Lethal in Old Lace

by Duffy Brown

  “Why is the gold diggers’ black Escalade parked in KiKi’s driveway?” Mamma wanted to know. She pressed her nose to the window. “And why are they dumping her into the back seat like a big sack of potatoes? Heavenly days! I do believe those two girls have gone completely bonkers. They’re sister-napping KiKi! Why would they do such a thing? Stop!” Mamma yelled, running out the back door, waving her arms and standing behind the Escalade so it couldn’t go any farther.

  Bella poked her head out the driver’s side window and waved her hand, shooing Mamma aside. “Get out of the way. We have hair appointments in fifteen minutes at Miss Ida’s, and if we’re late we lose our spot and they charge us no matter what.”

  Anna shook a paper out the other window. “We got to drop this old gal at the Pines as part of our community service of driving old people around for free, of all things.”

  “I am not an old gal,” KiKi bellowed from the back of the Escalade as Anna added, “It says right here that KiKi Vanderpool needs assistance, so we’re assisting.” Anna glared at KiKi. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get better right quick and get the heck out of the Pines ASAP. You’re not wanted there.”

  She gunned the engine. Mamma and I jumped out of the way as we watched KiKi’s snarling face against the glass zoom past us.

  “Okay, this is all a little strange, even for my sister. What in the world are you two up to now?” Mamma groused.

  “Let’s go with Auntie KiKi sprained her ankle, can’t drive, and her house has all those steps and Uncle Putter is out of town so he can’t help her?”

  “And I’m sure it has nothing to do with the coroner parked over at Elsie and Annie Fritz’s house. You two really need to get better at this lying thing if you expect to get away with it, but for right now I’ll follow the Escalade. That Bella girl had a look of pure evil about her. Either that or her Botox is sliding around like a glob of Crisco.”

  Mamma hurried out of the house, heading for her hearse, and I felt a lot better that she’d be with Auntie KiKi. The gold diggers were always obnoxious and mean-spirited; the bedbug episode had proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt. But why would they care if Auntie KiKi went to the Pines and how long she stayed? What difference did that make to them?

  And what was this about the mug shot guy as a wedding photographer and an appointment at the Sugar Bell House tomorrow? How’d that happened? It had happened the usual way by me not wanting to put my foot down, say no, and break Mamma’s heart, that’s how. I had to face it: I was a big fat wedding wuss. But it was sort of nice that friends and family wanted to get involved in my wedding; it meant they cared, right? My one consolation was that at least I’d gotten to choose the guy. Hubba-hubba to that!

  I spruced up the displays, added a striped scarf to the chic jacket I’d put on Gwendolyn, then welcomed my first customers. I truly did have customers again, something Savannah Electric and Power, the waterworks, and the people down at the real estate tax office could all agree was a really good thing.

  In between checking out shoppers and taking in new clothes to consign, BW and I lugged Boone’s possessions off the curb and up the steps. I figured it was the least I could do with him off trying to rescue Elsie and Annie Fritz from the long arm of the law. What a guy.

  “It is really crowded up here,” I said to BW, sprawled across the boxes because there was no floor space to walk. “And Boone only brought in his clothes and a lamp. He does have other stuff, and this is his home too. How do you feel about moving into a doghouse?”

  That got me a growl that suggested I’d be the one living in the doghouse.

  BW hopped from box top to box top in the bedroom, then hopped down into the hallway. We passed the bathroom, which looked a lot smaller than it had yesterday, and trotted downstairs to find Boone behind the counter writing up a sale. In fact, there was a string of dreamy-eyed customers patiently waiting in line to check out.

  “I can help someone over here,” I said, snapping up another sales book, but no one moved to my side of the counter. Not that I blamed them. Who would want to be checked out by a hot and sweaty sometimes-blonde woman when a hot and totally adorable man could do the job?

  “So what happened to the sisters?” I asked Boone after the last ogling female floated out the door.

  “I’m happy to report that, at this very moment, Annie Fritz and Elsie Abbot are home sipping tea.”

  I threw my arms around him. “How did you pull it off? You are amazing. Another Perry Mason.”

  “It felt more like Homer Simpson. The sisters went into mourning mode, cried and carried on about how they were innocent, flimflammed—their words, not mine—and were being framed. In two minutes flat they had the whole police station, including the police chief, sobbing. I had to pass out tissues and even wiped my own nose a few times. The chief let the sisters go as long as they didn’t leave town and promised to attend his grandpa’s funeral on Saturday to give him a proper sendoff.”

  “They should franchise.”

  “The best news is that while I was at the police station, I got something that belongs to you.”

  “Better there than the morgue.”

  Boone took my hand and led me out the door, and I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. “It’s my pink scooter!” I ran full out to the curb and plopped on the cushy seat. I grabbed the handlebars, my pink helmet that smelled like cotton candy dangling off the side, and made vroom-vroom sounds like a two-year-old. Some things you never outgrow.

  “I left it in a no-parking zone when I was on the run,” Boone said, buffing a dirty spot on the front fender with his shirttail. “I knew the ever-vigilant Savannah police would tow the scooter, and they did. It’s been in the impound lot and I bailed it out. I think the tires are low, but other than that it looks okay.” He reached down, pushed on the front tire, and something slid out of his pocket.

  “You dropped this,” I said picking the gold ring off the curb. I held it up to the sun, the old ornate setting catching the light. “A ruby?” I looked to Boone, and—holy cow!—he was blushing.

  “It’s for you.” He swallowed hard. “It was Grandma Hilly’s wedding ring and the only nice thing the woman ever had in her life. I’m going to get the stone reset and add some diamonds and a platinum setting, going with that something old, something new. It was supposed to be a surprise, but now that you know about it, you can pick out whatever you want or we can shop for a new ring if you want and—”

  I kissed him, dropping the ring into his palm. I held out my left hand.

  “You … you want to wear it?”

  “It’s perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about this ring, Walker Boone, and Grandma Hilly did have something else really nice and absolutely wonderful in her life. She had you.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was nearly eight when I closed up the Fox. That was later than usual, but I wasn’t about to toss out paying customers, and with Boone still at his place setting up his office, there was no reason to close. I left Boone a note telling him I was at the Pines visiting KiKi and her ankle and I’d explain later and not to worry.

  “Hold down the fort,” I commissioned BW as I spooned dinner into his bowl, adding a few green beans on top for presentation appeal. “And if you feel energetic, run the vacuum and straighten the blouses. The place needs a spruce.”

  Completely ignoring my housekeeping request, BW was asleep at the foot of the steps and snoring before I closed the door behind me. I got KiKi’s hidden key and found the suitcase that she’d packed. I bungee-corded it to the scooter, slipped on my helmet, did a little jig because I didn’t have to wait on a bus or cut through gross alleys containing wildlife, and zoomed off into the night.

  I pulled into the Sleepy Pines parking lot that sat behind a line of blooming azaleas. I untied the suitcase and started for the house just as Eugenia and some guy with blond hair stopped at the wrought iron gate by the patio. I guessed this was Mr. Up-and-Comer Dexter. Since my visit tonight
was on the down-low so KiKi and I could sneak around, I scooted into the bushes to keep out of sight. This was a private moment between Eugenia and boyfriend, and maybe I shouldn’t watch. Yeah, right, like that was going to happen.

  They kissed good-night, then kissed again. Up-and-Comer got an A in expensive suit and a C minus in kissing. He was one of those wet-lip guys that made you want to get a towel, but considering the amount of giggling and suggestive body language going on, Eugenia must have liked it. She said something, giggled again, then opened the gate and did a really good sashay all the way across the patio to the back door.

  I waited till Up-and-Comer left, counted to twenty, then slunk past the fountain, hit my head on a low-hanging flowering dogwood branch, tripped over the horseshoe post, and hobbled up to the back door. Normally I could have just gone to the front door and visited KiKi anytime I wanted, but with dear auntie and Operation Twisted Ankle, keeping my visit secret to get information seemed the best way to go. I’d turned the handle, hoping KiKi had it unlocked and I could just slip in, when the door cracked opened to reveal Auntie, finger to her lips in shh fashion. I crept inside and she pointed to a little alcove in the dimly lit hall.

  Bits and pieces of Perry Mason drifted down the hall as she squashed me between the largest fern in all Christendom and an oak bookcase. I wedged the suitcase between my legs. “What?”

  That got me another shh. Auntie KiKi jabbed her finger toward Mr. Jim in his office. He was sitting behind a cherry desk that looked as old and dignified as the house. “Why is Hollis here?”

  “Only the devil himself knows,” KiKi whispered back. Mr. Jim said something that got mixed in with Perry Mason’s cross-examination. Hollis flipped a paper on the desk, then rocked back on his heels, looking smug.

  “That’s Hollis’s evil look,” I said.

  “He looks like that all the time.”

  Hollis turned to leave and Auntie KiKi and I wedged back into the shadows, nearly knocking the obligatory Southern picture of blooming white magnolias off the wall. Mr. Jim snatched the paper from the desk, crushed it into a tight ball, and tossed it at the trash can, missing by a mile. He slammed his fist on the desk, making KiKi and I jump; then he got up, killed the desk light, and stormed right past us.

  “We need to talk to Mr. Jim and find out why Hollis has got him in such a state. Maybe we can help.” I started off but KiKi yanked me back, shaking her head. “First we need to find out what’s on that note.”

  KiKi stuck her head around the corner, gave me a little nod, and we dashed across the hall and darted into the office. I closed the door and KiKi clicked on the brass desk lamp with a green glass shade. I parked the suitcase next to the desk, snagged the wadded paper from the floor, and smoothed it out on the desk next to the computer.

  “Oh my goodness, it’s official,” KiKi gasped.

  “You’re right, it’s a bank statement. Mr. Jim’s flat broke. He’s even behind on the mortgage. Hollis has friends at the bank, and I bet that’s how he got this information. That rat was here to get Mr. Jim to sell before the Pines goes into foreclosure and—”

  “Heavenly days, not that. This!” KiKi held up my hand, the ruby sparkling. “It’s Grandma Hilly’s, isn’t it? I remember seeing it on her finger. That woman was the kindest and hardest-working woman I ever met, just like her grandson. I bet she’d be tickled pink over you and Walker getting married. It looks a little big, honey, and sliding around on your finger.”

  “I’ll grow into it. This ring is not coming off.”

  Auntie KiKi kissed my cheek. “You got yourself a keeper this time, not like that first-time guy who just left here in all his pompous arrogant glo…”

  Auntie KiKi stopped talking as footsteps sounded outside the door. Because we’d been in more than one tight spot in the last few years of sleuthing about, we acted together in perfect sleuthing harmony, dousing the lights and scurrying under the desk. That KiKi’s elbow landed in my ribs and my foot jabbed her gut was not so perfect, but at least we were out of sight when the door closed with a click and the desk light came on.

  “Where does he keep it?” whispered one guy, who sounded like a hundred-year-old version of James Earl Jones.

  “Mr. Jim keeps the good hooch in the bottom drawer of the file cabinet,” whispered the male version of Betty White with a head cold. “And tonight that’s what we need; it’s what we deserve. Did you bring glasses?”

  “I got the good ones out of the china cabinet in the library.”

  From our hideout under the desk and with noses nearly touching, Auntie KiKi and I watched navy Nikes and gray Adidas gym shoes cross the maroon carpet. Auntie KiKi poked my shin to get my attention and pointed up, mouthing, “The paper.”

  Oh drat, yes. Mr. Jim didn’t need his financial problems to get out; the man had enough to deal with. I curled my fingers over the edge of the desk, felt around, and slid down the bank statement.

  “We should toast two fantastic old fools for putting on such a good show and distracting everyone, even though it wasn’t necessary. And here’s to Willie and Bonnie Sue,” Betty White said. “Good riddance to them.”

  KiKi and I exchanging wide-eyed looks. The two men chuckled, then clinked glasses. Willie? Bonnie Sue?

  “Wasn’t there a paper on that desk?” James Earl asked.

  “Not that I remember, but it looks like Mr. Jim’s planning a trip. Here’s his luggage all packed and ready to go. Some fancy designer with those little Ls and Vs. Mr. Jim’s living in the high cotton these days, I tell you. Finish your drink; we’d better get out of here before someone comes in wondering what’s going on.”

  “No one will ever figure out what we’ve been up to, and we need to keep things going so no one suspects. We’re right good at this. Hit me again with another shot to celebrate.”

  Glass clinked against glass, and Betty said, “What do you think of that KiKi Vanderpool?”

  “Holy cow, the woman’s dynamite. She can be the peach in my pie any time, I can tell you that.” The file cabinet opened and closed, the light went off, and the door clicked shut. We waited a beat, then Auntie KiKi tumbled out from under the desk with me next to her.

  “Peach in a pie? Dynamite?” I faced KiKi. “Who were those guys?”

  “They’re the killers! We should have jumped up and yelled, ‘You’re under arrest!’ That’s what Cagney and Lacey would have done.”

  “Cagney and Lacey are a million years old by now and not jumping anywhere, and if we did anything we could have gotten our heads blown off. These guys were not looking for company, except maybe Miss Dynamite.” I shook my finger. “You had on that pink flippy skirt today, didn’t you? You always get sassy in that skirt—and we couldn’t have arrested those guys; we don’t have any proof they did anything wrong.”

  “Are you kidding? ‘A job well done’? ‘Good riddance’? For whatever reason, they knocked off Willie and Bonnie Sue. They might as well have signed a confession, and, for your information, I did not have on the flippy skirt.” Auntie KiKi pulled at her tan skirt. “This is the same thing I had on when the crazy Escalade sisters dumped me here like a UPS package. What if Willie got these two guys into his Spring Chicken scam and they did the old boy in ’cause he had it coming? Willie Junior said granddad had a lot of money, and my guess is Spring Chicken is how he got it.”

  “Maybe, but how does bed-hopping Bonnie Sue fit into all this? Because you know she does. Two dead in such a short time is not a coincidence. You need to ask around and see what you can find out. From the sounds of it, everyone’s been real friendly since you got here.” I gave KiKi a hard look. “Especially the men?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You did your Dancing Queen act, didn’t you?”

  “Mr. Jim makes a mean martini. Okay, three martinis, but not a drop more, and January Foot plays the piano and suddenly I was sitting on it and singing my little old heart out like I sometimes do, so what was the harm?”

  “Uncle Putter’s going to w
ring your neck.”

  “Honey, the way I see it I’ve already got a body sitting in my car trunk, so he can just add this one to the list. There’s always a list. It’s what keeps me young and peppy.”

  We stood and I handed KiKi the suitcase, holding on to it for a second, hoping she’d take me seriously. “You’ve got to be careful. I mean it. Don’t let anyone see you with this bag or the bad guys might suspect you were in here when they were. You could be in danger, and what’s another body at the Pines these days?”

  “No one would suspect the Dancing Queen.” She batted her eyes and fluffed her hair.

  “Keep your phone with you all the time and look out for the shoes we saw. Keep an eye on Emmitt and Foley and who they keep company with. Our guys tonight know them pretty well and that might be a lead. If you get scared, call Boone, since I don’t have a phone. Just say”—I looked around the office—“apple. He’ll come running.”

  “I now have a safe word?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Not that kind of safe word.”

  “So, this means you’re going to tell Walker what’s going on? I’d leave out the part about Willie in the garage and pick up a meatloaf sandwich and a beer at Parker’s. This will all go down much easier with food in hand.”

  I gave Auntie KiKi a hug. We doused the lights and checked the hall. I headed for the back patio doors and KiKi took the hall toward Perry Mason. I dug my scooter out of the bushes, then vroomed my way through the night, passing Anna and Bella along the way. They were in the back seat of a pristine red Lincoln Continental with two nice-looking men in the front seat. What the heck? Anna and Bella were stepping out on Clive and Crenshaw? Didn’t they care if C and C found out? Because the kudzu vine was sure to pick up on this. I didn’t like that the gold diggers had married for money but liked it even less that they were apparently two-timing their husbands.

  I pulled the scooter into the little alley that ran behind Cherry House and parked it in the sort-of-white clapboard garage that could do with a coat of paint. I made my way up the overgrown sidewalk to the house, the first floor dark except for a little light in the kitchen and the display window in the front. I opened the back door. “Hello? Almost-husband, are you here?”