The Stranger You Seek - By Amanda Kyle Williams Page 0,111

behind me. She had a cup of something hot in her hand. Steam was rising off it.

“And they’re monogamous,” I repeated, and smiled at her, trying not to look as embarrassed as I felt.

“And what about the cow?”

I took the steaming mug from Pat. It smelled like herbal tea, minty and sweet. “Long story.”

Rauser chuckled. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Street. Try to stay out of trouble until then.”

I closed my phone and looked up at Pat. “I know how that must have sounded, but it’s just this friend of mine who teases me because he thinks that I think women always want me, when, in fact, I don’t think that at all, really. Just this waitress at Hooters and the forensic scientist he’s sleeping with. Most women don’t even like me, actually. And I don’t really know any lesbians, although my best friend is sleeping with one, and Atlanta has about a million. And Decatur. Oh my God. Have you ever been to Decatur? It’s, like, dyke central, perfect little short haircuts and athletic shoes.”

Pat was staring at me.

“I’m making it worse, aren’t I?”

“Enjoy your tea. Chris made it with mint from the garden.” She paused and seemed to choose her next words carefully. “Ever consider that if your friend’s sleeping with a lesbian, she may be a lesbian?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Absolutely not.”

34

I met Big Jim at Penland’s Fried Pies and Gifts. He plopped down coffee for us both in monogrammed mugs and fried apple pies with ice cream. There were a few small tables and chairs near a stone fireplace inside, and Big Jim straddled a chair and smiled at me.

“They’re best for breakfast,” he said. I had no problem with that. I’d been obsessing about the pie since I’d had my first two. “Here’s the list you wanted. Competitors mostly. And a few people I may have crossed lately.”

I took a bite of pie and ice cream, washed it down with some coffee, and picked up the paper he’d put between us. It was a long list. “I didn’t realize Ellijay was this big.”

“Well, I guess I have a particular way of offending folks round here.”

“You seem like a nice guy to me,” I said.

“Yeah, but you’re kind of a pushover. It’s all about the pie for you.”

I smiled. I liked Big Jim. “You bring a picture of Sadie too?”

He nodded and pulled a wallet-size photo out of his denim shirt pocket.

“Nice-looking cow,” I said as if I had a clue. Big Jim’s eyes got wet and he had to look away.

I started at the Cupboard Restaurant in downtown Ellijay. It was large and open, with vinyl booths and the look of a cafeteria. I was taken to a small booth to wait for Ida May Culpepper, the first person on Big Jim’s list.

Two waitresses worked the room, both middle-aged and friendly, both knew their customers by their first names. I glanced at the menu and saw chicken and dumplings, collard greens with pepper vinegar, fried chicken livers, and lots of apple products—apple pancakes, apple bread, apple pie, apple cake, fried apples, apple salads.

“Here ya go, hon,” one of the waitresses said to me. The thick white plate she set in front of me had a huge slice of apple pie. “Want some coffee with that?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I’m just waiting for Ida May.”

“Can’t nobody sit at the Cupboard and not eat. How would that look? Pie’s on the house. Ida May will be with you shortly.”

Ida May Culpepper was a tiny woman in her late fifties with smokers’ creases above her mouth and dyed black hair. She slid into the booth and beamed at me. “What can I do for you today, hon?”

“Ever seen this cow?” I asked it as seriously as one can ask a question like that.

“Oh my Lord.” Ida May laughed. “You have got to be kidding me. Is this about Jim Penland’s cow? Don’t tell me he hired a detective to find that ole thing.”

“Afraid so.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I got four in my pasture and two of ’em look just like this if you want to come see. Maybe you can get a hoof-print or something.”

“Mr. Penland mentioned the two of you had a run-in recently.”

Ida May sat back and looked at me. “He tell you why? I got four home-cooking restaurants and one bakery in two counties up here and we use a lot of apples. We don’t use his no more, though. We go