Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 06 - A Corpse Under the Christmas Tree (22 page)

“Maybe another time.” I pinched a taste off the pound cake.

“Don’t worry ’bout it. I’m sure Mike will sing enough for everyone. Sometimes that boy spends all day sitting around making up songs, but most of the time, they’re silly songs.”

“What does Frankie do?” I asked.

“He spends too much time mooning over Jane and fixing up that old van. I told him the best way to win that woman back is to get a job and pull his own load in the relationship.”

I really didn’t want to get into discussing Frankie and Jane, so I asked, “What do you want me to do now?”

“You can start carrying those desserts in and put them on the food table.”

Before I’d completed that assignment, Wayne came in. He helped me finish with dessert trays. “What did your father do?” he asked. “Cook everything he knows?”

“Looks like it. Wonder if anyone would miss some of these Peanut Butter Blossom cookies if we take them out on the porch?”

“I doubt it. Hey, Mr. Parrish, do you have anything else for Callie and me to do?”

“Not right now. I’ll call you when I need you.”

Wayne and I put on our jackets, grabbed cookies, and went out to the swing on the front porch. The day was cold but cloudless with dazzling sunshine.

“Did you find Norman Spires?” I asked, pumping my feet to make us swing high and fast.

“You never give up, do you, Callie? Sometimes I think you should quit your job with Middleton’s and get a degree in criminal justice. I’d hire you. Your nosiness would make you an extremely persistent deputy.”

“I have no interest in going to morticians’ school to please the Middletons or to the police academy to become a deputy. I just want to know what’s happening with Amber Buchanan’s case. After all, whoever killed her left her on my porch. I realize you’re not supposed to tell me, but don’t forget, I was a deputy for a few days.”

“It won’t hurt to tell you about Norman Spires anyway because we haven’t found him. We located the abandoned hunting lodge, but he wasn’t there. We did find evidence that someone had spent time in the cabin recently, but there’s no proof that it was Spires.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“Opened canned foods that looked like someone used a knife for a can opener.”

“There wasn’t a can opener at the lodge?”

“A nice electric one, but the power is off.”

“How do you know the cans were recent?”

“Just like determining how long a corpse has been dead—amount of decomposition of the remains.”

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone from there?”

“Not really, but the fact that he’s on the run does indicate he’s the perp in Amber Buchanan’s murder.”

“Her body has been brought back to Middleton’s. Do you know when you’ll release it?”

“For evidence, we should have what we need from Charleston’s postmortem exam, but the problem is I don’t know her next-of-kin. To release Mrs. Buchanan, I need to know that. Can’t release a body to a blank line on a form.”

Before I’d had time to process that news, Pork Chop arrived, carrying a huge covered roasting pan. He panted, short of breath, as he climbed the steps. Wayne stepped up and relieved him of the roaster. “What’s this, Mr. Higgins?” Wayne asked. “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring anything.”

“Parrish said it’s not necessary, but I never go to eat empty-handed.” Pork Chop stopped at the top of the steps to catch his breath.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Can’t you guess?” the huge man asked with a chuckle. “It’s pork chops. I grilled ’em. I like ’em best chicken-fried like my wife cooks them sometimes, but I’m making a resolution. This year, I’m going to cut back, not really go on a diet, but try to eat healthier and lose some of this fat.” He patted his wide girth. “I’m like that old commercial Terry Bradshaw used to be on. Feelin’ old and fat and ugly.”

“Rick,” I said, “you’re one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever known.”

“Remember she said that,” Pork Chop said to Wayne. “If my wife ever gets tired of me and takes off, I’m going to come courtin’ Callie.”

“You’ll have to get in line,” Wayne answered. “My new homicide detective seems to have taken a liking to Callie.”

“Hush that talk and come on in,” I told them and held the front door open. I figured Pork Chop needed to sit down, and there wasn’t enough space on the swing for him. Wayne carried the pan to the kitchen and stayed in there with Daddy.

Pork Chop sat on the couch. Mike came from the bedroom, welcomed him, and sat beside him. Mike called Pork Chop Mr. Higgins and seemed to know him pretty well.

Frankie scowled as though he resented our interrupting his private serenade and invited Jane to go for a walk. He helped her with her coat, and they left hand in hand.

Mike and Pork Chop were talking about what time the ball games would start on television when Bill arrived alone. I could tell from his expression that he wasn’t in a good mood.

“So Molly went to her house and you came here?” I asked. “That might be a solution to where to go, but it doesn’t sound like a happy newlyweds’ decision.”

“Why are women so nosy?” Bill demanded as though I’d have an answer to that.

“Wayne says he’s glad I’m nosy and that I’d make a good investigator because of it.” I moved to a different chair. “What did she catch you doing, Bill? I told you when you got married not to tie the knot if you couldn’t stop womanizing.”

“I haven’t been cheating on Molly. I promise I haven’t.”

“Then why are you complaining that women are nosy?” Mike asked.

“I might be complaining about our nosy sister, always asking questions, but I’m griping about my wife this time.”

“What did she ask you?” Mike questioned.

“She didn’t ask me. That’s the problem. While I was in the shower, she took it upon herself to look at all the calls and messages on my cell phone. An old friend has been calling me for advice about a problem she’s having. Molly found her number and some texts from her in my telephone. She didn’t bother to ask me about them. She called my friend and told her off and then lit into me like I’d done something wrong.”

“What’s the name of your old friend?” I asked.

“Lucy, but it’s not like you think. She just needs someone to talk to.”

“Isn’t Lucy the woman you were making out with at the vigil where Molly caught you that time?” I accused, though I knew the answer.

“Yes, Molly was right about me and Lucy back then, but now we’re not
doing
anything, just talking.”

I couldn’t help scolding my brother. “Bill, you’re
married.
Of course Molly’s going to be jealous and angry if you’re talking to a woman you cheated with before.”

“We weren’t married then, and I’m not cheating now. All I’ve been doing is
talking
to her.” Bill looked like a little boy who’s been falsely accused of breaking a window when he wasn’t even one of the kids playing ball.

Mike apparently couldn’t keep quiet any longer either. He broke into song: “Here comes divorce” to the tune of “Here comes the bride.”

Nobody laughed, so he did his high-pitched Tammy Wynette imitation of “D-I-V-O-R-C-E,” which brought Daddy and Wayne out of the kitchen at the same time Frankie and Jane returned.

“Dinner’s almost ready, so you can stop that, Michael. I’m gonna call and see if Miss Lettie and Ellen are on the way or if they need a ride. I’d appreciate it if you kids would be quiet while I’m on the phone.” He went to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

“What’s that all about?” Bill asked.

“I don’t know,” Mike answered. “Pa doesn’t usually need silence to make a telephone call, and he uses his cell phone, not the house phone behind closed doors.”

“Calamine, didn’t you say you have to go to work after dinner?” Daddy asked when he came out of his room.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

“Miss Lettie isn’t feeling well, so they aren’t coming. I told Ellen you’ll bring them two plates this afternoon.”

“No problem,” I answered.

With only eight of us, we didn’t need the extra table to seat everyone, so Daddy filled both of the folding tables with food. We served ourselves and sat at what’s always been called the “eating table” at our house with Daddy on one end and Pork Chop on the other. I’d be hard-pressed to identify the best food at that dinner. Everything was excellent, and Pork Chop’s grilled chops were superb, but Daddy was quieter than usual and seemed a little gloomy.

“This is a magnificent feed, Parrish,” Pork Chop said to Daddy. “Last night, Callie and I previewed Rizzie Profit’s new sandwich. It was fantastic, but these collards are even better.”

“What’s Rizzie’s new dish?” Jane asked.

“Gee Three
Shrimp Sliders made like miniature Shrimp Po Boys, on dinner rolls,” Pork Chop told her.

“Like hamburger sliders,” Frankie commented, and then added, “I’m surprised you didn’t invite Rizzie and Tyrone for dinner, Pa.”

“I did, but they’re working today,” Daddy answered.

An idea popped into my head. “May I be excused for a moment?” I asked.

“Aren’t you going to have dessert?” Jane was clearly surprised. She knows how much I love sweets.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t eat up all the good stuff.” Considering that we had one entire table covered with cakes and pies, that was a ridiculous statement.

In Daddy’s bedroom, I called Rizzie at the restaurant.

“Gee Three, Gastric Gullah Grill,” Rizzie answered.

“Callie here. Do you still have that makeshift stand you used at the bluegrass festival?” I asked.

“It wasn’t much more than a table with a sign on it,” she answered, “but I can set it up again. What’s happening?”

“Mrs. Corley read about a man whose funeral procession went through a fast-food drive-in where everyone received one of his favorite burgers. She wants to do the same thing for her daughter Patsy. Her favorite food was shrimp, and I thought you might be interested in setting up some kind of drive-through by the road in front of the grill and serving them your new Shrimp Sliders. The service is at Middleton’s and the interment is at St. Mary Cemetery, so the procession could go right by your place.”

“Patsy Corley would have loved my Shrimp Sliders.” Rizzie’s nostalgic tone sounded sad. “Patsy and Snake came here often for Shrimp Po Boys. I hated to hear what happened, but it’s not surprising. Patsy and Snake left here arguing every time they came in. I wondered why they didn’t split up and get it over with, but I never expected them to end the way they did. I’ll be glad to do that if Mrs. Corley wants me to.”

I promised to get back to her after I talked to the Middletons and Mrs. Corley, then we said goodbye. I went ahead and changed into my work clothes while I was in Daddy’s room.

“Would you look at that?” Mike laughed when I sat down at the table again. “Callie’s dressed for dessert—even wearing her pearls.” Everyone got a laugh from that.

Daddy doesn’t like help when he’s cooking, but he’s turned the clean-up over to us kids as long as I can remember. I used to stand on a stool to wash dishes. Though the dinner was delicious, he’d made his usual chaos in the kitchen. I don’t cook much, but I’d noticed a big difference between Daddy and Jane, who’s also a first-class chef. She always washes each bowl, pan, or utensil when she finishes with it. Daddy just piles them up for the clean-up crew.

After everyone had consumed at least sample servings of several desserts, Daddy said, “Calamine, dip up two big plates of dinner and two more of desserts. Wrap them good and keep them level so Miss Lettie and Ellen can enjoy my cooking without everything sloshing together. Pork Chop, you and I will visit in the living room while the boys clean up everything.”

“What about me?” Jane asked. “Is it all right if I stay in the kitchen and help?” She’s been around Daddy since we were teenagers, but she always asks permission to do anything at the Parrish house. I’ve never really understood that because Daddy wasn’t that hard on us girls, though he made the boys tow the line.

“You can sit in here with me and Pork Chop or you can work in the kitchen—your choice. I’m about to run Calamine out of here so those two ladies get their food before suppertime. After everything’s put away and cleaned up, we’ll do some pickin’ and singing.”

• • •

Happily cruising down the road to Miss Lettie’s with four big plates wrapped in aluminum foil on the seat beside me, I was singing “Once in a While” to myself.” I didn’t see any other vehicles on the road and thought most folks were either sleeping off a big dinner in front of the TV or still sleeping off last night’s celebration.

The deer appeared with no warning.

I slammed on the brakes. Even wearing my seat belt, I lunged forward, barely missing the windshield, which I fully expected to shatter. For a moment, I thought the deer had leapt onto the hood of my car, but he ran off into the woods on the other side of the road. My heart felt like it dropped to the pit of my stomach and was trying to pound its way out of my body. I couldn’t tell much about the deer’s true size because directly in front of my eyes, he looked gigantic. I say he, but it was impossible to tell the gender of the animal. Male white-tailed deer around here lose their antlers during the colder months, and I certainly hadn’t seen between its legs.