Chapter 5
SARA LEE
Sara Lee woke to a Sunday morning that dawned peaceful and perfect.
She stretched, dislodging Mister Smee from his spot on her pillow, and smiled at the memory of yesterday…
Carl's hand in hers, his shy invitation to the Solstice dinner, the way her heart had unexpectedly flipped when he smiled at her.
She dressed in a pale yellow sundress suitable for church, paired with a short-sleeved button-up sweater, and headed downstairs.
Nana June was already in the kitchen, dressed in a long, colorful skirt and a crisp blue blouse, her hair neatly styled.
A pot of coffee sat in the coffee maker, filling the house with its rich aroma.
"Morning, sweetheart," Nana June said, pouring two mugs. "Sleep well?"
"Like a rock." Sara Lee gratefully accepted the coffee, adding cream and sugar. "You?"
"Well enough." Nana June's expression was thoughtful as she gazed out the kitchen window at their back garden. "Though I had the strangest dreams. Nothing I can quite remember now."
They ate a quick breakfast of toast and jam, since neither of them liked heavy meals before church. Pippi crunched her kibble, and Mister Smee wound between their legs, purring his demands for attention.
"We should take Pippi for a quick walk before service," Nana June suggested. "She's been cooped up since yesterday morning."
"Good idea. We have time."
As she gathered Pippi's leash, Mister Smee walked over and yowled. “Not this time,” Nana June said. “You can go to the library with us later.”
They headed out into the sunshine, leaving Mister Smee staring reproachfully at them from the living room window.
The air was already warm but not yet oppressive, carrying the scent of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass.
Meadowlark Creek on a Sunday morning was quiet and peaceful, with most of the town still sleeping off yesterday's festival or getting ready for church.
Sara Lee felt a deep contentment as they walked, Pippi trotting ahead with her ears bouncing. This was her favorite kind of morning… simple, easy, the world feeling right and good.
"Let's cut through the park," Nana June suggested. "We can see if there is anything from the festival that didn’t get cleaned up.”
It wasn’t their usual walk, but Sara Lee agreed Pippi would enjoy the park.
As they walked along, it was evident the festival volunteers had done an excellent cleanup job, finding only an occasional stray cup or napkin in the grass.
The sidewalk was still covered with the children’s colorful chalk artwork, and the gazebo was still draped in bunting.
But mostly, the park was tidy, evidence of the volunteer crew that had worked late into the night.
Pippi pulled toward the bandstand area, nose to the ground, tracking some scent with determined focus. “Let her go where she’d like to sniff,” Nana June instructed.
She let Pippi take the lead, and she followed, enjoying the morning sun on her face, thinking about nothing more pressing than whether she'd see Carl that afternoon.
Pippi stopped suddenly, let out a growl, then started barking. Not her usual happy bark, but with urgency. The dog pulled hard on the leash toward one of the benches near the bandstand. Looking over, they could see someone sitting on the bench.
"Pippi, stop," Sara Lee called, but the dog ignored her, barking louder.
Nana June's expression shifted to concern. "She wants to go to the bench. Let’s see who that is."
They walked closer, and Sara Lee saw that the figure was not just someone enjoying a morning in the park. Their posture indicated they were sleeping. Sleeping through Pippi’s insistent barking?
A silver flask lay on the sidewalk, and she immediately recognized it. Raymond Melton. Now, looking at his clothes, she noted he was dressed in the same attire as yesterday. “It’s Raymond. He must have passed out here.” She wondered if the judge was out looking for his errant brother.
"Mr. Melton?" she called. "Sir, you need to wake up. It's morning."
No response. No movement at all.
Sara Lee's steps slowed as something cold settled in her stomach. The figure was too still. Too absolutely motionless. Even intoxicated people shifted and breathed. “What…. what…”
“My dear, let me see,” Nana June said, her voice stronger than Sara Lee felt.
Her grandmother walked closer with Pippi still barking at their feet. Raymond sat slumped against the bench's back, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. His silver flask caught the morning sunlight, now being sniffed by Pippi. His jacket was rumpled, and his face was gray.
"He's… just drunk," Sara Lee whispered, her voice filled with uncertainty. "Right? He's just—"
“No, my dear. Not just drunk.”
She stopped a few feet away, close enough to see clearly now. His chest wasn't moving. His eyes barely open, staring at nothing. His skin had no vibrancy of life.
This was death.
She had seen death before, but the funeral homes had eased the visual, making a person look peaceful, like they were sleeping. This was nothing like that. This was horrible and real, and she couldn't look away.
Nana June approached the bench with careful, measured steps, as Sara Lee pulled back on Pippi’s leash. Her grandmother bent slightly, examining Raymond's face, his position. She didn't touch him, but her gaze was thorough, almost professional.
"Sara Lee." Nana June's voice cut through the panic. Her grandmother moved closer, one hand reaching out to gently touch Sara Lee's arm. "Sweetheart, step back. Call the Sheriff." Her voice was soft and calm. "I'll stay here."
Sara Lee's hands shook as she pulled out her phone and pulled Pippi back. Her fingers fumbled with the screen, nearly dropping it twice before she managed to dial 911.
"Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"
"There's—" Sara Lee's voice cracked. She swallowed hard. "There's a body. In Meadowlark Creek Park. Near the bandstand. I think he's dead."
The dispatcher's voice stayed calm and professional, asking questions Sara Lee answered on autopilot.
No, they hadn't touched him. Yes, they would stay at the scene.
When she hung up, her hands were still shaking.
For some reason she couldn't explain, she scrolled through her contacts and called Carl.
He answered on the second ring, his voice warm. "Sara Lee? To what do I owe this early call?"
"Can you come to the park?" The words tumbled out too fast. "Near the bandstand. There's... something happened."
"I'll be right there." He didn’t question or hesitate, but gave her the immediate certainty she needed.
Sara Lee stood, phone clutched in her hand, trying not to look at Raymond's body and failing. Nana June had moved around the bench, her gaze down to where the flask lay, being careful not to disturb anything but clearly cataloging every detail.
"Nana June, what are you doing?"
"Observing." Her grandmother bent over carefully and peered at something on the ground. If Sara Lee wasn’t mistaken, grandmother was sniffing.
"We shouldn't—"
"I'm not touching anything." Nana June stood slowly, brushing her skirt down. She looked at the flask, at Raymond's jacket pocket where Sara Lee could now see a piece of paper protruding slightly. "The medical examiner will need to see all of this exactly as it is."
The sound of an approaching vehicle made them both turn.
Sheriff Gordon's patrol car pulled up to the park's edge, followed immediately by Deputy Parsons’ pickup truck.
They must have been together when the call came through.
Now that Sara Lee thought about it, they were probably having their Sunday morning ritual of breakfast at the diner.
Sheriff Gordon climbed out of his car with the slow, deliberate movements of a man who'd rather be anywhere else.
He was a good sheriff, but he'd chosen Meadowlark Creek specifically because it was quiet.
A big fish in a little pond, as he'd said more than once. He’d served many years in a big city, and now appreciated getting to know the residents and helping when he could.
Dead bodies sitting on a park bench weren't supposed to happen here.
Deputy Tom climbed down from his truck, his face creased with concern. He started toward them, but the sheriff held up a hand as he looked around.
"Tom, I’ll need you to secure the scene first."
The deputy nodded and walked over to the sheriff’s vehicle, popped the trunk, and dug around for a few minutes.
He finally grabbed a roll of yellow crime scene tape and hustled over.
It struck Sara Lee that she couldn’t remember ever seeing crime scene tape put up anywhere in Meadowlark Creek, and that was probably the reason it was buried in the Sheriff’s trunk.
And as Tom cordoned off the area, it seemed too bright and official for their sleepy little town.
"Keep everyone back, Tom. At least thirty feet.
" The Sheriff approached the bench, his expression already settling into resignation.
He took one look at Raymond's slumped form, shook his head, and moved closer.
He looked over the body… checking for a pulse he clearly didn't expect to find, looking at Raymond's face, his position, and the flask on the ground.
"Well," Sheriff Gordon said heavily. "He’s dead. That's unfortunate."
"Unfortunate?" Sara Lee heard her grandmother question.
The Sheriff straightened, his knees creaking. "I don't see any signs of violence. No blood, no obvious wounds." He looked at the flask. "Man drank himself to death, looks like. Alcohol poisoning, probably. Maybe a heart attack."
"Shouldn't we wait for the medical examiner to determine that?" Nana June asked, her voice mild but pointed.
Sheriff Gordon shot her a look. "Well, with any death not seen, I’ve got a call out to the ME. But I’m sure he’ll confirm what's obvious, Ms. June. Raymond was a drunk. Everyone at the festival saw that. He probably sat here drinking all night, and his body finally gave out."
Sara Lee watched her grandmother's expression. Her face was calm, but a tiny crease between her eyebrows meant that she was thinking hard.
Nana June observed. "There's something in his jacket pocket."
The Sheriff glanced at the pocket. "Whatever's in his pocket can wait for Doc Ward to check." He pulled out his radio. "I need to call this in, get the medical examiner out here."
Nana June nodded, but all Sara Lee could think was that their simple first day of June walk had turned into something she never expected to see. Her grandmother seemed to suspect that natural causes weren’t the culprit. And she wondered if Nana June was right.