Southern Sass and Killer Cravings

by Kate Young

  “So, you’re wanting me to contribute information for your next article?” I was unable to hide the annoyance in my tone. I could have run by my sister’s house and checked in on her instead of wasting my time with this bozo. He wasn’t revealing anything. I turned to leave.

  His hand caught my forearm. “I know about the file, or assumption that it’s a file number that Joseph Ledbetter gave you.”

  I jerked my arm free and jutted out my chin and was met with shock.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “Good night, Mr. Calhoun.” I walked down the gazebo steps lickety-split. And it wasn’t until I had my car door open that I heard him behind me. I whirled around, cautiously, my pulse jittery.

  His hands were up in a defensive stance, his posture full of alarm. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this obtuse. I . . . I like you, Marygene. I want to help.”

  I kept the car door between us. “You know me about as well as I know you, which is not at all. My sister has been framed for murder, and you’re a strange man who happened to be in the diner the day of the incident. You show up at my house uninvited. You wrote a damaging article about my family and my business.” He opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “I came. I take the blame for the lapse in judgment.” I lowered my tone. “You may be the nicest man alive. I just don’t know you.”

  He gave a quick nod and began to retreat slowly. “You’re right. We don’t know each other. There’s another reason I’ve taken an interest in your situation.” When I didn’t get into the car and slam the door, as I’m assuming he expected, he stopped his retreat. “My brother did time for a murder he didn’t commit. It wasn’t a situation like this. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The police force was pressured to close a case, and he was the perfect patsy. Now, my brother was no saint. But he certainly wasn’t a murderer.”

  “Was he ever exonerated?” I asked after a brief period of silence. From what I could see of his face, there was still raw emotion visible.

  “He would have been. He died in prison, exactly three weeks before his retrial.”

  “I’m sorry.” What else did you say to something like that?

  “Thank you. Perhaps we can speak again later?”

  “Perhaps,” I said.

  Chapter 17

  It shouldn’t have surprised me to find Detective Thornton on my front porch when I got home. It had, though. If Calhoun found out about my chat with the sisters, it would have been a breeze for the detective. Thankfully, I’d gotten my berries back in the basket, so to speak.

  “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  He stepped aside so I could unlock the front door. I left it open as an invitation.

  “I have a few more questions I wanted to ask,” he said.

  “I thought the case was solid against my sister. Why else would you have her indicted for murder?”

  He closed the door behind him and followed me through the living room and into the kitchen. I wouldn’t allow this man to see he intimidated me.

  “Iced tea?” I pulled the pitcher from the fridge.

  “No, thank you.”

  I poured myself a glass.

  “I hear you’ve been conducting your own investigation.”

  I took a sip as he stared at me.

  He was wearing slacks and a blazer on this hot night. He must be burning up. Did he think that made him appear more official? He stared daggers through me. “You could be arrested for obstruction of justice.”

  “I haven’t obstructed anything. Last I checked, having conversations with my neighbors isn’t a crime.”

  “Withholding evidence is.” He stepped forward and placed both his hands on the bar, lowering his head to meet mine. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, missy, but I’m here to tell you to steer clear of my investigation or I’ll slap a charge on you so fast it will make your head spin.” His tone was lethal.

  I swallowed hard. Time to be brave. “Did you investigate the lead I handed over?”

  “That isn’t your business. If you had handed over that evidence earlier, perhaps it would have led us down another direction before we arrested your sister. Ever think of that?”

  I had. On numerous occasions.

  “Well, you have it now,” I said as firmly as I could manage. “And being the fine detective that you are, you must have figured out the entire Peach Cove Sheriff’s Department doesn’t believe Jena Lynn is guilty. And much of the island either.”

  He squinted. “You sure you’ve got your facts straight on that?” He pushed off the bar. Satisfaction spread across his face. His finger extended. “This is your one and only warning.”

  He turned to leave.

  Mama appeared behind him. “Well, go after him. Offer to help.”

  “Detective Thornton.”

  He turned, pausing.

  “Have you ever considered I may be of use to you? People talk freely around me. And even if you believe my sister is guilty, you want to build a solid case that would hold up during a trial. The circumstantial one you’ve built may have been good enough for an indictment,” I paused to gauge his interest. He was still listening. Surely that was a good sign. I squared my shoulders. “We both know it isn’t enough for a trial.”

  Eddie had told me that with a circumstantial case such as this, it could go either way. Detective Thornton didn’t strike me as a man happy with those sorts of odds.

  “No, Ms. Brown, I haven’t. I’ve worked cases in a lot of small towns. People protect their own. It’s human nature. The deeper I dig into this little island, the more it stinks. My job is something I do exceedingly well. Remember that.” He left. The door closed softly behind him.

  “Well, thanks for that.” I turned to Mama. Naturally, she’d left. If she was trying to make amends to cross over, she was doing an extremely poor job of it.

  * * *

  I was on the phone with Betsy the next morning, filling her in on last night’s events while I waited for the coffee to percolate. “I’m really going to have to buy a Keurig. I like instant gratification.”

  Betsy snickered.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “So, you going to run down the lead on the Ledbetter files today?” Betsy asked.

  I put her on speaker as the pot finally finished and poured myself a full mug. “I think I have to. But I’ll have to be careful. That detective will be up my ass at his first opportunity.” Surreptitiousness wasn’t Betsy’s strong suit, not that I’d openly hurt her feelings, but, on this one, I’d be going it alone.

  “What’s his problem anyway? Why doesn’t he go home already?”

  “I guess he feels he should see it through. I don’t know.”

  “Did you get anything from the reporter?”

  “Nothing I can use. I did gain a little knowledge regarding his interest.” I relayed what he had told me about his brother.

  “Huh. You could use that.”

  What kind of person would use another man’s suffering for gain? A desperate one.

  There was a knock at the back screen door. I leaned over the island. “Alex is here.”

  He was in full uniform today.

  “Hear him out. Don’t go puttin’ a beatdown on him.” Betsy snickered.

  “Morning, Marygene,” Alex said through the screen door. Betsy was on speaker. “Morning, Bets.”

  “Alex! Guard your nu—” Betsy shouted mid-laugh.

  I disconnected the call.

  I tied my robe around me and tucked a few frizzy locks behind my ears.

  He folded his hands in front. “You’re not going to knee me or anything, right?”

  I laughed. “Not today. Come in.” I grinned. “Coffee?”

  “Please.” He closed the door softly behind him as I poured him a cup. “Sorry to show up unannounced.”

  “There seems to be a lot of that going around lately.” I handed him the cup.

  “What do you mean?” His hand closed around the mug. His fi
ngers seemed to deliberately brush mine. Pushing the limits of my comfort zone.

  “Never mind.” I sighed, “What can I do for you?”

  Alex gawked at the baked goods. He sat down on one of the metal barstools. “Feeling stressed out, I see.”

  “Yeah.” I passed the platter toward him. “Help yourself to the peach rolls or turnovers. I made them last night, so they’re fresh.”

  “We okay?”

  I nodded.

  He didn’t hesitate. “God, Marygene,” he groaned around a mouthful, an expression of awe on his face. “There is nothing like your baked goods. I mean it. I’ve eaten pastries in all the best shops in Savannah, and nothing compares to yours.”

  Well, that was a real nice compliment. There were ample high-end pastry shops in Savannah.

  “I’m glad you like them.” My mood was marginally improving.

  “Listen.” His gaze hardened. “I want you to be careful around Detective Thornton.”

  “He doesn’t like me. I know. He came by here last night.”

  Alex stopped mid-chew. He chased it down with a swig of coffee. “I didn’t know that. Eddie would be hopping mad if he knew.” That was the truth.

  “What’s his problem, anyway?”

  “He’s a serious man and, by his reputation, I’d say a good detective. From what I hear, he doesn’t have a family or a life outside the job. He hates small-town politics and feels we let too much slide because of our close relationships with each other. He despises being second-guessed or having any interference on what he views as his case.”

  I snorted. “He isn’t that good of a detective if he believes Jena Lynn is guilty.”

  “I don’t think she’s guilty either, but the evidence clearly points to her.” He cocked his head to one side. “I just don’t know what to make of it yet.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Then you’re an idiot too! She’s been framed. Plain and simple. She had no motive! She gains nothing from Ledbetter’s death.”

  “Now, don’t go biting my head off.” Alex lowered his tone. “But she hasn’t been the most stable person either, the last few years.”

  I went still. My muscles stiffened. What was he talking about?

  “I would have thought Eddie would have told you. Called you when it happened.” He shook his head. “Or at least Zach would’ve.”

  Was this what Detective Thornton was referring to?

  With fingers to my parted lips, I asked, “What?”

  “After your mama died, Jena Lynn had a breakdown. Zach closed the diner for a week while she was treated in the hospital. It was all kept hush-hush.”

  I pulled my hand away. What in the hell was going on with the people on this island? No one called me? Not even Eddie?

  “So, it isn’t that far of a stretch for Detective Thornton to build a case on that.”

  I stood staring into the brown orbs of a man I’d grown up with, even thought I’d loved at one point, and he looked like a stranger. Betsy had been with me almost every minute since I’d returned, and she’d not said a word about it either. Did she know? No. Betsy wouldn’t be able to sit on information like that. What about Sam? Eddie had had ample opportunities to inform me of something of that importance and he, too, kept his mouth shut. More betrayal.

  “I—” I cleared my throat. Twice. “I want you to leave.”

  “I’m trying to help. I really am.” His face was sincere. “I care about you. Always have.” I pointed to the door, not attempting to speak again as I feared my vocal cords wouldn’t emit a sound.

  Alex nodded and stood. “When you calm down, call me.”

  Chapter 18

  My sunglasses, wet with perspiration, slid down my nose as I strode up the staircase of my sister’s house. It was going to be a scorcher today. The second Alex had left I’d thrown myself together and flew over here. No wonder she’d been so upset when I had returned home. She had been living in her own hell. It had taken me a few long minutes to get myself under control. I had to get my pain in check before I faced my sister. She deserved better.

  I didn’t knock, just opened the door and peeked my head inside. “Hello! It’s me!”

  The house was so quiet. As I crossed the threshold I was startled by Judy Palmer coming out of the kitchen. The little white Camry in the driveway must belong to her. Judy was about an inch taller than me with auburn hair I’d always envied. “Marygene.” She sounded as stunned to see me as I had been to see her.

  “Hi, Judy.” I closed the door behind me. “Where’s my sister?” And what in the world are you doing here?

  “Jena Lynn is upstairs taking a shower. I just came by to drop off a casserole and see how she’s holding up.” To my surprise, she burst into tears. Poor Judy was an ugly crier. Her face got all blotchy and her body must overproduce mucus. “It’s just awful. I still can’t believe it.” She immediately wiped her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m just a big ole weepy mess.”

  “That’s okay.” Had Judy and Jena Lynn become close during the years I had been away? “How are things at the inn?” I might as well do my digging now. After all, she was here.

  “We’re doing okay. Full lately, with the turtle project, that Tally Waters, and the detective.”

  “Right . . .”

  “You aren’t considering selling, are you?” I walked into the kitchen, motioning for Judy to accompany me while I got myself a glass of water.

  Judy grabbed a napkin out of the holder on the counter and blew her nose. “No. Well,” she seemed to be reconsidering it, “not unless they get a majority. I can’t see the inn doing so well when the high-rises start going up.”

  From her perspective, that made sense. Her inn, not being located on beachfront property, probably wouldn’t be the tourists’ top choice.

  “The family has decided to sell off Big Mama’s estate to your friend Yvonne. Though, she’s going to have problems with the zoning board if she plans to work out of the house.”

  “Does she know that?”

  Judy’s shoulders rose and fell.

  I filled two glasses with ice.

  “That reporter asked about you.”

  I handed her a glass of water.

  The little rhinestones she had attached to the tips of her French manicure glistened in the light.

  I filled my glass and took a few sips. “Did he?”

  “Yes. I think he has the hots for you.”

  More like he was out for retribution. I’d googled him after the detective left. His brother’s case had made headlines in Atlanta. From the article, it appeared like a drug deal gone bad. What interested me was that Detective Thornton had been the one who put the reporter’s brother away. He would be useful to me. I was just unsure of how to manage a man that full of silent rage. On the outside, he appeared so cool and levelheaded. No doubt he was a brilliant man. I wondered how the detective was handling Calhoun’s presence on the island and involvement in his case.

  “He seems okay.” If we were seen together, I wanted it to get around that it was of a romantic nature, not a calculated partnership.

  After a quick sip from the glass, Judy set it on the counter.

  “Have you spoken to Rainey Lane?” I kept my tone casual.

  “Yes, she and Carl are all tore up. I told her Jena Lynn was innocent, and she thinks so too.”

  After Carl’s display at the meeting the other day, I didn’t believe that for a second. It must have shown on my face because she immediately followed with, “You two have always gotten off on the wrong foot. Rainey Lane has her troubles. You know what a tough time she had growing up. Rumors were always flying about how unseemly it was that her sister ran off with their stepdaddy.”

  Boy did I ever. It was all Mama talked about some days.

  “Well, that took a toll on her. She’s doing the best she can.”

  Judy took another step toward me before lowering her tone, “There’s something crazy happening on this island. For the first time in my life, I�
��m locking my doors at night.”

  Well, I could understand that.

  “Just between the two of us . . .”

  I nodded. I would keep her confidence.

  “Tally has been meeting with Carl on a regular basis.” She glanced around as if someone was eavesdropping. She was scared, upset, or both. “She’s got no business going after him.” She gave a bark of bitter laughter.

  Am I detecting jealousy?

  “He comes by after midnight when he thinks everyone is asleep. Usually around two a.m., I hear the car drive up.” Judy’s private quarters at the inn were behind a hidden panel door off the main study. Tally wouldn’t know that, but Carl would. “Then it’s usually around four a.m. when he brings her back.”

  “You think they’re having an affair?” I wanted to gauge her response.

  “What do you think?” she spat, then flushed. She was on the verge of crying again. “Carl better watch himself or some information may get out that he wants buried.”

  “Judy,” I said slowly. “What are you telling me?”

  Tearing up, she glanced at her watch, fidgeting, “I’ve got to go.”

  I wouldn’t push her, not now.

  I gave her a genuine smile and gently squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you for coming by and for your support.”

  She waved my thanks away. “I love you both. We’re family. It’s what we do.”

  “You’re right. Say, you think I could come by the inn later? We could catch up.”

  “I-I guess that’ll be okay. I don’t know anything, not really.” She practically ran toward the front door. “Please don’t say anything about Carl. He has a temper.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  My sister was sitting on a lounge chair on the top deck. She must have forgotten about Judy, otherwise she would have come down to see her off. The breeze was nice coming in off the ocean as I settled in the lounge next to her, separated only by a small table. For a few long moments, we both tried to just enjoy the breeze. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and her face was covered in moisturizer. She was attempting to decompress from the stress, allowing the salty air to cleanse her soul. She’d once told me that whatever her troubles, the island breeze could always cure them.