Murder at the Tremont House (A Blue Plate Cafe Mystery) (22 page)

“
Gram,” I countered, “which should I lose? My reputation or my life? You know he was protecting me. No hanky-panky.”

But as usual she was gone.

****

As expected, Donna called the next morning. But instead of the anger I waited to hear, she sounded tired, almost defeated.
“I hear my daughter wants to move in with you,” she said.

“
She mentioned it.”

“
Kate, that’s it. The last straw. I know Tom wants to leave or have me leave. In fact I think he’d like to move in with you too.”

“
Don….”

“
Let me finish. My family is falling apart, and I don’t know what to do.”

Donna sounding pitiful?
“Are you going to be home this morning?”

“
No. I have people coming to the B&B this weekend. One couple is staying a week. I have to get over there and change beds and clean and do all the things I’ve been putting off. Oh, one couple is another travel agent, and one of the others is a recommendation from the travel agent I had last week. So thanks for a good idea.” For once, my sister sounded downright grateful instead of angry. Maybe we were making progress.

“
I’m glad it worked. Put the coffee pot on about ten fifteen. I’ll be over.”

“
Okay.” She sounded neither dismayed nor delighted at the prospect of a visit from me.

I got there a little earlier than expected, and she was upstairs making beds.
Even doing housework, Donna looked well dressed, the only person I know who did housework in high-heeled sandals, tight capris, and a tank top. I bet downstairs somewhere there was a shirt that matched the capris. Today I noticed how thin she had become—she was always trim, but now she was skinny, and I felt a knot of worry settle in my stomach. I knew she did no exercise, absolutely none, except making beds at the B&B. I shook off the thought for the time being. Bed making is always easier with two people, so I helped her make up three king-sized beds, and then we went downstairs to the kitchen. Coffee was ready, and I poured two cups, putting cream and sugar in hers.

We sat at the kitchen island, and she faced me with resignation.
“What do you want to talk about?”

“
Your family.” I was determined to be blunt. “It’s none of my business, but this morning I’m going to have my say, and I want you to listen. It’s what Gram would want.”

“
Gram. She never approved of much I did, including getting married right out of high school.” She shrugged. “Now I think maybe she was right.”

“
Donna, she loved you very much.” I was trying to break through her defensive barriers, built up over years. “We all do—Tom, the children, me. But think about Ava for a minute. How much time have you spent with her lately?”

“
Well, I take her to school, pick her up, see her at supper.”

“
That’s not the kind of time I meant and you know it. What do you know about her friends? Or what she likes to do? You know, she reads a lot these days. Have you talked to her about what she’s reading? Have you gone to basketball games with her? To watch her?”

“
Well, basketball bores me, and she reads stuff that doesn’t interest me.”

“
But she
should
interest you. She needs your love and she needs a good role model. Sorry, Don, but you’ve been so wrapped up in yourself and your unhappiness and your anger since Irv was killed that you don’t see what’s happening around you. How about Tom? When was the last time you told him you love him?” I almost looked away, because I knew the answer to that one. Tom had shared too much information with me.

Her self-pity returned. She looked away from me, as she muttered,
“I’m not sure I do.”

“
And he knows that. He loves you a lot, and he’d do almost anything to make you happy, but he’s got a breaking point too. We all do.”

“
So it’s all my fault?”

“
Gram used to say arguments have two sides and are never any one person’s fault, but you know what? In this case, I think it’s you. You haven’t paid any attention to the rest of us—what we need, what we want. Just Donna.”

“
So you hate me.” She folded her arms across her chest. Defensive again.

I stood and wrapped her in my
arms. “Donna, I’m your sister. I love you and I always will. Right now, I’m trying to help. I want you to see the world from a different perspective.”

“
Tom says I have to go to a doctor and then go for counseling. He didn’t ask. He just told me.” Her finger ran around the rim of her coffee cup. “He didn’t give me a choice. It was an…what’s the word?”

“
Ultimatum?” I supplied.

“
Yeah, I guess so. He said either that or he’d file separation papers and ask for custody of the kids. He hinted that if I won’t go see these people, I should move to the B&B. But that would dissolve my family too. And the truth is, I’m afraid to be here when it’s empty at night. I don’t mind during the day, but at night…it’s spooky.”

“
Never voice that thought to a guest,” I said. “No, Don, go to the doctor. I bet you’re long overdue for a checkup, both of you. Tom said he’d go too. He wants to go to Dallas, so I’ll keep the kids if you want to stay overnight.”

For a moment, she flared in the old anger.
“He talked to you before he talked to me? I told you he wants to move in with you.”

I s
ighed and stood looking out the kitchen window for a long minute. Then I turned, leaned against the sink, and said, “Donna, I love Tom dearly, like a brother. He is the brother we never had. But he’s your husband, and right now there are two men in my life. I don’t need a third. I’m not even sure if I want either of the two that are. So get that notion out of your head.”

She sat and stared at me so long I gathered my purse and said,
“I have to get back to the café.”

She rose, held out her arms, and said,
“Thanks for coming over, I think.”

I
’d walked from the café, almost a mile, to clear my head and think about what I wanted to say. On the walk back, I spoke to Gram. She never answered when I initiated the conversation, but I had to talk to her. “Gram, did I do the right thing or did I make it worse?”

“
You did a good thing this morning, child, and I know it wasn’t easy. But she’s almost past anger and into depression. Tom must get her to that doctor.”

Walking in your hometown is something everyone should experience.
Two blocks brought me to the highway, and then cars that passed honked and drivers called out, “Hi, Miss Kate” and “Kate, I’m on my way to lunch. You better hurry.” I had three offers of rides, which I politely declined but should have taken. By the time I got to the café, I was a sweaty mess. The temperature must have climbed close to a hundred, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Summer comes early and hot in East Texas.

Back at the café
Marj asked, “Guess you heard the news?” She had a sort of sphinxlike smile on her face.

I
’d already had enough for one morning, and my shoulders sagged. “What news? What have I missed?”

“
Well,” she said, puffing in importance, “it’s all over town now that Roger Smith escorted his son, Cary, to Rick’s office. Rumor said the elder Smith went there alone early in the morning….”

“
So that’s why Rick never came in for coffee and his sticky bun,” I exclaimed, relieved to know the reason.

Marj never lost a beat.
“Smith left Rick’s office and then returned a few minutes later with a white-faced Cary. A customer came in who saw them and said the boy looked scared to death.”

She took a deep breath, but she wasn
’t through yet. “Someone who was in City Hall said they heard Roger say, “Don’t worry, son. I know you’re innocent.”

I sat down heavily on a stool at the counter.
Of course gossip would already be everywhere, and I didn’t know what to believe. Finally I got up, got an apron, and prepared to man the cash register. All afternoon, with one eye, I was watching for Rick—did the man skip lunch too?

I was
bombarded with rumors, some outrageous, some puzzling, all raising my curiosity. Cary had been taken to the county jail in Canton; Cary had been released; Cary had confessed; Roger had confessed. I tried desperately to dismiss everything, though once again I had Carolyn’s “dread in the bones.” I’d wait for Rick to tell me the truth. But, nevertheless, it was an endless day—I dropped a cup of coffee, barely missing a man’s lap; I served fried catfish to a man who’d ordered chicken-fried steak; and I forgot to serve salads and rolls with several orders. Marj elected to stay late—“You don’t have to pay me. This is something I want to do.” She was right behind me, correcting my goofs, cleaning up my messes. Even Gus muttered, “You okay, Miss Kate?”

“
No,” I said. “I’m not.”

“
Can I help?”

Sweet old man.
I laid a hand on his arm, wet from dishwashing, and said, “No, Gus. But thank you for caring.”

Gram appeared during a quiet moment and said,
“Hang in there, child. The worst is yet to come, but you’ll be all right.”

Hang in there? Where does Gram get her language these days?
I muttered my thanks, but I didn’t find her comment reassuring at all—”the worst is yet to come.” Well, I couldn’t tell Rick or David that one.

David appeared for an early dinner, gave me a hug and a chaste kiss on the forehead.
“Another death? I thought I better come over. Are you a suspect?”

“
No. I was at the café all afternoon and several people can testify for me. Oh, I went home about two to let Huggles out, stayed an hour, but they think she was killed around five when she got home from school.”

He blew out a sigh of relief.

When I delivered his chicken-fried steak with greens and mashed potatoes, he pulled out a slip of paper. “This doctor at Baylor is expecting a call from Tom.”

“
Thanks. I’ll pass it on. Donna is actually agreeable to going. I think she’s beginning to see herself and realizes it isn’t pretty. And, David, she’s skinny, not just thin like she’s always been—skinny.”

“
You’re worried about her.”

It struck me it should come as no surprise to him. David knew every in and out of the trials of my life: I knew nothing about his, how he felt since his divorce,
whether he was in contact with his ex-wife. And, by the same token, Rick Samuels knew every detail of my life and never ever mentioned anything about his. Did he have family? Was he happy in Wheeler?
What am I, some flapdoodle who opens her mouth and spills all her secrets to men who don’t care? That wasn’t entirely true,
I corrected. They cared. I knew they did. But it bothered me I didn’t have equal footing in my relationship with either man.

“
Of course I’m worried.” I almost spat the words out, and then I apologized. “Sorry, David, my string is short these days. Rick thinks I’m in danger from whoever did these two murders.”

He looked surprised.
“You? Why?”

“
Oh, maybe because I’ve been nosing around. I don’t like being the prime suspect.”

“
Well, I guess you’ve just been replaced by Cary Smith, the high school boy.”

“
That doesn’t make me feel any better. I know Cary didn’t do it. He’s a nice kid, if over-protected. But to me just that very fact would keep him from murder.”

“
I don’t know, Kate, but I don’t like hearing you’re in danger. What’s Rick doing about it?”

“
Walking me home at night after I close and sleeping in Donna’s room.”

For a moment, a look of pain flashed across this face. Then
he quickly erased it. “Good, good.”

“
It’s completely innocent, David,” I snapped and rose to clear his plate.

“
Could I finish that last bit of steak?” he asked, amusement softening his expression.

“
Sorry. I better go see to the kitchen.” And I turned away.
Why am I snapping at him? David is a bright spot in my life. I don’t want to antagonize him.

Gram
’s voice sounded far away. “Get a grip, Kate. You’ll need to be in full control.”

Once again, I didn
’t like the message. I did manage to get a grip on myself and go back to apologize to David.

He was gentle.
“No problem. I know you’re under a lot of stress. I’ll talk to Rick tomorrow. See you for lunch. I may have to vary my menu choice though—can’t eat chicken-fried steak all weekend.” He paid for his supper and left, with a slight salute to me.

I waited for Rick.

Chapter Nineteen