Southern Discomfort

by Caroline Fardig

  “I can. But…I feel like I could be getting close. I’d hate for all my work to go to waste. Plus there’s still the pesky problem of me being a person of interest and Drew sitting in jail.”

  He sighed. “Flynn and I are still gathering evidence, so…”

  Flynn had also been dodgy about the fact that they were still collecting evidence.

  I regarded Rufus warily. “Are you trying to tell me that you might be considering another suspect besides Drew or me?”

  Rufus looked me in the eye. His expression reminded me of when we were kids and he had something to get off his chest but didn’t want to come right out and tell me. “I didn’t say that.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay. Well, can you tell me anything about the break-in at Green last night?”

  “Not much.”

  Hmm. To me, “not much” meant he might be able to tell me a tiny bit. I felt like if I asked the right questions Rufus would give me some answers. “Are the two suspects still in custody?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is one of them named Brock?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think the break-in is in any way tied to Jason’s murder?”

  “No.”

  I paused, trying to come up with the right question. “Is that because you already have an alleged suspect in custody, or because your break-in suspects have alibis for Monday night?”

  “Both. And you can stop with the interrogation, because that’s all you’re going to get out of me.”

  I smiled. “Fair enough. Thanks, Rufus.”

  “You take care now.” With a wave, he headed back the way he came.

  * * *

  —

  When I got back to the B&B, Delilah was already dressed in black. “What took so long? The funeral starts in twenty minutes.”

  I frowned. I didn’t want to go to the funeral.

  Reading my thoughts like only a sister can, she said, “Get your behind upstairs and get dressed. I’m sure this is the last thing you want to do, but you’ll kick yourself later if you don’t go.”

  Giving her a sad smile, I replied, “You’re right. I’ll go.”

  I dragged myself upstairs, changed into a suitably somber outfit, and went outside to get in Delilah’s waiting truck.

  As she pulled onto the street, she said, “Well, spill it. Did you find out a lot from Drew? You were at the station forever.”

  “Well, that’s because I had three conversations instead of one. And no, Drew was incredibly unhelpful and in fact quite surly. Surprisingly enough, I learned more from Detective Flynn and Rufus.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Ava and her boyfriend, Brock, the hot fish guy, alibied out for Monday night.”

  “Well, that’s two more suspects that have gone poof. Does this mean we’re narrowing it down or just flat-out losing leads?”

  “I wish I knew.” I began to recount my three conversations to Delilah, who frowned deeply when I started in on my conversation with Drew.

  When I was finished, she said, “You know, Drew needs to be more forthcoming with his information. He’s not only playing with his life here—he’s messing with yours, too.”

  “Which my big sister doesn’t appreciate,” I said.

  “Exactly. I think we should get this done, Quinn. Bust our tails today and this weekend and then be able to put it all behind us. Since the police don’t seem to know I’m helping you, let me be the one to take on the conversations that might get dicey. They haven’t told me to keep my nose out of it. And it wouldn’t hurt if we used fake names.” She thought for a moment. “I’ll be…Evangeline Habersham.”

  “That sounds like a made-up name for a two-hundred-year-old lady.”

  “True. How about…Michelle Smith?”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “And you can be…Amy Jones.”

  “Oh, I already have a fake name I made up. Daisy Duquesne.”

  “You almost told someone you were Daisy Duke and then caught yourself, didn’t you?”

  My sister knew me so well. “Maybe.”

  Our light conversation ended abruptly as we pulled up to the funeral home. I let out a long breath. I couldn’t imagine how horrible this service was going to be. Jason had been brutally murdered, so there’d be a pall over the whole thing. Drew wasn’t allowed to attend his brother’s funeral because he was in jail. Valerie seemed to be completely unbothered that she’d lost her husband. No one in town seemed to like Jason, except his mistress, Sasha, who would be an awkward addition to his group of mourners. His only friend, CJ, was out of town until tonight. Who in the world was going to show up for the right reasons besides Drew and Jason’s aunt and uncle? I couldn’t even say that I was here because I wanted to be.

  At a few minutes until service time, there were only a dozen or so people in the funeral parlor. I recognized several Green employees and Valerie. There were some people congregated around Valerie who could have been her family, and an older couple up by the casket I assumed were Drew and Jason’s aunt and uncle. I’d stopped in the doorway, still considering making a run for it, when Delilah linked her arm through mine and pulled me toward the casket at the far side of the room.

  “I’ve already given my condolences to Valerie. She didn’t want them,” I said, trying to drag my feet to slow my sister down.

  “What was it Grandmama Hattie taught us about funeral protocol?”

  I groaned. “ ‘It’s not about you; it’s about the family’s feelings.’ ”

  “Right. You should practice all the garbage you’re always preaching at me.”

  In reply, I gave her an elbow to the ribs, but she kept on pulling me toward Valerie, undeterred.

  Valerie saw us coming and twisted her face into a frown.

  “We’re so sorry for your loss, Valerie,” Delilah said, sticking out her hand.

  Valerie shook Delilah’s hand stiffly. “Thank you.”

  When Valerie turned to me and openly scowled, I gave her a nod and slunk past her.

  Delilah whispered, “You almost did that nicely.”

  “You saw that face she made. I thought it better to keep my mouth shut.”

  We approached the older couple, who looked like they’d been crying for a while.

  I said, “Hello, I’m Quinn Bellandini. I’m a friend of Drew’s.”

  The woman gave me a watery smile. “Oh, yes. Drew has told me all about you. I’m June Green, the boys’ aunt. This is my husband, Rodney.”

  “Hello, Quinn,” Drew’s uncle Rodney said.

  I shook hands with them. “It’s nice to meet you both. This is my sister, Delilah.”

  They all made their pleasantries, and then the Greens pulled me aside.

  Aunt June said, “We understand you were the one who found Jason. Is there…is there anything you can tell us? Do you think our Drew could have done such a thing to his brother? How would they have evidence against him if he…if he…” She broke off in a sob, and her husband pulled her against him tightly.

  The Greens did not need crime scene details, that was for sure. As for the rest of it, I was sure it was tearing them apart to even consider that one of their nephews could be capable of harming the other one.

  “I’m positive Drew had nothing to do with Jason’s death. I know Drew, and he’s simply not capable of it. As for the evidence, it’s not terribly solid, but it’s enough to detain him for now. But the police are still gathering it. They told me so this morning.”

  Uncle Rodney said, “Yes, and also Drew told us you’re working on trying to find out who really killed Jason. Are you some kind of investigator?”

  “Not really. But I’m doing everything I can.”

  Aunt June took my hands and squeezed them. “Thank you, dear. It means the world to us.”


  I nodded, afraid to speak. It killed me to see what was left of Drew’s family so distraught. It was like they’d lost two nephews.

  Delilah had found us seats, so I went to join her as the pre-service music started to play. I saw that Rufus and Detective Flynn had slipped in and found seats in the back row. They both caught my eye before I sat down. I thought I remembered in a few novels I’d read that the police came to their victims’ funerals to find out who showed up. It could be seen as a sign of guilt or even a sick thrill to make it a point to pay your respects to the person you’d killed.

  That gave me an idea. I scanned the paltry crowd. Like I’d noticed before, there were a few Green employees, including Sasha (which was indeed awkward, because when Valerie wasn’t busy staring daggers at me, she was staring equally hard daggers at Sasha) and Jen, who I’d spoken to at Green, and then Terence and one of the dishwashers, who Delilah had spoken to. Other than that, it was Aunt June, Uncle Rodney, the people I assumed were Valerie’s family, the police, and us. If I had to pick the killer from the people in the room, I’d pick Valerie.

  The funeral itself was horribly sad, not unlike most funerals. But the sheer emptiness of the funeral parlor coupled with the fact that the minister clearly didn’t know a thing about Jason made it nearly unbearable. Jason’s body was being flown to Philadelphia to be buried in his family’s plot, which meant there was no graveside service, so this service had to do double duty and was therefore doubly excruciating.

  When it was finally over, we had to pass by the casket one last time, which I realized I really didn’t want to do. But Delilah had me by the arm again, and there was no way to get free without causing a scene. So by the casket we went, giving me one last glimpse of Jason—this one equally as disturbing as the last eyeful I’d had. The pancake makeup of death did not become him.

  Once we were outside, I nearly broke into a run, but Delilah still had hold of me.

  “Let go,” I complained. “I need to be away from here. Now.”

  She smiled and waved at the detectives as they got into their vehicle to leave. Out of the corner of her mouth, she said, “Play the part, Quinn. You act weird at the funeral, the cops think you’re a wacko. And when the cops think you’re a wacko, you get put on their list.”

  “I’m already on their list.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” When she saw my frown, she laughed. “Oh, come on. Lighten up. You’re all doom and gloom today. I think we should do something fun.”

  “Um…weren’t you the one who said we should bust it for the next few days to wrap up this investigation? There’s no time for fun.”

  She shook her head. “Leave it to me. We’re going to do both at the same time.”

  Chapter 21

  “If you think buying me a bag of Byrd’s cookies is going to make this day better…” I began, tossing three tiny Key Lime Coolers in my mouth at once. After chewing for a moment, I calmed down slightly and finished my thought. “Then…you might actually be right.”

  Delilah sat next to me on a shaded bench in the quaint City Market, digging into her own bag of the famous miniature cookies. “Aren’t I always? It’s a proven fact that Quinn Bellandini can’t be angry when she’s either baking or eating cookies.”

  “I agree that what we’re doing right now is more pleasant than pretty much anything I’ve done all day, but I still don’t get how you’re going to insert fun into our investigation.”

  “Well, for one thing, we’ve been invited to that ultra-cool party tonight at Oeuvre. I have a feeling we can do some useful sleuthing there while we’re rubbing elbows with the rich folk and drinking champagne that’s worth more than my truck. Also, you said you have a gig tonight where you’re going to talk to that guy CJ, which will again mix business with something you love.”

  “But what about now?” I nodded to the City Market Spice Shop, which was open despite one of its owners laying its other owner to rest in the past hour. “I’d rather stick something sharp in my eye than take another shot at talking to Valerie.”

  “That’s why I’m running point on this one and you’re doing the covert snooping.”

  “Covert snooping. In that tiny shop. Have you lost your mind?”

  “Quite the opposite. I spent the funeral getting it all figured out in my head.”

  * * *

  —

  “This plan is never going to work,” I said as we peeked in the windows of the spice shop.

  “It will work, as long as you don’t mess it up!” Delilah hissed, getting out her phone. “Now, shush. I’m calling her.” She put her ear to the phone while watching Valerie through the window. Once Valerie turned around to head back to her office to answer the call, Delilah said, “Now!”

  The two of us hurried through the door of the spice shop. Delilah stashed her phone and began nonchalantly perusing the spices. I hit the floor and scurried on my hands and knees toward one of the tables near the back of the shop. Once I got there, I dove under the table skirt and hid, waiting for my cue to come out.

  I heard Valerie’s footsteps walk past my hiding place and shivered involuntarily. If this went badly, I couldn’t even imagine what she’d do to me. No, I could imagine—she’d call the cops and I’d get tossed in the cell next to Drew. Like Delilah had said, I couldn’t mess this up. Oh, and I was most certainly not having fun right now.

  Valerie began pleasantly, “Hello, can I help—” She stopped and her tone went flat. “Oh, it’s you.” Lovely way to do business.

  Undeterred, Delilah said, “I’m looking for some Chinese five spice.”

  Valerie snapped, “It’s right there in front of you.”

  “So it is. Thanks for the help,” Delilah replied, her tone at least seeming unfazed by Valerie’s rudeness.

  A few seconds later, I heard a crash. Then Valerie let out a swear word and screeched, “What now?” When I heard her quick footsteps again pass me, I peered under the table skirt to make sure she was occupied. She was stomping her way toward Delilah, so I crawled out and dashed into her office.

  Once inside, I knew I only had a minute or two to look around. I started with her laptop, which was open and running on her desk. I first brought up her Internet browser. She had several tabs open, but none were of particular interest. They showed a few wholesale spice dealers, the shop’s Facebook page, the shop’s website builder, and a webmail account. I clicked the tab for the webmail account, but it was only City Market’s business email account, not Valerie’s own personal one.

  I was about to move on when I thought about having full access to her Facebook account. We were Facebook friends from back when the Greens had moved to town—before she hated me. She’d yet to unfriend me, so I could see everything she posted on her personal page. However, her private messages were a different story. I clicked that tab and pulled up her messages, but none of them seemed particularly dastardly. She didn’t use Messenger much, so most of the conversations were from years past. Disappointed at not finding any evidence of anything, I made sure to back out of everything I’d looked at and minimized the Internet browser like it had been when I started snooping.

  As I scanned the desk, I noticed a monthly calendar peeking out from under some papers. I moved the papers so I could see the calendar better, but there wasn’t a whole lot on it. Most of the notes were about deliveries, but there were a few personal appointments like haircuts and dentist visits. However, there were three cryptic notes on dates this month. Two of them said ROTR-C&P 9 PM and OPH-D 7 PM. On the date Jason was killed, it said BW-D 7:30 PM, but that had been scratched out and AB-C&P 7 PM was written below it.

  Totally confused by Valerie’s shorthand, I snapped a photo of the calendar with my phone, hoping to decipher it later. From out in the main room, I heard Delilah say loudly, “Wow, you got that cleaned up in record time.” That was my cue to hightail it out of the
office.

  As I was leaving, I passed by a filing cabinet and noticed a pretty but wilting bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase. It wouldn’t have been uncommon for someone to send flowers to Valerie personally on the death of her husband rather than sending them to the funeral home. But something told me those flowers weren’t sent this week—the daisies were going brown, and other flowers were beginning to dry up despite the full vase of water they were sitting in. Since I was snooping anyway (and nosy), I read the card. My Dearest Valerie, Soon we can be together without hiding our love. I’m counting the days…It was unsigned.

  Holy moly. Shocked, I took a photo of the card. Valerie had more going on in her love life than simply cheating on her husband. This relationship sounded serious, as did the implication in the note on the flowers. So Valerie’s boyfriend was “counting the days,” but until what? Until Valerie and Jason’s divorce? Or until he killed Jason?

  I heard Delilah’s voice again, this time more strained. “Valerie, are you sure I can’t pay you for that broken container?”

  I dropped to my knees and scurried for the skirted table. Once safely under cover, I fought to gain control of my excitedly shaking body. That card was exactly what I needed to show Rufus that someone out there did indeed want Jason out of the way. If I were a betting woman, I’d say that Valerie was in on it. It was looking like I was right about her all along.

  I half-heard Valerie’s grumbly reply to Delilah’s question—something about “no” and “please just leave.” I felt bad about us coming into her store, breaking things, and invading her privacy, but if she had something to do with Jason’s murder and was letting her own brother-in-law take the fall for it, she deserved everything we dished at her. The bell on the door jingled, I assumed signaling Delilah’s exit from the store. Now all I had to do was wait until Delilah called the store’s phone again so Valerie had to go back into the office to answer it. Then I could make my escape.

  The phone rang, but I didn’t hear any footsteps hurrying past me. The ringing continued, and as a melancholy undertone, I heard muffled sobs. Was Valerie the Ice Queen actually crying? Surely not. It was no secret that she had no use for her husband. They no longer lived under the same roof. She was trying her best to sell his restaurant out from under him to keep herself from financial distress, and she probably loathed the fact that he had an interest in her spice shop. Plus she had a boyfriend all lined up, for Pete’s sake! With Jason permanently out of the picture, her problems had vanished. I couldn’t figure what part of Jason’s death didn’t make her life better.