Murder on a Girls' Night Out (16 page)

“Well, there’s nothing on that certificate he doesn’t know. Where it had been couldn’t be too important.”

“But why would Ed hide it? Go to so much trouble?”

“Who knows?”

Haley pulled into the shopping-center parking garage. “Maybe you ought to call the sheriff back.”

“Why?”

Haley parked expertly in a small space between two vans. “Because,” she said, cutting the switch, “I don’t have a good feeling about this. Never have. You and Aunt Sister shouldn’t be involved in something so obviously dangerous. Don’t you realize that the person who slit Ed Meadows’s throat and vandalized the Skoot
is someone you’ve probably met up there?” She took the key out of the ignition and reached for her purse. “Stay away, Mama. Please.”

“I’ll call the sheriff back,” I promised.

In the quiet elegance of Lillie Rubin’s, the Skoot ’n’ Boot seemed far away. Haley tried on several blue dresses, finally choosing a clingy shift with a sequined jacket. It was wonderfully flattering on her and she knew it. She preened before the mirror in a way that did my heart good. Thank God for Monday’s tears. They seemed to have been the release she needed. There was even color in her cheeks.

The saleslady who saw me admiring a red dress on a mannequin assured me they had it in my size.

“Try it on, Mama,” Haley insisted.

I did. The bodice was fitted; there was a wide embroidered belt, and a full chiffon skirt that ended just above my knees. I thought it looked terrific.

“It’s too young for me,” I said, twirling in front of the mirror.

Haley and the saleslady both said, “Nonsense,” which was all I wanted to hear. My daughter and I left with new dresses.

“Now shoes,” Haley said.

“Whoops,” I said.

“What?”

“It’s a garden party and they’re working hard to get everything fixed from the storm, but I don’t know how much they can get done in such a short time.”

“Then I’ll just stay on the porch,” Haley said, breezing into the most expensive shoe store in the mall. “They do have a porch, don’t they?”

“Probably,” I said. “They have everything else.”

“How did we get invited, anyway?”

“It’s a fund-raiser thing. People were ‘invited’ to contribute so much to attend.”

Haley looked surprised. “You contributed to Richard Hannah’s campaign?”

“As a matter of fact, I did, but not enough to get all of us invited to his home. This is your aunt Sister’s clout we’re partying on.”

“I didn’t think the Hannahs needed any fund-raisers.”

“I’m sure they don’t. They just have to act like they do.”

Haley nodded. “Makes sense.”

Well, maybe it did, I thought.

We both ended up buying shoes. With heels. Then, on the way home, we stopped at the drugstore and bought a hair streaking kit for Haley, the kind that has a plastic cap with little holes that you have to pull the hair through with a crochet hook. It looks like torture the Spanish Inquisition guys would have bragged about, but it makes Haley’s red-blond hair come alive. This would be the first time she streaked her hair since Tom died. Another good sign. We also got a rinse for my hair called “Spun Sand.” If it turned out to be the color of Mary Alice’s, I could shampoo it out. I hoped.

Just after we parked in my driveway, Debbie’s car pulled in beside us.

“Hey, y’all,” she said, getting out and eyeing the packages we were removing. “And have we made the Visa people happy today?”

“Come see,” Haley said.

“Okay. I brought you something, Aunt Pat.” She moved around the car to open the passenger door and lifted a foil-wrapped casserole off the floor. “Henry sent it. It’s shrimp and chicken and pasta, and broccoli and God knows what else.” She loosened a corner of the foil and sniffed appreciatively. “Boy, that smells good.”

I groaned. “In a white sauce, I’ll bet.”

“Some kind of cheese,” Debbie said.

Your cholesterol
, my conscience reminded me.
Fred’s cholesterol
.

Shut up
, I told it, accepting the casserole and agreeing with Debbie that it did, indeed, smell wonderful. “Come on in,” I told her. “You’ve got to see our dresses.”

They carried the packages into my bedroom while I put the casserole on the stove and turned the water on for tea. It was chilly in the house, so I went into the hall to raise the thermostat. Fred had checked the furnace several days before and it came right on, blowing the smell of first heat of the season through the ducts. I could hear the girls talking in the bedroom. I went back in and saw Debbie holding up the glass boot.

“In here?” she was asking Haley.

“Where I found the wedding certificate?” I answered her. “Yes, here they are.” I took the documents from my dresser drawer. “And the picture.”

Debbie picked them up and held them so Haley could see, too.

“All folded and down in the toe of the boot?”

“Yes. They were definitely hidden there.”

“How did you find them?”

I went through the story of the roof caving in on the dance floor and how we rescued the boot so we could put it back in later. The kettle began to whistle on the stove, and Debbie and Haley followed me into the kitchen while I finished the story. They sat at the table, still studying the document and the picture as I fixed tea and set out cookies.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” I told Haley, handing her a cup of tea. “When I first told you, you acted like a wedding certificate hidden in a boot in a dance floor was something that happened every day.”

“I was just halfway listening,” she admitted.

“Well, I think it’s important.” Debbie held the paper up to the light as if she were searching for some secret message. “I think what we’ve got here just might be the reason Ed Meadows was killed.”

I nearly spilled my tea. “
Why?
”

“I don’t know. But why would he have gone to so much trouble to hide it? I mean, he had to have
planned
this. It must have been put in when the floor was laid. And I’ll bet this is what the vandals were looking for, too. They really tore the place up, didn’t they?”

“And hid dope in the bathroom,” Haley added.

Debbie got up, opened the junk drawer by the sink and got out an old envelope and a pencil. “Okay,” she said, sitting back down. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

“What are you doing?” Haley asked.

“Just making a list. Henry and I’ve already been working on one. But, Aunt Pat, maybe you can add to it. I guess it’s more of a diagram than a list.”

“Where is Henry?” I asked.

“School.”

“And the babies?”

“With Richardena.” Debbie drew a circle at the top of the envelope. “Okay, Aunt Pat, give me the name of someone at the Skoot.”

“Henry,” I said.

Debbie wrote his name into the circle.

“Bonnie Blue Butler.”

Debbie drew another circle and put the name in.

“Doris Chapman, the Swamp Creatures, Fly McCorkle, the students who help in the kitchen—whatever their names are—Sheriff Reuse, Mary Alice, the man Ed bought the place from.”

“Don’t forget Wanda Sue Hampton,” Haley said, looking at the picture.

“And Ed Meadows.”

“I’ve got him in the middle,” Debbie said, holding up the envelope for us to see. “Okay, let’s see if we can get any connections. Just free-associate and see if anything jumps out at us. We’re assuming now that the marriage certificate is at the core.”

“He got married in Charleston,” I said. Debbie drew a line between Ed and Wanda Sue Hampton and wrote “Charleston” on it. “He was in the Navy,” I added.

“Stationed in Charleston?”

I shook my head. “It was his home. His parents lived there.”

“And he showed up here when?”

“I think when he bought the Skoot. About two years ago, maybe three. Probably when he got out of the Navy.”

“Could he have served twenty years? Be eligible for retirement?”

Haley spoke up. “The paper gave his age as forty-one. If he went in at eighteen, it would work out. Why?”

Debbie drew an anchor beside Ed’s name. “I don’t know. We’re just thinking here.” She tapped the envelope with the pencil. “Any other connection to Charleston?”

“Maybe Doris Chapman is Wanda Sue Hampton,” Haley said, “and Ed was messing up her new life and that’s what they were arguing about.”

“He had PMS,” I said. “Bonnie Blue said she and Doris talked about it.”

“You mean like every fourth week?” Haley smiled.

“Henry said he had mood swings, but he didn’t say they were regular,” Debbie said.

“Men don’t notice things like that. Bonnie Blue said they were like clockwork,” I said. “She said they knew when to stay away from him, he’d be so mean.”

“Hmm.” Debbie wrote “PMS” by the circle with Ed’s name in it.

“You want a regular sheet of paper?” I asked.

Debbie shook her head.

Haley pointed to the certificate. “He was blackmailing Doris and she was giving him a hard time every month about the payments.”

“She lives way beyond the means of a waitress at the Skoot,” I said. “She’s got a new town house and she’s planning on spending the winter in Florida.”

“Maybe she inherited some money,” Haley said. “And she could be working in Florida.”

“Fly McCorkle has her dog and lied about it.”

“Good, Aunt Pat.” Debbie drew a line between Fly and Doris and wrote “dog” on it. “Could he be a boyfriend who’s giving her money?”

“He doesn’t have a pot to pee in. And I got the idea he’s pretty well tied to his wife’s apron strings. She runs a curb market right off the interstate. Seems like a real nice person. She’ll probably be at the party Thursday night. She’s some kin to the Hannahs.”

“A curb market would be a perfect place to sell drugs,” Haley said. “You could hide them in all sorts of vegetables.”

“Speaking of which,” I told Debbie, “when I got to your mother’s yesterday, one of the Swamp Creatures was out on the porch smoking dope. Your mama said it was cinnamon, but it wasn’t.”

Debbie wrote “dope” by the Swamp Creatures’ circle.

“Where are we now?” Haley asked, looking at Debbie’s envelope.

“We’ve got to find Doris Chapman,” Debbie said.

“Your mother has her phone number,” I said. “I thought she got it from you.”

Debbie looked startled. “Not from me.”

“She’s been trying to call her. We’ve already figured out she’s involved some way.”

“I’ll bet she’s Wanda Sue,” Haley said.

“We’ll let Sheriff Reuse find out, okay? It’s his job, remember. That’s what both of you have been telling Mary Alice and me, not to get involved in anything dangerous.”

“You’re right, Aunt Pat.” Debbie picked up the certificate and studied it again. “Did Mama give you the phone number by any chance?”

W
hen Debbie left, I followed her to the porch. I was still not happy about the speed with which Henry Lamont had moved in on her, but I couldn’t think of a way to broach the subject. I knew she was a mature, capable woman, but I also knew she was vulnerable. Standing on the steps, looking up at me in the late-afternoon sun, she seemed especially young.

“Do you know this Kenneth your mother has fixed Haley up with?” I asked, skirting the issue.

“Mama says he’s terrific.” Debbie laughed. “She’s had her eye on him for me, but I guess she gave up.”

“Your mama told me she’s decided she likes Henry.”

“You’re so subtle, Aunt Pat. Why don’t you just come out and ask me what’s going on with Henry and me? You’ve been dying to since the other night.”

“Okay. What’s going on with Henry and you?”

“We’re friends. I think he’s the nicest man I’ve met in a long, long time, and something may come of it, I just don’t know. But I think there’s a chance. He nearly flipped when I gave him my card and he saw I was living in his old house.” She smiled. “I think he thinks I’m his fate or something. He says there’s no such thing as coincidence.”

“I hope he’s wrong. About the coincidence.”

Debbie examined her palm as if she could read her future there. “He hasn’t moved in, and I haven’t slept with him, Aunt Pat.”

I was old-fashioned enough to be both startled and relieved at this announcement. “Fine, darling. You just take your time. There’s nothing like getting to know each other well.”

“He could be the twins’ father, though.”

“What?” I wasn’t sure I had heard her right.

“He was a donor at the sperm bank at UAB when he was a student. They keep that stuff frozen, you know.”

“Good God Almighty!” I spluttered.

Debbie burst out laughing, and in a moment so did I. We laughed so hard we both were crying. We were just calming down when Haley came to the door, asking what had happened. That started us all over again.

Debbie left, still giggling, dabbing at mascara that had streaked under her eyes and leaving me to explain to Haley why we were laughing so.

“Aunt Sister’s going to find out who the father is, “Haley said.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I said. Knowing Mary Alice as I did, Fay and May were Henry’s, no doubt about it, from now on.

Sleep came in waves that night. I would sleep deeply for an hour or so and then come wide awake. Finally, to keep from disturbing Fred, I went into the den, lit the
gas logs and settled on the sofa. The full October moon, the “corn moon,” shone through the skylights and streaked across the floor. It was hard to believe that a few nights before, tornadoes had been tearing up lives. I pulled the afghan around me and watched the flames dance around the logs. Red, green. I awoke with a start. Damn. I hadn’t slept the night before. This was not good. I needed some rest.

I went into the kitchen and got some milk and aspirin. The moon was so bright through the bay window, I didn’t have to turn on the light. Outside, the trees moved slightly; down the street a light came on. Another insomniac. Other than this, everyone was asleep on this first cold night. In his igloo, Woofer slept, too old and too warm to bay at the moon. I went back to the sofa, curled up in the afghan and didn’t know anything else until the sun woke me shining in my eyes.

My first thought was that it was going to be awfully cold tonight for a garden party, for any kind of outdoor party, including a bonfire, and that I had spent all that money on a dress nobody would see because I was getting out my winter coat. So I would smell like mothballs instead of L’Air du Temps. Damned if I was going to catch pneumonia for the sake of vanity.

The phone rang and I reached for it.

“They have a big heated tent,” Mary Alice said.

“Okay, thanks.” I hung up and went to get my robe. The bed was empty; Fred had tiptoed out again. Hadn’t even had coffee. Damn it! That man drove me crazy by being so sweet that I could never stay mad at him. I went into the kitchen to put the kettle on and stepped outside to give Woofer his treat. God, it was cold!

Woofer had his mouth open and the dog biscuit was halfway there when I thought about what had just happened. Had I dreamed Sister had called about a heated
tent? I gave Woofer the biscuit I had in my hand, threw a couple of others into the yard and went in to call her.

“What?” she said.

“You just called me, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. What’s the matter with you?”

“I thought I was dreaming. I was just waking up and thinking about the cold and the party and you called about a heated tent and it just blended together.”

“Have you had your coffee?”

“No.”

“I thought not. Call me back after you do.”

Which I did, but all she wanted to know was if I wanted to borrow one of her evening “wraps,” since Debbie said I had actually bought a new dress. And I said I would wrap myself in my coat, thank you very much. The conversation was a short one.

Once a week, I tutor at a junior high school. I thought when I volunteered that I would be tutoring English grammar, but as it turned out, the work involved a little bit of everything. The math teacher would probably have been startled to hear me explain how to divide fractions by standing them on their heads, but the kids seemed to understand, and I enjoyed working with them. The one-on-one teacher-student relationship is what every overworked teacher dreams of.

I took a shower and dressed. Before I left for school, though, I called Sheriff Reuse. He had to be notified about the marriage certificate having been hidden in the boot. Fred had made no bones about it. “My God, Patricia Anne,” he had said, picking up the heavy boot to slide it back under our bed, “Debbie’s right about this thing being important. What’s the matter with you?”

“The sheriff was patronizing,” I had said.

“I don’t give a good goddamn if he’s rude as hell. Go call him.”

“Now? It’s after eleven o’clock!”

We had finally agreed to wait until morning. The sheriff wasn’t in, though. The man who answered the phone said he would take a message. I left my number but told him I wouldn’t be in until after three o’clock.

“He’s gone to Atlanta,” the man said. “Won’t be back till late.”

“I’ll be here until six,” I said. Fred wasn’t going to like this, but I had tried.

As the day went along, my mood improved. One of my students, who was having a hard time understanding percentage, had a real breakthrough. It was another of my “stand it on its head” solutions, and it worked. I should have been teaching math all these years, I decided. Lord knows the papers were easier to grade. And several people told me they liked my hair, which had turned out a light ash blond. By the time I got home, I was looking forward to the evening. The temperature had rebounded into the high seventies, as it does this time of year in the South, and it looked like the Hannahs were going to have a nice, though chilly, night for a party.

The sheriff hadn’t called, but Bonnie Blue had, and so had Haley. Bonnie Blue said she would call later, and Haley wanted to borrow my black evening bag if I wasn’t using it. She would come by after work.

I took Woofer for a quick walk and still had a couple of hours to pamper myself. I soaked in a bubble bath with a mask slathered on my face, pumiced my heels, painted my toenails. When Haley came in, I had just dampened my hair and sprayed curling mousse on it. “At my age,” I admitted, “it takes a lot of upkeep.”

“At your age, I should be so lucky.”

My sweet Haley. I hoped her date would be every
thing Sister had promised. Maybe even be
the
one. Well, the thought wasn’t so far-fetched.

At five I called Sheriff Reuse’s office again. He still wasn’t back from Atlanta, the man said, and yes, my message for him to call me was there. Could
he
help me? I thought not. I hung up, hoping Fred wouldn’t be too upset. The boot wasn’t going to go anywhere. It was just a piece of hollow, colored glass, anyway. As for the marriage certificate, the name Wanda Sue Hampton seemed to be fairly common knowledge.

“It’s the fact that the certificate was
hidden
in the boot, Patricia Anne.
Inlaid
in the floor!” I knew exactly what Fred would say.

Which he did. I soothed him by saying the sheriff would call at any minute and that I had done all I could to reach him.

At least I thought I had soothed him. “Give me the phone,” he said. “What the sheriff’s number?” I sat on the sofa and watched Fred’s face while I listened to his side of the conversation.

“Sheriff Reuse, please.

“When will he be back?

“I need to talk to someone who’s working on the Ed Meadows murder. The one at the Skoot ’n’ Boot.

“My name is Fred Hollowell.

“Yes, my wife called earlier.”

Fred tapped on the table. “Nobody?

“Atlanta?

“Of course it’s important.

“No. I need to talk to the sheriff.

“Thank you. You have my number.” Fred hung up and turned to me. “There, Patricia Anne. He’ll call soon as he gets in from Atlanta.”

I’ve been married to this man for forty years. I know when to keep my mouth shut.

He went in to take a shower and I closed my eyes and said my mantra. It was just beginning to work when the phone rang. I grabbed it, thinking it might be the sheriff.

“Hey, Patricia Anne,” Bonnie Blue said. “Guess who called me this morning? Doris. Doris Chapman.”

“She did? Is she home?”

“Probably by now. She called from Destin, though. She’s going to the Hannahs’ party tonight, and Mary Alice said all of y’all were going. Anyway, Doris wanted me to go to Goldstein’s and get her mink coat out of storage.”

The two things registered simultaneously. Doris was going to be at the party and she had a fur coat. A mink.

“She had to call the folks at Goldstein’s and give them her storage number and give the number to me, and even then they weren’t too happy about it. I finally told the woman, I said, ‘Hey, look at the size of this coat and look at me. I steal a mink, I’m getting one big enough.’” Bonnie Blue laughed. “Anyway, I thought you’d want to know she’s going to be there tonight.”

“I sure do, Bonnie Blue. Thanks. Are you going to be there?”

“Absolutely. I was invited to tend bar. Damn glad to get the job, too. Come by and get some orange juice.”

“Will you point Doris out to me?”

“You can’t miss her. She’ll be the one the animal rights’ activists are picketing. And with good reason.” Bonnie Blue laughed at the scene she had conjured up. “Hey, I better go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay. And thanks, Bonnie Blue.”

I hung up and went in to tell Fred that Doris had a mink coat and was going to be at the party. “She’s Wanda Sue, I’ll bet you. And she was blackmailing Ed.”

Fred had just stepped out of the shower, and I took the towel to dry his back.

“But what about?” he asked, reaching around and cupping my butt.

That I couldn’t answer. Nor did I have time to.