Rubbed Out (A Memphis BBQ Mystery) (4 page)

Coco peered down at her linen dress with the satin sash. “It’s a nice dress, Granny Lulu.”

Sometimes she did wonder where that child came from. “The dress is as pretty as you are, Coco, but I’m worried about what might happen to it, not whether it’s in fashion. The festival is a huge mud pit, sweetie. And the rain is still coming down in buckets. You’d really please me if you’d put something else on. Your mama is coming by the restaurant to work in a few minutes—let me call her real quick and ask her to bring you play clothes.”

Of course, Ben should have been able to see that Coco wasn’t wearing appropriate clothing for Rock and Ribs when he dropped her off at the restaurant, but sometimes Lulu wondered if her son noticed much of anything that went on around him.

“Did y’all get enough to eat this morning? Does anybody want to top off their tank before we head to the festival? We’ll be doing lots of walking, so no one needs an empty tummy,” said Lulu.

Coco tilted her blond head in a considering way. “What’s here to eat?”

“Well, we probably don’t have time to cook anything,” said Lulu. “It’s getting close to lunchtime, so if you wanted corn muffins or barbeque, I know we’ve got some ready.”

Ben joined them on the porch. He still didn’t seem to notice that Coco was a bit too dressed up for the muddy festival.

“Has Sara gotten here yet?” he asked.

“Not yet. But she’s bringing a change of clothes for Coco, so that might have taken her some extra time,” said Lulu.

Ben nodded absently and fingered his mustache. He cherished his facial hair since the hair on the top of his head had been steadily disappearing over the past few years. He preferred to think of his hair loss as just an expanding forehead.

“We’re trying to figure out a quick bite for Coco to eat,” said Lulu.

“Barbeque,” said Ben, confused as to why there was any question about a quick bite at the restaurant. “I’ve got a whole batch I cooked up.”

Coco said, “Do we have anything else to eat?”

Ben frowned at his daughter. “What do you mean, anything else?”

Lulu said, “There’s lots to eat, sweetie. Why not have a couple of corn muffins?”

“I made coleslaw. Or how about baked beans?” said Ben.

Coco shook her head. “I’m getting a little tired of all that.”

“Are you wanting something to satisfy your sweet tooth?” asked Lulu. “Maybe some gingerbread with butter? Or homemade peppermint ice cream?”

You could have knocked her over with a feather when Coco shook her head again.

“No,” said Coco slowly, “I want something real basic. Like a peanut butter sandwich.”

“Peanut butter and jelly?” asked Ben, sounding out the words as if trying out a foreign language.

“No jelly,” said Coco with a small sigh. “Only peanut butter.”

Ben and Lulu stared at each other.

“We don’t have any peanut butter at Aunt Pat’s,” said Lulu. “It’s usually not something we carry here.”

“And not anything we
have
to carry, either,” said Ben stoutly, putting his hands on his hips. “This is a barbeque joint. Why would we have peanut butter here?”

“I can see Coco’s point, though,” mused Lulu. “Somehow I’ve simply never gotten tired of barbeque and all the fixings. But I guess it’s possible to get worn out from eating ribs, fried pickles, and red beans and rice.”

“Never!” said Ben.

“Maybe I’m not worn out with it,” said Coco in a firm voice. “Maybe I just feel like peanut butter sometimes.”

“Tell you what, sweetie,” said Lulu, giving her a hug. “I’ll put peanut butter on my list and I’ll make sure to
bring it back to put in the office cabinet, especially for you. In the meantime, how about I make you a pimento cheese sandwich on some sourdough bread? I made some up yesterday.”

Soon Coco was connected with no-nonsense, mud-worthy clothes, and the girls and Lulu headed off to Tom Lee Park. The rain subsided and they were able to walk around the festival without getting soaked. It seemed like there were even more booths than ever before—each one carefully decorated and with Slovakia prominently featured. The festival pulsed with music and excitement. A mixture of savory aromas wafted through the air—spicy ribs mingling with onion rings and cotton candy. And there were wall-to-wall people, happily mucking through the mud to be there for the mouthwatering food and soul-stirring blues.

Ella Beth stopped and sniffed the air outside one booth. “That one. Let’s go to that booth, Granny Lulu. Something smells wonderful!”

“Your nose knows! It sure does smell delicious. But the booths aren’t open to the public, remember? Once we head over to the Graces’ tent, we can get some ribs. The food that’s being cooked up is for friends of the people in the booth and the judges.”

Ella Beth’s freckled face was disappointed, but she quickly got over it when Lulu offered to buy the girls their choice of fair food from one of the food vendors. It was truly amazing, she mused, how many things could
be fried And it was a really good thing that they didn’t eat fair food every day or they’d all be as big as barns.

“Now that we’ve all gotten set up with food, y’all, let’s head over and see the Graces’ tent. I think you’re going to like it.”

Ella Beth squinted up at Lulu in a considering way. “I’m guessing that it’s covered with Elvises. And food.”

Coco chimed in, “It’s got to have Elvises or else it wouldn’t be right. I think they made an Elvis statue out of barbeque.”

Ella Beth frowned at her. “That wouldn’t work, Coco. It’d be a falling-down sloppy mess. But I bet they could make an Elvis out of corn muffin mix Mmm. That would be good.”

Coco said, “Maybe they could do an ice sculpture of Elvis.”

Lulu beamed at her. “And lovely it would be, too. But you know how hot it is right now. It would be a skinny Elvis in seconds if they made any kind of ice sculpture.”

As soon as they reached the Graces’ tent, the women swooped down on the girls. “We knew there was a reason that the sun came out!” chortled Cherry, dressed up like an early seventies version of Elvis.

“Aren’t y’all the cutest things,” crooned Flo. “Come to have some barbeque?”

Even Evelyn languidly unfolded herself from the lounge chair she’d brought in and hurried over to hug Ella Beth and Coco.

“Well,” said Lulu, “we weren’t sure if y’all were cooking yet or if you had anything left over—you know. We didn’t want to presume anything. So the girls finished up deep-fried candy bars from one of the food vendors.”

The Graces were horrified.

“Honey,” said Flo, “we’re cooking about twenty-four hours a day right now for the next few days. We’ve got better food for y’all than deep-fried Ho-Hums or whatever you bought from a vendor.”

Evelyn, who looked to be dressed up like Priscilla Presley, said, “And we’re inviting all kinds of folks to come in and sample from us. You know how it has to be invitation-only to come into a booth, but we’re having a hard time being selective so we’ve already invited a total of about twenty-five brand-new friends to hang out with us. If we’re inviting strangers, we’ll surely be inviting you, too!”

Lulu asked the girls, “Do y’all have any appetite at all left?”

Ella Beth said, “We’ve always got room for barbeque, Granny Lulu. You know that.”

Coco drawled, “Well, sometimes maybe I don’t. There’s only so much barbeque a girl can have in a day, you know. But I want to try the Graces’.”

Soon the girls were sitting in the little eating area in the back of the booth, happily exclaiming over the food while Lulu caught up with her friends near the grill.

There was whooping and hollering from the next-door booth. Lulu said, “Sounds like you’re real close to the action here. Any more excitement from the booth next door?”

Evelyn flicked lint from her 1970s-era miniskirt. “Oh, honey, the excitement hasn’t stopped. Although they sound like they’re in a good mood right now. And I’m in a good mood because I’m thinking they’re too tipsy to do any competitive cooking. The fact that they’re also not fighting is a bonus. Those folks have fought the whole time. Maybe they’ve gotten into the alcohol and that’s improving their moods.”

It was a little distracting having Evelyn dressed as Priscilla. But not nearly as distracting as having Cherry dress as Elvis. Lulu missed whatever it was that Cherry said.

“I’m sorry, Cherry. What did you say?”

“I said that we shouldn’t say anything about them not fighting. That’ll jinx it,” said Cherry. She had on a black jumpsuit with a big belt and sunglasses. Her trademark Elvis motorcycle helmet was close by. Somehow the red hair simply didn’t go with the outfit. Her gaze sharpened. “Lulu, you’re looking at my hair. You don’t like the redheaded Elvis look, do you?”

“I think it’s fine!”

Cherry sighed. “No, you don’t. No one else likes it, either. It’s just that my wig was getting way too hot and
itchy, so I took it off. I might have to rethink this. Or put my helmet on.”

A husky voice from outside the booth said, “You look amazing. But not as amazing as Priscilla.”

Lulu raised her eyebrows as a gentleman who appeared to be in his late thirties wearing a sheepish grin and fashionably shaggy hair hovered at the edge of the tent. The one thing that stood out about him was the white stripe of hair that went right through the middle of his dark hair, giving him a skunk-like appearance.

“Oh, well, if you’re giving compliments, then you really must join us,” said Evelyn, scooting over to make room next to her on the sofa. “I’m Evelyn. Or Priscilla, if you like.” She fluttered her false eyelashes at him in what was surprisingly beguiling.

“I’m John,” he said, holding out his hand. “John Smith.”

“Surely not,” said Evelyn. “Are there really any actual John Smiths?”

“Mmm,” said Flo. “It does have that assumed name sort of ring to it.”

“I’ll assure you,” said John with a very bright grin, “I’m completely genuine. I’d bring my mama in to attest to it.”

“Well then. Sounds like you’re all right to me,” said Evelyn. “I’ve always been partial to mama’s boys.”

Although something about the man just didn’t ring true to Lulu. Not that she could put a finger on it.

“Going back to the wig subject, I’m amazed that it doesn’t seem to be bothering Evelyn at all,” said Flo, carefully drawn-on eyebrows arched. “She seems to be enjoying it.”

Evelyn snorted. “This bouffant isn’t a wig, y’all. It’s my real hair.” She carefully patted her chestnut-colored hair.

“No, it isn’t!” said the women, shocked.

“It surely is,” said Evelyn, putting her hands on her hips. “I had my salon to do it especially for the festival. My stylist cried when she teased my hair. She actually, really, truly cried.”

“I guess she thought she was ruining your hair for good,” drawled John, winking at Lulu.

“It’s a good thing you don’t have to tease your hair all the time,” said Lulu slowly. “It’d damage it in no time flat.”

The hair musings were cut short by a shriek from the booth next door. Even Ella Beth and Coco momentarily stopped their chewing.

“You
dawg
! You no-good scoundrel of a
dawg
!” came a shrill voice. Then came the sound of a huge amount of commotion that indicated some sort of a struggle. Instinctively, they ran over—Flo quickly volunteering to stay with the girls. Cherry grabbed a plaster Elvis—Lulu didn’t know whether it was for luck or protection.

Sharon was standing on a chair and giving high-pitched yells, almost like she’d seen a mouse. Brody had his hands around Reuben’s neck and was giving every indication of not letting go.

They looked over at John, who’d run over with them, but he’d apparently quietly slipped away and it was only Cherry and Lulu. Lulu took a deep breath.

“Y’all, this is no way to handle a problem—you know that. Let’s think of another way that we can work around this,” said Lulu in as reasonable a tone as she could muster, considering the scene in front of her.

Brody said through gritted teeth, “He insulted Sharon. I’m protecting her honor.”

“Well now,” said Lulu in a determinedly cheerful
voice, “this should be easily fixed. Reuben, if he can talk with you squeezing his neck, can apologize. Then Sharon can tell Reuben that he’s forgiven. And y’all can go back to cooking and having fun and enjoying this festival.”

Reuben, oddly, seemed not really to be listening. He stared at something outside the booth. Sharon’s voice quickly brought his wandering attention back, however.

“He’s not forgiven,” said Sharon with icy eyes. “Why would I forgive someone like him? Nasty, nasty man.” Her voice started rising again as she got herself riled back up. Lulu sincerely hoped that Flo had taken the girls off for a stroll. “And don’t be coming by our house anymore. We’re done with you, Reuben Shaw!”

Reuben was somehow able to find his voice, although it didn’t sound as strong as it usually did, considering how Brody’s hands were clutching his neck like a vise. “Won’t go to your house. Don’t like it anyway.”

This wasn’t the effect that Lulu had been hoping for. Sharon apparently took offense that her home was being insulted.

“The very next time you do make your way to our house to pester us for one thing or another,” hollered Sharon at the top of her considerable lungs, “I’ll kill you!”