Give Me Some Sugar

by Gen Griffin

  David squinted at the checks. “It's close.”

  “It is close,” Cal agreed. “Too close.”

  “You don't think you can prove its her?” David flipped through the stack of checks with obvious interest.

  “I think I can make the accusation and Pappy will probably believe me,” Cal said. “My concern is that she can just as easily blame the charges on me and say I'm the one stealing from the store. I work almost every day that we're open, so it's not like matching the schedules against the check dates would clear my name.”

  “No one would ever believe that you stole money from the store,” David said.

  “I'd like to think you're right.” Cal rubbed his hands together. “I know Gracie's upset with me and she thinks that I'm blowing her off, but really, I'm not trying to. Pappy would be furious with me if I left town for two weeks and didn't tell anyone that April Lynne is stealing from us. At the same time, I don't feel like I can go to Pappy or my Dad without solid proof. Its going to tear the extended family apart when I accuse April Lynne of stealing from Pappy.

  David just nodded. He knew how Cal's family worked just as well as Cal did. They'd practically been raised as brothers.

  “It'll be a real mess if he decides to press charges against her.”

  “You have to have solid proof that she's the thief before you can press charges,” David said.

  “Why do you think I've locked myself in here for the last week?” Cal asked.

  “You should have just told Gracie the truth,” David said with a shake of his head. “She'd be here helping you go through all this paperwork instead of calling me upset because you won't talk to her.”

  Cal took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “I'm sorry.”

  “I'm not the person you need to apologize to,” David pointed out.

  “Gracie's already so worked up over the wedding. I really didn't want to bother her with all this,” Cal explained. “We've had such a rough year. I just want Gracie to be able to relax and enjoy the wedding.”

  “Well, she's not enjoying your wedding,” David said flatly. “She's a basket case and she's worried you're pissed off with her, which isn't helping. Not to mention that she thinks April Lynne is trying to sabotage everything.”

  “What do you think?” Cal asked David.

  “Honestly?” David shrugged. His attention was still mostly focused on the bank statements and invoices. “April Lynne hates Gracie with a passion. I could see her hacking Gracie's email and changing the flower order. I can definitely see her going down to Beckman's and creating the frog registry. I can't see her putting alligator gar in the country club's swimming pool. April Lynne won't even touch a fish.”

  Cal nodded thoughtfully. “You have a point there.”

  “I also don't see her going into your folks' house to get Gracie's list of people that she didn't want invited to the wedding.”

  “Do what?” Cal did a double take.

  David explained what Gracie had told him earlier on the phone about having made a list of people that she didn't want invited to any of the festivities, and about how almost all those people had made it to her bachelorette party. The list, which she swore she'd left on Cal's dresser, was now missing.

  “April Lynne hasn't been inside my parents house unattended,” Cal said. “You know Momma watches her like a hawk anytime she comes over to visit with Pappy.”

  “Well, she did steal your Momma's favorite necklace when we were in middle school,” David recalled.

  Cal nodded. “She's a klepto. I know it. Dad knows it. Pappy probably knows it, but he doesn't want to hear it. She's still his only girl.”

  “Pappy may have to face reality.” David drummed his fingers against the desk. “There's a lot of money missing from the store's account once you add up all these fraudulent checks.”

  “I know,” Cal said. “Will you help me figure out what's really going on?”

  “You know I will,” David said. “All you had to do was ask. Just promise me we'll lay off before noon. Momma's roped me into helping set up your wedding reception this afternoon.”

  Cal tossed a few more papers in David's direction. “Start reading. You read faster than I do.”

  Chapter 31

  “Why did you paint all the daisies purple?” Gracie poked one finger into the giant red, yellow and purple centerpieces that were supposed to decorate the tables at her wedding. “I hate purple and these are awful.”

  “I made these centerpieces exactly how you ordered them.” Mary Greer, the florist, was looking more than a little green in the gills as they stood in the back room of her one-woman shop and surveyed 50 of the ugliest centerpieces Gracie had ever seen in her life.

  “No, I didn't.” Gracie silently cursed her mystery impostor. “Like I already explained to you, someone is contacting the vendors for my wedding and pretending to be me. I never changed my order. You were emailing with a fraud.”

  “I don't believe you.” Mary pointed at the purple daises. “You said you were going for a bolder look and you emailed me a picture of what you wanted the new centerpieces to look like. You asked me to rush the order.”

  “No, I didn't. I don't know who you talked to, but it wasn't me.” Gracie took a deep breath and willed herself not to scream. “I'm sorry, but my wedding will not be full of purple daises and red orchids. You're going to have to re-do absolutely everything. I can't use any of these arrangements.”

  “I still have the email. I even printed it so I could look at the picture for reference when I was revising the centerpieces. I don't know what kind of a trick you girls are trying to pull but I don't appreciate it.” Mary walked over to an old computer that occupied a tiny desk in the back of the room. She picked up a piece of paper, glanced at it once and then passed it to Trish.

  Trish drummed her fingers against her thigh as she scanned the email with a glance. It was the same one they had seen last night.

  Gracie knew she should probably shut up, but she was so horrified by the hideous centerpieces that she couldn't stop herself from arguing. “I don't understand why would you make crazy changes to such an expensive order without speaking to me personally?”

  “I did speak to you,” said Mary. “You're just a spoiled brat who changed her mind at the last minute and doesn't want to take responsibility now that she doesn't like the results she got.”

  “That's not true,” Gracie said.

  Normally the very embodiment of serenity, Trish's cheeks were flushed as she surveyed the red and purple catastrophe that currently surrounded them. “I'm sorry, but Gracie is right. These flowers simply won't work. Even if we were the ones who changed the order, you spray painted the daises. They look terrible. The paint is peeling off in strips. They look like melting grape lollipops. Plus, the orchids are all wilting. None of these arrangements look the least bit fresh.”

  “Why I never.” Mary set her jaw in a tight scowl. “I've been working on your centerpieces for two weeks solid. I've had to work 16 hour days in order to get your order completed while still handling the rest of my business. I wouldn't have gone to all this trouble for you if you were marrying anyone other than Loretta Walker's son. My arthritis is killing me. All the joints in my hands are just aching from all the time I've spent trying to complete the changes to your order on time. Now you're saying you don't want your flowers?”

  “These aren't my flowers,” Gracie said. “I need you to give me the original centerpieces and bouquets that I ordered.”

  “No, I'm not re-doing your flowers for a third time,” Mary said. “Besides, it would take me weeks to re-order all the supplies I need. Your wedding is tomorrow. You're going to have to use what I have here.” She pointed at the purple disasters.

  “I'm not using those,” Gracie said. “Trish is right. Even if the colors weren't horrible, the flowers all look like they're dying. They don't look fresh.”

  “Either you can take these centerpieces or you can leave them.” Mary crossed her arms
and stood defiantly in the doorway. “I'm not doing any more work for you. I'm also not going to refund the money you put towards the other decorations and your bouquets.”

  “You won't give me my money back?” Gracie was so furious that she was beginning to shake.

  “I'm putting your money towards the balance you owe me. If you look at my reply to that email your friend is holding, you'll see that you agreed to pay me an additional $5,000 for the rush order to change the centerpieces. Now that you're denying you asked for the change, I'm betting you have no intention of giving me my money. Your money will go towards the debt you owe me.”

  “You can't do that. We prepaid you for the flowers. You can't add to the bill.”

  “You agreed to the changes and I have it in writing,” Mary argued.

  “Trish, can she do that?” Gracie's turquoise eyes were flashing with anger.

  “She shouldn't be able to, but we don't have any recourse except taking her to court. You're getting married tomorrow. We can't exactly wait on a judge to rule in our favor. We have to find you new flowers.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Gracie asked. “We're never going to find another florist willing to create over a hundred centerpieces and decorations with a 24 hour deadline.”

  “Do you want to pay Mary another five grand and use the painted purple ones?” Trish asked.

  “Hell no.”

  “Then we're going to have to find new flowers. Come on. We're wasting our time here.” Trish gestured for Gracie to follow her as she headed out the door.

  “I'll get my money!” Marry called after them. “Even if I have to take you to court!”

  “Looking forward to it,” Trish called back over her shoulder.

  Chapter 32

  “Hello Mr. Jones. My name is Sullivan Briggs. I'm an officer with the Callahan County Sheriff's Department.” Sully stood on the neat, clean front porch of the late Beverly Jones's home and watched the smile briefly fade from her balding husband's face.

  “Howdy. Call me Billy. Did you say Callahan County?” Billy Jones pushed the door open completely and gestured for Sully to come inside. “You're a long way from home. Callahan County is on the other side of Beauton, isn't it?”

  “Yes sir. It is,” Sully acknowledged. He had his arms neatly folded in front of his waist. The file containing everything he knew about Beverly Jones was loosely clasped between his thumb and his forefinger. He'd gone home and changed into his newest, cleanest uniform before he'd gotten into his cruiser and driven almost two hours to the home of the late Beverly Jones.

  “The boys at the store sent you down here, didn't they?” Billy made a clucking sound with his tongue. “I've told them time and time again to call me if they have a problem and I'll drive down. They never listen. Of course, they also say I'm bad about not answering my phone. I guess they're probably telling the truth. I have a cell phone but I just can't get used to the idea of keeping the dadgum thing glued to my body the way the younger generation seems to. My daughter is twenty-two and she takes hers in the shower with her. In the shower. Can you imagine? I call her the other day and she answers and says she's putting me on speaker because she's in the shower. Says the phone is waterproof. Laughs at me like it's normal to shower with a phone and I'm the weird one.” He shook his head with a look of self-mockery on his aging face. He looked back up at Sully. “I'm babbling, aren't I?”

  “It's not a problem, sir.”

  “I don't even know where that darn phone is right now. Maybe in the shop out back.” He gestured to the massive, sprawling back yard. A handsome wooden workshop had been built in the center of a fading vegetable garden that appeared to have finally given up for the year and accepted that winter was coming. The front porch of the workshop was covered in elaborate hand carved wooden furniture.

  Sully looked at Mr. Jones's clothing and noted a fine layer of sawdust and wood shavings were clinging to his jeans. The sleeve cuffs of his plaid work shirt were worn thin. “You do woodwork?”

  “Yes sir. Its a bit of passion of mine. If you're interested in an Adirondack chair or a picnic table, I can make you a good deal. I make all the furniture you saw for sale at the store. Every bit of it.”

  “I'm sorry sir, but what store are you talking about?”

  Billy Jones's vague smile faded slightly. “Silver City Highway Pawn. I assume you're here because someone pawned something stolen and you're looking to get it back?” He ran one hand across his balding head as if he were used to having hair. “We do our best to weed out the thieves but there is only so much we can do. I promise you, if it was pawned within the last 60 days then we still have it in our vault.”

  A pawn shop. Sully had a damn hard time keeping the surprise from showing on his face as the first piece of this baffling puzzle suddenly dropped into place. Beverly Jones's had been found with a five carat diamond ring jammed into her mouth and, lo and behold, she and her husband owned a pawn shop.

  Billy Jones was eyeing Sully with curiosity now. “What is it you're looking for?”

  “Mr. Jones, I'm here about your wife,” Sully said.

  “Beverly?” Billy's eyes flickered with a brief hope and then sobered. “You said you're from Callahan County. You're not here to follow up on her case with me as a courtesy. The Rockdale Police Department has been handling the investigation. If you want to call it an investigation. They haven't done much to look for her. The officer assigned to her case thinks she cleared out the jewelry vault at the store and left me. He wouldn't even file an official police report on the stolen items. He said she had the right to take property from the store since she's one of the legal owners. He doesn't understand that Beverly wouldn't have done that.” Billy Jones's voice choked abruptly and his blank smile turned into a devastated frown. “She loves the pawn shop. I can take it or leave it. Depresses the hell out of me to see all those desperate people coming in but she doesn't mind. She says she's helping them. She likes seeing the stuff that comes into the store. Its like a treasure hunt for her. She gets so excited. She wanted to be on one of those pawn shop TV shows. You know, like Pawn Stars? She'd been trying to get one of the local television stations to agree to give her a time slot. She thought it would be great for business. She was going to dye her hair blonde for it. The manager of Channel 9 called me two weeks after she went missing and said they'd decided to give her idea a try. They wanted her to film six episodes and they'd run them in the mornings after the news and before Judge Judy. It was her dream. Why would Beverly walk away from her dream when it was so close to becoming reality?”

  “Sir, I'm very sorry. Maybe you had better sit down.” Sully gestured to the overstuffed sectional couch that he could see in the living room just past Billy's shoulder.

  “You want me to sit down?” Billy closed his eyes and sniffled. “She's dead, isn't she?”

  “Sir, please.” Sully took Billy Jones by the arm and led him to the couch. He helped the older man sit down on the far side of the sofa.

  “Is Beverly dead?” Billy opened his eyes and looked directly into Sully's eyes. “Please. Just tell me. I've been imagining the worst for weeks.”

  “I'm very sorry to have to tell you, but yes. We have positively identified-.” Sully stopped himself before he finished the sentence. How did he go about telling this man that he'd found his wife's head? “Your wife is deceased, sir.”

  Billy Jones buried his face in his hands and broke down in quiet tears. He sobbed for three or four minutes and then got control of himself. “What happened to her?” he asked. “What happened to my Bev?”

  “I'm not precisely sure,” Sully admitted. “Right now I'm still trying to gather information about her. I called the Rockdale PD this morning and spoke to the officer in charge of your wife's case, but he didn't give me much. I'd greatly appreciate it if you could walk me through what happened the night your wife disappeared. You don't have to do it now if you aren't up to it. I understand that you've just been given very difficult news-.”
>
  “I knew she was dead,” Billy Jones said as he cut Sully off mid-sentence. “Beverly and I have been married for 32 years. She's my best friend. We've argued, sure. We've fought. Who hasn't fought with the spouse? We've had our ups and our downs, but at the end of the day she was mine and I was hers. Beverly didn't leave me any more than a package of cheese would get up out of the refrigerator and walk away. She was happy. She loved me. Even if she hadn't loved me, she loves our kids and our grandkids. That Officer Pinkerton may be able to come up with half a dozen reasons why a woman might leave her boring old husband, but damned if he can think of a single good reason why a doting grandmother would drop out of her grandbabies lives.” Billy pointed at the left wall of the living room. It was covered in family pictures. Easily five generations of the Jones family and its various branches. Maybe six, looking at some of the old black and whites in their cracked frames. Beverly Jones was prominent in easily half of the pictures. Her vibrant smile beamed down at them as she hugged friends, held babies and cheered in the background of various sports events.

  “My wife didn't leave our family,” Billy said with absolute certainty.

  “Tell me about the night she went missing,” Sully said.

  “Not a whole lot to tell,” Billy said. “Like I said before, I don't like working at the shop. I may be a legal owner but it's Beverly's business. I stay out of her way.”

  “So you weren't at the store?”

  “No sir. I wish I had been now, but I wasn't there. It was a normal Tuesday by all accounts. Our daughter Lee had to go to a doctor's appointment that morning so she dropped off Jeremy with me. That's our youngest grandbaby. He's two. Beverly fixed us all pancakes for breakfast and then she left me and Jeremy to entertain ourselves for the day while she went to work. She called me a couple of times throughout the day. Nothing important, just keeping in touch. We always do that. You can check whatever phone records you need to check on that. We've been calling one another five or six times a day for the last 30-odd years. She takes special orders for wood furniture at the shop and she called me with a couple of those. Asked me to take out some chicken for dinner and put it in the crock pot. She called me roughly an hour before the store closed to ask if I would fix a fresh pitcher of tea. Joey had called her, that's our youngest son, and said he was coming by for dinner with his girlfriend. She wanted to make sure the house was presentable when they showed up. She said she'd run by the store on her way home and pick up a pie for desert.” Billy rubbed his chin tiredly. “I did all she asked. Made the tea. Got the table ready. Fixed the dumplings and tossed them in with the chicken so that dinner would be ready when Joey and Hillary got here. Five o'clock came and I didn't hear from her. It was a little odd. She normally calls me to tell me when she's in the car and headed home. I wasn't too worried though. Sometimes she forgets or gets busy there at closing time. Then five thirty came and Joey showed up and I still hadn't heard from Bev. That was odd, so I tried to call her and she didn't answer. Six o'clock came and I was getting worried. She should have been home by then or pretty close to. By seven we were downright worried. Joey said he'd get in the truck and drive on down to the store. He called me thirty minutes later and says I need to get down there because something had happened to Momma.”