Southern Sass and Killer Cravings

by Kate Young

  “Afternoon,” Betsy said with a smile. “What a lovely day we’re having. Your yard looks gorgeous.” She pointed to the red calla lilies in full bloom.

  “Land sakes alive, Betsy. Your hair is the exact shade mine was at your age.” Glenda stood. “You enjoy it while you have it.”

  “I will, ma’am.” Betsy smiled.

  “Y’all want to come in and have a glass of tea?” Glenda asked.

  “We’d appreciate that.” I smiled.

  Glenda held the screen door open for us, and Betsy and I moseyed in, settling on the wicker love seat at the end of the porch.

  “Let me go in and get two more glasses.” Glenda slowly walked inside, the screen door creaking in protest.

  Sally gave us a knowing glance. “I suppose you two are here because of what my sister told that little Poppy Davis.” Upon my nod, she shook her head. “My sister doesn’t know when to keep her trap shut. I retired, plain and simple.” She picked up her glass and took a long sip from it.

  “So, you didn’t see Carl and Joseph Ledbetter arguing?” I certainly didn’t want to upset the woman more than my presence obviously had.

  Glenda had walked out while I was midquestion. She was watching us with interest as she poured two glasses and then came back and handed them to us one at a time.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Betsy began draining her glass.

  “Yes, thank you.” I took a sip of tea and smiled. “It’s going to be a scorcher today.”

  The sounds of summer were echoing behind us in a chorus of insects, as if they’d cued them to begin.

  Glenda settled back in her rocker. The metal creaked. “You might as well tell them, sister. Marygene has had enough trials in her young life. Ain’t no sense in them taking away her livelihood too.” Glenda clucked her tongue, “A shame is what it is.” When Sally didn’t speak up, Glenda leaned forward and stilled her rocker, “That snot-nosed brat Carl fired her.”

  “Sister!” Sally was outraged.

  “Well, it’s the truth.” Glenda met her outrage for outrage.

  “I’m seventy. It was high time I retired.” She sighed and turned toward me. “I might as well tell you, or Glenda will exaggerate the entire ordeal.” Glenda grinned wickedly behind her glass. She seemed to be taking great pleasure in our visit now. “You can’t use any of this, and I can’t testify to it. I signed a confidentiality agreement.”

  “I understand,” I said sincerely.

  “Carl has another office in Atlanta, you know. He goes back and forth between there and the Savannah branch. Well, I worked for his daddy for years before he retired and then, well, Carl just sort of inherited me. Carl was able to hire a new secretary for his Atlanta office, but Joseph, bless his heart, made sure he kept me on in Savannah.” She wiped her puffy lids with the Kleenex she kept under her watchband. She had certainly cared for the man.

  Glenda patted her hand.

  “Anyway,” Sally continued, “nobody was aware of this, but Joseph didn’t trust Carl to handle everything on his own. All large-figured deals made by the firm required a signature from Joseph. I called him at the end of every month to give him an update on the business and whenever Carl raised my suspicions.”

  Crafty old Mr. Ledbetter had a snitch on the inside.

  “Mr. Ledbetter was still running the business from the sidelines?” Betsy asked.

  Glenda nodded.

  Sally said, “Not the day-to-day, but he oversaw the bigger-picture kind of stuff.”

  “Tell the girls about the fight,” Glenda said.

  “I’m getting there, sister.” Sally scowled. “A few weeks back, Glenda and I were at my desk getting ready to go to lunch. Joseph showed up. I never even knew he was coming, and he always notified me when he was in town. Carl wanted to sell off two properties. I’m not sure which ones, but Joseph wouldn’t agree to it. Carl was madder than a hornet. He threatened to petition the courts for power of attorney and bypass Joseph altogether.”

  The twins’ faces held shock as their heads nodded in a synchronized fashion.

  “Then Joseph hollered, ‘You ain’t the only son of mine, and the will can still be changed,’” Glenda added.

  “That’s right,” Sally agreed.

  “But he is his only son,” I said.

  “Joseph was a rounder in his younger years.” Sally shrugged. “Who knows?”

  I couldn’t believe Mama wanted me to crush this poor woman. She’d suffered enough, pining away for that man her entire life. At this moment, I really didn’t like Mr. Ledbetter.

  I pulled out my cell phone and showed Sally the image of what Mr. Ledbetter had given me. “Do you have any idea what this means?”

  Sally took the phone and studied the image. It had taken her a moment to focus. She’d moved it closer to her face then farther away. Finally, she’d found a happy medium and squinted. “That’s Joseph’s handwriting. Could be a file of some sort.” She passed the phone back to me. “He kept personal files in his home. Might be one of those, because it isn’t a sequence the office uses.”

  I stood. “Thank you for talking with us. We won’t take up any more of your time.”

  Chapter 16

  “Just pull those pictures off the wall, Bets.” I pulled the plastic off the giant whiteboard she and I had picked up at the supply store.

  She laid the old white frames with pictures of a little girl feeding ducks by a river on my childhood bed. We’d decided it was time to lay out the evidence. That way we could stand back and see it from a timeline perspective. As a girl, I had witnessed Eddie do this many times. Some of it was for fake cases—training that kept him sharp. Those cases he let me participate in.

  I had the giant board up on the wall. Betsy pulled the images off the printer. Together we began building a case. The picture we printed off the paper’s website of Mr. Ledbetter went in the middle of the board. Underneath him was one of my favorite pictures of Jena Lynn. It was the one of her at the ribbon-cutting ceremony after the diner had been painted. She was holding a giant pair of scissors, her grin massive as she cut the peach ribbon.

  Then a Facebook image of Carl from Rainey Lane’s page was put at the top. To the right went a giant question mark. At the bottom went an awful picture of Tally Waters, caught midsentence, her mouth contorted in an unflattering way. Betsy had laughed her butt off when I printed it. She was laughing again now as I moved it to the left of Carl.

  Betsy came to the board with a red dry-erase marker, poised to write.

  “So,” I began, “Carl threatened his dad.”

  She drew a line from Carl to Mr. Ledbetter. She put an estimated date of April and May of this year over the line.

  Then she drew a line from Tally to Jena Lynn. “She openly threatened to ruin Jena Lynn.” Under Jena Lynn, she wrote, “The Peach Diner.” Then said, “I’ll just scribble Ms. Brooks’s name down here at the bottom.”

  “She didn’t do it,” I said, “but leave it up there if it makes you feel better.”

  We couldn’t find an image of Charlie, so I wrote his name in blue off to the far left of Carl. “Cause of death could have been a heart attack.” I put a blue question mark beside his name. Then, above the question mark to the right, I wrote, “illegitimate son of JL.” I drew a line from him to Mr. Ledbetter. “You think he really had another son, or was it typical Mr. Ledbetter, spouting off his mouth?”

  Betsy tapped her marker against the board. “Who knows? Mr. Ledbetter was an enigma.”

  “That he was. For some reason, I believe there must be something to the story. I mean, he was furious with Carl. Perhaps he was aware of his son but the son wasn’t aware of him.”

  Betsy crinkled her nose.

  “I’m not projecting my personal issues into the case. I was just pointing out that it happens. That’s all.”

  At the very top of the board I wrote, “AP081587F,” and stepped back to see what we had.

  Betsy whistled. “We ought to go into the private eye business on the
side. Look how professional that looks. It’s like something out of one of those police shows.”

  I folded my arms, not as impressed as Betsy was. From what I could see, we didn’t have anything solid to go on. We needed more information. My mind drifted to Calhoun. Gathering evidence was his business too. Without facts, there wasn’t a story. He would want the entire story.

  I relayed my thought pattern to Betsy and she gave me a thumbs-up.

  “But be careful to play him smart. You don’t want him to turn the tables and use you for information instead. Now come on, let’s go over to Keith’s Car Palace. He’s got a couple of nice rides for you to test-drive.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Jena Lynn on the ride over.” I needed my own means of transportation, and according to Betsy, Keith was happy to oblige even within my budget.

  * * *

  After I got back from Keith’s, I sat down at the dressing table that had been my mama’s, and her mama’s before her, to apply my lipstick and freshen up. The wind had done a number on my hair. Betsy’s influence had landed me in the driver’s seat of a sporty little black Mini Cooper convertible. It was an older model than I had been previously driving, but in my price range and with low miles. I’d keep the top up tonight.

  I’d decided to pull my hair up for tonight’s dinner, allowing a few strands to fall beside my face. It was nearing seven and the temperature was still in the mid-eighties. I stood and examined my appearance in the mirror. The A-line floral sundress was a tad snug, compared to the last time I’d worn it. I sucked in my waist and turned to the side. It didn’t change much. Oh well.

  My wristlet was on my arm as I padded down the stairs in my white Yellow Box flip-flops, my favorite brand. The conversation I’d had with Zach on the ride over to Keith’s weighed heavily on my mind. Jena Lynn was resting, Zach had told me. She was having a really hard time, and Doc Tatum had prescribed something for anxiety. My sister was the last person in the world who deserved to be going through this. Compartmentalizing my rage, I focused on the task at hand. Finding the responsible party. On an island this small, where rumors spread like wildfires in southern California, sifting through to find the actual truth wouldn’t be easy but doable. I was extremely disappointed in the Peach Cove Sheriff’s Department. They hadn’t been out to have a chat with the twins or they would have mentioned it. A threat was just that—a threat—and they should investigate it. I was beginning to wonder if Eddie had any intention of sharing the evidence I passed along with the detective. If it were me, I’d build a solid case, then take it to Detective Thornton.

  The parking lot was almost full when I arrived at the Pier Bar and Grill. I wondered how many of them would have chosen The Peach if it was open. The atmosphere was as different as the cuisine, but our regulars would try new places if our doors were closed.

  The Pier was a pastel-colored building. The seating was a mix of wooden tables, chairs, and benches. Low candles were lit on the tables at night, and tiki torches were blazing around the outdoor dining areas.

  Yvonne and her mama were seated outside. I bypassed the hostess with the knowledge of Yvonne’s preferred spot. After greeting each of them, I sat.

  “I ordered you a Bahama Mama,” Yvonne said as the waitress delivered our drinks.

  “Great.” I took a sip from the frosty beverage.

  “I just love that dress, Marygene,” Ms. Brooks said after we ordered our food. “Doesn’t she look pretty, Yvonne?”

  “She does. How’s Jena Lynn doing? I can’t even imagine how she must feel.” Yvonne adjusted the spaghetti strap of her coral dress up on her shoulder.

  “She’s struggling,” I said. “I’m hoping all of this can be resolved soon. The diner has never been closed this long, not even after Hurricane Matthew.”

  “I miss the peaches and cream bars,” Ms. Brooks told me.

  Turning to her, I smiled. “I’ll make up a batch and bring them to you.”

  She brightened.

  “Um, Ms. Brooks, you were pretty upset at Mr. Ledbetter at the diner that day. Is there—”

  “I sure was,” she began, cutting me off. “That man played with fire his entire life. It’s not surprising someone killed him.”

  “Mama!” Yvonne said. “We talked about this.”

  “Well, it’s the truth. Like I said before, I’m just surprised it took this long.” She snorted in disgust. “He was worse than a tomcat. Evelyn,” her head tilted mournfully when referring to his late wife, “bless her soul, was either blind as a bat or just plain stupid. Now, I don’t know who killed him. Lord knows, I wish I did. Little Jena Lynn’s predicament keeps me up at night.”

  I gave Ms. Brooks’s hand a squeeze.

  Our meals arrived, and Yvonne’s mama excused herself to wash her hands.

  “She doesn’t know anything,” Yvonne said. “She just never liked the man. That detective asked her a load of questions. She told him that exact same thing about the tomcat.”

  I sighed and settled back in my seat. The seafood primavera I ordered looked gorgeous and smelled even better, yet I didn’t have an appetite. Yes, me, Ms. Foodie.

  “I know it isn’t any of my business,” Yvonne said after she swallowed a bite of her filet. “But, getting involved in the investigation doesn’t seem wise.”

  “I’m not exactly involved.” I rested my fork against the plate.

  “I know you. And sitting on the sidelines isn’t your style. You’re taking this personally.”

  “Of course I’m taking this personally. It is personal.” My voice rose a little higher than I had intended.

  She leaned in, “That’s not what I meant. Since we were little, you’ve felt responsible for everything that’s happened to your family. That’s one of the reasons you moved away, right?”

  “This is different, though.”

  “Maybe. All I’m saying is you should let the sheriff’s department handle it. You’ll go poking around and stirring up folks’ old wounds. The island is full of people still holding grudges. I’m sure it was a grudge that got Ledbetter killed.”

  I thought so too.

  “Whoever did this, chose your diner. And that was before you even moved back. I care. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Concern was etched in her brow.

  “I appreciate your concern. I really do. And I’d love to let the authorities handle it. In a perfect world, I could. But it isn’t. That detective believes Jena Lynn is guilty. Eddie, to my knowledge, isn’t asking the right people the right questions.” Then I told her about what Mr. Ledbetter had given me and what Sally had said.

  “That’s exactly my point. This is a small island. If you start digging, whoever did this will find out and you’ll be in danger.” She started to say more but her mama came back to the table.

  The conversation shifted to chitchat and catching up on each other’s lives.

  An hour later I was walking up the steps of the gazebo, positioned in front of the pond owned by the Blue Bird Inn. I was feeling down after dinner. It had been ridiculous of me to even think Ms. Brooks had any valuable information. If she had, I probably would have heard all about it years ago. I had almost driven right past Pelican Avenue to seek the comfort of a warm bath and a glass of wine. But, on the off chance I would discover something of value, I turned down the dead-end street. My plan was to gain Calhoun’s trust, like he was attempting to do with mine.

  The inn was run by my cousin Judy Palmer. She wouldn’t be at the front desk now. They would be milling around in the back garden having wine and cheese. That was one of the reasons I decided to wait until this hour to come by. The rumors would fly about the reporter and me if I went up to his room, especially after that nasty article. I had sent a text telling him where to find me if he still wanted to talk.

  I stared out over the little pond with the fountain in the middle. It was peaceful tonight. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees as rays of moonlight danced on the subtly moving water.

  “I wasn’t sure you’
d come.” Calhoun startled me with his presence.

  “Well, here I am.” I took a step backward as he entered the gazebo.

  “I know you’re angry about the article.” He appeared as if that fact bothered him. Good. At least he wasn’t without a conscience. “Someone was going to write it, and I figured if I did, I would have access to those who wanted to contribute or elaborate further with their information. I don’t believe your sister is guilty.” He kept a couple of feet between us. Under the brightness of the moon, I could see he was studying my reaction. His tone had me on edge. It was soft. Peter’s had always been soft before he struck.

  “I don’t understand why you care. Once the turtle project has concluded, you’ll go back to the city and all of this will be in your rearview mirror.”

  A gust of wind blew more of my hair loose, and I tucked the few strands behind my ear. He was watching my movement intently. He must have noticed the alarm I was feeling because he put a little more distance between us and shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts.

  “I have a sensitivity to those to whom injustice has befallen. Plus, I have this intense need to get to the truth.” His expression appeared sincere.

  I wasn’t sure if I believed him or not.

  “Okay, so have you received any information?” I highly doubted he had any. Perhaps that was what this was—a fishing expedition.

  “Not yet. I did overhear a few ladies talking at the market today.”

  I waited.

  “You were the topic of their conversation.”

  I cocked my head to one side and kept my face as impassive as I could manage. In case he was gauging my reactions, I attempted to appear unfazed. “I hear you spoke with one of the sisters who worked for the Ledbetter family.” News traveled fast, by way of Glenda, I was certain. Telephone, telegraph, tellaGlenda.