“That’s an easy to promise make. I’m so sorry.” The tea cooled my throat. “What next, though? I know Bobby is here somewhere, but I think if I try again to find him, he’ll disappear again.”
“We’ll tell Jerry about what happened tonight, and your theory about the killer.” His arm tightened around me.
“And he might tell me that Gabe is still in custody and they have their man.” I frowned and swirled the ice cubes around in my glass, just like the thoughts swirled inside my head.
“If that’s true, and Gabe’s innocent, we still have a murderer on the loose who thinks he’s getting away with it.”
I looked out at the night and silently prayed for wisdom and fresh ideas. Like the darkened woods across the road, the unanswered questions lay before us. And now maybe I’d sent Bobby back into hiding, this time for good.
Monday morning came, and I waited at the store for Di to arrive. I hoped she’d arrive before her latte got cool. Mine tasted great, as usual. Trudy had found her calling in the coffee world. Now that the Watermelon Festival was over, I decided to revive my morning ritual of cruising by Higher Grounds.
I’d already planned out my day by making a list on my trusty notepad. During some earlier moments of distraction, I’d poured soap the color of autumn leaves into the Christmas tree molds. Those definitely wouldn’t even make it onto my clearance shelf in the store room. My supply inventory needed replenishing. Then I decided to plan a harvest party night. Since I was an official member of the Chamber, I could have an open house and include fellow Chamber members on the guest list. Maybe we could turn it into a charity event as well.
A frantic banging on the front door made me look up. On the other side, Di pounded the glass. Her eyes looked round. She tapped her watch. I moved to unlock the door.
“Sorry I’m running late this morning. Taylor wet the bed last night. I think he’s upset about moving.” Di streamed into the shop. “Where are the bank bags?”
“Right here.” I picked them up and pointed at the counter. “And there’s your coffee.”
I had a hard time keeping up with Di as she sped along ahead of me to the bank. She turned her van into the bank parking lot, circled the employees’ only area, and found an empty space.
Once I found a space myself, I joined Di at her van and told her what had happened Saturday night. “So that’s why I think there’s a killer out there. Ben warned me to be careful, and I don’t blame him. When I think of what could have happened. . .”
“But nothing bad happened, and God had His hand on you.”
“He did. So many times we’re protected in spite of ourselves, and we don’t realize it.” Then I sighed. “What about Honey, though? If only she had known she was in trouble. Or that someone else was at the restaurant with her that night. Like Junker Joe. . .”
“I know. It seems to me that they pinned her murder on Gabe a little too quickly. I mean, I know they had evidence and all. But still. . .” Di took the bags from me, and I picked up her coffee. “The office isn’t open yet, but I think my manager will let you come inside for a few minutes.”
She punched in her code for the employee entrance, and I followed her into the bank. We passed by a break room full of snack machines and a soda machine. Di greeted some coworkers, who looked at the bank bags and me with quizzical expressions.
Her manager let us into her paneled office. I vaguely recalled seeing her at the Chamber of Commerce meeting. The woman’s crisp suit made her look like she’d stepped out of the Trump Tower in New York.
We shook hands. “Ms. Hartley, good to see you. What do you have for us?” The manager looked at the bags that Di clutched.
Di shot me a look and placed the bank bags on her manager’s desk. “Well, it’s these bags.”
“My husband and I found them in a storage room at the restaurant. Honey’s Place. We thought they looked pretty old. And, um, the locks are broken.”
She picked up one bag and turned it over in her hands. “We keep track of all bags, according to customer and bank branch. I’m not sure how Ms. Haggerty got these bags, but I have a suspicion. These are the ones we receive from our armored couriers and use in transfers. And just looking at the number sequence, these aren’t our bags. They’re from another branch. Customers don’t normally receive these kinds of bags. What kind of bag does the restaurant use now?”
“I think they use navy blue plastic zippered bags. Ben drops one off every night and picks up an empty one.”
“Did you find anything inside the bags?” She sounded hopeful.
“No. They were empty.”
“Well, thank you for returning these.” The manager had a look on her face as if her thoughts had wandered elsewhere and she wasn’t about to tell us where they’d traveled. “Can we reach your husband at the restaurant today?”
“Ben will be there all day until six,” I said. “We wanted to make sure the bank got these back.”
“Again, thank you. If we need you, we’ll be in touch.” The manager picked up her phone and ended our little meeting.
Di and I left her office and stopped in the break room so she could finish her latte before the bank opened. The smell of fresh brewing coffee filled the room, but we both had tall cups of the good stuff from Higher Grounds. I caught a few glances of envy as employees trickled into the room to place their lunches in the refrigerator.
“Have you been house hunting yet?” I decided I might as well broach the subject of Di, Steve, and the boys moving a whole hour away from us.
“We’re going this weekend. Actually, I think we’re going to rent for now until we get a feel for the neighborhoods.” Di sipped her latte. “We’re also going to take the boys to see some of the sights in Jackson. If we’re, um, uprooting from Greenburg, we should try to find family activities for us to do there. Stevie is heartbroken. He’s going to miss football this fall, plus baseball in the spring.”
“It’s going to be weird without you here.” I frowned. “Is Stevie going to try some sports up in Jackson? Of course they’ve got football and baseball.”
Di nodded. “We’ve told him that. It’s just going to take adjusting to not being here. I told him we have our cell phones, e-mail, and visiting on weekends. Plus you and Ben can come visit us. It’s not like we’ll be in another state or hours and hours away.”
“I know. But you’ve always been around here.” No way would I sigh and add to Di’s doldrums. Moving from the town you’d always lived in had to be hard. “How are Momma and Daddy doing?”
“Daddy’s taking it in stride. Momma’s been thinkin’ about the service for Aunt Jewel.” Di walked to the trash can and tossed her paper cup away then returned to sit across from me. No matter how I looked at it, my sister probably felt guilty for bringing up moving, especially with the renewed grief of losing Aunt Jewel all over again. At least it seemed that way.
“Don’t feel bad, Di. You and Steve had to tell us at some point. Better than right before you leave. Momma and Daddy would definitely be plenty more upset. . .”
“More upset than they are now? I know I said Daddy’s taking it all right, but he’s been calling. Our daddy. On the phone.”
Daddy is not a phone sort of guy. He uses monosyllables as much as possible and sounds like he’s about to take someone out to the woodshed. And that’s just when ordering pizza. I pondered our lives and the changes we’d encountered in a matter of weeks.
“I can’t believe Aunt Jewel’s service is Thursday. This sounds kind of bad, but I’ll be glad when it’s over with. Do you think many people will come?” Ben and I hoped so, for Momma’s sake.
“I don’t know. I’m just glad Momma’s getting some closure.”
I nodded then picked up my coffee and stood. “That’s what I’m grateful for, too. Well, I guess I’d better go. I need to open the store now so I can get used to when Sadie’s away at college. I’ve been spoiled having her here this summer, being able to leave when I need to.”
“H
ey, one more thing.” Di’s expression stopped me. “I meant to ask earlier, but how are you and Ben doing?”
“Good.” I looked away and took my seat again. “Better sounds more accurate. Not that we’ve really had problems. I mean, we’re still newlyweds.”
“Newlyweds adjusting to being around each other all the time. Plus, those pictures you received in the mail had to be a shock.”
“They were. Ben and I had a good talk, and we definitely crossed over that road bump. Of course, the pictures themselves didn’t tell the whole story.” I paused and sipped what was left of my latte. “Do you. . .do you love Steve differently now? I mean. . .do you really love him more, like they say love grows? Whoever they are. Ben and I spent so long dating while being apart lots of the time, and now. . .”
“You’re feelin’ like you’re tripping over each other?”
“Not exactly. We spend just as much time apart as we did when he was on the road, only now we live in the same house and he comes home to sleep every night. I just thought it would be different somehow. Almost feels like we’re turning into an old married couple sometimes.” Another bank employee came in, greeted Di, and poured herself a cup of coffee.
Only after the other woman left did Di reply. “It’s always different. Love changes as it grows. I think sometimes we have higher expectations than we really should.”
Di’s remark made me chuckle. “So I should just get myself some lowered expectations, huh?”
She blushed. “I didn’t mean you ought to lower your expectations, like marriage is all downhill after you say, ‘I do.’ It’s just that you see someone every day, at their best and worst. Did Ben know about your, um, cooking skills?”
“Yes and no. Before we got married, I would cook him one of the two recipes I can make. Instead of going out on a date, I always stuck to what was easy for me. Or else Ben would use the grill at his house, or we’d go out to eat when he was home from the road. . .”
“Oh, I wish we could go out to eat more often.” Di almost sounded jealous. “Enjoy that while you can. It’s more expensive once the kids come along, especially when they’re too old for kid meals. Oops, don’t want to discourage you in that area, either.”
“You’re not discouraging me,” I admitted. “I’m just going back and forth on the idea. Starting a family is a big decision. I finally met Dr. Mukerjhee, the new OB in town, at the Watermelon Festival last weekend. She talked about what a miracle each life is. Part of becoming a parent sounds wonderful. To participate in a miracle and watch your child grow into who God wants him to be. What a gift. And responsibility.”
“She sounds like a neat doctor.”
I nodded. “But then, look at what happened to Aunt Jewel. Just read between the lines. She went wild. I can’t imagine the heartbreak a parent must go through. Think of Papaw. And Nana, too. You know Momma and Aunt Jewel probably went to church three times a week, plus summer Bible school for kids, plus Papaw reading devotions. Momma and Aunt Jewel ate, drank, and slept what Nana and Papaw taught them.”
“We both know the day comes when kids have to decide what they believe and what they don’t. I keep hearing that bein’ a mom is all about learning how to let go.” Di frowned. “Stevie’s already getting to that age where I can tell he’ll be a handful as a teenager. Almost twelve, and he already thinks he knows everything. And strong opinions? On one hand, that’s insurance against peer pressure. To a point. But in another way that worries me, that he’ll fight us even though we know what’s best for him. Steve and I are sticking together regarding the kids, but that doesn’t keep me from gettin’ on my knees every night and praying that we do the right thing.”
“Wow. You’re sure convincing me to have a whole brood.” At this rate, adopting a puppy or getting a little kitten sister for Spot sounded a lot better than giving birth to a new little human.
Chapter Seventeen
I shouldn’t have been surprised when Robert Robertson called Ben at work Tuesday morning. As expected, Gretchen Wilkes had somehow hired her own lawyer and contested the will. This, in effect, froze all of Honey’s assets. Ben could only draw his own regular salary but wasn’t free to sell her property or reap more of the restaurant’s profits. Like the place raked in the cash or something.
The Haggerty genes ran pure through Gretchen, with her penchant for revenge. But Ben seemed content to run the restaurant as before. We renewed our determination to place the future of the restaurant in God’s hands, reminding ourselves that we were in His hands, as well.
The phone rang just as I checked the temperature on my next batch of soap. When I was in the middle of my concoctions, I didn’t have time to stop and chat. Plus, I had to act when the temperature reached the correct point. The Tennessee River Soaps answering machine echoed from the niche that held my desk. No official news yet from Di about the bank bags, although the bank manager had called Ben yesterday morning at the restaurant, probably to see if our stories matched. Of course she’d suspected the bank bags had been stolen.
“Andromeda, it’s Momma. The nursing home called. Your Papaw attacked a visitor today.”
I made it to the phone in a few steps. “I’m here. Sorry. I was in the middle of something. What happened? Who’d Papaw attack?”
Momma sounded tired. “A visitor came. Papaw thought he was Bobby. He got a few punches in before they got him off the man. They’ve called his doctor, who’s going to adjust his medicines.”
“Oh, Momma.”
“So I’m asking you this one time only. Leave the thing with Bobby be. It’s only causing trouble. For all of us. Look at your Papaw, even being questioned about Jewel. My daddy might have had a quick temper, but he never raised his hand to us unless our hind ends needed a swat or two when we were little. ”
After apologizing again, I hung up the phone. Poor Momma. I couldn’t imagine having to put one of my parents in a home and prayed we’d never have to make that decision. All I’d wanted to do was help my family by finding Bobby Johnson. Even though Momma was upset, I knew deep down she probably craved answers, as I did. Which is why I couldn’t stop searching, despite Jerry’s assertion that there was no connection between the murders, and the fact that Gabe was already in custody.
I sank down onto my stool in the workroom. “Lord, I’ve been running around like crazy here, trying to find the man who killed my aunt. It’s not even about revenge, but more about letting my momma have the chance to talk to him. Or, I don’t know what I was looking for. Maybe I’ve been searching for Aunt Jewel somehow. Sounds weird, I guess. But Lord, You’re not surprised. The little girl who never got to say good-bye wants a chance to do that.”
I got my chance Thursday morning. We all did. Momma had planned a simple service, and the pastor of her little country church said a few words at the cemetery. Ben kept his arm around me the whole time. Di, Steve, and the boys stood next to us. Momma and Daddy, too. Plus Jerry and Trudy and even Sadie came. Nearly two dozen of our friends. A lone vehicle was parked about one hundred yards down the sloping hill from us, its occupant watching our gathering.
After the pastor said the final “amen,” we waited a respectful distance while Momma said good-bye.
Greenburg Memorial Park is an outdoor sanctuary, with a green carpet and a ceiling that ends at heaven’s doors, somewhere far beyond us. I felt the whisper of a breeze touch my cheek and go along its way. Somewhere a bird sang. When I was younger, the idea of row upon row of cold carved stone made me shiver. But the older I get, the more I realize the significance of Ecclesiastes 3. A time for everything under heaven. A time to be born. . .I touched my stomach and thought of the single line in the window of the pregnancy test.
And a time to die. Rows of stones stretched beyond us to where our vehicles waited. It’s being apart that’s so hard, Lord. All the might-have-beens and could-have-beens with Aunt Jewel. I know you can make this work for good for all of us.
The crest of the small hill gave a good view beyond the park, to t
he pines and oak that studded the countryside at the edge of Greenburg.
“Ain’t it gorgeous, Andi-Candy?” I could almost hear Aunt Jewel say.
I snapped my attention back to our little group. Trudy was talking to Momma in low tones. Momma nodded then addressed all of us. “Trudy’s invited us to Higher Grounds. She’s prepared some sandwiches and ordered some other food in. Plus, she says, all the coffee you can drink.”
Momma smiled and squeezed Trudy’s hand. “Thank you, thank you so much. I. . .I honestly hadn’t planned anything other than the service.”
Ben and I joined them at the edge of the narrow drive that wound its way through the park. “Trudy. Thank you.”
“It’s a shame Greenburg didn’t do more.” Trudy shook her head. “We all can stick our noses in where we’re not wanted—or needed—around this town, and other times we pretend we don’t see what’s goin’ on around us because we don’t want to get involved.”
I realized then that I didn’t know what Trudy believed, or if she believed like I did. But I did know her words rang true scripturally. We were all so busy straining out gnats and swallowing camels. It was easy to pick at someone’s faults and ignore the more important issues.
Jerry and Ben chatted near a tree, and I joined them. Jerry was shaking his head.
“Andi Hartley, Ben just told me what you did the other night.”
“Oh, my stakeout.” My face flamed at the recollection. As much as my gut told me I had nothing to fear from Bobby Johnson, what if he had tried something? “I’m not doing anything like that again, believe me.”
“I can’t believe the setup worked,” Jerry said.
“I just hope that reporter at the Dispatch doesn’t cause problems for you,” I admitted.
“What’s his name?”
The Wiles of Watermelon (Scents of Murder Book 2) Page 16