Murder Takes the Cake Text (12 page)

Last night. They’d stayed over. Together. Must be serious.
“That’s wonderful. I’m sure your mom enjoyed having you there.”

“Oh, yeah. Plus she and Dad have Sally spoiled rotten.”

“I’m sorry to rush off the phone,” I said, “but I’m getting ready to go to Mrs. Watson’s funeral.”

“That’s actually why I called. I’m going and thought if you were, I’d come by and pick you up.”

“Are you sure? I need to drop off some cinnamon rolls to Annabelle first.”

“No problem. I’ll be there in about half an hour.”

As soon as he got there, I saw he was alone. Okay, as soon as he got there, I also saw that he looked terrific in his dark brown suit. It was sort of a mahogany color, I guess you could say, and it somehow brought out the blue in his eyes.

“Where’s Sally?”

“Home.”

“She didn’t want to come?”

“Uh . . . she probably did, but it’s hardly appropriate.” He was looking at me as if trying to decide whether I was under the influence of alcohol, drugs, or both. “I did tell you Sally’s my dog, didn’t I? She’s well behaved, but she wouldn’t be welcome at the funeral home.”

“Right.” I could feel myself blushing from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. “I’ll put these cinnamon rolls in a tin and we can be on our way.”

All the way to Annabelle’s—or rather, Yodel Watson’s—house, Ben looked as if he was trying to keep from bursting out laughing. I know this from the few glances I sneaked in his direction. Otherwise I looked out the passenger side window as if the answers to every mystery in the universe would be revealed to me if I stared hard enough. Yep. Grassy knoll, right there.

We arrived at Mrs. Watson’s house to find Annabelle and her family were the only people there. Mrs. Watson’s siblings, sister-in-law and friends had agreed to meet at the funeral home and then come back to the house after the service.

Ben and I met Annabelle’s husband and daughters. While Ben and Mr. Fontaine made small talk in the living room, Annabelle and I stepped into the kitchen. She thanked me for the rolls and placed them on the table.

“How are you?” I asked. “Was it good for you to go through your mother’s things alone?”

“It was.” She smiled. “You know, especially when you grow up and move away, the distance between you and your mother often seems more than physical. At times, she was like a stranger to me.”

“I know the feeling.”

“But I found so many things . . . trinkets, cards, notes, photos . . . that reiterated to me that I was never far from her heart.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “It meant so much.”

“I’m sure it did.” I wondered what I’d find if I went through my mother’s things. Would I find precious little things that would warm my heart, or would I find love letters from Vern? Or someone else?

Annabelle checked her watch. “I need to be going.”

“I thought I’d attend the service, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, it is. Thank you.”

*

Ben and I arrived just after the Fontaine family. There were still several minutes before the funeral was scheduled to begin, and everyone was milling around, offering condolences and sharing stories. Ben excused himself to go and talk with someone.

I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs sitting in a pew near the front. Both looked somber and unapproachable. Candy was sitting in the pew behind them; and given Myra’s tale about Mrs. Dobbs’ feelings toward her husband’s employee, I thought that might explain the bad vibes emanating from the couple. Candy saw me and waved happily. I waved back, and she motioned for me to come sit with her. I held up my index finger to signal “in a minute,” and she nodded. I wasn’t at all inclined to find myself in the middle of a Dobbs’ family feud.

Thankfully, Myra came up beside me. Her black dress, complete with black hat and veil, was very, well,
Dynasty
. For some reason, an image of Great Aunt Mamie on “the hog” came to mind. Her funeral must have been quite an event.

“Hi, honey. You feeling better today?”

“Some.” I looked around the crowded church. “I am second-guessing my decision to come, though. I wanted to support Annabelle, but I don’t have a clue as to who most of these people are.”

“See that big man with the thin white comb-over? That’s Yodel’s brother Tar. He’s talking with Joanne Hayden, and that’s Tar’s wife talking with Bill.”

Joanne wasn’t how I’d pictured her. Of course, I’d pictured her pretty much as a stick figure with a head that was mostly mouth. She was short and trim and had long, dark blonde spiral curls. Her back was to me, so I couldn’t see whether or not she had an outrageously large mouth; but I doubted she did.

Myra scanned the crowd. “Melody’s dead, but that’s Harmony—Yodel’s middle sister—over there in the loud floral dress talking to the preacher.” She clucked her tongue. “Harmony should’ve known better than to wear a print like that to a funeral . . . especially her sister’s funeral. I know styles are limited for women her size, but I also know they have some beautiful clothes nowadays for extra plus-sized ladies.”

I hadn’t taken my eyes off Tar and Joanne. It was time to introduce myself.

“Excuse me, Myra.”

I made my way over to Tar and Joanne. Neither of them noticed me.

“I haven’t laid eyes on your grandmother,” Tar said, “in . . . law, I reckon, forty years or better. How is Gloria?”

“Don’t ask me. I met the woman one time in my entire life, and that was by accident.”

Tar shook his head. “That’s a shame. Maybe y’all can get to know each other sometime.”

Joanne scoffed. “There wasn’t room in her life for my dad. I doubt there’s room for me.”

I turned and made my way back through the crowd as quickly as my spinning head would allow. I saw Ben, took his arm and steered him into the vestibule.

“I have to leave.” My breath came in labored spurts. “I’ve . . . got to . . . get out . . . of here.”

“Are you feeling all right?”

“No. If you want to stay, I’ll call Vi.”

“I wouldn’t hear of it. I’ll take you home.”

*

“Daphne, calm down. You’re hyperventilating.”

I handed Ben my door key. “Actually, I’m . . . having a full-fledged . . . panic attack.”

“Do you need to go to the emergency room?”

I vigorously shook my head and opened the car door. What I needed was to wake up from this lousy nightmare.

“Wait. Let me help you.” Ben came around to my side of the Jeep and took my hand. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

If I wasn’t afraid I really might pass out, I’d do a damsel-in-distress number to see if Ben would sweep me into his arms and carry me inside. It would be my luck for him to let me drop onto the porch and split my head open. Just because I finally found out Sally is a dog didn’t mean Ben was ready to be my knight in shining—or even tarnished—armor.

He unlocked the door and ushered me inside to the sofa. “Be right back.”

He quickly returned with a bottle of water. “Do you need something stronger? I noticed a diet soda in the fridge. Or I’d be happy to make you some coffee or tea, if you’ll tell me where to find everything.”

“Water is fine, thanks.”

Ben opened the water and handed it to me before sitting next to me on the couch. I half expected to hear the creak of armor, or at least the jingle of chain mail, as he sat.

I took a drink. The cold water soothed my throat and sent icy refreshment through my body. I was able to concentrate on slowing my heart rate and getting my emotions in check.

“Feeling better?” Ben asked.

I nodded.

“Want to tell me what freaked you out?”

“Yes and no,” I said with a weary smile.

“You don’t have to.”

“While I’m reluctant to air my dirty laundry, I’d like your help on getting some answers.”

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Even if it’s something that winds up being off the record?”

“Of course. Do you think I’d only help you if there was a story in it for me?”

“No.” I rested my head against the back of the sofa. “I hope you get a great scoop out of this. I just pray it doesn’t involve anyone in my family.” I went on to explain about Annabelle asking me to get her mother’s journal and my reading about my mother and Vern March.

“Which is why you were interested in what happened to him.”

“Exactly. Violet confirmed the affair, and so did Uncle Hal. Uncle Hal even admitted to running Vern out of town in order to save our family.” I took a drink of water. “Then I found out that Joanne Hayden is Vern’s granddaughter. I never even knew Vern had a family.”

“So Vern was married when he and your mother were . . . together?”

“I don’t think so. It’s my understanding that he married young and the girl’s parents had the union annulled, even though she was pregnant.”

“Did the girl raise the baby or give it up for adoption?”

“Ordinarily, I’d think the girl raised the child; but I’m wondering if maybe Vern did. The child did bear his surname.” I looked down at my clasped hands. “Today at the church, I heard Tar Watson asking Joanne about her grandmother. He said, ‘I haven’t seen Gloria in forty years.’”

I looked up at Ben to gauge his reaction. At first, there wasn’t one, but then understanding flooded his face.

“You think the Gloria they were talking about is your mother?”

“That’s what I need to know. Jonah March could’ve been my half-brother. Joanne might be my niece.”

“Come on, Daphne. Do you honestly believe your mother could keep something like that a secret?”

“She kept the affair a secret.”

“An affair is one thing. A child is an entirely different matter.”

“I know, but still. Mom didn’t grow up here. She could’ve had the baby and given him to Vern, and no one here would know who the mother was.”

“If a single man had suddenly showed up with a child, the gossip mill would’ve been running so hot it would’ve caught fire.”

“I know,” I said, “but what if he refused to reveal the mother’s identity?”

“It would have made the gossip hounds even hungrier. They’d have eaten poor Vern alive if he didn’t tell them.”

“Then what if he made something up?”

“You do realize you’re grasping at straws here, don’t you?”

“Maybe I am, but what else am I supposed to do? Call my mother and ask her if she and Vern March had a child together before she married Dad?”

Ben spread his hands.

I huffed out a breath. “I can’t do that. She doesn’t even know I know about the affair. Plus, I’m trying to protect Dad.”

“You said Violet knows about the affair. Would she know if there’s more to it?”

“Maybe. That’s where I’ll start. But wouldn’t she have told me everything she knew?”

Ben inclined his head. “She didn’t tell you about the affair until you asked her about it.”

“Good point.”

“So, provided Violet can’t or won’t provide answers, you want me to help you discover whether you and Jonah March share DNA.”

“Do you think you can do it?”

“Probably. Anything else you need my assistance with?”

“I want you to help me find out who poisoned Yodel Watson.”

*

My first order of business after Ben left was to call Violet.

“Did you go to the funeral?” she asked, without any preliminaries.

“I went to the church, but I didn’t stay.”

“Why? Did someone say something?”

“No one came up and accused me of poisoning the deceased, is that’s what you mean. But I did overhear something that knocked me for a loop.”

“What did you hear?”

“Is there anything about Mom’s affair with Vern March that you neglected to tell me?”

“Such as?” There was an edge creeping into Vi’s voice.

“Did she know him before?”

“Before what? Before he and Dad started hanging out?”

“Yes.”

“Not that I know of. Daphne, why can’t you simply leave this alone?”

“I heard Joanne Hayden and Tar Watson talking about Joanne’s grandmother, Gloria.”

“So what? Mom’s not the only person with that name. It’s not like ’Jehoshaphat’ or something.”

“No, but it’s not like Mary or Anne either. What if Mom was the girl Vern married when they were teenagers? What if they had a child together?”

“And you call
me
dramatic. Don’t you think we’d have known if we had a half brother, Daph?”

“Not if Vern and his family raised the baby.”

“You think Mom would’ve had a baby and never had anything to do with him?”

“I don’t know,” I said, suddenly feeling the emotional and physical effects of the past week settling over me like a damp wool blanket. “I merely wondered if it were possible. Maybe I’m trying to come up with a more compelling reason Mom would have considered leaving us other than the fact that Vern was Mr. Wonderful.”

Violet was quiet for a couple seconds, and when she spoke again her voice was softer. “I know all this has been rough on you. You learned something pretty shocking about Mom, and that was compounded by your other trauma. In a few days, when your judgment isn’t so . . . cloudy . . .maybe you’ll begin to accept what happened and move on.”

“So you think there’s no way Jonah March was our half brother?”

“Yes. There’s no way. Hey, why don’t you come over and have dinner with us? We’re having lasagna.”

“Thanks, but I can’t tonight. I’m really tired.”

“I understand.”

“Vi, maybe when my judgment
is
less cloudy, maybe you, Mom and I could go to a spa for the day, and she could explain the whole Vern March attraction to me.”

“Maybe we can. You rest up, okay?”

“All right.”

I hung up, convinced that if Mom and Vern had been married as impetuous teens, Violet knew nothing about it. Unlike Violet, however, I thought the union—and the child from that union—was a strong possibility.

I phoned Uncle Hal.

“Hi,” I said when he answered. “Are you busy with the Christmas tree?”

“Not at the moment. Your aunt decided she needed another string of lights and headed off to town.”

“That means we’ve got a few minutes.”

“A few. When I change the subject, you’ll know we’re done. I take it you haven’t let this matter with your mother rest.”