Read Still Life in Brunswick Stew Online
Authors: Larissa Reinhart
Tags: #Mystery, #humor, #cozy, #Humour, #Romance, #cozy mystery, #southern mystery, #humorous mystery, #mystery series
Still Life in Brunswick Stew (19 page)
I left Casey to worry about Pearl’s conquest of Grandpa and pointed the Datsun back toward Halo and 211 Loblolly Avenue. Alone in my house, I couldn’t settle into a project, although the Greek statues sketches called to me. If I couldn’t get Luke to model, I’d need to find another victim. I couldn’t outright copy the statues. Reconstituting Classicism meant a fresh take on the old subjects. Which meant a live body, preferably with an amazing V-cut, covered in Greek symbols and posed as the original subjects. That’s my take on it, anyhow.
Lord help me, but if Eloise weren’t already dead, she’d drag me to the grave. If I blew this gallery call, her professor would find me unreliable. And I wanted to see Eloise get her pottery show, even if it was posthumously.
I felt antsy to learn more about Lewis Maynard and any possible connection he might have to Eloise. What was protocol for the death of your mother’s married boyfriend? Would Hunter still show at the Viper? And if Hunter did show, I didn’t trust him.
I needed backup. A true wingman to fly with me into the Viper’s pit and pull answers out of Hunter. Casey was working. Cody was undependable. I couldn’t ask Leah to go to the Viper or her mother would kill me. Luke was out of the question. That left Todd, my usual wingman.
But Todd had been acting too peculiar with his working for Mr. Max, Speedos, and kissing. I had refused to return his cryptic messages. “Hey, baby, we need to talk” did not bode well. This girl needed to focus on her actual boyfriend before Luke started accepting other offers of barbecue.
If my lips didn’t return to normal soon, I would have some serious explaining to do.
Just as I reluctantly pulled my phone from my pocket to dial Todd’s number, I remembered I needed to call Dot. She probably thought I had been kidnapped and held hostage. Or worse: that I had flaked out on her.
“Halo Herald, Dot speaking,” she warbled into the phone.
“Hey, it’s Cherry. Sorry about earlier. I was attacked by a crazy woman with a spoon.”
Dot took a minute to gather her thoughts. “What’s going on?”
“I wanted to know more about Lewis Maynard’s death. That and I was wondering if you liked to accompany me to Sidewinder tonight to talk to Hunter Adams, son of Lewis Maynard’s side of fries.”
“The medical examiner still needs to perform an autopsy, but while in his coma, Lewis had been tested and found to have high levels of arsenic in his system,” she paused. “More even than Eloise. You want me to come to Sidewinder while you talk to Hunter?”
“Yep, to the Viper. It’s a local bar, kind of seedy, but they’ve got a great menu. Any food you can think of that can be breaded and cooked in hot oil. The fried pickles are to die for.”
“What with the poisoning in Sidewinder, I hope you’re wrong,” she cackled.
I grinned. Dot had the kind of morbid sense of humor I enjoyed. “I hoped that ignites a flame under the sheriff’s office to do a little more poking than testing for arsenic in groundwater and dish soap. I hate to hear Lewis had died, even though he’s a lowlife cheater, but the Parkers won’t find peace in Eloise’s death without answers. In my opinion, the sheriff’s office needs to step it up.”
“Really? Aren’t you close to the sheriff?”
“Don’t quote me now, Dot. I’m just speaking my mind and don’t want any repercussions.”
“Tell you what, I’ll go with you to the Viper and I’ll even buy dinner...”
I silently whooped for joy. If I had to pay for dinner, only one of us would eat.
“As long as you keep feeding me information about the poisoning,” she continued. “I’d love to scoop the Line Creek Limited on this. We’ve got a local competition, and I want to rub their noses in a big story.”
I had a vague recollection of Luke warning me not to talk to the press, but the thought of free dinner at the Viper overrode my memory receptacles. Call me a sellout, but the fried pickles were really worth another tussle with Luke. And as many times as we had fought lately, I looked forward to a great makeup session. Just as soon as I fixed my lips.
As the Datsun shuddered into the Viper parking lot, a chill washed over me. My last visit had been with Eloise. It felt eons ago, not a few months earlier. A row of angry looking Harleys, a half-dozen battered pickups, and two mud-splattered ATVs decorated the lot. My pickup fit right in. And even though I didn’t have a proper gun rack, I had slipped my Remington Wingmaster shotgun box from under my bed to behind the seat of my truck. Not just to fit in with the locals, but the Remington gave me a bit of confidence in meeting Hunter.
Not that I’d shoot the kid. The Remington made me look taller.
Spying Dot waiting nearby, I hailed her, and left the shotgun in the truck. We walked into the cinderblock establishment with blacked out windows. It took a minute to adjust to the low lighting. Tuesday night seemed a popular time to grab a drink, judging by the tables of men with gnarled hands and sinewy biceps. Sweat stained their shirts and the sun had leathered their skin. They eyed me without moving their faces from their beers. The Viper made Red’s look like Buckingham Palace.
I glanced at Dot standing next to me in brown capris and a cream print blouse. She looked like a bewildered bird that had flown into someone’s old barn by accident. Nervous, but curious to see if there were any material for making a nest.
Toward the back of the dingy tavern, I spied Hunter slumped between a video hunting game and an old pinball machine. I sent Dot after him, and I maneuvered between tables toward the bar, squeezing between two men in John Deere caps and old cotton shirts with rolled up sleeves. A spit cup sat between them. Kind of sweet they’d share a cup for their chew. Behind the bar, a man with a snowy white beard and twinkling blue eyes smiled and chatted while fetching drinks.
“So this is where Santa hides during the summer,” I said.
The man next to me set down his beer and grinned. “That’s Sam,” he said. “He owns the place.”
“He’s not what I expected.”
“Don’t let the bowl full of jelly act fool you. On Sundays he shuts down the Viper to ride his Harley with the other bikers.” The farmer winked. “He’ll let you sit on his lap if you want to give him your Christmas list, though.”
The other farmer guffawed.
“He looks nice enough,” I said.
“Hey Sam. There’s a gal here who needs some service.”
I tossed my ID at him and ordered two beers and a Coke.
Sam glanced at my license and shot me a hard look before his blue eyes mellowed. “You from Halo? I feel I’ve seen you before. We got a catfish special tonight.”
“I’ll take three plates,” I said. “I’ve eaten here with my friend Eloise Parker.”
“The art teacher?” Sam’s face lit up.
“Do you know that kid, Hunter Adams, in the back, sitting with my friend?”
Sam looked over my shoulder and nodded. “Sure, he’s from around here. Comes in to play games sometimes. Is he giving you trouble?”
“No, the Coke’s for Hunter. I’m helping him, but I don’t know much about his family. I just met his mom yesterday. Do you know her at all?”
“Janine? She’s something else. She used to wait tables. Smart as a whip. Got her a rich boyfriend and now she thinks her you-know-what don’t stink.”
“That’s the impression I got.” I thought about telling Sam that Janine’s boyfriend had passed but figured he’d find out soon enough. “Who is Hunter’s daddy? Does he still live around here?”
“See that guy at the far end with his head near fallen into his whiskey? That would be Hunter’s uncle, Keith Adams.” Sam dropped his voice and leaned toward me. “His brother, Jerry, is Hunter’s dad and a sorrier mess than Keith. Jerry Adams is serving time in prison for possession and distribution. He used to give Janine and the kid a hell of a wallop when he was drinking. Keith over there just drinks himself into a stupor. That’s why I let the kid hang out in here. He likes to keep an eye on his uncle.”
“That’s a pretty sad story. Hunter’s got a mean temper, but I guess that’s why.”
“You best watch yourself when you’re with Hunter. He’s gotten in trouble for fighting. He knows not to start anything in here.” Sam pointed to a baseball bat behind the bar. “It’s nice you’re trying to help him, but he’s like a feral cat. He’ll just as soon bite you when you try to pet him.”
“You think he would try to kill someone?”
“I would like to say no.” Sam scratched his beard. “However, if I read it in the paper, I probably wouldn’t be surprised.”
Great. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, honey. Just call on Sam for anything.” He winked.
I sashayed with the drinks back to the table where Dot and Hunter waited in silence. Dot’s gaze roamed the bar while Hunter stared sullenly at me. I slid in next to Dot and pushed the Coke toward Hunter.
“No beer?” he said. “You’re not wearing one of your fancy outfits tonight.”
My eyes dropped to my hot pink Myrtle Beach t-shirt. It ran long, so I had fringed and beaded the bottom with multicolored beads. “I thought I’d tone it down for the Viper. I got us all catfish.”
“Catfish?” Dot chirped in excitement. “I love catfish.”
“I heard Lewis died,” I said to Hunter. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t do it,” Hunter said. “But as far as I’m concerned, he deserved it.”
Dot coughed into her beer and pushed it away.
“Your momma must be upset,” I continued. “I’m surprised you came tonight.”
“She didn’t even notice me leaving. She’s more upset Miss Marion has taken over the funeral stuff. Miss Marion’s going to fire her, too.”
“I guess you’ve been questioned by the Sheriff’s Department?”
“This morning.” Hunter sucked his Coke dry and slammed the plastic cup on the table. “Assholes. Brought up my juvie record. That’s supposed to be sealed.”
“What did they ask you concerning the day of the festival when everyone got sick?”
“Who was there, who cooked, who cleaned up. That kind of stuff.” Hunter slumped back in his seat. “The cook-off rules are you have to make it on site. Lewis was the only cook. I didn’t even show up until eleven when we started dishing out samples.”
“What about the Gables?” I said. “I heard the two cotton farms like to go at it. Miss Marion said the Gables were messing around with your cook-off stuff.”
He pulled back his lip and inserted a wad of chew without taking his eyes off me. Beside me, Dot slowly pulled a small notebook from her purse and left it in her lap.
“What?” I said. “What’s with the attitude?”
“We don’t talk about the Gables,” he said.
“Who doesn’t talk about the Gables?”
He spit into the empty cup and wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand.
I gave him an exasperated sigh. “You asked for my help, Hunter. I’ve got to ask questions.”
“I don’t know nothing about the Gables. That’s my aunt and uncle, you know. Anyway, if they were messing around with our stuff, I wasn’t there to see it.”
“Fine.” I glanced at Dot.
“You’re a team, though, right?” Dot said. “Who else was on your cook-off team?”
“My mom, me, and Miss Marion.”
“Why does Miss Marion participate in the contest when she knows Lewis and your mom are there together? Wouldn’t she be uncomfortable, considering their relationship?”
“Lewis and Marion are still married. She sees my mom all the time since my mom works at Cotton Pickin’.” Hunter spit into the cup as he considered Dot’s question. “I don’t know. It’s like Marion don’t notice. Or pretends like she don’t. Maybe she’s okay with it. Although she’s into being proper and all.”
“Then why does Lewis let Marion see him and your mom together?” Dot asked. “Why isn’t he more discreet?”
“He don’t give a rat’s ass about Marion.” Hunter folded his arms, staring through us. “That’s why he poisoned himself.”
“But that really makes no sense, Hunter,” I said. “What would be the point?”
“To kill Marion, obviously. Look how sick she was. He just messed it up. She won’t divorce him, won’t even leave him. And he won’t move off Cotton Pickin’, either. Too much money.”
“If he’s such a jerk, why doesn’t he kick Miss Marion out?” I said.
“I guess he could divorce her, but I don’t know what would happen to the farm. He took her name so he can have rights to the land, but the land is really hers. Some old trust or something. She’s the last Maynard. It’s a big deal to Marion. Haven’t you heard that story? It’s kind of famous.”
“I don’t know much about Sidewinder history,” I said. “I don’t think many people do outside Sidewinder.”
“Are you dissing Sidewinder?”
“It’s not like you’ve impressed me with this little tale,” I said. “You Sidewinder folks sound messed up.”
“That’s just Lewis and Marion,” said Hunter.
“You’re momma seems to put up with it pretty well. What did she tell the police?”
“Leave my mom out of this,” Hunter said, curling his hands into fists. “She don’t have nothing to do with this.”
“Doesn’t she want to get rid of Marion, too? And she seemed to avoid getting sick.”
I saw the anger rising in Hunter and laid a hand over one of his fists. “I’m not saying she poisoned the stew, hon’. But would she have helped Lewis?”