Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) (16 page)

"Leo wants to storm chase, " I announced in the car.

"I can't believe you agreed to that," Aunt Maggie said.

"Me either. Say, could you do me a favor before we go home?"

"What do you need?"

"Some chocolate pecan pie."

"In this rain? You know, after all this time, I should have predicted a stop at Benny’s."

"I like pie," Danny said.

"Better get two pieces," Aunt Maggie said.

Danny smiled. "Two big pieces."

We pulled into Benny’s Barbecue, and I attempted to dash in between rain drops.

"I won't be a minute, " I shouted back to Maggie in the car. I stepped into Benny's where Sasha was wiping down a table and placing dishes into a plastic dish tub. She didn’t even attempt to be nice as she glared at me from across the restaurant. Benny put two big pieces of pie into a container and then into a bag.

"Could I speak with Sasha? She’s been so… helpful. I just wanted to thank her."

"Sure." He eyed me suspiciously. He had been in the kitchen and within hearing distance earlier.

Sasha narrowed her eyes at me as Benny went into the back, leaving us alone.

"I wish I could say it’s nice to see you Betsy, but that would be a lie. My mother told me never to lie."

"Has anyone called you?" I asked.

"No. Did you tell Baxter’s wife about us? You’re unbelievable, you know that?"

"No. I didn’t tell anyone about you." Okay, that was technically wrong. She didn’t need to know I talked about her affair with not only Rocky, but my father, Aunt Maggie and Ruby. 

"I would never tell his wife," I added.

She slammed the dish tub on the counter. "Then what? I’m kind of busy here. Benny wants every surface scrubbed before we shut down for the storm."

"When was the last time you saw Connor?"

"I don’t know. Is he lost or something? Did he wander off in a field of cows somewhere?"

I hesitated a moment. Even if she were divorcing him, there had been love there once. Maybe I should wait for the police to inform her.

"What?" Sasha continued, becoming more irritated. "You have me listening now, but hurry up, will you?"

"No. Maybe I’d better let the police tell you. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I mentioned it."

"What? Is he okay?" I looked to the floor because I could no longer look her in the eye.

She plopped down into a booth. "You know, of all the people in Pecan Bayou, I probably hate you the most, but if something has happened to Connor, I would rather hear about it from you than from some cop."

I squeezed into the booth across from her and reached out and took one of her hands. First, confusion, then fear registered on her face.

"He was murdered."

She pulled away from me, the back of her head bumping up against the booth.

"Murdered? You must be wrong. Not Connor. Who would murder Connor? Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

"What happened?"

"We don't know yet. The police are over there now. It looks like somebody attacked him." She reached for a paper napkin to catch tears that were now forming.

I went on. "You said Digby had a temper. Do you think he could've done something like this?"

Her mascara began to run down her face as her eyes widened at my implication.

"What is it with you? Why are you always trying to tear down Baxter? He would never do anything like this. How dare you. It’s bad enough you just told me somebody killed my husband, uh…ex-husband, but then you have to go and say my " She searched for a suitable name for her entanglement with Digby, "… boyfriend… might be the murderer?"

"I'm sorry, but you have to admit that he has a motive. If I came to this conclusion, the police are going to come to it, too. You may as well prepare yourself for it."

"You’ve got a lot of nerve."

"So you’ve been here at work all afternoon?" I asked.

"Most of it. We were pretty busy… Oh my God. You're seeing if I have an alibi. You need to leave now. I don't want to talk to you anymore. If you need pie, go buy some of that frozen stuff down at the supermarket."

As I climbed back into Maggie’s station wagon, I began to feel the familiar tightening of a Braxton Hicks contraction. I took a deep breath as the painless contraction worked its way through me.

Maggie put her hand on my shoulder and leaned towards me. "Is that labor?"

"Are you going to have the baby?" Danny asked.

"No, Danny, it's just the Braxton Hicks contractions again."

"Tell Mr. Braxton you can’t have contractions for him. You're having contractions for us."

"I'll be sure to tell him." I smiled.

"That's it," Maggie said. "Let’s get you home before we have anything else happen. I have to get the hurricane supplies ready, and we need to pack a bag if we end up at the shelter." 

A feeling of dread came over me. The idea of having a baby in a storm shelter was terrifying.

"Maybe I should just check into the hospital."

"Are you having the baby?" Danny asked again.

"No. I'm not having the baby," I snapped. Danny bit his lip and started blinking rapidly.

"I’m sorry. I was just thinking the hospital might be the best place in case I go into labor."

"I'm all for that," Maggie said. "Why don't you call your doctor?"

I pulled out my phone and dialed my obstetrician, Dr. Randall.

Her receptionist answered the phone. "Betsy, I hate to tell you this, but Dr. Randall had to go down to Houston to help evacuate her elderly mother. We don't expect her back for several days.  I guess it's quite an operation to move her out of her assisted living center."

"So you’re saying that if I start having contractions in the next twenty-four hours, my obstetrician will not be here?"

"But we hardly could've predicted any of this. We are trying to track down another doctor or possibly a midwife who can pitch in if something happens. It's not the end of the world. Living in a small town you should know doctors can be over-scheduled. Besides, you’re the Happy Hinter. You must have some sort of tips on hand for delivering babies?" She laughed, trying to lighten the moment.

These were not the words of reassurance a woman about to deliver wanted to hear. The idea of having this baby with anybody else was frightening.

"So maybe checking myself into the hospital is not a solution?" I said.

"It probably is a good idea. They have backup generators if you should go into labor."

"Do they have midwives at the hospital?"

"They just might!" she exclaimed, as if it were the first time she had considered the possibility. I know she was trying to make me feel better, but the fact she couldn't commit to having a midwife at the hospital was unnerving.

"Great. I’ll think about checking myself in."

"Couldn't hurt!" Her voice was way too chipper. She wasn't the one who was facing childbirth in the worst of all possible circumstances. What if there was some sort of complication with the baby? Or me? It was a scary thought.

"Darn it," Aunt Maggie said as I hung up the phone.

"What?"

"We need bottled water."

"Can’t we just get some at the shelter?"

"We could, but there’s still a possibility we’ll be at home without power and water."

I yawned. "Okay. Let’s run by the grocery store and pick some up."

"Thanks. I know you’re tired and I promise we’ll go home right after we pick up a case."

When we entered the store, it looked like a department store toy department the day after Christmas. Shelves were bare, and the few remaining cases of bottled water were now pushed to the front.

  Jeff Ellis, Birdie’s new boyfriend, put a case into his basket and was about to pick up the last one when Aunt Maggie stepped up.

"Do you need both? We forgot to pick up water."

"Actually, I do. Birdie might need it at the diner," he said, and then his glance fell on me.

"Aren’t you the cop’s daughter?"

"Yes. I was there the other night when the soup-can chicken was stolen."

"Right. At least they found it. It was my way of expressing my love to Birdie. Junk art gets laughed at, but it is the purest and most ecologically friendly form of art. I can't believe it was ripped right off Birdie’s roof. I guess in a way it’s a form of flattery. Of course, if the thief stole my chicken
first
, now that would be flattery. Driving through town, you see a giant chicken on the roof of the diner and all of a sudden you find your mouth watering for chicken, am I right? The Cattleman’s Call guy actually called Birdie to tell her I had copied him with my chicken on the roof. Did he have a cow on his roof? I don’t think so. His cow was out in front. I had no idea the food business in this town was so cutthroat. I tell you it’s absolutely cutthroat."

I thought it was pretty interesting he would use the phrase "cutthroat." I wasn’t sure if the cause of Connor Holman’s death had been released anywhere yet.

"Did you know Connor Holman, the thief?" I said.

"Yes. I’ve met the guy. There aren’t that many other artists in this town. We had a few conversations. He acted like making something out of old cans was pedestrian. You know, a can is a can, but when you throw in raw talent, it turns into a giant chicken. He must have changed his mind about what he considered artistic if he liked it enough to steal it. Shoot, I would have made him one if he had just asked me. I tried calling him this afternoon, but he didn’t even answer his phone."

Over in the corner of the grocery I spied Mayor Obermeyer and his wife wheeling a cart full of bottled water. Maybe they could spare one. Before I could get there, my phone rang. I held up a finger to signal one minute to them and swiped the screen. It was my dad.

"Well, Betsy are you having a baby? Because you and Maggie don’t seem to be at her house."

"No. We had to stop by the store to get bottled water. But there’s nothing left on the shelves here."

"Should've known that. Just wanted to let you know I tried to talk to Baxter Digby. According to his secretary, he’s out of the office right now. Maybe I should check the ever-popular Super Stay Motel. Secretary says at the time of Connor Holman’s murder, Digby was addressing the League of Women Voters along with Mayor Obermeyer. They were having a "Meet the Candidate" afternoon. Both Baxter and Drummond Struthers were there. There isn’t anything more solid than when the mayor provides an alibi. He's a pretty good character witness."

I glanced across the store. Mayor Obermeyer and his wife were standing in line at the register.

"We’d better get going. I’ll let you know if I have any baby news." I hung up the phone and headed over to the mayor’s line.

"Betsy, there’s a shorter line over there," Aunt Maggie said.

"Wait just a minute. Maybe the mayor will share some of the water he has." I pushed past someone and ran into a magazine rack, hurting my side. I held it and gasped.

"Oh my, Betsy, are you having your baby?" Mayor Obermeyer, who had been holding what looked like an old piece of wood, handed it to his wife and took hold of my elbow. I dropped my hand before they could get me to the floor and start telling me to breathe.

"No. I'm not, but thanks for your help. I was wondering if we could have a case of your water?"

"Oh, sure. We’ll be glad to share. We’re all in this together, after all," he said, looking around making sure his constituents heard him.

"Why are you carrying an old log around?" I asked, looking at the gnarled log now resting in his wife’s arms like a baby.

"That, my dear, is the most precious artifact of Pecan Bayou. It was one of the first pecan trees planted here by my ancestor Tobias Obermeyer. It is the very reason this town prospered. Well, that and the railroad. As long as we’re in storm mode, it is my sovereign duty to protect this precious piece of history." It looked like a wormy piece of wood to me, but I nodded in mock appreciation.

"I also wanted to ask you a question about the meeting you had with the League of Women Voters."

"Yes. It was quite a full afternoon. We had both of the candidates who are running for city council. I really feel like the ladies got a good feel for the men and their platforms. Are you thinking about joining the League of Women Voters? We always need our soldiers in the trenches."

"True, and what a wonderful job the ladies do, but I was just wanting to ask you about Baxter Digby. How long was his speech to the women?"

"Each of the candidates spoke for ten to fifteen minutes. Why do you ask?"

"After he finished speaking, did he stay to hear the other speech? Did the candidates debate?"

"That would've been really wonderful, but no, Mr. Digby had to go. He had a showing on the other side of town. There were some new folks visiting us. We have to do everything we can, to encourage people to move to our area. Still though, he gave the ladies a humdinger of a speech."