One Foot in the Grove (13 page)

Before I could think, my body reacted and recoiled. Flying backward, I smacked myself hard against a shelf behind me. As I
kur-thunked
loudly into the shelf, stifling a shriek of pain, almost instantly, out in the kitchen, I heard a jumble of pots and pans tumble to the ground.

“Why, Miss Precious!” said Daphne. “How could y'all be so clumsy as to knock over an entire pot rack? That's my heavy Enclume stand!”

“Sorry, Miss Daphne. I just backed into it by mistake.” There was more clattering as Precious righted the wrought iron pot stand and loaded all the pots and lids onto the shelves. “I'm afraid the linens that were stacked on top are all dirty now.”

“There are more in the pantry.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

If Detective Gibbit had heard me in the pantry, he didn't let on. Precious had made enough of a hubbub to cover up my ill-timed commotion.

Daphne and the detective chatted tersely as Precious clomped to the pantry and threw open the door. She stared
down at me as I sat completely still, cross-legged in the corner. When she saw the four-foot grayish brown and orange patterned snake in front of me, Precious nearly tripped over herself, flying backward, eyes big as saucers. At the same time—careful not to bother Amy's pet snake, Noose, slithering happily about twelve inches from my knee—I reached up to a shelf, grabbed a handful of clean linen dishtowels, and held them out to Precious.

“Found 'em!” she called out to Daphne. Precious stepped gingerly into the doorway, leaned way in, and stretched out her hand as far as she could, seizing the linens from me with her fingertips. Her terrified expression never changed. She slammed shut the pantry door before clomping quickly back to the kitchen counter.

I leaned back as far as I could and held my breath as Noose raised his head, flicked his little tongue, and began slithering over my right knee. It tickled.

“Now, Detective Gibbit, as I told you before, my sister is not here,” said Daphne in the kitchen. “She doesn't live in this house anymore.”

“Yes, ma'am. I know all that. I tried her place out back and she wasn't home. So, I thought she might be here with y'all. Especially since you say she's ill.”

The first foot and a half of Noose had slid over my right knee.

Someone ran down the back stairs and into the laundry room.

“Did Billy show up yet? Oh. Detective! Sorry, I didn't realize you were here,” said Pep.

Fully draped across my lap, Noose paused.

“Miss Pep Sweet.
Always
a pleasure to see you. You look ravishing today!” Detective Gibbit actually sounded like he was gushing. But then why not? Most Abundance men found Pep irresistible. I called it her Pep Appeal.

“Detective Gibbit is here to see Eva,” said Daphne. “Although, of course, I explained to him that Eva is not here.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Pep said slowly.

“The detective seems to think Eva might know something about how poor Leonard died.”

Noose raised the front part of his body and flicked his tongue.

“Hummm. I see,” said Pep.

“'Cept, his name wasn't Leonard, was it, Detective?” asked Precious again.

There was a loud metallic tear. Precious and the aluminum foil. Noose froze on my lap.

Again, the detective ignored Precious. “It does seem fishy,” he said. “Your field guide turns up dead, and Miss Loretta Cook disappears just a week after your little sister comes back home, after all these years away. I'm just tryin' to get to the bottom of what happened, that's all. It'd just be terrible if Miss Loretta Cook has passed on like your guide, now, wouldn't it?”

“Oh my goodness, that
would
be terrible.” said Daphne. “Are you tellin' me that you suspect
more
foul play, Detective? Surely, you don't suspect my sister?”

Noose turned his spoon-shaped head and stared up at me. I tried staring him down.

“Ha-ha. Eva? Murder? That's a hoot!” laughed Pep with her little pig snorts. “Especially with a gun. Eva won't go near a gun.”

“I didn't say it was a gun,” said the detective. “Where did you hear that? Did your sister, Miss Eva Knox, tell you that? By the way, that's whom I came to see. Where is Miss Eva Knox?”

“Crikey, detective, folks all over town have been talking 'bout how it was a gunshot that killed that fella. And at close range, too,” boasted Precious. “Fella had a big hole in his chest.”

I wrinkled my nose as Precious spoke.
How awful
.

“Are you going to arrest Eva?” asked Daphne.

A loud engine roared outside. Noose and I continued to face off. He tickled my legs.

“This is a homicide investigation. Your sister was found
lyin' next to the victim. I need her accounting of the events that happened. She's just a person of interest, that's all. All we want to do is talk to her. Downtown. Once we get some answers, we can have this matter all wrapped up, nice and neat, and you folks can go about your business. Besides, we can't have her running around the county with a bad ticker, now, can we?”

“Person of interest?” Precious sniffed. “Ain't that what you folks always call the prime suspect before he or she gets formally charged?”

The back door squeaked open, and I heard a heavy footfall.

“Hey, folks!” I recognized the voice. It was Pep's husband, Billy. “Pep, you ready? We gotta go, or I'll be late for a session. Oh . . . uh . . . Detective?”

“Mornin', Mister Sweet.”

“Don't y'all worry, Billy. The detective isn't here for you, hon,” said Pep. “Be out in a jiffy.”

I heard the back door open and shut before Billy shuffled in his motorcycle boots down the back steps outside.

“I've gotta go,” said Pep. “Billy's givin' me a ride to work today. Sorry, Daphne. I know you're slammed here, but we've got an all-morning meeting at the Roadhouse and I'm scheduled to work the bar for the midday crowd.”

“It's alright, Pepper-Leigh. I know your little bartending job is important to you. Miss Precious has agreed to help out all day today. We'll manage, won't we, Miss Precious?” said Daphne.

“Damn right we will,” answered Precious. The coffee grinder started whirring.

Noose was getting on my nerves. Not because he was on my lap—I was okay with a snake on my lap, as long as he wasn't a copperhead, diamondback, or cottonmouth. But he was annoying me because he kept changing his mind. He started to slither toward my hip. I held my breath.

“Don't forget, Daph, I've got to work at the Roadhouse again tomorrow. I can't be here for the Chamber of Commerce thingy in the afternoon.”

Noose, either get off my lap or settle down to sleep
, I thought. I heard Pep march across the floor in her boots. The back door opened and banged shut.

“Detective, my sister is not a murderer.”

“Of course, I understand. This is your little sis we're talkin' about. Still, it could be that Miss Eva Knox don't like comin' home after eighteen years and finding strangers livin' and workin' in the home where she grew up. After all, it's pretty common knowledge that she's got a temper. Maybe she just threw another one of her fits. And this time, it ended up with someone dead.”

“Temper? Eva?” Daphne sounded genuinely incredulous.

The motorcycle outside revved up before peeling out of the drive.

“I think you may be seein' your dear little sis through rose-colored glasses. On her very wedding day, she punched that Boston television guy she was supposed to marry. Poor guy, said he never saw it coming! Then, there's the video on the
Celebrity Sneek Peek
television show where she shoved and clawed her way through a bunch of bystanders before she tore up the road in her bare feet. Found out later she'd thrown her shoes at the poor weather guy after she punched him. Yes, I'll say your little sister has got a temper.”

“Surely, Detective, y'all can't be serious,” said Daphne calmly. “Besides, Eva didn't punch that scoundrel. Believe me, if she had punched him—and she didn't—she'd have done it for good reason.”

“Folks in town are anxious,” continued Detective Gibbit. “We got a murderer on the loose. And now your cook is missing. Heck, she could be dead. The county has its good reputation to protect. I aim to close the case as soon as possible.”

“I'm as anxious as you are, Detective, to get to the bottom of this. I daresay, more so. After all, this is our home and place of business. I have children to protect. And, our livelihood depends on getting this mystery solved. However, you're barkin' up the wrong tree if y'all think my little sister has anything to do with this.”

“It must be some kinda coincidence that nothing like this has ever happened in Abundance until right after your baby sister comes back to town. And it happens right in her backyard. Involving two people from outta town. Two Yanks. Just like her. You ever think that she knew the victim from when they were both up North?”

My heart started racing. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.
Breathe, Eva
.

Noose flicked his tongue at me.

Precious interrupted. “Here's your muffin, Detective. All wrapped and ready to go. It's loaded with fruit and olive oil to keep you healthy and regular.”

I tried to take a deep, slow breath.

“Precious's muffins are absolutely
wonderful
for constipation! Do you have constipation, Detective Gibbit?” asked Daphne brightly.

I blew out my breath as noiselessly as I could.

“Uh . . . no, ma'am. Can't say as that's a problem.”

“Thank you for stopping by, Detective. Don't forget your muffin. When I see her, I'll let my sister know y'all are looking for her. I'm sure that when she's feeling up to it, Eva will be happy to put all your scandalous theories to rest. Perhaps she's down at the station now. Meanwhile, I'm sure you'll be keepin' busy lookin' for Chef Loretta and collecting your evidence in the woods.”

“The woods,
that's
the scene of the crime,” piped Precious.

“However, Detective, don't hesitate to find a judge before stopping by the house again.” Daphne sounded just as chipper and cheerful as she would at a luncheon party with girlfriends.

“Thank you, ma'am. I'll do that.”

“This would be a crime scene if y'all could find any evidence, but since y'all haven't found any yet, y'all need to stop houndin' the good folks here, or get a warrant,” Precious said. “You boys have been though the place once; now y'all need to scram 'cause we got a business to run!”

“Miss Precious!” Daphne sounded shocked and amused
at Precious's chutzpah. Of course, it was everything Daphne wanted to say, but decorum wouldn't allow it.

“I know all about this stuff. I read mysteries.”

A chair scooted. Several pairs of feet moved across the floor. Precious's Louboutins clomped. The dining room door squeaked open into the hubbub of the dining room crowd, then it swung closed again.

Noose slithered from my lap and headed for a sunny spot in the far corner of the pantry. The kitchen was silent.

“Okay, Eva,” Daphne said, yanking open the pantry door. “Coast is clear.”

“There's no love lost between you and Detective Gibbit,” I said, unfolding myself from the pantry floor. I scratched some bug bites on my arms, battle scars from my trek home through the woods earlier.

“Oh, Eli's still sore from third grade. Instead of ‘Gibbit,' we called him ‘Giblet'—a nickname that's haunted the poor fellow forever. And we used to make turkey sounds. I s'pose it was cruel, and we probably made him meaner than he already was, but y'all would think that thirty-five years later he'd be over it.” Daphne shook her head. “Don't scratch, Eva. It'll leave scars.”

“You think?”

“Word is, Eli has his knickers in a twist because last year Buck Tanner came back and got the sheriff's job that Eli thought he deserved. To be fair, when Sheriff Titus finally retired, everyone figured Eli would be sheriff. He'd campaigned to get the job for years. But somehow, even after he'd been gone for so long, Buck returned and snagged the
job. A bunch of folks are nettled about it. And it looks like ol' Eli is bent on proving he's the better man. He's got people behind him.”

I nodded.

“Putting away a murderer is just the feather Eli needs in his cap to boost his image,” continued Daphne. “And if he can tie the deed to you, a celebrity of sorts, and a Yankee to boot, well then, all the better.”

“Daphne, he can't honestly think that I
killed
somebody. And aren't you worried about the real murderer? What about the kids? And, in case you forgot, I am
not
a Yankee.”

“I called the sheriff's office. They've assigned someone to watch the place at night. And although I want this terrible crime solved more than anyone, I don't want our future guests to hear about it and cancel their reservations. And I don't want Big Boomer to hear about it up in Atlanta. He'll use this to take the kids from me. So, it's business as usual. In fact, now that I think about it, I'll call the sheriff's department again after breakfast. They need to understand that I'm mighty serious about our safety and gettin' this solved quickly. As long as we find the right person, of course. And
you're
not that person. Y'all need to stay out of sight while they come to their senses.”

“I'm gonna need a big platter for this ham!” Precious called out.

“In the lower cupboard, next to the sink,” replied Daphne. “It's gettin' so a person can't find anything around here.”

Precious grabbed the platter, plated the ham, and was out the door into the dining room where the guests were clattering merrily over their big buffet breakfast.

“That reminds me. I found Noose. He's in the pantry.”

“Heavens to Betsy!”

“It's like a feeding frenzy out there!” huffed Precious as she stomped in from the dining room, carrying two empty platters and a pitcher.

“Well, I'm not touching a snake!” whispered Daphne about Noose. “And Amy's at school.”

Precious plopped the platters on the counter.

“I'm not wrestling with him, either,” I whispered back. “Not with my sore ribs. It's sunny and warm in the pantry. He should stay put, as long as we keep the door closed.”

Daphne looked at Precious. “What about her?”

“Just keep the door closed. Noose will probably stay curled up in the corner.”

“Here, fill these muffin tins.” Precious shoved a big bowl of blueberry muffin batter toward me and handed me an ice cream scoop before she started filling empty plates with more hoecakes and ham. “You two gonna get rid of that slitherin' beast in there? ‘Cause I ain't goin' in that pantry till it's dead and gone.”

“He's sleeping.” Daphne said brightly as she crossed to the pantry. I saw her surreptitiously check to be sure the pantry door was firmly closed. “We'll have Amy catch him after school.”

“Crikey!” Precious took some dirty dishtowels and shoved them along the opening under the door. “I see it's slitherin' ass in this kitchen and I'm outta here, for good!”

“Oh for goodness sakes! That looks awful.” Daphne went to the pantry door and pushed her toe into the dishtowels, pressing them tight between the bottom of the door and the floorboards so they were nearly impossible to see. “There. Much better.”

Ice cream scoop in hand, I looked at the muffin batter. “I can't . . .”

“Just scoop and fill each tin. Surely, you can do that, Sunshine?”

“I guess, as long as there's no fire involved, we should be safe.”

One by one, I scooped out the blueberry muffin batter made with lemon-infused olive oil and plopped each scoopful into the muffin tin.

“Now what?”

Precious stepped across the floor, grabbed the tin, whipped open the range door, and shoved the muffins into the oven. Then, she went over to the dining room door and pushed it open an inch or so to see the guests.

“Still need more,” she whispered. “I've never seen so few folks eat so much food.”

In the dining room, passing behind Judi, who was seated at the table, a young woman with a nose ring and a camera around her neck carried a plate piled high with pancakes and fruit. She bumped Judi in her chair.

“Hey!” Judi said over her shoulder. Then, Judi saw me in the kitchen and smiled.

Precious squeezed past me in the doorway and placed newly filled platters of ham and eggs on the buffet and clomped back into the kitchen. Judi got up from the table.

A man's voice boomed across the dining room, “Judi, sit your ass down here! I told you not to bother the girl.”

“Oh, it's fine, Sal. She doesn't mind,” Judi shouted across the room. “Besides, she's a
woman
, not a girl. When will you ever learn? I don't call you a
boy
, now, do I?”

She dismissed Sal with a flip of her hand. “Men.” Then she said to me, “We were just talking, Bambi and me.” She waved toward Bambi, who was delicately fishing for a fallen bite of muffin from between her breasts. “You know,” continued Judi, “I may have mentioned this, but you're the reason we found this place. Did you know that olive oil is our business?”

“How wonderful!” I said. “I'm sure my father would love to talk shop with you all.”

“Sal would love that.”

“Missus Malagutti, I don't mean to interrupt,” said Daphne warmly from behind me. Appalled that a guest might see me covered in dirt, dressed in a tacky tee shirt, green Wellies, and cutoffs, my sister pushed me aside. I rolled my eyes as she stepped in front of me. A camera flash went off from somewhere in the room as folks laughed and chatted amiably at the table. Precious's mammoth meal was a hit.

“The antebellum tour bus will be arriving any minute,” continued Daphne. “It's a wonderful look at some of our most exquisite plantation homesteads. Y'all don't want to miss it.” Daphne smiled as she continued to push me behind her.

“Sal, we need to get ready to go,” Judi shouted. “Bambi, Guido, are you guys finished breakfast? They say the bus will be here any minute.”

Judi let go of the dining room door, and it swung toward us, nearly hitting me in the face. It opened again on our side as Judi walked to her companions at the other end of the table.

“Bambi, hurry and come upstairs with me. I gotta pee, big-time.”

Daphne pursed her lips as the door took its final swing shut. “New Yorkers,” she mumbled. “They have such a
way
about them, don't they?”

“As far as I can tell, our New Yorker guests are big-time olive oil distributors,” I said to Daphne. “Given they decided to stay on here, even after what happened to Leonard, err, whomever the guy is, I'm still hopeful that if we can keep them happy, they might do some business with Daddy. Where is Daddy, by the way? I haven't seen him in days.”

“Daddy's still in Texas.”

“Texas?”

“Yes. Something about the olive trees not being like they should. He took samples and went to confer with the fellow at the processing plant. I don't think he was satisfied with state lab results.”

“You mean, something is wrong with the trees? This year's crop?” I remembered Judi Malagutti saying something during dinner the night before about some trees not looking right.

“Honestly, Eva, I don't know. I've had my hands so full with the kids and the guests, and all the craziness that's been going on around here, I was distracted and wasn't listening when he told me about it the other day. Ask Pepper-Leigh. She knows all the about the farmy stuff.”

“I can't believe he's not here. Whatever's going on with the crop must be important.”

“He'll be back in a few days. By then, all this murder business will've been solved.”

“Listen, Daph, I've been thinking. About Detective Gibbit—don't do that again,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Hide me. It won't help. Public relations lesson number one: Never hide from the problem. It's always best to get out in front of it. If you hide, it only makes you look guilty.”

“Eli Gibbit isn't the brightest bulb. With Tammy Fae drumming up gossip, plus your jilted boyfriend bein' sheriff, and the community clamoring for this all to be over and done with yesterday, and y'all bein' an outsider, they're likely to skip the trial and lynch y'all right here and now.”

“I'm not guilty. I've got nothing to hide, and I can't stay squirreled away here forever. Besides, I've got work to do for you and Daddy, and I can't do it hiding in a pantry closet.”

“Well, you can't do it if you're in a jail, either, now, can you?”

“Amen to that,” said Precious from the table.

“You're being dramatic. I'm not going to jail.”

“You're bein' naive. This is Abundance,” said Daphne.

“Amen to that,” Precious echoed.

“The detective was here to arrest you. And once he does, you're hardly in a position to afford a decent lawyer. Although, of course, I'll hire one for you. And I'll probably have to post some sort of bail. Maybe my lawyer in Atlanta knows a top-notch criminal defense attorney . . .”

“I didn't do anything wrong! We just need to give the detective a little time to sift through the evidence. And I need to swing public opinion my way a bit. Still, I don't want my ‘story' to overshadow the family business.”

“That horse has already left the barn, Sunshine,” said Precious with a chuckle.

I glared at her.

“Look,” I said, “I've been thinking a lot about how to stop all the ridiculous runaway bride gossip. Now, with the dead man in the olive grove, I think we need to put my plan into play.”

“What plan is that?” asked Daphne.

“We manage what people are saying about me—about us, the family, the business—by making up the fodder ourselves.”

“Huh?” asked Precious.

“We generate more and more outrageous gossip ourselves. Something new every week. Every day, if we have to. Eventually, people will be sick of it. And me. They'll move on.”

“You mean, like a homeopathic approach to public relations?” Daphne asked.

“Homeopathic?”

“Why, yes. If you suffer from the ill effects of gossip, the homeopathic remedy would be to introduce
more
gossip, in smaller amounts, to cure the larger flow of gossip.”

“What the . . .” mused Precious.

“Exactly.”