Garden Gazebo Gallivant Page 3

  I wonder how smart she’ll think it is that I’m solving whodunits in small town Yasamee . . .

  I clicked on my blinkers, took the ramp that led to the highway back to Yasamee, then glanced over at my mother. I smiled. I had really missed my “Mommy.”

  Out the corner of my eye, I watched as she ran her hand through her hair. The edges of it grayer than I remembered from seeing her just a couple weeks earlier. Her hair was long, but thinning thanks to my grandmother’s genes, and her dark skin was smooth and void of wrinkles. She looked much younger than she was, or acted.

  “Miss Vivee sounds like a hoot,” she said and smiled at me.

  “She is. You’ll like her.”

  “You know I have a soft spot for old people,” she said.

  I laughed. I must have one too, I thought. Miss Vivee and Mac are my new best friends.

  “It’s awfully hot down here,” my mother said.

  “It’s the south,” I said.

  “It’s been hot at home,” Micah chimed in. “Ma, you know it’s been like ninety degrees all summer.”

  “Summer’s almost over,” she said. “And snow’ll be falling.” She looked at me. “You won’t see any of that, huh?”

  I knew she meant that I wouldn’t be home. She knew that marrying Bay meant that Cleveland would never be my home again. I could also hear her thoughts in between the words she did voice. I knew what she really wanted to say, was that I wouldn’t be working, either. Which to me, didn’t make any sense. If I were working, I still wouldn’t be at home.

  “I heard about a dig over in Fiji,” I said.

  “Fiji?” She turned and looked at me. “What in the world is there to dig there?”

  “Everything isn’t about Mars, Mommy.”

  “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” she said and waved her hand. “I need a break from worrying about if I’m doing the right thing in hiding our history.” She turned and stared out of the window.

  “You still worry about that?” I said.

  “All the time,” Micah said answering in her stead. “Should she tell? Shouldn’t she tell?” I looked in the rearview mirror and saw him shaking his head. “Grammy told her she either needed to crap or get off the pot, only she didn’t use the word ‘crap.’”

  I laughed. I missed my grandmother. She was as feisty as Miss Vivee, but she cussed like a sailor.

  “Hopefully, the wedding will take my mind off of it,” she said.

  “You’re the one that taught me – all of us,” I looked back at my brother then over at my mother. “That an archaeologist is the re-creator of history. And it’s our job to tell the world about it. Maybe you should heed your own words and do just that. Share what you know.”

  “The world isn’t ready to know what I know. Our true history,” she said. “You know that’s how I feel.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?” I asked. “If you tell history as it actually unfolded?”

  “She thinks they’ll come and drag her out of the house, torches blazing, pitch forks perched, and impale her head on a stake.”

  “Oh my,” I said. I looked at my mother. “Is that what you think?”

  “Nooo,” she said and let her eyes drift away. “Not all the time. Sometimes I think they’ll just put me a padded room. Head intact.”

  “Yeah, so let’s talk about the wedding,” I said.

  We definitely needed to change the subject and take her mind off her crazy ruminations.

  Chapter Six

  “Stop the car.” My mother insisted we stop as I drove past the square after entering Yasamee. There were still a handful of bystanders at the gazebo and evidently she wanted to know what that was about. “What’s going on over there?”

  I had circled through the historic district of Augusta, and driven her down the coastline so she could see the Savannah River. Perhaps she thought there was a tourist attraction on the greens of the square.

  If she only knew.

  “There’s nothing to see there, Ma.” I lifted my foot off the break ready to drive past.

  “How do you know?” she said. “Stop the car.”

  I took in a breath and pressed back down on the brake. “A dead body was found there this morning.”

  “Oh my,” she said. “I thought this was an idyllic little place. This is as bad as Cleveland.”

  I wanted to protest, but in the little time I’d been a resident in Yasamee, the crime rate had almost become comparable.

  “I want to see,” she said. “Park. Right there.” She ordered and pointed.

  I pulled over, parking illegally. I wasn’t too worried about getting a ticket. I could see the sheriff from where we were.

  And there, in the middle of it all, was Miss Vivee. She was dressed in her signature thin, cornflower blue coat with a round color. She had on tan-colored rubber rain boots with big orange dots on them. Her long gray braid hung over her shoulder.

  As we neared the area, I could see that the body was still there. Someone had cordoned off the area and people had gathered around. September and her dogs were gone.

  I pulled my mother in the direction of Miss Vivee.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “I want you to meet someone.”

  “Hi,” Miss Vivee said when we walked up. “Who you got here?”

  “This is my mother, Justin Dickerson,” I said. “And my brother, Micah.”

  Miss Vivee smiled a wide grin. “So nice to meet you, Dear,” she said to my mother and linked her arm through hers. “So nice to meet both of you.” She nodded at my brother. “I’m Vivienne Pennywell, but you can call me Vivee.”

  “Oh! You’re Miss Vivee. It’s so nice to meet you too,” my mother said, a wide smile on her face. “We just fell in love with your grandson, and he and Logan told us so many good things about you.”

  “Don’t you believe any of it,” Miss Vivee said, leaning over and lowering her voice. “Probably nary a word is true.” My mother laughed.

  “Where’s Mac,” I asked.

  “He went home,” Miss Vivee said. “Might have to take him some tea. He seems out of sorts. I’ve got some St. John’s Wort tea in my cabinet, it’ll help him.” She looked at my mother. “I’m a Voodoo herbalist, you know. I can cure practically any malady with my herb mixtures.”

  “Really?” My mother chuckled.

  “Uhh!” Micah was ducking up and down and waving his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “It’s a bee!” He jumped and turned around trying to get out of its way.

  “You scared of a bee?” I said. “Don’t be such a girl!”

  “I’m not a girl,” he said. “You ever been stung by one? Those things hurt.”

  “A few of them have been out,” Miss Vivee said. “I think maybe it’s the potted plants I had placed here. I’ll have Marge change them out.”

  “So what’s going on?” my mother said and pointed to Kimmie.

  “Logan didn’t tell you?” Miss Vivee looked at me out the corner of her eye. “Your daughter found her this morning. Dead as a doornail.”

  “Before you came to pick us up?” My mother looked at me.

  “Yep,” I said feeling a little uneasiness with my one word answer.

  “Well why wouldn’t you tell me that?” My mother said and looked around. “And isn’t this the gazebo where the wedding is going to take place?”

  I nodded.

  She looked at me then at Miss Vivee. “Well that couldn’t be good.”

  “Not to worry,” Miss Vivee said. “Logan and I will have this figured out before the wedding with time to spare.”

  “You and Logan?” My mother asked and looked at me. “Have it figured out? What does that mean, Logan?”

  I lowered my eyes. I didn’t want to answer that question. I let my eyes drift over to Kimmie. Mac’s jacket had been removed from her face, and someone had taken off her yellow jogging jacket.

  “Oh!” my mother said, apparent
ly having followed my eyes. It took her only a minute to notice something I hadn’t. She glanced at me then over at Miss Vivee. “Those holes in her arm. It couldn’t be . . .” She shook her head.

  “Yes?” Miss Vivee said, cocking her head to the side, I could see a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. “You know what that is?”

  “I know how she died,” my mother said. “If that’s what you mean.”

  I perked up, paying attention. She couldn’t know.

  “Do tell,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Has the coroner said anything yet?” she asked Miss Vivee.

  “Seems like he’s on a fishing trip. Left before daybreak. That’s why she’s still lying here. Mac gave her a once over as a preliminary. Sheriff’s trying to find an ambulance or truck to cart her out.”

  “Cart her out?” My mother chuckled.

  “Maybe we could use that truck of yours,” Miss Vivee said to me.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Don’t be rude,” my mother said. “If they need your help, you should give it.”

  If she only knew how much stuff Miss Vivee dragged me into, she wouldn’t be offering any of my help to anyone around here.

  “So what killed her?” I said directing my question to my mother. I was pretty sure Miss Vivee had already figured it out.

  They looked at each other and back at me. “An Asian Hornet,” they said in unison.

  Miss Vivee smiled at my mother, and then at me. “How come you never had your mother come here before?” she said evidently quite pleased with her. “Come with me, Justin,” Miss Vivee said to her. “Let’s see if Sheriff Haynes needs our help with anything else.” She practically pushed my mother around the yellow taped area.

  I let my eyes follow them around the body and they landed on Junior Appletree.

  Sheriff Haynes might just need their help, I thought.

  Junior had been the janitor at the library for nearly thirty years. But it seemed that experience hadn’t given him any skills for solving crime. He didn’t seem to know what to do. He followed behind the sheriff and then stumbled over his own feet trying to get out of the sheriff’s way. Good thing Junior was temporary, he was just as bumbling as the last deputy.

  That made me think about the old deputy – Colin Pritchard. I laughed to myself. To think I had a crush on him when I first arrived, and then he turned out to be Gemma Burke’s murderer. I sure could pick ‘em.

  But I did do a good job picking Bay. That thought put a smile on my face.

  Oh! Wait! Maybe now that I knew my destiny was solving crimes, perhaps my feelings for Colin Pritchard were just that I had honed in on him because deep down somewhere – really deep down – I had a sixth sense about him.

  I had thought that with all the murders happening that I must be a murder magnet, but what if I was a “murderer” magnet? Like Miss Vivee and Mac could spot the cause of death, maybe I could spot the killer . . .

  I had zoomed in on Colin. I thought it was feelings of like (or lust) but maybe it was a vibe – a “killer” vibe that I was starting to develop.

  And I hadn’t liked that Tom Bowlen either, Oliver’s killer . . . Wait. Maybe that was Miss Vivee that hadn’t like him. Okay . . .

  I tried to think about all the murders I’d been involved with, then I pictured each killer in my mind. The last murderer, Marigold Kent, had been on my radar. Okay, so it wasn’t that I picked her as the culprit, but I knew she was a liar.

  That’s something, right?

  If it is my destiny to solve murders, I thought. It’s logical that I might have a special “power,” too.

  Okay, if I were honest, I’d have to admit that I hadn’t had any “feelings” about all the other killers.

  So maybe I just hadn’t picked up anything because I hadn’t completely developed my super sleuthing skill of detecting the murderer yet.

  Makes sense, right?

  Perhaps it had been sparked with Colin and I just needed to work on it. Build it up. Practice it.

  I nodded. Straightening my shoulders, I wiggled my fingers, cleared my mind and blew out a breath.

  I scanned the crowd that had gathered. Miss Vivee had said that a killer always returned to the crime scene.

  Perhaps he (or she) was here right now.

  Wait . . . I tilted my head. Maybe Miss Vivee had said that the killer always came to the funeral. I shook off the thought, it was a distraction. I’m sure I had heard killers come back to the crime scene before, too.

  Okay. I’ll just concentrate, I thought. Quietly focus. See if I could identify the murderer.

  I set my radar. Beep, beep, beep . . . I narrowed my eyes. “Beep, beep, beep.” I scanned the perimeter and tried to peer deep into the mind of each spectator. Pick up any murderous thoughts . . . “Beep, beep, beep.”

  “Logan,” Micah said my name jolting me from my concentrated efforts. He leaned over, a frown on his face. “What is wrong with you?”

  “What?” I said and looked around, feeling a little embarrassed.

  “You keep beeping,” he said.

  Chapter Seven

  As usual, we didn’t leave the crime scene until the body had been picked up, and as Miss Vivee put it, “carted away.” We were in a southern town, I hadn’t thought it stereotypical to note that most people had pick-up trucks, even if it wasn’t their primary vehicle. I couldn’t understand why the sheriff couldn’t just pack the body up in any one of them. Miss Vivee had joked about it, but I wouldn’t have minded if they used my jeep – let the backseats down and it could easily have accommodated the recently departed Kimmie Hunt. As long as someone detailed it afterward, it would have been fine with me.

  But the coroner, after being fetched, returned and Kimmie had a proper, and official, transport to the morgue. Happily for me, there was no need to take her body up to Augusta, since (whew!) her death didn’t appear to be out of the local Sheriff’s jurisdiction. Bay was free from being a part of the investigation.

  After putting Miss Vivee in the car, and getting her buckled in, Micah and my mother climbed in the back and we headed over to the Maypop. Finally. I couldn’t wait to get a shower and something to eat.

  “Oh what a beautiful house,” my mother said as we drove up to the Maypop. “Kind of reminds me of my sister Claire’s house. But much grander.”

  “Wait until you see inside, Mommy,” I said.

  “Yep. This is where your daughter sought refuge when she was running from the FBI,” Miss Vivee said. “Ane we haven’t been able to get her out of the house yet.”

  “And wait until you taste Renmar’s cooking,” I said ignoring Miss Vivee’s comments. “She is the best around.”

  “Good,” Micah said. “Because I’m starving. Where are all the McDonald’s? I haven’t seen one since we left the Airport.”

  “You’d have to leave Yasamee to find a fast food restaurant,” I said.

  “Well where’dya eat?” he asked.

  “Here,” I said turning the knob on the door to the bed and breakfast I called home. “We have a kitchen. Or at Jellybean’s.”

  “Jellybean’s?” he questioned. “Is that a candy store?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s a diner.”

  As soon as I pushed the door open, Brie was standing there a smile so wide she was beaming, cradling something in her arms.

  “Hi!” she said.

  “Hello,” my mother said, a look of curiosity on her face. “I’m Justin, Logan’s mom.”

  “I know,” Brie said excited. “I couldn’t wait to meet you.”

  “Oh, Brie,” Miss Vivee said. “What in the tarnation are you doing?”

  “Momma,” Miss Vivee’s youngest child said, her eyes twinkling. “Do you know who this is?”

  “Of course I do,” she said. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is Logan’s mother.”

  Ever since I’d found out that Brie was dating Sheriff Lloyd Haynes, I had noticed how pretty she looked. Downplaying her fifty-something years, she no
longer wore “grandmotherly” attire – thick soled shoes, crocheted sweaters, shift cotton dresses, her hair in a French roll – but had started putting on face powder to cover the sprinkle of freckles over her nose, her auburn frocks coiffed, and much more stylish clothes. But today, as she stood to meet my mother, she even looked radiant.

  I couldn’t understand what she could be so excited about.

  “No,” Brie said and bit her lip. “She’s more than that.” Then she stuck out a copy of my mother’s book. “Can you sign this for me, please?”

  It was the one she’d written about people coming from Mars.

  I held my breath and looked over at my mother, then at my brother. I slid up next to him, thinking I might need him as a shield to my mother’s ire. I wasn’t sure how she would react, and I didn’t know if she’d blame me for Brie knowing about the book. Maybe even thinking I gave it to her. It certainly wasn’t a good subject to broach with my mother first thing.

  “I’ll be happy to,” my mother said. Not even flinching.

  I blew out my breath.

  “Ma, this is Brie, Miss Vivee’s daughter,” I said. “And this is my brother, Micah.”

  “Nice to meet you, Brie,” my mother said taking the book. Micah nodded. Brie just kept smiling and stuck out a pen.

  “How about I do it over here?” My mother pointed to the registration counter that divided the foyer from the entrance and the rest of the house.

  “Just write, ‘To my cousin, Brie.’”

  “Cousin?” my mother asked.

  “Well, when Bay and Logan get married I’ll be her aunt-in-law, and you and I’ll be in-laws some kind of way, but I figured that be too much to write on here, don’t you think?” My mother didn’t say anything. “And down here everybody are cousins.”

  “‘To my cousin, Brie’ it is,” my mother said, and scrawled it in the book.