doesn’t know. He’s from the hood, her daddy’s a retired cop. Some things aren’t meant to be. About those suspects?”
Meaning he told me about Pillsbury and Chantilly so now it was my turn to cough up information. “GracieAnn’s baking dead-guy cookies over at Cakery Bakery. They look an awful lot like Simon. Waynetta Waverly is more concerned about keeping her wedding gifts than her almost-husband facedown in fondant and buttercream. Neither seems all that upset that Simon’s taking up permanent residence out at Bonaventure Cemetery.” I considered mentioning Suellen from the Pirate House as a suspect but decided she was more of an upset waitress who saw a dead guy in a cake. Then again, there was that mumbling about
Now what am I going to do
. “Who do you think killed Simon?”
Boone snagged back the sweet tea, drank, and shrugged. “GracieAnn had motive. She was at the wedding and knows her way around a cake knife.” Boone put down his glass. He turned to me and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. A caring gesture not like Boone at all and there was a glint of devilment in his eyes. Boone was trouble enough without the devil thrown in. He said, “Last time you went snooping for a murderer you nearly wound up dead in your own shop. This time I might not be around to save you, Blondie.”
I parked one hand on my still-somewhat-narrow hip and poked Boone in the forehead with my index finger. “Don’t call me Blondie, and your memory is a touch foggy because
I
saved you.”
Boone arched his left eyebrow, then headed for the kitchen door. I threw the pan at his head, missing by a mile. The canine vacuum cleaner gobbled the corn bread and I watched through my back window as Boone disappeared down the walk to the street. “I
did
save your sorry, miserable hide, and right now I’m wondering why I went and did such a dumb thing.”
• • •
At ten the next morning, I opened the prissy Fox. The heat index hovered near sweltering and by noon would reach sizzling. “You got to do something right quick.” Auntie KiKi bustled through the back door in yellow slippers and a matching housecoat billowing out behind her. Her hair was done up in big yellow rollers all over her head and the cucumber mask gave her the look of a green raccoon hiding out in a banana. “I’ve been on the phone for an hour,” she panted, pulling sweet tea from the fridge. Horror stricken, I watched as she gulped straight from the pitcher. Sweet mother in heaven! No belle old or young ever gulped from a pitcher. All Savannah was in desperate need of ice skates because hell had just frozen over.
“Chantilly’s out making rounds this morning,” KiKi hurried on. “She dropped off Henrietta Duncan’s prenatal vitamins to Sister Donovan over there at St. John’s Church. Father Gleason saw the whole thing and is lighting candles and saying novenas as we speak. I’m not quite sure what that’s all about but it doesn’t look one smidgeon good for either of them.”
Auntie KiKi took another swig and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her robe. “You ought to be calling Chantilly right this very minute and tell her you’ll do the delivering again today.” KiKi held the pitcher high looking a bit like the statue of liberty in hair rollers. “If General Beauregard Summerside took up the cause to save our fair city from harm and devastation, you need to be doing the same.” KiKi held out her iPhone. “Call.”
“I have a shop to run and there’s something about a cloud and profits I need to look into and I’m tired.”
“I tell you Chantilly’s more distraught than a hen in a hurricane with all that’s going on and making more mistakes than this city can tolerate. Besides, you don’t have yourself any profits and there’s not one single cloud in the sky today so you can’t be looking at that. We all know the reason you’re tired is you’re taking up with that Walker Boone person.” Auntie KiKi folded her arms
Meaning he told me about Pillsbury and Chantilly so now it was my turn to cough up information. “GracieAnn’s baking dead-guy cookies over at Cakery Bakery. They look an awful lot like Simon. Waynetta Waverly is more concerned about keeping her wedding gifts than her almost-husband facedown in fondant and buttercream. Neither seems all that upset that Simon’s taking up permanent residence out at Bonaventure Cemetery.” I considered mentioning Suellen from the Pirate House as a suspect but decided she was more of an upset waitress who saw a dead guy in a cake. Then again, there was that mumbling about
Now what am I going to do
. “Who do you think killed Simon?”
Boone snagged back the sweet tea, drank, and shrugged. “GracieAnn had motive. She was at the wedding and knows her way around a cake knife.” Boone put down his glass. He turned to me and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. A caring gesture not like Boone at all and there was a glint of devilment in his eyes. Boone was trouble enough without the devil thrown in. He said, “Last time you went snooping for a murderer you nearly wound up dead in your own shop. This time I might not be around to save you, Blondie.”
I parked one hand on my still-somewhat-narrow hip and poked Boone in the forehead with my index finger. “Don’t call me Blondie, and your memory is a touch foggy because
I
saved you.”
Boone arched his left eyebrow, then headed for the kitchen door. I threw the pan at his head, missing by a mile. The canine vacuum cleaner gobbled the corn bread and I watched through my back window as Boone disappeared down the walk to the street. “I
did
save your sorry, miserable hide, and right now I’m wondering why I went and did such a dumb thing.”
• • •
At ten the next morning, I opened the prissy Fox. The heat index hovered near sweltering and by noon would reach sizzling. “You got to do something right quick.” Auntie KiKi bustled through the back door in yellow slippers and a matching housecoat billowing out behind her. Her hair was done up in big yellow rollers all over her head and the cucumber mask gave her the look of a green raccoon hiding out in a banana. “I’ve been on the phone for an hour,” she panted, pulling sweet tea from the fridge. Horror stricken, I watched as she gulped straight from the pitcher. Sweet mother in heaven! No belle old or young ever gulped from a pitcher. All Savannah was in desperate need of ice skates because hell had just frozen over.
“Chantilly’s out making rounds this morning,” KiKi hurried on. “She dropped off Henrietta Duncan’s prenatal vitamins to Sister Donovan over there at St. John’s Church. Father Gleason saw the whole thing and is lighting candles and saying novenas as we speak. I’m not quite sure what that’s all about but it doesn’t look one smidgeon good for either of them.”
Auntie KiKi took another swig and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her robe. “You ought to be calling Chantilly right this very minute and tell her you’ll do the delivering again today.” KiKi held the pitcher high looking a bit like the statue of liberty in hair rollers. “If General Beauregard Summerside took up the cause to save our fair city from harm and devastation, you need to be doing the same.” KiKi held out her iPhone. “Call.”
“I have a shop to run and there’s something about a cloud and profits I need to look into and I’m tired.”
“I tell you Chantilly’s more distraught than a hen in a hurricane with all that’s going on and making more mistakes than this city can tolerate. Besides, you don’t have yourself any profits and there’s not one single cloud in the sky today so you can’t be looking at that. We all know the reason you’re tired is you’re taking up with that Walker Boone person.” Auntie KiKi folded her arms
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