As usual, when Lulu was showing off the Aunt Pat’s kitchen to a visitor, she warmed to her subject.
“Aunt Pat,” she explained to Gordon, “was the wonderful lady who raised me. She brought me up with lots of love, laughter—and the most savory food you’ve ever put in your mouth. Aunt Pat was the most talented cook I’ve ever come across. She’d take a basic southern dish, like fried chicken, and make it magical. Every day I’d come straight to the restaurant after school and plop down on the wooden stool and tell Aunt Pat all about my day while she chopped vegetables and mixed up the rub for the barbeque. This kitchen is my favorite place on earth.” She looked around with satisfaction at the shiny copper pots hanging on the pegboard and the long counter where Aunt Pat taught her how to cook.
Gordon sat down on one of the wooden stools while Lulu put a good-sized helping of shrimp and grits on his plate. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, “but I’ve never even
eaten
grits before. I could only find the instant kind at the stores up north and thought that I’d be shortchanging myself if that was my introduction to the food.”
“You’re a wise man,” said Lulu, nodding. “I think you’re really going to enjoy your first experience with grits. It’s a lot like your polenta, I think—I know y’all eat that up there. It’s great as it is, but it’s also a really tasty base for other things to be mixed in there. Garlic cheese grits is really delectable, especially if you run it in the oven for a while and bake it. Plain old grits with butter or cream cheese is also tasty. And of course, there’s the famous shrimp and grits.” She put the plate down in front of him and watched with a smile as he let a forkful cool for a few seconds, then put it in his mouth.
Gordon’s eyes closed. “Delicious,” he said. Or at least, that’s what Lulu thought he said. It was hard to tell with his mouth so full of food. He swallowed and said, “And the grits taste so creamy! I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Oh, we’re all about adding cream and butter here at the restaurant,” said Lulu with a laugh. “It’s comfort on a plate.”
Lulu could tell that she wasn’t going to get out of being a tour guide. It wasn’t in her to be rude, even though she hadn’t signed up for any of this. Ben, on the other hand, would definitely have some rudeness directed his way some time in his very near future. “Where were you interested in going, Gordon? I know Ben was saying that you were brand-new to Memphis, but have you had a chance to look around at all?”
“Not at all, Lulu,” said Gordon, still working hard at eating up his shrimp and grits. “But I’ve read a little bit online about Memphis. And, of course, I’ve seen Beale Street—that was one of my first stops. I mean,
really
seeing it, not just coming to Aunt Pat’s. I don’t want to wear you out, Lulu, by having you go all over town in one day. I was thinking that maybe we could see Memphis in several days and focus on a few things a day—like Graceland one day, Sun Records another, Mud Island one day, etc.”
“Great,” said Lulu. She was afraid her voice might have been the teensiest bit sarcastic, but Gordon didn’t seem to notice.
“Today I’d love to start out by going to the famous Peabody Hotel,” said Gordon, his face lighting up. “I saw some pictures of the lobby, and it looked amazing. All that dark wood and the fountain right in the middle of the lobby . . . and the bar and restaurants.”
“Then that will be our first stop,” said Lulu with more enthusiasm than she actually felt. “Although our timing is a little off—we won’t have a chance to see the duck parade.”
“Shoot. Oh well, we can still see them swimming in the fountain, right? And then we can go up and see the royal duck palace?” he asked eagerly. “You can tell that I’ve done some research. They have their own little palace, right?”
“They surely do—right on the top of the roof. Maybe the royal duckmaster will also be there, and we can talk to him. He’s always an interesting fellow to talk with.”
The Peabody was bustling when Lulu and Gordon arrived. The bar was packed, the ducks were happily swimming in their fountain, and people were browsing in the shops adjacent to the lobby. Gordon was busily taking pictures and jotting down notes. Lulu discovered that Gordon was very interested in the restaurants in the hotel—interested enough to go find the chef of one of the restaurants. “If it’s okay with you,” said Gordon to Lulu, “I’m going to order a meal here and take some pictures of it. I told the chef I wanted to feature his restaurant on my blog, and he was thrilled.”
Lulu gaped at him a moment before remembering to close her mouth up. She was taking time out of her day to show him around Memphis and he was planning on featuring another restaurant on his blog? He was going to order dinner and not offer to buy her any?
Before she could make a pointed mention of the fact that she was hungry herself, she noticed Marlowe Walter sitting by herself near the bar. She turned to tell Gordon that she’d be over in the bar when she noticed that he’d gone. Typical.
Marlowe was happy to see her. “Oh, good—I was getting bored waiting for this potential client to show up. I’m still trying to find some extra business for the bottling company, you know. I guess this guy is running a little behind.”
Lulu sat down next to Marlowe, and she talked a little bit about how the clearing out was going at Tristan’s house. “You wouldn’t have thought that Tristan would have been such a pack rat,” said Lulu, shaking her head.
“She sure was, though. Every closet was crammed with stuff. That’s part of what makes me so mad while I’m clearing out her house. She was spending money that she didn’t even have—that was the bottling company’s money—on things that she didn’t even need or use. Some of the stuff she’d bought was still in its original boxes and obviously hadn’t been used.”
Lulu hesitated a moment. “Marlowe, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Somebody told me that you were actually in town the night of Tristan’s murder. But you told everybody that you were out of town on a business trip. Even Steffi thought you were gone and had to end up staying with me when her mother kicked her out of the house.”
“I
was
out of town on a business trip when Tristan kicked out Steffi,” said Marlowe with a sigh. “I was trying to scare up some new business for the company. We’d been losing accounts right and left. So, no, I wasn’t available when Steffi needed a place to go. And I feel bad about that.”
“But you came
back
,” said Lulu. “Were you back in Memphis the day of the murder?”
“The scheduled late-afternoon meeting on the last day fell through—they had something come up on their end, and they rescheduled the meeting for a couple of weeks out. I actually told the folks back at the office that I was going to stay at the hotel that night instead of driving back.” Marlowe shrugged. “But then, at the last minute, I decided I’d rather head back and sleep in my own bed. Besides, I’d been meaning to run by the salon for a while and hadn’t had time to do it. I got the last appointment of the day and slid by to get my hair cut. Then I went home.”
“Not to your sister’s benefit?” asked Lulu.
Marlowe snorted. “No way. Remember, I was trying to
avoid
running into Tristan. My idea of a good time after a long trip wasn’t to go see my sister. Besides, I was furious that I’d spent all that time and energy trying to build up the company when all she did was tear it down and make bad business decisions.”
“So you decided not to say anything about being back in town,” said Lulu.
“It didn’t make any sense to. I knew I’d end up being a suspect right away. Everyone knows how much I love Dad’s company and how angry I’ve been that Tristan has run it into the ground. Plus the fact that apparently Tristan was too lazy to update her will, despite all her posturing that Steffi and I were being written out of it. Steffi gets the estate, which we know was in terrible shape, and Tristan had a ton of debts, and I get the business, which is also in horrible shape and really worth nothing. But the police will say that Steffi didn’t know about her mother’s financial problems and so she still had a money motive—especially with Tristan threatening to write her out of the will. And the police will say that I wanted to get control of the company back so it wouldn’t go completely bankrupt. So I was a natural suspect. And—I knew I hadn’t killed her, so I was saving the investigators some time and keeping them from chasing a red herring.”
Lulu said, “You don’t have any idea who
did
do it, though? I’ve been trying to make sure that Sara’s name is cleared. The police keep on coming back to question her—and I believe with all my heart that
that’s
a red herring for the police, too. I know you want this settled just as much as I do. Is there anything you can think of, Marlowe?”
“Honestly, Lulu? I think most of the people who Tristan knew wanted to kill her. I’m harder pressed to think of someone who
didn’t
.”
Chapter 13
Marlowe’s client showed up right after that, and Gordon finally emerged from the Peabody restaurant. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he’d left Lulu to her own devices all that time.
“So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” asked Gordon eagerly. “It looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day, so how about spending it outdoors? We could take the monorail to Mud Island. I want to see that scale model of the Mississippi River that they’ve got there. And there’s a couple of places to eat there, too, so I could review the whole experience on my blog.”
Lulu was feeling a little sour about Gordon’s blogging now. She was spending all this time with him—and he wasn’t even covering Aunt Pat’s.
“Gordon, I’d love to,” she said as sweetly as she could muster, “but my friend Cherry and I are planning on going to a beauty pageant tomorrow—out of town. My little granddaughter Coco enters them, so we thought we’d go support her.”
Gordon, to Lulu’s horror, looked fascinated. “Now
that
is some real southern culture right there. Beauty pageants!”
“Well, not so much,” demurred Lulu. “Only for those who are interested. Pageants, I think, are sort of their own separate culture.”
“Will there be any food there?”
Lulu sighed. It just wasn’t in her to tell a whopper on the spur of the moment. “Not usually. But I saw online that since this pageant is around lunchtime and is in a ballroom at a hotel, people are allowed to bring food in. It’s probably going to be a Crock-Pot city.”
Gordon brightened. “Lulu, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll join up with y’all. I’ll take my own car and meet you there, since I might want to leave after lunch. But—it sounds very interesting!”
Lulu was glad to make her escape from Gordon before the rest of her week got planned out with him.
The next day dawned early—and rainy—as Lulu picked up Coco at Sara and Ben’s house, then got Cherry, and headed out of town to the pageant.
“Coco, honey, I’m so glad to see you!” When they arrived, Colleen swooped down and gave Coco a pecking kiss on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick smear, which Colleen expertly removed with a tissue. “I didn’t think you were able to come. Did your Granny Lulu bring you, then?” Colleen gave that funny grimacing grin of hers at Lulu and Cherry. “And Cherry, I’m absolutely
stunned
to see you here today. I had no idea you were interested in pageants.”
Lulu half listened as Cherry prattled off on her spiel on her sudden and intense interest in being a pageant coach as Colleen made little cooing noises of delight. “And I suppose you’ll probably start off with little Coco as your first
protégée
?” Cherry looked a little confused at Colleen’s Frenchified handling of the word. “I’m just saying that Coco will be the first girl you’re planning on coaching. Right? ’Cause I know she’s had very limited coaching. And not really from a professional coach, at that.” Colleen looked at Lulu reproachfully.
“Yes,” said Lulu quickly. “I was a little surprised that Sara hadn’t gotten Coco set up with a real coach, seeing as how Coco is so interested in pageants and . . . well, in winning.”
Coco actually seemed to have some major reservations about her “Aunt Cherry” coaching her. This was something, thought Lulu, that they should have discussed with her in the car. Except that the whole thing was completely made up anyway. “Aunt Cherry will be coaching me?” she said, tilting her head doubtfully. “What kind of talent does she have? Mrs. Pembroke was a great voice teacher, and she also knew how to play the piano. Can Aunt Cherry do anything?”
Cherry looked a little put out at the fact that Coco had basically labeled her untalented. “Oh, I have
lots
of talents, Coco. We’ll talk about it all later; how about that?” She changed the subject real quick, as Coco was opening her mouth to ask some more pointed questions. “Where is Pansy, Colleen?”
“She’s off getting ready. It takes forever, you know. You should go catch up with her because Tina—that’s Pansy’s coach—is giving her some last-minute tips before she goes on. The last year or two, Pansy has gotten real serious about being a contestant. So you’ll hear that reflected in the advice she’s getting from her coach.”
“Before I go talk to Tina, Colleen, could you do me a big favor and answer some questions for me?” asked Cherry in an enthusiastic voice. “I’m just
fascinated
by pageant life. Tell me about Pansy’s talent and how you developed it.”
Colleen preened a little. “Well, we’re lucky because Pansy is sooo talented,” she answered. “She’s this fantastic actress, you see. She can play
any
part in
any
type of play—Shakespeare, Neil Simon, Arthur Miller, you name it. She plays the violin just beautifully. And she’s a fantastic impersonator, too! We have a lot of fun with that if we’re doing a comedy routine. She can do
any
voice. And she wants to go to this expensive performing-arts college—and we
know
she’ll get in. It’s just, well, it’s expensive. So the pageants are helping with the scholarship money, if we can get enough. So, Cherry, you’re not looking at a
career
; you’re looking at a way to help connect girls with an education! And a successful future!”