“I had to let her leave the clinic.” The doctor sounded angry. “She never would say what happened. What about you? Can you charge anyone with assault with a deadly weapon or whatever?”
Tony flipped through the open file on his desk. “The fingerprints on the knife are definitely not all hers.”
“There’s a big surprise.” Doc Nash fumed. “Any idea who they do belong to?”
“Nope. Whoever it is has no criminal history and has not been fingerprinted and put into the system.” He glanced at the framed Cashdollar fingerprints and blew out a relieved sigh. He watched the doctor rise from his chair and cleared his throat to stop the doctor from going off on a rant. “You know, it’s not as though I even have access to fingerprints unless they’re in a criminal database.”
“What do you mean?” The doctor sat.
“I mean, even if you have been fingerprinted as part of your job identification, that does not necessarily mean I have access to the information. I don’t get to just dig around in everyone’s personal information because I am looking for a match.” Tony heaved a sigh, not sure what he thought of the system. “Lots of people have never been fingerprinted at all.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to do a little more research.” Doc Nash removed his glasses and polished the lenses before returning them to his face. “Let me see what I can find.”
Tony gripped the edge of his desk. “Doctor, you may not make a house call to check on a patient and start picking up items for fingerprint comparison.”
“What if they are my items and I let someone examine them?”
Tony didn’t know. He wanted to know who had done the stabbing as much as the doctor did, but if the woman didn’t want to talk about what happened, he couldn’t force her. “Please don’t.”
Theo reached into the pantry and retrieved a box of crackers, thinking they’d be nice with some cheese and the leftover stew. She shook the box. Silence. She reached inside and found it was completely empty. It didn’t even have the cellophane liner in it. It didn’t take much detective work to know that neither the dog nor the baby girls could have done it. That left three males of varying sizes as cracker-thieving suspects. Carrying the box, she walked to the non-kitchen portion of their kitchen/family room and stood in front of the television, blocking the football game. Three heads moved to the right as the guys tried to see around her.
She waved the empty box. “Who ate the last cracker and put the empty box back in the pantry?”
“Not me.” Tony was the fastest to reply. He held a baby girl in each arm and nodded at them. “Or them.”
“Not me,” said Chris.
“Not me.” Jamie’s words lacked the ring of truth. It only took a glance at his mother’s face before he conceded, “Okay, maybe it was me but there weren’t many in the box to start with.”
Theo shook her head and stared. “It’s not that you ate the crackers. A box sitting in the pantry makes me think there is food in it.”
Jamie laughed. “So, if I left only one cracker in the box, would it be better?”
Tony joined the fray. “Before you head off to law school, James, why don’t you run over to Food City and get another box of crackers for all of us to share.”
Theo handed Jamie some cash. “Chris, you go with him.”
For just a moment, Chris looked like he might want to protest, but he quickly headed out with his brother. “We could have a snowball fight in the park.” His words carried through the house as the boys stomped toward the front door.
“Thank you.” Theo plopped down on the love seat. “Food around here vanishes at an alarming rate.”
“My mom says she still has nightmares about the quantities of food the four of us used to go through.” Tony winked. “Don’t get her started if you don’t want your own nightmares about food flying from the cupboards.”
Theo studied her oversized husband. Gus, Tony’s oldest brother, was as big as Tony or bigger, and Berry wasn’t small. “At least we only have two boys.”
“Don’t kid yourself. Skinny little Calpurnia could eat her weight in food. Us boys won several bets by putting her into various eating contests. She always won.”
“We’re doomed.” Theo looked at the baby girls, and the nightmare description of Callie’s eating capacity only brought more concern. She hoped next year’s garden would produce a bumper crop.
“Before you start food rationing, and before the boys return, I have a question.”
Tony looked serious, so Theo guessed it had something to do with work. “Okay.”
“What do you know about the Teffeteller clan and their relationship to Carl Lee Cashdollar?”
The question surprised her. “I forgot they are related. I was older than them so we didn’t hang out together, but I can remember my grandmother expressing some concern about whether they’d all have enough to eat. Sort of like us today. Mammaw said she couldn’t believe Carl Lee’s dad would drop him off for the summer with people who couldn’t afford to feed their own children.”
Tony remembered Theo’s grandmother as being extremely old, frail, and yet not a woman who would keep her opinions to herself if change in something or someone was needed. “What did she do about it?”
The memory made Theo laugh. “She cooked vast quantities of perishable foods—you know—breads, muffins, and things that could quickly spoil like potato salads and tuna dishes, and then she made my grandfather deliver them to the Teffetellers and say we had too much and the food would just go bad and maybe they could help us out by eating the extra.”
“And he did, of course.” The old man was a gentleman with a kind heart and married to a woman who was ruthlessly charitable.
“Yes, but still he was embarrassed, so he used to buy bullets for Sheila’s old twenty-two. I remember one time, not long before he died, he said that girl had more ambition than either of her folks, and she’d be able to feed the whole family on her own with a little practice.”
“I’ll bet he never envisioned Sheila as a police sniper.” Tony shifted his sleeping girls, hoping they wouldn’t have to spend their childhoods trying to supply food to anyone.
Theo shook her head, making her curls bounce. “The idea of her having such a job would never have occurred to him. I can practically hear him flipping over in his grave.”
“Is that the thumping, spinning sound I hear?” Tony cocked his head.
“No.” Theo leapt to her feet and dashed for the washing machine. “Just a load of towels shifted. If I don’t catch it, it will send water everywhere.”
“Someone has reported a stabbing outside the Okay.” Rex frowned. “Anonymous but stupid. He called nine-one-one from his personal cell phone.”
“Who was our genius and who was stabbed?” Tony was surprised. Usually the clientele at the Okay were better behaved than those at The Spa.
“I’ve sent Sheila to check it out.” Rex looked up. “I’ve got everyone else on alert. It sounds like a trap or a diversion.”
Tony didn’t doubt it. He really didn’t like it. “I’ll go to the Okay. Let Sheila know I’m on my way.”
It didn’t take him long to reach the bar. Its full name was the Okay Bar and Bait Shop. They hadn’t sold bait since God was a boy, but the sign remained. Now the Okay was more of an unrestricted clubhouse than a tavern. Sure, the patrons could buy a drink, but it was often coffee or soda pop. The short, feisty proprietress, Mom Proffitt, ran the business, offered advice only when asked, and kept everyone’s keys, no matter what they were drinking. Tony loved her.
When he reached the Okay, he could see Sheila leaning against her car, chatting with Mom. Mom looked confused and Sheila looked wary. If she was in a trap, she and Mom could be targets. Sheila was waving the older woman back inside, and Tony could see her lips moving. Through the radio he could hear that Sheila was talking to Rex. The gist was there had been a brief fight ending with a threat to Mom.
Flavio Weems stepped out of the Okay. As one of their dispatch
team, Flavio’s work had improved tremendously with practice. He shepherded the bar owner back inside. Being off duty and being at the Okay put him in the right place at the right time.
“Flavio,” Tony called out. “Come back here after you get Mom settled.”
Obligingly, Flavio returned after seeing the bar owner safely inside and loped toward them; his slightly awkward gait was caused by the unevenness of his legs. He wore a corrective shoe, but it didn’t allow him to run normally. “Sheriff? What’s happening?”
“Rex received a call about a stabbing at this location. Did you see or hear anything?” After the woman with a knife in her back, he was hoping not to have a copycat or an outbreak of anything similar.
“I’ve been here most of the evening.” Flavio’s forehead creased as he thought. “There was a bit of a verbal altercation between a couple of guys, and Mom made them leave. There was not even any pushing or shoving, much less a stabbing. The disagreement didn’t look serious or like it was about to get worse, or I’d have called in and reported it myself. I’ll bet it was a practical joke.”
Tony nodded. “Well, let’s have a little chat with our prank caller.”
He didn’t even have to go inside. Sheila tipped her head to indicate that the man she grasped by the upper arm, mostly to keep him on his feet, was the person who reported the stabbing. Tony couldn’t wait to see the drunken prankster’s face when he learned how much trouble he was in for making the call.
Maybelle Ruth finally came forward to talk about her own stabbing. She said that with the recent false report at the Okay, one of those bits of information that quickly made the gossip circles, she wanted his office to understand what had happened to her.
“Why don’t you just start at the beginning?” Tony rolled his pen between his palms, waiting for her to speak. His anticipation increased when she didn’t start immediately.
“It was an accident.” Maybelle held several tissues in her balled fist. “The kitchen in my son’s house is small and has the door into the yard opposite a swinging door into the living room.” She shifted, then flinched as the movement pulled her injury.
“Okay, I can imagine that.” Tony made a little sketch in his notebook of a possible floor plan. “Like this?”
Maybelle studied the drawing. “The stove is opposite from the sink.”
Tony changed his sketch. She nodded. “Go on.”
“My son and I were chatting when his wife came in. I stepped back to make room and backed into the blade of the knife he was holding and then went outside and left them alone together.”
Tony believed part of this story was true, but not the whole thing. “No one tried to stop you or get the knife back?” Why, if she backed into the blade, did the son not pull it free, if for no other reason than he was using it? Wouldn’t he need to continue slicing whatever? “Nonsense. Are you telling me you didn’t feel it?”
Maybelle nodded her head.
Tony glared at her. The slowest mind in the world, even a caterpillar’s, would realize the knife had been pulled out of his hand. “Ridiculous.”
The two of them stared at each other for several minutes. Tony clasped his hands together, lacing his fingers. He rested them on the surface of his desk. And waited.
Maybelle’s fingers fluttered like she was telling an exciting story with sign language. But she wasn’t. “It was my fault.”
“Convince me.”
“It was so crowded in there. They don’t have room for me.” Tears, real tears this time, filled her eyes. “A young couple needs privacy. It was so confusing and busy in the kitchen. They were hurrying to get to work. I was trying to get outside with their dogs. The least I can do is walk their dogs.” She exhaled sharply and dabbed at her eyes. “There’s more room in the closet than in the kitchen, and my daughter-in-law was holding the knife and was going to put it away and I got bumped by one of the dogs and sort of fell back. At first I really didn’t feel anything and by then I was outside.”
“Your daughter-in-law didn’t tell anyone what happened.”
“I told her not to. She tried to stop me but I promised I was fine. I had no idea the knife was stuck in there and it didn’t hurt, really. It was not her fault.” Maybelle shredded the remains of the tissue and tossed it in the trash. “I want her to like me.”
That statement, Tony believed. “Okay. I’ll accept your story. Just stay out of the kitchen in the mornings.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
On such a cold day, to find Blossom in his office with a warm apple pie in an insulated carrier was a delightful surprise. His groupie, Blossom Flowers, had cut way back on the deliveries of pies, cookies, and muffins to him. On the taste bud and stomach level, he missed them. On every other level, he was delighted. It meant her life was going well. This pie was a bad omen. He could sense something had changed. Wasn’t she supposed to be too busy with her upcoming wedding to bake for others?
“Blossom?” Tony eased into his desk chair, taking care not to topple the stacks of files on his desk and the pie balanced on the top. “What is the occasion?”
The plus-plus-sized woman dug into the tote bag at her feet. “I want you to keep this for me.” She handed him a small box, a ring box containing a man’s wedding band. “I’m afraid I’ll lose it before the wedding. There’s so much going on and the house is a mess with everything and . . .” Blossom’s words ended in a sob. She covered her face with a pile of tissues and tears overflowed her bulbous eyes. Her sparse, flame orange hair was a mess.
If Tony had learned anything living with Theo, it was to keep his mouth shut when a woman was crying or offer quiet murmurs of consolation and not offer advice, unless she asked for it. One time he’d mumbled something about the situation not being very serious or worth being upset about and he almost got scalped. Probably the only thing saving him had been his lack of hair. He allowed himself to say to Blossom, “I’m sure it will calm down eventually.” He vowed he’d rip out his own tongue before he’d inquire directly about the problem.
Blossom gave him the “how stupid are you?” look and blew her nose. “The ring’s just an excuse. I need your help.”
Tony was curious in spite of himself. “How can I help you?”
“You can ask questions about people. You know, check into their past.”
“Not just because I’m nosy.” Tony leaned back in his chair. “It’s an invasion of privacy if I just dig around in their lives. People have a right to their secrets unless one is a crime.”
Blossom’s expression turned to dismay. “I don’t care. I need to know.”
Her anxious, yet woeful, expression fascinated him. He believed Blossom was not the kind of person who spent his or her life poking into other people’s lives for entertainment. As if listening to someone else’s conversation, he heard his own voice ask, “What do you need to know?”
“Did Kenny have more than one ex-wife?” The syllables poured out of her like they were forming one long word and ended on a sob.
Whatever Tony might have been imagining, it wasn’t this. “Do you have reason to believe he does?” In Tony’s head he saw Kenny either with his two little girls, or Blossom, or all three, or alone with a hammer or bricks and mortar. Never with another woman, not even in the past with his ex-wife. “It doesn’t sound like Kenny.”
“I got this.” Blossom’s chubby hands shook as she reached into the voluminous tote bag near her feet and retrieved a business-sized envelope and handed it to him. Just in case this was a serious situation, Tony slipped on a thin plastic glove. The envelope itself was generic, plain white, with no postage, just the name “Blossom.”
Her name had been typed or printed with a computer, making him think someone in the area had taken great pains to cover their tracks. Tony slid the contents onto a clean sheet of paper. A single sheet of typing paper was folded into thirds. Using a paper clip and a letter opener, Tony spread it open.
“Marrying a man who is not available is dangerous. You won’t
live through your own wedding.” Tony read it twice before looking into Blossom’s face. Tears slid over both cheeks and dripped onto her blouse. He pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the floor near his desk and handed them to her. “Did you ask Kenny?”
She nodded. Her lower lip quivered and she sank her upper teeth into it. “Kenny says it’s bunk and I should throw it away.”
Tony was torn between agreeing with Kenny and wondering what kind of enemy Blossom had. The note didn’t feel like a prank. “Can I keep this for a while?”
“Yes.” Her whole body quivered on a sob. “Who would do this?”
Who indeed? The idea of a sweet, generous woman like Blossom incurring so much hatred seemed implausible. Unfortunately, implausible was not the same thing as impossible. “I don’t know, Blossom, but my department will do everything possible to find out.”
“Should I cancel the wedding?” Blossom stared at her engagement ring. “What if they hurt one of Kenny’s girls? He’d never forgive me or himself.”
“Don’t cancel it yet.” Tony searched for the right way to placate Blossom. “Let me look into this situation. Go ahead with the wedding as planned, but let me know immediately if the least little thing feels wrong.”
Blossom’s head moved from side to side. “Like what?”
Planning a wedding was about the last thing Tony knew anything about. It was out there with how to build a rocket ship. What would seem out of place? “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe if the person you’ve been working with about dresses or music or whatever is suddenly unavailable. Maybe if one of your sisters gets a threat. Tell your family. Half of the county population is related to you on either the Flowers’s side or your mother’s, maybe one of them has heard of a problem.”
Blossom heaved herself to her feet. “Will you talk to Kenny?”
“Yes.” Tony understood Kenny’s attitude, but if there was a jealous girlfriend, even someone who imagined they had a relationship, Kenny would be more likely to know about it than Blossom would.
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