Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies

by Bevill, C. L.

  Bubba stared at Nadine. She appeared serious. “I’ll get back to you,” he said slowly. “Do you know where the movie folks are today?”

  “The Boomer farm,” Nadine said and returned to checking in books.

  “Obliged,” Bubba said.

  * * *

  If a good old boy based his theory on the premise that a killer had to be part of the film crew, The Deadly Dead, then a good old boy knew that the murderer still had to be in town. That person would pretend that he or she was unknowledgeable of the crime and that they were continuing to work on the movie. Leaving abruptly would have upset the apple cart.

  Unless the person was Marquita Thaddeus, who probably could get away with looking upset. After all, her husband had just been murdered and the one suspicious person had been set free because there was not enough evidence to hold him in jail. Marquita had a right to be upset and leave town.

  But Marquita Thaddeus was the first person to notice Bubba walking up to the yellow tape that kept curious onlookers from getting in the way of shots on the Boomer Farm.

  Bubba recognized the tall woman in her fifties immediately and stepped backward. Although Risley Risto had rehired Bubba, he didn’t know how the wife of the murdered man would react to his presence. He thought it was more than likely that she would A). Attempt to hit him, B). Hit him, C). Scream at him, or D). All of the above.

  Instead Marquita blinked, looked away, and then looked back again. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you. Risley said you were back, but I didn’t expect to see you today.” She appeared tired and her makeup wasn’t applied as flawlessly as the first day he’d seen her. She wasn’t wearing the high-heeled boots and her silk shirt was slightly wrinkled. She glanced down at Precious, who was staying behind Bubba, and her eyebrows rose up incrementally.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Bubba said. He supposed the sentiment could have been misconstrued, but it was the right thing to say. Why was Marquita even at the shoot? Shouldn’t she be in mourning, arranging her husband’s funeral, and doing what widows were supposed to be doing at a time like this? Just like your mother did? Bubba’s inner sarcastic voice screamed. That was different, he told himself. My father was a complete dick. I don’t know why Ma didn’t have a ticker tape parade.

  Marquita sipped from a tall Styrofoam cup she clutched in both hands. It smelled like coffee. “I know,” she said, catching his glance at her drink. “I preached all the time about Kristoph drinking too much caffeine, and here I am, sucking it down. But today I need it.” She deliberately took another drink. If she had been smoking she would have purposefully lit another cigarette.

  “I am sorry,” Bubba said again. Undercover, my heinie, he thought. I don’t even know what to say. I need the Purple Singapore Sling or even Daniel Lewis Gollihugh to plow the road for me. Willodean could use her mace.

  “The sheriff tells me it’s unlikely that you did it to…poor Kristoph,” Marquita trailed away and sighed, “so that’s partly why Risley got you back. Also for the publicity.” She laughed bitterly. “Death of the director. That’s news and all.”

  “I didn’t kill your husband,” Bubba said carefully. “Wonder if you know who might have wanted to.” That was as smooth as a pig on stilts, Ex-Lax.

  “You’re asking me if I know who might have wanted to stick a knife in Kristoph’s back?” Marquita’s face twisted in consternation. “Good God, that’s a question.”

  And she’s now prolly goin’ to have my tuckus thrown off faster than a bell clapper in a goose’s butt.

  “I assume you mean the people on the set?” Marquita asked politely.

  “Had to be here in order to have done it.”

  “The sheriff has me on the list, too.” Marquita frowned.

  “That’s perty normal. The spouse or significant other is always looked at,” Bubba said and thought he sounded nearly professional. “That’s bin my experience.” To my eternal regret that I kin say those very words.

  “When Kristoph worked on I, Detective that was what the hero said. Murders are nearly always committed by someone the victim knows. Hollywood has dramatized the serial killer to an extent that people think there’s one lurking around every corner.” Marquita drank more from the cup of coffee and then looked inside to see if any more was hiding from her at the bottom of the Styrofoam container. “I hate to tell you this, Bubba, wasn’t it, Bubba?”

  Bubba nodded.

  “The sheriff has already interviewed me at length. I’m doing a polygraph test later in the week. Apparently my alibi of being in the loo is somewhat questionable.” Marquita crumpled the cup in her fist and tossed it at a garbage can stenciled with The Deadly Dead on its side. “I was in the bathroom for about twenty minutes and then I saw you on the way out. You wouldn’t talk to me. Can’t blame you for that since Kristoph was ever so nice to you about your dog.” She glanced at Precious. Precious sat on her rump, scratching lazily with one back paw. “You know, Kristoph has never liked dogs. He is, was, a cat person. We’ve got three Siamese cats at home. They’re going to be inconsolable. In any case, my stomach has been so upset since we got to Texas that I’ve been in the bathroom half the hours of the day. Normally I have a cast iron stomach. I went right back there after you walked off.” She laughed. “My alibi. Your mother’s bathroom. She was nice enough to let me use the one in the house instead of those god awful porta-potties. It’s a great house.”

  “I like it,” Bubba said, compelled to fill in Marquita’s pause.

  But Marquita didn’t continue speaking. She stopped and watched the film crew working near the Christ Tree. Zombies were being gathered by the redhead and Risley Risto directed the cameramen with their shots.

  “Kin I ask you something personal?” Bubba went ahead and asked because he didn’t want her to say no before he could ask. “Why are you still here?”

  “You mean, why am I not wearing a hair shirt and pulling out my locks, whilst I wail in distress?” Marquita almost looked amused. The black circles under her eyes took away from the impact of how amusement should appear.

  “I would think it would be somewhat painful to stay here,” Bubba said.

  “This was Kristoph’s last movie.” Marquita waved all around them. “He’ll never do another one because someone killed him. I’ve got two reasons. Number one is that I want to make sure Risley does it right. If I have to stand behind his shoulder and nag him until the final shot, then I will do so. It’s the least I can do for Kristoph. Kristoph had a vision, you know.”

  “You don’t think your own brother will do your deceased husband’s project justice?”

  Marquita appeared to ponder the question. “I think it’ll probably be a better movie for Risley’s participation. They had issues working together. Risley used to drive Kristoph nuts and vice versa. But the final products of their association are good movies.” She accurately guessed at what Bubba’s confused expression meant. “What, you wouldn’t think a B-movie would be a good movie?”

  “I like B-movies,” Bubba said. “Tremors. That was a good movie. I liked Fred Ward in that one, and I was scared to walk around holes in the ground for a full week after seeing it.”

  “I could tell you a very good story about Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward, but gossip is really de trop for me. A hint will have to be enough. It’s a very juicy tale. Enough said.”

  “Okay,” Bubba said slowly. “What was the other reason you stayed?”

  “I know I’m supposed to be the weeping widow, crying, dashing my tears, fainting, looking wan, not able to eat, but that’s never been me. Kristoph was killed, no, he was murdered, by someone who stabbed him in the back. Stabbed him…in…the…back. I’m staying because I want to look the person in the face when they’re handcuffed and going to jail. I want to see the dismay and regret in their face. I want to see the tears of frustration and fear coursing down their cheeks. I want to have a little back of what that person has knowingly inflicted.” She paused and took a deep breath. “If I leave I might mis
s that.”

  Bubba decided that Marquita Thaddeus was a person that he wouldn’t want to make mad. A thought occurred to him. He remembered Kristoph and Risley arguing about a scene. “What about your brother? Seems like he shore benefited from Kristoph’s death.”

  “You think Risley would kill Kristoph to gain control of a movie,” Marquita restated. “That would be killing the goose who laid the golden eggs. There was no guarantee the studio would let Risley step up to the position, but they didn’t have much of a choice at this juncture. Plus I was pulling all the strings to get it there.”

  “Why don’t you direct it?” Bubba couldn’t help but ask. “Seems like you know as much about it as the rest?”

  “I’m a behind the scenes girl,” Marquita said. “I get a hefty percentage of the movie proceeds if it’s successful. I’m not a director. I don’t have the patience, sweetie.” She sighed gustily and reached into the breast pocket of her silk shirt to remove a package of cigarettes and gold lighter. With smooth practiced movements, she extracted one cigarette and put it in her lips, lighting it with the other hand. “God, I miss smoking and especially now. Don’t tell my doctor or he’ll kill me.”

  Bubba shrugged. “I don’t know your doctor but cigarettes are bad for you.”

  “So are knives in the back,” she snapped.

  Bubba figured he wasn’t going to get anything else out of the woman and in fact, he was lucky that Marquita was so talkative. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Are you…detecting?” Marquita asked curiously. “Trying to save your own hide? A man who’s on the edge? Sounds like a movie to me.”

  “Seems like someone would like to point a finger at me,” Bubba said. “The least I kin do is point one back.”

  “Touché.” Marquita puffed then blew smoke into the air above her head. “Would you tell me if you find out anything?” she asked. “I’ll tell you what. If anyone says anything about you asking questions, then direct them back to me. You’ve got my permission to talk to any of the crew. Go right ahead. I don’t know if they’ll talk to you, but you go right ahead and detect away. It should be interesting.”

  “Why would you do that?” Bubba asked.

  “Because it will make the person nervous,” Marquita said, “and I like the idea of that. Let him or her be nervous. Maybe they’ll do something stupid and confess, so I can systematically destroy them in Hollywood.” She looked positively delirious at the thought of performing such an action.

  Bubba nodded uncertainly and walked away. If Marquita was a killer, then she was a good actress. Bubba had been fooled before, but the director’s wife seemed like the sort to deliver her own brand of private justice if she was so inclined and she seemed so inclined.

  Just as he was about to walk around a van, he saw the redhead approach Marquita. Marquita said something to her, but Bubba was too far away to hear. Then the redhead wrapped a comforting arm around Marquita. Marquita stood it for a moment and then pulled away. The redhead seemed distraught herself. It was curious but Bubba couldn’t think of any particular reason he should be concerned with it.

  Bubba followed up with a best boy grip.

  The best boy grip was Bob Southwell and he wasn’t a boy and he wasn’t a grip. To be precise he was in his thirties. Bob didn’t have a lot of time when Bubba stopped him. “I have to get some of this equipment over to the next set,” he explained.

  “You’re the best boy,” Bubba said. “What’s a best boy?”

  Bob grimaced. “There are usually two best boys. On bigger films, there could be a half dozen or more. In ours, one helps with the crew. One helps the key grips. I’m the best boy grip. I deal with lighting, electronics, et cetera. But the union says I don’t actually touch the lights. The electricians do that. I make sure everything is where it needs to be so that the director can do the next take. Understand?”

  “You deal with the lighting but you cain’t actually touch it,” Bubba said. He didn’t understand.

  “Union rules,” Bob explained.

  “Were you on set yesterday at the Snoddy Estate?” Bubba asked.

  “Of course I was,” Bob answered. “And that’s not an estate, it’s a rambling house with a few extra bedrooms and termites up the hoo-ha.”

  Bubba glowered. “Did you see Kristoph come to the set?”

  “He came with Marquita,” Bob said, “and you’re not a cop, you’re a bit role. So why all the questions? Wait, you’re that guy. The one they arrested.” He stepped back from Bubba so quickly that he nearly tripped. “Jeez, they let you back on the set?”

  “The charges were dismissed,” Bubba said irately. “And someone’s got to ask questions.”

  Bob shook a finger at Bubba. “The cops already asked me. The real cops.” He turned away, gathered some equipment that resembled large suitcases and started toting them off.

  “Well, now I know what a best boy grip is,” Bubba said to Precious. Precious lay on a section of grass and rolled around until she was thoroughly saturated with the smell. She didn’t know what a best boy grip was, and she didn’t care unless a best boy grip had bacon on him.

  Chapter 13

  Bubba and the Dillydallying DEA

  Monday, March 11th

  Several frustrating hours later, Bubba drove back to the Snoddy Estate. From his conversations with the various and sundry members of the crew from The Deadly Dead, he had ascertained several things.

  A list was necessary to properly appreciate what he’d learned and a list was what Bubba said to himself silently as he turned into the long lane that led to the Snoddy Mansion.

  A). Bubba Snoddy was considered, to several members of the film crew, a poopoo head.

  B). Kristoph was a merciless jerk who didn’t like dogs, tuba players, or white shoes after Labor Day. He also was a caffeine fiend and a man who would unceremoniously steal cigs. Sometimes he would steal the whole pack.

  C). Pegramville didn’t have a Starbucks and that was just god-awful.

  D). Sheriff John and Steve Simms had already questioned most of the crew about all things Kristoph. Some of them had even been taken to the sheriff’s department for further questioning.

  E). The mayor of Pegramville, the honorable John Leroy, Jr., was a letch who had systematically hit on every female attached to the film. This libidinous behavior had included snooking on the sixty-five year old sound producer and grandmother of six and a cross-dressing cameraman.

  F). The standard form of equation for a parabola is (x - h)2 = 4p(y - k). (One crew member was studying for a college algebra/geometry class and the formula was prevalent on his mind which then became prevalent on Bubba’s mind.)

  G). Alex Luis was probably gay but there wasn’t a clear consensus. He had winked at Bubba, but Bubba couldn’t tell if there was something to it or not.

  H). Tandy North could do a triple smoke ring when properly motivated. (One of the grips bet her ten dollars she couldn’t do it. Bubba witnessed the whole thing. And the grip had griped when he’d had to fork over the bill.)

  I). Bubba had nothing.

  Some of the crew wouldn’t even look at Bubba, much less speak to him, although most of them had gotten the word that the charges had been dismissed against him and that Marquita was supporting his “investigation.”

  Certainly no one was pointing fingers at anyone else. There had to be a reason for Kristoph’s death. The man was stabbed in the back with a rather large knife and that was indication enough that someone was irked with him. But no one was speaking about reasons. They were concerned about their next paycheck. They were concerned about whether the studio would close the movie down. Half of the crew didn’t have gigs lined up because they had been counting on the two months of work from The Deadly Dead. (The amount of work varied depending on what the crew member did. One woman would be working on the film for another three months if it didn’t go belly up like a fish in a dynamited pond. Her words, not Bubba’s.)

  Snippets of information did spill over. Krist
oph had been eccentric. He had a little clout. The film was fully funded and it wasn’t over budget. They were on a schedule and surprise of surprises, it was only three days behind schedule, which was practically like being on schedule. A crew member said, “That’s because of Risley. He’s a stickler for schedules. Kristoph would have run off filming butterflies, er, zombie butterflies. Hey, you’re the guy who got arrested for it, aren’t you? And hey, hey, that’s the zombie Basset hound. She’s gone viral.”

  And how could Bubba argue with any of that? Why, he could not, and consequently he gave up just as the sun was setting. Mostly he gave up because he was tired, but mostly he gave up because he was starving and Willodean was supposed to call him at home.

  Truck parked, he turned off the ignition with a sigh. He climbed out of the vehicle and Precious tumbled out after him. He saw his mother’s Cadillac in its normal spot. Alfonzo and Pilar’s minivan was next to it, taking up what was Bubba’s typical parking locale, but he didn’t really mind parking in the grass. The grass was getting particularly long and needed to be taken down a peg.

  As Bubba trudged toward his house, he heard the sound of tires on gravel. He looked over his shoulder. Three black SUVs charged down the drive. Furthermore, and more telling, was the large white letters on the sides of the SUVs. D-E-A.

  DEA, Bubba thought. DEA. The Drug Enforcement Administration? Really? He immediately thought about Miz Adelia Cedarbloom and her mother, Charlene. Charlene was in the later stages of cancer and used marijuana as a pain killer. Miz Adelia’s cousin Ralph grew some of the plants to help out his aunt in her hour of need. He also grew some more of the plants as a financial boon to his pocketbook. He had briefly been put out of business when the massive search for the beauteous sheriff’s deputy included the place where Ralph’s pot patch had been growing. He’d destroyed the evidence and had found another spot. Last Bubba’d heard, this newest crop was good. Miz Adelia kept a special canister of “tea” in the house for the occasions when one of the two women had needed a little mood alteration. The canister had conveniently vanished the last time the FBI had visited the Snoddy Mansion. That had been during Brownie’s kidnapping and the canister hadn’t reappeared, leaving Bubba to believe that Miz Adelia had relocated the illegal item to a place not so easily discoverable by the average law enforcement official.