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 (28 page)
I hopped up from my chair, crossed the small room in two steps, and reached to hug Will.
He blocked my hug with a crossed arm stance and steely look.
“You know what your deputy Luke Harper did to me?” I said. “He had the nerve to threaten to arrest me. After I came here peacefully to explain this whole ordeal. Someone had to stop him from putting me in a holding cell. Can you believe it?”
“Sit down,” said Will.
I recognized that voice from the time I was ten, and he had caught Casey and I vandalizing a neighbor’s corn crib with a can of paint. We had overheard the neighbor gossiping about Grandma Jo’s poor parenting skills in controlling her trashy daughter and wildcat grandchildren. Of course, at the time, we didn’t realize we supported the neighbor’s opinion by vandalizing her barn. Even at ten, I had painted a pretty good likeness of the old biddy.
I scurried to my seat, and Will lowered himself into the chair across the table.
“I saw the complaint,” said Will. “What kind of idiot shoots off her gun on the property of someone she doesn’t even know? They said you were trespassing and also accused you of appearing on their property two days before as a solicitor.”
“I was not soliciting nor was I trespassing. Unless it’s trespassing to give their nephew, Hunter, a ride. And then rescue the boy from having the tar beat out of him by Bruce Gable and a baseball bat. Did they mention that in their complaint?”
Will pushed out a long sigh. “What were you doing with Hunter Adams? You know he’s a suspect in the poisoning case? And so are his mother and the Gables.”
“I was paying my condolences to Marion Maynard and ran into Hunter. He asked me for a ride and I obliged. That’s all.”
“That’s all, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
He eyed me for what seemed an unnaturally long moment. “You didn’t damage any property when you fired your shotgun. And you weren’t criminally trespassing.”
“I know that. And I’d do the same thing again. I’m glad I stopped Bruce Gable from hurting Hunter. Gable smashed Hunter’s shoulder with a bat. If I’d done anything differently, I wouldn’t have taken Hunter there in the first place.”
“Maybe Gable wouldn’t have hurt Hunter. Maybe he was just trying to incapacitate him. The boy was on the Gables property. And Hunter does have a history of violence. Did you think about that?”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“You know Deputy Harper is ticked at you.”
“I got that feeling when he hauled me in.”
“I mean royally ticked,” said Will. “Wanted to serve you with obstruction as well.”
“He has issues.”
“You have issues. I thought I told you to go easy on him.”
“Are the badge bunnies going easy on him? Do you know they call him Luquified?”
“You know about them?” Will wiped off his astonished look and replaced it with a scowling squint.
“I know some women can’t resist a man in uniform. I heard stories about them growing up, and I also heard I wasn’t the only one bringing Luke barbecue.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s taking their barbecue.”
“He thinks I should learn to cook. And he never wants to do anything but watch TV or,” I paused to catch my TMI, “other stuff.”
Will wiped a hand over his face and peered at me through his fingers.
“His parents don’t even know we’re dating.”
“This is none of my business.” Will shoved out of his chair. “Give me a minute and then you can leave.”
“Wait. Did anyone find Hunter?”
“We found him at the Maynard’s. Mrs. Maynard is letting him stay in the apartment above the educational center. She said she’d keep an eye on him.”
“At least that’s good news. What about his mother?”
“Cherry,” Will said and wagged a finger in my direction. “I’m ordering you to stay away from the Adams, Maynards, and the Gables. They are suspects in an ongoing investigation. I’m with Luke in serving you with obstruction if you spend any more time with Hunter Adams or even look cross-eyed at his relatives.”
“How are they still suspects anyway? I thought Griffin Ward....wait, did you get the results back from the trash? What was in that Genuine Juice bottle Eloise drank?”
Will pinched his lips and fixed me with the sternest gaze he could muster.
“I gave you that evidence,” I said. “Come on now. Was there anything in that Genuine Juice? I have been forthcoming with you.”
“I’m the sheriff. You have to be forthcoming with me.” He snorted at my look of exasperation. “All right, but keep your mouth shut. This is only because you brought me that evidence, but if I hear this story has been leaked...”
“I get it,” I said. “What did you find out?”
“We got lucky with the lab. Of course they’re concerned about our numbers. About fifty people were poisoned at the festival. Had to send some to neighboring counties to be treated once we found out it was arsenic.”
“I know, I know.” I waved my hand to hurry him along.
“Anyway, the lab processed all the food containers in that box of trash for arsenic. None in that Genuine Juice bottle.”
“Damn,” I said. “But the other juice did have arsenic in it.”
“Was made after the festival. Griffin dated everything in keeping with health codes.”
“So Griffin didn’t do it?”
“Can’t say since we did confiscate his property which had arsenic residue in it. But he didn’t poison people with Genuine Juice at the festival. No evidence of that.”
“But evidence of?”
“Arsenic in the Brunswick Stew cups,” said Will. “From Team Cotton Pickin’ Farm.”
“Holy crap.”
“Yep.”
“I had them look for other toxins in that Genuine Juice bottle anyway. Guess what they found? Nicotine.”
“Nicotine?” I paused for a long, meandering thought that brought me to a new conclusion. “Griffin knew cigarettes made Eloise feel better. That idiot put tobacco in her special remedy thinking it would cure her.”
“Well, nicotine didn’t kill her. Although it came pretty close. About fifty milligrams can paralyze internal muscles and she had plenty in her system. However, the arsenic did her in. Which means she was most likely poisoned by eating Brunswick Stew.”
“A half dozen cups of Brunswick Stew. And Lewis was the cook. He probably tasted a lot of that stew.”
“I assume so. And Eloise ate all that stew on an empty stomach with an already inflamed intestinal lining while taking an immune suppressor for her Crohn’s.” Uncle Will grabbed the door handle. “That’s according to the M.E.”
“So Griffin didn’t kill her, but he did mess with her drinks.” I stared at my hands, but snapped up at Uncle Will’s sharp reply.
“We don’t know who poisoned anything yet. So unless you want me to put a restraining order on you, you’ll stay out of Sidewinder.”
Will slammed the door, leaving my objection unheard. “Eloise’s funeral tomorrow is in Sidewinder.”
I reasoned that a funeral couldn’t get me into trouble. It wasn’t like I’d bring the Remington to church.
“I see you wore your funeral dress,” I said to Leah upon exiting her mother’s minivan.
We had arrived in Sidewinder for Eloise’s funeral, held at the same church as her viewing. During the ride, I’d been too busy brooding over Luke’s anger to notice Leah’s god-awful dress in a kind of murky Mars Violet. I’d seen less ruffly dresses on those old china dolls with the spooky eyes and better rayon on my pre-deceased Grandma Jo.
“Those ruffles aren’t hiding your chest. You just have ruffly boobs.”
“Better than what you’re wearing.” She eyed my ultramarine-violet t-shirt dress.
I had spent the night gluing black and white sequins into a large, round pot on the back of my dress. “I ruined two church-worthy sundresses this week, so this is what I have left. Besides, I decorated this dress in Eloise’s honor. It’s a Raku pot.”
“It looks like gigantic, sparkly butt cheeks.”
“That’s not a butt crack. The white sequins are supposed to represent dripping glaze.”
“Everybody will think you’re mooning the parishioners.” Leah dipped into the minivan to lean over the seat. “Let me see if I have a sweater or something.”
“Sweater? In this humidity?” The storm had passed, dropping the temperature a few degrees and replacing the blazing heat with a sultry mugginess. My hair achieved a combination of limpness and frizz that could only be saved with a ponytail. “Thanks for driving again. My truck cannot handle this weather. It needs a new starter and won’t crank if it’s overheated.”
“And you don’t want to be recognized in Sidewinder.”
“That, too,” I said and smiled.
“Which is why you wore a humongous butt on the back of your dress.”
“Not every idea of mine turns out perfectly.”
“You think?” said Leah with a smirk.
We entered the church and exited an hour later, tears in our eyes and noses running. We returned to Leah’s minivan and followed the procession to the cemetery where they laid my good friend to rest. I clung to Leah’s hand and focused on the Parkers’ grief.
Back at the church, folks mingled in the hall while the church ladies finished setting up for lunch. The scent of ham and casseroles hung in the air. We edged our way into the packed hall, seeking out the drinks table for tea. Instead, I spied the dessert table and steered Leah to check out the pies and cookies.
“It wasn’t Griffin,” I whispered to Leah.
“What wasn’t Griffin?”
“The poisoner.”
“Are they sure?” she said. “He was real threatening when we visited him.”
“Well, it wasn’t the Genuine Juice that poisoned people at the festival. I’m not supposed to be telling anybody this, by the way. It was the Brunswick Stew.”
“That’s horrible.”
“There might still be a killer walking amongst us,” I said. “Scary thought. And I just had another one. Out of the Cotton Pickin’ Team, only two were poisoned. Lewis and Marion. Hunter and his mother never got sick. Isn’t that strange?”
Leah nodded and elbowed me to stop talking. Someone called out to bless the food.
I waited for the prayer to finish, then leaned toward Leah. “That means Hunter and his mom never tasted the stew. Maybe because they knew not to taste it.”
“I’m not going to eat here.”
“Good idea.” I scrunched my mouth to the side and bobbed my ponytail. “Except these pies look real good. I’m sure if we found out who made them, we’d be safe.”
An onslaught of folks desperate for sweet potato casserole and pimento sandwiches jostled us. A man with a floppy comb-over shoved me out of his way in his reach for a slice of icebox pie. A hand caught me by the elbow, saved my stumble, and spun me near the wall. Luke released my elbow to cross his arms across his chest. He had exchanged his tan deputy uniform for a dark blue suit.
I wondered if he worked undercover or had taken time off to attend the funeral in consideration of my friendship with the Parkers. Then I caught his look. His charcoal eyes burned like double braziers, lit with an internal fire called “I’ve Had It Up To Here With You.”
“What,” he said in a voice better used for a slow-witted five-year-old, “are you doing here?”
I gave him my best “duh” look. “Attending my friend Eloise Parker’s funeral. She was poisoned, remember?”
I watched a curl threaten to break free from his carefully groomed locks and bounce onto his forehead. I empathized with that curl. Luke shoved the curl in place.
“You aren’t supposed to be in Sidewinder,” he said.
“Kind of hard to make it to her funeral otherwise.”
“Cherry, I warned you about interfering. And Sheriff Thompson also told you to stay away.”
“Luke,” I blew out a disgusted sigh. “I haven’t been interfering with your job. I’ve paid some sympathy visits and helped a kid who comes from a family more screwed up than mine. He has a murdering mother.”
“That kid has serious anger management issues. And we don’t know if his mother is the perp.”
“Oh, I know about Hunter’s anger issues,” I said. “He almost broke my arm at the hospital the other day. And his mother murdered the guy her ex-husband is convicted of killing. Everyone knows that.”
Luke’s lips disappeared. His shoulders tightened and fists clenched. I waited for his head to pop off his neck. A nerve throbbed in his forehead.
“I’ll just be going whenever Leah is ready.”
“Leah’s ready now,” said Luke.
“Let me go ask her. She had her eye on that lemonade pie.”
“Go. Now.”
“I don’t know what you’re so heated up about.”
“You are giving me an ulcer.”
“Maybe it’s all the free barbecue that’s hurting your stomach. Luquified.”
The breath he pulled in made his nostrils flare.
I needed to stop. I didn’t really want to give him an ulcer.
“Miss Cherry.”
I peered around Luke. Miss Marion wormed her way through the crowd. She wore a straw hat, black sheath dress, and pearls like a proper griever. I seemed to be the only one at the funeral wearing tribute clothes.
Luke stepped to the side and sidled behind me. “You’re friends with another suspect?”
“She’s no suspect,” I muttered. “That’s Mrs. Maynard. She was poisoned herself.”
“Anyone related to Cotton Pickin’ Farm is a suspect.”
“Hey, Miss Marion,” I said in a voice loud enough to cover Luke’s mention. “So nice of you to come in light of your situation.”
“It’s a small town, honey. If we didn’t support each other at funerals and weddings, what else would we do?”
“Thank you for taking Hunter in,” I said. “I know he’s a handful, but he’s still a kid. It’s not his fault his mother is,” I stopped myself from bringing up the home-wrecker to the home-wrecked, “his mother.”
“Well, I’ve always had a soft spot for Hunter. And you’re right. You can’t pick your parents. That’s why I appreciate my own daddy so much. The viewing and funeral for Lewis are on Saturday. Please visit me anytime. I’d appreciate the company.”
I cranked my head to catch Luke’s eye. “I would love to spend time with you at your home in Sidewinder...”
He glowered with a brief shake of his head.
“I’m not sure if I’ll make it to the funeral,” I finished.
“Oh, of course,” she said. “Well, I guess I’ll get to my dinner.”
She turned, and we watched the crowd part to let her through. As she passed, folks nodded at one another. Some bent in whispered confidences. Marion held her petite head high as she paced through the congregation. She took a seat amid empty chairs. Folks stood with plates in hand, while Marion sat alone.
“Look at that poor woman,” I said to Luke. “A social pariah in a town her family has lived in for generations. Because of her ass of a husband.”
“Speaking of asses,” said Luke, “why in God’s name are you wearing one at a funeral?”
“It is not an ass. It’s a Raku pot in memory of Eloise.” Tears threatened and I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. “Don’t you care Miss Marion sits alone? She asked me to spend time with her, and I can’t because y’all don’t want me in Sidewinder.”
Luke shifted in place. “Visit her all you want after this crime is cleared up, but for now I don’t want you in Sidewinder.”
“Are you speaking as a cop or yourself?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters if I’m going to get arrested.”
“You are so frustrating.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off.
At Luke’s disappearance, Marion threaded through the crowd, holding a foil-covered plate.
“I almost forgot,” Marion said and shoved the plate in my hands. “Watching you eat the donuts, you look like you enjoyed sweets. I made you brownies.”
My heart crumpled into a beating mass of pity for lonely ladies with cheating dead husbands. “Thank you, Miss Marion. You know? I’m coming to your husband’s funeral no matter what.”
“Thank you, honey. You are such a dear. Don’t you share those brownies. They are all for you.”
My stomach sang, and Marion looked at me sharply.
“Did you hear that?” she asked. “Sounded like a broken generator? I wonder if I should tell the church.”
Leah sauntered up behind me. “Good gracious, Cherry. Do we need to get you something to eat?”
“I’ll just be going and leave you to your friends.” Marion patted my arm and minced to her seat.
“Now there’s a lady.” Leah watched Marion slip to her still vacant table. “Poor thing, all alone. Hey, I just saw you with Luke. What happened? He doesn’t look too happy with you, hon. What are you doing to that man?”
“I’ve no idea,” I said. “Maybe if he’d tell me, I could do something about it. But that’s part of the problem.”
“What’s the other part of the problem?”
“He wouldn’t tell me that either.”
We retraced our steps to the dessert table. Leah took a plate and eased aside for me. I held my brownies and eyed the red velvet cake covered in whipped cream cheese icing. A woman in a cow print dress pulled back the plate of cake she had held toward me.
“I know you,” she said. “Where do I know you?”
“I’m Ed Ballard’s granddaughter from Halo,” I said, which generally served as explanation for the older community. “I’m also an artist. I’ll just take a slice of that red velvet you’ve got there.”
“I don’t know the Ballards or any artists,” she said, looking me up and down. “You were with Pearl Taylor at bingo. But you were bigger and had brown hair. And you didn’t look like a lady.”
“That’d be my sister, Casey.”
“Your skirt distracted our bingo caller. Next time you need to dress properly.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Don’t sass me. Maybe you’re the reason the bingo was shut down. Maybe word got out girls with loose virtues been coming.”
“Bingo was shut down?”
“You didn’t know?” She set the cake on the table. “Mr. Max’s bingo license was suspended. Sheriff’s office is investigating.”