If Fried Chicken Could Fly by Paige Shelton

Verna who nodded and added, “If I stop you at any point, Miz, don’t continue until I give you the okeydokey.”
    I hadn’t heard Gram’s version of her day, so I listened closely. She’d gotten to the school at about nine thirty, taught the first cooking class, stayed at the school through lunch and then taught the afternoon class. She knew I ran to the store for some red food coloring, but she said she stayed at the school while I was gone.
    “Miz, is there anyone who could corroborate that you didn’t leave the school?”
    “No. As far as I know, none of the students stuck around.”
    “Did you see Everett Morningside today—well, I guess that would be yesterday—before you found his body in the supply room?”
    “No.”
    “Did you talk to him on the phone?”
    “No. The last time I spoke with him was the night before, at nine p.m.”
    “What did you talk about?” Jim asked.
    “Our dinner plans for tonight, I mean last night. You know what I mean, Jim?”
    “Yes. Did you know Mr. Morningside was married?”
    “Whoa, Nellie,” Verna said. “Miz, don’t answer that.”
    “Why not?” Jim asked.
    “Because I said so.”
    Jim’s face pinched. “Miz, were you and Everett in a romantic relationship?”
    “Nope, not that one either,” Verna said.
    Jim sighed. “Okay, had you ever met Mrs. Morningside?”
    Gram looked at Verna who shrugged and said, “Just yes or no, Miz.”
    “No,” Gram said.
    “How long had you known Everett?” Jim took a sip of coffee.
    “Since he took over the old Jasper Theater about six months ago. He had that open house, you all remember?” We nodded. “He’d heard about my champagne cookies and hired me to make some.”
    “I remember that,” Jim said. “They were good.” He smiled.
    I didn’t remember Gram baking the cookies, but I remembered them at the open house.
    Verna raised her hand and said, “I’d like to ask everyone a question and I’d like it on the record. Before tonight, had anyone in this room met Mrs. Morningside? I’ve never seen or heard of her before, and I meet everyone. Everyone hates us attorneys until they need one, and I’m the only good one close by, so the world sucks up to me, even if they don’t like my company. I would have met her if Mr. Morningside had wanted us to meet her. So, anyone else?”
    “No, Verna, I hadn’t met her,” Jim said.
    “Me neither,” Cliff said.
    “Nope,” I said.
    “Well, I do believe, Jim, that you might have reason to pick up another suspect. Too bad for Mrs. Morningside that Miz got me first. I’m sure she’ll be searching for an attorney, too.”
    “Perhaps,” Jim said.
    “For now, though, I’m positive there’s no reason to hold Miz or any of the rest of us for that matter. Thanks for the pastries, though.” Verna stood.
    “Wait,” Gram said as she raised a finger in the air.
    “What is it?” I asked.
    “I did leave the school for a brief time.”
    Verna put her hand on Gram’s shoulder. “Hang on, Miz. Tell me first.” She sat back down and leaned toward Gram.
    Gram whispered something, Verna whispered something, then did it again, Gram nodded, Verna nodded. “Go on, Miz.”
    “I stepped out briefly, but I didn’t go far.”
    “Where did you go?” Jim asked.
    “Just to the cemetery. Since I started the school, I’ve taken to visiting the gravestones. I enjoy grooming them a little, taking care of them a little. There are so many legends in that cemetery. I feel like I’ve gotten to know them—some of them were alive when I was a baby.” Gram laughed.
    I’d seen her visit the cemetery a few times, but it never occurred to me that she’d taken a liking to its inhabitants.
    “Gram, aren’t some of them criminals—bank robbers, killers?” I asked.
    “Or maybe they were just misunderstood.” Gram sniffed.
    I didn’t say anything else but hoped Verna knew it was time to stop Gram from heading further down that path. She did. She put her hand on Gram’s shoulder