“No harm that I see. However, when some time has passed it might be a good idea for you to tell Dolores about your arrangement with Marjory regarding the kitchen garden.”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely will. Your dinner is ready.” Lucinda set a plate of catfish, asparagus, and hush puppies on the table.
As I pulled out my chair I looked at the hush puppies and thought Norman was sure to be delighted—but not as delighted as Tom Blomquist would be if he got the money he so sorely desired.
Chapter Thirteen
I woke up to the sound of a woodpecker hammering in a nearby tree. I leaned across the desk to look out each window but couldn’t see him, so I guessed he was in the pines rather than the crepe myrtles. As I straightened, I noticed the text icon on my cell. I had two messages, both from Harry McGraw, who either was a very early riser or, more likely, hadn’t yet been to bed when he sent them.
3:08 AM: Quartermaster Industries W.N. and others. Talk when I have more
It hadn’t taken Harry long to find at least one business with Willis Nickens’s name attached. This might be an excellent starting point for unraveling Willis’s finances. I wondered if Dolores knew anything about the company and Willis’s relationship to it.
I eagerly tapped on the second text, which read:
3:10 AM: M.R. 2X collared for shoplifting. Still digging
Marjory Ribault had played the financial innocent. She’d claimed to have no idea about the family money, how it came in or how it went out. Yet she’d been arrested for shoplifting more than once, which made me think it was quite possible that she knew far more about money than she let on.
I texted back to Harry, Thanks, can’t wait to talk.
I wasn’t sure what Dolores had on our schedule for today, but I hoped we’d have some quiet time for a serious chat. I sat in the blue wing chair for a few minutes, drawing up a mental agenda.
First, and most immediately, Dolores needed to insist that the sheriff or the coroner tell her what caused Willis’s death and when they would release his body so she could plan a funeral to honor his life and get her own future on track.
Second, she and I needed to discover as much information as we could about Willis’s business interests, without using Norman Crayfield as our source. Harry had sent me one place to start. I wondered if Willis had as many business interests as Dolores seemed to think, or was Quartermaster Industries the umbrella for them all?
Third, we needed to devise a way to keep her connection with Abby strong, without allowing Clancy to impose on Dolores’s good nature. I was sure he thought Dolores would be a much softer touch than Willis ever was, and I didn’t want to see her relationship with Abby become contingent on Clancy’s getting a huge piece of the money pie.
After completing my stretches and taking a shower I decided to forgo my morning jog in favor of breakfast with whoever might show up in the dining room. Perhaps I could learn a thing or two.
I put on my black pencil skirt and a short-sleeved mauve blouse with tiny pearl buttons, sure it would be a comfortable outfit for whatever the day might bring. My feet could use a rest from the pumps I had been wearing almost nonstop, so I was glad I’d brought along a pair of black flats.
Clancy was in the dining room pouring a cup of coffee. “Marla Mae just brought out French toast and scrambled eggs a few minutes ago. She’ll be bringing sausage and bacon along in a minute or two.”
“Sounds like we have delicious choices this morning.” I poured my own coffee and a big glass of water.
“Lucinda is wasting her talents here. She could be a chef in any of the finest restaurants in South Carolina. I don’t believe she has ever prepared a meal that didn’t turn out perfect.”
“I’ll be happy to pass along that compliment to Lucinda for you, Mr. Clancy.” Marla Mae set a tray on the breakfront, lifted the top, and pointed. “Extra-crispy bacon to the right, less so to the left. The sausage has morsels of kale and apple. Lucinda has it special ground by Mr. Archer. His farm is up the road a ways, by the railroad museum. His sausage is worth the trip—you’ll see.”
She was nearly out of the room when she said, “Mrs. Fletcher, I forgot to say Elton called. He’s wondering what time he will be needed.”
I set my coffee and water on the dining table. “Hmm, I’m really not sure. Best for him to stay home until I talk to Dolores, and then I will let you know. Tell him I said to study. He’ll understand the message.”
“Studying is what that boy does best.” Marla Mae laughed and headed back to the kitchen.
I put a piece of French toast, a small serving of eggs, and one sausage on my plate. When I sat at the table, Clancy said, “Jessica, that will hardly keep you going until midmorning, never mind lunch.”
“After I’ve eaten this, perhaps I will want another bite or two,” I said. He didn’t know how hard I would have to exercise for every extra bite.
“Before you go home you will have to ask Lucinda to make you some shrimp and grits. Oh, and her—” Clancy stopped at the sound of high heels tapping across the foyer floor.
Dolores came in, gold bracelets jangling. Her cream-colored silk blouse and black skirt were perfectly tailored. As always she looked stunning, makeup perfect and every hair in place. “Good morning. How’s breakfast?”
Clancy hopped up and pulled out a chair. “Delicious. Why don’t you take a seat, and I will
