by K. M. Waller
“Say a few nice words for the deceased and lead them in a song.” She winked at me and her mascara stuck her eyelashes together. She flicked them with her finger and continued, “Ten minutes at the most and we’ll be out of here.”
I wanted to believe her, but I’d spent enough time in her company today to understand that unless she pulled out her Tammy-gun on Ricky Lynn, the chances of us getting that recipe back were slim. Failure or not after a few nice words and a song we’d be on that truck and out the front gate. I’d drive it myself.
Mr. Spudson led us in a circle around the fountain. His wife sat on the edge and hiccupped.
Doc’s pickup truck rumbled by with Charles’ body. Craig joined us at the circle and removed his hat. The atmosphere filled with an odd vibe because of the uncomfortableness of the situation.
At Jackson’s memorial service, he’d received full military honors complete with a changing of the guard by his casket. Once the funeral procession had made it to the burial site, a lone bugle player had played Taps and the honor guard folded the flag and handed it to me.
I’d wanted to speak for him. I’d wanted to say all the good things the kids and I would remember about him. But I’d been frozen. Preacher Don had said some very nice things and quoted Bible verses. I couldn’t remember any of them. Just the feeling of emptiness.
Marlin nudged me, bringing me forward in time. “Go on. And be ready to run.”
I cleared my throat. “We’re gathered in front of this fountain to honor a man that met an untimely death. I didn’t know Charles but I’m saddened by his death just the same.”
Marlin’s movement caught my gaze. One slow step at a time she made her way around the circle away from Ricky Lynn. She rolled her hands in a gesture to keep me talking.
The guilt of using a memorial for Marlin’s scheme made it hard to continue, but my motivation of leaving became the greater need. “Karen says that Charles was a champion eater. I’m sure he had many accomplishments that we’ll never know about.” Out of words, I turned to the band. “Do you know How Great Thou Art?”
The man holding the fiddle nodded and placed his instrument against his chin. The leader of the band took over and started the hymn, his baritone voice filling the front yard.
I twirled a strand of hair that’d come loose from my ponytail and sang along with the first verse. So far, so good. I glanced around for Marlin and noticed her crouching like a tiger. The couple from Bubba’s BBQ noticed her too and back up out of her way.
Ricky Lynn and the pirate didn’t see her. We started the second verse, and she pounced with a roar.
Marlin landed on top of Ricky Lynn and pinned her to the ground. She batted away the other woman’s hands with her forearm and used her free hand to dig inside Ricky Lynn’s bosom.
The band had long stopped playing and everyone, including me, watched the two women wrestle on the ground.
Marlin threw a hand up in victory, a slip of paper between her fingers. “I got it! Run, Beanie, run.”
I didn’t run.
Marlin rolled off of Ricky Lynn but before she could stand, Ricky Lynn shoved her butt, knocking her on her face. I winced. That’d leave a mark.
The two guards who’d come to the front of the house with us stepped forward, but Craig held up a hand and they stopped.
Ricky Lynn crawled onto Marlin’s back and pulled on her neon shirt. “Give it. Give it.”
“Never,” Marlin screamed. Then she crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and shoved it inside her mouth, chewing and gagging.
The beer guy who’d yet to set down his bottle even for the memorial walked over to me. “That’s quite a woman.”
I didn’t agree or disagree. I no longer knew what to think about Marlin Perkins.
Mr. Spudson waved his hand at Craig, who then nodded to the guards. They slung their rifles on their backs and set to pulling the two women apart.
Marlin swallowed hard and gagged a few more times. But in the end, her smile told everyone she’d succeeded in eating the recipe.
The pirate helped Ricky Lynn to her feet, and she used the back of her hand to wipe away a trickle of blood coming from her bottom lip.
Marlin stumbled over to me and fell against my side.
I patted her back. She’d fought one crazy battle over a brisket recipe. “Now can we go home?”
She sniffed and poked at a bruise forming on her cheek. “Memaw would be proud.”
Mr. Spudson twirled the end of his mustache. He approached us and shook his head. “You two can kindly get off my property.”
“Gladly,” I said. “But first, Charles’ death will get the proper respect as intended. Everyone bow your heads for a moment of silence.”
No one argued and dipped their heads. Possibly they worried about what Marlin would do to them if they didn’t.
Bursts of sirens pulled our attention down the lane to the front gate. A county sheriff’s car pulled into view with full lights twirling. Beside it a utility truck with the medical examiner’s information on the side.
The sheriff’s deputy exited the car and spoke to Pietro.
Craig’s two-way radio crackled. He stepped to the side and had an unintelligible conversation. He motioned for his two guards and gave them instructions. Then he turned to us. “Everyone back to the main tent.”
“What is happening now?” The woman wearing the handkerchief asked her husband. He only shrugged.
It appeared someone had made a phone call to the county sheriff.
The guards who’d gone with us to the fountain took up a position in front of the trucks as if to block any of the contestants from returning to them.
Mr. Spudson had stayed in the front with Craig, but the drunken Mrs. Spudson returned to her throne. She extended her hand for another glass refill.
“This feels wrong,” I said. “Why are they blocking our trucks?”
Austin let out an “aarroo.”
We waited for thirty minutes or more before Mr. Spudson and Craig came around the side of the house and joined us in the tent.
“We’ve got us a hornet in the outhouse situation.” Mr. Spudson sat heavily on his throne. “The medical examiner believes someone has poisoned Charles.”
“What?” Ricky Lynn’s pirate partner said.
More than a few of us uttered the same word, confusion and panic mingling in the tent. I sat down and pulled Marlin down beside me. I knew the foaming didn’t feel right with a choking victim. But even so, an intentional poisoning. How often did something like that really happen?
Mrs. Spudson’s drunken hiccup interrupted the quiet that followed. “‘Scuse me.”
“How can they know without forensics that it’s a poisoning death?” I asked. “Is the county sheriff coming to set up a crime scene?”
Mr. Spudson jerked his hand as if to bat away my question. “This is Picante. We don’t need the sheriff. We’ll set up our own crime scene.”
“That’s not how that works,” Marlin said. “You still fall under the broader jurisdiction of the county, privatized town or not.”
With all her quirks, a person could never call Marlin stupid.
“My emancipation from the county and state are under review by lawyers at this time.” He grunted. “Which is why I can’t afford to have any mishaps in my little town. We’ll solve this on our own before I let the county poke their noses in my business. I’ll be the one who determines if there were malicious intentions involved.”
I stood to make myself heard over some background chatter, and the thundering of my heart. “What are you saying, Mr. Spudson?”
He sat back and regarded me with a sharp gaze. “I’m saying that no one is leaving here until I find out who murdered my judge.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and coughed. Marlin slapped my back twice.
We’d been so close to leaving. Had I gone from a semi-hostage situation with a choir mate to a full-blown hostage situation with a crazy rich man?
7
“You don’t have the proper authority or facilities to conduct an investigation like you’re describing. Where are your forensic teams?” I addressed the rest of the crowd. “This is not okay. And we do not have to stand for being hostages.”
Mr. Spudson stood, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red. “Five thousand dollars to each team who doesn’t accuse me of hostage taking and doesn’t try to leave until we solve this poison issue.”
Mrs. Spudson spit out a mouthful of champagne and some of it dribbled from her chin onto the fancy dress. Mr. Spudson plopped back down in his chair.
I pressed my lips together. This man had more money than common sense. And he thrived on the chaos his money created. Marlin clutched my forearm, her grip tightening as sure as the wheels in her head turned. With her free hand she smoothed back her hair.
“We are not going to be bribed to be a part of this insanity,” I ground out between my teeth to her in a hushed tone. “This is ludicrous.”
She glanced around. “I’m not sure we have much of a choice, hon. Plus, hanging around for five thousand would be a little adventure money in our pockets.”
“No way.” No adventures for me ever again.
Mr. Spudson leveled a glare at me. “Those who refuse my offer will be dropped off at the back gates and can find their way from there.”
Abandoned in the Texas flatlands is what he meant. How long would the sheriff’s deputy stay at the front gate? Over the horizon the sun dipped into the clouds and full sundown wouldn’t be far behind. I hadn’t seen many other houses on our way to the mansion. A walk like that would be treacherous at night. An hour ago I liked my chances better.
My guess is that he’d be mean enough not to give us back the cell phones either.
“Oh, this team definitely accepts, sir.” Marlin let go of me and walked up to the throne of crazy. “In fact, we’ll see your five thousand and raise your bet. Double if we figure it out first. Beanie’s daddy was a retired Atlanta cop before he walked through the pearly gates and I bet she’s learned enough investigative skills to solve this before your good ole’ boys can.”
My heart raced with her spilling the personal information about my dad. I didn’t even remember telling her about him. The reality of my parents splitting when I was young because of the hours and hours dad put into his police work meant I spent little time with him growing up. I had zero investigative skills if you didn’t count my ability to find out why a financial document wouldn’t balance out to zero.
Craig returned from giving orders to his armed men and sidled up beside me. “I know this seems crazy but if that’s true about your dad, I could use the help.”
“This doesn’t seem crazy, it most certainly is crazy.” I turned my focus on him. “This isn’t some game. That poor man has a family that needs to be notified of his death. His remains should be properly attended.”
“The medical examiner’s office will handle that as soon as we turn over our investigation reports.” Craig crossed his arms and widened his stance. “I’m head of security and Mr. Spudson’s the boss. This is the hand we’re dealt, and it’s better to play it through to the end. Mr. Spudson always gets what he wants. If it’s not me, it’s my next in line, Pietro. And trust me, you would rather it be me.”
My head swirled with the implications of his words. “Even if we start down this path. How can the medical examiner possibly know this is death by poisoning so soon?”
“He doesn’t for sure. It’s a best guess with what he’s seen after spending a few minutes with the body. But he’s positive it isn’t a simple choking death.” He relaxed his stance. “Mr. Spudson has agreed to contact a national screening service that specializes in poison testing. They’ll fly in and follow all chain of evidence protocol. They’ll give a preliminary and then take samples back to their site for an official testing.”
Who would have guessed that was actually a thing. “Is this a service Mr. Spudson has on speed dial?”
Craig scratched at his mustache. “Money can buy you quick results. This much money can buy you just about anything you want. They have a local office so it won’t take long.”
I crossed my arms over my midsection. “This makes me sick to my stomach.”
“The faster we get this settled to Mr. Spudson’s liking, the faster you go back to your kids in Georgia. Let that be your motivation.”
And if it didn’t get settled? As much as I didn’t want to get involved, what this circus needed was a rational-minded individual to prevent chaos.
Marlin joined us and slapped me on the back. “Ready to solve this case, lil’ momma?”
My lips tightened. I glanced around at all the contestants who’d separated into their own little groups. They talked in hushed tones amongst themselves. “I need to call my kids.”
Just in case this fiasco took a turn for the worse. If that were even possible.
“No phone calls in or out,” Craig answered.
I sat down and crossed my feet at the ankles. “Fine. Then I’ll sit right here until you get it solved. Let me know how that goes.”
Craig straightened his spine and stomped off to Mr. Spudson. They conversed for less than a minute before he returned. He pulled out his cell phone and handed it over. “Dial, say hello, I love you and goodbye. If you tell them anything about what’s going on, the money deal is off and you’re by the side of the road.”
I snatched the phone from his hand and dialed Alicia’s cell phone. Her voicemail picked up after the third ring. Why couldn’t that girl answer when I called just this one time?
“Hey, sweetie. It’s your momma checking in. Please respond to this number within the next hour so I know you and Jackie are safe. If you ever want me to leave the house again, you’ll do it.”
I disconnected and handed him the phone back. The Bubba’s BBQ couple approached us. The man with the shiny head gestured at me. “Why does she get special treatment?”
“I’m deputizing her,” Craig said and nodded toward me. “Ms. Beanie, I deputize you as a Picante Security Agent.”
“Deputized!” Marlin repeated. “I like the sound of that. Do me next.”
“Not you.” He slid his sunglasses down to the end of his nose. “Sorry, Ms. Marlin. But you cooked some food the judge ate, so that makes you a suspect. And the fact you’re a wild card. I know Ms. Beanie here didn’t even know she was attending a competition until you pulled up in Picante. That takes her off my suspect list pretty quickly.”
Austin let out another long “aaarrrooo” from his tether near our food truck.
“Austin needs water and kibble.” I pointed to the truck. “Can we at least take care of him before it gets dark?”
Craig whistled to one man standing guard in front of the trucks. “Get the kibble off the truck and nothing else. Search the inside the kibble bag.”
He pulled me aside out of earshot of the rest of the tent. “My men need to search each of the trucks while a couple others stand guard. If we can find a poison on one of the trucks, then we can narrow it down to the culprit. Just keep everyone calm.”
This could be over pretty quickly if they found a poison on one truck. I returned to Marlin. “Anything on our truck I need to know about?”
She shrugged and sniffed, the pout still clear at not qualifying for the deputation. “How should I know, hon? It’s just a loaner.”
“Marlin, we need to take this seriously. We are trapped out here with a possible millionaire madman and I don’t fancy being the eleven o’clock news’ top story of the hour.”
She blinked her thick lashes. “Other than Earl’s ashes and what I packed, I honestly don’t know what’s on the truck.”
“Yeah, we’ll discuss the ashes later.” I rubbed my hands together. We’d have to hope for the best in that department. In fact…I dropped to my knees. This seemed the perfect time for a short prayer.
“Girlie, I am with you.” Marlin bumped into me as she dropped beside me.
After
asking God to take control of this adventure of disastrous proportions, I mumbled an “amen.” When I opened my eyes, Marlin had one hand in the air, murmuring about the trials of Job.
I waited for her to finish, then we stood together and the couple from Bubba’s BBQ approached us again. The woman wiped her brow. “Are things so bad we need a prayer circle?”
“We need to think about this logically and take it by the numbers. First, I don’t even know your names.” I waved to the rest of the contestants and raised my voice. “I don’t really know any of your names other than Marlin’s cousin. The best way to get out of this mess is as a group.”
“What do you suggest, deputy-up-tight?” Ricky Lynn asked, her nose wrinkled in a way that suggested she didn’t forgive me for dousing her with cold water or for being Marlin’s partner in recipe snatching. “We hold hands and sing “Down by the Bay”? I didn’t kill nobody, so all I got to do is sit here and wait until they find out who did.”
I could see why Marlin didn’t like her cousin. The woman constantly looked for conflict like a wasp waiting to give an innocent passerby a sting.
I gestured to the table. “Let’s have a seat and introduce ourselves. Then we’ll each tell a little about where we’re from and how we got into this competition.”
Sounds of bangs and clanks came from the trucks behind us. The distraction would do everyone good. No matter what Mr. Spudson professed about poisoning and murder, I couldn’t imagine one of the barbeque contestants would have it out for a secret judge. What would be the point of killing someone who could award them a million dollars? The numbers didn’t add up, so to speak.
I sat first and one at a time the rest of the contestants joined me. The married couple sat across from me and Marlin. The beer guy who reminded me of a Jimmy Buffett video sat beside on the other side of Marlin. Ricky Lynn and the Pirate placed themselves one picnic table over.
“I’m Beatrice. This is Marlin. We’re here because she heard about the competition through her family grapevine.” I pointed to the couple, so they understood to go next.
“I’m Deidre and this is Terry.” She linked hands with her husband. “We’re owners of Bubba’s BBQ outside of El Paso. We’re here because we got a personal invitation from that waiter over there.”
