When Bobbie Sang the Blues (14 page)

“But don’t wait up,” he added.

Bobbie looked from Christy to Dan. “Have a wonderful evening. You two make a beautiful couple.”

“Careful, Bobbie,” Christy teased. “You’ll run him off, and I won’t get dinner.”

Everyone laughed as Dan reached for Christy’s hand, tucking it in his. They walked to his car, and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek as he opened the passenger door. “You look lovely tonight,” he said.

“Thanks. You clean up real well,” she teased. He wore a blue pinstriped shirt and navy pants.

He closed her door gently, came around the front of the SUV, and got in. “Your aunt seems awfully excited,” he said, backing out of the drive.

She made an effort to forget the bad news she’d heard this afternoon and focus instead on being with Dan. “Yeah, she has a passion for the work she does. And I think she really needs to get that shop going in order to move on with her life. I don’t want her sitting here, worrying herself to death about this investigation. Where are we going?” she asked pleasantly, eager to divert the subject.

He named the restaurant, a quaint little place near Seaside that was off the beaten path. Having been there with him once before, Christy nodded and smiled. “Perfect.”

He reached for her hand as they drove along, his other hand gripping the steering wheel. “Some people fall in love, or think they are, but in the end they discover they never really
liked
the
person.” He glanced at her. “But if we were just meeting for the first time, I’d already want to spend more time with you.”

“Maybe we could think of our relationship that way.”

“Excuse me?”

Christy hadn’t planned to say this, but the words came easily, and she wanted to make her point. “I think you were wise in suggesting we slow down the relationship. You don’t want to be rushed or feel threatened, and I’ve come to realize that I don’t want to do that either.”

His blue eyes deepened. “The thing is, I feel we’re right together. But we got going like a runaway freight train and—”

“I know. So let’s just start over as friends meeting for dinner, discussing the events of the day. Well”—she grinned at him—“maybe it would be more fun if we discussed the events of a different day.”

“I could tell you about my new project.”

“Great. I’d love to hear about it.”

He told her his idea for some small garden homes just beyond Sunnyside. “There’s a strip of land that hasn’t been snatched up by developers, and I’ve put some money down to hold it.”

“Sounds like a great idea. I get tired of looking at all the high-rise condos and apartment buildings strung out along the Gulf.”

As Dan explained the floor plan of the houses, Christy listened with pride and felt herself melting into contentment. Why had she ever tried to rush him? Looking at him now and listening as he spoke his keen mind, she decided she would wait for ten years if she had to. Another man like Dan Brockman would not be walking into her life.

“I’d love to see your architectural plans for the project,” she said.

He looked at her as though wondering if she really meant it. Had she not shown enough interest in the past?

They reached the small restaurant, located on a spit of land overlooking the Gulf. She took a deep breath of the salty breeze as he opened the door, took her hand, and led her inside.

A piano played in the far end of the dining room, and the glass walls mirrored the candlelight from each table. The hostess led them to a covered veranda with a spectacular view of the Gulf. A light breeze ruffled the palms as the setting sun cast a raspberry glow across the water. Dan pulled out Christy’s chair, and she settled in and removed a linen napkin from the water goblet, eager to have it filled with lemon water.

“So,” Dan said as he took his seat, “what’s going on with Seth?”

“Everything. He’s partying every night and chasing women like crazy. But I’m so glad to have him home, Dan. I just hope in time he can patch things up with Mom and Dad.”

“Are they still in a standoff?” he asked, as the server filled their water goblets.

“It’s not that bad. Seth is very defensive, and Dad doesn’t like his open rebellion. Mom’s caught in the middle, trying to be the peacemaker.”

The server took their orders—grilled grouper—then rushed off to the kitchen.

“So your mother is trying to be the peacemaker.” He shook his head. “I’ve watched my mom walk that tightrope with my brother.

Being caught in the middle is tough.”

Christy sipped the ice water, and the server arrived with salads and bread.

“How is Bobbie?” Dan asked. “She seemed fine earlier when I picked you up.”

“She’s actually doing pretty well. The thing that helps most is that she’s found a location for the shop she wants to open, and I’m encouraging her to do that. She was about to sink into a depression, so finding a place to display her ‘found treasures,’ as she calls them, has boosted her morale.”

“That’s good.”

Neither spoke for a moment, but Christy’s mind had zoomed to the pickle barrel, and she suspected Dan had the same thought. That “found treasure” wouldn’t be going into the shop.

Their meal was delivered, and they got busy eating the food, the subject of Bobbie momentarily forgotten. A noise in the kitchen interrupted the quiet of the dining room. Soon the kitchen door flew open, and a man charged out.

“Wiley?” Dan called to him.

The man turned, and Christy thought she recognized him but couldn’t remember where she had seen him. He was middle-aged and slim except for a round belly protruding over his white pants.

“Hey, Wiley, what’s going on?” Dan asked.

Wiley shook his gray head and walked to their table, bringing the smell of fried food with him. “They’ve got a new, uppity manager, and I don’t have to put up with him. I’m filling in for a buddy who’s on vacation. Still, nobody’s gonna tell me to sit down and
peel five dozen shrimp. Unless I’m fixing them for myself,” he added with a sly grin. “And he needn’t tell me to take the back door on my way out. I’ll walk right through here if I want to.”

Dan and Christy exchanged an amused glance.

“I’m the janitor at the Blues Club, really. Miss Donna’s trying to get her business started, you know, and she’s limited on funds. I told her, no bigger than that place is, I’ll have it clean enough to pass the codes every time she’s checked.”

Christy remembered him now. He had appeared at their table to sweep up the pills Bobbie had dropped.

Dan noticed her expression and said, “Oh, sorry I didn’t introduce you. Wiley Smith, this is Christy Castleman, Mrs. Bodine’s niece.”

“I remember seeing you the other night,” he said.

Christy nodded. “She stopped you from sweeping up those pills, didn’t she? Did you find any later?”

“Nope, never got one in the dustpan before she stopped me.” He stroked his short beard. “I hope the police don’t go after your aunt over his murder. I know that…well, I can’t call him what I’d like in a lady’s presence.”

“You knew Eddie Bodine?” Christy asked, leaning forward.

“Yep. Didn’t recognize him at first because it had been years since I’d seen him. Reckon I was looking more at the brunette, his date. But I’d know that voice anywhere. And once I got a good look at him, I was positive. Fact is, I was ready to call him out myself about the time the ruckus started.”

“Call him out for what?” Dan asked, as they both stared at him.

“For years I drove a truck for a good company in south Alabama. Loved my job. At the Florida line, Bodine barreled by in his big truck, cut right in front of me. I grazed his bumper and ran off the road. Lucky for me, the road leveled off to a stretch of grass. He could have killed me. I crawled out of that truck ready to take his head off.”

Wiley glanced around the dining room. A couple at the next table stared at him. He lowered his voice. “Anyway, I called him a careless idiot, and he came back with something worse. We got into a brawl down in the grass. Then the state troopers got there. He lied about the wreck, said I was crowding him. Because he flashed papers showing he owned a trucking company, they believed him over me.”

“He owned a trucking company?” Dan asked.

“Not much of one. When I got his name, I checked with another driver who knew him. He said Bodine only kept a few trucks, and they didn’t run good. Anyway, Bodine got a big fine, but I lost my job.” He sighed, staring back in time. “I liked trucking. He put an end to it.” He looked down at Christy. “I don’t wish your aunt any harm, but whoever did him in made the world a better place, far as I’m concerned.”

Christy caught her breath, but Dan seemed to absorb this information without emotion.

“Speaking of the Blues Club, I gotta be there by ten. Nice to meet you,” Wiley said, glancing at Christy. “Sorry if what happened to him causes problems for your aunt, but like I said, he had it coming.”

Neither spoke until Wiley had left. Dan turned to look out at the parking lot. “He’s getting into a gray Chevy, older model.”

Christy looked at Dan. “What do you think? Could he still be angry enough to kill Eddie?”

“He’s the type who takes out his vengeance with his fists. And what reason does he have to frame your aunt?”

“Maybe it’s more a matter of pointing the finger of suspicion in another direction. Anyone who overheard that argument and had a problem with Eddie could have used that scene at the Blues Club to their own advantage.”

Dan nodded. “They say it’s a small world, but what a coincidence that Wiley once had a run-in with Bodine.”

“And still carries a grudge toward him, and happened to be in the same club with him the night he was killed.” Christy stared at Dan. “What do you think? I know it’s a stretch, but what if Eddie came back, this Wiley was leaving, and they got into it?”

Dan looked at her thoughtfully, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. If they met up after hours, and he wanted to hurt Bodine, he wouldn’t run the risk of taking him to a storage unit. And he wouldn’t waste that much time getting away.”

Christy toyed with her food, her appetite gone. “He seems like a hothead who would act first and think later. Let’s say the Blues Club was closing down for the night, and Eddie was parked out there waiting. Maybe this guy spotted him, went over and yanked the door open, did him in, then drove the truck a block away and parked it.”

Dan nodded. “But that’s not where Bodine was found.”

Christy laid her fork down on her plate and threw her hands up in frustration. “I know, I know. I’m trying to shove square pegs in a round hole. I guess I’m feeling a little desperate for my aunt.”

Dan reached over and touched her hand. “Try not to worry so much. Your aunt seems to have found a way to push this to the back of her mind.”

Christy nodded and smiled at him. “Yeah, Jack’s helping her do that. I think they’re falling for each other.”

Dan chuckled. “I know Jack is. That’s pretty obvious. I’m glad to see him happy.”

Christy nodded. Her gaze locked with his.

“Everyone should have a fair chance to be happy,” she said, hoping she had a second chance with Dan. This time she wouldn’t mess up.

When he took her home later and held her in his arms, his kisses told her they were entering the second-chance phase of their relationship.

Bobbie had left a light on for her, and Christy peeped into her office-guest room to see her sleeping soundly.

She allowed herself the pleasure of feeling relieved at last. And happy. As she locked up and tiptoed to her room, she kept thinking about the piano player’s last love song at the restaurant. She couldn’t remember the words, but the melody drifted through her mind, bringing a smile. Despite everything going on, it had been a wonderful evening.

Saturday

T
ony Panada broke all the speed limits from Atlanta to Panama City Beach. He made a quick stop at the two-story mansion he shared with his Doberman, William, and came out carrying a large gift bag with a lovely pink bow.

Too many celebrations in his life, he thought sardonically, glancing at the bag. He never threw anything away, knowing someday it would be useful. A hard grin jerked the corner of his mouth. Let someone else buy the expensive gifts now. It would not be Tony Panada. He had long ago decided the only person who belonged in his life was William.

He placed the gift bag on the front seat of his car, then backed out of his driveway and cut across to a back road leading to the storage units.

He slowed down his white Rolls-Royce as he pulled through the gate and parked in front of Hornsby’s office. As he did, another thought struck him: Bobbie Bodine could be quite useful to him.

It was barely eight o’clock, and Hornsby had just unlocked his office and put on the coffee.

“Did you do as I asked you?” Panada demanded.

“I told them I didn’t have the combination to that fancy lock but that you’d be back first thing this morning to open up the unit. They’ll be here soon, I expect.”

“Thank you, Hornsby.” Tony dropped a hundred dollar bill on Hornsby’s desk, then hurried back to his car and retrieved the lovely gift bag. At the door to his unit, he set down the gift bag, glancing absently into the wads of tissue paper that held nothing. He punched in the code on his expensive lock. The lock snapped open, and he rolled the metal door high enough to accommodate his height. He ducked under, gift bag in hand. The door rolled down. In less than five minutes, he ducked back out, leaving the door half-open. The gift bag looked a bit different. It bulged on all sides, the contents so heavy the fancy pink bow almost toppled when he walked.

Tony walked back to his car, opened the back door, and placed the gift bag on the floorboard. Slamming the door, he yelled to Hornsby, “I left the unit unlocked.”

He slid behind the wheel, and the engine purred to life. He drove slowly out of the gate, waving to Deputy Arnold and a strange man in the front seat beside him as they drove into the storage facility.

The sound of a door closing woke Christy. She sat up in bed and glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen.

She heard her aunt’s truck starting up and backing out of the drive. She tossed back the covers and hurried to the kitchen to see if she’d left a message.

Bobbie’s bold script covered the page of the message pad on the counter. “Meeting Jack for breakfast. Then he’s going with me to sign the lease and put down money on the building. I’ll talk to you later on today.”

“Okay,” Christy said, walking over to the coffee maker and the half-full carafe. She poured coffee in her mug and added cream. With a sigh of relief, she sat down and reached for her journal.

When she replayed the day before in her mind, she remembered her promise to J.T. about talking with Cora Lee Wilson. She took another sip of coffee, then returned to her bedroom. After pulling on her drawstring cotton pants and a T-shirt advertising Miz B’s place, she thrust her feet into sandals and hurried out.

Just as J.T. had predicted, Cora Lee stood in the produce section of the supermarket, carefully inspecting a stalk of bananas. Her grocery cart held enough food for twenty people, three of which could be accounted for by Cora Lee’s size. She wore a floral housedress and comfortable flip-flops that showed off plain, big feet with varicose veins circling her ankles. Her sun hat sat low on her forehead, covering most of her short brown hair.

As Christy approached, Cora Lee’s brown eyes widened in surprise. “Hi, Miss Christy,” she said. “You out doing your shopping?”

Christy shook her head. “I need to talk with you if you’ve got a minute.”

Cora Lee’s brown eyebrows shot up toward her wide-brimmed hat. “Of course. Did you need my recipe for banana pudding? J.T.”—her bright smile faded—“says you like banana pudding.”

“I’d love your recipe another time, but I wanted to talk to you about J.T.” Christy lowered her voice as other shoppers pushed carts past them.

Cora Lee looked at her, and suddenly a big tear filled one brown eye, though she tried to blink it aside. So Cora Lee was smitten too!

Christy put her hand on Cora Lee’s arm. “I know you heard about J.T. being in that bar, but he was only trying to help his best friend. He would never have gone there if Jack hadn’t asked him. I’ve never seen or heard of J.T. being in that bar.”

Cora Lee faced her squarely, the hurt obvious in her face. “That’s what I thought. It was one reason I loved him. I thought I’d finally found a good man.”

“You have.” Christy leaned closer, looking her straight in the eye. “I’ve known him all my life. If you heard about the scene at the Blues Club…”

Cora Lee nodded. “Which was why he should’ve gone straight home and steered clear of any trouble.”

“You’re right,” Christy agreed gently, “but when he met Jack at the stoplight, Jack was really upset and waved J.T. down. You see, Jack was trying to help. He was keeping an eye on the man who threatened my aunt—”

“Way I heard it, Jack was the one threatening people!” Cora Lee rallied back.

“Eddie Bodine mistreated my aunt for years,” Christy continued. “The stress she suffered from years of marriage to him contributed to the angina she now suffers.”

Cora Lee cocked her head, a look of sympathy creeping back. “What a shame.”

“I was at the Blues Club to hear my aunt sing, along with Dan Brockman and Jack, when Eddie and his girlfriend showed up. He said some awful things to Aunt Bobbie, and Jack and Dan asked him to leave. Everyone thought Bodine had left town, but Jack saw his truck parked in front of the Last Chance Bar. He didn’t want to go in alone and persuaded J.T. to go with him. But J.T. wouldn’t stay,” she added quickly.

“He stayed long enough for my cousin to catch him there.”

Christy nodded. “Well, he left Jack there by himself, just so you wouldn’t hear about it and get mad. When Jack was sure Bodine and his girlfriend had gone to the motel and wouldn’t cause any more trouble, he went home.”

Cora Lee took it all in, rocking back and forth on her feet, then shook her head. “The Good Book says we’re to help a friend in need. J.T. claims that’s all he was doing. And now, since you’ve explained it so clearly, Miss Christy—”

“Please call me Christy.”

“Well,” Cora Lee said, a wide smile lighting her face, “I reckon I’ll go on down to the meat department and see if they got in some fresh fryers. J.T. loves my fried chicken.”

“So…you’ll call him?” Christy asked.

“Yeah, I’ll call the little stinker and tell him I’m not gonna waste this chicken, so he better come over.”

Christy reached forward to hug Cora Lee’s big, round shoulders. “Thank you. J.T.’s really crazy about you, you know.”

Her sun hat dipped, and Christy caught the flush of embarrassment on her round cheeks. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well, I’d better get going. God bless you for being so forgiving.”

Christy dashed across the front of the checkout and out the door. Once she was back in her car and headed home, she picked up her cell to call Jack at home, then remembered he was helping her aunt. And of course he didn’t waste his money on cell phone service.

Turning into her driveway, mission accomplished, Christy decided to accommodate her growling stomach and then work on her book.

Later, as she sat at her computer waiting to get online, her gaze rose to the pictures of Shipwreck Island, pirates’ chests, and memorabilia that inspired her series. Then her eyes slipped to a shelf on her desk that held a case of CDs. She opened the case and pulled out a disk containing a downloaded database, one that gave her background information on people who’d been arrested at some point.

She typed in
Eddie Bodine
. Several names appeared on her screen, but it was easy to match Eddie with Memphis. She leaned back in her chair and studied his details. Arrested for DUI in 1994 and 1996. Christy suspected Bobbie’s drinking became heavier and more consistent while married to Eddie. She read an account of a 2005 domestic situation between Eddie and Bobbie Bodine. Bobbie
had filed an injunction to keep him away from her during the time they were divorcing.

Nothing else. She searched for other information and saw he still owned a trucking company called Bodine Trucking. Small business, she imagined. He or his drivers had acquired a few tickets over the years, and leaning closer, she saw he had once paid a big fine for hauling too much freight for the size of his truck.

She thought about Wiley Smith. She wouldn’t put it past Eddie to cut in front of him and cause the wreck. And it was obvious to her that Wiley still hated Eddie for ending the life he enjoyed.

She typed in Wiley Smith and a half-dozen names rolled down the screen. One date of birth fit Wiley, the address a street in Panama City. His arrests made Eddie look like a saint.

Christy read accounts of street fights, barroom brawls, drug deals, and time spent in prison for drugs. While in prison, he had knifed a man in a hassle over who got the last serving of meatloaf, earning extra jail time. If he had been in other fights, maybe he was as hot-tempered as Eddie. She checked the date of his prison term, an old one back in the nineties. She assumed he had tried to behave himself the last few years, but his hard eyes and down-turned mouth gave the impression he could get down and dirty.

When the phone rang, Joy McCall’s name and number showed on the caller ID. “Good morning, Joy,” Christy answered.

“Hey, Christy. I hope I’m not calling you too early.”

“Not at all.”

“Good. I have some information for you that may help the investigation.”

“Really? What have you heard?”

“My son Mark manages the marina in Panama City. I told him about the guys in the black Mercedes from Tennessee. Last night, he stopped by the house to tell me that two guys from Memphis made a scene at the marina yesterday. And they were driving a black Mercedes.”

“Really?” Christy bolted upright in her chair.

“Yeah. They’d been out deep-sea fishing,” Joy said, “and when the captain brought them back in, they were yelling about not catching any big fish. Mark tried to calm them down, but they just got worse. They said his place was a ripoff. He didn’t like that, and to prove he wasn’t trying to rip anybody off, he offered them another trip. They’re coming back today. Mark checked the forms they filled out, and they’re staying at Summer Place Condominiums. So they haven’t left town yet.”

“And Mark thinks they’re the same guys we’ve been talking about?”

“He doesn’t see that many black Mercedes from Memphis at the marina. And he rarely has clients who behave that way. These are two middle-aged, unfriendly types. Said they looked like the Mafia to him. I don’t know about that, but if they’re the bookies who were after Eddie, maybe they wanted to get rid of him and blame the murder on your aunt.”

Christy wished she could prove they had concocted that plan.

“If they’ve been trailing him, as the rumor goes, maybe they caught him picking the lock on Bobbie’s storage unit and followed him in,” Joy said.

“Joy, you’re beginning to sound like a real detective. You may have helped the case.”

“I hope so. Well, Christy, I gotta run.”

The minute she replaced the phone, it rang again. Aunt Dianna’s number showed up. “Mornin’, Aunt Dianna,” Christy said.

“Hi, hon. I’m so sorry about all that’s going on in your family. Just try to stay positive.”

“I’m trying.

“Listen, my hubby is out of town, and.

“What do you need?” Why did everyone think writers didn’t have a real job and could be called on day or night?

“I have to take the Lincoln over to Panama City to have new brake pads installed. The service department is backed up with jobs, so I’m just gonna leave it. If you can drive me back, I’ll take you to lunch and—”

“How far is the dealership from the marina?”

“The marina? I don’t know. The marina is on this side of town. The dealership is downtown. Why?”