A Catered Mother's Day by Isis Crawford Page A

afraid he would get into trouble.” Libby separated both sides of the macaroon and licked the filling, after which she ate the meringues. It was like eating an Oreo, only better. “What?” she said to Bernie, who was staring at her.
    â€œNothing,” Bernie said. “I’ve just never seen anyone do that, is all.”
    â€œMakes it last longer,” Libby explained as she wiped her fingers on a napkin.
    â€œI wonder what made him come back here,” Bernie mused. “I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
    â€œThis place didn’t hold good memories for him for certain,” Sean agreed.
    Clyde ate a piece of salami. “I wonder where he was staying.”
    â€œMost of his family is gone,” Sean noted. “They’ve either moved away or are in the ground.”
    â€œThere’s old Miss Randall,” Libby said. “Wasn’t she his second or third cousin? Something like that.”
    â€œYou should go talk to her,” Clyde said to Libby. “See if she knows anything.”
    â€œThanks a lot,” Bernie said. “Why don’t you?” To say Old Lady Randall wasn’t grouchy was a little like saying cows don’t moo.
    Clyde finished off his sweet tea and poured himself another glass. “Because I don’t have to.” He raised a hand to keep Bernie from interrupting. “This isn’t my case. She wouldn’t talk to me anyway. She’s never forgiven me for giving her a parking ticket in front of Elwood’s General Store.”
    Sean raised an eyebrow. “Why’d you give her a ticket?”
    â€œBecause she was parked smack dab in the middle of the street. Her driving skills have always left a lot to be desired,” Clyde explained in a massive understatement.
    â€œMakes sense,” Libby said. “So what are you going to do while we talk to her?”
    Clyde smiled. “Stay here and eat lunch. Talk with your dad about our fishing trip. Show him the fishing pole and tackle box I’m lending him.”
    â€œI didn’t know you fished,” Libby said.
    Clyde smiled. “It’s been a while, but I figured it’s time to get back to the ocean before I get too old to hook a big one,” he replied absentmindedly as he contemplated making himself a sandwich.

Chapter 14
    D espite Clyde’s suggestion, Libby and Bernie didn’t go visit Old Lady Randall immediately. Instead, they decided to go back to the motel first and look for the watch Libby had seen before Bruce Hadley had grabbed her and scared her half to death.
    â€œWe should have done this earlier,” Bernie noted as they pulled into the Riverview Motel parking lot. In the daylight, the place looked even shabbier than it did at night, the tattered yellow crime scene tape adding another depressing note to the cracked asphalt, peeling paint, and sagging roof.
    â€œWith what time?” Libby demanded. She parked next to the woods. With Bernie’s ankle still in rough shape, Libby was the one who was doing most of the driving. “I think I know where I saw it,” she added, turning off Mathilda and getting out of the van.
    â€œI hope it’s still there,” Bernie said.
    â€œIt will be,” Libby said with more confidence than she felt.
    She walked to the place she thought she’d seen the watch and looked around. All she saw was scrub grass, weeds, cigarette butts, a used condom, and a couple of empty cans of Bud. She squatted down and looked more carefully. If the watch was there, she wasn’t seeing it. It should be though. Libby was pretty sure this was the spot. She was almost positive she’d been facing the fourth motel room down from the end when Bruce had grabbed her. Which meant either she was mistaken or someone had taken it. Maybe she was wrong about where she’d been standing. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more unsure she became. She felt as if everything from that