by Tonya Kappes
I’d not planned on the Front Porch Ladies, who gathered around my island. Harriette was in the chair on the far right, followed by Millie, Gertrude, and Ruby. Iris had let herself in with the spare key and had already started to boil the potatoes so we could get those mashed. She’d also brought over Julia’s bread pudding along with another one.
“I swear Iris. If we were best friends, I’d move you in with me and all we’d eat would be your dessert.” Harriette had helped herself to the extra pudding and dished out portions for all the Front Porch Ladies, plus made a pot of coffee.
Some people might not take too kindly to neighbors like mine, but I loved the old broads and secretly hoped I had my own little group at their age.
“What was it you were saying about someone told someone who knew Jigs?” I wanted to get the conversation started while Mac was busy outside.
“It don’t matter who said it, but if you must know, Edna told Bethany, Jigs’s wife, that she heard from a reee-liable source that Florence had died from head trauma. Now,” Gertrude said as if she wanted to make it clear, “I don’t know what the weapon was, but I do know they took that shovel for evidence.”
“And we did see Courtney with that shovel in her hand.” Harriette sank her fork down in the pudding and scooped up a bite, shoving it in her mouth. I was glad Harriette didn’t spill the beans about what Angela had said and confirmed about the shovel.
“We did. Right before Harriette came over,” I made mention.
“Why did you come over here? And in the rain?” Iris was using the peeler to shuck the skin off the potatoes before she plopped them into the boiling water.
“I don’t think I like what tone you’re using.” Harriette pulled back. “Don’t that bet a hen-a-scratchin’.” She lifted her finger. “Are you ’cusing me of killin’ Florence Gaines?”
“Well, you were out and about right before she was murdered, and it was no secret around Sugar Creek Gap that you two were enemies.” Iris was poking the bear, and it wasn’t going to end well.
“Now Iris.” I patted the homemade meatloaf like it was my soon-to-be grandbaby’s bottom, with love and care, before I stuck it in the oven along with the three other meatloaves I put in there. “Harriette came by as a friend to check on Grady. No different than you calling up the day before about concerns with Julia. And she wasn’t out of breath or too upset about nothing.”
“Bernie, you’re right. Poor old Harriette can barely keep a breath on her walk down here, much less lift a shovel and hit someone over the head hard enough to kill them.” Ruby made a good point.
Harriette turned her glare to Ruby.
“Am I lying?” Ruby asked and went back to eating her pudding, not really caring if Harriette answered or not.
“I’m not saying you did.” Iris tugged the hand towel off her shoulder and wiped her hands down it before she rested against the island to talk to Harriette. “I’m just saying you better have a good excuse to have been out in a thunderstorm right before your number one enemy was murdered because now that we’ve heard it’s a homicide, Sheriff Hafley is going to be questioning everyone.” She pointed at Harriette. “Including you.”
“She did want to see me today down at the dee-partment.” Harriette was noodling what Iris said and how Angela told me and her to come down.
For the rest of the afternoon, Harriette came up with all sorts of takes on why she shouldn’t be on Angela’s suspect list. But no matter which way she turned her story, she was for sure going to be on Angela’s list.
Which only meant one thing…we were going to have to take it upon ourselves to look into it.
“And we need to start right now!” Harriette tapped her fingernail on the granite top of the island. “Angela said she wanted to see me and you today. We need to head down there while they finish up cooking your supper.”
“No finer time for a walk,” I agreed.
Chapter 8
Both Harriette and I nearly fell over one another when we passed by Courtney’s house.
“If anyone needed a little religion today… she should’ve been there talking ’bout her aunt, not Zeke.” Harriette harrumphed after we passed Courtney’s house.
“I hate to even think this, and I know you’re not going to be happy, but Ruby was right.” I chewed on my lip and noodled out the right words so Harriette wouldn’t lose her religion, since she’d just came from church. “Someone had to have a lot of force to lift that shovel and come down on Florence’s head. What if it was Zeke?”
“Hush your mouth, child.” Harriette came to an abrupt stop and looked me square in the face before she started walking again. “You’re serious.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.” We took a right on Short Street and walked over the bridge.
I couldn’t help but notice my little duck friend swimming around in the water with her two new ducklings. I made a mental note to add more duck pellets to my mailbag for the morning.
“I’m not going to say who, but someone did tell me before Zeke even got married to Florence that Zeke had been doing online stocks and lost every penny he had.” I looked over at Harriette. “Even second mortgaged his home.”
Her jaws were moving, and I could tell she was working her tongue inside her closed mouth.
“I swear if you say a word of this, Harriette Pearl, you’ll be the last house I deliver mail to every day.” That got her to listen up.
Harriette Pearl loved getting mail more than anyone on my route. She breathed and died by getting even the junkiest of mail. It never failed that she was waiting right on that front porch on her porch swing every morning around nine a.m.
“Zeke and Florence were having a big argument when I delivered his mail yesterday. Something about money and how she’d promised him something if he married her. She said something about changing her mind.” It was a little foggy to me, the exact words, but I knew when I sat down tonight I’d try really hard to remember and write it down. “He said he held up his end of the deal and now it was her turn. Then he said that if she didn’t, he would divorce her and expose her for what she really was.”
“Oh dear.” Harriet and I stopped at the corner of Main and Short to cross over since the courthouse was directly across from the corner and the sheriff’s department was located in the back of the courthouse. She grabbed my arm. “Are you telling me Zeke married Florence for money and it’s all a farce?” she asked.
“I don’t know what it was about, but if Florence and Zeke continued their fight, I’m thinking he’d have a good motive to have killed her.” I couldn’t help but think about what Lucy Drake had said this morning on the radio about following the money.
“What if what Courtney said was true about Florence changing her will? She appointed Zeke the family charity president, but after a few hours of being married to him, Florence had changed her mind and went to tell Courtney.” I tried to talk as low as I could but loud enough for Harriette’s aging ears to hear me since the beautification committee was busy setting up the tables and vendors for tonight’s Sugar Creek Gap’s Sunday Summer Clogging.
It was a yearly thing hosted by the beautification committee and the Doubletoe Cloggers, a clogging group here in town, on Sunday nights. It was a fun way to come together on a late Sunday afternoon to visit with the locals while being entertained by some good ole fashioned clogging dancers.
We’d sure be there after supper, and I knew there’d be a lot of questions circling around about Florence Gaines’s murder when it got out that she was, in fact, killed.
“Then Zeke went over there to try and stop her. You and I both know Florence Gaines wasn’t about to go anywhere in a thunderstorm if it weren’t important. And that woman loved her appearance as much as she loved money.” We took our time crossing the street. “She and Zeke might’ve been arguing. She headed to the side of the house so Courtney couldn’t hear her. Buster was barking because he doesn’t know them like he does you.”
“And whack!” Harriette brought
her arm up in the air and slammed like she had a shovel in her hand. “He offed her.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged, and we made it around the courthouse and walked into the sheriff’s department.
All the deputies, along with Angela and Mayor Leah Burch, were talking. No doubt discussing the case.
“I was about to call each one of you.” Angela started to walk over to us. “I’m sure you’ve heard how Florence Gaines’s case has been changed to a homicide.”
“Yep.” Harriette gave a good nod. “And Zeke Grey did it.”
My jaw dropped.
So much for Harriette keeping a secret.
“What?” Harriette looked around before she looked at me. “Clearly I was a suspect by the looks on their faces.” She flung her hands out in front of her. “And I had to say something.”
Angela cleared her throat.
“Actually, you’re not a suspect, but I’d love to get your statement on recording since the status of the death has changed.” Angela swooped her hand in front of her as if she were clearing a path for us to walk. And we did.
“You didn’t have to blurt it out,” I whispered to Harriette’s back on our way down the hallway.
We walked past a couple of the interrogation rooms, and Harriette stumbled over herself gawking at one of the rooms.
“Are you okay?” I asked and grabbed her by the arm.
“Did you see who was in there?” she asked out of the side of her mouth with a head twitch toward the window of the room. “Courtney Gaines.”
Angela stopped at the next door, and with a heavy sigh, she turned the doorknob.
“You two ladies can sit on the far end of the table.” She stood at the open door, and we walked past her. “I’m going to grab me a coffee. I always find it a little more comfortable to talk when we have a beverage or something. Can I get you anything?”
Harriette and I both declined the sheriff’s offer. We took our seats like she’d told us to do.
“What on earth?” Harriette gasped after Angela shut the door. “I know me and Florence weren’t the best of friends, but who would really want to kill her? I know Zeke had the motive, and with you saying you heard them arguing—” She stopped and wrung her hands.
“It still doesn’t make him a killer.” I completely regretted telling Harriette about what I’d overheard.
“No, but it sure does give him motive.” She tapped her temple. “I watch Perry Mason, and a lot of suspects on there have money for motive. Your little scenario about Florence going to tell Courtney she’s changed her mind. . .” She shook a finger at me. “That makes me think Zeke did try to stop her.”
“And possibly killed her so the will stays the same?” Angela walked in with no coffee. “Gotta love those.” She pointed to the dangling microphones from the ceiling. “I knew if I left you two long enough that you’d be saying something that you didn’t want recorded.”
“It’s not that I’m keeping something secret. It’s just I’ve not had the opportunity to talk to you about what I’ve noticed over the past few crazy days.” I didn’t like the feeling I’d been caged.
“And you overheard Zeke and Florence in a fight? Already? On their wedding day?” Angela peppered me with questions after she sat down.
“Don’t you want to record this?” Harriette asked. “Because I’m going to say my peace once and once only.”
The wooden chair groaned underneath Angela as she eased back, crossed her legs, and rested her arms on the chair.
“The microphones are recording us.” Angela was stressed, and I could tell by her tone. The door opened, and one of the deputies stood there. “Harriette, you can go on with him to be interviewed while I talk to Bernadette?”
There was a scared and confused look on poor Harriette’s face.
“I’ll wait outside for you, Bernie,” she said on her way out the door.
“Bernadette?” I questioned Angela on the formality of my name after the deputy had closed the door behind him and Harriette.
“I honestly can’t believe that I’m doing this, but given the past couple of cases, you’ve been very useful with your. . . um. . .” She appeared to be searching for a word.
“Sleuthing skills?” I felt like that sounded better than saying my ability to listen to people and see things on my route while I pretty much stayed unnoticed.
It was funny how people just got used to me being around in their daily life. At first they were cautious of what they’d say if they were on the phone or even standing outside talking to their neighbors. But as time passed, I just became part of the world around them. They’d gossip on the phone while I was trying to get a signature for a piece of mail, or gossip over the fences while I dug in my bag to retrieve the mail. It sure did come in handy during something like figuring out a crime.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” Angela pinned an intense gaze at me. “We’d like for you to be our eyes and ears on the street in a very informal sort of way. Not on the payroll or anything.”
“Like a snoop consultant?” I asked. “For example, when I went to deliver Zeke’s mail and took it to the door instead of the mailbox, and I overheard him telling Florence how he’d kept up his end of the deal and she needed to come through or he’d expose her for who she really was?”
Angela’s eyes glowed and grew big.
“Yeah. Exactly that.” She sat up and reached to the middle of the table to retrieve the notepad and pen. “Now, about that deal Zeke was talking about.”
For the next hour, I stayed in the room talking to Angela about what my thoughts were on Courtney, though I left out Grady and how I wasn’t too keen on that friendship, and how I found it odd the Brotherton boy had won the scholarship, not to mention how Tiffany had flung some very threatening words at Florence before she bolted out of the church. I also gave her various names of the people in the church who did hear Tiffany’s giant-sized hissy fit. Angela said she’d heard the callers on the radio this morning and was going to check out Tiffany and her parents along with Zeke and Courtney. It seemed like a good three suspects, and I was happy Harriette wasn’t one.
“Should I go buy a gun?” I questioned after Angela went over what they expected of me again. “I already carry mace, but I can totally shoot a gun. I do have a permit.”
I was no different than anyone else in Sugar Creek Gap. Practically everyone had a conceal-and-carry.
“Umm…” Angela fumbled for the right words. “No.”
That was the right word?
“No? But what if I come upon the killer?” It seemed like a very good reason to carry my gun.
“You are only in a consulting type of position. No pay. No gun. Just gossip.” She nodded and walked me to the door. Harriette was waiting on the bench outside.
“It’s ’bout time.” Harriette tapped her fingernail on her little gold watch that I was never even sure kept time. “The girls are probably dying to know what’s going on down here.” She got up and walked down the hall with us.
“See.” Angela’s brows rose. “Gossip.” She stopped and folded her arms.
“What was that?” Harriette looked at the both of us.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Let’s go.”
Harriette yammered on and on about the questions the deputy had asked her. There wasn’t any one of them that alarmed me or even made me think she was a suspect.
“You’re mad at me.” Harriette continued to look forward when we turned on Little Creek Road. “You’re mad that I told them about Zeke and Florence fighting.”
“I’m not mad.” I wasn’t really upset. I just wished I could’ve done it my way and not had it blurted out.
My mom always told me not to tell any tale that wasn’t mine to tell. Not Harriette. She told a tale no matter who told it. Including me when I’d asked her not to.
“They want me to consult with them on the case.” I knew it would spark Harriette to snoop around in her inner circle more than usual if she knew I was hel
ping.
She’d be sure to tell me everything she’d heard, and I was going to use her social skills, which would be gift of gab and gossip, to my advantage.
“Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?” she asked when we reached the gate to my house. Everyone was sitting on my front porch. “Here, Bernie’s mind.” She made smoochie sounds and clapped her hands like she was calling a dog.
“What is going on?” Iris asked.
“Bernadette has literally lost her marbles.” Harriette had so many expressions, I could barely keep up with her. “She’s agreed to be a consultant on Florence Gaines’s murder.”
“Well.” Millie tossed her hands up to her mouth. “Cut my legs off and call me shorty.”
“You are short,” Gertrude snapped.
“Of course she’s not going to.” Iris took a drink of the tea. “She’s got a grandbaby to think of and would never put herself in any danger of not seeing her grandbaby.”
“By goodness gracious, she has agreed to help. Ain’t that right, Bernie?” Harriette looked at me to confirm. “Oh, was I not supposed to mention that either?”
By the way Iris responded—and trust me, it wasn’t good—the Front Porch Ladies took that as a cue for them to hightail back up Little Creek Road to their homes.
“Why? Why do you insist on putting yourself in danger?” Iris followed me into the house, letting the screen door smack shut.
Rowena barely lifted her head off the back of the couch to see what was going on, but Buster, his ears peeled back, sat down. His eyes were wide-open.
“Danger.” Iris grabbed the towel to clean dishes from a full day of cooking. “Are you wanting to put yourself in danger?”
“No.” Buster trotted next to me.
“Yes.”
“No, I’m not.” I walked over to grab a clean towel from the drawer to help Iris finish up cleaning. “Angela asked me to simply keep my eyes and ears open for any gossip about Florence.”
“Harriette said consultant.” Iris didn’t miss a beat.