by C. L. Bevill
Silence ensued.
Jesus’ eyes opened wide and then he said, “It is Iiiii.” He twisted the knife around in his hand, pointing with it efficiently. “And this wiiiill cut the rolls nicely. So I have sayethed.”
He put the knife down on the table next to the cinnamon rolls.
A confused look tumbled over Bubba’s features. “I thought that you were the killer,” he said, and then clapped a hand over his stupid, oversized mouth.
Jesus rolled his eyes contemptuously. “Not meeee,” he said. “It’s her.” And he pointed.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Twenty-two - The Christmas Killer Meets…Brownie
Thursday, December 29th
Jesus Christ was pointing at Nancy Musgrave. She sighed regretfully and took out a large gun that had been lying across her lap concealed by the tablecloth. Bubba didn’t know what it was, but it had a very large barrel and appeared to be aimed in their direction with the business end. “Yes, well,” she said, “I was so enjoying that cup of tea, too.”
Fudge started to say something, but Virtna snapped, “Shut up, Fudge.”
Nancy nodded approvingly. “Jesus, please sit down.”
Jesus moved around the table and took a seat next to David Beathard.
David said, “You know, Nancy, revenge can be likened to the latent concept of developmental retardation of unsocialized primate studies. There’s a direct correlation between twin studies and—”
“Shut up, David,” Nancy said pleasantly.
Bubba thought, Jesus tried to warn Miz Lou Lou so that she could tell the police. Thelda has been trying to tell me in her own way all along. David Beathard was even trying to get some message across. “You used mental patients to help you in your crimes?” he ejected incredulously.
Nancy shrugged. “They were available. And who was going to believe them if they blabbed?”
“Are you really a social worker, dear?” Aunt Caressa asked agreeably.
“Of course,” Nancy responded, slightly surprised. “I have a master’s degree in social work and several certifications and the licenses to go with it. Why would I lie about that?”
“Oh, to try and get awwwway with muuuurder, perhaps?” Jesus suggested.
Nancy pointed the muzzle of the gun at Jesus briefly. “I like you, Jesus. Don’t make me shoot you.”
Fudge said sotto voce, “She’s the one who’s bin killing all them folks?”
Virtna said, “Ixnay, Udge-Fay. Certifiable murderer about.”
“Not certifiable, dear,” Aunt Caressa said. “That would imply that Nancy is insane.” She took a drink of her tea. Bubba was trying to gauge how far it was to get to Nancy and her very large pistol. Could she shoot him before he took her out? And would the loonies suddenly decide to help their social worker?
“That’s right,” Nancy agreed. The end of the pistol wavered away from Jesus, and he sighed audibly.
Bubba glanced at the grandfather clock at the end of the dining room. Just hold out for a few more minutes and then…then what would happen? The police would storm up to the house. Would Nancy Musgrave surrender peacefully, or would she start shooting just for the hell of it?
“It was always about revenge,” Nancy announced.
“Revenge for what?” Fudge asked interestedly. “I mean, folks have been keeping loads of secrets about this place.”
“Your aunt,” Nancy said firmly, pointing the gun for emphasis. Fudge slid to one side. The end of the pistol followed him. Fudge slid back to the other side, and the gun followed him there, so he froze in place. “Your aunt was the one who got my father thrown in jail.”
Fudge shrugged. He automatically knew that Nancy was referring to Miz Demetrice. “Auntie D.’s kind of a wired-up spitfire. She done causes a lot of trouble.”
“My father,” Nancy said again with a lot of ingrained patience obvious in her voice. “He took money from a fund to buy his children Christmas gifts. Christmas gifts,” she repeated longingly. “Only Christmas gifts.”
Leaving some story line out of that one, Bubba thought, but for some reason he didn’t feel compelled to fill in the blanks.
“And Miz Demetrice persuaded the Pegramville Historical Society Board to press charges against him,” Nancy went on blithely. “They didn’t even give him a chance to make it up. My mother told me. Miz Demetrice was enraged at my father. He stole. He took. He was a thief. But he did it for the best of reasons.”
“When did this happen?” Fudge asked doubtfully.
“Years and years ago,” Nancy snapped. “It doesn’t matter. Your aunt persuaded the board to press charges. My father went to prison. And my mother changed our names. She even wrote an official note saying we had all died in a car wreck and sent it to the Pegram Herald so no one would think to bother us again. Then Dad killed himself. Even with the name change we were tainted by all the lies your aunt perpetuated. All the foul words that came out of her mouth and spread all across the state. It wasn’t until I married that I finally got out from underneath some of those awful fabrications. Our lives were never the same. Never. Never. Never.”
Bubba felt for the woman. But he felt more for Steve Killebrew’s family. And Miz Beatrice’s nephews. As a matter of fact, he was missing out on paying his last respects to Miz Beatrice, and that really was all Nancy Musgrave’s fault. “You were married?” he asked numbly. That explained why her name wasn’t Newbrough.
“Divorced now,” Nancy explained. “He was a total jerkface. Although I did keep the name.”
“That’s why you slit that fella’s throat and dressed him up like Santa Claus,” Fudge asked incredulously. “What did he have to do with it?”
“Steve Killebrew was on the same board,” Nancy hissed vehemently, waving the pistol about. Eight pairs of eyes watched the end of the barrel move from side to side as if they were watching the ball at a tennis match lobbing from one side to the other. “He helped put my father in prison.”
“And the old lady?” Virtna said. “You stabbed a poor old woman in the chest because your father took money years ago?”
“It was for Christmas gifts!” Nancy yelled. The pistol pointed at Virtna. “You don’t understand! You’re a silly vain woman who only looks at possessions and sees dollar signs.” Virtna shrugged meaningfully.
“You’re killing the entire board that put your pa in prison?” Aunt Caressa said and drank another sip of tea. Bubba could see his aunt’s hand was shaking.
The gun’s end went away from Virtna and pointed in-between Fudge and Caressa. “In the order they voted,” Nancy affirmed. “Well, mostly anyway. And I even sent letters out to the members of the board warning them. Two of them are dead, so I can’t do anything to them. One lives in Corpus Christie so I’m off to points south after this to catch up with that particular gentleman. I left Christmas flowers and bits of the very same ribbon Dad used on all those presents so somewhere Dad would know what I was doing for him. And I’ll end here with Miz Demetrice. It was, after all, her fault.”
And Nancy left the flowers and ribbon on Dad’s grave, too. Bubba didn’t want to point out that issue for clarification or that his mother was sitting in a jail cell probably doodling on a wall about Attica, Watts, and Rodney King. Thanks to Big Joe, Miz Demetrice wouldn’t be coming back today.
“But,” Nancy said loudly. Then she repeated it for emphasis. “But, Bubba, here, got in the way. He got to interfering. Started asking too many questions about what was happening and to whom. He’s sticking his big cracker nose into other people’s business.”
“Bubba has a way of doing that,” Aunt Caressa said agreeably. “It’s one of his failings.”
“I’ll say,” Fudge muttered. “You know, Virtna, I believe we should head back to Louisiana today. The air in Texas is a little twisted.”
“I quite agree,” Virtna said.
“Thou art a pair of shaggy, snag-eared snipes, verily,” Thelda said. The expression on her face said everything else she wasn’t saying. No on
e was going anywhere with Nancy pointing her cannon-like revolver at the group.
“I didn’t mind that Bubba found Steve Killebrew’s body,” Nancy said, as if Fudge, Virtna, and Thelda hadn’t spoken. “That was fortuitous because it made Big Joe suspicious of Bubba. I couldn’t have anticipated that Bubba had argued with Steve.”
“It wasn’t really an argument,” Bubba said and wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“After all, how could I tell if the people around here were always talking to everyone else? I mean, everyone knows everyone here. The gossip here is like having the NSA in your backyard. But I wanted Demetrice to suffer, so it worked out well. Likewise, Beatrice Smothermon’s death was something that she had to see for herself, and when I overheard them talking on the phone, it was a sign from God.”
“Not one of miiiine,” Jesus Christ interjected.
The pistol shifted toward Jesus momentarily, and his mouth snapped shut. “I took the cheese knife at the same time,” Nancy finished. “Appropriate for the deed. Just like later, I planted part of the same rope I hanged Sheriff John in the shed out back. Turns out that people have a proclivity for trying to frame the Snoddys.”
“And you drugged Darla and John Headrick, too,” Bubba said. As long as Nancy was willing to talk about her misdeeds, why not let her talk all night long?
“Of course I did,” Nancy grumbled. “Terribly easy to do. Half the people around here leave their back doors open. And I couldn’t very well get Sheriff John out of the house if he had been awake. He’s bigger than you are.”
“But Sheriff John saw more than one person,” Bubba said and looked at Thelda, David Beathard, and Jesus Christ.
“As I said, Sheriff John is bigger than you are,” Nancy said impatiently. She gestured quickly at the three patients with the end of the gun. “And they don’t mind helping, especially when they’ve got extra medication in them.”
David Beathard shrugged apologetically. “Who am I to judge someone about the state of their psychosis? Psychosises? Psychosi?”
“You planned all of this for years? Got a master’s degree in social work, just to get to this point?” Virtna said, clearly impressed.
“Well, I got the degrees first,” Nancy said, slightly mollified. “The rest of it just came together. Especially when I was offered the job at the Dogley Institute for Mental Well-Being. Moving here meant I was closer to my great-uncle, and it didn’t take much to get him to keep his mouth shut. And your mayor, John Leroy, Jr., helped matters along by agreeing to my suggestion that the patients try to mainstream into local society.”
Bubba would have sighed, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to bring attention to himself. It wouldn’t help matters if he pointed out that Nancy’s great-uncle, Forrest, had not exactly kept his mouth shut, after all. He began to inch closer to Nancy. The closer he was to her, the less he would have to jump to get the gun away from her. Furthermore, the less time she would have to shoot him center of mass.
“Then Jesus Christ here started stealing things just as I was getting going. Just to get attention. I think he wanted to spill the beans. Hemorrhoid cream, for goodness’ sake. Deodorant. And what was it yesterday?”
“Athlete’s foot gel,” Jesus replied obediently. “A caaaase of it. I hid it in my joooock strap. The wafting robes conceeeealed my theft. Father, forgive meeee.”
“And Thelda there with her Shakespearean insults designed to give clues. Verily, you art a numb-skulled simpleton,” Nancy said derisively to Thelda.
Thelda shrugged. “Prithee listen between the words, sir, and thou may not yet be a canker-headed beetle blossom.” She reconsidered. “Although I doubt it. Word.”
“And David there,” Nancy pointed with the end of the pistol. David winced and tried to sink down into his chair. “Well, David wanted to do a therapeutic intervention in order to rescue my damaged psyche.”
“There were medical indications of a fractured psychological barrier that would allow one to disregard typical feelings of guilt as manifested urges to commit homicide,” David said and then trailed off when Nancy glared at him in a particular way.
Bubba inched forward another bit.
“Perhaps I should invest more time in researching the psychotropic internalities of that subject,” David suggested weakly and sank further down into the chair.
Bubba took the opportunity to move more.
Aunt Caressa abruptly realized that Bubba was intent on preventing harm to the others. She looked at Nancy and said, “Why don’t we have some of Miz Adelia’s fine cinnamon rolls and discuss this further? She’s an outstanding chef, and her rolls will melt in your—”
She was reaching for the knife and the platter of rolls when Nancy pointed the gun back at her.
“I dislike upsetting my previously immaculately planned scenario,” Nancy said plainly. “I don’t have my Christmas list with me, and I certainly didn’t have time to harvest some flowers from the greenhouse at the institute.” She smiled at Bubba’s gape-mouthed expression. “Yes, the patients operate a greenhouse twelve months a year. They sell the flora for charitable donations, chiefly benefitting mentally ill individuals. Their specialty is…Christmas flowers. Isn’t that just ducky?”
Bubba had to admit internally that it was just ducky.
Virtna abruptly perceived Bubba’s plans and said, “But you cain’t kill all of us. We didn’t do any harm to your family. And we certainly understand if a soul needs to extract vengeance on another. Bubba didn’t know about the misdeeds done to your family, and he’s a good person. He took us all in, and we’re not the best sort about.” She smiled crookedly at Bubba. “Although I do try.”
Bubba took another half step toward Nancy Musgrave.
Nancy pointed the gun at Bubba and said coldly, “Stop moving, Bubba Snoddy.”
Bubba stopped moving. The end of the gun was directed at him and stayed there unwaveringly. And well, just at that moment, something else caught his rapt attention. Beyond Nancy, behind her in the kitchen, a shape was covertly moving toward them.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nancy said imperiously. “Bubba has to pay, just as the rest of us did.”
“What about your brother?” Bubba said in a rush. “Isn’t he going to be hurt by all of this?”
“Morgan?” Nancy said snidely. Her lips curled into a secretive smile. “He works at a Best Buy in Dallas, and he’s got a family. Once, Morgan’s wife tried to have me committed, but I know exactly what to say to a psychiatrist and it didn’t work.” She briefly pointed the gun at David Beathard. “It’s a lesson that David never learned.”
The figure moved from shadow to shadow. Bubba prayed it was Big Joe, broken jaw and all. He would jump on Nancy, and everyone at the table could dive for the deck to avoid stray bullets from the end of Nancy’s portable bazooka.
It could work. Fudge’s hand was already reaching for the back of Virtna’s chair to jerk her out of the way. David was sinking lower in the chair and would be mostly underneath the heavy oak table in a moment. Jesus’ eyes widened as he grasped that someone was sneaking up on Nancy, but he kept his mouth wisely shut. His shoulder leaned to the left as he prepared to worship at the feet of Out-Of-The-Way. Aunt Caressa was shifting in her chair; she was not stupid. She was going to check on the cleanliness of Miz Demetrice’s hardwood floors in an up close and personal modus way. Miz Adelia was following David Beathard’s lead by allowing her body to slip down, down, down. Thelda turned her head, and her mouth dropped open as she unexpectedly detected the figure behind Nancy.
Aunt Caressa said, “Well, I’ll be damned,” and the end of the Big Bertha swung back to her briefly. Her mouth closed with a snap.
Bubba turned his head slightly, and he suddenly comprehended that it wasn’t Big Joe behind Nancy. Neither was it Willodean or any of the other Pegram County Sheriff’s Deputies. It wasn’t Sheriff John or any of the Pegramville Police Department Officers as well. To be perfectly clear, it wasn’t any law enforcement official. Oh, g
oddammit, he thought.
“Bubba Snoddy,” Nancy intoned malignantly as the gun was brought to bear squarely upon his figure. “I think we’ve had enough of the soliloquy confessing my guilt and my nefarious plan, haven’t we? You’ve got all the answers.”
Bubba swiped his hand across his throat, trying to persuade the person just behind Nancy to go back into the kitchen and disappear into relative safety. Nancy blinked hard at him and tried to mentally decipher the reason for his abrupt gesture.
Then Nancy knew what the rest of them knew. Someone very silent had slipped up behind her and was ready to do something to her. She leaped to her feet and started to spin.
That was when Brownie reached out with a practiced hand and shocked Nancy with the stun gun he was holding. The two tiny leads were pressed firmly against the skin just about the opening of her neck in an adept method that Bubba found both astonishing and flabbergasting. Brownie could have been a stun gun connoisseur with a smooth practiced professionalism in the methodology of knocking-someone-on-their-tushy.
With an unexpected action that was anticlimactic, Nancy Musgrave dropped the hefty handgun to the floor and followed closely thereafter with her body. The chair tipped over beside her and made a louder thump than she had. She twitched for a very long time before her eyes closed into an obviously uncomfortable unconsciousness.
Brownie spun the stun gun in his hand with a haughty look on his face.
“Just who in merry hell gave my only child a stun gun?” Virtna snarled viciously.
Staring down at his unconscious victim, Brownie announced loudly and smugly, “Bet she still tells kids there’s a Santy Claus.”
~ ~ ~
Epilogue - Things Wrap up for Bubba…or Do They?
And on the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a corpse in a Nativity scene…
Thursday, December 29th -
One could say that events went downhill from there. Although the Christmas Killer was identified, neutralized, and hogtied by the time the actual law enforcement officials appeared on the scene, Bubba was immediately arrested.
