by Vickie Fee
“There’s still coffee if you’d like a cup,” she offered.
“Thanks. I could use it,” I said. I poured myself a cup and doctored it with a splash of milk from the carton I retrieved from the fridge before taking a seat on the sofa.
“I’m glad I didn’t stick around for the fireworks show last night, since it ended kind of ugly, with the dead guy and everything,” Di said.
“Did you talk to Dave?” I asked.
“No, a neighbor rushed over to tell me the news this morning as soon as I stepped out the door to grab the newspaper. If somebody was going to get killed, I guess it’s not a huge surprise it was Bubba Rowland.”
“Yeah. He had his fans, of course. Enough to keep getting reelected to the council. But there were also plenty of people who won’t be shedding any tears over his death.”
“He lived next door to your mama, didn’t he?”
“Uh-huh. They always got along fine, although she was a lot closer to Bubba’s wife, Faye, who passed away a couple years ago.”
“Okay, Sherlock, you were on the spot all day watching the action. Who do you think knocked him off?”
“You’re as bad as Dave. I was the very first person he questioned last night after Bubba was discovered. He accused me of always being on hand when a body turns up.”
“There is some truth to that, you know,” Di said.
Unfortunately, she was right. I had discovered a couple of corpses in a client’s garage once. And I had also stumbled over a body during a businesswomen’s retreat last fall. But it’s not like it’s a hobby.
“I could speculate about all the many people who had some beef with Bubba. But I honestly have no idea who killed him, and I’m not inclined to care all that much.”
Di gave me a doubtful look.
We chatted for a bit and she told me there were rumors circulating that the supervisor at the post office was thinking about retirement.
“Would you be interested in applying for the position?”
“Honestly, no,” she said. “Not that I’d have a real chance of getting the job, anyway. But I don’t think I’d enjoy being stuck in the office all day. I enjoy my route.”
* * *
I left Di’s place and went home.
Larry Joe and I were expected for lunch at Mama’s at 1:00 PM, along with my mother- and father-in-law and Earl.
Earl Daniels is my mama’s boyfriend, although she’d never call him that. She says he’s just a good friend. But he eats supper at her house most evenings that they don’t go out for dinner, and he always accompanies her to social events.
When I got home, my marginally handy husband was upstairs banging on pipes. After over a year of messing around with the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom, he briefly had it up and running around Thanksgiving, as he had promised me he would. The comfort and convenience of having a working bathroom upstairs was short-lived. In a matter of a few weeks we had a water leak. Larry Joe disconnected the plumbing to figure out what the problem was, and more than six months later he’s still trying to figure it out and repair the water damage.
I ventured upstairs to change into a skirt, since I knew Mama and Larry Joe’s mom would still be wearing their church clothes.
“Honey, you need to clean up and get ready to go over to Mama’s for lunch. And put on a button-front shirt, not a T-shirt. Mama’s doing a fancy Sunday dinner. Your mom and dad are going to be there, too.”
“Aw,” he groused. “It’s the Fourth of July weekend. I figured she’d just have Earl throw some burgers and dogs on the grill. Why is it a dress-up affair?”
“I don’t know, but that’s what she said. Maybe she figured after spending all day at the park and eating festival food yesterday we’d like something different today. Honestly, I’m happy to sit inside in the air-conditioning. We lucked out yesterday with fairly mild temperatures, but it’s supposed to be hotter today.”
Larry Joe was bent over his toolbox when I passed by the bathroom on my way to our bedroom. I leaned in the doorway and smacked him on the seat of the pants.
“Stop griping. You know you like my mama’s cooking. I think maybe she wanted to do something nice because she knows how busy I’ve been lately with planning the festival and how busy you and your dad have been breaking in the new garage supervisor.”
Larry Joe and his dad had finally found a suitable new supervisor for McKay Trucking Company after a series of troubling events last year, including the murder of two employees. The whole wretched affair had put us all through the ringer, with two employees getting killed and Di and me ending up with a rifle to our heads. And the stress of it all had put Daddy Wayne in the hospital with a heart attack.
I phoned Mama just before we left the house to see if she needed me to pick up any last-minute items from the store.
“No, hon, we’re good to go. I’m so excited y’all are coming over,” she said, sounding almost giddy.
“Okay, Mama. We’ll see you in a few.”
I was a little puzzled why Mama seemed so excited. It’s not like Sunday dinner at her house is a rare occasion for us.
* * *
We usually come through the back door, but Mama had the front door propped open so we entered the house through the living room. Mama hollered from the kitchen, “Come on back.” We walked through to the den, where my in-laws were chatting with Earl.
My mother-in-law came over and gave me a hug.
“Hello, Miss Betty.”
I’d called Larry Joe’s mom “Miss Betty” since I was a young girl and I hadn’t seen any need to change it when she became my mother-in-law. On the other hand, his dad had graduated from Mr. McKay to Daddy Wayne after the wedding.
“Oh, Liv, you did just a wonderful job with the July 4th celebration this year,” she said.
“Well, thank you, but I think finding a dead body after the fireworks show might have thrown a bit of a wet blanket on things.”
“Bubba Rowland always was nothing but trouble,” she said.
I was a bit surprised by my usually charitable mother-in-law’s remark.
Realizing how harsh she must have sounded, she added, “Of course, it’s terrible him ending up like that.”
“Bubba was an ass and everybody knew it,” Daddy Wayne chimed in.
My father-in-law’s remark came as no surprise to anyone.
I hugged Earl and Daddy Wayne before slipping into the kitchen to check on things.
Mama, who at nearly six feet tall towers over me, was wearing a purple chiffon dress with a pleated skirt and oversized dangly purple earrings. The purple nicely accented her striking emerald green eyes and color-enhanced jet-black hair.
She was transferring a bubbling sauce into a gravy boat and told me I could start carrying the serving bowls and platters into the dining room. Mama had outdone herself. Offerings included a maple-glazed ham, green bean casserole, homemade mashed potatoes with gravy, pan-fried okra, deviled eggs, and a sweet potato casserole. It looked more like Thanksgiving than a typical Sunday dinner.
After she had finished with the gravy, she found me by the table and cinched me into a bear hug, smooshing me to her ample bosom.
“I’m just tickled pink you’re all here,” she said. “I’m going to run to the powder room and put on some lipstick. Tell everyone to start gathering around the table.”
I called from the kitchen doorway for everyone to come in for lunch. When they came through, it suddenly struck me that Earl was actually wearing a tie. Earl rarely wears a tie except to funerals. Mama’s schoolgirl excitement and Earl wearing a necktie made me think something was up.
We all held hands while Earl said grace, then tucked into our feast.
Larry Joe mentioned something about Bubba’s murder and Mama interrupted.
“I’m going to ask you men not to ruin our beautiful dinner by talking about Bubba.”
They moved on to talking about baseball. Larry Joe and his dad are die-hard Cardinals fans and try to make it to one
home game in St. Louis every season. We also usually go to at least a couple of games at AutoZone Park in Memphis to see the Redbirds, the Cardinals’s farm team, in action.
Mama and Earl seemed to be sharing knowing looks all through dinner. After the meal, Miss Betty and I helped clear the table. Then Mama shooed us into the den and called for Earl to help her serve dessert.
Earl carried the plates, forks, and napkins and Mama brought in a triple-layer chocolate cake—the recipe that had earned her a blue ribbon at last year’s July 4th baking competition. They set the cake and plates on the ornate antique buffet that had belonged to my grandmother. Earl cleared his throat before saying, “Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment.” He and Mama stood there holding hands. Earl’s ears were bright red.
“We wanted you to be the first to know that Virginia and I are engaged to be married.”
Miss Betty jumped up and said, “How wonderful! I’m so happy for you both.”
My mother-in-law rushed over to hug Mama and I trailed behind her in a bit of a daze.
Mama, who is generally not very good at keeping secrets, had given no indication that an engagement was on the horizon. Not that I was unhappy about it. It had been nearly five years since my daddy had died and she and Earl had been seeing each other steadily for more than two years.
The men walked over and shook hands with Earl, offering congratulations. Even my curmudgeonly father-in-law seemed genuinely pleased by the news.
Mama held out her hand to show off an engagement ring with tiny diamonds surrounding a marquise-cut emerald. Miss Betty and I admired it and I thought how romantic it was for Earl to choose a ring that matched my mother’s eyes. Earl is a thoroughly nice guy, but romantic isn’t a word I’d use to describe him. Then it dawned on me that my mother wouldn’t have left something as important as an engagement ring up to Earl. I hugged Mama, who looked at me with misty eyes and said, “You are happy for me, aren’t you, Liv?”
“Of course, Mama,” I said sincerely. “Earl is a wonderful man, and I know he’ll take very good care of you.”
“I know. But I may need your help to make your sister understand.”
That was a huge understatement, but I forced a smile and said, “I’m sure Emma will come around.”
* * *
After cake and a bit of chitchat, Larry Joe and I said our good-byes.
In the car, Larry Joe said, “Wow, I didn’t see that coming, at least not this soon. Had your Mama given you any indication?”
“Of course not. If she had, don’t you think I would have told you? I think they’re a good match, though. Anybody who can put up with my mama is at least a minor saint. Unfortunately, I don’t think my little sister is going to share that view.”
“She’ll come around,” Larry Joe said.
“That’s what I told Mama, but I’m having some trouble believing it myself. Emma was such a daddy’s girl. She’s not going to take to the idea of somebody replacing him.”
“Earl’s not trying to replace your daddy. Part of the problem, I think, is that Emma hasn’t spent time around Earl like we have, and seen how well he treats your mama,” Larry Joe said.
“You and I know that, but I don’t think that’s the way Emma will see it,” I said. “She’s never been happy about Mama spending time with Earl, which is ridiculous. But that’s Emma for you.”
Larry Joe pulled his truck into the garage at our house. He headed for the back door and I walked over to the SUV.
“I’m going down to the sheriff’s office,” I said. “He wanted to continue our little conversation from last night. But honestly, I don’t know what else I can tell him. I already told him that I saw Bubba have run-ins with Webster Flack and Rosemary Dell, as well as trying to calm down a very upset and visibly tipsy Lynn Latham. I was run off my feet yesterday and didn’t exactly keep tabs on what Bubba was up to.”
“I’m going to take a nap and then catch up on some work while you’re gone,” Larry Joe said.
He paused and then turned to me, resting his hand on the back door handle. “Honey, you ought to be prepared for Dave to ask you some questions about Earl. It’s not exactly a well-kept secret there was no love lost between Earl and Bubba.”
“You can’t honestly believe Earl had anything to do with Bubba’s death,” I said, feeling protective of Mama’s new fiancé.
“Now don’t get riled up, Liv. You know I don’t think Earl killed Bubba. But he’s bound to be a suspect, especially after the shouting match he and Bubba got into a couple of weeks ago at that town hall meeting.”
Earl and Bubba were longtime adversaries. Earl owns a building and supply center, providing lumber, hardware, plumbing, and electrical supplies to builders and do-it-yourself homeowners. Bubba, along with his brother Bruce, owned a rival business in town. The competing stores often had price wars. If one offered a 10 percent discount, the other would advertise 15-percent-off deals. But Bubba went beyond the expected rival business antics. He abused his position on the town council and as liaison to the planning commission. He would vote for and lobby for developers who bought from his company and delay or try to deny approvals for builders who bought supplies from Earl.
“Earl had every right to get mad at that meeting,” I said. “Bubba was acting like a horse’s patoot. And Earl wasn’t the only one to have a heated exchange with the late councilman.”
“I know that and so does Dave. But considering the long history of bad blood between the two of them, Dave has to look at Earl as a suspect. You just need to prepare yourself for the likelihood that Dave may ask you some questions about Earl and try not to get all worked up. That’s all I’m saying.”
I knew he was right, but I didn’t have to like it. Then an even more frightening thought occurred to me.
“You don’t think Dave will question Mama, do you?”
“I imagine he’ll talk to all of Bubba’s neighbors at some point,” Larry Joe said.
* * *
I thought about that unsettling possibility during the short drive to the sheriff’s office.
The last of the after-church lunch crowd were coming out of Town Square Diner. Ladies in summer dresses, some wearing hats, and men in suit trousers and suspenders, who had shed their jackets in the ninety-plus-degree temperature, were spilling onto the sidewalk. While the diner stays busy, most of the rest of the businesses in Dixie’s charming downtown are closed on Sundays. The courthouse in the center, surrounded by one-way streets on three sides, anchors the town square, which boasts a beauty salon, bakery, drugstore, and barbershop, along with a thrift shop and a storefront church.
I pulled up and parked in front of the sheriff’s office, which is located on a corner across the street from my Liv 4 Fun party-planning business, of which I am sole proprietor and the only full-time employee.
I was relieved when Dave asked me to come into his office instead of the interview room. I’d had the displeasure of spending some uncomfortable hours in that room being grilled by Dave when he felt Di and I had overstepped certain boundaries. He’d actually had the nerve to accuse us of breaking and entering once just because we happened to take a look around inside a suspect’s camper when he wasn’t at home.
I took a seat in one of two blue vinyl chairs that faced Dave’s desk. He sat in a big, swivel office chair and shuffled through some papers before looking up.
“Have you thought of anything else that might be pertinent to Bubba Rowland’s murder?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
“You said that you saw, at various points during the day, Webster Flack, Rosemary Dell, and Lynn Latham having words with Bubba. Is that correct?”
I nodded.
“Do you remember seeing any of them just before or during the fireworks?”
I assumed this meant Dave believed Bubba had been killed during the fireworks, which made sense since the fireworks explosions would have masked the sound of a rifle blast.
“Let me see. They intr
oduced all the winners from the day just before the fireworks show. Cassie Latham, as first runner-up in the Miss Dixie pageant, was seated onstage next to Jennifer Rowland, as well as the winners from the cooking contests and the 5K winners in the different age divisions. The winners’ families were seated in folding chairs near the stage. I do remember seeing Lynn Latham sitting in the audience, still looking sadsack, when I walked through to stake out a spot to watch the fireworks.
“Rosemary Dell must have been seated nearby, too, because they called her up to the stage to introduce Jennifer and Cassie and thank the pageant sponsors. I don’t remember seeing Webster. But just before the fireworks started, the winners left the stage and the high school band started setting up.
“Some people stayed and had turned their folding chairs toward the creek. But a lot of people got up and wandered off to get drinks and snacks, or to look for friends to sit with or to use the facilities. It was just starting to get dark by then and little kids were running around waving those glow sticks. It was pretty much mass confusion. It settled down a bit when the fireworks started. But as it seemed we were approaching the finale, some people started gathering up their lawn chairs and blankets and heading to the parking lot to beat the rush.
“Once the fireworks started I can’t say I know where anyone was except Larry Joe, who was sitting on the blanket next to me.”
“You don’t recall who else was near you? Did your mama and Earl sit with you during the show?”
I remembered what Larry Joe had said about Dave viewing Earl as a suspect and tried my best to sound casual.
“No. The fireworks are a bit too loud for Mama’s taste. She had told me before the winners were recognized that she was going home.”
“Do you know if Earl left with her?”
“Mama had driven her own car. I don’t know when Earl left. I do know he spent a good part of the day directing traffic and helping line cars up in rows where they were parking on the grass.”
“Did you actually see him in the parking area or did you just know he’d be working there?”
“I was parked on the festival grounds in one of the reserved spots. I did see him over by the grass parking area when I left just after lunch. I ran by my office for a few minutes to cool off and to pick up some extra judging sheets.”
