Dying For Dinner Rolls Part 5

A sadness overcame me. "North Carolina?"

"What's going on Cat? You look like you lost your best friend."

"My mom told me she's taking the girls to Korea, and now you're leaving." I swallowed hard. "I'm feeling out of sorts, like something bad will happen if everyone leaves."

"Now listen here, Cat keeping people under your nose is not going to prevent anything bad happening to them. Didn't you tell me that your parents took the boys to Korea when they were five?"

"Yes."

"And they had a great time, right?"

I nodded. "But that was another time, things have changed now. It's all different."

Annie Mae placed her hand on my shoulder. "No it's not. What's happening here I think, is that you are still blaming yourself for your father's death. And you are transferring all of that guilt in over protecting those close to you."

"Wow that was deep," I grinned.

"I minored in Psychology."

"So where to now?" I drove my silver SUV. The air conditioner blasted, blending the smell of our fresh coffee with the bubble gum air freshener chosen by my girls.

"I've been thinking about this for a while. Bert killed Lucy. I just know it." Annie Mae poured a few sugar packets into her coffee then used a red plastic stir stick.

"He has an alibi. Fishing at James Cohen's lake home in North Carolina."

"Yeah, right. But still I think we should double-check Bert's story. It's fishy."

I chuckled. "Why?"

"I don't know, but the way he was flirting with that redhead at Lucy's wake. It's just not right. Something is going on with him that we need to figure out."

I drove east on DeRenne Avenue. "Lucy told me Bert was taking v.i.a.g.r.a. She suspected that he had a lover."

"Let's go to James' house. I'm looking it up right now." Anne Mae tapped on her iPhone. "Take a left on Bull Street."

"What do we say to him?" I merged into the left lane. "I don't want to sound rude or nosey."

"Let me handle it." Annie Mae dumped three creamers into her coffee.

Several minutes later, we pulled in front of our destination, parked, and climbed out.

"Ready?" Annie Mae asked. "I'm all tingly and jittery. Probably because of all the excitement about sleuthing."

"I think it's from all the sugar you had. My kids get that way, too."

We walked in the sunny muggy morning. The eighty-degree heat promised a blistering afternoon. I felt my skin frying as my hair clung to the back of my neck.

Annie Mae pushed the door buzzer.

The green door opened, and a bald man with tiny eyes and a hunched back greeted us. He looked like a mole. "What are you ladies selling?"

"Nothing. We're friends of Lucy Valentine." I stuck out my hand. "I'm Cat Thomson, and this is Annie Mae Maple."

"I think I remember seeing you two at Lucy's funeral last week." James shook our hands. He led us into his house. Smelling of beer and mothb.a.l.l.s, the living room was dark, cool, and decorated with fishing memorabilia. A stuffed fish sat on a hallway table.

I began with, "I'm really sorry about disturbing you, but we wanted to-"

Annie Mae interrupted. "Find out if Bert's a liar."

James's mouth fell open for a second.

I shot Annie Mae the look that I hoped said behave. "What Annie Mae means is that we loved Lucy and want some closure about what happened to her."

"She killed herself." James walked into a sitting room. We followed.

"Whoa. Listen here, Jimmy." Annie Mae got in his face. "That's our friend you're talking about. Please show some respect."

"Sorry. And it's James." He moved away from Annie Mae and stood looking at fishing trophies on the fireplace mantel. "I don't know what I can do to help, but I have a few minutes. What do you need?"

Annie Mae picked up a trophy. "Well, it would be nice if you could tell us about the fishing trip you and Bert were on the day Lucy died."

"Um, yes. The trip." James studied his thumbnail. "We were up at my lake house in North Carolina."

"Did anyone go with you?" I asked.

"Two buddies." James looked at the back of his hand.

I remember Lucy saying Bert went with three of his friends, so that would mean a total of four. James now said it was only two plus him. Three. "Who were they?"

"Me, Smitty, and Guy," James said.

"No one else?" I asked.

"Nah." James cracked his knuckles.

I got right in front of him, eye to eye. My kids could not lie if I looked them in the eyes. "No Bert?"

James avoided eye contact as he ran his finger along the edge of the mantel. "I mean there were, uh, four of us, including me and Bert, of course. I forgot to add myself."

"First place, huh?" Annie Mae read the trophy in her hand. "James, you're quite the sportsman."

"And I got another first place a week ago." James picked up a folded newspaper on the end table and handed it to me.

It was the last page of the North Carolina Times sports section dated a week ago. Two guys I didn't recognize wore fishing vests and wader pants. They must have been Smitty and Guy. They stood next to a grinning James, who held a fish by its tail. The picture credit read Rex Mallard, staff photographer. Annie Mae looked over my shoulder at the picture.

"That's a huge fish," I said to James.

He puffed his chest out. "My biggest trout yet."

"Good job, James. That's a big fish." Annie Mae tapped the paper. "But where's Bert? I don't see him in the photo with you and your other two friends."

"Oh? Um. He...he took the picture," James mumbled.

"He didn't take this picture. The photo credit says Rex Mallard did," I added.

A fine sweat formed on James's nearly hairless head. His upper lip quivered. He grabbed the paper out of my hands and then took the trophy from Annie Mae. "Time to leave, ladies."

"Bert wasn't with you, was he?" I stared him down.

James broke eye contact with me and walked out of the room into the foyer by the front door. "I don't have to talk to you and answer your stupid questions anymore, ladies. And I think our time here is done."

"Please, James, we really need your help," I said.

James kept walking. "I'm sure you do. But I don't have to answer any more of your questions. I was trying to be nice, but now you are starting to irritate me."

"We really didn't mean to, we just wanted some help in finding answers." My eyes welled up.

"James, you seem like a good guy. So I know that you want to cooperate." Annie Mae trailed after James. "Please help us out here. My friend is sad. Can't you see her tears? Our hearts are broken over Lucy. We have to get some answers."

"I've told you all I could. You need to move your fat behind out of the way." James brushed his shoulder against Annie Mae.

"Whoa, now. That was below the belt. I may be a little chubby, but not fat." Annie Mae spun around. "I think it all fits nicely together."

James rolled his eyes.

"James, we really don't want any trouble. We tried being nice to you, but apparently you don't want to be nice to us. So now I have to be firmer with you." Annie Mae moved closer to James. "Although I may look meek and mild, you need to know that I took a self-defense course. So I know some moves in case you push me again."

"Sorry about that; you were blocking my way." James said.

"Forgiven. Why don't you show your remorse by giving us some answers? 'Cause someone is fibbing here, and it isn't me," Annie Mae said.

James turned his back to us. A light above him illuminated the top of his head like a halo. "He's my friend. I can't throw him under the bus."

"I get that. I'm a mom of four kids, and I always tell them to be loyal to their friends. But this is different, James. This has to do with murder." I gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "And I know you don't want to be an accomplice to the crime by lying."

"Murder?" James's voice rose as he turned to face us. "You think he killed his own wife?"

"h.e.l.l, yes," Annie Mae said.

James swallowed. "No. He wouldn't do that."

I had to appeal to his sense of justice. "Whoever murdered Lucy may have also killed my father two months ago."

"Your family owns Sunshine Market. I remember reading about that. A burglary, right?" James looked at me.

"Not really; but that's not the point here." I caught my breath. "We need to know where Bert was when Lucy was killed. You were his alibi, and now that appears to be falling apart."

"I promised. I can't..." James looked like he wanted to cry, his face twisted, his eyes red.

"Okay. We get that. So how about you tell us without telling us. Let's use signals." I thought of a ploy I used on my kids to make them tell the truth without actually saying anything against someone else. "How about you tap your foot if Bert was with you, and touch your chest if he wasn't?"

"I like these signals." Annie Mae's words tumbled out. "Even better, why doesn't he blink twice if Bert was not with him and fold his arms if Bert was?"

James cleared his throat.

"What was that signal? Does that mean yes or no? Or maybe? We didn't have a maybe signal." Annie Mae arched an eyebrow.

James coughed, holding a fist to his mouth. "I had a tickle in my throat."

"This has gotten way too confusing." I sighed.

James blinked a couple of times.

"Are you flirting with me?" Annie Mae said.

"No. I was giving you a signal," James said.

"What did winks mean? I lost track of our codes," I said.

James sneezed.

Annie Mae shook a finger at him. "What does a sneeze mean?"

"I have allergies." He sniffed. "You two are driving me nuts."

"Fine. Let's start over," I said to James. "We'll get out of here if you just tell us the truth. And you won't even have to rat your friend out. Let's make it simple. Head nod for yes, shake side to side for no, okay?"

Annie Mae stood next to James.

I continued. "Last week, was Bert with you in North Carolina on a fishing trip when Lucy was killed?"

James shook his head side to side.

Chapter Seven.

After leaving James and stopping at Krispy Kreme to fulfill Annie Mae's craving for a hot donut and cold chocolate milk, we made our way to Bert's.

Navigating the Sat.u.r.day traffic, we pulled in front of Bert's house. Annie Mae got out of the car. "I'm feeling really excited and tingly about all this."

"Sounds like another sugar rush." Slinging my purse over one shoulder, I saw Bert's yellow Mini Cooper with the black racing stripes. "Looks like Bert's here. Ready?"