Bed & Breakfast Bedlam (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Abby L. Vandiver

  “Gus, look who’s here,” Viola Rose called out. She grabbed two menus and headed toward one of the booths.

  “Well, if it ain’t the matriarch of Yasamee, Georgia,” Gus grinned. “Rose, you make sure you treat her like royalty. Anything she wants, it’s on the house.”

  “Don’t you think I know what to do?” Viola Rose countered back.

  Gus, who could pass for a munchkin, was short, muscular and seemed to have a permeant scowl on his face. He worked the flattop grill with skill, donned in a white apron, t-shirt and chef’s skull cap. And if he was one of the citizens of Oz, Viola Rose was its good witch, Glenda. She was pink and bedazzled – shiny lips, shiny eyeshadow and shiny rings on every finger. Even her eyes sparkled when she smiled. Her strawberry blond hair was teased high into a bouffant and she had several pens sticking out of it.

  “How long has it been, Miss Vivee?” Viola Rose asked.

  “Twenty years.”

  “Oh my! Don’t that just beat anything?” Viola Rose stopped in her tracks. “You venture out after twenty years and you come to my diner,” She loosed a smile that was as wide as the Mississippi. “Here, Miss Vivee.” She walked over to a booth that sat in the center of one of the windows, a purple and pink sign blinking “Open” hanging in the middle of it. “You sit right here. This was always your favorite booth,” Viola Rose said patting the table.

  “Now who you got with you? This Bay’s girlfriend?” Viola Rose said eyeing me.

  “Just because she black don’t mean she’s dating Bay, Viola Rose. I know lots of black people. She’s an archaeologist,” Miss Vivee said seemingly proud. “And she consented to having lunch with me.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth, Miss Vivee,” Viola Rose said. “I was only asking. Not making any judgments.”

  “Well you ask too many questions,” Miss Vivee said.

  “You not gonna rile me today, Miss Vivee. I’m too happy to see you.” Viola Rose pulled a pen out of her hair and an order pad out of her apron pocket. “So what can I get you ladies?”

  “I’ll have coffee and she’ll have an iced tea.”

  “I’ll have a Pepsi, please.” I said. “Lots of ice.”

  “It’s a fountain drink, is that okay with you?” she asked.

  “Yep,” I said and picked up the menu. “You want egg salad, Miss Vivee?”

  “Oh my God, no! Why would you think that?”

  “I thought you liked my egg salad, Miss Vivee.” Viola Rose frowned up her face.

  “Just bring us our drinks, Viola Rose. Give me a chance to see what else you got.”

  “If you want answers from her,” I leaned in and lowered my voice after Viola Rose left. “Seems like you’d be a lot nicer to her.”

  “I’m going to need to you to run over to Hadley Drug store,” she said ignoring me. “It’s right there on the corner. See.” She pointed out the window. “I want one of those small notebooks that the detectives use. You know it has the spiral wire on the top.”

  “I haven’t ordered yet.”

  “Well order. Then go get me a notebook, please. And three No. 2 pencils. Already sharpened.”

  “Okay,” I said. I sat and perused the menu for awhile. Everything looked good. I remember Renmar telling me they had good food here. “What are you having?” I asked Miss Vivee.

  “An egg salad sandwich,” she said impatiently tapping her fingers on the counter. She hadn’t even looked at her menu. “Now. You tell me what you want and I’ll tell Viola Rose while you go to Hadley’s.”

  “Didn’t you just say you didn’t want any egg salad?”

  “Are you going to tell me what you want so I can get it ordered for you?”

  Geesh.

  I let out a groan. “Okay. I’ll do a cheeseburger and French fries.”

  “Okay then. Now go. Shoo. And hurry back.”

  Luckily Hadley’s Drugstore had the notebook Miss Vivee wanted, but they didn’t sell pencils that were already sharpened. I considered getting her a mechanical pencil, but when I said who it was that wanted it to the sales clerk that was helping me, she wouldn’t let me get one. She said she’d sharpen the pencils for me.

  Miss Vivee controlled people with just the mention of her name.

  “We should make a list of suspects,” Miss Vivee said when I got back.

  “That’s a good idea,” I said taking a sip of my coke. Viola Rose had waited to bring it to me until I got back. Miss Vivee had downed half of her cup of coffee. “Did you order my food, Miss Vivee,” I asked.

  “Of course I did. You think I was just over here twiddling my thumbs?”

  Miss Vivee pulled the notebook and pencils out of the plastic Hadley Drugstore bag. She opened up the notebook and licked the tip of her pencil.

  “Okay. Who we got so far?” she asked. Her shaky hand perched over the paper.

  “You want me to write?” I asked.

  “Why would I need you to write? I’m heading up this investigation. These should be my notes.”

  Before I could say anything, Viola Rose brought our food over.

  “I put extra egg salad on there, Miss Vivee. “I knew you were only kidding when you said you didn’t want any.”

  “I don’t kid, Viola Rose. But I realized my outburst wasn’t nice so I decided to eat some.” She looked up at the waitress. “For the sake of your feelings.”

  Viola Rose shook her head.

  “Okay, you two enjoy.”

  I put some ketchup on my fries, and on my burger with a little mustard. I bit into it and the juice from the meat ran down my arm. “Oh man. This is good,” I said through a mouth full of food. “You like your egg salad, Miss Vivee?”

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  “You want more coffee, honey?” Viola Rose came to the table with a steaming pot in her hand.

  “No,” Miss Vivee said and placed her palm on the top of the cup. “But I do want to ask you something.”

  “Anything you need.”

  “It’s about Gemma Burke.”

  “Poor thing. I heard about what happened. Terrible thing that it happened at your place. I reckon that Renmar was just beside herself. ‘Specially with the Sheriff having to confiscate her famous bouillabaisse.”

  “Sheriff ruffled her feathers with that one,” Miss Vivee said. “She wants to make sure no one finds out her secret ingredients. And the thought of the county lab examining it practically sent her off her rockers.”

  Viola Ray set the coffee pot on the table, put her hands on her hips and let out a laugh. “Renmar’d kill over somebody trying to get her recipe. Come to think of it, sort of a coincidence, Gemma asked me did I know how to make Renmar’s bouillabaisse. She said she’d do anything to find out what’s in it.”

  “Did she now?” Miss Vivee asked seemingly intrigued.

  “Tell me Viola Rose, what do you know about her?”

  “Who? Gemma Burke?” Viola Rose asked. “Probably no more than you. You remember her before she left here to go to the big city.”

  “Yeah, I do. But that was so long ago.”

  “Well she hadn’t changed much. She still was a nice girl. Quiet but polite. She was always smiling.” Viola Rose tilted her head upward and squinted her eyes like she was thinking. “I asked her once why she come back after she was so gung ho to leave and she told me she just missed home.”

  “So she hadn’t changed much, huh?”

  “No way I could tell. Only thing I know she did different was she had become what you called one of them, uhm, runners.”

  “Joggers,” Miss Vivee said and eyed me.

  “Yeah, you know. But now that I think about it she seemed quieter than before. Always keeping to herself. I thought about that when I used to see her running out there.” She pointed through the window. “Always by herself.”

  “She’d run past here,” I asked.

  “Yep. That’s was the last time I saw her. Her going past my window. Every morning she’d come from her house and jog down along
past here. She did it on the day she died.”

  “What time was that, Viola Rose?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “I know exactly what time it was. Eleven thirty. Junior Appletree had come in for his lunch. Comes in everyday at the same time. Funny, how I noticed her that day. Can’t say that I remember what time she ran by here any other day.”

  “But you do remember that she passed here every day,” I asked.

  “Sure do. Every day during the week. I don’t think she ran on the weekend. Leastways I can’t say I remember her doing it.”

  “How’d she look when she passed?”

  “How’d she look?” Viola Rose seemed puzzled.

  “I mean was she coughing. Did she look like she was in any pain?”

  “I can’t say.” She cocked her head to the side. “But I guess if she was coughing or sickly I would have taken notice of it.” She looked down at Miss Vivee. “So. Nope. I’d have to say she wasn’t. She looked like she did any other day.”

  “Wasn’t she staying in Gunner Hadley’s old house?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “Yeah, she was renting it. You know she’d sold her parents’ house when she left.”

  “Where did she go when she left here?”

  “I don’t rightly know.” Viola tapped her chin with her finger. “She said ‘big city,’ I’m sure it was Augusta. You know I don’t like to pry into people business.”

  “Yes. Viola Rose, I know,” Miss Vivee said, obviously being sarcastic.

  “She’s got a girl staying up there at the house with her, though,” Viola Rose added. “Brought her back with her when she came ahome.”

  “Really? I don’t remember seeing any new faces around here?” Miss Vivee said.

  “Sweetie, you ain’t left the house in twenty years, probably a lot of things around here you ain’t seen.” She stuck her hands down in the pockets of her apron. “She’s come in here to eat plenty of times. She’s a real bump on a log. Mousey. Quiet. I always wondered what her and Gemma did together because they wouldn’t say two words to each other when they’d come in here to eat. But Gemma was real nice to her. Gemma would always pay for the food for the both of them.”

  “What’s the girl’s name?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “Hmmm. Can’t say I know.” Viola Rose used one of the pens stuck in her hair to scratch her head. “Don’t know if Gemma ever said it.”

  “Why was she staying with Gemma?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “Well ain’t you full of questions?”

  “It happens when you don’t get out much,” Miss Vivee said matter-of-factly. “You just become overflowing with questions almost to the point where you feel like you’re gonna pop if you don’t get them answered. Plus,” Miss Vivee said and leaned forward to whisper to Viola Rose, “I want to help Renmar and the Maypop keep their good reputation.” She touched her on her arm. “Like you said, it ain’t good for her or our establishment if people are dying.”

  “Don’t I know it. I just shudder at the thought of that happening here. Someone dying right in one of my booths.” She shook her shoulders.

  “That’s why I came down here to talk to you Viola Rose, I knew you could help me clear Renmar’s good name.”

  “Miss Vivee. You know I’d do anything for you or your family.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “No. I can’t say that I ever heard either one of them say her name. But if something comes to mind, I’ll let you know.” Viola Rose crossed her arms in front of her. “And I don’t know why that girl is living with her either.” Viola Rose lowered her voice. “Can’t say that either one of them ever told me the reason. But I was figuring she was broke, she seemed as useless as a screen door on a submarine.”

  “Has she been in here today?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “No. She ain’t been in here today.” The door to the diner opened with a jingle. “I’ll be right with you,” Viola Rose called out to the couple that came in. “But I know she’ll be here later,” she said and reached down and picked up Miss Vivee’s coffee cup. It’s Saturday. I serve Shepard’s Pie every Saturday and she never misses it.”

  The bell on the door jingled again. “Good Lord. Look like lunchtime rush done started.” She patted Miss Vivee’s hand. “I’ll be back.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Miss Vivee pushed her plate, which was completely devoid of even one morsel of egg salad, back and leaned her elbows on the table. “Well do you think any of that was useful information?” she asked me.

  “Any of what?”

  “Any of what Viola Rose said. Sometimes it’s the most innocuous things that reveal the murderer.”

  I let my eyes drift upward.

  Nothing had been revealed to me.

  “I think what happened to her happened along the route she took to jog.”

  “What did happen to her?” I asked.

  “In due time. I’ll tell you in due time.”

  Fine. Moving on.

  “I thought we were going to make a suspect list,” I said instead.

  “Oh, right,” she said. She pulled out her pencil and pad. “Who we got?” She licked the granite tip.

  “Uhm . . .” I gazed out of the window. “The Sheriff thinks it may have been Renmar.” I shook my head. “But that was just him.” I didn’t want to insult her by her thinking I agreed with the sheriff that her daughter poisoned Gemma.

  She licked the tip of the pencil again, I guessed for good measure. “Renmar Colquett.”

  “Are you putting her on our suspects list?”

  “Sure am.”

  “Why?” I had to chuckle. “She’s your daughter.”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s not a murderer. Renmar’s got a mean streak in her. And she’d kill to keep her recipes secret. You heard Viola Rose, Gemma Burke wanted Renmar’s bouillabaisse recipe.” Miss Vivee licked her lips. “Renmar rather give up her left arm than divulge her recipes. And her bouillabaisse is famous. It’s won awards.”

  “Yeah, I know about her being protective.” I laughed. “She said that if she told me what she put in her fruit bowl, she’d have to kill me.”

  “See what I mean.”

  “I can’t believe you’d put her down.”

  “You think she’s protective about that fruit concoction, it’s nothing compared to her bouillabaisse.”

  “But you said that the murder didn’t happen at the Maypop.”

  “It didn’t.”

  “Wasn’t Renmar there all day?”

  “Nope.” She said. She picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. “She went out early. Stayed a couple of hours. Came back with Oliver. The two of them had their heads together about something.”

  “The murder?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “They were acting strange when the Sheriff was there.”

  “Yep. And Renmar had Oliver dump that pot of bouillabaisse. That’s why she told Sheriff Haynes there wasn’t any.”

  “But if the bouillabaisse didn’t kill Gemma, why would Renmar and Oliver get rid of it?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why her name is going on the list.”

  “Then what about Oliver?” I asked. “He and Renmar may be accomplices. He is pretty shady guy with all of his ‘lady friends’.”

  Miss Vivee shook her head. “Not Oliver. He’s practically family.”

  “Renmar is family and her name is on your list.” I pointed to her “detective notebook,” every page blank save for the lone sheet that had the name of her daughter on it.

  “I know Oliver,” she said taking another sip of the cold coffee and swallowing. “He is a gentle soul. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. He and Brie had a thing once upon a time. And the only mischief I’ve ever known him to get into is what Renmar puts him up to. Then you know he and Hazel Cobb are related and Renmar and Hazel are related. So that makes him family. He’s not the murderer”

  “Renmar and Oliver? They’re related to Hazel Cobb?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t say anything and I guess sh
e must’ve seen by the look on my face that I was having problems with putting that genealogy together.

  “Oliver’s great-great-great – I hope I put enough greats in there – grandfather is Hazel Cobb’s great-great-great grandfather on the slavery side. And Bay’s father, Renmar’s husband, Louis, was Hazel’s cousin.”

  “Bay’s father is Hazel’s cousin on . . . On the slavery side?”

  “No,” she said and slowly wiped her mouth with the napkin and then pressed it out on her lap. She met me eye to eye. “You know, sometimes your lack of understanding is just scary,” Vivee said. “You’re going to have to try to keep up, otherwise you won’t be much help to me.” She took another sip of the cold coffee. “Bay’s father was black. You couldn’t tell that?”

  “Yes. I – I was just trying to understand,” I stumbled over my words. It was hard staying nice and respectful when the other person was acting out.

  “Understand what? Slavery?” she asked.

  “No. I get that.”

  “Then what are you confused about, honey?” She pushed back her cup of coffee and folded her hands on the table. She leaned in and spoke slowly. “Renmar married a black man. The black man was Hazel’s cousin. Hazel is also black. And way, waaayy back, her family was owned by Oliver’s family. Is that clear enough for you, Missy?”

  “Never mind. I get it.”

  I changed the subject.

  “So if the murderer was out somewhere.” I waved my hand. “That means the entire town could be on the list.”

  “That’s not how it works. Don’t you watch crime shows? Do the people on Law & Order ever put every single citizen of New York on the suspect list?” She clucked her teeth. “No. We have to narrow it down.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “I think I know what to do.”

  The bell jingled on the door and it made me look up.