A Good Excuse To Be Bad (19 page)

I threw my head back and wanted to scream, but I didn't want to bring any attention to myself. I was sure some newspaper intern was observing me from the Dairy Queen across the street.

I walked back to Justus.

“What's up?” he asked.

“They're closed due to bereavement, but open for their catered clients. I'm going to call Elvis and let him know I'm here.”

“Wow. Your brother-in-law's death has impacted more than the congregation. It's impacted the town.”

“I guess.” I took out my phone. “But that's not my concern. I need to get Ava's case on the docket. I'm hoping Elvis can help me with that.”

“It would be good for her to get out of there. I'm concerned for her.”

“How was your talk with her?” I began dialing Elvis's number.

He sighed. “As you know, I have a limited history with your sister, so I knew going in our conversation was going to be introductory. But to my surprise, she opened up to me.”

I stopped dialing. “She did? What did she say?”

“Don't be angry, Angel, but I can't tell you that.”

“Understandable, but can you give me a clue why she doesn't want to go to trial?”

“Maybe she doesn't want a sensational court drama putting a huge cloud over Devon's legacy.”

I gasped and looked at him. “Now you sound like Detective Dixon.”

“Just trying to give you another perspective on things.”

“Thanks, but I didn't need or want that one.”

“You don't know what you need.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, I know I don't need weak thinking. That has never worked for anybody, and certainly not for me.”

He stood up. “Are you insulting me?”

“No, I said you were thinking weak. It's a common trait with you minister types.”

“I know you're anxious about your sister's problems, but there's no need to bash me or the laity.”

“I'm not. I'm stating what I have witnessed and accounted for the past fifteen years. A mega-church's goal is to weaken individuality. Stifle a decent thought. My sister has been brainwashed into believing that her life doesn't matter. That a church, who hasn't visited her according to the jail's visitor's log—at all—which hasn't called or come by to offer condolences, but which has been on every television, radio, and podcast they could rake or scrape up in less than seventy-two hours is suspect to me. She didn't speak to me for months because I tried to show her the truth about them. But she still can't see it, and neither can you.”

He sighed. “You can't judge people like that.”

“Maybe, but I just think about the people Ava's trying to protect. They're not thinking about what's best for Taylor and Lil' D. They're not thinking about Ava quivering in that jail. All that they care about is that their agendas and expected fiscal growth aren't changed. I'm not okay with that. I think it's weak.” I slapped my right leg. “No, I change my mind. It is weak.”

“You have issues, but blaming the mega-church for them is unfair,” he said and walked toward the restaurant.

“I know.” I pouted. “But they're such a great punching bag. Don't you think?” I looked toward where Justus had walked off. Two redheads, one twice the age of the other, drove up around the same time in matching pink mustang convertibles. They waved at me, then unlocked the caboose.

“Two ladies just unlocked the door at the Biscuit Depot,” Justus said. “Are you going in?”

“Yeah, let me call Elvis first.”

The phone rang three times before Elvis's voice mail message picked up. I hung up the phone and went to grab my purse out of the car.

A blue Mini Cooper drove up a few spaces down and parked. I stopped short of my door to see if it was Elvis. A young blond man hopped out and went inside. I checked my watch, then looked down Church Street to the front façade of the restaurant. Where was he?

I huffed and redialed. He picked up on the first ring.

“Morning, Evangeline. Have you seen Lady Ava yet?”

“Yes, now I'm at your restaurant, hoping to see you.”

“Then come inside. I'm here.” He hung up.

I closed the phone and looked around the place. “He's here?”

Justus shrugged. “I guess so.”

All this mystery and drama had me hungrier than sugar ants near a fresh-cut watermelon. Now I realized why we women crave so much chocolate, because we didn't get enough sleep. We do too much stuff. It's probably why we struggle with our weight. At least I struggled with mine. Ava never struggled with anything until now.

Justus locked the car and we went inside.

The Biscuit Depot smelled like maple sausages, fresh coffee, and steamy butter-me-not biscuits.
Have mercy
. Like the exterior, inside the place resembled a railcar. Table seating was placed in rows of three. White chrysanthemums sat in mason jars on every white linen tablecloth. The place charmed me. I smiled.

I looked toward the baker's counter where the older redhead was lathering icing on a hot batch of cinnamon rolls. One whiff of them told me that the woman stuck her foot in every dish she created.

It reminded me of the time Mom tried to teach Ava and me how to bake biscuits. We were ten and the kitchen floor was covered in flour and our tiny footprints. I covered my heart with my hands. If Elvis didn't show up soon, this cute place would make a blubbery mess of me.

“What's wrong?” Justus asked.

“I'm tired from yesterday.” I was two sniffles away from balling my eyes out, but there was no time to be weak. Actually, there had never been time for me to be weak, but whatever . . .

Justus's phone rang. He peaked at his phone. “It's Trish. Let me step outside and see what she needs.”

“Sure, I can handle this on my own.”

“I know, but do me a favor.” He stood at the door. “While I'm outside, please don't scare or flirt with the man. You're dangerous in both ways.”

I smirked. “I can't promise you anything, so you better hurry back.”

He pointed at me, then stepped outside. He sat on a bench near the handicapped parking area. From the look on his face, I suspected the conversation had something to do with Kelly and her phantom boyfriend.

“May I help you, madam?” Red asked.

“Is Elvis here?”

Her eyes brightened. “Yes, wait right here.”

She walked through the dining room, turned toward me, smiled, and vanished into their office, I assumed. Now the only other person in the dining room with me was the blonde.

He sat in the last table near the exit. I couldn't help but notice him. The restaurant could have been crowded and any woman with a speck of vision would have spotted him from across the room. Even from where he sat, I could tell his eyes matched the color of the smog-free day outside, a perfect baby blue.

He was far younger than me in appearance, but those eyes belonged to an old man, Cary Grant or Gregory Peck or Paul Newman. And they looked extremely wrong for me to be admiring at a time like this, especially with Justus near. More trouble. He had warned me.

If I wasn't focused before, I was on point now. Pretty men can make a woman forget herself and her troubles. The trick was you couldn't let his troubles creep up into yours. Because I promise you, pretty men come with plenty ugly trouble.

“Get it together.”
Granny's voice shivered through me.
“Devon and Ava need you.”

I turned back toward the counter and reached for a menu on the service counter. I was definitely getting those cinnamon rolls.

“Evangeline Crawford?” some man asked.

For a minute I thought my desperate need for something sweet and my lack of sleep had me hallucinating, but then again . . .

I looked behind me. “Elvis Bloom?”

He stood up and wiped his eyes. It was the white man with the blue eyes. He had been crying. Those blue eyes probably resembled rain and sky now.

I grabbed one of those cinnamon rolls off the tray on the table and popped it in my mouth. I needed quick comfort.

Elvis left his table and walked toward me as I chewed and swallowed. I took note of the time. It was 1:00
PM
. Not good. I needed to get ahead of Salvador's investigation. If my memory served me right, he and Detective Dixon were lunching with the coroner. I had to know what they knew.

Elvis and I hugged. He smelled like figs and something sweet. I couldn't put my name on it, but it was original, too.

“Sorry to meet you under these circumstances,” I said, still chewing.

“Same here.” He stepped back and looked me up and down. “I know I sound redundant, but you and Lady Ava really are twins.”

“I assume you've seen my sister without her makeup.”

He chuckled as he pulled out a counter stool for me to sit on. Then he sat down beside me.

“I know we don't have much time, but what happened?” he asked.

“Someone stabbed Devon. Ava called the police and was charged with his murder.”

His eyes watered more. “It can't be that simple.”

“Simple enough. I arrived just before the police. We all found Ava holding Devon's head in her lap.” I thought about the bloodied knife lying at Ava's feet and trembled. “It was horrible.”

“I cannot imagine . . .” He reached over the counter, pulled some napkins, two teacups, and saucers, then sat a pair in front of the both of us. “I need some tea to calm my nerves. What about you?”

I took some napkins to wipe my eyes. “That's not necessary, as you said, I don't have much time. Family matters.
I'm just telling you what happened from my point of view
.”

And trying to get a clue why Ava didn't add you to the visitor's list.
I kept that question to myself. Mama taught me a long time ago not to disrespect the hand that fed you, else they might spit in your food.

He nodded, while pouring tea in his cup. “Do you think she killed him?”

I shook my head, but I would be lying if I didn't have my doubts. “She's not the killing kind.”

He poured tea in my cup. “Then you're going to need something to drink.”

“Why?”

He placed the tea kettle back in its place on the other side of the counter. “Because by the look of things, you won't be getting any sleep anytime soon.”

The younger redhead came over. She placed a basket of fish and fries in front of him. Justus returned to the dining hall. He spotted us and walked toward the bar.

The woman turned to me. “Would you like some fish and chips, miss?”

“If I ate that, I would fall a sleep where I sit.”

Her face wrinkled. “But you eat it all the time.”

Elvis touched her hand. “She's not Lady Ava. This is her twin, Angel. Angel, this is my sister, Emma. Emma, this is Evangeline.” He made my name sound like a British dream.

She wiped her hands on her apron, then held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Angel. So sorry for the confusion.”

She had a sweet, shy voice and very soft hands.

“Nice to meet you. Don't worry about it. I'm far from being an angel for sure.”

She giggled. “Well, if you're anything like Lady Ava, then I beg to differ. But I should have known you weren't your sister.”

“Why's that?” I asked.

“She rarely came here and never for tea.”

“Sounds like you're in the wrong profession.” I drank my tea after all. “You could be a detective.”

“Or a reporter,” Elvis said. His eyes were locked on me.

“No.” I drank my entire cup quickly. “She's too decent for that.”

Justus stepped into the group and introduced himself. He ordered a black cup of coffee. He didn't look at me.

Elvis whispered something in Emma's ear. She nodded and walked away. I wished Ava and I were that in sync with each other. We used to be. A shiver ran through me.

If we were close, then I could have prevented this disaster. She would have trusted me with her fears about her marriage. Maybe if she had stayed at my house instead of jetting off into the wee hours, this never would have happened. Then my heart sank into my gut. I almost dropped the tea. Had I not told her the truth about the
Sentinel
investigation, Devon would be alive today.

I shuddered.

“Are you okay?” Elvis asked.

I nodded. “Just had a tiny gut check. I'm good.”

“May I ask? What is your gut telling you?

I turned to Elvis. His voice was gentle and reassuring. His head was tilted, he was no longer crying, and his body language oozed calm. I sighed and breathed him in. Those dreamy blue eyes blazed a reserved confidence. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but I could read a man better and faster than I could read my twin sister.

And it led me to wonder . . . What was a successful white restaurateur doing moonlighting as an assistant to the largest black church in the city and the state?

“My gut tells me that your role at Big Faith is more than Devon's assistant.”

He grinned. “Your sister was right. You have been out of the loop for a while.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I'm sure when you were working for the
Sentinel
you would have known all about me before we met.”

“Then you can rest assured that I don't think you're a suspect.”

He sat up. “For the bishop's murder?”

“No, for framing my sister.”