A Suspicion of Strawberries (Scents of Murder Book 1) (15 page)

“Right, I agree. But think about it. She didn’t know anyone was taking that picture. Probably thought she wasn’t even framed in the shot.” The image of Melinda and Charla niggled at me, too. “I feel like we’re looking at something, but we don’t know exactly what just yet.”

Di closed the final yearbook and looked at me thoughtfully. “You did say something about Emily having a mean streak?”

I nodded. “The day Charla died, Melinda mentioned a prank that Emily pulled, giving Charla some candy that caused a mild allergic reaction as revenge for borrowing a sweater. Sounds petty to me.”

“What if, though, something had gone on between Emily and Robert, and Emily just wanted to hurt Charla for going through with the wedding?” Di drew a design on the notepad between us. “What if Emily planned this elaborate prank, only it backfired?”

“So she freaked when Charla died and didn’t say anything about what she did, figuring it would fall back on me and look like an unfortunate accident.” I rested my chin on my hands.

“You know, you might be on to something.” Di looked thoughtful.

“Except I can’t go blazing into Jerry’s office pointing fingers at Emily, or Melinda either, for that matter.” I stacked the yearbooks in a pile. “He said he’d think about someone tampering with the scrub, but I still have no evidence.”

“We need to dig deeper on Emily. . .and Melinda, too.”

I smiled at Di. “I’ll find a way. Melinda seemed warm enough the last time we spoke. I think now would be an appropriate time for me to call and at least see how she’s doing.”

Di asked, “What about Emily?”

“I’ll figure out a way to talk to her, too.”

On Thursday morning, I called Melinda’s cell phone and left a breezy message, asking how she was and telling her that I’d thought of her. Which I had. And if Melinda crossed the bridge I’d built between us, maybe I could find out more about her and Charla. Talking to her, though, wasn’t like barging into Robert’s law office. Also, I cared about Melinda’s well-being. The memory of her and Charla’s happy faces as they walked down the hall had kept me awake.

Momma always called me the sensitive one, and about 3:00 a.m. I hated that “gift” she said I’d been given. Sometimes being empathetic caused me to interpret people’s feelings the wrong way. I’m only human. So I prayed until I fell asleep—about Charla’s murder, about the store, and about Ben and me. I prayed for his safety, too, as he was out on another trip.

I was still in a mental fog while I went about my morning routine at the store. A few tourists stopped and bought a basketful of products and gathered business cards to give to their friends. The thought of repeat orders made my heart sing.

When the bell above the door clanged, I looked up and froze. I hoped my expression didn’t look as shocked as I felt. Seth Mitchell stood in the doorway like a deer in the middle of the road looking at oncoming high beams. The summer brightness outside backlit him in a silhouette.

“Um. Miss Clark. Hi.” He tugged at the waistband of his baggy jeans.

“Hi, Seth.” I stayed where I was behind the counter. “How are you today? Were you looking for a gift? For your mom? Or someone special?”

Oops. Not quite the right thing to say. A red flush tinted Seth’s neck and spread to his ears. “Um, no. Not exactly.”

“Well. . .”

“I’m looking for a job,” Seth blurted. “I could help you make soap, or sweep floors, or take care of the outside of the building, or paint or something.”

The poor guy. Here it was, on the brink of Fourth of July weekend, and any jobs for teenagers to be had were already taken. I wondered what made Seth choose my business.

A car pulling into the parking lot outside made him turn to face the front window, and I looked to see who’d driven up, as well. Melinda Thacker. This was very convenient for me. Ever since Di and I had looked through those yearbooks yesterday, I felt like I’d had a glimpse inside Melinda. What she still must be going through. The very thought of losing Di almost made me sick to my stomach.

Seth’s face went from blush pink to ghostly pale when Melinda entered. “Hi, Mel.”

“Hey there.” She stopped and stared at her cousin. “What brings you here?”

“Looking for a job.” He started digging at the floor with the toe of his sneaker. “Thanks anyway, Miss Clark.” Seth left the store without another look at Melinda, almost as if he were being chased.

I realized then that I hadn’t turned him down, or even talked to him about a job. Not like I was in a position to hire anyone.

Melinda turned back around from watching him leave. Her eyes looked unusually bright this morning. “What’s with him?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “He said he was looking for a job.”

Her laugh sounded shrill, and her hands trembled as she grasped her purse. “Well, I’m glad you called me. That was nice of you. People aren’t calling a lot anymore. It’s like Charla’s just gone, and no one understands what a big hole she’s left.”

At that, I nodded. “My aunt Jewel ran off and left without a word when I was little. She and my momma were best friends. I was only five, but I still remember momma crying. It was almost as if my aunt had died.”

“That’s not quite the same, but losing someone suddenly. . .” Melinda swallowed hard and fumbled with a sample bar of soap at the counter. “You just don’t think about how it will be, trying to get used to life without them. The out-of-town guests leave, grass starts growing over Charla’s grave, and people stop asking about her.

It’s like they all know she’s gone. . .and it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“If it helps to know, I’ve been praying for you and your family.”

Melinda shrugged. “Thanks. God doesn’t seem very close right now. Not for a long time, really. Not since youth group in high school.”

“All you have to do is talk to Him.” Churchgoing is part of the Greenburg way of life. Knowing God and talking to Him? Let’s just say some of us are still trying to figure that out, and I could see Melinda was no different than a lot of us.

“Emily’s been super, though.” Melinda gave a slow smile, and my senses snapped to attention. “She’s been there at every turn. I never realized what a good friend she was to both of us.”

Melinda fell silent, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and as she looked around the store, it dawned on me that Melinda hadn’t come to Tennessee River Soaps since her sister died. Here she stood in the very room where Charla had breathed her last.

“Do you want some coffee? Or maybe we could go somewhere else? I can close for lunch.” I’d need to start finding an assistant to run the store if I kept closing like this.

“That sounds like a good idea.” Melinda’s face grew as ashen as Seth’s had when he saw her enter the store. “I didn’t think it would be so hard to come here. Nothing personal, you know. Your store looks and smells beautiful.”

“No offense taken. It took a lot for you to come here, but I’m glad you did.” I smiled at her, trying to put my finger on her demeanor. More than grieving over Charla, it seemed like a fresh pain, a new worry had come over her. Was it just the fact that she was getting used to life without Charla? I hoped to find out over lunch. Maybe this unexpected encounter with Melinda was an answer to prayer.

Chapter Fourteen

I saved Charla’s life once.” Melinda took a sip of her sweet tea and set her glass back onto the same water ring on the table. The lunchtime noises at Honey’s battled for my attention, and I had to lean forward in the booth to catch her words.

“What happened?” I figured I’d let Melinda talk. Maybe this was good for her, and after all, I’d offered to listen.

“She was fourteen. I was twelve.” Her face took on a faraway expression as she stared out the window at the crowded parking lot. “She had just started high school, and I wanted to follow in her footsteps. We had stopped at the corner store on the way home from school. I remember still being jealous she was at the high school with the older kids, and she was nice enough to buy me some Ring Pops to make up for it.

It’s crazy, isn’t it, the things that mean so much to us when we’re younger? She bought a new brand of candy bar for herself and started having a reaction. Peanuts or something in the filling. She didn’t know. Thank God she had her EpiPen with her when her throat started closing up. Not like. . .” Melinda’s eyes filled with tears. She dabbed at them with a clean napkin. “I still don’t understand what happened.”

“I don’t either.” My next impulse was to tell her about the strawberries in the scrub, but I stopped. I could not afford to let that information out. Not now.

Wise as a serpent, harmless as a dove.

“So here we are.” Melinda’s even gaze probed me, and I blinked, not breaking away. I had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of or apologize for. Again, I had the feeling of not quite seeing all there was to see about Melinda. The music twanged in the background, something about a cheatin’ heart.

“Yes, here we are.” I decided to venture a question. “Do you think someone hated Charla enough to kill her? From what I understand, she was popular, yet not well-liked.”

Melinda’s face blanched. “That’s a horrible idea. People were jealous of her, but I don’t think anyone would do something so cruel. I don’t see how they could have. . .” She blinked and looked away, a tear streaming down her cheek.

“I’m sorry, but I had to ask.” I decided not to risk asking any more questions that might upset Melinda more.

Her expression smoothed itself over, and she focused on me once again. “Have you ever done something you thought you’d never do?”

“I’ve never thought about it. Can’t say as I have, that I know of.”

“I have.” Melinda grabbed a fresh napkin and again dabbed at her eyes. “Emily tried to help, but she couldn’t. Not with this.”

“Does it have to do with Charla?”

Melinda shook her head. “No, not really. This disaster is of my own making. Yup, walked right into this one with my eyes open.”

Esther, the best lunchtime waitress at Honey’s, appeared at our booth. “Got two specials right here.”

We started eating, and Melinda didn’t offer any more information.

I did venture to say halfway through my meal, “Melinda, I want to help you.”

“No one can help me.”

A sigh wanted to force itself from my lips, but I stopped it in time and concentrated on my grilled chicken strips and salad.

“Why did you come to see me today?” I tossed the question out. Sure, I’d called Melinda and left a message, but she could have simply picked up the phone to call me back.

“You’re a nice person with a good heart. You’re a big sister, too.” Melinda grabbed another napkin. “I miss mine. And I never realized how much until now. So I knew you would understand.”

Lord, what do I say?
This was becoming much more than a hunt for clues and motives for killing Charla Thacker.

Melinda continued. “My parents are great. But there are just some things I can’t talk to them about.” She shook her head.

“Dessert, ladies?” Esther stopped at our booth again.

I wasn’t ready for our meal to end. Not quite yet. “Sure, I’ll have a piece of the chocolate-chocolate cake and a cup of coffee.”

“Great choice.” Esther looked at Melinda. “What about you?”

“The strawberry pie.”

“Another good choice.” Esther spun on her heel and left.

I smiled at Melinda. “Is any dessert ever a bad choice here? I’ll pay for this later, but I’m in the mood for some of Honey’s chocolate-chocolate cake. Besides, eating salad and cake cancel each other out, right?”

The corners of Melinda’s mouth barely turned up. “I know what you mean.”

Again we were left staring at each other, and I wondered if staying for cake had been a good idea after all. Melinda’s sudden reticence baffled me when compared to her previous flickers of emotion.

We started on our desserts, and I broke the silence. “I’m sorry you feel that you can’t talk to your parents.”

“I’m an adult with adult problems.” Melinda took a bite of pie. “And I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to get attention, especially after what happened to Charla.”

“But they’re your family. . . .”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ve disappointed them, unlike Charla. I should have been the one to die.”

“Don’t you talk like that.” The divine chocolate- chocolate cake had lost its appeal. “I don’t know you very well, but if there’s one thing I do know, every life has a purpose.”

Melinda studied the parking lot again. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.” She shifted on her seat and took a deep breath.

She had started with the half revelation, then withdrawn again, and I thought about leaving. I wanted to help her, but wasn’t sure she’d truly welcome help. Some people thrive on drama, and I remembered her from the yearbooks as being the artistic, musical one.

“I. . .I don’t feel well. . . .” Melinda grabbed her stomach. “The pie probably wasn’t such a great idea.” Her face had taken on an ashen tone; her brow began to bead with perspiration.

“Melinda, are you okay?” I glanced at her slab of half-eaten strawberry pie, and my first thought was an allergy.
No, not again.
. .and with me right here across the table from her.