Peaches and Scream (Georgia Peach Mystery, A) (12 page)

“Well, thank you again for the cake you made for Mama and Daddy. That was so generous of you. Everyone raved about it.”

He waved off the compliment. “Glad to do it. I think the world of your parents.” He lowered his eyes and took a more serious tone. “I was so sorry to hear about the trouble Hollis got himself into. Too bad for Ida and those little girls of theirs.”

I winced. Again it was “the trouble that Hollis got himself into,” with the immediate assumption of the guilt on Hollis’s part. I nodded. “Yes, but my brother, Ray, is working the case and we’re hopeful the
real
killer will be brought to justice.”

Ezra grimaced. “If you say so, Nola. Anyway, I was glad to see Hollis back at work today.”

“He’s at the bank?” I was surprised. I would have thought he’d spend a couple days at home catching up with Ida and the girls.

“Yes, ma’am. Saw him there this morning when I went in to make a deposit. He looked bad, real worn-out. But working is probably the best thing for him right now. Keep his mind off the trouble he’s got. Although, it made me wonder how long they’ll allow him to keep that job. It doesn’t seem right for a bank to let their folks’ money be handled by a criminal.”

“He’s not a criminal,” I started, but stopped myself and sighed. I realized it was useless to try to defend Hollis when everyone already seemed to have their minds made up, so I let the topic drop. Instead, I scanned the case, trying to decide between the lemon with buttercream frosting or the death-by-chocolate cupcake.

“Ya know, speaking of Ben Wakefield,” Ezra continued, “something strange happened just before you got here.”

I looked up. “Oh yeah? What was that?”

“A woman came in. A real looker. Shoot, I’d never seen anyone so dolled up in my life. She said she was Ben Wakefield’s widow. I didn’t know he was married. Did you? Heck, that man had been coming in here at least twice a week for a couple months to buy coffee and a treat.” He paused and tapped on his case. “He had a thing for my smart tart. Ordered it every time. It’s my healthy take on the normal tart, made with honeyed yogurt instead of sugar and cream.”

That’s not the only tart Ben Wakefield had a thing for,
I thought. But, instead of actually saying that, I just nodded and smiled, hoping he’d get on with the story.

Ezra adjusted his apron straps and continued, “Anyway, like I was saying, I had no idea he was married. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“It is sort of strange, isn’t it?” I agreed. Come to think of it, in a town like Cays Mill it was hard to figure how such a basic detail would have escaped detection. Still, Millicent had explained it away as a logistical coincidence. I shrugged, my eyes wandering to the raspberry-filled cupcakes.
Decisions, decisions.
“Millicent told me she lived mostly in Macon. Didn’t like it down here in Cays Mill. Not enough shopping,” I added, as if that explained everything.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you knew the woman.” My head snapped up from the case and, seeing his wide-eyed expression, I realized he’d misinterpreted me. I started to explain that Millicent and I weren’t friends, but he cut me off before I could get the words out. “Don’t get me wrong. She seemed like a nice enough lady,” he said, backtracking. “Just not the usual type from around here.”

I almost laughed. This coming from a man who really stood out in a crowd. “Well, I’m sure after she tastes your baking, she’ll be back for more.”

He blushed.

“I’ll take one lemon and one chocolate,” I finally ordered, giving up on choosing.

Using a piece of tissue paper, he reached into the case and plucked my choices off the shelf. “Hope you’re right. I’d like to see her come back to my shop. She’s a big spender.”

“A big spender? What do you mean?”

“Made a big order. ’Bout cleaned out all my bagels and scones first thing morning.”

“Really?” That seemed strange. When we spoke at the boutique, I’d gotten the impression she didn’t know anyone in the area. Why would she need such a big order? “Did she happen to mention why she needed so many?”

He’d bagged my purchase and starting ringing up my order. “I think she said something about a staff meeting up at the lumber mill.”

The lumber mill? Of course! Why didn’t I think of that angle before? Next to peach farming, the mill had been one of the leading industries in the area, employing hundreds of people and sustaining the town through many economic slumps. Despite rumors of financial trouble, if Millicent gained possession of the mill, she could probably close the place down and sell off the company’s assets: machinery, buildings, inventory and maybe even land holdings. I wondered what assets the mill still owned and if they would amount to a motive for murder. Did ownership transfer to Millicent after Ben Wakefield’s death? If so, and if there was money to be made, Millicent may have had just as much motive as anyone for wanting Wakefield dead, especially since it looked like her marriage was in trouble. But before I jumped to conclusions, I needed to find out who actually acquired the mill after Wakefield’s death. I knew just who to ask, too.

“Nola?” Ezra’s voice cut through my thoughts. I realized he must have been waiting for me to pay for my order. Blinking a few times to clear the fog, I apologized and quickly fished some money out of my shoulder bag. After collecting
my change and thanking him again, I left Sugar’s Bakery and marched down the street toward the bank.

•   •   •

The Cays Mill Bank & Trust was situated about two blocks north of the square on Gala Avenue, creating a transition between the business section of town and a quieter residential neighborhood. The bank itself stood out like a sore thumb among the surrounding bungalows and well-kept one-story ranches. Wanting to give the appearance of well-heeled stability, the town’s founders constructed the bank to look like a scaled-down version of Mount Vernon, complete with white pillars and a red roof. The entrance was flanked by two large urns filled with ferns and colorful annuals. I paused to admire some trailing petunias before entering through the large double doors.

I bypassed the tellers and headed toward the back of the bank to Hollis’s office, where I found Candace perched at the secretary’s desk. She stopped typing the moment she saw me. “Nola Mae! Oh my goodness, what’s this?” she asked, pointing to my bag. “Sugar’s Bakery? Well, you shouldn’t have. But what a sweet way to thank me for the casserole.” She laughed. “Get it? A ‘sweet’ way to thank me.”

I glanced from the bag still clutched in my hands to her outstretched ones and sighed. “Of course, Candace. Thank you so much for the casserole. It was delicious.” I reluctantly handed over the bag, craning my neck for a glimpse toward Hollis’s office. “I think I’ll just pop in and check on Hollis,” I said, scurrying around her desk while she was still distracted by the contents of the bakery bag.

“Oh, my favorites,” I heard her exclaim as I stepped over the threshold into Hollis’s office.

He looked up from a pile of paperwork and smiled. “How nice to see you, Nola.” Although his tone was slightly subdued, his smile seemed genuine.

“How you holding up?” I asked, sliding into one of his guest chairs, my gaze drawn toward a shot glass next to his desk blotter. A little amber liquid remained in the bottom.

He sighed and tossed down the file he was holding. “Okay, I guess.” Then he shook his head. “That’s not true. You’re family, so I might as well say it straight. I’m scared, Nola. Real scared. Those few days in the county jail were the worst days of my life. I can’t even imagine what the state pen would be like.”

I shuddered, mental images of bars, stainless steel cots and large ugly men with piercings and gang tattoos forming in my mind. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Hollis leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Let’s hope not. Ray’s a good lawyer, but he’s up against a lot of damning evidence.”

“Like the report they found in your pocket when they arrested you? The one investigating all of Wakefield’s assets.”

“Yeah, that; plus lots of people saw me with the murder weapon. And they pretty much confiscated everything to do with the bank’s deal with Wakefield Lumber. It looks bad.”

I bobbed my head in agreement. No sense denying the obvious.

“Truth is,” he continued, “I really did want to kill Ben Wakefield. He’d scammed me big-time. But you know me better than that, right? You know I could never kill someone.”

He seemed relieved when I nodded. “I’m glad,” he went on. “Because most of the town thinks I’m guilty. Hell, even my own secretary thinks I did it. Everyone’s looking at me like I’m a criminal.”

I pointed toward the shot glass. “You may not be a killer, Hollis, but you’re not giving people a lot of reason to believe in you these days.”

Snatching up the glass, he drained its contents. “Just a little something to calm my nerves,” he explained, opening a desk drawer and stashing the glass inside. “Can’t blame me for tipping a little back now and then. I’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“Well, like you said, we’re family so we might as well say it straight.” I leaned in to emphasize my point. “Your drinking is getting out of hand, Hollis. It’s hurting your family and your business. And drinking’s not going to do anything to help this mess of trouble you’ve got yourself into. In fact, it’ll probably make it worse.”

He scowled and started tapping his pen on his desktop. “What exactly is it that you came in here for, Nola? To harass me? Or is there something else you needed to talk to me about?”

I sat back, lowering my chin to my chest and studying my hands. I should have known better than to take such a direct approach with Hollis and his drinking. I’d seen this type of thing over and over in my work. You can’t just scold away someone’s addiction. Hollis needed professional help, but still, what a louse! Ida and the girls deserved better than this. I rotated the kinks out of my neck and took a few calming breaths before continuing. “I actually came in here to ask about Wakefield Lumber.”

“What about it?”

“Who takes over now that Ben Wakefield is dead?”

“It was a sole proprietorship, so his heirs inherit, just the same as they would any other assets, like a home or a car.” He waved the last part off. “Well, it’s obviously more complicated, but that’s essentially how it works. Why do you ask?”

“Did you know Ben had a wife?”

Hollis lurched forward. “Ben Wakefield was married?”

“Yes. Didn’t Ray tell you? The thing is, I just found out that she apparently held a meeting up at the lumber mill this morning.”

Hollis’s eyes darted back and forth. “I had no idea. That means she could have had motive to want Wakefield dead. I need to call Ray about this right away.” He started reaching for the phone.

“Hold on,” I quickly interjected, a little surprised with how quickly he pounced on this Millicent Wakefield thing.
Of course, Hollis was probably desperate for any way out of his current situation. I should have thought this whole thing through before questioning him about the mill’s new ownership. After seeing his desperation up close and personal, I decided not to bring up my other theory about Floyd Reeves. Hollis might just go renegade with anything I gave him. No, best to just hand over any new information directly to the professionals: Ray and, heaven help me, Hawk. “Ray will be back in town tomorrow,” I said, trying to distract him. “You can talk to him then. Have you met with Dane Hawkins, the investigator?”

“Yes, Ray introduced us.” He rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“I didn’t have a good first impression. He doesn’t seem all that . . . capable to me.”

I shrugged. True enough. With his tight jeans and leather, Hawk came off more like someone running from the law, not someone aiding it. But I tried to stay positive. “Ray believes he’s the best person for the job.”

Hollis didn’t look convinced, so I switched gears again. “I wanted to ask you about something else.”

He must have sensed another loaded question, because he started tapping again with the pen. “What?”

“Laney Burns.”

“Laney? What about her?”

“Do you have a thing going on with her?”

“A thing? You mean an affair? No!” He stopped tapping and tossed the pen aside. “Okay, so she’s fun to flirt around with, but it never goes further than that.”

Fun to flirt with? This coming from a guy who made a pass at me the night before his own wedding?
What a lecher! My shoulders tightened as I began to fume. “Are you sure, Hollis?”

“What do you mean? Of course I’m sure!”

I held his gaze for a moment, then felt myself begin to soften a bit. He seemed sincere, but still, he’d been drinking
so much lately. Maybe he didn’t realize what he did in his drunken stupors. “She said she was messing around with you in the orchard after the party.”

“You didn’t go telling all this to Ida, did you?”

I squinted across the desk. “No, but I will if it comes to that. I’m not going to let my sister be played for a fool, Hollis.” Of course, my younger, less confident self never had the heart, or the nerve, to tell her what happened the night before her wedding. To this day, I wasn’t even sure Hollis remembered what he did that night, or any time he drank heavily. Regret overcame me. If I had told her, or at least talked to her about my suspicions that he had a drinking problem, maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here right now, trying to come up with something to save her sorry excuse for a husband from a murder conviction.

He shook his head, his hand hovering by the desk drawer where he stashed his liquor. He must have had second thoughts, though, because he took a deep breath and folded them on top of his desk instead. “Look. I already explained all this to Ray.”

“Good. It shouldn’t be too hard to explain it to me, then.”

He sighed. “There’s nothing to explain. She was coming on to me that night, that’s all. She’s like that, you know. Always flirting around with men. I had just helped Ida get the girls settled into the car and was heading back to my vehicle when, out of nowhere, Laney showed up. She saw the scarf hanging out of my pocket and grabbed it, teasing me with a game of keep-away. All I could think was how ticked Ida would be if I didn’t get that scarf back.”