“A friend of the family.”
“Uh huh.” He stooped beside the body and placed two fingers to the carotid artery. “He’s definitely dead.” He rose to his feet. “Do you have a name?
“Theodore Adamson.”
“So what do you think happened here, Theodore Adamson?”
Teddy didn’t like the man or his tone. “The obvious guess would be alcohol poisoning. Or pulmonary aspiration.”
Moore looked down at Scooter’s body for a long moment. “But you don’t think it was either.”
“No.”
He gave Teddy an assessing once over. “You seem to know a lot about the business of death.”
“Yes.”
Moore took a notebook from his inner coat pocket. “Why’s that?”
“Medic.”
Both men became aware of the quiet in the porch enclosure at that moment. They looked over at the Tizzington sisters who were no longer sniffling into their handkerchiefs with shock but were instead leaning forward in their chairs listening to every word.
The doors into the house opened and Bubba stood there, a crowd of guests behind him. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
Teddy cleared his throat. “It’s Scooter, Mr. Bailey.”
Bubba stepped onto the porch closing the doors behind him. “What happened?” He crossed the small distance to look down at his mechanic. “He’s not…he’s not dead?”
“I’m afraid he is.” Moore said.
“How…what happened? It’s Christmas Eve!”
Moore moved to stand beside Bubba. “Mr. Bailey, you need to keep everyone out of this area. Do you have some place these ladies can wait until I can question them?”
Bubba took a step back. “And why would you want to do that? What business is this to a car salesman?”
Teddy looked from Moore to Bubba then took Bubba by the arm and moved him toward the door. “Why don’t you take the Tizzingtons to your study, Mr. Bailey. I’ll stay here with Moore and wait for the sheriff to arrive.”
“The sheriff?”
“It’s a suspicious death. He’ll need to be in charge of things.”
“Suspicious? Why is it suspicious?”
“We don’t know how he died.”
All the bravado faded from Bubba’s stance as if the air had been let out of a balloon. He nodded and extended a hand toward Tessa and Izzy Tizzington. “Come on, ladies. This is no place for you to be right now.”
As soon as the doors closed behind Bubba and the Tizzington sisters, Teddy rounded on Moore. “Why does Mr. Bailey think you’re a car salesman?”
“Well, not exactly a car salesman. The banker introduced me as a potential buyer for his car dealership.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
“So when I tell him that you’re a DEA agent, he’ll be fine with that?”
Moore massaged the lines in his forehead with his thumb. “The undercover operation’s blown. It doesn’t really matter what Bailey thinks.”
“I think we should wait for the sheriff to take charge of things.”
“And I think it’s a strange coincidence that my informant turns up dead the minute you arrive in town.”
“Scooter? An informant?” Teddy frowned. “What would Scooter know about drugs?”
“Why don’t you leave the questions to me and get the cat out of here before he contaminates the crime scene.”
Teddy looked down to see Trouble sniffing at the red Maraschino cherry.
I say, there’s no need for Teddy to scoop me up so abruptly. I’m merely in search of the facts. That Moore fellow may be a lawman but he’s no better than Lestrade, that bumbler. This is clearly a case of premeditated murder conveniently made to look like a natural death. My suspicion is that Teddy saw the same tell-tale mark that I detected high on Scooter’s neck just at the hairline. The tiny bead of blood hadn’t yet begun to coagulate. The question is, what was the poison de jour, and what is our killer’s motive?
Ah, at least Teddy has the good sense to deposit me in the heart of the suspects for I have no doubt that one of our party goers is the perpetrator. Now, to suss out the murderer. The sheriff is here. A deputy guards each entrance to the house though none of the guests seem eager to leave. Small towns, you’ve got to love the impulse to gossip.
Billie Dean flies into Teddy’s arms the moment he drops me to the floor.
“Teddy, what’s happening?” she asks. “Did the Tizzingtons poison poor Scooter?”
“Not with Maraschino cherries from the Quik Pik.”
“Thank God,” she says. “It must be an accident.”
Teddy kisses Billie Dean on the forehead and eases her toward a quiet corner of the room. “I’m afraid it wasn’t an accident. In fact, it’s premeditated murder.”
“Murder!”
Every head in the room turns toward Billie Dean and Teddy. He moves to block her from the staring populous of Turnout, Mississippi.
“Who would want to harm Scooter?” he asks.
“No one.” Billie Dean frowns, tears standing in her eyes. “Scooter wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She takes the handkerchief Teddy offers her and dabs the corners of her eyes.
“Then it had to be to keep him from telling something he knew,” Teddy says. “He told me there was trouble but I just thought he’d been into the punch.”
“Oh, no.” Billie Dean’s eyes open wide in horror. “He wanted to talk to Daddy but I just ignored him. If I’d only paid attention.”
“What happened to Scooter isn’t your fault. Someone came to the party prepared to end his life. There’s no way you could have known he was in danger and certainly no way you could have prevented it.”
“But surely it isn’t someone we know.” Billie Dean stands on tiptoes to scan the crowd over Teddy’s shoulder. “Not one of our friends.”
“Then perhaps someone we don’t know, at least not that well.”
Teddy and I both watch for Billie Dean’s reaction. Now we are getting down to the bare bones of the matter.
She shakes her head. “You mean…” her voice drops to a whisper, “you mean Evan?”
“You have to admit it’s odd that he simply showed up in town one day and decided to stay. Turnout isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis with a lot to offer.”
“But he’s been here for months. Why now if he had a beef with Scooter?” She hesitates. “And there’s that man Daddy brought to the party. Roger Moore. He’s the true stranger.”
Teddy moves closer to Billie Dean, and speaks near her ear. “Moore is a DEA agent. He was working undercover. So was Scooter.”
“What!”
“Billie Dean,” Teddy says with exasperation, “you’ve got to keep your voice down. There’s a killer in this room and we have to figure out who it is. I don’t have a lot of faith in Moore and this kind of thing is completely beyond Sheriff Quincy’s experience.”
“Where’s Daddy?”
Both Teddy and I look around the room. There’s no sign of Bubba Bailey. But, hello. What is this? I saunter over to the love seat where Izzy and Tessa Tizzington have young Evan squished between them. There is something about the three of them, sitting as they are in profile. It’s true that all humans look alike to cats but these three really do look alike. I sniff at Tessa’s shoe. “Yeow!”
“Scat!” She says and kicks out at me. She misses, of course, and Billie Dean rushes to pick me up and holds me close.
“So sorry, Ms. Tizzington.” She says and starts to turn away then stops and looks down at the beautiful evening shoe with the red sole. “Lovely shoes.”
Tessa smiles. “Thank you. A little Christmas present to myself.”
The door opens and Bubba enters the room. He looks around and zeroes in on Billie Dean and me. With a jerk of his head he directs her to join him on the fringe of the room.
“What is it, Daddy?”
“I’ve been interrogated by that … that j
erk, Moore. He thinks we’re running a drug ring out of the car lot.”
“No! Daddy why would he think that?”
Teddy moves to Billie Dean’s side. “Is everything all right?”
“What could be better?” Bubba barks. “My mechanic’s dead, the house is filled with liars and drug dealers, and I’m a suspect.”
“Daddy, no.” Billie Dean says. “Why would you be a suspect?”
“Apparently Scooter has been working with the DEA for months.” A hurt look settles over his features. “He didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”
“What was there to tell, Mr. Bailey?” Teddy asks.
“Apparently drugs have been running through the shop of the dealership. They arrested a man named Higgins tonight when he crossed the county line.”
Higgins. Well, that explains everything.
“The Mazda.” Billie Dean said.
Yes, dear girl, the Mazda. However, Higgins and his like were merely the conduit. I see the grand scheme. The rosemary essence in the car was to foil the drug dogs. I could comment on the gullibility of dogs at this point but I confess, I missed this vital clue. It is, no doubt, the curse of having a highly sensitive sense of smell. Very clever, that. Now, how to make these bipeds see what’s before their eyes. I start squirming and Billie Dean releases me.
I sprint to the love seat where the Tizzingtons are busily conferring and I hop onto Tessa’s lap.
She jumps to her feet sending me to the floor. “Cat!” she shouts and begins brushing at the front of her lovely skirt.
All eyes are on the trio and I see the light go on in Teddy’s expression. Billie Dean realizes the similarity at the same moment. She and Teddy look at each other then back at the Tizzingtons.
Billie Dean tugs on Teddy’s arm, pulling him close. “It all fits,” she whispers. “Evan has to be Gabby Tizzington’s son. She’s the only one of the triplets who married.”
Why hadn’t anyone seen the relationship before now, Billie Dean wondered. Evan had been living in Turnout for nearly a year and no one saw the resemblance. Until now.
Billie Dean let her gaze travel around the room. The number of guests was slowly diminishing as one after the other was called away to be interviewed by Moore. Scooter had stumbled onto something that had cost him his life. Who in this room could be ruthless enough to kill him because of it?
Their minister was comforting her mother. Jane Adamson was trying to explain the situation into Cousin Sister’s good ear without shouting. Everyone else was gathered in small groups except Mr. Highsmith. He stood alone against the far wall and mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
What else had they missed, she wondered? Then she remembered. She grabbed Teddy’s arm. “The shoes.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Tessa’s shoes. They’re Christian Louboutin.”
Teddy shrugged. “And?”
“Tessa and Izzy live in their parents’ old house. They have a yoga studio in Turnout where they sell herbals and crystals. Does that sound like money to you?”
“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with her shoes?”
“Those shoes cost at least a thousand dollars.”
Teddy’s eyebrows shot up. “For one pair of shoes?”
“Yes.” Billie Dean watched as Izzy stood and moved toward the door of the room. “And the facelift.”
“What?”
“Tessa had a facelift and now she’s wearing thousand dollar shoes.”
“How do you know she had a facelift?”
Billie Dean looked up into an expression of total bewilderment on Teddy’s face. “Hello? She’s fifty at least and look at her. Besides, that’s not the point.”
Teddy turned to watch Tessa as she sipped at what looked like a glass of bourbon. “Right. The Tizzington sisters have gone from cheap wine and shopping at the Quik Pik to facelifts and expensive shoes. Where’d she get the money?”
“Exactly.”
Teddy hesitated and frowned. “How do you know how much the shoes cost?”
“Seriously?” Billie Dean wanted to thump him.
“Right.” Teddy smiled down at her.
That smile was so distracting. If only her mother hadn’t interrupted them on the side porch. Under the mistletoe. That thought brought Billie Dean back to the moment. “Scooter and Mr. Highsmith were always crazy for Izzy. That’s how she lured him to the porch.”
Billie Dean and Teddy watched Izzy glance around the room then place her hand on the door knob.
Teddy sprang into action. He crossed the room in three giant strides and caught the door, effectively blocking Izzy’s exit. “Going somewhere, Ms. Tizzington?”
“Just going out to have a smoke.”
“I don’t think so,” Teddy said.
Izzy went perfectly still then she cocked an eyebrow at Teddy. “Why ever not, Teddy? It is Teddy, isn’t it? Home on leave.”
“Tell me about your nephew, Ms. Tizzington,” Billie Dean said as she came to stand beside Teddy. “Why the secrecy?”
Izzy pursed her lips and gave Billie Dean an up and down assessment, then shrugged. “It’s no secret.”
“Did Scooter know?” Teddy asked.
“That nosey little ferret. A waste of good poison, if you ask me.”
The nonchalance of her tone caused Billie Dean to take a step back. “What have you done?”
“Nothing. I went out on the side porch to convince Scooter that he had it all wrong and found that the problem had been solved.”
“Solved how?” Teddy asked.
Izzy gave him a condescending look. “He was dead already.”
“You thought you could pass it off as food poisoning,” Teddy said. “But you knew better.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. How would I know anything about poisons?”
“Just like you didn’t know to use the strong scent of rosemary to prevent detection of the drugs. What was Evan smuggling in the cars he sold?” Billie Dean asked.
A noise on the far side of the room drew their attention. Evan had the window open and was making his escape. Trouble flew across the room like a flash and leaped onto Evan’s back causing him to stumble, hit his head against the window casing, and fall back into the room. The nearest neighbor had the presence of mind to slam the window shut.
Billie Dean ran to snatch Trouble out of harms way and cuddle him to her chest. “Smart kitty,” she whispered into his fur.
Teddy dragged Evan to his feet, shoved him into the coat closet, closed the door, and blocked it with a chair. He smiled at Billie Dean and scratched Trouble behind his ears. “That’s one clever cat.”
“Tammy Lynn always claimed he was a good detective and now we know.”
“Even Moore should be able to work out that the Tizzingtons and their nephew had to get rid of Scooter before he blew the whistle on their operation,” Teddy said. “Now it’s just a matter of deciding which one gave him a fatal injection and what the substance was.”
Trouble twined between Teddy’s legs and said “Yeow.”
“I like your cat.”
“He’s not my cat.”
“Right. Well, he’s one special cat and I think he deserves a treat.“
Trouble started toward the kitchen at a trot.
“I think he understands me,” Teddy said.
“Well, of course he does.”
“Come on. Let’s see what’s left of the party food.”
Agnes and her daughters were parceling up the left over food and tidying up the kitchen. The last of the guests were giving their names and contact information to DEA agents helping Moore with the investigation.
Teddy took a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator and smiled down at Billie Dean. “Now that all the excitement is over, I think we should find a quiet spot and reminisce, don’t you?” He opened the door onto the screened back porch as he spoke.
“Reminiscing is good,” she said in a breathy voice as she preceded him out in
to the cool evening air.
Teddy felt the slight bulge in his jacket pocket and smiled as he closed the door behind him. He tore the foil from the champagne bottle and popped the cork. The sound caused Trouble, who had slipped out the door with them, to hiss and knock over the garbage can.
“Oh, Teddy, I’m sorry.”
He laughed. “I’ve been trying to create the perfect moment all evening. I guess it’s just not meant to be.” He reached down and righted the garbage can. There among the wilted lettuce, shrimp shells, and soiled party cups lay a pair of latex gloves.
Teddy froze, his mind racing.
Without a word he threw open the screen door and cleared the back steps with a single leap. He ran around the house and saw his target headed toward a Ford F150, key in hand.
At the sound of pounding feet, Mr. Highsmith turned. A look of horror spread over his face and he began to run. Teddy tackled him and rolled coming out on top of the pharmacist’s chest. “Doctor Death, I presume.”
Another case is satisfactorily in the books. The sight of all the Tizzingtons in handcuffs along with their nephew and the pharmacist swells my chest with pride.
Mr. Highsmith allowed himself to be manipulated by his love of Izzy and his life-long rivalry with Scooter for her hand. While it may be true that Izzy didn’t exactly tell him to inject Scooter with succinylcholine, she knew from years of pushing his buttons how to get what she wanted.
It will be a matter for the courts to sort out the degree of guilt for all the Tizzingtons and Highsmith, but all in all, justice has been served. The one hundred thousand dollar reward for the capture of the kingpin of the smuggling ring will go a long way toward righting Bubba’s financial woes as Billie Dean and Teddy have graciously relinquished all claim to it.
Now, if only Teddy can accomplish the most important task of the evening. I dare say that ring is burning a hole in his pocket.
Ah, what’s this I see? The two lovebirds are sitting in the swing under the old pecan tree. My guess is that she said yes. Well done, Teddy.
Now, to the important matter at hand. How to get the cellophane off the mincemeat pies.
About the Author
Trouble Under the Mistletoe Page 3
