Murder on the Ol' Bunions (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (9 page)

Okay, two.

Dressing to the nines and sailing down the aisle of our church in one of my lovely hats is another weakness. That’s where that rich young ruler got himself in such hot water. If he’d a thought twice about where his decision would take him, he’d have been willing to shake off his pride and give up his wealth. So, see, I’m safe. I can take off my hats anytime and be as humble as the next person.

 
Lou chugged me past Sasha
Blightman’s
boutique. I craned my neck to see the robin’s egg blue
Scala
Downbrim
hat perched on the head of a mannequin. Every hair on my head stood on end with envy. I’d eyeballed this little piece of divine creation ever since Sasha placed it there, and I was real happy to know that she hadn’t sold it during her sidewalk sale over the weekend.

Sasha’s slender form, easily recognizable in the elegant, lime green pantsuit, rearranged the jacket on one of the mannequins in the store window. I couldn’t help myself. I slowed Old Lou down to get a better glimpse of that hat. Sasha waved when she glanced up. Maybe if I got that reward money, I’d be able to plunk down the money for the hat. If I tried to buy it now, Hardy would for sure get arrested for disturbing the peace—or murder.

A little further down Gold Street, on the right, Marion’s narrow, all-brick home sported a wreath of bright springtime flowers on the front door. I pulled into the driveway and decided to see if anyone was home before lugging the basket out of the car. My knock
echoed,
the sound sad and empty.

I waited a full minute before giving it another try, almost turning away at the pinch of guilt knowing I wasn’t just here to offer comfort, but to ask questions.
Valorie
might have been difficult in the past, typical moody teenager stuff, but I wanted so bad to let her know how my heart hurt for her. Losing one’s momma at a young age . . . yeah, I knew something about that.

At long last the sound of soft footsteps let me know someone was on their way. The lock on the door scraped as it retracted and the door cracked open.
Valorie’s
puffy, tear-stained eyes pinched my heart. The girl clutched the doorframe, and managed a weak grimace that might have resembled a smile if her bottom lip hadn’t trembled.

I spread my arms wide. “No tough-gal stuff for
LaTisha
. You come here.”

Valorie
blinked, then blinked again, and lunged forward. I caught her in a tight embrace as sobs wracked her slender form.

“That’s it, baby, you have a good cry.”
Valorie’s
light brown hair tickled my cheek as I cradled her face against my shoulder.
All the
girl’s usual teenage haughtiness had dissolved under the weight of her distress, as I figured it would. Every heart needs another to shelter it when the storms rage.

I closed my eyes, making that tender connection with the Lord and lifting up the broken emotions of my precious bundle. “Lord, you know this hurt,” I breathed the prayer, warm and gentle against
Valorie’s
hair. “You know our girl’s pain. Comfort her. Wrap your arms around her. Draw her closer to you.”

We stood that way for a long time. Finally
Valorie
sniffed and pulled back. “Thank you, Missus Barnhart.”

“
Ain’t
none
of that Missus stuff. You done wet the front of my dress and I guess that allows you to call me
LaTisha
.” I held up a finger. “I brought you something to eat. You go on in and I’ll fetch it from the car.”

 
In the kitchen, I pulled down a plate, filled it, gave it a spin in the microwave, and made sure
Valorie
got the fork to her lips a few times. She needed the nourishment. .’
s
plate was filled, I got her to eating. I took a good look around, puzzled by the boxes, some filled, some still empty. “
You packing
for college?”

Valorie
picked at a piece of chicken but didn’t meet my eyes. Something was up with that, I was sure. “I can’t stay here. I was packing when you rang the bell.”

I yanked out a chair and settled myself next to her.
“Where you going?”

The old, familiar stubbornness radiated from
Valorie’s
eyes. “I’ve got a place to stay for a while.”

Obviously some great secret, though I suspected Mark Hamm’s hug might have something to do with it.
Best to let the subject drop.
“I want you to know that despite finding your momma, I had nothing to do with it.”

Valorie
nodded. “Who would—?” She picked up her glass of water and sipped.

“I don’t know, baby, but I’m doing my best to figure things out.”

Valorie
slanted me a look. “Chief Conrad’s in charge. He’s thinking it might have been a bad fall.”

“You’re right about that.” Should I mention my feeling that it wasn’t an accident?

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to piece things together. My college courses give me a natural interest, so I figured I’d get to work doing what I could, in an unofficial capacity, if you know what I mean.”

Valorie
stabbed a dumpling and examined it, but she couldn’t hide the tremble of her lips. “My mom wasn’t a real nice person most of the time.”

“Your momma had her problems. We all do.” The time had come to ask the question raised by the report of her mother’s displeasure over her cheating. “Do you think she tripped and fell?”

Valorie
abandoned her efforts to eat and stared down at her hands clasped in her lap. “I don’t know what to think.” She swiped at her face and sniffed.

This girl had something on her mind.

A young girl loses her mother, what, besides grief, would she struggle with? Her mother pushed her, yes. Marion always wanted
Valorie
to be the best and do the best . . . Did that set a bomb ticking in
Valorie’s
brain? Would her resentment over her mother’s hovering anger her enough to push her mother into that radiator? What if it was an accident? One of those moments of pure rage that one lived to regret forever.

With two girls of my own, it’s not hard for me to understand that a mother’s hopes and dreams for her daughters are different than those for her sons. I recalled the one time I had pushed
Shayna
to get her degree in something other than business management. For two years
Shayna
held her ground, resisting my suggestion. “Momma, it’s what I want. Why can’t you let me be me? I’m the one who has to live with my decision.”

Such a simple statement of fact.
No anger.
Just a deep sorrow that radiated from my girl as she petitioned me with what I knew to be true.

Hardy’s words from the previous night flashed in my mind. We had indeed raised our babies to be independent, with the attitude that they could do anything they put their minds to, and that God had blessed each of them with a good mind, so they most certainly had better use it.

How much more pressure would there be on an only child?
Especially from Marion.
I liked to think that I wasn’t quite as pushy. Truth was
,
my girls would probably say I was.

 
I touched
Valorie’s
shoulder. “Your momma wanted you to be the best you could be. You might not have always liked it, and that’s okay.” Beneath my hand, her narrow shoulders twitched and heaved.

“I tried to please her.”

“You admitted that you cheated in Ms
Letzburg’s
class.”

Valorie
nodded, head bowed, hands tightly clinched in her lap. “Straight A’s was all she cared about. I always struggled in Ms.
Letzburg’s
class. So . . . I began cheating on the tests.”

“Did you tell your momma the truth first or did she find out from Ms
Letzburg
?”

“I tried.” She snatched up her napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “She didn’t believe me! Always thought I was so smart. Maybe she didn’t want to believe me. I think she wanted me to do so well because she never learned to read well, and always had to ask me for help with the books. It embarrassed her.”

I glanced around the small but elegant kitchen. Its rich cherry cabinets and granite countertops gleamed with good care. The house gave off a show-room-quality feel.

Superficial.

Below all the bravado and attitude, Marion’s secret must have haunted her. It explained the reason why she always gave me the store’s paperwork to do and asked me to read off the inventory list.

Valorie
stood up and wiped her eyes again. “I’ve got to get back to packing. My. . .” she hesitated. “My friend will be here any minute.”

“You take those dumplings with you and share them. No sense in leaving it here to spoil.”

Valorie’s
head dipped once, and a slow, shy smile curved her lips. “Thank you.
For everything.”

“Not necessary.” I huffed to my feet. “I’m here for you, baby. Willing and wanting to help.” Once again I gathered the slender form to myself and whispered in her ear. “God loves you.”

On the front porch, the sun glinted off the windshield of a car as it slowed at the driveway, but kept going.
Valorie
licked her lips, her eyes darting to me.

Feigning disinterest in the car, or
Valorie’s
reaction, I squeezed the girl’s hand. As soon as I backed out of the driveway, I aimed Old Lou down Nugget Road and onto Gold Street where the strip of buildings included the grocery and Regina
Rogane’s
salon.

From my parallel parking spot in front of the grocery, I could see down Nugget Road to the front of Marion’s home. Just as I grabbed a cart and entered the grocery, the same car that had slowed by the driveway minutes earlier, pulled in.

Mark Hamm got out.

Chapter Nine

The aisles of the Bright Sky Grocery remained relatively free of patrons. Passing the display of oranges and apples, I rounded the end of the fruit display toward Shiny
Portley’s
little stainless steel cart where he stood and sliced fresh pineapple into juicy, sweet chunks.
Made my mouth water just watching him.

As the owner of the store, he made it a habit of being out where the customers could see him and ask questions about his products. I tried to hide my amusement at the bright reflection off
Shiny’s
bald head as he worked the knife.
Shiny’s
nickname served him well. Come to think of it, so did his last name. He grinned at me as I parked my cart next to his workstation.

“You can’t resist this fruity sunshine,
LaTisha
Barnhart.”

“Um, and you knows how much Hardy loves his pineapple. I’ll take that one.
Can’t get any fresher than that.”

Shiny slid the golden chunks into a plastic container and slapped a price sticker onto the side. Deep creases formed at the corners of his eyes as the corners of his mouth curved into a smile. His laugh shook his belly.
“My pleasure,
LaTisha
.
Tell Hardy to save a piece of the pineapple upside-down cake for us poor single grocers.” He rubbed a hand over his belly and smacked his lips.

“No sense in hinting around. You give me a free container of that pineapple, and I’ll deliver your cake tomorrow.”

He held out the one in his hand.
“Deal!”

As I put it in my basket, Shiny leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Who do you think did Marion in?”

I leaned toward him and grated out my reply. “I did. Don’t tell.”

He tilted his head to look into my eyes. “I imagine there’s someone with a lot more reason than you,
LaTisha
. Even with her firing you and everything.”

“
You
talkin
’
foolish. I quit that job ‘
cause
Marion tried to boss me once too much.”

Shiny bobbed his head. “Yeah, I can understand that. One time she came into the store with Tiffany and demanded to know why the sell-by date on my milk wasn’t as fresh as the Grab-N-Go.”

“You should’ve told her to buy her own cow.”

“I told her if Grab-N-Go was so much fresher, go buy her milk there and leave me alone.”

I wagged my finger at him. “You keep talking like that and everyone’ll think you have a motive.”

He leaned in again. “Between you and me, I think old Payton had enough of her mouth. That whole thing about Marion’s building being a historical site might be true, but not every old building can be saved. Marion sure didn’t have a problem selling when the contractor waved the money under her nose.”

“Let me lay this one on you. You have any idea why Mark Hamm
recused
his vote?”

Shiny shrugged and selected another pineapple. “He’s a strange bird.” His blade winked and flashed, then descended with a solid
thunk
. “Don’t know about him.
Must have something to do with the whole mess.
Valorie
sure seems to like him.”

As Shiny lifted the knife for another whack, I had the strange urge to holler, “
Hei
-yah!” As good as his aim was, maybe I should hire him to work on my bunions. He’d take his pay in pineapple upside down cakes.