Peaches and Scream (Georgia Peach Mystery, A)

by Susan Furlong

  Back at the house, I found Cade McKenna standing on the front porch. “I was just getting ready to leave,” he said as I approached. “Thought I missed you.”

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” I replied, marching up the steps. My hand involuntarily flew to my head. My hair must’ve looked terrible, not to mention my scratched-up legs and the mess of cockleburs clinging to my socks and boots. “What brings you out here, anyway?”

  He shoved a foil-covered pan my way. “Food. Ginny at the diner made a casserole for you. On account of the death and all.” A strange look must have crossed my face because he went on to explain. “Ben Wakefield’s death. You know how it is around here. The ladies like to cook up a storm whenever someone passes.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but why are you bringing this to me?”

  Cade shrugged. “Seems Wakefield didn’t have any family in the area. As far as we all know, he just lived by himself in that old Colonial out on Gala Avenue. So, since he died at your place, I guess Ginny figures you might be needing some comforting. You’d better get used to it; the story was all over this morning’s paper. There will probably be more casseroles coming your way soon.”

  “Well, isn’t that . . . thoughtful,” I replied, thinking the real person who needed comforting was Ida; it was her husband in jail. Balancing the dish in one hand, I pulled open the screen door with the other. “Why don’t you come in for a while and help me eat some of this?”

  He hesitated, his dark eyes sliding down to his shoes. “I should really be getting back to work. I was just on my way to the Pearsons’ place down the road. They have me re-siding one of their outbuildings.”

  “Well, you need to eat, don’t you? Besides, I won’t keep you long. I just need to run something by you, get your advice.”

  He shrugged and followed me inside to the kitchen. I glanced around at the tidy butcher-block countertops and freshly scrubbed soapstone sink and was secretly glad I’d taken the time to clean up this morning. Uncovering the casserole, I placed it in the microwave and starting pulling out plates. “There’s glasses up there,” I said, thumbing toward the cabinet. “Pour us some tea, why don’t you? We can eat in the other room at the table.”

  “How’s Ida doing?” he asked a few minutes later, after we’d settled at the table with two steaming plates of a crust-topped, creamy chicken casserole set between us. “This must be so hard on her.”

  I nodded. “It is hard on her and the girls, too. Ray is going to represent Hollis,” I added.

  “He’s a good lawyer; he’ll be able to help, I’m sure.”

  I shoved the casserole around my plate, but didn’t take a bite.

  Cade looked up from his own plate and commented, “Not hungry?”

  “Just thinking about Ida. She needs comfort food much more than me. It’s her husband in jail. She’s all alone at home with those kids and all. I’m thinking of asking her to come out here and stay.”

  “Good idea. She’ll need your support through all this. Especially if Hollis is convicted.”

  I shot a look at him. “Why would he be convicted? He didn’t do it.” I narrowed my eyes, fully realizing the implication of his statement. “You don’t think he killed Wakefield, do you?”

  Cade’s brows shot up. “I don’t want to think that; but I have to tell you, there’s been a big change come over Hollis since you were here last. He’s been drinking hard. Folks are saying things, like that he’s stepped out on Ida.”

  Folks are saying things! Gossipmongers was all they were, as I knew all too well. True or not, those folks made things all the worse. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to control my anger. “That’s because the people around here have nothing better to do than spread gossip. I’m surprised at you, Cade McKenna. I thought you were better than that.”

  He held up his hand. “Whoa! I’m just telling you what he’s up against, that’s all. And don’t expect any help from Maudy Payne. It’s a well-known fact that there’s no love lost between her and Ida. Nothing would probably please the sheriff more than to lock Ida’s husband away for good.”

  I nodded. “Don’t I know it! She won’t even finish up with the crime scene. I’m going to have to pay a couple extra nights’ rent on that mess outside.”

  He shook his head and went back to eating.

  I sat there watching him, trying to figure a way to bring up something that had been niggling at my mind ever since I discovered Ben Wakefield’s body in the orchard. “Cade,” I started, “this is silly, but I’ve just got to ask.”

  He looked up, shuffled his fork to his other hand and reached for a gulp of tea. “What?”

  “I saw you arguing with Ben Wakefield the night of the party.”

  He slowly put down his glass, his lips tightening. “Yeah? So?”

  I shrugged. “I just thought I’d ask what the argument was about.”

  His brows furrowed. “Just about some business dealings we have. Why?”

  “Just wondered. You seemed so angry, that’s all.”

  He tipped his head back and let out a nervous laugh. Then, leveling his eyes on me, he said, “You don’t think I killed him, do you? Because that’s what this is sounding like.”

  “No! I would never think such a thing!” I said with as much guile as I could muster, before pressing on in my sweetest voice. “But if even someone like you has disagreements with Wakefield, others with really bad tempers might have had similar or worse troubles with him. What was the argument about exactly?”

  He gave me an uncertain once-over and shook his head. “All it was about was a load of lumber I paid for but didn’t get. Wakefield was holding out on me and it ticked me off. That’s all.” He went back to eating, indicating the subject was closed. I paused, watching him shovel in the casserole. For some reason, the sight of him wholeheartedly enjoying his food did more to put my mind at ease than anything. Certainly, a man with a guilty conscious couldn’t go after his food with such gusto.

  I picked up my own fork and took my first bite, then stopped mid-chew and studied the concoction on my plate with renewed interest. It was good. Really good. Sort of like a chicken potpie, but better: creamy with all the right seasonings and a hint of wine in the sauce. It was the flaky, buttery sourdough topping, however, that really made it scrumptious. Still, as good as it was, I didn’t feel much like eating. So, I put my fork down again, letting out a long sigh and folding my hands on the table in front of me. “I need your advice.”

  He kept on eating, nodding for me to continue.

  “Harper Peach Farm is in financial trouble.”

  He briefly looked up, swallowed, then reached for some tea to wash it down before replying. “The whole area is in financial trouble. We had a bad season last year; people are hurting all over.”

  I shook my head. “No, I mean, we’re in serious financial trouble. There’s not even enough cash to keep up with the basics. I was just out at the south orchards this morning and the irrigation pump has been down for . . . for I don’t know how long. The trees are stressed.”

  He scraped the last bite from his plate to his mouth and sat back, regarding me with a serious look. “You know, you haven’t been around for a while. Maybe things aren’t really as bad as you think. All the farmers in the area have been cutting corners where they can. That’s just how it is these days.”

  “I see what you’re saying and I wish that were the case. But things around here are more serious than that.” I reached for his plate. “More?”

  His hand shot out and covered mine, stopping me from removing the plate. “No, I’m fine. But thanks.”

  My eyes shot to his and a spark passed between us. Shocked, I jerked my hand away, accidently bumping his glass and causing tea to slosh over the rim. “Oops. Sorry,” I mumbled, dabbing at the spill with my napkin.

  We both laughed a little trying to cover the awkward moment. “So,”
he said, exhaling. “Your family’s pulled through a lot of difficult seasons over the years. What makes you think things are so bad this time around?”

  “Just what I’ve gathered from talking to Ida and Ray.” I looked down at my uneaten food. I really did need to see if I could access the business accounts, check out the bottom line for myself. “Daddy’s been under so much stress that his health is starting to suffer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Cade’s voice was genuine. I didn’t dare look him in the face, worried that the compassion I’d see in his eyes would send more sparks flying. I had enough going on without mixing romance into things.

  He continued, “I’ll do anything I can to help; you know that.”

  “I appreciate that. Thing is, I made a barter this morning with Joe Puckett.”

  “The old moonshiner?”

  I glanced across the table and chuckled. “Yeah. He’s going to try to fix the irrigation pump and one of the mowers, too. Seems he knows a little something about engines.”

  Cade smiled. “I imagine he would. Sounds like a good plan.”

  “Only . . . I promised him a new roof in exchange.”

  His smile faded as he sat back in his chair and regarded me with a curious expression mixed with perhaps a little irritation. “And how do you plan on accomplishing that?”

  I toyed with my plate, rotating it this way and that, trying to think of a good way to impose on our friendship. If Mama were here, she’d certainly know how to handle this situation; a couple sweetly put words and a few bats of her lashes, and most men were putty in her hands. She once told me that a true Southern woman never did anything she could charm someone else into doing. I’d never really warmed up to that philosophy, always more of the do-it-yourself type of gal—at least until now. Roofs were not my forte.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, you do own a construction business,” I started in a sugary tone, throwing in a wink for good measure.

  He scrunched his face and shot me a weird look.

  I sighed. Although I’d witnessed the fine art of womanly wheedling from the master—whose cunning wiles never ceased to amaze—somehow over the years, I never picked up the ability to employ my own feminine charms. I decided I’d better just take a straightforward approach. I sat up taller and continued, “I was thinking you’d be able to help me with the roof. I’d pay for the cost of supplies, of course. And it’s just a tiny roof. Not much bigger than this room,” I added, waving my hand around the confines of the room to emphasize my point.

  He didn’t respond.

  I started in again. “As for your time, maybe there’s something we could barter for. Is there anything you’d want from me?”

  His expression quickly changed from irritation to . . . to something else. I watched in horror, realizing too late my unfortunate choice of wording. The crinkles around his eyes deepened as a slow grin formed on his mouth. The look he was giving me made me blush, all the way down to my toes.

  I laughed nervously. “Would you stop?”

  He raised one brow, his grin widening. “Stop what?”

  “You know darn well what I’m talking about, Cade McKenna,” I bantered back. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  My heart was beating so hard, I was sure he could hear it across the table. I touched my fingertip to my hot cheek, half-afraid it was going to erupt into flames any second.

  He broke into raucous laughter, stood and gathered his plate and glass. “No need to get all worked up. I’ll help,” he said. “And you don’t even have to worry about keeping your virtue intact. All I was going to ask for was a date to the Peach Festival.”

  “I wasn’t worried about my virtue,” I said, completely avoiding his mention of the Peach Festival.

  He chuckled again and headed to the kitchen. I grabbed my still-full plate and followed. “So you’ll help?” I asked, a little confused about what sort of agreement we’d struck. Seemed I was having a day of deals, none of which was quite in my control.

  “I said I would.” He rinsed his plate and set it in the sink. “My schedule is packed, but I’ll figure out a way to make it work. Just let me think on it.” He pushed past me on his way to the door. “We can discuss it more over dinner,” he added, over his shoulder.

  I placed my plate on the counter before it slid out of my suddenly moist palms. “Dinner?” I scurried after him. “When?”

  Out on the porch, he turned back and looked down at me with another sly smile. “Tomorrow night. At the house. Hattie asked me to invite you over. You know how it is with the ladies around here.”

  I smiled. “Food equals comfort.”

  “That’s right. She wants you to stop by the boutique around five, right before she closes.” He leaned in and winked. “Probably wants to show off her new place of business.”

  “Absolutely. I’ve been wanting to see her shop anyway.”

  He wheeled around and skipped down the porch steps. “It’s a date, then,” he said, with a final wave and another round of teasing laughter.

  Food does equal comfort, I thought, watching his truck rumble back down the drive. And I knew someone who could use a little comfort. I marched right back inside, snatched up the casserole and headed straight for Ida’s house.

  • • •

  “Auntie Nola!” Charlotte and Savannah chimed in unison, before latching their arms around my legs. I shuffle-stepped into the house, dragging them through the front room while making low, gravelly monster noises. “Where’s your mama?” I finally asked, out of breath.

  One of them pointed a chubby finger toward the kitchen while the other picked a doll off the floor. “Look! I got a new doll. She’s a cheerleader!” She held up the plush doll by its yellow yarn hair for my inspection.

  “Cute. Does she know any cheers?”

  “No, but I do!” Savannah said, snapping to attention, arms straight at her sides and a mischievous grin playing on her face. Her sister took the doll, clutched it against her chest and stared on with worried blue eyes. “Hit it!” Savannah yelled, before breaking stance and beginning to chant, “Bulldogs . . . Bulldogs . . . we’ve got class! Bulldogs . . . bulldogs . . . we’ll kick your—”

  “Savannah Harper Shackleford!” Ida seem to appear out of nowhere, sending the girls scurrying for cover amid an echo of shrieks and giggles. “I swear, I don’t know what’s gotten into that girl. She’s been acting up something terrible.”

  “You look horrible,” I blurted, before I could stop the words from tumbling out. But I was caught off guard by her puffy eyes, bedraggled hair and lack of makeup. I hadn’t seen my sister look this bad since high school when she slipped into a funk after losing the title for Miss Peach Queen.

  “Thanks,” she retorted. “Did you just come over here to insult me or is there something you wanted?”

  I bit my lip and shoved the casserole dish her way. “I brought some food.”

  She lifted the foil, peered inside and scowled. “It’s half-eaten.”

  “Yeah . . . well, I had some. Ginny from the diner sent it over to me, but I thought I’d share.”

  She looked bug-eyed at me, her mouth opening and shutting a few times. “She sent it to you? What in heavens for? I’m the one with the husband . . .” She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes glancing around for any sign of the girls, before putting the dish down with a thud on her coffee table. Then with both hands on her hips, she started in again. “It’s just like that Ginny Wiggins to use a hot dish to snub me. The women in this town are so classless. Why, they’ve pretty much excluded me from everything these days. They don’t even call me to play Bunko anymore.”

  I plunked down on her davenport. This was going to take a while. “Hey, now. You’re not making a bit of sense. Sit down and let’s talk through this.”

  She plopped next to me, jerking up quick
ly to pull a stray Barbie from between the cushions before settling back down. I repositioned myself, rotating my body and tucking my legs up underneath me. “So, what’s all this about the ladies in town?”

  “Oh, Nola. It’s been awful. Just awful. Ever since Hollis started drinking heavily, rumors have been flying.”

  I’d figured as much. I forced back the sigh inside me as I innocently asked, “Rumors?”

  She nodded. “I was hesitant to speak of it around Ray yesterday, but it’s true. Awful rumors. Like that he’s too drunk to keep track of things at the bank. It’s even getting around that he’s been stepping out. Can you imagine?”

  Yes, I can. But I kept my mouth shut and instead shook my head sympathetically. “I’m sure all this has been hard on you. What about the girls? How are they doing?”

  She waved it off. “They don’t have a clue. I’ve been able to keep it all from them. They just think their daddy’s been busy with work.”

  “Are you sure they think that, Ida? You said yourself that they’ve been acting up lately. Maybe they’re more aware of things than you realize.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she started wringing her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “What are you going to tell them now that he’s in jail?” I kept my voice low, whispering the last part just in case little ears were lurking about.

  Ida’s eyes started to tear up again, so I quickly changed the topic. “Ida, do you have any idea how that scarf would have ended up around Ben Wakefield’s neck? I mean, Hollis was the last person I saw with it. Have you had a chance to ask him? Did he drop it? Give it to someone else?”

  “No, I haven’t been able to talk to him. They plucked him right off my front yard and hauled him off to jail. I tried calling last night, but they wouldn’t let me talk to him.”

  I thought back to how Hollis had suggestively taunted Ida with the scarf. If he’d make such classless innuendos at the dinner table, hard telling what he might do when no one was looking. Especially knowing how he couldn’t keep his eyes off pretty girls.