Honey-Baked Homicide Read online

  “So you’re telling me you think it was Joey Carver who was hightailing it out of town Wednesday night,” he said.

  “I thought it would bear looking into.”

  “It will. I’ll get on it right now and let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, either way, maybe it’ll help us solve our case.”

  “I sure hope so.”

  • • •

  As was her custom, Dilly was one of the first patrons through the door on Tuesday morning.

  “Good morning, Dilly. How are you today?”

  “Better than my raccoon, I can tell you that much.”

  “Oh, no! Did something happen to him?”

  I was genuinely concerned, as was Jackie, who hurried over to hear about Dilly’s furry friend.

  “Well, yesterday evening, he was favoring one little paw,” said Dilly. “It was one of his front paws. He kept holding it up and wouldn’t walk on it. And he’s typically right-handed—he always takes his biscuit with that paw—but last night, he used the left one.”

  “Do you think you should call a veterinarian?” I asked.

  “Nah. It’s likely he’s just bruised it somehow. I’ll keep an eye on him for a couple of days and make sure it doesn’t get worse.” She shook her head. “He is a sad little thing holding that paw up, though. It made me feel so sorry for him that I nearly gave him two biscuits last night instead of one. But I thought if I did that, he’d never put that paw back on the ground again.”

  “You’re probably right about that,” said Jackie. “Animals know how to manipulate us sometimes. Let me get you some coffee.”

  Jackie went to get Dilly’s coffee, and I asked her how well she knew the Carvers.

  “I know them fair to middling, I reckon. Or rather, I knew them. All the older ones have died out or moved away. And I don’t know any of their younger generation.” She squinted. “I should’ve known that Stuart Landon was a Carver. But I just never made the connection. Back when he first came here, I was probably too busy living my own life to give his much attention. I had a lot more going on then than I do now.”

  Jackie returned and placed the coffee on the counter in front of Dilly.

  “Thanks, hon.” She spooned sugar and cream into the cup and stirred it. “If I’m not mistaken, Stuart’s daddy must’ve been Gerald. I know Gerald moved out West right out of college. He got some kind of agricultural job out there. Did pretty well for himself, from what I heard.”

  “That would explain why Stuart came here from Oklahoma,” I said.

  “Yeah. I guess it would. And how he ended up owning the Carver farm and his granddaddy’s old pickup truck. I thought he’d bought both at an estate sale or something.”

  “Both?”

  “The farm, the truck, maybe some of the furniture . . . I don’t know. I did realize he didn’t get both of those pickup trucks. Jimmy Carver got one of them, and I believe he’s passed it on down to his son.”

  “Joey?” I asked.

  “Yeah, that’s him. He’s kinda reckless with it, if you want my opinion. His great-granddaddy probably rolls over in his grave every time that young’un goes flying off down the road. Oh, well, you never know how life’s gonna turn out, do you?” She tilted her head. “You think I should go with eggs or pancakes this morning?”

  “Live large—have one of each.”

  “Good idea. But make it two of each. And don’t forget my biscuits.”

  “We won’t,” Jackie said. “Don’t you forget to keep us posted on how your little buddy is doing.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t forget that. It’s odd, you know. I never had any pets—didn’t really want any. I figured I had enough to take care of with my husband and myself. But now he’s passed on, we never had any children, and that goofy raccoon has become . . . not really a pet, but a friend, I guess. Someone I expect to see every day.” She smiled. “I’ve even told my neighbors that if anything happens to me—if I should have to go into the hospital or something—to put a biscuit out for that furry beggar.”

  “You’re sweet,” I said. “Your raccoon is lucky to have you. And so are we.”

  Our cordial conversation was interrupted when a young man in ripped jeans and a dirty red T-shirt stormed through the front door, looked at me, and demanded, “Are you the one that called the cops on me?”

  “I beg your pardon,” I said. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  “You drive that yellow Bug out there?”

  “Yes.”

  Jackie took a protective step toward me. I didn’t feel I needed her help, but I appreciated the gesture.

  “I’m Joey Carver. And you called the cops on me last night ’cause one of them came to my house and asked me a bunch of questions.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t exactly “called the cops” on Joey Carver, but I had told Ryan that he owned a truck similar to that of Stuart Landon Carver and that he’d been tailgating me.

  Jackie saved me from having to say anything. “I don’t think anybody here called the police on you last night, but I’ll call them on you right now if you don’t get out of here.”

  “Fine.” He jabbed an index finger in my direction. “But don’t think this is over.”

  Chapter 10

  After Joey left, Dilly and Jackie began talking at once, and Luis came from the back to see what was going on.

  “Nothing’s going on,” I said. “Everything is fine. It was just some guy who came in accusing me of calling the police on him. And . . . I . . . I guess I kinda did.” I told them how the truck had been tailgating me the night before. “When I got to Sarah’s house, she recognized the driver as Joey Carver, and I mentioned it to Ryan because we saw a truck that looked like that racing out of town on the night before I found Stu Landon Carver in the Down South Café parking lot.”

  “And now you’re thinking it was Joey you saw instead of Stu,” Jackie said.

  “It makes more sense. Dilly says the kid is always driving too fast.”

  “He is always driving too fast,” Dilly insisted. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t wrecked that truck by now. I’m glad Ryan talked to him. Maybe it’ll make him think twice about speeding again.”

  “Yeah,” said Jackie. “It might just save the kid’s life.”

  I nodded, more shaken by Joey’s visit than I wanted to let on. I wondered what Ryan had said to him and why he was so angry with me. People who didn’t have anything to hide weren’t that defensive and angry, were they? Nor did they issue veiled threats.

  On the pretense of getting a breath of fresh air, I slipped out the back door and called Ryan. When he answered, I told him about my visit from Joey Carver.

  “I didn’t mention any names.” He paused, obviously thinking about what he had said to Joey Carver the previous evening. “I did say he was seen tailgating a yellow Volkswagen and traveling at a high rate of speed. I’d looked up his driving record prior to leaving the station and had learned that he’d been cited twice for speeding and once for reckless driving. But the main reason I went to talk with him was because I wanted to know whether or not that was him we saw on the night Stu Landon Carver presumably died.”

  “Was it?”

  “He says it wasn’t, but I don’t know whether to believe that or not. I mean, he denied everything else, so why not that? And we know he was tailgating you last night.”

  “Unless someone else was driving his truck,” I said. “But according to Dilly, Joey is always driving recklessly.”

  “Well, maybe if nothing else, my warnings will slow him down and force him to be more careful. And if he steps foot back in the café behaving aggressively, call the station immediately and someone will be there to deal with him.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, and you don’t deserve t
o be treated that way,” he said.

  “Well, I know that, and you know that, but I’m not sure Joey Carver does.”

  “Do you want me to have another talk with him?”

  “No.” I forced out a chuckle to show Ryan how not scared I was. “It’ll be fine. I doubt he’ll be back.”

  • • •

  I could put on a brave face, but that didn’t mean I’d fool everyone. I certainly didn’t fool Homer. When he walked into the café and saw me scanning the parking lot as I poured his coffee, he asked me who I was expecting.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “Who are you looking for? You’re watching the parking lot like a hawk. I didn’t think your beau usually came in until lunchtime.”

  “He doesn’t.” I sighed. “Someone came in this morning, and he was angry because something I said to Ryan got the man questioned by the police.”

  Homer smiled. “I don’t know anyone who is particularly delighted to get an official visit from a police officer, but if he did something wrong, then he deserved it.”

  “He was tailgating me and driving recklessly. But that wasn’t why I mentioned the incident to Ryan. I mean, people drive like that all the time. The reason was because the guy was driving a truck similar to the truck driven by Stuart Landon Carver.” I explained to Homer that on the night before I found Stu in the parking lot, Ryan and I saw a truck that looked like Stu’s speeding away from Winter Garden. “We thought maybe something was wrong. Ryan wanted to question the young man—Joey Carver—because he wanted to find out if it was him we saw instead of Stu.”

  “And did Ryan get an answer?”

  “He got an answer. He just doesn’t know if Mr. Carver was telling the truth.”

  “I don’t understand why this situation is still concerning you if it happened this morning,” said Homer.

  “Before he left, Joey Carver told me, ‘This isn’t over.’ I don’t know what he might be intending to do. Maybe nothing. But I don’t know him, and I’m afraid to let my guard down.”

  “My hero of the day—the author Arnold Bennett, by the way—once said, ‘Your own mind is a sacred enclosure into which nothing harmful can enter except by your permission.’ So I’m advising you not to give this young man permission to destroy your peace today. Be watchful, but don’t fight imaginary threats.”

  “That’s good advice,” I said. Also easier said than done.

  “And after I eat, I’ll go by Phil Poston’s bookshop and see what he can tell me about Joey Carver. If I’m not mistaken, Phil’s granddaughter goes to school with the young man.”

  “All right. I’ll get your sausage biscuit.” As I strode back into the kitchen, I realized that Homer had a point. I was nervous—and had been all morning—about what a high school kid had stormed in here and said to me during what amounted to a temper tantrum. Joey Carver had wanted to scare me, and he’d succeeded. Because I’d let him succeed! Well, that was ending now.

  I lifted my chin, took a sausage patty from the refrigerator, and prayed that Joey Carver wouldn’t kick in the back door and kill me before I could get Homer’s biscuit to him. Because, knowing Homer, he’d be distraught but he’d darn well want that biscuit.

  • • •

  Madelyn came in for lunch late that afternoon. She waved to me and then sat at a corner table. I murmured to Jackie that I’d take Madelyn her menu.

  When I walked over to her table, Madelyn asked if I could sit for a minute.

  “Sure.” I pulled out a chair, sat, and placed the menu I carried onto the table.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going back to Cookeville for a couple of days,” she said. “It’s going to be at least that long before the medical examiner releases Daddy’s body, and I need to check on things at home.”

  “What about Brendan? Will he be going with you?”

  “I don’t know.” She huffed. “He didn’t come home last night. I’m guessing he stayed at Joey’s place.”

  “Joey?”

  She nodded. “Joey is our cousin. We don’t know Joey’s parents all that well, even though they were related to my grandfather’s brother, but Dad used to bring Joey with him when he came to stay in Cookeville sometimes during the summer. I imagine it was because Joey’s mother needed a break more than anything—that kid could be a handful. I think he still can be.”

  “You mean, in terms of mischievous kid things or . . .”

  “For the most part, they were harmless,” she said. “He’d pull pranks like gluing our books shut or replacing the crème filling in our cookies with toothpaste. Sometimes my tolerance level for Joey was zilch, and I’d get furious and threaten to tell Daddy on him. When he slashed my bike tires, I learned to keep my mouth shut and just hide anything I didn’t want him to destroy.”

  “Wait—he slashed your bike tires? How old was he?”

  “About twelve or thirteen.”

  “Was he mean like that to Brendan?” I asked.

  “No. I think Joey thought the sun rose and set for Brendan. Still does. Brendan is three years older than Joey, and Joey found his cooler, older role model in Brendan.” She shrugged. “I was just the girl.”

  I made a mental note to keep an eye on my tires for the next couple of days. Here at the café, I didn’t think Joey could sabotage them without anyone seeing. And I didn’t know whether or not he was brazen enough to try to slash them at my house. But now that Madelyn had put the thought in my head, I felt it better to take precautions—like leaving the porch light on all night.

  “The reason I came by,” Madelyn continued, “was to give you my cell phone number in case anything happens that I might need to know about. The police have my number . . . and Brendan does, of course, but he’s been acting weird ever since he got to Winter Garden.”

  “Weird, how?”

  “I can’t exactly point to any one thing. He’s just been belligerent, running wild with Joey. He tries to pretend he’s not affected by Daddy’s death, but I know he is. He has to be.”

  I nodded, even though I had no insight into Brendan Carver’s feelings whatsoever. “They say people deal with grief in different ways.”

  “Right.” She slid a piece of paper across the table to me. “Anyway, here’s my cell number. Please call me if there’s anything you think I should know or if anyone here should need me.”

  “Will do.” I slipped the paper into the pocket of my jeans.

  Madelyn picked up the menu. “So, what’s the special of the day?”

  “Spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic breadsticks.”

  She handed me the menu. “I’ll have that and a glass of tea, please.”

  “Coming right up.”

  • • •

  If Madelyn’s visit hadn’t already made me nervous enough about Joey Carver, Homer’s news when he returned just before closing would’ve done the trick.

  “I went to see Phil Poston,” Homer said, agreeing to a complimentary slice of apple pie à la mode as payment for his investigative work. “His granddaughter, Emma, not only goes to school with Joey Carver, but the two of them dated.”

  “How old is Joey?” I asked.

  “He’ll be a senior when school starts back this year—I guess that won’t be long now, will it? Anyway, Phil says the boy’s a hothead. Emma stopped going out with him because he scared her with his driving and road rage, plus he tried to be very controlling of her.”

  “You’re not the first person I’ve heard bad things about Joey Carver from today.”

  He paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Who was the other?”

  “Madelyn, his cousin.” I told Homer about Madelyn stopping by and telling me about the pranks Joey used to play.

  “If I were you, I’d definitely leave the porch light on tonight. Maybe even leave a light on in the living room and the television on low if yo
u can sleep without the noise bothering you,” Homer said. “Tires are expensive.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  “I’d tell my honey about it too, if I were you.”

  My lips twitched as I tried to hide my smile. “My honey?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. You know who I’m talking about.”

  “True. But telling my honey is what got me in trouble with Joey Carver in the first place.”

  “Well, there is that.” Homer took another bite of pie, and then he rested the spoon on the side of his saucer and placed his hand over mine. “You be careful, Amy. Some of these bad seeds like Joey Carver think they can get away with just about anything because they’re not eighteen yet.”

  I gulped. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Just be vigilant.”

  “I will.”

  He went back to eating his pie.

  “You know, there’s something else that’s troubling me,” I said. “When I first met Madelyn, she couldn’t speak highly enough of her brother. But today she gave me her cell phone number because she’s afraid she can’t depend on him enough to call her if need be.”

  “She said that? That she’s afraid she can’t depend on him?”

  “Not in so many words.” I thought back to what exactly Madelyn had said. “She said that Brendan has been acting weird, being belligerent, and running wild with Joey since he came to Winter Garden.”

  “Then it might not be that she’s afraid she can’t depend on him to call.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “It might be that she’s scared someone will have to call her about him.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. She must really be worried about him.”

  “It makes me wonder if he has changed that much since coming here to Winter Garden, or if he was really running wild as she called it all along and she simply didn’t want to admit it.”

  “And I keep wondering about his and Madelyn’s mother,” I said. “Even if she and Stu were divorced and she’s remarried, shouldn’t she be here in some way for her children?”