by Ellery Adams
“Yeah,” Scott confirmed. “And get this. They’re all rented through the weekend. I hope it’s because of the Hearth and Home reunion.”
James eyed his young friend. “You don’t like the idea of Quincy’s Gap expanding?”
Scott shook his head no. “Francis and I like riding our bikes around town and renting Widow Lamb’s garage apartment, not to mention our jobs here. If we wanted to live and work in a bigger town, we’d move to Charlottesville or Harrisonburg.”
James patted his shoulder, then brushed off a few orange crumbs his fingers had left. “I can’t run the library without you and Francis.”
Scott punched a few keys. “Maybe you can get more news tonight at that party. If Ms. Alistair and that developer have their way, we’ll need more help, or even another library. Listen to this. It was pre-taped.”
The screen displayed a replay of a national morning talk show with the host interviewing Murphy. Her new book, Murder in the Caverns, stood prominently between them.
“Wow,” James said. “Murphy really knows how to promote herself.”
Scott turned up the speaker volume. Murphy’s voice broadcast in the quiet library. “I want to invite everyone who craves clean living, low crime, good schools, and friendly people to come on down to Quincy’s Gap and take a look at the plans for brand-new homes about to be built with mountain views. Remember, it’s only in Quimby’s Pass that murders occur.” Murphy finished this speech with a wink at the camera, indicating her book. Quimby’s Pass was a not-so-thinly-disguised Quincy’s Gap in Murphy’s novels. The screen switched to a commercial. Scott closed the tab.
“This isn’t going away, is it, Professor? The whole planned development is going to happen. There’s nothing we can do, is there?”
James heaved a sigh. “I’ll try to find out more tonight, Scott, but at this point, I don’t know what will stop it.”
Chapter Five
Snow flurries melted on James’s navy blue parka when he walked from the Bronco to the front steps of the Red Bird Bed & Breakfast. Spotlights showed off the large and imposing Victorian Painted Lady, whose rich blue color was accented with red and white gingerbread trim and a white front door. With its wings and bays facing in many directions, two round turrets, and a wide porch sporting a half dozen white rocking chairs, the B&B looked much the same as when the exterior had been used for the Hearth and Home show. Of course now, instead of being the fictional Lewis family home, Carol and Brian Anderson owned and ran the popular B&B. James wished Jane could be with him to see it, but she had papers to grade and opted to stay home.
The image of a male cardinal in all his red glory had been fashioned from glass and hung from a chain on the front door, a cheerful contrast against the white. It jangled as Carol Anderson opened the door to him. In her mid-sixties with gray-blonde hair cut short, she looked at James through rectangular glasses and gave him a wide smile.
“You must be Mr. Henry,” she said. “Welcome to the Red Bird. Come in and let me take your coat.”
“Thank you,” James said. He studied the hand-crafted wood foyer with its soaring ceilings and a grand staircase. “What a beautiful home.”
“Brian and I do our best to preserve it. That’s been our job since we bought it from the previous owners, the Richardsons, you know. We’re caretakers and love sharing the home with guests.” She closed the hall closet and directed him through to the spacious living room, where a fire burned brightly in the marble fireplace.
Next to the fireplace, a tall white Christmas tree had been decorated for Valentine’s Day. Wrapped in red velvet garland, trimmed with red hearts and golden arrows, the tree glowed from the light of dozens of tiny fairy lights. A matching white wreath hung over the fireplace. A red satin sash reading “LOVE” ran from side to side. On the mantel, two heavy glass cardinals, a male and female, held place of pride.
James saw Mayor Bright, Sheriff Huckabee, Lucy, Sullie and a few others seated on an inviting red plaid sofa and matching chairs. Standing around talking and drinking were several more people, including an elegant blonde who reminded James of an older Carrie Underwood, his favorite country singer.
Lucy gave him a curt nod. James wondered if Lucy was in sheriff’s deputy mode in front of her superiors. Then he realized by the way she had her hands clasped tightly in front of her that his friend was anxious. James looked at Sullie and saw the cause of Lucy’s anxiety: Sullie’s attention was on another woman. A very attractive woman.
When she’d been on the TV show, she’d played the middle girl, Angela, but James knew from the Southern Style article on the cast members that he was looking at Amber Ross, YouTube beauty guru and creator of her own line of makeup brushes. James had to admit, the woman was stunning in a short, ivory-colored dress that showed off her legs. Her long brown hair contained soft blonde highlights, and when she smiled, as she did now at Sullie, her teeth gleamed white. James guessed her makeup was perfectly applied, but it was too heavy for his taste. Sullie must not think so though, James thought, as the man was almost drooling.
Over by the big bay window, James saw Joel Foster speaking with another man and an excited-looking middle-aged woman wearing a heart-shaped button on her dress that read “Hearth and Home. Always in Our Hearts.”
James had no idea who the woman was, but Lucy had been right about Foster. He still had a baby face. James peered at the other man. Brandon Jensen, that’s who he was, James realized. Brandon had played the eldest son of the Lewis clan, Josh, the serious one who helped his dad on the family farm. He’d been a teenage heartthrob and was the one Lucy had said she’d had a crush on. James looked at the two grown men and thought about how he’d carried them in his memory as teens. Funny how the passing of years could take a person by surprise.
“We’re delighted to host this reception for the cast members of Hearth and Home and special guests,” Carol continued, breaking James away from his observation of the group. “Through the living room, you’ll find the formal dining room, where food and drinks are set out.”
James thanked her before she hurried away to answer the door. He saw that Lucy and Sullie were drinking from champagne flutes filled with a red liquid. Thirsty and curious to try the drink, he turned toward the direction she indicated.
That’s when he saw Murphy and Ray Edwards sitting in, of all things, a red leather love seat, drinking champagne and looking anything but in love. As he watched, Murphy poured the last of a bottle into her glass. Another bottle, also empty, lay on its side on the floor. From the way Murphy swayed into Edwards, James figured she was well on her way to falling-down drunk. The skirt of her silver sequined dress rode up her thigh when she suddenly reached out and repeatedly jabbed a finger in Edwards’s chest, a frown on her face. One side of Edwards’s mouth was turned up in a superior smirk. The two spoke in hushed tones, but clearly all was not well in paradise.
In the dining room, his host, Brian Anderson, a gray-haired man in an ivory cable-knit sweater, leaned against a marble fireplace. It twinned the one in the living room right down to the two heavy glass cardinals on the mantel. “Help yourself, Mr. Henry. There’s plenty to go around.”
Bennett, Gillian, and Lindy stood at the heavily laden table selecting goodies to place on red plates. The wooden table had been sectioned off into three areas. One was for the red-colored liquid in flute glasses; a small white card declared them “Cranberry Kisses Mocktail.” Another section held antique glass containers marked with the names of the candies inside; James saw striped candy sticks, heart mellows, chocolate pretzels, ribbon candy, and red licorice. Finally there were pink parfait topped with granola, and old-fashioned milk bottles containing strawberry milkshakes sitting in ice. Plates of colorful skewered fruit that had been cut into heart shapes were scattered around the table, along with heart-shaped shortbread cookies, bowls of nuts, Chex mix, and chips. On the sideboard, glasses were lined up next to bottles of beer and soda.
The friends greeted one another. Bennett nodded
at him. “Try one of these,” he suggested.
He held up what looked like a muffin, but when James accepted it, he found it was a chocolate chip cookie that had been shaped into a muffin with a well in it. The concave part overflowed with red frosting.
“Not exactly on our diet, but who could resist?” James had just bitten into the confection when the front door slammed open, drawing everyone’s attention.
Buford Lydell, wearing a field coat and jeans, stormed into the room, looked around, and then trudged past shocked faces to stand in front of Ray Edwards. The farmer emptied the contents of a manila envelope in Edwards’s lap. Ashes fluttered down onto tailored gray slacks. “There’s your sales contract.”
Edwards lurched to his feet, shaking off the debris. “You’ll pay to have these pants cleaned,” he slurred.
“I’ll subtract it from the money you paid me for my land,” Lydell announced. “You lied. You said you’d save five hundred acres of the peach farm from development. You said you’d keep my farmhands on to look after it. Now my head man tells me you went and fired them all!”
“I told those hicks they could apply for construction jobs,” Edwards said.
“That’s not good enough! The contract is void because you lied. You can have your money back. I want my land.”
Edwards snorted. “The deal was made. You signed off on it, Lydell. There’s no going back. You people out here in this backwoods don’t understand how contracts work. Guess you didn’t finish the fifth grade.”
Lydell’s face went an alarming shade of purple. “I’ve got a degree in agriculture from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University. Now, unless you want me to tear your arm off and beat you to death with the bloody stump, you’ll give me my land!”
Edwards let out a loud laugh.
Buford Lydell drew back his fist, but Sheriff Huckabee and Sullie had quietly come on the scene and restrained him. Lucy stood nearby.
“Come on, Buford,” Sheriff Huckabee said. “Let’s go outside.”
The farmer allowed himself to be led, but before he went out the front door, he looked over his shoulder and yelled, “I’ll get my land back one way or another!”
Everyone watched as Edwards continued to laugh. He half fell back down on the love seat next to Murphy.
To James’s surprise, Murphy hissed something at her partner, then turned and flounced from the room, her silver sequined dress flashing as she walked past everyone and up the stairs to the bedrooms.
As one, the supper club members gravitated toward the living room and watched her go.
“Come on, partner, wait for your stud muffin!” Edwards called as he staggered behind Murphy up the stairs, gripping the wooden handrail.
Bennett whispered to James, “Looks like Edwards’s ‘hot property’ has cooled off toward him. Won’t be much going on in that bedroom tonight.”
James put the other half of his frosted chocolate chip cookie in his mouth. Best keep his mouth busy. He didn’t want to comment on what might be going on upstairs. Instead, his thoughts were on Buford Lydell. Could the farmer have the sales contract voided? Or was it wishful thinking that Edwards’s development could go away so easily?
Swallowing the last of his cookie, James said to his friends, “I know the reception has hardly begun, but it feels over to me. I’m going home. Maybe when I wake up in the morning, I’ll find that Edwards has crawled back under the rock he lives under.”
“Bennett,” Gillian said, “James is right. Let’s go. I’m uncomfortable in this house.”
“Bad juju, woman?”
Gillian nodded.
“I’ll get our coats.”
Lindy picked up a handful of chocolate pretzels. “I’ll stay long enough to make sure Lucy is okay. I can’t believe the way Sullie is mooning over that actress-turned-makeup-guru. I could kill that deputy.”
James hugged her. “Try and restrain yourself. The last thing we need is a murder.”
Chapter Six
The next morning, James was finishing up the hold and transfer requests when he had a powerful craving for Dolly’s meat loaf and mashed potatoes. He reminded himself of how he’d already blown his diet the day before. Maybe one of Dolly’s Western omelets with tomatoes, onions, and diced ham might come closer to what he was supposed to be eating on the Mediterranean diet. That is, if he could get past the crowds and into the diner.
He looked at his watch: 11:10. If he left the library now, maybe he could beat the line. Saying a hurried goodbye to Francis and Scott, James got in the Bronco and drove the short distance to Dolly’s. He groaned when he saw a half dozen people standing outside the door.
Figuring he’d put his name down on the wait list, James hurried through the freezing cold, opened the door to the diner, and immediately felt the warmth envelope him. The midday sun glinted off the exotic souvenirs Dolly and Clint had brought home from their travels around the world and decorated their diner with.
Then he realized that the diner seemed louder than usual. People were talking and gesturing animatedly. Dolly saw him and came out from behind the long counter, tucking stray strands of her white hair back into her bun.
“Sakes alive, James, can you believe it?”
“Believe what?” James asked.
“I know she’s not very well liked, but this! Oh, I suppose you’re here for lunch. Well, you can see there’s not a single space available. Lucy called, though, and asked me to hold a booth for her. After all she’s been through this morning, I thought I’d better.”
“Is Lucy okay?” James asked, alarmed. “What’s happened?”
“I know,” Dolly said, surveying her domain. “You can sit at Lucy’s booth. You’ll want to hear all about the murder. It’s all anyone’s talking about.”
Dolly moved forward, but James stood rooted to the spot. “Murder!” he exclaimed, drawing the interested glances of several patrons.
James hurried after Dolly.
“Here you are,” she said, giving the already clean table a quick swipe with a cloth. “I must have subconsciously known you were coming. It’s your favorite booth. Sit down and tell me what you want to eat.”
James sat, barely glancing at the colorful leis, small Tiki torches, and the poster of a cobalt sea bordering a strip of gleaming sand in the travel-themed booth before holding Dolly’s gaze. “What murder are you talking about? And who is not very well liked?”
“Murphy, hon, who else?”
“Murphy’s dead?” James gasped.
The bell over the diner door chimed. Dolly looked up. “Here comes Lucy now. She’ll tell you all about it. What do you want for lunch?”
“I think I’d better have a minute,” James said faintly. At the moment, he felt as if his heart had sunk into his stomach. Murphy had done some offensive things, but he certainly didn’t wish her dead!
Dressed in her sheriff’s deputy uniform, Lucy slid into the booth across from him. “James.”
James grabbed her hand. “How did Murphy die?”
Lucy’s eyes widened. “What on earth are you talking about, James? Murphy’s not dead. When I left her, she was safely behind bars in jail.”
James felt a flood of relief. He let go of Lucy’s hand. “I thought . . . I mean, from what Dolly said . . . never mind. Why is Murphy in jail? Was there a murder? Dolly said there was.”
“Come on, James. This is me. I know you. When I walked through the door and saw you sitting here, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist hearing all the details.”
“Lucy, I came here for something to eat! I don’t know what’s going on! Please tell me!”
Lucy cocked her head, then seemed to come to a decision. “Ray Edwards was bludgeoned to death. Murphy says she found his body when she woke up this morning. We’re holding her on suspicion of murder.”
James’s head felt like it was spinning. Murphy was alive, thank goodness. But Ray Edwards wasn’t. James remembered the argument he’d witne
ssed—that everyone had witnessed—between the two the night before at the Red Bird B&B.
Dolly appeared at the booth, catching Lucy’s words. “Holding Murphy at the jail, Lucy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lucy said in her guarded, sheriff’s deputy voice. Everyone knew Dolly was the biggest gossip in town.
“Think she killed that fella who was going to ruin our town, huh?”
“Murphy found Mr. Edwards’s body this morning. We’re questioning her,” Lucy replied. “May I have a cheeseburger and fries, Dolly? I haven’t eaten all day. And coffee, please.”
“Sure, hon. What about you, James?” Dolly asked. Although she carried a pencil and pad, Dolly never wrote down orders. She simply remembered them.
“Um, a Western omelet with tomatoes, no green peppers, and some coffee for me too, Dolly.”
When she’d gone, James leaned forward. “Lucy, Edwards and Murphy went upstairs together last night. You saw.”
“Yes, I sure did.”
“They were sleeping together.”
“That’s right.”
“You said that Murphy found Edwards’s body this morning. Do you mean in their room?”
Lucy pursed her lips. “I shouldn’t be giving details of an ongoing investigation. Even if it does appear to be an open-and-shut case.”
James felt a moment’s annoyance. “Surely you can at least fill me in on what everyone else here seems to know,” he said, gesturing at the other diners.
Lucy sat stubbornly silent.
Dolly returned with two thick white coffee mugs and a pot of steaming hot coffee. She placed a cup in front of each of them, poured and said, “Sullie came by about half an hour ago for coffee and a couple of sausage biscuits to go. Said he was on his way over to Charlottesville.”
“Sheriff’s business, Dolly,” Lucy said, adding sugar and cream to her coffee.
Dolly put a hand on her hip. “Y’all usually get your forensic work done over there, right?”
“Yes, we don’t have the resources here. I think Sheriff Huckabee will be making an official statement later today. Should be the top story on the five o’clock news.” Having dropped that tidbit, Lucy took a sip of the hot liquid.