The Calamity Café Read online

  “There are four stacks here. That’s twenty thousand dollars.”

  “Why would somebody have twenty thousand dollars stashed in a wall?”

  “I don’t know,” said Deputy Hall. “But I’ll take this with me and let you know what I can turn up.”

  “Thank you.”

  I watched him put the money back into the box.

  “I want you to know I had nothing to do with any of this,” I said.

  He grinned at me. “I know.”

  “I wasn’t even the one who found it in the wall. That was Roger.”

  “I believe you.”

  “You might want to check into a bank robbery that happened about the time those bills were minted.” I told him Aunt Bess’s story about the rumored North Carolina bank robbery.

  “Thanks. I’ll take all of this under advisement and be in touch when I know something. In the meantime, don’t say a word about this to anyone. And caution your friend who found the box to keep it under wraps too. We don’t want people to know we have this much money in the evidence locker at the jail.”

  “Right. Roger won’t say anything. And, of course, I won’t either. Neither of us will say anything about finding money stashed in the wall of Lou Lou’s—dead Lou Lou’s—office. I mean, first I stumble onto Lou Lou lying dead across her desk and now we find money hidden in the wall? What next?”

  “There’s really no need to be upset about this.” He placed his hand gently on my arm.

  “I—I know. It’s just . . .” I took two deep breaths. “I’ve been through so much over the past week.”

  “Maybe whatever happens next will be something great,” he said.

  “I hope it will be.” I gave him a bag to put the box in so no one would notice it when he left.

  “So do I. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

  Deputy Hall had barely backed out of the parking lot before Jackie hurried back into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  She put her hands on her hips.

  “Roger found something in the wall. We aren’t supposed to talk about it. In fact, I need to go tell Roger not to say anything about it.”

  “What was it?” she asked.

  “What did I just tell you?”

  She pressed her lips together. “Fine. I won’t say anything.”

  “I know. And I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I can.” I went out the kitchen door to find Roger.

  Chapter 13

  We stopped working at lunchtime and had ham sandwiches, and then we all—including Homer—resumed work on the café until five o’clock that afternoon. After that, I invited everybody to the pizza parlor for dinner. There were a couple of Roger’s workers who had families to get home to or had already made other plans, but everyone else went to the pizza parlor.

  It was a ragtag crew that ambled into Winter Garden Pizza, and we took the entire back corner of booths and tables. A waitress came over and took our drink orders, and I went ahead and ordered one of nearly every pizza on the menu.

  As soon as the waitress left, I looked at Roger, who was seated to my left. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  “You and I need to go to the restaurant furniture wholesaler and pick out your tables, chairs, countertops, and stools . . . plus any other fixtures you might want.”

  “Okay. What about everyone else?”

  “My workers know what they need to be doing,” he said. “Do yours?”

  Jackie was sitting directly across from me.

  “Jackie, do you know what needs to be done in the dining room tomorrow?” I asked her.

  “Sure do. Why? You bailing on us already?”

  “I have to go with Roger to pick out furniture.”

  “We need flooring too,” Roger said. “I’m thinking laminate wood flooring for the dining room and treated hardwood for the screened-in porch.”

  “And a sign,” Jackie said. “See about getting your sign done.”

  “You want us to do all of that tomorrow?” I asked.

  “You’re the one who wants to be open in a month,” Roger reminded me. “You need to get things ordered so they’ll be finished and installed by then.”

  “All right. Do you have a list of what needs to be ordered?”

  He tapped his temple. “It’s all up here.”

  “Heaven help us,” Jackie said. “You’d better make him write it down, Amy.”

  Roger blew her a kiss, and she countered with an unladylike gesture. Then they both laughed. Was I the only one who could see how crazy they were about each other? What a good couple they’d make?

  The waitress brought our drinks then, and the group split into conversations about sports, television shows, and a new shopping center that was being built nearby. We were all tired and weary of work. None of us really wanted to think about the café any more until tomorrow.

  * * *

  As soon as I got home from the pizza parlor, I took a long, relaxing shower. When I got out of the tub, I wrapped myself in a knee-length plush pink robe and went into the living room to curl up on the couch. I was reaching for the remote when my doorbell rang.

  Rory went ballistic, barking and jumping near the door. Princess Eloise ran down the hall to parts unknown.

  I wasn’t expecting anyone. Remembering Deputy Hall’s warning about the killer still being on the loose, I looked out the window and saw a red convertible in my driveway. Surely, Lou Lou’s killer wouldn’t drive a red convertible. Okay, so that was illogical. But, in my defense, I was tired and not thinking very clearly. I did, however, leave the chain on the door until I opened it and saw Deputy Hall standing there in faded jeans and a white T-shirt.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked.

  “No. Please come in.” I closed the door enough to undo the chain and then opened it to let Deputy Hall inside. “Have a seat, and I’ll slip on some clothes and be right back.”

  I hurried to the bedroom and threw on some shorts and a sweatshirt. When I returned to the living room, he was sitting on the sofa with Princess Eloise perched on his lap and Rory lying by his feet. Rory I understood—he loved everybody—but Princess Eloise threw me for a loop.

  “How’d you manage that?” I asked.

  “Manage what?”

  “To win the affection of Princess Eloise. She’s not crazy about most people.”

  He shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “May I get you something to drink? Are you hungry?”

  “I’d love some water, please.”

  “Anything else?” I called over my shoulder as I went to the kitchen for two bottles of water.

  “No, thanks.”

  I returned, handed him his water, and sat on the chair across from him. “What brings you by, Deputy Hall?”

  “The money box. And please call me Ryan.”

  “Ryan,” I repeated.

  “As you can see, I’m here unofficially—plain clothes, my personal vehicle—and I’m not here to discuss the ongoing investigation of Lou Lou Holman’s murder.”

  “All right.” I drew the word out, indicating he should go ahead and make his point. Not that I minded sitting here looking at Mr. Handsome out of uniform, but I’d had an early morning today and there was another one ahead of me tomorrow.

  “I just wanted to tell you that I was intrigued by that box you found and the story you told me. Since it was a slow day at work, I did some digging.”

  I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.

  “There was a robbery in Surry County, North Carolina, in the spring of 1936.”

  “Do you think the robbery was committed by Lou Holman’s dad and uncle like Aunt Bess said?” I asked.

  “No one was ever convicted of the crime. I looked through s
ome newspaper archives. You may be aware that the Winter Garden News was pretty gossipy in the 1930s.”

  “Was?” I barked out a laugh. “It hasn’t evolved much, then.”

  Ryan laughed too. “This is what I was able to piece together. Lou’s dad’s name was Bo, and Bo’s brother was Grady. The bank was about to foreclose on Grady’s farm.”

  I took a sip of my water. “The Surry County bank?”

  “No, the local bank here in Winter Garden—or, rather, the bank that was in business at the time—is the one that was about to foreclose. But the men knew they’d likely be recognized if they robbed their own bank, even if they wore masks, so they went across the border.”

  “How did the newspaper say this stuff if the Holman brothers were never even arrested for the crime?”

  “The newspaper was privately owned, and they put the information in their gossip column,” Ryan said. “They basically said, ‘this is all conjecture,’ but I think they had the story right.”

  “So Bo and Grady robbed the bank in Surry County. How much did they get away with?”

  “Twenty thousand dollars.”

  I frowned. “The exact amount in the lockbox? They didn’t spend any of it. Were they lying low or what?”

  “The gossip columnist said that Grady Holman had a change of heart. He felt like he’d besmirched the whole family’s honor, and in fact, told a friend what had happened.”

  “Which is how the gossip columnist got his or her information. But wait. According to Aunt Bess, both Holman brothers were pretty mean. Why would Grady have a sudden change of heart?”

  “Grady told this friend that he didn’t want his brother to go to jail for Grady’s mistakes and that he was going to turn himself in and give back the money,” said Ryan. “He hoped the authorities would go easy on him. The friend didn’t see Grady anymore after that.”

  “Why? Was Grady murdered? Did he run off somewhere?” I couldn’t figure out why Grady’s disappearance was a big deal.

  Ryan inclined his head. “I’ll get to that. As you already determined, Lou was building his café at the time and provided his dad with the perfect hiding place for the stolen money.”

  “How did Lou have the funds to build a café when his uncle’s farm was being foreclosed on?” I asked. “That seems wrong somehow.”

  “It might seem unfair, but I have to think that Lou had also worked hard, saved his money for a down payment, and taken out a building loan. He had the right to pursue his dream as much as Grady had to pursue his, didn’t he?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You’re family-minded.” He smiled and took a drink from his water bottle. “Had you been in Lou’s position, you’d have used your money to try to help bail out your uncle.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Lou should have. Who knows? Maybe Grady had squandered all his money somehow, and Lou knew he would do the same with any more he received. So what happened to Grady?”

  “The gossip columnist said Grady ‘wasn’t seen around these parts again.’ He didn’t know whether Grady had simply run off, committed suicide, or—and I quote—‘met a darker fate.’ The columnist supposed that Bo and Grady might’ve argued—they were both known to drink a lot—and the argument might’ve escalated into a physical altercation.”

  “So I’m assuming that Grady never showed back up in Winter Garden,” I said. “Aunt Bess didn’t mention that. But, then, she’s been known to leave bits out of her stories so she can come back with a jaw-dropper later on. I’ll have to see what else she knows.”

  “I could find no record of Grady Holman after 1936.”

  “Okay, so let’s say that Grady was dead. Why didn’t Bo spend the money? Guilt?”

  “Maybe. He could’ve also been waiting for news of the North Carolina robbery to die down. People would’ve likely forgotten it in a year or two, and he could’ve started to spend it a little at a time,” Ryan said. “But Bo was killed when the tractor he was driving overturned on him in 1937.”

  “Wow. A lot of people around here would consider that money cursed, then.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  “You don’t think it played into Lou Lou’s murder?” I asked.

  “I can’t see a connection right now, but then, it was in the wall of the office where she was killed.”

  The thought gave me chills. “Do you think she knew about the money?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know for sure that Lou knew. His dad might’ve put the money in the wall without Lou’s knowledge.”

  “So what happens to the money now?”

  “I turned it over to Sheriff Billings. We have no hard evidence that this money even came from a robbery. That’s conjecture. But since we’re not sure what to do with the money, right now the box is sitting in an evidence locker.”

  “Thanks for sharing that story with me,” I said.

  “You’re welcome. I thought you should know.”

  “My cousin Jackie is dying of curiosity about what was going on this morning. Do you mind if I tell her? And Roger—he found the box. I promise not to tell anyone else.”

  “You can tell Jackie and Roger, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread the word that there’s twenty thousand dollars sitting in evidence in our jail.” He chuckled. “Sure as the world, some knucklehead would try to break in and steal it.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” I laughed.

  “And I wouldn’t put it past someone to try to break into the café to see if there was more money hidden there somewhere.”

  “The less said, the better.”

  “Right.” He took Princess Eloise off his lap and stood. “I’d better be going.”

  “Thanks again for stopping by.” I stood and walked him to the door. “And thank you for trusting me enough to talk with me about this stuff.”

  “I’ve already told you, I don’t believe you murdered Lou Lou Holman.” He lowered his eyes. “I’m anxious to get this case solved so . . .”

  “So what?”

  He brought his eyes back to mine. “So we can all move on.”

  He walked down the porch steps to the driveway. I closed the door. I didn’t want him to think I was weird for standing there watching him. Princess Eloise brushed against my ankle, gave me a haughty look, and left the room.

  * * *

  Roger and I had a good hour’s drive the next morning to get to the restaurant furniture wholesaler. Along the way, I told him about Ryan’s visit and the tale the gossip columnist had woven about the bank robbery.

  “Ah, so the deputy finds an excuse to let you see his ripped muscles in a T-shirt and to show off his flashy car.”

  “That’s not the subject we’re addressing. We’re talking about the money you found in the wall yesterday.”

  He laughed. “All right. All right. Ignore what’s right in front of you in favor of a mystery that’s what—eighty years old?”

  “I ignore what’s in front of me?”

  “Yes, you do,” he said.

  “Well, Mr. Pot-Calling-the-Kettle-Black, I need a favor. Jackie was dying to know what was going on yesterday, and I didn’t tell her because Ryan asked me not to.”

  Roger affected a falsetto voice. “Dreamy Ryan asked me to keep mum about the box in the wall.” He then mimicked buttoning his lip.

  I lightly slapped his arm. “Take Jackie to dinner tonight and tell her about the box. Just make sure that neither of you tells anyone else. The last thing I need is someone breaking into the café and tearing all the walls out to see if there’s more money inside them.”

  “All right. Why do I have to take her to dinner, though? Can’t I just pull her aside?”

  “Roger, take Jackie to dinner already. How long are you two going to deny your feelings for each other?”

  “We
don’t have those kinds of feelings for each other. We’ve been friends forever.”

  “So have we,” I said. “But you and I don’t look at each other the way you and Jackie do.”

  “Do you want me to?” He glanced away from the road to look cross-eyed at me.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I am too. I don’t want to ruin a perfectly good friendship.”

  “Then take Jackie to dinner as a friend.”

  “You’re a pain in the butt, you know.”

  “I do know. And if you don’t want me to sound like a broken record for the rest of the way to the wholesaler’s shop and back, you’ll agree to take Jackie to dinner this evening.”

  He sighed. “I’ll see if she has plans. Satisfied?”

  “Yes.” I looked out the window at the wildflowers growing in the median. “How long do you think it’ll take for our tables and chairs to be delivered?”

  “Two months.”

  I jerked my head at him. “What?”

  “Kidding. I owed you one.”

  Chapter 14

  Roger and I got to the café around lunchtime. We brought burgers and potato chips for the entire crew.

  I sat at the counter beside Homer to eat. “Did Jackie take care of your sausage biscuit this morning?”

  “Yes, she did. Thank you for asking. And, in case you’re wondering—Napoleon Hill is my hero for the day.”

  “How about that? I’m reading one of his books right now.”

  “Which one?”

  “The Law of Success.”

  “That’s a good one,” he said. “I have Think and Grow Rich, if you’d like to borrow it after you finish the one you’re reading.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I also appreciate all your hard work here.” I’d had to insist on paying him to the point of refusing to allow him to help if he didn’t accept a paycheck.

  “Aw . . . it’s like Mr. Hill once said: ‘If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way.’ By doing small things, I’m helping y’all do something great.”

  “You sure are, Homer. And, trust me—where these renovations are concerned, there are no small things.”