Hickory Smoked Homicide (18 page)

Marlowe greeted Loren but looked too distracted to really notice how emotional he was. “Steffi, I brought some pictures back from the house.... You said Loren wanted a couple? The portrait never made an appearance.” She put down the pictures of a smiling, carefully posed Tristan on the table. “We have
lots
of pictures of Tristan,” Marlowe added dryly. “She sure didn’t mind having her picture taken.” She looked a little grouchy. “And not a bad picture in the bunch.”

“Oh, Mother didn’t believe in having bad pictures taken,” said Steffi breezily. “That was my job. But I
do
remember seeing one or two not-so-great pictures of her . . . for about two seconds. That’s how long it would be before those pictures were torn up and put in the trash can.”

Loren smiled a little. “Thanks so much for the pictures, Marlowe. I appreciate it.”

“Seriously, you can have as many as you like. I don’t know what Steffi and I will do with them all. I’ve put them in a big box for now, and I guess we’ll decide about them later.” Marlowe shrugged. Lulu noticed that she wasn’t trying to act as if she were bereaved at all—she had no problem showing her dislike for Tristan.

It seemed to make Steffi uncomfortable, though, and Lulu remembered how guilty Steffi had felt that morning after Tristan’s death. It was only natural that a daughter would feel that way, after all. Steffi said quickly, “Lulu, thanks again for bringing supper to us.”

“It smells amazing,” said Marlowe, her expression brightening.

“I wouldn’t ordinarily ask somebody to supper, though, and then make her bring it with her.” Steffi looked a little abashed.

“Pooh. I insisted on bringing it, remember? And everyone can tell you that I’m very stubborn when I make up my mind to be. It’s ready whenever y’all are—I just put it in the oven to keep it warm.”

It turned out that they were all ravenous, so it was a good thing that Lulu had made such a large pie and brought side dishes of spicy corn muffins and coleslaw from the restaurant. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been enough food to go around. As it was, Lulu skimped on her own plate to make sure everyone got a big helping. Loren ate like he hadn’t had anything in his stomach for days (and maybe he hadn’t), Marlowe was wolfing down food like all the work at her sister’s house had given her a huge appetite, and even Steffi was plowing in instead of pushing it around on her plate like she usually did.

Loren’s mood seemed to change after supper was over, though, and he seemed more reflective. He picked up one of Tristan’s pictures and looked at it broodingly. “I just can’t believe she’s gone.”

Steffi and Marlowe gave each other an uncomfortable look. Marlowe said, “Sudden deaths are always like that, aren’t they? But things always get better with time.”

Loren shook his head with frustration. “But this was a totally unnatural death. It wasn’t her time to go. I wish I knew who did it.” He put the photograph carefully back down on the table. “You know who was there that night? That girl who was always picking at Tristan. Tristan was always talking about her. And her mother was there, too.”

Steffi laughed. “Oh no. Mother would never invite Pansy or her mom to one of her parties. You must have seen one of the girls Mother coached and gotten her mixed up.”

“No, I’m positive it was that girl. She stood out to me because she was in such a bad mood—not like someone at a party. I wasn’t in a party mood myself, but she really looked like she was there to pick a fight. I thought that maybe I should stick around so I could jump in and rescue Tristan if the girl started making any trouble.” He looked sadly down at the photograph again. “I had no idea how much rescuing Tristan was going to need.”

Steffi said quietly, “I didn’t even know that you were at the party that night until somebody mentioned it later. I think I was in my own fog.”

“And there were so many people there,” added Loren. “One of them killed Tristan. I bet it was that girl. Those girls acted like these pageants were life and death or something.”

Lulu felt like they were all going in circles with the same information. She needed to do something to make things lively again and get some fresh information. Maybe if she could get everyone in the same spot again . . . and get them interacting with each other. She knew people were hiding information from her—and she needed a chance for them to lower their guard and start spilling their secrets.

Food was always what jumped into Lulu’s head first—gathering around food was what she’d done her whole life. So maybe a party. Although wouldn’t that sound like an odd thing to have, under the circumstances? Then it came to her.

“Steffi, this is a good time to tell you that I’m in the
early
stages of planning a special night at the restaurant . . . a fund-raiser. Seeing as how you’re part of our Aunt Pat’s family, we really wanted to do something to help you out. I thought I’d hold a fund-raiser for you—just as sort of an investment in your future, you know. The net profits from that night would go to you. We’ll have food, and I can get the Back Porch Blues Band to play. And I’ll get the word out—put flyers around the restaurant and in the menus.”

Marlowe said warmly as Steffi teared up, “Lulu, that’s so incredibly sweet. I’ll help spread the word on my end, too.” She hesitated a moment, glancing at Loren, but then added, “I don’t know if you know this, but we’ve been finding out over the last couple of days that Tristan’s estate was not in good shape.”

Steffi gulped down her tears. “Mother was swimming in debt from living a lifestyle that she couldn’t afford. I never knew. We always seemed to have plenty of money. Marlowe told me that Mother drove Grandfather’s business into the ground, too, pulling money out of the business account to use for her personal stuff.”

“Reality was coming crashing in on Tristan,” said Marlowe in a brusque voice. “She wasn’t going to be able to maintain her standard of living for much longer before the debt collectors came calling. It’s unfair that Steffi . . . and I . . . have to pay the price. My father’s business was really Tristan’s and my only inheritance. It was what I was planning to retire on. And now it’s on the brink of collapse, and I don’t know if I can resuscitate it or not.” An angry flush crept up Marlowe’s neck. “Plus, Tristan’s house is mortgaged to the hilt. We’ll have to quickly put it on the market and auction off a lot of the contents. It’s going to be a lot of work.”

“I wish she’d told me her problems,” said Loren wistfully. “I could have helped her.”

Loren couldn’t even help
himself
, thought Lulu. He was living in a Tristan-themed fantasy world. Lulu couldn’t imagine that Pepper would have happily let Loren hand their money over (what little they had of it themselves) to Tristan Pembroke.

Loren added, “Well, I’m definitely coming to the benefit, Lulu. I want to help out, and besides, you’ve got the best barbeque in town. It’ll be a pleasure.”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Steffi shyly. “This is really going to help me get back on track.” She turned and smiled at Marlowe. “Marlowe has been helping me, too, just kind of mentoring me to figure out what direction I should go in.”

Steffi paused, and Marlowe prompted her, “Go ahead, Steffi. Now’s a good time to ask Lulu about your hours.”

Steffi colored. “Well, I hate to ask you now, when you’re being so great about this fund-raiser. But when I was talking to Marlowe about my future, especially now that we found out that Mother had all these financial problems I’ve got to take on, we started talking about me going to college. The only thing is that my grades weren’t so hot in high school. With everything going on with my mom and our relationship, I didn’t put a lot of time into studying like I should have. Marlowe was thinking that I could start with a community college, and then, if my grades are good enough, I could transfer to a big school.”

“So maybe she could just work nights at Aunt Pat’s,” said Marlowe, getting to the point. “That way she could go to classes in the morning, study in the afternoon, and work at the restaurant at night. She wants to make enough to move to a one-bedroom apartment.”

“That’s a fantastic idea!” said Lulu, beaming at them. “We can work your hours out around your schoolwork—that’s no problem.”

“Steffi, you might even be able to work in a little bit of a social life . . . with a certain someone,” Marlowe teased.

Lulu saw Steffi’s blush grow. “Maybe,” she said, so quietly they could barely hear her.

Lulu said quickly, “It all sounds like a wonderful plan, Steffi. I know you’re so glad to have Marlowe here to help you figure this all out. And I’ll let you know all the final plans for the benefit when they come together. I’m planning on it being a really fun event. We’ll make it a night to remember!”

Luckily, thought Lulu, she had plenty of experience in pulling events off at a moment’s notice. Years of catering political fund-raisers, family reunions, corporate luncheons, anniversary parties, and football tailgates had given her the ability to plan and implement a party in no time at all.

This one was going to be especially easy. For one thing, it was going to be held on-site at Aunt Pat’s, with their industrial kitchen right there. For another, she decided to make it a buffet. That way they wouldn’t have to worry about cooking a large number of different dishes. Instead it would be a simple menu of pulled pork, grilled corn on the cob, baked beans, coleslaw, and corn muffins. Tea—sweet, unsweetened, and half and half—would be out in pitchers, and they’d have cobbler and banana pudding for dessert.

Buddy, Morty, and Big Ben marked the date on their calendars and volunteered to play for free. Ben made up some flyers, and the twins clipped a flyer onto every menu and on the doors and walls. And Derrick had put it all up on the website and Twitter and all that stuff that Lulu tried to keep away from. Ben, naturally, had been sure to let Gordon MacDonald know about the fund-raiser, too. While Aunt Pat’s wouldn’t be
making
any money from the evening, Lulu was actually feeling really good about what they were doing to help Steffi. Yes, it had started out as a scheme to get everybody in the same place again and see what kind of information she could get—but she also liked the idea of giving Steffi a little help.

Lulu’s cell phone rang while she was in the Aunt Pat’s office, and she answered it once she saw it was Dee Dee on the line. “Lulu? I just wanted to call you real quick and tell you that I got a new shipment into the store that I think you’ll really like. Actually, I ordered it with you in mind,” said Dee Dee in her croaky voice.

Lulu frowned. This case was starting to get really expensive. Every time she needed to talk to Dee Dee, it seemed like she ended up spending money. “I sure do appreciate that, honey, but is there anything else I really
need
? You know I bought a mess of dresses from you just a couple of weeks ago.”

“But you haven’t gotten any sweaters from me for a long time, and I was thinking they might be really useful for you to take your wardrobe into fall.”

Lulu made a face. It was hard to even envision fall when it was still in the upper nineties in Memphis. She knew that fall was going to
come
. . . eventually. But it just wasn’t something she was excited thinking about right now. Still, though, it would be another opportunity to talk to Dee Dee—and Dee Dee seemed to know everything about everybody. “Okay, you’ve got me interested,” she said, biting back a sigh. “Maybe I can come in at the end of the week?”

“That sounds good. I’ve got them set aside for you. And no pressure, of course . . . you know me.” On the contrary, thought Lulu. Dee Dee was actually a really good salesperson. And usually good salespeople knew how to pressure you.

“Oh, while I’ve got you on the phone,” said Lulu quickly, realizing she’d forgotten to tell Dee Dee about the event for Steffi, “I wanted to invite you to come out to the benefit Aunt Pat’s is having for Steffi.”

Dee Dee sounded surprised. “For Steffi?”

“Yes, the poor lamb. We thought her mother was doing so well, but come to find out she didn’t have two pennies to rub together. So I’m trying to help her out at the restaurant, since she’s part of the Aunt Pat’s family. We’re going to have a barbeque buffet and band and the profits from the night are going to Steffi to help her out with her education.”

Dee Dee was quiet for a moment on the phone. “That’s a real shock, Lulu. I thought that Tristan was doing great. She was always spending money all over the place.”

Including, thought Lulu, in Dee Dee’s shop, buying information. “Well, that’s what we’ve just found out. I guess Tristan was spending it; she just wasn’t
making
it. So we’re trying to make a little money for Steffi. She’s got a real plan now, and I’m so glad because she seemed so lost. She and Marlowe have been talking about Steffi’s future and decided that it would be best for her to start at a community college and work at the restaurant in the evenings. She’s even got a young man, apparently.”

Dee Dee gave her rasping, cigarette-hoarsened laugh. “He’s a young
something
. Young rascal, maybe.”

“What?” Lulu meant that she didn’t understand, but Dee Dee apparently took it as a cue to speak louder for Lulu’s “hearing impairment.” Lulu winced as Dee Dee’s grating voice came through the phone even louder. She held the cell phone away from her face.

“He’s a
rascal
!” She bellowed. “He’s Tristan’s yardman. And he’s
my
yardman, too—that’s how he ended up with the gig at Tristan’s to begin with. He has the scruples of an alley cat, and all he cares about is money. He’d leave my yard high and dry if someone offered him a nickel more to cut theirs.”

Lulu clucked. “So he’s not a very loyal young man.”

“He’s a scamp! And that’s not the worst of it. I saw him with my own eyes making out with Tristan one day. My own eyes!” Dee Dee sounded like she’d wanted to go home and rinse those eyes out with drops to cleanse them. It was pretty disingenuous of her to think this way, thought Lulu, considering she’d walked on the seamy side herself with blackmail and using her store to sell insider information on pageant contestants.