Destined for Trouble (A Jules Cannon Mystery Book 1)
She was right, again. It wasn’t like I was a social outcast or anything. I had at least one friend in each of the different cliques in school: the athletes, the nerds, even the agriculture kids, but I was kind of invisible in a way. They were more acquaintances than real friends. There was never a time I wanted to go all Carrie at the homecoming dance, but I certainly would have been the last person picked for Most Popular, even though all my friends were strong contenders.
If Abby Lee hadn’t taken me under her wing, I probably would’ve spent my Friday nights alone at home reading the latest thriller. And if I hadn’t been dating Justin our junior and senior years, I most likely would have spent my Saturday nights alone at home watching old syndicated television sitcoms.
“I can’t help it,” I finally said. “I don’t intentionally push people away.”
Her face softened. “I know you don’t, sweetie. But you gotta admit, when you’re gorgeous, smart, and always appear as if your time is better spent doing something else, it’s a wonder you had any friends at all.”
I thought about that for a moment. What she said was so not true—I wasn’t gorgeous. Smart, possibly, but not gorgeous. That distinction, in my opinion, was reserved for Abby Lee. She was the one voted Most Beautiful (she’d lost Most Popular by one vote).
“Basically what you’re telling me is, everyone was jealous. Is that it?”
She took another swig of her wine. “Hmm, probably.”
I wasn’t convinced. “It’s a nice thought,” I said, a little surprised she thought of me that way, even if it was a white lie to make me feel better. “But doubtful.”
The door of the restaurant slammed, breaking me from my thoughts. Which was probably a good idea considering the topic of conversation—I didn’t want to take a walk down memory lane. It was bad enough I had to go to the reunion.
My reflexes kicked in as soon as I discovered the source of the slam. This wasn’t going to be good.
“You!” Sheila stormed toward the bar, heading right for Abby Lee. “This is my restaurant, and I want it back.”
Like I said before, I always tried to stay in the background when it came to a fight, especially when it involved psycho, menopausal women, but I had to do something. You could walk all over me, but no one messed with my friends.
I wedged myself between the counter and Sheila, purposely obscuring her view of Abby Lee. “This isn’t the time or the place for this, Sheila. Go talk to your lawyer,” I said, knowing full well there was nothing her lawyer could do. As far as I could tell, Harvey’s will was ironclad.
I could tell by the sour look on her face she’d already consulted a lawyer and had reached a similar conclusion. Why else would she be here throwing a tantrum?
“This place is mine,” she yelled over my shoulder, trying to get a better view of Abby Lee.
“You’re making a scene,” I said. “Stop and think for a moment, Sheila.”
“And just who the hell are you?” Sheila yelled over the restaurant’s background music. “This isn’t any of your business.”
“I’m a customer,” I said. “A customer with enough friends and family members to steer them away from this place if you keep this up.” I even raised the ante for good measure. “I’m sure you know my aunt Lula.”
Just the mere mention of my aunt brought fear to her eyes and calmed her down a bit. Everyone in Trouble, even someone like Sheila, had reservations about going against my aunt.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Sheila sneered over my shoulder in the direction of Abby Lee. “This isn’t over yet.” On her way out she plastered on a fake smile in an attempt to appease the customers whose dinners had been interrupted by the scene she’d just caused.
Abby Lee slapped her hands over her face. “I knew this was a bad idea. I should just hand over the restaurant. Sheila’s never going to stop.” Her words came out jumbled behind her hands.
“Harvey gave you this place for a reason,” I said, soothing her concerns. “You know as well as I do that Sheila would either run this place into the ground or sell it.”
We both knew it was true. If this was how Sheila dealt with problems, there was no telling what could happen to The Poop Deck. If she ever got her hands on the restaurant, I’d give the woman one month before the place either went out of business or sold to the highest bidder. The latter made the most sense. According to Abby Lee, the staff couldn’t stand Sheila. There was no way Sheila could possibly be interested in being a restaurant owner—she only wanted to make a fast profit. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past her to set fire to the place to collect an insurance claim.
I might just be crazy, or maybe the wine had something to do with it, but I now had a vested interest in keeping Sheila as far away from The Poop Deck as possible. The restaurant was considered a local treasure, and there was no way the town would allow Sheila to run it, burn it, or sell it.
“She’d probably burn the place down for the insurance money,” Abby Lee said, echoing my exact thoughts.
I laughed. “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I said. “So you see? You need to stand your ground and take ownership of what’s rightfully yours.” My words came out with a little more bravado than necessary.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I looked deeply into the reflection that was staring right back at me. Call me vain or whatever, but I looked pretty damn good in a dark-blue version of a little black dress Aunt Lula had helped me pick out from her store. “I don’t know,” I said to myself in the mirror as I twirled one last time. “Too much for a high school reunion?”
Mom must have heard me talking to myself from the hallway and popped her head in the doorway to check on me. “I’d say you look just about right,” she said. “Don’t forget to put on lipstick.”
How could I forget lipstick? Growing up, my mom never let me leave the house without lipstick or, at the very least, tinted lip gloss. Even if I was only going as far as the driveway to get the mail. “You never know who you’ll run into,” she always said. She was also fond of saying, “Dress as if you were going to meet your future husband.” It was her version of “dress to impress.” Ha! Like that gem of advice had gotten me far. Not that I was looking.
“I won’t,” I said. “Are you sure the dress isn’t a bit too much?” The clingy wrap dress was actually Aunt Lula’s idea. One of the rare instances where she didn’t insist I wear a bright tropical print.
Mom inspected my dress. “Well, personally, I don’t know if I would have chosen something so low cut, but it does seem to suit you,” she said, nodding in approval. The dress’s deep navy hue accented my light-blue eyes and dark hair, and it wasn’t cut so low it screamed “streetwalker.”
I gave another little twirl for her benefit and decided she and Aunt Lula were right. What’s a little cleavage? It was my ten-year reunion. And weren’t reunions all about showing off? I didn’t believe Abby Lee one bit when she said everyone was jealous of me back in high school, but I wouldn’t mind them being a little envious now.
“Just don’t let your daddy see you in that,” Mom added. “He might not let you leave the house.”
Thirty minutes later, I walked into the building that was my alma mater. Go Tarpons! I was immediately greeted by a sign-in table where I scanned the rows of name tags for my name. They were aligned in alphabetical order, so I was able to find mine easily enough. I peeled the back of the self-adhesive tag and stuck it on my chest, drawing even more attention toward my plunging neckline.
“Here goes nothing,” I said under my breath.
“Excuse me?” The girl manning the table looked at me expectantly. Her name tag read “Kate Myers.” I didn’t recognize her, but no surprises there. Aside from Abby Lee and Justin, I didn’t really give myself a chance to get to know many of my classmates. My brother, Scott, on the other hand, was two years older and had been the proverbial popular kid in school. I lov
ed him, but I was glad when he finally moved away to Dallas and I stopped living under his shadow.
“Nothing,” I said, making my way toward the music. I gave myself exactly five minutes to locate Abby Lee. If she wasn’t here by then, I was going back home. The bravado I felt prior to arriving was all but gone. I didn’t want to be here all by myself, sexy dress or not.
Once inside the school gymnasium, I cringed at the tacky seaside theme the decorating committee came up with. How original. They might as well have just stuck up a banner announcing, “We Live on an Island!” As if we didn’t already know. Every school dance I’d attended in high school had the same unoriginal theme. I wondered if they just recycled the decorations.
I made my way toward the sea-foam-colored draped tables in search of Abby Lee. I wasn’t sure if I could survive the night without her. Aside from dating Justin, she was one of the reasons I’d made it through high school unscathed without any permanent psychological damage.
Ready to throw in the towel, I finally spotted her near the bleachers. One minute later and I would have bolted. She was dressed in a bright kelly green sundress that showed off her tan. Even at twenty-eight, she looked exactly the same—still stunning. Despite my earlier appraisal of myself, I wished I looked half as good as she did. But no envy on my part, she was the best friend I’d ever had.
“There you are,” she said, rushing up to me. “I was afraid you weren’t going to show up.”
“For a moment there, I wasn’t so sure either. I was just about ready to bail. But hey,” I said, pointing across the room, “at least they’re serving booze.”
“Let’s hope it’s not a cash bar,” she said. “All I have on me is a five.”
“Doubtful. How else are they going to pay for all the lovely decorations for our twenty-year reunion?” I laughed as we made our way over to the refreshment table.
Abby Lee giggled, catching the sarcasm in my statement.
“Don’t worry, I’ll spot you.”
“Look, there’s Justin over there by the bar. Let’s go over and say hi,” Abby Lee said.
I tugged at her elbow. “But look who he’s with,” I said. Heather was standing right next to him. She was very animated in whatever she was saying. Justin looked like a rabbit cornered by a rabid coyote.
“Aww, let’s go save the poor guy. Maybe he’ll buy us a drink,” she said. “You know, I think he still has the hots for you.”
“I doubt it,” I said. Why would she even think that? I’d only been home a few days. Certainly not long enough for her to form an opinion on the matter. Sure, he had asked me out to dinner, but a decade was a long time between exes. A lot of change and growth happens between eighteen and twenty-eight. Besides, since I’d been home we’d only run into each other a few times.
“Stranger things have happened,” she said, nudging me toward the two of them.
I gave her a cross look as we walked over to the table to join them. Justin looked happy to see us. Heather, on the other hand, scowled as she saw us approach.
“Jules . . . Abby Lee. I didn’t think y’all were going to make it tonight,” Justin said, genuinely surprised to see us.
“That makes three of us,” I said.
Abby Lee gently punched me in the ribs with her elbow. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she said.
“Yeah, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be bored by all this,” Heather said, looking directly at me.
Even though I didn’t want to be here in the first place, I’d be damned if I gave Heather the satisfaction of hearing me admit she was right. “Why would I miss this? I did graduate from here, same as you,” I said.
Heather just shrugged and turned her attention back to Justin.
“Come on, Abby Lee. Let’s go dance,” I said, pulling her out to the dance floor just as the DJ blasted Gretchen Wilson’s “Redneck Woman.” I remembered when the song came out. It was such a hit every girl in town went and bought her lingerie from Walmart.
For a brief moment, I was transported back in time, circa 2004. It was our high school prom, and it was the last dance I attended here in this very gymnasium. I remembered my light-pink crepe dress Mom had ordered from Neiman Marcus and how grown-up Justin had looked in his tuxedo.
Now I’m sure you’re probably wondering, if I was such a social loser in high school, how’d I end up dating a catch like Justin Harper? Well, you got me (and, I’m sure, everyone else who wondered the same thing). But I never looked a gift horse in the mouth. I always felt a little like Molly Ringwald’s character in Sixteen Candles, who got Jake Ryan at the end of the movie.
I was brought back to the present the instant I heard Abby Lee yell, “Hell yeah!” at the top of her lungs along with the song and the rest of the crowd on the dance floor. We continued to laugh and danced like fools, not caring what anyone thought of us. This is more fun than I thought it would be, I thought. It was just like old times. I’d forgotten how great it was hanging out with Abby Lee. I hoped we wouldn’t lose touch again after I went back home.
Abby Lee and I stayed on the dance floor as “Soak Up the Sun” by Sheryl Crow came on over the speakers. We squealed as we danced to the unofficial anthem of our youth. I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun dancing. Wait, I knew the answer to that. It was before I became a workaholic and forgot how to have a good time.
The moment was short-lived as I spotted a uniformed officer headed in our direction. What was a cop doing at a high school reunion? He probably needed the overtime and volunteered to work security, I decided.
I expected the officer to make the rounds, but instead, he walked straight toward the dance floor and locked eyes on his intended target. He intercepted Abby Lee and me on the dance floor.
“I’m sorry to have to do this, Abby Lee, but I’m going to have to bring you back to the station for questioning.”
Abby Lee seemed to know the officer, but I didn’t. He looked young, early twenties at best. He probably was a few years behind us in school, or I would have recognized him. Abby Lee probably served him all the time at The Poop Deck and was on a first-name basis with him.
“For what?” I said.
At the same time Abby Lee asked, “I’m sorry? Why am I needed for questioning? All of us at the restaurant already gave our statements.”
“Chief Poteet asked me to bring you in to answer a few more follow-up questions. If you don’t mind, I won’t keep you long.”
“But Justin’s here,” I pointed out, still confused. “We were just talking to him. If he wanted to ask Abby Lee a question, he would have done so.”
The officer looked nervous, like he had been caught doing something wrong. “I, uh, was supposed to bring her into the station earlier, but she wasn’t at home. Your mom said I could find you here,” he said to Abby Lee. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I have my orders.”
I cleared my head and approached the officer, whose name tag read “Officer Clemmons.” “I repeat, questioning for what?”
Officer Clemmons just shrugged. “Chief’s orders,” he said. “Sorry, Abby Lee, if you don’t come with me willingly, I’ll have to take you in with cuffs.”
Abby Lee just stood there without saying a word, but I was standing my ground. Maybe it was the salty Gulf air, but I was beginning to find my voice. “What? On what charge? You can’t just handcuff someone without arresting them first.”
Abby Lee placed a hand on my shoulder to reassure me. “It’s OK, Jules. I’ll go with Randy.” So she was on a first-name basis with him.
We’d been standing close to the bar, so I quickly grabbed our purses from where we’d left them and followed right behind Abby Lee and the officer. “I’ll meet you at the station,” I said. “When they’re done, I’ll take you home. There’s no sense in worrying your mother.”
She gave me a small smile. “Thanks, Jules. I’m sure it’s ju
st a misunderstanding. I probably forgot to pay a parking ticket or something.”
Or something. The police didn’t just haul you away from a high school reunion for a couple of measly unpaid parking tickets. This was definitely not routine procedure.
A crowd began to form around us, wondering what all the commotion was about. I wanted to yell at them to go away, but I knew it would just make matters worse. So I let them gawk.
“Don’t say anything without an attorney, OK?” I continued to follow right behind them and said it loud enough for her to hear me as she was being escorted out of the gymnasium.
I frantically looked around for Justin and finally spotted him standing near the front entrance as Abby Lee was being taken away. He looked upset over the whole situation, as if it pained him to see Abby Lee escorted out like a common criminal right in the middle of our reunion. And he should have felt bad. She was his friend, too. If anything, he’d be able to tell me what was going on.
I marched right over to Justin as he stood there, allowing Officer Randy to escort our friend out of the gym, not doing anything to stop him. It took all the restraint I had not to shove him against the cinder block wall.
“What the hell, Justin? What’s going on?”
Justin looked guilty. He knew something bad was going down, and I’m sure the last thing he wanted to do was give me bad news, but tough shit—he had some explaining to do.
Before I could say another word, he said, “I can’t go into it now. It’s official business, Jules. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is Abby Lee we’re talking about.” I could tell how much he hated having this conversation, but I didn’t care. He was the deputy chief of police, and there was certainly something he could do about it.
“I’m sorry, Jules, I can’t go into the details.”
“Why not? You obviously know what’s going on.”
“Jules, you of all people know how investigations are run. I can’t tell you anything. At least not right now,” he said.