Sara looked quite fierce. “Not if I have anything to say about it. Derrick becoming a real member of the family is about the only good thing that’s come out of this whole mess. I guess it was the final straw for him—the turnaround point. Whatever it was, I’m so glad it happened. He’s been wonderful with the girls lately, helps Ben in the kitchen and the office, and has some really promising artistic talent. I’ve been very surprised with what I’ve seen him create in the studio.”
Sara finished her lemonade. “I’d better let you get some more rest, Lulu. Maybe you can go back to sleep now and catch up on some of those lost z’s. I’m going to try to do the same thing.”
Physically, Lulu felt a lot more refreshed. There was nothing better in this world than a nap. But whenever she thought about Rebecca Adrian’s murder, she got a sinking feeling in her stomach that all the mint chocolate chip ice cream in the world couldn’t get rid of. But she did give the ice cream a
try
.
Lulu wondered if she’d hallucinated the entire episode with the disguised Flo at the grocery store. After all, stress does funny things to people, and she was feeling poorly today. But then, at ten o’clock that night, there was an odd scratching knock at her kitchen door.
Lulu opened the door and there was Flo. At least, Lulu supposed it was Flo. She still wore the large hat, figure-concealing caftan, gigantic sunglasses, and black wig.
Flo looked nervously behind her, and Lulu ushered her in, quickly. “Sunglasses at night, Flo?”
Flo snatched them off. “Well, I’m not wearing them because of the glare,” said Flo snappily. “They’re to keep my face covered.” She rubbed her eyes and said, “I’m sorry, Lulu. That was so rude of me. I’m too stressed out today, that’s all.”
“I can see that, honey. I just don’t understand
why
. I’m guessing it must have something to do with your no-good ex-husband.”
“You smacked that nail right on the head. Somehow he found out that I was here in Memphis.”
“How on earth could he do that?” asked Lulu. “He hasn’t found you for the past ten years.”
Flo shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe his private eye finally tracked me down. Or . . . remember the day Rebecca was murdered? The news was filming nonstop around Aunt Pat’s and the Peabody—inside and out. I even saw myself on CNN that night. He could have watched the story in Mississippi. That’s when I really started getting freaked out. Most times I can just go about my daily life and not even think about Virgil at all. But when I saw myself on TV, I wondered if I’d ever really feel safe again. So . . . well, I guess I started acting kind of weird.” Lulu thought that “weird” was one way to describe Flo’s messy appearance and drunken episode at the mall.
Flo waved her hands in the air. “I don’t care exactly
how
he got here. I just need for him not to find me now that he’s here. I mean,
clearly
he knows I’m in Memphis. But if I wear a disguise and don’t go to the places I usually go, maybe he won’t find me. And then he’ll go off to whatever town in Mississippi he terrorizes.”
Lulu peered close at this unfamiliar Flo. “You look so pale, Flo!”
Flo nodded. “I stopped tanning. ’Cause I don’t look like myself when I’m all pale and white.”
“I’ll say you don’t. Mercy!” Flo was a regular at the Copacabana Tanning Beds. And Lulu could see why. “How did you know he was here?”
“Well, I’d just left B.B. King’s on Beale, and I saw Virgil walking down the street. Of course, I did this huge double take, thinking I was having some kind of optical illusion nightmare. Then I saw I
wasn’t
, so I popped into B.B.’s again real quick.” She made a face. “I could see him looking to the right and the left—searching, you know. He doesn’t know the name I’m using, so he can’t look me up online or in the phone book.”
“And you got a disguise to stay under cover,” said Lulu.
“I figure that he doesn’t know exactly where I am, but he knows I’ve been to Aunt Pat’s. And Beale Street is the area he was looking in. I thought if he saw me talking to you at the grocery store, and you’d been on TV, too, that he would see through my getup and know who I was,” said Flo. “I’m on borrowed time, though. He must have been pretty sure of what he saw. But what he saw on TV was a blond, tanned woman,” said Flo, looking hopeful. “Now I’m different.”
“What did he
do
to you?” asked Lulu.
“Made my life a living hell,” said Flo quietly. “It was his fault I went to jail to begin with . . . because I was determined to kill him. Unfortunately, I’m a bad shot. They locked me away for attempted murder. I was lucky to be released early for good behavior and get out of Mississippi before he knew I’d left. He was never going to let me have a life. That man is so jealous and controlling that he’d never let me escape from him.”
“The only thing . . .” Lulu paused. “Well, honey, your disguise is really over the top, that’s all. It might even draw attention to you instead of making you fade into the background.”
“I know. But Virgil isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He doesn’t know that
I
know he’s here. So he would be looking for a tanned blonde, not a pale brunette. He might look at me, but then I don’t think he’d look any closer than that.”
“Maybe that’s so,” said Lulu. “I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ve had such a rough couple of weeks.”
“Rough for this very reason,” said Flo. “The reason I was so upset with Rebecca Adrian wasn’t because I didn’t want Memphis to know my past. It was because I was worried if she aired something on the Graces and my past, that Virgil would watch the Cooking Channel and find out. I’m just so tired of worrying about him.” There were big, smudgy circles under Flo’s eyes.
“Flo,” said Lulu slowly, “I did want to ask you about something. Derrick says he saw you at the Peabody the afternoon that Miss Adrian was killed. It worried him to death, so I told him I’d ask you about it. I know there’s probably a good reason why you were there.”
“Not really,” admitted Flo. “I was there to threaten Rebecca. I was determined to warn her off the story one way or another. Problem was, Mildred Cameron was already stomping into the Peabody, and I surely didn’t want her to see me there. So I hung out and waited a little bit until she left. But—she did see my car, even though I was in the parking deck. I guess writers must really pay attention to little details.
“She even had me meet her later at the bookstore and ask me about being at the Peabody. I told her I’d parked my car at the deck there and walked to Aunt Pat’s because Beale Street was so busy right then. But she knew that wasn’t the truth. So I told her that I needed the exercise, too. I don’t think she bought it, though. I got the feeling she was treating the whole thing almost as a game. Playing detective. At first she acted so upset about the murder. But then I guess she realized the police weren’t hauling her off to jail. Then she started thinking that maybe she could write a book about it all. And she changed.”
Lulu said thoughtfully, “Mildred made some pointed accusations to nearly everyone she knew. No wonder the poor thing ended up dead. She was playing a very dangerous game.”
“She sure was,” agreed Flo. “Because there was no way in hell I was going back to jail because of a crime I didn’t commit. I didn’t kill her, but somebody felt just as strongly as I did and followed through.”
Lulu hesitated. “Flo, I know the police are working as hard as they can, but they don’t have the personal reasons that I have to solve it quickly. Everybody who’s close to me is a suspect. Can you think of
any
thing you saw that afternoon that Rebecca was killed? Even something that doesn’t seem important.”
Flo furrowed her brow. “I saw Mildred coming and going. Like I mentioned, she noticed my car. When I went into the hotel, I looked around for Rebecca in the bar area, but I didn’t see her. I figured she’d gone up to her room. Lurleen was at the front desk . . .”
“
What?
” asked Lulu. “Lurleen Ashton was at the Peabody?”
Flo looked at Lulu with surprise. “Well, sure. Oh, listen, she was just there to meet her sister who’d come into town. It wasn’t anything.”
Lulu blinked. “Pickle is in town?”
“She’s named
Pickle
?”
“Well, she’s not really
named
Pickle, but everybody calls her that. She was all the time getting herself into pickles—you know, trouble.”
“I don’t guess
she
killed Rebecca?” asked Flo hopefully. “It certainly would make things easier on the rest of us.”
“That’s for sure. But, for the life of me, I can’t see why Pickle Ashton would come into town and murder a Cooking Channel scout.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Flo. “Too bad. But really, that’s all I know, Lulu. I talked to Lurleen for less than a minute . . . she asked me for the time. Then Lurleen said, ‘Oh, okay. I guess maybe she hasn’t gotten here yet. That’s okay—it’ll give me time to dash off and do a couple of errands. ’ She left pretty fast. I got Rebecca’s room number from the front desk and went up the elevator to her room.”
Flo thought for a minute. “I knocked and Rebecca didn’t answer the door, so I really started pounding on it. Then I yelled at the door, calling her. I thought maybe she was trying to avoid me. I guess she must have already been dead,” said Flo slowly.
Lulu shivered at the thought. “What happened when you met with Mildred? Did you see or hear anybody then?”
“Oh, that wasn’t even the same day she died, so I didn’t see a thing that would help. Sorry. You know I want this case wrapped up, too.”
Lulu stifled a yawn, and Flo picked up her sunglasses. “I’d better go. I’m sorry you won’t see me around as much at the restaurant. I’m laying low and not going to my usual hangouts. Thanks for talking with me tonight. I only wish I had given you something useful.”
But Lulu thought that maybe Flo
had
given her something. She just needed to figure out what it was.
Chapter 17
Lulu spent a restless night dreaming about Sara killing Rebecca with poisoned pickles and Derrick slashing all the tires in the Peabody parking deck. She woke up early the next morning and left her bed behind quickly, eager to interrupt those dream sequences.
Since Lulu couldn’t shake her worrying, she avoided contact with her customers, not in the mood to visit and not wanting to pass along her bad mood.
Around lunch, though, Morty, Buddy, and Big Ben came in and Lulu decided to make an exception to her non-visiting rule.
“Tell me something good,” urged Lulu. “
Any
thing good. I need to hear something happy.”
Morty cleared his throat. “Actually, I
do
have some good news to report,” he said. “After five years of really horrible luck, my fortunes seem finally to have changed.”
Lulu leaned in. “Really? What’s happened, Morty? Won the lottery?”
Buddy gave a sputtering laugh. “Hardly!”
Now Morty looked at them all with affronted dignity. “If you’re going to be that way, Buddy, I don’t think I’m going to tell the story at all.”
“Please?” wheedled Lulu, shaking her head at Buddy.
Morty looked coldly at Buddy. “It so happens that I won bingo today at the Seniors’ Community Center.”
Lulu could see why Buddy wasn’t so impressed with this story. “Why—that’s wonderful, Morty! Congratulations. What did you win?”
“A roll of stamps,” said Morty in a happy voice. There was a sudden roar of laughter from Big Ben and Buddy. “What on God’s green earth is so damned funny?” he demanded. “This was a
big
roll of stamps, I’ll have you know. And they’re the
Forever
stamps—the ones you can use forever, even when the price of stamps goes up.” The uproar turned into snickering, and Morty said, “What? Forever stamps aren’t a big deal?”
“I thought you were emailing everybody, Morty. And that you’d switched to online banking to pay your bills. So what are you going to use your Forever stamps for?”
“They might end up being a collector’s item, man,” said Morty defensively. “By the time Ella Beth and Coco are grown-ups, they might not even know what postage stamps look like! Besides, I don’t see you two winning anything. I think you’re just jealous.”
“Actually,” said Buddy, “I did win something lately. There was one of those wedding trade show things last weekend. I went to it and won a door prize.”
Now Big Ben and Morty gaped at Buddy. Big Ben turned up his hearing aid a little higher, thinking that maybe it was malfunctioning. Lulu could hear it making all kinds of screechy sounds. “I’ll go ahead and ask, Buddy,” said Lulu. “
Why
exactly were you at a wedding trade show? Is there something we should know about? Are things moving along quickly between you and Leticia?”
Buddy said calmly, “I think wedding trade shows are something
everybody
should know about. It’s like a big party. You get a plastic bag full of freebies and coupons. The food vendors have samples out and the wine vendors have tastings. There’s music playing from every type of band you could think of. I ate ten different kinds of wedding cake. It’s air conditioned, and I got a door prize. What more could you ask for?”
“What was the door prize?” asked Morty.
Buddy looked at them with great dignity. “What I won is not the point. The point
is
that I win things, too. You’re not the only one, Morty.”
They all just looked at him, waiting. Finally Buddy realized he was not going to get away with a policy of nondisclosure. “I won,” he said gravely, “a beautiful lace garter. To throw away to the single fellas at the wedding, you know. I’m the wrong gender, but maybe my great-niece might like it. She’s engaged.”
Amazingly, no one laughed or teased Buddy. But Big Ben spoke in a halting voice that sounded suspiciously like he might be holding back laughter. “I’m pretty
sure
, Buddy, that this is a cause for celebration. You’ve won something
very pretty
.” Buddy looked hard at Big Ben, but Big Ben retained his composure. “I think . . . this is the right occasion to open that special wine you’ve been telling us about.”