Music, Murder, and Small Town Romance

by K C Hart

  They bowed their heads together and John said the blessing. Katy raised her head. “You know who else we should have asked?”

  “Joe,” John said. “I thought about him when we were sitting down.”

  “We need to invite him next time and find him a woman, too,” Misty said.

  Mike turned his head toward his wife. “Most men like to find their own women, believe it or not.”

  The waitress set a plate of smoking hot cornbread on the table with a small crock of real butter. The smell of the fresh baked pone of bread floated up with the hot steam as Tubby sliced off a piece and slathered it with the butter.

  Katy’s hands struggled to stay in her lap. The cornbread passed her by but stopped at every other person, each having a slice. She looked down at her waist where a small bulge of her abdomen lay comfortably over the top of her pants. She breathed in resolve and looked up at the group. “Do any of you know the drama teacher? I think I have already asked you, Misty.”

  “He taught me in high school,” Tubby said, dusting the yellow crumbs from his chin.

  “I see him in the bank about twice a month,” Emma added. “Why?”

  “I was just wondering what kind of guy he is.” Katy longingly eyed the crumbs of cornbread as they floated from Emma’s mouth to the plate below.

  “He doesn’t say much when he comes in the bank.” Emma absentmindedly brushed her hand across her lips.

  “I remember him being kind of quiet at school,” Tubby said, lifting his tea glass. “Of course, he might have just been that way with us kids.”

  “You know something.” Misty pointed a manicured finger across the table at Katy. “Don’t try to be secretive.” Misty looked at Tubby, then at Emma. “You promise not to spread anything around if she tells us what she has found out ,don’t you?”

  Emma’s china-doll eyes stretched wide in surprise, and she laid her hand on Tubby’s arm. “We do. We won’t tell a soul.”

  Tubby nodded and looked at Katy, his brow creased, “Look, I know I have a reputation for gossiping like a woman, but this is serious stuff. If you know something that can get Emma out of this mess, I think we have a right to know.” He glanced at his wife then back at Katy. “We can keep a secret if we need to.”

  “You might as well just ask them what you’re trying to find out.” John paused as the waitress stepped up and handed out the dishes.

  Katy poured the salmon-colored dressing over the bed of mixed greens, red bell pepper, avocado, and fried oysters. She glanced up to find everyone else’s eyes staring at her. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but it’s just here-say. You cannot repeat this to anyone.”

  “We’ve got that,” Misty said. “Now out with it.”

  “I heard the drama teacher talking to Donnie Gibson on Friday in the music store. I’m pretty sure that Donnie is blackmailing him so his daughter can get the lead in the school play.”

  “That wasn’t as exciting as I thought it would be.” Misty picked up her own dressing and began pouring it on her salad. The rest of the group turned their attention to their food as well.

  “I know it’s not much, but it is something.” Katy stuck her fork through an oyster and into a pile of lettuce. “Sometimes little things lead to bigger things.” She stuck the oyster in her mouth. Her lips stretched into a smile. The salad was a great choice.

  “You know, there was a rumor about him a few years ago,” Mike said, “but nobody paid it any attention.”

  “What was it?” Katy asked, looking down the table.

  Mike set his tea glass down and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “I know you remember about five years ago when they shut down that gentlemen’s club in Jackson? It was on the news for about a week because it was supposedly a front for call girls.”

  “No, not really,” John said. Everyone else shook their heads.

  “Well, anyway, I remember because a real estate agent that used to live here was at the place when it was raided. That’s one of the reasons he’s divorced and has moved out of the area.”

  “But what does that have to do with Floyd Perkins?” Misty asked.

  “This guy, the real estate agent, said that there had been a couple of other people from town in the place earlier, but they left before the cops got there.”

  “Did he say who they were?” Katy asked.

  “No, he didn’t.” Mike leaned forward. “The talk back then was that he got paid off to keep his mouth shut.”

  “But I still don’t see why you think it was Floyd Perkins.” Misty raised up the palm of her hand. “You’re not making sense.”

  “Now, like Katy said, this is all just gossip and speculation.” Mike looked at the people around the table. “Floyd Perkins’s momma emptied her savings account, and the real estate man’s wife’s savings account increased by the exact same amount just a couple of days after all that happened.”

  “So, his poor old momma bailed him out?” Emma quickly glanced over her shoulder to the other nearby tables to make sure no one had heard her. “That’s just terrible.”

  “Now, remember,” Mike said again, “I don’t know any of this for a fact. I know I shouldn’t have said anything, anyway.”

  “How are you going to find out if this is the truth?” Tubby asked, looking from Mike to Katy.

  “Umm, I don’t know if I can.” Katy touched her hand to her throat. “Besides, that was a long time ago. Do you really think he would still be worried enough about a rumor like that all these years later?”

  “That’s a good point,” John said. “But it could be something along those same lines. The problem is going to be trying to find out what it is.”

  “I may be a little slow.” Emma looked from one face to the next. “But how is any of this going to prove that I didn’t kill Rob Clay?”

  Katy reached across the table and patted Emma’s arm. “I’m not sure it will help at all. But if Rob Clay was blackmailing Floyd Perkins, that would give him a motive for wanting to kill the man.”

  “Yeah,” John said. “And the man was killed on the stage at the high school. The high school drama teacher might’ve been able to get in there and do it and slip out without being seen since he would know the area.”

  Katy turned and looked at John, nodding her head. “You’re right. He probably has a key to the back door of the auditorium, too.”

  “But how would he have gotten to my guitar strings?” Emma asked.

  “I don’t know.” Katy shrugged her shoulders. “Have you heard anything from the sheriff about your guitar case yet?” Katy figured she knew the answer to Emma’s question but didn’t want to speculate in front of everyone. That’s how rumors started, no matter how many times people were sworn to secrecy.

  “No, they said it would be sometime this week before they know anything.” Tubby pushed the empty platter toward the center of the table and patted his stomach. “It sure would be great if Floyd Perkins’s fingerprints are found in Emma’s guitar case.”

  “Great...and creepy,” Emma whispered, leaning her head over on Tubby’s shoulder.

  “So, what do you do next?” Misty looked across the table at Katy and laid her napkin across the few pieces of lettuce left on her plate.

  “I go home, write all of this down and study it a while,” Katy said. “Hopefully something will jump out at me that I’m missing right now.”

  “Chase Smithers left the parking lot last Saturday and drove straight up the road to his girlfriend’s house.” Todd leaned back on the love seat and cupped both hands behind his head. “She vouches that he was with her the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?” John took two glasses of tea from Katy, who had just walked in from the kitchen, and passed one to Todd.

  “Yeah, I do,” Todd nodded. “Her younger brother came by while Chase was there and said that he was with them for three hours. I don’t think Chase returned to the school.”

  “Well, I’ll mark him off of my list.” Katy sat down in
her recliner as she sipped her tea. “What do you think about Floyd Perkins? It sounds like he might have had a reason to want Rob Clay dead. And he should have a key to the back door of the auditorium.”

  “I dug up the old newspaper articles on that scandal with the gentlemen’s club that you told me about, but I didn’t see anything pointing to his involvement.”

  “What about at Rob Clay’s house? Undoubtedly, he has some pictures or letters or something that he was blackmailing him with,” John said. “Even if it wasn’t about what happened back then, it still must be something that the guy thinks will make him lose his job.”

  “We went through his house with a fine-toothed comb. The man was a neat freak. There was nothing there.” Todd placed his tea glass on the coffee table. “Whatever Rob Clay was using to blackmail Floyd with was not at his house.”

  “Where else would something like that be?” Katy looked from Todd to John as she tried to think. “A picture could be kept any place nowadays. Did he have a laptop or maybe a work computer?”

  “He had a personal computer at home, but there was nothing like that on it. Just a bunch of bookkeeping for the store.” Todd paused, “Maybe he had a safe deposit box.”

  “Nah Mike would have done said something about that.” Katy rolled her eyes upward. “What about his cell phone? Did it have any pictures or text or emails on it?”

  “Just way too many selfies,” Todd said, disgustedly. “That man snapped more pictures of himself than teenage girls do.”

  “Why don’t you go back through them, Todd?” John suggested. “Maybe you missed something.”

  “I’ll do that in the morning.” Todd stood and looked at his phone. “It’s after nine. I have to get home. Monday morning will be here bright and early.”

  “Do you think the sheriff will want to talk to Floyd Perkins?” Katy sat up to follow the men to the door.

  “I’m sure he will, and probably Donnie Gibson again as well, but I imagine he will want to have another look at those cell phone pictures in the morning first, like you said, Uncle John. There could have been a picture of Floyd Perkins in there that we didn’t notice since we weren’t looking specifically for him.”

  “Sounds like a busy day. Oh, wait,” Katy stuck her finger up in the air. “I wanted to ask you about Emma Morse. I saw her in The Pig yesterday and she said that her husband was divorcing her.”

  Todd sighed and leaned against the door frame. “Yeah, that was a big ole mess. Mr. Morse filed the papers right after we asked her all them questions.”

  “Well, she’s saying it’s all my fault.”

  Todd shook his head. “I guess she has to blame somebody.”

  “Yeah,” Katy blurted out, “but getting harassed on the frozen food aisle at The Pig is not my idea of a fair game.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Todd said with a lopsided grin. “Having a guy blame you because his wife is being accused of murder is no picnic either. Especially when the guy could snap you in half like a twig.”

  “Point taken.”

  The vibrating sound of the cell phone on a hard surface caught Katy’s attention, and she hurried back toward the kitchen, leaving the men at the front door. “Hello?”

  “Hey girl, you sound a little winded,” Misty said.

  “No, just very out of shape. What’s up?”

  “I heard something this evening, and I wanted to find out if you knew anything about it.”

  “What’s that?” Katy sat on the bar stool.

  “I heard that there’s a tattoo place opening up in town over by the train station.”

  “It’s not exactly by the train station. It’s on that lot where the bar-b-que truck sits.”

  “So, it’s true?” Misty’s voice sounded hushed as she drug out the question. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I went to talk to the hairdresser that was fooling around with Rob Clay, and she said her brother’s learning the trade so he can start tattooing from her shop.”

  “Hmmm. You won’t go with me back to the nail salon to have a pedicure, but you go busting up into the future tattoo parlor all by yourself.” Misty chuckled. “Girl, you ain’t right.”

  “I know, I know.” Katy sighed and looked down at her uneven, unpainted fingernails. “I am planning on going back to the nail salon. I just haven’t gotten around to it. Besides, it’s not like I got a tattoo or even a haircut, for that matter. I was just trying to find out if the hairdresser was involved with the murder.”

  “Is she?”

  “Is she what?”

  “It must be past your bedtime,” Misty chuckled again. “Is the hairdresser involved with the murder?”

  “I’m not sure. I need to go see her again.” Katy’s eyes crinkled in the corners. “Why don’t we go tomorrow afternoon and see about getting BFF tattoos? Maybe we can find out something while we’re there.”

  “Yeah, right.” The laughter coming through the phone sounded like a cross between a crowing rooster and a bleating heifer. “I’ll believe that when it happens.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea.” Katy rubbed her hand across her lips. “I do need to talk to that girl again.”

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “No,” Katy paused, “well, not about the BFF part anyway. I do think I’ll go back by there tomorrow and ask her about a tattoo, you know, just out of curiosity.”

  “Okay,” Misty’s voice turned into the drill sergeant she became every year when she worked the concession line at VBS. “Who are you and what have you done with Katy Cross?”

  “No Misty, I’m serious. I need to talk to her and see if she knew anything about Rob Clay blackmailing Floyd Perkins. I need to talk to the bug lady, too.”

  “I understand that, but I don’t understand the part about you getting a tattoo.”

  “I’m not going to get a tattoo, don’t worry. I’m just going to talk to her about one,” Katy sighed. “I need to talk to Edna Morse, too, but that won’t be happening.”

  “Look, I’ll talk to Edna tomorrow for you. I have to run over there anyway and deliver an arrangement. Just promise me you won’t show up at band practice with any new ink.”

  “New ink? What does that mean?”

  “Oh, good grief,” Misty laughed. “It means a new tattoo.”

  “Oh.” Katy looked up toward the hall as John walked in. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow I’m all talk.”

  “Okay. Now what all do you want me to find out from Edna Morse?”

  “Just try to find out if she knew anything about Rob Clay and Floyd Perkins. See if she knew where he kept his personal email or private pictures or if he had another cell phone that nobody knew about. Just any secret stuff like that.”

  “Oh, well, if that is all. Why don’t I ask her for the keys to her Cadillac and her bank card while I am at it?”

  “You have to be creative; don’t just ask her about that stuff. Work it into the conversation somehow.”

  “Okay, I’ll figure something out. You just stay out of the tattoo chair or table, or whatever they put you on to do that.”

  “Don’t worry. That looks too painful for me to ever even think about, not to mention the fact that my skin is at the age where it sags and drags on a daily basis.”

  Katy got off the phone and looked at John. He held up his hand to stop her explanation. “I don’t even want to know honey. I don’t even want to know.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mrs. Simmons pushed the rocker back and forth with her foot in a slow, easygoing pace as she waited for Katy to get her bags from the car. A cool breeze caused the chimes hanging from the rafter to tinkle and send out soft notes as they touched together. She pulled her ancient brown sweater up closer around her neck to keep the chill out of her eighty-something-year-old bones.

  “Good morning. Don’t you just love mornings like this?” Katy sat down in the matching rocker beside her patient and laid the bags at her feet.

  Mrs. Simmons looked at Katy’s naked arms stick
ing out of her scrub top. “Ain’t you chilly, child? That wind still has a little bite to it.”

  “Oh, no ma’am. I’m about right. I would be sweating if it was any warmer.” She pulled the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff out of her bag and began her assessment.

  “How is your music coming along for that big production you’re getting ready for?”

  Katy finished counting Mrs. Simmons’s pulse. “Pretty good, I think. We have our two songs picked out.” She pumped up the blood pressure cuff wrapped around the thin little arm. Mrs. Simmons made a face as it tightened to give Katy the reading. The air hissed out quickly from the cuff as Katy pulled the stethoscope from her ears. “Your blood pressure and pulse are fine.”

  “That’s good.” Mrs. Simmons looked toward the trailer across the gravel driveway. “Emma came over to see me yesterday afternoon. She said Tubby and his group are doing good, too.” The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. “They sure are a sweet couple. They always stop by and ask if I need anything from the store when they head out to buy groceries.” She turned and looked at Katy as her mouth pulled into a straight line. “Have you found anything out about who really killed that man? It’s about to drive Tubby insane worrying about his little wife.”

  “Not much.” Katy stuck the thermometer under Mrs. Simmons’s tongue. “We found out that Edna Morse wrote that note they found signed EM, so that was good.”

  “Emma told me that the sheriff is looking at her guitar case, hoping the killer might have left some prints or something on them when he stole her guitar strings. I saw all of y’all over there the other day.”

  “Yes ma’am, we were there when the sheriff took her guitar to have it checked out. I doubt they’ll find anything, but I could be wrong.”

  “You never know.”

  “No ma’am, that’s right.” She pulled her computer out of its bag and began typing in the vital signs and assessment findings. “Mrs. Simmons, do you know Floyd Perkins?” she asked, not looking up from the screen.