Death at the Day Lily Cafe (16 page)

“Yoo-hoo,” I called. “Sherry…”

It took a few moments before Scheherazade peeked her head out of the henhouse. “Look what I brought you.” She took a few tentative steps out of the opening and looked up at the sky. Her head darted and twitched. Mick Jagger appeared soon after, standing guard.

“Come on out, Mick.” I tossed a piece of waffle toward him. Scheherazade walked over and pecked at it. Crumbs tumbled out of her mouth as she tipped her head back and swallowed. “Good girl,” I said. Mick Jagger joined her, and together they pecked and swallowed and moved on to the orange rinds.

“Oh, ladies,” I called. “Don't miss out on the fun.” I heard movement in the henhouse and, feeling safe thanks to my presence, the hens slowly risked emerging from the coop. I tossed more scraps, and they tentatively began to eat. Mick ate a little more and then proceeded to walk the perimeter of the fence, which was quite a sizable stretch of grass. Tyler had put the fencing around several azaleas and hostas so the chickens could seek cover if they felt threatened again.

Eventually I was surrounded by my dear, sweet chickens. Scheherazade stayed close and allowed me to stroke her feathers. Finally, I thought, you can stretch your skinny legs again.

“I'm not even going to ask what you're doing.”

I looked up to see Tyler standing next to the fence, a coffee mug in each hand. “I'm doing what you told me. I'm being a chicken.” I patted Scheherazade. “See? I'm showing them it's safe to come out.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not.” I scanned the lawn. “Where's Bini?”

“I let her go for the day. She worked all weekend, so I sent her home.” He shook his head. “I had to force her, though. She kept saying there was too much to do. You hang around this place long enough and that becomes your mantra.”

Tyler walked around to the door of the henhouse and came into the pen. He ducked his head to avoid the wire cover. That was not necessary for me. “They've been spending so much time inside, I need to clean it out in there again,” he said. “That'll make it the second time today.” He eased himself onto the grass and handed me a coffee mug. He looked into the bag of scraps, found some arugula, and tossed it out to the hens.

Tyler looked down at his right hand. His reattached finger had healed beautifully after he'd severed it with a rusty saw over a year ago.

“Does it ever bother you?”

“I can tell you when it's going to rain.” He smiled at me. “I still can't believe you saved it. You are the only reason I still have an index finger on my dominant hand.”

“You're welcome.” I stroked Sherry, grateful she was calming down. “Tyler?”

He sipped his coffee. “Yes?”

“I need to know more about your brother.”

Tyler set the mug on the grass. “I'd prefer you call him Butch. I don't consider him to be my brother.”

“What's your relationship with him like?”

“What relationship?”

“Tyler, I know you're not one for elaboration, but what happened to him? He couldn't be any more different from you. Is he like your father?”

“No,” Tyler said quickly. “My father was an honest, hard-working man.”

“So how did he get to be the way he is? Is it genetic?”

“It's never just the one, is it?” He crossed his ankles and tossed another rind to the hens. “If he resembles anyone, it's my grandfather on my mother's side. The thing is, Butch is a good-looking man.” He eyed me. “You may have noticed?”

“He has the Wells eyes. I'll give him that.”

“He could charm anybody from the day he learned how to talk. Probably before that. He charmed my mother. And he conned my father.”

“And Custer's mother?”

“Sally was smitten. She's about five years younger than Butch and pretty as can be. She's sweet, too. Well, at least she used to be. I think Butch soured her good nature a long time ago. But once she had Custer, Butch didn't want anything to do with her. He left when Custer was three.”

“Wow,” I said. “You two are like Cain and Abel.”

“There's some truth to that. But Butch isn't jealous of me. I'm not even on his radar, and I intend to keep it that way.”

“It couldn't have been easy for you growing up. He must have gotten all the attention.”

“I don't enjoy a lot of attention. Remember the finger?”

I laughed softly. “Right.” The chickens had stopped eating and were squatting on the grass, some nestled together, others on their own. “Tyler, I have to ask you: Why is Custer on probation?”

“I think you should ask him.”

“Honestly? I don't want to humiliate him. But he's my employee. And now he's seeing Annie. Every day, I should add. Did he do something violent?”

Tyler squinted up at the sky for a moment, deep in thought. The sun was hidden by puffs of cumulus clouds, and the temperature had dropped markedly from earlier in the day. A slight breeze ruffled the chickens' feathers. “I would like to see Custer be able to put it behind him. And, well, let's just say it wasn't an act of aggression.” He frowned. “It was more that he was provoked. You see, Custer is a Wells, and he's a lot like Mick Jagger over there. If anyone tries to hurt someone he loves, he will do whatever it takes to protect them.”

“Did he hurt someone?”

“No.”

“But what about Annie? Tyler, I worry.”

He looked over at me. “You?
Worry
?”

“Butch is after something from Custer. Do you know what that might be?”

“I don't know anything about that.” Tyler thought for a moment. “Maybe tell Annie she should stay away from Butch.” He looked at me. “You, too, for that matter. Keep out of his way. Okay? Like I said, he can be quite charming when he wants to be.”

“Mmm. Sounds like you have that in common.”

“Me? Blunt, maybe. Stubborn. Rough around the edges. But this is a first for charming.” He looked down at the grass for a moment, then stood abruptly. He held out a hand to pull me up. “I need to get back to work. You done being a chicken?”

I giggled. “Yes.” We faced one another. “It was nice spending time with you.”

“Yeah, partner. It's good to hang out.” He brushed off his jeans. “I really don't enjoy talking about Butch, though.”

“Message received.”

 

T
WENTY
-
SEVEN

A basket filled with day-old apple-cinnamon muffins hung from the crook of my arm. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top but had accented the simple outfit with some of my favorite turquoise jewelry. The construction site was bustling. Hammers pounded. Nail guns popped like the Fourth of July. A cement truck beeped as it backed up onto the road.

I decided to keep some distance from the site in order to avoid getting sent away for the lack of a hard hat. I noticed a man under a tree filling a cup from a thermos of coffee. I greeted him when he looked up. “It's a lovely day.” I smiled.

“That it is.”

“I'm sorry to interrupt your respite, but do you know a man named Cal?”

“Big guy?”

“Yes,” I said. “That's the one.”

He slugged back some coffee and pointed toward a group of men huddled over a table draped with blueprints.

As I made my way to the cluster of men I tried to decide what to say. But before I could muster up an idea, Cal broke away from the crowd and came over to me. “What's in the basket?”

“Apple-cinnamon.”

He put his hands in his pockets and cocked his head. “You didn't come here to bring me more muffins.”

I avoided his eyes. “That's one of the reasons I'm here.”

“I knew it. What's the other reason? You some kind of investigator?”

I lifted my head. “I told you. I own a café.”

“And?”

My shoulders fell. “The woman who has been accused of CJ Fiddler's murder is the sister of a friend of mine. The sheriff is hell-bent on sending her to prison.”

“Did she do it?”

“I don't believe so. But, Cal? I think it has to do with the stolen money.”

He shifted his weight. “I can't tell you any more than I already have.”

“But if I can find out who killed CJ, you may very well get your money back. Or at least know who took it. Can I ask who is investigating this? Is it the FBI?”

“The college is keeping it private for now. They don't want the publicity. They have a top-notch team interviewing everyone.”

“Let me ask you this. Have any of the contractors left town?”

“They were told not to.”

“If you'd stolen that much money, wouldn't you take off with it?”

“What are you saying?”

“If no one has skipped town, then the only other person who would want to can't because he's dead. See? I believe finding out who killed CJ will lead us directly to the stolen money.”

“So what, we dig up his grave?”

“No need. Someone killed him. That's who has the money.” I looked up at him. “Have the investigators come up with anything?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

I opened the paper sack and removed a muffin. “I'm just helping a friend.” I held it out to him.

Cal grabbed the muffin and smiled over at me. “You keep bringing me your leftovers, and I'll tell you what you want to know.”

“So?”

“So far everyone is coming up clean. Investigators are hitting dead end after dead end.”

“And no one has left town?”

“Not a one.”

I removed the paper bag from my basket, cinched the top, and handed it to Cal. I smiled. “Cal, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

 

T
WENTY
-
EIGHT

It was after six by the time I got home. A slight breeze rustled the leaves as I stepped onto the stoop. I found Annie in the family room watching reruns. “Hey, Mom,” she said brightly. “You know, we never see each other with your hours being completely opposite from mine.” Her legs were tucked underneath her. A pillow sat in her lap, and she was eating a bowl of cottage cheese.

“I know,” I said. “I miss you.”

I dropped my purse in a chair and sat down next to her. “How did it go with Custer last night?”

“Oh.” She wiped her mouth. “He had no intention of not seeing me anymore. He was upset about something else.”

“Did he tell you what?”

“Did you know his parents are divorced?” She rolled her eyes. “It's like an epidemic.”

I swallowed hard, not wanting to be grouped in a category with Butch Wells. “Yes,” I said, “I know.”

“Apparently he doesn't get along with his dad, so he was upset about him being back in town.”

“Annie. I just have to blurt this out. I know he slept here last night.”

“You do?” Her eyes widened. “Did you come in my room?”

“Always.”

“But my door was shut.”

“Annie. That's not the point. It's not okay. I don't want you having sleepovers with men in our house.”

She set the bowl down and uncrossed her legs. “But nothing happened. We didn't have sex, if that's what you think. We've only been hanging out a couple of weeks.”

I fell back into the sofa cushion. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice harsh. “FYI, I don't lie. Got that?” She stood in a huff. Tears welled in her eyes. “If you had snooped around a little more you would have seen that we were fully clothed.” She crossed her arms tight against her chest. “Custer was really upset. He didn't want to go home in case his dad showed up. He didn't have anywhere else to go.” She wiped a tear away from her cheek. “I comforted him, okay? I swear—” Annie picked up the remote, switched off the show she had been watching, and threw it on the sofa. “Sometimes you're as bad as Dad.”

“Oh, Annie.” I stood and walked over to her. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize.” I brushed her cheek. “I guess I jumped to conclusions.”

“Why did you?”

“I don't think it's all that hard to understand. I mean, I was rather surprised to see him in your bed.”

She gazed down at her feet and tucked her hair behind an ear. “Okay. I'll give you that.” She looked up. “But what's with you? It seems like something is bugging you.”

“I met Custer's dad, and I don't like him. He seems mean. I worried all evening that you two might run into him.”

Annie's eyebrows furrowed. “What's he like?”

“Can we sit again?”

Annie nodded, and we sat in unison on the sofa.

“I don't trust him. He's sneaky and sarcastic. And he treated Custer badly.”

“Custer is trying to avoid him. He's hoping he'll leave town soon.”

“Tyler told me to tell you to stay out of his way. He said Butch can be disarmingly charming.”

“Really?” Annie shook her head. Her soft brown hair swayed. “It's hard to believe they're brothers.”

“Does Custer talk to you about his family much?'

“Not really. When he mentions his dad he tries to go all Lao Tzu on me and focuses on the moment, that kind of thing. It's nice for me when he does that.” She smiled. “It's so lovely when someone is fully present, you know?”

“Yes. It's rare, but it sure is nice.”

“He also tells me how lucky I am to have my family.”

“He does?”

“Of course. Because it's true.”

“I'm really sorry I jumped to conclusions. And I know you don't lie. But just for the record, I would like him to find somewhere else to stay while he's avoiding his father.”

“He already has.” She reached over and hugged me. “I am lucky.”