Rest in Peach

by Susan Furlong

  Mama turned back to the skillet, asking, “You did get the menu lined up with Ginny, didn’t you? ’Cuz I really talked you up at the meetin’ yesterday. Told the gals how wonderfully peachy everything was going to be.”

  “We’re working on it.” I took a seat at the table and focused on my coffee, avoiding her gaze. Truth was, Ginny and I had been working more on Vivien’s murder than the peachy accents for the cotillion dinner, and things were falling behind schedule. I’d meant to stop in on Ezra at Sugar’s Bakery to make sure everything was squared away with the cake but had been waylaid by my bittersweet but oh-so-relieving reconciliation with Cade yesterday afternoon.

  “Looks like I was right, as usual,” Mama said, bringing her coffee mug and a plate of bacon to the table. “You and Cade have worked out your troubles, haven’t y’all?” A little raspy giggle escaped as she nibbled on a piece of toast.

  My eyes connected with hers as I reached across the table for a piece of bacon. “Yes, we have. And thank you, Mama.” I left a lot unsaid, but she knew what I meant. It’d suddenly struck me that I’d probably never outgrow the need for my mama’s advice. She was the wisest woman I knew. I wondered if she’d have any insight to my ideas on Vivien’s murder.

  I was just about to ask when she started back in again. “Getting back to my story. Well, I’m supposed to be in charge of the centerpieces. So, I went in yesterday mornin’, just before the meeting, to firm up my plans with Pete over at the flower shop, and guess what? He told me the centerpieces had been changed.”

  “Changed?”

  “Yes, changed. Oh, he was all apologetic and everything. Said Stephanie Wheeler came in last weekend and changed the order. Apparently she didn’t approve of my choice of light coral peonies for the centerpieces. She substituted them with peach-tipped white roses. Can you believe the nerve of her?”

  I made a few sympathetic noises, but really, what was there to say? Peonies? Roses? Did it really matter all that much? It did to Mama, but to me . . . certainly not compared to murder, a friend wrongly convicted by public opinion and the possibility of blackmail in our little community. I’d been churning blackmail ideas around in my mind all night. It was just a matter of proving some of my theories and I’d be able to help clear my dear friend. I started to tell Mama about my ideas, but she was still complaining about Mrs. Wheeler.

  “Right from the get-go I knew it was a mistake to let her have the Peach Cotillion at her place. I told the other gals, too, but they were all caught up in the romantic possibility of having the cotillion at the plantation. Like it’s going to be Gone With the Wind all over again. And let me tell you what really burns my behind: Stephanie Wheeler’s attitude, that’s what. The woman’s been on the committee for as many years as I can remember, and never once have the Wheelers offered their place for the event. It’s obvious they’re only doing it this year because Jeb is up for reelection.” She ripped the tip of her bacon strip off and tossed it to Roscoe, who practically snatched it in midair. “It’s just like tomorrow’s Mother-Daughter Tea. Usually it’s a simple affair at the diner. Ginny always fixes the place up real nice with tablecloths and special teacups that she keeps stored just for the occasion. But oh no! That wasn’t good enough for Stephanie. She insisted that the tea be moved to her place. Can you imagine a garden party in this heat? Those poor girls are going to melt tomorrow.”

  “You’re right about that, Mama,” I quickly agreed. Actually, the thought of fancy dress clothes sticking to my body while I sipped hot tea and made polite chitchat was enough to send me running for the hills. Thank goodness I wasn’t roped into planning or participating in that event, too. Next weekend’s cotillion was going to be about as much “polite society” as I could stand for a while.

  While she paused to sip her coffee, I took the opportunity to switch gears. “There’s something important I’d like to run by you, if you don’t mind.”

  She quit sipping and gave me her full attention. I went on, “It’s about Vivien Crenshaw. You see, yesterday I overheard a conversation between Debra Bearden and Nate Crenshaw,” I started, but a knock at the door interrupted me.

  Mama turned toward the sound. “Well, who in the world would that be?”

  “Shoot!” I glanced at the wall clock, a surge of panic kicking in as I realized I’d lost track of time. “It’s Cade. He needed to be out this way on business so he said he’d stop by and pick me up this morning. We’re going to work on the shop and then maybe have dinner at his place this evening.”

  Mama’s brows lifted enthusiastically. “Well, doesn’t that sound pleasant?” Another knock sounded. Louder this time. I got up to answer the door, but Mama intercepted me. “You’re not going to answer the door looking like that, are you?”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth and patted my hair. “Well, we can’t let him just stand out there, now, can we?”

  She cinched her robe tightly and started for the front of the house. “I’ll stall him for a few minutes. You run on upstairs and get yourself ready,” she said over her shoulder.

  I did as she said. As I reached the upstairs hallway, I heard her voice down below. “Well, come on in, Cade. Nola’s just upstairs fixin’ up a bit so she can look her best for y’all.”

  • • •

  Cade and I spent the rest of the morning finishing the tin ceiling panels. Overall, the installation of the embossed metal panels was much easier than I anticipated, and the final result was amazing. I’d chosen a simple hammered tin, which I intended to finish with a coat of antique white paint. Still, even without the paint, the ceiling gave the room just the vintage look I was hoping to achieve. I decided I’d live with them unpainted for the time being. I rather liked the look. Along with the knotty pine floors, simple shelving and exposed brick wall, I thought it created a warm, inviting country look.

  Cade moved next to me. “It’s really coming together, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. “Thanks to you. You do nice handiwork, Mr. McKenna.”

  “Nice handiwork?” He chuckled and turned toward me, moving his hands to my waist and tugging me forward. “That’s just another way of saying I’m good with my hands, right?”

  I slapped playfully at his arms. “Don’t be getting too sure of yourself,” I teased, secretly happy that Mama had talked me into putting a little extra effort into my looks that morning. “There’s still a lot of work to be done.”

  His dark eyes gleamed mischievously as he pulled me closer. “Well, let’s not waste time, then,” he murmured, his lips just inches from mine. But he quickly pulled back and dropped his hands as the door flew open.

  I turned just as Emily came rushing inside, stopping in her tracks as soon as she saw Cade and me embracing. “Oh!” she exclaimed, then quickly recovered. “Daddy sent me over to get you,” she said, her face masked with worry. “There’s something you need to come see right away.”

  Both Cade and I followed her next door where she led us back to the diner’s kitchen. Ginny and Sam were huddled together, their gazes fixed on a purse resting on the stainless steel worktable. It was a beige purse with gold accents.

  I recalled the purse that Debra Bearden had been asking Nate about. “That looks like Vivien Crenshaw’s purse.” My eyes darted between Ginny and Sam. “What’s it doing here?”

  “I just found it stashed behind those crates we have by the back door,” Ginny answered.

  “Back there?” I could hardly believe my ears. What would Vivien’s purse be doing outside the diner’s back door? I shot Ginny a questioning look.

  “Don’t look at me like that!” she shrieked. “I have no idea how this thing ended up out there. Someone is out to get me, that’s for sure.”

  Sam took charge. “Calm down, honey. Getting hysterical isn’t going to help this situation one bit. I’m going to call Ray and tell him what we found.” He reached into his apron pocket and took out his cell, poi
nting it toward Emily. “Sweetie, I need you to go out there and do your best to keep the customers happy while we get to the bottom of things.” Then he turned to Cade and asked, “Can you help me out, buddy? There’s not much to breakfast. Just eggs, bacon and flapjacks. An occasional order of toast. The hash is already prepared; all you have to do is fry it.” He pointed toward the stove. “Grits are in that big double boiler over there. We’ve got an extra apron hanging on the hook, if ya need it. Just holler if something comes up.”

  Cade readily agreed, snatching an apron and tying it on. Sam started punching a number into his cell phone. “I’m going to try to reach Ray,” he explained as he waited for the call to be picked up, “but one of us needs to call the sheriff soon. Maudy would be ticked if she thought we didn’t call her. . . . Ray! Glad I reached you. We’ve got a problem.” Sam held the phone to his ear as he headed toward the office, where he could speak in private. Cade was already at the grill cracking eggs and pouring pancake batter as he squinted at the order tickets.

  “This isn’t good, is it?” Ginny whispered.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not.” Leaning in, I inspected the bag. The only thing I could tell for sure was that it was expensive. “Did you touch it a lot?” I asked, thinking of fingerprints.

  “Well, yeah. I just saw it and wondered who might have lost her purse, so I opened it. I was just looking for an ID, some way to figure out who it belonged to, you know?”

  I nodded. I hadn’t told Ginny the specific description of Vivien’s purse I’d heard from Debra—so Ginny wouldn’t have known whose it was. “Did you see anything else inside?” I asked. “Like . . .” I shrugged. Like something worth killing for? I wondered.

  Ginny shook her head. “No. Nothing. Just a billfold, lipstick, tissues . . . all the usual stuff.”

  “Then the killer must have already removed the blackmail fodder.” Which meant he or she would no longer be looking for it. Did that mean Maggie and Debra should be eliminated as suspects since they were looking for whatever was inside the purse? I glanced toward the kitchen’s back door. Or, did one of them recently find the purse, remove the item and discard the handbag inside the stack of crates in order to make Ginny look guilty? In reality, anyone could have snuck down the back alley and left the purse there.

  Sam came back into the kitchen area, a grim look on his face. “Maudy’s on her way over. Ray told me to call her immediately but not to answer any of her questions until he gets here. He’s leaving Perry now.”

  “I think that’s good advice,” Cade commented from the grill, where he was juggling a pile of breakfast hash, a heap of scrambled eggs and several rows of pancakes. Amazingly, he was keeping it all together.

  Sam crossed over to Ginny and put his arm around her. “Don’t worry, honey. We’re going to get this worked out. You’ll see.”

  Ginny wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her head in his chest. “Sure hope so. ’Cuz with this red hair of mine, I’d look just awful in one of those orange jumpsuits.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” I reassured her. “Ray will see to it.”

  “She’s here,” Cade said, peering through the pass-through window out into the diner. “And the deputy’s with her.”

  Before he could get another word out, the kitchen door swung open and Maudy sauntered in, gun belt jingling and Stetson low on her forehead. Next to her, Travis was staring wide-eyed at the purse. Maudy inhaled, her lips forming a little sneer as she asked, “Well, what do we have here?”

  “Vivien Crenshaw’s purse,” Ginny explained with a wobbly voice.

  Maudy removed her hat, tucked her chin and raised her brows. “Is that so?” Then she looked over at her deputy with a smirk. “This, Travis,” she started, “is what I call the missing key.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, shifting his feet anxiously. “The victim’s purse. Could be the purse she supposedly had with her the night she was murdered.”

  “Could be,” Maudy replied, swiping her tongue over her bottom lip. She slid a sly glance toward Ginny. “How exactly did you get it?”

  Sam kept one arm around Ginny as she answered. “I found it inside a stack of crates outside the back door.”

  “Ginny,” Sam interrupted. “I don’t think you should answer any more questions until Ray gets here.”

  Maudy snorted and shot Sam a dirty look before going back after Ginny. “Decided to call your lawyer, huh? Why’s that? Got something to hide?”

  Ginny shook her head. “No, it’s just Ray advised me to call if anything else came up with the case. I’m sure this is just one more attempt to frame me. You know I’m not capable of murder, right? I mean, we’ve known each other practically all our lives.”

  Maudy scowled. “All I know is you’re in possession of a crucial piece of evidence, possibly stolen from the crime scene, and you’re not willin’ to answer any of my questions. Seems suspicious to me.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Seem suspicious to you, Travis?”

  Travis removed his hat and ran a hand over his hair. He must have recently gotten a haircut; the longer strands in the back looked evenly trimmed around the collar, and his ears sported bright white walls around the tops. “Yes, ma’am. It does seem a bit suspicious.”

  Maudy nodded and turned back around, leveling her gaze on Ginny. We all stood there for a second, in a silent standoff. Even Cade stopped grilling and was watching intently from the sidelines.

  Maudy, I’m sure, was hoping for Ginny to break down, but Sam’s grip tightened around her waist, encouraging her to hold strong. I was struggling with my own self-control, wanting more than anything to jump in and defend Ginny. I was also kicking myself for not heading over to the sheriff’s office first thing this morning and reporting my suspicions about Vivien being a blackmailer. If I had, this whole fiasco might have been avoided. I was going to keep my mouth shut now, though. Better to let Ray lay out all the facts and deal with the sheriff in his lawyerly way.

  Finally, Maudy broke the silence with a long, dramatic sigh. “Well, I guess I have no choice, then.” She nodded at Travis. “Let’s take her in. She can sit in a cell and wait for her lawyer to get here.”

  “You can’t do that!” Ginny shrieked. “The Mother-Daughter Tea’s this afternoon.” She glanced at the wall clock. “In just a few hours actually!”

  Sam jumped in. “Ease up, Maudy. For Pete’s sake, we called you as soon as we found the purse. Doesn’t that prove we’re not trying to hide anything?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Cade frantically motioning for me. I scurried over to the grill and glanced through the window to the dining room. Frances Simms was standing just outside the kitchen door, camera in hand, ready for any action that might come her way.

  Behind me, Ginny’s voice was coming in loud and clear. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You know I’m not a killer!” Ginny said, struggling against Travis’s grip as he dragged her toward the door that led out to the diner.

  I started to suggest they use the back door, but it was too late. Travis burst through the door, pulling Ginny behind him. Frances’s camera flashed like lightning as she clicked off several shots. At least it was probably too late to sneak them into today’s edition of the Cays Mill Reporter. It’d be Tuesday before we’d see them.

  I ran through the kitchen to catch up to them just as Emily cried out, “Mama! What’s going on?” She left her customer hanging and ran to her mother’s side, her face twisted with worry. The diner went dead silent. Again, several flashes from Frances’s camera lit up the area, capturing Emily as she clung to one side of her mother, Travis on the other.

  I stepped up and placed my hand over the camera’s lens. “Take one more picture and you’ll regret it,” I threatened. Frances’s birdlike eyes popped with surprise, but she let go of the camera, letting it dangle from the strap around her neck.

  Ma
udy held up her hand and assumed her professional persona. “Everyone stay clear now. This is official police business.”

  I rolled my eyes. Great. That was sure to get tongues wagging.

  Turning back to Ginny, I saw her shake off Travis and pull Emily close. “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” she said. “Ray’s on his way, and he’ll get to the bottom of this.” She glanced over Emily’s shoulder at me. “But I may be just a little late for the tea. Don’t fret, though, ’cuz Nola will take you until I can get there. Won’t ya, Nola Mae?”

  “The tea?” I was barely able to utter the words, my jaw was so slack from the shock of the discovered purse, Ginny’s arrest, Frances still skulking on the sidelines, and what is Ginny worried over? The tea! And she wanted me to take Emily? Inside my head, my mind came up with all sorts of reasons why that wasn’t a good idea, but my mouth must have had a will of its own, because I heard myself mutter, “Sure, I’d be happy to.” Compared to everything else going on, why not?

  “But you’ll be there as soon as you can, right Mama?” Emily asked, her voice sounding much younger than her seventeen years.

  Sam stepped up with a brave smile. “Of course she will, sweetie. Don’t worry, this will all be straightened out in no time.”

  Chapter 11

  Debutante Rule #010: A debutante’s tea isn’t just sweet; it’s sugar-shocked. And, that’s the way we like it.

  Sputtering into place in the long row of luxury sedans and decked-out SUVs, I put the truck in park and shifted in my seat, adjusting the straps of my dress and straightening my windblown hair. I started cranking up the window and motioned for Emily to do the same. The Harper Farm truck had a model 2-70 air conditioning—crank down the two windows and drive seventy.

  “I wish more than anything that Mama could be here right now, but since she can’t, I’m grateful you’re here,” Emily said. Her long auburn braid swung beneath her wide-brimmed hat with a two-toned pink bow that perfectly matched her pink and white flowered sundress.