Best Served Cold (A Trailer Park Mystery Book 3)

by Jimmie Ruth Evans

  “But I realized T.J. wasn’t joking,” Mrs. Culpepper said, ignoring the hissing sounds issuing from Miranda’s direction. “He was very serious. And I have to say, if he is going to be that way, at least he had the good sense to pick someone from a good family with some money.” She shook her head. “Although I do have to wonder what young Mr. Tucker’s family really thinks about all of this, and about the two of them living together like man and wife.”

  Miranda, who adored her big brother, was nearly spitting with anger. “T.J.’s got the right to live with whoever he wants to, and it don’t matter who that is. Nobody cares if you get embarrassed. It ain’t none of your business. All you should care about is if T.J.’s happy, and I can tell you he is. So you just shut up about it.”

  Wanda Nell was secretly pleased that Miranda had spoken up for her brother, and especially to her grandmother, who usually intimidated her into speechlessness. Even so, she felt Miranda had gone a bit too far.

  “Miranda’s right, Miz Culpepper,” Wanda Nell said, “though I think she should have said it a bit more politely. T.J. loves you, and he’s not doing anything to hurt you on purpose. He just has to be who he is, that’s all. We love him, and we need to stand by him.”

  “I didn’t come over here today to be attacked by my so-called family,” Mrs. Culpepper said, very much upon her dignity. “And did I say one single word about being embarrassed?”

  “That’s right, Lucretia,” Belle chimed in. “You didn’t really say you’re embarrassed, though I remember you saying to me last night, after T.J. left to go home with that nice Mr. Tucker, that you weren’t sure you would dare show up for church once word got around. But I surely don’t see that that should keep you from going to church, I really don’t. If the people at your church don’t understand the meaning of compassion and charity, well, then they’d better start taking that up with the Lord. Maybe they’re the ones who ought to be embarrassed about showing their faces in church.”

  Wanda Nell decided that, no matter what Belle said for the rest of her life, she would love her always for that little speech. She rubbed away a few tears with the back of her hand.

  For once in her life, Mrs. Culpepper had been struck speechless. She stared at Belle, her face turning a deep red. Wanda Nell was afraid for a moment the old woman was going to have a stroke and die right there. When she didn’t, Wanda Nell breathed a sigh of relief.

  “For once in your life, you actually said something that made sense, Belle,” Mrs. Culpepper said. Her voice at its acid best, she continued, “And don’t think just because I’ve invited you to come live with me now that T.J.’s moving out, that I’m going to stand for any more of you being so uppity with me.” Stiffly, she stood up from her chair. “Come along now, it’s time for us to go home.” She moved slowly toward the door.

  Belle handed Lavon to his mother but sat for a moment staring at Mrs. Culpepper’s back. “I’m not being uppity with you, Lucretia, truly I’m not. But I have to say what I think. That’s how I’ve always been, and you know that. I just speak my mind, and that’s that.”

  Mrs. Culpepper snorted. “In that case, you shouldn’t be saying much of anything.” She stalked on to the door. Saying goodbye to Wanda Nell and Miranda, she opened the door and disappeared outside, leaving it ajar.

  Belle stood up. “Now y’all don’t pay too much attention to Lucretia. Her bark is a lot worse than her bite, I can tell you. After all, I’ve known her fifty-something years. She means well, she just don’t know how to show it most of the time.”

  Impulsively Wanda Nell hugged her. “I think it’s a good thing, you moving in with her and looking after her.”

  Obviously pleased by the hug, Belle beamed at her. “I think so, too. It’ll sure be nice for me to get out of my tiny little house, and being around y’all is sure going to be fun, too.” She turned to Miranda. “Anytime you need somebody to look after that precious baby of yours, you just bring him on over to me. Even being an old spinster woman, I know about looking after babies.”

  From the gleam in Miranda’s eyes, Wanda Nell knew it wouldn’t be long before Lavon was spending a lot of time in the old house on Main Street.

  Miranda went to the door with Belle and stood there watching as the two women drove off in Mrs. Culpepper’s old Cadillac. Then she shut the door and faced her mother.

  “She sure is a nice old lady, isn’t she, Mama?” Miranda giggled. “You could have knocked me over with a feather, the way she told Grandmother off like that. I thought Grandmother was going to explode right there in that chair.”

  “It’s a miracle to me she didn’t,” Wanda Nell said wryly. She debated whether to bring up the subject of Belle looking after Lavon, but she decided for the moment to let it be.

  “Why don’t you put Lavon down for his nap now, honey? I’ve got some things I need to do, and I may have to leave in just a minute.”

  Miranda made a pouting face, but otherwise she didn’t argue. Scooping Lavon up in her arms, she carried him off to their room.

  Wanda Nell had been thinking about what she might do next in her quest for information, and she had decided to follow up an earlier idea. She went to the phone in the kitchen and called Melvin Arbuckle at the restaurant.

  “Melvin, it’s me, Wanda Nell,” she said when he answered the phone after a few rings.

  “Hey, Wanda Nell, what’s up?”

  She could tell from his voice that things must be pretty quiet at the moment. He sounded relaxed. She had been hoping to catch him in a good mood.

  “You think it might be okay for me to be little late tonight?”

  “How late?”

  “Oh, maybe an hour,” Wanda Nell said. “Not much more than that, anyway.”

  “I guess that would be okay,” Melvin said, obviously reluctant. “You mind me asking why you need to be late?”

  “Oh, just something I need to take care of,” Wanda Nell said. “Somebody I need to talk to, if they’re available. If they’re not, then I’ll be in on time.”

  “Well, okay,” Melvin said, “but if you’re going around poking your nose into something, you be careful.”

  “I will,” Wanda Nell promised. She hung up the phone, then pulled her phone book from the drawer.

  Turning the pages, she found the one she needed. She ran her finger down the column until it came to the name she was looking for. Picking up the phone, she peered down at the number, then punched it in.

  Fingers crossed, she waited for someone to answer.

  Chapter 14

  “Hello.”

  “Hello,” Wanda Nell said, “is this Miss Carpenter?”

  “It is,” a strong, slightly husky voice assured her. “And I see by my caller ID that you’re W. N. Culpepper. Would that be Wanda Nell Culpepper, by any chance?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it sure is,” Wanda Nell said, surprised. “Do you remember me?”

  “Of course,” Miss Carpenter said. “A teacher never forgets students like you.”

  Wanda Nell hoped she meant that as a compliment, but considering what had happened to her during her senior year at Tullahoma County High School, she wasn’t sure. One teacher had called her a tramp to her face, and Wanda Nell had never forgotten the humiliation of that moment. Miss Carpenter had never treated her like that, though.

  “I’m real sorry to bother you like this, Miss Carpenter,” Wanda Nell said, trying not to rush her words in her anxiety, “but I need some help with some information. I figured you’d know better than just about anybody, but if you don’t want to talk about it, then I’ll understand.”

  “First it might help if I knew what it is you want to know,” Miss Carpenter said tartly, though not unkindly.

  “Oh, of course,” Wanda Nell said, “but I was kind of hoping I could talk to you in person. If you don’t mind, that is. This all has to do with my brother. You remember him? Rusty Rosamond?”

  “I do,” Miss Carpenter said. “If he’s in trouble, or you’re in some kind of trouble, I
’d like to help, Wanda Nell. I can meet you in town, if you like, or you can come to my house, whichever is easier.”

  “If you don’t mind me coming to your house, that might be best,” Wanda Nell said, feeling greatly relieved. “Could I come right now? I know I’m asking a lot, but it’s pretty-urgent.”

  “You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity.” Miss Carpenter quickly gave Wanda Nell directions. “From Tullahoma it’s only about fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you,” Wanda Nell said. “I’m on my way.” As she hung up the phone, she started repeating the directions to herself. Miss Carpenter lived about fifteen miles east of Tullahoma, in a little community called Pleasant Springs. It wasn’t much more than a church, a country store, and a post office, but there were a number of small farms around it. Miss Carpenter lived not too far from the church.

  Wanda Nell scribbled a quick note to Miranda, then grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door.

  The trailer park and the lake nearby were on the east side of Tullahoma, and Wanda Nell covered the distance to Pleasant Springs in about twelve minutes. She nipped around a school bus as she neared the turnoff toward Miss Carpenter’s house. Following the sign which directed her toward Cadaretta, she turned right. She passed an old church on her left, not far after turning, and then about half mile later, the road curved sharply to the left and headed uphill.

  At the top of the hill, on the right, a driveway led her up a slight rise to a large, two-story frame house. White with dark green trim, the house was framed by neatly arranged flower beds, a few trees, and a recently clipped lawn. Wanda Nell parked her car on a gravel drive at the front, got out, and proceeded up the walk to the front door.

  Glancing at her watch to check the time before she rang the bell, she noted that it was about two minutes after four. With any luck, she might actually be back in town and at work without being more than a few minutes late.

  The door swung open, and a face Wanda Nell remembered with a great deal of respect and affection peered out at her.

  “Wanda Nell,” Miss Carpenter said, swinging the door wide and stepping back. “Come on in. It’s a great pleasure to see you, even under what must be distressing circumstances.”

  “I know this is an imposition,” Wanda Nell said as she walked into the hallway. “I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me like this, Miss Carpenter.”

  “I like helping people with their problems,” her hostess said. “And I like to think that I’m very good at it, so don’t you worry about imposing on me. Let’s go into the parlor and have a talk about what’s bothering you.” She led the way from the hall into a room on the left.

  Wanda Nell stopped for a moment on the threshold of the room and tried not to gasp. There must have been a fortune in antiques in the room. They rivaled the furnishings in the old Culpepper mansion on Main Street, and that house was about a century older than this one.

  As she moved to the sofa where Miss Carpenter had indicated she should sit, Wanda Nell felt like she had walked onto a stage set for Gone with the Wind. She perched nervously on the edge of the sofa, covered in a rich wine-colored brocade, and looked at her hostess.

  “How about some iced tea?” Miss Carpenter, with a wave of her hand, indicated a tray resting on a table beside her chair.

  “Thank you,” Wanda Nell said. “My throat is kind of dry.”

  “It’s already sweetened,” Miss Carpenter said as she poured out two glasses. “I just can’t break myself of the habit of making it that way, although I know a lot of people these days prefer to sweeten it themselves.” She passed a glass to her guest.

  Wanda Nell sipped her tea, then smiled blissfully. “It reminds me of the iced tea my mama used to make. It sure is good, and just what I needed.”

  “Good,” Miss Carpenter said. Tea glass in hand, she sat with her head slightly cocked, examining Wanda Nell.

  Wanda Nell returned the frank appraisal, noting that, though Miss Carpenter’s once-dark locks were now completely gray, she still had a youthful look about her. She must be about sixty-five by now, Wanda Nell reckoned. She had forgotten how tall Miss Carpenter was, at least six feet. Wanda Nell, who was not short herself, had always had to look up at her.

  “Well, Miss Carpenter,” Wanda Nell began.

  Her hostess waved a hand in the air. “Call me, Ernie, Wanda Nell. You’re not in my classroom any longer, and I prefer my friends to call me that.”

  Reddening slightly at the compliment, Wanda Nell said, “Thank you, Ernie.” Boy, did that sound strange coming from her mouth. What would her mother think about her talking to one of her former teachers this way? She shrugged that off. “You said you remembered my brother, Rusty.”

  Ernie nodded. “Quite well. He was a good boy up until he hit high school, I believe. By the time he was in my senior English class, he had quite a reputation for being a troublemaker.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wanda Nell said. “When our daddy died, I guess our family kind of went to pieces.” She blushed. “I guess you can remember what happened to me.”

  Ernie smiled slightly. “Yes, I do, and I’m afraid that what happened to you is something I saw happen very often over the forty years I taught.” She reached over and patted Wanda Nell’s knee. “I was very sorry to hear about Bobby Ray’s murder. I know how distressing all that was for you and your family.”

  “Thank you,” Wanda Nell said. “It was rough, but we got through it. I’m afraid something like that may be happening again, and I need help.”

  Ernie regarded her quizzically. “Does this have anything to do with the two violent deaths in Tullahoma the last couple of days? Is your brother involved somehow?” Wanda Nell nodded. Quickly she began to relate to her former teacher all that she knew and suspected about her brother and the men involved.

  Quietly sipping her tea, Ernie waited until she had finished before speaking. “How do you think I can help you, Wanda Nell?”

  “I’m hoping you can help me figure out what the connection is between my brother, the two dead men, Marty Shaw, and Bert Vines. And maybe Tony Campbell, for all I know.” Wanda Nell just threw in the last name because he was the brother of one of the victims, plus she remembered that Tony and Marty had been good buddies for a long time. “Teachers always know a lot of what’s going on at school, even if the students don’t know they know it. And I thought maybe you would know, something, or remember something, that could help me figure out what the heck my brother is trying to pull.”

  “Let’s think about this for a moment,” Ernie said. ‘Tony Campbell, Marty Shaw, Bert Vines, and Scott Simpson were all in the same class. A year behind you, as I recall.” Wanda Nell nodded.

  Ernie continued. “Your brother Rusty and Reggie Campbell were a year behind them.”

  “I believe so,” Wanda Nell said. “I mean, I know Rusty was two years behind me in school, and I’m pretty sure Reggie Campbell was in his class.”

  “I’ve been thinking about this ever since you called, I must confess,” Ernie said. She set her empty glass on the tray, then leaned back in her chair. “I’ll tell you what I remember, and we can go from there.”

  Wanda Nell nodded, waiting.

  “Marty Shaw, Tony Campbell, Bert Vines, and Scott Simpson were all on the football team. They were all good friends, and they were seen around town a lot together. There was quite a bit of talk, from time to time, of some fairly wild parties. Drinking and so on.”

  Wanda Nell tried to keep from blushing. She had been with Bobby Ray to a few wild parties herself, and she didn’t remember seeing those four boys at any of them. But then Bobby Ray hadn’t particularly liked any of them. He had hung out with a different crowd.

  “I believe Marty Shaw was the ringleader of the group,” Ernie went on, “and that probably explains why none of them ever got in much trouble. Though I suspect they deserved to more than once.”

  “You mean because Marty’s dad was the sheriff,” Wanda Nell said, “and still is.
”

  “Exactly,” Ernie said. “I have a lot of respect for our sheriff for some of the good things he’s done over the years. But like a lot of fathers he has turned a blind eye to his son’s shenanigans.” She smiled ruefully. “I believe Southern men see it as a mark of pride when their sons are rowdy hell-raisers. As long as they don’t go too far, that is.” Thinking back about the old judge’s reactions to some of Bobby Ray’s escapades, Wanda Nell had to agree.

  “Was there any particular incident,” Wanda Nell said, “that might have been bad enough for them to be in real trouble?”

  “Not that I recall.” Ernie frowned. “That’s not to say something didn’t happen, but if it did, it was kept from public notice. The sheriff would have been able to suppress it, no doubt, especially if his son was involved.”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about it,” Wanda Nell said, “but, if you’ll remember, mine and Rusty’s daddy died the summer before I was a senior and Rusty was going to be a sophomore. After that, both Rusty and me ran a little wild, and Mama had her hands full with us.” She shook her head. “And I was so wild for Bobby Ray then, I don’t think I would have paid any attention if Martians had landed on the square.”

  Ernie grinned. “He was a handsome young devil, wasn’t he? I can see where he might turn any girl’s head, and in my experience, teenage girls aren’t that hard to distract.”

  Wanda Nell didn’t know whether to blush again or just smile. She settled for a brief grin.

  “Now, back to business,” Ernie said briskly. “I don’t remember any particular incident that could explain all this. But I do remember a few things that are quite suggestive.”

  “Like what?” Wanda Nell asked when Ernie paused. “I’m thinking about the way those four boys acted in school that fall, the fall after your father died. For one thing, I remember Bert Vines and Scott Simpson getting into fights with your brother on several occasions. In fact, one time they all got suspended for three days because of it.”