by Webb, Peggy
“Callie,” he whispers, and I turn to see Roy Jessup with his face blanched whiter than Lovie’s sugar icing.
“Roy, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“No, I’m okay. I need to talk to you. That’s all.”
“Look, Roy, if it’s about Leonora, I already know about the baby. Just between us, I think you’re doing a noble thing.”
“It’s not that. It’s…”
“Callie!” My mother’s big bray cuts short anything Roy was going to tell me. She’s heading my way, full steam.
Roy panics. “This is important, Callie. I’ve got to talk to you.”
“How about meeting me in the back room by the wash and rinse sinks. In, say, fifteen minutes?”
“Okay.” He ducks his head and vanishes into the crowd. Whether he’s searching for Leonora or a place to hide from Trixie, I can’t tell, but my guess would the latter.
Mama is still barreling my way, breathing hard.
“Holy cow, Mama? What is it?”
“It’s an emergency!”
Good grief. I think I’m going to be sick.
Elvis’ Opinion # 9 on Party Etiquette, Gossip, and Just Plain Tacky
When it comes to gathering gossip, I’m the dog to do the trick. Being low to the floor and able to weave among folks’ legs gives me a distinct advantage. At the moment, I’m under the mayor’s wife’s skirt, and she’s saying to the mayor, “Leonora’s bombshell is just plain tacky, especially with her cousin in the room.”
“Good God, Junie Mae,” Mayor Getty says. “Keep it down. This is an election year.”
If you ask me, Junie Mae’s right. First Leonora plays hanky panky with her cousin’s groom-to-be and then she snatches Trixie’s ex-fiancé right out from under her nose. I ought to trot over there and lift a leg on Leonora’s tacky shoes.
Listen, a dog can’t live with Callie Valentine Jones and not learn a thing or two about fashion. No woman in her right mind would wear silver sequined shoes with a silver sequined dress. But then, the way Leonora’s been acting lately, whoever said she was in her right mind.
As I weave my way through a sea of legs to Callie, I hear some whispered speculation that Leonora was the one who knocked off Jim Boy. I could tell them who the real killer is, but nobody’s asking my opinion. The only thing I have to say about that is thank the gods of PupPeroni, Jack Jones is on the job. My human daddy won’t be long nabbing the killer.
If I had time, I’d go over and pee on the killer’s shoes, just on general principle, but my human mom needs me.
Ruby Nell is about to beat me to Callie, so I hustle my portly but handsome self and get there just in time to give her a reassuring lick on her ankles. Then I plop my substantial butt by her feet and dare Ruby Nell to upset her with any more bombshells. One per evening is enough, thank you very much.
“Mama, are you having a heart attack?”
“Why would you ask a thing like that?”
“You said you have an emergency. To me that means you’re either bleeding or dying.”
“Flitter, Callie. I just wanted to borrow a few emergency funds before you get so busy I can’t get a word in edgewise.”
“Holy cow, Mama! You call that an emergency?”
“When you’re my age and live alone, everything’s an emergency. I did think my only daughter would understand that.”
Ruby Nell always plays this card with Callie, and it works every time. My human mom lets out a big sigh and then leads Ruby Nell into her office. Naturally, I’m right behind them.
Listen, something foul is afoot, and I’m not about to let Callie out of my sight. The killer is circulating through the party in complete anonymity, and I’m stuck in a dog suit, voiceless. Still, I can stir up enough T-R-O-U-B-L-E to make a murderer think twice before harming one hair on my human mom’s head.
Callie closes the door to her office and sits in her desk chair.
“How much is this little emergency going to cost me, Mama?”
Ruby Nell names a figure big enough to burst anybody’s bubble. I’m proud of the way my human mom takes it in stride. Listen, don’t let anybody dissuade you from getting a dog for Christmas. If it weren’t for me, Callie would be a basket case. Thanks to my comfort and gentle persuasion, not to mention my entertainment factor, she’s a well-grounded woman who can handle any curve ball Ruby Nell throws her.
Callie opens her desk drawer and pulls out the cash box. Being the generous soul she is, she hands her mama twice the amount she named, then leans in to give her a little hug.
Ruby Nell gets all flustered and teary-eyed.
“What’s that for, Cal?”
“Do I have to have a reason to hug my own mother?”
“Well, of course not. I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“What wrong idea, Mama?”
“That I’m happy with the way poor Jack is still having to stay at the Magnolia Arms. And during the Christmas season, to boot.”
“Good grief. I can’t think about Jack now.”
“I don’t know why not.”
“If you’ll care to remember, I’m the prime suspect in Jim Boy’s murder.”
“Flitter. You shouldn’t worry one minute about that. Sheriff Trice can’t find his butt with both hands, but with Jack and Charlie helping, he’ll have the killer in jail before you can blink.”
You might not think that’s such comforting words coming from somebody as self-centered and flighty as Ruby Nell, but she really does love Callie, and my human mom knows it.
“Thank you, Mama,” she says. “I don’t know why, but that makes me feel better.”
Maybe Callie feels better, but I don’t. And it has nothing to do with Ruby Nell. The signals I’m getting through my noble nose and my radar ears are enough to send my hackles up.
Callie and Ruby Nell head toward the door, but I plant myself squarely in front of them and give a low growl. Callie squats beside me and pets my head.
“Elvis, what is it boy?”
I shake my head so hard, my Santa Paws hat flies off. Once is enough, I try to tell her, but she doesn’t speak dog and I don’t speak human.
I hear footsteps hurrying by, and get a whiff of the killer. If my primary job weren’t protecting my favorite human, I’d be out of there like a flash.
This office is soundproof so Callie and Ruby Nell don’t hear a thing. It takes a dog of my extraordinary abilities to detect danger beyond the door.
I bare my teeth and make a general pest of myself until I’m sure it’s safe to let Callie and Ruby Nell through the door. Ruby Nell prances through first and starts screaming.
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Callie peers past Ruby Nell and starts screaming, too.
The sight is not pretty. Even I wasn’t prepared for this.
It’s another bridegroom, already going stiff, and the killer’s scent is all over this room. Let me tell you, I’m not leaving Callie’s side the rest of the night.
Chapter Fourteen
Hullabaloo, Pink Plastic, and Deck the Halls with Christmas Corpses
There is Roy Jessup by my wash and rinse sinks, dead as a doornail with one of my little pink plastic coloring caps wrapped over his face. Mama is still screaming, but I’ve gone from vocalizing terror to hyperventilating. Guess whose fingerprints will be all over that coloring cap?
Jack is the first one on the scene, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I throw myself at him and cling like Saran wrap. He gets a good grip around my waist with one arm and grabs Mama with the other.
There’s a screech behind us, and Fayrene yells, “Oh my God, Ruby Nell, stand back! Your NBA is going to be all over the crime scene!”
People start pushing and shoving their way through the door, and suddenly it’s like the Red Sea has burst all over the back of my beauty shop.
“Get those people out of there,” Sheriff Trice yells, and deputies appear out of the woodwork to settle down the crowd. “Secure the doors! Nobody leaves!”
/> Jack presses my head against his shoulder then leans in close.
“Callie, I’m going to take you and Ruby Nell back into your office, and I want you to stay there till I come. Can you do that for me?”
His voice is as gentle as I’ve ever heard it. The state I’m in, I’d agree to walk barefoot through hot coals for him, except for one big problem.
“Jack, this is my party and these are my guests. If you think I’m gong to hide in my office like a coward instead of trying to make things as pleasant as possible in my very own beauty shop, you’re sadly mistaken.”
He sighs. “At least get your mama and Fayrene in there and tell them to stay put. And keep Elvis away from the crime scene, will you?”
Elvis is practically glued to my ankles. Listen, he might not look very fierce, and folks might laugh when I call him my watch dog, but he makes me feel safer.
“I can do that.”
Elvis is no problem, but getting Mama and Fayrene corralled and headed in the right direction is like herding cats.
“I don’t know why I can’t go back out front with everybody else,” Mama says.
“Because you and I were in the back of my shop when Roy Jessup was killed, and that makes us the prime suspects, Mama.”
“Callie’s right, Ruby Nell. But don’t you worry. I’m right here with you. If you faint, I’ll give you artificial perspiration.”
“What I need is some Prohibition punch.”
“I’ll get it, Mama. Just stay put, please.”
I open the door and motion to Jack, and I’m sorry to say that he looks so good to me I almost forget that I’ve got another bridegroom turning stiff beside my wash and rinse sinks.
“What is it, Cal?”
“Can I go through there and get something to drink for Mama and Fayrene?”
“Not without these.” He kneels and puts little plastic slippers on my feet. I’m not about to tell you what feeling Jack’s hot breath on my legs is doing to me. I reckon murder has plumb knocked me off my rocker.
I hasten to my little break room, but believe me, I’m searching in every direction for clues. Nothing seems amiss, but with a party going on and Lovie’s catering stuff all over my beauty shop kitchen, how can I tell?
I’m in the midst of grabbing two plastic cups when Elvis starts sniffing something on the floor. It’s another rhinestone hairpin, not a twin of the one found near Jim Boy’s body, but one very much like those I saw Fayrene wearing earlier. I grab a dishcloth to pick up the pin, then drop it into my pocket. Too late, I realize I should have left it on the floor and told Jack about it.
I wrap the dishcloth around my hand and fumble around in my pocket, but the cloth is too thick and the pocket is too small and Mama’s going to have a hissy fit if I don’t return with her Prohibition punch.
“I’ll just have to deal with it later,” I tell Elvis, and I swear he nods his head in agreement. Dogs are smarter than some people think, especially noble bassets.
I fill the cups with the family cure then head back to my office trying not to spill a drop. As I pass Roy Jessup’s body, I get goose bumps. Something’s amiss here, and it’s more than poor Roy, smothered with my coloring cap and keeping whatever secrets he was going to tell me.
I stop just on the edge of the law enforcement team, who are chalking around the body, bagging evidence and erecting crime scene tape.
“Callie?” Jack comes over and puts his arm around my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you think’s wrong, Jack? Somebody’s knocking off bridegrooms with my equipment. To top it all off, I’m going to have to shut down again – and in the busiest season, to boot. I might as well just put out a Closed sign.”
“I think you’re withholding something, Cal.” Jack sees right through me every time. “You wouldn’t be keeping evidence secret again, now would you?”
“Who? Me? I’m just trying to salvage what’s left of the evening and my reputation.”
“It’s all going to end soon. I promise you.”
“It can’t be soon enough for me. I don’t cotton to the idea of being the woman who ruined Christmas for everybody in Mooreville.”
Jack has the audacity to grin. “Looks like Ruby Nell and Lovie aren’t the only ones in the family with a dramatic side.”
“Oh, hush up and go find the killer.”
It’s hard to flounce off and not spill a drop of the two drinks in my hand, but I manage it. That’s about the only good thing I can say for the evening.
After I deliver the drinks to Mama and Fayrene, I hustle to the front of the shop to find Lovie. It’s amazing what she’s done with this crowd. Instead of being stirred up that Sheriff Trice is now in the room questioning them as witnesses, my guests are actually acting as if they’re in a holiday mood. It’s probably because Lovie’s over at the table lacing the punch with vodka.
I head her way.
“Cal! I was going to come back there, but Rocky wouldn’t let me.”
“Where is he?”
“He and Daddy are out in the parking lot, making sure nobody leaves. What’s going on?”
“You mean, besides poor Roy’s corpse by my wash and rinse sinks?”
“Such a shame. Leonora would be a basket case if it weren’t for me.”
I glance in the direction of the nail station to see Leonora tilting sideways in my manicurist’s chair. The three cups in front of her would explain that.
“What about Trixie?” I ask. “Have you seen her?”
“Not since she and her mama raced out of here when Leonora dropped her bombshell.”
“I thought they might be somewhere in the back, but I didn’t see any sign of them.” I lean closer. “I did find another rhinestone hairpin in the kitchen, though.”
Lovie says a word that would electrocute you. Fortunately, nobody but me is within hearing distance. The guests are on the other side of the room by the Christmas tree, waiting to be questioned.
“Guess who I saw wearing rhinestone hairpins?”
“Holy cow, Lovie, this is no time for guessing games!”
“Fayrene, for one.”
“I saw that. But I can’t imagine her slaying anything except the King’s English. What in the world would be her motive?”
I rack my brain trying to remember if she still had both of the rhinestone clips in her hair when I herded her and Mama into my office. But stress has my brain so muddled, I can’t remember.
“You said, for one, Lovie. Who else?”
“Jim Boy’s Memphis woman and Trixie Moffett.”
“I can see Vern killing Jim Boy out of jealousy, but why on earth would she smother Roy Jessup?”
“Agreed. I think it’s Trixie. She has motive for knocking off both bridegrooms.”
“Yeah. One was cheating on her and the other was quick to snatch up the cheater.” I rack my brain trying to think why I have to strongest feeling that I’ve overlooked a vital clue at the crime scene.
“What’s going on, Cal? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m missing something, Lovie. Something obvious.”
“It’s pretty obvious to me. Roy went to the back to talk to Trixie. Then she killed him and slipped out the back door, leaving behind a hairpin that had loosened in the fracas.”
“There’s only one thing wrong with that theory, Lovie. Roy wasn’t going to the wash and rinse sinks to talk to Trixie. He was going to rendezvous with me.”
Lovie says a word that curdles the cheese assortment.
“Did anybody know besides Roy?” Lovie asks.
“I don’t think so. I just wish I could get back there and snoop around. I know I’m missing something.”
“Not so loud, Cal. Sheriff Trice is heading this way.”
If I were Lovie I’d say a word that would turn every head of hair in this room gray. Instead, I put on a fake smile and try to act as if I don’t have a crucial piece of evidence in my pocket.
Jewel Moffett stops him to ask
a question I can’t hear, and thank goodness, I have a little reprieve.
“Should I tell him about the hairpin I found?” I whisper to Lovie.
“I think that’s a case of looking guilty, no matter what you do.”
Who’s to say it’s not my hairpin, and that I was trying to hide evidence of my crime? And even if I did tell, I can just picture Sheriff Trice’s big hands grappling around in my pocket trying to retrieve evidence.
Or Jack’s either, for that matter. He’s heading in my direction, too, and the way his jaw is set, I can already tell I’m not going to like what he has to say.
Elvis’ Opinion #10 on Party Poopers, Bad Vibes, and Good News
If there was ever a party pooper, it’s Sheriff Trice. I plant myself between him and my human mom, but I can tell you one thing: he’s not about to be rough on Callie, not with my human daddy standing by looking like a volcano about to blow.
“Callie, I don’t have to tell you, this looks bad for you.” Sheriff Trice cuts his eyes to Jack, who is not saying a thing. He doesn’t have to. Danger is dripping off him like spring rain. Anybody with a brain would know that one false move toward Callie, and Jack Jones would slice you in two.
“Believe me, I know.” Callie unconsciously puts her right hand over the pocket with the tell-tale evidence. To cover her mistake, I make such a big commotion scratching, you’d think every flea in Lee County was after my handsome hide.
Naturally, my ruse works. Callie takes a deep breath then gets her mojo back.
“If you’ll care to remember, I’m not the hardened criminal type who goes around killing bridegrooms. Even if I wanted to, I’d certainly have better sense than to use murder weapons that point straight to me, and then leave them behind as evidence.”
“You have a point there, but still I can’t ignore the evidence. I’ve got to take you in for questioning.”
“Not tonight.” My human daddy says, and then takes Callie’s arm, not even considering for one little minute that Sheriff Trice will contradict him. “You know she’s not guilty, and I don’t intend to have my wife sacrificed on the altar of your protocol.”
Callie doesn’t even correct Jack the way she usually does with a tart, “Ex-wife.” I take that as a sign that there’s a real Santa Claus, and my big request has just gone to the top of his list.
