by Hillary Avis
“That she didn’t have with her,” I broke in. “It was in her house, not her purse.”
He gave me a stern look. “Exactly my point—that’s information you shouldn’t have.”
Suddenly I felt like a teenager who’d been caught breaking curfew. “They left the list on the counter! I had to get stuff for the boys!” I protested.
“Just, please—let me handle this. It might not be on the timeline you want, but it’s the best bet for getting Tambra out of jail. I promise you, I’ll make sure Jillian and Archer tell the truth.”
“Good.” That’s exactly what I wanted.
He held up a finger. “If you promise me that you will stay out of it.”
That wasn’t. But if it’d get Tambra released more quickly, I’d stay out of it...at least until I couldn’t.
“Fine.” I sucked in my cheeks sourly and crossed my fingers behind my back. “I promise.”
He planted a quick kiss on my forehead—too quick, if you asked me—before striding back to his SUV.
THE WHOLE WAY HOME from Duma, I thought about my flock, planning to let them out to free range while I kicked back with a snack and a good book on the porch. But the whole roosting problem kept niggling the back of my mind, so rather than turning into my driveway, at the last minute I decided to continue down the highway toward Honeytree. If anyone could unravel the mysteries of poultry behavior, it was an old-timer. And Sherman Dice, the owner of the feed store, definitely qualified.
Plus, it was nice to drive the Suburban again. My little Porsche had the legs and the razor-sharp handling I loved, but the Suburban sat up so tall on the roadway. It was a bit like driving a large, exuberant puppy. Messy, but fun.
I pulled the Suburban into the feedstore lot. Parking it was no picnic, even with very few cars in the lot. Maybe the Porsche was a better farm vehicle than I wanted to admit, given how it could squeeze in anywhere. I grabbed my purse to get out and felt my phone buzz inside.
It was a two-word text from Ruth: “Help me!”
I hit the call button, and she answered after one ring.
“You have to take them—please,” she begged, without any kind of greeting. In the background, I could hear the raised voices of the two boys arguing. “They already broke one of my dryer chairs this morning. I’m going crazy! I have clients booked back-to-back; I don’t have time to play referee all day!”
“Any word from their dad?”
“He left me a message. He’s driving down, leaving this afternoon. But he probably won’t be here until Sunday at the earliest.” Ruth’s voice was worn. “I’m not a parent, Leona! I don’t know what to do with kids! You have to help me.”
“In my experience, kids only need three things. Snacks, toys, and—”
“Sleep?” Ruth finished, sounding like she needed a nap herself.
I laughed. “No—turns out they don’t need sleep. It’s the grownups who need that. I was going to say TV.”
“Well, I don’t have any of those things. You know why? Because this is a hair salon, not a daycare.”
Poor Ruth. She was usually the queen of calm. When she was frustrated, she’d light a candle or rub a chakra stone, and that’d set her right. If she was at the end of her rope, Ollie and Dylan must really be trying her patience. To be honest, I was a little surprised. They were spirited kids, but they didn’t seem downright naughty.
“I wish I knew how to help. Wait—when you said you don’t have any of that stuff, did you mean they haven’t had a snack?”
“It’s barely eleven thirty,” Ruth protested.
“That’s lunchtime! No wonder they’re acting like wild beasts—they’re probably ravenous. Listen, I’m in town already. Let me take you all out to eat. Then I’ll keep the boys for the afternoon.” I made the offer before I thought about how much a pair of ravenous beasts might order. Thank goodness Eli had paid for my alternator, or I might not have been able to cover the lunch tab.
Ruth let out her breath in a relieved burst. “Oh, would you?”
“Of course. I’m going to walk over from the feed store. See you in a bit.”
I could hear the boys before I’d even turned the corner onto Main Street. Halfway down the block, the sound of Dylan’s wail and a sharp, angry retort from Ollie drifted out of the Do or Dye. I sped up the pace and pushed through the door a few moments later, the jangle of the bells above the door drowned out by the cacophony of their argument.
“Hey!” I said sharply, taking in the two boys who were both trying to sit in the same chair, their arms and legs an angry tangle as each tried to shove the other to the floor. Ruth hovered beside them, her hands splayed out helplessly. “Stand up! Right now!”
Both boys froze. They turned their heads toward me, and I reiterated my commend. “Up. Now.”
They reluctantly released each other and slid out of the chair, standing in front of me with hangdog faces.
“We were just playing,” Ollie said sullenly.
Dylan shot him an injured look. “It’s not playing if it isn’t fun, Oliver.”
“You’re so stupid. Do you want to get in trouble?” Ollie shot back.
I held up my hands. “Stop it, both of you. We’re going to lunch, and you need to be on your very best behavior in the restaurant, or you’ll be eating peanut butter sandwiches in the back seat of my car instead of getting to order what you want.”
They both quieted down, and Ruth raised her eyebrows. “How’d you do that?”
“Mean mom voice. I still got it,” I said, grinning. I held out my hand to Dylan. “Come on, let’s go to the Rx Café. Sara will cook something yummy for you.”
Dylan crossed his arms, his lower lip pouting slightly. “I wanna go to the Greasy Spoon.”
“Again?” Ruth asked. I shared her surprise. The Greasy Spoon was just fine, but the Rx Café’s food was downright delicious. Even Sara’s basics like egg salad or French toast always had that extra special touch. Ruth added, “We just went there on Tuesday.”
Ollie shrugged. “They have lollipops.”
Of course—the boys didn’t care about the food. It was all about the five-cent treat Jillian had doled out to them. What had Tambra warned? Kids plus candy equals chaos? But now that I thought about it, I didn’t mind the chance to check in on Jillian and see how she was doing. She’d seemed so shaken yesterday; I hoped she was feeling better.
Ruth pursed her lips disapprovingly at Ollie. “Lollipops aren’t lunch.”
“Don’t worry about them getting sugared up. I’m taking them for the afternoon,” I reminded her. Dylan and Ollie’s faces lit up at the news.
“Can we play with the chickens again?” Ollie asked eagerly as I held the door open for them. “And hold Boots?”
I nodded. “You sure can.”
Chapter 17
Inside the little diner, Ed was working alone. He gave us a wave from behind the counter and motioned to an empty table by the window. I got the boys settled with Ruth and went to fetch coloring sheets and crayons from the server station.
“Jillian’s got the day off?” I asked Ed on my way back.
“She’s just on break, but she’ll be back in a jiffy.” Ed smiled at me and mopped the sweat off his forehead with a bandana that he then stuck in his back pocket. “I can take your order here at the counter if you can’t wait.”
I glanced over at the table where Ollie and Dylan were squirming in their chairs, pretending to fall off them and sliding under the table. Ruth was desperately trying to keep them in their seats. “Got any lollipops?”
Ed grinned and produced a couple of Dum-Dums from underneath the counter and handed them to me. “Maybe this’ll settle them down. Just don’t let them fight over who gets which flavor.”
I held the lollipops behind my back and made the boys choose hands before doling them out. They unwrapped them greedily and popped them in their mouths without a single squawk of protest, then got to work filling in the mazes on their coloring sheets.
&nb
sp; Ruth raised an eyebrow as I slid into my seat opposite her. “Won’t those spoil their appetites?”
“If they do, we’ll take their food to go and they can eat later,” I reassured her. “Kids never finish, anyway. When Andrea was little, I used to keep Tupperware in my purse for leftovers.” Movement outside the window by our table caught my eye. Probably Jillian coming back inside. I leaned to get a better view, but all I could see was someone’s shirt sleeve. With a jolt, I recognized it. The patch bearing the distinctive sheriff’s department logo was unmistakable. It was Eli’s sleeve.
I stood up, scraping my chair loudly. “I’ll be right back,” I said. I hurried out and around the side of the small brick building. Sure enough, Eli was there—I recognized him even from the back—his hands on his hips as he spoke to Jillian in a voice too quiet for me to hear. Or at least, I assumed it was Jillian. All I could see was a bright blue T-shirt that matched the diner’s front door, the uniform she and Ed wore while they were working.
As I neared and I caught sight of Jillian’s face, my heart sank. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her chin wobbled. Her whole body shook as she hiccupped, trying to repress her sobs while she answered whatever Eli had just asked.
On one hand, I was glad Eli had followed up with her instead of waiting for Detective Crisp’s team. But clearly, he had pushed her too hard.
“Hey, are you being mean?” I asked sharply as I drew up beside Eli.
“He’s not,” Jillian croaked.
“I found her like this.” Eli pressed his lips together and shook his head sympathetically. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
Jillian pulled up the neck of her T-shirt to dry her face. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice muffled by the shirt’s fabric. “It’s nobody’s fault but mine. I just got a call that the crowning is tomorrow, and I just—can’t. I feel so guilty about McKenzie. She should be the one with the crown, not me.”
I reached my arm around her shoulders and gave her a side hug. “Honey, it’s a tragedy that McKenzie was killed, but you shouldn’t feel guilty. You deserve the Miss Honeytree crown every bit as much as she did—maybe more, because you didn’t break the rules.”
Rather than my intended effect, my words made Jillian dissolve into tears again. I gently patted her back, and she finally raised her head, her voice unsteady as she said, “I don’t deserve it, though.”
“Why not?” I asked, hoping to logic her out of this downward spiral.
“It’s all my fault McKenzie’s gone.”
“Don’t say that,” Eli blurted out. Then he cleared his throat and shifted his weight awkwardly. “You didn’t shoot her.”
I grimaced at his blunt language and gave Jillian a comforting squeeze, but she pulled away from me, her eyes blazing.
“You don’t understand. I left her there in the parking lot. If I had stayed, maybe she wouldn’t be dead. Maybe none of this would have happened.”
“You were with her?” Eli frowned at the new information, and I could almost see his fingers itching to take out his notepad and jot this down. “Walk me through what happened—why were you in the parking lot, and why did you leave?” he asked gently.
Jillian’s eyes welled with fresh tears. “See? You think it’s my fault, too!”
Eli shook his head. “That’s not why I asked. If I can understand what happened in the minutes before McKenzie was killed, it might help me figure out who killed her.”
“Plus, I think it’ll make you feel better to get it off your chest,” I added.
Jillian’s shoulders slumped and she leaned back against the brick wall. “McKenzie said she wanted to send Tambra a message. You know, about the comportment clause. She said the pageant rules were oppressing all of us. I mean, she was right. We couldn’t be honest about our lives and still participate in the pageant. I didn’t want to get involved, but she said if I didn’t, she’d tell on me, too.”
“Tell on you for what?” Eli asked, frowning.
Jillian stayed silent, frozen against the brick wall. I could tell she didn’t want to answer the question, so I answered for her. “The clause prohibits drinking and smoking, and I know you don’t do either of those things. So you must have a boyfriend, too.”
Jillian nodded slowly, her eyes on the parking lot pavement.
“So you went with her to vandalize Tambra’s car?” Eli prompted.
“Yes—no! I didn’t know that’s what she was going to do. I just thought she was going to leave a note on the windshield or something. But she handed me a rock. When I realized what she wanted to me to do...” Her voice trailed off.
“You left her alone,” I finished.
Jillian’s head snapped up. “No—not alone. I left her with someone else. Ten minutes later, she was dead. And now I’m afraid that maybe”—her eyes darted around the parking lot, searching to make sure nobody was within earshot as she dug in the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper—“maybe he’ll kill me, too.”
“What?!” I gasped. Jillian handed me the scrap of paper and I read what it said. Scrawled in all caps in permanent marker was a single sentence:
DON’T MAKE MCKENZIE’S MISTAKE.
My hand shaking, I passed the note to Eli. When he saw what it said, his mouth set in a grim line, and he finally gave in and got out his notepad. “Who sent you this?”
But I already knew the answer even before Jillian spoke. “It’s Archer, isn’t it?”
Jillian bit her lip and nodded. “I think so. We ran into him in the parking lot—McKenzie and I did. I thought he was coming to talk to me.”
“Why would you think—” Eli began, but stopped when I whacked him with the back of my hand.
“Wake up! It’s pretty obvious he was dating both girls. He’s not a secret boyfriend, he’s the secret boyfriend. He was using the pageant rules to hide his bad behavior.”
“Oh.” Eli blushed underneath his deep summer tan and scribbled in his notebook.
Jillian took a deep breath and let it out. All these secrets had obviously been weighing on her. “Yeah. We’d been seeing each other, but before the festival, I told him that I couldn’t stand sneaking around anymore. I wanted to go public with the relationship at the Fourth of July festival now that the pageant was over.”
“But he didn’t?” Eli asked.
“He said he didn’t want me to get kicked out of the pageant circuit. That he wanted to support my dreams, that he wanted me to get a shot at the state level if McKenzie couldn’t compete for some reason. I think that’s why he came to the festival, to make sure I didn’t tell anyone. When he showed up, I thought it was romantic that he was protecting me from self-sabotage. I thought that meant he really loved me.” Jillian shook her head sadly. “I was so stupid. When we met him in the parking lot, McKenzie planted a big kiss on him. I couldn’t believe it was happening—it was like a bad dream. I realized in that moment that Archer didn’t love me. He was just trying to protect his relationship with McKenzie, not help me stay in the pageant.”
My eyes widened. “Did McKenzie know you two had the same secret boyfriend?”
“Neither of us knew. He’d been lying to her, too. She broke up with him on the spot when she found out. She told him to go drown in the pool.”
“She must have been just as upset as you were.”
Jillian shook her head. “She thought it was funny. She was laughing, drunk, falling all over herself. I said, ‘Well at least we don’t have to worry about breaking the rules anymore.’ But she said we should take it out on Tambra’s car anyway, because it was all Tambra’s fault. I didn’t understand why, but she said, ‘If Tambra wasn’t such a hardass about the rules, then we wouldn’t have to hide stuff and Archer wouldn’t have been able to two-time us.’ She said, ‘Isn’t it so funny that we were dating the same dude and didn’t even know?’” Jillian’s voice rose as she mimicked McKenzie in a syrupy, nasty tone.
“I take it you didn’t think it was funny.” Eli’s
voice was quiet, neutral.
“No. I was humiliated. I wanted to die,” Jillian snapped. “I just left. I didn’t want to be involved in any more drama. I lost the crown; I lost the guy. It was over. But now, part of me wishes I had stayed. Maybe it would have kept McKenzie alive.”
“You did the right thing,” Eli said gravely. “Believe me. You kept yourself safe. If you’d stayed, you might have died along with her.”
“I wish I believed that.” Jillian roughly scrubbed her cheeks on her T-shirt sleeve. “I have to get back to work—Uncle Ed’s probably going crazy wondering where I am.” She walked briskly away from us, her shoulders tight and square below her bobbing ponytail.
I looked at Eli. “I should get back to Ruth soon, too. I’m supposed to watch the boys this afternoon.”
“Good. That’ll keep you away from Archer Clark.” Eli’s words were clipped, absentminded, as he stared at the one-line note again.
“What do you think it means?” I asked him. “What was McKenzie’s mistake?”
“Breaking up with him, maybe. I noticed Jillian said that McKenzie broke up with him on the spot, but she didn’t. Maybe he’s warning her not to reject him.”
I shivered. “So you think he just killed McKenzie because he was mad about the breakup?”
“It seems likely. Something’s bothering me about it, though. Why did he bring a gun to the Fourth of July festival?”
I shrugged. “Ruth says a lot of people have guns here for self-defense, since the sheriff’s department is so slow to respond. Nothing personal,” I added hurriedly, seeing Eli’s wounded expression. “You have a huge area to patrol.”
He winked at me, letting me know he wasn’t offended. “This was the high school campus, though. No guns are allowed at all—not even people with concealed-carry permits can bring them on campus. That’s probably why Tambra left her gun at home.”
“I thought maybe it wouldn’t fit in her flag purse,” I chuckled, but then, remembering the gravity of what we were discussing, stopped. “Archer must have had a reason for bringing it, then. Maybe to threaten Jillian not to spill the beans about their relationship?”