Delicious and Suspicious

by Riley Adams

  “Cherry was up?” Lulu groaned. “She must be made of steel.”

  “She’s probably more used to tossing down vodka tonics than you are, Mother. But I’m still trying to figure out why you think eleven thirty is early.”

  “What?” Lulu pulled back the comforter that had blocked the view of her clock. “Lord have mercy. I have never slept so late in my life.” Babette stared disapprovingly at her. “Who’s at the restaurant? If you’re here,” said Lulu, struggling up in bed, “then who is on the pit? Good Lord, Ben, you didn’t put Seb on there, did you? He might be pouring sauce on the ribs instead of dry rub.” Lulu put her hands over her mouth in horror at the thought of how Seb might destroy Aunt Pat’s sterling reputation.

  “It’s Sunday, Mother. We don’t open until five thirty tonight, remember?” Ben now frowned at her. He leaned forward, the better to look at her head. “How do you feel?”

  Lulu abruptly realized that her head was throbbing. She felt underneath her hair and made a face. “There’s a big knot there.”

  Sara was already moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you a glass of water and ibuprofen, Lulu.”

  Ben sat down on the end of Lulu’s bed, and Babette jumped into his lap. He patted her absently. “What I don’t understand is why you were at the bookstore to begin with.”

  “I was checking on Mildred; she hasn’t been acting like herself lately. Cherry said that Mildred had gotten an anonymous threatening letter after she started trying to write that murder mystery. I wanted to make sure she was all right. Which, clearly, she wasn’t.” Lulu had a horrifying urge to start crying. She angrily blinked back tears.

  Ben became very absorbed in Babette to give Lulu time to recover. “You were good to check on her, Mother. But couldn’t you have called her store phone?”

  “I did, but no one answered.”

  “No one answered where?” Sara came back in and handed Lulu the ibuprofen and glass.

  “Mildred’s shop. Mildred didn’t answer her phone yesterday. I drove over to her house, thinking she’d already gone home for the day. Her door was unlocked, so I walked right on inside. After a couple of minutes, I could see that she wasn’t there, so I drove back to the store. I had this awful feeling that maybe she needed some help. I didn’t think anyone was really trying to murder her—I just wondered if she was doing okay.”

  Sara sat down in the armchair across from Lulu’s bed. “You know, I was there yesterday. At her shop.”

  Ben swung his head around to look at her. “I thought you were in the studio all day yesterday. Are you sure you went to the bookstore? Yesterday? Maybe you’re thinking about a couple of days ago.”

  Sara said, “I was in the studio a lot yesterday. Then Mildred called me and asked me to come by the store—she said that she wanted to talk to me.”

  Ben looked unhappy with the direction of the story.

  Lulu knit her brows. “I don’t understand, Sara. Why would Mildred want to talk to you?”

  Sara rubbed her eyes tiredly. “She accused me of killing Rebecca Adrian.”

  “What?” chorused Lulu and Ben.

  “Oh, she saw me at the Peabody that day Rebecca was killed. She thought I was acting shady, so she confronted me about it.”

  Ben frowned. “I didn’t know you were even at the Peabody that afternoon.” He tried to recreate the day in his head. “You were at Southern Accents in the morning, then you waited tables.”

  “And you drove Tony and me over to the Peabody,” added Lulu, confused.

  “Right. But I knew Derrick was upset that day from being humiliated the day before. And I knew exactly how he felt. I had a bad feeling that he hadn’t gone to school that morning. When I called the house, he didn’t answer. Then I called his cell phone and he acted very strange. He admitted he was at the Peabody.”

  “I thought you just told him on the phone to come home when you realized what he was up to. But you actually went over there,” finished Lulu.

  “I was only gone for fifteen minutes,” said Sara. “I drove the block or so over there, asked Derrick what in the blazes he was doing over there, ordered him to drive back to the house, and then I was back at the restaurant.”

  “You didn’t say anything about it to us,” said Ben reproachfully.

  Sara shook her head. “I didn’t want either of you to worry. Besides, you’d both had bad days already, what with the tasting and the scene with Mildred. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do—if I should approach Tony or Rebecca about the tires privately and offer to pay for them, or if I should let that be the final straw and call the police and let them handle it.”

  “Didn’t you feel uncomfortable in the car with Tony as we went to the Peabody?” asked Lulu.

  “Not so much. I mainly wanted to make sure that Derrick’s car wasn’t back over at the hotel. I was worried he might somehow have gone back and was up to more devilment. Then . . . we found Rebecca’s body.”

  They paused and considered the implications of that for a minute. “So, you were worried,” said Lulu, “that Derrick was somehow involved.”

  “That was a deep-down fear,” said Sara. “I just needed to talk with him first and convince myself that he had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  “But,” said Ben, “as far as the police are concerned, you had a raging argument with Rebecca Adrian the day she was killed.”

  “Right,” acknowledged Sara.

  “And your feelings were horribly hurt and you were very angry with her.”

  “Right,” said Sara.

  “And now we know you were at the scene of the crime around the time of the murder,” said Ben.

  “Sort of,” said Sara. “But Derrick knows I stayed in the parking lot.” She had a funny look on her face, though.

  “Was he with you the entire time?” asked Lulu.

  “Sure. Well . . .”

  “What?” asked Ben.

  “Except for when he went inside the Peabody to use the restroom. He was covered with oil and grease from the van, and I didn’t want it all over the seats of the car.”

  “So,” concluded Lulu, “During the time Derrick was inside the Peabody, he could have poisoned Rebecca.”

  Sara nodded reluctantly.

  “And you could have gone in and poisoned Miss Adrian.”

  “I could have. I wanted to. But I didn’t.” Sara rubbed her eyes. “But I guess the police won’t see it that way.”

  “Did Mildred see it that way?” asked Lulu.

  “She was in quite a mood, yesterday, let me tell you. Nervously excited—almost exhilarated. She’d look at her notebook like she was reminding herself what questions to ask. Then she’d ask me something and write it down.”

  Ben said, “That’s what got her killed. Acting like a detective.”

  “I don’t think she was trying to be a detective, Ben. I think she was trying to be an investigative journalist. After all, she was writing a mystery,” said Lulu. “I think she went through a whole bunch of emotions last week. She was scared at first that she was going to be arrested for the crime. When that didn’t happen, she was excited about the idea of trying something different—writing a mystery instead of a romance. So she acted like an investigator and asked questions of all these different people. Then she ended up being really scared again. That’s after someone got worried she was getting too close to the answer and they wrote her a threatening letter.”

  Sara picked up Babette and patted her a moment. “Well, I’d changed my mind and decided that Mildred had killed Rebecca Adrian. It was better than the alternatives. I guess her murder puts a hole in that theory.”

  Lulu sighed. “Now the focus of the police is going to shift back to Aunt Pat’s and all of us.”

  Ben said, “Sara and I will let you get back to sleep, Mother. You had one hell of a day yesterday. Just watch your step. Someone around here is getting desperate.”

  Lulu didn’t feel nearly as sore on Monday after spending a quiet day on Sun
day. By Monday afternoon, she was feeling like her old self again. Back in the restaurant, she was talking to customers and taking orders just like a normal day. Although she found herself spending a lot more time in the kitchen than usual. The delicious aroma the dry rub lent the pork and Ben’s bustling as he manned the pit and kept an eye on the baked beans gave her the comforting feel of the familiar that she clung to.

  Morty flagged Lulu down. “Got some bad news,” he said to her mournfully.

  “Oh heavens. Is it your gallbladder again? I know it acted up like the dickens the last time.”

  “No, nothing like that. Actually, this time it’s Buddy.”

  “Buddy has a gallbladder problem?” asked Lulu, her eyebrows drawing together.

  “Buddy has a girl problem.”

  “Oh,” said Lulu. “Oh dear. So Leticia turned him down?”

  Morty nodded.

  “Well, maybe she had a conflict, Morty. You know how sensitive Buddy can be. Maybe she already had a commitment for the evening.”

  “That could have been the case. Except that Buddy left it as an open-ended invitation. He told her that any time she was available, his schedule was wide open and he’d be happy to accommodate her.”

  “Oh dear,” repeated Lulu. They sat quietly. “I guess he’s very upset? He seemed to really like her a lot.”

  “Yes, he really does.” Morty added, “I wondered if there was a way that we could help him out. I think Leticia might not want to talk to me about her love life, but do you think there’s any way you might sit down with her for a few minutes? Maybe find out what her issue with Buddy could be?”

  “I’d be happy to,” said Lulu. “I owe all of you for helping draw business back into Aunt Pat’s. Besides, maybe it’s something small that’s keeping her from going out with him.”

  Morty brightened. “Sure! Maybe she just wishes he’d change his socks more often. Or not slurp his iced tea.” His eyes looked dreamy, and Lulu could tell she was in for another rendition of his fanciful reminiscences. “I remember my own dating days when I was a young man. All the girls were so beautiful. When they’re young, they’re all beautiful, of course. And I was playing the blues, and they’d look up at me with those big, doe eyes.” He heaved a sigh. “Those were the days.”

  Morty brought himself back to the present with some difficulty. “Anyway, anything you could do, Lulu, would be really appreciated.”

  “I’ll do my best,” promised Lulu. “I hope that she comes back into the restaurant. I haven’t seen her in the last few days. I hope she’s not avoiding Aunt Pat’s because she’s worried about seeing Buddy here. I’d hate Buddy to lose out on a relationship, and I’d hate for us to lose out on a good customer.”

  Chapter 13

  Lulu smiled when Derrick came into the restaurant after school that afternoon. Derrick’s transformation into someone pleasant to be around was amazing. The office purchasing and bookkeeping was going much smoother (especially since Seb’s work schedule was still erratic). Derrick’s smile was the biggest difference she’d noticed.

  Today was a continuation of the same pattern they’d gotten used to. Derrick came in, sat with Lulu on the porch for a while, telling her about his day at school and eating a bowl of red beans and rice.

  Lulu said, “Sweetie, I know how much you love fresh peaches. I picked up a basket of them at the farmer’s market. I cut up a big bowl full and sprinkled them with some brown sugar and put sour cream and pecans on top.” Lulu beamed as Derrick hugged his thanks and headed off to the kitchen to fix himself a helping and get to work on the restaurant’s brand-new website. At least, the afternoon started out that way. But it ended abruptly when the Memphis police came in the door. And it didn’t look like they were there for a discounted barbeque plate.

  Five minutes later, they read Derrick his rights and led him, pale and shaken, out the back door of the restaurant. Lulu immediately called Jed to ask him to meet Derrick at the police station.

  Although the police hadn’t dragged him out in front of the dining room, everyone seemed to know what had happened. There was whispering and concerned looks, and the normally chatty room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

  Finally, Big Ben motioned Lulu over. He leaned over as if he were about to murmur sweet nothings in her ear. This attempt at a discrete whisper resulted in something just short of a bellow. “Is it true?” he asked. “Is it true what they’re saying? Was Derrick arrested?”

  Lulu nodded. “He’s on his way to 201 Poplar,” said Lulu, giving the well-known address for the Memphis jail.

  “Ahh, mercy me,” said Big Ben quietly.

  Buddy, whose long life included a stint as a preacher, said a quick prayer. They all sat quietly for a minute.

  “This too will pass,” said Buddy. “I don’t believe for a minute that Derrick would have done such a thing. It seems unfair that this is happening right when his life is turning around.”

  “What’s going to happen now?” asked Morty quietly.

  “Jed is on his way to the station. And he’s an excellent lawyer.” Lulu hoped he was even better than she thought he was. After all, with a police record and several run-ins with the law under his belt, Derrick didn’t look like Memphis’s most upstanding citizen. Especially considering that his last meeting with police involved his confessing to the tire slashing of a murder victim’s van.

  Sara materialized, red hair wildly untamed. “Sorry,” she apologized to Buddy, Big Ben, and Morty. Then she hauled Lulu off by the arm to the back office.

  “Ben called me,” she said. “I was in my studio. What’ll we do?”

  Lulu was taken aback by Sara’s breathless appearance. Her face was ashen, and she looked almost ill.

  “Sara, I’ve called Jed. He’s on his way to the station now. Derrick’s in good shape.”

  Sara shook her head. “No, he isn’t. You know that as well as I do. This wasn’t supposed to happen. When I promised my sister I’d take care of Derrick . . .” She shook her head again.

  Sara took her keys out of her purse.

  “Where are you going?” asked Lulu

  “Down to the station,” said Sara grimly.

  “I think it’s about time for us to leave,” said Buddy. “We’ve hung out here for so long that now I’m hungry again.”

  “We could always have another order of ribs,” suggested Morty.

  “Maybe you could,” said Buddy. “But I’ve already reached my daily intake limit for salt.”

  “What?” bellowed Big Ben. Morty impatiently signaled him to turn up his hearing aid. He reached up to both ears and turned them on. They filled him in.

  This time Big Ben spoke in a more normal volume. “Let’s go out and eat,” he said.

  “You paying?” asked Morty. “Because I’ve used up my eating-out money for the day.”

  “I was thinking,” said Big Ben, “that we could go to Costco. Do a little sample dining.”

  “Only old folks do that,” scoffed Buddy.

  “And what are we?”

  “Only as old as we feel,” said Buddy.

  “Well, I think I feel like a sample dinner. Anyway, I’m going over there. Anyone want to join me?”

  Big Ben said, “Well, I could go. But what’ll we do afterwards? This has been a rough day for me. I’m right shocked about young Derrick—right shocked. I might be needing some libations afterward to revive me.”

  “Such as?”

  “Like that gem of a bottle you’ve been hoarding like a miser.”

  “The Domaine Vincent Dauvissat Chablis Les Preuses?”

  “That’s the very one.”

  Buddy looked at him sadly and shook his head.

  “Come on, man. It’s needed for medicinal reasons. Can’t you make an exception to your rule?” asked Big Ben.

  “Eating samples at Costco does not qualify as a special occasion,” said Buddy sternly.

  “I’m not even mentioning the special occasion! I’m talking about the fact that I ne
ed a little something to get over my horrible shock. And I thought I remembered you were interested in drowning your sorrows over Miss Leticia.”

  “I think a little whiskey would work much better for shock and sorrow drowning,” said Buddy.

  “Let’s go to the warehouse,” said Morty. “There’s some chicken salad in a teeny cup that’s calling my name. Maybe we can even lap Costco twice.”

  Chapter 14

  The rest of the day was a blur for Lulu.

  “I did it,” Sara had confessed when she arrived at the police station, to the great consternation of the policemen there. She had been immediately detained, and Derrick remained locked up, too.

  Lulu had called Jed as soon as she’d heard about Sara’s confession. He drove right over to the police station. After what seemed like ages of waiting, Jed called Lulu back on her cell phone.

  “It seems,” said Jed slowly, “that the police have evidence linking Derrick to Mildred’s murder.”

  “Why on earth would Derrick want to kill Mildred Cameron?” asked Lulu. “It simply doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Their theory,” said Jed, “is that she knew he’d killed Rebecca Adrian. Then she confronted Derrick about this information, and he murdered her.”

  “What evidence do they have against Derrick?”

  “His jacket was left there at the scene of the crime. And it did have Mildred’s DNA on it.”

  Lulu’s eyes widened. “I bet you it’s that jacket he’s had at Aunt Pat’s since March. I’ve been fussing at him about not taking it home and letting it clutter up the office. And now it’s hot as the blazes.”

  “Anybody who came into the restaurant had access to the jacket,” mused Jed.

  “And couldn’t they have rubbed his jacket on Mildred after they killed her? Planted some incriminating evidence?”

  “Sure they could have,” said Jed. “Which is exactly the argument I’m going to use.”

  “This thing about Sara just blows my mind,” said Lulu. “She’s only confessing because she’s trying to protect Derrick.”