Return of the Dixie Deb (8 page)

“Are recent hold-ups in Lockington, Georgia; Cedar City and Corren, Alabama; and Magnetic Springs, New Majestic, and Foundry Creek, Mississippi, all related? Law enforcement officials are currently reviewing bank surveillance tapes of the robberies which show images of a young, well-dressed woman and her male companion. The two have escaped with something approaching a quarter of a million dollars at this point. Similarities in the method of operation lead authorities to believe the robberies are connected.

“The daring daylight robberies are attracting further notice by law enforcement due to their marked resemblance to a series of unsolved hold-ups across these same states a quarter century ago. In those crimes, the tall, striking mysterious woman dubbed the…”

He clenched a fist and looked up at Jan.

“We made the front page of the state section.”

She moved over to sit beside him, the fragrance of her sun tan lotion enveloping him as she bent over to read. The rest of the story was a detailed recap of the Deb’s criminal exploits from twenty-five years before.

“What do you think?” she asked when she finished reading.

“I’m glad they ran the two pictures.” He tapped the older one. “This is one of the clearer ones of the Deb, while yours…” He moved his finger over to the second. “Isn’t that great.”

“I’m glad. I don’t really want to be recognized and have my name linked to hers.”

“If she’s convinced you’re a poor copy, vanity might compel her out into the open.”

“What kind of circulation do you think this is getting?”

“The paper comes from Montgomery, the state capital. If it’s getting play there, it ought to in other parts of the South, too. It helps that we’ve crossed state lines. Even if the Deb doesn’t rise to the bait, maybe this kind of story will jar someone’s memory and the police will get a tip. They’re posting a substantial reward for information.”

“Believe me, I’d throw in a contribution if it’d bring all this to an end.”

She put her sunglasses back on as he studied the paper.

****

He stared down; his gaze following a bead of moisture running down the tall glass. He swirled it allowing the drip to land on the table as he rattled the ice cubes and studied a sprig of something green on the side. Everything required for a cocktail hour, except for what mattered. He had assumed the lack of liquor the previous day had been because it was a Sunday. What was the deal now?

After a long afternoon in the sun playing a round of croquet with Jan and some of the other guests followed with sitting by the pool, he had scooped it gratefully off the silver tray Dahlia had offered and taken a long drink. His surprise must have been evident for she had given a regretful shrug, and whispered something about the county being dry, before moving on to where the other guests sat around Miss Lily’s wheelchair at the end of the veranda.

Dry
? He turned to Jan beside him poking the peach-flavored ice cubes with her straw. Sitting in the sun that afternoon, dangling her feet in the pool, had lent her face and arms a healthy glow. In a yellow sheath, she looked more relaxed than he’d seen her in days. Certainly more at ease than on the road with him or being given the third degree by the I.R.S.

“So what does the weather have to do with us not getting any liquor?”

“A dry county means liquor can’t be sold anywhere within the county limits,” Jan explained.

“Is that legal? I thought they repealed Prohibition.”

“It’s not that uncommon down here in the South. It’s a local option. If people don’t want liquor sales, they can vote to ban them.”

“Thank God, the North won the war. You like this stuff?”

“Yeah, it’s refreshing, isn’t it? I think it’s plantation iced tea. Down home, they make it with cane syrup. And see how they froze peach slices in the ice cubes.”

“Oh, sure.”

She took a sip and smiled. “I’m going to sit up beside Miss Lily.”

He nodded watching her find a place among the other guests listening to their hostess. Carefully made up in a lavender high-necked dinner dress, Miss Lily was holding court in her wheelchair as she detailed stories of past Southern glory. Maybe he could just dump the rest of his drink in one of the potted plants while the others were distracted.

Another night to get through, then they’d be back to what passed as normal for them these days—knocking over rural banks, forsaking the gracious living of the Major’s for economy class and separate beds.

Wish he could convince himself he was looking forward to it.

He was moving stealthily toward a potted Norfolk pine in the corner when Dahlia’s brother-in-law Junior, now in a waiter’s jacket, looked in the veranda door and gave him a quick nod.

He went over to where Junior was standing. Jan seemed caught up in what Miss Lily was saying. She leaned forward, her long legs crossed at the ankles.

“Enjoying your refreshment, sir?” Junior smiled.

“Not as much as some. Jan had to explain to me what a dry county was.”

“An old tradition here. Doesn’t stop most folks from slipping over the county line every now and then and stocking up on the necessities of life. Would you be interested in trying a bit of our Southern heritage?”

He lifted an eyebrow as the younger man produced a silver flask from an inside pocket.

“Pure corn liquor, product of Fawcett County.” Junior held up the flask.

“Moonshine?”

“Some call it that or white lightning. High-octane liquid ambrosia might be another name. 100 proof product of local industry.”

He gave a low whistle, tipped most of his glass into the flowerpot, and held it out.

“More of an homage to the past now than anything else.” Junior unscrewed the flask lid and let him take a whiff. “My great-uncle and his friends keep the tradition going.”

“Top it up. Let’s not interfere with history.” He watched as Junior poured in a generous amount. Carefully, he tried a sip.

“Whoo.” He drew a somewhat shaky breath, his eyes watering. “I can see why there’s a market for it. Thank you, Junior, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Glad to oblige. Take it easy, sir. A little goes a long way.”

He moved a chair up to sit beside Jan. One of the other guests had asked a question about the house’s history.

“It was built originally for George Reynolds Randolph and his bride when he brought her to Fawcett County in the 1830s. He wanted to impress her, because she came from a wealthy New Orleans family. He built the main part of the house and several of the outbuildings.

“Later on, in the War Between the States, the house was used as a hospital by Confederate forces and then was commandeered by Union General Fitzsimmons and his staff during their northern sweep of the state. It passed through a number of hands afterward and hadn’t been occupied for some years when my parents, the Major and Miss Verbena, acquired it. The Major, a member of the Alabama Hall of Fame, had the back section added on and the landscaping put in with the proceeds from his career in inventing. My sisters and I grew up here as did my daughters, Dahlia and Daisy, when my late husband and I assumed management.”

From inside, a gong sounded and Miss Lily folded her hands in her lap. Dahlia appeared in the doorway and smiled at the group.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.”

He and Jan followed the other guests as Dahlia pushed her mother’s wheelchair.

The Heart of Dixie dining room was set with bone china, silver, and crystal. The varied pieces seemed to have come from a number of different sets. He put his drink down and held Jan’s needlepoint-embroidered chair as she seated herself at one end of the long, mahogany table.

Seating himself beside her, he took the linen napkin out of its napkin ring.

“Dinner tonight is fresh lake trout with new potatoes and creamed peas,” Dahlia said as she filled his water goblet.

“Sounds great. Last night’s dinner was wonderful.”

Jan took a long sip from her glass as she turned to talk to her neighbor, a young Japanese woman who appeared eager to practice her English.

“Thank you. Patsy Evans helps out in the kitchen. She’s a shirttail relative on my daddy’s side. In a county like this, you’re kin to half the people who live ’round here. She made derby pie for dessert so save some room.” Dahlia gave him a smile.

He listened with half an ear as the man beside him launched a detailed account of the golf courses he and his wife had visited on their trip south. He and the missus, as he put it, were getting their game in shape before their club tournament in the fall.

Junior, in the role of waiter, entered with salads on a tray as he reached for his drink. Someone must have removed it. He made a face. Beside him, Jan had a firm grip on her own glass as she talked to her neighbor. She transferred her glass to her other hand as she picked up her fork and speared a cherry tomato.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Her eyes were bright as she looked up at him.

“Makes a nice change from fast food on the road.”

“Better than boiled peanuts?” She let her head rest on his shoulder.

“Definitely.”

Her Japanese neighbor said something and Jan turned with a giggle. His neighbor continued with descriptions of their golfing pilgrimage to Augusta National as the salad plates were removed and the entrée served.

“So how did you hear about this place?” his neighbor asked. “The missus and I pretty much stumbled on it.”

“It came recommended by some people I work with.”

“Well, it’s really something. It’s seen its better days.” The golfer’s wife lowered her voice. “But it’s just charming. I mean, the history, the antiques. If these walls could talk, can you imagine the stories they’d tell? And these meals are not to be believed. You don’t see this kind of thing much anymore with all the chain restaurants and motels around.”

“So it’s pretty much of a steal, wouldn’t you say, honey?” Jan asked brightly.

Honey
? What was going on? He hadn’t heard that before. He turned to where Jan was audibly chasing the last of her drink around the bottom of her glass with a straw.

“Mac could tell you a lot about stealing. He’s kind of an expert,” Jan said. Under the table he felt her hand on his thigh, squeezing it, slowly moving up…
Geez
!

He drew a long, less than steady breath, and curled her fingers in his own to move them away. Jan raised her glass and waved it in Dahlia’s direction.

“Yoo-hoo! Refill, please!”

He pulled her down as she started to rise. Dahlia, offering a serving dish to her mother, smiled, and nodded at them.

It was evident what had happened to his doctored glass. Somehow, he didn’t think Jan was going to get the drink she thought she would. Thankfully, with the food continuing, her tipsiness would become less evident. He hoped.

The Derby pie was too sweet for him. He pushed it away as he waited on his coffee. Jan draped an arm about his neck as she picked nuts out of his dessert sucking the chocolate off, playing with them with her tongue.

He took a quick sip of his coffee. It was scalding, but he didn’t think he had time to let it cool off. He needed to get Jan up to their room while she was still ambulatory.

“I believe we’re done if you folks will excuse us. It’s been a wonderful meal. Thank you.” He bowed his head in Miss Lily’s direction. She favored him with a mystified nod.

“But I’m thirsty, Mac.” Jan pouted.

He held her elbow as he pulled the chair back.

“You know what I could use now?”

“Probably a little rest, dear.” He detached Jan’s fingers from her glass to replace it on the table.

“Steal away, steal away.” She giggled. “Steal a-w-a-y.”

Supporting her with an arm, he pressed her face into his chest.

“Long day,” he said to the Japanese couple staring in concern at them. “Probably too much time in the sun, um, heat exhaustion, you know. Sun stroke, or something.”

Her voice muffled, it sounded like Jan was trying to sing. Slumped against him, her feet slid on the marble of the entryway as he guided her toward the staircase.

“Okay, Jan, we need to go upstairs now. Let’s take it easy.”

“Easy, peasy, Mac.”

With one arm around her, his other gripping the railing, he got her up to the landing a step at a time. She counted the steps for him between hiccups and giggles. Turning to continue upward, he caught her as she sagged into his arms, her head falling back. She gave him a big grin.

“Mac, I feel good.”

“I can tell.”

“I mean I feel really good. Like we just pulled off a really, really, really good bank job. You know? Set a new record? Maybe a world record?”

Down below, he could hear the sounds of chairs being pushed back in the dining room as dinner broke up.

“Really good.” Her eyes rolled back.

“Oh, hell.” Well, Rhett had done it. He bent over to scoop her up. She sighed into his chest as he climbed the rest of the stairs. Letting her down, he balanced her as he found his key and got the door open. Carefully, he guided her in and held her as she swayed against the wall and he got the door closed.

“Mac, Mac, Michael, Mac McKenzie.’

“Yes, Scarlett.” Twilight was coming through the window. It looked like Dahlia had turned down the bed, leaving behind a rosebud and two chocolates on the pillow. Early as it was, it seemed bed was the best place for Jan. He put his arm around her waist to walk her over to the bed. Her legs wobbled as they took a circuitous route around the armchairs.

“Special Agent Michael McKenzie. How special are you, Mac McKenzie?”

He lowered her down to sit on the bed and bent over to slip her shoes off.

“I think you need to rest, Jan.”

Her arms were around his neck, one hand doing something to his ear. Her eyes half-closed under the long curling lashes regarded him with a look he hadn’t seen from her before.

“I think…” She tilted her head back.

“What’s that, Jan?”

“I think you need dessert, Mac.”

Her hands, surprisingly strong, pulled his face down to hers as she fell back onto the bed.