A Suspicion of Strawberries (Scents of Murder Book 1) (6 page)

I nodded. “Have you seen Kaitlyn anywhere?”

“Kaitlyn Branch?”

“I guess that might be her last name.” I didn’t think I was very good at bluffing, but I smiled as I spoke to the caffeine maven of Greenburg.

“She’s over there, talking to Robert Robertson.” Trudy gestured with her head.

“Thanks.” Normally I’d have stayed with Trudy and helped her bear her discomfort, but I at least wanted to speak to Kaitlyn and see what information I could glean.

Some people don’t talk to strangers. Others confess to strangers matters they’d never divulge to their best friend. I was counting on Kaitlyn being the latter type of person.

Fortunately, Robert and Kaitlyn stood next to the food table. I couldn’t catch their conversation, but neither looked happy. Of course, it wasn’t like today’s events called for an occasion of rejoicing.

Even though the table looked like a locust plague had already descended on the food spread from one end to the other, I grabbed a fresh paper plate and tried to find something palatable to put on it. Momma would scold me for taking food I didn’t intend to eat. Truth be told, I liked corn casserole, enough to try to find out who made it and get the recipe, which said a lot for church buffet food.

“Sorry about what happened. . .” Kaitlyn’s soft tones dripped with sympathy. She touched the sleeve of Robert’s suit jacket and gave him a sad smile that oozed with much more than sympathy. I glanced at her feet. Yep, slingbacks.

He nodded, his eyelids blinking rapidly. “I can’t believe she’s gone. It’s like I’m stuck in a nightmare.” I forced myself to look away and instead studied the nearest giant picture—of Charla on horseback.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to talk. At least not to you.” Robert’s voice rasped as though he had laryngitis.

“I’m just trying to help,” Kaitlyn hissed. At that, I ventured a glance in their direction. Then I snapped my gaze to a bowl that held a tablespoon of green bean casserole.

“I don’t need your help.” He darted sideways and almost ran into me. “Excuse me,” he said as he made his getaway.

Kaitlyn stood like a lost little girl in a crowd, so I seized my chance. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you all right?”

She blinked hard as she looked my way. “I’ll be fine. It’s hard for me to see him like that. He was always so together, larger than life, and now. . .”

“What a tragedy, and right before their wedding, too.” I shook my head. “Did you know Charla well?”

“I knew her well enough.” A hardness made

Kaitlyn’s jaw look like granite. “Some people are larger than life, even after they die.” Her expression focused behind me, and I glanced back at the poster display.

“That’s something else, isn’t it?” I was running out of small talk ideas, and the crowd was beginning to dwindle. Di looked stranded next to the trash can. She clutched a paper cup and kept giving me looks that said she was ready to drag me from the building. I ignored her and faced Kaitlyn.

“You know what? See that picture of the inner-city project in Memphis?” Kaitlyn leaned closer. “She only showed up one afternoon, complained about everything, and never came back after that. Sure made out like a fat rat, shopping while the rest of us worked.”

“Oh. I suppose things aren’t always like they seem.” The joy with which Kaitlyn tainted the public display amazed me.

“Did I hear someone mention something about Charla suing somebody?” Every Proverb I’d ever read about talebearers flitted through my brain.

Kaitlyn pounced on this tidbit. “You’re right. She tried to sue Mike Chandler. Said he tried to poison her. The case got thrown out, though.”

“Really?” I’ve never taken acting classes, but for this performance, I’d have gotten an A. I saw Di pull out her cell phone and take a call after she shot me a glare, mouthing, “Let’s go.”

“Hey, baby.” A lanky young man with a trimmed beard, wearing a striped shirt and a too-long tie, sidled up to Kaitlyn. Her smile didn’t hold nearly the same brilliance as the one she’d given Robert, the grieving fiancé.

“Hi.” She received the kiss on the cheek he gave her and took his hand. “This is Jared.”

“Oh, um, hello.” Di was walking our way— “Andi, I hate to break the news to you, but I’ve got to go.” Di glanced down at her watch. “The babysitter has to leave and I already owe her more than I budgeted.”

“Kaitlyn, Jared, nice chatting with you.” I still held my plate of uneaten food. “Take care, now.”

The last thing I heard as I walked away was Kaitlyn saying, “Who was that? And how’d she know my name?”

Okay, I never said I was much good as a sleuth, but I had to start somewhere. Next stop, Mike Chandler. I had to find out about that lawsuit. If he was miffed about it, maybe he’d talk.

Back into the humid afternoon we went and headed to Di’s van. I climbed into the passenger seat. “Sorry about that.”

Di started the van and cranked the air-conditioning up to full blast. “Don’t worry about it. Did you learn anything interesting?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Charla accused Mike Chandler of trying to poison her once out of revenge.”

“Wow.”

“That was my reaction. I was hoping to get Kaitlyn to tell me more about it, but her boyfriend came up. . .”

“And so did I. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can accomplish two things when I go to Chandler’s Farmer’s Market. Get some strawberries so Ben and I can have strawberry shortcake, and ask Mike a few questions.” As we pulled out of the church parking lot, I told her how I’d blown it by calling Kaitlyn by name when she hadn’t introduced herself.

Di laughed. “She probably had no clue how you knew her, anyway. Say, is Ben home yet?”

“Almost.”

“Do you want me to drop you off at his place or at home?”

“Home. I need to change out of these dressy clothes.” Nylons and humidity definitely do not mix.

At the sight of Ben’s navy blue tractor rig in the driveway of his and Jerry’s house, I felt better already. I was soon up the stairs and standing at the door. My heart pounded.

Then, the door opened, and without a word, Ben pulled me into his arms. I breathed in a hint of cologne and the scent of his freshly washed hair. He’d been working out while on the road, using the resistance bands I’d bought him for his birthday. He wore a blue pullover shirt I didn’t remember seeing before, something that he’d normally wear to church and not on a Monday afternoon. His kiss reminded me of why getting married would be a very good idea.

“I missed you,” Ben murmured into my ear, his gravelly voice.

I stepped back but still remained in his arms. “I missed you, too. It was awful not having you here with everything that was going on.” Ben made up for our two weeks apart with another kiss.

When he held me at arm’s length, his blue eyes were twinkling. “Well, I’m here now, and you can tell me about it when we get back.”

“Back from where?”

His face took on an unreadable expression. “Somewhere. I have a surprise for you.”

“Okay. Where are we going?” I tried to block his path down the stairs but figured he might try to tote me over his shoulder like he did once before when I got sassy (as he claimed) and got in his way.

“You’ll see.” He took a step closer, and I reconsidered trying to make a human barrier at the top of the stairs.

We headed to my Jeep, where I tossed him the keys. He backed out down the driveway.

“You get the oil changed on this yet?” Ben shifted into first gear.

“I was going to. . . . Been kind of busy lately.”

He reached for my hand once we were on the main road, going into town. “I’ll take care of it before I leave again.”

I kept my questions to myself and instead filled him in on my and Diana’s efforts at the after-funeral dinner. “I know someone had it in for Charla Thacker, probably enough to kill her.”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t get it, though. Why go through all that trouble? It seems like a hassle to get into your store and sabotage the scrub.”

“Which is why I think whoever did this had more than just a jealous snit. It was in cold blood.” I sighed.

We made it through Greenburg’s half a dozen traffic lights that stayed green for us all the way.

“Um, we’re not heading to my parents’ house, are we?”

“Nope. Before that.” Ben slowed once we passed a grove of pines, then downshifted and turned into an overgrown driveway.

I’d been by this empty lot countless times, one of those places you pass and never see. Now I noticed a small real-estate sign with a red and white SOLD sticker plastered across it.

“Did you?”

Ben’s chest puffed out. “I bought it. Ten acres, and the back part of the acreage ends at the riverfront. This was Doris Flanders’s property. I got it for a good price. I wish the old house was still here.”

Ben is not known for his long speeches. He is a man who communicates more through his eyes and his hands and his posture. His eyebrows seem to speak, too. And now his words puzzled me.

“You bought this?” The gently rolling property needed some upkeep, but there might be a good spot for a garden by the rickety wooden shed across the driveway from the empty building lot. I glimpsed a few young watermelons studding the green vines that stretched from the end of the drive all the way to the shed.

“Isn’t it great?” Ben caressed my hand. “I’ve decided it’s time to set down roots of my own. Jerry and I get along fine, but I need my own space. My own roots. This land’s a start. One day a house. No hurry, though.”

I tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs didn’t seem to want to fill with air. Roots might as well have been ropes, tying me to the ground. This confirmed the nightmare I’d had one night of racing through a field, laughing with Ben. Then giant roots came snaking out of the ground and grabbed me like a boa constrictor. How could I tell him these things, with him sitting there looking like he’d just won the lottery?

Chapter Five

On Tuesday morning, I drove to Tennessee River Soaps. My heart dragged behind me all the way. Somehow I had to force myself to go through the motions of opening the shop, working on fresh product, and drumming up business before the whole operation went south. I thought of poor Charla and the fact that Greenburg was going to have to figure out how to get along without her. I hadn’t known her well, but what had her death done to those who did?

I drove into the parking lot and slammed on the brakes again. Not because someone had broken into the store, though.

Instead, someone had scrawled KILLER across the plate-glass window. I clamped my hand over my mouth. The glaring red letters obscured the pretty logo with its blue and green motifs that swirled around brown lettering.

Diana and I had spent hours painting the glass one spring day. I had cried then when I realized my dream was coming true. I wanted to cry now at the thought of my dream turning into a nightmare.

Was the vandalism worth calling Jerry about? I sighed, not wanting to add to his workload. I turned off the Jeep, left it parked kitty-corner in the lot, and trudged to the front window. A corner of the K flaked off easily. Soap pen?

Someone wasn’t making a heavy-duty threat here. If they were, they’d have used spray paint.

It took me forty-five minutes to scrub the gunk from the window. As I used a wet cloth to remove the letters, a smear of paint covered my logo. A red smear.
Lord, not a smear on my business
. I kept glancing over my shoulder to see when the first customers would arrive.

It wasn’t like I needed to hold my breath or anything. A full hour after my scheduled opening time, no one had shown up, not even to sample every product and then leave the store without buying anything, as many lookers were wont to do.

I sat down to my second cup of coffee. The scent mingled with the others on the sales floor—fruity, musky, floral. Melinda’s face came to mind. I couldn’t imagine the heart-numbing pain after losing a sister. Learning to go on after someone died suddenly couldn’t be easy. I looked at the phone. I had Melinda’s cell phone number from setting up Charla’s ill-fated spa party.

Maybe now would be the perfect time to call, especially to snap myself out of my pity party. I certainly hadn’t known a great loss like Melinda. As I let my gaze wander around the storefront, I realized things can be replaced. I could always find another line of work, but people were irreplaceable.

Melinda answered on the second ring.

“Hi, this is Andi Clark. Um, just thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.”
Now that was a stupid remark. How do you think she’s doing?
I already had one hand on the proverbial shovel, preparing to dig a hole for myself.

“All right, I guess.” An infinite weariness drifted across the phone line.

“I know it’s probably quiet around there now, with everyone getting back to their routines. I was just thinking about you, and. . .” I closed my mouth and let the words hang between us.