The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3) (26 page)

Now Gloria was the one dashing tears away from her eyes. “That still doesn’t prove anything. Like you said, it would be untraceable.”

“But you’re used to giving your aunt shots, right? Did you put the syringe into his leg, or his neck, or his arm? Maybe it wouldn’t show up on autopsy where you stuck him. Or maybe it would. Jerry hasn’t made those results public for good reason.”

“You’re right, maybe not.” Gloria sniffled. “But a needle stick on someone’s neck doesn’t prove anything.”

“True, true. But there’s one last thing.”

“What’s that?” She snatched a tissue from the box on the table.

“The syringe. You needed to get rid of it fast. There’s a sharps container tucked just inside the first exam room door. You could have put the syringe in the container. And if you didn’t use gloves, your prints are all over that syringe. All Greenburg PD has to do is go pick up that container and find the right syringe. But what if Terrance Higgins showed up at the same time you stashed the syringe, so you ran for it and dropped that insulin vial in the parking lot?”

Gloria glared at us. “I love my daughter and I’d do anything for her. She’ll never walk, probably never talk, at least not clear enough so anyone can understand her. She’ll ride that little bus to school for twelve years, and get shuffled to one of those classes—the ones where all the students wear diapers. And then what? I get her back again so I can care for her the next fifty years or so until I die? Couldn’t you think of what those thoughts must be like for me? And now I can never have children.”

“Yes, I have thought of what life must be like for you. Very often.” I glanced to where the girls played and babbled.

“So you understand why. You’re a mother.”

“What are you saying, Gloria?” Jerry asked gently.

“I need to call my husband. And a lawyer.”

Within fifteen minutes, Victor Treen had come to the store and everyone had left Hannah and me alone in the store while they went to the police station. Gloria rode with Victor, her posture slumped against the window. All I could do was sit inside the play enclosure and let the tears flow as I held my baby girl to my heart. My life had changed forever when I gave birth to Hannah, and Ben had placed her in my arms for the first time. I knew if anyone tried to harm her, I’d shed blood to protect her. Would I kill for her? I didn’t want to think so. I prayed never to be put in a situation like that. But never for revenge.

“Oh, dear Lord, I never wanted it to be Gloria. I wanted to be wrong about her. That’s why I didn’t look at her very closely. Any one of the others could have done it,” I murmured into Hannah’s silky-soft hair. The last few weeks had opened up a pile of secrets in Greenburg, while people had gone on their merry way and barely mourned the passing of a doctor they hardly knew.

A vehicle entering the parking lot, so I stood and looked out the window. Not a customer. Ben. I should have turned the sign to closed.

He burst through the front door. “Jerry called me.”

And then he took Hannah and me into his arms and we made a tight little circle, just the three of us. He kissed my hair and my forehead and the end of my nose, then lastly, my lips. “I love you, Andromeda Hartley.”

“I love you too.” More tears came, and I clung to him. “I feel terrible about what I did just now.”

“Hush. Jerry told me she’s ready to talk once her lawyer arrives. Maybe hoping for a lighter sentence.”

“I feel like I just took a momma away from her little girl.” Regardless of the fact that Gloria had sounded bitter about being sentenced, as it were, to care for her daughter for her entire life.

“It sounds like they might have gotten around to questioning Gloria anyway, eventually, with that insulin bottle you told me about.”

I leaned against him. “I need to close the store this morning. I need . . .”

“We need to pack some snacks, and take Hannah to the park.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.” He released us and went to lock the front door, then turned out the lights. “Let’s get her diaper bag and go.”

“Can we go in one vehicle?” I didn’t want to drive alone, in case I started crying again.

“Wherever we go, Ands, I want you by my side.”

That made me kiss him again, and thoughts of darkness fled.

Epilogue

One Year Later

We were preparing to see a spectacle which no one in Greenburg, Tennessee, had ever seen, nor would ever see again: my brother-in-law, Greenburg Police Chief Jerry Hartley, riding a bedecked and spangled elephant down Main Street on the way to his wedding ceremony in Greenburg City Park.

Barkha had given me, as matron of honor, first dibs on which color sari to wear for the wedding ceremony. My sari, a gorgeous ocean blue, had hints of green and yellow. Ben said he thought I should wear it around the house all the time after this.

We waited at the decorated outdoor amphitheater at the park, the only place large enough to fit a chunk of Greenburg’s population and one hundred of Barkha’s closest family members. That was after she’d pared the guest list in half, much to her parents’ consternation. Some of her relatives refused to come, and I couldn’t imagine the size of the celebration if they all had responded to the invitation.

But we’d survived the wedding preparations, and here we were. A lot had happened in the past year while Jerry and Barkha’s romance had snowballed into an avalanche. Tushar had given up on Barkha and Greenburg, broken his contract with Franklin Bradley, and retreated to Atlanta. Franklin ended up closing the medical practice right after the new year began, and then headed off to Europe with his backpack.

After Barkha and Jerry’s honeymoon to India, which would also involve some volunteer work at a Christian orphanage, Barkha planned to open a women’s health clinic in Greenburg. Her parents had come for visits every couple of months, during which visits Barkha bounced back and forth between battling her mother about wedding plans and sparring with her father over a business plan.

As for Victor Treen, he was taking good care of his daughter while his wife awaited trial for Dr. Bradley’s murder. Eunice had lost her LVN license and pled guilty, now under house arrest for illegally obtaining and selling narcotics. She also faced charges for running Franklin’s car off the road.

Ben, a firm believer in second chances, hired her at the restaurant, and she didn’t dye her hair anymore. I told her the rich silver color suited her and made her look mature and elegant. Evidently Jonas, Ben’s head cook, thought so too. They’d recently started having dinner together, at her place, of course. Justin Finley graduated from Greenburg High, but the colleges didn’t come calling offering football scholarships after all.

“Are you nervous?” I asked Barkha as she paced inside the small tent where we hid until the ceremony started.

Barkha nodded. This morning she looked like Indian royalty in her ivory sari embroidered with gold. The rented jewelry around her neck alone was probably worth more than my house. But she rubbed her hennaed and bejeweled hands together, then yawned.

“And I’m so tired. I forgot how exhausting these three-day wedding festivities can be. Please, poke me in the back if I nod off.”

“I don’t see how you could.”

Barkha glanced at me. “How are you feeling? Not lightheaded? Do you need a chair?” Ever the doctor, she seemed like she was ready to pull out a stethoscope from somewhere in the silk that draped over her slim form.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine.” I touched my stomach. “Ben Junior is probably sleeping right now.” Actually, he was probably the size of peanut at the moment, so I wouldn’t have felt him even if he did stir. But we weren’t sure yet if I was carrying a Ben Junior or a Jewel Marie, either.

We ladies in the wedding party each took a turn sneaking a peek out one of the gaps in the tent walls. We could see where the wedding-goers would soon sit, once they arrived behind Jerry. Some of the wedding guests already waited, about fifty of them scattered throughout, since they didn’t care to accompany the procession to the park. Two of them were Momma and Hannah. Momma waved. Hannah didn’t figure out it was me, so we were spared her screaming.

The sun beat down through the white gauzy material that covered the top of the amphitheater. Hundreds of white chairs faced the stage, and a long red carpet led to the altar where Jerry would exchange vows with Barkha. Her family had bowed to her request to have a Christian ceremony, but the decorations were definitely not Western.

A roar and a cheer coming from the direction of the main road made us look in that direction. It looked as if a kaleidoscope of color approached the green lawn in waves. And the highest point, like king of the mountain, was Jerry, riding the elephant. He wore a golden embroidered tunic, and there’d been much debate about how much sparkle it would have.

I knew Ben wore a tux—I spotted him with his jacket slung over his arm, cheering with the rest of the men, some of whom wore elegant tunics. My heart swelled. We’d been through a rollercoaster, my little family and this town of Greenburg, but God had definitely brought us out on the other side. I started to cheer with the rest of the crowd. Shadows fled and darkness had no place in our town today.

When the crowd reached the chairs, the orchestra started to play.

“Ready, ladies?” Dulce, Barkha’s older sister asked. “Because Jerry’s trying to climb down from the elephant without falling off. He could have ridden a donkey instead, you know.”

I chuckled. “Knowing Jerry, I’m not surprised he chose the elephant.”

We watched the men in the wedding party line up and walk along the red carpet. Once they were in place at the end of the red carpet, our turn came.

I felt like a princess, walking down the aisle. All I could see was Ben and his smile, as if it were our special day. We’d been through so much together, but as long as I had him and God, we could face whatever the future held.

Check out books one and two in the Scents of Murder series:

A Suspicion of Strawberries

The Wiles of Watermelon

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About the Author

Lynette Sowell loves to spin adventures for the characters who emerge from story ideas in her head. She desires to take readers on an entertaining journey and hopes they catch a glimpse of God’s truth along the way. Lynette is a Massachusetts transplant who lives in central Texas. She loves to read, travel, spend time with her family, and also tries not to kill her houseplants, although her tropical hibiscus contemplated pressing charges one winter.