Still Life in Brunswick Stew (21 page)

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Authors: Larissa Reinhart

Tags: #Mystery, #humor, #cozy, #Humour, #Romance, #cozy mystery, #southern mystery, #humorous mystery, #mystery series

BOOK: Still Life in Brunswick Stew
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TWENTY-THREE

“Hey,” I yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?” I pushed off the car and attempted a pivot.

Griffin stood behind me, blocking my turn.

“I’ve got something to say to you.” He shoved me against the trunk with the flat of his hand.

“Get your hands off me, asshole. You got something to say, say it. But lay a hand on me and I’m calling assault.” I stepped hard on his foot as I turned to face him. It would have made more of an impression if I had been wearing boots instead of flip-flops.

“Shut up.” Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “I know it was you.”

“You know what was me?” I stepped forward, but Griffin blocked my path. “Get out of my way.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you hear what I’ve got to say.” He grabbed my Myrtle Beach shirt by the collar and fisted the material in his hand. “Listen. Stop squirming.”

“Let go of me.” I clawed at his hand and kicked in the few inches of space between him and the car.

He snatched my wrists in one meaty hand and tightened his grip on my t-shirt. “I know you told the cops I tried to poison the festival with my Genuine Juice. They took my cooler. Even took my last batch. I had to work all night making new stuff to get my deliveries out this afternoon. I barely slept.”

“That’s not my fault. The police have to test everything people ate or drank at the festival.”

“You’ve been telling people I did it. That I tried to kill Eloise.”

“I don’t think you did it on purpose. What did you put in the Genuine Juice? Was it just enough to make her sick or an accident?”

The collar tightened on my shirt. Griffin yanked me higher, making my toes drag against the gravel.

“Don’t be stupid. Put me down, Griffin.”

His forward step pinned my legs against the car. Whiskey breath fanned my face. He held me close enough to see fire licking his eyes. “I heard you talking with that woman in the Viper. Y’all said I tried to poison Eloise. I want you to go to the police and take back all you said about me.”

“I didn’t tell the police anything.” I licked my lips. “But you can bet your ass I’m telling them now.”

With a frustrated cry, Griffin released his grip on me. My shirt tore as I dumped to the ground. Griffin stood over me, shaking with anger.

Too mad to be scared, I stared back with the meanest look I could muster. “You jerk. You owe me a new t-shirt.”

“I’ve always hated you, you loud-mouth bitch,” Griffin swore at me and swung his foot back.

I dodged his kick and scrambled crab-wise in the gravel.

“You’ve always had it in for me. Filled Eloise’s head with BS about me.” His shoe struck my chest, splaying me flat.

I grabbed a handful of gravel and threw it at his face. “And you’re showing your true colors now. I knew you were smacking Eloise around.”

He kicked again, but I rolled onto my stomach and hauled myself under his car.

“It was none of your damn business. Eloise had a mouth and she knew she deserved it. Someone should have taken a belt to your hide years ago.” He stood over the trunk, kicking gravel after me. “Get out of there or I swear I’ll run you over.”

My cab light had gone out long ago, but by the dim parking light, I could just see the bottom of my truck door still hanging open. Hand over hand, I inched toward the door, but the exhaust blocked my forward movement. The car rocked as Griffin pushed on the trunk.

“Get the hell out from under my car,” he screamed. “Or I’m going to really hurt you. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

I heard him stomp to the driver’s door, then realized the muffler and tail pipe would heat up when he started the car. What kind of idiot crawled underneath a psycho’s car?

“Crap.” I inched backward, feeling rocks scratch my thighs and catch in my t-shirt’s beading. I pushed back with my toes, then felt hands grip my ankles. My shirt rode up and gravel grated my belly at Griffin’s yank. My head cleared the tail pipe. I tried to flip over, but Griffin stepped on my back and held me firm.

“You gonna listen now?” he said.

I glared at the ground and set my mind to revenge.

“That’s what I thought. You women need to stop fighting me when I know what’s best.” He pressed his foot harder and ground his toe into my back. “If you’d listen, I wouldn’t have to take a hand to you.”

I couldn’t stay silent. I’ll admit to calling his mother a few names and told him a few creative things he could do to himself. That got me a smack in the back of the head. My face bit the dirty gravel, and I swore I’d get even with the bullying sonofabitch.

“Tomorrow morning, you’re going to the sheriff’s office and clear up this problem. Then you’re going to Chaney’s garage and apologize to me in front of Chaney so he starts selling my Genuine Juice again.”

I repeated my earlier offer for him to have relations with himself. And got punched in the head. This time the gravel tore a hole in my lip. Eloise might have feared his fist with her weakened body and strange ideas about love, but beating up women did not fly with this little, country girl.

“Is this what makes you feel good, Griffin? A fight with a girl half your size? What’s the matter? Can’t you get it up with the steroids you take? You fight girls because you’re not a man anymore?”

The foot lifted from my back, and I flipped over. He waited until I pushed off the ground and stood. His eyes flickered over me and fixed on my torn shirt. I looked down and saw my neon pink bra peeking through the tear.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t forget,” he growled.

I didn’t wait for his lunge, but pivoted and ran for my open truck door. I jumped in the truck, slammed the door shut, and pushed down the lock. He breathed on the closed window. I held up a single, middle finger and turned to the dash.

And realized there were no keys hanging from the ignition.

Griffin laughed, and I turned to look. He held up a finger, dangling the keys I had left in the door lock.

“Shit.”

I dove over the backseat and yanked a long, narrow box to my lap. While Griffin fumbled with the rusty lock, my fingers fumbled with the tiny combination dials on my gun box. The lock on the door popped up. I glanced at the window.

Griffin grinned at me and hammered on the window. “Kiss your scrawny ass goodbye, Cherry Tucker.”

I slid to the other side of the bench with the gun box on my lap. Griffin yanked on the door handle. The box lid flew up. I grabbed the shotgun inside. The driver’s door wrenched open, and my gun box clattered to the floor. Griffin piled in, his hand reaching for me, then froze as I swung the Wingmaster to my shoulder.

“Hold it right there, you woman-beating S.O.B.” I racked the pump and aimed the shotgun at his head, then lowered the gun slowly until my sight fixed his crotch.

“You bitch.”

I slipped my finger to the trigger guard. “You want to try that again?” I scooted down the bench. “Give me my keys.”

Griffin backed to his car and held the keys out. “Put the gun down and I’ll give you your keys.”

“I don’t think so.” I slid out the door and forced Griffin to back step around his Grand Prix.

An oversized truck roared into the parking lot and shined its lights on the two of us. “Hey,” yelled a voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stand down.”

“Call the police,” I hollered. “I’ll put down this gun when they get here.”

“Help me,” screamed Griffin. “She’s crazy. She’s threatening to shoot me.”

“Put down that gun.”

“Get the sheriff here.” I turned to squint into the glare of the truck lights. “This man tried to beat me up in the parking lot and he killed his girlfriend.”

“I did not kill Eloise. She’s crazy. Get her gun. She’ll shoot me,” yelled Griffin.

“I’m calling 911,” said the man.

His truck door swung open and heavy boots hit the gravel. He walked into the headlights, holding a rifle.

“Drop your weapon,” he said. “I’m holding you both here until the police arrive.”

I lowered my gun to the ground. A second later, I was knocked into the gravel. I slammed my palm into Griffin’s nose and bit his ear. Before his hand could grapple my throat, a blast burst the night air. The smoking barrel lowered between us, and we scurried to part.

“Y’all freeze or I’m not wasting my next shot on the sky. The po-po can sort y’all out.”

In the parking lot of the Waffle House, I shrugged into Luke’s t-shirt and attempted to comb my hair with my fingers. He watched me without comment with his arms crossed over his undershirt. His inscrutable eyes matched the color of slate. No dimples in sight.

“That’s better,” I said, tying the excess material into a knot at my waist. “Thank you.”

“Everyone at the sheriff’s office knows you’re wearing a pink bra. I don’t know why you feel so modest at the Waffle House.”

“Come on, Luke.” I followed him through the glass door and took an appreciative whiff of brewing coffee and bacon. “Are you going to stay mad at me all night? You should be proud of me.”

He spun around and walked me backward through the door and onto the sidewalk. The door slammed shut behind us, announcing our absence with a ring of a bell.

“Proud of you?” he said. “For what? Almost getting raped in a parking lot of a biker bar?”

“How is that my fault? I told you Griffin was dangerous. I didn’t know he was in the Viper.”

“What the hell were you doing at the Viper anyway?” Luke scrubbed his hair, sending his dark curls into disarray. “God Almighty, Cherry. When I saw you all beat up with your shirt torn in half...”

“What?”

“I wanted to kill you.”

“How about killing Griffin Ward instead?”

“Don’t tempt me. Anyway, I don’t know what you did to him, but he’s puking his guts out in his holding cell.” A smile hovered underneath Luke’s stern features. “And he’s going to sleep with that smell. We’ll call the janitor in the morning.”

“I wish I had shot him.”

“No you don’t.” Luke snagged my shoulder and pulled me into his chest. His arms wrapped me tight, and I pressed my head against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. “Dammit, Cherry, you’ve got to stop scaring me like this. You’re no bigger than a flea and you keep biting pit bulls. I told you to stay clear of this poisoning mess.”

“It had nothing to do with the poisoning. Griffin and I have been enemies since day one. I couldn’t watch my idiot friend go out with somebody like Griffin, even if she wouldn’t listen to me. Somebody had to stand up for her.”

“But there’s just one little thing...”

“What?” I tipped my head back to see his face.

His smoldering gray eyes glared down at me. “Griffin Ward found you in the parking lot of the Viper. In Sidewinder. Don’t tell me you needed to drive that scrapheap truck all the way to Sidewinder to get a beer.”

“The Viper makes really good catfish.”

“Cherry,” Luke’s voice grew into a growl. “What were you doing at the Viper?”

“Eating dinner. Except I didn’t get to eat my dinner, which is why I’m so hungry now. Thanks for taking me to the Waffle House. Let’s go in and get you some sausage and gravy. I’ve got my mind on a pecan waffle.”

His mouth drew into a tight line.

“Okay, I was with Dot Cooper. We were talking to Hunter Adams. He asked to meet me there, otherwise I never would have gone. And I took Dot so I wouldn’t be alone. Aren’t you glad I thought of that? Hunter wanted me to bring Todd and I didn’t think that was a good idea.” I bit my lip. Sometimes I just didn’t know when to shut up. When Luke got that fierce look in his eye, I had a tendency to babble.

“I take issue with so much of that explanation, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Then don’t.” I smiled wide. “Let’s eat.”

His phone buzzed. He gave me one of those “we’re not finished” looks and strode away. I banged through the door and received a surly look from the waitress at the cash register. She jerked her head toward the booths. I slid onto a red and gray seat. A moment later, two cups of coffee sat before me.

The bell rang above the door, and Luke slid into the booth. He blew off his coffee and took a deep slurp. His eyes had lost the recent pissed off look and appeared troubled and distant.

“What happened?” I asked.

The waitress slapped a plate of hash browns covered in cheese and onions on the table. She took her time arranging Luke’s biscuits and gravy while he gave her a gracious smile for her trouble.

My frown deepened as she topped his coffee off and didn’t bother to check my half-drunk cup.

Luke watched the waitress walk away and fixed his gaze on me. “Griffin’s sick. They’re taking him to the hospital.”

“He was perfectly fine a couple hours ago. Didn’t even cough when he hauled me out from under his car.”

Luke scowled.

I changed my tone to humor him. “Do you have to go?”

“No. Billy Caruthers is on duty. I asked him to keep me informed of Griffin’s condition. Do you know what he drank or ate in the Viper?”

“I have no idea what he had in the Viper.” I tapped my carnation pink nails on the tabletop. “I didn’t even know he was there, remember? But after that trucker broke up our fight, he let Griffin get his drink from his car.”

Luke pulled his phone from his pocket. “What drink?”

“What else? Genuine Juice. But Griffin said he had made a fresh batch after y’all confiscated his stuff.”

“Shit.” Luke pushed off his seat and threw a twenty on the table. “Come on. Sounds like Griffin poisoned himself. Which means there might be more tainted Genuine Juice hanging around Sidewinder.”

 

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