Secrets, Lies, and Homemade Pies

by Emma Ames

  Rita flapped her hand in the air. “Sorry, Ridge, I’ve got bad news and good news. Leah got called for jury duty. She’ll be tied up until five o’clock. The good news, at least you know where she is.”

  “I guess I’ll go with Bubba to serve the warrant, and plan on talking to Leah and Carl first thing in the morning. Don’t want to give him the opportunity to warn her.”

  Rita stuck her pencil behind her ear. “What’s the deal with the transfer?”

  “Oh, the ranger in Athens, wanted to move to a larger city, so we’re trading places. I haven’t even told Tizzy yet. I plan to surprise her tonight.”

  Rita shifted in her chair. “Oh, what did Gracie name her kitten?”

  Ridge chuckled. “Cuddles.”

  “That sounds like a name she’d choose. Cat names are important. They reflect their owner’s personality.”

  Bubba hooked his thumbs in his belt. “What are the names of your cats, Rita?”

  She smiled. “Manson, Bundy, Sara Lee, and Little Debbie.”

  “You’re right. Those names certainly reflect what you’re all about.”

  “Don’t make fun. Cats are a lot less trouble than dogs.” She directed her question to Ridge. “You ever had cats?”

  “No. Growing up, dogs were my pets of choice.”

  “Be sure and spay her. If you don’t, she’ll be having kittens faster than you can give them away. And, if she’s an inside cat, have her declawed. If you don’t, she’ll shred every piece of furniture in the house. If she lives outside, she’ll need her claws to avoid predators and do all that trophy hunting.”

  “Trophy hunting?”

  Rita finished her muffin and wiped her mouth. “Cats are natural predators, but if you feed them, they don’t need to kill for food. To win your love and approval, they’ll hunt and present their prey to you.” She wagged her head. “My mother used to scream bloody murder when she’d find a dead bird or mouse at the door. But the worst was snakes. She would go crazy.” Rita broke into laughter.

  “I’ll be sure and tell Tizzy. I stay in hot water with her enough. I don’t need litters and dead animals adding to the problem.”

  When he reached the car, they got in, and Bubba laid the folder between them. What started out as a nice day had faded. Lightning streaked the sky, and a low rumble moaned the threat of rain.

  Ten miles out of town, Bubba swung into a mobile home park where all the trailers shot-gunned into lots on both sides of the street. Each had a small yard bordered by chain link fencing.

  Ridge glanced at the warrant. Connally Beckem, twenty-one, Caucasian, five-feet-eight-inches, one-hundred-thirty pounds, wanted for breaking and entering. He pointed. “Is this his?”

  “No. Grandma’s house. He lives with her.”

  Ridge stood behind Bubba while he knocked. An elderly woman opened the door and stared up at them with eyes that said she’d been disappointed in life.

  “You here for Connally?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Is he here?”

  “You gonna arrest him?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid so.”

  “He’s not here, but I’ll tell you where to find him.” She stepped out onto the small porch and aimed a finger toward the main road. “He’s down there in that first trailer on the right when you come into the park. You can’t miss the place. It’s pink and purple. He’s shacked up with that no-good, Lula Tucker. She’s put a spell on him. Her husband drives a truck, and he left this morning for California. Won’t be back for two weeks. He’d only been gone a few minutes when Lula called, and Connally high-tailed it down there. I’ve tried to get that boy in church, but he won’t go. I’ve told him the Savior don’t take kindly to men who sleep with other men’s wives, but he won’t listen, so take him to jail. He’s better off there than he is with her.”

  Bubba and Ridge returned to the car and eased down to the colorful residence. When they stepped onto the porch, someone shouted from inside. “You’re a stallion! Giddy-up, baby! Giddy-up!”

  Ridge smirked. “What do you think?”

  Bubba shook his head. “Seems a shame to interrupt a man in the middle of a ride.”

  “Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up!” A loud moan, then the trailer went quiet.

  Bubba knocked.

  A large woman with flaming red hair, wearing a pink chenille robe and a cowboy hat opened the door. “May I help you?” She lit a cigarette.

  “Yes, ma’am. Is Connally Beckem here?”

  She sucked in a long drag, aimed the smoke at the ceiling, and spoke over her shoulder. “Connally! They’s some men here to see you, sugar.”

  Connally came into the room wearing nothing but cowboy boots. Bubba and Ridge slanted a look at each other, and Ridge figured they were thinking the same thing. The guy was a stallion.

  He focused in on them. “Damn! You here to arrest me?”

  “Fraid so. Put some clothes on, boy.”

  Lula wrapped her arms around him. “Go on, baby. I’ll be down to get you out. Lula’s not gonna let you stay locked up.”

  Once Connally dressed, Ridge put him in the car, and they headed toward county jail.

  The threat of rain had passed, and the sun struggled to dominate the sky. But after processing Connally, and grabbing some lunch, clouds had rolled in again, and a fine mist fell.

  Bubba cut his eyes over at Ridge. “Stella Easton’s information points the finger at Leah. You’ve thought all along she’s the best suspect.”

  “Yeah, but even now, something doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it. I have the same problem with Leah as I did with Tizzy committing the crime. Unless Leah had help, she couldn’t lift Marlene and place her at Boone’s grave.”

  “Maybe Carl helped her.”

  “I’ve considered that, but Carl wasn’t unhappy with his situation. Somehow, I don’t think he’d risk losing everything by killing his wife.” Ridge squinted. “Of all the locations the killer could have left Marlene, he chose Boone’s grave. A place Tizzy ran past every morning.”

  Fragments of conversations exploded in Ridge’s head. Brownsboro has a low crime rate. Tizzy’s been in the middle. Trophy hunting. Ridge gasped. “That’s the answer.”

  Bubba jerked toward him. “What is?”

  “Marlene—at Boone’s grave. I’ve wondered all along if placing her there was some sort of symbol. Then Rita talked about trophy hunting. What if Marlene was a trophy kill! What if it was never about Marlene—but Tizzy?”

  Bubba looked puzzled. “Who would do that? You’re saying somebody’s obsessed with Tizzy?”

  “Why not? You said plenty of men in town had the hots for her. What if one is crazy obsessed with her?” Ridge picked up the brown envelope and ripped it open. He removed the list and ran his finger down the alphabetical listing, flipping pages back and forth. He stopped and sucked in a deep breath.

  “And I know who it is.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Tizzy found a parking space in front of Hometown Grocery. For a small town, their meat market was top-notch and would rival any big city butcher shop. She might not know everything about Ridge, but he was a steak and potatoes man.

  After the grocery store, she stopped by the tavern and swiped a bottle of wine. In a few days, Ridge would leave, and until then, she wanted their time together to be special.

  The days were flying by, and soon they’d only see each other on weekends. The thought made her sad.

  They agreed the city wasn’t where they wanted to raise Gracie or their future children, and he’d promised to make it work, even if he had to give up being a ranger.

  But the more she thought about that, the more it became clear it was too much to ask of him. There was sure to come a time when he’d resent her for it. That would be harder to bear than being without him.

  She slipped behind the wheel of her car and turned on her lights as raindrops fell. Before heading home, she drove to the post office to drop a letter into the mailbox, then continued on past
the high school track where earlier they’d had the cancer walk. All the banners were down, and Troy loaded the last of the barricades into his truck. She honked and waved.

  Within a few minutes, she angled into her drive and pulled into the garage.

  Suddenly, her head roared. “Whore—ranger—whore—ranger—”

  “Stop!” She screamed. “Stop! Too many of you are talking. You’re too loud.” As quickly as the chant started, it stopped. She relaxed her head against the seat and took a second to calm down. Every time she passed the cemetery, it happened. She needed to find another route.

  Gathering her wits and the grocery bags, she stepped to the door, inserted the key in the lock, and froze in place. An eerie sensation wrapped around her and the voices came again. This time in a whisper. “Whore—ranger—whore—”

  She turned the latch, bumped the door open with her hip, stepped inside, and reached for the light.

  “Whore—ranger—wh—Holt—danger.—.”

  Too late she made sense of the warning. Out of the darkness, his voice came. “Hello, Tizzy.”

  She flung herself against the wall. Bags fell to the floor, steak and potatoes spilled out in front of her. The wine bottle shot out across the hardwood and hit the iron base of the floor lamp. Broken glass and Merlot became air born. Tizzy grabbed onto the drapes to steady herself and pulled them down on top of her as she lost her footing. Dazed, she tried to focus.

  He switched on the lamp. Ghostly white, he sat in the corner chair holding a gun. Tizzy struggled to get up and ground broken glass into her palm. “Freddy. What are you doing here?”

  Fear gripped her. She reached toward the table for support, and the glass buried deeper into flesh. She winced, raked the crushed pieces onto the floor, but for one large shard lodged at the base of her thumb. She pulled the piece out, and blood dripped from the wound.

  “What are you doing here, Freddy?”

  “I’ve come for you, Tizzy.”

  “What are you talking about?” Her words came out in a forced breath as her phone rang.

  He pointed the gun at her. “Don’t answer it.”

  Across the lawn, a car door slammed. Her stomach clenched. Within a few seconds, someone knocked.

  Freddy moved toward her. “Don’t make a sound.”

  “Tizzy, I know you’re home. I see your car. Open up. I need to talk to you.”

  “Freddy, let me talk to him. He won’t leave until I do. Please,” she whispered.

  He narrowed his eyes as if in deep thought, then pulled her forward. “Get rid of him, or I’ll shoot through the door and kill him.”

  She opened the door a few inches and ran her sentences together before Ridge had a chance to speak. “I’m sorry, Ridge, I’m not feeling well. I really can’t talk right now, and I know what you’re thinking, you’re going to offer to keep Gracie, but she’s with Mom, and like I always say when she’s with them, she thinks she’s died and gone to Heaven.”

  Ridge lost his color. The veins in his neck popped out. When a single drop of blood fell to the floor from her hand, he scanned everything within his vision.

  He stepped back. “I’ll check on you later.” He started to leave, then stopped. “Tizzy, do whatever you have to—to get better.”

  Freddy yanked her from the door and waited until Ridge drove away. “You did good.”

  A wave of relief washed over her. Ridge got the message. All she had to do was stay alive. “What do you want?”

  “You. I’ve always wanted you. You love me. That’s why you had your momma and daddy hire me. You wanted to be near me like I wanted to be close to you.”

  “Freddy, you’re very special to me, but you’re younger than I am and—”

  “Stop it! Age doesn’t matter. Besides, six years is not that much of a difference.” He paced the length of the room, his hands animated as he talked. “I love you, Tizzy. But you went and slept with the ranger.” He stopped and pounded his head with the heel of his palm. “Why did you do that?” He moved two steps closer, and his eyes went wide.

  Tizzy’s heart jumped into her throat. Her head spun. Her brain went into survival mode. “I had no choice. He thinks I killed Marlene. I had to do something to discredit him. Something to get him removed from the case. All the evidence pointed to me. I didn’t kill her, but I don’t have an alibi, so I slept with him. And, it worked. He’s been ordered back to Dallas. He’s leaving in two days.”

  He stopped pacing and laughed. “He thinks you killed her? That’s priceless. I did it. For you.”

  A shudder ran up and down Tizzy’s spine. Bile rose from her stomach. She fought to keep it down. “Why? I didn’t want her dead.”

  He shook his head and waved the gun in the air. “She was a bitch. She was mean. She treated you and me like dirt. She didn’t deserve to live. She didn’t even put up a fight.” His eyes wild, he smiled.

  “I waited in her car. Made her drive to the cemetery. She was drunk or high on something. She laughed at me. Thought I was joking. Even after we got to Boone’s grave, and I told her to kneel and ask him to forgive her for the way she’d treated you, she still didn’t take me serious. She knelt, and you know what she said?” He looked at Tizzy for an answer.

  Tizzy bit her lip. “No.”

  “She said, ‘I’m sorry, Boone — you married that little bitch.’ I showed her. I plunged the needle into the back of her arm, right through her blouse. She didn’t even flinch. Kept telling me how sorry I’d be, and how she’d send me to prison. Yapping and yapping like a chained mongrel-mutt. She didn’t die quick. She suffered. I listened to her gasp for her last breath, then I got into her car, drove back to the bank, parked, and walked away. Easy-peasy.”

  “Freddy? Can I wash my hand, please? The cut hurts.”

  He hit his head with the palm of his hand again. “Oh, sure.”

  She staggered to the sink with him right behind. She could feel the heat coming off his body. She turned on the faucet and let cool water run over the wound, then blotted it with a paper towel.

  “It was even easier killing the guy in the hospital.”

  Tizzy snapped her head up. “What guy?”

  “The guy who tried to take you that night at the bar. He went quick because I put the insulin right in his IV. I dressed in my mom’s old scrubs, went in with a mop and bucket, shot him up, and was out of there in a flash. That cop at the door never thought a thing about me. Invisible, that’s how people treat me.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “I would never hurt you. And I’ve proved I’ll punish anyone who does. I love you. I was pissed about the ranger, but now I understand why you slept with him, so I forgive you. You don’t love him, right?”

  “No, I don’t.” She struggled to keep the quiver from her voice, tears at bay, and from throwing up.

  “You love me, right?”

  “Freddy, please.”

  “You love me. Say you love me! Dammit! Say you love me!”

  “I love you.”

  “Say, I love you, Freddy.”

  “I love you, Freddy.”

  “Good. Now, take off your clothes.”

  Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped at them with the back of her hand. “Please, don’t do this.”

  “I won’t do anything to you, I promise. Not until we’re married. That’s the way it’s supposed to be. But that ranger’s seen you, and I want to see you.”

  “What happened to you, Freddy?”

  “I’m tired of people treating me like I don’t matter. My momma was the only one who cared about me, and now she’s gone.”

  Tizzy’s breath strangled. Mrs. Holt’s death must have caused a psychotic break because Tizzy had never considered Freddy dangerous—until now. “That’s not true. You have lots of people who care about you.”

  “Shut up! Shut up!” He brandished the gun again.

  From the look in his eyes, he meant business. His emotions were high, and she wasn’t sure she could reason
with him, but she had to try. At least to buy some time. “Freddy, you know what you mean to my family. You’re our right-hand man. Dad couldn’t run the bar without you. Momma and Sugarpie depend on you more than anyone. Think of how they’ll feel once they find out you’ve held me at gunpoint.”

  His face drew into a scowl. She could tell he was giving it some thought and hoped swelled within her. “If you let me go right now, I won’t ever tell anyone about this. We can forget it ever happened.”

  “What about Marlene?”

  “That’s different. You killed her. But if you confess, my family will testify to what a good person you are. Since you’ve never been in trouble before, you might get off with probation. I mean, she was a horrible person, and nobody liked her. I don’t think a jury will hold you responsible for what you did.”

  That was a lie. They’d send him up the river in a minute, but Tizzy was grasping at the proverbial straw. She’d say or do anything to end this.

  “You’d stand by me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then prove it. Take. Your. Clothes. Off.”

  Her hands trembled, and her knees went weak, but she raised her tee-shirt, pulled it over her head, and threw it at him. Then she stepped out of her shoes, unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, yanked them down, and kicked them away. Fury raged through her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her slowly undress. She reached behind her back, unhooked her bra, slung it to the floor, then shed her panties. Standing naked before him, she spoke through clenched teeth. “There. Are you happy?”

  He stood frozen—eyes glazed over. “Damn! You are friggin’ beautiful.”

  She stepped back. “Stay away from me. You said you wouldn’t do anything. We need to wait until our wedding night. We can leave now. Go to Vegas. I need a few minutes to throw some things in a bag.”

  “Okay. We can do that. I’ll be a good husband and the best daddy to Gracie. I promise.”

  Tears burned her eyes. The thought of Gracie with him was too much. “Just put the gun down.”