A Sinister Slice of Murder: A Jessie Delacroix Murder Mystery (Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book 1)

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A Sinister Slice of Murder: A Jessie Delacroix Murder Mystery (Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book 1) Page 6

by Constance Barker

I pretended like I was mulling it over.

  “Look, Jessie, I really needed to get out of that place. It’s been twelve years of confinement.” She twisted Arthur’s face into one of those tormented puppy dog looks you see on TV commercials for abused pets and let out a little whimper.

  “You have no right to take over another creature’s body like this, Granny!”

  “Arthur is just fine, Jessica, dear. He’s telling me about some exciting adventures chasing squirrels. Besides, I have some ideas about this murder. It smells like Mrs. St. George and the daughter are in the bakery. We need to ask them a few questions…and get me one of those gluten-free dog snacks Molly bakes too.”

  “Fine.” I squatted down and scratched Arthur behind the ears. “Okay, boy, you’re going to have to wait out here,” I said aloud, and wrapped his braided leash around the bicycle rack.”

  Arthur – or I should say, Granny – barked and howled. “You take me in there with you, Jessica!”

  “This is a bakery, Granny. Shops with food can’t have animals inside.”

  I went into Wally & Molly’s and took a number. The flip cards on top of the display case indicated that they were serving number 43. I was number 56, which was fine because I was really there to talk to the St. Georges. I spotted them sitting on the bench by the window. Alicia looked really good and composed, but Cassie was sitting still and erect, wearing dark glasses with her head looking down at her hands, which were folded in her lap.

  “Hey, Molly, look who’s here! Hey there, Jessie!”

  It was the owner, Wally Lambert, in his white paper hat and apron behind the counter with his wife and partner, Molly.

  I heard a little yip…

  “Hi, Mr. Lambert!”

  …and then Arthur started jumping up on me. I had no choice but to hold him.

  “How did you get in here, you little stinker? I wrapped your leash up three times.”

  “I’m not a dumb animal, Jessica. And don’t call your grandmother a stinker.”

  “You’re a little stinker, yes, you are.” I grabbed Arthur’s face and rubbed my nose (almost) on his. “Stinker, stinker, stinker!”

  “I could bite you, you know.”

  “I’ll get him out of here, Mr. Lambert.”

  “No. Don’t worry about it, Jessica.”

  He kept filling orders as he spoke across the room to me. “Here…” He tossed a dog biscuit at me, and Arthur caught it in his mouth. “That’ll keep him busy for a while. And look at you, Jessie…you just keep getting more beautiful, and with you’re mother’s blue eyes.”

  He waved and moved over to the cash register. It was actually nice to get a sweet compliment from a middle-aged guy who was happily married and not interested in picking up chicks.

  “Oh, so you think he’s just a sweet guy, do you? Well, he is sweet, but he’s also a man, Jessie. Look behind his eyes…”

  “No.” I can do that? “And get out of my head.”

  “He’s undressing you with his mind – and the picture in his head comes pretty close to reality – although he did bump you up a cup size.”

  I wished I was a teapot so I could blow off some steam before I exploded. “Grandmother Dixie Beatrice Delacroix, you stop it right now, or…or…”

  “Or what? Are you going to pinch your sweet little doggie?” The possessed animal swallowed the last of the biscuit and whimpered twice as she nuzzled Arthur’s face against my chest. So much rage and nothing to hit…

  “Miss Delacroix, is that you?”

  It was Alicia St. George.

  “Hi.” My humanity returned to me.

  “Please… sit down here with us.” She slid over and patted the spot between her and Cassie, who remained disengaged.

  I sat. “So, how are you doing, Alicia?”

  “Well, you know, it’s hard to even think about myself with three grieving kids – the boys are with Hector at the Go-Kart track – and,” she leaned over to whisper in my ear, “poor Cassie is still so traumatized. He was her only blood relative, you know, and she just lost her little brother a few months ago.”

  “So…” I didn’t know if I should bring up the murder, but I had to know some things. “…have you heard anything from the sheriff or anybody?”

  “Nothing new, no. But, Miss Delacroix…”

  “Please, Alicia, call me Jessie.”

  Arthur started doing an army crawl off my lap and pawing gently at Cassie. His red eyes must have looked normal to her behind her sunglasses, and she patted her lap for him to come over. Good job, Gran! Arthur and Granny were bringing some much-needed comfort to the young girl.

  “Jessie, would you mind if we just went over the time that the lights were out last night? I just keep trying to think of any little detail I might have missed or forgotten.”

  Perfect! That will make this interrogation a lot easier.

  “Not at all, Alicia. Actually, I was wondering, since you were right next to Mr. St. George, if you saw any glowing instrument or felt any heat?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “I did.” Cassie turned toward us with a somber look as she continued to pet Arthur. “There wasn’t anything hot, I don’t think, but I saw just a tiny blue spark right where…” She started to choke up.

  Right where her dad’s head had been. “Thank you, Cassie,” I put my hand on her shoulder and felt an odd mixture of emotions rolling around inside of her. “Did you tell the police?”

  She shrugged. “They didn’t ask. I just thought of it now when you asked Alicia about something glowing. And then there was a smell that reminded me of the dentist’s office. And then the lights came on, and…”

  Arthur licked her face to get her mind off the image of her headless father.

  “I wish I could add something, Alicia,” I said, “but my mind went into hotel manager mode, thinking about how to get the lights on and listening to the people at the table.”

  “I understand.”

  “You know, Alicia, it sounds like they are going to release the rooms to us this afternoon. If you’d like to stay in the suite where you could be closer to the investigation, you are welcome to do that. The restaurant is already open there too.”

  Cassie nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yes, let’s do that…Mom.”

  “Well, the accommodations in Stony Point leave a lot to be desired, and it is so far from where we need to be. When can you let us know for sure?”

  “Give me your phone.”

  She reached into her designer handbag – a smaller and more stylish one today.

  “Wow, that’s a really nice purse, Alicia. It’s so youthful and practical too.”

  Cassie leaned in and bumped shoulders with me. “I designed that one,” she whispered proudly with a small smile lighting up her pretty face.

  I was impressed. “You’ve got a talent for design, Cassie.”

  Alicia looked quite proud of the girl too. “She’s a very talented artist and designer, not to mention, top of her class at the performing arts magnet school and lead actress and singer in their musical version of Gone with the Wind.”

  Wow. I guess artistic talent runs in the family. But Cassie looked away. It seemed she didn’t appreciate the praise from her stepmother.

  Alicia handed me her iPhone. I dialed my number and sent the call.

  “The last number called on your phone is me.”

  I handed her phone back to her. Then I took my ringing, outdated device out of my Wal-Mart purse and rejected the call.

  “And now I’ve got your number here too. I’ll text you when I find out, or you can call me any time.”

  “Number 52!” Molly hollered out from the behind the case of fabulous pastries.

  “That’s me,” Alicia stood and shook my hand. “We’ll see you later.”

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  Chapter Eight

  Great. An English muffin with but
ter and honey for breakfast, and an apple fritter with icing for lunch. This carb, sugar, and fat diet better not become a regular thing, girl.

  I was half expecting a response to my internal dialogue, but Arthur was too focused on all of the sights and sounds and people of our little tourist haven.

  Who should I talk to next? Maybe I can find Hector.

  I had heard that they were putting in a Go-Kart track just outside of town. It was probably too far to walk, but I wanted to talk to the St. Georges’ bodyguard to find out what he saw besides alligators that night in the swamp. It used to be that all of the alligators were in the big swamp on the other side of the river. I kept an eye out for his big SUV Limo, but Arthur, or maybe Granny, had other ideas.

  The little animal was pretty strong and pulled me right inside of Happy Doyle’s Vintage Motors shop. He had a beautifully restored, shiny black 1931 Duisenberg Model J right up front and a workshop in the back. He also owned the land behind three or four of the adjacent shops where he had a car lot for his other restored vehicles.

  Arthur was pulling me around the counter into the workshop. I called out silently to Grandma Dixie.

  “Granny, what are you doing? I don’t want to go back there!”

  But there was no answer. Oh, my God! She left Arthur and ceased to exist!

  “Granny!”

  “Wha…? Huh? Oh…just let me rest for a while, Jess…”

  I heard little snore. Ghosts sleep? Well, maybe when they take on a physical body they get tired out. Anyway, this is a good thing…except for Arthur is a lot harder to control than Granny had been.

  “Arthur, you come away from there!”

  Happy was using a cutting torch on some sheet metal when Arthur’s tail hit his leg. The little monkey was on his way to the bag lunch sitting on the toolbox next to Mr. Doyle. Happy slid his protective goggles onto his forehead and rubbed Arthur’s head.

  “Hungry there, little dog? Hi, Jessie. What can I do for you today?”

  “Just passing by, Happy. Thought I’d poke my head in and say hello. Say…” I was looking at his cutting torch. “Do they make portable cutting torches that don’t have to be hooked up to those big gas tanks?”

  “Well, you’d still have to have a tank of acetylene and a tank of oxygen, but I s’pose you could get small tanks to wear on your back or roll behind you in one of those new suitcases people are using these days. Are you thinking about going into competition with me?” He smiled and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “Haha, no I don’t’ think I’ll be doing that any time soon, Mr. Doyle.”

  “Ohhh! You’re wondering if you could cut off somebody’s head with one of these!”

  Darn it. He saw through me.

  “Well, I guess you could, but you might set the person on fire first; I don’t really know. I’m not much of a scientist. It can cut through steel, though, so it can surely cut through flesh and bone.”

  “Does it get up to 700 degrees?”

  Happy chuckled, and I felt like a little girl at her first football game. “This is pure oxygen and acetylene, Jessie. The flame is 6,300 degrees. These babies can cut under water.”

  Go ahead and laugh at me, Happy Doyle. Let’s talk about tort law or sine waves or world history – then we’ll see who’s smarter. Me! That’s who. “Can you get the flame hot enough so that you can’t see it?”

  “Hmm. Never tried it. You’d have to turn the oxygen feed way up, but that would probably be pretty dangerous. There’s really only one setting for these things. It’s going to be a white flame with a blue halo. Did you hear a sound like this?”

  He made a spark with his flint and pulled the trigger on the torch handle a couple of times, shooting a hot flame into the air. It sounded kind of like an air hose at a gas station.

  I shook my head. “No. Well, I’ll get this dog out of your way, Mr. Doyle. Thanks!”

  I managed to get Arthur distracted by pointing to a non-existent squirrel and got him out of the auto shop.

  “Let’s see if Benji is in, Arthur. I want to tell him to put two drawers on my nightstand.”

  Since Granny was asleep, I figured it would be safe to wrap his leash around the lamppost with a little half-knot.

  “You be good. I’ll be right back!”

  “Ruff!”

  Benji was alone in his custom woodworking shop. He was wearing military fatigues and straightening up his work area when I walked in. He didn’t see me. His duffle bag was sitting on the counter with a large black metal ring on top of it. I picked it up and started looking at it. It was bigger around but only half as high and thick as an air filter for a car and had a series of little LED lights or something around the inside of the ring.

  “Yoo-hoo! I didn’t know you were a weekend warrior, Benji.”

  He looked pretty startled and turned around quickly. “Oh! Hi, Jessie.” He walked up and took the black ring from me. “This is a forty-thousand-dollar geo-locator from the Army’s new GCV tank, so…”

  I did a cringing “oops” smile. “Sorry. So, why do you have it here?”

  “Uh…just doing some calibrations for them…to measure it to the thousandth of a millimeter.”

  It sounded odd that a woodworker would have more precise equipment than the Army, but I was not going to be the stupid girl again.

  “Oh, I see. Of course.”

  “I haven’t started on your project yet, Jessie. I hope you’re not looking for it already.”

  “Oh, no, I just wanted to tell you that I’d like two drawers instead of one.”

  “No problem.” He leaned on the counter between us and smiled just a little. “So, Miss Jessie Delacroix, are you going to let me take you out for a drink sometime next week?”

  “Mmmm…well…”

  He gave me a big white smile. “Come on. I know I’m not in your league, but you’ve been my Winnie Cooper since the third grade. You wouldn’t want to cheat a guy out of his life-long fantasy would you?”

  That wasn’t the worst line I’d ever heard. Okay, I was a little flattered – and he was the only non-disgusting bachelor in town. “I’ll see if I can make a place in my calendar. Maybe Wednesday Happy Hour at the Swamp Fox?”

  “Cool!”

  “So, where is the National Guard taking you this weekend?” I noticed that his duffle bag had a CCAD logo on it. I didn’t know the College of Art and Design had a woodworking program.

  “Actually I’m in the Reserves, not the Guard.”

  Is there a difference? “Oh, of course.”

  “So I’m under the federal government, not the state. I’ll be at Fort Stewart, right alongside the fulltime soldiers.”

  “Nice. So about an hour away, then. I hear they have some pretty top-secret stuff going on there these days.”

  “That’s what they say.”

  “Well, just don’t forget about my second drawer. No rush. Have a great weekend, and I’ll see you next week!”

  Alicia St. George was just walking in, alone this time, as I turned to leave.

  “I’ll text you as soon as I get back to the Inn, Alicia!”

  I headed for the door and could hear Granny’s voice rattling in my brain before I even got outside.

  “Jessie, hurry, please! Make him stop! Make him stop!”

  What on earth? This sounded serious, and I rushed out to see if somebody was hurting Arthur. Instead I found something quite different. Arthur was lying by the lamppost licking himself.

  “Settle down, Granny.” I smiled but managed not to laugh at her odd predicament.

  “Arthur! C’mere, boy!” He got up and came over to me with his tail wagging.

  “If you’re going to ride with the puppies, Granny, you’re going to get licked once in a while.”

  “Oh. Thank you, Jessie. I felt this odd sensation and woke up to this horrifying situation.”

  “Let’s go home. Have you seen the St. George’s black limo, Gran?”

  “Nope. But, say, Jessie…it’s not ver
y often a girl gets the chance to try on some man parts. Do you think we could find a nice female, dog – a poodle maybe – on the way home? I’d like to see what it’s like to…”

  “Granny!”

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  Chapter Nine

  There were microphones and a podium set up on the front steps of L’Auberge Hantée when we got back.

  Two uniformed officers stopped me at the door. “Sorry, ma’am. No entry allowed until after the news conference.”

  “Let the little lady through.” The tall imposing figure of Sheriff Muldoon appeared from the shadows behind them in the lobby.

  The officers opened a path between them and gave me a smile and a nod.

  “Come on in, Miss Delacroix. We’ll get out of your hair as soon as we get this little presser out of the way.”

  He looked at his watch, and I looked at the clock behind the front desk. It was about seven minutes before six o’clock.

  “We’re going to do this thing at 6:01 so the networks can take us live at the top of the hour and have a minute to do a little intro.”

  There was a hair and makeup team surrounding a regal-looking African American woman in a business suit a few steps behind the Sheriff. When she turned I could see that it was Governor Georgina Betters. She brushed her hands down the front of her jacket and walked towards us.

  “Sheriff Muldoon…”

  She had a flawless golden complexion, a modern shoulder-length hairdo, and she was young, gorgeous, confident, and – the Governor! I was mesmerized.

  “Governor, this is Miss Jessie Delacroix, the proprietor of this establishment.”

  She shook my hand and smiled with the kind of poise and engaging presence that I had never been this close to before.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Delacroix. And thank you so much for the gracious hospitality your staff has extended to us, and for the world-class food and beverages. I’ll make sure that the full per diems for all of my staff members will be assigned to L’Auberge before we go.”

  “Uh…uh…Thank, you, ma’am.” Nice…that would be a few hundred dollars I wasn’t expecting. “I’m a huge supporter, Governor Betters. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

 

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