A Suspicion of Strawberries (Scents of Murder Book 1) (10 page)

“I see what you’re getting at. But what motive? Charla seemed to be well liked—on some levels.” Jerry seemed ready for me to go.

Silence hovered between us.

“Andi, I don’t have a lot of time this morning. Everyone’s here complaining about a well-intentioned rookie in the next office, and I’ve got some fires to put out, so to speak. I think your theory is interesting, but until we have concrete evidence—”

“I’ll bring the scrub in and show you if I have to. . . .”

“It doesn’t prove anything. There’s no case. I need more than some seeds in some soap flakes.”

I tried not to bristle. “Do you know much about Mike Chandler? He was an ex-boyfriend of Charla’s with a bad temper. And Robert, her fiancé, is sporting a rather large black eye this morning.”

Jerry sat up straight and stared at me. “Matter of fact, I do. Mike was just released from the lockup this morning.”

Chapter Nine

I changed my mind about not sitting down and took the seat across from Jerry’s desk. “Why?”

“We got a call to Robert Robertson’s office last evening. Turns out Mike showed up and got into an altercation with him.”

“I saw that someone had landed quite a punch.” My heart pounded in my chest. “And Robert wouldn’t talk about what happened.”

“Same here.” Jerry tilted back in his chair. “In fact, he wouldn’t press charges for assault. We only had enough to slap Chandler with disturbing the peace.”

“It’s got to be about Charla.”

“When Tim got there last night, Mike had already worn off his rage. Came along pretty quietly.” Jerry shrugged. “In fact, he’s probably the only person not complaining about Tim this morning.”

I stood before I started mulling over the idea of Mike slugging Robert because of Charla. It didn’t add up, but then crimes of passion usually didn’t. On one hand, Mike would have wanted to watch her suffer, but on the other hand, attacking Robert? The pieces had to fit somehow, but I had the feeling I still lacked a few from this puzzle.

“Thanks, Jerry. You’ve been a big help. Next time I’ll bring you a tall, double-shot latte.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Glad I could help somebody today.” He stood, relieving the poor desk chair, which groaned again. “Say hi to Ben next time he calls. And tell him that contractor gave him an estimate.” I nodded, then left the station.

Ben liked his routines and was a big boy, capable of making his own decisions. But I thought we’d been together long enough that we’d share major decisions with each other. When I decided to start the soap business, Ben had helped me every step of the way. His good sense kept me from going in ten different directions. I figured he would include me, as well. But a contractor? An estimate? He said he wasn’t in a hurry, if I remembered right. He’d have some ’splaining to do once he got home, and I’d ask him in the nicest possible way. Although I wasn’t sure what he needed to explain.

I thought back to the interview with Robert and continued pondering the hunch that had come over me in his office. I had felt his grief, noticed the redness in his eyes that wasn’t from getting punched. I’d noted the fine lines of weariness, too, that signaled lack of sleep. He’d loved Charla and lost her, and appeared to be trying to piece together life without her.

Yet, I reminded myself, he was an actor of sorts. What if Robert had been trying to throw me off about Mike? Robert knew the details of Charla’s lawsuit against Mike. Although Mike had been cleared, I wondered if pointing a finger at Mike would be a way for Robert to cover his own tracks.

Ridiculous. I started the Jeep and headed for the store. The man had been a week away from marrying Charla. What possible reason could he have for breaking it off, let alone trying to kill her right before the wedding? At this point, I couldn’t venture to guess why.

I sat at my desk at the store and watched my e-mail in-box fill up with Internet orders from the Tennessee River Soaps Web site. I allowed myself to smile at this bright spot. No one in Bangor, Austin, or Ocean City cared that someone had keeled over amidst the soaps in my shop. The deposits to my account would help bridge the gap in slow sales at the store.

No, I had not forgotten about Mike Chandler and the black eye. Most sleuths have to earn a living. I knew I did. I couldn’t run around chasing leads with a business to run. Which is why, since talking to Jerry, I’d spent a few days going through inventory, brainstorming promotions, and shoring up the crumbling foundation of my business. That, and waiting for Ben to come home.

“Miss Clark?” Sadie appeared in the doorway between my office alcove and the front of the store. “I finished those displays for you.”

“Thanks.” I stood and stretched. “Let me take a look at them.” Sadie, the thoughtful teen from my Sunday school class, had volunteered to give me a hand at the store. We’d already brainstormed a few print ads for the newspaper.

We walked onto the sales floor together. She’d arranged the soaps by floral, fruit, and miscellaneous scents. She’d used some seashells and sand to make a summer tabletop display.

“This is super.” I smiled at the teenager, and she glowed. “Did you say you were going to college for design?”

She nodded. “I start at Vanderbilt this fall. Interior design.” The briefest hint of a shadow crossed her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kyle.”

“Kyle?” I couldn’t remember him from Sunday school class, although I did recall one young man looking at Sadie with puppy-dog eyes while they talked in the hall at church.

“I—I don’t want to leave him.”

“What’s he planning to do?”

“He said he’s going to stay here and work, but I was hoping he’d put in a transfer and come to Nashville to work. We could still see each other while I’m in school, and I know he could make it in the music business. Miss Clark, he’s so talented. He writes songs and plays the guitar and sings. . .” Sadie’s voice trailed off. “But at the same time. . .”

“Yes. . . ?”

“We’re so young, and I’d hate for him to come out there just for me and get disappointed. You and Mr. Hartley have a long-distance relationship, with him being on the road so much, don’t you?”

I wanted to say, “Yes, and Ben and I are twice your age,” only I didn’t.

“And you’ve made it work, right?” She swirled the sand in the Summer Fun display with her finger.

“Now that’s the ten-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?” I wasn’t sure how to answer her question. I didn’t want to raise her hopes and tell her, yes, they could make it work, too. “Ben and I have been together three years. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we pray a lot. We make each other a priority, even when we’re apart.”

“So are you going to get married?” Her voice held a teasing tone.

“I suppose we will.” I moved to the flower-garden display, where Sadie had arranged silk fern and greenery around the soap shelves.

“What’s taken you so long? I don’t think Kyle and I could wait that long. . .I mean. . .” When she paused, I glanced her way. Her cheeks were shot with red.

“I—I really can’t say.” My stomach quavered at Sadie’s pointed questions. The way young people got to the heart of matters blew me away. No being vague and noncommittal like some of us older folks.

“Well, I say if you find the love of your life and you know he’s the one God has for you, why wait to get married?” Sadie smiled.

I had to smile at her frank simplicity. “Sadie, you and Kyle should talk and pray together about your future. You’re very young and still trying to find the path God has for you. I don’t feel like I’m the best person to offer you advice in matters of the heart. But I can say this: You’re right. It’s not easy having a long-distance relationship. You two should communicate about this, especially before you leave.”

She gave me a hug. “Oh, Miss Clark, you’re so smart. You’ve helped me so much.”

“You’ve been a big help to me today, too. This place has had quite a face-lift.”

Sadie picked up her purse from behind the counter. “I’ll help anytime you need me. But I’ve got to go help my mom with Nana now.”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you Sunday.” I waved as she breezed through the front door and went to her car. To be eighteen again. Would I have done things differently?

I felt a smidge hypocritical as I walked back to my office. I was a fine one to talk to Sadie about communicating with her boyfriend. Lately it felt like Ben and I had fallen short in that area.

Ben was home, though, and had dropped large hints about me making some strawberry shortcake. A visit to Chandler’s Farmer’s Market was at the top of my to-do list. Ben planned to stop by the store after Sadie and I finished our work.

Two birds would die today, felled by the single stone. I would take Ben to get some strawberries, and we could talk to Mike together. The matter of finding out who killed Charla Thacker still weighed on me, and Ben was the best back-up I could think of without dragging anyone else into the matter. I didn’t want to bring Daddy with me and have him ask me a hundred questions.

I zinged through the orders until two, when I heard Ben’s truck horn outside the store. After I shut down the computer, I jerked a brush through my hair.

Ben called through the back door, “You ready?”

“Be right there!” I grabbed my bag and hurried to lock the store.

We soon left Greenburg city limits behind and roared down the road to the farmer’s market. My heart sang when Ben raised my hand and kissed it.

“We’ll have four whole days together,” I said. “When I’m not at the store, of course.” Fear of the future slithered back to where I’d held it at bay.

“How’s the store doing, by the way?”

“Holding its own for now. I have a whole slew of Internet orders to box and ship, which is great.”

Ben’s smile warmed me. “I’m proud of you, seeing this through. I really am.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” My earlier conversation with Sadie rang in my ears. “Sadie from church gave me a hand. She’s a sweet girl and has a real eye for design.”

“That must be the girl my aunt’s stepbrother’s grandson, Kyle, is dating.”

It figures, everyone’s related some how in Greenburg, at least by marriage. “Huh?”

“Aunt Bette’s stepbrother has a grandson named Kyle. Can play a mean guitar.” Ben turned onto Hillside cutoff, across the river west of town, on the road to Stantonville.

“That’s the one. Sadie was talking to me about long-distance relationships. She’s going away this fall. Sounds like Kyle’s planning to stay here.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That long-distance relationships are work, and couples really need to pray together and communicate.”

“Good advice.”

“I thought so.”

We fell silent. I had nothing more to add, unless you counted the fact that I thought Ben and I needed to communicate more.

I broke our silence first. “I have a confession to make. I have an ulterior motive today besides buying strawberries.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m going to talk to Mike Chandler about his lawsuit against Charla Thacker last year. After what we heard at Honey’s the last time you were home, I wonder if he might have had something to do with sabotaging my cherry scrub.”

Ben didn’t reply, and I glanced his way. His focus remained fixed on the road, his forehead creased in thought.

“You know, I’ve got a confession to make, too.” Ben sighed. “Only it’s not the one I planned on making.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I could have killed somebody once.”

“What?” I gaped at him.

“A guy named Nick. I could have killed him back in high school.”

“Ben—“

“Really. He cheated off my test, then when I reported him, he said I gave him the answers. We both failed. I was off the baseball team that year because of failing that class. I dreamed of punching him until I couldn’t punch him anymore. I can still imagine his bloody nose, his black eyes. Missing teeth.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “But you didn’t—”

“I wanted to. One day after school. To take one swing. Only one. The thought of letting go like that scared me.” His voice sounded raspy, and he cleared his throat. “Then someone did jump him, put him in the hospital for a week. That could’ve been me.”

“I never knew. . .” Three years we’d been a couple. Three years, and I’d never seen him hit anything except a baseball. Steve had dragged him to play golf once, and rumor had it Ben had wanted to hit a tree with his driver.

“You know what else scared me? Part of me realized how much I wanted to hurt him.” He ran his fingers through my hair that blew back in the breeze from the open window. That such gentle hands could have been capable of violence was unthinkable. “Deep down, but for the grace of God, I could have been a murderer.”

“It’s not the same.” I felt like I was floundering. But it wasn’t the same, was it?

“Do you really know for sure?” Ben moved his hand back to the wheel. “Maybe Mike’s got a hot head, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“I plan on finding out.” I swallowed hard, then faced the window and let the warm, humid breeze flow over me. It spoke of life and growth, not rage and senseless vengeance.