Chapter 8

Pete crossed his arms, casually leaning against the kitchen counter. “What are you doing, dear?”

“I have some energy to burn and figured now was the perfect time to work on my southern-style biscuits and gravy recipe with a pinch of Italian thrown in,” Carlita said. “I think I mentioned surveying restaurant customers. Of course, they love our Italian dishes, but every once in a while, someone asks if we offer anything with a southern flair.”

“I love biscuits and gravy.” Pete leaned over her shoulder, playfully nuzzling her neck. “You smell good.”

Carlita lifted her arm and sniffed her shirt. “I smell like bacon.”

“I happen to love bacon.” Pete placed a light kiss on her forehead and reached for an apron. “I want to help. Put me to work.”

“The biscuits are in the oven and should be almost done.”

The timer chimed. Pete slid a mitt on, opened the oven door and removed the baking sheet. “These look delicious. You made them from scratch?”

“From scratch, using simple ingredients. Flour, butter, milk, and even a pinch of baking soda.” Carlita hustled over to the stove. “The bacon crisped up nicely. It’s time to work on the gravy.”

After heating the bacon grease, she stirred flour into the drippings, sprinkled salt and pepper, and added the milk, stirring constantly. As soon as it thickened, she added the crumbled bacon, chopped scallion and her secret ingredient—rosemary.

“I could eat this for dinner,” Pete said.

“I was thinking about grilling pork chops.”

“Why bother? This is a meal itself and will suit me fine.”

“Dinner it is.” Carlita grabbed plates from the cupboard. She placed warm biscuits on each plate and ladled a generous amount of gravy over the top. “I hope this tastes as good as it looks.”

“I’m sure it will.” Pete opened the fridge and rummaged around. “How about a side of fresh cut fruit?”

“You read my mind.” Carlita carried the plates out onto the balcony. Pete wasn’t far behind, juggling the bowl of fruit and bottles of sparkling water.

“I can’t wait to dig in.” He picked up his fork and cut off a chunk of thick, buttery biscuit. He rolled it around in the gravy and took a big bite. “This is delicious.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Nope.”

Carlita cut through her biscuit. She dipped it in the gravy and nibbled the edge. “It is yummy. I’m not sure I would change a thing.”

Rambo, who had been closely monitoring the meal, nudged Carlita’s leg, looking for a treat. “I didn’t forget about you.” She reached into her apron pocket, grabbed a handful of his favorite dog treats and fed them to him. “I would let you try the gravy, but last time I mentioned table food to the vet, she said it was a no-no.”

Content with his treats, the pup trotted over to his doggie bed and settled in.

While they ate, the couple discussed Cool Bones and his arrest. The more Carlita thought about it, the more convinced she was the authorities had arrested the wrong person. If true, they had matched a print to Cool Bones, but it wasn’t from the murder weapon. As far as they knew, it was still missing.

A small niggling in the back of her mind reminded her of Cool Bones’ rap sheet, although it was for minor crimes. Petty theft, illegal gambling which more than likely tied into the bookie business angle. People made mistakes. All things considered, his appeared to be more of a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She didn’t doubt Mrs. Culpepper had seen the victim and Cool Bones argue, but someone else must have been in the vicinity…someone the neighbor hadn’t noticed.

And that someone was the person Carlita needed to figure out. Taking another bite, she mentally ticked off the list of things she wanted to ask him.

Pete waved his hand in front of his wife’s face. “Earth to Carlita.”

“Sorry. I was thinking about Cool Bones and the baby shower.”

“Hopefully, Mercedes will make it home in time,” Pete said. “As far as Cool Bones is concerned, your biggest hurdle will be communicating.”

“Which is why I need to have all of my ducks in a row when Mercedes and I visit him.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“I appreciate the offer.” Carlita squeezed his hand. “Mercedes seems to want to be involved, so if you’re okay with it, I’ll take her.”

“She’s already involved.” Pete polished off his biscuit. “I wonder how Elvira and her bird are getting along.”

Carlita grinned. “Did you see the look on her face when Snitch started talking?”

“It appears her plan of having her parrot spy on her employees has backfired. She seems attached to Snitch.”

“I never pegged Elvira for an animal lover, but I have to say she is now.”

“An animal lover who has met her match.”

“She certainly has.” Carlita slid her chair back and reached for Pete’s empty plate. “It looks like someone is ready for seconds. I’ll grab you another serving of food and a pen and paper to jot down some notes to ask Cool Bones when I get there tomorrow morning.”

*****

At precisely eleven the next morning, Mercedes and Carlita checked in at the Savannah-Burnham Police Department’s inmate visitor’s desk. The clerk verified their appointment and reminded them they had thirty minutes from the moment they stepped into the corridor leading to the visitation rooms.

After collecting their personal belongings, to be held until the visit ended, and passing through the metal detector, mother and daughter followed a guard down the hall. Making a sharp left, they entered another, narrower hall.

Passing through a metal door, the guard waited until they were on the other side. The door closed behind them, clanking loudly.

Mercedes jumped, clutching her chest. “I hate that sound.”

“I bet you do. You know who probably hates it even more?”

“Cool Bones. I wonder how he’s holding up.”

“We’ll soon find out.”

They entered a room off to the right. Cool Bones was already there, his head down and a look of utter defeat etched on his face.

The room’s layout reminded Carlita of a voting booth with dividers on both sides. A stool. A small desk. Attached to the wall was a phone. Thick Plexiglas panels allowed visitors and inmates to see each other.

“You’ll be at station ten.”

“I see our…friend.” Carlita, with Mercedes by her side, took her seat across from him. She lifted the telephone receiver and pressed the speaker button so her daughter could hear. “Hey, Cool Bones.”

“Hello, Carlita, Mercedes.”

“How are you holding up?”

He tipped his hand back and forth. “About as good as can be expected, I suppose.”

“We’re here to let you know we’re going to figure out a way to help you. Tell us everything you know about Rudy McCoy.”

Cool Bones’ shoulders drooped. “Don’t waste your time. The investigators think they have a slam dunk. It’s no use.”

“It’s not a slam dunk case,” Mercedes said. “You didn’t kill the guy. Someone did and we’re going to find out who it was.”

Carlita opened the notepad she was allowed to bring with her and began jotting down notes. “Our first step is to check out the place where you and Mr. McCoy argued. Do you remember the address?”

“It’s etched in my mind. The address is 2012 Gleason Street.”

Mercedes repeated it. “Gleason Street doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s not the best area of town,” Cool Bones said. “I remember Mrs. Culpepper, the building owner and landlady. She was a snoopy woman. Rudy couldn’t stand her. It’s driving me nuts, how she’s decided to come forward now, after all these years.”

“That’s an excellent question.” Carlita tapped her pen on top of the notepad. “I know it was a long time ago, but it would be helpful if you could tell Mercedes and me exactly what happened.”

“It won’t be hard,” he said. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”