The Battered Body (10 page)

Fighting an urge to tell the Realtor that she didn’t possess an ounce of tact, James requested that she call him as soon as the owners responded to the offer and marched out of the office. Even though it was only eleven, his stomach was rumbling in hunger. He dialed Lucy’s number on his cell phone.

“Are you free for lunch?” he asked her. “I’m craving a diner meal.”

“Sure am,” she answered. “I’ve got one of those awful split shifts this weekend and am on the clock at one, so I’ll have to meet you at Dolly’s armed and dangerous.”

James visualized how Lucy’s toned yet feminine body filled out her brown and beige uniform. “That’s just how I like you. You know where to find me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your island booth. Why do you always sit there, James?”

Reflecting on the vacation poster with its pristine white sand and cerulean ocean, he replied, “Because I dream of going to a place like that someday. I’d like to put a lounge chair in the shade and just read. For once, I’d catch up on all those books piled up on my nightstand that I never seem to have time for.”

“Seems pretty antisocial,” Lucy remarked.

“Oh, it’d be great if you were there with me. I’d rather talk to you than read a book anyway.” He sighed as he pictured them sharing a giant cocktail served in a hulled-out pineapple as an ocean breeze fluttered through the palms above their double hammock. “Hopefully, I’ll be too short on cash to go this year, but I’ll tell you all about
that
over lunch.”

Dolly welcomed James as though he had been away at sea for six months. “Where have you been?” the red-cheeked proprietor demanded as she pulled him into her cushioned bosom. “You’re not goin’ into hidin’ already ’cause of Murphy’s book, are you?”

Several diners instantly stopped eating in order to listen to his response. James glanced at a couple to his left and eyed their fried chicken and mashed potato platters with longing. “I’ve been working and helping Milla out with wedding preparations. I’m not going to allow
The Body in the Bakery
to change my life. My only hope is that the book is good for the town.”

“Oh, it’s gonna be!” Dolly declared happily. “I’ve already got calls from newspapers, magazines, and even the TV people about doin’ a story on our diner. If they’re houndin’ me, they must be nearly breakin’ down the door of the Sweet Tooth to see if it looks like a place where somebody might’ve been murdered.”

James frowned. “Someone
did
die there, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Clamping her hand over her mouth, Dolly led him to his usual booth. “You want sweet tea, hon?”

“Unsweetened, please.” James removed his food diary from his coat pocket. “I’m keeping a food log,” he explained before Dolly could ask. “Even with artificial sweetener, tea costs me no calories, but I’ve got to write everything down in order to show the nutritionist what I like to eat. But I’ll wait to order lunch. Lucy’s joining me.”

Dolly’s eyes glimmered with interest. There was nothing she enjoyed more than a fresh piece of gossip. “You two gonna rekindle the ole fire?” She reached over and gave his arm a playful pinch. “And what nutritionist? Not the lady whose sons went after the Diva of Dough!”

“One and the same.” James spoke loud enough for the eager ears of his fellow diners to hear him defend Dr. Ruth. “Dr. Wilkins is a lovely and gentle person. Her sons were only standing up for her because Paulette Martine made a fool of their mother. Could you imagine having to pay for three college tuitions at once? Dr. Ruth can’t afford to lose clients because that woman from New York chose to mock one of our own.”

He knew that his last statement would resonate with most of the diners. He heard a man seated nearby whisper, “Damn right. That Yankee’s gonna make our local gal go broke,” while a woman said, “Poor Dr. Ruth. Her boys were raised proper. See how they did their best to look after their mama?”

Dolly’s Diner was the epicenter of Quincy’s Gap. James was confident that within the hour, public opinion on Dr. Ruth Wilkins would change dramatically and Dolly would do her best to see that her customers viewed the nutritionist with sympathy. To reward her for her loyalty, James told her about the offer he’d made on the house and then asked her for advice on where to send Milla and his father on their honeymoon.

“You’re kinda waitin’ ’til the last second, ain’t ya? Their weddin’s next Wednesday. On Christmas Eve?”

James nodded.

“And your daddy’s not likely to wanna fly in an airplane, bein’ that he’s so shy and all. And no offense, James, but they’re a bit too old to be drivin’ one of those big campers, so you’ve gotta find someplace they can get to in their own car.” Sensing that a customer behind her needed something, she turned away. “Lemme ask Clint what he thinks. That man of mine never seems to be able to put his socks in the hamper, but he knows how to surprise me with a romantic getaway now and again when he sets his mind to it.”

As Dolly bustled off, Lucy walked in, her hips swaying attractively as she held on to her jiggling nightstick with her right hand and her overloaded purse with the other.

“That uniform certainly shows off how fit you are,” James complimented her.

Lucy gestured toward the hostess station and looked displeased. “Peggy says you bought a house today. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“That Dolly is something else …” James quickly explained that, at this point, he had only made an offer. “I
hope
to be buying a house today and if the sellers accept the offer, you’ll be the first person inside after the closing, I promise.”

Mollified, Lucy perused the six page menu and decided on the grilled chicken and portobello sandwich with a side of fruit salad. When Dolly arrived to take their orders, James reluctantly asked for the same meal. “But can you make mine on a whole wheat bun instead of the sourdough? And may I have mustard on the side?” he asked, hoping that a good dose of spicy brown mustard would liven up his potentially dull entrée.

“It’s too bad you have to work tonight,” he told Lucy once Dolly headed for the kitchen. “Paulette is coming over with cake samples. I could save you some if you’d like.”

Her blue eyes wistful, Lucy waited a moment before shaking her head no. “I’d better not. Can’t chase after the bad guys if my thighs chafe from rubbing together. And now that I’ve been partnered with Donovan, I’ve got to prove myself as fast and tough as he is. Last time we had to chase some teenagers vandalizing the walls of the Laundromat, I was left in the dust while he chased two of them down. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t remind me of how I couldn’t keep up.”

“Well, even if you’re not as fleet of foot, you’re a hell of a lot smarter.” James tried to assure her. He knew that working alongside the close-minded, obnoxious, red-headed deputy was bound to be a challenge for any man, but as Donovan was also incredibly chauvinistic, Lucy faced an even greater struggle having him as her partner.

As Lucy relayed a series of anecdotes featuring Donovan’s attempts to make her look foolish in front of Sheriff Huckabee, Dolly appeared with their grilled chicken sandwiches.

“James, I’ve got your problem all worked out,” she informed him cheerfully. “Clint reckons you should give your folks a weekend at a cottage near Asheville. It’s a fun city to walk around and has a lot of art to see. He thought your daddy might like that.” Dolly removed a plastic bottle of mustard from her apron pocket and placed it on the table. “He knows about a real nice hotel that has cottages for folks to stay in so they can be alone, but don’t have to worry about fixin’ meals or makin’ the bed.”

James was touched that Clint had come up with such an appropriate locale for his reclusive father. “Tell your husband that he’s brilliant. It sounds like the ideal gift.”

Dolly beamed and gave his shoulder a maternal pat. “I took the liberty of meltin’ a slice of mozzarella on your sandwich.” She pointed at the tomato slices next to his sandwich. “Slip a few of those sweet, juicy tomatoes under your bun and you won’t even think you’re eatin’ healthy.” She smiled at Lucy. “You’re lookin’ right good, Deputy Hanover. Guess keepin’ the peace ’round here has made you trim, but don’t go gettin’ too skinny. A man likes somethin’ to hold on to.”

With a wink, Dolly nudged James with her fleshy hip and then moved on to cajole, tease, and gossip with her other customers.

After gazing after the proprietress with affection, Lucy raised her glass of iced tea in a toast. “Here’s to your offer getting accepted.”

“And to going out to celebrate tomorrow night if it does.” James clinked her glass and the two smiled at one another over their rims. “This might be one of the most exciting weekends of my life, Lucy. If only I could find that damned elf, then all would be well.”

Lucy frowned. “His name wouldn’t be Glowstar, would it?”

“How’d you know?” He nearly choked on a bite of chicken.

Smiling, she said, “Because we received a ransom note about a certain ‘part-time, green-skinned employee of the Shenandoah County Library.’ I know the twins love sci-fi, but they don’t usually paint their faces until Halloween, so I figured the letter was a joke.”

“A ransom note!”

“Yeah, it’s actually pieced together using sentences from the
Star
. The ransomer wants a million dollars in unmarked bills to be placed next to the library’s book drop bin at midnight on Christmas Eve.”

“The night of the wedding,” James mused. “I wonder if the timing is deliberate.”

“Come on, James, it’s not like this is for real. Donovan put the note in the shredder.” Lucy didn’t seem perturbed by James’s irritated frown. “It’s obviously some kids messing around. The whole thing’s a harmless joke.”

“Not to Scott and Francis, it isn’t,” he replied seriously and spent the rest of his meal in relative silence, pondering over what sort of person would take the time to create an untraceable ransom note for a stuffed elf.

That evening, as James, Milla, and Jackson awaited the arrival of Willow and Paulette with the cake samples, Joan phoned to tell James that his offer had been accepted. After allowing him to absorb the wonderful news, she asked him to look over his calendar and together, they scheduled a closing date for the third week of January. By three o’clock on January 23, the yellow house on Hickory Hill Lane would be his.

The joy in James’s voice as he effusively thanked Joan alerted Milla and Jackson as to the result of his offer. Before he had even hung up the phone, Milla had pulled a bottle of champagne from the fridge and was enthusiastically tearing the plastic sleeve from its neck.

“So we’re finally gettin’ rid of you?” Jackson smirked as he popped the cork. Holding the bottle in one hand, he placed his free one on his son’s arm. “You coulda stayed, son. We wouldn’t have minded … much.”

“I’ll only be ten minutes away, Pop.” James was moved by the rare demonstration of affection. “We’ll see one another all the time.”

Jackson seemed pleased about the proximity of James’s new house. “Good. That’s far enough to keep you outta my shed and close enough to get you over here for chores.”

Milla snatched the champagne from her fiancé’s hand. “You’re going to talk until all the bubbles go flat.” She poured out three glasses, paying no attention to the stray splashes peppering the countertop. “To your first home, my dear. May you fill each room with many happy memories!”

“Look out, boy. She’s gonna want grandkids now for sure.” Jackson drained his glass in a single gulp. “You’d best be walkin’ down the aisle after we’re done with our march next week. Though no bride could ever be as purty as mine.”

James busied himself refilling their glasses as Milla gave Jackson a grateful kiss.

“Where’s your sister?” Jackson barked, embarrassed into gruffness by the public display of love. “The woman’s always late.”

“No need to lose hair over a few minutes,” Milla scolded and then took a large swallow of champagne. “After all the arrows slung today, I sure needed a drink.”

“I take it the family reunion didn’t go so well?” James inquired, noting the pinched look of Milla’s face.

Milla shook her head but clearly didn’t feel like elaborating any further. The trio drank champagne and waited, exchanging small-talk about the wedding, James’s house, the bitterness of the December wind, Glowstar, Dr. Ruth, and Bennett’s
Jeopardy!
preparations.

After Jackson tapped on his wristwatch for the third time, Milla picked up the phone and called over to the Widow’s Peak.

“Willow? Have you seen my sister?” she asked lightly. As she listened to Paulette’s assistant, Milla began to frown. Finally, she said, “I understand, and no, I don’t want you to get into any hot water. We’ll see her when we see her, and you as well, my dear.”

Jackson waited until Milla had replaced the phone in its cradle before declaring, “She’s not comin’, right? What are we supposed to have for dessert without her damned cake?”

Milla opened the freezer door and began to push around packages of frozen waffles and bags of vegetables. “We’ll have to settle for ice cream. Willow says my sister is locked in the kitchen and is never to be bothered when she’s baking. Apparently, Paulette told her that if that ever happened Willow would be fired on the spot. The innkeepers have had to give my sister the key to the kitchen door so she can lock herself in for as many hours as she wants.”