by B L Crumley
“Hmm,” Preston returned his eyes to the road and drove through the intersection. “He seemed kind of surly. Was he upset about something?”
Why had I agreed to this date? I mean, lunch. I didn’t want to get into this now, and definitely not with Preston.
“Charlee, is something bothering you? You can tell me. Maybe I can help?” He pulled into a parking spot at a popular seafood restaurant near the port overlooking the bay.
I unbuckled my seat belt, weighing what he said. Could he help? Maybe. He was well-connected in town.
“If you’re worried I’ll tell your brother, I promise it will stay between you and me. Attorney-client privilege,” he grinned.
“Am I your client?” I asked.
“Close enough. I represent Fern and you’ve been helping her out. I wouldn’t betray her confidence and the same applies to you.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that, as I could certainly use another set of eyes and ears helping me look out for Fern’s best interests. “Okay, deal,” I agreed. “Maybe you can help.”
“I’d love to,” he beamed.
Oh boy. This might be more than I bargained for.
Inside the dimly lit restaurant, Preston found us a small table in the corner with a nice view of the harbor. Once the server had taken our orders, Preston leaned forward. “Do you want to tell me why the sheriff was really there to see you this morning?”
Wow, Preston was more perceptive than I’d given him credit for. Granted, I wasn’t a very good liar, but still, he knew how to read people. I sighed, leaning my arms on the table, and lowered my voice. “The sheriff found out that I’d talked to Russell Jenkins, and he wasn’t very happy about it.”
Preston didn’t flinch. “Go on.”
“He accused me of interfering with his investigation.”
“Were you?” Preston asked in his lawyer voice.
“I don’t think so. I mean, that wasn’t my intent.” I paused. “Can I be honest with you?”
Preston straightened in his chair. “By all means, that is the point, isn’t it, Charlee?”
I relaxed a little. “I’m worried that the police aren’t going to try very hard to find additional suspects, since all the circumstantial evidence points to Fern. I’m not saying that Cole doesn’t know what he’s doing, but—”
Preston’s brows raised at my use of the sheriff’s first name. “You’re not confident in his abilities,” he finished for me.
“Yes, I guess. Fern and I are really close, and I don’t know what I would do if she’s blamed for this.”
Preston extended his hand and squeezed my arm that was still resting on the table. Normally, I would have been weirded out by this, but his concern almost seemed brotherly. “Well, Charlee, worrying isn’t going to get you anywhere, so what is it that you can do?”
His statement both surprised and impressed me. I thought he would just try to placate me, but he actually seemed interested in hearing me out and helping me do something about it.
From there, I went back to the beginning and told him about the conversations I had with Walter the denture-clicking neighbor, Patty Henderson, and Russell Jenkins. I also gave him a detailed account of finding the suitcase full of cash in Fern’s barn. By this time our food had arrived, and I took a break from talking to eat. After my busy morning, I was famished.
“The suitcase is a huge discovery, Charlee.” Preston speared a piece of broccoli. “Forensics should be able to find something from that, hopefully enough to exonerate Fern. No one believes that your aunt killed Earl, but she still has to be ruled out.”
It was nice that pretty much everyone I’d spoken to believed in Fern’s innocence, but I wouldn’t be satisfied until she was completely cleared from any wrongdoing. Including the felony charge for the still. “Preston, have you received an update on when Fern might be arraigned?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but maybe next week.”
I thought back to my conversation with Cole about the judge who was sweet on Fern and wondered if that was the reason. I wondered why Preston hadn’t shared that with me, but I wasn’t going to press him on it.
“Any other potential suspects you’d like to interview?” Preston used his knife to cut into his fish. “I’d be happy to accompany you.”
“That’s nice of you to offer, but I think I should be fine. Russell said that Earl’s brother Floyd might know something.” I dipped another french fry in some ranch dressing and took a bite.
Preston frowned, then wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Floyd Henderson has been arrested at least half a dozen times, and been to prison twice,” he relayed seriously. “He’s not someone you should be talking to. At least not by yourself.”
I ignored the warning in his tone. “So, you think he might know something?”
“Yes, he might, but I think you should let the police handle him.”
“But what if they don’t consider him a suspect?”
Preston gave me a blank look. “The man has a record. Believe me, he’s a suspect.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was going to talk to him while he’s at work.” I dipped another French fry. “It’s perfectly safe.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” He studied me through his thick-rimmed glasses, but he didn’t seem upset.
“Probably not,” I said honestly.
“Then I’ll come with you,” he said. “When do you plan to speak with him?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Preston, but I don’t think he’ll be willing to talk if you’re there.”
Preston continued to study me, but didn’t say anything, which I took to mean that he knew I was right. “Will you promise to be careful?” he finally asked. “Do you have any pepper spray? A taser?”
I started laughing. “You can’t be serious!”
“Okay, maybe not the taser, but you should have something. And keep your phone on. Better yet, you can call me, and just leave it in your pocket—”
I leaned forward. “Preston, I’ll be fine.”
He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Oh, Charlee. Your family will kill me if something happens to you and they find out that I knew.”
“Hey.” I pointed at him. “You said attorney-client privilege.”
He glared at me, but he seemed more flustered than upset.
I smiled. “How about this? I’ll tell you when I’m going, and then text you when I’m done.”
“You’ll call when you’re done,” he amended.
“Fine,” I agreed. “But I’m going during the day, and there will be other people around, so I highly doubt he’s dangerous. Besides, I hear he works at the cannery. Would the Millers hire him if he was such a bad guy?”
Preston merely raised his eyebrows, which wasn’t reassuring.
“Charlee, is that you?” said a familiar voice from behind me.
The fry in my hand fell to the plate.
“It is. Oh, hi, Preston.” Ashley approached our table. She looked very trendy in her tight skinny jeans and boots, with a leather jacket.
And I hated her. Yes, I know it’s not nice to hate people, but I was way beyond a strong dislike for this woman.
“Hi, Ashley,” Preston smiled politely.
I didn’t acknowledge her.
“I didn’t realize you were still in town.” Ashley stared directly at me as she brushed her blonde hair over her shoulder. As if to say, look at me, aren’t I something? It made me want to throw up all over her expensive leather boots.
I finally managed to speak. “Yes.”
“How nice,” she replied in a syrupy sweet voice.
Liar. She never said the word nice in a sentence that involved me and meant it, or vice versa for that matter.
“Are you moving back?” she asked, her tone losing some of its friendliness.
Where had that come from? I turned my head slightly to look at her. She was smiling, but it wasn’t one of her best fake ones, and beneath it, I could tell she was nervous.
Did the thought of me coming back actually bother her? Why should she care? We’d never been friends. Then she took what was mine, and threw him away, and now I didn’t want him anymore. At the moment, I just wanted her out of my sight.
“No,” I said flatly.
“Mom, can we go?” A young girl with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail came up beside Ashley. The girl had Kenny’s eyes. I hated to admit it, but she was really cute.
Now I felt like I might be sick. Because seeing Ashley and Kenny’s daughter reminded me of what I could have had. Should have had. But it was stolen from me, slicing me through the heart all over again.
“Okay, just a minute, Nicky,” Ashley said to the girl. “Well, it was so nice to run into you.” There she went throwing around that nice word again. “Enjoy your date.” She winked at Preston, then left with her daughter.
I could guarantee that in the next hour, the news of my so-called date with Preston would have made its way through the gossip circuit, escalating into something far less innocent than what this actually was by the time it was through.
I stared at my plate, the sight of the remaining fish and chips making me nauseous. “I hate this town,” I muttered under my breath. Setting my napkin on the table, I looked up. Concern washed over Preston’s features, making me feel worse.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Fine,” I nodded weakly. “I’m think I’m done, though.”
Thankfully, our server appeared, cleared our plates, and Preston got the check.
“Thank you for lunch,” I said as we exited the restaurant and walked to Preston’s Cadillac. I thought I should say something else, like it was nice, but that word felt like acid on my tongue right now, and since I couldn’t think of anything else, I kept my mouth shut.
“You’re welcome.” Preston opened my door, and I sat down. Very chivalrous. He’d make some woman a good husband someday.
Preston started the car, backed out of the space, and we headed back to Fern’s. By the way his mouth pinched together, I sensed he wanted to say something. I hated that in a matter of seconds Ashley had managed to sabotage what had actually been a pleasant time. Preston didn’t deserve my dejected mood, and it disgusted me further that I felt powerless to fight it.
“Charlee…” Preston took a deep breath. “I had a good time. I’m sorry that Ashley came and ruined it.”
I turned my head and noticed Preston’s tense grip on the steering wheel. He was nervous, but was still brave enough to say what he was thinking.
“No, I’m sorry, Preston. I shouldn’t…” I hesitated. “It’s fine.”
“So—” he paused. “Is there something going on with you and Kenny?” he asked cautiously, his voice unsteady.
“No,” I said immediately. And there wasn’t. But I also wasn’t going to share any more details on the subject, and I hoped that Preston would drop it.
He nodded and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Well, Charlee, any man that was stupid enough to hurt you didn’t deserve you to begin with.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. It was sweet of Preston to say. I only wished I could believe it. I’d never thought that Kenny was undeserving. For so long I’d even blamed myself.
I didn’t anymore. We’d both made mistakes. His worse than mine, but the depressing part was that I’d suffered the most. At least it felt like I had. I’d suffered more than enough for both of us.
Chapter Ten
“C harlee!” my aunt hollered from somewhere downstairs. “You here?”
I moaned into my pillow and rolled over. After I’d returned from lunch with Preston, I was exhausted, so I took a nap. I glanced over at the clock on the dresser. It was almost four o’clock in the evening. I’d slept for close to three hours. I needed to get up. A knock sounded on the bedroom door.
“Charlee?”
“Yeah, come in.”
Fern opened the door and poked her head in. “Oh, dear, did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” I yawned. “I need to get up.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” She entered the room.
I pushed myself up against the headboard. “I’m fine.” I noted her uneasy expression. “Okay, how did you find out?” I grumbled.
Fern sat on the edge of the bed. “At our knitting group at Lulu’s one of the gals got a text saying Ashley was talking to you and Preston.”
I sensed she wasn’t telling me all of it. “And?” I prodded.
“Well, there was some speculation over if you were seeing Preston, and also that you were rude to Ashley,” she conveyed casually. “I knew the Preston bit was nonsense, but I’d kinda hoped there was some truth to the Ashley part,” she added with a smile.
“I don’t know that I was rude to her, but I definitely wasn’t friendly. Does responding with one-word answers count as being impolite?” I asked sarcastically.
“Not in my book. If I were you, I would have told that hussy to—”
“Her daughter was there.” I looked down at the quilted comforter.
“Oh, Charlee, I’m sorry.” She leaned over to pat my hand.
“She was really pretty, and I could see Kenny in her, and it kind of made me feel sick,” I admitted, meeting my aunt’s concerned eyes. “Does that make me a terrible person?”
“No,” she said as she squeezed my hand. “I’d say you handled that situation remarkably well. And Ashley should know better. Actually, I know she does, but she’s jealous of you. Always has been.”
“I know, you’ve said that before.” I pushed back the covers and swung my legs over the side. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. She had Kenny and then threw him away.”
“She’s like a child that got tired of the toy but doesn’t want to share it with anyone else. Especially not you, who had the toy first,” Fern pointed out.
That actually made sense, as petty as it was, but still didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it just strengthened my animosity toward her. The problem with that was it only hurt me. I didn’t want to hate Ashley. I just didn’t want to ever see her again. And as long as I stayed in town, that wasn’t something I could avoid.
“You might be right, but there isn’t anything I can do about that.”
Fern sighed. “Unfortunately, there isn’t. I think God likes to put challenging people in our lives to strengthen our character.”
“What if I don’t want to work on my character?”
“Then you can be like me and when you see someone you don’t like or want to talk to, just ignore them,” she said matter-of-factly.
I laughed. “Fern, only you could do that in this town and get away with it.”
“Oh, you could too, Charlee. You just have to quit caring what people think.” She hit the nail on the head with that one. That was part of why I stayed away for so long. Which was pathetic, because it didn’t matter what anyone thought.
“On another note, I saw Walter at Lulu’s, and he heard that Earl’s brother Floyd might be involved in something shady.”
“Really?” I perked up. “Like what?”
“Walter didn’t say, but he implied whatever it was is probably illegal,” Fern paused for a moment. “Floyd’s been busted for drugs before, so it could be that.”
“But how does this connect to Earl? Would Earl get caught up in drugs? Or maybe he tried to help Floyd, and something went wrong…” I thought aloud.
“I guess both are possible. It could be worth looking into,” Fern said.
“I agree.” I told her about my visit with Russell Jenkins, and how he had also mentioned Floyd. I didn’t say anything about Cole
’s unscheduled visit because I feared Fern might dissuade me from my investigation.
Despite the fact that Cole had arrested her, she seemed to think pretty highly of him, and I know she wouldn’t like it if she knew Cole was upset with me. Especially since she thought he was the perfect man for me. How ridiculous. There was no perfect man, and definitely not anyone perfect for me.
The following afternoon, I drove back down to the port. This morning, Fern had left me a note asking me to meet her there. She didn’t say why. When I called to find out what was going on, she said it was a surprise.
This made me nervous. With Fern, a surprise could be anything from taking me to get kettle corn and saltwater taffy, to volunteering me for a kissing booth at the annual Rockfish Bay Crab Festival. Yes, that had actually happened.
It was right after my breakup with Kenny and I was stuck in town for the summer. In some well-intentioned but messed up sort of way, Fern thought it would be a good idea for me to put myself out there again.
Yeah, like I was going to meet Mr. Right at the kissing booth.
Thankfully, my parents forbade me from even considering the idea, and for once I was grateful for their intervening. The Crab Festival Committee also refused to approve the kissing booth, so it never materialized. The point is, with Fern, I never knew what to expect.
I spotted my aunt’s car, and pulled into an empty space nearby, about a block from where Preston and I had lunch yesterday. This part of town was filled with tourists in the summer, but pretty quiet in the winter.
It wasn’t on the main highway that ran through town, so it didn’t get as much drive-by traffic. I loved it down here. Well, I used to.
Back when I was with Kenny, I spent quite a bit of time at his family’s cannery, working in the gift shop there during the summers while I was in high school.
Now being here was more bittersweet. I had fond memories of this area, but that’s what they were— memories. It was the past.
I grabbed my purse off the seat and got out of my SUV, scanning the sidewalk for my aunt.
“Charlee!”
I turned to see Fern shuffling down the sidewalk coming toward me. She was actually wearing jeans today, along with a bright and puffy mustard-yellow sweater. It was a sight. I’m pretty sure she knitted it.