Karen took last night’s pizza out of the refrigerator, turned up the oven heat, and slid her pizza stone into the oven.
“Bobby is still family, and this was Riley’s house, too.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ll help them out if I can.” Her expression dared me to argue.
I didn’t.
But I did have a serious question for her. “Just what’s the deal with you and Riley? He comes to you before he goes to his folks, or his other friends?”
“It’s…” She drew the word out, as though searching for the right way to describe what she didn’t want to tell me. “Complicated,” she said at last.
“Complicated how?” I asked, suspicious. Karen had been acting strangely lately, and now I thought I knew why.
She shook her head. “Just, uh, complicated.”
“As in…?”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. There was something brewing again between Karen and her ex. I knew it, and she knew I knew, but she wasn’t going to admit it.
I let it drop. I’d get the details when she was ready, and not before, but at least I had an explanation.
While we ate, Karen made notes about dinner. “The chicken takes two to three hours to stew,” she said, “so I have to start it about three thirty if we’re eating at seven.”
She continued down her menu, scheduling tasks so as to bring everything to the table at the same time. It was a process I’d seen her do hundreds of times—from homework lists in junior high to multipart news features at WBBY—but she didn’t often apply it to her personal life.
And it kept me from asking any more awkward questions.
When we finished lunch, Karen checked her list and announced it was time for cream cheese frosting. Of course, the cream cheese and butter were still in the refrigerator. That was more like the Karen I knew and loved.
In a few minutes—with the help of the still-warm oven—the cheese and butter were ready, and Karen began mixing them with powdered sugar. The whirring of the mixer kept conversation to a minimum.
She was just adding the vanilla when the phone rang.
Her conversation was swift and her reaction swifter. Setting aside the frosting, she ran down the hall to her bedroom, returning with her purse over her shoulder and a sweater tossed over her arm.
“I hate to ask, Glory,” she said, her voice hesitant, “but
I have to go. Can you stick around, in case I don’t get back in time to start the chicken?”
She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “It’s only one, so I have a couple hours. I should be home in plenty of time. Can you, please?”
I nodded. I always have a book in my bag, and there was a brand-new big-screen TV in the den, though I had no idea what I might find on at one o’clock on a Thursday.
“How much?” I asked.
“Forty grand. His lawyer convinced the judge Bobby has ‘ties to the community.’ All three divers already made bail this morning, but it’s cash or bond, and Riley just paid for the supplies for next week’s fishing.
“I’ll put up the house if I have to, Glory. It’s the right thing to do. We both know Bobby didn’t do anything wrong, just something stupid, and we need to get him out of there before his mouth gets him in any deeper.”
That argument made sense. Bobby would run his mouth without thinking and say something that would get him in even more trouble. I’m sure his lawyer told him to keep quiet, but I’d never known Bobby Freed to be able to do that for very long.
The sooner he was out of jail and away from the ears of the officers—and from fellow inmates looking for information they could trade—the better.
I could have gone back to the store, but Julie would call if she needed me. Instead, I took advantage of the rare treat of an unscheduled afternoon off. Two hours of peace and quiet stretched in front of me, and I intended to make the most of them.
When Karen came home just after three, she looked as
though a huge weight had been lifted. “Much better,” she said, dropping her purse and sweater into a chair. “Oops!” She picked them back up. “Company coming, I better put these away.”
I heard her go in the bedroom and then in the bathroom. She came back and shot me a look of sheer gratitude.
“The bathroom is spotless! You didn’t have to, really. I would have done it when I got home.”
Okay, guilt got the better of me, and I didn’t relax the
whole
time she was gone. But it was just the guest bath, which didn’t get used much.
“It took about ten minutes,” I replied. “No big deal.”
“It is to me. I was not looking forward to having to do that when I got home.”
I got up from my spot on the couch and stowed my paperback in my purse. I never had enough reading time, and yet I seemed to be buying more books lately. It couldn’t have anything to do with the bookstore owner.
I helped Karen get the chicken started in a simple chicken broth with salt and pepper. We took the chilled frosting out and started assembling the red velvet cake: three deep red layers trimmed to stack neatly atop one another, cushioned with rich cream cheese frosting. When she had the cake covered to her satisfaction, Karen brought out the final touch: a ring of toasted pecan halves.
Steam rising off the bubbling pot wafted the aroma of chicken through the kitchen. Karen turned down the heat and covered the pot.
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully as we chopped carrots and laid out the ingredients for the dumplings and biscuits that would accompany the meal. Although dumplings and biscuits were the same basic dough, southern
cooks always serve some kind of bread for sopping up the gravy or sauce from the main dish.
The topic of Riley Freed remained closed. I’d found out as much as I was going to. I’d learned long ago that when Karen made up her mind, there was no argument that would change it. Besides, if their history was any indication, she and Riley would soon find a way to blow it all to hell without any outside intervention.
Chapter 7
FELIPE AND ERNIE ARRIVED AT SIX THIRTY. I AN
swered the door and led them back to the kitchen, where Karen was dropping dumplings into the bubbling chicken broth.
She replaced the lid on the pot and turned to greet the new arrivals. “Stylin’,” she said with an approving nod at Ernie. Tall and slender, he somehow made chinos and a 1950s bowling shirt look elegant.
His partner, Felipe, grinned proudly. “He does look good, doesn’t he?”
We exchanged hugs all around. Felipe set a six-pack of perfectly chilled longnecks on the table and extracted a pair of bottles. He twisted the caps off and offered them to Karen and me. “Ladies first.”
He took out another pair, gave one to Ernie, and stashed the last two in the refrigerator. We’d established the pattern
early on—a round of beer while we finished cooking and settled down, then sweet tea with the meal and more tea, or coffee for Felipe, with dessert.
I took a long pull on my bottle, feeling the cold beer slide down my throat. Outside the weather was still cool, but in a kitchen warm from several hours of cooking, the cold liquid was refreshing.
The table was set, and Felipe and Ernie took their usual places while I helped Karen with the last-minute tasks: glazing carrots, heating green beans, and putting biscuits in the oven.
Karen began ladling chicken and dumplings into bowls, and everyone pitched in to ferry food to the table. Empty beer bottles were stowed in the recycling bin, replaced by a pitcher of sweet tea and tall glasses of ice.
For the first several minutes, the conversation revolved around the food. “I was going to have fish,” Karen explained, “but then I couldn’t get anything fresh because Riley didn’t go out like he’d planned.”
Ernie and Felipe exchanged a look. Clearly they had heard about Bobby. There was no such thing as a secret in a town as small as Keyhole Bay. It was only a question of how long it took for news to travel.
And bad news traveled fast.
“How is Bobby doing?” Ernie asked. His usual wide smile was gone, replaced by a concerned frown.
“Bobby?” Felipe snorted. “How about Riley? His idiot brother takes
Ocean Breeze
out for a joyride with some shady guys and ends up getting arrested and costing Riley his boat. He’s the one you should be asking about.”
“Is that what you heard?” Karen sounded incredulous. “Is that really what people are saying?”
Felipe leaned back in the face of Karen’s onslaught. “Down, girl! Yeah, that’s what we heard. But we’ve been here long enough to know all about Bobby.”
“What do you mean, you know ‘all about’ Bobby?”
Ernie intervened, laying a hand on Felipe’s arm to stop his response. “What we’ve heard,” he said, “is that Bobby is impulsive and undisciplined. That he’s always looking for shortcuts to big money. That you can’t believe his promises, and you shouldn’t invest in his schemes. I’ve also heard,” he continued with a warning glance at Felipe, “that he’s a nice guy, fun to be around, and he’d give you the shirt off his back—even if it isn’t his shirt to give.”
By the time he finished, Karen had relaxed slightly, but her expression was still troubled. “I don’t suppose I need to ask where you heard all this,” she grumbled. “The Merchants’ Association gossips more than the little old ladies of the church auxiliary quilting circle.”
“Don’t insult the quilting circle,” I chimed in. “At least they try to do something for the community.”
“So does the Merchants’ Association,” Felipe shot back. “Just because
some
people”—he shot me a pointed look—“choose not to participate, doesn’t mean they aren’t a good organization.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times,” I answered, “I’m not old or a boy, so I’m really not qualified.”
Ernie shook his head at Felipe. “We will never change her mind,
cher
. But someday she will see the error of her ways.” He shrugged his shoulders in an elegant gesture. “In the meantime, we can only share our wisdom with her.”
I giggled at his pious pronouncement. Couldn’t help it.
We’d been having this same argument for years. Even
though I understood the importance of sharing business information locally, facing a room of backslapping good ol’ boys was too much to ask. I settled for getting reports from Ernie and Felipe and supporting the other local merchants whenever I could.
“Back to the question of Bobby and Riley,” I said, once again serious. “What you’ve heard is wrong. Or at least greatly exaggerated.”
I looked at Karen, giving her the chance to step in.
“I was with Riley last night,” she said, “and again this afternoon. Yes, Bobby got arrested, and
Ocean Breeze
was seized.
“But that doesn’t mean Riley’s lost his boat,” she continued. “And it doesn’t mean Bobby’s guilty of anything, either.”
She sighed. “Yeah, my brother-in-law can be an idiot, and he does some pretty stupid stuff because he can’t see past his next beer. He can trust the wrong people—especially if they act like they’re buying his big-shot act—but he’s not cut out for a life of crime. Too risky, and Bobby is kind of opposed to taking risks when it comes to his own safety and comfort.”
I bit my tongue to keep from commenting on the fact she had referred to Bobby as her brother-in-law, without her usual qualifier of
former
.
Interesting
.
“And yet he works on a commercial fishing boat?” Felipe asked. “That doesn’t sound safe or comfortable.”
“Fishing’s what he knows,” Karen said. “He grew up on the water—his dad fished, his uncles fished—and now his big brother owns a boat and can give him a job. To him, fishing is just what his family does. He isn’t much of a long-term
kind of guy. Probably doesn’t think about what might happen in the next month, so if there isn’t a storm right now, he doesn’t see the danger.”
“I have to agree with Karen,” I said. “I’ve known Bobby almost as long as I’ve known her and Riley, though mostly just as Riley’s little brother. But he’s way too laid-back and go-with-the-flow to get involved with smugglers.”
I mentally added,
Except maybe as a customer
. But even then, he wouldn’t know anything of value to the investigators, and the most he could be busted for was simple possession.
“It sounds like you’re convinced he’s innocent,” Felipe said.
“I am,” Karen replied. “Enough to put my money where my mouth is. I posted Bobby’s bail.”
Ernie’s eyes widened in shock. “Girl, you must have
way
more money than I thought! I heard a bunch of numbers thrown around, some as high as half a million. Where’d you get that kind of money?”
He stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry, that is absolutely none of my business. My mama would be washin’ my mouth out with soap for saying that, and then lecturing me about respect. My apologies, Miss Karen.”
It was difficult to tell with his cocoa-colored skin, but it looked like he was actually blushing.
Karen just laughed at his distress. “Don’t I wish! It was nowhere near that much. I paid a few thousand for the bond and put up the house as collateral.”
She saw the stricken look on the two men’s faces and hurried ahead. “It was Riley’s house, too. And he couldn’t pledge
Ocean Breeze
while it was impounded. It’s really
okay,” she reassured them. “Riley will get the boat back, and he’ll pay me back. He always does.”
Always does?
Apparently there were a few more things my best friend wasn’t telling me.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned me. “It’s like any other business: sometimes he needs money before he gets paid. I’ve made a couple loans, is all. And I make better interest than I do letting the money sit in the bank.”
Somehow I didn’t think she was getting interest on the money she paid for Bobby’s bail.
And why wasn’t I reassured? Probably because we always underestimated Bobby’s ability to get himself in trouble.
It didn’t take long to get an answer to my question.
Karen was cutting the cake when the phone rang. I jumped up to answer it, since her fingers were sticky with frosting.
I listened to Riley’s voice for a minute after I answered, my heart sinking into my shoes. Finally I stopped him.