Honey-Baked Homicide

by Gayle Leeson

  I introduced him to Madelyn. “Madelyn is Stuart Landon Carver’s daughter.”

  Homer told her he was glad to meet her and studied her face for a second. “I can see it now. You have your father’s eyes.”

  Madelyn blushed. “That’s what everybody tells me . . . well, everybody who knew us both.”

  “Mr. Landon was a good, hardworking man,” Homer said. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Pickens.”

  “Homer, I’ll get that sausage biscuit ready for you,” I said.

  “And I’ve got your coffee right here,” Jackie told him.

  After Madelyn left, I asked Homer who was his hero for the day.

  “Andrew Smith,” he said. “He’s an author of young adult fiction, and frankly, I’d never heard of him until I ran across one of his quotes. I looked him up after that.”

  “Cool. Have you heard that someone from Ives Oil and Gas has been checking out property here in Winter Garden to see if there are any natural gas reservoirs?”

  “I am aware. The man came by my house and asked if he could test. I told him to have at it, and he tested some rocks. Unfortunately, he didn’t think there was anything to be extracted from my place, or you might be looking at one of Winter Garden’s upper echelon.”

  “I am looking at one of Winter Garden’s upper echelon,” I said. “Besides, Aunt Bess is afraid that there’s gas under our property and that it’ll somehow make us all blow up.”

  “‘People fear what they don’t understand and hate what they can’t conquer,’” he said.

  “Andrew Smith?”

  He nodded. “That’s the quote I liked.”

  “I like it too,” I said with a smile.

  • • •

  There were more people than usual in the café for lunch, and almost all of them mentioned the social media ad. I was happy that the promotion was going so well. I just hoped Jackie and Shelly didn’t quit on me. But they seemed to be handling the traffic all right, and the people seemed to be generous tippers. That always helped a server’s mood.

  When I realized that the initial traffic increase wasn’t just one large group but a steady stream, I asked Luis to call Donna—our part-time waitress—and ask her to come in so Jackie could help out in the kitchen. Donna had arrived—eyes wide at the crowd—and Jackie was helping me keep an eye on the grill while we both chopped vegetables.

  Shelly popped her head into the kitchen. “Hey, Amy, there’s somebody out here who wants to see you.”

  “Who is it?” I asked. “Can’t it wait?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a big, husky guy here with a woman who I’m guessing is his wife.”

  I remembered running into Chad Thomas in the grocery store. I sighed.

  “Go ahead,” said Jackie. “I’ve got this.”

  “Okay. I’ll make it quick.” I took off my plastic gloves and discarded them before going into the dining room. I spotted the couple right away, although you couldn’t have asked for a couple more mismatched than this one. Whereas Chad was, as Shelly had aptly described him, big and husky, his wife was tiny and birdlike.

  Chad waved to me as I stepped out behind the counter, as if I might’ve forgotten him already.

  “Hi,” I said as I approached their table. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  “We wanted to let you know the food was really good. Wasn’t it, Fern?”

  Inwardly, I let out a sigh of relief.

  “It was.” Fern spoke so softly that I had to lean forward to hear her. “I hope we get to come back here again sometime.”

  “We will, darlin’. We will,” he said. “I just wanted to introduce you two. I told Fern about meeting you in the grocery store, so Amy, this is my wife, Fern. Fern, Amy.”

  Fern and I shook hands, and I told her it was nice to meet her.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I came in here once when the place was called Lou’s Joint, and I didn’t like it at all.”

  “I’m glad we’ve improved the place,” I said.

  “You sure have done that.”

  “Well, I need to get back into the kitchen, but it was truly an honor to meet you. Please tell Shelly to take ten percent off your bill when you go up to pay.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” said Chad.

  “I want to,” I said. “We have to keep good customers like you and Fern coming back.”

  As I turned to head back to the kitchen, I nearly ran into a newcomer. “Excuse me,” I said to the man.

  “Excuse me.” The tall, balding man with a slight paunch smiled and held out a hand to Chad. “Mr. Thomas, good to see you again.”

  “Pull up a chair,” said Chad.

  I went on back to the kitchen.

  • • •

  Upon pulling into my driveway after work, I found Rory barking his head off, a large white truck parked between my house and the big house, and the man I nearly slammed into in the restaurant poking dart-like things with red tops into my yard.

  “May I help you?” I called as I got out of the Bug.

  “I’ll be with you in just a second.”

  Just a second, my eye. I hurried over to where he was working.

  “Watch your step, please,” he said without looking up.

  “What are you doing? This is my house.”

  He finally looked up. “Oh, hey! I remember you from the restaurant. Nice seeing you again.” He took a card from his shirt pocket. “I’m Calvin Dougherty, a geologist with Ives Oil and Gas Company. Your mom called and asked me to come out and check your property for gas reserves.”

  “Have you found anything?”

  “Not up on the hill. I’m testing down here just to make sure,” he said.

  “I imagine Aunt Bess was relieved that there were no gas deposits up there.”

  “She was. But she’s still afraid your place will blow up.” He chuckled and smoothed his comb-over to the left. “I tried to explain to her that it doesn’t work that way, but . . . well, I don’t think she was convinced.”

  “I know better than you how hard it is to convince Aunt Bess of anything once she has her mind made up. Would you like some water or iced tea?”

  “No, I appreciate it, but I’m about to finish up here and call it a day.”

  “I understand you’ve been looking at a lot of property around Winter Garden,” I said. “Do you think there’s a possibility that you’ll find any natural gas reserves around here?”

  “It’s possible. I’ve come across one or two places where I’d like to run some additional tests, but I’m waiting on the go-ahead from my company. There’s always the mandatory red tape, you know.” He went to the truck, stayed a few moments, and then came back to retrieve the darts he’d placed in the ground. “Well, it was good seeing you again. I’ll have to stop back in your café again for lunch sometime. The food was delicious.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” I began walking toward the house but stopped and turned back. “Mr. Dougherty, how would it affect the residents of Winter Garden if you should happen to discover that there’s a gas deposit around here?”

  He shrugged. “It could make one or two of them set for life.”

  Chapter 9

  I went inside and fed the pets and then I walked up to the big house. Mom was sitting on the front porch enjoying a glass of lemonade.

  “I see you met Mr. Dougherty,” she said. “Would you like some lemonade or iced tea?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.” I sat on the rocker beside hers. “What were those dart-like things Mr. Dougherty was putting into the ground?”

  “He told Aunt Bess that they were geophones and that through some kind of recording equipment he has in his truck, they tell Mr. Dougherty whether or not the land should be tested further.”

  “Doe
s Aunt Bess feel better now that she knows we’re not sitting atop a gas well?”

  “Yeah.” Mom smiled. “She went to take a nap as soon as she learned all was well. She didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Whoa. She was more worried than I’d thought.” After rocking and watching a pair of blue jays flit from limb to limb on a maple tree for a few seconds, I asked, “What did you think of Mr. Dougherty?”

  She groaned. “You aren’t trying your hand at matchmaking, are you?”

  “No. I genuinely want to know your opinion of the man.”

  “I thought he was okay . . . clean-cut . . . fairly nice looking, although I wish he’d just let himself go bald already and forget about combing what little hair he has over to the side . . . He seemed kind.” She gave me a sharp look. “If you aren’t matchmaking, why do you want to know what I thought of him?”

  “I don’t know. I just get kind of a strange vibe from him.”

  Her brows shot up. “Did he do or say something inappropriate to you?”

  “No, not at all. And maybe it’s not really the man himself I’m suspicious of—maybe it’s this whole situation. Don’t you think it’s weird? This man comes to Winter Garden alone. He doesn’t have a team with him. And he’s investigating the possibility of there being natural gas somewhere beneath the town.” I spread my hands. “What is he—some kind of wildcatter or something?”

  “I don’t think he’s working alone,” Mom said. “I believe he’s just the initial investigator. When I called Ives Oil and Gas and asked to speak with the representative they had working in Winter Garden, Virginia, they put me through to him right away.”

  “I still think it’s odd that he just showed up here one day and started trying to find gas in Winter Garden. Wouldn’t someone have to suspect they had gas on their property and call Ives Oil and Gas to ask them to look into it?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe someone did. Besides, you heard Jackie say that Mr. Dougherty told Roger that they believe the Appalachian Shale Basin is at the top of the list of possible undiscovered reserves. It could be that they’re just now getting around to exploring Winter Garden.”

  “I guess.”

  Mom reached over and patted my arm. “You’re still shaken up over Mr. Landon’s death.”

  “I know. I saw Madelyn this morning, by the way. She said Ives Oil and Gas had approached her dad about testing his land, but he wouldn’t let them. He was afraid they would disturb the bees.”

  “Do you think Madelyn will allow Mr. Dougherty to test the property now?”

  “I don’t know. Mr. Thomas sure was chummy with Mr. Dougherty today, though.” I explained to Mom that Chad Thomas and his wife came in for lunch and that they asked to speak with me. “When I was going back to the kitchen, I nearly ran into Mr. Dougherty, although I didn’t know who he was at the time. He was walking over to the table to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.”

  “Wouldn’t you imagine Mr. Dougherty has met a lot of people since he’s been in Winter Garden?”

  “Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “Maybe you’re right. I’m letting what happened to Stu affect the way I look at everything around me. But how can I not, Mom? The man died in my parking lot.”

  “I know, sweetheart.”

  “Did I mention that Roger had told us that Chad Thomas had a terrible temper?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “When was this?”

  “This was just after Stu told me he thought Mr. Thomas’s pesticide-spraying habits were killing his bees. Ryan and I met with Jackie and Roger, and Roger told us that Stu should be careful about confronting Mr. Thomas because both he and his brother had quick tempers. He knew this from when he’d done work for Mr. Thomas’s brother.”

  “So you’re afraid Mr. Landon confronted Mr. Thomas and that Mr. Thomas . . . killed him?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind, but when Mr. Thomas was in the café with his wife, Fern, you couldn’t have asked for anyone to have been any nicer,” I said. “When I first ran into him in the grocery store, he came across as a bit overbearing, but he didn’t strike me as ill-tempered. Do you think Roger could’ve been mistaken?”

  “That’s possible. Roger was around this man and his brother, though, right? People are usually more themselves around family. They don’t have their guard up or feel the need to be as polite as they might be in social situations.” She smiled slightly. “Or it could be that you’ve simply not made the man angry.”

  • • •

  Rory and I were watching a movie and sharing a bowl of popcorn later that evening. Even Princess Eloise was in the same room with us, albeit in the chair across from the sofa watching us with narrowed green eyes. The movie was a comedy, and although Rory didn’t really get all the jokes, he appreciated the popcorn. Princess Eloise found nothing amusing about the situation whatsoever.

  My phone rang, and I paused the movie. Rory hopped off the sofa to go into the kitchen and drink some water from his bowl.

  I answered the call and smiled when Ryan told me he just wanted me to know he was thinking of me.

  “That’s sweet,” I said. “Thank you. What’s going on in the underbelly of Winter Garden tonight?” He was on patrol.

  “Absolutely nothing. It’s been a boring shift. But given recent events, that’s a good thing.”

  “It is a good thing.” I paused. “By the way, was it ever determined whether or not that was Stuart Landon Carver’s pickup truck we saw speeding out of Winter Garden on our way home from the Barter?”

  “No. It was really too hard to tell, given that the truck was going so fast. And you’d think a truck that old wouldn’t be your first choice for a road race.”

  “That’s true, especially with the wear and tear going up and down that driveway to Stu’s house every day had to have on it.”

  “Ivy’s still processing Mr. Carver’s truck, though, so if there was anyone else in it the night he died, I feel fairly confident that she’ll find out.”

  “Me too. She’s really good at her job.”

  “I’d better get back out on patrol,” he said. “Are we still on for dinner tomorrow evening?”

  “You bet. See you then.”

  “If not before. I might make it in for lunch tomorrow.”

  “That would be great too,” I said.

  We ended the call. Rory—apparently full of popcorn—lay on the floor beneath the coffee table, and I resumed the movie. It was hard to concentrate on the goofy plot, though. I still had my mind on the night Stuart Landon Carver was murdered.

  Had Ryan and I seen Stu fleeing for his life? Was there something we could’ve done to help him?

  Finally, I gave up on the movie and called Sarah.

  “Hey, girl, what’s up?”

  “I was watching a movie with Rory and Princess Eloise—okay, Rory—but I started dwelling on Stu Landon Carver,” I said. “Would you like to go get a cone of ice cream with me?”

  “Sure. I’d already got comfy for the night, but let me put on a bra, and I’m good to go.”

  I laughed. “Be there to pick you up in about fifteen minutes.”

  “See you then.” A note of seriousness crept into her voice. “You okay?”

  “I’m all right. Just too much time to think this evening.”

  “I heard that. See you in a few.”

  • • •

  On my way to Sarah’s house, I looked into my rearview mirror and saw an old pickup truck coming up behind me way too fast. It was dark and the truck’s lights were shining in my eyes, but it reminded me of Stu’s truck.

  I blinked my eyes a few times and then adjusted my mirror so the lights wouldn’t blind me. I really was letting Stu’s death get to me. But he’d been such a nice man, as far as I could tell. And I was the one who’d opened that truck door. I gave an involuntary shudder at the unwelc
ome remembrance of that moment.

  The truck followed me all the way to Sarah’s house and then sped past me as I pulled into her driveway.

  “Slow down!” she called angrily as she stepped off her front porch. She opened the passenger side door of the Bug. “Are you all right? You look as pale as a ghost.”

  “I’m okay. That truck just scared me. He was tailgating me, and the truck reminded me of the one Stu Landon Carver drove.”

  She nodded. “It is like that one almost. It belongs to Joey Carver.” She slid into the car. “Apparently, his great-grandfather was big into those kinds of trucks and passed the love of them—or the actual trucks, I don’t know—down through the family.”

  “Wait, you said Carver. Is this Joey related to Madelyn and Brendan?”

  “Mr. Landon’s—or as we now know—Mr. Carver’s children? Yeah. Joey would be their first cousin.”

  “I wonder if they know each other,” I said.

  “Hard to say. We know the kids never came up here to visit Stuart, but he might’ve taken Joey or some of the rest of the family to Cookeville to see them on occasion.” She shrugged. “It sounds to me like they were a very strange family.”

  “Me too. My cousin is like my sister.” I grinned. “But then, so are you.”

  • • •

  I dropped Sarah back off at her house after we’d gotten ice cream, and then I called Ryan.

  “Hi there, beautiful. I hope you’re not calling because you’re as bored as I am.”

  “Well . . . um . . . I was, but then Sarah and I went and got ice cream.”

  “And now you’re calling to rub it in?”

  I chuckled. “No, I wanted to tell you about Joey Carver.” I explained about the tailgating truck and how I thought it looked like Stu’s truck. “So, of course, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me because I’d been thinking about Stu. But when I got to Sarah’s house, he sped past, and Sarah yelled at him to slow down.”

  “You should have called me then. I could’ve made him slow down.”

  “I know. But when Sarah got in the car, she told me it was Joey Carver. He’s Stuart Landon Carver’s nephew, I guess—and apparently, the Carvers come from a long line of old truck enthusiasts . . . same make, same model.”