The Calamity Café (20 page)

“Yep. Seems like that was her business.”

“You're not Pete's father?”

“Didn't say that,” he said. “I want to know how you figure any of this is
your
business, miss?”

“It isn't—”

“Right,” Mr. Harding interrupted. “So stay out of it.”

“But wait! Please!” I listened to make sure he hadn't ended the call.

“What?”

“Ms. Holman was murdered. I found her, and I'm trying to find out if anyone had a motive to kill her.”

“And what? You think I did it?” He began to laugh, but it turned into a coughing fit.

“No, sir,” I said once he'd recovered. “I don't suspect you at all. It's just that you have a history with the Holmans, so I thought you might be able to provide me with some insights.”

“That girl should've never allowed her daddy to keep her under his thumb the way she did. But she made her choice. That's why I'm here and she and her boy are not. I imagine Lou Holman made a lot of enemies in his day,
and given Lou Lou's penchant for being the spitting image of him, she probably did too. I'd appreciate it if you don't call here again.”

“All right. Thank you for your time.”

He wheezed. “I'm sorry for your troubles, miss. But I can't help you.”

“I know. Again, I appreciate your talking with me.”

“You're welcome.”

After talking with Sherman Harding, I felt deflated. I went into the kitchen and got Rory a treat, and I got myself a cookie. Then I went back to the living room and flopped onto the sofa.

I felt that what Mr. Harding
hadn't
said was as important as what he had said. He'd given me the impression that had Mr. Holman allowed it, he'd have stayed married to Lou Lou. But he'd been shut out—and possibly paid off—by Lou Holman. And Lou Lou had apparently let it happen.

So why had Lou Lou rented a home to Stan when he'd arrived in Winter Garden? Had she made the connection between Stan and her former husband? Or had she known that Stan was Sherman's son and had she rented the mobile home to him so she could find out why he'd come to town? Did Stan know about his father's brief marriage to Lou Lou and the fact that Pete was his half brother?

And had someone killed to make sure one or all of these secrets stayed
buried?

I
called Ryan to get his thoughts on the situation. When I explained that I'd both met with Grady Holman's daughter and talked with Sherman Harding, he told me he was in the area and would stop by my house.

I put some chocolate chip cookies on a plate and made a fresh pitcher of iced tea. I also brushed my hair and freshened my makeup. I realized it was a police investigation and not a date, but that didn't mean I had to look my worst.

When Ryan arrived, we decided to speak on the front porch. I put the cookies, pitcher of tea, and plastic tumblers on a tray and placed it on the table between the two white rocking chairs.

“Thank you,” he said with a grin. “Southern hospitality at its finest.”

“I try. I hope that's what people will say about the
Down South Café once it's up and running. Well, that and that the food is delicious.”

“If these cookies are any indication, your food is outstanding.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“So, you've been investigating, huh?”

“In a way . . . I guess I have.”

“You do know that's the sheriff's department's job and that it's also our job to protect the citizens of Winter Garden—including you—right?”

I nodded.

“And unless I've missed some background on you somewhere, you aren't trained to investigate crimes.”

“No, sir.”

“All right,” he said. “Tell me what you've got.”

I told him about calling Grady Holman's daughter and later meeting her for coffee. “She told two different stories about the bank robbery, but in both versions, she said Grady gave the money back.”

“It could be nothing,” Ryan said. “Maybe Grady really did give the money back and the money found when the office wall was torn down belonged to either Bo or Lou. We're trying to track the money and see where it came from. But it's taking some time since it's so old and the original bank that was robbed back in the thirties is no longer there.”

“When I was searching for photographs of the Holmans for Grady's daughter, I ran across Lou Lou's engagement and wedding announcements. That's when I realized she'd been married to Stan Wheeler's father.” I took a drink of my tea. “I didn't know at first that he was Stan's father, but
now I do, and I can't help but think that somehow Lou Lou's secrets about her past played some part in her murder.”

“We need to figure out where Lou Lou stood with regard to Sherman and Stan. Did she want to reconnect with her ex-husband?” He bit into a cookie while he studied the situation. “Who would Lou Lou have confided in? Who were those closest to her?”

“In the year that I worked with her, I don't know of anyone who struck me as being Lou Lou's friend. She had employees, suppliers, customers, and Pete. That was about the extent of her social circle.”

“I'll see what Ivy confiscated from Lou Lou's office. Maybe there's a date book or something that might provide some answers for us.”

I gazed at his profile. “Could I maybe help?”

“If there is a date book or planner among the items Ivy took from Lou Lou's office, it would be potential evidence, Amy. You aren't supposed to be around while I'm examining evidence.”

“Please, Ryan. This is my life on the line here. I want to help.”

He glanced over at me.

“Please.”

His expression softened. “Of course, if you were to be at the library in half an hour and I happened to be there looking at the documents, I couldn't very well ask you to leave.” He held up a hand. “I'm not going to let you look at anything, but you might be able to give me some insight into the names I'm not familiar with.”

I smiled. “I'll see you then.”

*   *   *

T
he Winter Garden Library was housed in a small brick building with floor-to-ceiling windows trimmed in white. The door was also white and heavy, and there were window panels on each side.

I walked inside, my sandaled feet clicking on the tile foyer until I reached the gray industrial carpet covering the floor inside the main part of the library. The building smelled fresh and clean. It had been remodeled since I'd been here as a little girl. Back then, the entire floor was tile and the library had smelled of leather book spines and old musty pages. I was sure there must still be some ancient leather-bound books around here somewhere, but most of the books sitting on the carts to be reshelved were brand-new, current bestsellers.

I looked around the room. Ryan hadn't said where he'd be. I supposed I could ask for him at the circulation desk, but he might not appreciate that. He might prefer I pretend our meeting was accidental. Either way, the clerk sitting behind the long wooden desk was chatting on the phone and didn't appear to be inclined to do anything else.

I spotted Ryan at a rectangular wooden table at the back of the room. He sat on the chair facing the door, and there was an empty chair in front of him.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked, pulling out the chair.

“Why, no. What brings you here, Ms. Flowers?”

“I thought I might take a look at some of the cookbooks of old to see if there's anything I might want to revive for the Down South Café.”

“Then please grab a book and join me.”

“Oh . . . yeah.” I stood and took a book off the nearest shelf. It was a psychology textbook that had nothing to do with cooking. Still, it was a book. “Have you found anything?”

“There doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary in these ledgers.”

“Wait. I thought Pete got the ledgers from the safe.”

“The ledgers from the safe were probably old ones. These are current.”

I tried not to look, but I couldn't help but see that the dates on the page Ryan was looking at were from two months ago. “Did Lou Lou have a date book?”

“She kept a calendar,” he said. “It looks like she was seeing someone named Sissy every Wednesday. Do you know anyone named Sissy who might've visited Lou Lou at the café?”

I shook my head slowly.
Sissy . . . Sissy . . . Why did that name ring a bell?
“Sissy's Scissors!”

“Excuse me?”

I lowered my voice. “Sorry. Lou Lou left every Wednesday to have her hair done. She must've gone to Sissy's Scissors in Meadowview. Nana used to go there.”

“Lots of women gossip with their hairstylists . . . or so I've heard. I'll see if anyone has talked with this woman yet, and if not, I'll get right on that. Thanks for your help.”

I wasn't content to let the matter lie. I went out to my car, called Sissy, and learned that she had had a cancellation and would be able to see me in the next thirty minutes if I could get there by then. I said I'd be right over.

*   *   *

A
pparently, Sissy had just finished giving an elderly woman a perm when I walked into her salon. The smell nearly brought tears to my eyes.

“Hi, hon!” Sissy, a woman with the top half of her hair platinum and the bottom half jet-black, called to me. “I'll be finished up here in a minute!” She was teasing the white tightly curled hair of the woman in the chair in front of her to the point where the hair was probably thinking it had had enough of this nonsense. She was about go from teasing it to making it downright mad.

I sat on a nearby black vinyl and stainless steel chair to watch Sissy—a wisp of a woman dressed in black capris, a black T-shirt, and silver ballet flats—poof up the rest of her client's hair. When she was finished, she instructed, “Close your eyes, sweetie!” before blasting the hair with so much hairspray that I could've sworn a mushroom cloud lingered over the poor lady's head.

“All done!” Sissy announced brightly. “You're beautiful!”

“Thank you.” The woman reached into a large brown purse that she held on her lap and took out a wallet.

“No, sweetie, your daughter has done paid for you this week. Remember?”

“Oh. Well, here's a little something extra.” She handed Sissy a dollar.

“You're so sweet. Thank you.” She shoved the dollar into her pants pocket before helping the woman to the door and holding it open for her. “See you next time.” When the woman left, Sissy turned to me. “What're we doing for you today, hon?”

“I thought I'd like an updo . . . something kind of intricate.” I wanted to make sure I had adequate time to talk with Sissy.

She smiled. “Got a big date, huh? Good for you! Come on over and have a seat.”

I sat down on the chair vacated by Ms. Perm, and Sissy draped me with a black cape. She took a book and showed me the hairstyle she had in mind. It appeared that it would certainly take a while, so I went with it.

“I don't think you've ever been here before,” she said. “I never forget a face. Unless, of course, you were here when Tina or one of the other girls was working.”

“No . . . this is my first time.”

“How'd you hear about us?”

“Well, I worked for Lou Lou Holman,” I said. “I know she came by here every week.”

“Oh yeah . . . God rest her poor soul. What's gonna happen to the Joint now that Lou Lou's gone?”

“I bought it. Pete wants to go into the trucking business, so he sold Lou's Joint to me. I'm in the process of doing a little remodeling, and I hope to reopen as the Down South Café in a few weeks.”

“Kudos to you, darling! It does my heart good to know somebody is going to run the place. The good Lord knows Winter Garden needs something better than that pizza place to keep us going . . . am I right? I mean, I like pizza all right, but theirs isn't the best in the world, and besides that, we need some variety. Am I right?”

“You're absolutely right,” I said, wanting to steer the conversation back to my reason for being here. “Poor Lou Lou. I never knew her to miss a hair appointment.”

“Yep. She had a standing Wednesday appointment.
Had it for as long as I've been in business, as a matter of fact.” She took a small comb from a container of disinfecting solution, shook it out, and then began using it to separate my hair into sections. She took clips and secured the sections of my hair out of the way of the one she planned on working with first. “Gosh, I guess it's been twenty years since I started doing her hair.”

“Wow. So you've known Lou Lou a long time.”

“I reckon I have.”

“I'm beginning to feel like I didn't know her at all,” I said. “I mean, I'd been working for her for a year, but I didn't know anything about her marriage until just the other day.”

“Oh yeah, that was a sore spot for her.” Sissy began curling tiny sections of my hair and pinning them on top of my head.

“About that. I made the mistake of asking Pete about his father. You know, I wondered if maybe they were close. Pete took his mother's death so hard and everything.”

“Hon, I know your heart was in the right place, but Pete knows absolutely nothing about his daddy. He thinks his daddy was some kind of jerk who just ran off and left his mother while she was pregnant,” Sissy said. “Lou Lou said she told him his daddy's name was Joe Smith or something because she never wanted Pete to try to find the man.”

“I can understand Lou Lou's pain, but didn't she think Pete deserved to know the truth about his father?”

“Well, you see, Lou Lou thought for years that Sherman had left her because he was in love with that other girl,” said Sissy. “But he wasn't.”

I winced as a bobby pin poked a little too enthusiastically into my scalp. “Then why did he marry the other girl?”

“I guess he figured he might as well. And he got to raise one of his children that way. Anyhow, Lou Lou's momma finally told her on her deathbed that her daddy was the reason Sherman left.”

“Lou paid him off,” I mused.

“I believe it started out that way, but Sherman wouldn't leave for money. Mrs. Holman told Lou Lou that Lou and Sherman had fought and that her daddy had stabbed Sherman. Sherman nearly died.” Sissy nodded at my shocked expression in the mirror. “Lou and one of his friends took Sherman to the emergency room and dumped him out of the car. Then they took off. But they made it clear to Sherman that if he stayed in Winter Garden, they'd kill him. They told him to leave and never come back.”

“And Lou was never arrested for the assault?”

Sissy shook her head. “Sherman just got out of town before Lou made good on his promise. Lou Lou said she wondered if Sherman had thought she'd reach out to him, but she didn't. She believed the tale her daddy had told her. And then she'd gone for so many years hating him for breaking her heart. . . .”

“It seems like she made sure that Pete hated him too,” I said.

“Yep.”

“Why didn't she tell Pete the truth when she found out what Lou had done?”

“She was afraid that Pete would go to Sherman . . . you know, meet him to see what he was like.” She finished
pinning the tiny curls up onto my head and took down another section to work with. “See, by the time she learned what had really happened, Pete was all Lou Lou had. What if Pete blamed her for letting her daddy run Sherman off? What if he'd gotten to know Sherman and decided he could have a better life in Pulaski with Sherman and his family than with Lou Lou in Winter Garden?”

“I doubt that thought would've ever crossed his mind,” I told her. “Pete adored his mother.”

“But would he have if he'd found out the truth?” Sissy asked.

“Of course he would! He'd know that Lou Lou wasn't responsible for the actions of her father.”

“Maybe and maybe not. Hon, losing Pete was Lou Lou Holman's biggest fear.”

I could see that now. It was evident in everything she'd done.

I felt a pang of pity for Lou Lou. I could see now how she'd become the bitter woman I'd known.