Hyacinth and Homicide

by Pyper James

  “Ms. Sophie?” Winifred asked, intrigued.

  “Yes, Ms. Sophie! I think she and Braxton may have had a thing,” Vivica said, smiling sneakily.

  “Aww that’s so cute,” Winnie replied. “Well, it was,” she restated, given the circumstances. “This whole thing is really kinda sad.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. I just hope there is something in Braxton’s writings that gives us at least a tip to point us in the right direction.”

  “Well, at least you get to work up close and personal with the sheriff again,” Winifred teased.

  “Vivian waved her hand at Winnie, dismissing the slight.

  “With everything that’s going on, that’s all we’re doing is working together. Who has time for anything more, if there was something more,” Vivica mused.

  “There is something more,” Winnie said. “The two of you are just so stubborn, you won’t allow yourselves to feel what you know is there.”

  “Well, maybe you should have that conversation with the sheriff, because right now? All I’m feeling is this mystery that needs to be solved.

  Chapter Twelve

  It had been a long day already and Aunt Mildred felt it in her hips. She had been working overtime, trying to keep everyone calm and satisfied. But Mildred also stayed busy to keep her mind from wandering; speculating as to who could have hurt Braxton. Even though he was a quiet man and most of the time you wouldn’t even know he was there, Mildred missed him. She missed his brooding and quiet wandering. She missed the moments when Braxton would come into the kitchen when only she was around and chat about whatever was going on at the time. He never really talked about himself, and Mildred realized, sadly enough, she knew so little about him. But, she kept busy nonetheless, hoping that Sheriff Harper and her niece would figure out what happened.

  As Mildred mounted the stairs, she had no choice but to take her time. Her hip hadn’t bothered her in quite a while, but now that it was, the pain revved its ugly head with a vengeance. When Mildred finally crested the top stair, her eyes immediately traveled the length of the hallway. She noticed that the caution tape on Mr. Braxton’s door was catawampus. In as much as she could, Mildred shuffled down the hall to see what was going on. As she neared the door, Mildred found that she felt anxious. Could the killer be revisiting the scene of the crime?

  Mildred couldn’t ignore the pounding of her heart as she slowly eased the door open.

  “What are you—”

  Her words stopped short as Mildred saw an all too familiar face.

  “Sophie, what are you doing in here,” Mildred said as she pushed the door open wide enough to enter. Sophie looked startled hearing a voice, but once she saw who it was, the startled look transformed to a somber one. Even the clothes Sophie wore were not nearly as bright as usual.

  Mildred saw the shift and moved in Sophie’s direction, sitting down on the bed next to her.

  “You scared me to death, Sophie,” Mildred began, placing a hand over her racing heart. What are you doing in here?”

  “I’m sorry, Mildred,” Sophie began, speaking just above a whisper. “I just missed him so. I thought if I came in here, just for a few minutes, I could feel his presence.”

  Sophie was not her normal bright cheery self. She hadn’t been since they learned that Braxton was dead. Mildred couldn’t fuss though. She missed Braxton, too. Mildred reached out her hand and the two women held each other’s, remembering their friend.

  “Sophie, I know you’re sad, I am too, but I need your help.”

  Sophie wiped at her pale wrinkly cheeks, removing the tear stains that left trails there.

  “What can I help you with,” Sophie inquired.

  “I know you probably talked to Braxton more than I, do you by any chance know if he has any family?”

  “Let me think about that for just a minute,” Sophie replied. She first had to clear the sadness from her mind to reflect on prior conversations she’d had with Braxton.

  “I know that his parents are deceased. They passed away some time ago,” Sophie began. “I would like to think he told me of a brother.”

  “A brother,” Mildred asked.

  “Yes, but from what I remember, they were distant; not close at all. Braxton seemed to regret that. He never labored long in discussing him though.”

  “Did he ever say what his brother’s name was?”

  “No,” Sophie replied. “I don’t remember him ever speaking his brother’s name aloud, just that he had one.”

  “Did he ever say where he was from, Braxton I mean,” Mildred asked. She felt like an investigator herself.

  “Georgia, Rome I believe,” Sophie recalled. “I thought it was funny because of the name.”

  Interesting, Mildred thought to herself.

  The two women sat for a while longer. When Sophie was finally ready, they exited together. Mildred paused long enough outside the door to lock the room and reapply the caution tape. Once she was assured Ms. Sophie was okay, Mildred traipsed downstairs to her office. She needed to speak with Vivica.

  Since leaving the hospital, Vivica managed to make the deliveries she needed to make, see about the kiosk that would open within the next week, and schedule a few interviews. She realized that staffing her business needed to happen faster than she originally thought which only meant that Black Orchid Flower Shop was doing better than expected. As Vivica climbed back into her car, her cell phone rang out. Closing the car door, Vivica fished the phone from her bag and looked at the screen. Swiping it, Vivica answered on the third ring.

  “Hey Auntie,” Vivica answered, putting the key in the ignition and cranking the car.

  “Are you on your way home,” Mildred asked, sitting down on the couch. Surprisingly, Boris found his way over to her and climbed onto Mildred’s lap, purring as she brushed his coat.

  “I am,” Vivica replied. Hearing something in her voice, Vivica continued. “Everything okay, auntie?”

  “Yes, dear, but there is something I want to discuss when you get here.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there shortly. Just leaving downtown.”

  “Be careful and I’ll see you when you get here.”

  They disconnected the line. Vivica decided to place another call before pulling off.

  “Hey Vivica.”

  Vivica found herself smiling at the informality, especially given what Winnie said earlier.

  “Hey Sheriff,” she replied with sauciness in her voice.

  Johnathan smiled taking note of her intended formality.

  “What’s going on,” he asked, rearing back in his chair behind his desk.

  “Wanted to find out had you guys narrowed the list of suspects down,” Vivica inquired.

  “Well, to be honest, when we started to go through the interviews we completed the other night, there were no real standouts,” Johnathan began. “But, we’ve decided to interview Mr. Caldwell and Sophie again, just because they knew Braxton longer and may since some time has passed, thought about something else that might be helpful.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Vivica agreed.

  “When are you all planning to come back to Mulberry Grove?”

  “I figured we’d come later this afternoon, maybe an hour or so.”

  “Cool, I’m headed back now, so I guess I will see you there.”

  “I’ll see you, then,” Johnathan said. He was still smiling but tried to tone it down when he felt Bo’s eyes checking him out. Harper disconnected the line.

  “Don’t you have some work to do,” Harper chastised his only employee.

  “Yep,” Bo replied, looking back at Harper under hooded eyes. “I don’t have to guess who that was,” he snided, aimlessly thumbing through papers on his desk. Johnathan felt the heat rushing to his cheeks, that he quickly tried to dismiss as he grabbed a blank sheet of paper off his desk, balled it up and sailed it at Bo. When the wadded paper fell short, Bo chortled with laughter.

  “Yep, Vivica Meadows,” he taunted.
r />   Johnathan couldn’t deny it and so he didn’t try. Instead, he turned his head away from Bo and tried to turn his attention to something on his desk. Bo finally left Johnathan alone with his thoughts; which as of late, despite the cases they worked on, were filled with thoughts of Vivica. He had to admit, no matter how hard he tried not to, that he missed her. He missed their relationship. Johnathan missed his best friend. No girl since Vivica had ever stood up to the kind of relationship he had with Vivica. Yes, they were young when they fell in love, but maybe his first love was meant to be his last?

  Johnathan shook his head. There was nothing about his most recent interactions with Vivica that suggested she was the least bit interested in renewing their old flame. There was a part of him that was disappointed with that admission. What signals have you been sending? The inner Johnathan inquired. Once again, if he was honest with himself, he had given Vivica no indication that he wanted more than a professional relationship with her. The question was, whether he was brave enough to change it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vivica made her way back to Mulberry Grove. Maximus greeted her at the door and she gave the four-legged a scruff of the fur and a greeting as they met.

  “Where’s Auntie, Max?”

  The hound, with his tail wagging happily, trod in front of Vivica, leading her back to Aunt Mildred’s office. Vivica padded behind him as they rounded the corner toward the office. Once at the door, Max stopped. Vivica knocked and heard her aunt call out from inside. When the door opened, Maximus walked inside and Vivica followed. Seeing her aunt sitting on the couch, Vivica joined her. Max found a place on the floor and Boris vacated Mildred’s lap for higher ground.

  “What’s going on, auntie?”

  “I had a chance to talk to Ms. Sophie again,” Mildred started. “She told me Braxton might have a brother.”

  “Oh, that’s great,” Vivica replied lighting up. Maybe they would be able to make headway with this case after all.

  “But that’s not all,” Mildred replied. She leaned in, getting closer to Vivica as though she felt the need to whisper even though it was just the two of them.

  “I asked her if she had any idea where Braxton was from.”

  “Mmhmm,” Vivica replied; following suit and leaning in.

  “She said, Rome Georgia.”

  Vivica pulled back slightly.

  “Why did that strike you as odd, auntie,” Vivica asked without disclosing what she immediately thought.

  “Well, I remembered, when I checked Mr. Graham in, he said something about being from Rome. I went and looked to see if it was recorded anywhere when he initially booked his trip and sure enough, on the reservation, there it was Rome.”

  “I wonder how big Rome Georgia is,” Vivica mused aloud.

  “I wondered the same thing,” Mildred agreed. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

  “You haven’t said anything to Mr. Graham, have you,” Vivica asked.

  “No,” Mildred replied. “I thought it best to say something to you first.”

  “Thanks Auntie. I know this is stressful, but I promise, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “Sooner than later I hope,” Mildred replied. All my incoming and outgoing customers are on hold until you all do.”

  Vivica took that with her as she left Mildred’s office; ascending the stairs to return to her room. She wanted to look over some more of the things Braxton wrote before Harper and Bo showed up. Maximus didn’t bother to come; instead he opted to hang out with Boris. That was fine with Vivica, she understood their relationship.

  Once in her room, Vivica grabbed the suitcase and the notebooks and began combing through the information. There seemed like an endless stream of writings and Vivica wondered would she be able to gain any real insight. The things she’d read so far had been musings about general things, nothing in particular and nothing that gave true insight as to Braxton’s life. Looking at the notebooks, Vivica decided to pick up one that looked more worn than the others. The outside of the notebook was tattered at the corners, and it looked like Mr. Braxton made have shoved it in his pocket repeated as there was a crease right down that center that still hadn’t fully unfolded.

  Opening the notebook, Vivica saw the wear on the internal pages as well. The once white paper had yellowed with age and there were stains on some of the pages. Scanning the first few pages, there was a passage that caught Vivica’s attention.

  “It’s not often that I think about him. And then there are times like this when I can’t seem to shake thinking about him. He should have been my best friend. It was just the two of us. Two brothers… torn apart because of what our parents did. I know they wished I would forget all about him, but I can’t. all I can hope is that wherever he is, that he is well. I would hate to think something bad happened to him or he needed help and there was no one there for him.”

  Vivica’s eyes widened as she read. Braxton did have a brother, but even in his writings, Braxton never named him. Finding that curious, Vivica thumbed through the pages of the notebook looking for more references about a brother. Near the end of the spiral bound book, she found another passage.

  “I knew that trying to talk to my parents, especially my mother about what happened with my brother wouldn’t turn out well. My father wouldn’t discuss it at all. I didn’t expect much more from him than that. He was an angry, tyrant of a man who said very little even when his mood was lighter. It was never pleasant. It was probably best that I had no expectation of him, even as a young boy. I, unlike my mother, saw my father for who and what he was. Maybe my mother did, at some point, but if she did, it didn’t show. She took whatever he dished out and wore a smile in spite of it. I guess that’s just who she was.

  But when I asked about my brother, trying to approach the subject as delicately as possible, like before when I asked as a child, her entire constitution changed. Her disposition reflected that she would rather not talk about it and the fact that I brought it up to her made feelings she’d probably tried to distance herself from come back full throttle. But I was an adult, yeah, a young man of eighteen or nineteen when I asked again, and I wanted an answer; some answer to quiet the question I had in my head about what happened to him. I figured, approaching her as an adult, she could not so easily dismiss me or feed me a line like she did when I was younger. My brother was several years younger than I. I remembered my mother being pregnant. I remembered my dad had been gone for a long time but came back home. I remembered those things so the lines she gave me could no longer hold up to my adult mind. So, I demanded an answer, and refused to leave until she gave me one.

  That didn’t go over very well. She first started hemming and hawing trying to avoid it. But when she saw that I wasn’t going away and challenged the things she said, her face crumbled into that of a woman tortured by the sins of her past. She cried in a way I had never heard my mother cry before. It pained me to hear, true enough, and I tried to be empathetic in as much as I could. But even her tears could not dissuade me from the information I desperately desired. I don’t think my parents understood how knowing he had been there, and then was gone impacted me. It made me think that I could be gone at any time too. I had nightmares about what happened. That’s what happens when you don’t have a genuine explanation for things. So, I insisted, even through her tears, I insisted.”

  Vivica had gotten so consumed with what she was reading, she lost track of time. stealing a glance at her wristwatch, Vivica figured she had about twenty minutes before the Dahlonega’s finest would arrive. She quickly turned her attention back to the notebook and continued to read.

  “I don’t know that I was prepared for what my mother finally told me. I thought I was. As I said before, I conjured up so many ideas of what had happened to my brother that were ghastly, that I didn’t think I could be surprised. Besides, I told her repeatedly that I was an adult and she should just tell me. Even now, as I write these words, I don’t know that I am would eve
r be. She didn’t reveal everything all at once. It took a long while, but she finally started telling me the story.

  I took note of when my father left, more as a relief rather than thinking of what that meant for my mother. I knew things were better when he was gone, that I breathed easier that my mother’s disposition was brighter. I didn’t think about why he left. She told me. They were struggling financially which put a strain on their relationship. My father left because jobs in Rome were scarce. He thought going to a larger city would give him greater opportunity. He also left because my parents weren’t getting along. My mother shared with me that she never expected my father to return. That’s just how dreadful things had gotten. While he was away, my mother had to resort to public assistance to try and help ends meet. They never did. But she did the best she could with what she had, and the little money my father was able to send home did help some. But things were tight, and she ended up needing more than we had. My mother took on odd jobs, cleaning houses to bring in extra money. Things weren’t going as well for my father as he would have hoped so what he sent became less and less. Remembering that she didn’t expect him to return, and truth be told, even though we struggled financially, my mother was happier when he was away.

  It was hard for my mother to tell me the rest and I could tell by the way she dropped her head and averted her eyes. But she stayed the course and continued. During her work in other people’s homes, she worked for a widower. He had been alone for a long time and she had been unhappily married for just as long. They started conversing and finding they had many things in common. When she started to tell what happened next, the crying resumed. She was ashamed and had to take a moment to pull herself together; apologizing to me for falling short as a mother. The conversation led to more than conversation and my mother found herself involved in a romantic entanglement with the widower. My brother was the end result.”

  Vivica’s pulled the notebook up even closer. She read quickly completely enthralled with the story. Vivica didn’t bother to look at the clock again. She had to know what happened next.