Law and Author (10 page)

Teensy finished eating her mouthful and then put her fork down, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “We need to either confront Darla about it or that boyfriend of hers. Now”—she held up her hand before Lizzie could speak—“I'm sure all Darla will say is that we're plain loco and that boyfriend . . . I'd rather talk to a baboon.”

“Okay, are there other options?” Lizzie asked hesitantly.

“How are your breaking and entering skills?”

Lizzie's mouth dropped open.

“Just kidding. What I am seriously thinking of doing is taking a little trip to Atlanta and having a chat with Darla's mama. Get the lay of the land, so to speak. Maybe, if they are at outs like Darla claims, her mama may be willing to answer a few questions.”

“She might not know anything about this. Darla did say she'd left home abruptly.”

“I'm not ready to believe anything that girl says. Besides, her mama may have an idea of what's up and she might be willing to share it with someone who can do something about it.”

“What if, as you suggest, Darla is after some money? Maybe her mama is in on it, too. Maybe she thinks a grandchild has a better chance of getting something rather than the daughter who has ignored her daddy all these years.”

“Girl, you are cooking. I hadn't thought about that. I obviously have to come up with a cover or some sort of story to test the waters first and then decide how to handle mama.”

“As intriguing as that all sounds, I'd think twice about doing it. You know that Molly will be awfully upset if she hears about it. Bob, too.”

“Only if I'm wrong. If I'm right, surely they'll thank me. I'm doing it for their own darn good.”

Lizzie thought about it as she ate some more of her salad. “Maybe Bob doesn't really care what the reason is. You could see how emotional he was about meeting Darla. Even if he doesn't say too much, it's easy to see it affected him.”

“Of course it affected him. He's getting on in years, as we all are, and that's when you wish you had kids around. I know I sure regret not having any. It was fine while John was alive. We were so wrapped up in each other and doing things.” She paused and blushed. Lizzie wondered if it had anything to do with their nefarious activities. “Anyway, I'm just saying that whatever his reason, I think it will hurt him much more if he finds out she's only after his money. Not that he has any. And Molly. Why she's got you but there are no children for her, either. And even though she won't admit it, even to herself, she's attached to Bob and so anything he wants, she's for it.”

Teensy stopped talking long enough to take another long drink. “It's touching but in this case, it's foolish.”

“I don't know what to say, Teensy.”

“Well, don't say anything then. To anybody. If I do decide to go to Atlanta, I'll give you a call and let you know. Now, you're not to blow my cover with Molly. There's no reason she should ask you for any details anyway. So just don't volunteer any. Okay?”

Lizzie nodded. She didn't know what else to do. She'd have to give it some serious thought once she was away from Teensy's web of enthusiasm. One thing did trouble her, though. What if this put Teensy in danger?

What are friends for?

THE WOLFE WIDOW—
VICTORIA ABBOTT

L
izzie tried to avert her eyes as she retraced her drive along Main Street after lunch. But the police station was like a magnet that drew her gaze to the parking lot as she passed by. Still no sign of Mark, but Amber Craig was definitely at work.

She found a spot half a block along and parked. She wasn't quite sure what approach she should take but she knew it had to be done. She hoped their bonding the Christmas before last, over the attitude of some of the male officers to female attendees at staff parties, would guide them into shared confidences. Since that time she had been pleasantly pleased with Amber Craig's friendliness. The officer had even gone out of her way last summer to keep Lizzie posted on the changing focus in two murders involving Bob Miller.

Lizzie nodded at the volunteer at the front desk and peeked around the corner, spotting Craig at her desk.

Amber must have sensed she was being watched because she looked up from her computer screen and after a moment's hesitation, which Lizzie thought also contained a grimace, she waved Lizzie in.

Lizzie glanced at Mark's office as she walked by just to make sure he wasn't in. She knew he could appear at any minute but short of finding out where Craig lived and visiting her at her home, there would always be the possibility of being outed.

“How are you?” Lizzie asked as she sat in the straight-backed chair to the right of Craig's desk. She sat in that chair a few times, usually when giving a witness statement. This time she tried for a more congenial opening.

“The chief told you.”

“Uh, yes, I guess you could say that.”

Amber slumped back in her swivel chair. “Can't say I'm surprised. And now you want to quiz me, right?”

Lizzie tried to read her face for a hint of how to proceed. Nothing. She was a cop, after all. “I'd hoped you would fill in the blanks. I'm really only interested in what Rafe Shannon was doing in town and whether it had anything to do with Darla Lyman.”

“Priority questions for the police, also.” Amber stood and walked over to the drip coffee maker on the counter top on the side wall of the room. “Would you like some?” she asked, holding the carafe up for inspection.

“No, I'm fine.”

Amber grunted and poured a cup, adding three spoonfuls of sugar and a hefty dose of milk.

Lizzie tried not to make a face. “How do you stay so slender with all that sugar intake?”

“Stress. Makes the calories vanish. And besides, it's the only way to drink this crap. Now, what specifically do you want to know?”

“What do you think he was doing in town?”

“I have no idea. I haven't seen nor heard from him in close to fifteen years. I have heard things, though, at family gatherings. Hard not to. He's been keeping on his collision course with the law in all the years I've been away. Had two short-term stays in prison. And now, apparently, he was back to his old ways.” She leaned back again. “He always did play the heavy. No talking through a problem. Of course, being a girl, I never felt his full wrath but a couple of my male cousins ended up with bloody noses over the years. After one of those encounters ended up in the ER for stitches, for another cousin, not Rafe, he was discouraged from attending family gatherings.”

“That can be tricky. What about his parents?”

“My aunt Wanda and her idiot husband, who goes a long way in explaining Rafe's behavior. All her siblings felt sorry for her but that was the extent of it. She eventually stopped coming but still kept in contact with my mama and her other sisters until she died a few years ago.”

Lizzie hadn't had what she considered to be the luxury of a large extended family and even though she often wished that had been different, it was stories like this, and sometimes Sally-Jo's tales, that made her grateful she'd been an only child with few cousins.

“Hmm. How sad for her. Can you think of any possible connection he might have to Darla?”

“Not unless she worked for thugs or was someone's mistress and ran out on him.”

“Then he sent Rafe to bring her back?”

“Could be. Or if she took something this fictional guy wanted, Rafe might be here to collect it. That could be why
he was at Ms. Mathews's house. He could have gone there to search for it.”

“Like money.”

“Yes.”

“But we know it's not that because Darla doesn't have any. That's why she stayed with Molly and I'll bet that's why she came here in the first place.”

“To hit up her granddaddy for some money?”

Lizzie shrugged. “It's as likely a reason as any.”

“You don't think she's here for sentimental reasons?”

“She doesn't come across as being that type of girl.”

Amber smiled. “Is this instinct talking?”

“Yes. I'll admit it. But back to Rafe, what's being done to check all this out?”

“I'm afraid I'm not privy to many details about the case, Lizzie. You'll have to ask the chief.”

“Huh. Fat lot of good that will do me.”

“Well, putting on my police officer cap for a moment, that's a good thing. I'm sure he's already told you to not get involved in the case.”

“Perhaps.”

“Yeah, as if that will do any good. Look, I'm as interested as you are in finding answers and as much in the dark. I do know that whatever brought him to Ashton Corners is what got him killed.”

“I'm sorry for your loss, Amber. He might not have been a nice guy, but he was your cousin and he didn't deserve to die like that.”

Amber took a deep breath. “Amen.”

“And now, seeing you in action, I think that she's right.”

MURDER ON BAMBOO LANE—
NAOMI HIRAHARA

L
izzie felt anything but refreshed the next morning. She and Mark had enjoyed a leisurely meal of grilled tuna with tomato spaghetti in the evening, which had taken Lizzie what was left of the afternoon to prepare. The romantic nestling on the love seat was the ideal ending to what Lizzie considered to be a perfect evening and would have continued into a cozy breakfast except for Mark's being summoned to the scene of a bad fire around three
A
.
M
.
He had taken Patchett along with him, planning to head on home later rather than waking her again. Sleep eluded her, though, and she found herself thinking about Darla.

By the time her eyes did close, she'd concluded that going directly to the source for a frank talk was probably a good course of action. If she confronted Darla without anyone else around, and that included the boyfriend, maybe she
could convince her to give some straight answers. The worst that could happen was Darla refusing to talk. She'd be no further ahead but at least she would have tried.

To get her energy level up, she took a long run the same route as the day before but at a much faster pace. It still allowed her to enjoy the neighborhood and the array of spring flowers popping up. If there was one thing to be said about Hagan Road it was that the residents loved their flowers. From the brilliant colors of the camellia and peony, to the summer wisteria and hydrangea, the fall hues of the petunias and mums, and then the surprising colors of potted roses and poppies in late winter, this stretch of Ashton Corners could be the poster street for floral beauty throughout the year.

She slowed at the corner of Colonel Drive, to allow herself to enjoy the new landscaping the Bartonnis had just finished having installed. The tiny white picket fence surrounding the mini wooden bench and equally small round table hinted at a fantasy garden, since no one under the age of sixty lived here.

She picked up the pace again and made it over to Glendale Park in record time, doing a loop and heading back into town. As she passed the Cup'n Choc, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed her when the door suddenly opened. If only she'd brought some money. By the time she reached her house, she was ready for an espresso, a shower and breakfast, in that order, before really getting on with her day. She realized, much to her surprise, that she hadn't thought about Darla all morning and now that the thought had appeared, she quickly shoved it back down into her subconscious.

After a shower and breakfast of waffles topped with fresh strawberries and another cup of espresso, Lizzie dressed in a long, lime green lightweight cotton pullover and cream skinny pants. She planned to visit her mama around eleven
and stay for lunch with her today. The cats were roughhousing on the bed while Lizzie dressed, until Edam, the older Siamese, put an end to it all with a series of serious growls and hissing. Brie, as usual, took a few minutes and extra swipes to his face before getting the message.

Lizzie pulled into the long driveway leading up to Magnolia Manor. Not too many cars here today. Where were all the visitors? Maybe those with younger kids or grandchildren were already heading out of town for the Easter break. She parked next to an old Austin-Healey, hunter green, in mint condition. It was here every weekend. She must find out whom it belonged to. Although Lizzie didn't consider herself a car buff, the sight of the Healey brought back some memories from college days and a carefree, too much so as it turned out, young man from the English faculty. They'd enjoyed some adventuresome months and wild drives in that car, until he'd moved on to his new conquest. Lizzie had, after a much shorter period of mourning than she'd believed possible, put him out of her mind. Until now. No way would it be the same guy. Although, it was a rare car. She shook her head, no way.

She found her mama outside around back, sitting on one of the swings but not moving. Lizzie sat across from her for a few minutes, talking about the weather and her week, and slowly got them rocking. She noticed very quickly Evelyn seemed to relax once the swing was in motion.

She was wearing a blue and white floral jersey dress and a delphinium blue cardigan that Lizzie knew was a gift from Molly. The color enhanced Evelyn's eyes, which had once sparkled but grown dull over the years.

Eventually, Lizzie turned the talk around to Darla's grandmamma. She was hoping to glean some information that came from neither Molly's nor Bob's perspective, although Bob certainly hadn't said much about his ex-wife.

And, of course, Lizzie knew it was almost hopeless to think her mama would tell her anything. It had been many, many years since they'd carried on a conversation. She often found, though, that talking it out to her mama helped to sort through a problem.

“Did you know Bob Miller's wife, Sue-Ann?”

Evelyn kept looking straight at Lizzie but the expression on her face didn't change.

“The reason I'm asking is that their granddaughter is here in Ashton Corners, visiting. Her name is Darla Lyman. Her mama is Lily. Do you remember Lily Miller, Mama?”

Maybe not, but Lizzie proceeded to tell her a bit about Darla but was careful not to mention the murder. She didn't really know what information Evelyn processed and didn't want to take a chance of getting her upset.

“So, Teensy thinks Darla's here strictly for money. I'm tending to believe that, too. But I don't know what to do about it except for asking her straight out. Do you think that's the thing to do, Mama?”

Evelyn's eyes closed. Lizzie took that as a sign of agreement. A few minutes later, she woke her mama and escorted her into the dining hall for lunch.

*   *   *

L
izzie's phone was ringing as she closed the back door to her house behind her. It was Molly inviting her over for Sunday dinner, along with Mark if he was free.

“I'd love to but I'll have to check with Mark. I have no idea about his schedule these days. I guess Darla and her boyfriend will be there, too?”

“They've been invited. Darla didn't say if Wade could make it. Bob is hoping for another chance at grilling him, though.”

“I'll bet. The boyfriend didn't make too good of an
impression on anyone the other night. Can I let you know about Mark?”

“I'll make plenty. Tell him he can just turn up if he's able.” Molly chuckled. “We're getting used to his routines.”

Lizzie smiled, happy to be part of such a warm and loving group. “Thanks. See you later.”

Maybe Lizzie could suggest this time that she and Darla take a walk through the maze and then she could grill her. Of course, that wouldn't work if the boyfriend was there. He seemed to be the hovering type and there's no way Lizzie wanted him in on this conversation.

Lizzie decided she had time to run the vacuum around the main floor, which might also lead to an idea or two on the Darla question. She often found that doing housework had that effect on her, and the bonus was something got cleaned. Finally.

The cats disappeared as soon as she dragged her aged Hoover out of the closet. She put a John Lee Hooker CD in, even though she knew she'd miss large portions of it, plugged in and set about it. By the time she'd finished the living room and hallway, she'd decided to stop by the motel where Darla was staying and ask if she wanted a ride. She could say that Molly had been uncertain about whether Darla was going alone. If Darla was alone, she could have that talk. Better still if it took place in the car.

She realized she hadn't yet told Mark about dinner and shut off the machine while dialing his home number. No answer. She next tried his cell and ended up leaving a message when he didn't answer. Maybe he was still tied up with the aftermath of the fire. She hadn't thought to turn on the radio this morning to find out what had burned. She had a dread of fires, ever since she'd been a little girl and trapped by a fallen flaming electrical cord in a small cabin her parents
had rented for a week's vacation. Her mama had rushed through the flames and scooped up Lizzie, carrying her to safety. It was only many years after Lizzie realized her memory had embellished the story, adding height and density to the flames. However, her mama remained the hero of the hour and her fear of fire had also remained.

By the time she finished cleaning, she had to hurry to get ready. She chose a bright red sweater set and cream-colored pants, fed the cats, and pulled a package of Cajun frozen fried okra out of the freezer, and from the cupboard, a jar of homemade citrus mayonnaise she'd bought at the indoor market just the week before. It wouldn't take long to heat up the okra, and she was dying to taste the mayo. Even though Molly had said not to bring anything, sometimes she remembered her Southern manners.

It took about ten minutes to drive out to the Mountain View Motel on Highway 2. Lizzie pulled into the parking lot and surveyed the five cars and one pickup parked there. She had no idea what Wade Morris drove, so looking around wouldn't help. She parked close to the motel office and went in to ask about a room number.

Back outside, she got her bearings and found number six to be in the far right hand corner, as far away from the office as possible. She heard her footsteps crunching over the gravel that seemed to cover more space than the pavement did. The place gave her the creeps, probably from watching too many cop shows, she thought. As if in one of those shows, she paused before knocking on the door and put her ear to it. She heard music inside but not voices. She took a deep breath and pounded on the door.

“Darla, it's Lizzie Turner.”

After waiting for a minute, with no response, Lizzie tried again, this time adding some vigor and volume.

The door was finally pulled open a crack and Darla slid through. “Oh, hey Lizzie. Why are you here?”

“I didn't have a phone number for you or anything and I just wondered if you might need a ride to Molly's tonight, just in case Wade isn't planning to go.”

The door was yanked open behind Darla. “Who said I wasn't going?” Wade Morris stood in the doorway, bare chested with his jeans riding low and a challenge in his eyes. “We're both going to be there and I'll bring Darla.”

Darla looked like she might be blushing, or else she'd applied a lot of blusher, Lizzie wasn't sure which it was. “Uh, thanks anyway, Lizzie. We're going to be a bit late. See you there.”

Wade grabbed Darla's arm and pulled her back inside. He glared at Lizzie before shutting the door.

What was that all about?
Lizzie shivered and hurried back to her car. She was getting bad vibes from the guy but she wasn't at all sure why. Did he think she was prying? Okay, maybe she was but she hadn't thought she was that obvious. Although, if Darla had told him Lizzie was the one who put the cops onto her and a connection with the dead guy, maybe he was angry about that. But as far as Lizzie knew, Darla had no idea it was Lizzie who had seen them together.

Lizzie glanced at the motel room window before driving off. She still wanted to talk to Darla. It sounded like the maze was out, too. She'd just have to bide her time.

By the time Lizzie pulled into Molly's driveway, she still hadn't heard from Mark. She parked next to Bob's pickup and pulled out her iPhone, trying to call him once more. It still went to voice mail and she left one saying she'd arrived at Molly's. Either he'd come when he could or he wouldn't. She was getting used to the unpredictable hours of a police chief.

Bob pulled the front door open before she could knock
and walk in. “Uh. Just about ran you down. Sorry. I've got to make an emergency run to the Winn-Dixie for some half-and-half.” He hustled down the stairs as Lizzie went in search of Molly.

She found her in the kitchen, peeling carrots. “Can I help?”

Molly scanned the counter top. “I don't think so, honey. It's all in hand. And speaking of which, what's in yours?”

“Oh, I had a bag of frozen okra and just thought I'd bring it, along with some really yummy mayo I've just discovered.” Lizzie looked at the counter top and table. “I thought this was a small Sunday supper.”

Molly shrugged. “I got a bit carried away. I thought, why cook for six when you can cook for twelve?”

“Twelve? So, Sally-Jo and Jacob, right?”

Molly nodded.

“Stephanie and Roger?”

“That was the plan but she just called to beg off. It seems little Wendy has a cold, or the start of one, and Stephanie thinks it best not to bring her out. She doesn't want to leave her with a babysitter either. I can certainly understand that. Now, I was just going to reset the table.”

“I could do that.”

Molly shook her head. “Not to worry. I'll get to it and if I don't, well there's way worse things than having too many plates out.”