A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set Page 45

  Pleased with my plan, I almost rode right past a stumbling figure on the side of the road. Pulling over, I let my bike drop and ran to assist the poor person. Lifting them up by an arm, I got them to a standing position again. The figure smelled like a distillery, and I held my breath until I saw the face of the drunken fool.

  “Tucker,” I exclaimed, almost dropping him in surprise.

  He squinted his eyes and studied me for a brief second. “Is that you, Charli?” He blinked until he recognized me and smiled. “I thought you might be the angel of death coming to get me.”

  He lurched forward, and I steadied him. “It's only me. Tuck, what happened?”

  My ex-fiancé waved a hand in front of his face, trying to either fan away his putrid breath or cool himself off. “Been drinking. Need to stay numb and forget.”

  I knew about Tucker’s enthusiasm to party once in a while when he was younger. But most of the time, he kept his dalliances to his trips down to Charleston. I'd never seen him drunk as a skunk in Honeysuckle. I gave him a once over and noticed a bruise underneath his left eye and scuff marks on his right hand.

  Gripping his wrist, I studied his knuckles. “Why is there blood here?”

  He brought his hand right in front of his eyes. “Don't know. Must have hit something.”

  Or someone, I thought. I touched the puffy skin underneath his eye, and he winced. “Do you remember where you’ve been?”

  He tapped the side of his nose in a dramatic fashion, missing the mark a few times. “Don't know. Last I remember, I was at Lucky’s.” He giggled.

  “What's so funny?”

  “Lucky's name is Lucky. And at Lucky's bar, I wasn't so lucky.” Tucker cracked up at his own joke and wobbled off-balance. He stopped laughing and frowned. “I think I'm going to—”

  He never finished his statement, bending over and purging himself on the side of the road. I rubbed his back and uttered words of sympathy, debating internally whether or not to knock on a nearby door to get some help. But if I could save him the public embarrassment of others knowing about his debauched state, that might be the bigger help. With a groan, I chose to shoulder the burden alone.

  When he finished retching, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I feel better now.” He threw his arm around my shoulder and leaned on me. “Charli, Charli, Charli. You know, it's all your fault.”

  “What is?” I asked.

  He gestured his hand up and down his body. “I wouldn't be like this if you hadn’t gone away.”

  My emotional guard went up with immediacy. Surely the man couldn't blame his night of overindulgence on my actions from over a year ago. “I haven't been anywhere, Tucker. And I think you need to go home and sleep this off.”

  He shook his head. “But I don't sleep. I can't anymore. Too many things to worry about.” He tapped the side of his head. “But I figured a way out so that I won't ever have to worry again.”

  His drunken ramblings grated my nerves. I struggled against his dead weight against me. “Figured what out?”

  “I made a plan, and the world liked my plan. It screamed and screamed its delight.” Tucker turned his head and focused on my face, his eyes widening in instant recognition. “Charli, where did you come from?”

  We weren't getting anywhere. Either I needed to leave him to his own devices or escort him home. “Never mind,” I said.

  He surprised me and pulled me into a tight hug, rocking me back and forth, almost losing his balance more than once. The motion turned into an awkward stumbling dance. “If you had just married me, then everything would be fine. Why didn't you marry me? Maybe if you did right now, things would turn out okay.”

  I pushed away from Tucker. “What are you talking about? You’re about to marry Clementine, and you love her, don't you?”

  At the mention of her name, he warbled the old song off key at the top of his lungs. I shushed him and tried to cover his mouth, but he drunkenly danced away from me, singing about his Darlin’ Clementine.

  “Tucker,” I hissed. “It's too early.”

  He stopped singing and shook his head. “No. It's too late. Too late for me.” He stumbled away, mumbling and humming to himself.

  If he was determined to blame me for the state he found himself in, then he could find his way home on his own. The town limits were small, so the chances of him doing more harm to himself were low. I vacillated between hoping he would make it and wanting him to get a little more hurt in the process.

  I rode my bike onto the empty Main Street. At this time of morning, at least I wouldn't be the victim of a stray spell prank. I parked and walked the length of the sidewalk across the street from the old Spell-A-Gram store. I envisioned the letters of my business etched in gold on a clean front window: Lost & Found.

  Something strange and out of place caught my attention. The door to the old diner stood wide open. Although I hadn’t stayed to make sure the day before, I couldn’t believe that the new tenant would have left his new place so vulnerable.

  Maybe Duke was an early riser, getting a jumpstart on refurbishing the insides. The lack of noise coming out of the space fed my growing doubt. With slow steps, I made my way to the storefront. The familiar gnawing of my gut raised my suspicions, and I approached with caution. Inching through the doorway and glancing inside, I prepared to bolt if Duke saw me.

  I spotted him first. Or rather, I saw his body lying in a lifeless heap on the floor of the old diner. Checking my surroundings, I entered and approached the body. With the toe of my shoe, I nudged Duke's arm. No response. I held my breath and watched to see if his back rose up and down with breathing. No movement.

  Pixie poop. I took out my spell phone and dialed my brother. “Matt, we have a problem.” I didn’t wait for his inevitable question. “I think I found another dead body.”

  Chapter Six

  I didn’t know who missed Mason more between me and Big Willie. When he showed up to the crime scene, he couldn’t manage to snap out of his confusion to lead the chaos.

  “Holy unicorn horn, Charli Goodwin. Will there ever be a day where I don’t find you and a dead body together?” The sasquatch pushed hair out of his line of sight. “You know, I should have my people tail you on a regular basis. Nobody would have to call us wardens because you'd lead us right to the problem.”

  A few wardens on the scene attempted to record and scrutinize the environment, but with no clear leadership, they fumbled the investigation, crashing into each other and duplicating the same jobs. Matt did his best to call out the plays, but the sheriff kept getting in the way.

  “Deputy Goodwin, get your tail over here.” Big Willie waited for my brother to stop bossing Zeke and another warden around. “Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but you own this place, right?”

  “I do, sir,” my brother answered.

  The sheriff pointed at the door. “Then you need to get your behind out of here.”

  “But, sir—”

  The sheriff shut Matt down. “No but’s. You bein’ the owner and all, it's a conflict of interest.”

  My brother contemplated the order for a second but stood his ground. Without Mason here, the investigation’s best shot rested with him.

  I pleaded with the flustered sasquatch. “Big Willie, come on. You need Matt.”

  His furry head turned to face me. “Don't you go sassin’ me, young lady. I ought to throw your behind in jail. At least then I’d know where you were and that you couldn't get into any more trouble.”

  Matt and I both exploded in protest. Zeke came over and asked the sheriff a question about the body. A bright flash from a camera went off, and Big Willie rubbed his temples. “Everybody pipe down for one bloomin’ second. I gotta think,” he roared.

  All movement in the room stilled. I started to say something, but Matt touched my arm and shook his head. He cocked his head toward the sheriff, and I observed a professional overwhelmed by his surroundings. When was the last time the head of the wardens had worked an a
ctual case? Ever since Mason's arrival, I’d bet dollars to demons that he was more than a little bit rusty.

  Big Willie wiped his massive paw-like hands down his long face. “All right, y'all. Here's what's going to happen. Deputy Goodwin, as the owner of this space, you really can't work the scene. I need you to step outside and wait for me. Zeke, I want you to stand here next to Charli and make sure she doesn't do anything, say anything, or get in the way.”

  The young deputy nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Annoyed with the limitations set by the sheriff, I couldn’t help myself. “Can I sit down?”

  “What did I just say?” Big Willie waved his hands around him. “Do you see any chairs for you to rest your nosy behind in? You can stand and wait, preferably while keepin’ your trap shut, and let me get to work.”

  Zeke sidled up to me and stood close enough that his arm brushed against mine. “Mason’s gonna kill me,” he muttered.

  “Why?” I asked, tickled that the young deputy was already breaking the sheriff’s orders.

  As if realizing his transgression, Zeke winced, but continued to talk. “He told me to watch out for you and keep you—”

  “Out of trouble?” I finished. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Zeke, but that was his mistake, not yours. Nana could've told him my entire family’s been tryin’ to do that for decades and it hasn't worked yet. Don't blame yourself.” I patted the young man on his shoulder.

  Zeke shrugged. “Still, he really might kill me.”

  “Then we'll know who committed the murder and lock him up straight away.” We shared in a hearty chuckle until I couldn’t take anymore of the ineptitude of the investigative procedures. “What in the heck is Big Willie doing?”

  “Miss Charli, please don't move,” Zeke begged. I ignored the slight twinge of guilt as I made my way to the sheriff.

  The sasquatch stepped all over the area immediately around the body, possibly contaminating any small pieces of evidence. He didn't even put on a glove before he picked up the dead man's left hand to look at it. “Nothing there,” he dismissed all too fast.

  “Are you sure?” I inquired, looking over his shoulder.

  Big Willie jumped, dropping the hand. “Charli, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. I should’ve told you to come join in the fun and maybe you would have stayed put since you’re so determined to do the opposite of what I asked.”

  I ignored his tantrum and concentrated on the body. “Zeke, do you happen to have a handkerchief I could use?”

  The deputy approach me with caution and held up a folded white square he took out of his pocket. “And now, the sheriff's gonna kill me,” he mumbled.

  I winked at him. “Don't worry about it so much. If anyone's at risk, it's me, and how much more trouble can I get into?”

  “Could the two of you stop actin’ like I’m not right beside you waitin’ to find out what’s so important that a civilian is doin’ my job?” whined Big Willie.

  I crouched down next to the body and carefully plucked the hand from the floor, using the handkerchief to protect the skin from my fingerprints. With careful scrutiny, I confirmed that the sheriff was actually right. “Nothing underneath these nails.”

  “I could have told you that,” Big Willie stated. “Same thing with the other one.”

  “So no clear evidence of a physical altercation.” My mind drifted to finding Mrs. Kettlefields’ lifeless form at the library and the evidence underneath her fingernails.

  “Not necessarily,” the sheriff said. He took the hanky from me and lifted up the right hand. “See? He has scratches and blood on his knuckles.”

  My stomach dropped. I knew someone else with similar injuries. If I were working with Mason, I might tell him what I saw with Tucker, but with the sheriff, I couldn't be sure that he would handle it the right way. Making a quick and possibly risky decision, I kept my suspicions to myself.

  “The man hit something,” I proposed.

  “Or maybe someone,” added Big Willie. I’ll have to check his face to see if he has any contusions. That would at least prove he was fighting another person.” He reached out a hand to lift the head.

  I tugged on the sheriff’s arm and stopped him. “Look.” I pointed at a spot on his hair matted with blood. “He must have gotten hit with something.”

  Big Willie pondered the suggestion. “He could have banged it against some sort of surface when he fell.”

  I examined the location of the blood. “Maybe,” I conceded. “If he fell backward. Have your people found any evidence of blood around?” I asked.

  With a sigh, Big Willie barked orders at his minions to search for blood evidence.

  “You might want them to look for anything that might have been used to strike him as well,” I added, pressing my luck.

  The sheriff stood up in a huff. “I don't know who you think you are, but I know you're not on my payroll. We’re doin’ the best we can.” The concern in the sasquatch’s eyes conveyed the doubt in his own words.

  When the other wardens came up empty for other marks of blood, he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Then maybe this isn’t a murder. Maybe the man had some bad luck, slipped, and fell.” He addressed the wardens, “Let's tag and bag the body, please, and get it back for the doc to examine it and close this case.”

  The sheriff's hasty conclusion bothered me. The short investigation turned up nothing at this point. Rusty or not, Big Willie was falling down on the job.

  “You can't move the body,” I protested. “You haven't made enough discoveries yet.”

  Fed up with my interference, the sasquatch closed the distance between us. “In case you were confused, I'm pretty sure that I wear the badge of the sheriff in this town, missy. If you keep buggin’ me, I will arrest you for harassment, being a hindrance at a crime scene, and being an all around a pain in my—”

  “But Sheriff,” I interrupted, “you haven't taken the time to look at the wound. How big is it? How much blood is there? Is there any blood around him to suggest how long he might have been laying there? Have you really scoured the entire area around him for any evidence of others being here? The place is covered in dust. So how many sets of footprints can be seen? What about any fingerprints?”

  The red in the sasquatch’s cheeks underneath his hair deepened until they looked like lava about to explode. He squeezed his eyes shut and bellowed, “Enough!”

  Rooting around in his pocket, he pulled out a spell phone. He flipped it open and punched in a bunch of numbers. After a few seconds, his shoulders sagged in relief. “Detective, I'm glad I caught you.”

  A new batch of adrenaline coursed through my veins. The sheriff was talking to Mason, and I longed to snatch the phone out of his hands. Without thinking, I reached out to take it.

  Big Willie smacked my hand away. “Yeah, I'm glad it's finished. You need to come back down here. You are? How did you know?” He paused to listen and shook his head. “Yeah, I know, I owe you money. Of course she found another body. When? Good. As fast as you can. Break the speed limit if you have to.” He ended the call and closed his phone, stuffing it back in his pocket.

  “Was that Mason?” I asked, trying not to give away my excitement.

  “It was none of your beeswax, young lady.” He shook his head. “I don't know how your grandmother puts up with you.”

  I shrugged. “Me neither, but she knows when to listen to me.”

  All activity in the space stopped. Every single warden watched the two of us, and I saw the proverbial line I'd stepped over in the distance behind me.

  Big Willie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Miss Sassy Pants, what else do we need to do.”

  “You're actually going to listen?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Against my better judgment, I’m gonna let you say a few words and then decide afterwards whether or not they're worth anything. You got sixty seconds startin’ now.” He looked at the watch on his hairy wrist.

  Unwilling to let the opportunity pass me by, I spo
ke as fast as possible. “First, I would collect any anything that looks like it could have been used to hit him. Small pieces of wood, any kitchen utensils still lying about anywhere in the entire building including the kitchen and the storeroom. You can easily test things and rule them out quicker than making a fast judgment here and leaving something important behind. Before you move the body, make sure to document everything on it from the clothes to any other injuries. Once you secure the scene, you have to consider your best suspects.” I paused to take a breath.

  The sheriff raised his eyebrows. “I suppose you already have one cookin’ in that noggin’ of yours?”

  I thought about it, feeling the last seconds of my chance ticking by. “Well, it has to be someone who had a reason to want to hurt him. Someone that maybe he had upset or made mad.” I stopped talking, realizing how many people could fit that description.

  Big Willie’s eyes sparked with understanding. “You mean someone he might have stolen something from?” he asked.

  I didn't like the lightbulb look on his face. “I suppose.”

  “Like someone who got so upset that she made an entire cake explode?”

  I definitely didn't like where the sheriff was going with his train of thought. “No, no, not necessarily.” I tried to wave him off.

  Renewed with purpose, the sheriff cleared his throat and gave orders. “Y’all do what she said and investigate the scene here.” He stomped toward the door, and I rushed to catch up with him.

  “Sheriff, where are you going?”

  He turned to face me and grinned. “Goin’ to interrogate the first likely suspect.” Pushing open the door, he disappeared.

  Chapter Seven

  I tried to stop Big Willie from breaking down the door to Sweet Tooths, but the sheriff rebuffed my efforts. Although it was still early morning, enough Honeysuckle residents noticed the commotion and stopped to check it out.

  “Why do I get the feeling you said something you shouldn't have?” my brother asked, eyeing the few people watching with caution.