One Potion in the Grave: A Magic Potion Mystery (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

D
ylan and Johnny ran ahead as Delia and I stayed with Aunt Marjie as she navigated the front steps. She’d set her stubbornness aside for the time being and actually used one of the crutches given to her the night before. One.

“Let me get the other,” Delia suggested.

“No,” she growled, then to me, added, “and I’m not using that ridiculous scooter, neither.”

At the sound of a siren, I peered down the street. An ambulance had rounded the corner. A small crowd had already gathered in front of Mr. Dunwoody’s—probably drawn out from Dylan’s arrival, and now cemented in place by the EMTs showing up. “Good, because I have plans to give it to someone who will use it.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You givin’ my gifts away without asking?”

“Yes,” I said. “Now get a move on, or I’m going to stick you in that basket on the scooter and drive you over.”

Her lip twitched, but she kept quiet and hobbled next door faster than I thought she’d be able. Delia and I kept near to her in case she wobbled, but she made it just fine.

Using her crutch, she cleared a path through the crowd, loudly yelling, “Comin’ through!” and charged through the open gate of Mr. Dunwoody’s yard.

All the action seemed to be happening near his colorful wildflower garden. We rounded the flower bed and found Eulalie kneeling on the ground, the head of José Antonio Rodriguez in her lap. She was smoothing his hair and cooing to him that he was going to be just fine. Dylan and Johnny were kneeling next to them, and Dylan was listening as José told them what happened.

The EMTs brushed past us, and set down enormous bags before taking over the care of the patient from Eulalie, who didn’t stray far from the fallen postman.

Dylan walked over. “Said he heard something unusual and went to investigate. Someone knocked him on the head from behind and dragged him out of sight. His mailbag is missing.”

“An awfully bold attack in the middle of the day,” Delia said. “Mr. Dunwoody’s yard is wide open to Eulalie’s patio, and she’s got an inn full of guests who could have seen it happen.”

“Not anymore,” Marjie said. “Most were reporters or wedding guests who cut their stay short when the wedding was canceled this morning. The inn’s all but cleared out.”

It was bold. Even though Eulalie’s inn now had vacancies, Mr. Dunwoody’s yard could be seen from several windows in my house. But then I recalled what
Marjie had supposed earlier—whoever broke in at my place hadn’t realized someone was inside.

Which gave me the shivers . . . because someone had been watching the comings and goings on this street quite closely.

“Eulalie was out watering her flowers,” Dylan said, “when she heard moaning coming from Mr. Dunwoody’s yard. José had been out cold for a while at that point.”

Johnny marched over to us, his barrel chest leading the way. “Two mail carriers whacked upside the head in two days? What’s going on around here?”

Oh, nothing much,
I wanted to say. Just a little extortion plot gone horribly wrong.

“The town is fallin’ apart at the seams,” Marjie said. “Now help me over to a chair, you big lug. I need to sit down. This blessed crutch is hurting my armpit something fierce.”

Concern filled his eyes. Reaching out, he settled a hand at her back and he led her to Mr. Dunwoody’s front porch. She glanced back at us and winked.
Ah.
She’d known we couldn’t talk openly about Katie Sue’s case in front of Johnny or else risk the whole town knowing every detail by supper time.

“Someone’s getting desperate,” Dylan said as soon as they were out of earshot. “Someone who wants that package Katie Sue mailed off yesterday.”

“Can’t blame them,” I said. “Even though Katie Sue is dead, whatever she was using as ammunition against the Calhoun family is still floating around somewhere.”

“I don’t get it.” Sunlight glinted off Delia’s white
blond hair. “If the package was mailed yesterday, it’s already in the postal system. What’s the point of attacking another mailman today?”

Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “Carly, if you mailed a letter to Delia, how long would it take to arrive at her house?”

I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “A day? Two at the most. Local letters are processed quickly—” My words fell away as what Dylan was getting at registered. “Katie Sue sent it local.”

Delia nodded. “That makes sense now. But not just local. To someone who lives on this road. It’s the only reason that mailman would be attacked right here—before he could deliver mail to your house.”

She and Dylan both looked at me. I said, “My house? I suppose it’s possible.”

“Not possible,” Dylan challenged.
“Probable.”

“But who could have known it was being mailed to Carly?” Delia asked. “If we know that person, then we know who’s behind these attacks.”

“I know who,” I said. “There’s only one person who saw the address on the envelope.”

“Who?” Delia asked.

“Louisa Calhoun. The front of the envelope was facing her when we wrestled for it yesterday at the Loon. I don’t know what’s in that envelope, but whatever it is has Louisa and Warren desperate enough to assault a mail carrier to get it back.”

“Warren’s already lawyered up,” Dylan said. “He’s supposed to meet me this afternoon for formal questioning. I’ll ask about the envelope then.”

“So the family isn’t leaving town?” I asked. I’d been
worried they’d slip away and somehow get out of having to answer questions.

“Not anytime soon,” he said. “They’ve agreed to stick around for questioning.”

“That’s right friendly of them,” Delia said suspiciously.

Dylan grinned. “I threatened to charge them with obstructing the investigation if they left, and when Warren laughed at that, I then threatened to reveal to the press just how involved the family was with Katie Sue. Suddenly they decided a few more days in Hitching Post would suit them just fine.”

I smiled. “Look at you fighting dirty.”

“Care Bear, when you’re dealing with pigs, sometimes you’ve got to roll in the mud.”

Didn’t I know it.

We all turned and looked toward the Loon. At some point Cassandra and Gabi had joined Warren and Louisa on the front porch. Gabi stood far away from the others, as though having been segregated from the family. To me, the separation was confirmation that she’d outright canceled the wedding, not just postponed. Just as she believed would happen, the fissure between her and the Calhouns had already taken place. Clearly, she had been cast out.

Dylan said, “Let’s not forget there are other suspects in Katie Sue’s death as well. I still haven’t been able to track down the Cobbs.”

Which reminded me to tell him about my conversation with Lyla. And her odd statement that her husband had been murdered. He promised to look into it, and as
the EMTs loaded José onto a stretcher, he went to speak to them.

Eulalie bounded over, her skirts flying out around her. Her eyes lit with excitement. “Hot diggety, Carly Bell. Here I was askin’ you to find me a man and lo and behold, one dropped right out of the sky for me to find like a gift from above. It’s fate.
Kismet.
” Dramatically, she pretended to swoon, and then kissed my cheek. “I’m off to the hospital to keep José company. Doesn’t he have the most romantic name?
José Antonio.
” She sighed.

I couldn’t help but smile at her exuberance. “Yeah, but does he like ballet?”

“Oh, who cares,” she said. Then winked and ran off.

“I hope he’s single,” Delia said.

“Me, too.” I wanted it to work out for her, not only because it let me off the hook of finding her a man, but because she seemed so happy.

“I wish there were a way we knew for sure if that package had been in José’s bag,” Delia said.

I hated thinking that the Calhouns might have gotten their hands on it. Simply because it may be the only evidence that proved one of them had motive to kill her.

“But maybe it’s a good thing if it was intercepted,” Delia added.

I shaded my eyes against the sun and gave her a puzzled look. “Why’s that?”

“Because, Carly, if it wasn’t, and it’s still out there waiting to be delivered to you . . . then it places you in danger, too. And maybe they won’t stop at knocking you upside the head.”

I bit my thumbnail. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but
it was true. However, I refused to live in fear of what
could
happen. “Katie Sue might have taken a lot of secrets to the grave, and some are out of our control at the moment”—like her phone messages now that her phone had been stolen and that envelope—“but I wonder if there are others we could still discover.”

Delia’s eyebrow lifted. “What’re you getting at?”

“Are you up for a road trip?”

Chapter Twenty-three

A
half hour later, Delia, Boo, and I sat in the front of my Jeep, a shiny red scooter in the back. The plan was to drop the scooter at Jamie Lynn’s, then shoot down to Birmingham to snoop around Katie Sue’s house.

I was beyond grateful to Ainsley for nicking those keys last night. If she hadn’t, they would have been stolen right along with Katie Sue’s purse this afternoon.

Wind whipped through the open windows, tossing my hair about as I said, “What Dylan doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” We’d been talking about the fact that I hadn’t shared my plan with him.

“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?”

“Myself.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I made a face at her. She smiled as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Boo had his head stuck out the window and was happily sniffing all the outdoor scents.

Lyla Perrywinkle Jameson lived in a small farmhouse, about ten minutes from the center of town. Just far
enough to have a measure of quiet and enough land for her gardens, but close enough to be part of the community.

I took the scenic route to her place so I could drive past Cletus and Dinah’s trailer. I slowed in the middle of the road, grateful no one was behind us. The trailer was set back a ways from the road, and piles of rusty parts that made me long for a tetanus shot sat in a heap near the gravel driveway. The trailer had a blue tarp on its roof, and broken windows had been mended with duct tape. Weeds had overtaken the walkway, a half-dead hedge of rhododendrons had been planted in front of the trailer, the sparse purple blooms on the surviving plants the only bright spot in the whole landscape. There was no sign of the beat-up pickup truck Dinah had been driving lately.

“What’re you looking for?” Delia asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t exactly know. I keep thinking about what Lyla said, about how Cletus and Dinah didn’t need a reason for hurting people, that it’s in their DNA. I don’t want to believe Dinah would let anything happen to Katie Sue, being her mama and all . . .” Lifting my foot from the brake, the Jeep rolled forward. “But it can’t be ruled out.”

Silently, Delia nodded, as she stared out at the passing landscape.

Streets narrowed the farther I traveled from the Ring, and the road Lyla lived on was bordered on both sides by acres of woods. I slowly turned into her pockmarked driveway, not wanting the scooter to tip over.

The farmhouse itself had seen better days, with peeling paint and a few missing shutters. But what was lacking in
the house’s cosmetics was made up for in the land that surrounded the place. Lyla’s farm was her pride and joy. She grew just about everything from plants and shrubs to fruits, vegetables, and herbs.

She supplied many of the local restaurants, and on weekends, she sold her crops at the local white elephant sale at Carter Debbs’s church, and townsfolk knew they could come knocking on her door if they needed something during the week. She supplemented her income by entering area baking contests, and had made quite a name for herself as a top competitor.

There were some, like Francie Debbs, who didn’t appreciate the fierce competition, but I had to admire someone who tried everything to get ahead. Even if I didn’t like that person much.

For someone like me, who had been raised on the healing properties of plants, this place was heaven on earth. I envied Lyla for what she could do, because for all my talents, gardening was not one of them. My thumb was as black as could be.

“Doesn’t seem like anyone’s home,” Delia said.

True enough. The front door was closed, and there was no truck parked in the drive.

“No, wait. Look.” Delia pointed.

Someone had stepped out the side door, took one look at us and froze as though we’d just shined a spotlight on her. “Isn’t that interesting,” I said, shoving the Jeep into park.

Delia and I hopped out before the woman could scurry off. After a second, the woman straightened and came toward us, her flip-flops flapping on the stone pathway.

“What’re you two doing here?” Dinah Perrywinkle Cobb said, her voice low. “Besides trespassin’?”

Shiny blue eye shadow colored her lids, and thick black liner rimmed her sunken eyes. Her permed blond hair was teased sky high, many of the ends split and broken. Bright red blush had been swiped on hollowed cheeks, and hot pink lipstick stained thin lips. Her teeth were dark and rotting. Skeletal arms poked out of a pink tank top, and Daisy Dukes shorts revealed thin, wrinkly legs. I saw what looked like a syringe in her pocket, noted the needle marks on her arms, and could only shake my head at the choices she’d made in life.

“What’re
you
doing here?” I countered. “Trespassin’?”

“Visiting my baby girl Jamie Lynn,” she said quickly, her glossy eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. Tapped one foot, then the other. The woman couldn’t stand still.

I wondered what she was currently on, what drug. Because it was something. “We’re here to see her, too.”

“Well, she ain’t home. I just checked. That’s why I was leaving.”

“Looked to me like you were sneaking out,” I said.

“Well, I weren’t,” she countered, tapping her foot in agitation.

Delia slid her locket on its chain. “How’d you get here?”

“Walked.”

“It’s a bit far,” I said. At least two miles from here to her trailer. And in flip-flops, too.

“I got dropped off,” she said, changing her story. “I come every Friday afternoon when Lyla’s at her fancy gardening club. Jamie Lynn shoulda told me she wouldn’t be round today.”

“You meet here?” I prodded, wondering how much I could get out of Dinah. “Thought Lyla banned you from her house?”

“She ain’t the boss of me. Or of Jamie Lynn, though she likes to think she is.”

“I mean, she has good reason—don’t you think?” I asked. “To keep you out? After all, you and Cletus killed her husband. That’d make any daughter turn against her mama.”

Her eye twitched. “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“No?” I asked. “Well, you should reacquaint yourself, because Travis’s case is being reopened in light of Katie Sue’s murder and how you and Cletus might be involved with both.” I was bluffing the mouth off my face, but hoped to the heavens she fell for it. “The sheriff’s office is looking for you right now.” That part at least wasn’t a lie.

Her gaze darted around, and I could practically see the panic rising beneath the surface. “I didn’t have a thing to do with Travis and that phony life insurance policy,” she blurted.

Whoa.
Phony life insurance?
Follow the money,
Lyla had said. She’d known what she was talking about. “What about Katie Sue? How’d you even know she was in town?”

“Got a note.” Her brows furrowed.

“From who?” I pressed.
Come on, come on; keep talking.

“Don’t know. It weren’t signed. Told us Katie Sue was back in town, and that she was staying at the Loon.”

“Did Cletus ransack Katie Sue’s room?”

Her gaze darted around again. She was looking for an
escape route. Whatever she’d taken to get high had dulled her senses enough to talk to us, but it wasn’t enough to make her forget that she could get in trouble talking the way she was. “No way. He only wanted to talk to her. Ask about a loan. But he couldn’t even get close to the place.”

That rang true, considering he’d been hiding in Marjie’s yard.

“Why were you watching the chapel last night, and where was Cletus?” I asked.

“When was this?” she asked, scratching her forearm.

“About seven.” Her fidgeting was making me antsy. “You were parked at the edge of the parking lot near the Ring.”

She scratched her neck. “I don’t know,” she said. “I think that’s about the time Cletus had gone to get us drinks from the coffee shop.”

I frowned. It would be easy enough to check with Jessa to see if it was true.

“You didn’t see anything going on at Carly’s mama’s chapel?” Delia asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Like what?” Dinah’s gaze jumped around. She was itching to get out of here.

“Like Katie Sue being there?” I said. “Did you see what happened to her? Did Cletus do something to her?”

Her eyes flew open. “I told you. He was getting us drinks. And I was napping, waiting for him to get back. I didn’t have nothing to do with what happened to Katie Sue.” She spat on the ground.
“Kathryn Perry,”
she mocked in a hoity-toity voice.

“You say
you
didn’t have anything to do with the deaths of Travis and Katie Sue,” Delia said. “But did Cletus?”

My nerves were on edge, waiting for an answer. This could help crack the whole case.

Again, Dinah’s gaze jumped around. “I—”

But before she could say anything else, a truck roared up the driveway, nearly slamming into my Jeep. Cletus hung his sorry head out the window and hollered, “Get in, woman!”

Fear slid into Dinah’s eyes as she gave us one last look and took off running for the truck. We watched her go, and listened as Cletus cussed us a blue streak as he reversed out of the drive.

We stood there staring at the dust the truck had kicked up, long after it was out of sight.

Finally, Delia said softly, “Dinah reminds me of my mama.”

I thought my aunt Neige, one of the most beautiful women I’d ever laid eyes on, would stroke out at being compared to Dinah. But the sincerity in Delia’s voice stopped me from making a joke. “How so?”

“There are just some women out there . . . women who’d do anything for the approval, the love, of a man. Even at the sacrifice of their own children.”

Ah.
It hadn’t been a physical comparison. This might be worse. I studied my cousin, my heart pounding. What had happened to her? I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Delia wasn’t an open book. She preferred to reveal herself to me a chapter at a time, and I couldn’t go asking her to skip pages just so my curiosity could be satisfied. I finally said, “You think Dinah might have had something to do with Katie Sue’s death?”

“I think, Carly”—she grabbed her locket—“that if
Cletus wanted it done, Dinah wouldn’t think twice about killing her daughter.”

*   *   *

We left the scooter on Lyla’s front porch, and made the almost two-hour trip to Shady Hollow in an hour and a half.

The ride down had been a somewhat somber one.

This case was taking a toll on me, and apparently dredging up painful memories for Delia. I hoped Dylan was having some luck interviewing the Calhouns.

Fortunately, Katie Sue didn’t live in one of the many gated communities in the area, or else we would have had to figure out a way to break in. As it was, we drove down the street, parked in Katie Sue’s driveway, and unlocked her front door without incident.

A pile of mail sat on the foyer floor, having been slid through the slot in the door. I gathered it up and flipped through each piece—no sign of a manila envelope. I set the stack on a side table and looked at Delia.

“I don’t like this place,” she said, holding Boo in the crook of her arm.

I didn’t care for it, either. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning. “Let’s hurry, then. We’re looking for anything related to the Calhouns, especially Warren. Photos, letters, that kind of thing. Anything that would provide evidence for him getting rid of her.”

She nodded and headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms. I went straight for the study, which was housed behind two French doors, off the entryway.

I quickly went to her desk and opened drawers, scanned files. Nothing much here. I did find some
financial planning papers and whistled at her net worth—she’d invested well. But I didn’t find a copy of her will.

Two elaborately framed diplomas hung on the wall, and as I read them, I thought about the girl who so badly wanted to become a doctor. She’d earned her undergrad in biology at Clemson, and her medical degree from Johns Hopkins Medical School.

My heart hurt for her. For all that she had lost, all that had been taken away from her. My grief quickly turned to anger at the person who’d thrown her off that bluff.

As my eyes watered, a splinter of truth pierced my righteousness.