Nuts and Buried (10 page)

That night was bad. In the morning I showered and washed my hair, bundling it into a rubber band while it was still dripping wet. Sounds from down in the Nut House kitchen were actually welcoming. People nearby. The world was still spinning the way it was supposed to—only I'd been dropped off somehow, going back again and again to the minute when Hunter and that blonde walked into the restaurant.

I self-talked all the way through dressing and getting on my hands and knees to dig out a pair of sandals from the back of the closet. I could've made a cup of tea for myself, but there was still nothing to eat. I opened the fridge and found a bottle of water and a piece of hard-looking cheese. So much for being on my own and responsible—all the things I'd argued I was going to be when Mama got mad that I wanted to move out of the ranch house and come to town. Which was silly, when I thought about it now. My greenhouse. My trees. My work. All of it was out there and
here I was, having to run the gauntlet of relatives and neighbors before I could even get out the door to my truck.

Everything was wrong with my life, I decided. I hoped Peter Franklin would just leave town and let me be. There was no spark between us. I didn't want a spark of anything between me and any man but Hunter. Now I'd fouled that up, playing games. Ego games, I realized. Good he's jealous. Serves him right. Let him suffer
 . . .

Only he didn't suffer long and here I was the miserable one. I had to call him, I told myself. That's what I'd do, call him like I did since we were kids. Ask him who the blonde was and what was going on. Maybe demand to know how he really felt about me . . . and then I'd burst out crying and act like an idiot and lose any power I ever had over what we were to each other.

Still, I could call. About the murder. Tell him what I'd found out about Jeannie's mama and brother. But he probably was way ahead of me on that. Then what I knew about Elizabeth and her plan to leave Jeannie with nothing—if she could help it.

I had one thing—he needed to talk to Jeannie and she'd be more relaxed with me there.

I picked up my cell, determined to be nice and friendly and pretend I hadn't seen him with that woman. The phone rang in my hand. I didn't look to see who was calling. I was so into thinking about Hunter I let my magical thinking tell me it was him.

“Lindy? Peter Franklin here. How are you this morning?”

“Fine.” I forced out the lie.

“You did say I could come out to your office this afternoon. I hope you haven't forgotten.”

I did forget. I didn't remember saying anything about him coming to my office. I must've been deep into my own head and not listening.

“Okay . . .” I hesitated. “But I don't know what I've got on this afternoon.”

“Could we make it about threeish?”

Ugh. I hated when people talked that way. What was it about this man? Maybe that he wasn't Hunter. He was interested—that's a thing every woman can tell right off—and I had no interest in him.

We made it “threeish.”

I groaned as I hung up and the phone rang again.

Miranda Chauncey. “Ya think you could come out here?”

“What's up, Miss Miranda?”

“Had a little trouble last night.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing I couldn't take care of myself. Just think you should come on out. First thing I got to tell ya, Lindy, is that Melody took Jeannie into Ben Fordyce's office yesterday. Kid doesn't know which way to turn—with that mother of hers. And Elizabeth Wheatley on the other side, beatin' her up. Ben's getting ahold of Elizabeth's attorney today. Says he'll let us know what's going on. What else I called about is I think Jeannie's going a little stir crazy, just sitting out here with us two old coots. I done everything I can think of to amuse her. Two rattlesnake hunts. Fence building over there by that big wash where I been having trouble. Miranda taught her how to make biscuits, but they don't want to raise up for her. I'll tell ya, Lindy. We're out of ideas. Not that we don't want her here, it's just that we don't like seein' her down, the way she is.”

“She just lost her husband, Miranda. In an awful way. I don't think she needs much entertaining . . .”

“Well, what me and Melody were wonderin' was if you could come on out. Maybe take her into Columbus for the day. I think she needs somebody younger to talk to. Just maybe a couple of hours away from here. Take her out for a ride. Get some dinner someplace. We want to keep her,
don't get me wrong on that. But we'd like to see her cheer up a little bit.”

Reasonable enough. I'd dumped this grieving widow everybody wanted a piece of on them and kind of turned my back. “I'll be out. Tell her we need to talk and we'll go someplace, or I'll take her to the ranch with me. She'll be safe there and I do have a lot of things I want to talk to her about. I don't know anything about how she met Eugene. When they got married. What their plans were. I'll be out in a couple of hours, if that's okay.”

“Well.” She hesitated a minute. “Should tell you about last night, I suppose. Probably just Melody being nervous the way she is. I took a shot at somebody looking in Melody's bedroom window. Melody came out screamin' for me to get my gun. Not the first time the woman saw a man hanging around the house. 'Bout ten years ago same thing happened. Never saw any evidence of him, but she swears it was a man looking in her window. Don't know if this is the same kind of thing or somebody after Jeannie. Guess I had to tell you. Hope you come on out pretty quick.”

That took me right out of the mood to call Hunter. Somebody hanging around the Chaunceys' place. Have to be the dumbest cowboy God ever put on this earth—to skulk around where Miranda would shoot you as soon as holler. Or somebody really after Jeannie. I was putting my money on her brother. I should've told her to call Hunter, but I was mad at him all over again. He wasn't sharing what he knew about Eugene's murder so neither would I. Me and Meemaw, that's all it took. We'd find out who shot Eugene and why and we'd have the man locked away before Hunter could get his boots on. Strange blonde, huh? Trying to make me jealous, was all it was. Two could play that game.

Meemaw, making her pies and pecan sandies, took time to fry me an egg, make Texas toast, coffee, and sit down with me while I ate.

She eyed me pretty close. “What's going on?”

I shrugged and shoved egg in my mouth.

“You and Hunter, I'll bet.”

Damn the woman. Like she could see inside my head. And all that made me do was tear up and choke on my egg and have to tell her everything that happened the night before.

“Blonde? You know her? Somebody from around here?”

I shook my head.

“He was taking her to a restaurant out of town, same as you did with Peter. Doesn't seem like he was flaunting her. Not trying to make you jealous, or anything. Like you were doing to him.”

“I did no such thing. The dinner was about work. I mean, after all, the man's from an Italian institute. I mean, they've heard of me over there. That's a good thing, Meemaw.”

“You check him out? Make sure he's telling you the truth?”

“Meemaw! Why would he lie to me?”

She shrugged and set her coffee cup down in the saucer. “People do all kinds of things, Lindy. Long ago I gave up trying to figure reasons behind some of the things people do. Like Eugene's death. First we have to find out why somebody wanted him dead. Then we'll find the ‘who.'”

“Meemaw! I'm telling you about my heart being broken and all you can think about is a murder.”

She waved a hand at me. “You and Hunter will be back together before you know it. In fact, I'd say call him up and ask him who the girl is.”

I pretended to be outraged, not admitting I'd had the same idea.

“Why would I want to do that? When he saw me, he hurried her back out of the place, like he didn't want me to see her.”

I stood and threw my napkin on the table. Normally I'd clean up after myself, but I was feeling a little ashamed for
not rushing out to the Chaunceys'. Seemed like there were too many places to rush to and so many people needing me to be where I didn't want to be.

“Forgot to tell you,” I said. “Miranda called. She took a shot at somebody hanging around their house last night. Asked me to come on out. Guess she wants me to take Jeannie away from there for a while. Thinks Jeannie needs somebody her own age to talk to.”

“That girl's years younger than you.”

“Sure thing. Thanks, Meemaw. It's like four years. All Miranda's been doing is trying to entertain her and now she thinks days filled with rattler slaughter aren't keeping Jeannie happy. I'll see what happened last night and then take her out for a while. Think I'll bring her over here, let Bethany show her around.”

“Good idea. I'll try to get home for dinner, leave Treenie in charge. I've got to talk to Jeannie, too. Got a couple of questions I think only she can answer.”

“About that mama and brother?”

“Well, yes. And a couple of other things.” She slapped her hands on the table and prepared to get back to work. “Still want to talk to Roy. I've got some questions about that system—him checking off people. Hunter said they checked out everybody supposed to be at the party. A couple of people left before Eugene got killed so they weren't on the list of names they collected after the murder. Hunter and the sheriff already talked to most of them, is what Hunter told me. Nobody hiding anything and nobody saw anything strange or odd at the party. Hunter says there doesn't seem to be anybody unaccounted for and nobody skulking around, sneaking out of the house and back in later.”

“You sure talk to Hunter a lot. So if they saw to everybody, why do you still need to talk to Roy?”

“Got a couple things going around in my head, is all. Need to check it out for myself. And Chantal Kronos.”

“The Greek lady?”

“Yup. Her. She's the cook over to the Wheatley place. I want to find out about the waitstaff that night. There was a waiter I didn't recognize as anybody from Riverville.”

I thought a minute. “Yeah. A tall guy with curly black hair. I didn't see anybody else I didn't know.”

Meemaw nodded. “Think maybe tonight? Could we get over there?”

I wanted to groan. Everybody was filling up my time and I didn't have a thing to say about it. “You mean back to the Barking Coyote?”

“I'll give Roy a call. Ask him to meet us outside, in the parking lot, about nine.”

“Make it eight. Otherwise he'll be too far along in the bourbon to remember much of anything.”

“Okay, eight. We can see Chantal on the way. She lives out there. I don't imagine it will take much time to get answers from her.”

“What do you mean, ‘Won't take much time'? That woman can talk the leg off a buffalo.”

“Now, Lindy.” Meemaw stood, drawing herself to full height, leaning back and crossing her hands in front of her. Meemaw's battle stance.

I knew where I was going to be spending the whole day and evening, none of it of my own choosing. But then, maybe I needed lessons in saying “no.” And meaning it. Which was a thing that was never going to happen between my beloved grandmother and me.

“Do you know that Ethelred and Freda have been going around town saying they've almost got the murder solved? Have you heard about that? Crazy old ladies. Making accusations against this one; hinting it was that one. Talking to everybody like they know what they're doing.” She made a face at me.

“They out there?” I motioned toward the store, beyond the swinging doors.

“Not yet. I had to throw them out yesterday afternoon when I was closing. Still going at it. Loud as could be. You ask me, I think it's part of poor Ethelred's jealousy. Those ribbons at the state fair I get every year just about do her in. Nothing I can say about it. I'm not going to mess up my recipes to let her win.” She shook her head as if she'd been having this argument with herself. “Now, just because I've had these little successes solving murders here in town, why, she thinks she's got to beat me there, too. Very sad day, I'd say. When a person can't find something for themselves to be proud of.”

I was leaving, halfway through the swinging doors, when Meemaw said behind me, “Call Hunter. Make some excuse. Be nice, Lindy. That boy loves you, and you can't tell me any different.”

The first thing I saw was the blue and gold parked in front of the Chaunceys' low ranch house. One of the sheriff's cars. So I was facing Sheriff Higsby, or Hunter. I didn't know which one I was pulling for and wondered why Miranda didn't tell me she'd already called in the big guns.

I stomped hard up the long wooden steps and across the board porch. I knew I wouldn't have to knock. Melody was on the other side of the screen door, the way she always was, watching me.

“Mornin', Lindy. Good to see ya. Thanks for comin' on out.” She opened the door wide.

It was Hunter, sitting over in a corner of the low-ceilinged room. I looked around at everybody watching me and suspected there was more going on here than just me coming out to get Jeannie. Something told me Meemaw was behind this and I set my face hard and still. People had to learn to stay out of my life and out of my business. My blood was doing a slow boil.

Jeannie walked into the room, dressed in tight jeans and
a checkered blouse. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes. I thought, considering what she was going through, she actually looked pretty good, all that hair piled up into some kind of cascade, a little pink lipstick, a pretty smile. She came over to hug me and say her own thanks for me coming out to rescue her.

“You see Hunter?” Miranda demanded, as if directing whatever was going on here.

“Hunter.” I turned to where he sat in a wide, handmade chair, notebook in his hand. I nodded.

“Lindy,” he said back to me just as stiff. “Guess you heard about the break-in out here last night.”

I looked around at Miranda. “Nobody said anything about a break-in.”

“Turned out to be more than I thought,” Miranda said. “Guess whoever it was already broke the lock on the back door, off the kitchen. I didn't notice it. Just grabbed my shotgun and ran outta the house when Melody screamed. Don't know if he was in here or just about to come in.”

“Was it your brother, you think?” I turned to Jeannie.

“I don't think Billy would be breaking in. What for? All he's got to do is call me if he wants to come out. I've got nothing against Billy. Just when he gets near Mama. She's got some kind of hold on him. I still think he wouldn't have gone to jail for manslaughter except it was some man botherin' Mama.”

“Seen plenty of it in my day,” Miranda said. “Mother's bring up their sons to be like good little boys all their life. Listenin' to Mama. Got a lot of 'em in trouble, I'll tell you.”

“Anybody else you can think of that would want to get in here? Maybe it's got nothing to do with Jeannie.” This was Hunter, his official voice in place.

Melody nodded. “Maybe thirty years ago some man Miranda got mad at over a land deal swore he'd get even one day. Coulda been him.”

“Fool's dead, Melody. Ninety-six when he died.”

Melody shrugged. “You never know. Could be a son.”

Miranda groaned and slid way down in her chair.

“Looks like it has to be about Jeannie. Everybody seems to know where she is now. I tried to keep it quiet.” I was trying to help.

Jeannie turned dead white. “You really think it was about me . . . I mean, out here, at the end of nowhere?” she said. “I was thinking—somebody roaming the hills and saw lights is all.”

“You ask me, you couldn't stay at a better place than here. No matter what.” Melody turned to Jeannie. “I know how to handle a gun same as Miranda. It's just that I don't go around braggin' the way she does. Unless Hunter here sticks you in a jail somewhere, I can't think of a safer place for ya.”

“I don't want to put the two of you in danger. You've been so good.”

“What do you think, Hunter?” I turned to him because he was, after all, the law in the room.

He thought awhile. “Seems Miss Melody's right. I can't think of a better place. And after Miss Miranda shooting at 'im last night, I don't think anybody's going to be coming back around too soon.”

“Still, let me take you back to our place for the day,” I insisted. “Bethany's getting things ready for a wedding tomorrow. Maybe you could lend a hand out at the tent. Justin's got lots of men working in the groves right now. I think you'll be safe with us. Somebody'll bring you back here tonight. Probably Justin. He'll take a look around.”

“I'll be waiting,” Miranda put in, patting the holster she wore on her hip.

“Don't go killing anybody, Miranda. You don't want to get mixed up in some legal wrangle,” Hunter warned.

“You know how old I am, Hunter?”

“Never thought about it,” he answered, though I could see he was holding back a smile.

“Eighty-eight. Old enough to handle myself and the law and anybody else wants to stick a finger in my business.”

“Just tellin' you, ma'am.”

She nodded at him. “Now what I'd say has to happen is Jeannie here goes and fixes that hairdo of hers while you and Lindy go on outside and talk about what we've all gotta do next to put an end to whatever's going on.” She looked around. “And I don't mean just with a killin'.”

The look I got was meant to be profound and knowing. On Miranda it just came across as mad and unwilling to put up with any more from me.

I guessed I was being sent to the woodshed—for daring to turn against my man. And from one of a pair of ancient spinsters. I wanted to laugh but wouldn't, not in front of Hunter, who, like most men, didn't have a clue what was really going on.

Hunter got up as instructed.

With a sigh I followed Hunter outside, to go stand by his car in the bare, late-morning sun. I knew I looked nervous, sweating already, but Hunter wasn't looking at me so it didn't matter.

“Guess we should share information better than we've been doing,” was all he said as he opened the door to his car and stood there, squinting hard into the bright light.

“Might be best.”

“You got anything?”

“Just what Meemaw knows. I hear the two of you have been talking.”

He nodded. “What do you think about what happened here? You really think it's safe for Jeannie to stay? Seems maybe back at that big Wheatley place would be better.”

“Not with her sister-in-law after her. The man's not even buried and Elizabeth's called out the lawyers. Anyplace else, her mother and brother will be at her. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't want to be Jeannie Wheatley about now.”

“The funeral's day after tomorrow, from what I heard. Coroner released the body, but I hear she's having him cremated anyway. Just be some kind of memorial. She's having another one back in Dallas.”

“Geez! And Elizabeth didn't even let Jeannie know?”

“Didn't know where she was, is what Elizabeth said. I told her I was going to tell her. That didn't sit well with the woman. But now I'm thinking that memorial might not be the safest place for Jeannie to be.”

I thought hard a minute. “So what's going on, Hunter?”

“What do you mean? With us?”

That took my breath away. I wasn't ready for some big showdown.

“I mean with what happened here last night. You think it was some random thing or somebody out to kill Jeannie?”

He shook his head slowly. “Got to protect Jeannie until we know. Things are moving pretty fast. I've got work to do . . .”

Hunter made as if to get in and close the door.

“I saw you last night, you know.” It was something I had to get out of me, as close to the “us” thing as I could make myself get.

“Thought that was you,” he said, not even embarrassed. “With that Franklin guy. I'm thinking you better watch yourself with him.”

“Watch myself? He's a scientist, not one of your . . . criminals.”

Hunter shrugged. “Do what you want. I'm just saying I don't like his face. Wouldn't trust him far as I can throw him.”

My back stiffened. “Guess you just trust cheap blondes. But that's your taste.”

That was my last word. I turned and hurried back into the house. His car door slammed harder than it had to. I tried the same thing with the twins' screened door and missed.