Dogwood Days (3 page)

“I see,” the sheriff said, but Jefferson could tell he didn’t see at all.

“I might have been a little distracted with all that figuring going on. I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. Sissy had apparently left one of her toys in the middle of the kitchen, and as I was going back and forth, I stepped on it. My feet went out from under me, and that’s the last thing I remember.”

Sissy, Uncle Sherman’s ancient Maine coon cat, had a habit of leaving her toys all over the place, especially when Sherman wasn’t giving her enough attention. He’d probably been so distracted with everything going on the past few days, he hadn’t spoiled the cat anywhere near the levels she was accustomed to.

Jefferson bit back a smile, but Uncle Sherman turned to glare at him. “Don’t you start with me, Jefferson Lee.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

Sherman grunted and turned his attention back to the sheriff. His eyebrows rose expectantly.

“So basically,” Zane began, “you don’t want it in the official report that you stepped on a cat toy, fell, broke your leg, and gave yourself a concussion.”

“Precisely.”

“So you want me to come up with something more… dramatic?”

Sherman huffed. “Well, I don’t know if dramatic is the word I’d use.”

“How about masculine?” Jefferson smirked. “Something more masculine would definitely be a good idea.”

The sheriff bit back a grin, and Sherman scowled at them both. “You know that if Gracie or Selma Jane find out I fell on a cat toy, I will be the laughingstock of Holly Creek.”

Jefferson couldn’t argue the point. His uncle was right, although it might do him good to spoil his image a little.

“Okay, how about this,” Jefferson suggested. “You were on the ladder, inspecting the wiring on the dining room chandelier.”

“Working with electricity. I like it so far.”

The sheriff stared back and forth between them.

“That’s all I’ve got.” Jefferson frowned and scratched his head. “We’ll have to explain why you were on a ladder, working with electricity, and talking to me on the phone at the same time. We don’t want them to think you’re an idiot.”

“Good point. Scratch the electricity plan. Okay, so I was on the phone with you, working out the ideal route for the Dogwood parade. The town map had curled up, so I used a bottle of olive oil to weigh it down.”

“Oh, good one. In your excitement over discovering the perfect route, you knocked the bottle over. Unfortunately it spilled, and you slipped when going around to clean it up.”

“Exactly. I was injured in the line of duty.”

“Perfect.” Jefferson turned to the sheriff. “You got it?”

“He slipped on olive oil. Got it.”

“No, Sheriff Zane. He slipped on olive oil while
trying to save the Dogwood parade.
That last bit is important. He’ll get so many more pies and casseroles out of this if he was doing town business when he got hurt.”

“Are you two serious? Wait. Of course you’re serious. Why am I even asking? Fine. Slipped while saving the town. That’ll be the official report. Also, you two are ridiculous. The last thing we need is more scheming around here. Everything’s been so peaceful. Well, other than the bad talk between Clover and Mary Caroline. But other than that,
peaceful
.”

Jefferson grinned. “Sorry, Sheriff. Looks like I’m here for a little while. The
Jolly Holly
doesn’t run itself, you know.”

“Heaven help me. Sherman, get yourself better. Jefferson Lee, stay out of trouble. Please. I beg you.”

AFTER SPENDING
several hours at the hospital with Uncle Sherman, Jefferson left him in the very capable hands of the mayor. He had a feeling the two needed a little time to talk, if the awkward silences while he sat there watching were any indication. He made the drive back to Holly Creek and wasn’t at all surprised to see a teenager waiting on the front porch of Uncle Sherman’s century-old Victorian when he pulled into the driveway.

“Hey, Owen,” Jefferson called as he pulled his suitcase and messenger bag from the backseat.

“Hey, Jefferson Lee. Sorry to hear about Mr. Davis.”

The teen shuffled nervously while he waited for Jefferson to make his way up the sidewalk. Jefferson noticed the white plastic bag he held about the time he smelled the most amazing scent.

“Oh my God, I love your gran so much. Please tell me that’s country fried steak I smell. Please. Please tell me.”

Owen cracked a small smile. “It’s country fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. And some peach cobbler.”

Jefferson accepted the bag when the teen held it out, and he inhaled the delicious aroma again. Owen shuffled nervously once more, and Jefferson reached for his wallet before he realized just who he was looking at. Gracie’s great-grandson would not accept money from him. His great-grandmother would have forbidden it.

“Okay, Owen. Out with it. What nefarious message does your gran have for me?”

The teen winced, then shrugged. “I’m supposed to tell you that she knows you watch your, uh, girlish figure so this’ll be a one-time thing.”

Jefferson burst out laughing, and Owen immediately looked relieved. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. It’s a running joke between Gracie and me. See, she thinks I’m too skinny and don’t eat enough
real
food. When I was your age, she was always trying to fatten me up, saying my momma didn’t feed me well. Then between one summer and the next, I grew up and started working out before school. I got muscles.”

Owen smirked. “She quit trying to fatten me up last year. Said I’d grown enough.”

Jefferson chuckled again. “Yep. Said the same thing to me that summer. Tell her thanks for me, will you? And I won’t even ask how she knew when I was going to be back at the house.”

Owen shuffled nervously again.

“Uh-oh.” There must be something else. “Go on. Spit it out, Owen. My steak is getting cold here.”

“Well, um. See, Gran wanted to know if you knew what Mr. Davis was going to do with the blog. Because she has some specials going on next week that Mr. Sherman was going to talk about, so she’s worried she’s going to make all this extra food and no one is going to show up on account of the blog not being up and running.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Owen shrugged. “The blog’s real serious business, I guess. I dunno. I don’t get it. But Mr. Sherman posts what Gran’s specials are going to be for the week so folks know when to come by for their favorites.”

“Okay. Well… I guess tell your gran that I’ll be helping Uncle Sherman out with the blog.”

He was so doomed. Everyone in town would know by morning. No way he could get out of it now. Looks like the
Jolly Holly
Creek
blog had a new blogger for a while. Jefferson wondered if his uncle still had that bottle of bourbon hidden in the cabinet over the fridge. He needed a drink.

Owen seemed relieved by the news and hurried down the sidewalk to his car. Jefferson sat his suitcase and the bag of food down so he could lift up the pot of geraniums on the porch for the hidden key, but it wasn’t there. Well, crap. He tried the front door, but it was locked.

Before he could wonder further, the sheriff’s cruiser pulled to a stop by the curb. Sheriff Zane climbed out and headed up the path. “Thought you might be needing this.” The sheriff held up the missing key.

“That I do. I just looked for it. Wondered which window I was going to have to pry open.”

Zane huffed and climbed the steps onto the porch.

“You’d have broken into your own uncle’s house?”

Jefferson shrugged. “Not like he would be able to let me in.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes and stuck the key in the lock. He opened the door, then turned and grabbed the handle on Jefferson’s suitcase. “Well, come on. Let’s get you settled before you decide on another crime to commit today.”

“I do know how to unpack a suitcase,” Jefferson grumbled, but grabbed his bag of food and followed.

“Figured you did.”

Zane sat the suitcase down by the foot of the stairs and continued down the hall to the kitchen. The sheriff looked around the room and nodded. “Good. Jordan cleaned up the mess.”

“What mess? Wait. You made your deputy clean the floor?”

“Yep. I guess your uncle was putting away the milk when he fell. It was a big mess. Could just picture you coming in here and slipping just like your uncle did. Then where would we be? Hell, the two of you stuck in a hospital room together? No, thank you. I’d rather spend county dollars on the cleanup.”

Jefferson rolled his eyes and plopped the bag of food on the counter. “Did you eat?”

Zane inhaled, and Jefferson heard his stomach rumble from across the room. “Not yet. I’ll go by the diner.”

“Nope. You can share with me. You know good and well Gracie packed enough in here for three, especially because she wanted information out of me.”

“Figured that out, did you?”

“I’ve been here before, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. You sure you don’t mind? I do love Gracie’s steak.”

“I don’t mind. Go on and sit down. I’ll get some plates. You want tea? Pretty sure Uncle Sherman will have a pitcher in the fridge.”

“Tea would be great. Man, I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled that.”

“Didn’t you eat after you left the hospital?”

“Nah, had to go talk to Mrs. Weaver about her dog again. Then had to give a tourist a speeding ticket. I know it’s not good for business to make the tourists mad, but dammit, there’s a reason the speed limit is twenty-five through town. Flying through at fifty? I don’t think so.”

“Served them right. Damn tourists.” Jefferson smirked to let Zane know he was kidding. “But that reminds me.”

He finished pouring glasses of tea before he tapped the top of the can opener. The machine gave a quick buzz, and Jefferson opened the cabinet above to pull out a can of Sissy’s favorite cat food. By the time he had the can mixed with a bit of dry food, the cat had appeared and wrapped herself around his legs. Jefferson put her dish on the floor, then went back to serving up the food for himself and Zane.

“I forget how much you were here when you were younger.”

“Yeah?” Jefferson divided the food onto two plates, then took a sample bite to make sure it was still warm enough. He groaned as the flavor of the steak hit his tongue.

Zane cleared his throat. “Yeah. You know the can opener trick for Sissy.”

“Course I do. Dang cat is spoiled. Thinks the only food good enough for her comes out of a can. It’s because Uncle Sherman spoiled her when she was a kitten by giving her fancy tuna.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Jefferson shrugged and decided the food was warm enough. He really didn’t care and didn’t figure the sheriff would either. “You’ve never spent the summer with my eccentric uncle.” Jefferson chuckled and set the plates on the table. He grabbed utensils and their glasses of tea before joining Zane. “How long have you lived here now?”

“It’ll be six years this June.”

“That’s right. The mayor hired you on while I was in college.”

“About then. You haven’t been around much.”

“Not as much as I should have, no. So how did the mayor find you anyway? I’m sure it’s a good story.”

Zane chuckled. “I gave him a speeding ticket.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. He’d been mayor for a few years at that point, I guess. He was vacationing at the Outer Banks. I’d grown up there, gone to college down in Wilmington, then came back home. After I gave him the ticket, he came to the station looking for me. I thought he was going to protest or something, but nope. He wanted to talk to me about a job.”

“Makes sense. Working in the Outer Banks, you’d be used to dealing with tourists.”

“Suppose so. Mayor Hollister is a hard man to say no to. I told him no several times, in fact. Didn’t think I was ready to be a sheriff, but with Sheriff Keith ready to retire, they wanted to get someone in.”

“I remember Uncle Sherman telling me about that. No one wanted one of the deputies to be the new sheriff. It was a mess.”

Zane shrugged. “Well, I think it was more that no one wanted to pick. You realize who both the deputies were?”

Jefferson cracked up. “Gracie’s grandsons.”

“Exactly. I swear, that woman is related to over half this town.”

“No doubt. So no one wanted her grandsons to run against each other.”

“Pretty sure Gracie herself went to see Sheriff Keith’s wife for a little discussion.”

“I can only imagine. What? She forbade him to retire until they found someone other than her grandsons to be sheriff?”

“Something like that. Worked out for me, though. The mayor kept calling me and telling me about Holly Creek until I finally broke down and came for a visit. It was actually about this time of year. Everyone was gearing up for the Dogwood Festival. And I liked it. Next thing I knew, they’d arranged a special election, I ran unopposed, and here I am.”

“The Dogwood Festival will get you every time.”

“Yep. Besides, after all that business with the Delgados, Sheriff Keith was ready to retire.”

The infamous double murder had rocked the town of Holly Creek, especially when the Delgados’ son had been the prime suspect. Jefferson didn’t know Maxim all that well, but even he had been stunned by the news. Maxim was never charged with the murder, though. In fact, it still remained unsolved, but as far as the town was concerned, Maxim was guilty.

“It was nasty,” Jefferson said. “The summer after their murder was the first one I didn’t spend in Holly Creek. Uncle Sherman didn’t want me to come. I guess it was bad for a while around here.”

“That’s what I hear. But all that’s behind us now. Worst thing I deal with these days, knock wood, is Mr. Thomas’s fondness for moonshine. You’d think a man in his seventies would know when to lay off the booze. Last year he climbed up on the roof of the church and started singing Christmas carols. In August.”

Jefferson laughed. “Yeah, I heard all about that from Uncle Sherman. Apparently he has a surprisingly nice voice. They tried to get him to join the church choir once he sobered up.”