Chapter 14

 

When Sheila called and said she wanted to meet for lunch, I suggested either the Cove Café or the Watering Hole. Instead, she insisted we dine at the Chinese restaurant Su Me, located on Brookdale’s town square.

“Has anyone actually done it, you know, sued them?” Sheila asked as she slid into a booth at the rear.

“Good question, but, no, not that I’m aware of,” I responded.

Sheila glanced around. “It’s a strange name for a restaurant.”

“While I wholeheartedly agree,” I said, “Su Me happens to be the name of the proprietor. The woman doesn’t seem to have a good grasp of the American tradition of litigation.”

Sheila looked much too elegant for this tiny restaurant with its leather booths, red flocked wallpaper, and effigies of gold dragons. She was dressed in coffee-brown slacks with a matching jacket and an ivory silk shell. Her dark glasses in designer frames might have been a bit over-the-top, as was a floppy brimmed hat that partially concealed her face. Give her a trench coat and she could audition for the role of Mata Hari. She had obviously gone to great lengths not to be recognized by her adoring public. But I ask you, doesn’t her getup just scream: I’m incognito, please don’t recognize me. In an itty-bitty Southern town no bigger than a flyspeck, she needn’t have bothered. And not to belabor my point, but it was two o’clock in the afternoon and we were the only customers in the joint. My guess was that Su Me’s business had suffered from the same food poisoning blight that had befallen Bubba’s Buffet Barn.

Su Me, a plumpish Asian woman of short stature and indeterminate age, approached our table with a red plastic water glass in each hand and menus tucked under one arm. “You ready order?”

“I’m not hungry,” Sheila said. “Just tea.”

“Only tea?” Su Me looked indignant. “Su Me make good egg foo yong. Make good chicken fried rice.”

Sheila shook her head. “No, thank you, just tea.”

Su Me’s dark eyes held an angry gleam as she turned them on me. “You, lady, you no like Su Me’s food?”

I quickly scanned the menu. Call me a glutton if you will, but I wanted something more substantial for lunch than a pot of tea. “I’ll have General Tso’s chicken.”

The woman’s round face crinkled into a smile of approval. “Very good, lady. What kind soup you want? Wonton? Egg drop?”

“Wonton,” I replied promptly. “And I’d also like an egg roll.”

Sheila glanced around nervously as Su Me shuffled off with my order, then reassured she wasn’t about to be besieged by autograph hounds, took off her sunglasses. “This is nice, isn’t it? Just the two of us. Gives us a chance to become better acquainted.”

Suddenly I was back in middle school, and the most popular girl in the class had singled me out to be her best friend. I was the chosen one. Special. The envy of all the other prepubescent schoolgirls. I felt flattered, yet uneasy. What if I failed to live up to Popular Girl’s expectations? My quandary was postponed by Su Me returning with a pot of tea and two tiny porcelain cups.

Sheila poured tea and handed me a cup. If she noted my sudden attack of nerves, she ignored it. Or maybe she had grown accustomed to people being uncomfortable in her august presence. “You probably know after talking to Rita that we were college roommates. I tried, I really tried, to become friends, but Rita never returned the effort.”

“Um . . . I didn’t know.” I took a gulp of tea and burned my tongue.

Sighing, Sheila tucked a wing of frosted blond hair behind one ear. “I’m afraid Rita and I were never close. What’s the term used nowadays . . . bonding? We never bonded.”

I murmured sympathetically. At least I hoped the sound came out as sympathy, not indigestion.

Sheila’s eyes were downcast as she toyed with the edge of a paper placemat illustrated with Chinese New Year symbols. “I don’t understand why, but I don’t have many women friends.”

This marked the second time I’d heard her sing this refrain. I get it, I wanted to say. No need to beat me over the head with it. Then I thought of the Babes and how much they meant to me, and instantly felt remorse for my lack of sensitivity. I was tempted to reach out and touch her, but remembered Sheila wasn’t into touchy-feely.

“I’m sure Rita’s very fond of you,” I said instead. “Not many people maintain a relationship as long as the two of you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Kate, but truth is Rita’s always been . . . jealous. In college, she envied my boyfriends, my grades, my scholarship. Later, she envied my success. First as a botanist, then as a host of my own TV show.”

What’s not to envy? I wanted to ask, but didn’t. Sheila had it all—beauty, brains, success. Half the women in America would give their eyeteeth to trade places with her, I felt like telling her. Wisely I kept silent.

“When I called to learn more about Serenity Cove Estates, Rita did everything she could to discourage me from coming.” Sheila shook her head sadly. “It was almost as though she didn’t want me here.”

Thankfully the wonton soup arrived. I crumbled noodles into it, stalling for time while I digested all Sheila was telling me. “I’m sure Rita only needed time to adjust to the notion,” I said on my friend’s behalf.

“If Rita had had her way, I’d have found a quiet spot elsewhere for Vaughn and me to complete our book.” Sheila’s lips curled in a mirthless smile. “She changed her tune quickly enough once I offered to speak to her precious garden club.”

“It turned out to be quite a coup for Rita personally,” I said, sampling my soup and finding it delicious. “Not only did you attend Flowers and Bowers’ annual banquet, but you graciously consented to be guest speaker afterward at a lecture open to the public.”

“I also presented the Garden of the Year award,” Sheila added modestly. “Contrary to what Rita might have told you, it was the board of directors, not her, who issued the invitation to appear.”

“You don’t sound as though you like her very much.” Even as I said this I felt disloyal to a dear friend.

“It’s more as if I don’t . . . trust her.”

I stared into Sheila’s perfectly made-up, unlined face. “Surely you don’t think she’d do anything to harm you,” I asked, aghast.

Sheila daintily sipped tea. “I’m merely saying that Rita’s been jealous of me since the day we met. Jealousy, Kate, tends to bring out the worst in some people. It can cause an insecure person to resort to extreme measures.”

I resisted the urge to squirm. Girl-pal bonding or not, I didn’t like the direction of this conversation. “Even if Rita harbors a grudge against you,” I said, clearing my throat, “why harm Vaughn, a man she barely knew?”

The question hung between us like dense fog on a winter morning.

Su Me returned, whisked away my half-finished soup, and replaced it with an egg roll and several cellophane packets of sweet and sour sauce. I shoved the egg roll aside, curious to hear what Sheila would say next. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Don’t get me wrong, Kate. I never meant to imply Rita would harm me in any way.” She traced her fingertips along the condensation on her glass of ice water. “I only wanted to let you know how she feels about me.”

She looked so dejected I couldn’t help but feel a stab of pity. Beauty, brains, and success didn’t necessarily spell H-A-P-P-Y.

“My poor, darling Vaughn,” Sheila said with a catch in her voice. Grabbing a napkin, she dabbed at her eyes. “Every time I think of him, my heart breaks.”

General Tso’s chicken chose that moment of high drama to make its fragrant appearance, but I’d lost my appetite. I’m not saying I wasn’t still hungry, just not as hungry. There’s a fine line between the two. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I mumbled, reverting to the tried and true. When it comes to clichés, I have a lifetime subscription.

Sheila sat up straighter, leaned forward, and lowered her voice. “I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought, Kate. At first I believed whoever did this evil deed wanted both Vaughn and me dead. But my mind’s clearer now. I no longer believe Vaughn was the intended victim. It was me—and only me—all along. Dear, sweet Vaughn unfortunately was collateral damage.”

I speared a chunk of my General Tso’s and chewed. Collateral damage? That seemed an odd way to describe the death of a loved one, a paramour. “What made you change your mind?”

“Vaughn was so easygoing, so low-key.” Sheila blinked rapidly to stem a flood of tears. “Everyone loved him; it was impossible not to. He didn’t have an enemy in the world.”

I don’t know about enemies, but I did know Sheila was delusional if she thought Vaughn well liked. At least according to the bits of conversation I’d overheard. I decided then and there to work the case, so to speak, from two angles—Vaughn’s and Sheila’s. Both were victims, one more fortunate than the other—one being alive, the other cremated.

I poked at my lunch. My thoughts scattered, an occurrence I generally blame on menopause for lack of a better excuse. Maybe I should have ordered something that hadn’t been baptized in a pot of hot grease. What was it about deep-fried that appealed to my taste buds? Belatedly I recalled Bubba’s hand-breaded shrimp that I’d eaten Saturday night. With each mouthful I’d imagined ugly plaque clogging my arteries When was the last time I had my LDL and HDL checked? How high were my lipids? And did I even want to know?

“Something wrong, Kate?” Sheila asked, interrupting my cholesterol triage.

“Who’d want you dead?” I asked as I scooped up a forkful of rice. “Surely you must have your suspicions.”

Sheila leaned back in the booth, arms folded over her chest. “I’ve made my share of enemies over the years.”

She sounded remarkably calm for a woman who feared for her life. I’d already begun my list of potential members of the Murder of the Month Club. But I couldn’t help but wonder who topped hers. In for a penny, in for a pound. Only one way to find out and that was to ask. “If you had to venture a guess, who do you think would try to kill you?”

A mere hint of a frown marred Sheila’s usually smooth brow. Whether a defect in Belle Beaute or Botox, I couldn’t say. “I’d hate to point a finger without proof,” she replied slowly, “but . . .”

“But . . . ?”

Her expression, from what I could see beneath the brim of her hat, appeared pensive. “Kel Watson,” Sheila answered. “That man gives me the creeps. The way he persists in showing up where he isn’t wanted scares me. He refuses to leave me alone. I feel as though he’s stalking me.”

“I couldn’t help but notice your reaction at the hospital, and again at the reception following Vaughn’s service.” I pushed my plate aside and signaled for a to-go box. “How long has this been going on?”

“It all started when he came to the set of How Does Your Garden Grow?”

“What did he want?”

“Kel insisted on forming a partnership of sorts in some half-baked scheme he’d conjured up. He assumed that since we were both botanists I’d go along with his idea. Well, he was mistaken. I wanted no part of his wild scheme and told him so in no uncertain terms. But did he let the matter rest? No. He refused to take no for an answer.”

Kel Watson looked like an aging hippie, but a harmless one. During my brief stint as a detective-in-training, however, I’d learned appearances can be deceiving. I promised myself to check out the county extension agent first chance I got.

Sheila leaned over and clutched my hand. “Will you get to the bottom of this for me, Kate? I desperately need you on my side. You have an easy way with people that I admire. Everyone seems to like you. And best of all, you have an inquiring mind. From everything Rita’s told me, Sheriff Wiggins values the help you’ve given him in the past.”

I nearly choked on my egg roll at hearing this. “Well, I’m not so sure that’s the case,” I said, stifling a laugh, “but I’ll do what I can. After all, what are friends for?”

She gave my hand a squeeze. “Thanks, Kate. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

Lounging against the booth, I reached for the fortune cookie Su Me had deposited along with the check. I broke it open and read the message printed on a narrow ribbon of paper: Jealousy is the dragon in paradise.

How apropos, I thought with a grimace. Would jealousy also be the dragon in Serenity Cove Estates?