Illegally Iced by Jessica Beck

wasn’t the nicest thing I could have said, but it was true, and this woman appeared to appreciate frankness in people.
    “Why am I not surprised?” She seemed to realize for the first time that we were still standing. Patting the long bench beside her, she said, “Please join me.”
    Grace and I took seats on either side of her, and once we were settled, she asked, “May I offer you anything? Something to drink, perhaps?”
    “Thank you, but no. We’re fine.”
    Once she was assured of that, she turned to the man waiting nearby and said, “Stephen, that will be all. You may go.”
    He nodded curtly and then walked toward the house.
    The second he was out of sight, she said, “Now, we must talk quickly, since we don’t have long before Forrest joins us.”
    “Forrest?” I asked. “Is he your husband?” I thought this woman was in charge, but clearly whoever Forrest was, he was not someone to take lightly.
    “In fact, he is my son, but he can be meddlesome and troubling, and I don’t want to deal with him at the moment. Now tell me, how exactly did the two of you know James?”
    Grace said, “To be honest with you, we just chatted now and then, but Suzanne and he were close friends.”
    That turned her attention to me. “So, go on, Suzanne. Tell me.”
    “Well, we got off to a rocky start. We first met having an argument over some old train tracks, and the last time we spoke we were squabbling about the smoke from his fire pit getting into my donut shop, but during all of the time in between, I’m proud to say that we were friends. As a matter of fact, he made me a few things out of iron as presents over the time I knew him.”
    “What exactly did he make you?” she asked.
    “Let’s see. I have a beautiful set of bookends he made from railroad tracks, some twisted railroad spikes I use as paperweights, and some skewers he made by hand as well.”
    She shook her head and said sadly, “What an absolute waste of the man’s natural talents. He had such great potential, and in the end he threw it all away to become nothing but a common laborer.”
    I knew that she was in pain, but I was not about to let that stand. My friend deserved to be defended. “I’m sorry for your loss, but you’re wrong there. There was nothing common about James or his work. He was an artist with his anvil and forge. You should see the magnificent things he produced.”
    “But he most likely had dirt under his fingernails and calluses on his hands when he died.” She acted as though it were a great betrayal.
    “I’m sure that he did, but he came by them honestly enough. He was a good man,” I said. “That was all that counted to me and all of his other friends in April Springs. James made a place for himself among us, and we’re going to miss him terribly now that he’s gone.”
    “Then he at least had that much in life,” she said with some resignation.
    “In my book that’s all that really counts,” I said. I hadn’t come to engage in combat with the grande dame, but I wasn’t going to just roll over, either, and let her denigrate what James had accomplished.
    She grew pensive as she stared off into the garden for a few moments. “Do the police have any idea who might have killed him, and why? Do either of you?”
    I never got the chance to answer her as an overweight man dressed in an elegant suit that had been tailored to fit his bulk came huffing toward us. “Excuse me,” he said, nearly out of breath as he approached. “I’m sorry, but my mother is not to be disturbed. We are in mourning.”
    “We were just offering her our sympathies,” I said.
    “Thank you for the gesture, but I must ask you to go.” He turned to her and offered his hand. “Mother, you’ll catch a chill out here. Come inside and warm up.”
    I was surprised to see this strong woman yield to her son’s insistence. As she allowed herself to be led inside, she turned back to us for a moment and said, “Thank you both for