Who Left that Body in the Rain? (7 page)

“He’s not going to care.” Skell’s eyes were big dark holes. “He wants
that
car. He’s gonna
kill
me.” He glared at Maynard again, chest heaving.

Joe Riddley dropped his hands. “Well, you aren’t accomplishing anything here tonight. Maynard has a wedding rehearsal dinner going on, and you’re spoiling it. Go on home, or I’m going to have to call the police. You don’t want that. Go on home, now.”

Skell took a deep breath and held it; then he let it out and glared at Maynard. “I’ll go tonight, but this isn’t over. Daddy didn’t have the right to sell that car. I’m going to tell him he’s got to make you give it back.” He headed for the door, paused a second when he realized the rain was bucketing down, then hurled himself through it.

Joe Riddley advised the party, “You all have a good time and forget all this. Skell will sleep on it and be fine in the morning. He’s afraid he’s lost a sale and maybe a customer. He’ll be all right in the morning,” he repeated. With a wave he headed for the door, grabbing me on his way out and pushing me ahead of him.

“We are soaked,” I grumbled when we got back in the car, “but I’m right proud of you.”

“I’m not proud of you. I told you to stay outside until I got there. You could have gotten hurt, Little Bit.”

“They wouldn’t hurt me. I practically raised them both. But why do you reckon Skell is so upset about that particular car?” I jabbed up the heater and hoped my teeth wouldn’t chip from chattering before I got warm.

“Maybe he’s finally trying to show Skye he can handle the used-car business. When Skye stepped in and sold a car he’d promised to somebody else, it made Skell look real bad. You know, sometimes I’m real glad our boys decided not to come into our business.”

I reached out and held on to his arm. “I was thinking the very same thing.”

“Great minds run in the same direction,” he said with satisfaction.

It’s a pity those two great minds could drive all the way home without a single premonition.

When we got home, he paused at the door to the den. “You wanna watch a little TV?”

“Might as well. But let’s get out of these wet clothes first.” We put on our pajamas, he settled in his recliner, and I snuggled under an afghan to watch a couple of mindless shows.

I hauled myself erect around eleven, but Joe Riddley said, “Wait for the weather.”

“Go look at the sky. Your guess is as good as Marilee’s.”

I have long maintained that when the weather people say “twenty percent chance of rain,” it means they’ve called ten friends and two voted for rain. Seems to me that most meteorologists are accurate about as often as astrologers.

However, because staying was easier and cosier than going, I settled back to see what Marilee read in the cloud-covered stars for tomorrow.

Joe Riddley peered at the screen. “Does she look a little frazzled to you?”

“A bit. Her skirt’s crooked and her hair could use some brushing. Of course, it generally looks like she just came out of a wind tunnel, but tonight it seems more haphazard than usual.”

“She must have driven back to Augusta too late to allow herself time to get fixed up.” He rested his head and prepared to listen to his favorite oracle. He particularly liked the end of her program, when she’d recently started giving friendly little messages.

That night Marilee seemed not only frazzled, but rattled. She may have had one too many margaritas, because she burbled a couple of words and once put up the wrong slide for what she was talking about. Finally, though, she wound up with a summary and concluded, with a charming smile, “Well, I know we’re having a bit of stormy weather right now, but it’s not going to last much longer. Everything’s going to be fine. You have a great day tomorrow, now, you hear me?”

Joe Riddley went upstairs as satisfied as if she’d been talking directly to him.

I slipped into bed to the sound of steady rain on our tin porch roof.

6

Bless Marilee’s heart, the sun did come up beaming Saturday for Maynard and Selena’s wedding, and at ten-thirty, St. Philip Episcopal was respectably full. Selena’s parents had left their old home and retired to Florida, so she’d decided to get married in the church she and Maynard planned to attend the rest of their lives. Folks who’d helped raise Maynard were delighted, of course, and so was the chamber of commerce. The big motel up on I-20 and every bed and breakfast in town were packed with out-of-town guests.

Hubert, Maynard’s daddy, had bathed for the occasion, which was an occasion in itself. He was a short, plump little man with a pink face, and he and Joe Riddley had been neighbors literally since they were born. They disagreed about everything from preachers to politics, but we were fond of Hubert and he seemed touched we’d sit with him on the groom’s family pew.

Selena was radiant, her hair hidden by a soft tulle net. Her dress, sure enough, looked like something my four-greats grandmother might have worn, but styles are so varied these days that I’ll bet most people had no idea she was supposed to look historical. Maynard looked pretty historical himself, in a black suit with tails that Jefferson Davis would have been proud to wear.

As he stepped forward to meet Selena at the blue plush steps, Joe Riddley muttered in my ear, “If he smiles any wider, his jaw’s gonna drop off.”

The cutest person in the whole wedding party was Ridd’s little Cricket, four, who carried the rings with aplomb. The prettiest bridesmaid, of course, was Crick’s big sister, Bethany, whose dress showed curves that made her granddaddy frown and brought a lump to my throat.

We missed hearing the vows, though. The second they started saying them, those dratted chimes started playing “Fight the Good Fight” right over our heads, at a volume and tempo that almost inspired the whole congregation to go do battle with whoever forgot to turn them off.

We all went to the country club afterwards. I’d let Maynard use our name to get the ballroom, since cheap old Hubert dropped his membership to Golf Only after his wife died, and I’d consulted with Selena about the menu, flowers, and music, and I’d suggested who ought to bake her cake, but otherwise, I hadn’t done a thing.

In the dessert line, I heard a couple of teenagers complaining that they couldn’t find Maynard’s BMW. As I went to join Martha and Ridd, I said, “Sounds like every boy in town already knows about Maynard’s new car, and from what I’m hearing, it’s now missing. Skell was hoping to get Maynard to sell it back to him—you reckon he did?”

“Fat chance,” Ridd said with a grin. “He came in his old Saturn in case anybody decided to send him away all decorated.”

Walker sauntered up, sat down by me with a full plate of cake, and echoed what I’d just said. “Maynard hasn’t told a soul where he’s hidden that new car.”

“You still eat dessert like you’ve got a football game next week,” I observed, wiping sweet gooey frosting from my own lips. “You’d better start slacking off.”

“I’m gonna do that.” He winked at Martha. “I’ll start the day Mama stops telling me how to eat. You know where the car is?” he asked Ridd between bites.

“Yep.” Ridd heaped his own fork like cake was being taken off the approved-eating list in another minute. He made us wait while he chewed and swallowed. “In my garage.” Ridd and Martha had a comfortable old bungalow across town with a small detached garage. “I put on a padlock and gave Maynard the key. In fact, Bro, I need a favor. I’ll leave the key in the Saturn, and I need you to run it down to the used-car lot later today. I told him I’d do that, but I’d forgotten we had a plane to catch. You don’t have to wash it. Skye said they’ll do that while they’re cleaning it up to sell.”

“I might mosey out and have a look at the Saturn then.” Walker pulled a bottle of white shoe polish out of his pocket. As he stood, he added, “You can finish my cake, Mama.” He’d left all of three crumbs.

“Don’t ruin that car,” Ridd warned. “I’m thinking of buying it for Bethany.”

“Walker will never grow up,” I muttered as he swaggered out.

Martha chuckled. “If he does, it will kill you both.”

“Speaking of killing, did you all hear what happened at the rehearsal dinner last night?”

Ridd scowled. “Bethany told us. Said you sailed in on your dignity and took care of things.”

“The truth is, my knees were knocking, and your daddy was the one who really calmed things down. Those boys were as close as peanut butter and jelly to knocking each other’s teeth out. Think what that would have done to Maynard’s wedding pictures.”

By the time they told me of their skiing plans (they were taking Bethany out of school and would be gone all the next week), we heard a commotion that meant Maynard and Selena were coming. He’d exchanged his tux for a gray suit and a shirt of deep green. She had taken off her wedding gown and put on a brown dress so tacky I knew it had to be the latest style. Selena wasn’t as hipped on history as her new husband.

We all hurried outside. The poor Saturn sported enough shoe polish to whiten Selena’s nursing shoes for a year. “Know which ones I wrote?” Walker murmured in my ear.

“Sure,” I told him. “The ones that make your mama blush.” He snorted, but didn’t deny it.

Martha shaded her eyes and looked at dark clouds massing in the west. “The wind’s rising,” she announced, holding her full red skirt. “We’ll get more rain by nightfall, but we can use it. Everything’s been so dry.” She grew up on a farm and knew more about weather than Marilee.

“Don’t they look
fine
?” Clarinda breathed at my shoulder. She looked real fine, too, in a dark green dress with satin trim. “I’m glad he saw the light and took back that high-falutin’ car.”

“He didn’t take it back,” I enlightened her. “He just hid it in Ridd’s garage so it wouldn’t get messed up. They’re going to get it right now.”

She grunted her disappointment.

The newlyweds dashed through a gamut of jests and a hail of birdseed. Maynard helped Selena in, and kissed her thoroughly. As he slammed his door, I wondered how many of the car artists suspected he would only drive it a few blocks—or if they cared.

As they drove away, a silver Porsche pulled out of the parking lot and followed them. “Ridd”—I jiggled his elbow—“that’s Skell.”

He shaded his eyes to be sure, then nodded. “I’d better go after them, to be sure everything’s all right. Tell Martha I’ll come back for her, all right?”

“Your car is parked behind three rows of others. Mine’s right over here. Come on.” I was already fumbling in my pocketbook for my keys and heading to the driver’s side before Ridd could offer to drive. He drives like a little old lady.

Skell’s Porsche was already a couple of blocks away, waiting at the stop sign for traffic on the highway to pass. “Lead foot Mama,” Ridd groaned as I gunned the Nissan and sped after him.

I pulled in behind the Porsche in front of Ridd’s bungalow just as Skell jumped out. Ridd’s garage door was open, and Maynard was putting suitcases into the BMW.

As Ridd climbed out, I rolled down the window and heard Skell begin his useless refrain. “Come on, man, give me a break.” Looked to me like he could come up with a better song.

Maynard ignored Skell and walked back to the Saturn, where Selena was collecting a box of food I’d asked the caterers to put up for them. “We’d better hit the road if we want to reach Orlando tonight.” Turning, he added to Ridd, who had just joined them, “You want the Saturn in the garage, or just left here?”

“Leave it. We’ll take care of it. Have fun.”

Skell grabbed Maynard’s elbow. “This is serious, man. Life and death.”

Maynard tried to shake him off, but Skell clung like a burr.

“Hold it, Skell.” Ridd caught his shoulder the same way Joe Riddley had the night before. It always tickles me when one of the boys acts like one of us, after they spent so much of their growing-up years informing us they would
never
be like their parents.

Skell turned toward him. “Make him listen, Ridd. I’ll lend him my car for his honeymoon and sell him another car at cost when he gets back. I can’t do fairer than that.”

It was the first time I’d seen Skell’s face since the night before. He hadn’t shaved and I doubted he’d slept much. His eyes were red, his hair standing on end. He even wore the same clothes he’d had on the day before. Where had he been all night?

Ridd said something too soft for me to hear, then took Skell by the shoulder and steered him toward the Porsche. He held his arm in a firm grip while Maynard and Selena got into the BMW, backed around the Saturn, waved, and roared away. Then Ridd shook Skell. “Go home. This won’t look so bad after you’ve had some sleep.”

Skell looked after Maynard and Selena as if his future had driven away with them. “You don’t know,” he said in a lifeless voice. “You have no idea.”

He got in his car and headed down the road in the same direction.

 

I got home to find Joe Riddley dozing in his recliner. He still tired easily, and between Friday night’s fiesta and that morning’s wedding, he was worn out. I shook his shoulder. “Come on upstairs. We both need a nap.”

I don’t know how long we’d been sleeping when the phone rang. I was so groggy and the room was so dim, I thought at first it was early morning and the phone was the alarm. Joe Riddley had to reach over me and carry the receiver to his ear. “Yeah? Yarbroughs’.” He, too, sounded half asleep.

I heard the first three words: “This is Isaac James.” That’s all I heard. Joe Riddley sat up and pressed the phone to his ear. “What? Where?” His voice was sharp. He listened again. “Do they know who?”

I got up on one elbow, feeling a drowsy spurt of resentment. If this was magistrate business, Joe Riddley was no longer the magistrate. Then I recollected that he knew that as well as I did. If the call was for me, he’d have given it to me.

As he listened, he rubbed one hand up and down his cheek as if trying to massage his brain into working right. Finally he said, “Of course we will. We’ll go right now. Thanks.”