Hickory Smoked Homicide

by Riley Adams

  Lulu said, “But you haven’t spent time with her as an adult to know if Tristan was still doing things like that?”

  “Oh, sure I have. Marlowe and Tristan’s bottling company uses the accounting office where Loren works. I’m sure that’s probably how Loren got to know Tristan—he probably was over there delivering the sad facts about the state of their business and then Tristan turned on the charm and snagged him.”

  Pepper looked across the restaurant, but Lulu could tell she wasn’t seeing a thing. “I ran into Marlowe at the store not too long ago and asked her how everything was going. She sounded real, real bitter over the state of the company—said that Tristan was running their father’s business into the ground and taking money from the coffers. I bet you that Marlowe is going to be delighted to take over that company again and get the money flowing.”

  “It certainly does sound like a good motive for murder,” said Lulu, nodding. “The only thing is that Marlowe wasn’t in town during the murder. She was out of town for business.”

  Pepper gave the grating laugh again. “Out of town for what business? They haven’t been able to get any new accounts in forever, Marlowe told me.”

  Lulu frowned. “Well, maybe she meant it was a trip for personal business, then. Or maybe she was only trying to make contact with an old account and give it a little TLC. At any rate, she wasn’t in town during the party.”

  Cherry’s face was confused. “But she was. I was at the beauty parlor the morning of the party to get my color . . . uh . . . touched up,” she patted her henna-colored locks, “and I saw Marlowe pulling into the parking lot as I was leaving. I’ve seen her at my salon before, so I wasn’t surprised to see her. She was definitely in town that day.”

  Chapter 11

  It was at Tristan Pembroke’s funeral that Lulu became convinced that ghosts didn’t exist. If they did, thought Lulu, then Tristan would have haunted that funeral of hers with a vengeance.

  There were no over-the-top displays of wealth. No elaborate floral arrangements. This funeral was given by an apparently grudging Steffi Pembroke and Marlowe Walters—and really, thought Lulu, who could blame them for being stingy? The two women greeted mourners (and the curious) at the funeral home the evening before. They’d chosen an open casket and had Tristan’s body put in a garish dress that Lulu was sure hadn’t belonged to the deceased. Loren was very emotional and had to leave early. Besides him, the only visibly affected mourner was an old lady who’d worked at Tristan’s father’s company for many years and remembered Tristan as a child.

  “Don’t she look natural?” she sobbed. “I never have seen her look more pleasant.”

  The funeral the next day was a simple graveside service. Tristan’s minister had insisted on giving a homily, although apparently no one had opted for a eulogy because Steffi and Marlowe remained silent. The minister had also brought along a soloist, who sang “Amazing Grace.” There wasn’t, thought Lulu, a damp eye anywhere. Except, of course, for Loren, whose eyes were red from crying.

  After the short service, the mourners milled around a little outside the tented area where there were some tacky funeral sprays that Tristan would have despised. Most of those in attendance had likely come out of curiosity instead of any fondness for Tristan. Loren, however, hugged both Steffi and Marlowe fervently and talked about how much he was going to miss Tristan. Marlowe looked irritated, but Steffi talked to him quietly for a couple of minutes before spontaneously giving Loren a second, sympathetic hug.

  Cherry walked up to Lulu and murmured, “This isn’t anything like Queen Tristan would have chosen for herself, is it? Where are the roses? The choir of angels? The heartfelt eulogies?”

  “It is kind of understated, isn’t it? Really, though, wouldn’t we have thought they were being hypocritical if they’d gone all-out and made it a funeral to remember? Neither one of them could stand Tristan at the time of her death.”

  “Look at Loren over there,” said Cherry, nodding toward the tent. He looked to be blowing his nose into a handkerchief as Steffi talked with him again. “Maybe he should have been the one organizing the funeral, since he was the only one who gave a rip about her.”

  “I’m surprised that Steffi is so concerned about him,” said Lulu in a musing voice. “After all, he was having an affair with her mother.”

  “But her mother screwed him over just like she screwed over everyone else in her life, including Steffi. Steffi probably feels sorry for him because he really did care about her mom, even if she treated him like dirt.”

  “Wonder what Colleen’s doing here?” mused Lulu. “She wasn’t exactly on best terms with Tristan.”

  Cherry snorted. “She’s probably making sure Tristan is really dead.”

  Lulu sighed. “People are probably wondering why Sara is here, too. Seems like everybody knows about her argument with Tristan—but then, it was pretty public when Tristan got so furious about that portrait.” She watched sadly as Sara and Ben walked over to join them.

  “Ben, that was nice of you to come with Sara,” said Lulu. “I didn’t know you were going to come along.”

  Sara said, “I felt like people were going to be staring at me, so I asked him to bring me.”

  “Like Sara is going to get that upset about the portrait thing,” said Ben with a laugh. “But who knows—some people are just bound to believe the worst about you.”

  “Oh, great—here comes my best friend,” said Cherry glumly. “Why do I have the feeling I’m about to end up buying a whole bunch of goofy dresses? No offense, Lulu.”

  Dee Dee looked pretty melodramatic, thought Lulu. It made her wonder if she’d ever had a background in the theater because it sure looked like she was playing a part—of the perfect mourner. She wore a tailored black suit, which seemed to be straining at the seams, black hose, black heels, a black scarf around her neck, and lots of dark makeup. Her hair was sprayed within an inch of its life, and she held an embroidered handkerchief as if she thought she might need to sop up tears, or some of the excess makeup, at any time.

  “Sad day, isn’t it?” she said, looking studiously grave. Then her eyes narrowed. “Cherry, hon, I thought you were going to come back in and buy some of those clothes we tried on the other day. Weren’t you going to have a fashion makeover?” She looked pointedly at Cherry’s funeral outfit, which included a bright purple blouse (which, Lulu guessed, was the closest color Cherry had to black) with a dark purple skirt.

  “Yes,” said Cherry, looking miserably at Lulu, “that’s what I said, all right. But then . . . well, then I ran out of money.”

  Sara said, “Ran out of money! Cherry, I’m so sorry. What happened? Are you okay?”

  “We can lend you a little to tide you over if you need it,” said Ben with concern. “I didn’t know you were in such bad straits.”

  Cherry gave Lulu a desperate look. Fortunately, though, there was a sudden distraction in the form of Pepper, who strode briskly up to the sobbing Loren and pulled him away from Steffi. Steffi hurried toward their group as Pepper began, to all appearances, giving Loren a piece of her mind.

  Cherry happily latched on to whatever diversion she could find. “Steffi? I’m so sorry.” Cherry paused, apparently not knowing what else to say. “Nice service,” she ended, lamely.

  Sara gave Steffi a hug. “I know it’s been such a tough day for you. And I just wanted to tell you that I’m so sorry about your mom.”

  Steffi started tearing up a little, and Sara gave her another hug. “I never did make up with her,” Steffi said in a choked voice. “She and I ended up on bad terms. The very last time I saw her, we were having an argument.”

  “So did your mom and I,” said Sara. “We had a really nasty argument, and that makes me feel horrible. And I know you feel bad, too. But we didn’t know we were having a last conversation with your mom or else we’d have said something different. We just didn’t know. And she didn’t either because she said some really rude things back, after all.”


  Steffi sniffed. “Thanks, Sara.”

  Marlowe walked up. “I wanted to thank y’all so much again for coming. I know you’re here to show support for Steffi and me instead of mourning Tristan . . . and I want you to know how much that means to me.” Pepper’s voice rose all the way across the lawn to the funeral-home tent, and Marlowe raised her eyebrows. “Well, maybe one person came to mourn Tristan,” she said.

  “Poor Loren,” murmured Steffi.

  Dee Dee’s voice was harsh. “Poor Pepper is more like it,” she said. “Here’s Loren, grieving publicly over a dead woman. I don’t blame Pepper for being upset. It was an inappropriate relationship to begin with, and it doesn’t seem to have an end to it! And that’s not the only inappropriate relationship surrounding this case, either.” Which was a statement that made everyone knit their brows.

  “Shh. They’re coming over,” said Lulu in a low voice. However, the silence that followed Lulu’s warning was probably worse than the gossip had been. Lulu noticed that Colleen was also finishing up her conversation with the minister really quickly and looked to be hurrying over to join them. She looked like she was dying to hear what was being said.

  Pepper apparently wanted to show that she had no hard feelings about Steffi or Marlowe. She hugged them both and said, “Y’all will be in my thoughts and prayers.”

  Colleen came up breathlessly and added, “Me, too. Pansy and I will be thinking about y’all.”

  Dee Dee gave a short laugh, which made everyone give her a puzzled look. “I was just thinking,” she said in a silky voice, “that this funeral is jam-packed with hypocrites. Really, about the only people who were close to Tristan or friends of hers were Loren and me.”

  Pepper bristled at the mention of Loren and Tristan, but Dee Dee kept on talking.

  “I’m giving everyone a heads-up—you’re not fooling me. I know a lot more about what went on at that party than people know. I know about people who were messing around where they weren’t supposed to be. I know about things that went missing. And I know that things aren’t always what they seem. You’re not fooling anyone.” With that, Dee Dee flipped the black scarf off her shoulder and flounced off—if one can flounce in three-inch heels, thought Lulu.

  There was a stunned silence after Dee Dee’s departure. Then Cherry gave a low whistle. “So Dee Dee’s elevator doesn’t go up to the top floor. Wow. And we all thought she was just a mild-mannered boutique owner.”

  “Am I the only one who is totally confused right now?” asked Sara in a pleading voice.

  Marlowe gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Dee Dee acts like she knows everything. Ignore her. She’s piqued because she wasn’t getting all the attention.”

  “And I can debunk one of the things she said,” said Steffi. “She was not a fan of my mother’s. They just did pageant business together; they weren’t friends. Besides, she’s one to talk about suspicious actions at Mother’s party—I saw her sneaking around that night looking guilty as sin.”

  Lulu knew that a funeral was no place to squeeze information out of the bereaved. But she needed to find out more from Steffi and Marlowe.

  One thing that Marlowe and Steffi were surely unable to avoid was the food, thought Lulu. In the South, you could opt for a simple graveside service and you could ditch the home visitation in favor of one at the funeral parlor (although there’d definitely be some grumbling feedback from among the most elderly), but there was no escaping the lavish banquet that would appear at your house courtesy of the determined well-meaning.

  Sure enough, Marlowe said wryly, “I think there are some ladies from my church who are at my house right now, organizing casseroles and setting up a feast. Would any of y’all like to come by and have a meal?”

  Usually, just the family members would go to a postfu-neral meal like that, but Lulu knew that the Walters-Pembroke family had shrunk quite a bit. Marlowe wasn’t married and had no children, and Tristan had either divorced or alienated any of the family members who might have qualified to attend such an event.

  Most everyone shook their heads, but Cherry and Lulu offered to go. “How about if we follow y’all back and help the church ladies serve food and store it?” Lulu asked.

  Marlowe looked like she was opening her mouth to protest having Lulu come over to work, so she quickly added, “And I can have a bite to eat, too, of course. I’m sure there’s some excellent food over there. If there’s one thing the ladies at the Memphis Land of Goshen Baptist Church are known for, it’s the quality of their cooking. Why, I buy their church cookbook every single year! I look forward to it.”

  “If you really want to,” said Marlowe in a doubtful voice.

  “Besides,” said Cherry, “I’ve got some food to drop by myself. Kept it in a cooler in my car. And actually drove my car, instead of my motorcycle, so you know I’m serious.”

  The church ladies, thought Lulu, were just a little bit cliquey. Instead of looking happy that Lulu and Cherry had arrived to help, they looked sort of put out. Still, they managed to put their feelings aside enough to let Lulu slap labels on the different zipper bags and plastic containers of food and write the date and the cooking instructions in a Sharpie pen. There was so much food that a ton of it needed to go straight to the freezer.

  Dolly, one of the church ladies, seemed to be in charge. “All right, y’all, let’s go ahead and make up plates for Steffi and Marlowe. It’s time for our bereaved to have some sustenance. Lisa Ann, I’ve heard that Marlowe is a big fan of deviled eggs, so let’s give her a couple of those. And I’ve a feeling that Steffi will love some of that tomato pie that Lulu brought over. And—what’s this, Lulu? The other dish you brought?” Dolly lifted up the lid and gave an approving smile. “Why, I do declare! It’s boiled custard, just like my darling mother used to make. I haven’t had boiled custard for a million years. We’ll make sure that both ladies enjoy some of that.”

  Cherry nodded her approval at the heaps of green-bean casserole, fried chicken, Virginia-ham-filled buttermilk biscuits, crustless pimento cheese sandwiches, macaroni and cheese, fruit-filled Jell-o, and bacon pasta salad on the plates. “Nothing makes a body hungrier than a funeral,” she mused, putting another sticker on a container of chicken divan. “Wonder why that is? The only thing that would make this better is a bottle of wine.”

  The church ladies blinked at her.

  “It’s practically medicinal, y’all. Remember, they’re grieving.” Cherry looked in the fridge and found an open bottle. “Actually, it’d just be Marlowe drinking—I keep forgetting that Steffi is underage. I reckon I should have a glass with her.... I’m sure she’d rather not drink alone.”

  Lulu suppressed a giggle, and Cherry said solemnly, “Lulu, will you share a glass with Marlowe and me? To offer up in Tristan’s dearly departed memory?”

  Lulu agreed, and she and Cherry headed to the living room to join Marlowe and Steffi.

  “I had to escape,” said Cherry, shaking her head. “Did you see the disdainful—really, even suspicious— expression on their faces when they saw my chicken spaghetti? I thought that was disgraceful, to make fun of somebody’s offering for a funeral buffet.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” lied Lulu.

  “You did, too. Of course, they were pleased as punch to see your tomato pie and boiled custard. Shoot, they’re probably gobbling it down themselves now that we’ve left the kitchen and can’t see them.”

  Lulu diplomatically ignored this.

  “Thanks so much for coming in here to visit with us, y’all. Steffi and I feel like ladies of the manor having everybody in there working in the kitchen while we’re just lounging around in here,” said Marlowe. “This is a nice distraction for both of us. Though I feel so worn out after the day we’ve had, I probably just need to sleep.”

  Lulu agreed, “Sometimes sleeping is the best medicine. I know it really was a rough day for both of you, but the service was lovely.”

  Marlowe shrugged. “It was done. That was the important
thing. It probably wasn’t done to Tristan’s exacting specifications, but at least we were able to have a service for her and get some closure, too.”

  Dolly appeared with plates of food and a rather peeved expression on her face at the sight of the boozing. “Here’s some extra food, ladies, to go on the side. The aspic on the iceberg is mine—it’s the same recipe that my great-great-grandmother used to take to all the Colonial Dames luncheons. And the dollop of mayo on the top is homemade, of course.” She smiled smugly.

  Marlowe blinked at this. “Oh. Well, thanks, Dolly. I really appreciate it.”

  “Well, it was made with love, hon.”

  Marlowe rolled her eyes at Lulu as the door closed behind Dolly.

  Steffi said, “I meant to ask you, Lulu, if Sara ever found out what happened to the portrait she made of Mother?”

  Marlowe said, “I was wondering if maybe Tristan had destroyed it herself, considering the fit she threw when Sara put it up to auction.” She took a big forkful of the tomato pie and then quickly took another.

  “Oh,” said Lulu, looking as innocent as she could. “I didn’t know you knew about that, Marlowe. Since you were out of town for the party, I mean.”

  Marlowe hesitated a moment. “Yes, I was out of town. But Steffi filled me in on what happened at the party. And she said Tristan’s face was something to see.”

  Lulu thought Steffi looked flushed. Come to think of it, she didn’t remember seeing Steffi around for the auction. That was when Sara had mentioned looking for her, and they’d both actually scanned the yard looking for her. So either Marlowe had seen Tristan’s reaction for herself, or she was recounting someone else’s story.