1 Murder on Sugar Creek Page 4

  “There isn’t,” Maggie agreed. She allowed Bug to regain his composure before continuing. “I hear Mac was lucky when it came to the lottery.”

  Bug removed his UK cap to reveal a red indention, made by the cap, which circled his bald head. “What do you mean?” he asked as he wiped his forehead.

  “Daddy said he bought his tickets at Mac’s store because it was lucky.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Bug returned the cap to his head. “I thought I remembered seeing Robert in there buying a ticket or two. There ain’t nothing wrong with that. In fact, that was part of me and Mac’s morning routine. We’d each buy about ten dollars’ worth of tickets. Some people say it’s gambling. And I guess it is. But we wasn’t taking food out of hungry young’uns mouths and we didn’t scratch away our grocery money. Some men spend a lot of money on hunting and you women like to shop. Well, scratch-offs was our hobby.”

  “How long had you been having breakfast with him?”

  “For as long as he owned the store, so I guess that would be about twelve years.”

  Maggie paused. “I know this isn’t about the investigation, but I have to ask, did you notice anything out of the ordinary that morning?”

  “No. Nothing. And I had to have just missed the killer. When I think about that, I could have saved him.”

  “Or you could have gotten yourself killed.” From the expression on Bug’s face, Maggie surmised he hadn’t considered that possibility. “I was also wondering about the security cameras.”

  “He said it got to be too much of a hassle to keep up with that.”

  “Wait a minute,” Maggie said. “Does that mean that, at one point, the cameras were working?”

  “I believe so, but don’t quote me on that,” Bug said with a chuckle.

  Maggie laughed, too, before asking, “What circumstances led to his opening the store?”

  “Well, Mac wasn’t as lucky as I was when it came to working. I got on with the road crew one week after I graduated from high school. I liked it there. I earned a good wage and enjoyed the work. I always enjoyed carpentry work, too. So, after I retired, I opened my own contracting business. It’s nothing big, but for a few years it kept me busy when I wanted to be busy. But poor ole Mac never found his … what do they call it?”

  “Niche?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” Bug nodded. “He liked working for the nursing home and at the other jobs that let him work with the public, but he wanted to be his own boss. He also wanted to help people. Now, you know as good as I do that some of these people on Sugar Creek can’t afford to drive to town every day. If they need a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk, they need somewheres close by. And with all the old stores… what do they call them?”

  “Mom and Pop stores?”

  “You’re probably too young to remember when those Mom and Pop stores was up and down Sugar Creek. Well, not just Sugar Creek. They was all over the place. My grandma and grandpap, my mommy’s parents, ran a store. It was just down the road.” Bug gestured with his hand. “But all those old stores is gone and that left people without somewheres close to go. Those old Mom and Pop stores and helping people, that’s where Mac got the idea. And, between you and me, some of these people didn’t even have the money to buy a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk. Mac would let them have it anyway and tell them to settle up when they could. Most of them did, too. You hear about all the bad stuff going on in the world, all the robbing and drugging, but I think deep down that people are good. Mac sure was.”

  Bug blew his nose on a blue paisley handkerchief and continued, “You know who you should talk to? His ex-wife, Rhonda.”

  “Mac was previously married?”

  “Oh, yeah. Years ago. He and Rhonda married right out of high school. They stayed together a few years, but Mac told me they was just too young. He never had a bad thing to say about her. She was a nice girl, but the poor ole thing fell on hard times. She’s living in one of those apartments in town. You know,” Bug lowered his voice, “for poor people.”

  “Do you think she would talk to me?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Do you think Carla will talk to me?”

  “That, I don’t know. She was hit hard by this. She and Mac, they was different and they didn’t have the same interests. He could never talk her into going fishing with him, and she couldn’t talk him into exercising. But I guess opposites attract and he sure doted on her.”

  Bug’s insight into Mac’s marriage as well as his bombshell about the first wife had almost made Maggie forget her next question. “Oh, and Mac built the store with money he inherited from his late father, right?”

  “Yeah, well, he might have had to borrow some. I didn’t pry into his finances. That was his business.” Bug looked at his watch. “I really got to get to my mommy’s. I have to reset that satellite and get that TV working before her show starts.”

  Maggie said her goodbyes and went to her car. As she sat in the front seat, she watched Bug walk across the road to his mother’s house.

  “It’s not even noon and Days doesn’t come on until one o’clock. How long does it take him to push the reset button?” she asked herself.

  “Oh,” Maggie said upon entering Dottie Elswick’s kitchen. “You must really like strawberries.”

  Indeed, Dottie’s kitchen looked like a strawberry had exploded on the wallpaper, the curtains, the canisters, the refrigerator magnets, the wall clock, the dish cloths, the cookie jar, and various knickknacks.

  Dottie smiled. “You start collecting something and you can’t stop. I love every one of my strawberries.” She picked up a salt shaker. “Every one of ’em has a special meaning especially the ones that was give to me. You know, it makes you feel special when somebody thinks enough about you to pick up a little something for you.” Still smiling, she placed the salt shaker on the countertop. “Well, sit down. I just got a pumpkin bread out of the oven. You want a slice?”

  Maggie’s first instinct was to resist the temptation, but she hadn’t treated herself in days. “Sure. If it’s no bother.”

  “Want some coffee, too?”

  “No, water will be fine.”

  Dottie handed Maggie a cup of tap water and a slice of the warm, aromatic bread.

  “It has a distinct taste that I can’t place,” Maggie said through a mouthful of the bread.

  Dottie blushed. “I use butterscotch and lemon pudding.”

  “Oh,” Maggie said. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  Maggie enjoyed the pumpkin bread guilt-free. Just that morning, she had read on a dieting blog that it’s acceptable and even advisable to indulge every now and then if for no other reason than to prevent daily indulgences. The pumpkin bread didn’t violate Joe’s strict ethics policy, either. When the sports reporters accepted T-shirts during the college’s annual golf tournament, Joe made them return them. When he learned that Tyler had sampled snacks during a Jasper city commission meeting, the paper reimbursed the town for the cost of the food. But even Joe realized that principles meant nothing if they hurt an old woman’s feelings, and he made an exception to his policy when it involved, in his words, “a granny’s homemade food.”

  As she lifted the last morsels of the pumpkin bread to her mouth, Maggie couldn’t be more grateful for this exception. “Yum. It’s delicious. Second only to my mom’s.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Dottie answered. “You know, I’ve knowed your mommy and daddy all their lives. I was a few years older than them in school, but I can remember how tall he was and how pretty she was.” Dottie laughed. “Listen to me. He’s still tall and she’s still pretty. Does Lena still mend for people?”

  “Do I count as people?” Maggie asked with a laugh. “She’s always mending for me and she still quilts and sews, but not much for people outside the family anymore.”

  “I’d imagine you could mend your own clothes.”

  “I can’t even thread a needle or sew on a button. I’m such a disappointme
nt to her.”

  “Oh, you know that’s not true. The last time I saw her, she was bragging about how smart and successful you and your brother are.”

  One of her mom’s favorite mantras – “self-bragging is half scandal” – echoed through Maggie’s mind and she knew Lena would bristle at the suggestion she had bragged on her children or, for that matter, on anything at all. Still, she smiled at the thought that her mom had spoken well of her. Maybe it was the goodwill she felt for her mom at that moment, but Maggie was struck by how Dottie looked more than just a few years older than the sixty-year-old Lena. The autumn sun streaming through the kitchen caught the dyed orange highlights of Dottie’s silvering hair and accentuated her deep wrinkles. If Dottie hadn’t alluded to her age, Maggie would have guessed her to be in her mid-seventies. Maybe she’s just had a hard life, Maggie thought to herself as she pushed the empty plate out of her way and placed her notebook and a digital recorder on the yellow vinyl tablecloth dotted with hundreds of tiny strawberries. “Is it okay if we get started?” Dottie nodded and Maggie asked, “How long had you been working for Mac?”

  “About ten years. He had been running the store for a couple years at that point. It’s funny how life works. I had sat hamburger meat out to thaw so I could make a meatloaf, but when it got time to make it, I realized I didn’t have ketchup. So, I ran down there to buy a bottle and that’s when Mac asked me if I knew anybody who wanted a part-time job. I said that as a matter of fact I did. He hired me on the spot and I started the next day.” Dottie took a sip of coffee. “I had worked part-time jobs ever since my youngest one started school, but after we got the kids raised, I decided to take it easy. But we ended up raising our grandson, Corey. You can always use extra money when you got a kid in the house, so I went back to work.”

  Before Maggie could ask another question, Dottie said, “He was real good about working around Corey’s school schedule. Corey was in grade school back then and it seemed they was always having a party or putting on a play. I never missed a one.”

  “So, would you describe Mac as generous?”

  “Yes,” Dottie said.

  “How long had you known him?”

  “I knowed him his whole life. Sugar Creek ain’t that big. And his mommy was my teacher. But I didn’t get to know him real good until I started working for him.”

  “Did he ever say what motivated him to open a store?”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “In the newspaper story, Tyler quoted you as saying Mac made sure you could shoot a gun before he hired you.”

  Dottie chuckled. “That’s true.”

  “Did you ever have to use the gun at work?”

  “Oh, heavens, no.”

  “So, no one ever tried to rob the store on your watch?”

  Dottie squinted in an apparent state of confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Maggie didn’t think the question needed clarification, but she added, “I was just wondering if any of the attempted robberies occurred during the day.”

  “Oh, I understand now,” Dottie said. “No, those attempted robberies occurred at night.”

  “You also said that Mac didn’t bother with the security cameras.”

  “That’s right. That’s what he said.”

  “See, that’s what I don’t understand. Bug said Mac used the cameras until they became too much of a hassle.” When Dottie stared at her, Maggie added, “I know I said the interview would focus on Mac and not on his murder, but it’s just that Bug said one thing and –”

  “I’m just telling you what Mac always told me.”

  Maggie smiled. “It’s not a big deal.” She glanced at her notes. “Did you join Mac and Bug’s lottery escapades?”

  Dottie flinched. “What do you mean?”

  “Bug said he and Mac scratched off lottery tickets every day.” Maggie shrugged. “I thought it might be one of those employee bonding things. You know, some co-workers join a bowling league together or start a softball team. I thought your thing might have been scratch-offs.”

  Dottie downed the last of her coffee. “I don’t play the lottery. I don’t believe in gambling. I’m a Christian.”

  “Oh, I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  Dottie waved off Maggie’s concerns just as the kitchen door of her doublewide mobile home opened.

  “There he is,” Dottie beamed. “This is my Corey.”

  The young man, who Maggie determined to be in his late teens or early twenties, nodded as he walked to the refrigerator. As Maggie watched him pour a glass of milk and accept a slice of the bread from his grandma, she struggled not to pass judgment on him for wearing a Duke University ball cap.

  “Well, I have a hungry boy on my hands and I have to make something for him to eat.” Dottie rose from her chair. “Don’t you forget to mention me to your mommy and daddy.”

  “Oh, okay,” Maggie said. “Thanks for your time.”

  After Maggie successfully backed out of Dottie’s driveway and across the narrow bridge that connected her property to the road, she speculated, “He was washing down warm pumpkin bread with milk, so why the rush to make him something else to eat? Hmm. Two interviews, two abrupt endings. I wonder what will happen tomorrow when I talk to Carla Honaker?”

  Maggie scanned the display case in Carla Honaker’s bakery. The apple walnut muffins looked good, but so did the red velvet cupcakes topped with towers of cream cheese frosting.

  “Can I get something for you?” Carla asked as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a pan of chess bars.

  “No, I’d better not,” Maggie answered. “I think I’ve gained five pounds from breathing.”

  “Everything’s fresh.”

  “And I’m sure it’s all delicious, too. I’ve eaten a few wedding cakes you’ve baked. Well, not the entire cakes.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “I guess I should say I’ve eaten pieces of a few wedding cakes you’ve baked.”

  Carla arranged the chess bars on a serving platter, closed the door to the display case, and wiped her hands. “What do you want to know about Mac?”

  Maggie picked up her pen. “First of all, thank you so much for agreeing to do this. During our initial conversation, you expressed apprehension, but I’m glad you reconsidered. These columns would be incomplete without your voice, the voice of his wife. And, also, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Carla closed her eyes and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Maggie cleared her throat. “I guess we should start at the beginning. How did you meet him?”

  “Believe it or not, but it was at the nursing home.” Carla rubbed lotion on her hands as she spoke. “You never know how much your life can change in one instant. At that time, I ran the business out of my home. I was making a princess birthday cake for a little girl who loved purple. The only concern I had was whether I had achieved the perfect shade of purple to satisfy a three-year-old and her mother. As I applied the icing to the cake, the phone rang. It was the hospital. My dad had collapsed in a parking lot and had been rushed to the hospital. He had had a stroke. He pulled through, but it was obvious that he required a level of care that I couldn’t provide. My mother had passed years earlier and I was an only child, so it was just Dad and me. I had to put him in a nursing home. As you might imagine, the decision left me feeling very guilty. It was hard enough to see him in the hospital, but for some reason, the visits to the nursing home affected me in a way I didn’t anticipate. I hated seeing him lying in that bed. I visited every day, sometimes two or three times a day. And before I walked into the facility, I would have to sit on a bench outside the doors and steel my nerves.

  “That’s how I met Mac. He noticed me sitting there day after day and finally joined me on that bench. That’s how it started.”

  “When did this happen? When did you meet Mac?”

  “Fourteen years ago. We were married two months after we met.”

  “Wow. I guess when you know, you know.”

  “Yeah. We just clicked
. I wasn’t looking for love. In fact, I was convinced it would never happen. I remember saying to myself, ‘You’re in your mid-thirties and it hasn’t happened, so it’s probably not going to happen.’ Then, I met Mac.”

  “He was working at the nursing home, you got married, and then he built his store. Right?”

  “Yeah.” Carla winced. “That was a surprise. One morning, he goes to work at the nursing home. That evening, he comes home and tells me he’s building a store. But I could tell he was passionate about the prospect of owning his own business and that’s something I certainly understood. After the initial shock, I came to appreciate his drive and ambition.”

  “How closely involved were you with the operation of the store?”

  “Not at all.”

  Maggie looked around the bakery. “Did you ever think about combining your two pursuits?”

  Carla laughed. “No. Oh, goodness,” she rubbed her forehead, “how do I say this? Sugar Creek is a lovely community. It’s where Mac and I made our home, but the catering business and this bakery appeal to a different clientele.”

  “How so?” Maggie knew better than to allow her personal feelings to interfere with an interview, but she felt sure Carla was insulting her family, friends, and neighbors on Sugar Creek.

  “Just that people who live and work in town have more disposable income than their county counterparts,” Carla explained. “Regardless, could we keep this part of the discussion out of the story?”

  “Sure. I wasn’t even taking notes.” Maggie held up her empty hands as evidence. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do with the store?”

  “Yes. It was Mac’s baby and I can barely keep up with the demands of my business. I’m not complaining, but except for a couple part-time workers, this is a one-woman show. Between the catering jobs and the orders for cakes, this one woman stays busy. Of course, I’d rather be busy than suffer through the alternative. My work has been a blessing and given me a purpose, especially during these past few days, but I am unable to run, in essence, three businesses. I’m afraid I’m going to have to put the store on the market.”