“Um . . .” Her agitation level was rising faster than a flash flood. Grasping for straws, I remembered that Texas mommas are a proud lot. “You know, Dixie was wrong. Melanie has a gift.” I decided to lay it on thick. “My whole family loves her paintings. That’s why we display them on our walls.”
“All she wanted was to sell her work to the tourists and make a success of her gallery. She’s slaved hard for her success.”
“Haven’t we all?”
“No, we all have not!” Elaine cried, gasping for breath. “Dixie sure as hellfire didn’t. Oh, but she wanted to take everything my Melanie had worked so hard for.” Elaine lowered herself to the bed. She leaned forward, the gun hanging loose in her limp hand. The older woman’s voice was growing weaker by the minute.
“How’d she do that?”
“Why, she stole all the glory for herself, selling her necklaces to the tourists and keeping them from buying my Melanie’s beautiful paintings.”
“She didn’t mean to steal, uh, the glory.”
“Oh yes, she did. Mean was her first, last, and middle name. Mean, proud, and ugly, telling Melanie she was going to leave and find her own place.”
Making a big show out of considering Elaine’s words, I nodded my head in tacit agreement. “Wouldn’t that have helped Melanie’s business if Dixie had left?” I was stalling for time, rifling through my mental card file for any tidbit to distract her, but I wasn’t coming up with anything useful.
Elaine’s face went slack for a moment. “No, darling.” The older woman made a tsk-tsk sound. Obviously, the good Lord hadn’t given me enough sense to come in out of the rain. She leaned forward, eager to help me understand. “Melanie wanted Dixie to sell her turquoise jewelry somewhere else. You see, my daughter needed,” Elaine wrinkled her nose in disgust, “that woman to keep selling her other, less popular pieces at the gallery. That way, folks coming in to buy from Dixie would be awestruck by Melanie’s work and buy one of her paintings instead. She could have sold her turquoise baubles anywhere, but oh no. She wouldn’t have it.” Elaine jerked to an upright position, her right hand opening and closing as if grabbing onto an imaginary flashlight. “She had to grind Melanie’s face in it.”
“Your daughter is so talented,” I soothed. “She’s going to become famous.”
“Of course she will, once you’re out of the way. You see, I can’t afford for anyone to find out that I murdered Dixie. If the world found out her mother was a murderer they’d never take Melanie’s art seriously.”
I wet my lips, desperately trying to formulate an argument.
“I always thought you were an intelligent girl. Unfortunately, you’ve proved too smart for your own good.”
“Josie, you okay?” Aunt Linda’s voice floated up the stairs like a ray of sanity.
From under the loveseat, Lenny sprang like a mountain lion upon Elaine’s chest, growling and biting her face while the older woman screamed. “Get him off me! Get him off!”
“Lenny, heel.” My tiny defender stared at me as if I’d lost my ability to command. “Now.”
“Yap,” he barked in Elaine’s face before jumping from her chest and running to my side.
Elaine pulled up her knees, dropped her head onto her arms, and began to weep.
“We’re okay, Aunt Linda!”
With a tenderness I usually reserved for Lenny, I joined Elaine on the edge of the bed, after I kicked the pistol underneath it.
“Josie, what happened to your door?” Aunt Linda called from the landing.
“Stay where you are,” I cried. “I’m going to invite Aunt Linda in to sit with you. Is that all right, Elaine? You know she wouldn’t harm a fly.”
The weeping chairwoman lifted her head. “That’s okay, I guess. Your Aunt Linda’s a kind woman.” She patted my hand. “I really should have killed you, but I just couldn’t do it. You’re the spitting image of your mother.”
“Come on in.”
My worried aunt nearly fell through the doorway. She wrapped her arms around Elaine and proceeded to rock her back and forth while the older woman cried.
Right on her heels was Senora Mari, and behind the Martinez women were the cavalry, Sheriff Wallace and Deputy Lightfoot.
“Yip,” Lenny said. I was so consumed with showing my gratitude, I didn’t mind that he licked my face and mouth. He was my hero.
When Lightfoot helped Patti remove the last vestiges of duct tape, she smiled at him as if he were the second coming. If I hadn’t been so happy to see her freed, I would have kicked her in the shins for making her attraction so obvious.
Wallace pulled me into the hall.
“What’s going on here?”
“Sheriff, it’s another case of the Texas cheerleading mom. Elaine wanted so badly for her dear, sweet, talented Melanie to get all the glory for being the most talented artist in Broken Boot that she convinced herself she had to get rid of Dixie.”
“That sounds too crazy to be untrue.” The sheriff took off his hat, which meant he was thinking deeply.
“In Dixie’s upcoming interview in The Texan she skewers Melanie and her gallery, calling her a no-talent hack and worse. And she goes on about how Elaine bought Melanie’s success.”
“How would Elaine know what was in that interview?”
“Dixie didn’t hide any aces up her sleeve. Knowing her, she probably threw it in Melanie’s face.”
Senora Mari stuck her head out into the hall. “She’s coming, sheriff. You got the handcuffs ready?”
“That’s not the way we treat upright, solid . . . I mean, that’s not the way we do things here.” By his deep frown, it was obvious he hadn’t completely comprehended how deep a puddle of crazy the festival chairwoman had fallen into. Straightening his shoulders, he hitched up his belt and went to talk to Elaine himself.
With an arm around Patti, who mysteriously appeared a lot weaker than she had fifteen minutes ago, Lightfoot paused in the doorway. With a quick glance toward the couch, he whispered to the sheriff, “She’s sobbing a confession all over herself in there. If you ask me, someone should hand her paper and pencil while the words are flowing.”
“You okay?” I narrowed my eyes at Patti to make sure she knew how much I disapproved of her sudden display of feminine wiles.
She sighed and gave me a weak smile. “I’m fine. Guess I’m in shock,” she said, looking up through her eyelashes at the deputy.
Growling was not an option, but I wanted my friend back, not this flirt with dyed black hair and facial piercings. I couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disgusted with her and with myself. Hadn’t I found Lightfoot attractive? And hadn’t I looked for him every time a cruiser drove by? The whole thing was sickening. I was Josie Callahan, dang it.
I was not about to jump out of the pan and into the fish fryer. She could have him.
“Lightfoot, take Patti downstairs and find her a Dr Pepper. The sugar and caffeine will make a new woman out of her.” I gave her a knowing look, making sure she got the message.
“What about you?” she asked as an afterthought.
“We’ll stay here.” Aunt Linda and I would stay with the sheriff and Elaine. Only minutes earlier, she’d threatened me with a pistol, but I wasn’t afraid. If my aunt chose to be a comfort to Elaine, the killer committee chairwoman, then I chose to be a comfort to my aunt.
I found a spiral notebook and a gel pen for Elaine. As long as Aunt Linda stayed by her side, she was content to pour out the whole confusing and sordid truth.
It turned out that Elaine had always wanted to throw pots and own her own pottery shop as a girl, but no one believed in her abilities. She’d sucked it up and married Mr. Burnett, raised her girls, and started Elaine’s Pies, all the while wishing she could follow her dream.
By the time Elaine lowered her pen, Lenny was snoring in the middle of my bed, and I was wondering how rude
it would be if I left Aunt Linda to chaperone the confession while I joined him for a quick snooze.
Sheriff Wallace placed his hat on his head and hiked his belt. “Time to take you down to the station, Elaine. There’s no getting around it.”
“If you say so, sheriff. I voted for you because you’re a man of integrity.” With Aunt Linda’s help, Elaine rose to her feet, lifted her chin high in the air, and followed Wallace down the stairs. Aunt Linda and I watched them go in silence. With one mind, we turned to each other and hugged.
Chapter 22
On Monday night, Milagro closed its weary doors for a much needed respite after the end of a bumpy, but successful, Wild Wild West Festival. Or rather, the festival was as successful as it could be, considering the fact the festival committee chairwoman murdered Broken Boot’s premier jewelry designer.
Funny, but most folks didn’t think that unsavory detail affected the popularity of the festival as a whole.
Though it was our usual night off, it might as well have been a Friday night on Austin’s Sixth Street. The festival committee, sans their unhinged chairwoman, gathered as planned for the annual festival postmortem. All aspects of the weekend from attendance and revenues to talent and murder would be evaluated, discussed, and raked over the coals.
No one even considered cancelling after Elaine’s arrest. What did it matter that a murderess placed the meeting on the calendar? The committee would not be swayed.
Senora Mari planned on making tamales, but we talked her out of it. When I closed my eyes I could still envision Elaine Bennett choking on our most popular menu item. If I didn’t see another tamale until Labor Day, that would be fine by me. Instead our tamale maven grudgingly supervised the preparation of fried ice cream, jalapeno poppers, and steamed tilapia with roasted vegetables.
I popped into the kitchen to check on the evening’s fare. “Hola,” I said, making sure to greet Carlos, our cook, and Senora Mari in a friendly, nonthreatening way. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, our executive chef was as worn out as an old leather boot.
“Ah, Dios! Take out more chips and salsa if they’re so hungry,” Senora Mari growled as she removed a tray of jalapeno poppers from the industrial oven.
I grabbed a few serving plates and hurried to her side. “Shh, no one’s complaining, abuela.” Together we gingerly plated the appetizers. “Thanks for changing the menu. I know you’re disappointed.”
She clutched me in her arms. After a long pause she said, “Never disappointed in you. I thank God you’re alive.” She backed away, her eyes bright and full of unshed tears. “Even if you are a pain in my backside.”
The kitchen doors swung open and a young, dark-haired waiter stepped inside. “What can I do to help?”
“Anthony, take these out with additional napkins,” I said with a warm smile. Sheriff Wallace had wasted no time in releasing our newest waiter into the arms of his family.
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave Senora Mari a wink and headed into the dining room with the first course.
“Go, go,” she said, shooing me out the door. “Go make margaritas or something.”
Back in the dining room, Mayor Cogburn cleared his throat. “Congratulations, y’all, on the best Wild Wild West Festival ever.” Everyone cheered, and Bubba and Uncle Eddie whooped. “In spite of everything,” the mayor continued, “we overcame adversity and persevered to . . .” The mayor, trying to make eye contact with everyone in the room, locked eyes with his wife. They smiled at each other like two teenagers on their way to prom.
“Celebrate another day,” said Mrs. Mayor, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. It was the first time I could remember her ever finishing one of her husband’s sentences. The room burst into applause.
“Guess what Felicia told me, not two minutes ago, outside the ladies’ room?” Aunt Linda whispered from behind me.
“Do tell,” I whispered back, resisting the urge to turn around.
“She and the mayor have been driving to El Paso for couples counseling for the past six months.” I could hear the barely restrained laughter in her voice. “Working on intimacy issues . . . if you know what I mean.”
Well, shut my mouth.
No wonder the mayor paid Dixie to stop spreading his business up and down Main Street.
After several minutes of listening to Mayor Cogburn field the same questions about the murder without any sign of discussing the festival, Aunt Linda escaped into her office, complaining of a headache. If I knew my aunt, she’d already kicked her feet up on her desk and was scanning the Internet for pictures of Chuck Norris to add to her electronic scrapbook.
I refilled several glasses of sweet tea and left the committee to wrangle it out. Unlike last week, Uncle Eddie was behind the bar mixing margaritas with loving attention to detail, though he sometimes added salt when none was wanted and vice versa. I found a booth nearby, put up my feet, and rested my head against the stucco.
The cowbell over the front door clanged. “Must be nice to be such a celebrity,” Ryan said. “You think you can do as you please, don’t you?” He grabbed my left boot with both hands as if he meant to pull it off.
“Hey, stop that!” He meant well, but I didn’t need cheering up. I was simply in a thoughtful mood, reflecting on the good things in my life. Elaine had tried to steal them away, but instead, my everyday blessings—my best friend, my family, and my dog—had all saved me.
The sheriff and his deputies ultimately rescued me from crazy Elaine, but the people I loved the most had saved me from heartbreak.
“What are you up to?” I asked, lowering my feet.
He took me up on my invitation and sat down across from me. “Looking for Eddie, of course.”
I glanced at the bar and discovered Uncle Eddie had miraculously vanished.
Ryan gazed into my eyes and I gazed right back. I couldn’t resist asking one last time, “What’s Hell-on-Wheels up to tonight?” The former beauty queen and I shouldn’t have any reason to speak until next year’s festival. Watching Ryan formulate his reply, I wondered if Hillary would notice if I disappeared into thin air each time they came to dine.
Then again, why should I give her that much power over me?
“I don’t know.” Ryan looked away, stared at the clock, checked his watch, and then scratched his thumb with a fork.
“What did you do to hack her off?”
His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Now you mention it, I seem to remember telling her I didn’t want to see her anymore.”
All my thoughts evaporated like dew on a cactus in the morning heat. My pulse rushed through my veins, and suddenly I was fighting mad. “Why the heck did you do that?”
“What’s wrong with you? It’s not as if you liked her.”
My heart was thumping with rage. “I couldn’t stand her, but that doesn’t mean you had to break up with her.”
“You make no sense, as usual,” he muttered.
Uncle Eddie wandered back in. “Hey man, what’s going on? I thought you were heading out of town to Southlake to meet some prospective parents.”
“Had to postpone a day,” he said and glanced my way. “I thought I had some business here.”
“You thought wrong.” I could tolerate Ryan if he had a girlfriend. But I didn’t want him, and I didn’t want him to think I wanted him. And he had another think coming if he thought I was putting myself out there to get my nose lobbed off again, to be told I was a great friend, but not a girlfriend—which was what had happened last time he and I dated.
Plus, we backed different football teams.
“Jo Jo, you okay?” my uncle asked, stepping out from behind the bar.
I smiled. “I’m fine.” He would be overly protective for the next few days until football drew him back into her jealous arms.
“Yip, yip,” a familiar voice called.
Befor
e I could stop him, Ryan ducked into the stockroom and came out with the Lenster. With his new buzz cut, he resembled a ferret, but he held his pointed head high. In return for saving my life, I’d given him a bath and many tasty treats.
“Hey, Lenny, how’s it going?” Ryan crooned. “When do we get to read your first blog post?”
“Yip,” the brave Chi answered. Elaine had merely shaved him instead of doing far worse, and for that blessing I would be eternally grateful.
“He’s decided to take a sabbatical until I finish writing my follow-up articles on Elaine’s arrest,” I said.
Ryan tipped his head down to Lenny’s mouth. “Right.” He nodded his head in agreement. “She’s mean to me too, meaner than a snake at a rattlesnake rodeo.”
I whistled and Lenny jumped from Ryan’s arms and came running. I scooped him into my lap. “Don’t listen to the Neanderthal football coach, he’s a bad influence.”
“Tell me about Southlake,” Uncle Eddie interrupted. He gave me a sharp glance, warning me, in no uncertain terms, not to treat football or his friend with disrespect.
Without the benefit of the cowbell, Lightfoot walked into the bar area from the kitchen. “You know I could write you a ticket for having that animal in here.”
I grinned. “Dream on. Last time I checked you weren’t the health inspector.” I bolted out of my seat and hurried toward him with my arms open wide.
His eyes widened in fear like a horse about to bolt for the pasture until my favorite Goth princess stepped out from behind him. I threw my arms around her. “Patti!”
Yesterday, for the first time in forever, she’d hung a sign on the door of the Broken Boot Feed and Supply:
CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
We’d hung out at her place, baking cookies, painting our toenails, and processing our near-death adventure.
Only two nights after Elaine’s pistol-packing rampage, Patti was as feisty as ever. Her eyes shone with mirth as she shot a glance at Lightfoot and back at me.
I shook my head in mock dismay. I didn’t think he was a good fit for her. What did he know about artistic, intelligent women? Would he support her need to run her family business and pursue her photography? No. He’d work long hours and expect her to kowtow to his demands and work schedule.
Here Today, Gone Tamale Page 26
