by C. L. Bevill
“Someone else moved the body first,” Bubba said slowly, wondering if Willodean had taken her blood pressure medicine that morning. “Did you take your vitamins and pills this morning, darlin’?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yes, I took them,” Willodean said. “Go ahead with the story. It’s okay. We didn’t expect our wedding to be normal, right?” She wasn’t really asking him a question, so Bubba didn’t answer it. She went on, “Normal is relative and relative is not normal in Pegram County.” She finally trailed off because justification came at great difficulty in this part of the country.
“I found it after breakfast. Then someone moved it. Then someone else moved it back. Then it vanished again. That was the time that Ma moved it, I think. I’m pert shore she put it through the crawlspace door, which I wish we had on video. You kin see the drag marks in the dirt there. Not certain what happened to it after that, but it ain’t in the crawlspace. Or at least, it wasn’t in the crawlspace the last time I looked. Ifin I’m right then it should pop up in the living room again. I should go check, but I’m trying to git folks to leave.”
“Bubba, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Willodean said and he could tell she was choosing her words carefully, “but you haven’t been drinking this morning, have you?”
Bubba understood. He really did understand. “No drinking. I had two beers last night at Grubbo’s, and that was more than enough for me. You know how I feel about my family drinking too much.”
“Yes. So you think that someone murdered Morgan Newbrough in our house and then the body keeps getting moved. Its location is presently—” Willodean paused and Bubba knew that she temporarily covered the phone with her hand because he heard a muffled, hysterical laugh before she finished with— “unknown.”
“Yep,” Bubba said shortly. “I’m sorry, but I cain’t have you here when there’s danger lurking about. I’m trying to git everyone to leave but they’re all stubborn, and most of them drank too many danged mimosas. So I cain’t have them driving like that, either. I’m stuck between a rock and an evil perpetrator. Do you know where I kin rent a bus?”
“I thought the champagne and orange juice was a bad idea,” Willodean said. “Have you told Sheriff John, yet?”
“He dint believe me,” Bubba said. “The last I saw of him, he was headed for the kitchen and the canapés.”
“The pancetta-wrapped peaches with basil and aged balsamic or the fig and prosciutto flatbreads?” she asked. Willodean recovered instantly. “Sorry. I’m starving to death.” There was another half-hysterical laugh. “Whoops. I shouldn’t say that either.”
“I’ll bring you a jar of peanut butter,” Bubba promised, “just as I figure a way out of this mess.” It was Willodean’s personal favorite in the last few days. Peanut butter straight up with a spoon on the side. Preferably Skippy’s, but Peter Pan or Jif would do in a pinch. If she was really peckish, she would crumble Captain Crunch cereal over the top and decorate the whole affair with a sprig of fresh parsley. (Pregnant women ate some weird things.)
“Bubba,” Willodean said slowly, “you aren’t getting cold feet, are you?”
“God, no!” Bubba exploded. People from all over the yard turned to look at him. He rushed to reassure Willodean. “Today might not be our day, but ifin I have to drag Judge Arimithia Perez from the courthouse, we’re getting married. I’m sorry it ain’t the day of your dreams, but— ” Bubba had to pause to force a swallow down his throat— “but it’ll be a wedding we won’t ever forget. I swear it.” It was far too late for the statement. It was already a wedding day no one would ever forget. Lloyd Goshorn would have a field day with it the next time he was coaxed with beer to tell the tale.
Willodean sighed. “I’ll call Mom and tell her to watch her six and Dad’s six and Anora’s six. And Janie’s six.”
“Janie’s with Brownie,” Bubba said.
“Well, that’s all right then,” Willodean said. “I could send Hattie over to the Mansion. She’s got like, twenty guns in the trunk of her car. I’ll call John and give him another head’s up. Don’t go anywhere alone, Bubba.”
Bubba looked at Cookie’s head. “I’m not alone.”
“Good,” Willodean said with unblemished relief in her voice. “Don’t go anywhere alone,” she repeated. Then she paused and added, “I’m sorry that I’m skeptical about this, Bubba, but are you sure he was murdered?”
“No, I’m not shore, but there wasn’t a scarf wrapped around his neck or a bayonet in his chest. There wasn’t even a bullet wound.”
“He could have had a heart attack or a stroke,” Willodean said.
“Really? Again? I don’t think that’s likely.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course. I’ll get the state police to come because I’m involved,” Willodean said. “They’ll have to do the investigation. Is there anything else I should know?”
“I think Fudge and Virtna have abandoned their children,” Bubba said, rubbing Cookie’s head. “We might have to adopt Brownie and Cookie.”
That was when Willodean started laughing and the call dropped.
Bubba stared at the phone for a moment and shrugged. The next thing he had to do was call Morgan Newbrough’s ex-wife, and he didn’t have any idea of how to get in touch with her. He remembered that the utilities were under Morgan’s name and that was how he’d found her in the first place. Her ex-sister-in-law, Nancy the Nutcase, tried to burn her house down at least once (Nancy must have thought burning houses was an old tried-and-truth failsafe.) so she was reluctant to trust people. She hadn’t even opened the door to Bubba while she had talked with him, but talked through the mail drop. Not that Bubba could blame her.
It was then that David Beathard approached with a bucket in his hand and a rake in the other. Both were freshly encrusted with brass gears. (David must have had a goodly supply of various gears and glue in his Smart Car.) The bucket was reusable, but Bubba didn’t think he was going to be able to use the rake again unless he could sand off the glue.
“Fleet Commander Bickerstaff!” David bellowed, although he was only five feet away. “I have a new nefarious plan!”
Precious trotted up behind David and bayed balefully. Somehow David had managed to locate a dog-sized, leather corset, and more surprisingly, had also managed to get the dog into it. There was also a set of brass goggles on her head, and Bubba could see that they were made for a dog-sized head as they left ample room for Precious’s long, flapping ears. She didn’t look too happy, but then who could truly be happy in a leather corset? (Bubba had a moment where he imagined trying to fit into one and winced inwardly.)
“David,” Bubba said, asking the first thing that popped into his head, “you dint make that corset too tight on my dog, did you?”
“Never!” David yelled. “I gave her three Milk-Bones and she was happy to have the corset put upon her. The goggles were another matter altogether. Also, I have renamed your animal. She is now the Countess Abigale Scarlet-North. She has a devilish strategy dealing with hiding all the baby’s breath bouquets in the ground near the oleander bushes. It is highly reprehensible.”
Bubba looked at Precious. “Lady Scarlet-North,” he said appropriately.
Precious bayed again and did a circle trying to get her teeth on the corset. When she failed that, she used her right front paw to dislodge the brass goggles.
Bubba then looked at David. “You remember when you was The Purple Singapore Sling?”
David adjusted his monocular with one finger. It whirled and clicked. “Good times. I was a hero with purple underwear. Doing good warms the cockles of my heart, but then doing evil gives me such a delicious shiver down my spine.”
“Yep,” Bubba agreed. “When we went to Dallas to look for clues about Willodean, we talked to a lady in a house. She was Morgan Newbrough’s wife. They’re divorced now.”
“I played ball with Preh-uh-the Countess on the front lawn,” David said, “and the woman spoke to you through a mail slo
t. I didn’t know they still used mail slots nowadays.”
“Do you remember her name?”
“Certainly,” David said promptly. “Mia Newbrough. She didn’t take her maiden name back. She didn’t want to have a different name from her children, although she’s still thinking about changing all their names legally. On account of her ex-husband being a murderer and the brother of a murderer and all.”
Bubba noticed that Precious had the googles almost all the way off. She used a back foot to scratch the last part free from her head. She growled at the goggles and picked them up with her mouth to shake them like she would have shaken a rat. “You know all of this because…?” he asked David.
“I talked to her about the whole PSS thing, and besides she’s a pretty woman,” David explained. “I could tell because when I first saw her lovely lips through the mail slot I was entranced.”
“Uh,” Bubba said because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “So you know her?”
“We’ve gone out on a few dates. She set up a friend with Jesus,” David said. “Jesus is a lot of fun when he isn’t trying to save your soul, you know.”
“Okay, then,” Bubba said. He looked at the cellphone. “I’ll just look up her name in the phone directory. Mia Newbrough, right?”
“I can tell you her number,” David said.
“Your phone is encrusted with brass gears,” Bubba said.
“I have a head for numbers,” David said. “Weird, huh?” Then he rattled off a number with a Dallas area code.
Bubba punched in the numbers, feeling mildly bemused. Was there anyone David didn’t know or have access to? Like the Travellers, for example? The Travellers were a group of Irish-Americans who he’d been involved with while he was trying to figure out where a mysterious note about being murdered had come from. He felt a moment of remorse. I should have invited the Queen of the Travellers to the wedding. She could have met the Countess.
“I should have invited your friend, the queen,” Bubba said while slowly and methodically pressing number on the smart phone.
“Oh, Pip’s around here somewhere,” David said. “I knew you’d want her to come, and she is the queen, after all. She’s got her crew with her, and they were loving on the stuffed baby red potatoes and the mascarpone sprout canapés with pickled onions and smoked sesame seeds.”
“They dint kill anyone, did they?”
“They don’t do that anymore,” David said. “I thought Pip told you that. They’re all legit now. She’s got investments in Apple, McDonalds, and Disney now. One of her children just got a master’s degree in business administration. She’s really happy. They brought you a vintage 1954 Chevy truck part as a wedding gift, but don’t tell them I told you.”
Bubba put the cellphone to his ear and the phone on the other end began to ring. He saw Precious trotting off with the brass googles, probably to bury them under the oleanders with all her other booty. He pointed her out to David and he squealed. “Awk! Lady Scarlet-North! Those are not toys!” He followed the dog in hot pursuit.
“Hello,” someone answered.
“Uh, Mrs. Newbrough?” Bubba said.
“Yes,” came her skeptical and doubting voice. Bubba recognized it from the single time they’d spoken. Mia was a bitter woman. She loved her children, but she was bitter through and through. She’d tried to warn people about Nancy Musgrave but no one had listened, and some of the media had tried to insinuate that she was involved in the whole plot. As Bubba recalled that Mia Newbrough had filed a law suit against two news stations. (Likely it was that dingle-headed Daisy Dillworthy, and her evil minions, Bubba thought.)
“It’s Bubba Snoddy,” he said tentatively. “We spoke a while back about the subject of your ex-sister-in-law.”
“I remember,” she said shortly. “How did you get my number, oh, David. Tell him not to forget we’re going out next Friday. The kids are looking forward to it.”
“Do they know about his steampunk-ish-ness?”
“They love that,” she said. “David might be crazy, but he’s upfront about it, unlike some former relatives I have.”
Bubba had a sudden thought. If he was correct, and he thought he was correct, then Mia’s ex-husband was deader than Dodo bird, but there was a slight chance he wasn’t correct, and then there was the slight possibility that his body would never be recovered. (Bubba had a sneaking suspicion that the koi in the pond might be related to piranhas, or great white sharks.) He didn’t want to tell this woman that the father of her children was dead, or that someone was framing Bubba for Morgan’s death. Bubba didn’t know how regular police officers did it.
“I expect folks have bin pestering you about Morgan,” he said.
“That flipping farking foo poo,” Mia said. “I have changed my land line number twice already. Thank God most people don’t have my cellphone number, and you’d best not give it out.”
“I won’t,” Bubba said.
“It’s only because David thinks so highly of you,” she said.
Bubba didn’t know what to think about a relationship between David Beathard and a sane person. Of course, Mia seemed sane, but then he had only spoken with her on a single occasion for a limited amount of time. “I appreciate that,” he said. “It might seem right odd, but I got a few problems here.”
“Oh, the wedding,” Mia said understandingly. “David invited me, but I didn’t really want to impose myself on you and your fiancée. After all, we only met the one time. Besides all those reporters down there, and what would they make of my attendance to your wedding? It would be a flarping pickle.”
“It ain’t too late,” Bubba found himself saying, “ifin you want to come.” After all, your ex-husband is in attendance and he’s kinda, prolly dead, he finished silently. He could have shot himself for the words he’d just said. There was no rational reason for having just invited Mia to the wedding.
“Oh, no, the kids have soccer this afternoon, and I promised ice cream and a movie afterwards, so we’re booked, but thanks for asking,” Mia said, and it sounded sincere. “What is it that you wanted?”
Bubba hoped that the relief that he felt at her refusal wasn’t evident. Then he thought about her question.
“I don’t know how to say it,” he said honestly.
Chapter 18
Bubba Fought the Law and the Law…
Saturday, April 27th around 11:55 PM
The conversation between Bubba and Mia Newbrough wasn’t long. She said, “I don’t visit him. The kids didn’t visit him. No one we know visits him. Visited,” she corrected herself. “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know who could have helped that frinking, no-good dookie-berry head. I suppose he could have robbed a series of convenience stores, but then the camera footage would be all over the news.”
“I guess they done asked you these questions already,” Bubba said.
“At least four times, and that was just the local police, the state police, the U.S. Federal Marshals, and the FBI. Then I have to listen to the news people who tracked me down who think they can ask questions about Morgan to my children who are just standing at the bus stop. I had to go on my medication again. My doctor is very understanding. I didn’t even have to go in for the prescription this time.”
“I figured Morgan needed money and help to get across the border,” Bubba said, “and mebe you might have an idea ‘bout who, but I don’t reckon you do.” He frowned as he heard a strange noise, and then realized Cookie was snoring.
“They told me he had crossed the border at Santa Teresa, New Mexico, that he went way out of his way to cross into Mexico,” Mia said. “I know it means he had help. The only help that I can think of is from his bat-poop-crazy sister, and she’s still inside the prison, where I sincerely hope she remains forever. So how, I ask you, could she have helped?”
“Did Nancy have money?”
Mia hesitated. “She had a husband with money. I don’t know what she got in the divorce, but she didn’t liv
e in a little shack, and she drove a new car every other year. As a social worker she didn’t make a lot of money, either. Maybe $50,000 in a good year. I can’t see her having a lot of cash, but I don’t know what happened with her stuff when she got caught. As a matter of fact, I could care less. It wasn’t like it was going to pay for the kids’ college funds.”
Isn’t there FBI agents running around here someplace, too? I should find them and pick their brains, especially the lady with a cast. They might know something more about Nancy.
“So who was paying Nancy’s bills after she was locked up? Who took care of her stuff?” Bubba asked and was half to himself.
“Nancy wasn’t the BFF kind of person.” Mia sighed. “I think it’s her lawyer. Everything was packed up and put into storage, and the lawyer takes care of the cash. It’s probably why the trial is so delayed. You heard about Morgan making a deal, right? I figure it was because Nancy convinced him to skedaddle before he could squeal on her, the little fardle fooper. Upon reflection, I just don’t understand how I could have married him.”
“He would do just about anything for Nancy,” Bubba said.
“Yes. That’s about true. I think if they figure out how she’s been talking to him, then they’ll figure out where he went to,” Mia said.
“I’m right sorry to bring this up now,” Bubba said.
“Yeah,” Mia agreed. “So what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t be calling me on your wedding day if something hadn’t happened,” Mia said.
“The truth of the matter is that I ain’t shore I want to tell you something that I cain’t prove,” Bubba said. It sounded like the truth. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He wasn’t lying, and he didn’t want to lie. Mia was the number two person he didn’t want to lie to at the moment. Willodean was number one.
