A Suspicion of Strawberries (Scents of Murder Book 1) (16 page)

“I don’t. . .please, whatever happens, don’t call my parents.” She slumped over in her seat. “Oh, it hurts. .

. .” Diners looked in our direction.

“Hang on. I’m calling 911. I’ll be right there behind you.” I grabbed my cell phone and dialed for help, my pulse pounding in my throat the whole time.

Once I found a parking place at County Hospital, I hurried to the emergency room. “Please, I’m looking for Melinda Thacker. She was brought here by EMS.” The desk clerk nodded. “She mentioned someone was coming for her.”

“Can I see her? Is she all right?”

“I believe she’s in Radiology right now, but you’re welcome to have a seat.”

I would wait for her and not abandon this poor young woman in her hour of need. She didn’t want her parents called, and I almost decided to ignore her request. But no, she was twenty-three, not a child. Instead, I prayed. This was not the afternoon I had pictured.

During the next hour, I mulled over our conversation. Melinda had shown up not long after Seth had arrived at the store. Her grief seemed to run deep, and she clearly found herself in a battle that made her cry out to me, of all people, for help.

At last, Melinda appeared through one of the doors. Her red and swollen eyes widened when she saw me. “You’re still here. You didn’t have to stay, but it was awfully sweet of you to follow me.”

I nodded. “I didn’t want you to be here by yourself, and since you didn’t get a chance to call anyone. . .”

Melinda gave a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I didn’t.” She held a piece of folded paper. “Could. . .could you give me a ride back to Honey’s to pick up my car?”

“Sure, of course.” We left through the sliding double doors and headed to my Jeep. Melinda remained silent on the trip through downtown Greenburg and over to Honey’s Place via a side street.

“So,” I said at last, “are you okay? What was wrong? Do you need to get a prescription at the pharmacy or anything?”

Melinda shrugged, and a strand of her hair wafted across one cheek. She brushed it out of her face. “I’ll be all right. One of the ER nurses is phoning my prescription to the pharmacy, so I’ll pick it up on the way home.” She bit her lip and turned to the open air rushing past the Jeep, but not before I saw a tear leak from the corner of her left eye.

I pulled up next to her car waiting in Honey’s parking lot. Melinda grimaced as she hopped from the seat of the Jeep.

She slammed the door. “Thanks for listening. And for coming to the ER. Not many people would do that for someone they don’t really know.”

“You’re welcome. If you ever need to talk, please, call me.” I couldn’t let her leave without offering a listening ear, even if I couldn’t read her very well.

“I might take you up on that.” Melinda gave a flicker of a smile and turned away.

As I drove off, I glanced down at a piece of paper on the seat. I unfolded it. Melinda’s ER discharge paper. The diagnosis read, “Threatened AB.” My heart thudded, my curiosity piqued. But it was none of my business.

I circled the Jeep around and stopped at Melinda’s car. “Hey, you left your paper.”

She lowered the window a fraction. “Huh?”

I waved the paper at her eye level. “You left this.” The window glided down farther. Melinda snatched the paper.

“Thanks. Gotta bring that to my regular doctor.” She had the window up again before I noticed the paper cut on my index finger.

All the way home, her diagnosis burned into my brain. What was going on with this young woman? What couldn’t Emily help her with? It made no sense to me.

Once home, curiosity overcame me. I logged on to the Internet, pulled up my favorite search engine, and typed “threatened AB” in quotations. My stomach dropped into my feet when I scanned the results.

A term that describes a pregnancy in which there is bleeding and/or cramping, also known as a threatened miscarriage.

I clamped my hand over my mouth
. Oh, Melinda.

Chapter Fifteen

And that’s how I found out.” I sat perched on the hood of my Jeep, watching Ben change the oil in his pickup. “I should have never looked at that paper.” My heart broke for Melinda. I’d wanted to call her a dozen times in the last week, but didn’t.

The Fourth of July afternoon sun radiated down on us. If I didn’t get off the Jeep soon, I’d fry. If only Ben would hurry so we could get to the river for the town party.

He slid out from under the front of the truck, rose, and dusted the dirt from his jeans. “Your curiosity’s going a mile a minute, huh?”

I nodded. “I’m just wondering who the father of Melinda’s baby is. Not that it’s any of my business.” My mind hit overdrive. “What if. . .what if she and Robert. . .”

Ben looked at me like I had grown a third eye. “What do you mean?”

“Melinda told me that Emily had tried to help her. What if Emily went to Robert on her behalf? You yourself said that Robert wouldn’t meet in a deserted place with someone who was stalking him.”

“True. . .” He rubbed the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “But then it wouldn’t be so secret if Emily knew, too.”

“I’m not saying the scenario makes sense to me either. I still think Robert had something to do with Charla’s death, and this would be a motive, but if Melinda was pregnant with his child, then getting rid of Melinda would be more logical. That is, if he didn’t want the scandal of a child by another woman smearing his name. And maybe that’s what made Mike Chandler so mad. Robert cheating on Charla.” I huffed and took a sip from my bottled water. Its coolness slithered down my throat and gave me an instant headache. “Ow.”

Ben wiped his hands, then removed the cap from the top of the engine’s oil tank. “You’re making an awful lot of assumptions, though. Better slow that train of thought before it derails.”

“I don’t understand why Melinda came to me. I did offer to talk if she needed someone, but quite frankly, I’m surprised she took me up on the offer.”

“You’ve got a giving heart and a good set of ears.” Ben crossed the short distance between us and gave me a quick kiss. “Lips, too.” He slid his hand over my cheek.

I grinned. “You seem to appreciate that.” Did I mention I loved it when Ben came home? When I didn’t think about being scared, the thought of having him around thrilled me. By the end of the summer, I’d be seeing him a whole lot more.

Then I had a sudden thought. “Hey, if Melinda wanted to break up the wedding, she sure had a great motive. What if she somehow messed with the scrub?”

“Stop.” He stepped over to his truck, opened the large jug of oil, and started to pour. “You don’t know that.”

“But I keep thinking about what someone told me, that we all live in someone’s shadow. What if Melinda resented that. . .and losing Robert?”

“I can appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you know Jerry’s going to need some proof.” Ben replaced the oil cap back on the engine, then slammed the hood on his truck. “You know that’s what he’s going to say.”

“I know. And I have no evidence that points to Melinda or Emily as the source of the break-in.” I shook my head.

Ben took me in his arms. “Enough about that for now.” When he held me, it was easy enough to forget things. “I need to tell you some news of my own.”

“Oh?” He’d been so full of surprises lately, I should have been bracing for another one.

“I gave my notice to the company. I’ll be free of them within a month and back here for good.” The smile he gave made me freeze. “I prayed about it, and I know it’s time.”

“Wow.” A jumble of thoughts tangled in my mind. “That’s. fast.”

“Is that all you can say?” Ben caressed my cheek. “I–I’m glad. It’ll take some getting used to, but I know I won’t worry about you like I have, out there on the road.” Ben. Home. All the time. So soon. When he held me, though, change didn’t worry me, as long as we were together.

“Jerry and I talked it over one night. He said he’ll help me on the house when he has the time.”

“You know Jerry, he’s so busy. . . .” I gestured with my hand. “But what will you do for work?”

Ben shrugged. “I’ve put out a few feelers. Someone was talking about having a bus service between here and Memphis, so I might drive for them. I’d be home nights and most weekends. Plus there’s Greenburg Auto. They need a good mechanic, and I could get back up to speed.”

“Wow again. But it doesn’t matter to me what you do for a living.” That’s where some women get shallow. They want status, and it reminded me of Charla dumping Mike Chandler. Aloud, I continued. “Because I’m proud that you have initiative. Lots of people say, ‘Oh, I’d like to do something one day,’ and they put it off and never try. But you do. And that’s one of the things I love most about you.”

He leaned his head toward mine. “Well, I want your daddy to know his little girl is going to be taken care of, one way or another.”

“Really? I haven’t been a little girl for years.” I loved seeing the dimple in his cheek as he smiled at me. “I’ll try to relax and be taken care of for a change.”

“You should. I don’t see anything wrong with you being independent, but independence doesn’t mean we don’t need anyone at all.” He swallowed and blinked.

“Is that what you thought? That I didn’t need you?” I hugged him.

“Maybe.” His voice sounded hoarse.

My heart hurt at the idea of the pain I’d caused him, without thinking, without realizing it. I knew Ben speaking these words and choking up cost him something.

“Ben, I need you. You anchor me like no one else in this world can. I might go off on a wild tangent, but you bring me home again. And with Charla dying at the store, it’s really thrown me.” I sighed and hugged him again. “I know you haven’t always agreed with some of my ideas, but you’ve been there for me.”

“That’s good to hear.” Ben kissed the top of my head. “Whoever said falling in love was easy hasn’t tried staying in love. Now, that’s the hard part. Well, not hard. I mean it’s hard work.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I had to admit. “But I wouldn’t trade this for the world. And I mean that with all my heart.”

“Same here. And when I don’t agree with you, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“Of course. But I still think Melinda had something to do with Charla’s death.”

Ben shook his head and laughed. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

I merely grinned at him. “You ought to know me by now.”

A cloud of dust streamed behind Ben’s pickup as we headed for the Tennessee River. Greenburg always does the Fourth of July up really big, and this year was no exception. We’d have to hurry to get a good place by the Tennessee River Bridge to watch the fireworks display at dusk. All I’d heard last week was how people couldn’t wait for the town tailgate party. Di’s husband, Steve, had fashioned a new portable grill for their family spread, and Di had been bragging about it the past week. Like I said before, you bring on the food, you bring on the people. Church, family, and food—that’s Greenburg.

“Hang on.” Ben shot onto the dusty side road worn down by other rivergoers over the years. Teenagers and old folks alike had blazed a dirt trail that wound downhill and flanked the river on both sides.

I glanced back at our cooler, sliding back and forth in the bed of the truck. Hopefully the lid hadn’t popped off the potato-salad container inside. We snaked down the trail between the trees that provided relief from the heat if not the humidity, then zipped out into the late afternoon sunlight.

Ben managed to find a decent spot that gave us an unobstructed view of the sky above the bridge, where they’d shoot off the fireworks at dusk. Long shadows slanted across the site, and a few families already had their grills lit and coals glowing. Some kids chased each other around with water balloons.

I saw Di and Steve two vehicles down from ours. Di waved, her grin wide. “Hey y’all, you made it.”

“It wouldn’t be the Fourth if we missed this!”

Ben dragged the grill out to the end of the tailgate. I saw to the cooler and also saw that my potato salad had indeed tumbled across the inside and spilled across the ice packs.

I turned to break the news to Ben. “Sweetie, I hate to tell you, but my potato salad ended up all over the cooler. At least the burgers are fine.”

“Uh, no, they won’t be.”

“Why not? If we just have burgers and chips without salad, that’s okay.”

“We only have chips and soda.” He sheepishly kicked at a nearby rock. “I forgot the charcoal.”

“Oh.” Mr. Never-Forget-the-Details Ben forget something as vital as charcoal? I shook my head and shrugged. “We’ll figure something out.”

Ben gave a longing look at a nearby grill, where someone else’s perfectly-shaped burgers sizzled. “I can’t believe I did that. The Fourth won’t be the Fourth without my Bongo burgers.”

Ben makes the best burgers in the world. I don’t even know what’s in his so-called Bongo burgers, exactly, but anyone who’s tasted one doesn’t care. He mixes his secret ingredients and pounds the meat with his hands, hence the name Bongo burgers. An Independence Day without Bongo burgers would be as unthinkable as Independence Day without barbecue, the “1812 Overture,” and fireworks.