If Fried Chicken Could Fly (26 page)

I made a deal with Teddy that we wouldn’t mention Jenna and Everett to Gram. I wanted to talk to Jake before I believed anything Opie said. If Jenna was Everett’s daughter, it was the biggest twist since the last twist. It must mean something, if it was true.

But for that hour, I tried to focus on chicken, pork chops, potatoes, bacon, cream, sugar, and the other ingredients that would bring the town together to kick off the tourist season.

The students weren’t allowed in the school until tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m., but I knew that none of them were sleeping or at least sleeping well. Most of them were still up, working on something as simple as boiling an egg or as complicated as one of Gram’s creams.

One of the students had signed up to cook Gram’s fried chicken, using her original recipe. It was a great recipe but it was a risky move. Everyone knew Gram’s chicken, and even though we instructed them not to be, sometimes the judges were harder on the students who thought they were good enough to fry like Gram. We always encouraged the students to prepare whatever they wanted, though.

Gram’s school was not only the place to learn, but it was the place to make the mistakes that every cook inevitably made. Cooking mistakes were some of the easiest mistakes to correct, though. Usually it took only one disaster to become experienced enough to avoid that specific disaster the next time. Watching the students grow and learn was satisfying in many ways.

I’d only been working with Gram for a month when I’d
suddenly felt more complete, satisfied, and comfortable in my own skin than I ever had. There was no doubt in my mind that I’d made the right choice when dropping out of law school, but that still didn’t change the fact that I’d quit something I’d started with such passion.

I would never have thought myself a quitter. I would never want the students to think they hadn’t gotten a hundred percent of my attention and effort. I was more worried about them thinking that than I was about anything else. I triple-counted and triple-shelved everything.

I knew it wouldn’t—couldn’t; genetics win out—last, but I was also grateful that my brother had chosen to straighten up for the big event. We’d need him and he was a good help. I hoped he hadn’t planned a date later; the likelihood of him being just as wonderful tomorrow was in inverse proportion to how attracted he was to whomever he might see this evening.

Finally, when we thought we couldn’t be any more thorough, we closed the school. Teddy went one direction, again, hopefully not on a date.

“I’m going home, Betts,” Gram said as we stood by her Volvo. “Even though I usually fall asleep easily, I don’t sleep well the night before the cook-off, and I’m exhausted. Even if I just relax, the rest will be good. Give me tomorrow, sweetheart. No talk about treasures and killers and the like. Give me tomorrow.”

“I will. You should rest. Tomorrow will be a big day.”

She pulled on the handle of the driver’s door and then looked at me again. “But, Betts, we do need to be careful.”

“Careful how? Because there’s a killer on the loose?”

“Yes.”

I sighed. “Okay, Gram.” I wanted to go back on my word and push her for more, but I didn’t.

“Don’t forget to look for red-spotted shoes.”

“I think everyone will be looking for them.”

“I hope so.”

“You need some rest,” I said again.

“That’s the plan,” she said cheerily as she got into the Volvo and drove away, Toby’s voice was turned up loud enough that I was fully aware that he thought he should have been a cowboy.

And speaking of cowboys…

“There you are,” I said to Jerome. “Where did you go?”

“I wanted to check on Jake again. He was fine. And Miz told me to let you all work on cook-off duties.”

“And you listened? What could she possibly do to harm you?”

Jerome crossed arms in front of his chest as he leaned against my car. “Good point.”

It was dark, but the parking lot was well lit by the outside floodlight. There was something about the darkness, though, that did something to the ghost. As in the theater, it was almost as if he came to life. The light hit about half of him—his left side—but his right side was more in shadows than in light. His right side looked almost, but not quite, real, and his left side seemed flat as if the colors were duller and less dimensional.

“What?” he asked.

I’d been studying him.

“Sorry, it’s just that…” I couldn’t bring myself to describe what I was seeing.

He pulled himself away from the car. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s all just a little strange—meeting a ghost, wondering where he’d been, and thinking of him as a new friend.”

“I like the idea of us being friends,” he said as he peered at me from under his hat. His eyes were in the shadows, but again I could see them better because it was dark. “Are you flirting with this old rundown ghost?”

“No! I mean, did that sound like I was flirting?”

“A little.”

“I’m out of practice. Maybe I was. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I like it, but…”

I laughed. “I know there’s no future for us, Jerome. Don’t worry.”

He lifted one eyebrow, which caused his hat and one ear to lift a little higher. “Yes, that is too bad, but what I wanted to say was that you might want to concentrate on the living. That young man, Cliff, is so head over heels for your affections that I’m almost uncomfortable being around the two of you.”

“Cliff and I were high school sweethearts. That’s all you’re picking up on.”

“Hmmm.” This time he tipped his hat so it sat farther back on his head, and he suddenly looked very young and very real. “Well, keep it in mind. And Isabelle, there’s something else.” He leaned against the car again. “I explained to you how I show up in times of crisis, specifically times that include fire…”

“Yes.”

“I also leave spontaneously, too. I could go at any time and I usually sense when that’s coming—I’m sensing it now.”

“You just leave? Where do you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if I set something on fire? Will you come back?”

No matter what we were—friends, flirtatious friends, whatever, I didn’t want Jerome to leave. I hadn’t known that’s what would happen, but I should have thought it through. He’d appeared because of the fire. It made sense that he only got a limited amount of time. But there was no rule book for this.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. But I’m sure I’ll be back to haunt you in the future, just don’t reckon I know when. But what’s important here is that we try to get a few things figured out before I leave. Do you suppose we could go talk to Jake about Jenna and Everett?”

“Sure. Sure,” I said. “I was going to call him anyway. He’ll meet us at the archives. Should I meet you there?”

“I’ll go in the automobile with you. I could just pop myself in there, but if you open the door, I’ll try to slide in like I was alive or something this time.”

I reached for the knob and accidentally grazed one of his hands; a part that was in the dark. It felt real, skinlike and human. I gasped and pulled my hand away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said. I reached for the handle, opened the door, and watched him make his way into the passenger’s seat.

I was both thrilled and horrified that I’d felt what I thought was skin. It wasn’t possible anyway, but it had been interesting.

It would be just like me to develop a crush on the ghost of a bank robber. Not since I’d been a teenager and Cliff and I had been in the thick of our relationship had touching
someone else made my skin tingle. But I had to remember, his wasn’t skin at all. It couldn’t be. That only made it worse.

I was pathetic.

Fortunately, we had something to do. I called Jake who was waiting to hear from me, hoping I’d call, in fact. It was late and we all had a big day set to begin in about six hours, but between needing to know more about Jenna and Everett and Jerome’s imminent departure, I couldn’t just go home.

He’d driven his VW into town. He greeted us at the door of his sheriff’s office and then closed and locked it behind us. Patches had been retethered in the corner so Jake must have been feeling more secure. His black eye was still as awful as it had been earlier.

“Jerome here?” Jake asked.

“Yes, but he’s not sure for how much longer.”

“Really? Is he fading?” Jake asked, his eyes wide and somewhat wild.

“No, not that. He’s just here for a limited amount of time until the next crisis. It’s difficult to explain,” I said.

“Let’s get to work. I was going to call you but I didn’t want to be a nuisance the night before everything. I’m so glad you called me. I’ve happened upon some things that I’m certain were supposed to remain secrets. It’s big, perhaps bigger than anything Broken Rope has seen and that’s saying something,” Jake said as we marched the now-familiar path back to the archives.

The table was clear this time except for a few pieces of paper.

“Okay, I wish I could take credit for finding this stuff, but I can’t. Wait, where is Jerome?”

I pointed to my left.

“You’re part of this, buddy,” Jake said as he looked in the vicinity of Jerome’s shoulders. He looked at me and said, “You know how Verna is into genealogy stuff?”

“Of course. I know all about Verna and her genealogy.”

“Exactly. Well, this was in a file she brought me about a week ago. Only a few hours ago she called and told me I should maybe look at it. Soon, she emphasized.” He pointed to one of the pieces of paper. “And this”—he held up another piece of paper—“is something I got in the mail slot. Shortly after her phone call. It’s anonymous. Which would you like to look at first?”

I took the paper he held and read quickly. Everett Morningside was a direct descendant of Belinda Jasper. So was Jenna Hopper.

My thoughts started to turn and percolate. We’d just met with Verna earlier that day and somehow she must have thought this information was important. I was one hundred percent certain that this note came from her. It just fit. Verna followed the letter of the law, but I always thought there was something about her that would make her do something extreme if she felt it was necessary. I was suddenly grateful for her probably illegal meddling and I’d never tell on her, but I still didn’t know why it was important.

“Here.” He picked up the other piece of paper and handed it to me. “Look at this. There’s something missing, but the possibilities open things up.”

I’d seen the family trees before—boxes with names of couples, lines leading to other boxes with couples’ children’s names and their spouses, et cetera. This page was full of the boxes. It was handwritten, which made it very difficult to follow.

“Look at the top one.”

“Belinda Jasper.”

“Now,” Jake continued, “while it might be fun to read all the old names, don’t do that now. Just look at this one.” Jake moved his finger to a box at the bottom of the grid:
Everett Morningside m. Susan Orion.
Two lines were drawn out from that box. One of the boxes listed the name of a Morningside son, coincidentally Jasper. The other box said:
Morningside daughter, name and whereabouts unknown. Assumed adoption.

It didn’t take long to connect the dots. “And you assume that this daughter that was put up for adoption is Jenna? I don’t know. That seems like a pretty big stretch.” I looked at Jerome who combined a shrug and a shake of his head.

“Hang on, here’s the pièce de résistance.” Jake flipped the family tree piece of paper. “Read this.”

In Verna’s bold but tight handwriting, there was a note on the back of the paper:
Jake—You’ll notice that Belinda doesn’t have a husband or a father’s name listed for her child. I do know this, there was rumor that famous-but-bad-with-guns robber Jerome Cowbender was the father of Belinda’s child. I believe there was a huge scandal regarding their affair. I also know that after Belinda died from the fall, the child was cared for by one of Belinda’s cousins who moved to Broken Rope. I don’t know more than that.

I looked at Jerome.

Jake nudged my arm. “What’s he saying?”

“Nothing yet. Jerome?”

Jerome looked off in the distance, his eyes and mouth tight. “There’s something to that. I seem to remember something, but not much. Ask Miz.”

I didn’t hesitate but pulled out my phone that instant. She might have needed the rest, but I knew she’d still be up and I didn’t care if I woke her anyway. I needed answers.

“Betts?” she answered on the second ring.

“Gram, what do you remember about Jerome and Belinda the contortionist at the Jasper? Did they have an affair? Did they have a baby?”

“Oh dear, Betts. I don’t remember him ever mentioning anything like that. I think I heard rumors as I grew up but I can’t be sure. I didn’t pay much attention to rumors. Jerome’s with you?”

“Yes.”

“What’s he say?”

“He’s not remembering much.”

She was silent a long moment. “Yes, the curse and the blessing, I suppose. I do know this: Jerome’s demise was legendary—at the time. As the years have passed and Broken Rope legends have piled up, Jerome’s blaze of glory has fizzled somewhat. After all, he didn’t kill anyone—he was just a thief. Maybe ghosts don’t have a good memory of their lives because some things are too awful to remember.”

Of course, her comment begged the question, “Ghosts, as in plural?” but we didn’t have time to chitchat. I cleared my throat.

“There’s more. Everett was a descendant of Belinda, which means he might be a descendant of Jerome—if the story is true.”

“Oh my, that most definitely is more,” Gram said. “I had no idea. Everett never told me. Everett and Jerome related. Interesting.”

“There’s something else, too. It’s being surmised that
Jenna is Everett’s daughter, a daughter that was given up for adoption.”

Gram was silent again. She probably didn’t want to deal with all this news the night before the cook-off, but time was ticking. The ghost—okay, maybe ghosts—that had been haunting her all these years might have seemed like a natural part of her life, but I didn’t think she’d ever given them serious credence. They were there and maybe even friends, but from what I’d recently learned their disappearance followed their appearance pretty closely. It would have been wise not to get too attached. I felt my chest clinch at this idea. Had I already become too attached? I swallowed and told myself not to think about it.