Red-and-blue lights flashed off the exterior of Honey’s Place and competed with her light-up sign by the road proclaiming the best pies in Greenburg lived here. . .but not for long. Not without Honey to make her signature pies. Some people forgave Honey her faults because of her baking, but evidently someone hadn’t. A lone squad car sat in the parking lot next to Ben’s truck and Honey’s motorcycle.
Ben waited by the glass double doors to the restaurant, his face registering surprise when he saw my Jeep. I joined him under the awning where diners could pull up in the rain and drop off passengers. I gave him a wordless hug then stood back and searched his face for answers
He gestured with his head in the direction of the dining room just inside the doors. “I found her back in the kitchen. Jerry’s waiting for the county crime team to arrive.”
“What happened?” I watched as Jerry approached the doors from inside and joined us under the awning. Now lights blazed inside the restaurant.
“She choked on watermelon rind. I found her by the chopping block. She was working on her newest recipe, watermelon-rhubarb pie.”
“Those details aren’t for public knowledge.” Jerry peeled off some gloves. “You know you can’t say anything to anyone. I believe we’re looking at a homicide here. If she’d choked on one bite of watermelon, she wouldn’t have ended up with rind in her throat and filling her mouth.”
I shuddered at the picture he painted, then took a deep breath. “We won’t say anything,” I promised him. “Any sign of forced entry?”
Jerry shook his head. “Not from what Ben says.”
“Like I said, I was getting here at five to light the grill and get ready for breakfast.” Ben blinked hard and then wiped his eyes.
“She’d been here awhile.” Jerry shook his head. “The forensics team will learn more, but I’d guess she was there most of the night.”
Ben glanced at me. “She must have come back to the restaurant after the Chamber of Commerce meeting.”
Jerry glanced at Ben with narrowed eyes. “So you saw her last night?”
“After the meeting, her battery was dead on her car,” Ben said. “I helped her jump-start her car before I left. She must have picked up her Harley at home and headed to the restaurant later.”
My spine prickled.
Jerry frowned. “You can stop right there.”
I already guessed what he was getting at. I turned to Ben. “Honey, you were probably the last one to see Honey before someone killed her.”
Ben drew me into his arms. “I don’t think we’ll open the restaurant today.”
I looked over at Jerry. “Should Ben get a lawyer?”
Jerry’s round and normally kind face looked grim in the lights. “Andi, it’s too early to say right now. Honey had equal amounts of friends and enemies here in town.”
“We’re going to hire a lawyer,” I said. “Steve can ask his cousin who’d be good.” I knew that Di’s husband having relatives in high places would come in handy someday. Ben’s arms didn’t hold the comfort for me they usually did, as if he’d gone numb and they’d frozen in place.
Headlights flickered in the parking lot, and I didn’t have to squint to know it was the coroner’s van arriving along with the team. And here I was again with a front- row view for the second time in as many days. No way was I going any farther into that kitchen.
“I should call the staff.” Ben released me and reached for his cell phone on his belt. He called Esther first. I could hear her gasp and start to cry. My heart went out to the older woman. She needed her job, needed those tips and customers to help supplement her fixed income.
“Jer—” He’d started toward the coroner’s van but paused when I called him. I figured I’d ask Jerry a few questions while Ben was on the phone.
“What’s that?”
“Who could have done this? I know you said Honey wasn’t exactly popular with some people. . .” My first thought drifted to Gabe Davis. But he wasn’t the only person whose anger Honey managed to ignite with her flint like personality.
“We’re going to find out.”
Another name jolted my caffeine-deprived brain. “Junker Joe. He and Honey were fighting last night after the Chamber of Commerce meeting.”
“Physically?” Jerry’s brow furrowed.
“No, as in yelling at each other. I know their fights are probably legendary, but this one was last night.”
“You don’t have to tell me legendary. I’ve gotten calls from some neighbors hearing shouting and oc- casionally glass breaking, either at his place or hers. So what was this fight about?”
“I don’t know exactly. All I can remember is her saying something about him not being able to change her mind.”
“Okay. I’ll be questioning Joe, anyway. I’ll see what that turns up.” Doors slammed on the coroner’s van, and both Jerry and I looked as the team removed their gear.
“I know you’re going to investigate Ben. You have to. And he came home late last night. He was one of the last people to see her alive. But he wouldn’t have done this.” I definitely didn’t like the direction my thoughts headed.
“You think I don’t know my brother? Of course I don’t think he did it.” Jerry faced me again and planted one hand on his hip. “I’ve got to give the DA all the information I have, including Ben’s whereabouts last night. Not happy about it, but I’ve got to.”
“I’m not asking you to withhold information. I just want every stone turned, every lead followed. I don’t care how silly or far-fetched.” My face flushed. I’d had experience with what sounded silly and far-fetched last year, but I’d been right and found a murderer. Which reminded me of Vivian’s intimations about Roland Thacker.
“You sound like the DA.” His smile looked forced. He glanced back toward the team that approached, carrying their gear. “Let me show you what we’ve got here, Stu. Sorry about the early hour.”
The team leader resembled a bulldog. He shook Jerry’s hand with one of his stubby ones. “Don’t apologize. Corpses don’t keep normal business hours.”
I received a couple of curious glances but no flickers of interest as the team passed me with their gear. “Jerry, is Ben free to go?”
He nodded. “I’ve got enough preliminary informa- tion from Ben, but I’ll call him later so he can make a statement. You, too, Andi.”
Ben said, “The produce truck usually gets here around seven. I can wait here for them.”
“I’ll let them know the restaurant is closed today. You can go on home.” Jerry waved us off. “I’ll let you know when you can come back and lock up.”
Ben and I stared through the glass doors and into the dining room. When would voices fill this room again, along with the sounds of clanking dinnerware and the ancient jukebox? I reached for Ben’s hand and held on tight.
Honey Haggerty. Dead. Murdered. With my free hand, I touched my own throat. Someone had to be strong to hold down the wiry redhead and force watermelon rind down her throat. She’d probably fought hard. I squinted to see past the dining room and into the large opening that exposed the kitchen area. I could glimpse a stainless steel worktable topped with a cutting board. A large watermelon rested on the board and scraps of rind. On the floor, a hand and forearm protruded from behind the stainless steel prep table. Each finger was covered with rhinestone- spangled rings. Even at this short distance, they caught the fluorescent lights above.
“Let’s go home.” I squeezed Ben’s hand. All he did was nod. We started walking to his truck. At the edge of the treetops lining the horizon, the sky started to bloom a faint pink.
“Are you all right?” I asked as we stopped at Ben’s truck.
He shrugged. “I can’t believe it happened. So many things to take care of. I guess Jerry will let Honey’s sister know.”
“She has a sister?” Obviously I really didn’t know Honey that well. “I never knew.”
Ben nodded. “They don’t get along. Honey says all her sister ever did was cal
l her for money, so some years back Honey quit taking her phone calls. But her sister showed up here every week like clockwork, like she wanted to remind Honey they were family.” He opened his mouth again, and I waited for him to continue, but he said no more. He acted like he wanted to tell me something more, though.
“A sister. I ate at Honey’s enough. How come I never saw her?”
“You probably have. She colored her hair the same shade as Honey’s. It’s real poufy, too.”
“That narrows it down. We have more than a few bottled redheads in the over-fifty set.” I couldn’t imagine Di and I being at odds. Not like that, anyway. If Di ever needed me or I needed her, we were there for each other. And neither of us ever felt like we took advantage of the other.
“If she shows up at the funeral, I’ll point her out to you.”
“Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound snappy. It’s just the shock of Honey’s murder, and it’s so early.”
“I know. I’m tired, too.” The lines around Ben’s eyes made him look older. I didn’t remember him looking so tired when he was on the road. For longer than we dated, for years, Ben had crisscrossed the lower 48 but always managed to find his way back to Greenburg and me. Sure, he’d get tired while driving long hauls for a thousand miles or so, but Ben always called that a “good tired.” Now that he’d lived full-time in Greenburg, it seemed like Ben’s tired had taken on another character.
“Let’s go home. In fact, I won’t open my shop today, either.” Sometimes we got so busy running to our jobs, it was easy to get lost in work and forget what, or who, really mattered most. Our time with God. Our time with people.
“You don’t have to close today.”
“But I want to.” It was my turn to pull him close, and we clung to each other. But I was worried. I couldn’t drag his unspoken words out of him, and I knew Ben would talk when he was ready. Trouble was, what wasn’t he telling me?
I picked up the Wednesday afternoon edition of the Greenburg Dispatch and set down my cup of tea. Some- one had literally stopped the presses, inserted the news of Honey’s murder, and restarted them in a hurry. The article merely stated that Honey had been found dead at her restaurant, and that foul play was suspected. It even had some pictures of Honey’s Place over the years, including a few of her pies and a picture of a much younger Honey cutting the ribbon to open the restaurant about thirty years ago.
We’ll sure miss Honey, and we’ll miss her home cooking. Let’s hope that whoever takes over her restaurant keeps up her tradition of stick-to-your ribs dining. And let’s hope that the Greenburg Police Department swiftly brings Honey’s killer to justice.
Which goes to show you how quickly the importance of news changes. The discovery of the remains in our watermelon field took up two paragraphs at the bottom of the front page. Considering I’d been worried about public scrutiny and gawkers at our watermelon field, I couldn’t complain. Tears pricked my eyes, though. I hadn’t wanted attention to shift like this. Not with someone else’s death. Oh, Honey, all the times I could have been your friend instead of being jealous.
I placed the newspaper on the coffee table and listened to the sound of the shower running. Ben had had a good nap once we’d returned home from Honey’s Place. After I turned off the phone ringer, that is. A Memphis television station called, but I ignored the voice on the answering machine.
Now, Ben would be under investigation, besides a few other people. Sure, Ben had no motive, but Jerry had to do his job. I had to make another suspect list, so I reached for my notepad. I would continue my investigation into the remains and the possibility they were my aunt Jewel—I hadn’t dared to ask Jerry about the progress on identifying the remains, not when a fresher body had presented itself. But I needed to think about Honey’s murder. Ben’s reputation was at stake.
If Honey had known anything about my aunt Jewel’s disappearance, that knowledge was lost forever. I yanked my focus back to Honey. Her list was easier to write. I left off Ben, of course. There was that cook Honey’d fired, the one she said had stolen from her. Gabe Davis. And the alleged affair with Roland Thacker. I hated putting Roland on the list, especially since the suspicion was based on gossip, but I did it anyway. Jerry had a right to know, and if nothing came of it, then fine.
And what about that sister Ben had mentioned? I’d ask Ben if he knew more about her. Maybe Jerry would know. Honey and Junker Joe had been arguing last night. They did that a lot even while they really seemed to love each other. But Junker Joe went on my list, too. What was it she wouldn’t change her mind about?
I didn’t want fingers pointed at Ben, but I didn’t want to go out of my way to point them at anyone else. Did blind Justice ever peek around her blindfold? I didn’t think I could have ever been a lawyer.
Ben appeared in the doorway. “Now that feels better.” He stifled a yawn with one hand as he rubbed his head with a towel. “I didn’t think I could sleep, but somehow I did.”
“I knew you needed the sleep.” I picked up the paper. “Here’s the front page.”
“I don’t want to read it.” Ben sank onto the couch, and I snuggled closer to him. “I know enough already.”
“Well, I decided I’m going to add to the care package for the Davis family. If his wife is chasing a toddler, I bet she’d love some pampering. So I’m making her a soap and bath salts gift basket. Besides bringing some groceries.” I inhaled deeply. Ben smelled of soap, and I wouldn’t share him with anyone.
“That’s why I love you so much. You’re thinking of Gabe’s wife, when all some people would have seen yesterday was a wild man. Today they’re thinking he’s a murderer.”
He continued speaking as he sipped the coffee I’d handed him. “Jerry has let the state police know, in case Gabe’s running. I don’t know if he ever went home last night. He works part-time as a groundskeeper at the community college in Selmer. I wanted Honey to give him another chance, but she said no go.”
“And then as far as suspects there’s also. . .” I stopped myself.
“There’s. . . ?”
“I was thinking of another suspect, but it’s not really credible. Roland Thacker.”
“Mm-hmm.” Ben stared hard at the fireplace. “The weather’s too humid to light a fire. I think the sun might come out for a while today.”
“What’s that ‘mm-hmm’ all about? Do you know something I don’t?”
Ben shook his head. “Nothing, really. You’re right. No one’s a suspect because of mere rumors. Honey sure had a magnetism about her. Either you were attracted to her or she repulsed you.”
That made me laugh. “Ben!”
“I’m serious, she did. And she’d admit that.”
“You. . .you weren’t attracted to her, were you?” My heart thudded. Surely not.
“Like my daddy always said, why go out for a burger when you have prime rib at home?” He leaned in to kiss me, and this made me shove thoughts of murderers and motives out of my head for the rest of the afternoon.
Chapter Six
My Jeep passed through the gateway to Shady Pines mobile home park on the south end of town. I squinted at the numbers on the homes nestled among trees. Not bad. A little too close for me, though. I liked our country space just fine.
I found 17 Briar Patch, a narrow white trailer with a four-door sedan parked in front on a concrete slab. The other side of the slab was vacant, but a grease spot showed where another vehicle usually parked. Someone had planted rose bushes along the side of the trailer, and two lawn chairs and a barbecue grill sat on the deck. I pulled the sack of groceries and the gift basket off the front seat and climbed the stairs.
When I rang the doorbell, footsteps approached the door from inside. “I don’t want to talk, if you’re a reporter.”
“It’s—it’s Andi Hartley. My husband, Ben, worked with Gabe at Honey’s.”
A wisp of a girl pulled open the door. She barely looked eighteen but held a little girl with round brown eyes on her hip. “H
i. Come on in. I’m, um, Maryann.” I entered a living room that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke.
“I brought a few things. I know with your husband losing his job, it’s probably been hard. And I brought something for you, too.” I placed the basket of soaps and sack of groceries on the nearby dinette table.
Maryann set her little girl down, and the toddler ran to a Dora the Explorer table in the corner. “That’s so sweet of you. It’s been awhile since anything good has happened to us.”
“Well, Ben said he tried to get Gabe’s job back for him, but Honey wouldn’t listen.”
Her brow furrowed. “And now that Honey’s been murdered, I just know things will go from bad to worse for us. But Gabe wouldn’t do anything like that. Sure, he got mad, but what guy wouldn’t?”
“Where is he?”
Maryann shook her head. “I don’t know. He came home late last night. The storm kept me up, and Zoë couldn’t sleep either. Gabe was scared.”
“What happened?”
“He said he was in big trouble, and he had to go. He. . .he went by the restaurant, late, because he wanted to beg one last time for his job back. And. . .”
“Was she already dead?”
“I don’t know.” Maryann grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “Then he packed a few clothes, said he would let me know he was okay.”
“You need to talk to my brother-in-law, Jerry Hartley.”
“I did. And they’re still trying to find Gabe to bring him in for questioning.” Maryann shuddered. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.”
“What about your family?”
“They didn’t want me to marry him, but then I found out I was going to have Zoë, and so. . .” She rose and went to the kitchen sink and stared out the window. “Just go. Please. Thanks for thinking of us. I appreciate it. But go.”
“I think my husband might be in trouble, too. He’s the one who found her.”
Maryann whirled to face me. “But he didn’t explode at her in front of a room full of people.”
The Wiles of Watermelon (Scents of Murder Book 2) Page 5