Delicious and Suspicious (24 page)

Detective Bryce asked, “What makes you so sure, Mrs. Taylor? Did you talk with her about her intentions today?”

“No. But her chicken didn’t have enough sauce in the Crock-Pot.”

Detective Bryce’s sandy eyebrows shot up questioningly.

“When I went to her house, I found her door was unlocked. So I went inside,” said Lulu. She felt a little bit like Goldilocks. “I walked in the kitchen because there was kind of a funny smell. I know Mildred wasn’t a great cook—not by
any
stretch of the imagination—but she was a real penny-pincher. She would never have deliberately ruined two chicken breasts by drying them out beyond recognition. There wasn’t enough sauce in the Crock-Pot,” repeated Lulu. “She meant to come back earlier in the evening to eat her supper.”

Detective Bryce looked like he wasn’t all that convinced about the validity of Crock-Pot sauce as evidence of intent. But he nodded politely.

“Why would the murderer still have been at her shop when I got there? Why wouldn’t he have left the scene right away?

“That’s one of the things we’ll be looking at,” said Detective Bryce in a soothing tone.

Lulu abruptly felt completely wiped out. Detective Bryce said quickly, “I think that’s enough for tonight, Mrs. Taylor. Why don’t you go home and try to sleep? It’s getting late.”

Lulu looked at her watch. Sure enough, it was eleven o’clock. “Will you talk to Cherry tonight?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so. We’ll probably leave that until tomorrow. You really should turn in, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Oh, I know. And I will.” Right after I break the news to Cherry, thought Lulu. She shouldn’t have to hear about her friend’s death from the police first thing tomorrow morning.

 

 

When Lulu saw Cherry’s porch lights on, she pulled into the driveway. But she would have pulled in, regardless. Johnny was probably out amusing himself, and it wasn’t even midnight yet.

Lulu rang the doorbell, and she saw the curtain in the front room rustle as a suspicious-looking Cherry peered out the window. Her eyes widened as she saw Lulu, and she hurried to unlock the door. Lulu also heard her slide a bolt out. That didn’t bode well for Cherry’s marriage if she was bolting Johnny out.

Cherry pulled the door open and gaped at Lulu. Lulu returned the gape at the sight of Cherry’s red hair completely engulfed by soft pink rollers. Cherry also had some green oatmeal beauty treatment on her face. Cherry grinned at Lulu’s expression. “You know, it’s a lot of work to look this beautiful.” Then she turned serious. “But tell me, honey, what are you doing out here this time of night? And all by your lonesome?”

Lulu patted Cherry’s arm. “These late-night visits by friends are starting to become a regular occurrence, aren’t they? Can I trouble you for some water? Then we’ll sit down, and I’ll tell you the story.”

 

 

The ice water turned into vodka tonic by the time Lulu had finished her story. Cherry had shaken her head and
oh-no
ed through the entire story. When Lulu got to the part where she’d been knocked out, Cherry got up to hug her. And her hot pink-tipped fingers gripped the arms of her chair when Lulu described finding Mildred.

Lulu was positive that Cherry’s face would have been pasty pale if it hadn’t been caked with green goo. And that’s when Cherry poured them both a vodka tonic.

Cherry shot hers down quickly and poured more. “I think,” she stated, “that it’s all because of that damned book Mildred was writing.”

Lulu nodded.

“There she was, telling everybody she was going to write a mystery. She was poking her nose in where she shouldn’t have. She started asking questions for research and made somebody worried. It was a bad idea,” said Cherry, taking another big swig from her drink. “A
real
bad idea.”

Lulu said, “Is there anything else you remember that she said to you? I know she told you she’d followed Rebecca to the Peabody to deliver her comeback. And that Mildred had seen somebody there she hadn’t expected to. And she got a threatening letter that she burned. Was there anything else?”

Cherry slammed down some more vodka tonic, which Lulu was sorry to see. She didn’t think it was going to help with Cherry’s cognitive process at all.

But apparently Cherry needed the booze for other reasons. “Actually,” said Cherry after she discretely burped into a napkin, “there was. She didn’t exactly mention anyone by name. I told you the truth about that. But she hinted really strong about who she
had
seen.”

Lulu felt more apprehensive than she had the whole rest of the evening. And, considering the night she’d had, that was really saying something.

“She said something about how she was surprised she wasn’t waiting tables.” Cherry sighed unhappily as Lulu winced. “And then she said she thought someone else would want to stay away from the Peabody, since they’d been miserable there the day before.”

“Sara and Flo,” said Lulu unhappily. She took a sip from her drink and was surprised to find she’d already drained it. Wordlessly, Cherry refilled it with vodka and tonic.

Cherry also refilled her own glass. Her hand was a lot more unsteady this time, though. “If it makes you feel better, Lulu,” said Cherry, “Mildred wasn’t making a helluva lot of sense. I think she was making some things up. She made it into this big caper. Her whole life had been boring, and now something exciting was finally happening to her.”

Lulu tried to absorb this thought as the alcohol buzzed through her system. “Mildred was a drama seeker?” This didn’t seem to jive with the image Lulu had of a middle-aged bookseller with a penchant for Victorian frills.

Cherry nodded solemnly. “She was talking like she was a few bushels short of a full load. Stuff about pink being tacky and remember to put in something about mixed drinks, and then all about pigs: ‘I’ll call a pig a pig. It’s fitting. Maybe pigs like to visit each other.’ Something like that. I was just ill over Flo and Sara. But like I say, I felt like she was also getting carried away.”

Lulu decided she’d heard quite enough for the night. Cherry obviously didn’t have any more information and Lulu was sick at heart over the information she
did
share. “It’s time for me to be heading home, Cherry.” She hiccupped loudly and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Goodness gracious. And I’ll need a ride back. I’m sorry, Cherry.”

Cherry said, “No apology needed, Lulu. You’ve had a gosh-awful night. Beaned on the head, had a nasty shock—or two or three—and now you’re tired and the vodka tonics have sunk in. I totally get it. But you know, I can’t drive, either. We could walk.” Then she changed her mind. “No, we couldn’t. Too far. Okay, I’m calling Ben. You’re never too old to have to parent your child.” Which, thought Lulu, would have made perfect sense except that
Lulu
was the parent and
Ben
was the child. Good thing that Cherry
wasn’t
driving the car.

Cherry called Ben and Sara’s house. The phone must have rung a lot because it was a while before anyone picked up. Cherry said, “Ben? Hi there. It’s Cherry. I’m sorry to call you so late. No, no, everything is fine, nothing to worry about. It’s just that your mama and I drank some, and we’re not fit to drive your mama home.” She listened for a minute. “Okay, we’ll see you then.”

Cherry rung off and laughed. “I don’t think Ben ever thought he’d get a phone call like that. Hoo-boy!”

“You didn’t want to tell him about everything else?”

Cherry shook her head. “Too much to process at one o’clock in the morning. Hard enough to absorb the fact his mama is out drinking in the middle of the night.”

The next morning, Lulu was so exhausted by her previous day’s adventures that she didn’t respond to her alarm. The sun’s ascent infused her bedroom with a bright light that she slept right through. And the rapping at her front door and the insistent ringing of the doorbell didn’t even cause her to roll over.

Only the feel of a rough, wet tongue against her face, snuffling in her ear, and a yippy bark brought her to a startled awareness. “What the
hell
?” she croaked as she blearily gazed into the small, determined face of Babette and the more distant faces of Ben and Sara.

“Sorry, Mother. I used my key since you didn’t answer the door. Babette is just
so
excited to see you.”

Lulu shoved her pillows in a ball and leaned against them as she sat up. “Ben? Sara? Isn’t it awfully early to make social calls? Or break into folks’ houses?” Or foist yappy rodents on unsuspecting sleepers?

“Well, after Cherry filled us in on everything that happened to you yesterday, we thought it best to make sure you were doing okay.”

“
Cherry
was up?” Lulu groaned. “She must be made of steel.”

“She’s probably more used to tossing down vodka tonics than you are, Mother. But I’m still trying to figure out why you think eleven thirty is early.”

“
What?
” Lulu pulled back the comforter that had blocked the view of her clock. “Lord have mercy. I have
never
slept so late in my life.” Babette stared disapprovingly at her. “Who’s at the restaurant? If you’re here,” said Lulu, struggling up in bed, “then who is on the pit? Good Lord, Ben, you didn’t put Seb on there, did you? He might be pouring sauce on the ribs instead of dry rub.” Lulu put her hands over her mouth in horror at the thought of how Seb might destroy Aunt Pat’s sterling reputation.

“It’s Sunday, Mother. We don’t open until five thirty tonight, remember?” Ben now frowned at her. He leaned forward, the better to look at her head. “How do you feel?”

Lulu abruptly realized that her head was throbbing. She felt underneath her hair and made a face. “There’s a big knot there.”

Sara was already moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you a glass of water and ibuprofen, Lulu.”

Ben sat down on the end of Lulu’s bed, and Babette jumped into his lap. He patted her absently. “What I don’t understand is why you were at the bookstore to begin with.”

“I was checking on Mildred; she hasn’t been acting like herself lately. Cherry said that Mildred had gotten an anonymous threatening letter after she started trying to write that murder mystery. I wanted to make sure she was all right. Which, clearly, she wasn’t.” Lulu had a horrifying urge to start crying. She angrily blinked back tears.

Ben became very absorbed in Babette to give Lulu time to recover. “You were good to check on her, Mother. But couldn’t you have called her store phone?”

“I did, but no one answered.”

“No one answered where?” Sara came back in and handed Lulu the ibuprofen and glass.

“Mildred’s shop. Mildred didn’t answer her phone yesterday. I drove over to her house, thinking she’d already gone home for the day. Her door was unlocked, so I walked right on inside. After a couple of minutes, I could see that she wasn’t there, so I drove back to the store. I had this awful feeling that maybe she needed some help. I didn’t think anyone was really trying to murder her—I just wondered if she was doing okay.”

Sara sat down in the armchair across from Lulu’s bed. “You know, I was there yesterday. At her shop.”

Ben swung his head around to look at her. “I thought you were in the studio all day yesterday. Are you
sure
you went to the bookstore? Yesterday? Maybe you’re thinking about a couple of days ago.”

Sara said, “I was in the studio a lot yesterday. Then Mildred called me and asked me to come by the store—she said that she wanted to talk to me.”

Ben looked unhappy with the direction of the story.

Lulu knit her brows. “I don’t understand, Sara. Why would Mildred want to talk to you?”

Sara rubbed her eyes tiredly. “She accused me of killing Rebecca Adrian.”

“
What?
” chorused Lulu and Ben.

“Oh, she saw me at the Peabody that day Rebecca was killed. She thought I was acting shady, so she confronted me about it.”

Ben frowned. “I didn’t know you were even
at
the Peabody that afternoon.” He tried to recreate the day in his head. “You were at Southern Accents in the morning, then you waited tables.”

“And you drove Tony and me over to the Peabody,” added Lulu, confused.

“Right. But I knew Derrick was upset that day from being humiliated the day before. And I knew exactly how he felt. I had a bad feeling that he hadn’t gone to school that morning. When I called the house, he didn’t answer. Then I called his cell phone and he acted very strange. He admitted he was at the Peabody.”

“I thought you just told him on the phone to come home when you realized what he was up to. But you actually went over there,” finished Lulu.

“I was only gone for fifteen minutes,” said Sara. “I drove the block or so over there, asked Derrick what in the blazes he was doing over there, ordered him to drive back to the house, and then I was back at the restaurant.”

“You didn’t say anything about it to us,” said Ben reproachfully.

Sara shook her head. “I didn’t want either of you to worry. Besides, you’d both had bad days already, what with the tasting and the scene with Mildred. I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do—if I should approach Tony or Rebecca about the tires privately and offer to pay for them, or if I should let that be the final straw and call the police and let them handle it.”

“Didn’t you feel uncomfortable in the car with Tony as we went to the Peabody?” asked Lulu.

“Not so much. I mainly wanted to make sure that Derrick’s car wasn’t back over at the hotel. I was worried he might somehow have gone back and was up to more devilment. Then . . . we found Rebecca’s body.”

They paused and considered the implications of that for a minute. “So, you were worried,” said Lulu, “that Derrick was somehow involved.”

“That was a deep-down fear,” said Sara. “I just needed to talk with him first and convince myself that he had absolutely nothing to do with it.”