Finger Lickin' Dead (10 page)

The solarium’s floors were old brick with cushy Oriental rugs scattered around. The comfortable armchairs’ upholstery was covered in warm shades of reds and oranges or floral prints; the walls were floor-to-ceiling arched windows, with potted palm trees between the arches. The ceiling was glass paned, too, with a big chandelier hanging from the center. There was a stone fountain at one end and two large bird cages with some striking tropical birds gazing out. They did chirp and talk from time to time, which is probably why Big Jack thought it would be a good place to have their conversation drowned out. Lulu thought that the water from the fountain provided even more white noise than the birds did.

They took a seat and both Big Jack and Evelyn sipped their cocktails. “Now that we’ve gotten all civilized,” said Big Jack, “why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? Is there anything that I can help y’all out with?”

“That’s just what I figured you’d say, Big Jack,” said Lulu. “Every time I see you at Aunt Pat’s, it seems like you’re giving somebody a hand with something. But, no, we don’t need any help from you today—we had more of a question for you.”

He raised his heavy eyebrows questioningly.

“The thing is, Big Jack,” said Evelyn. “I was in Adam Cawthorn’s condo yesterday—trashing it, actually. And I got on his answering machine to screw up his announcement and I heard your message on there. It sounded like Adam had you over some kind of barrel. Believe me, I know how he was. I figure the police are going to question you and me and I just wanted to talk with you before they did.”

Big Jack frowned. “Forgive me for asking, Evelyn, but what in the hell are you talking about?”

Lulu stared. “Didn’t you hear, Big Jack? Adam Cawthorn was murdered yesterday. Shot in broad daylight out by the river.”

Big Jack’s tanned face turned a little paler. “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t heard that.” He took a bigger sip from his drink and Evelyn did the same.

“Well, that does make life complicated,” he said with a sigh. “Being all wound up in a murder investigation isn’t really ideal during a political campaign. But there’s just no way out of it. I’ll call Pink up and give him my statement and avoid having the Memphis police come to my door. Maybe I can just go over to the station or something.”

Seeing that Big Jack was starting to get into PR-recovery mode, Lulu said, “What happened with Adam? Was he trying to blackmail you?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am, you could say that. He had me right over a barrel, just like you said. He was always going out on the town with different ladies. . . . Sorry, Evelyn.” Evelyn just pressed her lips together and gave a jerking nod of acknowledgment. “Anyway, on one of his evening expeditions, he happened to see me out there. And I wasn’t with Lisa, as you can imagine. I wasn’t in a club or anything stupid like that, but I was in a car with a lady and I guess he could tell I wasn’t talking politics. He’s been trying to squeeze money out of me ever since.”

He rubbed his eyes with a big hand. “I don’t mind telling y’all about this, because I know it’s not going to go any farther than the doors of this solarium. But having
him
know about it—having Cawthorn act all oily, like he and I were sharing a secret—it drove me nuts. But—I didn’t kill him. Just like you didn’t kill him, Evelyn.”

There was a slight questioning rise to the end of Big Jack’s sentence. “No, I surely didn’t,” she answered coolly.

“I know one thing I’m going to have to tell the police. I have a good idea who might have done it. Actually, who
tried
to do it. But I just can’t imagine that he actually was successful. Let me explain what I mean.”

Big Jack cleared his throat and said, “You know Oliver, my cousin?” Big Jack had at least fifty to seventy-five cousins. Some were closer than others. It was one of the things Lulu thought made him a successful local politician. Half the town voted for him because he was family. And Lulu had heard from some of them who were her restaurant regulars that he did his best to help them out in return, even if it meant giving them a few dollars to tide them over from time to time. She’d always thought he had a heart as big as the rest of him.

“Well, now, he came up to my door this morning, and it must have been two A.M. Lisa was hanging back, peeking behind me, sure there was some kind of marauder out there or else that we were getting some bad news. But there was Cousin Oliver. Y’all know how he’s usually a tidy, straitlaced dresser, right? Lotsa button-downs and loafers. But he looked like something the cat coughed up, he looked so bad.

“Lisa was half asleep, but she went into the kitchen and brewed up some strong coffee—that Columbian stuff we keep in the pantry. And she made some cheesy drop biscuits that took her just a few minutes, but they were
good
. And Lisa even cut up some fruit to go along with them. I felt like I was having breakfast.” Big Jack was fond of his food and was digressing a little from the key points of his story. Since he was talking to two foodies, though, they were willing to cut him some slack. In fact, Lulu made a mental note to ask Lisa about her cheesy drop biscuit recipe.

“Then Lisa goes up to turn back in. She’s almost cross-eyed she’s so sleepy. But Oliver was still a jittery mess. After a little bit of talking, though, he started to settle down some.”

Big Jack paused and took another healthy, restorative gulp of his brandy.

“All the time, I’m really just wondering what Cousin Oliver is doing in my kitchen in the middle of the night. I was sorry about his restaurant closing, and I’d already done what I could to get him a spot at another restaurant—which he took. But then he’d quit it because he just couldn’t stand working for someone else instead of having his own place. Which I can kind of understand.

“Finally he told me, ‘I killed him.’ And he was really broken up . . . shaking and crying and everything else. So I ditched the milk and poured us a strong one instead and brought in a whole box of Kleenex. I thought I might have to start crying, too, if he’d just gotten me involved in this mess even worse than I was in already. And I remembered that damned answering-machine message!”

“So you
did
know Adam was dead, then,” said Lulu.

“No—not really. I finally got Oliver to stop with the crying and he just hiccupped every now and then, which was a big improvement. He told me that his wife, Tudy, had let it slip that Adam was the infamous Eppie Currian from the paper. He’d seen red, he said. The anonymous reviewer wasn’t even a woman. And the guy had come into his restaurant plenty of times—he was practically a regular. He’d never had a single complaint about the food—except maybe that he wished the portion sizes were bigger because he wanted more. And all the time, he’d been the one who wrote the review that shut them down.

“So he’d looked up Adam’s address online and decided to shadow him in his car and I guess have some kind of showdown with him. And, typical Adam, he heads over to Beale Street to grab something to eat. The guy loves his food, you know. So he parks in a parking deck nearby and Cousin Oliver goes right in the deck behind him.”

Lulu leaned forward.

“Oliver tails him into a restaurant and confronts him. He told me that he’d really gotten wound up and pretty emotional, so he’s half yelling, half crying and letting Adam have it in the restaurant lobby. But Adam just laughed at him and pushed him right out the door and went ahead with his lunch. Oliver paced around Beale Street for a while, deciding what to do. He’s in a state. He decides to wait for Adam to come out so he can confront him again. When Adam finally does finish his lunch and leave, Oliver follows him to the parking deck and up the stairs. Oliver yells at him again and Adam just is sick of it by now, I guess. Oliver catches up with him on the stairs while Adam is just verbally telling him what a loser he was and what a loser his restaurant was. He’s waving his arms around and steps off balance for a minute. While he’s wobbling, Oliver pushes him down the stairs.”

Lulu winced. “Those concrete parking deck stairs.”

Big Jack nodded. “That’s right. So Oliver takes off in a panic and spends the rest of the day hiding out. Makes some kind of excuse to Tudy so she doesn’t think he’s missing. Then he comes by my place.”

Big Jack stopped for a moment and took a sip of his drink. He seemed to be relaxing with the sound of the fountain behind them.

“But he wasn’t dead,” said Lulu. “He wasn’t found there in that parking garage.”

“That’s right,” said Big Jack, pointing a thick finger at Lulu. “In fact, I saw Adam later yesterday afternoon while we were both stopped at a stoplight near Beale. I just looked at the person in the car next to me and, sure enough, it was him. And he looked like he’d been in a fight—he had a bloody nose, and what looked like scratches and lumps coming up on him. Of course, you can also get those injuries falling down a concrete staircase.”

Evelyn sat back on the floral sofa. “Well, shoot. I never thought meek and mild Oliver Hatley would have it in him to push somebody down a staircase.”

“He must have been so relieved,” said Lulu. “I mean, when you told him that you’d seen Adam in the car and he was only banged up and not dead. He must have thought he’d killed him.”

Big Jack nodded. “He did think he’d murdered him. And relieved is right . . . he started crying again. Which I sure didn’t need. All I wanted was to go back to bed and finally get some shut-eye. This is the first I’ve heard that Adam is dead. That’s bad news for Oliver and me both.”

“Mercy!” said Lulu. She mulled it all over for a moment. “On Beale Street at lunchtime there must have been a dozen witnesses to that argument.”

“Oh, easy,” said Big Jack with a nod of his head.

“And that answering machine message means that they’ll want to talk to you, too.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a nice little chat,” said Big Jack, trying to look unconcerned. But he looked glum when he noticed his glass was empty. “Oh, and Oliver was babbling about a blog, too. I guess he must have said something about Adam online. Anyway, the cops will likely make a beeline for the both of us.” He lifted his head and looked at Evelyn. “And you, too, I guess. If you’ve been in his condo and messing around with his answering machine.”

Evelyn looked at him coolly. “I’m surprised they haven’t come by to see me already.”

Back at Aunt Pat’s, Lulu felt like she’d landed back on earth from a foreign planet. Just seeing the cheery red and white checkered tablecloths and the paper towel rolls on the tables was a relief after all the expensive linens at the country club. Between a spa day and drinks at the country club, it had been a most overstimulating day.

Sara took a break from waiting tables and joined Lulu out on the porch. “Lulu, Derrick should be back from school any minute now. I was wondering—do you think something’s been bugging him lately?”

Lulu said, “Honey, I’ve been thinking the same thing. In fact, it’s funny you mentioned it to me today because I’ve planned on talking with him this afternoon. He does ordinarily have a pretty serious look on his face, but I believe his expression has hopped over to the grim side lately. Do you think he’s having problems at school?”

Sara’s brows drew together in an anxious frown. “I have the hardest time telling! I guess I just don’t have good teenage-emotion radar yet, since the girls are just nine. And then I’ve been so busy between the restaurant and the twins and my art that I haven’t really spent enough alone time with him to even ask him about it.”

Lulu said, “My problem has been that the boy is wired up. Every single time I want to have a conversation with him, he’s got those earbuds plugging his ears up and he’s texting something on his phone. And I just know he’s blasting rock music so loud that he’d never be able to hear me. But this time I have a plan, Sara. I’ve reached back in my memory to the days when I had a teenage son myself. I remembered what made me the Great Communicator.”

Sara said, “Fill me in on your secret, Lulu! I’m feeling desperate.”

“Food,” said Lulu with self-satisfaction. “That’s the way to get through to a teenage boy. You have the fried stuff—the fried green tomatoes, the shoestring French fries, and the fried okra. Then you have the sweet stuff—the peach cobbler topped with ice cream, the chocolate floats, and the cookies. By this time, they’re just spilling all their secrets, they’re so desperate to make sure the food supply doesn’t get cut off.”

“Brilliant!” said Sara. “That’s the best plan ever. Because, boy, that child can put away some food.”

“And the second part of my plan is to pull those wires out of his ears. There’s no way he can listen to my pearls of wisdom if he’s got rock music cranked up to full blast. I’m calling this the Super Grandma approach. Or maybe Rambo Grandma.”

“What’s on Rambo Grandma’s menu today?”

“I started baking over an hour ago and I have some hot gingersnaps, peanut butter cookies, and a sweet and salty trail mix. I’m thinking I’m going to get somewhere with that. And you know that Peggy Sue is setting her granddaughter up with Derrick for a date.”

Sara rolled her green eyes. “Lulu, I just don’t know if Derrick is date-ready. He’s been so withdrawn lately. What kind of a date would he be?”

“He’ll be a
great
date. We—well, we just have to work on him a little bit. Get him to smile a little more. Or smile at
all.
”

 

 

Lulu sat on the Aunt Pat’s porch, rocking with great determination in her rocking chair until the wooden floorboards creaked underneath her.

Sure enough, Derrick slouched through the door right after school let out. He was wired up with his iPod and gave her a nod and wave of the hand as he headed back to the office to do his computer work for the restaurant. Then he stopped, drew in a deep breath, and unplugged from his music. He grinned at Lulu. “How’d you know I needed some cookies, today, Granny Lulu?” Lulu smiled at the glimpse of the old Derrick. She’d take any bit of the non-sullen version that he sent her way.