A Suspicion of Strawberries (Scents of Murder Book 1) (13 page)

“So where did it happen?” Nana’s sharp gaze darted around the room.

“Did what happen?” The words came out, even though I realized what Nana had meant. My heart sank.

“That poor girl. Charla Rae.” Nana shook her head.

“Nana, I thought we agreed not to talk about that.” Sadie laid a hand on her grandmother’s arm. “We’re trying to help Miss Clark.”

“I changed my mind.” Nana straightened her shoulders and picked up one of the baskets customers used to carry their purchases in while they shopped. “I’m eighty-nine, and at my age I oughtta have the right to change my mind.”

Sadie looked at me and shrugged.

“Don’t worry, Sadie.” Now my smile felt pasted on. “Yes, ma’am, Charla Rae passed away in this very room, and I think it was a terrible tragedy.”

Nana took my arm with her free hand. “Right here, you say? What a shame. She and her sister, Melinda, were my best students.”

“Oh, they took piano lessons from you?” I led Nana to the other counter, which had a sink. “Here, you can try a soap sample if you’d like.”

Her dark eyes snapped with humor. “So, you got any soapy surprises for me today, young lady?”

“Um, what do you mean?”

“I won’t be in any danger, will I?” Nana turned on the water, then started unwrapping a sample of Rambling Rose hand soap.

“Nana!” Sadie’s voice squeaked across the room. I nodded to her over my shoulder, trying to reassure her everything was fine.

This was the last thing I needed. Just when it seemed like sales were starting to look up a little. A customer wondering if she’d keel over if she tried my products. And saying it to my face. The joke stung a little.

“Oh no, I think you should be fine.” I cleared my throat. “Charla had an unfortunate allergic reaction. You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

Nana stuck her hands under the water, then started lathering her hands with the soap. “Smells lovely. No, not allergic. I think that allergy stuff is a bunch of nonsense anyway.”

“You do?”

“I think some people want to be allergic. If they would just make up their minds not to be allergic, they wouldn’t be.” Nana, apparently pleased with the soap, finished rinsing her hands and turned off the water. “Got a towel, sugar?”

I mutely handed her a paper towel from the stack by the sink. For some reason, I didn’t think informing Nana about the effect of histamines in the body as an involuntary reaction would convince her.

“Thank you kindly.” She dried her hands and threw the paper towel on the floor just as a cell phone’s ring filled the store.

Sadie pulled a phone from her purse and blushed. “Y’all go ahead and visit.” She answered the call and was soon deep in conversation.

Nana shook her head. “Young people. All these gadgets don’t seem to do us a bit of good. Couldn’t help Charla Rae, either.”

I nodded. “Did you know her well? You said she was a student of yours?”

“Both she and Melinda were.” Nana paused and looked toward the front window, but I had the suspicion she wasn’t seeing the sunny summer day outside. “Came to me every week for ten years, the both of them. Started when they were five and seven. Like clockwork.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Helped pay for my groceries many a time, and I’m grateful to God for them. For all my students.”

Nana trudged to the summer soap display and started pushing the seashells around in the sand.

“Did you have many students?” I’d always wanted lessons, but growing up we didn’t have much money to spare.

“Oh, always four or five every week. Some would come, some would go.” Nana beamed. “One played at Carnegie Hall eventually. I was so proud.”

“Who played better?” Hopefully Nana would redirect her focus to the Thacker sisters.

“What do you mean?”

“The Thackers—Melinda and Charla.”

“Oh, Melinda did, and that sure got Charla Rae’s goat.” Nana chuckled and turned back to face me. “Charla always wanted to have the spotlight, and this time Melinda had her in the shadow.”

My pulse quickened. “Did Melinda seem like she was in Charla’s shadow otherwise?”

“Everyone lives in someone else’s shadow.” Nana frowned at the basket in her hands, then glanced at Sadie, who was closing her cell phone. “Freda, are you about ready?”

A sympathetic smile crossed Sadie’s face. “Nana, I’m Sadie. Freda’s my momma.” She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. “Nana gets confused.”

Nana stomped over to the register and slammed her basket on the counter so hard the bars of soap inside jumped. “I’m not confused. I know exactly where I am. Freda, it ain’t funny to talk about me like I’m not here.”

Then Nana turned and glanced out the front window. “What happened? I told you I wanted to go to the mall today.”

“You’re mistaken,” Sadie replied. “We went to lunch, and you said you wanted to see where Charla Thacker died.” Sorry, she mouthed at me.

“No problem, ladies.” My heart panged for Sadie and her grandmother. I moved to the register and took the soaps from Nana’s basket. “Is this all you wanted to buy today?”

“I don’t know.” Nana shook her head. “Freda, why would I buy all this soap when I’ve got a package of Ivory at home I ain’t even used yet?” She took a step back and made a pushing motion with her hands, as if the soap were threatening her somehow.

Sadie’s expression grew grim, and I touched her arm.

“You okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be all right. Mom hoped I could take Nana out today because she seemed so much better. And then, I lost her again.” Sadie fumbled in her purse for some cash and placed it on the counter. Nana had moved to another display and stood facing the jars of facial scrub flakes. She was shaking her head and muttering.

“Thanks. Is there something I can help you with?” I worried if Sadie could manage getting Nana home.

“No, it’ll be fine.” She gave a sad grin. “So long as I pretend I’m my mom and go along with Nana. We just never know when it hits her. See ya on Sunday, Miss Clark.” Sadie went to Nana and took her by the arm.

They left with Sadie assuring her they’d go straight home so Nana could take a nap.

The last thing I heard before the glass front door glided shut behind them was Nana saying, “But I’m not tired.”

“Everyone lives in someone else’s shadow.”
The memory of Nana’s lucid statement slammed into me hard. The hint about Melinda being in Charla’s shadow made me pause.

I had a mental argument with myself as I went back to the workroom to study the promotional flyers that Sadie had picked up for me the week before. If I ever got to the point where I’d need an employee, I’d hire Sadie in a heartbeat.

Yet, clearly Sadie’s nana wasn’t always in her right mind. How could I know for sure she’d been talking about Charla and Melinda and not another pair of students? Maybe she’d confused them with another pair of siblings. And it wasn’t like I could come right out and ask Melinda about her sister. Even I had that much tact. Well, maybe not when it came to Charla’s grieving fiancé, but then I hadn’t really known him, and I wasn’t trying to accuse him of anything, just get some answers.

If I was looking for a female killer, I couldn’t rule Melinda out or the rest of the wedding party. I went to my desk and rested my head on my hands and closed my eyes, letting my mind settle back to that awful Saturday two weeks ago. It seems I’d gotten off track, chasing after leads like Mike and Robert instead of concentrating on what happened the day of the crime.

Melinda had said something about one of the bridesmaids pulling a mean prank on Charla once before. I racked my brain.
That’s right
. The bridesmaid had given Charla some candy with strawberry in it as payback for Charla borrowing a sweater without asking.

I dug through my desk to find the file for Charla’s party. Di and I had used it when we made our suspect list, but I couldn’t remember where I’d put it. When I finally found it, I flipped it open and scanned the names and profiles.

“Emily.”
The onetime friend and roommate. She, like Melinda, knew Charla’s schedule, her comings and goings. Both women seemed genuinely heartbroken over Charla’s death. And if Sadie’s nana had been right, maybe at least one of them was tired of living in Charla’s shadow.

The funny thing was, I didn’t recall seeing Emily at

Charla’s funeral. Did she stay away out of guilt?

“Ands, why are they all staring at us?” Ben muttered under his breath as I set the potato salad on the picnic table. The late-June air felt downright balmy, and I was grateful our group had managed to snag a great picnic spot under the pines at Greenburg City Park.

“It must be you.” I glanced at the teenagers milling around the picnic area. A few had started a game of touch football, but another cluster of young people stood there looking at us, grins spread across their faces. “I’m too old to have a boyfriend. Most women my age already have the minivans and car seats.”

“Ah, I see.”

Oh, the depths of the male reaction. However, I wasn’t trying to drop a really large hint about a diamond or setting a date. Not after the roller coaster of emotions I’d experienced while adjusting to the idea of Ben coming home from the road. My prayer time had increased a lot, something I’d needed anyway, but in the busyness of running the store, I’d started neglecting that area of my life again.

The pine branches swayed above us in the hot breeze, and the teenagers’ shouts and laughter echoed around the park. The youth pastor and his wife were keeping an eye on the grill. Between the four of us and a couple of parents, we’d all keep an eye on the kids.

Sadie shot me a grin across the way and gave a half nod, one of her hands laced with a boy’s—Kyle, I guessed. My throat caught. We adults had been cautioned to make sure none of the teens wandered off two by two. Not that Sadie would, but even I knew what it was like to be young and in love—or at least in love. And all of Greenburg knew about the famous Lovers’ Oak, where scores of couples had carved their names over the years. The tree lay along a deep hiking trail that wound above the river’s edge.

Ben moved to stack the plates at the end of the largest picnic table where we’d set up the main spread of food. I looked up from the opposite end of the table to see his smile hit me. My stomach’s butterflies fluttered.

“Hey, Miss Clark.” A voice at my elbow made me turn.

“Seth! Hi. You made it.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound like one of those bright, overeager adult voices. “Some of the guys are starting a football game. Later we’ll have a water-balloon toss.”

Seth dug his toe into the pine needles. “Er, I’m not good at football. I thought I’d hang out by the grill.” He spoke to the potato salad on the table.

“Sure, whatever you’d like to do. I think a group is planning to hike the river trail later.” I’d definitely hit the high-pitched-perky-adult-voice mode. Blech.

He shrugged. “Maybe.” Seth seemed like he wanted to say more but shuffled off in the direction of the grill.

Poor kid. I didn’t know how close he’d been to Charla, but if his family was anything like mine, he had to be taking it hard. Momma liked to use the old adage, “Still waters run deep.” This seemed to apply to Seth.

Maybe Ben could talk to him. Seth always arrived at church alone, and he was usually gone immediately afterward. I think he either walked, or a family member dropped him off, but that was only a guess on my part.

“A kid from your class?” Ben opened the cooler and helped himself to a can of soda.

“Seth Mitchell. He’s Charla’s cousin.” I watched Seth across the way, doing his head bob at something the youth pastor was saying. “I wish there was something I could do to help him. He seems so. . .lost.”

Ben settled onto the picnic table bench. “That’s a hard age. Half kid, half adult.”

“He looks like he’s got something all bottled up inside.” Now Seth trudged to a pine and sat down, leaning against its trunk. Instead of joining in the football toss or the other nearby conversation, he seemed content to be a spectator. He would glance around the picnic grounds, then look at his watch.

“Do you think the pastor would talk to him?” Ben focused on Seth as well. “Or maybe I could.”

I tried not to let the hollow sigh escape, but it did. “If Seth would be willing to talk. I’ve only seen him one Sunday since Charla died.”

“Listen up, everyone!” the youth pastor called through cupped hands. “We’ve got some burgers ‘n’ dogs fryin’ right now, and dogs’ll be ready first. So start lining up.”

Ben looked from the pastor to Seth. “I’ll try to talk to him over lunch. Maybe break the ice a little.”

I touched his arm. “That would be great. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he usually mumbles and turns red.”

“You’re a beautiful woman.” Ben slid his arm around me. “If I was a young man, I’d be scared to death to talk to you.”

“Ha!” I put my arm around him. “In teen years, I’m ancient.”

We found a place in line and managed to get a burger apiece in spite of the teens that swarmed around the food table like feeding piranha. Ben scanned the group.

“Are you trying to find Seth?” I glanced from one cluster of teenagers to another.

Then I saw him.

Seth and two other boys stood at the edge of the hiking trail that entered the pine woods. He held a hot dog in one hand and was talking around a mouthful. The boys, who definitely did not belong to our group, kept gesturing toward the trail. Without a backward look, the three of them entered the forest.

“Ben—” I placed my plate on the nearest table and surrendered my lunch to the flies that waited.

“Let’s go.” He reached for my hand.

Chapter Twelve

By the time the trees swallowed us up, we had lost sight of the three boys. “How did they disappear like that?” I could only see trail and underbrush. A brook gurgled somewhere as it made its way to the river. Birds called to each other in the treetops.

Ben squinted down the trail and into the woods. “I’m no tracker—I don’t see where they could have gone off the path.”

I had to trot to keep up with Ben. The trail split, one branch leading uphill and the lower one leading toward the river. “I vote we take the river trail, and if we don’t find them once we get to Lovers’ Oak, we should turn back.”

We stumbled along the winding path, and sweat trickled down my back. This was not a smart idea. I should have at least brought my cell phone to call back to the main group and let them know where we were.

“I think we’re almost there,” Ben said after a few minutes. “Haven’t been down this way in years.” The last time was when he’d impulsively carved our names in the oak.

Soon we arrived at the most famous tree in Greenburg, the Lovers’ Oak, once said to be a lookout post during the Civil War, although for the life of me I could never figure out how anyone could climb the thing.

There were the initials I remembered so well: BH + AC. We’d been together six months, starry-eyed like a couple of teenagers and given to long walks in the park. I ran my finger across the bark. Myriads of initials, some obliterated by an angry knife after a breakup. I wondered if Momma and Daddy had carved their initials in the trunk or not. They didn’t seem terribly romantic.

“Still there.” I smiled.

“And so are we.” Ben placed his hand over mine and raised it to his lips. “I love you, Ands.” He took me in his arms. Where had Ben learned such impulsivity?

“I love you, too. And I’ve been praying a lot, especially about us.” I forced myself to look into his eyes. “I couldn’t and wouldn’t want to think about being with anyone else.”

His kiss made me remember the reasons I fell in love with him. His strength combined with his gentleness made me feel as though I could accomplish anything.

When he let me go, my cheeks flamed, and it wasn’t from the humidity. I found myself grinning.

“Here we are doing what we didn’t want any lovelorn teens running off to do.” I forced myself to scan the woods.

“I know. We should try to find Seth, and if we can’t, we should head back and tell Pastor.” Ben took my hand, and we continued down the trail. As best I recalled, it ended at a small lodge and pavilion that the town rented out for parties and receptions, with a small dock for boats on the river. Another road from the lodge passed the park pool and led back to town.

At the edge of the clearing, I froze. Ben’s hand pulled against mine. “Wait.”

Two figures stood in front of two cars parked next to the lodge. Robert, the bereaved-fiancé-lawyer, and a familiar-looking woman—one of the bridesmaids. Even from here, I could see her pleading expression.

“Why are we hiding?” Ben’s voice sounded too loud. He moved toward the clearing.

I grabbed his arm and ducked behind a patch of undergrowth. “Hush—they’ll hear you. That’s Charla’s fiancé and one of her bridesmaids. Emily, I think.”

“So, they’re talking.”

“But who drives out to a deserted lodge just to talk? Maybe so they can talk where no one will hear them.” I wished we could get closer so I could hear better. “Let me listen.”

Across the expanse of lawn, drifting on the hot breeze, came a few snatches of conversation mingled with the sound of a locust hitting its full trill. “—you’ve just got to listen—” Emily’s voice took on an urgent tone.

“—can’t take the dramatics—” Robert took a step backward closer to his car and tugged on his tie.

Emily reached forward and touched his arm. “—won’t say anything—”

“—enough to deal with right now.” Robert shook his head.