The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3) (2 page)

“Wow, I guess you don’t eat here if you’re in a hurry,” Di murmured as we found an empty table. The hostess wheeled up a high chair for Hannah. A few diners glanced in our direction. I could read their expressions as if their comments had been tattooed on their foreheads. Don’t let her act up and disturb our quiet lunch.

We settled onto our chairs once I strapped Hannah into hers, then gave her a cracker. If that didn’t settle her, I had a fresh jar of peach medley baby food, her favorite.

Ever since Momma had taught me to make pickled watermelon rind a couple of years ago, I’d found I liked canning. We had a bountiful garden, and I had plenty of produce to make Tennessee homegrown baby food.

Di kept glancing around our end of the restaurant. “Do you see Dr. Mukherjee anywhere?”

“Not yet.” I’d been too focused on getting Hannah situated to even look at the menu or see who I recognized in the dining room.

Gloria Treen approached our table, her order pad in hand. She brought her daughter to Mommy’s Morning every Wednesday at my shop. Her blonde waves cascaded over her shoulders, and she tucked a wayward curl over one ear. “Hi Andi. I’m surprised to see you here. This isn’t your usual type of dining.”

“Yes,” I said. “Surprise?”

Gloria smiled. “Do you have any of that peach baby food on hand? I heard it’s delicious.”

“Um, only a few jars left.” I shifted on my chair, although the seat felt like it had a memory foam cushion. “We just finished picking some peaches, but I’m not really selling it or anything.”

“Eunice at the clinic told me it’s a great afternoon pick-me-up.”

“Ha. For babies and grownups alike. I tell ya, I’m thinking about easing off on making baby foods. After all, Hannah is eating more table food now.”

“I can’t believe in a few months she’ll be a year old,” Di said.

“They do grow fast, don’t they?” Gloria said.

“I’m afraid to blink sometimes.” I nodded. “Hey, I’m actually here to see if I can find Dr. Mukherjee, and she’s supposed to be here for lunch. Oh, there she is.” Barkha was seated at the far end of the restaurant. She and Dr. Bradley shared a tiny café table tucked in the dim corner. And the frown Barkha wore probably didn’t have anything to do with the pink smoothie in front of her.

“I’ll bring you some spring water with lemon while you think about what you’d like. Take your time.” Gloria strode off to smile at another group of customers seated at her station.

“I think the arugula-asparagus salad topped with goat cheese crumbles and balsamic dressing sounds, um . . . light,” Di began. “But I could order a tofu burger to go with that.”

Barkha and the doctor had just received their orders. Now was my chance. “Di, I’ll be right back. I need to warn Barkha about that man.” I smiled at Hannah and tickled her crumb-covered chin, then crossed to the corner table where Barkha and Dr. Bradley sat.

Dr. Bradley looked up at me, his eyes appearing unnaturally small with his thick lenses. “Mrs. Hart-ley.”

“Hello. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“If you really were sorry, you wouldn’t have interrupted,” Dr. Bradley said. “But never mind. You needed . . .?”

No, I wasn’t going to open my mouth and respond to Dr. Bradley’s pompous remark. “Dr. Mukherjee, a man showed up at your house not too long ago. He was looking for you. He also showed up at the office this morning, according to Eunice.” I watched Barkha’s eyes grow round in her tawny face.

“Did he drive a black Mercedes? Was he Indian?” Her voice held a hint of a quaver.

“Yes and yes. Is he who I think he might be?”

She nodded. “Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate it.” She seemed to hesitate, and I thought she might have said more if Dr. Bradley weren’t there.

“No problem. Do you, um, have any more dictation files ready for transcribing?”

Barkha nodded. “Just stop by the office and pick them up around five or so. I should be finished then. What about you, Hiram?”

“I may or may not be finished.” Dr. Bradley took a sip of his water and appeared to study the salad in front of him. “But I expect the completed reports back by Monday morning.” His tone was at odds with the peaceful tones of the guitar music playing overhead.

“Thank you both.” I smiled at Barkha, who gave a slight nod. Yes, she’d fill me in later. I turned to head back to my table, where Di was making Hannah laugh.

Hints of Barkha’s conversation with Dr. Bradley drifted after me.

“Hiram, that was a long time ago. I already explained to you.” I recognized Barkha’s low voice easily as I headed back toward Di and Hannah

“Just you remember that paper trail.” Dr. Bradley’s voice could freeze water. “It would be unfortunate if . . .”

I ignored the temptation to turn around and continued to our table. Barkha’s demeanor sometimes resembled the surface of a mirror, but I knew if I waited for the right time, my friend might tell me the story.

Ever since Barkha had followed my prenatal care and delivered Hannah, we’d formed a friendship, one I hadn’t expected yet welcomed. Barkha had even started attending Sunday dinner at my parents’ house. Momma gave Barkha a standing invitation the first time I brought her along. I think she missed her parents, brothers, sisters, and a whole posse of relatives back in Atlanta. She’d smile at Momma and Daddy’s banter, Di and Steven reasoning with one of the boys, Ben and I fawning over our little one. And, I’d especially catch her smiling at my single brother-in-law, Jerry. When Jerry noticed, he’d smile back.

The whole thing with the two of them was enough for me to scream, “Ask her out to dinner already!” But of course I didn’t. Jerry, like his brother Ben, didn’t move in a hurry. It had taken Jerry nearly two years to work out and lose fifty pounds, then start getting his hair done instead of getting the traditional Hartley buzz cut. Plus I couldn’t see how Greenburg’s chief of police and a busy physician would find time to coordinate a meal together. But then I was getting ahead of myself on that one.

I slid back onto my chair and picked up my menu. “Did you find something that sounded appetizing?” My stomach growled.

“I’m going with the chef salad,” Di said.

“The spinach and feta melt on a whole wheat pita sounds delicious. Anything with cheese.” Even health food ought to taste better with cheese.

Gloria returned to take our orders, and she flinched as she stopped by my elbow. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“It’s my second week back to work after surgery. I’m still pretty sore. But they’re shorthanded, so I told them I’d wait a few tables during the lunch rush.” Gloria rubbed her abdomen, her painted nails catching the light. “And how is little Hannah today? Jenna can’t wait to see you at Mommy’s Morning next week.”

More squeals from Hannah, and a few smiles from diners. “She helped me pick peaches, and can’t wait to see her friends.” Yes, she’s my daughter. Extremely talented. Miss Congeniality already too. Colleges are already on the phone offering scholarships.

“I tell you, that little play group gives me such a breather, even having Jenna right there.” Gloria’s smile faded a few degrees. “Her doctor appointments alone exhaust us, goin’ back and forth to Nashville twice a month. But the doctor hopes she’ll get more strength in her legs . . .”

My own little angel gurgled in the high chair beside me, and not for the first time a pinprick of guilt needled my heart. Gloria’s little girl had been born with disabilities. I watched as she reached over and touched Hannah’s hair.

A sudden flurry of conversation and movement made us both glance in its direction.

Barkha, her cheeks flushed dark crimson, headed for the front door. I looked over to the café table where Dr. Bradley tossed some bills between their half-eaten lunches. He muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead as he stalked across the restaurant. Evidently the guitar music hadn’t helped him relax, either.

Hannah squealed and clenched the last of her cracker. Di shook her head. “Now what was that all about?”

“I have no idea.” I grabbed a fresh wet wipe from Hannah’s bag.

“Well, I’ll put those orders in for you and get you some refills on that water.” Gloria turned and headed toward the kitchen.

Once Gloria had left, Di said, “I bet you’re going to find out what happened.”

I nodded. “I’ve never seen her this upset before.” Of course, being in the same room with Dr. Bradley for even five minutes would be enough to try the most patient soul. The restaurant’s glass front door glided shut as Dr. Bradley headed outside.

“I bet he had something to do with it.” Di frowned. “It’s hard to believe how nice he is as a doctor. I remember he treated Stevie for a bad stomach bug years ago. Dr. Bradley had to give him an IV because he was so dehydrated. Stevie hates needles, but Dr. Bradley distracted him long enough for the nurse to put the IV in.”

“It must be his alter ego. Because he’s nearly impossible to work for. I don’t know how Eunice does it. At least I only have to listen to his recorded voice.”

“Ouch.” Di reached for one of Hannah’s crumb-covered hands. “Your mommy sure doesn’t like that doctor, does she?”

“I’m sorry. I just get tired of the man’s barbs.” I lifted my hands. “I’m finally beginning to understand what Daddy meant when he said not all money was good money. Speaking of which, I need to remember to pick up those files.”

“Well, do me a favor.” Di looked up as another waitress approached with our meals on a tray. “When we’re done here, drop me off at Momma’s.”

“You got it.” I glanced toward the kitchen window where Gloria stood at a counter, putting a salad together. “I wish you lived closer. Y’all left such a hole when you moved.”

“Sometimes I wish we lived closer too. But we’re happy there.” The smile on Di’s face was supposed to reassure me, but my heart still ached a little. “And it’s not so far away. An hour or so.”

“I know. It’s just that I was so used to seeing y’all almost every day.”

“Not every day. That’s probably an exaggeration. And we see you nearly every Sunday.”

“You’re right. It was different though, knowing y’all were here. Even when we didn’t see each other.” The spinach and feta lay listlessly on the pita bread. I picked up the sandwich, but my appetite had followed my good mood out the door after Dr. Bradley.

“You and Ben are busy. Him with the restaurant, you with your soap shop and now Hannah. Plus, you and Barkha have become good friends too. Which I’m really glad about.” Di drizzled her salad with dressing, then took a bite. “Not bad. I might even skip the burger later.”

“I might be busy, but these changes have been hard. Even good ones.” I ventured a nibble of my own lunch. The tang of the feta mingled with the spinach and the nutty wheat of the pita. “I agree, Barkha’s become a good friend. That’s helped.”

Di patted my hand. “Cheer up. Because if the look on her face when she was leaving is any indication, she’s going to need a friend’s listening ear.”

The beautiful thing about having a baby is that time can stop in an instant. I didn’t care so much about dishes anymore, and my duels with the laundry monster had escalated. But spending the afternoon watching Hannah roll around the living room floor and explore nearly always shuffled to the top of my list of things to do. Which it had today, after dropping Di off at Momma’s with a promise we’d talk again soon.

Now Hannah clutched the edge of coffee table as she put one foot in front of the other in an awkward step-slide, step-slide. Spot’s kitty-cat tail was just out of reach where it dangled as Spot laid on the morning paper and dreamed. Should Ben smooth off those table edges? What if Hannah bonked her head?

The not-so-beautiful thing about having a baby is that you forget things. The dictation files! Here it was, after five in the afternoon, and I’d spent all this time playing with Hannah while waiting for Ben to come home from the restaurant. In jest, I’d told Ben once that I was going to print out a life-sized head and shoulder shot of him so Hannah would recognize him. He failed to see the humor in that statement.

Soon Hannah and I were bundled up in the Jeep and on our way back to town. If I’d remembered to pick up the recorded files earlier, I’d probably already be finished typing the reports. My head hurt just thinking of the packed schedule weekend ahead. I still had the peaches to can. Not to mention the matter of downloading Internet orders for the soap shop.

We rolled up to the parking lot of Bradley Medical. A pair of vehicles occupied spaces in front of the building. Probably the last patients of the day.

“This’ll just take a few minutes,” I assured Hannah as I hoisted her onto my hip. No wonder the Lord blessed us women with hips. Good for carrying little ones.

I entered the reception area where Barkha stood behind the desk and flipped through a chart. “Sorry. I’d planned to come by earlier to get the dictation files. I got sidetracked.”

“That’s all right.” Barkha’s dark gaze flicked to the closed door at the other end of the reception area. “Dr. Bradley’s still dictating. I think.” We heard his even tones filtering through the door, which flashed open.

“Lungs are clear to auscultation . . .”

Franklin Bradley, Dr. Bradley’s nephew, stormed out of the office. His ripped jeans had seen better days and his T-shirt matched. “Fine. Be that way.” His stubbled jaw pulsed, then he relaxed when he saw us. He raked a hand through his unkempt sandy blond hair. “Excuse me. I was trying to talk some sense to my uncle.”