by Tonya Kappes
By “on edge”, did she mean all the threats she not only gave Simon but Sarah, his girlfriend?
“Why would you want him dead?” Iris asked a very important question.
“I didn’t. That’s why I need you two to look into it.” Peaches looked between us before she settled her eyes on me.
“You mean her.” Iris pointed to me. “I don’t do anything but listen to what she’s found out. And feed her sugar.”
“Sugar is important.” I nodded. “Very when my brain is going a million miles a minute. You weren’t very nice to Simon or Sarah.”
“Yeah.” Iris gestured between me and her. “We were witness to you and Sarah when she was here trying to do yoga.”
“And I did overhear you on the phone with Simon.” I hated to add salt to the wound, but if Peaches needed a reason for why she was a suspect, then she had to know what we had seen.
Peaches went into a deep blank stare, and if I’d seen her do this before the whole Simon incident, I’d have thought she was diving into her Zen state. When I looked at her a little closer, I didn’t see much of a difference.
“I didn’t kill him. How would I have killed him?” she asked.
“I have no idea how he died. When I found him, I saw a bottle of empty bourbon, and I kicked an open and empty prescription bottle, but I don’t know what it was.” I wished I’d looked now. “He did say he was in pain, and he had a written prescription in his hand when I saw him at the doctor’s office, but I didn’t question it.”
“Wait.” Peaches put her hand up. “Did you say bourbon?”
“Yes, and I hate to say it, but I think it was the bourbon you drink.” I started to backpedal. “Which doesn’t mean you took him the bourbon. I mean, anyone would buy that bourbon.”
“Anyone but Simon.” A cloud of worry shadowed her face. “He doesn’t drink alcohol often. He certainly doesn’t drink bourbon since they can’t claim it as gluten-free.”
“Simon is gluten intolerant?” Iris sat up a little taller. “I understand gluten-free really well as a baker. Now that you mention it, I did make Simon’s mother a gluten-free cake for his birthday last year.”
“Which means he didn’t drink bourbon. But who did?” I added that to my list of questions rolling around in my head and casually looked at Iris.
She was like a mind reader. She jumped up and grabbed one of Tranquility Spa’s flyers with the monthly scheduled classes on it, flipped it over, and quickly started to write down the questions we were throwing out and possibilities of other suspects.
I knew once we were out of here, we’d turn the Pie in the Face kitchen into our investigation headquarters, where we used Iris’s big whiteboard to list our suspects and their motives as to why they would’ve killed Simon.
“See…” Peaches looked under the counter and then around the counter before she buried her head into the trash. “I…” She gulped. “I can’t find my bourbon.”
I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, Peaches Partin was definitely Angela Hafley’s number one suspect. And I was convinced that she didn’t do it.
Chapter 11
“That’s why we need to look into it,” Iris demanded as we walked back to my house to discuss if we really were going to help out Peaches. We’d left when China had come to be with Peaches after Peaches had texted her. I felt comfortable leaving Peaches with her best friend and told China to call me if Peaches remembered anything else.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head and felt a little better with the sunrise on the horizon. Why was it that everything felt so much better with a little light? “You and I both heard her treat Sarah terribly. All because Sarah wanted to take yoga classes, and Tranquility Spa is the only place around here to do it.”
“What about Nick?” Iris brought up another person I would look into. “You even mentioned how he was taken aback by the patent. He conveniently found Peaches?”
“We should be able to find out what Peaches did from the security cameras at the post office, which is why I think Angela believes Peaches killed him.” I knew the first thing the sheriff or the FBI would do was get the postmaster general to give them access to the security footage. “There’s nothing we can do that the FBI couldn’t do better.”
“FBI?” Iris jerked the gate to my house open.
“Breaking in to a post office is a federal crime, Iris. If Peaches did that and killed Simon, she’s never going to get out of it no matter what.” I unlocked the front door where we were greeted by a very happy Buster.
Iris melted down into the rocking chair as if the life had been sucked right out of her. Buster still brought out a smile on her face when he continued to jump up on her and give her some kisses.
“Hello!” Harriette Pearl was waddling down the sidewalk with her glass coffeepot in her hand. “I came down for a little coffee this morning.”
“What’s this about?” Iris asked.
“I see you two have been doing some exercise.” Harriette eyeballed our outfits. “I made fresh coffee to get your day started.”
“Spill it, Harriette.” Iris slowly rocked back and forth in the rocking chair.
“Buster, down,” I called out to Buster when he tried to jump on Harriette, who was already unstable. I met her on the front sidewalk and took the hot pot of coffee from her. “Wow, you brought the entire pot.”
“Mmhhmmm,” she ho-hummed, winking at me.
“Yeah, yeah. I know why you’re here.” I recalled the little curtain spying last night when Mac went to kiss me. “You interrupted a kiss.”
“Oh Bernie, I’m so sorry. It was just when you and Mac started to get close, I couldn’t contain my excitement and just plum squealed. I almost peed myself, which isn’t unusual for my age, but still.” She put her hand to her chest.
“Kissing? What kissing?” Iris leapt to her feet. “Who was kissing? I thought you came down here because you heard Simon Little was murdered.”
“Murdered! Simon Little was murdered?” Harriette threw her hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear me.”
“Yes. Mac and I kinda sorta got back together last night.” I could tell by the changing expressions on Iris’s face that she wasn’t happy I’d not told her of it yet. “Seriously, I was going to tell you, but then this morning with Lucy happened, then the whole Peaches thing.”
“What Peaches thing? Did she kill Simon?” Harriette’s mind was churning so fast I could almost see the steam rolling out of her ears. “I did hear from Millie Barnes how his own mama was talking about Simon and his sickness, but to think Peaches murdered him. And Lucy”—Harriette’s eyes lit up—“I hope she strained a muscle at yoga when you told her you and Mac were back together.”
“First off, Peaches didn’t kill Simon.” Iris put her hand on her hips.
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“We need coffee.” Harriette held on to the railing, went up the three steps to my house, and walked right on through the front screen door.
“I guess we are going to have coffee.” I nudged Iris on my way past her.
“I guess you’re gonna tell me what happened with Mac first.” She shoved past me and picked up Rowena, who was sitting on the top of the chair just inside of the door. “The full story.”
Buster bolted in before the screen door closed completely and skidded straight into the kitchen, afraid he wasn’t going to get a treat he knew Iris would flip his way. And she did.
“Now, what’s this business about Simon?” Harriette was seated at one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and Iris joined her after she gave the fur babies a few more treats.
“I want to hear about this kiss and Mac,” Iris demanded since I’d completely left out the Lucy Drake part in the story I’d shared with her before yoga.
“I couldn’t help but look out the window last night and notice Mac had his romancing lights on in the back.” Harriette had called Mac’s twinkling lights on his back porch “romance ligh
ts” because she’d claimed he only had them on when I was over there for cookouts. “I was going to throw a fit if I saw him even touch that Lucy Drake. I mean a fit if even their toes touched under the table.” She drew a deep breath in and relaxed a little more in the chair. “I kept an eye out too. He didn’t even sit by her. Then they had a beer, but that didn’t last long before Lucy took a phone call. That’s when I raised all the windows on that side of my house because it was warm in my house, and the breeze at night just so happens to shoot right on that side of the house.”
“Mmhmm, I bet it does.” Iris’s eyes lowered, mocking Harriette and her favorite excuse to use when she regurgitated the information to the Front Porch Ladies later.
“I couldn’t help but hear what was going on. And I was only looking out for Bernie.” Harriette was being too kind, and I meant too kind as in out of character.
Who was she trying to fool? Me or herself? She certainly wasn’t pulling one over on Iris because Iris grunted and groaned with every lie coming out of the eighty-something-year-old’s mouth.
“Then I saw Bernie hunkered down near my gate, and then I had to make sure I didn’t need to come out there and have her back when Lucy saw her sneaking around to watch them.”
“I was not sneaking around.” I couldn’t believe she said that. “Don’t you be going around telling people I was checking up on Mac and who he was entertaining.”
“I saw it with my own two eyes.” Harriette pointed to her eyes. “I might be old, and things might not work one hundred percent like they used to, but my eyesight is really good.” She folded her arms in front of her. “Ask Doc Adams.”
Doctor Josh Adams was Sugar Creek Gap’s eye doctor, and I wasn’t going to call him up and ask him if Harriette Pearl had good eyesight or not. I was there, and I wasn’t spying.
“I heard them walking around the corner as I was walking by, and I didn’t want them to think I was spying on them, that’s why I bent down.” I only told the truth. “So, don’t you even mention it to anyone or…”
Then I did it. I pulled my mail carrier card.
“I’ll be late delivering your mail for a month,” I threatened her.
“You wouldn’t.” She gasped.
“Try me.” I confidently walked over to the cabinet to retrieve three coffee mugs and poured each one of us a big cup. “Now, let’s get down to the real business.” I sat a mug in front of each one of them. “Mac and I are going to try to make a go of this relationship thing. It’s between me and him.”
“And me,” Iris mouthed so Harriette didn’t hear her.
“What part of me saying I’ve got good eyesight did you not hear?” Harriette snarled at Iris. “I have good peripheral vision too.”
“It’s between me and Mac.” I made myself clear again. “But I could use all the eyes, no matter how perfect they are, and ears on the ground when you hear someone say something about Simon Little or anything to do with him or people he knew.”
Then it began like second nature. I’d made a plan before I had to get the two of them out of here so I could get ready for work and put the investigation into play. Iris was going to keep her eyes and ears peeled at the bakery since people would definitely go in there to purchase some baked goods to take to the family.
Harriette was going to make a casserole to take over to Simon’s mom’s house, where she said she’d ask all sorts of questions. When I told her that was rude, she replied, “Oh, they’ll just say how I’m old and old people think they can just ask or say anything.”
That was true. Why did the older we get the more we thought our mouths could just spit whatever comes out or even give an opinion when one wasn’t necessary? I remember when Richard had died and women in the community who were much older than me, including Harriette and all the Front Porch Ladies, just doled out advice like they were giving away free water. I didn’t want to hear it, but I would stand there with a smile on my face, thinking exactly what Harriette said they’d say about her as she inquired at the Little’s house when she dropped off her casserole.
With the plan set in motion, I knew I had to not only linger a little at the sheriff’s department when I delivered their mail and picked Vita’s brain, but also at the Sugar Creek Gap Funeral Home. There I could get some answers from either Barron Long, the actual elected coroner, or Jigs Baker, the owner of the funeral home, who assisted Barron since the morgue was located in the funeral home. Both places were my customers, and with the Wallflower on the way, I’d be sure to get something good Mom had made and sweeten up the conversation I wanted to have with them.
“Do we know anything yet about the break-in?” I asked Monica when I picked up the first and second loop of mail, which was not normal for me. Normally, I picked up one loop at a time, but today I was on a mission. And I couldn’t help but have a giddyup in my step after I’d gotten an early morning text from Mac.
He only confirmed something special he’d planned for the evening, and it had to be the secret Iris was talking about. It did put a smile on my face.
“The authorities came in here and spent a lot of the day going through the camera footage. I know it did show someone, but they wouldn’t say who.” Monica looked over the LLV clipboards before she picked up the phone and dialed. “I’ve got a few vehicles that need to be looked at.” She hung up.
“Was that Nick?” I asked.
“Yeah. He’ll be right over.” She ran her finger through her hair. “Do I look tired?”
“No.” Was that a question she really wanted me to answer? That seemed like one of those questions that felt like a trick, or if I did tell her how I’d noticed she had much larger dark circles under her eyes, would she really want to hear that?
“Do I have enough lipstick on? You know, one can never have too much lipstick on.” She swiped the tip of her finger at the corners of her mouth and repeated the statement that’d literally been beat into our heads as Southern young women.
“You look fine.” Then it struck me. “Are you trying to impress Nick Kirby?”
“Noooooooo.” Her lips formed an O, and her expression became even more vivid as she dragged the vowel out.
“Oh, my goodness.” I couldn’t help but smile. “You think he’s cute.”
“Bernadette Butler.” She put her hands on her hips and thrust one hip to the side. “I’m not going to be your little project.”
“Project?” I wasn’t sure if I should take offense to that or not.
“I’m sorry. I guess I kinda felt like you were being my mom.” She sighed.
“I’m not at all. I’m only Grady’s mom, but I am a good person to run things by if you ever need me.” I gave her a reassuring smile and remembered what it was like when I first admitted my feelings for Mac and how I did feel like a much younger version of myself. “Besides, I’ve never had a daughter, so I couldn’t give you any dating advice, but I could give you advice on how boys think, and by boys, I mean men too.”
“If that’s the case, and if I were interested in Nick Kirby, how do I get him to notice me when he comes here so early in the morning?” she asked.
“Being yourself is enough.” I knew she didn’t want to hear that by the look on her face. “I know that is a mom thing to say, but you’re amazing, and any man that is worth your time will see that, but there are ways to get him to talk more and get to know you.”
“Go on. I’m listening.” Her lips quivered as she tried to hide the big smile that curled up on the edges of her lips, but she finally gave in when her face blushed.
“Here.” I dug down into the bag I’d brought from home and took out the box Iris had given me with my sweet treat for Vita. “I only need a couple of slices of this, so when Nick comes in, have a cup of coffee handy and offer this piece of strawberry shortcake to him.” I held the box out. “Just take one slice because I need this to bribe Vita down at the sheriff’s department.”
It was no big secret to anyone in our small town how I was always sticking my nose
into crimes and how I’d helped a few people get off Angela’s suspect list, which was why Peaches had asked me to help.
“The first rule of thumb to get any man to talk and notice you is his stomach.” I patted mine and couldn’t help but think I might be getting a tad bit smaller. Just a smidgen, but it was better than nothing or getting bigger.
“I just brewed a fresh pot of coffee in the back too.” Monica bounced on her toes and scurried back to what the post office considered the employee lounge.
It was a room with horrible lighting and a long fold-out table with plastic chairs along with a couple of old-style vending machines that had to have a few fist pounds to the glass to get the snack to fall.
“I brought you a cup too.” She came back into the room with a plate under her arm and her hands filled with three coffees, carrying them in a triangular form.
“I put your stuff over there.” She pointed to a different bag that was new and not broken in like my other one that was now held hostage by the sheriff’s department.
“Thanks.” Inwardly, I groaned when I picked it up and felt how stiff the strap was by pinching it in my fist. “Another few months and this will be broken in.”
“Maybe if they can get the person on the camera in custody, you can get your old one back.” Monica continued to sort through the large wheeled bins that were full of mail to be placed in the PO boxes.
“Do you know anything about the person?” I asked. I stuffed the Pie in the Face box in the new bag along with the duck pellets I’d also brought from home for my duck friend on Little Creek Road. “Like female or male?”
“No.” She quickly shoved the envelopes in the correct slots. “They didn’t say a word. Literally walked out of here stiff and tight-lipped. But I’m more than happy to report back to you today what they find or discuss when they come back.”
“Was it just Angela here looking at the tapes?” I was curious to see who was here, so when I did deliver the mail at the sheriff’s department, I’d know who might be in my back pocket.