The young woman who had answered the door sat on a couch. She gave us an embarrassed smile. “Hello, I’m Coralee’s daughter, Pris—”
“Introductions aren’t needed. They’re not staying,” said Coralee, hustling us through a door off the living area.
An elderly woman dressed in a navy wool jacket and slacks sat in a leather desk chair, an iPad in her lap. A single folder lay on the desk, no other paper in sight. The cherry desk held a computer, phone, and other equipment. Each piece rested precisely within a taped square. With the regal set of her raised chin and eyes that gazed into the near distance, I put two and two together.
“Miss Belvia,” I said. “I’m the art teacher at Halo House, Cherry Tucker. Nice to meet you.”
“Yes. I’ve heard of you.”
“As an artist?”
“Not as an artist, no.” Her chin inched a notch higher and swiveled away from the direction of my voice.
There’s where art gets you in a small town. “I wanted to express my sympathy. My Grandma Jo knew your daughter Della. They had Sunday school together on Wednesday nights once upon a time, I believe. I’ve also heard how well Della treated the tea makers. You know how word gets around. Miss Della was well respected. I’m sorry about her passing.”
“Mrs. Brakeman. I’m Jose on the maintenance crew. Very sorry about your daughter.”
“Jose.” Belvia inclined her head.
Belvia Brakeman really lived up to her royal nickname.
“Let’s get to signing.” Coralee tapped the folder sitting on her mother’s desk.
“Coralee, just a moment,” said Belvia.
This Coralee seemed eager to get this will signed and for us to get out. If Coralee grew up and had family in small-town Georgia, she should know better than to rush her mother. I didn’t like her skipping the niceties of mourning etiquette before her sister’s coffin had closed. Which piqued my interest in Mrs. Brakeman’s will. And her daughter’s hurry to get it signed.
“Pardon me, Miss Belvia, but how do you know what’s written in the will?” As Grandma Jo had been a Matlock fan, I’d picked up a thing or two from good ol’ Matlock. I wouldn’t allow a will scam by this alleged prodigal daughter. I didn’t know Belvia Brakeman, but I knew she was worth millions.
“I don’t want to get ugly,” I continued, “but as a witness, I can’t let you sign something you can’t see. Shouldn’t Miss Coralee read it aloud so we can make sure you know what’s in it?”
Coralee flushed. “How dare—”
“It’s fine.” Belvia waved a hand at her iPad. “Coralee doesn’t know what’s in the will. I used dictation software and printed it out myself. I’d rather no one read it until it’s legally necessary. Thank you for trying to protect my rights though.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” I said. “That’s amazing you can do all this business with your eyesight problems.”
“I record my conference calls for reference and have all my reports audio accessible. As long as housekeeping doesn’t move things around, I’m able to keep to business as usual.”
Coralee narrowed her eyes on Jose and me. “If housekeeping’s a problem, Mother—”
“I have no complaints.” Belvia waved a hand in Coralee’s direction. “When my eyesight failed completely, I wanted my office moved home, but Della didn’t feel it appropriate to hold meetings at the Tea Grove. Halo House was our compromise, so we moved my office and living quarters here.”
“I’m here now, Mother,” said Coralee. “I can take over for you.”
“You misunderstand, Coralee. There is a certain convenience to living here.” Miss Belvia turned toward me. “I’ve not involved myself in any Halo House activities, so I’d only recently heard you were working here, Cherry. Having you as a witness gave me an opportunity to bring you upstairs. And Jose, thank you for coming too.”
“Glad to help, ma’am.” Jose stopped mid-bow before correcting himself.
“As Coralee said, this won’t take but a moment. I’m grateful for your help, but I have more business today.” Belvia felt on the desk for the folder, flipped it open, and allowed Coralee to guide her hand to the signature line.
Jose and I followed with our witness signatures. I attempted a glance at the final paragraphs, but Coralee slammed the folder closed, slid it into an open wall safe, and banged the safe door shut.
“That’s done,” said Coralee. “You can go now.”
Jose bolted, mumbling condolences along with leaky bathtub reports.
“Cherry,” said Belvia. “I’ll call on you later.”
“If it’s a funeral portrait, I can start to work right away if you’ve got a photo of Miss Della handy.”
“Funeral portrait?” Coralee’s lip curled. “I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
“Not for a painting.” Belvia’s sightless eyes shot a look of reproof at her daughter. “It concerns your other talents, Cherry. I’ll explain then.”
Before I could answer, Coralee had edged me into the living room and shut the office door. Pris looked up from her book. The battered paperback showed a half-dressed couple groping each other. The Rake’s Revenge.
I liked Pris immediately.
“I’m sorry about your aunt’s passing. I understand you didn’t grow up here and might not know anyone,” I said. “If you want company you can find me around. There’s coffee in the deli or the Last Call.”
“Last Call?” said Pris.
“The bar attached to the restaurant downstairs. It’s open to the public.” I cast a sideways glance at the office door. “How’s your grandma doing? This must be hard on her.”
“It’s hard to say since I don’t really know Grandmother. She’s kind of reserved, but that’s to be expected, isn’t it?”
I nodded. I couldn’t reveal to Coralee’s daughter I had a Matlock feeling about her grandmother’s will. But Matlock feelings weren’t anything new in the Cherry Tucker handbook.
However, I set my feelings aside. Not my circus, not my monkeys. I had my own big top filled with the flying variety of primates and spent enough time trying to duck and cover from their mudslinging. With this new job at Halo House Uncle Will had gotten me, I’d promised to be on my best behavior.
Unfortunately, Matlock feelings tended to bring out my worst.
Two
As I couldn’t convince Miss Krenzer to make me an artist in residence at Halo House, I pointed my old Datsun pickup toward town and my real residence. My deceased Great Gam’s 1920s Georgia bungalow. At one time it had been my art studio, now defunct thanks to Shawna Branson. My personal Branson nemesis.
We’d hated each other since high school when she was homecoming princess and I was asked to design the junior float. Perhaps my seven-foot Halo High angel had detracted from the homecoming court. I’d originally draped a toga on that angel. Not my fault the football team decided to enhance his body parts. The angel appeared real happy to share that float with Shawna.
She never forgave me. Also didn’t help that our families hadn’t gotten along since Reconstruction. She punished me by using ugly words and false rumors to put me out of business.
Recently, my brother pulled Shawna in his car to find out if they were accidentally related by way of my mother and her daddy. She punished him with a kidnapping allegation.
And for that, I’ll never forgive her.
I parked in the drive, cut past all the junk in my carport, and entered my kitchen. My roommate, Todd, was out. But someone else was in.
A tall lean man with eyes of a mysterious gray that could almost be duplicated with Winsor Violet and a touch of Phthalo Green. His dusky burnt umber curls had a glint of transparent red oxide apparent in my overhead fluorescent light.
And his hands? I couldn’t see his hands because after pinning me against the Formica
counter, they were currently working their way underneath my pompon sweater.
I also couldn’t see his smile or his dimples. But I could feel them beneath my lips.
And they tasted pretty damn good. Sizzling heat with a side of sugar.
“How much time do you have before you leave for work?” I asked against his raspy cheek. Even Luke’s five o’clock shadow tasted good. And looked sexy as hell against the definition of his cheekbones and hard-edged jaw. I loved his days off when he didn’t have to be clean-shaven, starched, and polyestered Deputy Harper. He’d soon head home to shave and change into his superhero costume.
“Not near enough.” He had moved past my neck and headed south fast. My sweater had disappeared. My corduroy shorts and ribbed tights would be next to go on Luke’s list of unnecessary clothing items. However, it was winter, and even though I lived in Georgia, standing bare-assed in my kitchen did not seem the brightest of ideas.
Particularly when my roommate was due home any moment.
Particularly when my roommate was my sort-of ex-husband.
“Wait up.” I caught Luke’s face between my hands and drew it north. “I’ve told you this before, any number of people have been known to walk through my back door. At any time of day. Or night.”
Luke leaned his body into mine. “That’s why I installed the deadbolt.” A dimple winked and his hands began a new journey.
“I can’t lock Todd out of his own house.”
The hands stopped roaming. “Sugar, this is not Todd’s house. This is your family’s house. Isn’t it time for him to move along?”
“Let’s not talk about that right now.”
“Fine. I had other things on my mind than talking.” His hands grasped my waist.
“Actually, I do want to talk. I’m having a Matlock moment.”
His hands fell from my waist and he cocked his head. “Mayberry Matlock?”
“Matlock didn’t live in Mayberry. Andy Griffith lived in Mayberry. Although he was a sheriff, so this might work for both shows.”
Luke folded his arms. “What might work?”
“Today I had to witness Belvia Brakeman signing her new will. And you know what I think?”
“Hard telling.”
“Something’s up with that family. Her long-lost daughter showed up and seemed real pushy about making Miss Belvia sign the will. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“I’ll tell you what’s odd, you thinking about Belvia Brakeman while I’m kissing you.” Luke placed his hands on either side of my legs and leaned forward until his forehead touched mine. “How’d you end up witnessing Belvia’s will?”
“She asked for me. As the deputy in charge of Della Brakeman’s hit and run, have you met her sister, Coralee?”
Luke pulled away. “Oh no. We aren’t doing this. No ma’am. Della Brakeman’s death is an active investigation.”
“You suspect foul play. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Didn’t say that, although getting struck by an unidentified vehicle and left to die makes it a suspicious death. We generally don’t throw around words like foul play.”
“Matlock did.” I kissed him, but before he could surge ahead, I broke contact to murmur against his lips, “So any suspects? Are you looking at Coralee Brakeman or whatever her married name is? When did she get to town? If she’s the big inheritor of Meemaw’s Tea fortune, that’s an awful big motive.”
“Cherrilyn Tucker.” Tiny kisses spread across my cheek, trailing heat. “Are you interfering in an open investigation when I just told you it was none of your beeswax?”
“No, sir, Deputy Harper. But I did not get good vibes from Coralee and I’m worried about Miss Belvia.”
“Let’s work on another type of vibe.” The kisses moved to my neck.
I shivered under the onslaught. “I’m also wondering why Miss Belvia wants to see me again. It’s sure not for a funeral portrait.”
Luke pulled back to study me. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing, other than I wanted to make sure no one had tampered with her will. She signed blind, you know.”
“Lord Almighty. You know Mrs. Brakeman’s a powerful woman? Meemaw’s Tea is on one of those Fortune lists. Don’t mess around with that family. Especially with this suspicious death hanging over their heads.”
“I’m not. She requested to see me. Something about my other talents. Said she’d heard about me.”
“Other talents? Like this one?” He whispered a suggestion in my ear.
I slid my hands from his chest to his shoulders. “Todd really will be home any minute.”
“Then we have a minute. This is not a problem.”
The door handle jiggled and a knocking commenced.
“Cherry?” Todd called through the kitchen door. “You in there?”
“Just a sec,” I hollered, struggling with my sweater.
Luke lifted me off the counter but kept me trapped in his arms. “This is not how I want a relationship.”
“I know.”
“I want you all to myself for longer than ten minutes. Preferably with no mention of Todd McIntosh, hit-and-run deaths, or Matlock.”
“I know.”
“We need to take care of this mess with our families. I deal with messes at work, I want peace at home.” Luke leaned into me. “As for home—”
He finished the sentence with another kiss. One hot and deep enough to scorch my tonsils. While Luke sauntered out the front door, I unlocked the kitchen deadbolt.
“What’s with the lock?” Todd glanced around the kitchen.
The Viking doppelgänger still wore his brown cargo shorts delivery uniform. He also still wore the slot machine cherry tattoo on his right calf, marking his Cherry Tucker time. That was the problem with tattoos. The ink lasted much longer than some marriages.
“What were you doing? Sleeping?”
“Not really.” I fought off the alizarin crimson invading my cheeks.
“Your sweater’s on backward. I thought you had just gotten up.”
Alizarin crimson flared into cadmium red. I escaped through the archway leading to my living room. Through the big picture window, I saw Luke ambling along the sidewalk. He had parked his big black jacked-up truck elsewhere, much to my relief. Hopefully, Todd hadn’t spotted it.
“What’s this?” Todd called.
I traipsed back to the kitchen and found my buff blond roommate waving a piece of paper. I gave it a second’s thought, realized Luke had left it, and leaped for the paper.
Todd laughed and held it above his head. Why tall people think it’s hilarious to see we vertically-challenged folk bounce around their legs like a terrier after a treed squirrel, I’ll never understand.
I stopped bouncing and kicked his shin.
He handed me the paper.
“Thank you.” I waved at the fridge. “There’s cold chicken in there for dinner. And I picked up tea and beer. So nice to have a steady paycheck. You want to chow down in front of the TV?”
“Thanks, baby. Don’t need dinner, but I appreciate the beer.” He pecked my cheek and sauntered to the fridge while I checked out the note Luke had left. “You okay?” Todd hung on the open fridge door, concern brightening his cerulean blue eyes and worry lines fretting his normally unlined face.
“I’m okay.” I folded the paper, shoved it in the back pocket of my shorts, and forced a smile. “It’s nothing.”
“I know you, Cherry, and you’re not okay. What was on that paper?”
Todd needed to forget about that paper.
“Todd, how about instead of fridge beer I buy you a fresh pint at Red’s? I want to talk to him about firing Casey.”
He bounded toward me like a puppy hearing the word “walk.” But upon rea
ching my side, he jammed his hands in the pockets of his shorts and began shuffling backward. “I almost forgot. I can’t go to Red’s.”
“Why?”
Todd found interest in the overhead fluorescent light. I checked it for a dead bulb, but not seeing one, I returned my attention to Todd. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I…kind of…have a...” Todd’s focus moved to the upper cabinet behind my head. “A date.”
“Oh.” I sucked in a breath.
As an eligible bachelor, Todd was a hot commodity in Halo. He hadn’t been with anyone since our relationship had moved from friendship to marriage to annulled in a fit of Vegas craziness. That was just over a year ago.
But even with my feelings for Luke, Todd still held a special place in my heart. Probably why I couldn’t ask him to move out of my house and why we were still best friends. I should have been prepared for this moment.
I wasn’t prepared for this moment. But I could fake it.
“That’s great,” I said. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
Todd took a visual inventory of our kitchen. Light fixture, cabinets, and now the floor.
“I am sincerely happy for you. I hope y’all have big fun. Where are you taking her?”
“Not Red’s.” His words tumbled over his tongue trying to spit them out.
“Okay, then. Glad I won’t be cramping your style.” I crossed my arms. “What are you not telling me, Todd? Can’t be that you’re dating my sister, because Casey’s already married.”
He gave a weak laugh.
“Good Lord. It’s not Casey, is it? That girl has done some things, but I would never have held her to this. God Almighty, Todd, are you that hard up?”
His eyeballs finally found mine. “I’m not hard up.”
A Composition in Murder (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 6) Page 2