Drop dead divas, p.24
Drop Dead Divas, page 24
My irritation shifted to suspicion. She gave up too easily. What was she up to, I couldn’t help but wonder. At the same time, I was a bit surprised by my pessimistic and suspicious turn of mood. I just hadn’t been the same lately, I thought as I studied Miranda Watson. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe even my usually cynical outlook needed sharpening. Or smothering.
While I hung between the two worse sides of my nature, Rayna, fortunately, had no such hang-ups.
“I’m very glad you reconsidered that article, Miranda.”
“I didn’t say I was wrong,” she defended herself again. “I got my facts about the Diva luncheon straight from an attendee.”
“Trina Madewell, perhaps?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.
“Perhaps.”
“I’m sure Trina thought the worst when Bitty’s dog barged into the room and upset the tea tray,” Rayna said. “It did get a little crazy after that.”
“The dog upset the tea tray?” Miranda repeated slowly, then nodded. “Well, that does make more sense. I did wonder about the food fight, though.”
“As you may imagine, it didn’t happen exactly like you were told.” Rayna paused and smiled before directing the conversational detour back on track. “Did Naomi tell you anything about the person she suspected of stalking her, other than that she’d also been engaged to Race?”
“Just that she works on the square now. In a nice shop.”
Since there are only a few clothing stores still open on the court house square, it was pretty obvious that Rose Allgood had to be the person Miranda was reluctant to name.
“Of course,” Miranda was saying, “whoever it was could have left town by now. I mean, why would she stay here if the man she followed is dead?”
“Unless she already lives here,” Rayna said.
“Or if she has just moved here,” I said.
Miranda said nothing, obviously determined to hold onto the identity of the person. Maybe it was time to give her a not-so-gentle nudge.
“Rose Allgood has recently moved here,” I said as if thinking aloud, “and she works in one of the clothing shops on the square. She’s a business partner, in fact. She came from Biloxi, I understand.”
Miranda waved a plump hand as if dismissing me. “A coincidence, I’m sure.”
Rayna shot me a quick glance of frustration. Miranda smiled mysteriously at both of us. Then she stood up and indicated the front door with one hand.
“If you ladies have finished asking questions, I need to finish writing my column. Deadlines wait for no one, you know.”
As she stood up, Rayna said, “I hope the Divas see that apology in your column this week.”
A broad smile curved Miranda's mouth. “Oh, believe me, this week’s column is one that will have the entire town talking.”
Somehow, I thought as Rayna and I walked down the pathway to the curb, that sounded a bit ominous.
****
Of course, the minute Bitty found out we had a new lead, she was bound and determined to investigate it.
“Why not?” she said, looking from me to Rayna and back. “It’s the least we can do.”
“No,” I said, “the least we can do is nothing. You want to barge into Carolann Barnett’s shop and accuse her business partner of murder. That’s the most we can do.”
“Gaynelle is usually very accurate,” said Bitty. “If she told you Rose Allgood has a good motive for killing Race, then we should check it out.”
“What she said was that Rose was once engaged to Race,” Rayna pointed out. “That’s quite a bit of difference.”
Bitty dismissed that notion with a flick of her wrist. “I say we march right up there and ask her about him.”
I was intrigued by her appeal for tact. “Really? And how exactly shall we do that? ‘Excuse us, Miz Allgood, but we understand you were once engaged to the dead man, and we’d like to know if you killed him.’ Is that your plan?”
“Don’t be silly. We don’t have to be quite that blunt.”
Rayna looked at her wrist and said, “Oh my, I need to go home and feed the dogs before they start gnawing on furniture. I’d love to go with you, but . . . .”
When her voice trailed off, and it became obvious she intended to get out while the getting was good, I said, “How can you tell the time on that watch?”
Bitty clapped her hands and called for Chen Ling, and Rayna parried my question about the watch she wasn’t wearing by leaning toward me and whispering, “Don’t tell her we went to Miranda Watson’s house. She won’t take it well.”
Since I’m well aware of Bitty’s attitude toward people who humiliate her in print, I whispered back, “Coward!”
“Bye, Bitty,” Rayna called toward the back of the house, where Bitty was no doubt dressing Chen Ling in a pink tutu, and to me, “Wear dark glasses. Maybe Carolann won’t recognize you.”
I shook my head at her departing figure. “She knew my sister. She’ll recognize me.”
We parked in the square and walked across the street to the lingerie and book store that had forever changed my idea of what to expect from such establishments. Bitty was a little too eager, in my opinion, and I wondered if that was because she wanted to question Rose or sample some of her merchandise.
Wisely, I didn’t ask. There are some things it’s best not to know.
Once inside, Bitty and Chitling pretended to browse the racks, while I hung close by the door in order to make my escape should it be necessary. There was no sign of Rose, Carolann, or Heather. After a few minutes Bitty got impatient and walked to the desk and rang the old-fashioned little bell that sits atop the counter by the cash register.
Carolann bustled out a few moments later, and looked surprised and pleased to see us. I figured that would change quickly enough, so just waved and made sure my sunglasses still covered half my face.
“Bitty!” she greeted my deceitful cousin, “I’m so glad to see you again. It’s been forever since you came in. I have a new shipment of things that we’re still putting out. I know how you love the special laces and silks from Vera Wang. Do you want to see them first?”
Chitling barked when Carolann got too close, and she jumped back. “Oh, this is the dog I keep hearing about. Isn’t it?”
I understood why she might be doubtful, and chuckled to myself. Since there was no sign of Rose Allgood, I might be spared the awkward scene of Bitty being tossed out of the shop on her curvaceous little rear.
“Why yes,” Bitty trilled, “this is my Chen Ling. Isn’t she precious? I don’t know what I would do without her. She’s been my constant companion these past few months of trials and tribulations. I know you’ve heard all about Philip, and of course now those horrible murders—I wonder, is Rose Allgood in today?”
Carolann seemed momentarily confused. I empathized. Sometimes Bitty can switch conversational gears so fast it’s hard to keep up.
“Why yes, she is in. She oversees the merchandise in our new department. Have you seen it yet? It’s quite nice. Rose and Heather have been working away in there.”
“New department? Oh, I hadn’t heard,” Bitty lied without a hint of shame. “I’ll have to check it out, of course. You know how I like to keep up with the latest fashions.”
Carolann laughed at that. I found myself snickering and following behind them at a safe distance as Bitty was led to the Shangri-la of crotchless panties and paraphernalia. Still chattering away, Carolann sounded quite enthusiastic about what she referred to as the “Blue Velvet Room.”
“There was a movie with that title, you know,” Carolann added, “and I just thought it was so appropriate, and Rose agreed with me, so that’s what we call it, and—well, this is Rose. Rose, this is Miz Bitty Hollandale, and she’s asked specially to see your stock today.”
Stock didn’t sound like quite the right word to me, but then, I’ve always had a bit of trouble figuring out what exactly one should call sex toys. They don’t really seem to fit the innocent name of “toys” to me. That word brings up visions of kids at Christmastime or in the schoolyard, not whips, chains, handcuffs with fur, and odd-looking things that seem to defy logic as well as physics. But then, I’ve been told I’m quite naïve in those areas, too. Thankfully, that’s true.
Chen Ling set up a deafening racket as soon as Bitty stepped into the Blue Velvet Room, and I was pretty sure I knew why. All those little soldiers standing at attention had probably scared the bejesus out of her. They had me.
Irresistibly drawn closer, I stood in the doorway under the velvet drapes and got a bird’s-eye view of the proceedings as Bitty pretended to browse among the shelves of upright rubber penises while she talked animatedly to Rose Allgood. Fascinated, I had to admit Bitty kept her focus pretty well while standing in a forest of rainbow-colored erections.
“So you see,” Bitty was saying as she idly picked up a massive rubber penis complete with testicles and an on/off switch, “as soon as I heard you were new in town, I had to come right down and introduce myself. It’s so important for a community to welcome newcomers, don’t you think?”
Rose regarded Bitty with cool appraisal, and I knew she wasn’t a bit taken in by my cousin’s blather. She was obviously just waiting for the punch line.
“You’re very kind,’ she said. “This is our newest model, the JetBlaster 600. Do you like it?”
“Like what? Oh, this? Heavens, what on earth—stop it, precious, you mustn’t do that. No, no, don’t bite it—let go!”
Chitling, accustomed to rubber toys that bounced and jingled, had a tight grip on the head of the penis with all three of her fangs. Bitty did her best to pry the dog loose. It was a losing battle.
In the struggle, the switch went from Off to On, and the entire penis began to vibrate at warp speed. Chen Ling was delighted, Bitty was horrified, and Rose Allgood was worried about ruining her “stock.” I was laughing too hard to notice what Carolann was doing.
About the time Bitty set Chitling down on the floor to try and retrieve the rubber dildo, a customer entered through the separate outside door into the Blue Velvet Room. It was Fate.
Chen Ling took off at a pace matched only by a roadrunner fleeing a coyote, and was out the door and down the sidewalk in a flash, dragging the still vibrating dildo that was nearly as big as she was. By this time I was near hysteria. I collapsed on the small step under the blue velvet drapes and tried to keep from wetting my pants.
Rose Allgood drew herself up into a tight knot of disapproval and announced that the charge for that item was $59.99 plus tax, and Bitty threw her hands up in the air and took off after her wayward pug. I just lay back on the nice carpeting and screamed with hysterical laughter, while Carolann Barnett seemed torn between following Bitty, waiting on the newly arrived customer, or finding a glass of water to throw in my face.
I heard later that she did none of those things, but just turned around and walked to the back of the store. At the time, I took no notice. I was just too busy pounding my fists on the carpet and cackling like an old hen with a nest full of eggs.
Some days, it’s good to be alive.
CHAPTER 17
Maybe it was the exhaustive thinking I’d been doing lately, or maybe it was just that I had finally reached the point where my brain would not absorb any more abuse, but I went to bed early that night and slept late the next morning. Not even my mother’s call up the stairs had gotten me out of bed. No, I burrowed farther beneath my handsewn quilt like a rabbit going down a hole and pretended I didn’t hear anything. It must have worked pretty well, because by the time I finally opened my eyes again and looked at the clock, it was nearly one in the afternoon.
The overhead fan whirled cool air down on me to help the central air that Daddy had put in a decade or so ago, and the quilt was just enough to keep me from being too chilled or too warm. I’m one of those people that prefer it cool at night so I can pile on the blankets and snuggle under them. I’m sure psychiatrists would have a lot to say about my quirk, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s one of my minor ones, so I’m sure they’d focus more on my bigger quirks.
Like tagging along behind Bitty no matter what madness she drags me into. There was no doubt that for the next few weeks the talk of the town would be the runaway pug dragging a flesh-colored vibrating penis with a magnificent erection down the sidewalk right at the Holly Springs rush hour. There had been two wrecks caused by people halting in the middle of the street to stare disbelievingly, one fainting spell from an elderly lady who happened to be exiting the bank when Chen Ling trotted past, and a close call with a patrol car called to the scene by someone on a cell phone reporting that dogs had savaged someone and were dragging body parts all over the downtown area.
Bitty got a ticket for violating the leash law, but on the bright side, she now owns a magnificent rubber penis to keep on her bedside table. It may have a few teeth marks in it, but it survived the ordeal in remarkably good shape. Of course, Bitty was mortified by the entire incident and refuses to discuss it.
Fortunately, she also abandoned her intention to interrogate Rose Allgood about her previous relationship with Race Champion. Life should always be so easy.
This time, however, Bitty had been thrust into the middle of two murders by no fault of her own. It was almost as if someone had planned it that way. So who—besides the two Madewell sisters—would hate Bitty enough to try and incriminate her? But maybe I was looking at it the wrong way, I mused as I watched the ceiling fan blades blur shadows on the walls. Maybe it was someone who thought Bitty was a good scapegoat because she had an alibi, or because she could afford the best attorney in town.
Bitty’s alibi was okay, but not the best. Jackson Lee Brunetti was—in my opinion anyway—the best attorney in town. So even if the police should charge Bitty with murder, she’d have little trouble being acquitted. Only circumstantial evidence at best tied Naomi to her in any but the most innocuous way.
After about a quarter hour contemplating whirring fan blades and the vagaries of murder suspects, I felt refreshed enough to actually get out of bed. Really, I was getting slothful lately. It must be the heat. Days were scorchers, and even the nights muggy and too hot to sit comfortably outside.
By the time I showered and went downstairs to the kitchen, Mama and Daddy had finished eating a light snack and were still sitting at the table discussing their next trip. That was enough to make me consider going back upstairs to bed, but my stomach was empty and growling.
Empty saucers with what looked like chocolate cake crumbs sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by colorful brochures. CANADA leaped out at me from the page as I headed to the refrigerator. I held open the refrigerator door a little longer than I should, while I considered asking to go along with them if they actually went to Canada. It sounded very nice, and very cool.
What I said though, was, “I don’t see any cake in here.”
Mama turned in her chair to look at me. “For heaven’s sake, Trinket, chocolate cake should be served at room temperature. It’s on the stand. Are you having cake for breakfast?”
She said “breakfast” with special emphasis. Obviously a reminder that I had slept far too long.
“No,” I said as I pulled out an egg carton. “I’m having eggs first. Then cake. Are you planning another trip?”
Daddy answered, “We’re thinking about it. It’s so blamed hot here. We thought about going up north. Maybe seeing Niagara Falls.”
Since that sounded a lot closer than the brochure on Egypt and the Nile, I said it was an excellent idea. I felt Mama watching me as I broke two eggs into a cup, stirred them up with salt, pepper, and a slice of American cheese, then covered the cup with a paper towel and stuck it in the microwave.
“Are you all right?” she asked me a minute and a half later when I pulled my eggs out of the microwave.
“Uh-huh. Just hungry. Why?”
“You didn’t say anything about our trip.”
“Yes, I did. I said it’s a good idea. Didn’t you hear me?” I scooped the eggs out of the cup onto a small plate, and then cut a nice slice of cake to go along with them.
“Yes. I just thought you said something else.”
“Oh. No. That was all.”
Since my eggs were a little too hot, I took a bite of the cake. It was moist and delicious, gooey with lots of creamy frosting. As I licked my fingers, I looked up to see them both watching me.
“What? Can’t I have breakfast without an audience?”
Daddy smiled. “Sure you can, pumpkin. Mama and I are just—well, a little worried about you lately.”
“About me? Why?” I was dumbfounded. “I’m just fine.”
“Are you sure?” Mama asked. Her normally clear brow was furrowed in a slight frown. For a woman her age, she has great skin and very few wrinkles. I probably looked like that once. Back before I came home to Holly Springs and started hanging out with Bitty again. Before too much longer I would no doubt look like a dried apple doll, all deep, pruney ridges and my eyes nearly lost under my eyelid folds.
Rather concerned that my recent activities had hastened the inevitable, I pulled the toaster toward me and peered at my reflection. Was it just the curve of the toaster top or was my face really that shape? At least my wrinkles weren’t that bad yet. I could still see without much trouble.
“No,” I answered, “I’m not at all sure, now that you mention it. Do I look sick? Am I running fever, do you think? Maybe I’m contagious.”
Mama raised her eyebrows at me. “I do not mean that kind of all right, Trinket. It seems to your father and me that you’re keeping really odd hours lately. And half the time you’re not here, and when you are here, you get a phone call and rush out of the house like your tail feathers are on fire.”
“Ah. No, my tail feathers are fine, thank you. It’s just all that business about the murders, and the Divas, and Bitty’s money, and whoever it was who tried to kill us, that’s on my mind.”
“Sugar,” Daddy said, “what you need is a vacation from your head.”
