Chapter Twelve

Gran fussed as we sat in the room, waiting for the doctor. “I’m fine.”

“I know. But the doc wanted to check your wrist and talk about your meds,” I reminded her.

“We need to be at the shop, not running around appointments all the time. We don’t both need to be here,” she replied.

“It’ll make me feel better.”

The doctor knocked and shuffled in. “Morning, ladies, sorry I’m running a tad late. The detailed blood work came in on our late sheriff.”

“And?” I asked.

The doc wagged a finger at me.

“Well, if it clears something up…that’d be great,” I added innocently.

The doc opened Gran’s file and sat down. “Nothing except the killer probably liked that show Breaking Bad.”

“What show?” Gran asked.

“You didn’t watch it. It was about making meth and selling drugs,” I explained.

“You watched it?” Gran frowned.

“A guy I was seeing in Atlanta liked it.” I couldn’t tell her I enjoyed that violent a show or she’d be worried. Mostly I liked the crime-solving shows, but it had been intriguing. “Lily of the valley?”

“Don’t change the subject to gardening. You were talking about meth and drugs. The sheriff wouldn’t take those,” Gran said.

I bit my lower lip for a moment to keep from hypothesizing too much. “It’s relevant, I promise.”

The doc sighed. “It takes a lot to kill someone. You’d want to mask the taste with something stronger. He wasn’t ill the day or so before, so it wasn’t a buildup. Honestly, your mint julep smoothie would’ve been a good choice.”

“But I don’t have access to that plant. Gran doesn’t have a garden, just some flower boxes,” said.

“No lily of the valley there. I prefer mums,” Gran replied.

“Plenty of people have big gardens and it’s a common plant. There’s a garden walk every summer,” the doc said. “I’m sure someone has plenty of it. Plenty of people probably don’t even know they have it and that’s the thing. So many plants are poisonous, if only people knew how easy it would be to get away with murder.”

“It couldn’t be accidental,” I said.

“No, there are berries, but eating just a few would make you feel sick. Enough to kill a man the sheriff’s size quickly without time for medical intervention would take a lot mixed into something he liked eating. But it’s in the cops’ hands to find whoever had it around and had motive.”

“Thanks, doc,” I said.

“Now, Bea. How’s the sleeping going?”

“I’m sleepier now with those pain pills. I’m fine, just check on the wrist and let’s get out of here.” Gran held out her wrist.

The doc undid the bandage and looked it over. “Very nice. Healing well. Okay, if your arthritis is acting up a lot or you’re feeling too sleepy with that med, I want you to come back and we’ll find something else. I know side effects make it hard, but we can find a balance that works for you.”

Leaving the doctor’s office, I saw there was a bit of an argument happening on the sidewalk.

“Why can’t we park here?” the lead singer of Snakebite demanded.

“Park yes, you can’t stay here two days,” Deputy Lou replied. “We’ve got a trailer park with hookups on the outskirts of town.”

“We just come in for a day or two to play. We can’t afford the overnight fees,” he said, then caught my eye. “Hey, Katie’s friend.”

“Dillon, right?” I asked.

“Katie talks about me?” He grinned.

“Her name is Belle,” Gran cut in.

“Belle,” Dillon repeated. “Yes, ma’am. You are?”

Where are my manners? “Sorry, Dillon and his band Snakebite. They play at Katie’s bar. This is my grandmother, Mrs. Baxter.”

Gran shook hands with the long-haired guy in town jeans and a tank top showing off a few tattoos. He was very polite.

“Mrs. Baxter. Sorry for the annoyance, but I’m just trying to find a place to park. We’re from Kentucky and try to keep our costs down,” Dillon admitted.

Gran’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it doesn’t belong on Main Street. People need to park and see to cross the street. But that trailer park is full of families and it’s meant for more permanent residents. They don’t want a band coming in all hours of day there.”

“Where else do you think, Mrs. B.?” Lou asked.

“They seem respectful enough,” Gran replied, looking at me.

I shrugged. “Katie’s brothers would’ve kicked them out if they weren’t playing nice.”

Gran sighed. “They can park on my property.”

I tried to hide my shock. “That’s really nice, Gran.”

“It is. You’re sure, ma’am?” Dillon asked.

“My late husband and I have five acres. He used to ranch goats in addition to his day job. I sold off the goats when he passed. I’ve been thinking about doing something with the land again. I don’t want to sell it off, but I want the land to earn its keep. Maybe goats, maybe horses. But a start is letting other people on my property,” she said.

“What’s the fee?” Dillon asked.

Gran looked at the RV. “Just run the fence and make sure it’s solid. Clean up the land of any debris.”

I pressed my lips together. “Gran, they’re musicians, not ranchers.”

“No, it’s good. Physical labor we’ve got, keeps us in shape. It might take a lot of overnights to clear five acres,” he said.

“I understand. No parties on my property, no fireworks, no leaving beer or any litter around. No girls knocking on my door looking for a phone or a ride,” Gran warned.

He grinned. “We’ll behave. Plenty of other places to party. If we’re playing Sweet Grove, it’s the music.”

“When did we become mini-Nashville?” Gran asked.

I shook my head. “No idea. Maybe he likes Katie?” I teased.

Dillon folded his arms. “Katie is great. She runs a good place. I try not to mix business and personal stuff.”

“Smart.” Gran pointed at Lou. “Can you show the boys to my property?”

“Yes, ma’am, but are you sure?” Lou asked.

“It’s my property. I have the room. There’s water and septic hookups on the south side of the house. My late husband had a brother who RV’d all over the country and visited in the summers. Might need some cobwebs kicked out, but you boys can handle it.” She wagged her finger.

“Thanks, Mrs. Baxter,” Dillon called.

“We need to get back to work,” I said.

“See you later.” Gran waved.

“That was very nice of you. I really don’t know those men,” I said.

“Charity takes many forms. Sometimes opportunities to be kind pop up. I sort of miss the goats,” she said.

I followed her, watching for traffic. Gran was livelier than I’d seen her in years. Musicians, goats or simply an expanded business—whatever it took, her life was going to be better.

 

* * * *

 

Back at the shop, Milan looked comfortable behind the counter. “The banana nut muffins were a huge hit, Belle. Got any more?”

“No, but thanks,” I replied. “I’m open to suggestions for tomorrow.”

“Belle, you have a visitor.” Freddie pointed to a woman at a table by herself, staring at her phone.

“Trish? What are you doing here?” I asked as I went over.

“Oh, hi, Belle!” She stood up and hugged me. “Sorry to just drop in, but I have a job interview in Nashville in a couple hours and I thought I’d swing by here first since you’re pretty close. I miss you,” she said.

Trish was dressed to impress in a charcoal skirt suit and heels. Her jet-black hair was swept up in a twist, and she had perfect makeup and everything.

“You look great! I miss you too. There are really only a handful of people I miss from Atlanta but you’re one.” I heard the men mumbling. “Sorry. Where are my manners? Gran and her gaggle of men, this is Trish, a friend from where I worked in Atlanta. Trish, Gran and the gang.”

“Hi,” Trish said.

“Hello. What brings you to Tennessee?” Gran asked.

“A job interview in the city. If I get it, maybe I can see Belle more? They have multiple positions. I can ask if you can still get an interview.” Trish nodded at me.

I shook my head. “Thanks so much for thinking of me. With friends like you, I don’t feel so cut off from my old life. But I can’t split my focus right now. If this is going to work, it needs my full attention.”

“Nashville isn’t that far away. People even commute from here. Everyone is so friendly.” Trish shook her head.

“I know, small towns are like that. You’re right, some people do commute, but not people with small businesses here and no one else to look after relatives that might need something at the drop of a hat. It’s mostly the dad going into the city and a lot of moms work around here, so if the kid gets sick or hurt…unless they have a grandparent close by and are able to… It’s just very complicated,” I explained.

“The family obligation expectation here is higher.” Trish sipped her coffee. “Well, if I get the job, I’ll let you know. That way you have an in if you’re looking for something. The pay is good and full benefits. You’ll have to get something for self-employed people and that costs money. I know you, of anyone, can make this work, but you’re giving up a lot of security and free time.”

“I’m aware. But it’s home. I really appreciate cha stopping by and thinking of me. If things go sideways, I’ll be bugging you. Did you get a muffin?” I asked.

“No, I’m fine with coffee. I need to hit the ladies’ room and get on the road. I don’t want to be late looking for a building. You know me, worst sense of direction in the south. I can have the map on my phone and I’ll get turned around.” She laughed.

I pointed her in the right direction. “Ladies’ room is on the side of the counters down that hall.”

“Thanks.” She headed there.

I walked over to Gran.

“She seems nice, except for trying to steal you away.” Gran pouted.

“I’m not going anywhere. She’s a good friend for keeping in touch and coming out of her way. Never burn bridges to good friends from the past.” I tidied up some of the tables out of habit rather than lack of cleanliness. “Besides, she might get us some catering orders? Maybe your preserves will be stocked in fancy B&Bs or elite hotels because of her recommendation.”

Gran sat back. “Maybe.”

I grabbed a paper bag with nice handles from the back and added a small jar of each of the preserve flavors we stocked plus two biscuits and some packages of crackers that people used to sample the flavors.

Dashing to the back, I poured her a smoothie from the pitcher in the fridge into a to-go cup with a straw. When Trish emerged from the back, I had it all ready on the counter.

“What’s this?” Trish asked.

“Just a little road trip snack or thank you for coming all this way to visit. If you land at a big place in the city, you could have us provide pastries or stock Gran’s famous preserves at the hotel restaurant or any B&B around. Homemade, nothing artificial, no preservatives,” I said.

“You sound like a commercial. We’re not beggars, Annabelle,” Gran scolded.

Trish smirked. “Annabelle. Never heard anyone call you that. Thanks for the treats. If I have an opportunity to plug you or get you in anywhere, you know I will. Keep your options open.”

“Explore all avenues, absolutely. Need a refill on the coffee?” I offered.

“I’m good. Thanks.” She hugged me.

“Good luck!” I called.

“Nice to meet you,” Gran called as Trish left.

“That was a nice surprise,” I said.

“You’d really consider a job in the city?” Milan asked.

“Mind your business,” Abe shot back.

“I’m not ruling anything out until we’re so busy we know we’re succeeding. She could be a great connection for getting the preserves out there,” I reminded them.

“Very true. I don’t have any business connections. Now I can get back to baking.” Gran sat with her fellas.

“Of course you can, but I don’t mind helping. I was thinking, we have a big oven in the back-kitchen area. We could do some of the baking here instead of at home. Or at least have some stuff to make here if we run out of one thing, like those muffins.”

“Really? You want two places that might catch fire?” Abe asked softly.

Gran playfully smacked Abe’s arm.

I frowned. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But we use the fridge and the sink here, so I’m sure the oven must work.”

“It all works, but it’s easier to mix up batter and bake at home. No distractions from customers like here.” Gran shook her head. “You’ll make this a full-service bakery.”

“No, but I am thinking about something that might highlight your preserves so they sell even better.” If I made it all about her, she’d jump on board.

“What’s that?” Gran asked.

“Remember that sweet wheat or multigrain bread you made when I was little? It was great for sandwiches and you cut it thick. Toasted or not, it was delicious with butter or any of your preserves.” I checked over my coffee machine and rinsed the perfectly clean-looking blender out of habit.

“I do remember that bread. It’s a bit labor intensive but delicious. Why did I stop making it?” she asked more to herself.

“Once Grandpa was gone, I don’t think you made it too much. It was his favorite. Only bread he’d touch.” I paused at the good memories.

Gran sighed. “It hurt too much.”

“Maybe I could try it here? If you have the recipe still…then it’d be fresh and the oven capacity here is just bigger.”

“People won’t come in for just bread and jam. I always have muffins or something else,” Gran insisted.

“We can still do that. We’ll have the coffee and the smoothies. But maybe, just maybe, that bread might be the key to inching us into the lunch market. Ham or turkey sandwiches on that bread with butter or mayo. Throw in a bag of chips and one of your homemade cookies for a quick boxed lunch on the best bread in the South.” I’d been missing that bread since I was a kid and, for some reason, knowing there was an actual killer around, it made me want a simpler time and life.

In Atlanta, I’d always tuned out the number of murders or violent attacks reported on the news. Here, one was a major topic no one could escape.

“Belle? You okay?” Milan asked.

“Yeah, sorry, lost in memories,” I replied.

“I think it’s a fine idea. The diner is good, but people need a quick alternative,” Joe added.

Gran smiled. “I think it’s sweet that you remember that. Ham or turkey. Or ham and turkey. Swiss or provolone. Not too many options.”

“If it goes over well, we can add a third sandwich—like egg salad or a BLT.” I shrugged.

“Egg salad would please those vegans,” Gran said.

I shook my head. “Vegetarians, yes. Vegans no. We’ll see what sort of requests we get. Maybe put out a suggestion box?”

“I must say, I like you focused on the business and not on that murder. The deputies will figure it out now that they know about the lily of the valley,” Gran said.

“The what?” her guys asked.

That would be their sole topic for the rest of the morning.

I went to work.

“Don’t worry, dear. I have a friend who does the garden walk every day. I’ll visit her this afternoon. I’ll find the bread recipe this evening.” Gran pointed in the air as if making a mental list.

“Good plan.” She was so happy I couldn’t be mad. She had the big scoop and liked the business ideas.

 

* * * *

 

That night Gran went to the diner with her fellas for dinner because I had a text from Katie insisting that I meet her for dinner. We needed to talk.

I was shocked she was letting someone else manage the bar.

I locked up the shop. Gran and the guys were already at the early bird special when Lou rolled by in his squad car and waved.

I waved back and rushed to the car. “Hey, Lou, any chance you’re heading to the diner?”

“That was my dinner plan for tonight. Care to join me?” he asked.

I blushed. “Oh, no, sorry. I have plans with Katie, but not at the diner. Gran’s there. I just wanted to know if you’re headed there…maybe keep an eye on her and her friends? If she needs a ride home?”

Lou chuckled. “Sure thing. She’s got a monopoly on the senior men in this town.”

“She does, and I’m not asking why or how, but as long as she gets home safely, I’m grateful. If they stay out after dark…I’m not sure any of them should be driving in the dark,” I said.

I should’ve asked the doc that.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her. You and Katie have a nice girls’ night.” Lou waved.

“Appreciate cha!” I called.

Did Lou really think I was going to ask him out?

I shuddered. He was more like a dopey brother.

I hopped in my truck and headed out of town. The steakhouse Katie wanted to meet at was just outside Nashville.

I made it and found her in a booth, looking shocked.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Sit. Order whatever you want. I’m paying.” She sipped her drink.

The waitress came up and set down a coaster. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll have a sweet tea like hers, and some lemon please,” I said.

The waitress handed me a menu. “That’s a Long Island.”

“Oh, that’s okay. Just a regular sweet tea for me, a couple lemons too. Thanks,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” I asked Katie as the waitress left. “Is it about the sheriff? I heard about the cause of death.”

“Cause? No, it’s not about the sheriff. Belle, I caught one of my brothers…in the back of the bar.” Katie shook her head.

“Oh, kissing that someone? I saw it too and just slipped by when I came in the back door. I couldn’t see who it was. They’re grownups, Katie. Was it someone bad? Someone married?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Someone underage? That’s gross.” I hoped I was wrong.

She shook her head.

I didn’t want to suggest it was Hank, because I had no proof other than some awkward timing. It might turn out that Hank had gone in the back and spooked the couple, then the girl had gone out the back and Hank had left from the front. If they were trying to hide something, why wouldn’t Hank go out the back?

“Did they do more than make out back there? I can see you wouldn’t want to walk in on your brother and his girlfriend…that’s some health code violations.” I gestured with my hand to be polite.

Katie sighed and shook her head. “Let’s talk about something else. The cause of death?”

“Lily of the valley. It’ll be all over town tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll drag Lola in for questioning.” I perused the menu.

“You don’t think she did it? Killed by a plant. She works at the florist.” Katie sipped her drink.

“I don’t think she had enough to gain to bother. You don’t rage spike someone’s food or drink with a poisonous plant. That takes time and research, or he’d have just gotten sick.” I sat back as the waitress came with my tea.

We ordered food, but Katie looked more interested in drowning her sorrows.

“Was she some awful ex-girlfriend of his? A friend of yours? Oh no, a friend of your mom’s. Some cougar?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying not to gossip, but you clearly can’t stop thinking about it, so you might as well talk about it. Vent. Whenever you’re ready. Until then, what do you think of Gus? He sort of keeps flirting with me, but I don’t think he gets it. Why I’d be trouble for him to date,” I said.

She scoffed. “Exactly. It’s such a small town. If you were in Atlanta, no one would care if your mom was running around screwing a bunch of men and partying. The drugs could be a problem, but people aren’t as judgy there. They mind their own business.”

“It would be easier, but a lot more competition there too,” I pointed out.

“It’s so dumb. I always thought it was dumb, but that’s just how small towns are. We’re trash because of what our moms did.” She shook her head.

“Sins of the father or mother. People don’t really treat you differently…they just tend to bring up stuff that makes situations uncomfortable. Could’ve been worse. We didn’t grow up in trailers.” I sipped my beverage. “Oh, I get it—this girl is rich or from a perfect family so your brother will be treated like he’s not good enough. Sorry. I skipped lunch. I need food.”

“That’s not the problem either. But we shouldn’t have to accept that treatment. Rude comments or people thinking our family isn’t good enough or unacceptable.” She jabbed her straw into her drink.

“You can’t change your family or other people. Moving to the city is your best bet if you’re sick of dealing with this stuff. But it’s expensive and stressful in its own way. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t. You’ll make some friends, but you can’t rely on them, not like we rely on each other. Honestly, I’d rather put up with Lurlene and people like her than go back and feel like I’m always around strangers,” I explained.

Katie folded her arms. “I get that part, but you did nothing wrong. You still get crap because your mom ran off and your dad was—well, no one knows who he was. That sucks for you, but it’s not okay for people to judge you by their actions.”

“Katie, we both know the facts of our lives and what people say. What does it have to do with your brother?” I asked.

She looked around. “I don’t want them to suffer judgment.”

“Okay, that’s sweet of you, but you can’t control others. I’ll never judge him. I know you wouldn’t. Is he dating someone to be concerned about? Was she in prison? Does she have a bunch of kids?” I asked. “Guessing games aren’t my best area.”

Katie leaned in. “It’s not a she.”

I pressed my lips together. There was one of her brothers who had never seemed flirty or into checking out girls.

“Okay. And that brother is the one with a really ignorant dad?” I asked.

“Yep. No wonder he’s trying to hide it, but at my bar?”

“He does get breaks. That’s his time,” I teased. “He feels safe there. It’s not about you.”

Our food arrived and I dug in. She stared at her plate.

“Katie, do you have a problem with it or are you just worried for him?” I asked.

“I don’t care, but…” She looked around as though people were watching.

The music in the restaurant was louder than she was. “It’s okay,” I said.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me? Tell Mom?” Katie asked.

“He might not want people to know because of his dad. I don’t think that will go over well. Is it a serious relationship? Who is the other guy?”

She shook her head. “The guy ran the other way and I didn’t see. My brother said it was a hookup, and that it didn’t matter. But he wouldn’t say if it was the first time or the last.”

“Katie, this is his deal. If he’s not ready to talk about it to you or anyone else, leave him alone. I’d just ask him not to have any make-out sessions at work. Men, women or whatever…that’s not the place to do that. Unless he’s off the clock and in the bar like everyone else,” I said.

“You’re right.” She took a deep breath and picked up her fork.

I tapped my knife on the plate for a second then stopped. Nerves. “Anyone else see them? I mean, if I did…”

“But you only saw my brother?” Katie asked.

“Right. I just wonder if he wanted to be caught.” I shook my head. “I should focus on the sheriff’s killer. That’s a dangerous person.”

Katie smiled. “At least a dozen people have lily of the valley growing all over their gardens. But it might help you narrow down the suspects with access. Gus doesn’t seem to mind your help.”

I chuckled. “He’s nice, but I don’t think it’s a good idea, not if he wants to be elected sheriff on his own merits.”