Biggie and the Devil Diet (12 page)

Biggie nodded. "Well, thanks for your time. Are there any plans yet for a funeral?"

"Yes. As soon as they release the body, he'll be buried here on the ranch. Graveside services only. Rex wasn't much for religion, and those were his wishes." She got to her feet. "Now, I really do need to talk to Laura."

"Sure, honey. Run along now. You've been a big help."

We watched as Grace disappeared through the French doors, then Biggie jumped up. "Come on," she said. "Let's find the ranger. I want to have a word with him."

15

W
e found Ranger Upchurch talking to Hamp out by the horse barn. Misty, looking cute as a basket of kittens, in jeans and cowboy boots, was saddling a horse. I went over to talk to her.

"Goin' for a ride?" My mouth was full of cotton, and I couldn't think of another thing to say.

She smiled at me. "Uh-huh. Want to come along? I can saddle Blade for you. He's real gentle."

I looked at that saddle. "I, um… I don't know. I may have to be getting back to town."

She must have read my mind. "I could put a western saddle on him."

"I'll see," I said, and headed back to where Biggie was standing beside the ranger.

"Go," she said when I asked her. "Just be back in an hour."

We walked the horses past the corral and the riding ring and across the pasture until we came to a grove of trees.

"Watch your head and legs," Misty said. "Old Blade will try to knock you off. He'll either cut too close to a fence post, or sometimes he'll head for a low limb and try to scrape you off that way."

"I thought you said he was gentle," I said.

Misty laughed. "You always have to be smarter than the horse. They're just like people; they have their little quirks."

I ducked as we passed under an oak tree and followed Misty through the woods into a wide clearing bordered on both sides by planted pines.

"This is a pipeline right-of-way," she said. "They keep it mowed, so it's a perfect place to run the horses. Come on!"

She nudged her horse with her heels and cantered away. I gave Blade a nudge, but all he did was speed up to a trot, all the time trying to get his head down to the green grass below. Finally, I gave him a good kick and held on to the saddle horn as he galloped after Misty. We must have ridden a half mile when we came in sight of a blacktop road up ahead. Misty reined in her horse and waited for Blade to catch up.

"This is the end of the trail," she said. "I know a good place to rest and let the horses drink. Follow me."

We turned the horses left and entered an even denser wood than before. Grapevines trailed from the trees and ran along the ground, causing the horses to step high to avoid them. I could hear gurgling water, and soon we broke into a clearing beside a creek bank. Misty jumped from her horse and led it to the water. I followed suit. After the horses had a drink, we tied them to a low-hanging branch and sat down on the mossy ground.

"I didn't know you rode," Misty said, smiling.

"Oh, sure." I didn't tell her that the only riding I'd ever done, except for the ponies at the county fair, was on Mr. Sontag's old mule.

"You should come out and ride often." She leaned back on her hands and looked sideways at me. "That is, if we're staying here, me and Daddy, I mean."

I sat up straight. "Why shouldn't you?"

"I heard them talking, Abner and Daddy. Abner was saying they might have to sell the ranch. He said Rex had already settled a bunch of cash on Laura, and he wasn't leaving her anything in his will."

"That's awful." I watched two beetles crawling across the green moss pushing a ball of dung. "What will y'all do?"

"Daddy'll move on to another job, I guess. He's a wonderful trainer. Before we came here, he trained quarter horses, you know, for racing. That's big business, and good trainers get paid a lot. Actually, what Daddy really wants to do is settle down with his own stables, but you have to have lots of money for that."

"Where's your mom?"

"She's married again and living in Arizona. I've got a little brother there, but I've never even seen him. When she and Daddy divorced, she gave me to Daddy. I guess she didn't want me." Misty didn't look sad, just matter of fact.

"Cool— I didn't mean that. It's not cool when your mom doesn't want you around. What I meant to say is, my mom didn't want me either. I guess we have something in common. Does it bother you her not wanting you?"

"Uh-uh." Misty waved away a gnat that was buzzing around her face. "I'd lots rather live with Dad."

"Me, too— I mean, I'd rather live here in Job's Crossing with Biggie."

Misty turned and put her face close to mine. "J.R., I've never met a boy as nice as you. Have you ever heard of soul mates?"

"Huh?" I was having a hard time breathing.

"Soul mates. People who were meant to be together. I was reading this book one time…"

"Would you like to go to the junior high homecoming dance with me?" I knew my face was turning red, but I forced myself to look straight at her. "It's next Friday night, and Rosebud could drive me out to pick you up. We'd bring you home, too."

Misty's face lit up with a big smile. "Sure! You are just the sweetest boy to ask me." With that, she gave me a kiss right on the lips. I hate to admit it, but I was so surprised I fell over backward and rolled down the hill, just barely stopping myself before I fell into the creek. When I looked up, Misty was laughing her head off. I laughed, too, because what else could I do?

* * *

Back at the horse barn, I said good-bye to Misty and went to find Biggie. I found her sitting at a picnic table under some trees talking with Rosebud and the ranger.

"He had a gun," Ranger Upchurch was saying.

"He always kept it in his bureau drawer. Anybody could have gotten their hands on it."

"And in the shape poor Rex was in, he'd never have known." Biggie's lips drew into a thin line.

"The funny thing is," the ranger said, "the gun the kid had— it had been fired. Rex's gun, we're not too sure about."

"Did anybody find a slug?" Rosebud asked. "In the study, I mean."

Ranger Upchurch shook his head. "Not a sign. And Mrs. Barnwell says Stacie never fired the gun."

Biggie opened the car door and got in. Then holding the door open, she said, "Red, I'm worried about the daughter, Babe."

"I am, too," the ranger said. "I plan to have a talk with her before I leave here today. The funeral, such as it is, is tomorrow. Will you be coming out?"

"I haven't been invited," Biggie said. "Still, I believe it's my Christian duty to comfort the grieved, so I might just bring along a casserole for the family."

"That's my girl." The ranger grinned and slammed the door. He stood watching as Rosebud turned the car around and drove away.

* * *

That night at dinner, I told my news. "Misty's going to the dance with me. I asked her, and she said yes. Rosebud, I told her you'd drive me out to pick her up." I spooned gravy on my mashed potatoes. "I might need to borrow some money to buy her a mum. I want Butch to make a big, fancy one with lots of streamers hanging down— and little doodads attached to the streamers, just like the high school girls have. Will you loan me the money, Biggie? I'll rake leaves or chop wood—" Suddenly, I noticed everybody had stopped eating. "What? What's the matter?"

Biggie had been cutting her chicken-fried steak. "J.R., you've already asked Monica to the dance."

I had forgotten. Two weeks ago, Monica and I had gone fishing at Wooten's Creek. I had caught a big catfish. For once Monica had bragged on me a lot, telling me not just anybody could have landed him, that it took a real fisherman to do that. Later, we had fired up Mr. Sontag's outdoor fryer, and we'd cooked my fish and eaten him for supper. After supper, we sat out on Monica's back steps and tried to pick out the constellations in the summer sky. Just when I was getting ready to leave, full of catfish and pride, I had asked Monica to go to the dance with me.

"Well." I thought fast. "I don't… I don't really think Monica's into that kind of thing. She goes to that little country school… she wouldn't know anybody… and besides, she probably doesn't even have a dress to wear." I took a sip of tea. "She'd more than likely be embarrassed when nobody asked her to dance. Isn't that right, Rosebud?" I looked at Rosebud, but he was cutting his meat. "I guess I'll just call her and tell her…" What would I tell her? Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. "May I be excused?"

Biggie nodded. Nobody said a word as I got up from the table and went up the stairs to my room.

16

T
he next morning when I came down for breakfast, Willie Mae was making my favorite breakfast, French toast made from thick slices of homemade bread with lots of cinnamon and powdered sugar sprinkled on top. A pitcher of warm maple syrup sat on the table.

"Hurry up and eat," she said, "you gonna be late for school."

"I don't feel like going today." I pulled the syrup pitcher toward me. "I think I've taken a virus."

"The love bug done bit you," Rosebud said, coming in from the back porch. He sat down at the table. "When that old love bug bites, he causes a feller to do stupid things."

"Rosebud, I don't…"

Just then the telephone rang. Biggie, dressed in her turquoise jogging suit, came down the backstairs and picked it up. "Hello. Um-hum… How did you find out? Well, Julia, I don't know about that, all of us going… Oh, you're going anyway?… Well, okay. We'll pick you up at four…. You're taking baked beans? I don't know yet. I have to talk to Willie Mae about it. All right. You be ready now, you hear? Okay, bye."

"What was that all about?" Willie Mae wanted to know.

Biggie went to the stove and poured herself a cup of black Louisiana coffee, then sat down at the table. "Oh, it's Julia and them. Julia's found out the funeral is this afternoon, and she insists that we all go out and take food to the family. Says it's our duty as good Christians."

"Well, Biggie, you said the same thing…."

"Don't be a smart mouth." Biggie poured syrup on her French toast. "I intended to go by myself. They'll just be in the way. Oh well, it's done. Rosebud, can you drive us out at four?"

Rosebud nodded. "I got to get the oil changed first."

"Biggie, I don't feel like going to school today."

Biggie felt my forehead. "There's not a thing wrong with you."

"Well, don't you need me to go to the ranch with you? You always say I'm a big help…."

"J.R., we're not going until four. Just get yourself home right after the bell rings."

The trunk of the limousine was filled with casseroles and fried chicken and potato salad when we finally drove out of town. Biggie's club, the Daughters, which she's president of, had organized a food committee. Miss Julia and Mrs. Muckleroy had been appointed to go along and serve.

"Stop by the shop and pick up Butch," Mrs. Muckleroy said when we picked her up. "He wants to ride out with us."

"Why didn't we just put a notice in the paper and invite the whole town?" Biggie grumbled.

"Why, Biggie, we couldn't do that!" Miss Julia was shocked. "Half the riff-raff in the county would invite themselves along. Ooh, there's Butch. Stop here, Rosebud."

Rosebud pulled the car up to the curb in front of Hickley's House of Flowers and Butch, wearing black velvet jeans and his white ruffly shirt got in. He held a covered cake plate.

"Did you bake a cake?" Miss Julia asked.

"Not likely," Butch replied. "I got one of Populus's cherry pies. They're my favorite. Which kind do you like, Ruby?"

"Coconut," Mrs. Muckleroy said. "I just naturally gravitate toward the cream pies, myself."

Mr. Populus is Greek and owns the Owl Café, which is downtown on the square. It's called the Owl on account of a long time ago, it stayed open all night. Now, Mr. Populus closes at nine, but the people in Job's Crossing were used to the old name, so he never changed it. Mr. Populus makes the best pies in the whole world— even better than Willie Mae's, although I'd never want her to hear me saying that.

Biggie rode in front with Rosebud while the other grown-ups lined up in the back. I had taken the small jump seat.

"Ooh, I've just got chill bumps running up and down my spine." Butch wriggled around in his seat. "Girls! Has it occurred to you that we're headed right straight into danger? A killer's on the loose at that ranch."

"You do what you must," Mrs. Muckleroy said. "Myself, I just put on the armor of the Lord." She held the cross she was wearing up so everybody could see.

"That's right, we all have to make sacrifices." Butch examined his fingernails. "Darn! I've chipped my polish."

"Well, y'all can call yourself Christian soldiers all you want to," Miss Julia said. "Me, I'm just filled up with curiosity. What's going on out there, Biggie? Do they know who the killer is?"

"Not yet," Biggie said. "Red Upchurch has sent both guns off to be tested."

"Both guns? You mean there were two? Mercy, that must have been quite a night," Mrs. Muckleroy said.

"It was, for a fact," Biggie said. Then she told about Stacie coming in and taking Laura hostage. "Of course, her gun wasn't the one used to kill Rex. That was his own gun."

"Then why send the other one off at all?" Miss Julia asked.

"Just because it was there, I guess," Biggie said. "It was right there in the room next to us the whole time. But Red is very thorough. He doesn't leave anything to chance."

"I'm that way, too," Mrs. Muckleroy said. "Oh, here we are. Where are all the cars? I thought they had a funeral out here."

"Family only," Biggie said. "Park over here by the fence, Rosebud."

The ladies went in the front door while Rosebud and I took the food around back to the kitchen. Josefina, dressed in black, was standing by the stove stirring a pot. When she looked at us, her eyes were red from crying. Then when she saw what we had, I thought she was going to start bawling all over again.

"What is this?"

"The ladies and Butch brought y'all some food," Rosebud said. "Where you want it?"

"Why?" Josefina asked. "Can't I cook for this family?"

"It's a custom," I said. "Whenever a person dies, folks take food. Where do you want it."

"Over there, I guess." She motioned toward a table that stood against the wall.

Rosebud sat down at the kitchen table to talk to Josefina, and I went looking for Biggie. I found her sitting alone with Babe in the dining room. Babe was wiping her eyes with a tissue.

"He was the only living soul who loved me just the way I am," she said. "What am I going to do without him?"

"Where is your mother?" Biggie asked.

"Dead. She and Daddy divorced when I was seven. I went with Mama. She kept me until she couldn't anymore."

"Couldn't? Surely Rex took care of the two of you. Financially, I mean."

"Oh, sure. Mama had breast cancer. We lived in Wisconsin where Mama had a good job with the state. She never married again. She always said, after Rex Barnwell, no other man would do."

"Then why did she divorce him?"

"Oh, she didn't.
He
divorced her. Of course, I was just a kid at the time. But from what I could piece together later, Daddy was gone a lot and Mama had, you know, men friends…"

"I understand," Biggie said quickly. "So how old were you when your mom got sick?"

"A teenager, about fifteen, I guess. She worked as long as she could, even when the chemotherapy made all her hair fall out. Finally, we had to go and live with her sister in her small house in Madison. That's when Mama sent me to live with my daddy." She pulled a fresh tissue out of the box and blew her nose. "It was just fine at first…."

"Then Laura came along?"

Babe looked at Biggie. "Laura? No, Laura had nothing to do with it. We got along okay until I married Rob. That's when the trouble began."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Suddenly Babe's face hardened. "No, I don't think I do. Why are you asking so many questions anyway? Are you a cop or something?"

Biggie patted her hand. "No, honey, just an old friend of your daddy's."

"Well, I have to find Hamp. He's promised to take me riding. Lord knows, I need to get away from this house. It's giving me the creeps."

With that, Babe got up and hurried out of the room.

"What do you know about that?" Biggie said. "Well, come on. I want to pay my respects to the Widow Barnwell."

I followed Biggie through the great room where the ladies and Butch had Rob cornered and were asking questions a mile a minute. We went down the hall to Laura's room where Biggie rapped on the door.

"Who's there?" It was Laura's voice.

"Honey, it's Biggie Weatherford and J.R. Can we come in?"

The door opened and Laura stood there. She was wearing a long, floaty robe, pale blue. I could see a matching satin nightie under it, and she had on tiny slippers to match. Her brown hair was loose and fell in waves around her face. She looked as pretty as a field of blue-bonnets.

"Come in," she said, real soft. "I'm sorry, I can't talk very well. All the crying has done something to my voice, I think."

"Saltwater," Biggie said. "Best thing in the world. Just gargle a little— warm— every thirty minutes. You'll be good as new."

"Thanks, I will. Come in, please. I was in bed. Do you mind if I just climb back in?"

"Of course not, honey." Biggie pulled a blue velvet chair from the dressing table and placed it next to Laura. I stood at the foot of the bed. "Are you all right?" Biggie asked.

"Not really." She sniffed like a little girl. Biggie handed her a tissue from the box on the bedside table. "To tell the truth, Mrs. Weatherford, I don't know what I'll do without Rex. Oh, not that I don't think he's in a better place now. The poor man suffered so this past year. I'm selfish, I guess. But, you see, even as sick as he was, Rex was my strength. Can you understand that?"

"Of course," Biggie said. "He's always been that way, even as a boy."

Laura smiled at Biggie. "I forgot, you knew him, too. I guess we share something… I don't know how to say it…"

"You don't have to," Biggie said. "Now, what's to happen to you— to the ranch?"

"Oh, well, the girls need this place. Somehow, we have to carry on."

Biggie nodded. "What about Babe?"

"Babe?" Laura looked surprised. "Why should you ask about her? She'll go on with her life, I guess. She doesn't live here, you know, although she and Rob stay here a good part of the time. They have a house in Arkansas— up in the hills. Rob thinks of himself as a writer, although I don't think he's ever published anything. I can't see why they would continue to come here. Babe scarcely hides her dislike for me."

"And you? How do you feel about her?" Biggie looked hard at Laura.

Laura sighed. "I tried to be her friend at first, really. But Babe didn't want that, not for a minute. I can't prove it, but I have a feeling she tried to undermine me with her father. When she was still in high school, she used to spy on me. She didn't think I knew it, but I did. Even if I was only going to the grocery store, she'd follow me in her car." She stared out the window at the ivy trailing down from the house. "Once I confronted her about it when I caught her lurking outside the beauty salon, but only once. She became hysterical and accused me of things you can't even imagine. After that, I left it alone."

"Did you tell Rex?"

"Actually, no. Babe would have accused me of trying to cause a rift between her and her father— and, who knows, Rex might have believed it. We hadn't been married so very long when all this was happening."

"It sounds to me like that girl needed professional help."

"Oh, we sent her to counseling— the best money could buy. But she fooled the therapists. They would call us in for family sessions, and Babe would be all sweet reason. Eventually, I think, they ended up thinking we were terrible parents."

"My, my," Biggie said. "I guess you won't be sorry to see her go then?"

"Sadly, no. It was clear long ago that Babe and I could never be close, even now when we share the same sad loss." She closed her eyes and put her head back on the pillow.

Biggie stood up. "Honey, all this talk's just wearing you out. We'll be going now." She patted Laura's hand and headed for the door then turned back. "By the way, I was just wondering… do you know when the will's going to be read?"

Laura didn't answer. Her eyes were closed, and she looked to be asleep. But she wasn't asleep; she was playing possum. I could see her eyelids fluttering.

"Are we going home now?" I asked Biggie.

"In a minute," she said. "I just want to check Rex's room one more time."

I followed her down the hall and watched as she pushed open the door, noticing that someone had taken down the yellow crime tape. The room was dark and smelled nasty.

"What is that smell?" I whispered.

"It's death, J.R. You can't wash away the smell of blood. It lingers for a long time." She switched on the lights and began to walk around the room, picking up things and setting them down, opening drawers and pawing through the contents. I looked at the pictures and trophies on the mantel. My grandfather had been a great man, I could tell. In one picture, he was standing with Paul Newman beside a sleek, white racing car. In another, he was talking to Larry King. I wondered what was going to happen to all these things now.

Finally Biggie touched my arm. "Let's go," she whispered.

I followed her to the door. Just as she was reaching for the knob, she bent down and examined the wide baseboard next to the door. "There's something lodged here," she said. "And it looks to me like a bullet. See if you can find me a tool to dig it out."