Peanut Butter Pies & Dangerous Lies

by Willow Monroe

  Now that brought tears to my eyes and I gave him a hug. He looked positively mortified. He patted my shoulder like he wasn’t sure what to do, like no one had ever hugged him before.

  Notably missing were the Lord sisters, Tiffany Samples and Vic. Her story had hit the morning paper, neither disputing or giving any additional information that Jimmy died due to complications from his peanut allergy. The paper also announced that Jimmy’s widow would be arriving in town and gave some background on her and their marriage. Mayor Gillespie confided in me that he wasn’t looking forward to the press hitting the area. No one else seemed to be thinking about that.

  When Poppy and I went to the bank, we saw the TV station vans arriving with satellite dishes on top and the big network names on the sides. They all gathered in front of the mayor’s office building, snarling traffic even further.

  “Guess this is going to go on until they figure out what really happened or finally release Jimmy’s body,” Poppy said, watching the men and women, spilling out into the street. Of course, I’d shared Tucker’s latest bit of news with her while we worked that morning. Poppy is my best friend. I tell her everything.

  Well, almost everything.

  “I guess so,” I agreed, thinking that my first order of business, after sending Poppy home, would be to talk to Jimmy’s cook.

  “You’re kinda quiet,” she said when we followed our usual route through the park, walking fast enough to get my heartrate up.

  “Just thinking,” I said.

  “You’re not thinking about getting further involved in this investigation, are you?” she asked.

  At that point, we had reached the part of the walking path that circled past the stage area where Jimmy’s last show, literally, had taken place. The tour bus was still there as well as other vehicles which I guessed belong to his road crew and security. I didn’t see any crime scene tape but then again, they hadn’t officially called it a crime - yet.

  “Poppy, we can’t just stand around and let the good name of the diner be ruined,” I said. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask some questions.”

  “People will come around once the truth is out,” she assured me. “Tucker will get to the bottom of it pretty quickly and everything will get back to normal.”

  I wondered if Sugar Hill would ever be normal again.

  “Maybe I could just help make that happen even quicker,” I suggested.

  She shook her head. “If, and that’s a big if, Jimmy Bones was murdered, it had to be someone close to him. Maybe someone dangerous. Getting involved could get you in trouble.”

  “Only if I’m not careful,” I said.

  She shot me a look that said everything she was thinking and then asked, “Have you told Tucker what Jimmy Bones said to you that day on the bus?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  “I should. And I will. I promise.”

  Poppy looked skeptical.

  Back at the diner, we parted ways. Poppy drove away and I checked in with Barbara Ellen. The diner was nearly empty, even though it was almost time for the lunch crowd to start coming in.

  “We’re going to be okay,” Barbara Ellen assured me when she saw the worry in my face. She sounded just like Poppy. “I’ve seen this happen before.”

  “No one at the diner has been publicly accused of killing someone who is almost a national treasure before,” I argued.

  “I suppose that’s true, but folks around here know you. They know you wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Jimmy on purpose.”

  “I know I didn’t do anything even accidentally. I was super careful.”

  “And the rest of the town will figure that out sooner or later. Now, go up and take a nap.”

  Even though I promised myself I’d go talk to Jimmy’s chef, I went upstairs and I did try to take a nap, Poppy’s words of warning ringing in my ears. But napping was impossible with my mind going in a dozen different directions. Finally, I got up, put my shoes back on and headed downstairs.

  At the bottom of the stairs, I paused and listened. The diner was quiet. Too quiet.

  Something had to be done.

  Taking the back streets, I entered the park from the opposite side of our little town and made a beeline for Jimmy’s tour bus. It was surprisingly quiet there and I suspected the press were all down at the mayor’s office just waiting for some information to leak out. Or waiting for Jimmy’s widow to arrive.

  I found the young, tattooed cook, Herb Fleming, sitting in a lawn chair outside the tour bus, talking with another man. He spotted me right away.

  “You’re the lady with the little sunflower pies, right?” Herb said, standing.

  “Right or wrong, that would be me,” I said offering him a smile and a handshake. “Starla Cupp”

  “This is Ben Herlong,” Herb said, introducing me to the other man who had stood as well.

  He looked to be about Jimmy’s age but his handshake was firm, his smile welcoming. I recognized him as one of the men who had come to the diner with Herb and Withrow earlier.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, getting another chair from the stack of them leaning against the bus. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your diner.”

  “Thank you.

  The men waited until I took the seat they offered and then they sat down as well.

  “How are you guys holding up? I understand you were all like family to him.”

  “I’m okay. I miss Jimmy,” he glanced at Ben. “We all do.”

  “What will you do now?” I asked, looking from one man to the other. “I mean, will his widow keep you on staff?”

  He smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, ma’am, I doubt that. I have a little saved to tide me over until I find a new gig.”

  I nodded.

  “Can’t do a thing until we’re allowed to leave town, though,” he explained.

  “Did you work for Jimmy, too?” I asked since neither man had explained Ben’s presence.

  He nodded. “I was his first roadie years and years ago when he was just getting started.”

  “I’m not sure what roadies are,” I confessed.

  He smiled. “Roadies are the road crew. We arrive at the venue early, we make sure the sound is good, the lights are in place, the instruments are properly taken care of and set up.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “Jimmy and I go way back to when he first came to Nashville. We were both just starting out. Together we built a strong crew and made a great team,” he added, looking wistful.

  “Really,” I said.

  “We were both just kids back in those days but we struggled through. I even did mechanical work on his old tour bus to keep that old thing running until he could afford a new one,” he explained.

  “Do you drive the bus now?” I asked.

  He shook his head sadly. “No.”

  Confused, I waited, hoping he would continue.

  He shook his head sadly. “No. Me and my crew had another job lined up clear across the country. But this was Jimmy’s farewell concert and he wanted us to be here for that.” He ended with a shrug. “I couldn’t refuse my old buddy.”

  “So he was paying you,” I said.

  “Oh, of course. In fact, he offered us more than the other job. I told him he didn’t have to do that. We’re—we were family—you know? But he insisted.”

  I nodded. That all made sense.

  “Why did you stop working for him in the first place?” I asked.

  “Davis Withrow,” he answered, his mouth forming a hard, thin line, causing the lines around his lips to deepen.

  “Jimmy’s manager?”

  “He thought Jimmy needed a younger crew, one that was more up to date with technology. He had his own roadies that he wanted to hire.”

  “Didn’t Jimmy have any say in it?” I asked.

  “He did, but he and Withrow got real close, real fast. No amount of talking could change Jimmy’s mind
. In the end, he trusted Withrow more than he did us,” he said, again giving that broad shouldered shrug.

  “I’ve been afraid that was what was going to happen to me, too. Withrow’s made some remarks lately that worried me,” Herb said.

  “How long have you been with Jimmy?” I asked him. He’d been listening to our conversation closely so I assumed the two men had no secrets from each other.

  “Just a couple of years. I was living in a homeless shelter and to help out, I’d wash windows and clean, whatever they needed me to do. One day I was out on the sidewalk washing windows. He stopped and just started talking to me,” Herb said.

  Ben nodded. “Jimmy was like that. Never met a stranger. Must be the area, because I’ve noticed almost everyone here in town is like that.”

  I smiled. “We’re a friendly bunch alright.”

  “Anyway, we started talking about different foods and cooking,” Herb continued. “I confessed that I loved to cook and the next thing I knew, he was offering me a job as his private chef,” Herb explained.

  “Just like that?” I asked.

  “Just like that,” he said with a shrug. “I thought he was probably just stringing me along or something, but he literally took me home with him that day. Set me up in an apartment over his garage and I’ve been with him ever since. This is the first road trip he’s had in a while and he insisted I come along.”

  “You must have felt like you were in a fairy tale or something,” I said, after listening to his story.

  “It did, but Withrow didn’t like it. Tried to get me fired a time or two but Jimmy held his ground. Then he offered to bring in some celebrity chef but Jimmy refused. Sometimes I think he just didn’t trust anyone else to get this close to him.”

  That reminded me that Jimmy thought someone was trying to kill him. I didn’t know why but I was still reluctant to share that information with Tucker.

  Someone called out Ben’s name. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Give me a minute.”

  “More trouble?” Herb asked.

  “Everyone is just getting bored and restless,” Ben said and then nodded to me. “Nice to meet you, Miss Cupp.”

  “Same here,” I said, thinking that Ben was right about the road crew. I could imagine them just sitting and waiting for Tucker to let them leave.

  Herb and I watched him walk toward the throng of men standing outside a small van with several windows.

  “Well, I guess I’d better be going, too -,” I began, but Herb put a hand out stopping me.

  “Listen, I’m glad he left,” he said, glancing at the spot where Ben had disappeared and then back at me.

  I sat very still.

  “I know there’s some rumors going around about Jimmy’s death,” he began.

  I nodded.

  “I don’t mean to point fingers but Ben, there, has one hell of a temper.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I nodded again, not sure where he was going with this.

  “I’d heard talk about it, but I saw it first-hand the morning before Jimmy died. He and Jimmy got into a big argument. I mean a nasty argument. I was afraid I was going to have to get involved. They’re the same age and all, but Ben is in better health than Jimmy was.”

  “What were they arguing about?” I asked. If it had come to blows, it wouldn’t be hard to pick the winner of that fight. The Jimmy I met on the bus that day was pale, almost sickly, not the persona he projected when he first walked out on stage that night.

  “I overheard Withrow telling Jimmy he didn’t have the money to pay Ben and the crew what he’d promised,” Herb explained. “When Jimmy broke the news to his old buddy, all hell broke loose.”

  That didn’t sound like the kind, generous Jimmy Bones that I’d heard about all my life. “That doesn’t sound like Jimmy at all.”

  “Withrow controls Jimmy’s money and is pretty tight with it from what I hear,” Herb said and then lowered his voice. “If you want to know the truth, I think he’s somehow probably mishandled Jimmy’s finances. Why else would he cut the salaries of the roadies who had gone out of their way, turned down another gig, just to do an old friend a favor?”

  “I didn’t realize a manager controlled someone’s money,” I said, confused.

  “Withrow controls almost everything Jimmy has,” he continued. “Like I said, he tried to get me fired. And Withrow was livid when Jimmy married Caroline. Absolutely livid. I don’t know how many times I heard him telling Jimmy to get it annulled or kick her out.”

  Anger clouded Herb’s previously pleasant features and I wondered what kind of a temper he had.

  “Jimmy was so upset because Withrow told him she’d just married him for his money.”

  “Did Jimmy tell Ben that it was up to Withrow, out of his hands, so to speak?” I asked, thinking about the thing with the road crew.

  He shook his head. “That was the thing. Jimmy always protected Withrow. Never let on to anyone that Withrow was practically controlling his life.

  “Thank goodness it didn’t turn into a physical fight between Jimmy and Ben,” I said.

  “Ben finally just stomped off, but the last thing he said to Jimmy scared even me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said ‘Somebody ought to put you out of your misery’.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say after that so I just sat there quietly. Herb’s cell phone chimed and he looked at me apologetically. “I have to take this.”

  “That’s fine. I need to get back to the diner anyway. Thanks for talking to me.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, lifting the phone to his ear.

  “And come by the diner for supper sometime before you leave town. On the house.”

  He shook his head. “Ma’am, as soon as the law lets us go, I’m headed for Nashville as fast as I can.”

  What if Jimmy’s services were being held here? Did he not want to attend? Or maybe he already knew more about the services than I did.

  While I walked back to the diner, I went over what I knew so far. Jimmy was so paranoid, so afraid that someone was trying to kill him, he hired Herb to cook for him right off of the street. Ben and Jimmy had argued the morning of his death over money. Davis Withrow controlled almost every aspect of Jimmy’s life, including his personal affairs, but Jimmy had kept that a secret from everyone. Did Jimmy have a will? Had it been changed to include his new bride?

  Then my thoughts took on a new direction. I had been on the tour bus that day, but so had Madeline Crawford. It was impossible to know who had been on there before or after us. Someone who could have touched Jimmy with peanut oil on their hands or had peanut dust on their clothing.

  And who took a bite out of one of the little sunflower butter pies?

  This was getting so confusing, my thoughts going in a million directions at once. Should I take Herb at face value? He had the most access to Jimmy’s food. Maybe Jimmy was allergic to something else altogether. But Tucker had said there was no food in Jimmy’s stomach, no trace of peanuts at all in his system. That kind of cleared Herb in my book.

  There were a few customers in the diner and Barbara Ellen had sent most of the evening staff home. She assured me she had enough hands on deck to handle the dwindling crowd.

  “There’s just one thing that worries me,” she told me, as I turned to go upstairs.

  “What?”

  “Some of the staff are talking about looking for other jobs,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Mostly because business is so slow,” she explained, fidgeting with the edge of her apron, little worry lines between her eyes.

  “That’s not all,” I guessed.

  She shook her head and took a deep breath. “One or two of them mentioned to me that they don’t like being associated with the diner because of the rumors.”

  As badly as I wanted to, I couldn’t share what Tucker had told me. And, even when it did come out in the paper, it might take a while for people to start co
ming around again. I sat down on the bottom step, chin in hand. “That scares me more than anything.”

  Barbara Ellen patted my shoulder. “I didn’t want to worry you but I thought you should know.”

  “Thanks,” I said, forcing a smile.

  “We’ll get through this,” she assured me. “You’ll see.”

  Upstairs, I showered off the dust of the day and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt. Then I lay down across the bed and for the first time in a long time, I talked to my grandmother. In my mind’s eye I could see her furrow her brows, listening carefully to my concerns just like she had when I was a teenager worrying about something silly. She never made me feel like that, though. She took it seriously and always offered sage advice.

  “So what should I do next, grandma?” I asked, to the dark room. “A lot of people depend on this diner for their income. I can’t let any of them down. I have to solve this murder.”

  What would she have said? What would she have done?

  She would tell me that worrying was like sitting in a rocking chair. Moving but getting nowhere. She would tell me to take charge and do something. I dozed off to sleep promising her that I would double my efforts starting the very next morning.

  The next morning, the diner was fairly busy. Some old familiar faces missing, some new faces there to have breakfast. The TV news crews, camera men and technical people were there. I recognized a couple of newspaper reporters from Harrisonburg and one or two of the local TV news anchors. In an area this small, they were minor celebrities. So, there was the usual morning chatter, noisy and busy but it was subdued, like no one was in a really happy mood. According to everything I’d seen and heard that morning, there were no developments in Jimmy’s investigation.

  Even the weather seemed to echo the mood. Heavy black clouds hung in the sky over the diner like an omen of some sort. In the distance, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed over the mountains.

  Heat lightning, my grandmother had called it.