Dying for Dinner Rolls

by Lois Lavrisa

  The four of us walked along the tree-lined sidewalk in Forsyth Park toward Lucy’s house. The hot air coated my skin in a blanket of thick moisture. Spanish moss hung like cotton candy from the live oaks on either side of the path. Draping tree branches provided a canopy of shade from the late-afternoon sun. We walked around puddles from recent rains.

  “Why the hell did we decide to walk?” Annie Mae gasped for breath. “I sure as hell did not get my PhD and work all those years at the university to finally be near retirement, then die of heatstroke.”

  “Stop griping,” José said to Annie Mae. “You’re a woman of leisure now. How would you like to put your life on the line every day like I do?”

  “What the hell has that got to do with anything?”

  “Everything and nothing,” José shot back and grabbed Annie Mae around her waist. He gave her a big squeeze.

  “You let go of me now.” Annie Mae giggled. “I’m calling the police on you for aggravated assault.”

  “I am the police.” José let her go as he playfully patted her arm.

  “All right, you two, cut it out,” I joked. “Jeez. My kids are better behaved.”

  “Which set? Your teen boys or the little girls?” Bezu asked me.

  “Both.” I tapped José on the arm. “Behave.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to Lucy before she left,” Bezu said.

  “Neither did I.” Annie Mae smiled. “She sure is thoughtful. I can’t wait to eat those peaches.”

  “Cat, you had time to chat with her. How is Bert’s retirement going?” Bezu asked.

  “I bet she finds any dang excuse she can to keep him out of her hair now that they’re both retired,” Annie Mae panted. “When I still had my Ernie, if he’d get underfoot, I’d send him to the hardware store to buy a little box of something. I have a whole garage packed full of nuts, bolts, and screws.”

  “As usual, she’s busy decorating.” I lifted the hair from my warm neck and pulled it into a ponytail. “She just redid her sitting room.”

  “Her taste is absolutely exquisite.” Bezu fanned herself with her hand. “It’s hotter than blue blazes. Thank goodness we’ve only got one more block.”

  “I feel like I’m melting.” I wiped the perspiration from my forehead.

  “Only the Wicked Witch melts,” José said to Annie Mae. “Annie, baby, I’m going to miss you when you liquefy.”

  “Good one. I guess you have a brain cell in that straw head of yours.” Annie Mae whacked José on the back with her purse.

  “Assault!” Snatching Annie Mae’s purse, José put it on his arm. He swayed his hips, elbows at his side, forearms out front, and held his wrists limp. “I’m Annie. I’m sassy and politically incorrect as hell.”

  “Stop. People are looking at us.” Bezu advanced a few feet in front of the group.

  Annie Mae shook her hands about. “Who cares? You could waste your whole life trying to please everyone. All that worrying you do about what people think about you and what you look like and all that nonsense. You’re going to fret yourself into thin air.”

  “Take that from an expert. Annie doesn’t please anyone.” José handed Annie Mae her purse.

  “Why should I? I’ve got you crazy people who irritate the wits out of me. That’s all the aggravation I need.” Annie Mae grinned.

  “We love you, too.” My insides twisted into knots worrying about Lucy.

  “Thank goodness we’re here,” Bezu said.

  We followed Bezu up the steps to Lucy Valentine’s house.

  Bezu sighed. “Sometimes I’m embarrassed to be seen with you all out in public. Gracious, it’s like a circus show.”

  “And who doesn’t love a circus?” I rang the bell. “Except for the creepy clowns—I hate adults dressed in costumes with their faces covered. It freaks me out.”

  No one answered the door. We stood in silence for a minute.

  I tried calling Lucy again. The call went to voice mail. “Where is she?”

  “Move your sorry white behinds aside.” Annie Mae shouldered her way to the door. “This is how you get in.” She banged at the door with her fists and yelled for Lucy. All of Savannah probably heard her. In fact, all of Georgia. Maybe South Carolina, too.

  Still no answer.

  “Apparently, Lucy is preoccupied, and we should use good manners and leave. Plus, I’m feeling a little faint from the heat and not eating.” Bezu straightened her floral sundress around her waist. She retrieved a tissue from her purse and dabbed the perspiration from her forehead.

  We stood on the porch of the two-story, yellow row house. The sweet aroma from a tea olive shrub nearby permeated the air.

  I peered into the large front picture window. “The lights are on, but I don’t see her inside.”

  “I say we go in.” Annie Mae looked through the glass panel in the door.

  “Then we do it my way.” José jiggled the doorknob. He took something out of his pocket. I couldn’t see what he was doing. His back was to me.

  “That’s a scary thought coming from a bomb guy,” I said.

  “Y’all are making me anxious.” Bezu paced the porch.

  “We’re in.” José opened the door. “Welcome, my ladies.”

  “That’s called getting the job done.” Annie Mae made her way into the house.

  We all followed, entering the sitting room first.

  I darted my eyes around, looking for Lucy.

  “Y’all are absolute barbarians breaking in.” Bezu strolled about Lucy’s sitting area. “My, oh my, it sure is nice and cool in here. Maybe I can get a beverage. I’m parched.”

  “Holy smokes. That’s ugly.” Annie Mae stood in front of the love seat in the sitting room. She pointed to what looked like a paint-it-yourself blue-and-white vase on the coffee table.

  “I do declare. Not at all what I expected Lucy would ever purchase.” Bezu leaned into the vase, forming her pink-lipsticked mouth into a pout.

  “It looks like a monkey painted it.” José walked around. “But I love everything else.”

  I shook my head. That vase had sure looked better in the picture Lucy had shown me earlier. The yellow roses in the vase looked as though they had been shoved in, as a few of the stems were bent over, the flowers scattered on the table. Lucy was a neatnik, so I was surprised she’d leave anything lying around. I picked up the petals and put them in my purse to throw away later.

  Annie Mae yelled, “Lucy!”

  We began to walk down the wood-floored hallway, four sets of shoes clopping to the back of the house.

  Bezu entered the kitchen first.

  “Lucy,” I shouted.

  “Lucy, I’m home!” José screamed like Ricky Ricardo had done on the I Love Lucy show.

  “Okay. I’m seriously worried now.” My chest tightened.

  “Me too.” Bezu opened a closet door.

  “Where is she?” Annie Mae poked her head into a walk-in closet.

  “José, please call your people at the police department.” I ran into another room, looking for Lucy. “Remember the crossword puzzle?”

  “Everyone calm down,” José shouted. “Let’s search every room first.”

  José and Annie Mae looked upstairs. Bezu and I explored the main level. The rooms were very much in order. A cross hung in every room. Fresh flowers sat in vases throughout the house. But it didn’t seem that anyone was home. Even though there were shoes near the front door, a sweater thrown over a chair, and dishes in the sink. My heart raced, and my hands began to shake.

  I had this ominous feeling that something was wrong.

  Really wrong.

  We met back downstairs in the kitchen.

  “Look here.” José held the pantry door open and pointed at Lucy’s purse next to a clear bakery bag of dinner rolls on a shelf. He picked up the bag containing the dinner rolls. “They’re already cut in half, too.”

  On the counter next to the sink sat a cutting board scattered with crumbs. A serrated knife la
y near a knife block set—which had two slots empty.

  Rocks formed in my gut. “This is not good.”

  José dialed Lucy’s cell. We heard ringing coming from the pantry.

  I ran in and picked up Lucy’s purse. Pulling out her phone, my hands shook. “Call the police now.”

  “Hold on, Cat. Maybe a neighbor came by, and she got to chatting with them.” José went over to a window and pulled the curtains back.

  “Maybe, but it may not have been a social call. They’re fighting with one neighbor, Ina Nesmith, over tree roots.” I began to pace the white-tiled kitchen floor accented with red, matching the red-and-white-checkered cloth on the table.

  “What are you implying?” José asked.

  “Things are not right.” I glanced around the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place. Yet everything felt askew.

  “Have you tried that back door?” Annie Mae pointed to a closed door near the rear of the kitchen leading to a mudroom.

  “I’ll check it out.” José strode to the back.

  He turned the handle and swung open the door.

  Lucy lay on her back on the lime-green linoleum floor, dark red blood pooled around her left arm. Her wrist was slit open. A kitchen butcher knife lay near her right hand.

  I screamed.

  “Holy smokes,” Annie Mae said.

  “Oh, my.” The color drained from Bezu’s face as she leaned against the kitchen table.

  My knees buckled under me. I felt the contents of my stomach lurch into the back of my throat.

  Chapter 4

  José checked Lucy’s vital signs. “She’s dead.”

  I knelt down and held Lucy’s cool hand. My heart raced, and my stomach flipped. Had the crossword killer struck again? No. Lucy had said that the paper was already in the box before she’d purchased it. It couldn’t be the same killer, could it?

  Grabbing a kitchen towel, José used it to pick up a folded piece of paper. “There’s a note.”

  “What does it say?” Annie Mae asked.

  José opened the white paper. “One side is from someone named Ina Nesmith. That’s her neighbor you mentioned, isn’t it, Cat?”

  I nodded.

  José continued. “It says, ‘Back off, Lucy, or else. —Ina.’ The other side, written in what looks like pink lipstick, reads, ‘It’s over. Lucy.’” José put the note back on the floor where he had found it. “This appears to be a possible suicide note. But then again, Ina’s note could be construed as a threat. Either way, no one touch anything. This is now a crime scene.”

  “Why would she kill herself? She was happier than a pig in mud.” Bezu sat down in a chair as she pressed her trembling hand to her chest.

  “Hell if I know.” Annie Mae pulled a chair next to Bezu at the kitchen table. She reached over and held Bezu’s hand.

  “I’m calling my precinct right now.” José held his phone to his head.

  I paced the floor as though my legs couldn’t stand still. Filling the room with floral scent, so light and alive, was a vase of fresh-cut flowers sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.

  “Lucy had been gone less than two shakes of a lamb’s tail. How could this happen?” Bezu rocked herself.

  José held a hand up. “Everyone sit tight. Help is on the way.”

  I wiped tears with the back of my hand. My taste buds filled with sour bile. I tensed with raw nerves as a chill ran down my spine. And yet, I felt numb.

  A short while later, two squad cars and an ambulance arrived. For the next few hours, the house buzzed with activity. Police forensics and EMTs began doing their work. José talked with them as they took pictures, dusted for prints, secured the area, filled out reports, walked through the house, and strung yellow tape. We were all interviewed as witnesses. Bezu, Annie Mae, and I sobbed the whole time.

  After I composed myself, I walked to José just as a detective approached him.

  The detective, with a name badge spelling Ray Murphy, pointed a thick finger at José. “This is my case. Back off.”

  “Listen here, Ray. The vic is my friend. It’s not suicide.” José shook his head. “I’d just seen her right before she left to grab dinner rolls. She was fine. And what about the note that was left? You need to interview Ina Nesmith.”

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” Ray stood face to face with José and poked him in the chest. Ray stood an inch shorter than José but had a stout, thick build and a blond crew cut. “This is my case.”

  José’s neck flushed as he leaned toward him. “Then do this by the book. No shortcuts.”

  “You’re not my boss. Scarcely my peer.” Officer Ray didn’t budge. “A suicide note, a knife in the vic’s hand. I think this case will be closed by the time the ink dries on the report.”

  José stayed face to face with Ray. “You have a problem with me, fine. But keep your beef with me out of this case.”

  Ray chortled. “The dying for dinner rolls case is cut and dried. Case closed.”

  José leaned in, his hands formed into fists. His neck veins bulged.

  Ray took a step back. “One day, I’ll have proof of who you are, and your ass will be fired.”

  “If you have something on me, then do something about it. If not, get off my back.” José narrowed his eyes.

  “I don’t have anything concrete now. But I will. There is something you’re doing that is a disgrace to the department, and when I find out, I’ll expose you.” Ray clenched his fist.

  “You’re out of line. You have nothing on me because I’ve done nothing wrong. You hate me, and that’s fine. But don’t let that obstruct this investigation.” José jutted his chin. “If you’re still pissed I won at poker, then I can give your money back if that’ll make you stop bitching.”

  “Shove it.” Ray turned and shouted over his shoulder, “All of you need to get out of the house now.”

  “Jackass,” José said under his breath as we exited the house.

  We made our way out to the front yard.

  “What about Lucy’s husband?” Bezu asked. “Did anyone call him?”

  “He’s been notified and is on his way now,” José said.

  “I can’t believe this happened.” I rubbed my forehead.

  “I feel frozen, like I can’t think right,” Annie Mae added.

  “Me too,” Bezu said.

  “It’s because you all are in shock. It’s difficult to process right away.” José put on his dark aviator sunglasses.

  We stood in silence on Lucy’s front lawn. It was dusk. The smell of fresh-cut grass permeated the air. A slight breeze moved branches of the oak tree above us. The air hung heavy with the remnants of the humid, hot day.

  Each of us seemed lost in our own thoughts. I kept going over the last few times that I’d seen Lucy. Her energy, her talkative nature.

  Hearing footsteps, I turned toward the front door.

  A jet-black body bag on a stretcher was being carried out by two EMTs.

  My gut wrenched, and my legs felt wobbly.

  “Why would she do this?” Annie Mae sniffed and then blew her nose into a tissue.

  Tears stung my eyes. “She wouldn’t. My gut is saying that someone took Lucy’s life.”

  “That’s messed up.” Annie Mae thumped her fist in the air.

  I bit my lip. “This may be the same person who shot my dad. Lucy had found a crossword puzzle like the one found by my dad that night. Although she did say that it had already been in the box before she bought it.”

  “You think there’s something there?” Annie Mae asked me.

  “Y’all are making me nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, talking about murder and a killer. No. No.” Bezu pointed to her head. “She must’ve had some serious issues we didn’t know about.”

  “Mental ones? I don’t think so. She told us everything. Hell, half the time, I didn’t want to hear every little detail of her personal business, but that’s what she was like. So why wouldn’t she have told us s
he was depressed? Enough to do this?” Annie Mae pantomimed a knife at her wrists.

  “She didn’t.” I took a deep breath. “That suicide note was too brief for Lucy. Plus she’d burnt her right hand and told me it was hard to grip things. So the whole knife thing doesn’t sit right with me. And the threatening note from her neighbor is suspect, too. And did you notice that the lipstick on the note was pink, not Lucy’s signature red color?”

  “Those are some great observations.” Annie Mae cocked her head as she looked at me. “So you’re still thinking—”

  “Someone killed her.” I glanced at the half dozen potted flower arrangements alongside the front porch. There was water on the ground near them. “Everything in her house is so neat and in order. And look at how beautiful she keeps the place.”

  “And?” Annie Mae raised an eyebrow.

  “The cat has food in his dish. These plants are freshly watered. This is all normal, routine-type stuff. Not a person on the edge, about to kill herself, right?” A tear streaked down my cheek. “She loved her cat, actually all animals. For the past fifteen years, she volunteered at the humane society. She would never do this, desert her cat. It was her child.”

  José held up a finger. “Except I’ve worked on many suicide cases. It’s eerie how they get things in order just before they end their lives. So, it seems that all outward evidence indicates suicide. But I agree she wasn’t the type. She had lots of friends and hobbies and was very involved in her church. This doesn’t sit right with me, either.”

  “Her poor husband. Bless his heart. He’s got a tough row to hoe.” Bezu dabbed her eyes.

  “I’m not even going to ask what you just said. But as for Bert, I bet he killed her. It’s usually the spouse that knocks off the other spouse.” Annie Mae waved her hands. “Trust me, if Ernie’s diet of Krispy Kreme hadn’t killed him, I would’ve.”

  “You’re all talk. You adored Ernie. If you ask me, he was a saint for putting up with you.” José winked at Annie Mae.

  Annie Mae tilted her head and grinned. “What fool thing are you talking about? My Ernie was the most stubborn man who ever walked the earth. Still, it seems that when a wife is killed, the husband did it.”