Page 30 of A Rose of Steel
“They asked about you. Didn’t they, Babet?”
“They did, but you better watch it,” Auntie said. “She’s got a Yankee who’s come a-courting. We don’t want to start another war.”
“Where is he? Your friend from Chicago,” Josephine Gail asked. “I wanted to meet him.”
“He’s a busy man,” Auntie said. “He’s the Chief-of-Staff,” she said. “I believe that might be his name as well.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m just going to grab a bowl of cereal.” It was healthier for me, plus I didn’t want her to start on me about filling Doc Westin’s footsteps, or about my Chief-of-Staff, or whether Catfish or Rhett were pining after me. And I certainly wasn’t going to join the JOY Club or become any of their doctors.
“Romaine,” Auntie Zanne said. She got up and walked to the stove. “I need you to ride with me over to Angel’s Grace, there’s something there I want to show you.”
Grace Community Center, nicknamed Angel’s Grace, was the county’s outreach center—soup line, senior center, clothing drive headquarters and office of the Roble Belles, among other things.
“Are you going to tell her?” Josephine Gail said.
“Tell me what?” I asked.
“Don’t go spilling the beans, Josephine Gail,” Auntie said.
I looked at the two of them. They were up to something. Leave it to them to try to play matchmaker or something. I wasn’t falling for it.
“I can’t go,” I said.
“Why?” Auntie Zanne said. “What do you have to do?” She raised an eyebrow.
I had an autopsy to do, but I couldn’t tell her that because Pogue didn’t want anyone to know that it might just be murder. The Commissioners hadn’t wasted any time getting back to me telling me to go ahead and proceed with it. They were happy to have me do it. But, if I mentioned to Auntie Zanne that I was doing one, she would keep poking until she figured out who or backed me into a corner and I confessed. For all intents and purposes, the new ME office was finished so I couldn’t use that as an excuse, and Alex still hadn’t made an appearance electronically or in the flesh.
“Do I have time to eat?” I was going to have to go along with what she wanted in order not to spill the beans, so I conceded. I didn’t want to have to keep up with lies.
“Of course you do,” she smiled sweetly. “Take as long as you want.”
I knew that meant for me to hurry up. If I didn’t, she’d start with her nagging.
“How about if I just grab a piece of fruit.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mysteriously quiet all the way over to Angel’s Grace, Auntie Zanne seemed lost in thought. Usually she was a chatterbox, trying to drag me into some activity she was doing. But not now. She sat calmly and stared out of the window. I didn’t have any idea what she wanted with me. Probably wanting to wrangle me into some homecoming undertaking.
Whatever she had planned for me, the anticipation of it couldn’t settle the butterflies I had for the secret I was hiding. I couldn’t wait to start on that autopsy, especially in the brand spanking new facility. I kept checking the clock on the dashboard estimating the amount of time it would take me to help Auntie Zanne with whatever she needed, drop her back off at home and get over to the ME facility. The reason for an autopsy is a sad thing, sure enough, but actually performing one was exciting and exhilarating—at least to me. I really was a detective, searching for clues, putting them all together and making the ultimate decision that everyone else had to rely on.
And then the new facility itself. Even though I figured I’d never work there, I had suggested all the things I had wanted to work with, and lo and behold, they agreed to purchase them. Now, at the request of the sheriff, I was going to get to use them.
We arrived at the darkened and deserted building of Angel’s Grace Community Center and Auntie Zanne led me to a room near the back door. Turning on only one or two lights as we passed, making it difficult to see as we walked through the rooms and down a long hallway to the rear of the building. She turned to look around several times, seemingly making sure no one was watching us, then once again as we stood in front of a door. She pulled out a key and opened up what looked like a storage closet.
“This is what I wanted you to see.” She flicked the switch on the wall, illuminating the small space.
There were brooms, mops, shelves with paper products and in the middle were cases of a blue drink in clear bottles with black tops stacked two deep along the wall. Black wide-font letters printed across the front read:Mighty Max.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Mighty Max,” she said.
I huffed. “I can see that.”
“Then why did you ask me?”
“Why are you showing it to me?”
