“He shouldn’t,” Ida Belle said. “And if there’s anything we can do about it, rest assured, we will.”
We all rose from our chairs and Gertie gave Beulah an awkward hug. Awkward, mostly because with the height difference, Gertie’s face was pressed right in the middle of Beulah’s breasts. I opted for a handshake and we headed out the front door.
And right into Carter.
Chapter 5
When he locked in on the three of us exiting Beulah’s house, Carter’s expression registered surprise at first, then quickly shifted to aggravation. He marched up the front steps and glared at us.
“I told you to stay out of this,” he chided.
“And we are,” Ida Belle said.
“Then what are you doing here?” he asked. “You’re not friends with Beulah.”
Gertie put her hands on her hips. “You have become downright insufferable. Since when do I have to be bosom buddies with an ill person in order to bring them a casserole? I have another in the car for Herbert Myer who had his hemorrhoids out. Anything you want to accuse us of with him?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m supposed to believe Beulah is ill?”
“She’s heartsick and depressed,” Gertie said. “In my book, that counts as much as having something yanked out of your butt.”
“Not in mine,” Carter said.
“Well, I don’t really care about your book.” Beulah’s voice sounded behind us. “These women brought me a casserole and chatted with me about roses to help take my mind off things. Shame on you for giving them grief over it. I thought your mother raised you with a better sense of charity than that.”
Carter’s dismay was apparent. Nothing was worse for a Southern man than being accused of not living up to the standard his mother raised him by, especially when his mother was well-respected and liked by everyone in town. “I apologize, Ms. Latour, but these ladies have been known to meddle in police business, and that’s against the law.”
“There’s no lawbreaking going on here,” Beulah said. “If you need something from me, I suggest you get inside and get to it. I’m going to pop that casserole in the oven, and when it’s done, I’ll expect you to be gone so I can sit in my recliner and watch Justified…unless that’s against the law now.”
Beulah turned around and went back inside, the screen door slamming shut behind her. We headed down the steps and jumped in Gertie’s car. Carter turned around and frowned at us before he stepped inside Beulah’s house.
“He didn’t buy a word of that,” I said as Gertie pulled away from the house.
“Doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Ida Belle said. “Only what he can prove, and Beulah’s not telling.”
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“Well, now that Gertie shot off her mouth about that extra casserole,” Ida Belle said, “we’re going to have to take it to Herbert because Carter is sure to check.”
“Ah,” I said. “Backup plan.”
Ida Belle nodded. “I figure you don’t much care to hear about the old coot’s butt, so we’ll drop you off and you can get started on the Internet part of the investigation. I’ll forward Beulah’s email to you.”
“Sounds good,” I said, relieved that I was going to be left out of the hind end part of the afternoon.
Gertie dropped me off at my house, and I headed into the kitchen and fired up my laptop. Ida Belle had forwarded the files from Beulah, so I downloaded the information and got up to grab something to drink and a snack. All this activity had made me hungry, or maybe it was so much talk about casseroles and knowing I wasn’t getting one.
I had just finished making up a sandwich when I heard a knock on my door. I stiffened for a moment, then relaxed. It wasn’t loud, angry rapping, so it probably wasn’t Carter. I opened the front door to find Walter standing there with a big box.
“My delivery,” I said. “I’d completely forgotten.”
I stood back to let him in, then grabbed the case of water that was next to the front door and followed Walter to the kitchen. He sat the box on the kitchen counter, then went back for the soda that had been sitting next to the water.
“How come Scooter isn’t delivering?” I asked.
“He’s working the cash register,” Walter said. “I needed to get out for a bit. Sometimes sitting there behind that counter, listening to all the locals squawk about their ailments and family problems, can wear on you.”
“It would wear on me after about five minutes.”
Walter laughed. “Yeah, you’re not exactly what I’d consider a people person.”
“Especially by Southern standards, since I don’t cook.”
He nodded. “Hard to bring food to the ailing when all you have is microwave dinners. Still, some of them aren’t too bad. I like to grill some, but I’m not a fan of cooking for the sake of the activity. More for the sake of eating.”
“I can drink to that. Speaking of which, would you like a beer? I brought some back from New Orleans. I’m fully stocked.”