“That’s ridiculous,” Lil said. “That’s almost like eloping. The town’s sheriff cannot elope.”
“There’s no time for a big brouhaha,” Abby Ruth said, but her downturned mouth said she was a little sad about that.
Maggie pushed her dark bangs back. “Lil’s right. He’s an elected official. The town deserves to be a part of the celebration. We’ll help plan the wedding. Won’t we, Lil?”
Sera chimed in. “Me too. You’d be surprised how fast movie set people can get things done.”
Maggie shouted to Abby Ruth from the doorway, “Sera said she has people who can help pull things together fast.”
Abby Ruth stooped in next to Maggie to talk into the phone. “Hi, Sera. Jenny said she wants to keep it low key.”
“No bride really means that,” Sera replied. “Now about the gazebo. I can send out some people—”
“It’s half fixed,” Maggie said. “I’ve loosened the boards. If I don’t finish now, someone might get hurt.”
“Wait. Listen to me.” Sera’s voice rose across the line. “No matter what Jenny decides, I’m sending someone over to fix the gazebo. That’s the least I can do. Maggie, you can focus on something else. I’ll do this for Jenny, and if we don’t use it for the wedding, we’ll use it for the baby shower, which I plan to host. Deal?”
“Fine by me,” Lil said.
“I can fix the gazebo,” Maggie said. “Why pay someone to do what I can do myself?”
“It’s my gift to Jenny. Please. I feel bad enough that I’m so far away. I want to be a part of things. Having the gazebo repaired is something I can arrange from here. Please?”
“Can’t hardly blame Sera for wanting to help, Mags.” Lil hoped Maggie would go along with Sera’s offer, because the extent of repairs the gazebo needed had her worried. It was heavy work with all the boards that should be replaced. There were plenty of other projects Maggie could work on.
* * *
After they’d told Sera goodbye, Abby Ruth had secured a very sad Ritter in the garage, and Maggie had shooed away Bruce so the gals could hustle on down to the Atlanta Highway Diner to meet with Stella. Now, the morning sun streamed through the diner’s front window, reflecting off the mirror lining one wall and brightening the space filled with tables, booths, and an old-fashioned counter. But Abby Ruth hadn’t taken her attention off the front door since they’d settled into the back booth, the one they considered their G Team spot since it was here they’d celebrated solving their very first case with a multi-colored five-layer cake.
At least here they could talk without worry of nosy neighbors listening in. All they needed was for someone to tell Teague they were doing a little investigating again.
Dottie, the diner’s longtime waitress, dropped off a tray of waters and a carafe of coffee for them. “Heard your girl is getting married to the sheriff,” she said to Abby Ruth.
Pride welled up inside Abby Ruth. “Yep.”
“So exciting. Someone has been spreading rumors that they’re gonna elope.” Dottie snickered. “Like that would ever happen. A wedding at Summer Haven would be the event of the year.”
“Wouldn’t it, though?” Lil said, glaring in Abby Ruth’s direction.
“Oops, there’s our friend.” Abby Ruth dodged the discussion and waved frantically at Stella. The diner was still humming from the late breakfast crowd, so Abby Ruth hopped up and rushed over to meet her at the door. “Welcome to Summer Shoals.”
“The town is smaller than I imagined,” Stella said. “But it’s cute.”
Abby Ruth slid into the booth first, and Stella scooted in next to her.
Lil poured a cup of coffee for Stella from the white thermal carafe. “I’m so glad you could come.”
“Abby Ruth told me about the homemade cake they serve here. How could I say no to that?”
Lil and Maggie exchanged a glance.
“Well, that’s not the only reason I invited you,” Abby Ruth admitted.
“You didn’t tell her already?” Maggie said.
“Tell me what?”
Abby Ruth sat up taller in the booth, glancing around. No one was paying them any attention, but she lowered her voice anyway. “I think we can help you.”
“With what?” Stella’s head swiveled like an owl’s as she looked at each of them.
“We want to find out exactly what happened with your purse. I don’t like that someone ripped you off.” Abby Ruth pushed her mug away. “Whoever took it should pay.”
Stella waved a hand, dismissing the comment. “Don’t be silly. It’s over and done with. I already got a new credit card.”
“But he or she took advantage of you,” Abby Ruth said.
“All they charged was birdseed at a Tractor Supply just outside Atlanta, and I’m disputing the charges with the bank. As far as the cash, I shouldn’t have been carrying that much anyway.”
“You can’t just let him get away with it.”
“I have to take some responsibility for it,” Stella said. “I’ve learned my lesson, and that’s good enough for me. Believe me, I won’t be toting around cash like that again.”
“But…” Maggie’s shoulders drooped.
Lil was slumped so low she looked as if she might slip right under the table.
Surprisingly, Abby Ruth wasn’t the only one who’d been looking forward to the chance to work on a new case. “Tell us more about what happened. Where were you? Did anyone look suspicious?”
“Really, there’s no reason to—”
“I rang the bell for you,” Abby Ruth said. “Please do this for me.” Okay, so that was probably unfair, but desperate times called for creativity, and it was all she could think of.
Stella frowned, not surprising since she wasn’t privy to any of the takedowns Abby Ruth and her gals had set up in the past. After taking a sip of her coffee, Stella finally said, “I was at a wedding and had left the table to get one last nibble before they closed down the buffet. I just can’t say no to those pigs in a blanket. They throw all those extra hors d’oeuvres out, you know.”
Lil visibly swallowed, probably sickened at the thought of eating tiny hot dogs wrapped in biscuits at a wedding.
“I thought you said your friends were at the table watching it.”
“Only Virginia, and she’s not always the most reliable. When I returned, Virginia was out on the dance floor, and my purse wasn’t hanging on the table anymore. You know I always hang my bag by my purse clip on my left side.” She gestured toward Lil and Maggie. “I’m right handed. That way I don’t knock it while I’m eating or talking. I’m Italian after all. We like to do a lot of both—eating and talking with our hands.”
Abby Ruth wanted to slap the table to keep Stella focused but tapped her fingers in an impatient rhythm instead. “You said you found it close to the catering supplies, right?”
“Yes.” Stella blinked. “It may have been my imagination, but it seemed like a man kept trying to herd me away from the area where I found my purse.”
Abby Ruth made a gimme motion with her fingers, encouraging Stella to spill everything.
“It could have been anyone. There were so many people there. Thank goodness my purse was bright magenta or I may never have seen it tucked behind a stack of chafing dishes near the door.”
“Chafing dishes?” Abby Ruth mused, turning that tidbit over in her head. “Had to be someone with the caterer.”
“Not many people were still there when I came back looking for my purse. I do remember a tall, thin redheaded man with a mustache. I was in his way when he was clearing things off tables. But by the time I found my purse and turned around to explain, he was long gone.”
“Interesting. He may have been trying to keep you from spotting your bag.” Maggie rubbed her hands together. “Any idea who mustache man was?”
“Why are y’all so interested in my missing purse?” Stella asked.
Lil scooted herself back up on the bench seat and sat up straight. “We have exper
ience dealing with criminals, and it does sound like you might’ve been the victim of a crime, dear.”
Abby Ruth held back the snarky remark lying on the tip of her tongue about Lil having lived with criminals, which was how she knew how to deal with them. “We can track that snake down and get your money back.”
“I won’t lie to you. Having my money back would be nice, but I don’t want people to see me as a victim. It’s bad enough that some folks still think of me as weak and sick despite the fact I’m well now.”
“We understand completely,” Lil said. “But you don’t want anyone to think they can take advantage of you either, do you?”
“No, of course not.” She brushed at invisible crumbs on the table. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to look into it.”
Excitement coursed through Abby Ruth. Things might be a little rocky in her personal life right now, but this purse snatching was something she could grab on to and fix. “We’ll take care of everything. Don’t you worry.”
“Do you remember anything else about the man?” Maggie took diligent notes on a sketch artist app for the iPad that Sera had left behind. Thank goodness Sera had found that app because Maggie had once tried to use a crazy Mr. Potato Head to pin down facial features of a bad guy they were chasing. Not exactly twenty-first century technology. “Red hair and a mustache, right? Did he have a receding hairline? Eyes? Full lips?”
“Gosh. Let me think.” Stella’s face contorted as she tried to remember. “Red hair, cut short. He had beady eyes. Kind of reminded me of a giant possum with his pale skin and dark dot eyes. A pinched nose. Oh, and he had this swirly tattoo on the side of his neck.” She leaned forward with a smirk. “Chemo brain, my ass. I bet no one could remember that many details.”
She and Abby Ruth high-fived.
Dottie, her striking, ash-blond hair pulled back in a twist and secured with a pen, returned to the table and ran down the specials. “Maggie, I have some of those cheese grits made with half and half just the way you like them. How ’bout I spoon you up a bowl? Or are y’all thinking lunch?”
“We’re all having the same thing. A slice of your famous Summer Shoals Five-Layer Cake.” Abby Ruth lived for the brown, white, pink, yellow and green layers. It might just be almond-flavored cake, but those colors seemed to trick the brain into believing it was something extra special. Something worth celebrating with. So what if this was before instead of after a case.
“And I’ll stick with the coffee,” Lil added. “Y’all too?”
Everyone nodded except for Stella. “Decaf tea for me, please.”
Dottie jotted the order on her pad. “Got it. It’ll be right out.”
“I’m going to zip back to the ladies’ room,” Stella announced.
Lil, Maggie and Abby Ruth sat quietly as Stella rose from the table. As soon as the bathroom door closed, they all leaned toward the center of the table. “This will be a cakewalk,” Abby Ruth announced.
“Still fun,” Maggie said.
“The G Team is back in business.”
“Abby Ruth,” Lil said, “there were times during your treatment that you were, shall we say…”
“Squirrelly-brained?”
“I was going to say forgetful, and sometimes you remembered things incorrectly. You don’t think Stella could be…”
“She blamed all this stolen purse mess on the residual effects from the chemo at first, but she changed her mind. I believe she knows exactly what she’s talking about. Please don’t say that in front of her. She’s very sensitive about it.”
“She’s coming,” Lil said in a hushed voice. “Then I added cumin to the sauce to give it a smoky flavor. It really was quite good.”
“I love cumin in my recipes.” Stella slid back into the booth.
“Speaking of recipes, Stella, do you think you could ask the bride at the wedding where your purse was taken who did her catering?”
Stella blushed and fiddled with her napkin, her discomfort obvious.
Abby Ruth hitched a breath. Was she still having some fuzzy memories? Maybe Lil was right to question Stella. “You don’t remember whose wedding it was?”
“No. Yes. I mean, not exactly. But don’t misunderstand. This isn’t a chemo fog. I remember the event just fine. It’s just that…well…I’m not really friends of the bride.”
Maggie nodded. “Don’t feel bad. I get it. I’ve gone to plenty of weddings where I didn’t see why in the world an acquaintance would invite me to their child’s wedding. Always felt obliged to go though.”
“Not quite like that either.” Fidgeting with her napkin, she finally gave in with a big sigh. “I guess there’s no harm in confiding in you, but please don’t let this get around. You see, my girlfriends and I like to drop in on weddings on the weekends.”
“Drop in?” Lil patted her chest directly over her heart. “You don’t mean you crash weddings?”
Abby Ruth thought it sounded fun, but Stella’s cheeks grew even redder, and she was squirming like a kid caught stealing cookies.
“We always put ten dollars each in the wedding fund box to cover the cake and champagne. We do love a good party, and at our age there’s not much going on. That’s also part of why I didn’t tell anyone my purse was stolen. I wasn’t an invited guest. We go to a lot of weddings at the Remington Club because it’s one of the nicest venues in Atlanta.” Stella rested her head on the back of the booth, avoiding all their gazes. “I’m so embarrassed.”
Lil shook her head, her dismay clear.
“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, Stella. Trust me, we all have our secrets,” Abby Ruth said with a sharp glance in Lil’s direction. Who was Lil to judge?
“You girls ready?” Dottie approached carrying a lineup of small white plates up her arm piled with slices of cake and scoops of ice cream. “Cake all around.”
Stella picked up her fork before the plate hit the table.
“Anything else for you gals?” Dottie asked.
“Not a thing.” Abby Ruth was already mentally planning how she could find out who had catered at the Remington Club the day Stella crashed that wedding. Right now she felt as if her world was coming together again. Finally, she could begin to push aside that whole cancer mess, and she and the girls could once again make progress as the G Team. More than anything, she wanted to feel that excitement in her life again.
She turned to Stella and grinned. “How would you feel about coming on a field trip with the G Team?”
“What’s the G Team?”
“Sugar—” Abby Ruth pointed at Lil, Maggie, and herself, “—that’s us. And the G Team is about to show you some real fun.”
Chapter Six
To Lil’s relief, all it took was a couple of quick phone calls from the restaurant for Stella and Abby Ruth to track down the information on the suspicious caterer’s whereabouts today. Chances were good that this was a solid lead. Maybe they weren’t as out of practice as she’d thought.
The caterer was back at the Remington Club, setting up for a wedding reception this afternoon. On a Tuesday of all days.
Back in her day, people were married on a Saturday, period. Now, young folks were going all willy-nilly, tying the knot on a Tuesday afternoon.
Lil suggested they call ahead to the reception venue, but Abby Ruth put the kibosh on that idea, saying they didn’t want to give the caterer any reason to think they were on to him.
The cake plates had barely been cleared from the diner table before the gals piled into Abby Ruth’s dually headed for Atlanta. It seemed no time at all before they pulled up in front of one of the swankiest places Lil had ever been. Why on earth hadn’t she ever heard of the Remington Club?
This was the type of place she would’ve been invited to PP—pre-prison—but now she was barging her way in. Goodness gracious, she still didn’t care for this part of the investigation business. Sometimes they were forced to be so pushy, downright rude and uncouth. And that was what this was, swaggering into a reception venue ten
minutes before the bride and groom were due to arrive.
She and the others hurried toward the double mahogany doors leading into a redbrick building that sprawled for what looked like a mile. Lil was eager to get inside, but Stella was walking so slowly that even Lil, short as she was, could lap her. “Dear, is there something wrong?”
“I’m not sure about all this investigation stuff. It’s been weeks since my purse went missing. I didn’t think the police could track down the culprit. Why would the three of you believe you could—”
Lil gave her a haughty look.
“—find the guilty party?”
She allowed her indignation at Stella’s lack of faith in the G Team to fade into a smile. “I forget that you haven’t seen Abby Ruth at the top of her game. But once that woman gets the bit between her teeth, she’s impossible to control. She goes into a wild gallop that an experienced bronc rider couldn’t survive.”
Outside the ballroom, Lil straightened her shoulders and the collar on her blouse, trying to project all the elegance her mother had taught her.
Look as if you belong and as if you’re the one who should be directing the entire show, Lillian dear. Confidence with just a touch of arrogance will never fail you.
Thanks, Momma.
Lil sped up, as fast as her short legs would carry her. She weaved around Abby Ruth and Maggie into a big room where people were scurrying here and there, setting up centerpieces and straightening tablecloths. “Ladies,” she said, “we’re going to play this my way.”
“But—” Abby Ruth protested.
“Have you ever handled a catering staff?”
“No, but I ate plenty of catered food in the press boxes,” she said.
“If you can tell me you’ve planned and pulled off a charity dinner for three hundred people, then I will certainly let you be the one to sweet-talk this caterer into giving us information.”
For once, Abby Ruth remained quiet.
You give excellent advice, Momma. It even works on overconfident Texans.
“Wow,” Stella said in a low voice to Abby Ruth, “you’re friend here is a real firecracker.”
Wedding Mints and Witnesses Page 5