Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) (10 page)

Twelve

The next morning I sped down the county highway in my sister’s Firebird, loving the freedom that an overhauled 350 small block V-eight engine could bring.

I needed to find Shawna’s snapshots on this visit, but thought Pearl might have some advice on how to help the Coderres. I also hoped Grandpa might have some word on the hijacking. Uncle Will sometimes slipped him a few nuggets that didn’t leak out to the rest of the world.

At the turn to the farm lane, I did my usual scan for goats and other dangerous road blocks and proceeded with caution down the gravel road. At the fork, no bearded monsters appeared. I continued toward the house and parked in the driveway. Hopping out of my truck, I glanced around and scurried to the kitchen door, unslobbered and unchased. For one long masochistic minute, I stood on the stoop, searching the half-chewed azaleas and gardenia bushes for bobbing white tails. Seeing none, I hopped from the stoop and poked my head around the corner of the ranch house. The vegetable garden stood empty except for cages of tomatoes and the long, twisting pumpkin vines opening their blooms for the early sunshine.

“Maybe he sold the herd,” I muttered and felt a small pang of sadness. The pang dispersed as my eyes darted to the barbed wire enclosing the back forty. In the distance, other hooved and horned beasts pranced in a pretty Turner-like pastoral.

At the fence line stood the white billy goat, Tater. His amber eyes gleamed in recognition, and he bleated a note of welcome. Or warning. You could never tell with Tater.

“What are you doing in the pasture, boy?” I asked, approaching the fence with my normal goat caution.

He bleated again and shook his gigantic goat head.

“I know. Your life has been turned upside down, hasn’t it? Everything was rosy there for a time. Had the barnyard to yourself. Rammed my truck when you damn well pleased. Now fate has intervened and stuck you behind a fence.”

He bobbed his head, his beard catching in the fence barbs.

I gingerly extended my hand through the fence and rubbed his head. He nibbled at my shirt and then set his teeth to it. I yanked my hand back.

“Don’t go pushing your luck. But I know how you feel. Do you think we’ll ever get back to the way things used to be? I had customers who wanted paintings of their newborns and frames for their commemorative NASCAR merchandise. I had a boyfriend who I thought was also my friend. A family who didn’t live with me, but I could visit on an as-needed basis. And a nemesis who left our pistol-dueling to potshots about my clothing and family ineptitudes.”

Tater stuck his head between the wire and mouthed my jeans, spreading gooey green spittle over the denim.

I hopped back a step. “This is Pearl’s doing, isn’t it? Did that woman stick you in here?”

Tater pulled back, catching his horn in the upper wire. As he yanked, the barb caught at his beard. He bellowed his angst, and I worked at shoving his horn behind the wire. More hair tangled in the lower barbs and the big goat made a frightened call for help.

“Just a minute, boy.” The barbs pricked my skin, but I unwound the long, course hair without ripping.

He jumped back and scuttled away from the fence.

“It’s time to set things to rights. I know Pearl thinks she’s helping Grandpa by taking control of the farm, but she’s gone too far.” I walked to the gate, sucking on my pricked fingers. “I’m letting you free, Tater. But next time I drive up the lane and you get in my way, I will not hesitate to ram your thick, dirty hide.”

He bellowed his thanks, and I left the goat to do some of my own ramming of Pearl’s thick hide.

I
entered the house, seeking the vixen who had invaded our home and caged the goat I normally loathed. Pearl had taken over the farm kitchen, once Casey’s domain. Chased my brother from his barn full of rusting and gutted vehicles. And stolen the heart of my Grandpa Ed. If that was even possible.

Maybe stolen his stomach was a better way to look at it.

Pearl stood at the kitchen counter. The temptress had one hand splayed on a full hip clad in denim capris. The other hand clutched a tape measure. She wore a black tank top and her iron gray hair had a mussed, spiky style. A cut my Grandma Jo would think questionable for a woman of her age. Normally I’d like it, but this was the seducer of my Grandpa.

Her attention was on the window above the sink, but she turned at my entrance, giving me a view of her boob tattoo and the Harley emblazoned on her tank. “Cherry, what are you doing here?”

“Never mind that. What’s with that tape measure?”

“I’m going to make new curtains. I hope you’re not here just looking for a meal.”

I sucked in my lips and fixed my eyes on the gingham curtains that had hung above the sink as long as I could remember. Considering my siblings and I had been raised in this house after our negligent mother dumped us on our grandparents, those curtains had seen a lot. Which was maybe why they were now stained and faded and the hem had unraveled.

“We don’t need new curtains,” I said. “Those are just fine.” For some inexplicable reason, changing those curtains felt like Pearl was tearing Grandma Jo right out of the house. Which was ridiculous since Grandma Jo had been buried more than ten years ago.

We exchanged a long, frosty look broken by the sound of shuffling steps. At the far wall, Grandpa ambled through the living room doorway and eased into a kitchen chair, an expectant look on his thin, leathered face. “Taking a break from haying. I’m ready for my coffee.”

“Hey Grandpa,” Turning my back on Pearl, I moved to the table and kissed his raspy cheek. “I need to look through our photos.”

“Photos? I don’t think we have many baby pictures of you.”

“Not baby pictures. Don’t worry about it, I’m just going to check my bedroom and see if there’s any old snapshots.”

“Pearl’s been clearing out the back rooms for me. You better ask her.”

I sucked in my breath and turned on the Pearl. “You’re going through my stuff?”

Pearl dropped into a kitchen chair with a cup of coffee. She pushed another cup toward Grandpa. “I should get you and your siblings to help me. Y’all are pack rats. Don’t you throw anything away?”

I gripped the edge of the table. “What have you thrown out? Paintings, photos, pictures? Anything of that nature?”

“Lord knows. I needed a shovel and rake to go through everything.”

“I’ll go check on the pictures in a minute.” Because I’m a quick assessor, I realized the futility of the argument. I would have to look myself. “Did y’all hear about the hijacking, Grandpa? I thought I’d bring you some news.”

With a healthy glare at Pearl, I settled into a chair next to Grandpa and patted his gnarled and bony knuckle. He gave me a strange look and withdrew his hand. We weren’t a touchy-feely family, and I was freaking him out with my territorial behavior.

“Well, now. Hijacking?” he said and leaned back in his chair. “Just a minute. Pearl, you got some food for us?”

“Sure, Ed.” She left her coffee and moved to the fridge. “Good thing my Amy knows how to cook. Don’t see her dropping by expecting a meal.”

“Considering this isn’t her home, I’m glad to hear it,” I said, but hopped up to pour Grandpa a refill on his coffee and grab a cup of my own.

Grandpa pulled on his chin. “Now, how do you know about the hijacking?”

“Uncle Will called me in to do a composite sketch of one of the hijackers.”

“Will Thompson did drop in for a cup of coffee yesterday,” Grandpa smiled, loving that it drove me crazy when he strung a story out. “Heard about that hijacking.”

I wandered back to the table as Pearl set down our brunch. A single plate of pimento sandwiches sat on the table. They looked awfully lonely without any sides to join them. I had expected something prepared using the stove. Maybe with eggs, biscuits, breakfast meat, or perhaps even a hot bowl of butter grits. I’d even accept a lunch menu. Leftover chicken pot pie. Reheated corn casserole. Maybe I had gotten accustomed to Casey’s spread. Or maybe this was my punishment for sassing Pearl.

Grandpa eyed the plate and took a sandwich without comment. Pearl had outflanked me and I had sacrificed my Grandpa in the process.

She was good.

“So what did Sheriff Thompson say?” asked Pearl, settling into a chair across from Grandpa.

“Dixie Cake truck was hit,” said Grandpa between bites of pimento cheese.

“What?” I snatched a sandwich. “What do you mean Dixie Cake truck?”

“I suppose it had more than Dixie Cakes in it. Was a big truck, according to Will. Can’t imagine a rig full of Dixie Cakes.”

“Who holds up a Dixie Cake truck? The Tooth Fairy?” I licked pimento cheese off my fingers and imagined the wondrous ecstasy that would be a truck full of pastries made by my favorite Southern baking company. My stomach responded in kind.

“Four of ’em,” continued Grandpa. “Masked and armed.”

“Masked?” said Pearl. “What, like Halloween?”

“Halloween masks?” I scoffed. “Ski masks. Now this is classified information, but one guy pulled his off and was spotted by Tyrone Coderre. They think he later came back and shot Tyrone. Unfortunately Coderre returned to the scene of the crime and the shooter was waiting for him.” I skipped the part where I had forgotten to mention Tyrone’s plans to the police. “They hear anything from the State Patrol yet?”

“Evidently it’s not uncommon for food trucks to be stolen. However, the robberies are generally closer to Atlanta. Will said the State Patrol was glad to get your sketch, though.”

“Well that’s good to hear. I was glad to be of service, particularly since local jobs have been hard to come by.”

“Speaking of local jobs, I recently heard about some paintings,” said Pearl. “Haven’t seen the photos floating around yet, but the ladies say they are mighty interesting. Did you hear about them, Ed?”

Grandpa’s eyes slanted to the empty plate. It appeared I had eaten the remaining pimento cheese sandwiches.

“So this hijacking,” I said, internally cursing Pearl for bringing up the paintings. “Any more information? I heard the driver wasn’t even supposed to be driving. Bad luck for him.”

Grandpa scratched his heavy growth of whiskers. “Don’t know anything else.”

“I visited the Coderres with Luke yesterday. They’re an awful mess. Tyrone and his son, Jerell, were living with Tyrone’s grandma. She’s got emphysema and doesn’t seem long for the world. Jerell’s future doesn’t look too good.”

“Mercy, that’s terrible.” In true small town fashion, Pearl relaxed off her attitude toward me to sympathize in the Coderres’ misfortune. “I’ll make you some food to take to them.”

“Jerell’s going to need a home,” I gave Grandpa my brightest customer service smile.

“I’ll take him if he’s a barnyard critter,” said Grandpa, “but don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Don’t they have any more family?” asked Pearl. “Where’s his momma?”

“She had an ectopic pregnancy a few years back. Didn’t know she was pregnant and bled to death.”

“Merciful heavens,” exclaimed Pearl. “How can that happen in this day and age?”

“Miss Gladys said the momma was three sheets on meth for most of Jerell’s infancy,” I replied. “We’re talking folks living in the Sweetgum Estates.”

“I keep hoping the sheriff will clean out that cesspool.”

Grandpa’s mouth zipped into a line of discontent. “You stay out of that place, Cherrilyn Tucker.”

“I’m just doing my Christian duty, sir. Helping orphans and widows. I’m going to bring them groceries and I’m getting a local church to help with the funeral once they release Coderre’s body.”

“That’s real sweet of you, Cherry,” said Pearl. “Particularly since the rumors floating around town have cast you in such a negative light. I guess you need what they call ‘spin control.’ Helping orphans and widows is just the ticket.”

I caught my “Oh, shit” before Grandpa heard it escape my mouth.

Pearl gave me a small, hard smile. “I think you better tell your Grandpa about these paintings. Before he hears about them from someone else.”

“Grandpa’s not interested in my art stories. He grew up watching me paint.” I wracked my brain for a way out of Pearl’s mine field. “I think the rumors you’re hearing are a malicious campaign seeking to ruin my career and will soon be proven false.”

I narrowed my eyes at Pearl. “Unless certain pictures have been destroyed by meddling women who can’t leave other folks’ homes alone.”

“First Baptist is having a consignment sale to raise money for their charity mission. They need your cast offs.” Pearl cocked a brow and folded her arms over her ample chest. “This house needs a good clearing out anyway.”

“Clearing out?” I looked at Grandpa. “You know what got cleared out? Cody and Casey. My house is getting very crowded.”