Garden Gazebo Gallivant Page 2

  Feeling self-conscious, I dusted off my clothes, swiped my hands together and tried to smooth down my hair. “Over behind the gazebo,” I said and pointed a finger over my shoulder.

  “Ain’t ya’ll decorating for the wedding over there?” he asked.

  I took in a breath, and let out a long, deep sigh. “Yes,” I said. “That’s where the wedding is. In three days.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve got my apologies, but you know I’m gonna have to close that place down. At least ‘til we get this thing figured out.”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, feeling agitated.

  “Is Bay in yet?”

  Oh no, I thought, and felt like I was going to cry. It really hit me that if Bay got involved with this murder, and the gazebo got shut down, there was no way a wedding was going to take place anytime soon. I squinted my eyes to keep the tears from coming.

  “Logan,” the Sheriff said my name. “I asked you if Bay got in town yet.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice shaky. I opened my eyes and looked at him. “He’s supposed to get here today, sometime.” I looked at the Sheriff and hunched my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “Well. I’m going by and pick up Junior Appletree from the library,” Sheriff Haynes said. “He’s my voluntary, temporary deputy.” He walked over to the door and held it open for me. “I know I’ma need some help. So when Bay gets in, can you let him know?”

  “That’s not Bay’s jurisdiction over there,” I said practically pouting. “And with the wedding and everything, he’s not going to be able to help.”

  “But that’s the way it goes,” he said.

  “The way what goes?” I asked.

  “A dead body shows up, you and Miss Vivee put on your sleuthing hats, and somehow, for some reason, it always ends up being Bay’s jurisdiction.”

  “Oh. So it’s like a script?” I frowned up my face thinking about Miss Vivee’s pronouncement that it was my destiny to help her solve murders. “That’s how you know someone’s dead because I show up? And that’s how you know Bay’s going to be involved? Because that’s the way it always happens?”

  “Yep,” he said. “Since you got here, murder in Yasamee always unfolds the same way – just like a story in a book.”

  I let out a snort.

  “Or, I can give him a call,” he said and walked toward the door. A small grin crept across his face. “If’n you not inclined to.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. “And before you get your britches in a knot, I’m gonna need you to meet us back over there. I gotta take your statement.”

  I glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Okay. I can do that, Sheriff. But I need to pick up my mother and brother from the airport. I’m running late now.” I looked down at myself. There was no way I was going to be able to give my statement, get a shower, change and get out to the airport on time.

  “We’ll get through it as quickly as possible,” he said. “I’ll see you over there in five minutes.”

  Ugh! I thought. This was not turning out to be a good day.

  Then I thought maybe I shouldn’t complain. My day was definitely going better than Kimmie’s.

  Chapter Three

  I decided to stop at Jellybean’s Café and pick up a cup of coffee before heading back to the gazebo. I needed the caffeine. With the way things were going, and not looking forward to being late picking my mother and brother, I could use any help I could get.

  I turned the opposite way that the Sheriff had gone, Cat following at my heels. I started to cut across the street and walk diagonally to Jellybean’s across the square when I noticed that same black car I’d seen earlier. It was still moving at that snail’s pace, but this time there were no dogs getting in its way. I turned around and went back to the sidewalk. Over my shoulder and out the corner of my eye I watched as it crawled down the street. Ready to go back to the Sheriff’s office if the situation became more ominous, it suddenly picked up its speed and drove past me. It turned down one of the streets off the square and disappeared.

  I blew out a breath. Who is that?

  I decided to walk to the corner and go around the square. Sticking closer to the storefronts. I felt safer.

  Cat noticed Mac before I did, and ran up to him. He was sitting on a bench along the side of the street, hands folded, hat pulled down on head, looking solemn.

  “Hey, Mac,” I said. I tried to sound cheery.

  He smiled at me. “What’s your story, morning glory?” he said and tipped his hat.

  I chuckled. “Nothing.” I sat down next to him. “Did you see that black car? The one with the tinted windows?”

  “No. Something wrong?”

  I shook the notion of fear out of my head. “No. It’s okay,” I said and looked at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting on the florist to open,” he said reaching down to scratch Cat behind her ears.

  I turned around and looked at the dark, locked tight florist shop. I noticed the hours of operation painted on the door. “It’s only about seven,” I said remembering the time on the Sheriff’s clock. “The florist won’t be open for another two hours.

  “I can wait.”

  “Two hours?”

  “At my age, I don’t have anything but time.”

  “Couldn’t find anything better to do with your time?” I asked. “What about coming over and having breakfast at the Maypop?” Cat let out a bark when I mentioned her home. I picked her up and put her on my lap.

  “I don’t want to get caught up in all the flurry of the wedding preparations. And I wanted to order a boutonnière.”

  “Boutonnière?” I turned to look again at the florist shop, then at Mac. “You know you do have one ordered, right? Miss Vivee made sure to get you one. A special one.”

  “I want to get my own,” he said showing a little more independence than he usually did when it came to Miss Vivee.

  I looked at him out of the side of my eye. He didn’t seem his usual, chipper self.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked before I could question him about his demeanor. “You’re out pretty early”

  “Found a dead body.”

  “They’re really starting to pile up, aren’t they?”

  “You know Miss Vivee said it’s my – well our – shared destiny.”

  “So, I’ve heard.”

  “Looks like you’re in our destiny, too, Mac. Haven’t solved one without your help.”

  I saw a glimmer of a smile.

  “So what happened?” he asked.

  “When?”

  “With the dead body,” he said.

  “Oh. Yeah. I went to check on the Gazebo-”

  “This early?”

  “Yeah.” I chuckled. “I wanted to see how it looked.” I said and he smiled. “To be honest, I go there a couple of times a day.”

  “You’re excited, huh?”

  I smiled back. “Yes. I really am. Anyway,” I patted his hand. “I just wanted to see it before I left to go and pick up my mother and Micah from the airport.”

  “And was everything okay?”

  “You mean other than the dead body?”

  “Yes. Other than that,” he nodded his head.

  “There’s a table in the middle of the gazebo that isn’t supposed to be there. It wasn’t there last night when I visited.”

  “You women make such a fuss over these things.” He laughed. “How often do you go up there?”

  “I told you I go a lot.” I chuckled. “Anyway, it’s an easy fix. To move the table,” I said. “I’ll talk to Marge, the wedding planner.” I nodded my head slowly suddenly thinking that with a dead body lying across the street, right behind the gazebo, the joyous occasion around the corner for us might not be an appropriate topic of conversation. “Easy fix.” I said again but not with as much enthusiasm.

  “Easier fix than the problem the dead body poses, huh?” It’s like he had read my thoughts.

  “
Much.” I sighed. “So you want to walk over there with me? I have to go back and meet the Sheriff.”

  “Who’s there with the body now? Not good to leave it unattended.”

  “There was a dog walker out this morning. She was very upset about it. Hysterical, really.”

  “Ahh, Seppie Love. Yasamee’s eminent dog walker.”

  “‘Eminent’ is not the word I’d use for her,” I said. “And yeah, due to her dog walking skills my phone got filled with saliva-”

  “Saliva?” he interrupted and stuck out is tongue as if he was trying to get rid of a bad taste.

  “Ha! That’s a story all on its own, Mac.” I swiped my hands through the air. “Anyway. Seppie left her phone at home. So one of us had to go and get the Sheriff.”

  He stood up. “I’ll walk with you and you can tell me about the body,” he said.

  “Nothing much to tell,” I said taking his arm and helping him up. I handed him his cane that he had leaned against the bench. “She was lying behind the gazebo, right next to a bench, underneath the magnolia trees.”

  “What did she die from?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said and hunched my shoulders. “I can’t look at people the way you and Miss Vivee do and know the cause of death.”

  “Well, when you get as old as the two of us,” Mac said. “You’ll know a lot of things. Sometimes though, that knowledge isn’t very helpful because you’re too old to use it.” He smiled, but it looked strained.

  I looped my arm around his, and helped him step off the curb. We walked in silence back over to the gazebo, and by the time we got there, the sheriff still hadn’t arrived.

  “What took you so long?” September asked as we approached. She stood up and came over to us. “This place is full of bees, they were making the dogs go crazy.”

  I don’t think it’s the bees . . .

  “I thought you were getting the sheriff.” She said and looked at Mac.

  “I did get the Sheriff,” I said. “He’s on his way.” I pointed to Mac with my thumb. “This is Dr. Whitson.”

  “I know who he is,” September said. “Can he help her?”

  Mac walked over to the body, bent down and touched her face. Then he felt her neck. He took his fingers and closed her eyes. Standing up, he looked at September. “No one can help her,” Mac said. He took off his jacket and spread it over her face. “She’s gone.”

  “Dead!” September said as if she’d never thought about the possibility.

  “Yes,” he said. “Dead.”

  Her knees buckled, and she went down. Again. This time I just left her there. Figured that was the best place for her.

  “What do you think, Mac?” I asked once he took a look at it.

  “Not sure,” he said.

  “Not sure?” I almost couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth. “You’re not sure of what?”

  He looked at me, his eyes looking blank. “I think I should go and get Vivee,” he said. “I hadn’t wanted to see her today, but I guess it’s for the best.”

  “Oh really?” That didn’t sound anything like the usual I-adore-Vivienne-Pennywell Mac that I knew. “You don’t want to see her? What’s gotten in to you today, Mac?” I asked.

  “Same thing that gets in me every day – a little coffee, a slice of toast, and a handful of pills.”

  Chapter Four

  We had to talk Seppie into staying there alone (well with the dogs) until the sheriff could get there. I knew I’d told him I’d wait, but that plane wasn’t going to. It would land and drop my mother off whether I was there or not, and I couldn’t just have her and my brother, Micah standing around.

  Mac wanted to go get Miss Vivee.

  “She’s still sleeping,” I said.

  “Probably not sleeping,” Mac said. “She’s an early riser.”

  “Well sleep or not, I just don’t know if it’s a good idea to get her involved” I said. “With the wedding and all, she’ll get distracted.”

  “Don’t you worry none about that,” Mac said. “She’ll be fine for the wedding, and she’ll find out soon enough on her own about Kimmie.”

  We chatted all the way back, and I never let on that I’d worried that maybe Mac couldn’t walk as far as the Maypop, the bed and breakfast owned by Miss Vivee and her daughters, Renmar and Brie. I didn’t want to say anything, and by the time we walked up the brick walkway to the large colonial, I was glad I hadn’t. He and his cane were amazing.

  Mac went off to find Miss Vivee, he figured she was in her greenhouse. I headed upstairs to my room. Once there, I studied my reflection in the cheval mirror. Grass stains, dirt, and dog saliva covered me. Running out of time or not, I knew I couldn’t go looking like I looked.

  I went into the ensuite bathroom, washed my face and hands, threw on a clean pair of khaki-colored shorts, and slipped a gray tank top over my head. Sheriff Haynes couldn’t get anything else worthwhile from me. If helping Miss Vivee was my destiny, my part didn’t come into play until after the cause of death was ascertained, and that would take her expertise. Mac would make sure she got there, I was going to pick up my mother.

  Chapter Five

  It hadn’t been that long since I’d seen my mother, but I was excited about her coming to Georgia. I hopped on the highway, turned up the music and started singing along with Robin Thicke’s Morning Sun and thought about Bay.

  Bay and I had taken that trip to Cleveland, at my parents’ request, to get engaged. He hadn’t wanted to ask for my hand in marriage without my father’s blessing, – southern gentleman that he was – and after calling him to get it, my parents suggested that Bay and I come for a visit, give me my ring there, and he could meet my family – kill two birds with one stone.

  And oh, what a ring it is! I glanced down at it, my ring finger, now heavier by at least two carats. I turned my hand from side to side to admire it, the bling almost blinding me.

  I exhaled. Boy, I can’t wait for my wedding day.

  Once Bay and I got to Cleveland, my parents really took to him, and so did my uncles, all five of them. They acted if he’d always been a part of the family. My mother’s baby sister, Claire, was so enamored with him that she insisted we stay at her house. She lived in a big, six bedroom house where my uncles usually camped out, but she gave them all the boot to accommodate us. She even threw us a big, impromptu engagement party. But with all the commotion I hadn’t really had time to sit down and talk to my mother. I knew there was a lot she wanted to say to me.

  I drove up to the curb near the baggage claim of United Airlines, and she was the first person I saw. Justin Dickerson. Famous, or in some circles infamous, Biblical archaeologist and my mother. And juggling the luggage was my big brother Micah. My father was driving a U-Haul down with my belongings, so they decided that Micah would fly down with her, keep her company and keep her safe – something he and my father did after she had a few too many Indiana Jones-like encounters with would-be killers.

  Sheriff Haynes thought me and Miss Vivee’s antics unfolded like a book, he’d be on the edge of his seat if he’d read a book about the things my mother had done in her work. It was one of the reasons I’d become an archaeologists. My work had never been as exciting as hers though.

  Well until now.

  Only my excitement had nothing to do with my work.

  My mother had discovered an alternative history to man’s beginnings, and her travels had taken her all around the world.

  Mine took me to Georgia.

  And now it was official, I was making Georgia my home. At least for now.

  My mother had had a full life and it had made her strong. Justin Dickerson had been given a boy’s name by her mother, and then did the same with her two girls. Me – Logan, and my older sister, Courtney. She had excavated in the Holy Land, Egypt, and Turkey. She spoke seven languages, and had an eidetic memory. Anything she read was permanently seared into her brain.

  I hadn’t inherited any of those abilities f
rom my mother, but my naturally curly hair was definitely in the twenty-three chromosomes she’d contributed to my DNA. But that was it. She was dark-skin, where my light skin had been passed down to me from my father. She was short at 5’4”and round compared to my 5’8” slender frame, and with her in her late fifties, she had slowed down considerably in her work, now only teaching a class or two at Case Western Reserve, a top ranked research university in Cleveland, never liking to play in the dirt as much as I did.

  But I supposed her biggest claim to fame was that she had discovered that man, just like us – same DNA as she liked to say – had originated on Mars.

  But that’s a whole different story.

  I loved talking archaeology with my mother, and I knew I had made her proud being the only one of her three children that had chosen it as my profession.

  I took in a deep breath before reaching for the car door handle. I didn’t want to let on that I’d spent my morning at a crime scene.

  I hadn’t told my mother much about the dead bodies that were falling all around me. She’d been with me when I saw my first one. It scared the life (and pee) out of me. She had to yell at me to get me to calm down. But I didn’t know how to tell her how they’d been racking up as of late, and how much more comfortable with them I’d become. I usually told her everything, but becoming an amateur sleuth, per my destiny as Miss Vivee put it, wasn’t just something I felt one should share with their mother. Especially a mother who’d spent thousands of dollars on educating that child. And not in the field of forensics.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet Miss Vivee,” I said, helping my mother into the car. It had become a habit with me now. I always got Miss Vivee in and buckled her seat belt. I had to catch myself from reaching for it before closing the door. Micah loaded their luggage in the trunk and got in the back seat.

  At fifty-eight, overweight and busty, my mother liked to act older than she was. She was funny, and smart. Really smart. Most kids think their parents are smart when their young, but once they get out in the world, and learn a thing or two they begin to believe they’re just as smart, if not smarter than their parents. I, nor my siblings, would ever think that about my mother. The older we got, the smarter she seemed. She believed that learning was a life-long process, and she instilled that in us.