Rest in Peach (4 page)

But I hadn’t needed to add anything else. Maudy stood a little straighter, an unmistakable grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She raised her chin toward Travis, arched her brows and inhaled deeply, as if she’d just caught a whiff of something very satisfying. I recognized the look in her eyes. It was the same dogged determination I’d seen the summer before, when she went after my own brother-in-law for murder.

Ginny was in big
trouble.

Debutante Rule #026:
When in doubt, just ask yourself, “What would Scarlett do?”

The deafening din of the after-church crowd was in full swing when we arrived at the diner: people murmuring, dishes clinking, food sizzling, someone’s baby crying . . . Hattie, Cade and I lingered by the chalkboard menu for a second, trying to collect our wits as we scanned the place for Ginny. She wasn’t anywhere to be found, but Emily was there. She looked up from taking an order and tossed us a friendly but frazzled wave. To my surprise, I also saw the same dark-haired girl I’d seen in the dress shop the day before. Only today, she was busing tables, not washing windows.

“Maybe Ginny’s in the kitchen helping Sam,” Hattie suggested. As soon as the sheriff had finished her questions, we’d rushed right over to the diner to warn Ginny. We were hoping to give her a heads-up before Maudy showed up to interrogate her.

“There she is.” Cade pointed to where Ginny popped
through the swinging kitchen door, a tray of juice glasses in hand, and headed for the far end of the counter, where she used her open hand to retrieve a cinnamon roll from under a glass dome. Despite everything, my mouth watered. I happened to know that Ginny and Sam purchased a couple dozen pastries every weekend from Ezra Sugar, owner of Sugar’s Bakery. Cinnamon rolls, along with peach scones, were his specialty.

“Hey, all!” she called out as we approached. “Don’t think there’s a spot open right now.” She slid the roll in front of a guy seated at the bar and handed him a glass of orange juice. “Could I get Sam to fix y’all something to go?” she called over her shoulder, heading back around the counter toward the pass-through window that separated the kitchen and diner. Several plates were sitting under the warmer, stacked high with eggs, flapjacks and grits awaiting delivery.

“We need to talk to you,” Cade said. “It’s important.”

Ginny shrugged and double-checked one of her tickets before grabbing a couple plates. “Sure. What’s up?”

“In private,” Hattie added.

She shot us a flinty stare and pushed around us, plates balanced on her arms. “Are you serious? It’s a nuthouse in here. It’ll have to wait until later.”

Cade started to protest, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him close to my face. “Watch what you say.” I dipped my chin toward the far end of the bar where Frances was turned our way, staring suspiciously. “Let’s not alert the press.” So far, word hadn’t gotten out about Vivien. I wanted to keep it that way for at least a little while. But, Frances’s uncanny senses must have alerted her that something was awry. She started glancing about, homing in on various individuals before finally turning her focus out the window. I followed her gaze,
dismayed to find that even though Hattie’s Boutique was located across the square on the other side of the old courthouse, it was still partially visible from the diner. Even from where I was standing, I could see the sheriff’s cruiser parked on the curb outside the shop.

Uh-oh.
“We’ve just run out of time,” I told Hattie and Cade, watching Frances hop off her stool and make her way closer to the front window. “We need to find a way to get Ginny alone, now.”

“But be discreet about it,” Hattie warned her brother.

Ginny was on her way to one of the booths with coffeepot in hand when he finally flagged her down. “Think we will get something to go, after all.”

She ambled back, setting the coffeepot by the cash register and pulling the pen from behind ear. “Okay, then. What can I get y’all?”

I held my breath as Frances neared our group, but she pushed right past us with a determined gait, slapped a few dollars on the bar and passed us again as she headed out the door. I leaned forward. “Vivien Crenshaw’s been murdered.”

“What?”

“And you may be a suspect,” Cade added.

“Me?”

Hattie touched her arm. “You had that terrible argument with her yesterday.”

Ginny frantically shook her head. “I argue with people all the time, but I don’t kill them!”

“Shhh,” I warned, glancing around the crowded diner. “We need to go somewhere private and discuss this. Maudy is probably on her way over here right now.”

Ginny glanced around, her eyes finally settling on Emily, who was standing at another table, pen poised over her order
pad, addressing a group of well-dressed matrons. “Let’s go back into the kitchen,” she told us, then she signaled to Emily and mouthed, “Cover me?” Emily nodded and quickly turned her focus back to one of the ladies who was pointing out an item on the menu.

“What are you doing back here? There must be another dozen orders waiting,” Sam said, glancing up from the grill as we entered the kitchen. He was tending a line of at least twenty pancakes, flipping each one to golden perfection. I watched in amazement as he reached over with his other hand, grabbed an egg and cracked it single-handedly, then lifted a heavy iron off a row of frying bacon. Sam defied the stereotype about men and multitasking.

Ginny started to explain, “Remember me telling you about Vivien Crenshaw last night?”

“Remember? How could I forget? You were fit to be tied.” He chuckled over his eggs, then sobered. “Poor Emily, though. Went straight to her room and cried half the night. ’Bout never got her settled down.” He grabbed four plates from a nearby stack, setting them up on the counter next to the grill. Removing pancakes in sets of three, he began making a neat stack on each plate.

“She was murdered last night,” Ginny told him.

Sam stopped and gave us his full attention. “Murdered?”

Hattie chimed in, “It’s true. They found her this morning at my shop.”

“And the sheriff knows all about the argument we had over that dress.”

Cade shifted his feet. “And, she’s probably on her way over here right now.”

Sam began nervously wiping his hands down the front of his apron. Behind him, bacon and eggs continued to sizzle. “To question Ginny?”

I nodded. “In the heat of the moment, she might have said a couple things that sounded a little threatening.”

Ginny threw up her hands. “Like I told y’all, it was just talk. You know how I am when I’m angry.”

Sam rubbed at his stubbly face, a day’s growth shadowing his jaw. “Oh no.”

“Don’t panic,” Cade said, stepping forward and taking control of the spatula. He started removing shriveled bacon from the grill and scraping away at burnt eggs. “We all know Ginny didn’t do this, Sam. It just might be a little hard to convince the sheriff. You know how Maudy Payne can be.”

Next to me, Ginny started breathing heavily. I took hold of her trembling hands. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is tell the sheriff where you were around six thirty yesterday evening.” I quickly explained the sheriff’s theory about Vivien’s broken watch. Then, I followed her worried gaze as she turned toward Sam, her mouth slack and eyes blinking double time. Sam turned a sickly shade of gray.

“Mama,” Emily’s voice cut through the tension. She was peering through the pass-through at us. “Sheriff Payne’s here. Says she wants to talk to you.” She looked down at the empty grill and Cade standing by with spatula in hand. “Uh . . . Daddy? You okay? Table four’s waiting on their food.”

Ginny sucked up her breath and straightened her shoulders. “Sam, throw a couple of those pancakes on a plate, and that bacon, too. Got any grits made up? Sheriff likes her grits buttered.” She turned toward us with a brave smile. “Maudy’s always easier to deal with when her stomach’s full.”

After Sam handed her a loaded plate, she started for the kitchen door, shoulders back and chin held high. Cade stopped her along the way. “Maybe you shouldn’t answer her questions until we can get you a lawyer.”

She shriveled. “A lawyer?” A nervous little laugh escaped
her lips as she glanced Sam’s way again. “We can’t afford a lawyer.” Her chin jutted back out as she turned back toward the door. “Besides, I don’t need one. I’m innocent.”

As soon as she was out of the kitchen, Cade turned to me and whispered, “Maybe you should call Ray anyway. Just in case things get out of hand.” My brother, Ray, was an attorney. His firm was in Perry, a town not too far from Cays Mill, and he’d been instrumental in helping my brother-in-law, Hollis, avoid a lifelong prison sentence last summer. I knew he’d be willing to help Ginny, too.

Hattie leaned forward and added her two cents’ worth. “Please do call him, Nola. It’d be good to at least get his take on this whole thing. Get him up to speed, just in case . . . well, like Cade said, just in case things get out of hand. Our sheriff’s not known to be the most judicious person.”

I glanced over to where Sam paced back and forth, wringing his hands on his apron. “Sam? Want me to give Ray a call? Just to let him know what’s going on? He might be able to suggest something.”

Sam stopped and turned toward me, his face twisted with concern. “I think maybe you’d better do that, Nola. ’Cause Ginny was out most of the evening yesterday, and I have no idea where she went.”

•   •   •

“No one could ever convince me, not in a million years, that Ginny Wiggins could kill someone,” Mama stated. We were in the dining room Monday morning sitting across from each other, sipping coffee and eating breakfast. “I’ve known that girl since she was just an itty-bitty thing. She was just a few years ahead of Ida in school, you know. Both her and Sam were.”

I took a gulp of coffee and nodded. Ginny was almost ten years older than me, so I never really knew her growing up. Surprisingly enough, though, ever since my return to Cays Mill, we’d struck up a friendship. Over the past few months, I’d grown to care about Ginny and her family. That’s why, right after leaving the diner yesterday, I immediately placed a call to Ray. Much to my relief, he promised to break away later this afternoon and come to Cays Mill to see what he could do to help.

“She’s got a fierce temper, though, that one does,” Mama was saying. She paused for a second and took a tentative sip of her coffee before reaching for the sugar bowl. “Always did say redheads are unpredictable. But, if you ask me, Vivien Crenshaw probably had a lot of enemies.”

“Oh yeah? Why do you say that?”

She pushed a plate of leftover bacon my way. Mama always rose early during harvest to make a big breakfast for Daddy, who, by the crack of dawn, was already out in the orchards, supervising the picking. Around eleven, she’d start putting together a light lunch of sandwiches and snacks for him and the hands. She’d developed this habit over the years, never missing a single day. Sundays were different, though. On Sundays, the laborers would come to the house for their noon meal. Mama insisted. Of course, if she really had her way in the matter, there wouldn’t be any work at all on Sundays. But, as with most things involving our family business, Daddy had the final say.

“Oh, I don’t know. Lots of reasons, really.” Picking up a piece of bacon, she took a dainty bite off the end, chewing while she deliberated her next words. “Ever since Vivien took over as the organist at church—”

“Vivien was the organist?” That was news to me.

Mama tucked her chin and pursed her lips. “Yes, it happened about a month ago. You’d realize that if you paid better attention in church.”

I squirmed in my chair. How
did
I miss that? Ever since I was a kid, Betty Lou Nix had been playing the church’s magnificent pipe organ. Oh, the many glorious hymns she’d accompanied! Over the years, she’d practically become an icon of the church, poor lady. Her talents would be missed. “What a shame! When did Betty Lou pass?”

“Pass?” Mama blinked a couple times. “Oh . . . no! Betty Lou’s just fine. Well, as fine as she can be considerin’ Vivien practically stole the organ bench right out from under her bottom.”

Mama nibbled a bit more on her bacon, while I sat back and contemplated what she was saying. Unbelievable. I’d always figured Betty Lou would be playing the organ until the day she was called up to accompany the angels’ heavenly hymns. She was just that good. Guess I really was out of touch with the church, not to mention the local gossip vine, if I’d missed something as substantial as Betty Lou getting knocked off the organ bench by Vivien Crenshaw. Of course, I’d been sort of busy the past few months. “I can’t imagine how Vivien got that position over Betty Lou. Was Vivien a talented organist or something?”

Mama set half the uneaten bacon slice on her plate and wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Not in my opinion. Especially not compared to Betty Lou.” After a long sip of coffee, she waved her hand through the air. “Oh, there were plenty of rumors goin’ ’round at the time about why Betty Lou was replaced. Nothing anyone could really put a finger on, though.” Her face lit up as if she’d suddenly remembered something important. “Speaking of rumors. There were quite a few going
around about the Peach Queen Pageant last year. If you remember, Vivien’s daughter won the crown.”

My ears perked up.

“Your Daddy and I were on our second honeymoon at the time, but when we got back, there was all sorts of talk about wrongdoings at the pageant.”

“Wrongdoings?” Last year’s Peach Harvest Festival, as always, culminated in the Peach Queen crowning just before the festival dance. I’d missed that high point of the festival while sitting with my neighbor, Joe, in the hospital after a day of gunfire drama. But it sounded now like there were other dramas going on that I’d missed.