The Wiles of Watermelon (Scents of Murder Book 2)

by Lynette Sowell

  “You started saying something about the egg farm?”

  “The farm closed about twenty years ago, at least. I think the lady who lived there had a stroke or something. I don’t know if her name was Johnson. We always called her Miss Edna. Papaw had known her husband at one time, and after he passed away, your Papaw used to go by and buy some of her eggs.” Momma looked thoughtful. “You might want to check real estate transactions. Maybe you’ll find the names of the former owners.”

  The spices on the stove smelled heavenly, sweet and tangy. My mouth watered as I turned to stir the mixture, now removed from the heat. “Momma, you’re so smart. That was another lead I hadn’t thought of.”

  “Baby girl, look at me.” When I faced Momma, she grasped my shoulders. “Bobby Johnson is gone. And if he hurt Jewel, he probably didn’t mean to. And if he’s still alive, he’s had all these years to live with knowin’ what he’s done. Put more time into your marriage and startin’ a family, and let the past go. You’ve spent these last couple of weeks looking for a ghost.”

  “I’ll try, Momma. But I can’t promise you that. It’s something I want to do for Aunt Jewel. To learn her full story so people can know. So our family can know.”

  “Some things we just need to leave alone. After her service, I’m done with grieving for Jewel. All your huntin’ around won’t bring her back to us.” Momma took the boiled rind and stirred it into the syrupy mixture on the stove. “Now we let this cook some more. We cook the rind until we can just about see through it. Then we can it. Very simple.”

  I guessed as far as Momma was concerned, the subject of Bobby Johnson had just been closed. For good. By five o’clock, we had a few sealed glass jars of rind cooling, and I had a new skill. Maybe I’d can something else.

  Although the county records office had closed for the day, I felt closer to finding Bobby after talking to Momma. I wished I could put my mental picture of young Bobby into a computer program that shows how people look when they age. If only I had an idea of his appearance now.

  The watermelon field looked like a painting under the full moon, its leafy vines a grayish green with blackness underneath. I crouched at the edge of the woods, watching from behind a tree trunk. A couple faced each other in the field. A car, its engine chugging and lights out, waited by the main road. Old lady Flanders’ farmhouse loomed across the driveway, its darkened windows looking like eyes observing the scene. A solitary light glowed on a pole in the farmyard. Its glow made a faint circle that faded before it reached the end of the drive.

  “C’mon, you said you’d come with me.” The young man had a sinewy build and a shock of hair that hid his face in shadow. “But we’ve got to go tonight. And we can never come back.”

  “All I want is to go away so I can marry you.” The young woman, her light hair looking almost silver in the moonlight, clutched a flowered suitcase. “But I’ve got to come back here. I’d miss my momma too much. I’ve got another niece or nephew comin’ any day now. And little Andi-Candy wouldn’t understand.” Her necklace glinted as it caught a speck of light from the farmyard.

  Andi-Candy. Only one person had ever called me that. The old forgotten nickname made a wave of sorrow break over me as I watched, even as I knew what would happen next.

  “Gimme the suitcase.” Bobby reached, his hand like a claw.

  “No.” Jewel stepped back. “This is wrong, and I ain’t gonna be part of it. I won’t do this to my family.” She continued skittering away from Bobby until she tripped over a watermelon and landed in the field.

  “Get your hind ends in the car!” a familiar voice hollered from a distance.

  “You ain’t gonna run your mouth.” Bobby stalked over to where Jewel scrambled to stand up. “We’ve got a chance to start a new life, and you’re coming, too.”

  “Leave me alone, Bobby. I’m not going.”

  “Girl, if you don’t get in that car, I’m gonna throw you over my shoulder and stuff you in the backseat.” Bobby reached her in two more steps, kicking a watermelon out of his way.

  Jewel stumbled again, and this time Bobby pounced. His hands reached for her neck, and he started dragging her to the car—

  I ran from the woods and onto the field, a scream echoing in my ears—

  “Baby?” I was in Ben’s arms, and my drenched nightshirt stuck to my skin. “You screamed.”

  My bleary eyes took in the sight of my beloved bedroom, with a shirt hanging from the elliptical machine. No woods. No watching a drama I couldn’t stop. I had a fluffy Spot-kitty on my feet. And Ben’s warmth. I clung to him.

  “I had an awful dream. It was about Bobby, and Jewel, and he was getting ready to hurt her. . . .” The shivers grabbed me despite my perspiration.

  “Well, no wonder. You’ve been consumed with thinkin’ about what happened to your aunt and trying to find Bobby.”

  “Ben, it was so real.”

  “Sometimes we work things through in our dreams. Or so I’ve heard.”

  I grabbed my robe to stop my shivering. “I didn’t work anything out. Not really.”

  Ben shifted to a sitting position then swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I think we need to make you a cup of hot tea and talk.”

  Another confirmation of why I married this man. Some guys would have said, “Get over it, sweetheart, and go back to sleep.”

  I followed Ben to the kitchen and perched on one of the chairs while he filled the kettle with water. He poured himself a glass of juice. Spot joined us in the kitchen and paced, probably wondering why on earth we were up so late and not in our cozy bed where we belonged.

  “This is partly my fault,” Ben said.

  “What are you talkin’ about?” The shivers had sub- sided, and the comfort of our kitchen surrounded me. We’d selected that ceramic tile for the floor and laid it together, after having a spat over which pattern to use. That and the proper way to use a tile saw, even though neither of us had used one before. Why did people fight over unimportant things?

  “You’ve done so much alone. You talked to Roland, Esther, Junker Joe—and found that suitcase. You called Honey’s family and told your Papaw that one of his little girls is dead.” Ben rubbed the stubble on his face. “It’s been a big burden to carry. What have I done to help you?”

  “Plenty. You found those shady deposits of Honey’s. And you tried to see what Roland knew about them.” I reached for his hand. “Besides, you’ve had the responsibility of running a business dumped on you. And someone attacked your reputation and our marriage. Plus, the restaurant lost one of its most dedicated employees. You helped me the other night, too, when you set up the video recorder. So if we’re keepin’ score, which I don’t like to do, we’re pretty much even.”

  The kettle started to rumble as the water heated. Ben held up his hand. “I’ll get your tea. Chamomile?” I nodded. “With honey.”

  “How ’bout if I just stick my finger in the water to make it sweet?” Ben grinned as he took a cup down from the cabinet.

  “You crack me up. Sure, whatever.” What a man. He’d make a great father, too. Was my reluctance causing him pain? That would have to be for another discussion, another night. Already the dream about Jewel was fading. But the dream at the time had played like a movie in my mind.

  “All this goin’ on,” Ben said as he carried my cup of tea to the table, “it’s been weighing on you. And you’ve been handling it alone. When you don’t have to.”

  No, I wasn’t going to cry. Maybe he was right. “I haven’t felt alone. Recently.”

  “I want to help you. What’s next on your list? Who are you going to see next?”

  “Momma said something the other day about the egg farm. Remember, it’s down the road from here.”

  “I remember the place.”

  “I need to get its real estate records, who owns it now, and who used to own it. If the Johnsons ever lived there, maybe we can track them down somehow. And I was thinking, I’m sure Jerry has already run a backg
round check on the name Bobby Johnson or Robert Johnson, just in Tennessee. Maybe something’ll turn up.” At this, I sighed. “It’s almost like his name is Smith.”

  “You and I working on this together can do more than you running around on your own, exhausted.” Ben clinked the ice around in his glass and took one more sip of juice. “I’ll take the morning off and let Jonas run the kitchen. The county courthouse will have the property records. Another thing I thought of. I wonder if Gretchen’s had money trouble. You remember that’s why Honey didn’t leave her anything in her will. She claimed Gretchen was always asking for money. I’ll give Jerry a holler and see what he can find out. I imagine he’s already looked for the Johnsons and already investigated Gretchen. But you won’t have to work alone.”

  “Thank you. That’s a good idea about Gretchen. She’s extremely defensive, and I’d like to know why. Besides the fact that she was left out of what she sees as rightfully hers.” The tea warmed me as it went down, and Ben’s loving support warmed me, too.

  “We’ve never tried to work as a team quite like this before, have we?”

  “No, I guess we haven’t. Not unless you count the kitchen tile. You’d think because we’re married we’d know how.”

  “This is good practice for being a family.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we have kids, we’ll need to know how to work together.”

  “That’s true, we will. I think we work pretty well together.” But parenting wasn’t like tiling a floor. It was a lifelong project, not a task completed in a week. Look at my grandparents. They’d raised both Jewel and Pearl the same way, and ended up losing Jewel. I could not imagine their anguish. Despite my earlier thoughts of wanting a little miracle in our lives, I found myself wavering. I didn’t know if I could go through what my grandparents did with Aunt Jewel.

  “I’ve been thinking. . .” He picked at the corner of a placemat.

  Now was the time to tell him. “We’ve had a lot of changes in our lives in the past year. Change is stressful. I don’t know if I want to have a baby right away. I’m not scared anymore, not like I used to be, anyway. I just think we’d be adding to everything we’ve gone through.” My words felt like betrayal, especially considering my feelings during my conversation with Dr. Mukerjhee the other night at the Watermelon Festival.

  “Listen.” Ben leaned closer. “I’m going to be forty in two years. Forty. I want to have time to enjoy my kids by the time we have them. And once they’re out of the house, I want to have time to enjoy with you, as we keep growin’ old together.”

  “I know you’re almost forty. I’m right behind you.” My tea didn’t hold the same measure of comfort it had a few moments ago, but I gulped it down anyway.

  “Then have faith in me. In us. In God’s ability to help us be good parents. Life is all about change, darlin’, and some things we shouldn’t overanalyze. I think you’re still scared, no matter how much you don’t want to say so.”

  I couldn’t say anything more. When Ben made speeches, I generally sat up and listened. But I didn’t always like it when he was right.

  Ben gave a yawn. “I’m goin’ back to bed. I’ve got to be up in a few hours.” He leaned toward me and kissed me, which only added to my feeling of shame. That probably wasn’t his intention, but it happened anyway.

  “I love you, Ben,” I called after him as he left.

  He stopped short and glanced at me over his shoulder. “I know. I love you, too.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The week crept along toward Saturday, the night of my big stake-out. Ben, true to his word as always, dug up some more information for me. County records revealed that the old egg farm had been owned by the Johnson family. Mr. Delmer Johnson had died in a car wreck in the late 1960s. Ben had discovered that bit of information on his own by checking newspaper archives.

  Mrs. Edna Johnson supported the family through her chicken and egg business and small vegetable farm. Then in 1988 she sold the property and buildings to Roland Thacker. Curious, that Thacker would buy the property. He owned it still, along with a chunk of Tennessee riverfront.

  All of these facts Ben produced when he stopped at the store Thursday afternoon. Since my bad dream, we hadn’t talked about children. We continued to sidestep the issue, which was fine with me for now.

  “I wonder where Mrs. Johnson went after she sold the farm.” I concentrated on the soap mold in front of me as I poured the latest concoction into the bar- shaped blocks. Some people still liked simple glycerin bars with a hint of scent, so I always made sure to have a supply on hand. “You said Roland bought the Johnsons’ property. That day I talked to him, he never mentioned it.”

  “Maybe he didn’t think it was important.”

  “Maybe not.” I slid the tray of molds down to the end of the table out of the way. “I told him I was trying to find the Johnsons, but he was in a hurry.”

  “I could always ask him what he knows.” Ben leaned against the counter.

  “You could, and he’ll probably tell you.” My back creaked from standing so long, and I stretched a little to work out the kinks. “Oh, but I’m tired.”

  “I’ll give you a back rub while I tell you some even more interesting news that I learned.”

  “Here I am.” I sat on my stool and turned my back to him. “Tell away.”

  Ben started working on my shoulders. My muscles screamed. “Wow, you’re tense. Well, I did a search for Gretchen Wilkes. Found a notice of bankruptcy proceedings. This month, no less. The hearing is supposed to be next week.”

  “So she’s going to court to declare bankruptcy.” I felt the knots in my muscles dissolving. “I wonder if she assumed Honey would leave her some money.”

  “She probably did.” Ben massaged my shoulder blades. “That is if she believed the old will was still valid. I imagine Honey’s lawyer will know how many times her will was changed.”

  We called Robert Robertson’s office and actually got through, then asked if Honey had any other earlier versions of her will.

  “As a matter of fact, there are two of them, dated in the last year, no less.” We heard rustling papers. “The first version of the will left the restaurant to Joseph Toms and Gretchen Wilkes. The second, dated just two months ago, left the restaurant to Mr. Toms alone. That’s the one I mentioned to you at the reading. And you know about the third version.”

  “How old was that will?” I had to know.

  “Ms. Haggerty filed this will six weeks ago, like I told you before.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Robertson.” I glanced at Ben. “Is it possible for us to have copies of those?”

  “They’re void and worthless, but I suppose so. I’ll have Suzie take care of it.”

  We hung up the phone. “I need to call Jerry,” Ben said.

  “Will that be enough to get Gabe freed?” I thought of his wife and baby.

  “I don’t know. Jerry probably knows about the former versions of her will. And they’re probably building their case against Gabe. All a jury will need, though, is reasonable doubt.”

  “No wonder Joe was so mad at Honey for changing her will. It wasn’t just us. It was that he’d been left out.” With a few shoulder rolls, I realized Ben had gotten most of the kinks out of my back.

  “I wonder what Joe and Gretchen have for alibis the night Honey was murdered.”

  “Considering the honesty issues people have had, I think if we asked them they wouldn’t give us a straight answer.”

  I looked at the clock. “I need to see Papaw. I promised I would. Can you come with me?”

  “Not today. I’ve got to head back to the restaurant.”

  “I’ll see you later then. And thanks, honey, for helping me.” I had the fidgets and needed a change of scenery.

  We said good-bye before Ben returned to the restaurant, and I locked up the store. I drove my Jeep out of town through Selmer, then Adamsville, and then headed north. In about twenty-five minutes, I saw the sign for Le
isure Lodge. Papaw. I’d promised him I would come back. In the role reversal of parent and child, Momma tried to see Papaw twice a week at least, to make sure his clothes were in good repair and that he had all his shaving materials and toiletries. She visited and heard about what interested him.

  When I entered the nursing home, I signed in at the desk like always. I found Papaw in his room, relaxing in his recliner and watching Jeopardy.

  “I’m back, Papaw.” I kissed him on the cheek, and his smile told me he’d again crisscrossed from present to past in his mind and wasn’t sure where he was or when it was.

  “Good, good. I’m glad to see you.” He patted my hand. “Bobby came to visit the other day.”

  “Really?” I sank onto the quilt covering Papaw’s bed. “To see you?”

  “He walked right by my door, and I hollered at him. All he did was look at me and keep goin’. I wanted to ask him about my little girl, if he’d seen her.” Papaw’s hand shook as he held the remote.

  “Mr. Kincaid, it’s time for your medicine.” A nurse wearing scrubs covered in a butterfly pattern entered the room. She carried a small paper cup of water and a smaller paper cup with pills. “Hi, there. Are you his family?”

  “He’s my grandfather. Has he seemed more confused lately?”

  The nurse nodded. “He’s talking to complete strangers, thinking they’re family or friends. You have good days and bad days, right, Mr. Kincaid?”

  Papaw used the water to wash the pills down. “Good and bad. Not sure how today is just yet, but I’m sure you’ll be tellin’ me if I don’t remember.”

  I had to chuckle. He certainly hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “Thanks, ma’am, for everything you do for Papaw.”

  “He’s easy to help. A real charmin’ man when he’s not cranky. See you later, Mr. Kincaid.” The nurse went out into the hall and on her way.