her. She was my friend Tammy’s aunt,” I said. I remembered Charlotte being a quiet woman of few words. I had wondered if she was all there mentally when I was a kid. Something about her made me think something was wrong with her, but I liked her just the same. She always smiled when she saw me and since she didn’t talk much, she never required much out of me.
I sat back and watched as Mama flipped through the notebook and Alec took notes of the interesting ones. I was beginning to wonder if anything she said would lead us to the killer, or if these were just small town stories being passed on. Someone had done the deed, and we needed to know who. I just wasn’t sure we were going to find out.
Chapter Eleven
Alec and I had decided on dinner out. My sister was coming to visit in the morning, and I knew things would get hectic, so I wanted some alone time with Alec. We were at The Pitt. The Pitt was a barbecue place that featured the most tender brisket and steaks you could imagine. Not to mention beef ribs that fell off the bone. You could smell the smoking oak wood for a couple of miles around. It was one of my favorite places to eat when I came home to visit.
“So, what do you recommend?” Alec asked, looking over the menu.
“Mmm, anything. Everything is good here. But if you like to get messy, the ribs can’t be beat,” I said.
It was after six o’clock in the evening and the place was filling up fast. The room was warm and felt good after being outside in the chilly air. The ambiance of The Pitt was warm and homey. Each booth and table was covered in a red and white check tablecloth and cold drinks were served in Mason jars.
“I think I’m going to have to go with those ribs,” Alec said after looking over the menu a few more minutes. “Now what about sides?”
“Well, you have to go with the coleslaw. It’s famous all over the county. And the beans are wonderful, too. I’m going to have a side salad with ranch along with the beans, and I think the brisket.”
The waitress came and set a basket of sliced garlic toast on the table and took our orders. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a smile and was gone.
“Well, look who’s here,” Alec said, looking over my head.
I turned and looked behind me. Elmer Jones. It took all I had not to curl my lip in disgust. I turned back to Alec. “Maybe he won’t see us.”
“I don’t think we’re in luck there,” he said.
Elmer was beside our table lightening quick.
“Hey, Allie, how you doing?” he said, ignoring Alec.
“I’m wonderful, Elmer. You’ve met my boyfriend, Alec, haven’t you?” I said. I couldn’t help myself. Nobody ignores Alec and gets away with it on my watch.
The smile left Elmer’s face, but he didn’t look at Alec. “Yeah, I met him. Say, Allie, you should get back here to visit more often. I mean, with your husband gone and all, there’s no reason not to visit more regularly.”
I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He had better watch how he brings Thaddeus up, or he could end up with some part of his body broken. He didn’t want to make this redhead mad.
“Yes, well, I do have a life back in Maine,” I said.
“Your mama’s gettin’ older now. I’m sure she could use your help and it would do her good to see you more often,” he said, trying to sound helpful.
I could see Alec smirk out of the corner of my eye. “Are you doing social work now, Elmer? I can take care of my mama just fine, thank you.”
“Oh, I don’t mean to pry or nothin’,” he said. “I just thought about how nice it would be to see you more, is all.”
“Well, we’ll certainly consider coming out here more often,” Alec said, butting in.
It was my turn to smirk as Elmer slowly turned toward Alec.
“Well now, that would be nice to see you, too. I’m sure you Northerner’s know how to investigate real good, don’t you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at him.
“Now, Elmer, let’s not turn this into a Northerners against Southerners thing. That war was fought long ago,” I said, trying not to giggle.
“And as I recall, it didn’t turn out so well for you all. Excuse me, y’all,” Alec said. He kept a straight face and everything when he said it. I was proud of him.
Elmer’s face turned dark red and for a minute I thought he was going to blow.
“We have no problems investigating our own murders around here,” Elmer said through gritted teeth.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Alec conceded. “John McGinty certainly seems more than competent.”
Elmer stood up straighter at the mention of John’s name and I wondered if there was some tension between the two of them. I made a mental note to ask John about it.
“John McGinty? He doesn’t understand investigating. He’s okay, I mean,” Elmer said, catching himself. “It’s just that he’s a little too laid back. You need to be on top of things to get anything done.” He swayed a little bit when he said it and I wondered if he had perhaps been drinking a little this evening.
“I find being methodical more important than being aggressive. But then, I’ve only been a detective for around twenty-three years or so,” Alec said.
I raised one eyebrow at him. He was feeling his oats tonight, for sure and I wondered what had transpired between the two of them the day of Tom’s murder.
Elmer narrowed his eyes at Alec, but turned to me. “I guess I ought to leave you two to your meal. Ann Marie Cason is over there in the corner, waiting on me. You remember Ann Marie Cason, don’t you, Allie?” he grinned at me, waiting for my reply.
It was my turn to grit my teeth. Ann Marie Cason and I had been rivals in high school. Actually, we weren’t even rivals. She couldn’t stand me and every time I got a new boyfriend which wasn’t that often, but often enough, she would try to get him to go out with her. It worked a couple of times, so she wasn’t my favorite person in the world. Back then, I had spent many a night crying myself to sleep over the boyfriend she had stolen away. Mama would try to make me feel better by saying she was one of those loose girls and I was better than that. But all I wanted was to be with whatever former boyfriend she had stolen.
“Oh? Is she still in town? Well, I guess if you never make it to college, you don’t have much choice but to stay in Goose Bay, do you?” I said with a smile.
The grin left Elmer’s face. “She done all right. We both did. I’ll talk to you later,” he said and spun around, almost lost his balance and pin wheeled his arms to stay on his feet, and then headed back toward the corner table.
I couldn’t see that table from where I sat, but I wanted to. I wanted Ann Marie Cason to either be fat and looking old beyond her years or skinny and toothless. Either way, her blond hair had to be gray by now and she had been a smoker in high school, and I hoped she had aged poorly. I knew I would feel badly later for thinking such mean thoughts, but for right now, I was feeling justified. I picked up a piece of garlic toast and bit into it.
“Who’s Ann Marie Cason?” Alec asked, reaching for his Mason jar of Cherry Coke.
I sighed and tore into the bread again without having swallowed the first bite. “Boyfriend stealer,” I said around the wad of bread in my mouth.
“Really? And did she steal Elmer away from you?” he asked, amused.
I swallowed. “No, she did not. But she did steal some others. The little tramp. I’d like to get a look at her,” I said, leaning to the left and trying to see back to the table Elmer had indicated.
Alec chuckled.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” I said.
“Tell, me. How did you end up dating someone named Elmer in the first place?”
I sighed. “Well, back then, he had a little more hair and a little less belly. And he was on the football team. Footba
ll is important in a small town. It was every girl’s dream to date someone on the football team.”
He chuckled. “Oh, the things we did back then. Makes you wonder how we ever made it in the real world, doesn’t it?”
I smiled. “It sure does. I bet you have some date skeletons in your closet, don’t you?” I asked.
“Maybe. But you’ll never know,” he answered.
“When do I get to meet your family? I bet if we go visit your hometown, I’ll get to see some of those skeletons.”
He shrugged. “I guess once I’m officially retired, we could make the trip. But we won’t be hanging out in any place one of my ex’s will show up, I assure you.”
“That’s just wrong,” I said, shaking my head. “You’ve seen the worst I have to offer, and I want to see yours.”
Our food came before we could continue the exes discussion and we dug in. Elmer walked by with Ann Marie and thankfully they didn’t stop by to say hello. I’m sad to report that Ann Marie looked like she had hardly aged since high school and had that same knock out body the boys went for back then. Call me small. I don’t care. She was a mean boyfriend stealer.
Chapter Twelve
“I highly suspect Mrs. Anne Beale,” I said to Alec as we pulled up to her house. “It’s a given.”
“Oh? And why is that? Don’t tell me. She has a temper?” he asked, turning the minivan off.
“I have no idea if she does or not,” I said. “But she’s the quiet, mousy type. It’s always them. And she cheated for her daughter during the summer reading programs at the library.”
“Me thinks someone sounds bitter,” he said, and got out of the van.
I got out and hurried over to his side of the van so I could hiss, “No one, and I mean, no one was as fast a reader as I was in the sixth grade. You mark my words.”
He chuckled. “You need to tone down that competitive nature a little,” he said, giving me a quick kiss, and then took my hand as we headed toward the front door.
Mrs. Beale lived in a cute pink gingerbread house. The pink was light and sweet and somehow managed to fit the house perfectly. White gingerbread trim set off the front of the house and there were white wooden planters under the windows. She had put fabric poinsettias in the planters for the Christmas season and white twinkle lights encircled the windows and planters. It was very small-town cute.
Alec knocked on the door and we waited. A dog in the backyard barked at the sound of his knocking. Alec put his hand up to knock again when the door slowly opened. Mrs. Beale peeked out from behind the gold chain that kept the door from swinging all the way open.
“Yes?” she asked.
Alec smiled to show he was friendly. “Mrs. Beale, we met several days ago over at Tom Turner’s house. I’m detective Blanchard, and of course you remember Allie.”
Mrs. Beale turned her head to look in my direction and then closed the door. We heard the chain being pulled back, and the door opened again.
“Good afternoon,” she said, smoothing down her skirt.
“Good afternoon,” Alec said. “May we come in and speak with you? We won’t be long.”
“Yes, of course,” she said and led us to the living room. The room had beige carpet, beige sofas, and a beige ottoman. I had expected a flower explosion, considering the cute façade of the house. There were no Christmas decorations other than a small Christmas tree that sat on an end table in the corner, decorated in silver and red. It looked kind of lonely all by itself.
“Can I get y’all some tea?” she asked after offering us seats.
“That would be wonderful,” I said before Alec could answer. I liked being able to stay in someone’s house for more than a few minutes. It gave me a better sense of them. Tea would give us a little extra time.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and left the room.
“It’s a cute house,” I whispered.
“We could paint your house pink,” he answered.
I smiled, trying to imagine my neighbor’s reaction to a pink house. I was pretty sure I would get a visit or two with some pointed questions asked.
Mrs. Beal had very little décor in her living room. A couple of family photos hung on one wall, and one seascape on another. I got up to look at the photos. One was a picture of her daughter Sadie when she won the reading contest in the sixth grade. In the picture, Sadie held up a twelve-inch gold tone plastic trophy, complete with loving cup on the top. Sadie smiled for all she was worth, her pigtails tied in orange yarn. She wore a denim jumper and blue Keds shoes. I silently snorted. The cheater.
The other photo was one of Mr. and Mrs. Beale on their wedding day. She wore a long white gown that had lace all over. The picture was black and white and Mrs. Beale beamed behind a long veil. She had been very pretty when she was young. She was actually still pretty and I could see why Tom had an interest in her.
“Here we are,” Mrs. Beale said, bringing in a tray with a teapot, cups, and sugar and creamer.
“Oh, I was just admiring your wedding picture. You both looked so happy,” I said, turning toward her.
She set the tray down on the coffee table. “Oh, thank you. We certainly were. My poor Harold died of pneumonia when Sadie was two. It was a shame. Sadie never really got to know him.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” I said, feeling a twinge of guilt for not being kinder to Sadie. We had been such fierce competitors that I never took the time to get to know her.
“Please, help yourselves,” she said, motioning toward the tray.
I sat down and Alec and I made ourselves a cup of tea.
“Did they find the murderer? I heard it was a murder,” Mrs. Beale said as she poured a cup of tea.
“We’re still investigating,” Alec said. “That’s why we’re here.”
A look of fear crossed Mrs. Beale’s face. “What?” she asked.
“Oh, no, I mean I just wanted to ask you some questions. We’re still looking for whoever did this,” Alec reassured her. “I know you said you liked to go over to his house to play Uno once a week, but can you expand on the nature of your relationship?”
Mrs. Beale blushed and looked down at her tea, then slowly took a sip.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, Mrs. Beale,” Alec said, then glanced at me. Way to make her clam up, I thought.
“Well, really, we were just friends. Like I told you before, I went over to supper once a week and we played card games. Tom wasn’t really interested in a relationship,” she said. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t know why he didn’t want a relationship. Don’t most people want that?”
I felt bad. For generations womankind has been getting the run around in their relationships. Mrs. Beale’s generation was no exception.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Beale,” Alec said. “So you were just friends with Tom?”
She nodded. “That’s all.”
“I see,” Alec said, making a note in his notebook. “Tell me, Mrs. Beale, do you know if anyone was angry with Tom?”
Mrs. Beale smiled, stirring her tea. “Well, I can’t think of anyone off hand. Tom was a friend to everyone. Well, almost everyone.”
“Oh?” I asked when she didn’t immediately continue.
“Well, I don’t mean to gossip, but Ida Crawford didn’t like Tom. I saw her in the grocery store about a month ago, and she was upset with him,” she said, still stirring her tea and nodding her gray head.
“What for?” I asked, trying not to look at Alec.
“She thought he had feelings for her, but when he told her he didn’t, she screamed at him. She told him he had been leading her on. Called him a cad.”
I did glance sideways at Alec then. Name calling was never a good sign. That was two strikes against Ida. We needed to talk to her.
“I can see where someone who feels like their feelings have been trifled with can feel like they are being used, but it’s rarely cause for murder,” Alec said, being sane and sensible again.
&nbs
p; “Well, you don’t know Ida,” Mrs. Beale insisted. “She’s one of those loose women.” She whispered the word loose, and I fully expected her to look around to make sure no one else had heard her.
“Was she?” I asked, leaning forward. I still didn’t think having orange hair and wearing too much makeup made you a loose woman or a likely murderer, but I was willing to listen.
She nodded. “I heard she and Agnes Jones’ husband Earl, had an affair back in 1984.”
“Really?” I said. Earl had been a looker back then. I remembered him from Girl Scouts when he would pick up his daughter Marian.
“Oh, yes. I’ve never trusted the woman.”
Alec asked her a few more questions, and we left.
“That’s two strikes against Ida,” I said when we were in the minivan.
“Two?” he asked, buckling his seat belt.
“Mama suspects her, too.”
He chuckled. “Poor Ida Crawford. No one seems to like her.”
“Well, you know what they say. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” I said.
“And does she have a temper?” he asked.
“Stop it,” I said as he pulled away from Mrs. Beale’s house. “I don’t know if she did it or not. Just seems odd that two people would name her.”
“That it does,” he said. “That it does.”
“Let’s go to the funeral tomorrow,” I said.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Thirteen
The parking lot of the First Baptist Church on Calloway Avenue was packed. Alec had to drive around the block a couple of times to find an open parking spot. I was sitting in the back so Mama could ride up front and not have to wrinkle her dress. I had borrowed one of her dresses since I hadn’t planned on going to a funeral while we were visiting. The kids had stayed home since they only knew Tom in passing. I had given them orders to clean grandma’s house top to bottom, just to make her feel better.
We got out and made our way inside the church. Tom lay in his casket wearing a red tie and black suit. I went to take a look at him, and he looked better than I ever remembered seeing him.