TWENTY-ONE
A fine morning followed a mercifully uneventful night. Iris served us the Southern breakfast Connor had always demanded, fried everything with a pat of butter on the side. Martell tore into his plate, and after a few thank-yous and compliments, Jilo tucked pretty well into hers as well. My stomach was having none of it, so I made myself a bowl of plain oatmeal with brown sugar. Pleased that our guests were happy, Iris kissed the top of my head and excused herself to head out and tend to the flowerbeds.
“It was mighty gracious the way yo’ aunt allowed us to spend the night, oh, and that uncle of yo’s too.” She truly meant what she’d said about Iris, but her comment about Oliver had come more grudgingly, I noticed. Last night he had returned home and come to the library to pour himself a drink, only to find Jilo, Iris, and myself discussing the events of the day, Jilo clad in one of Iris’s robes. “All right, then” was all he said, pouring himself a double and exiting the room without another word.
“Trust me,” I said. “As far as you and my uncle are concerned, that counted as a brass band welcome.” If Ellen had come home the previous night, she had done so long after the rest of us had retired, so I hadn’t had a chance to gauge her reaction.
I was anxious to get back to the discussion Jilo and I had been having before the world literally began to collapse in on us. I did not, however, feel comfortable picking up where we’d left off in the family kitchen, especially with Martell listening in. I would have to be patient. I stood and went to the sink to rinse out my bowl before putting it in the dishwasher. When I looked out the window, I saw that Adam Cook was talking to Iris. He was wearing his serious face; Birdy’s remains must have been found.
“It’s Detective Cook,” I told Jilo and crossed the room to open the door for Iris and the policeman. “Adam,” I acknowledged him. “Two days in a row.”
“Indeed,” he concurred. “I’m pleased to see you’ve caught up with Mother.” He addressed Jilo. “I have been worried about you.”
“No need to worry about Jilo,” she said, cackling.
“It’s good to see you well all the same.” He paused, nodding slowly in her direction. He turned back to face me. “Actually though, I had a different reason for dropping by this morning.” I motioned him to the chair next to Jilo’s, and then pulled out the remaining chair for myself. I said nothing, just arched my eyebrows as a sign he should continue. He shifted in his seat, his legs a bit too long not to bump into the bottom of the table as he did so. “Miss Taylor—Mercy,” he corrected himself, “were you by any chance down by the river last night? Maybe out near Elba Island Road?”
I shook my head, relieved that the God’s honest truth would serve me well this time. “No, nowhere near it. Why do you ask?”
“All right,” he responded without answering my question. “Is Mrs. Weber home, by any chance?”
“No, not right now. Aunt Ellen’s probably out exercising or maybe at City Market,” I said, and Adam wrinkled his brow. “She’s reopening her flower shop.”
“Ah, good for her,” he said.
“Yeah, I think it really is, although right now she’s her own biggest client given all the bouquets she’s planning for her wedding to Tucker.”
“Do y’all have any idea where she spent the night? Do you know if she might have been out with Mr. Perry?”
“That’s exceedingly possible,” Iris said, “but not certain. She told me Tucker had unexpected business to attend to in Atlanta, and she didn’t know if he’d make it in time for the menu sampling she’d arranged for their wedding reception.”
“And did this upset her?” Adam asked.
A pinched smile formed on Iris’s lips. “Inconvenienced, yes. Upset, no. Adam, perhaps you should tell us what this is all about.”
“All right,” Cook said. “Mr. Perry’s boat ran itself ashore about an hour ago out near the bend by Falligant Avenue. A couple of kids spotted it and went to take a look.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Iris said and laughed. I sensed her relief that this visit wasn’t connected to the grisly discovery we had made at the old hospital. “So Tucker failed to secure his boat, and some teenagers took it for a joyride. Probably the same kids who reported it.”
“No,” Adam said. “I have reason to believe that’s not the case.” He looked at me. “You’ve been less than supportive about Ellen and Tucker’s marriage, haven’t you?”
“Listen,” I said. “I have accepted his relationship with Ellen. I have far too much going on in my own life to run around committing acts of theft and petty vandalism. You can assure Tucker I didn’t have anything to do with it.” I shook my head in disbelief.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Cook responded. “The boat wasn’t empty. Mr. Perry was found inside. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
I jumped. I watched as Iris turned gray and rocked a little from the shock. Jilo reached out and took her hand. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, although the truth was I felt more sorry for Ellen than for Tucker. Guiltily I wondered how Tucker’s demise would affect Peter’s fledgling business.
“That sounds very close to sincere,” Cook said. I suddenly realized we had gone back to Cook and Miss Taylor. “I always got the feeling that you didn’t care much for Perry.”
“Well, sure I never liked the guy much, but . . . well, I’m still sorry. I didn’t wish him any harm. Ellen’s going to be devastated.” I wondered if she could find the strength to make it past another tragedy. “What happened to him?”
“I’m not at liberty to share the exact details with you as yet.” He paused, fixing me firmly in his gaze. “But we are treating the death as suspicious, in a large degree because it bears some striking similarities to another case we’ve seen recently. Another death to which you, Miss Taylor, have a connection, albeit tangential.”
I blanched. I was happy that I had been sitting, because otherwise I might have keeled over. Jilo rose to my defense. “If you gonna go about tryin’ to hang this on anybody who disliked that smarmy son of a bitch, you should be puttin’ Jilo on that list long before any of the Taylors. That jackass been gratin’ Jilo’s last nerve since he turned nineteen.”
“I wouldn’t have thought so right off the bat, Mother,” Cook said, a cool smile forming on his lips, “but finding y’all here like this, looking so close and cozy, I will very much take that under consideration.” He pushed himself away from the table and nodded once at the three of us. “Mother, Martell,” he said in farewell. “Miss Taylor, you tell Ellen to give me a call when she gets in, okay? It’ll save me the trouble of having to hunt her down.” He nodded once more and exited through the back, leaving the door open behind him.
I could hear Jilo’s teeth grinding together. “Okay, girl,” she said with a final clack. “Jilo think she wrong yesterday. This ain’t about her. This about you. You know you can count on Jilo, even though she ain’t sure she can do you much good no more. She got to think about her grandbaby here,” she said, nodding her head at Martell. He started to protest, but she held up a finger in his face, effectively silencing him. “Jilo got people over on Sapelo. She gonna take the boy there, make sure he safe. They still things you gotta know, and Jilo tell you once she had a chance to get a bit of rest herself. All that gonna have to wait fo’ now. If you need her, she come running, but she can’t help you or your family no more with getting back that sister of yo’s. Jilo thinkin’ they somebody who jus’ plain don’ want that girl brung back.” She faced Martell. “You help Gramma up,” she said. He did as she told him without protest. “Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Iris.”
“Of course, dear. You are always welcome here. Both of you.”
“Martell.” Jilo lifted her arm. He took ahold of it and maneuvered her slowly toward the door. “You take care, girl,” she said, looking over her shoulder at me.
“Jilo,” I called, and she stopped and turned toward me. “The spell. The one you worked for Tucker. What did you do for him?”
“Jilo don’t guess it matter much now.” She reached out and pushed gently past her grandson. “Fool came to Jilo and said he wanted to do right by your auntie. Spell he asked for would make sure he see her face every time he was thinking about cheatin’ on her.”
She turned and shuffled through the door. Martell reached back and closed it firmly after them. I hung my head between my hands and began to cry. I had been so terribly, terribly wrong.
Iris leaned over me and hugged me. “I need to track down Oliver and let him know,” she said. Oliver had made himself scarce this morning. I reckoned he hadn’t relished the idea of breakfast with Jilo. “Are you going to be okay?”
Before I could answer, the door opened and Ellen entered, beaming sunshine and happiness as she clutched a bouquet of flowers. “Am I hallucinating,” she said as she shut the door behind her, “or did I just witness Mother Jilo Wills leaving this very house?”
“No,” Iris said, “your eyes are not deceiving you. Please.” She tapped the chair next to mine. “Come and sit down.”
“Well, then, I guess this is a day of miracles all around.” Ellen said, ignoring Iris’s request. “First of all,” she said, handing the flowers over to Iris, “I ran into the delivery boy on the way in, and these are for you. A rather more fandango combination than I will be sending out once my shop is open, but . . .” She stopped herself. “Expressive.” She turned quickly toward me and her eyes flashed wide. “I’ll bet you anything they are from that young buck she danced with at the wake.” She slapped at my hand and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Iris has a boyfriend,” she sang out. She winked at me, but then the smile fell from her face. “Sugar, what is wrong? Aren’t you feeling well this morning?” She reached out to touch me, but read something in my eyes. Her hand stopped a little short.
“Ellen,” Iris said.
Ellen ignored Iris’s tone and forced a smile back to her lips. The smile did not reach her eyes. “It is such a beautiful morning out there. You just need to get out of this house and . . .”
Iris and I looked at each other, neither of us sure of what to do. “Aunt Ellen,” I said, “you should listen . . .”
“No,” she said, shaking her head once and turning away. She had sensed that we had bad news. I could see she was shutting down, pulling away, trying somehow to keep the moment from happening.
Iris reached out and grabbed Ellen’s hand before she could make her escape. Ellen turned back to face her sister. “Detective Cook came by a little while ago. I’m afraid there’s been a mishap . . .”
“A mishap . . .” Ellen echoed, the color leaving her face as she pulled her hand away.
“I’m sorry, Ellie, but Tucker, he’s dead.”
Ellen’s knees started to give at the word.
“Maybe you should sit?” I asked, rising myself.
“No. No. No,” she said, shaking her head. “This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening again.” She pulled her arms in around herself. “Not again, not again,” she kept repeating. I was reaching to put my arms around her when the bouquet on the table caught my eye. The flowers had all withered away.