The Wiles of Watermelon (Scents of Murder Book 2)

by Lynette Sowell

  “Sure. I’ll get us some sodas.” Ben moved to the drink machines. With him around, I knew Curtis wouldn’t hurt me. Not that there was any danger. I thought of Aunt Jewel once more.

  “That’s good of you to visit him.” Curtis popped the top of a can of soda. “Lots of older people get forgotten.”

  “Papaw has Alzheimer’s, you know.” A package of Ho-Hos seemed to wave at me from inside one of the machines. No, I’d buy the small bag of peanuts and share it with Ben. “Some days it’s like he’s living in another decade. Sees people who’ve been gone for years. He even called me Jewel one time. Funny, because I don’t look a thing like her.”

  “Alzheimer’s is a hard disease to face. My mother has terminal cancer. It’s not long for her now. But I’m glad she’s not alone.” Curtis glanced at the family who came out of each set of rest rooms. Now they commenced squealing and bickering over the sodas.

  Ben got out of their way just in time and rejoined us. “Here. I got you the diet.”

  “Thanks.” I found a dollar bill in my shorts pocket and fed it to the machine then selected the bag of peanuts. “Curtis, I’ve taken your wife’s advice and used exercise as a way to help cope with stress.”

  The family bustled their way from the rest stop courtyard and moved toward their van. My phone warbled. Jerry. I passed the phone to Ben, who took it and stepped over toward the soda machines.

  “As a matter of fact, I saw Vivian a week ago Saturday, and she told me—”

  “What did she tell you?” He stepped closer.

  “That you, um, left her.” I glanced around the covered courtyard. “Have you been staying here? At the rest stop? Why not at a hotel? Or with friends?”

  “I can’t afford a hotel. And I really don’t have friends around here. At least not ones who’d take me in.” Curtis shrugged and headed a few steps toward the outside parking area. Ben moved to block his path.

  “I know you went to see Edna on Saturday,” I called after Curtis. “She’s your mother, isn’t she?”

  Curtis broke into a run.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  We dashed into the downpour after Curtis. He’d already jumped into his car and thrown it into reverse. Its back end fishtailed as he accelerated. Ben’s truck with its well-tuned V8 engine would keep up easily. He turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

  “Follow him!” I strained to see through the rain- blurry windshield at the road leading onto the highway.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. Jerry’s on his way.” Ben hit reverse, and we slid backwards onto the access road. Curtis’s nondescript sedan was merging onto the main road, free of traffic.

  He took the road to Greenburg and Ben’s truck matched him mile for mile. The windshield wipers did their job.

  “Jerry’s going to try to head us off at the bridge. Or at least look for Curtis.”

  “Is he going to meet us in time?”

  The sedan darted into the left lane and passed a slow- moving delivery truck. Ben’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “He’s going to hydroplane if he doesn’t slow down. Hang on. That other truck’s pulling over.”

  We shot past the delivery truck. All I could do was hold back the tears and hang onto the armrest. “I hope Jerry makes it to the bridge in time.”

  This was my fault. I had only wanted to talk to Curtis and encourage him to go talk to Jerry. And my big mouth had driven him to flee. I didn’t need to cry. The rain streaking along the side windows of the truck was enough.

  And poor Momma. She’d shared from her heart with Travis Bush to let him tell her story. I’d hoped if Bobby read the article, he’d do the right thing and cooperate with the police. Evidently his thirty-year habit of running wouldn’t die easily.

  Here came the Greenburg city limits sign.

  Curtis approached the Tennessee River bridge. At the midpoint of the concrete and steel structure, his sedan jerked wildly then slammed into the guardrail. I cupped my hand over my mouth and stifled my scream. Then Curtis’s car skidded across the other lanes of traffic and slammed into the opposite railing.

  “Ben, pull over!”

  Our truck moved to the shoulder and Ben shifted into park. Thankfully, the rain had prevented much traffic—not many people wanted to venture out this afternoon. A solitary car crested the bridge and paused.

  Ben lowered his window.

  The other vehicle’s window glided down, and the driver waved at us. “I’ve just called 911, but I can’t stay.”

  “We’ll be here,” Ben said. I nodded. The other car moved on to the other side of the river.

  Ben and I darted across to the opposite side of the roadway. Curtis was leaving his car. He staggered to the side of the bridge. The side panels and fenders of his car looked like crumpled tin.

  “Bobby. . .Curtis, please wait.” I reached him first. The rain soaked our hair, our clothes, and oil patches on the road pooled on the water-soaked concrete. Ben moved to the rear of his car, now facing the Greenburg side of the river.

  “I don’t have to say anything to you.” Rain dripped from the ends of his hair and drizzled onto his neck.

  “I know you didn’t mean it. I know you loved her. And it was a long time ago. You said as much the other night.” The rain made me shiver.

  Another vehicle slowed, but Ben waved them on. He glanced toward the end of the bridge, and back at me. He mouthed “Jerry” when I looked past Curtis in Ben’s direction. Ben started walking toward the squad car that I assume waited at the other end of the bridge. Sirens wailed.

  “I’ll still go to prison. . . .” Curtis turned to face the concrete railing and the roaring Tennessee River below. No longer at flood stage, but definitely not safe for tubing on a lazy afternoon or taking a swim.

  “Did you get much of the money from that robbery?”

  Curtis whirled in my direction.

  “We found the bank bags in the back room of Honey’s office. And I imagine that packet of bills I found in my aunt Jewel’s suitcase will be identified as some of the ones missing in that robbery.”

  He slumped against the guardrail. “I only wanted some money to help us get away.”

  “Bobby. I don’t fault you wantin’ some money. But people usually earn it.”

  “Jewel and I were goin’ to get married. But then Jewel figured out about the robbery Honey and I pulled off. Honey didn’t want me to tell her, and for that she was going to give us a ride to Memphis. Somehow Jewel knew. She was smart. Smart like you.”

  “Why did you come back?”

  “My mother. I told you earlier that she doesn’t have long now. A little over a year ago, the doctor said she had eighteen months. I didn’t want her to leave this world feeling alone and never knowing about me.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “Your aunt would’ve been proud of you.” Curtis, whom I still struggled to think of as Bobby, quirked a hint of a smile. “You were such a little thing when I left. We took you to the park once. Do you remember?”

  I shook my head.

  “And fishing. One pretty summer day, hot enough to fry eggs on the pavement. Everything your aunt Jewel did, you wanted to do, too. She would’ve made a great mother.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw a few tears mingle with the rain on Bobby’s cheeks.

  “I do remember the fishing. The sun sparkled on the river, and Aunt Jewel’s hair looked like gold. I remember that I wished mine did.”

  A sudden movement made us look toward town. Jerry approached in his squad car, with only the headlights lit. Another car blocked the other side of the road. Jerry stopped the vehicle and got out to join us.

  “Curtis Delane. Bobby Johnson.” Jerry strode in our direction. “We need to talk.”

  Curtis glanced at me, then at Jerry. “I’m not going to jail.”

  “That’s not for us to decide. But I have some quest- ions about the night of Harriet Haggerty’s murder.”

  “I was at home with Vivian after the Chamber
of Commerce meeting. Besides, don’t you already have a suspect in custody awaiting arraignment?”

  Jerry shrugged. “We do. But when new information comes to light, we must reevaluate our course of action. So says the DA. Bobby Johnson, we have a lot of quest- ions for you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about with this ‘Bobby Johnson.’” Curtis looked Jerry straight in the eye.

  I shivered again. I couldn’t make my feet move, but if I drew attention to myself Jerry just might order me to leave.

  Jerry seemed intent on giving Bobby a long, even look in return. “Don’t give me that. It won’t take long, but we can verify you’re Robert Johnson. You can only run for so long.”

  “I didn’t kill Honey.” Bobby’s chuckle sounded nervous. “I might have wanted to strangle her a few times when we were younger. Bad choice of words, but that was Honey. Back then, I considered her a good friend.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Jerry crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “Bobby, I do know you loved my aunt Jewel.” I hoped Jerry didn’t mind me talking. An ambulance rolled up and stopped near Jerry’s car. “What happened was a crime of passion. But I want to know. . .was Honey blackmailing you?”

  “She figured out who I was. Gave me instructions about where to come and when to bring the money. Thought I was still rich or something.” Bobby placed one hand on the metal railing atop the concrete. “But I didn’t kill her.”

  “We don’t have to talk here,” Jerry said. “It’s pourin’ rain, and your car’s wrecked. A tow truck is on the way, and we need to get traffic moving. We can chat in my office.”

  “I didn’t kill Honey.” Bobby ventured another look over the side of the bridge. “And I’m not about to let you take me for that.”

  In slow motion, Bobby grabbed the metal railing. Jerry and I both ran for him, but Bobby swung his legs over the side like a gymnast on a pommel horse. Gravity took over. Then came a splash.

  I screamed. Jerry shouted. We leaned over the railing and scanned the rushing water fifty feet below. Bobby, a dark blob below us, drifted on the current. He looked up at me and gave the same salute I’d seen at the cemetery the day of Aunt Jewel’s memorial. Jerry hit the button on his two-way radio, hollering for dispatch to call the other counties downstream and alert them of Bobby’s escape.

  “We’ll talk later, Andi.” Jerry ran for his car.

  I ran for Ben.

  They never found a body, not after days of searching. A hiker found Bobby’s shirt near the riverbank, so the authorities didn’t rule out the idea that Bobby had survived and moved on again. I wondered if he would try to contact Vivian. The police probably did, too. I stopped by Shapers three days after Bobby jumped, only to find the ladies’ gym closed. It was probably just as well. Ben had mentioned at breakfast about joining a gym in Savannah, and we could get a couple’s discount. Another thing we could do together.

  The first weekend in September came, and with it the last watermelons from our field. This fall, before the first frost, Ben and I would have the field plowed under, something that should have been done long ago.

  Ben carried a watermelon to our covered patio and laid it on the picnic table. “Last one.” He gave me a little-boy grin of triumph.

  “Yes, it is.” I touched the watermelon. “I don’t want to plant watermelons. Not like we ever have. Honey, I assume, planted them year after year. With us workin’ on the house, I hadn’t even thought about a garden. But I want something different to grow in the field next year.”

  “What do you want to plant?” Ben took me in his arms.

  “Tomatoes. Lettuce. Carrots. Everything for a good salad. Maybe some fruit trees.” I wrapped my arms around him. “And cucumbers. I’d love to learn to make pickles. Squash, too.”

  “Aren’t you the ambitious one? One afternoon of making pickled watermelon rind with your momma, and you’re a canning expert?”

  “Let’s just say I learned a new skill. And after every- thing we’ve been through, I also learned one more thing. God gives us all a choice. Jewel, Bobby, even my nephews who are drivin’ their own momma crazy. And one day, when we’re a momma and a daddy, we’ll do the best we can. And no less. What they do is eventually up to them.” Once I finished that speech, all I did was smile at Ben.

  “You mean. . . ?”

  I nodded. “I want you to be a daddy.”

  Ben gave a whoop, picked me up, and spun me around then set me back down. He pulled me back into his arms and leaned closer to kiss me.

  The sound of a vehicle roaring up the driveway made us pause and turn. A red, white, and blue delivery van stopped behind Ben’s truck. Out hopped a driver with a flat envelope.

  “Good afternoon.” He nodded at Ben, then me. “Andromeda Clark?”

  “That’s me. Before I was married, anyway.”

  “Sign right here.” The courier handed me an electronic signature pad and the envelope.

  Before the sounds of the delivery van had vanished, I had the envelope open. A folded white piece of paper was inside.

  “Who’s it from?”

  “I’m not sure.” The postmark on the envelope read Muscle Shoals, Alabama.I sat down at the picnic table and unfolded the paper. Three sentences. Her locket was taken from me. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get it back before I left. Be well.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I was cooking, and I was humming. This was remarkable because normally cooking for me involved muttering and throwing things in the trash can, and bad smells. Our kitchen table brimmed with sliced watermelon, zipper baggies of rind, and a bowl in front of me where I placed peeled rind. Momma had given me her recipe, and for once, I wasn’t going to call her or anyone else for help. Then I’d proudly show everyone a neat box of jars full of pickled watermelon rind. Maybe I’d have enough to take to the farmers market. Spare pocket money would come in handy. Or they’d make great Christmas gifts—just add a bow and a coordinating bar of soap.

  Vivian had held a memorial service for Curtis. When she spoke to the crowd at First Community Church, she told us that Curtis deserved to be remembered, that no one had known or truly understood what he’d gone through in his life. Although the police had told her about and even shown her the shirt they’d found, she refused to believe he had survived the river. It seemed as though once she’d lost him, she intended to keep him away from her life.

  Jerry shook his head as he stood next to Ben and me. “Even after you gave me that envelope, she still doesn’t believe Curtis is alive. She told me she ‘could feel that he was lost to her forever.’ Why would she want him gone if she loved him so much?”

  “I don’t understand,” I told Jerry then. “Do you think he’ll ever be caught?”

  “One day. Even if he escapes the authorities. We all pay one way or another.”

  Today, three days later, I felt like I needed to do something productive. Between shivers of excitement at the thought of starting a family, and the hurt of what had been done to mine, I didn’t know whether to rejoice or cry. Aunt Jewel had been a star in the darkness, extinguished too quickly.

  I sliced the rind into perfect chunks, just like Momma would have done. Aunt Jewel would have chopped haphazardly, with abandon. But she didn’t abandon her family. Now that we all knew this, I think it gave Momma a measure of peace.

  The ringing phone made me jump. I put the knife on the cutting board.

  It was Vivian Delane, or Johnson, rather. “Andi, hi. Um, are you up for some company?”

  “Sure. I’m just doing some stuff in the kitchen. Come on by. I just made some iced tea.” She’d never come to the house before. I wasn’t quite sure if it was a pleasant surprise for me or not. So I decided to brace myself for her conversation spiced with an occasional acerbic comment.

  “Is Ben there? I mean, I don’t want to be a bother, with you two being newlyweds and all. . .”

  “You’re not a bother. Ben’s at the restaurant. Where else woul
d he be?”

  “Okay, then. I’ll be there soon.”

  Vivian arrived within five minutes. She must not have been too far away. “Thanks. You have a cute place.” She scanned the kitchen, then ambled to the nearest chair that didn’t have watermelon rind blocking it.

  “So how are you doing? Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” I had so many questions I wanted to ask her about Bobby. When did she guess at his double life? What about his secrets? Instead, I kept my mouth shut and poured her a glass of tea, plus one for myself. “Lemon?”

  “Please. I love lemon. It’s good for digestion.”

  Once I sliced her some lemon, she squeezed some into her tea and stirred then took a sip. “Delicious.” She took another sip, but her hand shook as she held the glass.

  “I’m leaving town. Trudy at the coffee shop has bought Shapers from me. Once that deal’s tied up, I’ll be free of this place. I wanted to say good-bye. You were one of our best regulars.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I loved Curtis so much. I’d have done anything for him. But he picks here, of all places, to come back to. I thought my love was enough. Guess not.”

  “He must have been tormented, to have carried his secret for so long.” Try as I might, I hadn’t been able to get angry at Curtis/Bobby. All I wanted to do was weep over what had been lost. Greed had killed Jewel, not just Bobby’s crime of passion. But today wasn’t a day to cry. Today was for me to learn and grow, even if it was just making pickled watermelon rind. Aunt Jewel would have liked that.

  “Truly, I never figured his secret out. Not for years.” Vivian stared out toward the side yard.

  “What do you mean?” I started slicing again. Nice, even chunks. My mouth watered at the thought of the rind. Summer in a jar.

  “It was the locket.” Vivian reached into her pocket and set a gold heart locket and chain on the table. “I found it one day, hidden, and when I asked Curtis about it, he said it was a birthday gift. He acted bashful as a little boy at it being found. And I loved it. I could tell it was old. Then I opened it up. Saw your parents’ pictures inside. A picture of a little girl. You, I assume. He’d never opened it. When I asked him about it, he told me he’d gotten it in an antique store. Then we moved to Greenburg, and I started some checking around on my own.”