“So, everyone knows their part, right?” Ray asked.
Roscoe was under the table, sound asleep, his big hound ears flopped over his face. The temperature had dropped overnight, so I slid my bare feet under his curled-up body for warmth. “Yup. I called Cade last night, and he’s on board, too.” I would have preferred to have Hawk on board also, but of course, he never did show up at the diner. Guess he couldn’t peel himself away from Laney.
“And I got ahold of Hawk,” Ray said, making me think he could read my mind. “After you told me about your conversation with Lucas, I got a bit worried about the kid. I sent Hawk out looking for him. He caught up to the girlfriend, Tessa, who said Lucas had left town. She wouldn’t say where he’d gone, but Hawk was going to keep working on it.”
I sighed. “Yeah. He’s sure scared of something. He’s the key to all this. If only we could convince him to talk.” I shook my head and thought back to the way he had practically bolted from my truck earlier. He could be anywhere by now. We may never find him. “Anyway,” I continued, “Cade will go into the diner first thing this morning and strike up a conversation with Ginny. Maybe something about how awful it is that our house was broken into yesterday and how fortunate it is that my proof had been stored in that old storage shed in the south orchard and not in the house.”
Ray nodded. “Perfect. And I’ve got the camera all ready to record.” The old shed backed up to some treed acreage on the southern edge of our property, so we planned to use the thick forest as a hiding place while we used a video camera to record the killer in action. That way we’d have irrefutable proof of his or her identity. We’d gotten the idea from listening to Sally Jo talk about the security cameras she’d installed at the Mercantile. We didn’t have time for something so elaborate, but my family did have an old video recorder that we could use to capture the evidence we needed.
“So, this plan will only work if the killer happens to come in for breakfast this morning,” Ray was saying.
“True, but I’m thinking that since today’s the election, he wouldn’t want to miss all the scuttlebutt.” I pointed to an untouched piece of toast on his plate. “Aren’t you going to eat that?”
“Nope, go ahead.”
I snatched it up. It was going to be a busy day; I needed to fuel up. “I know there are holes in my plan, but it’s better than no plan, right? Anyway, Cade is supposed to be at the diner by eight. That’s when he and Ginny will strike up a conversation about the proof being in our shed. Cade will also mention that I’m expecting a really busy day at the shop and that you’re tied up at the hospital with Daddy. That way, the killer will be sure to strike while he thinks we’re both away from the house.” I spooned some jam onto the toast.
“How can we be sure the killer will overhear them talking about all this?” Ray asked.
“This is Ginny we’re talking about, remember?”
He chuckled. “You’re right. She’s very loud. Once she starts talking, everyone at the diner will be tuned into the conversation.”
“Exactly.” I took a quick bite and swallowed. “And the killer will see his opportunity to get that evidence and we’ll be ready to capture it all on film. It’ll be easy as pie.” I’d already asked Carla to open the shop for me, so everything was set on that front. I’d found Daddy’s old lockbox, filled it with a couple rocks for weight and placed it inside the shed. All Ray and I had to do was get to the hiding spot and be ready with the camera.
“Yeah, well, maybe getting the evidence will be easy, but after that, good luck with the sheriff. Nothing is ever easy with Maudy Payne, especially asking her to believe that she was wrong all along. Plus, she’s still hell-bent on arresting Daddy. She was up at the hospital again yesterday. So was Frances Simms.”
“Frances Simms? Dear heavens, does that woman ever give up?” My outburst startled Roscoe. He jumped up, made a woo-woo sound and began sniffing around under the table.
“I was able to keep Frances away,” Ray said as he began rummaging in the fridge for something. “But not Maudy. She kept harassing Mama and Daddy with all sorts of questions. I swear that woman’s spent half her career trying to put away a Harper. It’s like she thrives on it.”
“Meanness is what it is. Meanness and stupidity.”
Ray pulled out a block of cheese out of the fridge and then fetched one of Mama’s paring knives. “No. Revenge is what it is. And we have our sister, Ida, to blame. I’m not sure what prompted her to beat the tar out of Maudy all those years ago, but I hope it was worth it. We’ve been paying for it ever since.” He peeled off a sliver of cheese and popped it in his mouth. After swallowing, he added, “Daddy’s surgery is all set up, by the way. It’s scheduled for Friday morning, at Emory in Atlanta. I’ve convinced the doctors that he needs to remain at the hospital until his surgery. Once I told them about the stress he’s under, they agreed. But we’d better make sure he doesn’t see a copy of today’s Cays Mill Reporter. Judging by the questions Frances was asking yesterday at the hospital, the headline will be scandalous.”
I gasped. “Did she act like she knew about Mama’s handkerchief? The one they found—”
“Oh yeah. She knows. And the gas can, too. Plus, she’s been gathering all sorts of rumors about Mama’s past with Clem. Not that she can substantiate any of them, but you know Frances. Confirming sources isn’t one of her strong points. She was also sniffing around about this supposed proof that you have. Asking me if I knew why you were withholding evidence in a murder case.” His shoulders drooped. “Today’s issue is sure to be a doozy.”
“As if we don’t already have enough to worry about! We’d better give Mama a call on our way out to the site and make sure that she knows to intercept today’s paper. It wouldn’t do to have Daddy reading his name in the headlines.” I could hardly wait for this whole murder mess to be resolved so all Daddy had to do was focus on getting better.
“Good idea,” Ray said, peeling more cheese off the block. Roscoe caught a sniff and started thumping his tail and whining. Ray tossed him a piece.
“Ray! You know how he gets when he eats people food.”
“Oh, lighten up,” he said, tossing another piece. Roscoe practically snatched it from midair. “See, he likes it.”
I sighed and changed the subject. “So, do you really think you’ll be able to help Lucas?”
“If it was his first time in trouble, then I’d say he has a good chance, but with his record and now that he’s taken off somewhere . . .” Ray shrugged off the rest.
“I know you’ll do everything you can,” I assured him. “Thank you.” And I meant that. Over the past year or so, Ray had stepped in and helped out several friends, even Hollis, our somewhat disreputable brother-in-law, without asking for anything in return. My brother was that way, though. Family and friends meant everything to him. Which is exactly why I should have seen his next comment coming.
“And I know you’ll do everything you can to help put Daddy’s mind at ease about this farm. I don’t want to tell you what to do, but he’s got his mind set on you taking it over, keeping it in the family for the next generation. That type of stuff is important to him.”
I hadn’t seen that comment coming. Suddenly it felt as if I had a pallet of bricks on my shoulders. Was it just what Daddy expected . . . or did everyone feel the same way? “And what about you, Ray? Is it important to you, too?”
He leaned back against the counter and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, choosing his words carefully. After a few seconds, he looked my way again. “I’m not sure what to say, sis. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t important to me. And not just for Daddy’s sake. This is our home. But I feel guilty for saying it. Makes me feel like a hypocrite. Especially since there’s no way I would ever take on this farm. It’s a hard life and frankly, I don’t much care for farm life. Still, it’s my home. Our home.” His eyes roamed around the room. “There’re
so many memories.”
I started to tell him that I understood, but he cut me off. “Just make sure you really understand what you’re getting into if you say yes. This place needs a lot of work. It runs on such a narrow profit margin that one mistake or one bad harvest could wipe us out. And I’m so busy with my practice, I wouldn’t be here much. Of course, there’s Ida, but . . . well, she’s got the kids. Hollis would be no help.” He sighed. “You’d pretty much be running it by yourself. And there’s the shop to think about. Honestly, I don’t know how you’d do it.”
Me either. But it was all too much to think about at the moment. One stress at a time, as Mama always said. “Wonder if the sheriff’s tracked down Felix Ganassi yet,” I said, jumping to a whole new topic.
Ray didn’t seem to mind. “Hope so. A guy like that could be dangerous.” I’d filled him in on all the details after we finished talking with Lucas the night before. We’d both agreed that everyone involved would be better off with Ganassi behind bars.
“He hasn’t shown up again, and he left his stuff in his room, so I’m guessing he saw the sheriff’s car or something and has hightailed it out of here. But Margie’s going to keep Hawk on for a few more days. Just to keep a watch out. I think she’s scared Ganassi will come back looking for the diamonds.”
“Can’t blame her. Of course, once the story’s out that the diamonds were found, it won’t take long for it to spread all over town.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Actually, this is one time I hope the gossip spreads quickly. And it’d be great if the media picked it up. The sooner Ganassi hears that the diamonds have been confiscated, the better.”
“At least one thing’s for sure. After news gets out about the diamonds and we turn over Clem’s real killer, Frances Simms will have her fill of legitimate headlines. And they won’t have anything to do with a Harper.”
Chapter 19
Southern Girl Secret #043: We peach farmers don’t judge our lives by the harvest we reap, but by the saplings we plant.
“Was it really necessary for us to get here so early?” Ray asked, swatting at mosquitos. “I’m getting chewed alive out here.” Just to be on the safe side, we’d arrived at the site extra early and found our position. Now we were crouched in the thicket, waiting for our man to show up. Ray had been whining practically the whole time.
“Suck it up, Ray. You didn’t want to risk being spotted, did you?”
“Yeah, well, it stinks to high heaven back here,” Ray continued complaining. We’d positioned ourselves in the woods behind a row of port-a-potties we kept in the area for the workers who came during harvest season. The chemicals used to deodorize the toilets smelled nearly as bad as the smell it failed to cover. “Wonder how long it’ll take for him to get out here? This is horrible.”
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe if you hold your breath long enough, you’ll pass out.” We were bickering like grade school kids, but honestly, who knew Ray would be so averse to a little stench and a few mosquitos? Of course, during my days as a humanitarian worker, I’d traversed some rough terrain: not only bug-infested jungles, but sharp concrete rubble that cut my skin as I frantically searched for survivors in the wake of massive earthquakes, and even barren deserts where sand-filled air whipped at my body like a thousand hot knives . . . so, a few swarming mosquitos didn’t bother me too much. I glanced back over at Ray, taking note of his red-tinged face and perspiration-stained shirt, and felt a little sorry for him. Because then again, maybe my take on the whole adventure was different from Ray’s, who’d been working behind a desk all these years. “It shouldn’t be much longer,” I said in a nicer tone this time.
As if on cue, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Cade. “Looks like everything’s in place,” I told Ray. “We’d better get set.”
So we waited, squatting in the knee-high weeds along the back side of the port-a-potties. After a while, my nose finally grew numb to the smell, but my patience began to wear thin. Ray was driving me nuts. He’d gone from complaining to being overly enthusiastic: fidgeting with the camera, checking and double-checking the settings, and jabbering on and on about how relieved Daddy was going to be to have this burden lifted from his shoulders . . . blah, blah, blah. Then, he switched back to complaining. How long was it going to take? And maybe the killer wasn’t even at the diner this morning, we should’ve thought the plan through more, and on and on.
Then, just as I was about to throw in the towel, we heard the distant sound of a truck approaching. We jumped up and got into position, Ray flipping on the camera and lifting it to his eye. “I’m recording,” he whispered.
I held my breath, watching as a truck bounced along the bumpy orchard terrain. But as it came closer, my heart fell. I recognized the truck. And it didn’t belong to our killer. It was Deputy Travis’s truck. He must have overheard the conversation at the diner and come out to get the evidence for himself. Who could blame him? He probably had visions of using the “evidence” to crack the case wide open and prove himself to the sheriff.
We both stayed hidden though, watching as Travis jogged over to the shed and disappeared inside, only to emerge a second later with the locked box under his arm. Probably intending to take it back to the sheriff’s department and gloat over his successful conquest.
“Well, that was a bust,” Ray said as soon as Travis drove off.
“Sure was,” I agreed, watching the shiny bumper of Travis’s new truck disappear among the peach rows. Something struck me as odd, but I didn’t have time to think about it too much, because the snapping of a twig behind us diverted my attention. I scanned the tree line, my eyes catching a familiar flash of red darting between the trees. “Did you see that?” I hissed.
“What?”
The hairs on my arms stood up. I recognized that flash of red. As quickly as I could, I shot a text off to Cade—Ganassi is here. Help. Sliding the phone into my pocket, I grabbed Ray’s arm and started pulling him toward the orchard, hoping we could make a run for it. But it was too late. Felix Ganassi popped out of the woods, his signature red nylon running suit gleaming in the sun and his hairy knuckles gripping the handle of a pistol. “Stop right there,” he said, aiming the gun at us.
He slowly walked our way, the butt of the gun bobbing up and down with each step. His greasy black hair hung low over his forehead, partially concealing his wild eyes. The man Ginny had found so handsome and mysterious was now sweaty and unkempt. “Don’t know what you’re up to, lady, but I’m betting it has something to do with my diamonds.”
Ray shuffled back a step. “We don’t have your dia—”
“Shut up!” Ganassi yelled, then turned to me. “Been hiding out in these woods since I heard the cops were onto me.” He rotated his neck, eliciting a loud popping sound. “Sleeping in some crummy shack for the last couple nights. I can’t wait to get the heck out of this Podunk town and back to the city.” Then he raised his chin and screwed up his face. He began sniffing the air, his eyes sliding toward the port-a-johns. “Smells like crap out here.” With a wave of his gun, he ordered, “Move over there, by the house.”
My fear-laden legs shuffled through the weeds as my mind reeled in despair. What had always been one of my favorite spots in the orchard now seemed creepy and all too isolated and it occurred to me that even if Cade had received my text, he wouldn’t be able to get help to us in time. Ganassi was going to shoot us, then what? Dump our bodies in the woods? I shuddered with horror at the thought of someone discovering our corpses and our poor parents receiving the news of our deaths. An image of the headline flashed in my head: “Siblings’ Corpses Found Planted in Peach Orchard”—it would surely kill Daddy. And Mama, too. The thought of that scared me more than my own looming death. I had to do something.
“Right here will do,” Ganassi said. “Now turn around and face me.”
I turned, staring down the steel barrel of his pistol. A circle of sweat had soaked through th
e red nylon under his raised arm, but his eyes remained menacingly cold. I could feel Ray next to me, but I didn’t dare risk a glance his way, afraid of what I might see. My big brother Ray had always been my rock, my stronghold. I couldn’t stand it if his expression mirrored my own fear.
“Who’s this guy?” Ganassi asked. “Your boyfriend?”
Ray spoke up. “I’m her brother. And she doesn’t have your dia—”
“Brother, huh? Perfect.” Ganassi stepped closer, raised the gun, placing it directly on Ray’s forehead.
I started to tremble, my eyes darting about desperately for something, anything. They landed briefly on a nearby pile of tree trimmings.
“Bet she loves you, doesn’t she?” Ganassi was saying. “Let’s just find out if she loves you more than a couple million in diamonds. Turn around and kneel down.”
“What?” Ray whispered. “No.”
“I said, turn around and kneel down!”
Ray turned and bent one knee at a time until he was kneeling in the dirt, arms limp at his sides.
I began pleading, “Please don’t do this. We don’t know where your diamonds are.”
Ganassi ignored me, placing the barrel of the gun against the back of Ray’s skull as he turned his evil eyes my way. “I knew you were on to me as soon as you showed up at that dump of an inn. Then when I saw someone had gone through my stuff, I figured you’d put it together and knew who I was. What’d you think? That you could simply move in on my score?”
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