Finger Lickin' Dead (13 page)

“It sounds like a miserable mess,” grimaced Sara. “So what happened then? Since you’d already reserved the reception location, florist, food—”

“And a band,” said Flo in a glum voice, swilling her ice around in her tea. “So the crazy bride started off at one end of the spectrum, and now she’s dropped all the way to the other end of the spectrum because Daddy was having such a hissy. The bride and her crazy mama are talking about scaling it all the way back to a handful of people and having the reception in their backyard. And they do have a really good-sized backyard, but outdoor weddings scare me to death.

“But then, and I really think this is the mama getting back at the daddy—a little stab here and there, you know? But she and her daughter are really big Elvis fans.
Big
Elvis fans. The father is real stuffy—all business, all the time. He didn’t want to drop half a million on the wedding, but he wanted to have a classy event that he can invite his colleagues to. But that’s gone out the window.
Now
, Mama and bride are planning to have their wedding at Graceland—you know how they have that wedding chapel in the woods there? And they’re inviting two hundred of their very closest friends. And then we’re going to go with Elvis’s car museum for the reception site. It’s right there on the grounds, you know, and they’re used to throwing parties there.”

Lulu raised her eyebrows. “That’s a pretty big change to the game plan. When is this wedding supposed to take place?”

“In a couple of weeks.”

“A couple of weeks!? Honey, you’re not going to be able to find any entertainment or caterers in that amount of time! I have my calendar booked up for months in advance with all the different bands that play at Aunt Pat’s.”

A look of pure panic crossed Flo’s face. “I know! So what am I going to do? This wedding will be the biggest disaster you’ve ever seen. And these people will run their mouths to everyone in town until nobody will ever want to hire me again!”

Morty looked at Buddy and Big Ben with a questioning look. They nodded at him and he cleared his throat. “Flo—seeing as how you’re a friend and everything—we could possibly step in to play at the reception. The Back Porch Blues Band is at your disposal.” He gave a bow.

Flo slumped. “Oh, what a
relief
. I wasn’t sure what to do. Are you sure that y’all can squeeze it in? I hate to take advantage of friends.”

“Well, now, let’s see. I’ll double-check my appointment book.” Buddy pulled out a tiny calendar from his shirt pocket. “Looks like all I’m doing that day is waving at cars. How about you, Big Ben?”

Big Ben looked thoughtful. “As I recall, I was going to walk around the Costco that day and eat up the free samples they give out. What about you, Morty?”

Morty looked dreamy again and they braced for a tall tale. “There’s a pretty lady who mentioned my coming by her house Saturday to sing along with her favorite blues standards. But I think I can reschedule our date.”

“Okay, you’re booked, then,” said Flo, beaming. “But what about the rest of the things—the food and flowers and such?” Flo looked sideways at Lulu.

“Okay, okay, I’m thinking.” Lulu rested her chin in her hands and stared into space. Then she slapped the table with her palm. “Got it! This will be a piece of cake. So, you’re doing a bit of a campy, Southern wedding, right? Why not just have Aunt Pat’s to cater the barbeque and sides? We could bring in a bunch of tea. Somebody else could maybe handle the alcohol.”

Now Flo looked excited. “Why not? That would be perfect if y’all could all swing it. I don’t think the Bride from Hell is going to refuse—where else are we going to find entertainment and catering at this hour unless I pull in some personal favors?”

“Hold on—Ben’s coming out to take a break. Let me ask him real quick so we’ll have a better idea.”

After Lulu and Flo had explained the problem and possible solution to Ben, he said, “I think that would work out fine, Flo. We’ll have to have some help, though. Your party will take place during business hours for Aunt Pat’s, so I’m going to need somebody to help out in the kitchen here. And, if you’re talking about a couple hundred guests, we’re going to have to pull in some extra help to have that work out, too. I can cook the barbeque here at the restaurant, but to serve it we’re going to need a lot of hands.”

Lulu snapped her fingers. “How about Oliver?”

“Oliver?” asked Flo. “Oliver the murder suspect?”

“Yes, but he’s not doing anything but driving Tudy crazy right now. And he’s got gobs of restaurant experience. He can help us with both the cooking and serving and other stuff. He’d be perfect! And I know we can rope in Derrick to help out.”

Peggy Sue said, “Evelyn and I can do your flowers and Cherry can help out, too! I went to a program at the library a few weeks ago on arranging flowers. I thought maybe I could even get started doing it on the side. There are tons of ways we can set up some pretty greenery, too, to have things look pretty but not cost so much. Cherry, you can help me, right?”

Cherry looked like arranging flowers for a wedding wasn’t exactly on her top ten list of things to do on her weekend. But she nodded her head anyway.

Flo said, “Usually my weddings are in big venues so I’ve got the staff at the restaurant or hotel helping me out with last-minute details. But if y’all are all coming, I can just get you all to pitch in and help me out!” She gave Lulu, who was closest, a tight hug that made her breath come out in an
umph
.

“I think I’m more looking forward to the funeral than this wedding,” muttered Cherry darkly.

 

 

It was interesting, decided Lulu, that every movie she’d ever watched featured a gray, dismal, chilly day for funerals. In the heat of the South, the reality was more of a miserable graveside service with uncomfortable-looking mourners with rivulets of perspiration coursing down solemn faces. Every woman her age had on panty-hose, some sort of foundation undergarment, a dress, and heels to show respect for the dead. Old habits die hard and Lulu still wore her usual funeral attire, even though she’d had no respect for this particular deceased.

The Memphis newspaper was there, showing support for their fallen comrade. They were also there because it was a news event to cover—considering Adam’s job as Eppie Currian and the fact he was murdered.

There were quite a few other people there, which surprised Lulu. She didn’t think Adam would have had so many good connections in Memphis. Particularly considering his enjoyment of blackmailing and “borrowing” money that would probably never be repaid.

A very short, very young minister carefully read the scripture. Lulu looked across the aisle. Ginger was the only mourner who looked genuinely upset. She alternated between sudden hiccups and a silent, shaking crying. Evelyn sat next to her, patting her hand.

When they’d all recited the Lord’s Prayer, the service was finally over and the mourners gratefully dispersed. Oliver and Tudy Hatley walked up to Lulu.

Lulu gave Oliver a hug. “I’m surprised to see you here!”

Oliver said grimly, “I just wanted to make sure he’s really dead, that’s all. There’s been some doubt as to that lately.”

Tudy walked up to them. “What a miserable day for a funeral! I’m letting y’all know now—if I suddenly kick the bucket, don’t make everybody come to a graveside service. Have a church service in the nice, cool, air-conditioned sanctuary. Then y’all can have a nice buffet at our son’s house. Dragging folks off to a hot graveside to sweat while a minister drones on sounds real
vengeful
to me.”

As Tudy continued extolling the virtues of air-conditioned funeral services, Lulu took a close look at Oliver. His jaw was set. He had some bruising around his eyes and a couple of cuts on his face and hands that Lulu figured must have happened during his fight with Adam. Oliver looked real defensive and Lulu had a feeling that the Memphis police must have already come calling. Considering he’d bad-mouthed the victim all over the Internet, it wouldn’t be any wonder.

As if reading her mind, Tudy said, “And the darnedest thing is that the police keep hounding poor Oliver! They’ll show up and ask real politely for him. And Oliver says the same story over and over. I don’t understand what they’re hoping to get out of it.”

A red flush mottled Oliver’s neck. He probably wished Tudy would keep quiet. Instead, she kept on fussing about the police, so he stepped in and said, “They’re just doing their job, Tudy. And they know I wasn’t happy with Adam, once I knew it was him that had ruined the restaurant. They saw all the things I said about him online, remember?”

“Well, but of
course
you exposed him online,” said Lulu sympathetically. “After all, he’d made a real mess of your life. It was only natural to try to get him back by damaging his career in return.”

“And that’s a whole different thing than killing somebody,” said Tudy. “I just don’t understand why the police don’t see it that way.”

“Besides,” said Oliver, putting his hands up defensively, “I’m not the only person who didn’t like the guy.” He looked pointedly toward Holden.

Lulu wanted to get over to talk to Holden—and Big Jack, who looked at every gathering as an opportunity to do some stumping. “I did need to ask you something before I forget, Oliver. I have a favor to ask you. You remember Flo, right?” Lulu explained the situation and asked if Oliver could help out at the wedding.

Oliver’s face cleared. “Sure, I’d love to help out. I used to do weddings all the time. If you like, I can give you some pointers, too. . . .” He happily prattled for a couple of minutes on the finer points of wedding catering while Tudy beamed beside him. When he’d wandered off to talk to someone, Tudy gave Lulu a quick hug. “You’re a doll. Just look at his face—he actually looks
happy
. I bet he feels like a million bucks right now because someone
needs
him.”

“How’s it going at the house?” asked Lulu.

“Well, he’s not reading the paper to me anymore, but now he’s decided to reorganize the kitchen.” Tudy made a face. “I think he’s planning a coup to take over my kitchen.”

“He should know better than that.” Lulu clucked. “After all these years? No matter how great he is at cooking in his restaurant, you were always in charge of the kitchen at home. Making all those delectable chicken pot pies,” she said, feeling a hungry twinge in her stomach.

“I know. And I told him that I wasn’t going to cook in a kitchen where I didn’t know where everything was. And then he told me that was just fine with him!” Tudy’s outrage bubbled through her voice.

“Don’t worry,” said Lulu. “We’ll think of something to keep him busy. If I hear of anyone looking for a restaurant manager, I’ll give you a buzz.” Lulu saw a troubled frown pass across Tudy’s face. “Is there anything else bothering you, honey? Not that having an unemployed husband isn’t enough.”

Tudy blinked hard a few times. “It’s really not anything. Like I told you earlier, Oliver told the police the same story over and over again. The truth is the
truth
! It’s just that . . . well, I know how upset Oliver was about Adam. He blamed that man for all our troubles. The day that Adam died, though, something funny happened. He came back from lunch all beat-up looking. You saw him! When I asked him what had happened to him, he was real evasive. Said something about tripping up somewhere and skinning himself. But you don’t get those kinds of cuts and bruises from falling down, do you? Not on your face.”

Oliver probably hid the truth from Tudy because she couldn’t keep a secret to save her soul, thought Lulu. And Lulu didn’t feel right telling Tudy what Big Jack had told her. . . . There wasn’t really a good way to say it without dragging his name and his problems into the story, too. Instead, she said, “Tudy, I wouldn’t worry my head about it, sweetie. He probably just didn’t watch where he was going and took a tumble, just like he said.”

“I hope,” muttered Tudy. But she didn’t look convinced.

Holden Parsons was the next person Lulu wanted to talk to. After hearing about the baked bean incident, she wondered if still waters ran deep. He didn’t exactly fit Lulu’s mental image of a murderer, though. He was an older man wearing a suit that was just a little too big for him, as if he’d lost some weight after his restaurant-reviewing days ended. His thin white hair on his balding head was combed back severely and his hands made nervous, fluttering gestures when he talked.

And right now he looked fairly animated as he talked to some men who seemed to be from the Memphis newspaper. Lulu moved a little closer and heard Holden say, “So, as I was saying, since you don’t have a critic anymore, I wanted to let you know that I was available to come back to the office if you needed me to.” The words came out in a rush.

The tall newspaper man hesitated and looked over at his colleague. “Well . . . to be honest, we haven’t really decided what we want to do with that spot yet. Plus, we sort of transitioned into a new direction with the
Memphis Journal
and we liked the modern approach he took and the readers he brought to the paper. We might want to continue on that trajectory.”

Holden’s voice rose to a higher pitch. “Remember how you always liked what I wrote? Remember the piece I did on that Italian restaurant? You said it really cracked you up. I can
change
my writing voice, y’all. I can write however you want me to.”

The two men shared a look again. “We know you can,” said the shorter one. “But the fact is that everybody knows who you are. Adam was able to visit these restaurants under the radar and get the scoop without anybody knowing who he was.”

“I could disguise myself!” said Holden. “I could change my clothes, put on a wig. No one would know it was me!”

Lulu thought that the taller man was looking bored. “Look, Holden,” he said. “You’ve let us know that you’re available. We get it. Now, if you don’t mind, just leave the ball in our court. We’ll call you up if we need you.”