Ripple of Secrets: Rose Gardner Mystery Novella #6.5 (Rose Gardner series Book 3)

by Denise Grover Swank

  “I don’t trust anyone else to do this, Rose. They could either botch it up or run to J.R. with the whole story.”

  “Bribery charges… I know that’s bad, but is it really enough to bring him down?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I think it’s only the tip of the iceberg, but I won’t know until I keep digging.”

  “Is it really worth the risk? If you go after him and it’s not enough…”

  “Rose.” I waited until she looked me in the eyes. “Don’t worry. I intend to be smart about this.”

  I considered telling her about J.R.’s possible involvement in Fenton County and his request to Joe to let Mick Gentry kill Skeeter Malcolm, but the information had come directly from Joe. I’d given Joe my word not to let Rose know of his involvement in my special project, and she’d want to know where I’d come by the information. I could lie and tell her I’d heard a rumor while I was in Little Rock, but I didn’t want to do that. I’d rather lie by omission than tell her a flat-out untruth. And besides, when you came right down to it, it was really an official county matter. Which meant that I couldn’t tell her at all.

  She was silent for several moments and Bonnie came back with our food. After making sure we had everything we needed, she disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Rose picked up her fork and scooped some of her dressing onto her salad. “Did you find out anything else?”

  I opened my mouth, suddenly unsure with my choice, but I pressed on. “There are a few other things, but I need more information to know if they are anything of importance.”

  Hurt flickered in her eyes. “You promised.”

  I sighed. “I’ll tell you if you insist. But I think it will be better if you let me wait to tell you. Will you trust me on this one?”

  She glanced to the other side of the room and I questioned my decision. Was I being fair? But she turned back to me and looked into my eyes. “I trust you, Mason. But I hope you’re not keeping this to yourself because you think I’m not strong enough to handle it.”

  “Sweetheart, you are one of the strongest people I know. I would never accuse you of being weak.”

  She gave a quick nod and looked down at her salad.

  Bonnie was talking to another waitress as they bussed a table near ours. The other woman shook her head. “I didn’t even know Deputy Simmons had a sister.”

  “She introduced herself as Kate. I have to admit that I saw a resemblance.”

  “What’s she doin’ here?”

  “I don’t know, but their chat didn’t look so friendly.”

  Rose perked up, obviously listening to the women’s conversation. So was I.

  “The chief deputy didn’t look so happy to be there with her. He barely finished his breakfast before stomping off.”

  “Families.” The older woman tsked and shook her head. “You can’t live with them; you can’t live without them.”

  Rose stared at the salt shaker on the table. “I knew Joe had a sister named Kate, but he told me that she took off a couple of years ago,” she said in an undertone. “I wonder what she’s doin’ here.”

  Rose’s interest in Joe’s sister seemed more than casual. I shrugged and picked up my water. “Maybe she’s here for the nursery’s grand reopening next week.”

  “Maybe…” But she didn’t sound convinced.

  I decided it might be best to change the subject. “Have you got all the details of the grand openings worked out?”

  She smiled. “Violet and I spent the morning going over some ideas. There’s gonna be an open house at the nursery, and she’s going to market Valentine’s gifts. She’s ordering a bunch of miniature rose bushes and plans to tell the husbands that they’re roses that will last longer than a few days. It’s Henryetta, so she’s pushing the frugal aspect.”

  I nodded. “It’s actually a good idea.”

  “Violet was never short on ideas. The problem was that she didn’t have enough money to cover them.”

  “True. So how’s she paying for the roses?”

  She scowled. “Joe.”

  I leaned closer, trying to keep my anger in check. I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time she’d be facing opposition from Violet and Joe. I hated that they put her in this position. “Don’t let them railroad you into doing anything you don’t want, Rose. You’re the majority owner. You can overrule them both.”

  “I know, but it’s a good idea. You said so yourself. I just have to suck up my pride and let it go.”

  This was Rose’s business. I’d vowed to let her run it without my interference, and I’d meant it. But I had a hard time letting it go when I could see they were taking advantage of her generous disposition. “And what about the landscaping business?”

  “I think we’ll just have a quiet opening. Neely Kate and I are gonna start lining up jobs to work on this spring.” She grimaced, then gave me an apologetic smile. “I don’t see us bringing in any real income until March or April, but I’m payin’ Bruce Wayne and now Neely Kate…I hate to ask…”

  I reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. I’ll cover the utilities and groceries until you’re bringing in money. I don’t mind.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she looked down at her plate. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t be sorry, and I don’t want you to pay me back. If I were out of work, you’d gladly do the same. Hell, you already did that after my condo burned down.” I grinned. “At the risk of sounding misogynistic, I like the idea of taking care of you.”

  She stared into my face. “Thank you.”

  “I love you, Rose. I said I’d give you anything, and I meant it.”

  I suspected she had no idea the lengths I’d go to in order to protect her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Skeeter

  One week later

  I’ve worked my ass off for everything I have.

  Great-Grandma Idabelle had taught me that anything worth having involved working your ass off. She was one of the few people who’d actually thrived in the Great Depression. Of course, not right away. Prohibition had been alive and in full force in 1930. My great-grandma’s husband had deserted her, leaving her with two hungry kids to feed. She filed for divorce—practically unheard of in Fenton County in the 1930s—and decided she’d never feed her kids as a housemaid, not even if she managed to find a good position as a domestic. Only the richest in town kept help in those days. But Grandma had a determination that equaled her well-known temper, and when she settled on her new profession of choice there was no doubt she would succeed.

  Her grandfather had been a wildcatter in the late 1800s, so she dug out his recipe and started making moonshine. She faced many a challenge from the Feds, teetotalers from the Methodist church, and the KKK, but Idabelle was no slacker.

  The Feds were easy to outmaneuver. She usually got word when a raid was planned. The local men who benefited from her entrepreneurial endeavors would create diversions, giving her ample time to move her stills. But even with the outside help, the Feds managed to catch up to her once, earning her her first arrest. After a handshake deal with the judge, which cost her a crock of her finest spirits, she got off with a hand-slapping fine.

  The teetotalers didn’t bother her. Grandma Idabelle wasn’t one to care for the opinions of gossips and stiffs. If she had been, she would have folded and given up the good fight long before her sorry excuse of a husband left her. The teetotaler women snubbed her in public and tried to get their husbands to refuse her business in town. But their husbands were some of her best customers, buying hooch to drink in their back rooms and barns in their recurrent quest to escape their sharp-tongued wives. Grandma got the last laugh.

  The KKK was her biggest problem. In the 1920s they jumped on the Prohibition bandwagon, and although their efforts were focused in the northern part of the state, the local KKK took special notice of Grandma Idabelle. She was a beautiful woman back then, barely
twenty years old, and it was her beauty that caught the eye of Burton McHenry, the local KKK leader.

  After her husband ran off, Idabelle had vowed never to marry again, but according to rumor, that didn’t stop her from seeking out male companionship. Burton McHenry was known to be a harsh man who treated those he considered beneath him poorly, especially African Americans. Great-Grandma was progressive for her time. She hired Coloreds and treated them well, both financially and in terms of respect. What she knew about McHenry’s nighttime activities sickened her, as did he. After she told him in no lack of detail what he could do with the appendage in his britches, he vowed to make her pay. Sure enough, several nights later, the KKK showed up on her front lawn.

  She sent her terrified children to the cellar, then met her “visitors” on the front porch with a rifle in her hand.

  They’d already erected their cross and set it aflame and were marching around in their bedsheets.

  “You have no business here, Burton McHenry!” she shouted, holding up her rifle and looking through the sight. “Get the hell off my property!”

  “Yer a wicked, wicked woman,” he shouted. “Making the men of this town lust after you while you sell your devil spirits and hire darkies.”

  “I’ll hire whoever damn well I please, you yellow-bellied cowards.”

  “So you’re not disputing that you’re a temptress?”

  Her finger tightened on the trigger. “If the lot of you can’t keep your eyes to yourselves, that’s yer own damn problem. Have you all set up a cross in Tilly Macon’s front yard for making you look at her big tits?”

  A couple of the men snickered.

  “What you need is a good man to set you straight, Idabelle,” the ringleader said. He stood in front of her porch holding a flaming torch in his hand.

  “Is this yer way of courtin’ me, Burton McHenry?” She lowered the rifle to his crotch. “You got somethin’ in there you think I’m dying to get?”

  “Don’t you threaten me, Idabelle Malcolm.” But his voice wavered.

  “Why not? Ain’t that what yer doin’ now? Trying to threaten me into lettin’ you screw me?”

  A few more men chuckled.

  She kept her gun pointed at McHenry’s crotch, but looked up at the twenty or so other men in her yard. “Like the lot of you are any better! Yer marching around in yer wives’ cast-off sheets like a bunch of boys on All Souls Eve. Do yer wives know what yer doin’ out here?” They all fell silent. “Huh? Cat got yer tongue, Darren Porter? How about you, Timothy Hale? Does Maybelle know what yer up to?”

  “No ma’am,” Hale mumbled.

  “If you set my house on fire, I’ll come burn every single one of yer houses down too. You all want to spout Bible versus? Well, an eye for an eye is one of my favorites. I’ll be happy to show you how much I believe in it.”

  “Not if yer dead,” McHenry growled, pulling a handgun out from the folds of his sheet.

  The other men were quick to express their alarm.

  “Nobody said nothin’ about killin’ ’er.”

  “I’m in charge here,” McHenry said, his words drenched with hatred. “I say we’re takin’ care of this bitch tonight.”

  “I ain’t any part of it,” one of the men said, backing up.

  “Me neither,” another one added, following his friend.

  Grandma Idabelle narrowed her eyes. “You might manage to kill me, McHenry, but I guaran-damn-tee you that I’m quicker on the draw and my aim is true. If you pull yer trigger, you’ll be walking around without yer dick. Then how are you gonna screw the town?”

  The men laughed like the fools they were and McHenry shook with rage. He lowered his gun. “This ain’t over, Idabelle.”

  She kept her gun raised. “It is for me. If I ever see you on my property again, I’ll shoot you first and ask questions later.” She lowered the gun, but kept it aimed at his private parts. “Now git the hell off my land.”

  I had begged my great-grandma to tell me that story over and over again when I was a child, along with countless other stories about her exploits. I respected her. Idolized her. I’d never known a woman as strong and courageous as her. She was the model by which I judged every woman, and none had ever come close.

  Until I met Rose.

  Jed stood beside my desk, glaring at me. “Skeeter, the Hennessey boys are waiting for an answer.”

  “Hmm?” I asked, shifting in my office chair. I turned my thoughts from Great-Grandma to my right-hand man. “Can you see a reason not to let them have that area?”

  “No.”

  I waved my hand in dismissal. “Then tell them to go for it.”

  “Why are you so distracted today?” He studied me for a moment. “You’re still thinking about stopping by at that reopening, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Skeeter, we both know it’s a bad idea.” He sat on the edge of the desk. “You need to stay as far away from her in public as possible.”

  “I’m not gonna talk to her.” I chuckled. “I’m just gonna rile up her boyfriend.”

  “And that’s a really bad idea. The assistant DA doesn’t like you much as it is. I was shocked you saved him from that fire.” His gaze penetrated mine. “Why’d you do it?”

  I picked up a stapler from my desk and glanced it over. I hadn’t told Jed about my new arrangement with Rose, and I hadn’t had any contact with her since that night. There were a few things I needed to figure out before I talked to her again.

  “You did it for her,” Jed said, surprise in his voice.

  I slammed down the stapler. “So what if I did? She’d be no good to me if she were moping around all the time, crying about her dead boyfriend. I’ll probably need her sooner rather than later. It’s important for me to be able to count on her to do her job.”

  Jed stared at me like he didn’t believe my answer. I knew I should correct him. He saw what I’d done—and why I’d done it—as a sign of weakness, which made me a sitting duck. In my world, there was no room for weakness, no room for caring for people. Rose had accused me of sleeping with whores and bimbos, and she was right. I did. I couldn’t afford to form personal attachments, not that I’d ever been tempted before. And maybe that’s why I strictly dabbled with shallow women. Because the moment I found someone I gave a damn about, that person became fair game. A weapon to be used against me. I should have set Jed straight and told him about the arrangement, but for some reason I couldn’t do it. After all, if I couldn’t trust Jed, I might as well hang it all up now.

  He stood and moved to the back wall, leaning against it. “Why do you think Deveraux called you last week? Do you think he suspects Rose is the Lady in Black?”

  I shook my head and kicked my feet up on the desk. “No. If Mr. Mason Deveraux knew, he wouldn’t have called me. He would have let me meet my fate with a smile.”

  “So what’s he up to?”

  “I don’t know. Like I said last week, maybe he came across some intel while playin’ undercover DA with Gentry.”

  Jed hadn’t believed that last week, and the sneer on his face made it apparent that his opinion hadn’t changed.

  “It just doesn’t make any sense,” Jed muttered, concern wrinkling his forehead. “It would be in Deveraux’s favor if you bit the dust, so why would he warn you and offer you immunity to tell him what you know?”

  “He obviously knows who’s behind the threat. I must be the lesser of the evils.”

  Jed scoffed. “Not likely.”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to work with the devil you know.”

  “What if it’s Gentry?”

  “He seems to be the likely candidate, although it’s no secret I’ve made a few enemies the last few months.”

  “I’ve had our trusted guys listening for any hints of what might be going down, but everything’s been quiet.”

  I stared into Jed’s face. “Maybe it’s not Gentry. Or maybe Gentry’s just the tool.”

/>   “Then who?”

  I kicked my feet off the desk and sat up in my chair. It seemed farfetched to think J.R. Simmons was part of it. Deveraux must have been playing bait and switch. “I think it’s almost time to put Lady to work.”

  “How do you know she’ll do it? We took care of the guys who were trying to kill Deveraux.”

  “She’ll do it.” I grinned. “Trust me.”

  The Lady in Black was mine and I intended to use that to my advantage. Soon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rose

  My stomach was a bundle of nerves. We’d already had an opening for the nursery, of course, but somehow I was more nervous about this reopening. We had no way of knowing if we’d be welcomed back or shunned now that word had gotten out about Violet’s affair. I’d sunk a ton of money into this place, and so had Joe. And even though I hadn’t asked him to help me, the responsibility of paying him back was a heavy yoke to carry.

  Last time we’d had a big ribbon-cutting ceremony, but this time we were keeping it low-key. We’d put an ad in the paper and spread flyers around town announcing the reopening. There wouldn’t be much fanfare—we’d bought a cake from Dena’s Bakery, the new bakery in town—and we would be giving five-dollar gift certificates to the first twenty customers. Neely Kate thought using a cake from such a new business was a mistake. We ran the risk of alienating more established businesses, and I needed every supporter I could get. But I decided I would no longer be beholden to this town and its expectations. Which I knew was hypocritical—I wanted them to use our services—but I didn’t want to conform their standards. I wanted to have my Dena’s Bakery cake and the town’s support too.

  I hadn’t spent much time at the nursery since Joe had made his investment. I usually just dropped by to check on things, but I’d decided to be there on the big day.

  Violet was already in the shop when I arrived ten minutes before opening. Neely Kate would be joining us soon to help with the customers, and Joe had said he’d stop by around noon. I was thankful that Joe and I had reached a point where we could be in a room together and be civil. I truly did want to be his friend. Mason had given me a silver locket heart that hung from a silver chain for Christmas. Strung on the chain were varied colored stones that represented each of my close friends. The fact that I’d added a stone representing Joe was proof enough that I wanted to be his friend. Mostly, I wanted him to be happy, whether he believed it or not.