Rest in Peach (13 page)

“It’s an honor to open our home for this year’s cotillion,” the congressman was saying. “It’s just one of the small ways that my beautiful wife, Stephanie, and I”—he paused and cast a loving look toward his wife, soliciting a few “awws” from the crowd—“can give back to our community. . . .” Blah, blah, blah. I sighed. Mama was right. This whole venue was nothing more than a ploy to gain votes. Tuning out his speech, I let my mind wander as I looked out over the yard, which rolled gently down to the Ocmulgee River. Off to the right, an ornately carved bench rested under the low-dipping branches of a massive live oak. For a second, I imagined lovely belles in hooped-skirted gowns frolicking about, their white-gloved hands clasping dainty parasols.

I focused back just in time to hear the congressman wrapping up his speech. He stood with his chin held high and his hands clasping his lapels as he said, “As my great grandfather, General Aloysius Wheeler, would have said, ‘It’s only through kind Providence and the humble spirit of graciousness that I strive to serve the people of this great state of Georgia.’”

A spirited applause erupted from the group. I clapped lightly, glancing around, wondering what all these people saw in the man. Personally, I didn’t trust the guy. I shook my head, feeling guilty about my knee-jerk reaction. What was my problem? I’d never even met the man before. Nor did I disagree with his politics. So why did I distrust him so much? Cade was right when he said that I had trust issues, a habit I’d probably picked up from working as a humanitarian. The thing with emergency relief work is that it’s usually conducted in situations where some sort of evil or natural disaster has broken down all pretenses of civil society. A smiling government official could be the front man for the
very powers that were shooting innocent civilians. The willing hands helping to unload relief supplies could be the same hands that would transport them to a black market for easy cash. You had to know who you were dealing with and keep alert at all times. Over the years, I’d learned to be cautious, keep my guard up and trust few. Now I recognized just how much my work had changed me. But I was home now, back in the States, away from the horrors and fears of those years. It was time to change. Yup, I needed to work on that. Starting with the congressman.

I adjusted my attitude and clapped enthusiastically as the congressman tossed us one final wave before disappearing back into the house, Dane and the other security man falling in step behind him.

Then, as if on cue, several pairs of waitstaff, dressed in the same black pants and white shirts as the valets, entered the patio carrying large trays of tiered plates filled with finger sandwiches and petit fours, one for each table. Emily’s eyes gleamed as she took in the fancy arrangement of food. Other waiters then stepped forward, steaming porcelain teapots in hand. They tipped delicately with their right hands, holding the spouts over the white tea towels draped on their left arms. Each filling of a cup was finished with a little lifting of the spout, a flourish and a nod. For a second, I became caught up in the formality of the experience, feeling like a pampered princess. “This sure is fancy, isn’t it?” I whispered to Maggie.

“Yes, lovely,” she mumbled, staring blankly into her tea.

Glancing across the table at the girls and assuring myself that they were fully engrossed in their own conversation, I shifted in my chair and leaned closer to Maggie. “Did you hear about what happened at the diner this morning?”

She looked up with dull eyes. “No. What?”

“They found Vivien Crenshaw’s purse.”

Her eyes darted briefly toward Belle before refocusing on me. Lowering her voice, she leaned in and asked, “Her purse? Who found it? Where?” She seemed genuinely surprised by the news.

“Ginny found it in the alley behind the diner. The sheriff has it now.” I didn’t bring up the fact that she took Ginny in for questioning.

Maggie’s lower lip trembled slightly as she continued to stare at me for a couple beats before averting her gaze downward to her plate. She grew silent, fidgeting with her untouched food.

“Anyway,” I added nonchalantly, “it may prove to be a break in the case.”

“A break in the case,” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. She pushed her chair back abruptly and started to stand. “If y’all would excuse me for a second, I need to make a quick phone call.” She snatched her clutch off the table and started toward the patio doors.

“Is Mama upset about something?” Belle asked, wide-eyed with concern.

“No, I’m sure everything’s fine,” I assured her, folding my napkin and placing it next to my plate. “But I’ll go and check on her just to make sure.”

I’d just stood and started after her when Ginny appeared in the doorway, wearing a black-and-white polka-dot dress and a wide-brimmed white hat that contrasted with her red hair. Emily let out a little gasp. “Mama!” she cried, jumping out of her seat and rushing toward the patio doors, grasping her mother’s arm and tugging her toward the table. The patio grew silent as everyone turned Ginny’s way. By the look of things, the news of Ginny being hauled away by the sheriff had run the gamut; there wasn’t a single lady, including our
hostess, who wasn’t gawking at Ginny like she was some sort of apparition.

Oh boy
, I thought, suddenly divided on whether I should take off in pursuit of Maggie or hang back and help defend my friend against the throng of loose-lipped ladies. But I needn’t have worried. In her typical fashion, Ginny bucked the onslaught of caustic glares by straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly before weaving through the tables with unshakable confidence.

I stepped aside from the chair, holding it out for her as she approached the table. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, thanks to that brother of yours,” she whispered back. Then, quickly glancing around the patio, she added, “I take it the word’s out?”

“Yes, out and traveling fast. I haven’t seen today’s edition of the
Cays Mill Reporter
,” I hedged.

She waved her hand through the air. “Nothing interesting. But I’m dreading Tuesday’s edition. Especially after the pictures Frances must have got this morning.”

I nodded discreetly toward Emily. “Well, at least she’s doing fine. Especially now that you’re here.” I motioned for Ginny to take my chair. After she settled, I leaned down and said, “I could stick around a little longer if you want.”

Ginny glanced up with a brave smile. “Thank you, Nola, but I’ll be just fine. But would you mind terribly if I canceled for tonight? I’m afraid I’m just not up to working on the menu today. I’m exhausted. But tomorrow, for sure. Regular time.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Of course. I understand. I should probably spend some time with Ray anyway. I haven’t seen much of him lately.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, hon. He’s already left. Said something about a dinner engagement tonight.” She reached up and squeezed my hand. “Thanks for everything today.
You’re a good friend, Nola. Now get going,” she said, shooing me toward the door. “Certainly you’ve got better things to do than hang out here.”

•   •   •

Back inside the Wheeler home, I searched the sunroom and adjacent hallway for Maggie but didn’t see her anywhere. In the main hallway, waitstaff whizzed by, carrying trays of sandwiches and other treats toward the patio while I pretended to linger and admire the artwork—mostly colorful renditions of Civil War scenes. I recalled seeing a collection similar to this one hanging in Doc Harris’s waiting room.

“My boss is a huge Civil War buff,” came a voice from behind.

I turned to face Hawk. “Sure seems that way. Liking your new job?”

“It’s a job,” he said with a frown. “What are you doing in here anyway? Looking for the bathroom?”

“No, I was actually looking for someone.” I described Maggie to him. “Have you seen her?”

“Yeah, she came in a few minutes ago, asked me where the restroom was. You can cut through here. There’s a hallway off the far wall that leads to the kitchen. The bathroom’s on the right.”

“Great,” I replied, shooting him a quick wave and heading off in that direction.

The bathroom door was shut, so I folded my arms and leaned against the wall to wait for Maggie. From my vantage point, I could see directly into the kitchen, where several employees were bustling about, pouring tea into pots and filling plates. They were generating quite a bit of noise, but even at that, I could hear Maggie’s voice inside the bathroom as she spoke on her cell to someone. I moved closer, pressing
my ear against the door and catching a spurt of her conversation. “But it’ll only be a matter of time before everyone finds out, and it’ll ruin my husband. . . .” I stood upright as a server walked by and gave me a strange look. Then suddenly, the doorknob jostled and Maggie emerged from behind the door.

“There you are! Is everything okay?” I asked, noticing the puffiness around her eyes.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, trying to move past me.

I shifted to block her way. “Are you sure? You seem upset about something?”

A perturbed look crossed her face. “Thank you for your concern, Nola. But it’s personal.” Again, she started past me, obviously anxious to get away.

“Did Vivien know something about you, Maggie? Something you were afraid she might tell everyone?” I asked.

She turned toward me, her face tight with tension. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you say something like that?”

I took a step closer, wishing there was an easier way to approach the topic. I hated to hurt Maggie’s feelings, but I needed to get to the bottom of things. “Because I think it’s true. That’s why you became so upset when you learned her purse had been found this morning. There was something she was keeping in her purse that would be terribly embarrassing to you, wasn’t there?”

Maggie took a step backward, her eyes widening, but she quickly recovered. With an upward turn of her chin, she launched into fervent denial. “You’re acting crazy, Nola.”

“Am I?” I hesitated, then decided I needed to come right out with it. “Was Vivien blackmailing you?”

“Extortion! Why, maybe that’s something you came across while traipsing through third-world countries, but you’re back in civilization now. Things like that don’t happen around these parts.”

“Things like what, Maggie? Murder?”

“Are you suggesting that I . . .”

“No, I don’t think you killed Vivien Crenshaw. But if you were being blackmailed, then it’s more than likely someone else was, too. Someone with more to lose. Someone who decided to permanently remove the threat of exposure by murdering Vivien.” I paused to let the implication sink in before continuing, “Perhaps if you went to the sheriff, told her about what you know, it might convince her to take a look at other possibilities, maybe consider other suspects.” Someone other than Ginny, hopefully. “In fact, if the wrong person is convicted of this crime because you held back evidence . . .” I left the rest unsaid, allowing her to fill in the blank.

“Evidence?” Maggie echoed. Her face took on a pained expression, and she started wringing her hands. For a second I thought she was going to cave, but suddenly she pulled her shoulders back and leveled her gaze. “I don’t appreciate your impertinence, Nola Mae. Your mama would be ashamed of you speaking to the preacher’s wife this way.” With that, she turned on her heel and stomped away.

For a second, I wondered what had caused her to flip-flop so quickly, but then I noticed Stephanie Wheeler was hovering in the entrance to the kitchen. I hoped she hadn’t overheard our conversation. How embarrassing for Maggie if she had.

“Hello, Mrs. Wheeler,” I said, feeling a bit awkward. “It’s been a wonderful party, thank you.”

“I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed yourself.” She looked down the hall where Maggie had stormed off. “Mrs. Jones seemed upset. I hope it’s not something I’ve done.”

I waved her off. “Oh no. Nothing like that. Everything about this afternoon has been just lovely. She’s just going through something personal, I think.”

Stephanie’s expression seemed to relax. “Is there something I can do for you?” she asked, pointing toward the kitchen. “More tea, perhaps? Or something else to eat?”

“Oh, that’s okay. But thank you.” Gosh, did this woman have Southern hospitality down pat, or what? “I was actually just filling in for Ginny today, and she’s here now, so I’ll just be on my way. Thanks again,” I said, taking a step backward. Only when I turned to leave, I ran smack into Hawk. He placed his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

“There you are, Mr. Hawk,” Stephanie said from behind. “Be a dear and show Ms. Harper to the door, will ya? I really should be getting back to my other guests.” Then, she graciously added, “It’s been lovely meeting you, Ms. Harper. Please do come back anytime.”

As soon as we were outside, I took a deep cleansing breath and yanked off my hat. “Thank goodness that’s over with,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. I probably had the worse hat head ever, but I couldn’t stand the thing one second longer. “For the life of me, I can’t see why women like these types of things.” I rolled my eyes and added, “So boring and stuffy.”

“You think that’s boring, you ought to work security for these people.”

“Not liking your new job?”

He shrugged. “It’s just not what I thought it would be.” We’d reached my truck. I opened my purse and retrieved my keys. “I hired on for security, but I’m more like an errand boy,” he continued, taking the keys and unlocking the door for me.

“Errand boy? What do you mean?”

He held the door. “Well, I act as security when the congressman goes out, but when he’s here at the house, the missus finds other things for me to do. Like this morning, I had to help the kitchen staff set up for this shindig, and yesterday
she had me cleaning out the attic ballroom for the dance. I even hauled a bunch of junk down to the church for her.”

“Sounds more like grunt work than security,” I sympathized. The front door opened, and the other security guard walked out, crossed the drive and hopped into a dark SUV with darkened windows. “How’s your coworker?”

Hawk shrugged. “Franco? Better off than me, that’s for sure. Haven’t seen him doing any crap jobs. ’Course he’s been with the congressman for a few years. Maybe it’s a seniority thing.”