A Biscuit, a Casket (11 page)

“A lawsuit? His own brother? Wow.” Stan scooped up another spoonful of steaming hot
New Orleans shrimp gumbo—Char’s specialty and Stan’s favorite request when she had
dinner with them—and followed it up with a piece of corn bread.

“Oh yeah. Those two never missed an opportunity to be nasty to each other.” Ray wiped
his mouth with his napkin and tipped his chair back so the front legs lifted off the
floor. “See, Lester and Hal parted ways on the farm before Hal created the co-op piece.
And really, that’s been more fruitful than just running the farm had been. Lester
was always angry that he didn’t get a piece of it.”

“And he turned their mother against Hal, too,” Char chimed in from the counter where
she was checking on the monkey bread, Stan’s other favorite. “How’s your food, Stan?”

“Delicious, as always.” Stan patted her tummy. “I’ve had to double my exercise routine
since moving here. Thank you so much for cooking for me.”

Stan always marveled at Char’s domestic skills. From the time Stan had put in a casual
phone call to her friends around six, Char had whipped up her favorite dishes, set
the table like it was a special occasion, and had martinis ready and waiting on ice.
A fire crackled pleasantly in the kitchen fireplace. Soft jazz played through the
sound system piped throughout the house. And it was barely eight.

The two couples staying at the B and B had gone out for the evening. Leigh-Anne Sutton,
already settled in for her indefinite stay, had also gone off somewhere, so it was
just the three of them. Although dinner wasn’t included in a stay, people loved Char’s
cooking so much they usually joined them for meals instead of venturing out. The food,
atmosphere, and company were all lovely. If she didn’t love her little house so much,
Stan would move in. The place was so darn cozy and . . . Southern. She surprised herself
with the thought. She’d always preferred living alone. It was another reason why she
and Richard had lasted so long. He was set in his ways and she was set in hers, and
they had been careful not to rock the boat.

Now things seemed different.

“Don’t mention it,” Char said in response to her thanks. “Look at Savannah! She looks
wonderful.” Char gazed at her yellow Lab, curled up contentedly in the corner after
wolfing down the organic local beef and vegetable dinner Stan had brought her. “Her
tummy problems and skin allergies are nearly gone. You are a miracle worker with your
food, missy.”

Stan blushed. “You’re too nice.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Ray said.

Still not great at taking compliments, Stan changed the subject. “You said Hal’s brother
turned his mother against Hal? How did he do that?”

“I’m not so sure that’s true, dear.” Ray liked to discuss other people’s business
almost as much as his wife. “Hal had a tendency to . . . alienate his loved ones.
His momma was no exception. Plus, she’s a tough old bird. Not easily swayed. Even
by her own sons. Hal at least was charismatic, bless his soul. Lester, not very.”

Char plunked the tray of monkey bread down on the table. “Lester’s just plain nasty.
Y’all are delusional if you think otherwise, Raymond.”

Ray held his hands in front of him in surrender and let his chair fall to the ground.
“No argument there, dear.”

Char nodded, satisfied that he’d agreed with her. “Want coffee, Stan? I’ve been working
on a delicious Irish coffee recipe I found. It’s taken me a few tries to perfect it,
but the trials have been fun.” She winked.

Stan slurped the rest of her gumbo and broke another corner off a piece of corn bread.
She’d go for a run tomorrow, but she couldn’t resist loading up on Char’s delicious
food. “I’m about to be really full, so I’ll take a rain check on the coffee. Not the
monkey bread,” she said around her mouthful. “So Hal didn’t get along with his family?”

“No. Well, his sister is harmless. But Lester and his mother, forget it. And Emmy
had no use for them either,” Char said. “Emmy’s a very generous woman, but she really
disliked those in-laws.”

“What happened with the lawsuit?”

“Still pending,” Ray said. “But I guess now he’ll be fighting Em.”

“What about the Happy Cow co-op? What happens to that now?”

“Well, I don’t think anything, except they might choose to vote on a new president.
I think the leadership defaults to Emmalee, but I would venture she doesn’t want any
part of it.” Ray snagged a piece of monkey bread and popped a chunk into his mouth.
“That was Hal’s baby. Emmy thought it was nonsense. In her mind, it was more people
to deal with, more decisions other people had to weigh in on. Emmy’s a private person.
I may be speaking out of school here”—he glanced around guiltily, as if expecting
someone to be listening—“but she has been very resistant to the whole thing.”

“What other choice does she have?” Stan asked. “She needs the income, clearly.”

“I believe she does,” Ray said. “My opinion, it’s a point of pride for her. She wants
to be able to say she and Hal made a good go of their farm. I always said, kudos to
Hal. He didn’t want to do the dirty work but understood he needed to keep the farm,
and this was a way to bring in more income without the headaches of expansion. And
truth is, the farmers need each other. And for all their spats, that group is dedicated
to farming.”

“So they don’t get along?”

“More gumbo, Stan, before you dig into the bread?” Char called from the counter. It
was the time of night when she drank more martinis and pushed more food on people.
Stan felt her stomach groan in protest.

“No. Please. I have to rest. Ray, you were saying?”

“I think they get along well enough.” Ray shrugged. “It’s like any business. Some
don’t see eye to eye, but most are out for the common good. I’m curious, though, to
see how Emmy will handle it. Especially with Leigh-Anne taking such a proactive role.
She’s got a head for business, too, that one. Like Hal, she stays out of the muck
and digs into the money.”

Stan hesitated. She wanted to talk about Em being in the state police’s sights, but
didn’t want the news all over town. Curiosity won out. “It sounds like Em might have
to explain where she was the day of the murder. Have you heard that?”

Ray and Char glanced at each other. Ray sighed and snapped one of his suspender straps.
“I sure was afraid of that.”

“The spouse is always the first in line as a suspect,” Char added. “Goodness, Ray,
don’t ever go and get yourself murdered. I couldn’t stand the scrutiny!”

Stan waited for the withering look. Instead, Ray nodded thoughtfully. “Of course,
dear. That would be very inconsiderate.”

Stan stifled a giggle. She’d never met a man like Ray. That was probably because there
wasn’t another man like Ray, anywhere in the world. “Do you think she could’ve done
it? I heard Hal was . . . not the best husband.”

Ray leaned forward in his chair, his eyes wide. “Emmy? Oh, goodness, no. And Hal was
just a typical Irish boy. Sowing his oats.”

Char sent him a dirty look over her shoulder. “I agree that Emmy didn’t do it. She
doesn’t have time to go to jail for that kind of nonsense. She would simply ignore
him until they could part ways.”

“Really? You don’t think she could’ve had a dark side?”

Char giggled. “Everyone has a dark side, honey. That’s not how Em would use hers.
Trust me.”

Kelly Clarkson ran through Stan’s head. She decided to let that go. “You don’t think
Hal was that bad then, Char?”

Char snorted. “I didn’t say that. I’d probably have killed him if I were married to
him, but I’m a different kind of lady than Emmalee. Right, sweetheart?”

“Righto, dear,” Ray responded.

“I thought so,” Char muttered. “Have y’all been over to help Emmy out yet, Stan?”
She mixed herself a new martini, using her long green fingernail as a stirrer.

“I actually went over today. Things are . . . a bit disorganized.”

“Well, that’s not a surprise,” Ray said, at the same time Char sighed and said, “I
was afraid of that.”

Stan looked from one to the other. “Why?”

“Well, that’s just Hal’s way,” Char said, pausing to sip her drink. “And Emmy got
tired of picking up after him. She started letting things slip, just like he did.
But now it’s gotten out of hand. I hope she lets Leigh-Anne help her. But it’s good
you’ll be in there helping with the day to day details.”

“Hal was a phenomenal businessman, but he counted on other people to keep track of
the details,” Ray added. “He’s what I believe you corporate types would call the ‘idea
guy.’ But he was running low on detail people. Em didn’t have time to keep track of
all that and run the farm while Hal was out working on new deals.”

“New deals? Like what?” Stan was intrigued.

Char made a tsk-ing sound. “He had more deals than Carter had liver pills. Go on,
eat your monkey bread while it’s still warm, Stan.”

Stan couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. She hadn’t heard that saying since her
dad passed away. Impulsively, she got up and kissed Char’s cheek on her way to put
her plate in the sink. “I would love some monkey bread. Thanks, Char.”

“Our Hal loved to try new money-making schemes,” Ray said with affection. “Some worked
well, like the co-op. And the gift shop out near the school. Others, like the rehabbing,
well, that didn’t work as well.”

“Rehabbing? What do you mean?” Stan slid back in her chair and accepted the new plate
of food. Her stomach was already screaming in protest. She should run home to shed
some of it, but she hadn’t worn running shoes. And she’d probably throw up.

“Hal got it in his head that he would help out the local economy—and his own wallet,
I’m sure—and started buying some of the old buildings in town. Had grand plans to
fix them up and turn them into wonderful places. He had visions of establishments
like Jake’s bar, for example, and a new movie theater. He was convinced if there were
enough fun new places to attract younger folks, the entire town would be revitalized.
Can’t say his vision was a bad one. He was passionate about it,” Ray said with affection.
“And he focused on people with new ideas, who hadn’t been around town forever, which
I’m sure angered some of the old-timers. Even had a deal going with Izzy Sweet.”

“With Izzy?” Stan stared at him. “What deal?”

“Now, this was some time ago, remember. Funny enough, a bookstore. Funny because Hal
wasn’t much of a reader. Izzy loves books. And it went so well with her café. But
our locals, God bless ’em, they didn’t see any use for it. ‘We got all we need,’ they
liked to say. People around here, well, it takes them a while to accept change. If
they accept it at all.”

“So what happened to the deal?” Stan asked.

“We’re not really sure,” Ray said. “It never came to light. Hal lost a bunch of money.
I’d suspect our Izzy did, too. But for all the things she tells us, she never did
speak of that again.”

“Huh.” Stan sat back, thoughtful. “She never mentioned it to me either.”
Was that why she’d been so distraught at the news of Hal’s death? Was it a money thing?

Stan didn’t get to push them on it, because the front door blew open and Leigh-Anne
Sutton swept in, offering a high-wattage smile when she saw the three of them around
the table.

“Good evening! Is this a party? I do love parties! Hello there, Stan! Survived the
farm, I see?”

Stan smiled. “I did.”

“Did y’all have a nice evening? Come, sit, join us.” Char rose and began clearing
plates. “Who wants a game of cards?” she asked.

They were done talking about Izzy, apparently. Stan wondered if there was more to
the story and neither Char nor Ray wanted to tell it—or didn’t want to tell it in
front of Leigh-Anne.

“I could go for some rummy,” Ray said, clearly up for the change in topic. “How about
you, Stan?”

“Thank you, but I can’t. I still have a few things to do tonight. There’s a lot to
starting your own business, I’m finding out.”

“Ha! Don’t we know it,” Leigh-Anne declared. “What is your business again?”

Stan explained Pawsitively Organic Pet Food.

“She makes the best food ever for dogs,” Char piped in. “Saved our Savannah’s tummy.”

“Really? What do you prepare?” Leigh-Anne propped her chin in her hands and gazed
at Stan, as if fascinated by the whole business.

“I do meats, veggies, and usually rices. Or fruits. I’m learning more, so I’m experimenting
more.”

“Where do you buy your meats?”

“I’ve been picking them up at the food co-op as I need them.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. If you’re interested in buying straight from a farm, please
consider Stubenville Farms.” She beamed. “It’s Zen Garden’s sister farm,” she added.

“You have two farms?” Char asked. “I had no idea.”

“I do. Both from my husband’s family, God rest his soul.” She crossed herself. “I
lost him last year. That’s when I inherited the farms.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Char said.

“Thank you, thank you. Yes, it’s been hard.” Leigh-Anne sighed. “I’d never been part
of the farming piece, really. Just helping out with business plans and some marketing.
But I had to step up and learn pretty quickly, because I didn’t want to disappoint
him. Anyway, Stubenville is a meat farm, obviously. The dairy farm is separate.”

Ugh,
was Stan’s first thought. She wasn’t a meat eater herself, but all her customers
were carnivores. And the meat, as long as it was organic and grass fed, would be better
for them.

“All free range, excellent quality,” Leigh-Anne said, as if she’d read Stan’s mind.
“Let’s talk.”

“That sounds great,” Stan said, glancing at her watch. “I’m going to get going, okay,
Char?”