Bring Your Own Poison by Jimmie Ruth Evans Page A

the restaurant where Melvin stood at the cash register. She wondered what motive Gerald might have to do such a thing. She would have to talk to T.J. about him, because he knew the boy far better than she did. She didn’t know if T.J. had had much contact with him over the past year. T.J. had been gone from Tullahoma for a while, and since he’d been back he hadn’t hung around with his old friends that much. Most of them were uncomfortable with T.J. being gay.
    Thinking of T.J. brought her up short because she thought about Tuck, too. The way things looked at the moment, Gerald Blakeley was going to need a lawyer. Wanda Nell didn’t like the way Bill Warren seemed so sure of the boy’s guilt. She had faced that kind of prejudice herself when Bobby Ray got himself killed, and she wanted Gerald to have a fair shake, even if it turned out he was guilty.
    Should she try to call Tuck now? What if Gerald didn’t want a lawyer? She wavered, indecisive.
    â€œWhat’s going on back there?” Melvin asked her.
    In a low voice, Wanda Nell told him what she knew.
    Melvin frowned. “I just wish they’d get the hell out of my restaurant,” he said. “Something like this may kill my business. Why did somebody have to choose tonight to kill the bastard?”
    â€œDid you know him? Travis Blakeley, I mean?”
    â€œYeah, I did,” Melvin said. “Didn’t like him either. He was one cold sonofabitch, I can tell you that.”
    â€œThen why did you book that bachelor party?” Wanda Nell had to ask, but she already knew the answer.
    â€œCouldn’t turn down the business,” Melvin said. He cut his eyes down at her. “You know how much we make on a party like that. Or at least, we usually do.” He shrugged. “Who knows whether anybody’ll pay for it now?”
    Wanda Nell knew they both ought to feel more guilty about being so concerned with themselves, when a man had died in the back room of the restaurant. Probably murdered, too. But feeling sorry about Travis Blakeley’s death wasn’t going to pay her bills, or Melvin’s either. That might be cold, but she couldn’t help that. She had a family to look after. She tried not to think about the hefty tips she had lost tonight.
    Some men from the sheriff’s department had been questioning people in the restaurant, and from what Wanda Nell could see, they were letting anyone who hadn’t been a party guest leave after taking down names and addresses. Pretty soon only the party guests remained, along with the cops and the restaurant staff.
    One of Elmer Lee’s men parked Gerald Blakeley on a stool toward the end of the counter. Wanda Nell kept an eye on them both, and when the deputy stepped away for a moment, she seized her chance.
    Moving quickly down the counter to Gerald, she bent down and spoke quietly to him. “Gerald, do you have a lawyer?”
    His eyes dull, he looked at her. He shook his head.
    â€œI think you’re going to need one,” she said. “And I know a real good one.” She watched the deputy’s back as she spoke. He might turn around at any minute. “I can call him for you,” she said.
    Gerald frowned. “Don’t I know you?”
    Wanda Nell wanted to shake him. “Yes, I’m T.J. Culpepper’s mama. Y’all were in school together.”
    â€œYeah, I remember now,” Gerald said. Then his eyes narrowed. “I heard T.J. was…well, you know.”
    â€œYes, he is,” Wanda Nell said, responding to the unspoken word.
    â€œT.J.’s a good guy,” Gerald said, surprising her.
    â€œThanks,” Wanda Nell said. She glanced at the deputy, and he was starting to turn back in their direction. “Listen, you want me to call that lawyer for you?”
    â€œI guess so,” Gerald said, frowning. “My head hurts. I can’t really think.”
    â€œI’ll go call him right