Garden Gazebo Gallivant Page 8

“The same as my brother,” I said. “Minus the Chicken-in-a-Basket, chocolate shake, and salad.”

  “Okay, it’ll be right up.” Viola Rose looked at Miss Vivee. “Where’s Mac? He MIA?”

  “He’s minding his business, Viola Rose, just like you should be,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Well, it just seemed to me that with the latest murder victim still fresh at the morgue you’d three would have your thinking caps on. She was a wild child, no doubt. Gallivanting all over the world, dropping out of college, no money of her own to speak of, and spending her daddy’s money like it was water. She probably had made a lot of enemies, even her best friend, and her cheating ex-boyfriend might be on your list of suspects. But she didn’t deserve to die, and it’d be nice to solve it before the wedding.”

  “I don’t have a list,” Miss Vivee said and pulled the plastic bag with her notepad in it off the table and onto her seat. “And if I did, I wouldn’t need your help putting names on it.”

  “I’m just saying,” Viola Rose said holding up her hands like she was surrendering. “This one might be a hard one to solve. You’ll probably need Mac.”

  “No harder than any of the others,” Miss Vivee said.

  Miss Vivee leaned over after Viola Rose had collected the rest of the menus and whispered, “That’s why you have to be careful about what we tell her. She is the biggest gossiper this side of the Mississippi River.”

  I rolled my eyes. That was the reason that Miss Vivee came to Jellybean’s. To get information from Viola Rose.

  “So you think the killer brought the hornet here on purpose?” my mother said getting back to the conversation she and Miss Vivee were having before Viola Rose took our food orders.

  “I think it was an accident,” Micah said before Miss Vivee could speak. “It got into her luggage when she was in China and she brought it home.”

  “Her last stop was India,” I said. “You’re probably just thinking of that article I read to you off my laptop where all those people in China were stung.”

  “India. China. Wherever.” He held out his hand. “I think that’s what happened.”

  “Can it live that long?” I asked and reached for my phone.

  “I got it,” he said. “‘Okay, Google,’” he spoke into his cell phone. “What is the life span of an Asian Hornet?”

  Micah tapped on his phone a few times then took to reading to himself.

  “Read it out loud,” Miss Vivee said and reached across the table, waving her hand to get Micah’s attention.

  “Oh,” he said and looked at me smiling. “Okay.”

  I had warned him, Miss Vivee could be a handful.

  “‘The average life span of hornets in the wild is several months,’” Micah read. “‘The general saying, born in spring, lives until fall is applicable to most hornets.’” He looked up. “So technically, it could’ve lived in her suitcase, gotten tangled up in her clothes, and stung her when she put them on.”

  “Yeah, but Micah, didn’t you say it was about 50mm long? That’s about 2.2 inches,” I said. “She would have noticed that thing buzzing in her carry-on.”

  “She might not have had a carry-on, she was gone a long time.”

  I whipped out my phone and did a Google search of my own. “Oh my goodness, Micah,” I said. “Look how big these things are.” I showed him a picture of a man with four on his hand. “They are the entire width of this guy’s hand.”

  I showed my mother and Miss Vivee the picture.

  “Yeah, Micah,” my mother said. “They are pretty big. And they have an even longer wingspan.”

  “Seventy-six millimeters,” I read from my phone. I looked at him. “That’s nearly three inches.”

  “So you can convert from the metric system in your head, doesn’t mean someone killed her. She’d been gone a long time, was someone just lying in wait with a giant hornet until she returned?”

  I was familiar with that logic. I had used it on my mother and Miss Vivee earlier. I looked at Micah. It was rather disheartening that now I was thinking like my brother. I scrolled down to finish reading the article.

  “Oh my,” I said. “I looked up and smiled and my mother and Miss Vivee. “Now I see how you knew,” I said. I showed Micah the pictures that had come up on my phone. “Look at the holes that thing leaves.”

  There was a picture of a man that had been stung in his arm several times, the holes formed after the sting were scattered across his limb and looked like the size of bullet wounds.

  Micah took my phone and I saw his lips moving as he read the caption of the picture. “So when an Asian hornet bites, it bores a hole?”

  “Yes,” my mother said and Miss Vivee nodded. “When it stings,” she corrected.

  “That’s what I meant,” he said.

  “Let me see,” my mother said wiping her hands on a napkin and reaching for the phone. Micah passed it across the table.

  “I don’t know,” Micah said. “It’s big, but still small enough to get tangled up in some clothes, or in a shoe, a cosmetic bag or something. It’s not impossible.”

  “Improbable,” I said.

  “But not impossible,” he repeated. “It could still be an accident. It lives long enough to have survived the trip. Even if she didn’t get it at the last place. Heck, it could’ve been her first stop.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  Viola Rose interrupted with our supper. Micah’s spread nearly covered the entire table.

  “Mmmmm. This is good.” Miss Vivee had taken a huge bite (huge for her) out of her egg salad sandwich. “You enjoying yours?” she asked my mother.

  “Yummy,” my mother said.

  Miss Vivee had finally gotten someone to eat egg salad with her. She was always ordering it for me, but I’d never touch the stuff.

  “I think someone may have killed her because of the relic,” my mother said wiping her mouth with a napkin. She picked up the conversation giving her theory. She took a sip of the tea and frowned up, I knew it was too sweet for her.

  “Oh Logan, there goes Mommy with her Dan Brown conspiracy theories,” Micah said.

  “Say what you will, Micah,” my mother said. “But Logan and I both know, firsthand, what people will do to get their hands on, and gain any subsequent fame, from ancient artifacts. They will kill. Logan saw a man die right in front of her eyes. And you must have forgotten that I was kidnapped.”

  “I didn’t forget,” he said. “And I’m not making light of your . . . Uhm . . . What happened to you and Logan. And yes, it does happen – did happen – but to happen again?” He shook his head. “This isn’t the movies.”

  “Well, I think it was a love triangle,” Miss Vivee said. “And Seppie and Keith killed her.”

  “Miss Vivee,” I said. “You always think it’s a love triangle, and it hasn’t been yet.”

  “That just means that it’s time for my theory to be the right one.”

  “So if there really isn’t an artifact, Micah, why the postcard?” my mother asked, she evidently wasn’t ready to move past her theory. “There has to be something to it.”

  “Logan told me what that Seppie Love, or whatever her name is, said,” Micah said. “Kimmie learned how to play practical jokes from her stepmom, Frankie. Isn’t that right, Logan?” I nodded, then he pointed to Miss Vivee. “I believe Seppie said it right. Kimmie might have been upset about her friend and boyfriend hanging out. She wanted to play a trick on them, so she mailed the postcard.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense, Micah,” I said. “How does that get Seppie and Keith back for that? A revenge plan that only makes you laugh? It might be a practical joke, but not to retaliate against them.”

  “I dunno,” Micah said and shrugged. “Maybe that was just part of the joke, and she didn’t have time to let it play out because of her accident.”

  “It was murder,” the three of us said nearly in unison.

  Micah held up his hand in mock surrender. “Geesh,” he said. “A guy can�
�t have an opinion.”

  “Not when it’s wrong,” I said, a smirk on my face.

  “So, how do we decide who’s right, Miss Vivee?” my mother said.

  “We have to investigate,” Miss Vivee said and chewed on her bottom lip like she was thinking.

  “What is there to investigate?” my mother asked.

  I wasn’t worried about Miss Vivee coming up with something, or someone to investigate. I was just worried that what she came up with might get us thrown in jail, or killed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “How about a little dessert?” Miss Vivee said. “I have an idea of what we should do next. We can discuss it over some sweets and a cup of coffee.

  “I’d like that,” my mother said. “What’s good here?”

  “Not the peach cobbler, Mommy,” I said. “Peach pits kill.”

  “A lot of peach pits kill,” Miss Vivee said. “And there aren’t any in the peach cobbler.”

  “I’m having some,” Micah said.

  “You’re going to eat more?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “Dessert, right?” Micah asked. “Dessert isn’t extra, it goes with the meal.”

  “I would have hated to feed that one,” Miss Vivee said.

  “We still feed him,” my mother said. “That’s why my husband and I can’t afford to retire.”

  We all laughed. Micah turned around and beckoned for Viola Rose.

  I skipped desert. And while they ate theirs and sipped piping hot coffee, Miss Vivee pulled out her suspect notebook, and licked the tip of her No. 2 pencil.

  “Suspects,” she said as she scrawled on the page.

  “We only have two names,” my mother said.

  “Wrong,” Miss Vivee said. “We have three. September Love and Keith Collier,” she wrote. “And Macomber Whitson.” She finished with a flourish.

  “And we have a John Doe suspect, or suspects,” my mother said.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Whoever chased Kimmie here and killed her for the artifact she claimed to possess.”

  “Mom,” Micah said. He didn’t want her to go down that path.

  “It might even be a cadre of evil mercenaries, backed by Christian zealots with ties to the Vatican,” my mother said, going down that road anyway.

  “See,” Micah said. “It is like Dan Brown.”

  “I’ll just write ‘Zealots,’ Justin,” Miss Vivee said and licked her pencil. “At least until we can find out their real names.”

  I am not going to be able to take the both of them together for much longer.

  “So how will we find out?” my mother asked.

  “We’ll have to do a little B & E job.”

  Micah’s fork stopped at the opening of his mouth. He dropped it onto his plate, mouth still wide. “‘B & E’ as in breaking and entering?”

  “We can leave you out if you think it’s a conflict of interest,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Mom?” Micah looked at her questioningly.

  “Miss Vivee knows what she’s doing,” my mother said. “She’s solved six murders already.”

  “Actually seven,” Miss Vivee said and held her chin a little higher. Evidently proud of her accomplishment. “The seventh was a cold case.” She nodded. “Sixty-six years old. I’ll tell you about that one later.”

  “You’re not going to break in somewhere are you?” he asked our mother. “Really, Mom?” He picked up his phone. “I’m calling Dad.”

  “Hold your horses,” Miss Vivee said. “I was thinking we’d just have a looksee around Stallings Inn.”

  “Stallings Inn?” he asked as if the name sounded familiar.

  “That’s Frankie Hunt’s place,” I said. “You know, Kimmie’s stepmom.”

  “I know who Frankie Hunt is,” he said. “I’ve stayed in the same house with her since I got to Georgia.”

  “She gave us the key, Micah,” my mother said. “Miss Vivee, you’ve got the key, right?”

  “Sure do,” Miss Vivee said and pulled out a set of keys. She jiggled them, making them clink.

  I recognized them as the keys to Miss Vivee’s car and the Maypop’s four car garage.

  “We can go and look through Kimmie’s things. Under the bed, in the drawers,” Miss Vivee said. “Maybe there’s a clue there.”

  “You can’t go and mess up that woman’s house,” Micah said.

  “Hi,” came a deep voice from behind me before anyone could address Micah’s concerns.

  Bay.

  My heart almost stopped beating. Just the sound of his voice gave me goose pimples up and down my arms. I was too embarrassed to even try and relay how he made the rest of me feel.

  I pushed down in my seat, and shifted, turning around to see him, his smell enveloping my senses.

  I took in a nostril full and closed my eyes. Emanating from him was a citrusy scent of oranges and lemons mixed with wood, and jasmine.

  And when I opened my eyes, they were met with his twinkling, hazel ones.

  “Hello there,” he said. He stood behind the bench looking down at me. A sexy smile on his face.

  “Hi,” I said breathily.

  Oh goodness. I felt like I was in a cheap B movie. I cleared my throat.

  “Hey, Bay.” I tried to sound more normal. I glanced over at my mother, she was eating her peach cobbler, not paying any attention to me.

  “So we heard that you might have to take over the investigation of Kimberly Hunt’s murder,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Grandmother,” Bay said. “You and Logan don’t have the time to get involved in this. I’ve talked to the Sheriff.”

  “That big mouth,” Miss Vivee muttered.

  “He’s trying to do his job.”

  “I’m not interfering with his job,” Miss Vivee said. “Although he isn’t very good at it.”

  “Grandmother. Please. Just let the upcoming nuptials keep you two occupied.” He winked at me. “Or maybe I should say, the three of you,” Bay said and looked at my mother.”

  “I just asked if you were taking over the investigation,” Miss Vivee said. “Don’t go dragging our guest into your insinuations. And don’t get all riled up about a little innocent question.”

  “Grandmother, there is nothing innocent about you,” he said.

  “Why thank you,” Miss Vivee said and smiled. She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve worked long and hard to gain that reputation.”

  “You’d think you’d behave in front of company,” he said.

  “Justin and Micah aren’t company, she said. They’re family. Or will be.”

  Bay looked down at me and smiled. I blushed and lowered my head.

  Why am I so corny?

  “I came by to see if Micah wanted to go to the mall with me. I have to pick up my tux.”

  “Sure, Man. I’ll go,” Micah said. “Just let me finish up my cobbler.”

  “Cool,” Bay said. “So what are you ladies up to after this? Going back home?”

  I turned around and looked at my mother, she looked at me. No way could we tell Bay the plan we’d just concocted.

  Micah didn’t even lift his head up, he kept spooning cobbler into his mouth.

  “We’re just going and do a little pop-calling. You know,” Miss Vivee said. “Be neighborly. One of our own has just died. Everyone needs a little comfort.”

  We looked at Miss Vivee and then at Bay.

  Was he going to believe that?

  “Oh good,” he said and smiled. “It’s kind of late, but I’m sure folks around here wouldn’t mind company.” He smiled. “I’m glad you came up with something like that to do. And I’m glad you’re including Logan’s family.”

  My mother and I looked at Miss Vivee. Her face hadn’t changed. She wasn’t giving away anything.

  “Well, my word, Bay, why wouldn’t I include them?” Miss Vivee said. “You talk as if I wouldn’t know how to entertain them. What did you think? I take them out on a home invasion, and we’d ransack a house?�
�

  Micah choked on his cobbler. He put a napkin up to his mouth to keep it from spewing across the table. My mother turned and looked out of the window, and I just tucked my head.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Micah went with Bay to Augusta. He didn’t complain one iota, even though according to him he didn’t want to be bothered with any wedding preparation stuff.

  Meanwhile, my mother, Miss Vivee and I prepared to burglarize Stallings Inn.

  Miss Vivee insisted that I check Hadley’s Drugstore to see if they’d gotten any ski masks in. When I reminded her they didn’t have any the last time she wanted us to break into a private residence, she informed me she’d subsequently called and placed a special order for them.

  I should’ve known.

  Miss Vivee and my mother waited in the car while I went into Hadley’s to purchase the masks. They had two black ones, and a red one, the crown covered in white diamond shapes with green and blue dots inside.

  I climbed back in the car and as soon as I pulled the door shut, Miss Vivee had her hand out. “Well, let’s see what you got.”

  I handed her one of the light blue plastic bags I gotten from Hadley’s.

  “Whoever heard of selling a red and white ski mask?” Miss Vivee asked pulling it out of the bag and examining it.

  “I don’t think they knew you wanted to use it for illegal activities,” I said.

  “Why else would I want a ski mask in the middle of summer?” she said. “I declare. Some people just ain’t got the good sense God gave ‘em.”

  I just shook my head.

  “Did you get the flashlights,” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said. I pulled out one from the other bag.

  “Those are awfully big,” she said and reached for one.

  “They’re normal sized,” I said pulling another one out. I turned it around in my hand, scrutinizing it.

  “They don’t fit,” she said.

  “Fit what?”

  I looked over at her and she had her mouth opened in the shape of an “O” and was trying to stick the end of the flashlight in.

  “Miss Vivee,” I said and took it from her. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re supposed to hold it in your mouth so your hands are free to do things.”