Killer in Crinolines

by Duffy Brown

  “No thanks, I’ve already eaten.”

  I jumped up, turned, and faced Boone leaning against one of the porch posts, moonlight in his hair, paint flakes on his black shirt, a glint of humor in his eyes. That didn’t happen very often. “What was that all about?” he asked.

  “Leftovers? And why do you keep sneaking up on me?”

  “It’s more fun that way. Who’s the guy? The Jag?”

  “Oh, Doc Hunky.” My head started to clear from the one-too-many glasses of very fine wine. I felt a blush creep up my neck. “Heart surgeon.”

  Slurping sounded behind me and I spun around to BW’s snout buried in the foil. “That was tomorrow’s dinner for both of us, you know. Ever hear of sharing?” I looked back to Boone, my head clearing a bit more. “What are you doing here?”

  “There was a car with out-of-state plates and Reagan Summerside riding shotgun.”

  “You’re following me!”

  “I was at Abe’s on Lincoln doing Snake Bites with Pillsbury. I noticed.”

  Snake Bites are half hard cider, half Guinness and taste like burnt tar. After a few of those I don’t know how anyone noticed anything. “I don’t need a keeper.”

  That got me a you wanna bet look.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’ll remember that the next time you’re in a swamp or trapped under a bookcase and, for the record, I hope Hunky’s a better surgeon than he is a kisser.”

  “Bet he’s better than you are.” Open mouth, insert foot. Boone’s kisses were legendary, the stuff women talked about in hushed voices late at night after finishing off a pitcher of margaritas. “I don’t need you critiquing my love life.”

  “Blondie, you have no love life.”

  “Out!” I pointed a stiff finger toward the sidewalk before I said anything else stupid.

  A slow sort of grin spread across Boone’s lips and he trotted down the steps and headed for the Chevy parked in the shadows across the street. I watched Boone drive off, then stomped around the porch in my bare feet wondering if I had two functioning brain cells left in my whole head. Boone used to tick me off regularly during the divorce but I thought the days of him getting to me were over. Well, think again!

  It was too early and too hot to sleep and I was still mad at Boone and even madder at myself for saying dumb stuff. I slid on flip-flops, then hitched up BW. We headed for the park. Couples strolled hand in hand by Forsyth Fountain along with late-night joggers squeezing in some exercise time. Not all that long ago walking in this particular area at night implied you had a death wish. Then the historic district of downtown Savannah got way overpriced and the Victorian district blossomed with scaffolds and saws and fresh coats of paint, bringing the place back to the splendor it had once possessed.

  At East Harris I caught sight of Bridesmaid coming out of Pinkie Master’s, one of the oldest watering holes in Savannah, proven by the layer of dust collected over the yellow neon Miller sign behind the bar. The place was frequented by all who loved cheap PBR tallboys and Tabasco popcorn. That meant everyone in town, including Jimmy Carter once upon a time. Long live the Jimmy!

  “Hi,” I said to Bridesmaid, wondering if she would remember me especially in her present state of alcoholic bliss. She gave me one of those do I know you looks.

  “I was at the wedding.”

  “Well, I for one am glad that bastard’s dead and gone.” Bridesmaid swayed, her blonde hair flopping in her face. I sat her down at one of the tables in front of the bar. Bridesmaid knew a lot more about that wedding than I did and maybe she’d be willing to share her thoughts on the subject now with a few drinks in her.

  “Do you have any idea who’d want to kill Simon?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

  “Me!” Bridesmaid waved her hand in the air, nearly falling off the chair. “That dipstick lied to me. He told me stuff he didn’t mean one bit. Said he wanted me instead of Waynetta all along and I believed him. I should have known better than to make whoopie at the wedding but I was a little woozy from the champagne.” She stopped and rolled her shoulders. “Actually I was drunk as a skunk.” Bridesmaid dropped her voice. “What Simon really wanted was s-e-x. I know that now.” She gave me a glassy-eyed stare. “I didn’t just imagine it, did I? Simon really is dead?”

  “As a doornail. Were you afraid Simon would tell Waynetta about your encounter?”

  “Nope.” Bridesmaid shook her head. “I knew he wouldn’t do a dumb thing like that. Simon had a whole lot more to lose than I did if Waynetta found out we were together. Waynetta’s not much into sharing. She’s more a get-even kind of girl. When I couldn’t find my dress I went looking for it. I knew if it didn’t turn up, I’d ruin the wedding and Waynetta would kill me.” Bridesmaid hiccupped and rested her forehead against the palm of her hand. “But she found out anyway, then took my dress, put it on, and killed Simon herself.”

  My heart stopped. “You saw her?”

  “Didn’t have to. I know Waynetta. Mess her over and you’re dead.” Bridesmaid held her arms wide open. “She might as well have killed me, too. I don’t have any friends. No one will talk to me. That’s why I’m here. I have to meet some new people. I’ll never land myself a proper husband after all this.” A tear slid down her cheek, smearing her mascara.

  Waynetta may have been frothing at the mouth over Simon doing Bridesmaid in the closet, but murder him because of it? Scratch his eyes out maybe but out-and-out stabbing?

  I put my arm around Bridesmaid and BW parked his big head in her lap offering doggie sympathy. I needed to get Bridesmaid some coffee and a cab. “Waynetta doesn’t control all of Savannah, you know,” I said in consolation. “There are those out there who don’t give a flying fig what she thinks.” I considered Bridesmaid’s social circle and realized my last statement was a complete lie. “You’ll find someone.”

  “A janitor no doubt.”

  “I bet he’ll be a really nice janitor.”

  • • •

  “Pecan chicken, grits, bad kisser,” I mumbled to Auntie KiKi at the crack of dawn the next morning. She was standing over my bed shaking me awake.

  KiKi plopped down beside me. “How did you know I was going to ask about your date?”

  I pulled the sheet over my head. “You’re obsessed about Doc Hunky and you know where I hide my spare key.”

  “Well, don’t fret about the kissing part. I’m willing to bet he’s a right fast learner. Is he going to ask you out again? I bet he is. Look at you, you’re lovely. Well, not now of course, you look like something trapped in the woods.” I heard KiKi pacing the floor. “Call him. You need to call him today, tell him you had a great time. Ask him over for dinner. No! You’re a lousy cook, no dinner. Wash his car, men love it when you take care of them. Send him flowers. Do women send men flowers?”

  I peeled back the sheet and propped myself up on one elbow, the alarm clock reading six A.M. BW was still fast asleep. My dog had a better life than I did. “How many cups of coffee this morning?”

  “Three, four, maybe five . . . and a half. Putter’s off to a conference in Atlanta and was up early to make the drive with Doc Hunky. So now I’m awake and so should you be.” Meaning if KiKi was awake, the whole world was awake especially if they happened to be on a date the night before. She had on a pink housecoat, a hint of floral nightgown underneath, matching slippers, and pink rollers in her hair. Auntie KiKi color coordinated in sleep and beyond.

  “Did he hold your hand?” KiKi grinned, pupils dilated. “Bet he’s a great hand-holder, being a surgeon and all.”

  The only way to get out of a blow-by-blow recounting of my date with a doctor was to offer up something better. “Why don’t we head on down to Cakery Bakery for out-of-the-oven doughnuts, hmm? They open at six. They start baking at four thirty. Everything will be fresh. We’ll be one of the first in line. Can’t you just see the glaze melting off the warm doughnuts, white icing dripping down the sides, the aroma of things cooling on big racks?”

/>   “I’m supposed to be on a diet of sorts. Then again, I did use skim milk in my coffee.”

  “Well, there you go.” And fifteen minutes later we were in the Beemer, because walking was not near fast enough with the promise of fresh pastries at the other end of the journey. As we drove, the city stirred to life, hazy morning gray surrendering to full sunlight. People with dogs and cups of coffee in hand took to the sidewalks while others snatched newspapers off the front porch or headed for work.

  “So, did you wear something nice? Show some cleavage? Maybe that kept his eyes off your roots.”

  Even doughnuts couldn’t save me. “We had good food and wine and split bread pudding for dessert. That was my low-fat concession for dating a heart guy.”

  “Thought I saw Walker Boone’s car parked out front.”

  “Must have been another ’57 red convertible. Look, the lights are on in the bakery. We’re just in time.”

  KiKi parked and locked up. “I’ve never been here just when they pull the first batch from the oven,” she said, taking off in a fast trot.

  “And with a little luck it’ll never happen again.” I opened the green door with a cupcake stenciled on the window as Hollis came out. Every bleached hair in place, teeth buffed to a high gloss. As far as I knew the man never got out of bed before ten.

  “What are you doing up at his hour?” he asked me, a sarcastic edge in his voice. “Making a doughnut run?” His eyes drifted to my middle, brow arching in disapproval.

  “I have an early meeting with the mayor,” he said, his usual I-am-God attitude firmly in place. “Thought I’d bring some doughnuts for the office. Selling some property to the city. Going to make a nice commission.” Hollis folded his arms. “Are you ready to let me sell Cherry House? Bankruptcy isn’t pretty, Reagan.”

  “When I’m ready to sell, you’ll be the last to know.” I pushed past Hollis before I lost my appetite completely and met up with KiKi at the display case, the sight of fresh gooey things reviving my spirits.

  “What did Hollis want?” KiKi asked, a touch of doughnut drool at the corner of her mouth.

  “To drive me nuts, and he’s succeeding. I should have let him rot in jail.”

  “But then you would have lost Cherry House.”

  “There is that.”

  Early-bird pastry lovers trooped in, Delta and two other counter gals all smiles and greeting people. The way I figured it, Savannah was divided into two parts, the morning people and the night people. Sometimes the parts ran into each other, like when the morning people got up extra early or the night people got in extra late or there were extenuating circumstances like a buttinsky auntie throwing everything out of whack.

  Most of the bakery orders were takeout for offices and people on the go. Only a few customers occupied the tables. GracieAnn and repairman Percy, toolbox at his side, sat by the window sharing a strawberry Danish. GracieAnn smiled at Percy and fed him a dollop of filling that he licked off her finger. She squeezed his hand, then pushed back her chair and headed for the counter to help Delta wait on customers. Either Percy was a natural at undercover work or something else was going on. I left KiKi to memorize the display case and wandered over to Percy, keeping my back to GracieAnn. “How are things?” I asked Percy in a near whisper. “Any news I might be interested in?”

  “Oh my goodness, yes.” Percy didn’t look up at me but stared straight ahead toward the counter. “Isn’t she the most wonderful girl in the world?”

  I glanced back to GracieAnn to make sure that’s who Percy had in his sights. Yep, it was GracieAnn all right.

  “I’m in love, I truly am.” Percy blushed, his usually pale cheeks the color of his hair. “I’m a man smitten.”

  I sat down in the chair GracieAnn had just vacated and looked Percy straight in the eyes. “Chantilly? Murder? Any of this sound familiar? We’re trying to find a killer here, remember? Someone GracieAnn knows may have offed Simon. Any leads? I need leads, Percy. I’m a desperate woman here. Focus, man, focus.”

  “GracieAnn wouldn’t know a killer. She’s sweet and kind and loving and she always smells like warm cookies. We’re good together. GracieAnn keeps breaking things in the bakery so I have to stay around here to repair them. Isn’t that the most romantic thing you every heard? Today I’m fixing the deep fryer for the doughnuts. She cut the electric wires just for me. What a girl.”

  “What happens when she finds out you’re Chantilly’s lawyer?”

  Percy gasped, then put his finger over his lips. “I can’t tell her that,” he said under his fingers. “She hates Chantilly. She loves me, she truly does.” Percy let out a deep sigh, the dopey smile back. He propped his elbow on the table, his chin in his palm gazing at the woman of his dreams.

  I met up with KiKi, balancing two doughnuts on a plate and two cups. I snagged the cups. “Any more caffeine and you can flap your arms and fly back to East Gaston.”

  “Decaf, honey, just decaf and the doughnuts are baked, not the glazed. I figure that puts me about fifty calories to the good and it’s only six thirty. I like this diet.” I followed KiKi outside to the tables and selected the doughnut with sprinkles. “So what’s Percy found out?” KiKi asked.

  “That he’s in love with GracieAnn.”

  KiKi’s eyes rounded over her chocolate doughnut with chocolate icing. “Now that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that God does indeed work in mysterious ways. How’d that happen?”

  “Maybe God had a little help and GracieAnn recognized Percy as Chantilly’s lawyer and she’s making a play for him. She could be protecting the real killer by keeping Percy occupied and not concentrating on the case.”

  “Maybe she’s guilty and keeping the heat off herself. Anyone who bakes dead-guy cookies has my vote.” KiKi took a bite and closed her eyes to savor the moment, the first taste always the best with the little flavor buds on your tongue alive and happy. “We’ll get into Simon’s place today,” KiKi said around a mouthful. “I bet he has a list of people he lent money to. The thing is, that list will make our list of killers even longer. We don’t need longer. Did anyone like that guy besides his mamma?”

  My doughnut suddenly tasted like glue. “Uh, I sort of already had a look around Simon’s place. There’s this guy Beau that I know.” I did sort of know Beau . . . now. “He lives in Simon’s building and he let me in. I couldn’t pass up a great opportunity like that, now could I?”

  KiKi placed her unfinished doughnut back on the plate and folded her hands on the table like she was praying in church. Auntie KiKi not finishing her one and only doughnut allotment for the day was not a good sign. Folded hands meant drama was on the way. “You cut me out of the loop.”

  “No loop cutting, it just happened. It was a dead end anyway. I didn’t find anything that would help.” I couldn’t tell her I found the book and it got stolen. She’d have a fit saying it would never have happened if we’d both been there. Truth is we would have both wound up under the bookcase.

  KiKi stirred her coffee, deep in thought. Either she was mentally cutting me out of the will or she had an idea. She said, “These days everyone keeps information on a computer or iPhone, but Simon would have a hard copy of vital information stashed somewhere. He was mean and conniving and heartless and a swindler and a two-timing rodent, but he wasn’t stupid.”

  Lord be praised, she bought the Beau explanation! I was off the hook.

  “Computers crash, iPhones get dropped in toilets and other watery places,” she went on. “I bet Simon used one of those flash-drive things for backup.” KiKi kept stirring her coffee, brain cells fully caffeinated. “His mamma said he was moving out to Waverly Farms right after the honeymoon. I bet a lot of his things are out there right now.”

  “He wouldn’t leave incriminating information out in plain sight for anyone to pick up, especially out there at Waverly Farms.”

  “It wouldn’t be all that obvious. Everyone has flash drives, dime a dozen, just another piece of plastic lying around. If y
ou didn’t find anything at the condo, then Waverly Farms is the next place for us to look for Simon’s backup information. Its two days since the funeral and without a proper wake I should be paying a call out there. I do believe a covered dish is in order now that I think about it. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

  “The Waverlys have two cooks and three maids. I think they’re covered.”

  “They don’t have KiKi Vanderpool’s deviled eggs, now do they, and everyone knows mine are even better than Paula’s. Here’s what we’ll do, you chat it up with Waynetta and I’ll snoop around the place and see what I can find out.”

  I dropped my doughnut in my coffee, splashing it everywhere. What happened to off the hook? “No way. Waynetta barely knows me, hates what she does know about me, and you can’t go wandering all over the Waverly house pawing through things.”

  “Honey, Waynetta hates everyone unless they’re rich or famous. If that catfight out at Bonaventure was any indication how things are out at Waverly Farms, my guess is Waynetta has Simon’s belongings packed up somewhere and ready to dump them at his mamma’s or just the nearest swamp. Besides, it’s my turn to snoop. You got to do the condo with Beau, remember.” She tipped her chin. “Or do you think I’m too old to snoop around?”

  “What if you get caught? It could be downright embarrassing.”

  “It’s a big house. I’ll say I’m lost.”

  I was trapped and it was all for nothing. There was no flash drive or book because I already found the blasted book at the condo and had it stolen right out from under me. Not that I could tell KiKi that. I’d be admitting that I lied and indeed cut her out of the action. At least Waverly Farms wasn’t someplace dangerous to be roaming around. It wasn’t the middle of the hood at midnight. How much trouble could KiKi get into? “Okay, I’m in.”

  “I knew you’d see things my way.” KiKi scarfed down the last bit of doughnut. “Chantilly can mind the Fox till noon. We should go to the Waverlys first thing this morning. Everyone will be bringing out a covered dish today and we want to beat the crowd with me snooping around the place. It is a pity we can’t do this later on in the day. Reese Waverly makes a mighty fine martini and I do so hate to miss it. I’ll put on the eggs as soon as we’re home and use Grandma Vanderpool’s Old Country Roses bone china deviled egg plate. Things always taste better on a nice china plate, don’t you think.”