The remark got him a few offers from widows within earshot.
He waved them away. “What Ron should have been managing was his son. Parker’s a mess. Burned through his trust and likely will do the same with the inheritance from his poor momma.”
“I guess he’ll get more at Belvia’s passing?” I mentally added Parker and Ron to my list.
“Probably,” said Ada. “Although you never know with Belvia.”
“Parker does visit Belvia a bit,” said Fred.
“He’s hoping it will pay off.”
“You’re so cynical, Ada.”
“And you’re naive, Fred.”
Before their bickering grew into a full-blown feud, I interrupted. “Any news yet on how they’ll do Della and Belvia’s funerals? Will they wait on Della’s now the viewing’s canceled?”
“Cooper’s doing Della’s, of course,” said Fred. “I suspect they’ll use the same for Belvia.”
“You think the ones who are left will spring for a separate event knowing Belvia’s already paid for Della’s?” said Ada. “It’ll be a double funeral.”
“A double funeral.” I shook my head. “What is this world coming to?”
“That’s life in the fast lane for Halo,” said Fred.
“You know who’ll have the details about the funeral?” I said. “Molly. I wonder how she’s doing. This must be a horrible shock for her.”
“Who’s Molly?” said Ada.
“Belvia’s retired assistant. Don’t you know her? She moved to Halo House soon after Belvia. Belvia paid for Molly to move in next door in case she needed help.”
“Figures Battle-axe wouldn’t let her go. She kept her minions close and everyone else at arm’s length.”
Ada’s bitter tone made me wonder if she had once been in Belvia’s inner circle. “Minions over family?”
“Except Della, but Della had been cast from Belvia’s mold.”
“Coralee too,” said Fred. “Except Coralee did the unthinkable and left.”
“Kicked out,” said Ada.
“Left, then kicked out,” said Fred. “For a hippie commune.”
“Don’t think it was hippies.”
“Either way.” I held up my hands. “Della’s out of the picture and now Coralee’s back.”
“Looks like Belvia’s out of the picture too.” Ada sighed.
“That’s what worries me.”
I found Molly in her apartment. She had cast off her suit and pearls for a magenta sweat suit dotted with crystals and sequins. I had to catch myself before my eyes watered and embarrassed her. She led me inside her figurine-crammed living room.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I told her. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling. You’ve known Belvia for so long.”
“Thank you. At our age, it’s to be expected, but still hard to let people go.” She motioned for me to sit. “Did they find out what happened to her?”
“It sounded like a heart attack.”
“Poor Belvia.” Molly shook her head. “She never did slow down. And it’s starting up again. Coralee keeps calling me, wanting me to set up a new meeting with the board members so she can make an announcement. And help with Belvia’s funeral. Della’s assistant isn’t around.”
“Coralee wants to call a board meeting already? And wants you to plan the funeral?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Belvia needed me to check in on her. That was okay. I didn’t even mind helping Belvia with Della’s funeral plans, but this is too much.” Her hand fluttered. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.”
No wonder Belvia wanted me to keep an eye on Molly. It sounded like she suffered from “can’t say no” syndrome and Coralee was taking advantage.
I took Molly’s hand and squeezed. “You leave Coralee to me. Turn off your phone for a while. Is there anyone to check on you?”
“There’s just me. Sister and I never married. She had her career too, until she took sick and passed. We enjoyed living together. I was grateful Belvia bought this apartment so I wouldn’t have to be alone. She promised to keep it in her will. I suppose I’ll find out later if I get to stay…” Molly passed a hand over her teary eyes. “You must think I’m terribly selfish, worrying about my apartment when my friend just died. I’ve been in a state.”
“No, ma’am. I’d be anxious too. But I’m sure Miss Belvia’s word is good.”
“That’s true.” Her smile wobbled. “Belvia always followed through.”
“She’d promised me something too, if I completed a task for her. Said she’d ensure it somehow. I was thinking in a will…” Embarrassed, I waved away the thought. “Never mind. Now it’s my turn to feel selfish.”
“What did you mean, dear?” Molly’s brows drew inward.
“You’ve got enough to worry yourself. I’m being silly.” I reached for her hand again and patted. “I’ll check on you. You’ve got friends here.”
“Thank you.”
I glanced at a framed picture on the side table while Molly reached for a tissue to blot her eyes and nose. The sepia-toned photograph of two little girls in sailor dresses and bows had been tinted to add pink to their bows, cheeks, and lips. “That’s adorable. Is that your sister? Y’all almost look like twins.”
“We’re eighteen months apart.” Molly picked up the frame and handed it to me. “Sister had darker hair, but people often got us confused.”
“My sister, Casey, and I are eighteen months apart too. We don’t look anything alike, but they still get us mixed up.” I handed her back the frame. “What was your sister’s name?”
She took a deep breath and sighed. “Maggie.”
A knot formed in my throat. Belvia had mentioned that poor Molly had lost her sister about six months earlier. Now her mentor too. “I hope you can make friends here, Molly. Halo House has a lot going on. Why don’t you join my art class?”
“Not now. But thank you, dear. When everything settles. I’m not ready.”
“I understand.” I pushed off the couch, then held up a hand to keep her from standing. “I’ll show myself out. Just rest. This has been a rough week. You deserve a break.”
“Thank you, Cherry.”
“And don’t worry about Coralee. I’ll take care of everything.”
My previous business experience was a failed art studio, specializing in portraits. And classical-styled pieces no one wanted to buy. Mostly because they were nudes and the studio was located in Halo, Georgia, where art is often bought in Piggly Wiggly parking lots or at craft fairs. Despite three thousand years of art history, the showing of skin in a painting—men or women’s—sent most of Halo into an apoplectic tongue-wagging frenzy. As opposed to a buying frenzy, which would have kept my art studio afloat.
Although the classic nude did seem popular with my Halo House students. Apparently, for the wrong reasons.
Anyway, I didn’t know shinola about the corporate world and needed an education in business ASAP. Particularly to unravel the mysterious initials accompanying everyone’s names. Halo House had a library. Not a public library, but one of those rooms with a fireplace, comfortable chairs, and card tables. Like something you’d see on one of those PBS miniseries where rich people read books. The rich people at Halo House read books, but mostly they used the library for dominoes and bridge.
However, the library also had five rarely used computers. The residents had abandoned desktops for the newfangled tablet PCs. Harder to type on, but someone from the local electronic shop, Gizmo’s, had taught a class on how to use voice commands. Now everyone walked around with iPads, shouting at Siri to open CSI on Netflix.
I still had a flip phone and an old Apple iMac. And no internet because of the aforementioned failed art studio.
One table had been pulled near the lib
rary door, partially blocking the entrance. The woman sitting behind it had thick glasses, hair styled like Einstein’s, and wielded a rubber stamper.
“Do you have a library card?” she said.
“No, ma’am. I’m just using a computer for a minute.” I flashed my volunteer badge. I could see the empty computer carrels beyond the wall of shelves holding large-print titles and the take-and-share paperbacks.
“You can’t check out a book without a library card.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And please whisper.”
The only other people in the library were this woman and a foursome playing canasta. And the canasta group wasn’t whispering.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Appeased, she scooted the table to the left.
Google found me the Meemaw’s Tea webpage. The company founder was Belvia Brakeman. Her daughter, Della Brakeman-Newson, was in charge of operations, giving her the title COO. Aside from the initials, I made a mental note to file that under “things I already knew.” The website touted the wonders of Meemaw’s Tea and Meemaw’s Tea family values. I mentally filed those under “things that don’t help me none.”
The professional photo of the Meemaw’s Tea board accompanied photos of the big tea players accepting awards and doing charity work. I checked Belvia’s list of possible tea-haters against the company photo. As an assistant, Donna Sharp did not get website exposure. Nor did Molly Kern. However, the board members on Belvia’s list had a lot of coverage on the Meemaw’s Tea website. Company glamor shots and photos of them in Santa hats passing out gifts and bottles of sweet tea to underprivileged children.
I hoped they included toothbrushes in their stockings.
Two of the board members—Lisa Russell, Director of Human Resources, and David Wells, Director of Accounting—had even more coverage in the financial news outside the company website. Both Lisa and David were emphatic about Meemaw’s Tea leadership changes. With a few potshots directed at each other. And most of the comments made public after Belvia’s retirement announcement in a recent Wall Street Journal article.
I filed those items under “very interesting” and “you should talk to Lisa Russell and David Wells.”
Next, I googled Donna Sharp. Facebook said Donna was going on vacation. I wanted to congratulate Donna on letting local burglars know her house would be empty for a week. And at the same time ask her why she was going on vacation instead of to her boss’s funeral.
Did Della’s death warrant R&R? I would think Meemaw’s Tea would depend on Donna at a time like this.
Google gave me Donna’s address. I hoped to catch her before she left for her beach house. I didn’t like the thought of possibly losing my best source of info on Della.
Nor did I like the thought of Della’s assistant absconding after Della’s murder. And Belvia’s.
Thirteen
I found Donna Sharp’s vacation plans odd in light of what had happened. It was one thing to tell the office she had to catch a flight. But then to make a public announcement on Facebook after her boss had died in a tragic accident? Stupid and callous.
I wouldn’t think stupid and callous would make it into the Brakeman inner circle. Something was up with this woman.
Someone else thought the same. As I pulled onto Donna Sharp’s quiet street, I noted a familiar black 4x4. An off-duty someone else. Or someone doing plainclothes detective work.
That thought sent a delicious shiver through me.
I parked beside Luke and he rolled down his window to greet me. The setting winter sun reflected in his aviator sunglasses. The rosy, amber hues produced a pretty complement to his dark curls. But the cop shades also kept me from ascertaining the degree of his surprise at seeing me in Donna’s neighborhood. I figured it somewhere between what-the-hell and I-should-have-known-she’d-show-up-here.
“What are you doing?” His voice registered in a cool cop pitch. He wasn’t giving anything away, although I detected a slight uptick in the corners of his mouth.
“Seeing if Donna’s around. Coralee’s trying to get Molly to come out of retirement. I want to help Molly. I figured Donna might know what to do.”
True according to my previous conversation with Molly, by the way. Or at least true enough to cover my butt from interfering in an “active investigation.”
“Donna Sharp’s supposed to be on vacation.”
“Then why are you here?” I winked. “I now have a hunch she’s hiding out at home.”
“A hunch, huh?” Luke pursed his lips, then flashed me a smile. “Tell you what, knock on her door and ask for a cup of sugar. Tell me what happens.”
I pulled in a breath. “Really?”
“Sure, nothing against the law with asking for a cup of sugar. I want to know who’s in the house with her and I’ve got to report in soon. She probably won’t answer.” He lowered his sunglasses to appropriately eyeball me with his flinty grays. “If Donna does answer, don’t go to any extremes. Don’t barrel through the door. See if she’ll invite you in. Just talk to her about the Molly predicament and let your gaze wander. Watch how Donna acts and look around for evidence of anyone else there.”
“Like who?”
“A Brakeman in-law.”
“I betcha I know which one.” I sucked in my lips, thinking of flashy Ron Newson. “That sumbitch. His wife’s body isn’t even laid to rest.”
“Sugar?”
“Yeah?”
“When you knock on her door, don’t rub your hands together and cackle. That look in your eye makes me nervous.”
I saluted Luke and puttered to the end of the cul-de-sac. Donna lived in a small community on the outskirts of the county seat, Line Creek. Access to the interstate meant most homeowners worked in Atlanta. These neighborhoods made me sad. No children playing outside. The lawns looked professionally groomed. Neighbors who probably weren’t even friends on Facebook.
In that case, they wouldn’t know Donna had allegedly gone on vacation. Her staycation would be the perfect place to hide. From whom? And why? Molly said Donna expected a big promotion. Or was that canceled when Della didn’t make it to CEO?
I parked in Donna’s empty drive and strode up the sidewalk to her front door, pulling my fleece hoodie tight. By all accounts, she didn’t look home. I knocked and to my surprise, the young woman answered. In sweats. With her dark hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. I expected something more appropriate from the “I’m doing my dead boss’s husband” line of apparel.
Which would be, I don’t know, satin or silk? Something trimmed in feathers?
“Yes?” Donna’s brown eyes were puffy and, like her nose, red.
I adjusted my attitude toward Donna. Bless her heart, she wasn’t very good at hiding out. If that’s what she was doing.
“Hey, Donna. Sorry to interrupt you. I’m Cherry Tucker, a friend of Molly Kern’s. I guess you heard about Belvia.”
Donna jerked a quick nod and pressed her trembling lips together.
“Molly’s having trouble with the Brakeman family asking her to do business-related work. She’s grieving herself. I’d like to help her out and thought you might know what to do. Can I come in?”
“Um.” Donna glanced behind her.
I followed her gaze but couldn’t see past the small foyer.
“I’m trying to stay out of things right now.”
“I totally understand.” Which I didn’t. “Everyone thinks you’re on vacation.” Which she wasn’t. “You need time to yourself.” During a crisis at work.
Her hunched shoulders drooped and her breathy voice became whispery. “I couldn’t face everyone. They won’t leave me alone.”
“Who won’t leave you alone?”
Again, Donna glanced over her shoulder.
I craned my neck to see ar
ound her and she body-blocked me.
Her voice grew louder. “Thanks for dropping by, Cherry. I appreciate your sympathy. That’s very neighborly, but I am leaving on vacation in a few minutes.”
“For real?”
She nodded like a jackhammer had switched on in her neck. “Yes. For two weeks. Tell Molly, HR will get a temp to help out in the meantime. If the temp’s good, they’ll hire them permanently.”
“Molly said you were getting a promotion. Were you going to follow Della when she took over as CEO or something else?”
“I was. But with Della’s accident, we didn’t think…I mean, I didn’t think it appropriate to stay on.”
“I’d think they’d need your help in this time of transition. Who would know better how the company works than the assistant to the Chief of Operations?”
Donna’s face flushed to match her nose and puffy eyes. “I dropped off my resignation letter at the office today.”
“Is that why ‘they’ won’t leave you alone? Because they need your help and you won’t give it?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Or are ‘they’ bothering you because you know what happened to Della?”
“No.” Her hands flew to her mouth, covering her cry.
Behind the wall, a distinct cough sounded.
Donna glanced over her shoulder, then grabbed the doorknob. “So I have to go. On my vacation. Tell Molly I said good luck.”
I shoved my boot in the jamb. “Donna, if you’re not around to help, you know folks will call Molly to ask her how this and that works. The same thing happened to my Grandma Jo. Molly is in her eighties. It’s not fair to have all this dumped in her lap. She’s genuinely grieving Belvia.”
“I’m genuinely grieving too.” Fat tears rolled down Donna’s cheeks. “I can’t help Molly. I’m sorry.” She shoved the door against my foot.
I slipped out my boot and stepped off the small porch. The door slammed shut. To my left, trimmed hollies burgeoning with bright berries surrounded a bay window. With a quick glance around, I edged toward the window. A sliver of interior light poured through a crack in the heavy curtains. I sidled between the prickly hollies and peeked through the slit in the drapes. Even with her back to the window, Donna’s folded arms, bent head, and hunched shoulders proved her grief was no act.
A Composition in Murder (A Cherry Tucker Mystery Book 6) Page 9