One Foot in the Grove (16 page)

Then, I remembered the plan.

I scuffled closer to Debi, put my hands on my hips, and smiled. She drew back as I stuck my grimy self in her space.

“Actually, Debi, you're right,” I said quietly. “I killed him. I killed him because he was running off with my beloved girlfriend, my sister's chef, Loretta. You see, he and Loretta were planning to get married, and I was jealous. So, I shot him. Right there in Daddy's olive grove. Then, I killed Loretta, too. Now they're both dead.”

Debi just stared at me. Her mouth started to drop open.

“So, now I'm free,” I said. “For you, Debi.” I pursed my lips and kissed the air. “You know, I've been attracted to you since high school. I used to love it when you showed up at the house. Now we can finally go out.” I leaned in even closer to Debi.

Eyes wide, Debi was speechless. That's a first, I thought smugly. Finally, after stepping back, she huffed indignantly.

“Well, bless your heart, Eva Knox, y'all really
are
crazy.”

“Crazy for you, sweetness.”

“No. Folks are right. Y'all are just plain mad as a hatter. Like your crazy mama.”

“Thank you!”

Debi backed up another step and sniffed. “Darlin', I don't know what y'all are up to, but I don't have any more time for crazy talk. I've got to get ready for a date. A
real
date. With a man.
My
man. Don't y'all know? We're celebrating our anniversary tonight.”

I threw my hands up in mock surprise. “Anniversary? Someone married you, Debi? I had no idea. Congratulations!”

“No, not yet. But very soon. We've been together for six months, and he's about to put a ring on it. He's just waitin' for me to pick out my diamond. Then, I'll marry him. And real quick.”

“Yes. At your age, you wouldn't want to wait too long,” I said, all sugary.

“Oh, and hon, you'll remember him. I'm sure,” she countered.

“I will?”

“Why, yes. Of course you will!” Debi licked her lips and flicked her hair back again.

“Well then, who's the lucky fellow?”

Debi leaned in close to me and lowered her voice. “Before I say, I just want y'all to know, sweetness, that he and I've always loved each other. Always. He just needed some time to sow his oats. And now that he's experienced life, traveled the world, and gotten all that silly, immature boyishness out of his system, he's grown into a real man, ready for a real woman.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Why, it shouldn't surprise y'all, Eva darling, I'm marrying the
first
man y'all dumped so recklessly. I'm marrying Sheriff Buck Tanner.” Debi looked like the cat who swallowed the canary. “Now, Buck is finally gettin' the woman he deserves. A sane, honorable woman. A woman who appreciates him. A woman who won't run away.”

I felt my face get hot and my neck bristle. I remembered Buck smiling at me, with his cheeky expression and that boyish twinkle in his eyes, as I sat in front of him stark naked in the bed at Greatwoods, hours earlier. Sweet revenge for him—if I hadn't been humiliated enough, it was a double dig to hear he was in love with another woman while he'd stared unabashedly at me. Debi Dicer, of all people. Had he gone back to Debi and told her he'd seen me? All of me? I imagined them having a giggle about my indignity. My chest hurt. I hoped my burning cheeks and neck weren't red. Except I knew they were.

I pasted on a big smile for Debi. “Well, I'm happy for you both. You
deserve
each other. Please, don't let me keep you from your celebration tonight.”

My ears were ringing. I was having trouble focusing on Debi's face; so many thoughts whirled in my head. Yes, it had been a long time since my relationship with Buck. And
he'd gone off somewhere, for years, and probably hooked up with other women. Still, I had a difficult time wrapping my head around the fact that of all the women Buck could have chosen during all those years, he'd ended up with Debi Dicer.

“Oh, Eva, hon, y'all won't keep us from celebrating. Make no mistake about
that
!” boasted Debi. “Tonight, I've got an extra-special romantic evening planned.” Debi worked her way around my cart. “After I pay for this champagne, I'm off to the Lacy Goddess to pick out some lingerie. From France. Of course,
y'all know Buck
! I won't be wearing it for long!”

“Yes. I
do
know Buck. But then, you seem to spend an inordinate lot of time brooding about that fact, so I don't need to remind you,” I said dryly.

Debi raised one of the champagne bottles over her head and winked at me before she turned and sashayed down the aisle toward the front of the store. “Tootles!”

Something inside stung. Maybe even hurt. She'd been right about one thing: I hadn't changed much since high school. Debi still managed to make me hot, stinking mad.

I stuck my tongue out at her as she swaggered around the corner.

“Precious, I have a killer headache,” I said. “We're stopping at the country store.”

Cruising down the rural road, top down in the green convertible—me in front, Precious stuffed into the rear bucket seat sticking high out of the car like a giant warrior maiden in her tiny chariot—we were almost to Knox Plantation. A pile of grocery bags flapped in the wind next to Precious. The tiny BMW trunk had been too full with other groceries and boxes of wine and glasses from the package store to fit in everything we'd purchased for Daphne.

It'd been a long, busy day. I was crashing. Big-time. I figured some sugar and caffeine would ease my achy head and help to keep me awake for the remainder of the afternoon and evening.

Besides, I had a craving for Twizzlers candy and a Coke.

“Fine with me, Sunshine. It's so hot, the hens are layin' hard-boiled eggs. I could go for a Diet Dr Pepper, myself!” shouted Precious from the backseat. Watching the scenery whiz by, she made little waves with her hand in the wind.

About a mile down the road, we pulled into the dirt parking lot outside Carter's Country Corner Store and parked next to a mud-covered blue Chevy pickup sporting a rifle in a rack across the back window. Housed in an old general store built just after the Civil War, open from six in the morning until eleven at night, seven days a week, Carter's was an Abundance institution. The place was a junk food paradise—a virtual smorgasbord of sugary, salty, and artificially colored and preserved confections where one could purchase every imaginable kind of gum, candy, and snack as well as extra sugary or caffeinated beverages. Cheetos, Fritos, nachos, Nekot wafers, Little Debbie cakes, those nasty fake fried onion rings, MoonPies, olive and pimento cheese spread, Honey Buns, Krispy Kreme donuts, and at least three other brands of prepackaged donuts—the kind that stayed “fresh” for months—it was all inside.

Plus, there was a grill and small deli for take-out meals; refrigerators full of carbonated drinks, chocolate milk, and beer; as well as half an aisle stocked with “emergency” cleaning supplies, toilet paper, breakfast goods, pet foods, and cheap kitchen accessories.

In addition to its status as the junk food capital of Abundance, Carter's was the local hub for geezers, hunters, and fishermen. There were cigarettes, cheap cigars, pipe tobacco, and tins of chewing tobacco for sale. Not to mention fish bait, lures, bird calls, knives, and ammo. It was the place where locals read and posted hunting notices; the official location to check in tagged game after a hunting spree; and the spot where good ol' boys bragged about their catch of the day. Old men sat around for the better part of a day, gossiping and hiding out from their wives at home. It was dark, dirty, and smelly. Daphne called it the Man Club. And she, like most of the gentlewomen in Abundance, refused to step inside.

“Let's do this,” I said, climbing out of the car. A light breeze blew swirls of gravel dust into the air around us. “I'm sure that I'll be sorry later.” Already, I was imagining the first rubbery bite and the fruity taste of my strawberry
Twizzler. I'd eat too many of the soft, twisty sticks. Then, I'd have a stomach ache.

I didn't care.
What's one more ache
?

“Gotta have me a Diet Dr Pepper,” said Precious, holding her arms out for balance as she carefully picked her way over the gravel in her tight skirt and yellow Louboutins.

A little bell jangled as Precious and I pushed open the door. Dirt, tracked in from the boots of outdoorsmen, rolled under my rubber boots and made little scuffling sounds as I crossed the well-worn wide-pine floor. Just inside the door, a cadre of unshaven old men in dirty overalls sat around an upturned barrel with a checkerboard on top. No one looked up as we entered. I caught a few sideways glances directed toward Precious's spiky heels as she
plickety-plunketied
across the dusty floor. I smiled to myself. Dirty and disheveled, quite the opposite from Precious's city slicker looks, I was a perfect fit for Carter's Country Corner Store.

“How you ladies doin' today?” called out a jolly young woman from the counter. Behind her, a wall-mounted case of cigarettes was surrounded by old license plates nailed to the knotty pine boards. “Can I get y'all something from the deli? BLTs are on special,” she said, wiping her hands on her stained apron.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I'm just here to load up on sugar.”

“Well, that's just fine,” said the smiley gal. “Let me know when y'all are ready to check out.” She turned to resume a conversation with a man in a cap, muddy boots, and well-worn fatigues standing on our side of the counter.

“You got Dr Pepper?” Precious shouted, halfway down the aisle.

“In the back. Cooler on the far left,” said the gal behind the counter.

“Thanks, love,” said Precious as she
plickety-plunketied
toward the rear of the store. Her loaded footsteps echoed throughout the store; metal snack racks shook as she clomped by. “You want anything, Sunshine?” Precious called from the back of the store.

“I'd love a Coke, please,” I said, scanning the racks for
a package of Twizzlers. The racks were oddly chock-full of candies and bags of snacks in some places, and completely empty in others. “Do you have any Twizzlers?” I asked the woman behind the counter. “I've got a terrible craving.”

“I'm sorry, hon. We're all out. We had some vandals over the weekend, and they cleaned out a bunch of our snacks and some beer, as well as some spray paint and hunting knives. Bart and I, we were just talkin' about it, weren't we, Bart?”

“We sure were, Junie Mae.” Bart pinched off a huge wad of chewing tobacco and stuffed it in his cheek. He looked like a giant chipmunk gathering nuts for winter. “Damn kids got all my Honey Buns,” he sputtered, putting the lid back on the tobacco can and shoving it into his pocket.

“Yep, times sure are a changing. That's fer sure,” said the gal as she smiled. “Like that terrible murder they had over at the Knox place—can you imagine that?”

“I heard the fellow was not from 'round here. Heard he was a Yank,” said the man.

Quickly, I looked down.
Thank God! They didn't recognize me.

“Yeah, you know what they say about them Yankees!” said the gal.

“Your move,” grumbled a man over at the checkerboard.

“Yep. Them Yanks are like hemorrhoids,” said Bart cheerily. He smiled at the gal and then at me. His teeth were yellow. “When they go South and then back North they ain't so bad. But when they go South and
stay
South, they're a real pain in the butt. Hehehe. Maybe that fellow over at the Knox place should've stayed up North.”

Bart started laughing hard, then, in no time, he was hacking. He choked on his tobacco and spit tobacco juice into a soda bottle he was holding under his arm.

“All them Yankees are better off stayin' where they are,” said the gal. Then she addressed me, “Hey, hon, since we're plum outta Twizzlers, maybe y'all would like some Gummi Bears? We got those. Or how about some Sour Patch Kids? That's what always hits the spot for me.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Say, can either of you tell me what hunting season it is right now?”

“Huntin'? Not much goin' on now,” the man mumbled through his tobacco.

“Oh, now, Bart! You know there's all sorts of stuff goin' on. Some folks don't pay no attention to what season it is,” she gushed. “Why, you brought in a whole pile of frog legs just the other night!”

“Well, yeah. I s'pose there's frogs. But that ain't real huntin', Junie Mae. Frog giggin' is just fer fun,” he said, smiling as he tried to suck back the tobacco juices in his mouth. “Besides, y'all know I'd never hunt out of season. Why, that'd be breakin' the law!” He winked as a little brown dribble of juice rolled from one corner of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand before he took his soda bottle to his lips and spit the brown juice into the bottle. I couldn't help but notice that his fatigues were stained. Looked like blood. I doubted frogs were all he'd been after lately.

“Here's your pop, Sunshine.” Precious clomped up the store aisle and handed me an ice-cold can of Coke. I snapped open the can and took a big fizzy gulp.

“Oh gosh, that's good. Thanks, Precious.” I turned and grabbed a bag of Sour Patch Kids from the snack rack. Then, I grabbed a bag of Fritos, a bar of Godiva bittersweet dark chocolate, and two packages of Lance cheddar cheese wafers. They'd balance out the sugar.

“Whoa, there, Sunshine! You aimin' to have a junk food melt down? It's nearly four o'clock now. If you hang on a couple of hours, Miss Precious, here, will make you a real nice dinner.”

“Sorry. I'll never make it that long.” I grabbed a bag of Poppycock and a small box of Krispy Kreme donuts. “C'mon, let's go. I promised to get you back to Greatwoods.”

“King me,” growled one of the men playing checkers.

Precious and I paid for our sugary transgressions and headed outside. Precious climbed in the backseat of the convertible as I sat behind the wheel, stuck the can of Coke
between my legs, and ripped open the bag of Sour Patch Kids. I popped three or four of the gummy candies into my mouth, and with the other hand, I stuck the key into the ignition.

“We're off like a herd of turtles!” Precious cried from the backseat. I looked in the rearview mirror. She was laughing. In no time, Precious and I were cruising down the road.

“Hey, has Daphne found anyone to replace Loretta?” I shouted back to Precious. I bit the head off another Sour Patch Kid, savoring the chewy, sweet, and salty taste. I grabbed the Coke from between my knees and glugged the candied caffeine. I was going to make myself sick.

“A replacement? Not that I know of,” bellowed Precious in the wind.

“How long can you keep helping us?”

“Could be awhile. Mister Collier, he says he don't need me much these days. And I'm kinda enjoying it. Y'all are very entertaining!”

I looked at Precious in the rearview mirror. She ignored me, turning her head to watch the scenery whiz by. She was smiling as her big gold earrings jangled in the wind.

Thank goodness for small favors, I thought. I couldn't imagine how we'd have made it without Precious. But then, what kind of work was she doing for Ian Collier that he didn't need her? Detective Gibbit had called her “estate manager.” That sounded like a job that would keep someone busy. I just couldn't figure out Greatwoods at all.

We swooshed around Benderman's Curve, and a few minutes later we passed the modest wooden sign for Knox Plantation. There were pretty pink crepe myrtles in bloom at the entrance to the gravel drive that wound through the woods to the big house, which was set well back from the road. I passed our drive and kept going. The entrance to Greatwoods was only a few more miles down the road.

When we neared the Greatwoods entrance, I pulled toward the center of the two-lane road, stopped, and waited while a slow-moving tractor towing a double trailer of round
hay bales passed in the other direction. After the trailer'd gone by, I'd make the left-hand turn across the road toward the huge, black wrought iron gate that marked the front entrance to Greatwoods.

The entry was inset from the road so that one or two cars could park outside the gate and still be off the road, safe from traffic. The double gate hung from two giant brick pillars on either side of a cobblestone drive. I noticed a camera mounted to the top of one of the gateposts. There was more wrought iron fencing on the outside of each pillar. It went along for some fifty or more feet, then jutted back into the woods. Somewhere back there, the decorative wrought iron connected with the barbed wire I'd encountered during my morning trek home.

“Okay, thanks, hon,” I heard Precious say into her cell phone from the backseat. She grinned and waved to me as she caught my eye in the rearview mirror. Late-afternoon sun glinted off her big gold hoop earrings. I looked ahead at the road again. Behind the slow-moving trailer of hay bales on the other side of the road, a stream of cars crawled by, one after the other. We waited.

I was anxious to see the mansion from the front. Get the full impression. I'd been so intent on my escape in the morning that I hadn't taken in the place. Maybe now, I could put it all together.

And I was most eager to meet Ian Collier.

The choo-choo train of slow-moving vehicles finally passed, and I pulled across the road and stopped at the closed entrance. On the other side of the gates, a navy blue Hummer with big tires and smoked-glass windows headed toward us down the shaded, tree-lined drive.

Precious tapped me on the shoulder. “This is fine, Sunshine. Thanks for the ride. Mister Lurch will take me on up to the house from here.”

“Are you sure . . . ?”

The dark Hummer came to a stop about two car lengths back from the other side of the gate. Like magic, the gate
swung inward. Behind me, Precious grunted as she pushed the back of the passenger seat forward. She stood up and leaned forward to grab the door handle of my little BMW.