Tied With a Bow and No Place to Go (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 3) (8 page)

From the corner of her eye, Tizzy saw Jinx pull out his
phone and text. She hoped he was calling for backup, because she thought they
might need the Cavalry before lunch ended.

Lounell bristled. “Don’t you say a word about Doyle. He’s
done more for this town than you can even imagine. He funded the park and
bought the scoreboards for the stadium. Also paid for the welcome signs on both
ends of town. . .”

Molly wagged her head. “Yes, he’s done all that and where
did that money came from? Not from his law practice in this one-horse town.
It’s common knowledge he loans money at high rates of interest and takes your
land if you can’t pay, and he holds the note on Jay Roy’s land. So don’t recite
some holier-than-thou list of his good works.”

Tizzy jumped into the fray, afraid the event was going
south. “Ladies, please. This isn’t the time or place to argue.”

Sugarpie and Pattiecake rose from their seats at the same
time. “She’s right,” Pattiecake said. “We’ve planned a nice lunch, so let’s not
spoil it.”

“Just one more question,” Lounell said. “Are you insinuating
Doyle had something to do with Jay Roy’s death because of a loan?”

Everyone fixed their attention on Molly waiting for her
answer.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The glass door swung open and Ridge filled the space.
Everyone turned to face him. Eyes flinty, he placed one hand on his gun and
tipped his hat with the other. “Ladies, are we having fun yet?”

An hour later, Molly sat at a corner table, twirled the
straw in her third Hop, Skip, and Go Naked, and looked miserable.

Keeping an eye on Molly, Tizzy swiped a wet cloth across the
counter then leaned over and filled Ridge in on everything that had gone on
before he arrived. “Thank heavens Jinx texted you. I was afraid Momma’s and
Sugarpie’s hard work was about to go down the tubes.”

“Good thing Jinx was here to assess the situation,” Ridge
said.

Tizzy nodded toward Molly. “How long are you going to make
her wait?”

“A few more minutes. Let the liquor help clam her.”

“I can’t help but feel sorry for her.”

“Why?”

“Remember your first case and number one suspect? I know how
it is to be questioned by you, and it’s not fun.”

His face relaxed into a smile. He placed his pen next to the
notebook, picked up her hand and held it. “With every question, I prayed you
wouldn’t incriminate yourself.”

“Really?”

“Hell, yeah. I didn’t want to send you to prison. I wanted
in your pants.” He chuckled. “And if worse came to worst, get in your pants
before I sent you to prison.”

She started to deliver a sassy comeback, but his phone
chirped. He let go of her hand, frowned at the ID and said “Cooper.” He
stiffened, and his jaw worked, muscle pulsing as he listened. “Fax it to the
local PD. Appreciate the call, but if you need anything else from me, contact
them. Understand?” He clicked off.

Tizzy wiped the rag across the counter with a vengeance, determined
not to lose control.
It was that woman. That cheap meat stick. That
big-haired-wiener-bun-wannabe.

He reached out and caught her hand. “Careful. If you don’t
ease up, you’re going to break a wrist.”

She stopped, folded the rag and forced a smile in spite of
being annoyed by his lack of disclosure. She glared at him for a long moment
and then said, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You know what.”

“Yeah, that was her. I handled it. End of discussion.”

Tizzy wanted to say more. Lots more. But his tone said he meant
business, so she’d have to find another way to work out her frustration. “Oh, I
guess the confession didn’t pan out?”

“No. It was a set-up. Dan and Bubba thought they’d put one
over on me, but I had the last laugh.”

She glanced at the corner table. Molly opened Nana’s party
favor and pinched off bites, then poked them into her mouth. “You’ve let the
red-head stew long enough.”

“I guess I’d better get to it.” He stood, walked to Molly’s
table, scooted out the chair on the opposite side and sat.

~~*~~

Years of experience had taught Ridge to approach women and
men differently in interrogations. With females, he’d found a soft tone and
gentle manner got better results. Women were more at ease if questioning came
across as conversation instead of examination. “I’m sorry I made you wait,
Molly. May I call you Molly?” He smiled.

She smiled back. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I feel like we know each other since we’ve already
had two encounters today, and speaking of those, let’s discuss the first one.”
He pulled out his notebook and flipped a few pages. Another strategy to stall
for a few moments, and give the suspect time to guess what the question would
be. He couldn’t do that with an iPad.

“Oh my Lord, have you tried this chocolate cake? It’s
delicious.” She picked up dropped crumbs and licked them from her fingers. “I
can’t quite make out the subtle ingredients, but whatever they are, they
enhance the chocolate.”

“This morning, you were eager to point a finger at, let me
see here,” he said, trailing his gaze down the page. “Oh, Kassie and Deborah.”

Molly pleated a napkin into an accordion fold. She finished
the last bite of cake and took a long swig of her drink. “You say it could be
natural causes, but if it does turn out to be murder, one of them may have done
it.” Her eyelids half-closed, then popped wide.

“What makes you think so?”

“They were both still hung up on Jay Roy and jealous of me.”

“Of you? Why?”

Swallowing hard, she reached for her drink again and blinked
at Ridge as if trying to focus, then cupped fingers to her mouth and whispered.
“Jay Roy and I were seeing each other again and it was different this time. He
wanted to make it work between us.”

“Hmm. Third time’s a charm?”

“Yes.” The expression on her face told Ridge she believed
it.

“Were you supposed to see him last night?”

She wagged her head.

“Well, if you didn’t have a date scheduled with him, and
what you say about him being in that location is true, then who do you think he
was meeting? Kassie or Deborah?”

She ran a hand along the side of her cheek, trailed it to
her neck, finally letting it rest on her chest. “I don’t know.”

Ridge followed the movements. “Aren’t you still married?”

“Separated.”

“But you’re still wearing your wedding ring.”

She attempted to prop an elbow on the table, but it slipped.
She tipped forward, then straightened, made another try, and rested chin in
hand. “After four marriages to three different men, I’m not ready for the world
to find out about another divorce.” Her answer came out husky and slurred.

Ridge decided he should hurry before she passed out. “I
understand. Let me get back to Jay Roy. When did your affair begin?”

“Six months ago.” She raised her gaze to the ceiling, then
back at Ridge. “I’m tired. Do you mind if I lie here a minute?” She stretched
an arm across the table, then rested her head on it and rolled her eyes up at
him. “Jay Roy was weak when it came to women. Bless his heart, he tried to be
faithful, but could never manage it.”

“So Kassie and Deborah wanted him dead rather than let him
be with you? Were they even aware you were seeing him again?”

Molly hesitated as if trying to put words together and
blinked several times, her eyelids heavier. “No clue.”

“When you separated from your current husband, who moved
out, you or him?”

“He did.”

“Was Jay Roy the reason for your break-up?”

“No. The marriage hadn’t been good for a long time. It was a
mutual parting of the ways. I don’t think he suspected Jay Roy.”

“Where does your husband live now?”

“Carlton Towers in Tyler. Apartment 7302A.”

“You understand I’ll question him, and it might be a good
idea for you to tell him about the affair before I do.” Ridge’s voice came out
louder than he intended, but he wasn’t sure she was following the conversation.

She squinted and pointed to her glass. “I wonder why they
call this drink Hop, Skip, and Go Naked, because it makes you too tired to do
any of those things.” Her eyes closed.

Ridge clicked his pen several times, leaned back against the
chair and let the silence hang between them. Then he leaned forward and tapped
her on the head. “Now let’s talk about the mayor’s husband.”

Molly’s eyes popped open. “Doyle?” The hateful tone Ridge
heard earlier returned and Molly sat up, mirrored his body language and leaned
even closer to him. “But…” she started to say, and sucked in a ragged breath.
“He’s a good candidate, too, because with Jay Roy gone, Doyle gets the house
and land. So it’s definitely Kassie, Deborah, or Doyle.” Red curls fell into
her face and she brushed them to the side. “It’s one of them for sure.”

“How do you know about the loan?”

“Jay Roy told me. It was just a short term deal. Jay Roy
applied for a small business loan to pay off the one with Doyle. But a dead man
can’t get a loan.” She placed her fingertips on her temples and massaged. “What
was I saying? Oh, yeah. If the loan . . .” her voice trailed off. She shook her
head and contorted her face as if doing a facial exercise. “If the void was
loan. I mean, if the loan was void, Doyle got Jay Roy’s farm.”

Ridge started to ask another question, but Molly’s head rolled
forward in slow motion until her cheek rested on the table. Her mouth hung open
and she began to snore.

With Annie Mae on her way home and Gracie playing in the
backyard, Tizzy got to work unloading and separating the groceries into
itemized groups on the counter. She grabbed a skillet and pot from the rack
above her head, then a bowl from the cabinet. Filling the pot with water, she
set it on the burner with more energy than necessary. From the drawer beside
her, she pulled out a peeler as though choosing a weapon, and snatched a potato
from the pile like it was the victim. Now concentrating on the helpless spud as
she carried out its torture, she spoke under her breath with each vicious
swipe. “The nerve of that woman calling me.” Swipe “Who does she think she is?”
swipe “He’s a married man for Christ sake. If she thinks for one minute I’ll do
anything to drive him into her arms . . .” swipe, swipe, swipe. She plopped the
potato down with enough force, it skidded across the counter and collided with
a can of Vienna sausage. “Well, that woman has no idea who she’s dealing with!”

She went to the patio door and opened it. “Gracie, do you
want to make Daddy a mud pie?”

Her face beamed. “Yes, Ma’am!”

“Well, come inside, I have special ingredients for you.”

Tizzy got another bowl and opened the can of meat sticks.
“Wash up, Baby.”

Gracie dragged her step stool to the sink, climbed up to
wash her hands, then hopped to the floor and scooted the yellow booster next to
her mother.

Tizzy removed one sausage and passed the rest to Gracie.
“Dump these into your bowl, then squish them with your hands.”

Gracie followed instructions, and mushed the meat between
her fingers. She giggled. “This is funny.”

“Doesn’t it feel good to mash them to bits? Let me help
you.” Tizzy stuck her hands in next to Gracie’s and pushed away a twinge of
guilt for including her innocent daughter in revenge. “That’s it, mash them.
Mash them hard. Pulverize them. Oh! You know what would be delicious in this
pie? Pickle juice! Let me get some.”

She removed her hands, wiped them on a dish cloth and went
to the fridge. Back at the counter, she glowered at the horrible mess and
grinned. She removed the lid from the jar and started to pour, but Gracie
stopped her.

“Measure it, Momma.”

“Oh, silly me.” Already in a better mood, Tizzy opened a
drawer, got a tablespoon, and filled it with the green liquid.

Gracie added the juice. “Put in some pickles.”

“Excellent idea.”

“How ‘bout salt and pepper?”

Tizzy went back to the pantry, retrieved the two items along
with a spoon and a bag of corn meal and set them next to the bowl.

Gracie shook the shakers.

Measuring out a cup of meal, Tizzy passed it to Gracie. She
dumped it in, and then stirred with the spoon.

“Now, by the time you add dirt to this, you’ll have a
special pie. I’ll help you get it outside and pour it into your mud bowl,” she
said and held up the one remaining stick she’d set aside. “When you have it
mixed up, we’ll top it with whipped cream and garnish it with this.”

“What’s a garnish?”

“Decoration.”

“Daddy will love this.”

“I bet he will.”

After Tizzy helped Gracie, she returned to the kitchen, got
the potatoes boiling and mixed up a corn casserole. Once the dish was in the
oven, she pulled out her recipe book to find a quick dessert. She doubted
Gracie’s concoction satisfied Ridge’s sweet tooth. The thought caused her to
giggle. She admitted it was immature to act this way, but mashing those
sausages between her fingers until they were mush, somehow made her feel
better. Cheerful even.

Cooking had always been the best therapy for her. She could
get lost in the preparation and aromas. The joy of seeing the finished product
and the apparent satisfaction of those eating it made her happy. Finished.
Hmmm, this recipe was her way of being finished with Vienna. Tizzy picked up
her phone and googled the German word for finish. Abschluss. She’d call it
Abschluss Slut Pie. Perfect.

The sound of a car distracted her, but before she could get
to the front door, Synola opened it and stuck her head in, with Rayann right
behind her.

“Hey, what are y’all doing?” Tizzy asked.