If Fried Chicken Could Fly (7 page)

“Me neither,” Cliff said.

“Nope,” I said.

“Well, I do believe, Jim, that you might have reason to pick up another suspect. Too bad for Mrs. Morningside that Miz got me first. I’m sure she’ll be searching for an attorney, too.”

“Perhaps,” Jim said.

“For now, though, I’m positive there’s no reason to hold Miz or any of the rest of us for that matter. Thanks for the pastries, though.” Verna stood.

“Wait,” Gram said as she raised a finger in the air.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I did leave the school for a brief time.”

Verna put her hand on Gram’s shoulder. “Hang on, Miz. Tell me first.” She sat back down and leaned toward Gram.

Gram whispered something, Verna whispered something, then did it again, Gram nodded, Verna nodded. “Go on, Miz.”

“I stepped out briefly, but I didn’t go far.”

“Where did you go?” Jim asked.

“Just to the cemetery. Since I started the school, I’ve taken to visiting the gravestones. I enjoy grooming them a little, taking care of them a little. There are so many legends in that cemetery. I feel like I’ve gotten to know them—some of them were alive when I was a baby.” Gram laughed.

I’d seen her visit the cemetery a few times, but it never occurred to me that she’d taken a liking to its inhabitants.

“Gram, aren’t some of them criminals—bank robbers, killers?” I asked.

“Or maybe they were just misunderstood.” Gram sniffed.

I didn’t say anything else but hoped Verna knew it was time to stop Gram from heading further down that path. She did. She put her hand on Gram’s shoulder again and shook her head gently.

“I do believe Miz has one other thing to add, though,” Verna said as she rolled her hand through the air. She was
probably trying to signal Gram to ixnay on the emeterycay talk.

“Go on,” Jim said.

“Well, I’m not sure, but I think I have something that might help.”

“Good,” Jim said.

Gram looked at me, pursed her lips, and then said, “There was a mess in the hallway outside the supply room. It was about half an hour after lunch. I spilled what was left of the red food coloring. It’s why I asked you to run to the store, Betts. I spilled it and then got distracted by one of the student’s questions about the cook-off. I forgot all about it. It wasn’t there when we found Everett’s body. I thought that either Betts must have cleaned it up or…or the killer did.”

“Betts?” Jim said.

“I don’t know anything about the spill,” I said. “But why in the world would a killer clean up a food coloring spill?”

“Maybe he stepped in it. Maybe he made footprints, maybe he got his shoes stained,” Gram said. “Maybe it was easier to clean it up than risk leaving a clue in a track or something.”

“If that’s the case, the killer probably threw the shoes away.” I was thinking out loud.

“Betts, Miz, are you both one hundred percent sure you didn’t clean up the food coloring?” Jim asked.

“Positive,” I said.

“One hundred percent,” Gram said. “I don’t think any of the daytimers did and I’m positive none of the nighters did. I don’t think anyone went back there after the spill. Anyone but Everett and the killer, I suppose.”

“We’ll ask them.” Jim looked at Cliff who nodded. “I suppose this is something, Miz. Thank you.”

“I hope it helps.”

“Well, that’s it for tonight, fellas, thanks for coming and I’ll be here all week.” Verna hefted herself out of the chair and smiled. “We were going to come home tomorrow anyway. The big day is almost here. If any of you need me, you’ll find me easily. Cliff, I’ll be calling you for the pancake outing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cliff said.

I stood and said, “Yep, come on, let me get you home, Gram.” I grabbed her arm gently. I wanted to get her away from Jim and Cliff before she started waxing nostalgic again about misunderstood criminals.

It might not have been overly important to have Verna here for the questioning, but I was still glad I’d called her. If nothing else, going to law school had made me wary of talking to anyone in law enforcement without an attorney present. We all trusted Verna and knew she would do her best for Gram.

Jim rubbed his chin as he eyed me impatiently. He had more questions, but even he probably thought enough was enough for the night.

“All right. Well, I suppose I don’t have to tell the three of you that Miz, and Betts for that matter, shouldn’t leave town for a while.” Jim stood. Cliff followed suit.

“Where in tarnation are we going to go, Jim? I’ve got a school to run and a cook-off to conduct. I won’t be leaving Broken Rope. You know where to find me.” Gram huffed and turned to leave. She was behaving more like the gram I knew and a sense of relief washed over me. She’d be okay.

“Miz, hang on, I’d like to chat with you in private. Betts’s car will do. Betts, give us a few minutes, okay?” Verna grabbed one more cup of coffee and another pastry and followed Gram out the door.

“Betts, have you ever seen Miz out in the cemetery?” Jim asked the second Verna closed the door. He and Cliff were putting the chairs and the box back where they belonged.

“I’m not sure,” I lied. I wasn’t under oath, after all. “I don’t recall anything like that, but I’ll think about it. Why? Do you think that has something to do with Mr. Morningside’s murder?”

Jim shook his head slightly. “I’m not sure, but it seems odd.”

“Gram’s old, Jim. She looks at the obituaries gleefully. She’s glad to be alive another day. Old people do those sorts of things.”

“Sure.”

I must have rehung the handcuffs too precariously because they fell to the floor again with another loud thud. The sound duplicated what I’d heard earlier.

“What the—” Jim said.

“Oh, these fell earlier. I tried to put them back, but I guess I didn’t quite get them on the nail well enough.” I picked them up again and found a spot that seemed more secure.

“In all the years I’ve been in Broken Rope, not one of those cuffs has fallen off the wall. Were you looking at them?” Jim asked me.

“No. I was looking in on Gram when it happened. Scared me.”

I turned to see Jim give me a curious look. He seemed unusually perplexed at some handcuffs falling from a nail
in the wall. The wall was jam-packed with cuffs. His glance was almost accusatory, as though I’d done something horribly wrong.

“What?” I asked. I looked at Cliff, who gave me a small shrug.

“Nothing,” Jim said. “Nothing.”

I was almost certain I saw him shudder. I’d never seen Jim shudder. Seeing him do it sent a zip of chill up my spine and made me want to do it, too. Fortunately, Verna saved the day.

She opened the door and peered in. “You’re good to go, Betts. Get your gram home and into bed. She’s too old for this nonsense.” Verna looked directly at Jim, who didn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks for coming in, Verna,” he said.

In truth, they adored each other. They’d worked together for so many years that they’d become almost like an old married couple—a couple with two opposite points of view about almost everything, but still their animosity was tinged with fondness.

I said my good-byes and tried not to allow my eyes to linger on Cliff too long. He didn’t seem to struggle with ignoring me.

I stepped out into the night air. It was cooler than I expected it to be and smelled lightly of distant wood smoke.

“Who would be burning wood this time of year?” I mumbled aloud. Or was that the smell from the fire still in my nose? I didn’t think so; I hadn’t smelled it until I stepped outside.

I could see Gram sitting comfortably, her eyes closed, in
my old blue Nova as the crickets scolded those of us crazy enough to still be awake.

I sniffed deeply. Broken Rope was surrounded by the woods of southern Missouri. Some people still lived in those woods and a small group of those people had somehow remained off the grid. They still cooked over open fires and used candles to see at night. The smoke I smelled was probably from someone who’d either fixed a really late dinner or a really early breakfast.

I looked down the boardwalk, toward the Jasper Theater. The small marquee above the front ticket booth was lit with the title of the current film being shown, but the rest of the theater was dark and suddenly seemed very sad. The theater was located on an inner corner and was flanked by Stuart’s shoe shop on the near side and the pool hall on the far side. Continuing farther, past the barber shop and at the end of the street was Mabel’s Broken Crumbs cookie shop. Across the street from Mabel’s was the saloon where Jenna worked. The saloon sold ice-cream treats during the day and beer at night. Jenna worked both shifts.

An alley ran behind the row of businesses. More Missouri woods and a few open spaces snuggled up to the alley. In only a few days, there’d be a hanging platform in the space at the end of the street and in between Mabel’s and the saloon. The cook-off judges would eat atop the platform and hand down their judgments from above to the large crowd below. It seemed like a hundred years away, but it always did at this time. It was amazing to observe how Broken Rope went from quiet to booming in the matter of a couple days.

Tonight, other than the crickets, it was quiet. There was no traffic; Verna had already left and it would be rare to see someone out at this hour even when the tourist season hit full stride.

As I looked away from the theater, something flashed outside its big double doors. I turned my head to look again. The milky light from the old-fashioned streetlights didn’t illuminate anything clearly, but instead gave a borderless-like glow to just about everything.

But the flash I’d seen suddenly transformed into a complete figure. I blinked to clear my eyes.

Who was dressed in the cowboy getup outside the theater? Seeing people dressed as he was dressed wasn’t a rare occurrence in Broken Rope, but in the middle of the night before the tourist season officially started? Maybe someone was just trying to get into character—rehearse.

“Hey!” I said. “Who’s there?”

The cowboy started to turn to look my direction, but his head never made it all the way around before he disappeared. The area where I thought I was seeing him went dark, as though someone had flipped a button on a television or a projector.

I blinked again and looked hard. The theater doors were painted a bright red, but in the darkness they just looked…dark. Perhaps the light from the streetlights had briefly played off the red doors? I was tired and the evening had been full of unwelcome and unexpected surprises. Perhaps my body and my mind needed to go to bed.

I hurried into the car.

“Thanks for taking care of me this evening, Betts,” Gram said as I pulled on my seat belt.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Sad about Everett, but I’m okay.”

I hesitated as I looked back toward the theater. There was nothing there, I was sure of it. The car windows were rolled down and I noticed that the wood smoke smell had dissipated, but I didn’t think that had anything to do with what I’d seen, or thought I’d seen.

“Did you know he was married, Gram?” I asked as I pulled my attention back to her and started the car.

She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about that right now, Betts.”

I tried to hide my irritation. Technically, she didn’t owe me any explanation, but she was my gram and we’d been close from the second I was born.

“I can’t testify against you,” I said.

She laughed and patted my arm. “You sound so professional, Betts. I know you can’t testify against me, but you might be able to testify against whoever did this to Everett. I don’t want to be secretive, but Verna made it very clear that the only person I was supposed to talk to about any of this mess was her. I listen to my lawyer.”

“That’s smart,” I said.

“I know.” Gram turned to look out her window as we drove home.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw nothing by the theater, but for a brief instant, I thought I saw an old cowboy hat blow across the street like stray tumbleweed.

I was looking forward to at least a few hours of good sleep.

I did sleep, but not for as many hours as I would have liked. I got Gram to her house and into her bed before I went to my parents’ house and roused them out of their sleep. With heavy eyelids and wild hair, my mom listened to me tell her about the evening’s events. She sat at the kitchen table and took notes as I asked her to call all the daytime students in a few hours to let them know that classes had been canceled for the day but we’d resume the normal schedule the following day. I hoped Jim would give us the go-ahead. If he didn’t, I’d come up with another plan.

Mom wasn’t a morning person, particularly at that hour of the morning, but the panic of a murder and of Gram’s predicament kept her alert and at the ready.

No one knew where my brother was, but that wasn’t unusual. I left him a message.

Dad jumped out of bed, threw on some jeans, and hurried over to Gram’s. He’d make sure she got some rest and would be there when she woke up. He was the principal for Broken Rope’s elementary, middle, and high schools, but he could take the day to be with his mom. My mom was the auto shop teacher at the high school, but the school year was coming to an end so most of her students’ projects were completed. Her classes had rebuilt a motor from a 1969 Mustang and refurbished the rest of the car this year. The Mustang would be put up for auction after the cook-off, with the proceeds going to the high school athletic programs. I’d been seriously considering bidding on the car, but I hadn’t approached the bank to see if I’d qualify for a loan yet. Plus my old Nova still ran pretty well.