Marriage and Murder: Solving for Pie: Cletus and Jenn Mysteries Series Book #2 Read online

  Oh no.

  “Diane.” The distinct disdain of my daddy’s voice rose above the remnants of conversation his presence hadn’t yet quieted. Just the sound of him . . . Oh no!

  He wasn’t looking at me. Even so, my heart took off at a gallop, my throat suddenly dry, and a tremor of either fear or rage—or maybe both—made me feel unsteady on my feet.

  “Jenn, I’m here.” Cletus, abruptly at my side, slid his arm around my waist like he knew how much I needed his support, his strong hands and assurances, his solid warmth, his strength; like he knew how much I needed him.

  A relieved rush of air left my lungs, and I leaned into him, grateful beyond words for his timely appearance. “Cletus.”

  “I’ve been here the whole time,” he whispered against my ear in a tone meant to soothe. “I’ve got you.”

  I nodded, able to swallow around the rocks rising in my throat. Of course I’d known Cletus was here. I’d spotted him hiding (or trying to hide) along the far wall as I’d entered. Even though I’d felt his eyes follow as I greeted our guests, it had been obvious to me he had no desire to budge from the safety circle of his family.

  And that was fine.

  We would sit next to each other at dinner. I’d made certain our table’s seat assignments were occupied by his family, despite my momma’s protests such an arrangement would be gauche. Cletus didn’t have to venture into the crowd and chitchat if he didn’t want to.

  But the sudden appearance of my deranged father and his equally deranged mistress had been enough to spur him into the crowd and to my side. I wasn’t surprised. When I needed Cletus, he was always, always there.

  “This is awful. Why is he here?” I moaned, searching his handsome face. Both compassion and frustration were etched into the lines around his mouth and on his forehead.

  “We’ll get rid of him.” Cletus smoothed his big, warm hand up and down my back while shifting his eyes to Beau. The brothers then stared at each other, as though communicating silently.

  After a protracted moment, Beau leaned toward his older brother, his whisper urgent, “I’m sorry, Cletus. You’re not Duane. What do you want me to do?”

  “He wants us to stand between the clusterfuck over there and Jennifer, blocking her from view so her father can’t see her,” Shelly answered, already pulling Beau by the wrist to position them both.

  “Well, isn’t this nice. I guess the invitation to my own daughter’s engagement party got lost in the mail?” My father’s voice boomed over the continued murmurs and gasps of those assembled, like he wanted to make sure he was heard by all.

  I couldn’t see much, not with Beau and Shelly now forming a wall between me and the unfolding ugliness, but I could make out the line of my mother’s stiff back, confronting my father all on her own. My heart lurched, hating she was over there all by herself, dealing with those people. I should be with her, helping!

  I was just about to say as much when—just as abruptly as Cletus had appeared next to me—Billy Winston and Hank Weller came out of nowhere and flanked my mother, causing my lurching heart to soar. Thank goodness.

  Yes. Thank goodness. Because, truth be told, I did not wish to face off with my father or Elena ever again. I still had nightmares and scars from the first time.

  Momma said something like, “You need to go.” But she wasn’t talking to be heard by anyone other than my father, so I couldn’t be sure of her words.

  Tearing my eyes away, I craned my neck, searching the stunned faces for folks from the sheriff’s office. “Where are the sheriff and Jackson?”

  “They were dealing with Farmer Miller.” Cletus’s hand smoothed down my back again, his attention on me. “What do you want to do? Should we go help your momma?”

  I couldn’t answer his question as I was still stuck on his earlier statement. “What? Miller is here too?”

  What a disaster!

  “I thought Miller was invited,” Cletus said as he, Shelly, and Beau moved as a unit, ushering me further into the crowd and behind Reverend and Mrs. Seymore. They paid us no mind, busy as they were gaping at the drama in progress.

  “Miller was invited?” I found that impossible to believe. Farmer Miller had been badgering my momma about his—or, what used to be his—dairy cows for over a year. I couldn’t imagine my mother had invited him.

  This was all happening so fast, I needed to think.

  “I didn’t see him on the guest list but it seems like everyone else was invited—except your father. He was—most definitely—not.” Cletus’s words were hushed, presumably because he wanted to hear what was being said between my mother and my father.

  Even if he hadn’t wanted to know, there was no escape from their rapidly rising voices.

  “—will not tell you again, you and your paramour are not welcome here or within a hundred miles of me or Jennifer. Leave. Now.”

  My momma turned like she was going to walk away, but something held her in place—or someone. Suddenly both my father and Billy were talking at once.

  “No, no—you don't walk away from me. We're going to talk about thisss right here right now—”

  “Get your hand off the lady.” Even from where I stood, I saw Billy's broad shoulders move forward and in front of my mother.

  Elena, clearly still miles off her rocker, spoke over Billy, “Don’t you threaten him!”

  “You’ll know when I make a threat.” Billy’s tranquil baritone sent another shiver down my spine, but I didn’t mind. As usual, Billy Winston’s calm and understated demonstration of strength often gave me comfort.

  Cletus and Beau shared a look, and I suspected they successfully read the other’s thoughts loud and clear this time.

  But in the next moment my mother said, “It's fine, Congressman Winston. These people desire a stage, and you can’t expect them to be decent about anything.”

  “You sure are one to talk about decency, Diane.” Elena’s typical quiet timidity seemed to be absent tonight. “Everyone knows you’ve been cavorting with that biker trash—”

  “Nor will he be satisfied until they’re given a stage, even if it means ruining his own daughter’s engagement party and everyone’s evening.” My mother carried on like Elena hadn’t just interrupted. “I know how his selfish, weaselly little mind works. So go ahead, Kip. What is it you’re so desperate for all these fine people to hear?”

  My father didn't respond right away. Rather, he allowed for the crowd to digest my mother's words. Or maybe he wasn't expecting her to acquiesce so quickly. Whatever the reason, he paused long enough for a murmur to rise among the partygoers before lifting his voice.

  “As I was saying, I didn't receive an invitation to this here party. I guess being a father isn’t much valued by the world anymore, nor does it mean much these days to people who defy God’s commandments.” My father paused here as though he expected my mother to respond, maybe defending her position on the subject. But when she said nothing, he continued, this time addressing our guests, “This woman—this fallen woman of ill repute—is allowing our beautiful, innocent daughter to marry the town s-simpleton, y’all know I’m right. And sseeing as how my ex-wife has always been a sshrieking banshee, an ungodly, unclean soul, we can't be too surprised by the rudenesss.”

  I sought out Cletus’s gaze and saw his focus had turned inward, his eyebrows pinched above his nose like his mind was working through a problem.

  “Does he sound drunk?” I asked, wondering if I was the only one who heard the slur in my father’s voice.

  “He sounds . . . something. Maybe drunk.” Beau nodded, his eyes wide. “You reckon that’s why he's here? He's drunk and thought it would be a good idea?”

  “Billy should antagonize him,” Cletus muttered, like he was speaking to himself.

  “Antagonize him? What are you on about?” Beau whispered harshly, echoing my thoughts while my father continued to rant more of the same nonsense about my momma.

  Stealthily, I glanced around us to make cert
ain no one had overheard. My skills from a lifetime spent quietly observing resurfaced. No one in our vicinity seemed to be paying us any mind. From the looks of things, they were fully distracted by the unpleasant scene.

  However, I noted some people were more absorbed than others. Or rather, absorbed in a different way. Whereas folks like Reverend Seymore, Mrs. Seymore, Genie Lee, and Vanessa Romero were gawking, other folks—like Posey Lamont, Roger Gangersworth, Nancy Danvish, and Nikki Becker—weren’t gawking.

  Yes, they were absorbed, but their expressions betrayed more than just simple curiosity or nosiness. Their features and their postures were intent, like they had a horse in this race and wanted to make sure their bets were going to pay off. Perhaps I noticed these individuals in particular because I didn’t trust them, not after their failed partnership with my father and their attempt to gang up on me and my momma last year.

  Whatever the reason, and even though I was flustered, I took note.

  “—you don’t tell me what to do, woman! ‘Wives, submit to your husbands.’ That’s what the Bible says! But you were willful, you’re to blame, for everything!”

  “Now he’s quoting Bible verses?” Shelly seemed to be particularly perturbed by this. “I don’t care if he’s drunk, Cletus is right.”

  “How will Billy antagonizing Kip help anything?” Beau looked just as confused as me.

  “Billy gets Kip to punch him, then anything else Billy does is self-defense. One punch from Billy could put anyone in the hospital for a while.” Cletus replied. His frown held a distinctly scheming edge.

  Though I shouldn’t have been shocked by the direction of Cletus’s thoughts—not after knowing him my whole life and knowing him intimately for over a year—I was.

  “Cletus!” I shook my head vehemently. “Violence is never the answer.”

  “Never say never.” With that dark proclamation, he pushed me—albeit gently—into Beau’s arms and, before I could comprehend his intentions, he left.

  Now I gawked. I reached for him mindlessly, but it was too late. He’d always been surprisingly quick and agile for a man so broad and muscular.

  “Do you want me to stop him?” Shelly asked, looking and sounding serious.

  My tongue tied, I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Everything was happening way too fast.

  Cletus stepped between Billy and Diane. “As the aforementioned town simpleton and the fiancé of Ms. Donner’s lovely daughter, may I just say—”

  “No, you may not!” Elena snarled, stunning not just me back into silence. The crowd, which had started to talk among themselves and shift toward the exits, abruptly held still and quiet. They seemed to strain, every person’s focus on the tiny blonde woman next to my father, seemingly a shadow who’d always been so quiet and meek.

  Like me. No. Not like me.

  Like old me.

  But I knew better. I knew for a fact that Elena Wilkinson was just as dangerous as my father.

  “Now, ma’am, really. Please use your inside voice,” Cletus chided, sounding entirely affable, like he was reprimanding a child. He then addressed my father. “Kip—in the spirit of mending fences, I’ll call you Kip and you have my permission to call me son—now, Kip, we all know why you’re here. You feel slighted, like you haven’t been given the proper respect due the father of the bride. And I think that’s something everyone here would be able to understand.”

  A few flutters of surprised and uncomfortable laughter tittered around us, like folks couldn’t believe Cletus’s words, and I didn’t blame them. My father was universally despised in this town and any attempts by Cletus to mend fences would be met with cold shoulders from everyone gathered. I suspected the only reason people hadn’t left yet was because they wanted to see Kip Sylvester humiliated, and now Cletus was going to offer an olive branch?

  But that wasn’t what Cletus was doing, not at all. Knowing him, I knew full well what he was about to do. I gripped Beau’s hand harder, which I didn’t realize I’d been holding until just this moment. Cletus did this so well, lulling folks into a false sense of security before he made them lose their minds with rage, befuddlement, or embarrassment, and then rage again.

  “Oh no,” Beau said under his breath. “Here we go.”

  “Cletus Winston, you shut your mouth.”

  Elena’s vitriol had my father cutting in, “Elena, the men are talking. Let me handle this.” His tone remained superior despite his slurred words.

  “Are we, though? Men?” Cletus paused here, and I knew it was for effect, before adding thoughtfully, “I mean, you’re not really a man, are you?”

  “Now you listen to me—”

  Cletus didn’t listen, he didn’t even pause. “You weren’t man enough to take care of your family or keep them together. You weren’t man enough to step up and cherish a wife as exceptional as Diane, a pillar of Christian charity and goodness in this community. Unlike this—what did you say?—woman of ill repute?”

  I expected my father to lose it at this point, but Elena was the one to step forward. “You hillbilly, club-trash bastard. I’ll make you pay for what you did to my sister.”

  Cletus continued like she hadn’t spoken, “And you’re obviously not man enough to keep your mistress from making you—a fallen man, a person of ill repute—look like a fool. Now an even bigger fool than you already were, which I didn’t think was possible. You two deserve each other.”

  My father lifted his voice, spewing slurred insults that ran together and made no sense. But it was no use. Cletus’s voice was bigger, more commanding. Plus, Cletus wasn’t drunk.

  “And in front of—I mean—the whole town is here. Literally everybody you know.” Cletus chuckled like he couldn’t believe it, like our guests had suddenly materialized. “How mortifying for you, but I reckon you’re used to that by now. So, on second thought, don’t call me son. I think I speak for everyone here when I say associating with you would be an embarrassment. Embarrassing even for the town simpleton.”

  My father must’ve done something then, maybe tried to throw a punch, because a scuffle ensued and exclamations of surprise and distress from onlookers followed. I covered my mouth, trying to see past the heads and shoulders of those blocking my line of sight, but it was to no avail. Even in these shoes I was too short!

  Without thinking, I left Beau and Shelly and pushed to the front, needing to see what was going on and that Cletus and my momma were okay. My father and Elena were psychotic, I knew this. I should’ve made them leave, I should’ve stepped in already, and now fear had completely gripped me. What if they wanted to hurt Cletus? What if all their failed business dealings and drained bank accounts meant they had nothing left to lose?

  I was assaulted by the delayed suspicion, maybe they’d wanted this to happen? Maybe one of them had brought a weapon? What if they’d planned this?

  Billy, bless him, held Cletus back, and my father was fighting off Hank’s attempts to do the same to him. Meanwhile, Elena was scratching at Billy and Cletus, and my heart seized for a split second as I braced myself for whatever was coming next, too paralyzed by the train wreck to think past my own bystander status.

  Out of nowhere, like a miracle, Sheriff James’s voice boomed from somewhere, “Y’all cut this out, right now. Right. Now. Shame on you.”

  Like a knight of goodness and righteousness, the sheriff was there. And even though he wore an I’m getting too old for this shit expression, he’d inserted himself between the parties, holding his hands up.

  Elena screeched, “This piece of trash tried to—”

  “You hush.” Sheriff James pointed a finger at her face. “Unless you’d like to be arrested, and don’t think I won’t.”

  “They should be the ones arrested, this club garbage and her!” Elena smacked away the sheriff’s hand and charged at my mother.

  My father was raving again. “Soon everyone will know what you did, the two of you. You’ll rot in jail! Jennifer will see then, she’ll come ba
ck to me then, begging for forgiveness!”

  Mid-rant, the sheriff began forcibly pushing my father toward the door.

  “All right, all right. We’re taking this outside. Jackson, Evans, Boone—” he lifted his hand toward the entrance of the barn, motioning to his deputies who’d just arrived “—take Mr. Sylvester and Ms. Wilkinson out. Ms. Donner, Billy, you’re with me.”

  I’d almost caught up to Cletus, but then he moved like he was going to follow the deputies outside. Before he could, the sheriff turned and put a hand on Cletus’s chest, unveiled disappointment in his eyes.

  Because I was close enough, I heard the sheriff’s whispered, “Stay here and apologize to Jennifer. She deserves better from you. Your momma would be ashamed, she raised you better. And, for the record, I expected better.”

  With one more lingering hard look for Cletus, Sheriff James lifted his eyes and addressed the crowd, “I know I speak for Janet when I say we’ve been looking forward to celebrating Jennifer’s happiness and this engagement for many months. Let’s not let temporary unpleasantness cast a shadow over what is supposed to be a joyful event. Those cooks are working hard, and the tables are set. This is a party. You’ll never hear your sheriff say this again, but I’m insisting y’all go grab a drink. Or two. Possibly three.”

  The sheriff’s attempt at humor was met with laughter that sounded less strained than relieved, like folks were happy to see a levelheaded adult step up and take over. The big man’s gaze gentled considerably as it settled on me, and he gave me a small, rueful-looking nod. Then with a visible rising and falling of his chest, he left, presumably to catch up with his deputies.

  Cletus shoved his hands in his pockets, making no move to follow this time. My heart in my throat and needing to see for myself he was okay, I stepped next to him and slid my fingers around his wrist, drawing his attention to me as I pulled his hand free. I wanted to hold it. I might be mad later, but for now I just needed the reassurance of his touch.

  His glare, icy and agitated, melted almost at once as it met mine, a flare of worry and pain turning his eyes a vivid blue. Someone—likely Elena—had scratched his face. Red, angry nail tracks stood in stark relief starting at his hairline, over his forehead, and down his cheek. He was bleeding.