Beauty Shop Tales

by Beth Pattillo

  “Are you sure there’s room in the freezer?” Paul asked.

  More than once since moving to Copper Mill, Kate had been seized with longing for the large chest freezer she’d had in the garage of their home in San Antonio.

  “There’s probably enough room for this batch, but if you keep experimenting, I don’t know what we’re going to do. We may have to have a chili supper prior to the cook-off just to get rid of the excess.”

  “Do you think I’m being wasteful?” Paul rearranged cans of tomato paste on the counter. “Maybe my pride’s getting in the way.”

  Sometimes she just couldn’t agree with Paul, even when he was right.

  “As vices go, honey, it’s not a bad one.” She reached for a pot and dunked it into the soapy water. “I’d rather you make batch after batch of chili than hang out at the Dew Drop Inn.”

  They both laughed at the thought of Paul frequenting the town’s most notorious dive.

  “Well, you’ve got a point there. Here . . . toss me that towel, and I’ll dry.”

  Kate had been disappointed when they’d arrived in Copper Mill to discover that the parsonage’s kitchen boasted few concessions to the modern age. But as she washed the dishes and Paul dried, their conversation turned to more general topics—parishioners, their children, how long the spring weather would hold—and she was reminded of the early days of their marriage when they’d stood side by side, just like this, working together. Maybe modern conveniences weren’t the answer to everything.

  THE PHONE RANG that night after supper when Kate and Paul were watching television. Kate was closest to the phone, so she answered, hoping it wasn’t another anonymous call.

  “Hello?”

  “Kate? It’s Livvy.”

  Kate exhaled with relief. “Is everything okay?”

  It wasn’t like her friend to call in the evenings. Usually Livvy’s time from supper onward was consumed with her husband and two teenage boys.

  “We’re fine. Just wanted to let you know I finally found something on a Kevin Baxter in Chicago proper.”

  “You did?” Kate’s pulse picked up. “What was it?”

  “Well, I don’t know how this could have anything to do with Mavis Bixby, but I found an obituary for a man named Alvin Baxter in the Chicago area who was about Mavis’ age. There was a Kevin Baxter listed as his son.”

  “Was there any other information?”

  “Not a lot, but I thought the whole thing was kind of odd.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, for one thing, the obituary never mentioned the man’s wife or Kevin’s mother.”

  “Maybe it was a case of a divorce. Sometimes in an instance like that, there’s no reference to the mother or ex-wife.”

  “Yeah, I know. But what struck me was they put in where the man died.”

  “Where was that?”

  “In prison.” Livvy paused. “I’m sure there’s no connection to Mavis, but it did seem sort of odd. Not something you see every day.”

  Kate thought for a moment. “Sometimes people just word things in a strange way.”

  “I saw something on a television show once, though, where someone sent a coded message through an obituary.”

  Kate chuckled. “You’ve been watching too many crime-scene shows again, Livvy.” She paused for a moment. “What did you say the date on the obituary was?”

  “Back in October.”

  Which was long after Mavis had left Copper Mill. So she hadn’t gone back to her old life, because her husband had died in prison. Kate stole a glance at Paul, who was watching her and not the television. “Was there anything else? Any other information?”

  “No. This Kevin Baxter was the only family member mentioned in the obituary. I printed out a copy for you. If you want to come by the library tomorrow and pick it up, I’ll leave it at the reference desk if I’m not there.”

  “Thanks, Livvy. You’ve been very helpful.”

  She chuckled. “I can’t imagine how, but I get the feeling you know more than you’re telling me.”

  Kate paused, unsure how to respond, then Livvy continued.

  “That’s okay. I trust your judgment. Just know that I’m here to help if you need me.”

  Kate breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Livvy. I really do appreciate your faith in me. Good night.”

  “G’night.”

  Kate hung up the phone and returned to the couch to sit next to Paul. “Don’t say it,” she said, her eyes on the television program and not her husband.

  “Don’t say what?” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Whatever it is you’re thinking.”

  “Discreet questions only,” he reminded her. “Anything you find, you turn over to Sheriff Roberts.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Paul put his arm around her and pulled her close. “I’m just being selfish. I’d be lost without you, Kate.”

  She smiled and snuggled her head against his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, honey. You can count on that.”

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I do, Kate. I really do.”

  And for the rest of the evening, Kate forced herself to put Mavis Bixby out of her mind and enjoyed the blessings of a warm house and a loving husband.

  Chapter Eight

  The phone rang early the next morning as Kate was pouring her second cup of coffee. She picked up the receiver and cradled it against her ear as she stirred skim milk into the coffee.

  “Hello?”

  “Kate? It’s Renee Lambert.”

  Kate smothered a sigh, glad that at least the older woman had phoned rather than simply shown up on the parsonage doorstep again.

  “Good morning, Renee. How are you today?” She leaned against the counter next to the phone. When Renee called, you might as well get comfortable.

  “I’m fine. I have an emergency, though, and I need your help.”

  “Are you okay?” A picture of Renee lying on her bathroom floor with a fractured hip, or worse, flashed before her. “Are you injured?”

  “Not that kind of emergency.” Renee sniffed. “I am perfectly well and able-bodied, thank you very much. No, I simply need a substitute for the bridge club today. Dot Bagley has a doctor’s appointment in Chattanooga and can’t make it.”

  Kate hesitated as she wrapped the phone’s ancient curling cord around one finger. An invitation from Renee wasn’t something to be taken lightly. The older woman wielded a fair amount of power within Faith Briar Church, and though she could be aggravating, Kate couldn’t dislike her. She could, however, be wary of any possible agendas behind Renee’s invitation.

  “When is your meeting?”

  “At one o’clock.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes. Helen Kirkwood was going to substitute for Dot, but her bursitis is acting up.”

  As a minister’s wife, Kate was no stranger to being second choice. Sometimes being taken for granted by a congregation wasn’t such a bad thing. But when Renee did it, Kate couldn’t help but bristle.

  “Let me check my calendar.” She held the receiver in front of her, her free hand covering the mouthpiece, and waited a few seconds. “One o’clock, you said? I might be a few minutes late, but I can be there.”

  “I’d be happy to swing by and pick you up,” Renee said in a more conciliatory tone. “It’s no problem.”

  Kate could just see herself yet again riding shotgun in Renee’s enormous pink Oldsmobile. Per usual, she’d be required to hold Kisses in her lap. “He never rides in the back,” Renee had said on more than one occasion. And though Renee would probably never push the speedometer over thirty miles an hour, Kate would be in fear for her life the entire time.

  “That’s very nice of you, Renee, but it would be easier if I just joined you there. Where are you meeting?”

  “At Agnes Kelly’s. And we all usually bring an hors d’oeuvre. Would you mind doing the deviled eggs?”

  Kate had already planned a busy morning
for herself. She needed to drop by the library and pick up the information Livvy had found, and then she had promised Paul she would stop by the bank and order more checks. She had also taken and printed pictures of several of her stained-glass pieces to show to Steve Smith at the gift shop and e-mail to Andrew for her Web site.

  “I suppose I can.”

  Well, she’d have to leave the gift shop for another day. She felt more resigned than excited about her invitation to play bridge, until it suddenly occurred to her that Mavis Bixby had also been a substitute for this group. Kate smiled. She could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. By subbing for the bridge club, she’d placate Renee. As a bonus, she’d have the opportunity to find out a little more about Mavis Bixby. She’d have to be subtle, of course, and not draw attention to herself by seeming too interested in Mavis. For the kind of information she might uncover, deviled eggs were a small price to pay.

  “We’ll see you at one, then,” Renee said. “Ta ta.”

  Kate returned the receiver to its cradle and leaned against the kitchen wall. She couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to dig further into the mystery of Mavis Bixby, but she wished she didn’t feel quite so much as if she were about to walk into a lion’s den. Oh well. The Lord protected Daniel. Surely he’d close the mouths of these Copper Mill lionesses for her. Although she didn’t want them to be too tight-lipped. She wanted them open-mouthed enough to answer her questions—just not enough to bite.

  ONCE KATE BOILED THE EGGS and set them in the refrigerator to cool, she set out for town. She’d finish deviling them when she got back. If she hurried, she’d have enough time to complete all her errands and still arrive at Agnes’ house by one o’clock.

  A heavy gray sky hung over Copper Mill, which did nothing to cheer Kate’s spirits. She’d told Paul she was happy to drop by the bank and order new checks for their account—he’d misplaced the reorder form somewhere in his office—but she had another reason for her errand now that Mavis Bixby was on her mind again.

  The town square wasn’t as busy as it had been on Saturday when she’d had her hair done at Betty’s Beauty Parlor, but by late morning, there was the normal bustle of people popping into the Mercantile for a few groceries or dashing into the Town Hall to take care of some business. Kate parked her car in front of the bank and made a quick dash for the door to escape the thick raindrops that were beginning to fall.

  The Copper Mill branch of the Mid-Cumberland Bank and Trust had occupied the center storefront on the north side of the town square since the buildings had been erected more than one hundred fifty years ago. Kate pushed open the plate-glass door and stepped inside, grateful for the welcome smell of coffee lingering in the air.

  Before she approached the tellers’ counter along the wall to her left, she stopped at the small cart near the door and helped herself to a cup. Melvin McKinney, the bank manager, always managed to keep the small urn perking so the coffee was fresh and hot. Kate stirred in a packet of sweetener and took a sip.

  “Ah.” She let out a small sigh.

  “Another satisfied customer.” Melvin appeared at her elbow, his ever-present bow tie and horn-rimmed glasses the perfect outfit for a small-town bank manager. He looked as if he’d stepped right out of central casting.

  Kate smiled. “I was a satisfied customer even before I had the coffee,” she teased. “This is just the icing on the cake.”

  Melvin returned her smile as he removed his glasses, took a handkerchief from his pocket, and proceeded to clean the lenses.

  “So, what brings you here today, Mrs.Hanlon? I trust everything was in order on your last statement.”

  Even in this age of computers and corporate indifference to customers, Melvin managed to add that personal touch that kept the folks of Copper Mill from taking their banking business to one of the newer, fancier banks in Pine Ridge.

  “Everything’s fine, Melvin. I just needed to order some new checks. Paul seems to have misplaced the form.”

  “Well, one of the tellers can take care of that for you, Mrs.Hanlon. Not a problem.”

  Kate thought he might actually offer her his arm in an old-fashioned gesture of chivalry, but instead he simply walked with her toward the counter. Behind the partition, two elderly ladies perched at an unnatural height, no doubt on stools, that allowed them to see over the counter. Both of the women had hair as blue as an Easter egg.

  “Evelyn. Georgia.” Mr. McKinney’s approach caused them both to look up from whatever they were doing. “Can one of you help Mrs.Hanlon with ordering some checks?”

  “Hello, ladies.” Kate couldn’t help but smile at the elderly twins who had served as tellers at the Copper Mill branch for longer than anyone could remember. At one time, according to LuAnne Matthews at the diner, the bank management in Chattanooga had threatened to replace the ladies with younger, more computer-savvy employees, but the populace of Copper Mill had almost mutinied and threatened to take their business elsewhere. In the end, after the dust had settled, both the Cline sisters and the bank had continued on as if nothing had ever happened.

  “I’ll be happy to help you, Mrs.Hanlon,” Evelyn said before her sister could make the offer first. “Just have to fill out the proper form.” She began shuffling papers behind the counter.

  “I’ll leave you in Evelyn’s capable hands,” Melvin McKinney said. “Unless you need anything else?”

  “No, just the checks. Thank you so much for your help.”

  Back in San Antonio, the manager of her local bank wouldn’t have recognized her if she’d come in wearing a nametag.

  “It’s our pleasure.” Melvin waved and disappeared behind the three-quarter-high cubicle walls that separated his “office” from the lobby. In the cubicle next to Melvin, Matt Lawson, the local investment consultant, huddled over his desk, mumbling under his breath. While Matt was quite good at his job, he wasn’t exactly a people person and stayed behind his desk as much as possible. Kate waved at Matt as she walked by, but he didn’t even look up.

  “Here it is. Here it is.” Evelyn waved a piece of paper triumphantly. “I knew we still had one around here somewhere.”

  What the Mid-Cumberland Bank and Trust lacked in efficiency, it more than made up for in friendliness, Kate thought. “You’re sweet to help me. I don’t know what Paul did with that reorder form.”

  “Don’t worry. Happens all the time.” Evelyn began to scrounge around her work area for a pen. Kate could see the chaos over the edge of the counter.

  “I have a pen right here.” Kate pulled one from her purse.

  “Excellent.” Evelyn reached out her hand. “If you wouldn’t mind . . .”

  Kate handed over the pen. While Evelyn filled out the form, Georgia smiled at Kate and scooched closer.

  “So, Mrs.Hanlon, what do you know these days?”

  Evelyn and Georgia Cline could give the ladies at Betty’s Beauty Parlor a run for their money. Kate knew this from previous trips to the bank. As with the beauty shop ladies, she usually avoided answering their questions and let them entertain themselves with recycled stories about their friends and neighbors. She normally just smiled and nodded. But today Kate had an agenda of her own.

  “I saw the For Sale sign that went up in front of Mavis Bixby’s house,” Kate said casually. “A shame for Copper Mill to lose such a nice lady.”

  Georgia quickly took the bait. “Yes, indeed. But she’s been gone awhile now. Don’t know why it took so long for her to put that place up for sale.”

  “Maybe she thought she might come back,” Kate offered and then waited for a response.

  “I don’t think so,” Evelyn replied, not looking up from the form she was completing. “She wouldn’t have closed all her accounts and given up her safe-deposit box if she were coming back.”

  Kate resisted the urge to crow. Sometimes investigating was downright easy.

  “Evelyn!” Georgia sent her sister a stern look. “We’re not supposed to tell that kind of information
. Mr. McKinney won’t like it.”

  “He won’t know way over there in his cubicle.” Evelyn snorted. “Half the things that go on in this bank—”

  “Are you sure there’s not anything else we can help with?” Georgia quickly interrupted her sister.

  “There.” Evelyn laid the check reorder form on the top of the counter and spun it around for Kate’s inspection. “Everything look all right?”

  Kate hardly knew what she was examining, her mind whirling at this new bit of information about Mavis Bixby. Clearly she hadn’t been planning to return to Copper Mill. But was that because she felt it was safe to return home or because, even in the Witness Protection Program, she’d been discovered by whomever was threatening to harm her? Once again, Kate was grateful for the informality of a small town.

  “Looks perfect,” Kate said to Evelyn, giving the form the most cursory of glances.

  “I’ll send it in right away.”

  Evelyn shoved the form under several other papers that littered her workspace, leaving Kate to doubt how quickly she and Paul might receive their new box of checks. Still, she was too pleased with the new information she’d received to fuss. As informal and scattered as the Cline sisters might appear, the bank seemed to handle its business as professionally as anyplace Kate had ever had an account.

  “Thank you, ladies.” Kate waved and headed for the door, but before she got there, the bank manager appeared from behind his cubicle walls to intercept her.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Evelyn about Mavis Bixby,” he said.

  Kate flushed, embarrassed to be caught snooping. “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, no. Don’t misunderstand me.” The man’s ears turned pink. “I don’t mean to interfere. It’s just that Mrs.Bixby . . .” His words trailed off.

  “What about Mrs.Bixby? Mr. McKinney, do you know something about her that concerns you?”

  “I’m always concerned when a customer closes all her accounts abruptly. And Mrs.Bixby was quite agitated when she emptied out her safe-deposit box.”