by Tonya Kappes
“I’m fine.” I jabbed another big bite in my mouth. “If you forgot, we were going to have a fair hot dog tonight, so we didn’t have supper.”
“You’re right. I’ll get you another piece of pie after you finish that one.”
He eased down on the couch next to me.
“My Poppa said that men like you leave small towns like ours when you get bored,” I blurted out. I wished I could reel it back in, but I was feeling cornered in here.
“Your Poppa?” Finn’s brows dipped, his lips flat-lined. “I thought your Poppa was no longer with us.”
“He isn’t, but he talked before he died.” I bit the edges of my lip. I was beginning to sound crazy. “And he said that men from big cities who come to help out always get restless.”
“But you’re the one who suggested I become your deputy at the last town-council meeting, and when Mayor Ryland approached me tonight, you seemed to be all in.” His stare made me sweat.
“It’s hotter than a prostitute’s doorknob on payday in here.” I fanned myself and put the pie plate down.
“That is one reason I won’t be leaving anytime soon.” He smiled that fancy white-tooth grin. “I’m getting used to all these crazy words you string together.”
“I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired.” I shook my head and took a swig of the beer. “Anyways, I came here to talk about the case. So if you aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, I guess we need to find a killer.”
“I think you’re right.” He leaned back on the couch and draped his arm across the back. The grin still lingered on those lips I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off of. “Tell me what you found out when you went to Owen’s house.”
“First off, his truck was there. I wonder how his body got into the greenhouse.” I continued to tell him how I’d gotten into the trailer and would get a warrant in the morning so we could enter as we pleased just in case we got pushback from his brother. “He was married to Sandy for a long time. I’m not sure why they got divorced, but I do know that Sandy and Owen’s sister-in-law didn’t get along so well.”
“Why not?” he asked, now much more interested in what I had to say than my nervous antics from before.
“That’s the interesting part of my little visit. I stopped by to let Stanley know about his brother.” I picked up the beer and took another drink. “They live on the same stretch of road and it was easy to pop over, though not easy to get answers.”
His eyes narrowed. “What was his reaction?”
It was funny because we were trained to see everyone as a suspect and the empathy gene was almost always put on the back burner.
“He didn’t seem too shocked. Inez, Stanley’s wife, wanted to tell me something about Sandy and how she suspected Sandy wanted Owen dead because of some cookbook, but Stanley stopped her in mid-sentence. Almost threatening.” I recalled the look on both of their faces. “Stanley’s eyes were hooded like a hawk and when he glared at Inez, the look on her face was sheer black fright.”
“Interesting.” Finn looked out over the room, processing what I was saying. “You know,” he nodded again, “I’ve seen cases like this before. The wife wants to talk, but the man doesn’t. Does he hang out anywhere specific?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“A bar? Juke joint?” he asked.
I smiled. I never thought I’d hear the words “juke joint” come out of Finn Vincent’s mouth.
“If I can find him somewhere and stall him for time, maybe you can make a visit to Inez and take her a Derby pie. Isn’t that what you do when a family member dies around here? Take them food?”
“I don’t make Derby pie.” In fact, if it couldn’t be brewed in a coffee pot or made in the microwave, then I didn’t cook it.
“No, but Lulu does, and she left me another one in the refrigerator.” He had a great point. “Maybe you can give your condolences as a member of society and have a nice cup of coffee over a little chat.”
“I do love to chat.” I smiled. “I know that he spends a lot of time at the Tractor Supply and he might go to Cole’s on the river.”
“River?” Finn questioned.
“The Kentucky River is not far from here. Cole’s is a little shanty gambling joint where the local men like to meet up, drink beer, and shoot craps.” I knew they wouldn’t be comfortable with a girl around. “Maybe you can stop by in street clothes.” I shrugged. “Since you are living here now, you can be one of the guys.”
“I’ll be sure to brush up on the game before I make an appearance. After all,” he winked, “even a city slicker like me enjoys a good gamble every once in a while.”
“This is good pie.” I made some chit-chat, trying to make the closing of the conversation a little smoother. It was about time for me to go.
“Since I’ve been here, I’ve eaten things I’d never even heard of.” He relaxed back on the couch and rested his arm on the back again, casually holding the beer on his thigh. “Have you ever been to Chicago?”
“Never.” I was a little embarrassed to say that I’d only been out of Kentucky a handful of times on our family vacations to Florida.
“You don’t know what you’re missing. We have the best pizza.” There was pure satisfaction on his face. “You’re going to have to try it. That’s all there is to it.”
The thought of traveling with Finn to visit his hometown gave me unexpected twirls in my stomach. He made me all confused and mixed up.
“That is one thing I have missed since I joined the Reserves—good pizza.” He brought the beer up to his lips and took a drink.
“I’ve heard how good it is.” I took another sip of beer before I stood up. “I need to get going. We have an early day in the morning. I’d like to talk to Jolee about the cook-off contest and what she knew, as well as have Myrna come in to give a statement.”
“Breakfast?” he asked.
“Bright and early right out there.” I pointed to the door, knowing that Jolee’s food truck would be parked at the curb outside of Lulu’s. “The Godbeys have some family secrets they don’t want uncovered.” I stopped at the door and looked back. “Secrets in a small town don’t stay secret for long.”
Chapter Six
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I didn’t open my eyes until I had hit my snooze five times. It proved to be one time too many after I got up and saw that Duke had used the bathroom next to the kitchen door.
“Poor guy.” I patted my ninety-pound hound dog on top of his head. Ever since he was a puppy, I had trained him and myself to get up on the first alarm. “I can only blame myself. I’m a little tired.”
I eyeballed the gift bag on the counter that my mama had given me. It was full of monogrammed towels she’d gifted me out of spite. Mama was appalled that my towels had holes in them, but even more upset that they weren’t monogrammed. Everything in the woman’s house was monogrammed, down to the bed linens. I knew my initials; I didn’t need to keep reminding myself. But Mama had to see to it that I had some new monogrammed towels from Lulu’s Boutique.
Regardless of my feelings, I reached in and grabbed a lovely purple towel with my initials monogrammed in white. Apparently not all of them were monogrammed with “No holes.” There were four towels and two of each were monogrammed identically—my initials and “no holes.” Mama would never know if I used one of them.
“Perfect.” I let one of them fall from my fingertips and float down on the floor, covering Duke’s tinkle. Duke danced around. I walked over to the back door right off the kitchen and let him run around in the fenced-in yard.
“Yoo-hoo.” Speaking of Mama—her voice rang loud and clear from the back door off my kitchen. And not too long after, she was standing right in the doorway. “Kenni.”
Crap. I let the screen door slam shut and hurried to grab the towel off the floor before shoving it in the cabinet underneath th
e sink.
“Is that my…” Mama gasped.
“Oh hi, Mama,” I looked up. The pee-stained towel stuck out of the cabinet, the initial no longer white but a pale yellow. “Duke had an accident and I didn’t have a quick towel.”
She’s going to kill me. My inner thoughts cringed in my head.
“I declare.” She drew her hand to her chest. “Do you live to torture me?”
“I do no such thing, Mama.” I opened the accordion doors in the kitchen that hid my washer and dryer and tossed the pee-soaked towel in the washing machine. “At least my washing machine is in here and not on the back porch like my neighbors’.”
It was true. Free Row was not the best place to live in Cottonwood in these times. When Poppa lived here it was wonderful. But nowadays most people who lived on Free Row had commodity cheese and dead washers thrown in their backyards, or hell, working ones for that matter. And it wasn’t unusual to walk down the sidewalk to see cars propped up on cement blocks because the tires were stolen or to get harassed by a peddler needing a handout.
Moving here was the only option I had since Mama had nixed my plans to rent Lulu’s apartment—moving back in with her and Daddy was not going to happen. So here I was on Free Row, where at least no one dared to bother the sheriff. If I did see some illegal goings on, I addressed it.
“You do, Kendrick. You do torture me.” She wagged her finger at me.
“Where are you going so early, Mama?” I asked, looking at her two-piece pink chiffon suit and very modest nude heels along with a pair of white gloves.
“I had some time to kill before my meeting with the Sweet Adelines and I wanted to stop by.” Mama plucked the tip of each gloved finger before she peeled them off her hand. She draped them under the handle of her bag.
“Now, Mama.” I grinned. “We both know why you’re here. If you think because I’m your daughter that you are going to get some inside scoop on the death of Owen Godbey, then you can take your fancy self right on out that door and keep going.”
“Kendrick, you are awful. Just awful,” she cried. “None of your friends treat their mamas the way you treat me.” She lifted her chin in the air and looked down her nose at me. “I know because we talk about our children.”
“What do you say about me?” I checked the time on my phone that was plugged in on the counter.
“I tell them how proud I am of you.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I mean, you could fancy up your sheriff’s outfit a bit, but you uphold the law and keep our precious town safe.”
“Thank you, Mama.” I walked over and hugged her. “Now, I want to keep making you proud, so I have to go get ready. I’m meeting Finn at the food truck for breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” She sounded happy. “Honey, I’ve got the best breakfast casserole—you can make it and have him over. That hunk will never leave.”
“I’ve done told you more than once that Finn and I are strictly coworkers,” I called on my way back down the hall toward my room.
“Just think about it. That hunky man could become my son-in-law sheriff and you can stay home.” The excitement dripped from her voice at the thought. “Finally get you out of this dangerous job.”
I had no idea what fantasy world Mama was living in, but I had to put a stop to it right now before anyone else got a whiff of her silly notion. How was I going to do that? I wondered as I opened my closet door and took out one of my many brown sheriff’s shirts and brown pants. It was pretty great not having to worry about what I was going to wear to work every day.
“Mama, don’t be getting no ideas. Besides, I’m sheriff.” After I got dressed, I tucked the edges of my brown shirt into my brown pants and stuck my Poppa’s pin right beneath my five-point sheriff’s badge. “Finn is not going to be sheriff and we are only coworkers.”
I grabbed a ponytail holder and walked back down the hall, pulling up my hair snug in the holder. I’d gotten pretty good at just throwing on clothes and going.
“At least put on some lipstick,” Mama snarled. “The least you could do.”
“Mama, what time is your meeting?” I recalled Poppa saying something about Sandy Godbey being a Sweet Adeline.
“Why? Are you finally going to show off your talented voice?” Another one of Mama’s la-la-land ideas. She was sure I was destined for greatness all my younger years and put me in the church choir, but she didn’t get a clue when the song director continually stuck me in the back behind all the tall people.
“I have a few questions I need answered, and I know that I can always count on your group of friends,” I said.
“Today we are having a luncheon to celebrate some ten-year anniversaries.” She nudged me with her elbow. “I’m in charge, so you come on. It’s a good day for you to come so you can see what a difference Adelines make in our community. Besides, it’s at Kim’s Buffet and you can eat.” Her eyes sliding around my kitchen was her silent way of noticing how I didn’t cook.
Another thing about Mama—she was always trying to fatten me up.
“That sounds good.” My mouth watered thinking about the delicious Chinese food. “I’ll see you soon.”
I ushered Mama out the door and grabbed my walkie-talkie, strapping it on my shoulder.
“Come on.” I patted my leg for Duke to come. He loved going to Jolee’s and grabbing a biscuit or two, and then I could leave him at the office where he would sleep the day away. Or he could ride around with me as I ran back to Owen’s trailer to check out things in the daylight, which reminded me to get a warrant.
I pushed the button on the walkie-talkie. “Betty.”
“Yes, Kenni,” she answered immediately.
“I need you to get me a warrant for Owen Godbey’s property that includes the house, land, and the truck.” I pulled up to the curb in front of On The Run, Jolee’s food truck. “Just in case we get pushback from anyone, we have it.”
Finn was already there.
“Will do, Kenni.” Betty clicked off.
“Two Sunny Goose Sammies,” Jolee hollered over her shoulder after she saw me and Finn walking up. “Coming up.”
She looked between us and smiled. Duke scratched at the side door on the food truck because he knew Jolee would throw him a biscuit. And she did.
“Who are you talking to?” I curled up on my tiptoes and looked in the small window of the food truck.
“Her.” Jolee shook her head and rolled her eyes.
I poked my head inside the food-truck window and was surprised to see Viola White standing there in her five-foot-four yellow-pantsuit-clad glory with a real fox stole fastened around her shoulders. Her hair was tucked under a hairnet and the food gloves had big humps from where I knew Viola had on her signature rings. She was rolling out the dough for the famous biscuits.
Viola was a force. She owned White’s Jewelry on Main Street and was by far the richest woman in Cottonwood. But what Myrna had said about Viola being in the cook-off with her and Owen must’ve been right. Still, I found myself shocked, which was not easy to do. I’d seen it all now.
Viola’s eyes magnified under her black-rimmed glasses. “Don’t be lollygagging around the window here. Move along.”
“Oh, we ain’t lollygagging, Ms. Viola.” Finn stepped up and did his best southern accent. “We are dilly-dallying.” He winked.
“You just might fit in here after all, Yank.” She smiled back at him before she grabbed the steel round dough cutter and plopped out biscuits on a cookie sheet.
I swear I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain. If the shoe were on my foot and I’d said that to her, she’d have called my mama despite the fact that I was a twenty-eight-year-old woman.
Jolee chomped on her gum and smiled, making the freckles across her nose widen. Her blonde hair was braided in her signature pigtails that hung down on each side of her head. She’d said it was easy to do
and it kept her hair out of the way.
“Do you have a minute to talk?” I asked.
“Viola, here is your chance.” Jolee untied the apron from around her waist and pulled the string over top her head.
“Don’t you worry. I’ve got this.” Viola grabbed the apron and hip bumped Jolee right out of the way.
I met Jolee on the side of the food truck where Duke was still sitting, begging for more.
“She’s got this.” I laughed, trying my best Viola impression, knowing that she was used to being waited on, not the other way around.
“She don’t got that.” Jolee pointed to the long line of customers that were there to get breakfast on the run. “Is this about Owen Godbey?” she asked, looking between the two of us. “Because everyone is talking about it.”
“Sort of.” I started my line of questioning while Finn and Duke waited at the counter for our food to come out. “What on Earth is this cook-off about?”
“A little fun-hearted competition between me and Ben Harrison.” She smirked.
“It’s fun-hearted until you lose. Or vice versa.” I pointed out. “Regardless, tell me how you picked the three candidates.”
“I was just as shocked as you when I saw Viola White walk in to fill out an application. I figured the applicants would be younger folks, but they weren’t. And when Owen came to fill out an application, I knew I had to have him.” She shrugged.
“Why?” I asked, wondering what appeal Owen would have to her.
“His mama’s okra recipe,” she said, like it was something I should’ve known about. “Everyone has tried to get their hands on it for years. And it was rumored that he was willed her cookbook. So naturally when he came in I knew I had to get him to make it.”
“Did he?” I asked.
“Not now. The rule Ben and I came up with was we each got three candidates. Over the past week we’ve been having them help us in our environments. Mine being the truck. But you’ve been with Finn…I mean, you’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t really seen you.” Her slip up was no slip up. Finn had everyone talking in Cottonwood, and not about his professional abilities. “Anyways,” she glossed over her words just so I knew it was a dig at me, “I really did pick the best three I felt were right for my team. Then by the end of two weeks, which is this week, I’ll pick the best out of my three, two now, and the best one goes up against Ben’s best one. We’re having a cook-off between the two at the fairgrounds. Doolittle Bowman already approved it.”