Advance Notice (A River Valley Mystery, book 2) Page 9

  “You’re quiet tonight. Is your hand hurting?” Duane bit into a slice of meat lover’s pizza.

  “No, just thinking.” I smiled at Lindsey. “Thinking on how fast my baby is growing up.”

  “Mom, please don’t start the gushy talk.” Lindsey set her soda can on the table. “I’m too old for that.”

  “Never.” She’d always be my baby.

  “Yoo hoo!” Mom shoved against the screen door, loaded down with a pitcher and a platter.

  “Cake!” Lindsey immediately perked up, losing the bored look teenagers loved to wear.

  Duane jumped up to help her. “Do I get a piece of this before you women run me off?”

  “I’ll cut you a big slab right now, and you can run over to the house and share it with Leroy. He’s watching some sports thing on TV.”

  Mom set the cake in the middle of the kitchen table and cut him a piece before transferring it to a paper plate. “There’s hot coffee at the house, too. Now, git so we can go over our notes.”

  Duane froze. “Y’all are meeting about the killings?” He turned to me. “Didn’t almost getting shot teach you anything?”

  “Yes.” I lifted my chin. “It taught me that I need to find out who is behind this before one of my family, or myself, end up dead.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Do what you want.” Gripping the paper plate hard enough to bend it, he stormed out the front door.

  My heart ached at his attitude, but I was now past the point of no return in this latest mystery. Squaring my shoulders, I plopped into a kitchen chair. “Since I can’t write with my injured hand, I need you to take the notes, Lindsey.”

  “Uhm. Huh.” Lindsey scooted the paper and pen toward her. “Last time, I almost got ran off the road and thrown in jail. I’m not sure I want to get shot at, Mom.”

  “I’m not going to put you in danger.” I leaned my elbows on the table and rested my head in my hands. “The whole purpose here is to prevent someone else from dying. I just want you to brainstorm.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “Me, too,” Mom added. “Although, I don’t mind a little danger in my life. It keeps things exciting.” She pulled out another chair and sat. “Who are our suspects?”

  “Well, I’m thinking Frank Powell. The newspaper has to be selling more copies since the deaths and the early obits. That gives him motive.”

  Lindsey made a suspect column and jotted down Frank’s name.

  “Put down Danny.” Mom poured a cup of coffee and slid it to me. “Something about that boy seems a little off.”

  More than a little, in my opinion. His mom, too. “What about some of the ladies in the quilting circle? Would any of them have motives?”

  Mom shrugged. “Not sure on that one. The victims are all older women living alone. That makes up the entire circle. Why would one of them want to kill one of their own?”

  Good point. I drummed my fingernails on the table. There had to be something we were missing. Frank and Danny were too obvious, but both did warrant a closer investigation. Maybe I could slip some casual questions into our meeting on Friday. “Add Stacy to the suspect list. She’d do almost anything for a good story that would take her out of River Valley.”

  “You’re just saying that because you don’t like her,” Mom stated, cutting into the cake.

  “No, that’s only a small part of it. I don’t trust her. Never have. I’m also going to be asking some questions of your friends at the next quilting meeting.”

  Mom’s hand stilled. “Do you really think one of them old women tried to shoot you?”

  “Anything is possible. They all grew up in a time where everybody owned a gun. I bet most of them still do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I flipped the store sign to open and unlocked the door. Five days after the glass shattering in my hand, I was able to remove the bandages and have more of my mobility. With it being Thursday, and the day for the quilters to come in and inspect their new room, I didn’t want a glaring reminder of my gun ordeal. I’d rather have my questions catch them by surprise.

  Bruce pulled his squad car in front of the coffee shop across the street, and I glanced at the clock. I should have left the house early enough to stop before coming to work. Where was Mom? The moment she showed, I would dash across the street for my morning java and maybe glean some information out of our overworked officer of the law.

  There she was! Before she could enter, I dashed out. “Be back in a few.” I raced across the street and barged into the coffee shop where I ran smack into Bruce’s back.

  He bent over at the waist, flailed his arms, and lost the battle with gravity. He hit the floor, taking a chair down with him.

  “I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my smashed nose with one hand and offered him the other.

  “You’re a menace.” He grabbed my hand.

  Out of my concern for him, I’d offered him my healing one. I yelped and released my hold, sending him back to the floor on his rear. “Sorry. Bad hand.” I offered my other one.

  “You wiped your nose with that one.” He pushed to his feet.

  “No, I didn’t. I rubbed it.” My eyes still smarted from the bump to the nose and the crush of my hand.

  “I don’t need your help, Marsha.” He marched to the counter, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

  Thankfully, few of the tables in the joint were filled, but there were enough to have witnessed our interaction. Chuckles bounced from table to table. Oh, well, I was used to embarrassing myself, but if the redness on the back of Bruce’s neck was any indication, he wasn’t.

  I sidled up next to him and leaned against the counter while he ordered. “Any news on the case?”

  “What case?”

  I lowered my voice. “The one where we’re trying to keep Dottie safe.”

  “You know I can’t share information with you.”

  “But I’m part of this investigation!”

  He narrowed his eyes. “How so?”

  “Someone shot at me and threatened me.”

  “And you listened to them really well.” He forked over the money for his cup of coffee. “I have someone patrolling in front of your house and Dottie’s. That’s all I can do without a suspect. Try to stay out of trouble. Duane really should put a leash on you.” With a nod toward the barista, Bruce left the shop.

  Whatever. I ordered my coffee and headed back to the shop just as the first of the quilters were arriving.

  I greeted them all with a grin, a couple of them looking at me like I’d lost my mind, and tried to figure out exactly how I could grill them for information. I could tell from Mom’s serious look that she concentrated on the same thing.

  After Lindsey’s reluctance to venture into anything remotely dangerous, which made me happy as her mother, Mom and I decided to cut the team down to two, with the occasional unwanted help from our men. Unless I was hurt or scared, then I definitely wanted Duane.

  I pushed off from where I leaned against the door jamb and went to fetch the pitcher of iced tea. Still having no idea how to subtly ask questions, I filled another tray with finger sandwiches and homemade lemon squares. Maybe I could knock them off guard with treats.

  Desserts served, I grabbed a doily I was crocheting and pulled up a chair. If I had to be in the room, I might as well get some work done.

  Dottie glared at me. “The store owner isn’t invited to join in, only to make sure our needs are met.”

  Witch. I almost wanted to blow her up myself.

  “That’s rude,” Betty Larson, the leader, said. “Anyone is invited to pull up a chair.” She gave me a smile. “I think Dottie must be off her fiber this morning, bless her heart.”

  I chuckled. No one can cut a person down more sweetly than an old southern woman.

  “That’s good.” Mom started pouring tea. “We built this nice room for you ladies, and I would’ve hated going all Chuck Norris on you.”

  “You couldn’t karate chop a baby bird if it was stuck in
a trap.” Dottie tossed some quilt squares on the table.

  “We could step outside and I’ll show you,” Mom sputtered.

  “Children.” I took the pitcher away from Mom before she spilt something and ruined someone’s quilt. “Let’s work on our sewing and try to get along.” Really. How old were these women, anyway? I felt like I was supervising a bunch of elementary students on the playground.

  “So…anyone heard anything more about whether or not Nina’s death was an accident?” I scanned the room, studying each woman’s reaction.

  Dottie rolled her eyes, Betty’s mouth fell open and the other women, three in all, looked at each other with wide eyes. Three sisters, I didn’t know the Bates women very well, just that they lived together, dressed the same, and were all born within ten to twelve months of each other. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to cozy up to them. They probably didn’t miss much that went on in River Valley.

  “Where are the other two women in the circle?” Weren’t there two more last week?

  “Well, Nancy is taking care of her grandson, Timmy,” Betty explained. “He’s the school’s mascot. Seems he got into a bit of trouble. Started a fire behind the nursing home and is now on house arrest. How she can care for him, I’ll never know. The boy is a bad seed.

  “Why,” she set her sewing in her lap. “I heard him tell her the other day that old people should be forced into nursing homes and put to sleep. Imagine.” She shook her head. “Now, I realize he’s most likely just upset about his consequences, but still…that statement was uncalled for.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean that,” Mom said. “Teenagers say lots of things they don’t mean.”

  “Well, they found all kinds of chemistry sets and stuff in his room. I say he killed Nina and Mae.” Betty jabbed her needle through her quilt.

  My fingers itched for my notebook. Hopefully, between me and Mom, we’d remember everything the ladies said during their time together.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Dottie shook her head. “Everyone knows Stacy Tate is trying to get out of this town. She’ll do anything for a big story.” She waved a lemon square, dusting everyone with powdered sugar. “A teen boy wouldn’t know how to rig a house to explode. Use your heads.”

  “You can find out anything on the internet.” Betty took a sharp breath through her nose.

  Okay, so far we had the snake mascot as a new suspect. No one seemed inclined to mention Frank and how the paper was failing. I tied off my thread and grabbed another color for the border. Since I now worked for the paper, I didn’t think it ethical to mention him as a suspect.

  “Sisters?” Addie Bates, the oldest of the three, glanced to one side then the other. “What do y’all think? Who in this town is capable of murdering old ladies? It’s obvious Marsha needs our help.”

  Not exactly. Especially since moments ago, I’d wondered whether one of them could be a killer. I met Mom’s glance, and shrugged. Might as well play along.

  “It’s true that we don’t miss much,” April, the youngest stated.

  “Folks tend to overlook us,” Alice, the middle one, added. “That’s what comes of being respectful and minding our own business.”

  “Are you saying we should stay out of it?” Addie’s eyes widened.

  “Not at all. It sounds like great fun.” Alice smiled and folded her hands on the table. “In the Agatha Christie mysteries, it’s always the least likely suspect. Who do we suspect the least?”

  I giggled. “My mother.”

  “That is not funny.” Mom grabbed a cookie. “I am not a murderer.”

  “Says some,” Dottie added. “You’re at the top of my list.”

  “Who would benefit the most from Nina and Mae’s death, then from stating Dottie is next?” Why couldn’t Mom and Dottie stay on track?

  “Dottie’s next?” The three sisters all clutched their throats. “When?”

  “We’re down to two weeks now.” I stared at Mom and warned her with my glare to keep her mouth shut. “But Dottie isn’t taking the warning seriously.”

  “Why not?” The sisters leaned forward to get a better look at our next victim.

  “Because it’s silly, that’s why.” Dottie crossed her arms. “Putting someone’s name in the paper thirty days before they die? Creative, but a waste of time, in my opinion. Why not just shoot the person in the head and get it over with? Besides, worrying won’t make it less threatening. Only God knows my time.”

  “Blowing up someone’s house while they’re in it is less personal,” April stated. “That way, the perp doesn’t have to see his victim when they die. They keep themselves removed from the equation.”

  The ladies impressed me. Obviously, they gleaned a lot from mystery books.

  “What we need to look for is motive,” she continued. “People don’t kill other people willy-nilly. Even gang initiations are for a reason.”

  Mom spewed her tea all over Dottie’s quilt squares.

  Dottie growled and pulled them closer to her. “If I’d wanted them antique looking, I would’ve soaked them in tea myself!”

  “Sorry.” Mom grabbed a rag and dabbed at the spill.

  Maybe I wouldn’t invite those two to the next sleuthing meeting, although their feud kept things interesting. I grinned. In addition to making a bit of money for the store, had the quilting circle also become an opportunity to solve a mystery? Had my gumshoe group gone from two to seven?

  “Oh!” Dottie pointed a finger in the air. “There’s that man who flipped me the bird at the diner the other day. I bet he’s the killer. He had shifty eyes.”

  “Had you ever seen him before?” Betty asked. “Because, it’s hard to believe a complete stranger from out of town would kill not one but two of our women.”

  “Maybe not, but he did yell out that elderly drivers should be euthanized. Maybe he’s related to the school’s mascot.”

  We all stared at Dottie like she’d sprouted horns. If I’d learned anything from the last mystery, it was that the culprit was usually someone we knew, which took us back to a motive. I could tell from the look on the Bates sisters’ faces, that they were thinking something similar. Or maybe they were off in their only Bates world. No telling really.

  Sighing, I put my doily back in the basket beside me and stood. There had to be paper and a pencil somewhere. If I had a willing group of people ready to help me, I wanted to take notes.

  Finally. I grabbed a small spiral notebook from under the counter and the pencil stub next to it just as the bell over the front door jingled. I looked up to see Stacy, Darla, and Amber barge in, all three trying to crowd through the door at the same time.

  While the picture was humorous, the three spelled trouble. I glanced over my shoulder at the work room. Why hadn’t we insisted Leroy build a door? I was as sure as the sky was blue that all the women back there were straining their ears to hear who’d come in.

  “Where is my son?” Darla demanded.

  “Well, I don’t know, maybe—”

  Stacy planted her hands flat on the counter. “Don’t tell this witch anything! She’s out to hurt my sister.”

  Hmmm. “Amber’s your sister?” I glanced from the meticulously made up Stacy to the Goth Amber. Never would have guessed that one.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You’re sister is a wanton girl who seduced my boy.” Darla’s face reddened. She poked Stacy’s chest with her forefinger so sharp, I almost feared she’d pop the silicone inside.

  “It takes two to tango, missy.” Stacy put her arm around Amber.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Yep, the quilting ladies all stared around the corner, not trying in the least to be subtle. “Would you three like to take this somewhere private?”

  “Nothing’s going to be private for long.” A drop of spittle hung on Darla’s bottom lip. “Everyone in town will know within two months.”

  Oh. Danny was going to be a daddy. Well, goodness. “It isn’t the end of the world, Darla. Young people jump into thing
s all the time.”

  She spun on me like a cat after a catnip-filled toy. “What would you know? You aren’t alone to raise that daughter of yours. You have your mother. It’s been just me and Danny since the day he was born. My mother was nothing but a drug user and died alone in her apartment. No one discovered her body for a week. A week! So, keep your opinions to yourself.”

  How horrible. Darla might be a prickly woman with the personality of a skunk, but my heart felt for her. I understood a bit more why she never seemed happy at her job at the newspaper. She probably never felt happy ever.

  “I’m sorry to tell you, but Danny isn’t here. If he’s working with Leroy today, they’re probably over at the house working on a new porch.” I plastered what I hoped was a sympathetic smile on my face. “Looks like he’ll need the money more than ever now.”

  “Don’t simper at me.” Darla spun on her heel. “We’ll have nothing to do with the brat.”

  Amber burst into tears and buried her face into Stacy’s blown up chest. My smile faded as fast as a falling rock. It was hard to be sympathetic to a woman who oozed discontent, no matter how hard a person tried.

  “Come on, Amber.” Stacy guided her sister toward the door. “I’ll take care of you. We don’t need them.”

  “But Danny loves me. He said he did. It’s that evil woman who’s behind this.” Amber raised her head. Mascara and black eyeliner ran down her cheeks in dark rivers.

  “And Danny is too spineless to stand up to his mother. We all know that.” Stacy ushered her outside.

  Well, it had been an interesting morning so far, and I couldn’t write any of it in the gossip column for tomorrow’s edition. I grinned. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to mention Darla would be a grandmother. Maybe making it public knowledge would force her to take some measure of responsibility or force her no-good son to man up. I could also be opening a huge can of worms, considering Darla knows I write the column.