Other People's Baggage (8 page)

A wide iron gate fronted a drive on the other side, the words Broken Spoke in an arch above the entrance. I followed the winding drive a quarter mile and spotted Zibby sitting on a bench near the front door of a traditional white plantation house. Magnolias and crepe myrtles shaded an expansive lawn surrounded by black ranch fencing. Three white utility vans took up most of the circle drive which hummed with an army of caterers and crew in uniform.

I nestled the Vespa on the walkway, half on the lawn, half off. “Zibby, who's arresting whom?”

“Oh, Elliott,” she said. She gripped her handbag tight in one hand and a silk handkerchief in the other. “The police are dragging Miss Bea away. I didn't know what to do but call you.”

“Rita said something about a murder.”

“Austin's! They think she killed her own husband.”

The door flew open and a little blond woman waved us in. “Is this your gal, Zibs, the one who fixes things?”

“Oh yes. This is Elli Lisbon with the Ballantyne. She really knows her trouble.”

“Well, then, get on in here. Kathy Lee's pitchin' such a fit, Sheriff's about to cuff her up next to Mama Bea.”

SWITCH BACK: THREE

  

The little blonde walked back through the open door, clipping along the marble floors in a pair of shoes so high, I thought she might tip over. And yet she still only reached my elbow.

“I'm Jolene Carter,” she called over her shoulder. “You're just in time to stop the nonsense.”

I followed her down the hall and into a bright sunroom just off the kitchen.

“They think Mama Bea killed Big Daddy. Now that's nothing but a bunch a ballyhoo, isn't it, Sheriff?”

A man in a tan uniform, presumably the sheriff, tipped his Smokey the Bear hat and set down his coffee cup. He rose from his seat at an elegant side table and gestured to an older woman sitting at the same table, wearing her Sunday best, sipping from her own pretty porcelain cup.

She smiled at me. “You must be Elliott. I'm Bea Carter. Zibby simply adores you, so of course I'm sure I will, too. She says you're just what we need to untangle this pickle I'm in. Can I getcha cup of coffee or a scone?”

I eyeballed a platter of raspberry white chocolate scones and blueberry muffins surrounded by dainty dishes of butter, clotted cream, homemade jams, and fresh honey. I instantly forgot about all those frittatas I missed out on earlier. Who needs eggs when there are chocolate scones?

“Sheriff, I think we should get on our way,” Bea said. “Traffic's going to be sticky if we wait much longer.”

“Okay, then. Already called Austin Jr.,” the sheriff said. “He'll meet us at the station, have you out before sundown.” He tipped his hat and escorted Bea from the room, her arm wrapped in his as if they were taking a stroll through town.

Zibby and I took their empty seats at the table and I poured us coffee. I don't usually drink it, as I prefer my caffeine cold, but I didn't want to make a fuss.

A tall woman with a jet black bob marched into the room, her voice as powerful as her steps. “If you think I'll just stand by and let you drag my mama out the back door like a presidential assassin on election day, you got another thing coming Sheriff—” She stopped mid-rant and spun toward Jolene. “Where the hell did he go? Did you let him haul her off to jail, Jolene? I'll give that Sheriff the what for if he took Mama without waiting for me.”

“Oh relax, Kathy Lee,” Jolene said. “A.J. will have her out this afternoon. Now the good Lord's watching and I'm sure He doesn't appreciate you threatening the law.”

“Well, you can tell the good Lord I don't appreciate this cataclysm on the day of Big Daddy's Cattle Baron's Ball.”

“You can tell the Lord yourself,” Jolene said.

The two women stood toe to toe; Jolene in sassy red stilettos and Kathy Lee in sturdy black pumps. And as with me, the top of Jolene's big blond hairdo-ed head reached Kathy Lee's elbow at best. The two women looked about the same age, I'd guess close to mine for the both of them.

“You just set yourself to prayin' and all kinds of good will rain down on you,” Jolene said. “Once we open the Worship Center, you can join the beginner's bible group with the eighth graders. Start you out slow so you don't get confused.”

“I know my bible as well as you,” Kathy Lee said. “And there will be no Worship Center. My daddy fully supported me building the Broken Spoke Casino on this land and I will not stand by and watch your money grabbing ‘preacher' ruin this town.” Kathy Lee said preacher with a full body swing and exaggerated air quotes.

“You've got a lot of ‘not standing by's' flying around this room for someone who appears to be standing still as stick in dry mud while our mama gets thrown in the pokey.”

“She's my mama, not yours. You married my brother, not my family. And dry mud is plain old dirt.”

I decided to wedge myself into the argument before the fine china started to fly. “I'm confused,” I said to no one in particular. “I thought Zibby said Austin died from a heart problem.”

“He sure did,” Jolene said. “Pair of oversized scissors right to the heart. That's murder, even in Texas.”

“Always knew his heart would give him trouble,” Zibby said. “Most generous man I ever knew.” She refilled her coffee cup, then added a small spoonful of butter and stirred.

“So very generous,” I said. “We, me and the Ballantyne Foundation, are extremely grateful for the donation. Though, maybe it's me, but I don't remember anything in the documents about a church or a casino.”

Kathy Lee arched an artfully plucked brow at me. “If you think I'll stand by—”

“Oh good heavens, Kathy Lee,” Jolene said.

“—and let you steal away my inheritance, then you've no idea who you're talking to.”

“I kind of don't, actually,” I said. “Though I'm assuming you're Bea and Austin's daughter?”

“Their
only
daughter,” Kathy Lee snapped.

“I'm just like a daughter, you ask Mama Bea,” Jolene said. “Met A.J. at Sunday School near twenty years back and we've been inseparable ever since.”

“My brother, Austin Jr., is an attorney and he's drawing up a suit against your ‘foundation' right today,” Kathy Lee said with her hands still mid-air. “You won't be able to steal my town.”

“I'm not stealing anything from anybody,” I said with a more defensive tone than I intended. “The Ballantyne Foundation is quite reputable, I promise you.” So just calm down with the air quotes, I mentally added.

“That may be,” Jolene said. “A.J. and I fully support all kinds of charities. But I'll tell you, it's mighty un-Christian like for you to fly in here and steal away our family's legacy.”

“Again, not stealing,” I said. “It was donated. Honest. There are legal documents involved. Besides, it's still in probate, so no need to sue me.”

“Big Daddy's barely gone a month, his heart torn in two, and he'd roll right over if he knew this was happening,” Jolene said. “And poor Mama Bea. Hurtin' all over again.”

“Oh, this can't be happening,” Zibby said. “Miss Bea will miss the party tonight. Her own celebration of Austin. It's an unfair supervention.”

“Damn that Bobby Wainwright,” Kathy Lee spat out, her face so red I thought her head might pop off. “This is all his fault. Jealous as a schoolyard bully and twice as mean.”

“Who's Bobby Wainwright?” I asked.

“County prosecutor,” Jolene said. “Been at odds with the Carter family ever since he and A.J. played opposing quarterbacks for rival Tots football teams. Silly really, but there you have it.”

“It's not silly, Jolene,” Kathy Lee said. “Purposely trumping up charges to ruin the Baron's Ball is spiteful and malicious.”

“Well, he's also the only one in the county not invited, so that probably didn't sit well,” Jolene said.

“I forbid that man to step foot in this house or these grounds,” Kathy Lee said.

Jolene leaned forward as if telling me a secret, girlfriend to girlfriend. “Kathy Lee's never forgiven him for not asking her to prom senior year. Took her rival instead.”

“Oh shut up,” Kathy Lee said. “This isn't about the prom, it's about the Cattle Baron's Ball. And Mama missing it the first time in her life, unless your outlandish plan somehow works.”

Zibby dabbed her forehead with her silky kerchief and Jolene looked at me with her head tilted to one side.

“Outlandish plan?” I glanced from Zibby to Kathy Lee, then back to Jolene. I casually brushed at my face in case I had something stuck on my cheek.

They continued to stare at me expectantly.

“Well, don't just sit there, Elliott, wearing that tacky tee like you're about to clean out the barn,” Kathy Lee said.

“Don't just sit here, what?” And even though I knew I looked ridiculous in my thick cotton Texas tee, I thought it rude of her to point it out. “My luggage was delayed, thank you very much.”

“I sure hope you're not wearing that to the Cattle Baron tonight,” Kathy Lee said. “The dress code requires more class.”

“I certainly know how to dress for an event.” I tried to keep the huff out of my voice, but I don't think I succeeded. I wanted to mention some of the Ballantyne parties we were hosting just this year like The Gatsby and The Palm & Fig Ball, but I feared they'd assume I was offering up invitations.

They still stared, so I asked again, “What plan? What am I missing here?”

“These two think you're going to prove Mama Bea didn't murder Big Daddy,” Kathy Lee said.

I turned to Jolene. “So you're not suing me?”

“Of course we are,” she said. “But first things first, sugar.”

SWITCH BACK: FOUR

  

“I'm not sure what I can do for you,” I said, though I finally understood what Jolene meant earlier when she said I was the one who “fixes things.”

“I'm not, either, but you can start by giving us back our town,” Kathy Lee said. “Then we won't have to make a judge force it from you.”

“Don't let Elli fool you, girls,” Zibby said. She added another spoonful of butter to her coffee and spread honey on a scone. “She performs disconnected inquisitions for all us board members.”

“Discreet inquiries,” I corrected.

“She's a crackerjack for the Ballantyne,” Zibby continued. “Helps find all kinds of missing things. Someone pilfered my dear friend's Pomeranian right from the beauty parlor in the middle of the day. Only took Elli two weeks to get her back. Isn't that right, dear?”

“Well, then naturally, let's choose the doggie detective to save my mama,” Kathy Lee said.

“She also got Jeremy Turco out of the slammer twice and helped catch the island's only band of kleptomaniacs. But that's all blither blather. The Pomeranian kidnapping was personal and our Elli put her heart into finding that adorable Biscuit.”

“I also have a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice and am working toward my PI license in South Carolina. Clocked nearly four hundred hours.” I didn't mention I needed over six thousand to meet the minimum requirement and I didn't know why I was trying to impress them.

“We've got to do something,” Jolene said. “Not like we have any private investigators in Little Oak. Barely any folks left in a twenty mile radius. And Mama Bea's due at the revival for the Worship Center on Saturday.”

“You mean the Broken Spoke Casino,” Kathy Lee said. “I'm already suing the Ballantyne, I've got no trouble suing you, too.”

“Good Lord in heaven,” Jolene said. “A.J. isn't going to sue himself.”

“He's not the only lawyer in Texas,” Kathy Lee said.

“This will never do,” Zibby said. “Your daddy would be caddywomped seeing you two fight, and now poor Bea will be hung in the town square for murder.”

“It's the electric chair,” Kathy Lee said. “We don't hang people anymore.”

“It's lethal injection,” Jolene corrected. “Has been since before we started high school. You'd know that if you went to church more.”

“Ladies, please,” I said. “No one is hanging in the town square. But you people sure do know a lot about the death penalty. Especially if you talk about it in church.”

“An eye for an eye, sugar,” Jolene said.

I was beginning to think I'd need something stronger than butter in my coffee to get through this day. “I could use the experience, I guess,” I said doubtfully. Not sure the Texas law enforcement folks would appreciate it, but probably couldn't hurt to ask questions, put in a little effort. Might at least stop them from suing me and the Ballantyne.

“Why did the sheriff arrest Bea?” I asked. “Did he tell you what evidence the prosecution has against her?”

“Oh sure,” Jolene said. “Sheriff shared it over coffee first thing this morning. They've got Mama Bea's fingerprints all over those deadly scissors. Hers and only hers. Not surprising since she still had a firm grip on them. Was leaning over Big Daddy when they found him.”

Well then. Not much room speculation. “Why would she want to kill Austin?” I asked.

“She wouldn't,” Jolene said. “Loved that man since he took her to their first dance in grade school.”

I was sensing a theme. Seemed everyone in this family met their spouse over the swings in the playground. Perhaps options might be limited in such a small town.

“Do either of you know anything else about Austin's death?” I asked.

“Whole town knows,” Jolene said. “Can't paint your toes without everyone chiming in about the color.”

“Big Daddy was in his private office at the back of the house, late on a Friday night,” Kathy Lee said. “Mrs. Alden was asleep in her room when she heard Mama scream.”

Jolene plopped into a chair at the table and helped herself to the last scone. “Mrs. Alden's been taking care of the Carter family since the Civil War or thereabouts.” She leaned back and crossed her legs. “Everyone in Little Oak thinks it's the will. That Mama Bea killed him for the inheritance.”

“But the Ballantyne inherited,” I said. “Was it a secret?”

“It was an accident,” Kathy Lee said. “Big Daddy just overreacted. Wanted us to stop fighting over the town. It's our legacy, Little Oak. We were supposed to agree on its future, but when we couldn't, he tried to scare us by putting this silly Ballantyne clause in.”

“Why did he choose the Ballantyne?” I asked.

“My favorite charity,” Zibby said. “Austin knew how I love the Ballantyne and wanted a solid recommendation.”

“No better charity than the Light of the Rock,” Jolene said. “Don't know why he didn't settle this himself.”

“Because it's better to give back to the people who originally owned the land, the Big Spring Choctaw.”

“If that's your argument, then you know full well God owned the land first,” Jolene said.

“And He gave it to the Choctaws,” Kathy Lee said.

I asked Zibby to walk me to the door while those two squawked like a couple of crows on a wire.

“Elli, dear, thank you so much,” Zibby said. “I know Bea couldn't have done something so shuddersome. It broke my heart to see her dragged off like that.”

“No worries. I'm sure we'll work this out.”

I definitely needed to do something. Mr. Ballantyne would be caddywomped himself to have his reputation besmirched by accusations of stealing an entire town. And even though Zibby wasn't related to the Carter clan, she was related to Edward Ballantyne. And if she wanted help, then I was on the case.

And fast. I had a return ticket on Sunday morning and no amount of Texas charm would keep me from boarding that plane.