Murder at the Blue Plate Café (A Blue Plate Café Mystery) (14 page)

A secretary I didn’t know answered, but David was on the line almost immediately. “You calling to tell me you’ve given up small-town life and want y our job back? It’s yours.” His voice, so familiar and competent yet friendly, was reassuring.

“Nope, don’t want my job back. I’m happy here except I’m embroiled in all kinds of messes, one of them requiring a lawyer. Gram’s lawyer—Don Davidson, know him?—was in a bad accident and can’t work for—”

David cut me off. “Davidson in an accident? How bad? He’s quite a bit older than I am, but I know him through legal society meetings and the like. I’ll want to do something appropriate—what, flowers?”

“Probably not,” I replied. “How about something to save his wife from cooking? A fruit basket? Some ready-prepared things from Harry and David, even a catering service if there’s a good one in Canton.”

“And how am I supposed to know that if you’re not here to find out for me?”

I laughed. “Okay, I’ll find out, if you’ll let me send you some papers. I’m being sued—long story short the mayor, who was a thorn in Gram’s side and now is doing her best to do that to me, is suing. Claims she was poisoned by turnip greens. She actually did spend several days in the hospital, but I’ve collected testimonials from people who ate greens here the same day, and they’re all fine. Several said they were the best greens they’d had since Gram died.”

“Okay, I need to see the papers.”

“I’ll have Davidson’s office send them by courier this afternoon, if I can get a courier service out of Canton.”

“Kate, I’ve wanted to get away for a while, and my wife’s out of town for the weekend. You did invite me to the café anytime, didn’t you? You hold on to those papers and I’ll be down by lunchtime Friday. Make me a B & B reservation, and I’ll take out my fee in Blue Plate meals. Sound like a deal?”

“Sounds like a great deal, David. And thank you. I’ll have a place for you to stay, one where you can read and work and be comfortable, and I’ll feed you so well you’ll gain too much weight.” A corner of my mind was glad Donna’s B & B was still just a dream.

He laughed. “See you Friday for a late lunch, probably about one. Can you join me by then?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” There was one of the nicest guys in the whole world. Too bad he was happily married.

I found David a guest cabin on a ranch, small but all the amenities. WiFi, TV, breakfast goods he probably wouldn’t eat, and solitude, which I instinctively gathered he wanted.

True to his word, David walked in just before one o’clock. I deliberately did not put him at that jinxed corner table but instead at one close to the cash register. He studied the menu and ordered chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes with cream gravy, and black-eyed peas. I resisted the urge to tell him there was nothing green on his plate.

I took a tuna salad plate and joined him. Looking at my food, he raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As we ate, I fleshed out the story for him—my suspicions about Gram’s death, Donna and the B & B and the money, the mayor’s determination to have the café, Donna’s infatuation with Irv
Litman
, even the strange Mr. Overton.

Occasionally he interrupted with, “Damn! All this since you came home?” and I nodded.

Finally, he cleaned his plate, sopping up the last of the cream gravy with a biscuit, leaned back and said, “I haven’t eaten like this since I was a kid. Give me those papers, but I’ll have to have a nap first. My brain’s numb.”

I gave him the sheaf of papers I’d retrieved from Don Davidson’s office, which prompted him to say he’d talked to Don’s wife and got pretty much the same report I did. Then he was off, saying, “I’ll be back for supper. But after that lunch, I may eat your tuna salad plate.”

As he left,
Marj
stared after him. “First real man we’ve had in here since this whole mess began. I hope he can help us.”

“Me, too,” I said, and sent a small prayer heavenward.

****

David actually came back about four, and we made our way over to Gram’s house for a glass of wine. He remembered my taste from office parties and brought with him some really fine chardonnay. We sat on the porch, talking about this, that—and the lawsuit, of course. He didn’t think it would go far in court, and he thought he could probably negotiate with the mayor’s lawyer. I had no idea who that would be.

“Let’s put it out of our minds for the evening,” he said. “This is what I came for—peace and quiet, birds, a breeze, the smell of grass, even the damn mosquitoes. You know, if you put ceiling fans out here, they’d drive the mosquitoes away.”

“Good idea. I’ll get Tom to order some.”

“I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Nice to be away from everything. No one can call. If they have to reach me instantly, they can’t. And it’s okay. I don’t practice that kind of law.”

“Your wife can call,” I reminded him. “Where did she go?” I didn’t know Jennifer
Clinkscales
well at all, in fact had only met her at those office Christmas parties, but she struck me as pretty high on herself.

“To some Hill Country tourist ranch with a couple of girlfriends—I used the term lightly. I expect they’ve got an eye out for cowboys.” He said it without bitterness, and I was left without anything to say. The silence grew longer, but it was comfortable.

Then, out of the blue, he said, “I miss East Texas, sometimes desperately. I think about coming back here to practice, maybe with Davidson or someone like him. I wouldn’t make Dallas money but who cares?” A pause, and then he added, “Besides Jenn.” This time his tone was bitter.

For some reason, this seemed to be a good time to tell him about the planned trip to Canton to the humane society tomorrow. When he heard, he asked, “Would your brother-in-law mind if I go too? Could we drive the back roads?”

I laughed. “Sure, if you and Tom can find your way. I can’t even get to Van from Wheeler without getting lost on those roads. I’ll call Tom in the morning. He’s got a Suburban so we’d all fit.” I was about to suggest we order supper from the Café and bring it back here when my cell phone rang.

Donna. And the trouble she brought was worse, much worse than David’s bitter comment about his wife. Donna yelled into the phone, “Where are you? I need you!” Her tone was frantic.

“Donna, I’m at Gram’s. What’s wrong? Are the kids okay?”

“Oh, Kate, I’m so glad I found you. I don’t know what to do. My car’s in the shop and I don’t know where Tom is and I can’t find Irv. He doesn’t answer his phone, and I haven’t heard from him all day. I’m frantic. And Jess wants to call and tell you she found the right one, whatever the hell that means. I told her not now.”

I knew what Jess meant, but other than that I wasn’t sure what was at stake here. Apparently the kids were all right which was my first concern. So I said tentatively, “You want me to find Tom?”

“No,” she wailed, “I want you to find Irv. I’m scared something has happened to him.”

“Well, can’t we find Tom first and let him look for Irv?”

“No! Kate, as your sister, I’m asking you to do this for me.”

I wanted to ask why she thought something might have happened to Irv, but as I was mulling this question over, she said, “Go check the B & B and then check the place he’s staying. Drive all over town, look for his car. I promise I’ll be everlastingly grateful.”

I doubted that, but I agreed. Irv, I thought, might well have decided to go to Dallas without telling her—no big deal. But I’m conscientious.

I went back to David. “I have to go look for…ah…my sister’s business partner. It seems she can’t find him, and she’s worried.”

“Where’s her husband?”

“She can’t find him either, but she’s not so worried about that.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“Okay, let’s go. Got a flashlight?”

“It’s still light,” I protested.

“Dark will creep in, as they say, before you know it. Come on, I’ve got one in my car.”

A man who was always prepared. I liked David better and better, but I told myself sternly not to go there.

Gram chose just then to say, “You’ll find him at the B & B, Kate. And it’s a good thing Mr.
Clinkscales
is with you.”

I had the sense not to answer her this time. David already thought he’d landed in the midst of a crazy family—no sense convincing him further. I directed David to the B & B, and we drove in silence until he said, “You don’t really think anything’s wrong, do you?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t until Gram talked to me. Now I was apprehensive, almost wondering if I should have called Rick before setting out. But then, he would have scoffed too if I told him about Gram.

Gram was right. Irv
Litman’s
car was in the driveway of the B & B. No other vehicle in sight, no lights on in the house, and, as David predicted, it was now dusk, “coming dark” as they say in East Texas.

He parked on the street. “Let’s go look,” he said.

“Maybe we should just ring the doorbell.”

“Good, straightforward thinking.” We climbed the steps, and he jabbed at the bell. Those melodic chimes Donna so prized sounded throughout the house, but they were not followed by footsteps or a cheery voice welcoming us. Total silence.

“You have a key? Or maybe the back door is open.” He swung his flashlight toward the back of the house.

The back door was indeed open, so I stepped cautiously into the mudroom and called out, “Irv? It’s Kate. Irv, are you here?”

More silence, by now eerie.

David pushed in front of me and walked quietly through the kitchen. Then he stopped, considered, and grabbed some workman’s hammer from the kitchen counter. Armed with hammer and flashlight he proceeded into the dining room. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at the sight he made—warrior saving a damsel in distress.

We found Irv in the living room, lying face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. David threw his arms out to stop me, the way mothers instinctively do to children in cars, and said, “Don’t go near anything.”

For a moment I was too horrified to do anything but stare. I’d never seen a dead body, and certainly never expected to see a murder victim. How long, I wondered, had he lain there? Could he have lived if someone had come sooner? Could he maybe be alive? I voiced that last question aloud.

David shook his head in the negative.

“Shouldn’t we check for a pulse?”

“It’s too late, Kate.” He put his arm around me and tried to turn me back toward the kitchen, but I was stubborn.

“I want to see how sticky the blood is, so we’ll know how long he’s been here.”

“Not your job, Kate, and you know it. God, it’s good you have a lawyer with you. Stay clear and call the police. Does this town have a police force?”

“A chief,” I said, punching my instant-dial code for Rick. I told him where we were and what we’d found, and he ordered, “Stay there. Don’t touch anything. Don’t call anyone else.”

“What about Donna?”

“Don’t call anyone else. Got it?”

Between David and Rick giving me orders, I got it.

So David and I went out the back door and around the house to sit on the front steps. It was only minutes before we heard Rick’s siren, but in those minutes I worried about Tom. Where was he? Had his lunchtime talk with Irv been less pleasant than he’d led me to imagine? I could not, simply could not imagine Tom killing anyone.

Rick jumped out of the car, just as Tom opened the passenger side. I ran to Tom, hugging him, and murmuring, “Thank God you’re with Rick.”

He gave me a puzzled look. “Where else would I be? I was doing a drive-along to get the hang of things.”

Double thank heaven he didn’t guess what my hidden suspicion was.

Rick was staring at David, so I introduced them. Our chief of police was back to his usual distant and formal self. “Where’s this
Litman
fellow?”

“In the living room. Back door’s open.”

“Wait here. Come on, Bryson.”

They left and we sat back down. Small talk was hard to make, and we ended up in silence until David said, “So much for the peaceful, pastoral life.”

Nerves made me giggle. And then I thought if Tom didn’t kill Irv, who did? I was back to that dreaded thought: was Donna a killer? Was her call to me all an alibi set-up? Was my own sister that greedy? And why kill Irv? Had he told her he wouldn’t have an affair with her? Rejected women can lose all control—but that wouldn’t link her to Gram’s death or the mayor’s poisoning.