The Calamity Café (5 page)

“Thank you, darlin'. There's no point in people going around like they do. Me and your momma went to the grocery store this morning, and people were walking around in there with their hair uncombed and some of them looked like they were wearing pajamas.” She flattened her lips in disapproval. “And, Lord have mercy, what some of them girls were wearing! Or, should I say,
not
wearing. They ought to be ashamed.”

“Yes, ma'am, they—”

“Now, I grew up in a time when girls were modest,” she continued. “We didn't go around with our hineys and bosoms hanging out of our clothes. The only ones that did that were streetwalkers.” She frowned. “And I don't think even
they
did, did they, Jenna?”

“I don't know,” Mom said. “I wasn't there.”

“No, but your mother was. Didn't she tell you about it?”

“She must not have.” Mom was ready for a change in subject. “Tell us about Lou Lou. We didn't find out until just a few minutes ago that you were the one who found her, Amy. Why didn't you call me last night?”

“By the time I got home last night, I was exhausted, and I just wanted to go to bed.”

Princess Eloise must've heard Mom's voice, because
she came into the living room and jumped onto Mom's lap, rubbing her head against Mom's chin.

“Hello, sweetums.” Mom kissed the top of the cat's head.

“Did you get a picture of Lou's Joint with the crime scene tape up?” Aunt Bess asked.

“No, Aunt Bess, of course not! Why in the world would I do that?”

“I don't know. I just thought if you did, maybe I could start me a Pinterest board on small-town crime.”

I exchanged looks of horror with Jackie. Maybe Shirley Green had been right about Aunt Bess's social media addiction getting out of hand. But given what Jackie had said about Ms. Green, the two might have more in common than Ms. Green thought.

“I—I didn't dream you'd want me to take a picture, Aunt Bess.”

“Well, you'll know next time,” she said.

I prayed there wouldn't be a next time.

“Are you all right?” Mom asked me. “It's bound to be a horrible experience to walk in on . . . on . . . you know, something like that.”

“It was. I—”

“Did you see the killer?” Aunt Bess asked. “Do they know who did it? I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it was her boy, Pete. Maybe he finally got tired of taking her guff and just popped her one right in the head.”

“Granny!” Jackie cried. “You don't really think Pete would kill his own mom, do you?”

“Why, young 'un, if you're gonna get killed by somebody, nine times out of ten, it's gonna be somebody you love.”

She had a point.

“Hey! Why was your yard full of people earlier today?” Aunt Bess barely stopped to take a breath. “Did you have a party and not invite us?”

“Of course not,” I said. Aunt Bess was always afraid of being left out of something. I told her and Mom about Homer coming for breakfast and then Dilly showing up wanting lunch.

“You can't let people take advantage of you like that,” Mom said.

“That's what I told her,” Jackie piped up. “But everything should be back to normal tomorrow. Pete wants us to get back to work.”

“Before his mother's even in the ground?” Aunt Bess flattened her palm against her chest. “Lord, have mercy! That makes me want to go back over there and get my lemon pie back. We took that boy a lemon pie this morning, and now I'm wondering if he even deserves it.”

“I'll make you another lemon pie,” Mom told her.

“Well, I don't want you to go to any trouble on my account, Jenna. If I'd been you, I'd have made two to begin with . . . but that's just me.”

Sometimes Mom and Aunt Bess got along great, and sometimes they acted like they couldn't stand each other.

“Amy and I'll be over to cook for you on Sunday, Granny,” said Jackie. “And if you want a lemon pie, we'll make you one.”

“Well, call me before you go to the store. I might've changed my mind by then.”

Mom cut her eyes to Aunt Bess and then back to me. I know she was hoping she'd caught Aunt Bess between breaths. “So what's the sheriff saying about Lou Lou?”

“Not much to me,” I said. “He and his deputy questioned me because I was the first on the scene. Neither of them shared any theories with me or anything.”

“Do you reckon it was someone just driving by who saw her van there and decided to try to rob the place?” Mom asked. “I mean, Lou Lou usually didn't work late at night, did she?”

“Not often. She generally took the morning shift and left the afternoon shift to Pete. Any work she had to do, she tried to catch up on before she left in the morning.”

“Why was she there, then?” Aunt Bess asked.

“I went in yesterday morning and asked to buy the café. She turned me down flat. Later on, Pete called me and asked me to come to a meeting last night. He said he'd talked his momma into selling but wanted to act fast, before she could change her mind. He was having Bobby Hancock come out too.”

Aunt Bess squinted. “So Pete Holman was gung ho to sell Lou's Joint?”

“Yes, ma'am. He wants to go into the trucking business.”

“Told you,” she said, looking at the other three of us in turn. No one asked the question she was waiting for, so she said, “I told you Pete Holman killed that woman.”

“Just because he wanted to sell the business?” Mom asked.

“
He
wanted to sell the business. Lou Lou didn't.”

“But, Granny, he told Amy he'd gotten her to change her mind,” Jackie said.

“He changed her mind by putting a hole in it.” She gave a resolute nod of her head. “I reckon he can sell it now, can't
he?”

I
was in the kitchen making dinner when Sarah showed up. She'd apparently gone home after work and changed into white shorts and a pink T-shirt. Being fair-skinned, Jackie and I had both always been a teensy bit jealous of Sarah's beautiful caramel-colored skin tone. She looked fantastic in shorts year-round.

“Hey, hey!” she called as she came into the kitchen and gave me a hug.

“You're in time for dinner. Meat loaf sandwiches, kettle-cooked chips, and preacher cookies.”

“Sounds great,” she said. “And I bet Jackie's in the living room setting up the Scrabble board.”

“Yes, she is. Are you up for a game or two?”

“I am,” she said. “I'm sorry I didn't call or come by this morning. I didn't know anything about Lou Lou until I got into work and Billy told me about it, and then after
that we were swamped. Plus, I heard about your impromptu luncheon. How'd that go?”

“Fine. It wasn't that big a deal. Deputy Hall came by and said I couldn't operate a café without a license. So I told him I was giving a very few people free food and invited him for lunch. But he said he'd already eaten.”

She laughed. “You'd better be glad word didn't get out all over town, or else you'd
still
be serving food.”

“True. I guess it's a good thing that Pete's opening the café back up tomorrow.”

All traces of her laughter dissipated. “Have you seen him today?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“How'd he strike you?” she asked. While I contemplated my answer, she went on. “Did he seem like a guy who'd just lost his mother?”

“Not really,” I said.

Jackie came into the kitchen. “Not really what?”

“Pete didn't really seem like a guy who'd just lost his mom today,” I said. “But last night, he did. He nearly fainted when the sheriff told him the news.”

“Then he recovered quickly,” Sarah said. “He was in our office this morning to have Billy get the ball rolling on Lou Lou's estate.”

We took our plates and glasses of tea and sat down at the table.

“He seems to be awfully anxious to marry Chris Anne so they can start their own trucking business,” I said.

Sarah's eyes widened, and Jackie got strangled on a drink of her tea.

“Are you serious?” Jackie croaked.

“That's what he told me.” I spread my hands. “I mean, he could be totally sad about his mom and yet . . . maybe . . . kinda excited about the new opportunities he can pursue now. Right? They say everyone deals with grief differently.”

“How was he at the funeral home?” Jackie asked. “I mean, other than asking if you still want to buy the café?”

“Other than that, he was considerate. He wanted to make sure he got the things he thought—and that I thought—Lou Lou would've wanted for the service.”

“So we can expect a Hawaiian blue floral-print coffin at the funeral?” Sarah asked.

“No. The Winter Garden Funeral Home would've had to special order that,” I said. “We got a tasteful white coffin with a blue satin liner.”

Sarah looked down at her plate. “I'm sorry. That was mean of me to say.”

“You weren't being mean. You were being honest. How do you think I know for certain that the funeral home would've had to special order the blue floral coffin?”

She grinned at me.

“When will the funeral be?” Jackie asked.

“Day after tomorrow,” I said.

Sarah ate a chip. “What did you tell Pete about the Joint?”

“I told him we'd talk about it in a few days. . . . You know, he should get the funeral behind him and make sure selling the café is what he's sure he wants to do.” I sipped my tea. “Can Pete legally sell Lou's Joint now?
I'd have imagined there would be some sort of waiting period or something.”

Sarah shook her head. “No. Although Lou Lou didn't have a will, Pete is her only heir. He inherits everything, so it's his to sell.”

“Do you still want to buy the place?” asked Jackie as she wiped her mouth on her napkin. “I mean, Lou Lou
died
in there. Aren't you going to think about that every time you walk through the door?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I guess I'll find out tomorrow.”

*   *   *

J
ackie left as soon as we'd had some toast and coffee the next morning. She had to go back home and get changed into her uniform before coming back to the café. We were the only two people we knew for certain were going to be working. Hopefully, Pete had called others—particularly Aaron, who bussed tables and washed dishes—but he hadn't mentioned anything about it when he'd lent me a key to the café yesterday.

I saw a police cruiser sitting in the parking lot and my heart began thumping against my rib cage. What were the police doing here? Weren't they done with me? Obviously Ryan had told me I was a person of interest, but I had hoped they would cross me off the list. Why were they here now? What if someone was here to arrest me? What would I do? I knew I was innocent, but I had no way to prove it. What if every cent Nana had left me went for a legal defense instead of for my café?

By the time I'd parked the car and stepped out, tears
had filled my eyes. Deputy Hall got out of the cruiser and came toward me.

He gently took my shoulders. “Hey, hey . . . don't cry. Everything's going to be all right.”

“You're not here to arrest me?”

“Of course, not. I'm sorry if you thought that.”

“But I
am
a suspect in Lou Lou's murder, aren't I? I found her.”

“You are a suspect. But there's no hard evidence indicating you murdered Lou Lou Holman,” he said. “Not really. As a matter of fact, off the record, I know you didn't do it.”

“Wait. You said
not really.
Do you mean there was evidence found?”

He inclined his head. “Ivy found a necklace beneath Lou Lou's desk.”

“What did it look like?”

“A pearl inside a heart. One of the waitresses we spoke with identified it as yours.”

“That
is
mine. I lost it more than a month ago.” Did he believe that? Or did he think I'd lost it the other night in a struggle with Lou Lou? “My nana gave me that necklace for my birthday one year. I thought I'd lost it for good.”

“Well, I'll make sure you get it back . . . you know . . . when all this is over.”

Tears filled my eyes again. “The sheriff thinks it's me, doesn't he? But I swear, I didn't hurt Lou Lou.”

He spread his arms, and for a second, I thought he was going to hug me. Instead, he simply rested his hands on my forearms. “The sheriff has a lot of people on this case, and we're going to find Lou Lou's killer.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“I hope you'll confide to me any information you remember or come across—like who might've had the motive and the means to harm Ms. Holman,” he said. “I also want to warn you. Since you were the first person to arrive at the café after Ms. Holman was murdered, the killer might think you know more than you do.” He placed his hands on his hips. “And it's possible you
do
know more than you realize. I want you to take some time to yourself as soon as you can, and write down everything you remember.”

“All right. I will.”

“And be careful. If you even
think
somebody might be following you or creeping around your house, call the sheriff's department . . . or call me. It'd be better to run the risk of being wrong than to ignore it and be right.”

“You're kinda scaring me.”

“I don't want you to be scared, only aware.”

“I will.” I nodded toward the café. “I'd better get to work.”

“Me too.”

“Thanks for stopping by.”

“Please call me if you think of anything I might need to know or if you feel threatened in any way,” he said.

“Okay.”

I went on into the café and hung my purse on a hook in the kitchen by the back door. Was this door how the killer had entered Lou's Joint that night, or had he—or she—come through the front? Going through the front door seemed awfully brazen to me, especially with the lights in the parking lot. It made more sense that the person would've come through the back. The back of the
café led out to just overgrown land. On the other hand, maybe the person had come in the front door, not realizing he'd get angry enough at Lou Lou to kill her.

I shook my head to try to dispel thoughts of that night. I had too much to do to dwell on it right now. Still, it was hard
not
to think about it. Lou Lou had been murdered not twenty feet from where I was standing. Besides, this was a remote area. Sure, it was beautiful, with oaks and maples that had stood for hundreds of years, fields of goldenrod, and cattle grazing in the pasture nearby. But the closest house was half a mile away.

Main Street was three times that distance. And while there were a small grocery store, the newspaper office, a general store, and a hair salon nestled together, none of those businesses were open at six o'clock in the morning.

My mouth suddenly went dry, and I got a drink of water. Jackie had been right. I hadn't realized how I'd be affected by returning to Lou's Joint this morning. I mean, I'd known it wouldn't be business as usual, but I hadn't thought I'd feel so afraid. Of course, Deputy Hall hadn't helped by saying that the killer might come after me. That was something I hadn't even considered.

I downed the rest of the water and made sure the back door was locked. The front door was open, but Jackie should be here any minute.

I had to pull myself together. Pete was counting on me. Lou's Joint patrons were counting on me.

I went out of the kitchen to the counter where the coffeepots were kept. I made two pots of regular coffee and one pot of decaffeinated. I felt better when the scent of brewing coffee filled the air.

I glanced toward the office door and thought about how Lou Lou had looked collapsed across her desk . . . the blood on the desk pad dripping onto the floor.

The front door opened, and I squealed and reeled backward.

“Amy!” Jackie hurried forward. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“You just startled me. That's all.” I tried to laugh at myself, but my laugh came out sounding nearly hysterical.

She hugged me. “It's all right. Are you sure you can do this? If not, call Pete and tell him you're leaving. You don't even officially work here anymore, remember?”

“I'd still be working out my notice. Besides, that situation kinda changed night before last. Pete needs all the help he can get right now.”

“But that's his problem, not yours.”

“Jackie, his mom just died. And I'm the one who found her.”

“In this café. Which is the best reason I can think of for you
not
to be here now. Why don't you go on back home? I can take care of things until Pete or somebody else can get here. Pete should have his butt kicked for not shutting down this place for a few days out of respect for his momma in the first place.”

“Agreed, but still—”

Brooke, a nurse at Winter Garden Nursing Home, and one of my favorite regulars, came in then. “Am I missing out on a good argument?”

“No,” I said. “We aren't arguing.”

“Could've fooled me,” said Brooke, tilting her head
and pushing her brown corkscrew curls off her right shoulder.

“I'm trying to get her to leave,” Jackie told Brooke. “She's as jumpy as a frog dropped on a woodstove.”

“Well, I don't doubt it.” She turned to me. “I heard about you finding Lou Lou. I'm so sorry. I know that had to have been a shock.”

“How do you do it?” I asked. “You go into work every day in a place where people have died.”

“That's true, but in my case, they weren't murdered. I think that puts a whole different spin on things.”

“Still, it doesn't creep you out to go into a room where some person just died?” Jackie asked. “I'd hate it.”

“Well, it's not my favorite part of the job,” said Brooke. “But I'm there to help the living. I concentrate on that.”

“What about you, Jackie?” I asked. “Is it going to bother you to keep working here?”

“Not as long as I stay out of that office.”

“Even if Pete sells, and I completely renovate the office?” Actually, the thought of renovating and using the office gave me pause as well.

“Hey, I heard you were going to open your own café,” said Brooke. “I think that would be so cool.”

“Thanks, Brooke,” I said. “Pete wants me to buy this one, but I have to make sure everyone would be comfortable working here after . . . well, you know.” I kept looking at Jackie because I wanted her to answer my question. If she couldn't work here, I wouldn't even consider buying this place anymore. I'd build my own café from scratch.

“I can work here,” Jackie said. “We'll wipe away every trace of . . . anything bad that ever happened here, and we'll start all over.”

I gave her a hug. “Then we'd better get started. I think we have our first customer of the day.”

Jackie grabbed her notepad and pen. “What'll you have, Brooke?”

I went back into the kitchen. I wanted to prepare something different for Lou's Joint patrons today. I looked into the pantry and the refrigerator to see what I could make with the ingredients on hand. I decided to go with a Scottish shortbread.

Jackie brought me Brooke's order and, after making the pancakes, I began mixing up the shortbread. If I could start introducing patrons to new dishes, they'd come to not only accept but expect them . . . and, hopefully, look forward to them.

I thought back to the first time I'd made Scottish shortbread. The dean over the culinary institute was an intimidating man who reminded me of the film actor Robert Preston. Nana had loved older movies, and
The Music Man
had been one of her favorites.