Peaches and Scream (Georgia Peach Mystery, A) (3 page)

I’d just started on my salad, when a series of high-pitched giggles made me look up from my plate. Hollis was playing with Ida’s scarf, wrapping it around his hands suggestively while she tried to wrestle it back from him. “I think I’ll just hang on to this for later tonight,” he teased, sliding it into his pocket and shooting me a wink. I about gagged.

Thank goodness Ray showed up. “Hey, Hollis. Ben Wakefield is looking for you.” He sat down, digging into his plate of food like he hadn’t eaten for a month.

Ida groaned. “More business, Hollis? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

He gave her a quick kiss, grabbed his glass and stood. “Not if the bank wants to keep Wakefield’s newest deal. Don’t worry, though. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

No hurry, I thought, watching him disappear into the crowd.

Ida absently moved her hand to her bare neck. “Oh shoot, he still has my scarf,” she said, realizing her perfect outfit had been jeopardized.

Ray and I exchanged a half smile; Ida had always prided herself on being properly “put together.” Ray said, “Don’t worry, sis; he said he’d be right back. What type of deal is he working with Ben Wakefield, anyway?”

“Some sort of lumber deal,” Ida explained. “Ben Wakefield’s company has contracted with a developer in Atlanta and he’s trying to strike a bargain with a few local landowners to purchase their properties’ timber rights. Wakefield Lumber is using his bank to finance the deal. Hollis is expecting to be able to get a huge rate of return on the loan, plus a share in the whole thing.”

“You mean, like a profit share?” Ray asked between bites.

Ida shrugged. “Yeah, something like that.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t really understand all that’s involved. Only that it’s taking all of Hollis’s time these days. I’m sick of it. Actually, I’m sick of everything.” She stabbed at her pork, sending splatters of peach chutney in every direction. “Especially peaches!” she cried, then covered her mouth in shock. I could see tears threatening at the edges of her eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

She stood abruptly, almost knocking over her chair. I also stood, meaning to go after her.

“Don’t,” Ray said, stopping me. “Let her have a little time alone. She’s upset, but she’ll get over it.”

I sat back down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mama and Daddy winding their way toward us. “I don’t get it, Ray. What’s going on around here?”

Upon seeing our parents, he plastered a smile on his face. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Now’s not the time.”

His words not only piqued my curiosity, but gave me a little shiver of dread. Although both feelings faded as the evening wore on and the party picked up with lively tunes from a local bluegrass band. Couples zigzagged their way toward a portable dance floor set up at the back of the tent. Ray joined in the parade, asking a family friend for a dance. I kicked back and watched them, breathing in the cool night breeze blowing through the open-walled tent. I saw my parents take center stage on the dance floor, starting things off with “Kentucky Waltz.” After a few refrains, other couples joined in the fun.

“How romantic.” Hattie sighed, taking over Ray’s abandoned seat. She was sipping on sweet peach tea, but knowing Hattie, it was probably laced with something a bit stronger.

“I know. I’m so happy for them,” I agreed. “And to think, in another hour or so they’ll be leaving for their cruise.” The plan was that Ray would drive them to Macon, where they’d catch the red-eye for Miami. From there, they were off for three weeks in the Caribbean.

Hattie started picking at a piece of untouched cake Ray had left behind. “Mmm . . . yummy.”

“Hey, there, Nola Mae.” We both looked up to see a few of the local gals. They passed by in a breeze of flowery cologne, dramatically flipping their well-worked tresses over their shoulders and looking down their noses at me.

Hattie wiggled her fingers and plastered a toothy smile on her face. “Hey, all!” Then to me she whispered, “Lawd, if that Laney Burns keeps teasing her hair like that, it’s gonna get pissed.”

I laughed, then sobered as I touched my own short crop. “I don’t quite fit in around here anymore, do I?”

“Like fitting in around here is all it’s cracked up to be. Don’t pay attention to those girls. They’re jealous because you’ve been somewhere. I had the same thing when I got back from the city.”

I nodded, still feeling a little deflated.

She patted my shoulder and changed the subject. “So, are your parents all packed and ready to go?”

I nodded. “I think they’ve had their bags packed for a week. Mama’s so excited. She’s always wanted to go on a cruise. They never had an official honeymoon, so I think this is her way of making up for lost time.” I looked around. “Where’s Cade?” I was secretly hoping he’d ask me to dance.

Hattie scanned the crowd. “There he is.”

I glanced to where she was pointing and saw Cade deep in conversation with another man. “Hey, who’s that guy he’s talking to?”

Hattie’s voice took on an annoyed tone. “That’s Ben Wakefield. He owns Wakefield Lumber Mill.”

I watched as Cade waved his fist in Wakefield’s face. Behind him, Hollis was watching the argument with furrowed brows. “Cade seems angry about something.”

Hattie pulled out a pink monogrammed hanky out of her bag, dabbed at her décolletage and sighed. “Oh, it’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later; now’s not really a good time.”

That was the second time that night I’d heard those words. First from Ray and now from Hattie. Something was definitely going on and I was eager to find out what. But before I could ask any more questions, a Hispanic-looking man swooped in and grabbed ahold of Hattie’s arm.

“Come dance with me,” he said, speaking with a slight accent.

Hattie popped up, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a playful kiss on his cheek. “Nola, this is Pete Sanchez. Pete, Nola Mae Harper.”

Pete smiled down at me. “My pleasure, Nola.”

I simply stared, entranced by his devastatingly dark good looks, or maybe just taken aback by the way Hattie seemed to light up in his presence. She shoved him ahead and leaned down toward me, her eyes dancing wickedly as she mockingly fanned herself. “Oh my, I feel some serious sin comin’ on tonight.”

“I won’t wait around for you,” I said, laughing as I watched her catch up to Pete. The band was kicking things up a notch with a lively Hank Williams Jr. tune and couples were spinning crazy-like on the floor—most of them half-snookered by now. I looked back to where I’d seen Cade, but he was already gone. I sighed. Guess I wasn’t going to get that dance after all.

•   •   •

Before I knew it, the evening was nothing more than a fuzzy memory Ray and I were rehashing over our Monday morning coffee. “So, Mama and Daddy got on their flight okay?” I asked. We were standing in the kitchen, a plate of spiced peach muffins on the counter between us. Mama had cooked up a storm before she left. There was enough food stored in the freezer to feed me and probably half the county for the next three weeks.

Ray blew steam off the top of his mug. “You bet. You should have seen them when I dropped them off. They were acting like newlyweds.”

“Good for them. Have you talked to Ida yet this morning?” Ida and Hollis had taken the girls home early the night before. We’d made plans to start cleanup first thing this morning. The rental company was coming at nine to pick up the tent.

“No. I bet she’s exhausted, though.” He reached for a muffin.

Especially if she and Hollis played around with the scarf after the party
. My stomach practically rolled at the thought. I pushed the muffins closer to Ray. Suddenly they didn’t look so appetizing. “I’m sure she is tired,” I agreed, rinsing my mug and putting it in the sink. “Hey, I’m going to get started on things outside. Maybe we can get a good bit finished before she gets here. I feel like I owe her for all the work she’s done.”

He shoved in his last bite and answered with a full mouth. “Sure. I’ll be out in a bit. I’ve got a few business calls to make.”

Ray was an attorney. A while back, he’d left a large firm in Atlanta and hung his own shingle in Perry, a town not far from Cays Mill. “Fine with me. Take your time, but later I want to talk to you about something you mentioned last night.”

He nodded, his shoulders slumping and a dark look crossing his face. Noticing his reaction, another sense of dread settled over me. I pushed it to the back of my mind as I headed out to the yard to get started on my to-do list.

I glanced around. What had looked so pretty the night before was simply an ugly mess this morning: dirty dishes, turned-over chairs, empty beer bottles . . . Worst of all, a strong breeze had blown in overnight, scattering debris throughout the orchards, and half of the oversized peach balloons had deflated into dehydrated versions of themselves. The wind must have caught the pile of paper napkins off the cake table. Branches, as far as I could see, were covered with bits of peach-colored paper. It looked like a group of errant teens had TP’d us with off-colored toilet tissue.

I groaned and headed back into the house, coming out a few seconds later with a handful of garbage bags and heading straight for the orchard. I figured I better get the litter that
was the farthest out first before it wandered any more. The morning haze was just burning off as I started down the hill. Since peaches grew best in well-drained soil, our house sat on the highest point of our acreage, with the peach trees running in straight lines from every side of the house.

When I was young, I once tried to draw a picture of our house. I was disgusted when Ray teased me, saying it looked like a scared, pink-haired witch. Although, looking back on it now, that was exactly what it looked like. I’d drawn the house in the middle of the paper, with its high-peaked roof, which must have resembled a witch’s hat, and black windows—her menacing eyes, and the rows of pink-blossoming trees emitting from every angle like hair standing on end. I laughed, wondering if Mama had hung on to my artwork. If I got some time, I’d look through the boxes in the attic.

I kept on reminiscing as I snatched napkins off the branches and filled my bag. I was working my way through a row of late-harvest trees, mostly freestones, meaning they peeled away from the pit easily. My favorite was the O’Henry peach. As a kid, I used to climb the branches and eat them until my stomach hurt. I thought of how good a sweet, sun-warmed peach would taste about now, especially since I’d passed on the muffins earlier.

My stomach grumbled as I finished one row and cut through to the next. I reached up and plucked another napkin from a branch and surveyed the rest of the row. Down a ways, I spied someone sitting on the ground, propped against one of the trees. Obviously one of last night’s guests had had too much to drink and was sleeping it off. Well, of all things!

“Hey,” I called out, ducking under a couple more branches and heading toward the lazy drunkard. I had a thing or two to tell this guy. Only, halfway there, I stopped in my tracks. I recognized the man from the party. It was Ben Wakefield. But he wasn’t sleeping it off. His blue-tinged, open-eyed face was slumped to one side with my sister’s brightly colored scarf cinched around his
neck.

Georgia Belle Fact #048:
Down here, we can tell how classy a woman is by the height of her hair and the thinness of her brow.

Twenty minutes later, Sheriff Maudeen Payne’s cruiser came rumbling down our drive, gravel flying out behind her back fender like buckshot out of Daddy’s twelve-gauge shotgun. Ray and I were standing on the front porch, warily awaiting her arrival. “Just keep your cool,” he told me as she came to a screeching halt in front of our house.

I swallowed hard, watching Maudy throw open the cruiser’s door and step out with an air of pundit authority that practically made my toes shrivel. “Should we tell her about the scarf?”

Ray grabbed my elbow and leaned in toward my ear. “If she asks you, tell her the truth. Don’t try to distort anything in order to protect Hollis or Ida—do you understand?”

I nodded. He was right, of course. Still, I couldn’t imagine throwing Ida’s husband under the bus. As much as I disliked Hollis, I couldn’t see the man strangling someone to death with a scarf. There just had to be some other explanation.

“Hello, Maudy,” Ray greeted.

She nodded in reply and turned her head toward me. “Heard you were back in town,” she said, adjusting her Stetson over her brown, boyish-cut hair. I’d known Maudy since grade school and she never was one for makeup or fussy hairstyles. As Mama always used to say, Maudy Payne just wasn’t in touch with her feminine side. Of course, most people probably said the same about me. “Someone call in a murder?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s in the orchard.” I stepped off the porch and started to lead her toward the tree line. Ray hung close, neither one of us offering any more comments as we crossed the yard. We’d just made it to the first row when another sheriff’s car roared down the driveway.

Maudy paused and held up her hand for us to do the same. “Hold up. That’s my deputy.” She took off her Stetson and waved it in the air as the deputy stepped out of his car and headed for the house. “We’re over here, Travis,” she shouted, then stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle when he couldn’t seem to locate us.

Travis’s head snapped our way and he gave a little wave before breaking into a jog across the yard, keeping one hand on his rattling utility belt. “Hey, Sheriff. Hear we got a murder on our hands.” He seemed almost excited at the prospect. “Should we call in the county crime scene guys?”

Maudy shook her head. “Thought I’d see what we’ve got first.” She took off her hat and swiped at her brow with the back of her hand. “Well, let’s have at it, folks. I’d like to get the body out of here before it gets much hotter. Lawd knows, the heat we’ve been having lately could about melt the skin off a person.”

I cringed at her wording and continued down the path, retracing my steps through the rows until I came to the right spot in the orchard. I pointed at the body and hung back while the others moved in for a closer inspection. Seeing it once was enough for me.

The deputy removed his hat right away, exposing a head
of thin brown hair cut close in the front with longer pieces curling over the back of his collar. “I’ll be! That’s Ben Wakefield.”

“Sure is,” Maudy agreed. She ripped off her sunglasses, revealing a brow bushy enough to be mistaken for a woolly worm, and started circling the body. She finally stooped down carefully, peering into Ben’s glazed eyes, and put a couple fingers where his carotid artery should be—used to be—pulsing. “Well, someone finally did in the old bastard,” she mumbled. “Travis, why don’t you call ahead to the county CSI unit and tell them to get their butts over here? Then give ol’ Doc Harris a call and tell him we’ll be needing an autopsy.”

Travis nodded enthusiastically. “Sure thing. I’ll get right on it.” He whipped out his phone and started punching numbers.

Maudy creased her brow and gave the overeager deputy an impatient look. “Also,” she added with a long sigh, “give J. B. Cain and Sons a call and tell them we’ll need a transport once the crime scene guys are done. Doc can do the examination down at the funeral home. I think it’s going to be pretty straightforward.” Housed in a prominent federal-styled home a block off the square, J. B. Cain & Sons was the only funeral home in Cays Mill. It was said that mostly everyone within a thirty-mile radius of town passed through J.B.’s hands on their way upward. And, when they did, J.B. gave them a proper send-off, complete with a satin-lined bed and a limo-escorted parade in their honor. Everyone, whether they knew the deceased or not, gathered from far and wide to pay their respects. Yes, here in the South, we love a good funeral. I silently wondered whether the funeral home was big enough to handle the crowd this service was sure to draw.

Travis stepped aside to make his calls as Maudy slipped some plastic gloves on and squatted down to examine the body. Curiosity overriding my queasiness, I moved in a little closer myself and watched as she lifted each hand and examined his
nails. “He’s got a knot on his head the size of a watermelon,” she commented before leaning in and giving a quick sniff around his face. “Whew! Peach Jack and a whole lot of it. I don’t think he was in much condition to put up a fight.”

“He had a drink in his hand most of the night,” Ray commented. “Must have been tying one on.”

Maudy nodded and fingered the scarf. “Belongs to a woman.” Standing, she eyed Ray and me. “Did you happen to see a gal wearing this scarf last night?”

I rubbed my palms on the sides of my shorts and glanced at Ray, who seemed to be studying the ground with intense interest. We knew this question was coming, but still, neither one of us seemed able to form an answer. “It belongs to our sister, Ida,” I finally managed.

Maudy ran her tongue along her lips. “Is that so? I reckon it does look like something Ida Jean would wear. She being the type that goes for frilly stuff and all.”

I shuddered, realizing what Ida was up against. Maudy always did seem a bit prejudiced toward the pretty types. I glanced toward Ray for some support, but he remained silent. I was just debating whether or not to tell Maudy about Hollis when I heard the sound of a car door off in the distance.

“Go see who that is,” Maudy ordered her deputy with a nod toward the driveway. Travis took off through the trees, still talking into his cell as he headed back toward the house.

“It’s probably Ida,” I blurted. “She’s supposed to be coming over to help with the cleanup.”

Maudy faced me head-on, widening her stance and placing her hands over the center of her gun belt. “Perfect timing, if you ask me.”

Again, I shot a look toward Ray, wondering why he was being so quiet. Didn’t he want to come to Ida’s defense? We both knew Hollis was the last person to have the scarf. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut, too.

We all stood in awkward silence until the rustling of
underbrush announced Travis’s return. Ida was close behind, picking her way carefully over the uneven ground, one hand holding her sun hat in place, the other protectively resting on her protruding belly. “Travis Hanes, you’d better tell me right now what’s going on,” she was saying. Then, looking up, she stopped short, seeing Ray, Maudy and me standing before her. Before she could say anything, her eyes took in the body behind us and a loud scream escaped her lips. “That’s Ben Wakefield!” She pointed a shaky finger toward the gruesome scene before us. “And my scarf!”

Ray moved in quickly. “Ida, I advise you not to say another word.”

But Ida blathered on, her eyes wide with shock and her voice becoming shriller by the second. “How could he? How could he have killed him?” she shrieked over and over.

I ran to her side, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Hush up, Ida,” I warned her.

It was too late. With two quick steps, Maudy closed in on us. She placed her thick hand on Ida’s arm and wheeled her around in an about-face. “Exactly who are you talking about, Ida Jean?” Maudy’s chest puffed out as she took in my sister with a look that reminded me of a hungry dog.

Finally coming to her senses, Ida clamped her mouth shut, her eyes darting between Ray and me with indecisive panic.

Maudy narrowed her eyes. “How about we go inside where it’s a bit cooler, so we can have a nice long talk.” Glancing over her shoulder, she said to Travis, “Secure the crime scene until the crime scene guys get here. Make sure everything stays just as it is.” Keeping her hand on Ida’s elbow, she motioned with her other hand. “The rest of you, come with me.”

As soon as Maudy turned her back, Ray snatched my arm and hissed into my ear, “As soon as you can, get ahold of Hollis. Tell him to stay put, don’t do anything stupid and, above all, don’t say a word to anyone about anything until I’m there to represent him. Got it?”

I nodded. “Sure, but maybe we should call Daddy and—”

“No!” Ray snapped back. Then he softened his tone a bit and added, “I mean, let’s not bother them until we know more about what’s going on.”

•   •   •

Back in the house, Ida and the sheriff, with Ray close behind, headed for the privacy of Daddy’s den. As soon as the door shut behind them, I scurried to the kitchen, rummaged through one of the drawers for the telephone directory and snuck up the stairs to my bedroom. Cell phone in hand, I dove onto my unmade bed, landing between the rumpled pink coverlet and my wadded-up blue silk dress from the night before. It seemed like an eternity ago that I’d ripped off the dress, barely able to pull my old Bulldogs jersey over my head before collapsing into bed, contentedly exhausted from the party. Incredible how much things can change in just one day.

I punched in Ida’s house number, just in case Hollis was still at home sleeping it off. Not receiving an answer, I paged through the directory until I found the bank’s number. After a few rings, a woman answered, “Cays Mill Bank and Trust. Candace speaking.”

I scrunched my face and sighed. It would be Candace who answered. “Hello, Candace. Is Hollis there?”

“Well, I’ll be darned. Nola Mae Harper? I’d heard you were back in town. What’s it been?”

“Uh, a few years, I guess.”

“Bet your mama’s glad you’re back. Oh, but she’s on her cruise now, isn’t she? Bless their hearts, your mama and daddy sure do deserve a trip like that. I was gonna come out to y’all’s party last night and help celebrate, but my bunion’s been acting up so bad, I just couldn’t bear to put on a pair of dress shoes.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, don’t be. I spent the evening soaking them and they’re feeling much better now.”

“So, is Hollis in?”

“Hollis? Why, no, he’s not. I wonder where he’s at? He’s usually in by now. You want me to leave a message for him?”

I glanced at my watch. Almost nine.
Where is he?
“No, that’s okay. Thanks, Candace.”

“Well, come up to the house sometime. I got a great crop of zucchini this summer. I’ll fry you up some. Course, with my back being the way it is, I don’t know if I can get it picked or not. Doc says I’ve got—”

“I’ll try back later, Candace. Thank you.” I hung up before she launched into another one of her illnesses. Over the years, Candace had been afflicted with almost every ailment known to mankind. By now, Hollis had probably given her enough sick-time pay to cover the cost of two secretaries.

Shoot. Where is he, anyway?
I got up and started pacing the floor. I could try down at Red’s Diner. Maybe he stopped in for coffee to clear the fuzz, or perhaps he was down at the barbershop getting a trim; he could have used one before the party, I’d noticed last night. I threw up my hands and heaved a sigh. He could be anywhere. Heck, for all I knew, he was on the lam, running from the police. I shook my head. No, I wouldn’t allow myself to go down that path. There just had to be some other explanation for why that scarf was cinched around Ben Wakefield’s neck.

The screen porch door creaked and I moved across the room to look out my window. Pushing aside my lace curtains, I glanced down and saw Maudy Payne crossing the yard toward the orchard. A couple more official-looking cars had gathered in our driveway, including a hearse from J. B. Cain & Sons. Seeing that she was out of the house, I ran back downstairs to find Ray and Ida. They were still in the den: Ray at the desk, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, Ida balled up in one of Daddy’s oversized club chairs. I went directly to her, kneeling down by her side.

“What’s going on, Ida?” I gently asked, noticing her tear-streaked face and puffy eyes.

Her eyes took on a slightly madcap look. “Maudy Payne’s just sure Hollis killed that man. But I know better than that. Hollis isn’t capable of murder,” she bit out.

Of course, her words when she saw the body belied that statement, but that might have been just the shock of seeing a dead body with her scarf. Whatever the reason for her initial outburst, she’d changed her tune now.

I patted her arm and stood, moving to the comfort of the other chair. The stiff leather made a loud sighing sound as I collapsed into it. Ray looked up, added his own sigh and said, “Why don’t you ask her where Hollis is now?”

I looked from Ray to Ida, who was now sitting ramrod straight, with a look of defiance on her face. “Ida?” I prompted, but she just sat there, chewing on her bottom lip. I continued, “I just tried calling the bank and he’s not in yet. He wasn’t at your house, either. . . .”