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unt Bess insisted on sitting between Sheriff Billings and Clark Bennett at the dining room table. Almost immediately, she tried to get the lowdown on Gladys Pridemore’s death.
“Do you believe Gladys was murdered, Sheriff?” she asked.
“Now, Bess, you know I can’t tell you anything about an ongoing investigation.”
“I’ll take that as confirmation of the killing.” Aunt Bess winked and nodded.
“Now, don’t put words in my mouth,” the sheriff said.
“Gladys Pridemore...I read her obituary in the newspaper,” Clark said. “Professional curiosity, you know—I always need to check to see if any of my patients have died.”
Mom laughed.
“But you’re new here in Winter Garden,” I said. “I hope your patients aren’t dying off already.”
“I hope so too.” Clark chuckled. “Again, checking the obits is a habit. I’ve done it every morning for years.”
“You’re probably fine as long as you don’t come across your own,” Roger said, as he scooped hash brown casserole onto his plate.
“That’s true.” Clark turned to Sheriff Billings. “What was Ms. Pridemore’s cause of death? The newspaper mentioned that she died after falling ill at her home, but what was the etiology?”
I saw Ryan and Sheriff Billings exchange glances.
“That’s the part that’s under investigation,” Sheriff Billings said. “We aren’t at liberty to discuss it.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Clark nodded. “It just piqued my interest—that’s all.”
“It makes me curious about the goings-on in Winter Garden myself,” Aunt Bess said. “And I think it’s a shame that people who are dining at my table won’t even talk with me about a murder that practically took place in my own backyard.”
“Don’t worry—you’re safe.” Sheriff Billings reached for a ham roll. “And we’ll talk about everything as soon as we’re able to do so.”
“What about the fire?” Aunt Bess asked. “Do you think it was set in order to destroy evidence? Because I do. I was there, you know.”
“I am aware of that, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way anymore.” He bit into the roll.
“I didn’t put myself in danger.” Aunt Bess raised her chin. “I am the danger. I took pictures you might be able to use in your investigation. One of them shows a man—most likely the arsonist—fleeing the scene of the crime.”
“Really?” Clark asked. “That’s fascinating. I’d like to see those photos after lunch if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind in the least.”
As Aunt Bess looked like the cat—the dangerous cat—who swallowed the canary, I studied Clark Bennett from across the table. I got the feeling he was avoiding my eyes, and I wondered why he was so eager to see Aunt Bess’s photographs. Was he nosy, patronizing, or downright guilty of something?
LATER THAT EVENING, Ryan and I were at my house watching a movie. While the movie was paused for drink and snack refills, I asked Ryan what he thought of Clark.
“I don’t really know him,” he said, returning the jug of sweet tea to the refrigerator. “I thought he seemed nice enough at lunch. What do you think of him?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about him. I get the impression he’s hiding something.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You’re the detective. That’s why I want your take on the man.”
“I don’t have one. Do you truly believe Clark is hiding something, or would you simply rather the man date someone other than your mom?”
Pouring party mix into a smaller bowl, I said, “I don’t have a problem with Clark Bennett dating my mother.”
“Uh-huh.”
I rolled my eyes at the unbridled skepticism I heard in his voice. “Fine. I do have a problem with it, but I wouldn’t have any issues with the man whatsoever if I didn’t suspect he’s playing games with Mom.”
“What kind of games?” Ryan asked.
“Well, he’s still awfully friendly with Shelly.”
“Have you shared your concerns about Clark with your mom?”
“No. I don’t want to hurt her,” I said.
“You know what hurts? What hurts is having a member of your family be dismissive of someone you’re dating due to a silly misconception or misunderstanding.”
Though Ryan had spoken softly, the words struck me hard. I hadn’t considered how Ryan’s mother’s behavior had made him feel. I stepped over and hugged him. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t owe me an apology,” he said, as his arms came up and held me close.
“I’ll talk with Mom later.”
“Later is good.” Ryan kissed me.
AFTER RYAN LEFT THAT evening, Rory and I walked up to the big house. It was still light enough that I didn’t need a flashlight, but the frogs and crickets had come out to serenade us. Rory stopped to sniff at every fence post, marking his territory at various intervals.
When I neared the house, I saw a candle burning on the porch. I knew Mom must be outside because she always burned a citronella candle to keep the bugs away if she sat on the porch in the evening.
Rory ran on ahead and was standing on his hind legs with his front paws on Mom’s lap when I reached the porch. Mom was scratching the terrier’s head and telling him he was a good boy.
I took a seat on the white wooden rocker beside Mom’s chair.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Mom said. “I missed talking with you today...you know, just us.”
“I missed that too. And I’m sorry for the way I treated Clark. I didn’t give him a very warm welcome, and that was wrong of me.”
“You weren’t unkind.” Mom was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “I like him.”
“I know. And that scares me because I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Jenna laughed. “Welcome to my world! Can you imagine how I felt when you left for college?”
“Not really.”
She shook her head. “No. You can’t. Not until you have children of your own. But, sweetheart, getting hurt is a possibility in any situation and in any relationship. You simply have to trust me to use my best judgment, just like I trust you to use yours.”
“Speaking of best judgment, where’s Aunt Bess?” I asked.
“She said she was going up to bed, but it’s more likely she’s trying to figure out how to get Sheriff Billings to deputize her.”
I laughed. “Do you realize the fire crew is crazy about her?”
“Oh, yeah,” Mom said. “They adore her. I think she might even be an honorary member of the crew.”
“Just as long as they don’t put her behind the wheel of a firetruck.”
ON MONDAY MORNING, I got a call at the café before we’d even officially opened. The call was from a tour director who’d be passing through Winter Garden with a church group in approximately two hours and would like to stop for breakfast at the Down South Café.
Dilly, Walter, and Jackie came through the door just in time to hear me say, “Our staff will be delighted to accommodate your group.”
“What group?” Dilly asked.
Jackie groaned. “What’s this about being delighted?”
“There’s a church group coming through here from Roanoke,” I explained. “They’re going to be here in a couple of hours.”
“We should call Donna in,” Jackie said. “I’ll need to help you with the cooking, and Shelly will need all the help she can get.”
“True. I’ll make the call.” As I put on my headset to call Donna, I heard Dilly lamenting the fact that they were too hungry to wait for two hours until a church group showed up to eat.
“But I sure would like to know where they’re going,” she said.
“I’ll let you know,” Jackie promised.
I went into the kitchen and called Donna so I could start on my prep work while I talked. Donna told me she could work but that she could only be there during the time the church group would be there since she had a dental appointment at eleven. I told her that’d be fine and expressed my appreciation for her pitching in on such short notice.
As soon as I’d ended the call to Donna, I tore off a piece of bread from the end slice and put it between my lips before I began chopping onions so the onions wouldn’t make my eyes tear. This was how Jackie found me when she came to deliver the bad news that Shelly was sick and wouldn’t be in today.
“What?” The bread tumbled from my mouth onto the floor. “She has to work! What are we going to do?”
“Is Donna coming?”
“Yes, but only during the time the church group is here. She has a dental appointment.” I picked up my bread and tossed it out the back door. “Did Shelly sound like she was truly sick?”
“I don’t know.” Jackie put her hands on her hips. “Do you want me to go over there and examine the woman myself?”
“No. I can’t spare you.” I took off my gloves and retrieved my phone from my purse beneath the counter. I scrolled through the contacts until I found Scott. “I’ll call Scott and see if he can come in.”
“Is Scott that sweet young man who was waiting tables on Saturday?” Dilly asked.
“He is.” I called Scott and he agreed to come in as soon as he could get ready. I directed my attention back to Dilly and Walter. “Now that our crisis is averted, what would you like for breakfast?”
Dilly ordered French toast with a biscuit on the side for the raccoon, and Walter asked for pancakes with a side of oatmeal. Before I could head into the kitchen to get started, Dilly had more questions about Scott.
“How did you meet this fellow Scott?” she asked.
Since there were no other customers in the café at the time, I felt obliged to chat for a moment.
“He’s a friend of HJ Ostermann, and he works at the Ostermann’s corn maze.” I frowned slightly. “From what I can gather, he hangs around there a lot.”
“You talk like that’s a bad thing,” Walter said. “Why is that?”
“I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing. It’s just that when the Pridemore basement caught on fire, Aunt Bess went out there and took some photographs and someone looking like Scott was captured in a couple of shots.” I flipped my palms. “Don’t get me wrong—Scott admitted he was there, and he told me he believed Malcolm Pridemore set the fire.”
“But you don’t sound convinced that you can trust the young man,” Walter said, as he added sugar to the coffee Jackie had poured for him.
“Too bad Gladys isn’t still alive,” Dilly said. “She could’ve told you pert near anything you’d want to know about Scott, the Ostermanns, the mail carrier, the people visiting the corn maze.” She chuckled.
“Ms. Pridemore was inquisitive then?” Jackie asked.
“Inquisitive?” Dilly laughed even harder at that. “Gladys Pridemore was as nosy as a four-year-old boy at his big sister’s sleepover. Why, she even kept her husband’s binoculars by the dining room window to make certain she never missed a trick.”
“You think Gladys spied on the Ostermanns?” I asked.
“Honey, that woman spied on everybody...or, at least, everybody within binocular range.”
I didn’t know how Gladys Pridemore had been murdered, but Dilly might’ve provided one heck of a motive. Could Gladys have discovered someone’s secret—a secret someone would kill to keep?
BOTH DONNA AND SCOTT arrived at the café about half an hour before the church group arrived. I was relieved to see them, and I imagine Jackie was too. Just before the servers’ arrival, a photography class from a nearby college had stopped in for coffee and baked goods. One of the students said they were going on a hike and would be taking photos of some of the local flora and fauna.
As the church bus pulled in, Jackie muttered to me, “It’s unusual to be this busy on a Monday morning...and it’s not even nine o’clock yet.”
“What’s the most unusual is that Shelly called in sick for the first time I can remember—today of all days.” I shook my head and then greeted the group as they filed through the door.
When the dust settled and both the church group—who were on their way to West Jefferson, North Carolina to see the churches of the frescoes painted by the renowned artist Ben Long—and the students had gone to pursue their various adventures, Donna said, “Well, that was kinda fun.” She looked at the rest of us. “Wasn’t it?”
“I thought it was rad,” Scott said. “I made a bunch of tips, and we sold a lot of merch.”
“Merch?” I followed his gaze to the shelves behind the register. Our supply of Down South Café t-shirts and mugs had nearly been depleted.
“I’m sorry to run,” Donna said. “I’d much rather stay here than go to the dentist...but to the dentist I must go.”
“Relax and think happy thoughts,” Scott told her.
“Thank you, Donna, for making yourself available on such short notice,” I said. “You, too, Scott.”
“I’m happy to help, and I’m even happier for the money,” Scott said.
Homer arrived, and Scott greeted him with an enthusiastic, “Guru Guy! Whose wisdom are you sharing today?”
“Mr. Samuel Clemens, better known as Mark Twain,” Homer said. “Did you know that Mr. Twain was born in November of 1835 soon after Halley’s Comet made an appearance?”
“I did not.” Scott’s answer was so earnest that I had to suppress a giggle.
“The thing only comes around every seventy-five years or so, you know. Well, Mr. Twain is said to have told folks that he came in with that comet and would go out with it too.”
Scott nodded. “That’s awesome. Did he?”
“He died the day after the comet returned.” Homer spread his hands. “At least, that’s how I heard it.”
Jackie and I were in the kitchen when Ryan came into the café. I heard Scott tell him, “Ryan, you’re just in time.”
I stiffened and scrunched up my face.
“Do you honestly think that if you close your eyes, he won’t see you?” Jackie joked.
“It’s not me I’m worried about him seeing.”
“Yeah, well...” She jerked her head toward the dining room. “Go on. I’ll man the grill.”
I took a deep breath and opened the kitchen door. “Hey!” I forced all the sunshiny brightness I could muster into my voice.
“Hey yourself,” Ryan said. “I hear I’m just in time.”
“For what?” I asked.
“For Homer to share with us some words of wisdom from Mark Twain,” Scott answered. “The floor is yours, Guru Guy.”
Ryan arched a brow at me, and I shrugged.
Homer sipped his coffee and then cleared his throat. “’Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.’”
“Whoa. That is deep.” Scott grabbed a coffee pot and refilled Homer’s cup.
“Amy, do you have a second?” Ryan asked.
“Sure.” I moved closer to the counter.
“Outside?”
“Yeah...no problem.” I smiled brightly as I strode toward the door. “Oh, hey, the sun is shining. We’ve barely had time to look out today.”
When we stepped out the front door and it closed behind us, Ryan asked, “What’s he doing here?”
“Who? Scott?”
“No. Homer—the one who comes in at the same time every day to order the same meal. That’s the him I’m talking about.”
“Now, there’s no need for sarcasm. Shelly called in sick this morning right after I learned there was a church group planning to stop by. I’d already called Donna, and she came in for a little while but then she had to leave—dental appointment. Anyway, when I found out Shelly wouldn’t be here, I asked Scott if he could come in.” I looked up into Ryan’s beautiful eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Ryan was frowning. “Shelly called in sick?”
I nodded. “It struck me as odd too. I don’t think she’s ever taken an unplanned day off, and then today of all days—”
His frown had deepened, and he was shaking his head.
“What?” I asked.
“I saw Shelly driving back into town from the direction of Abingdon about thirty minutes ago.”
“Oh. That must be where her doctor’s office is located.” A tiny golden leaf floated down onto his shoulder, and I smiled as I brushed it away. “Now that things have slowed down, I should call her and see how she’s feeling.”
“I don’t believe she’d been to the doctor’s office,” Ryan said. “It looked to me like she had her doctor—or, at least, a doctor—with her.”
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