by Vickie Fee
“How long were you gone?”
“About twenty minutes or so, I guess.”
“Did you leave the festival area any other time during the day?”
“I drove an older lady in the golf cart over to the Methodist church. As you know, we had set up the fellowship hall as a cooling station for folks to hang out in the air-conditioning and drink bottled water. Since it was a relatively mild day we didn’t have any real heat-related emergencies, but some elderly people did take advantage of the cool space.”
“How long were you there?”
“I went twice during the day, once to transport the older lady and once to use the facilities, which are a little more comfortable than the porta potties.”
“When was the last time you remember seeing Bubba?” Dave asked.
I thought for a moment.
“He was standing next to the stage when they introduced Jennifer as the new Miss Dixie. Everyone clapped, but I remember him whistling and yelling out something like, ‘That’s our girl,’ looking over his shoulder, and giving a smile and a wink to her mama and daddy, who were sitting in the folding chairs just behind him. Carrie looked displeased with his lack of decorum, but no one ever accused Bubba of being a class act.”
“Do you recall having a conversation with Bubba at any time during the festival?”
I stared at the wall and tried to visually scroll through the events of the day.
“No, not really,” I said. “I spoke to him a couple of times in passing. That morning he shook my hand and thanked me for organizing this year’s festival. I think that was after the 5K and just before the judging started for the kudzu jelly competition.”
Dave jotted something down on his notepad.
* * *
I was in Dave’s office for over an hour before he let me go. Some questions he asked two or three times, slightly rephrasing them each time. As much as he irritated me at times, we were lucky to have someone like Dave as the sheriff of Delbert County. Before coming to Dixie, he had worked with the Metro Nashville Police Department for twelve years, the last few as a homicide detective.
Since I knew Larry Joe was working, if he wasn’t still napping, I called Di to see if I could drop by. I was dying to tell someone about Mama’s engagement.
I parked in front of Di’s trailer and tapped on the unlocked front door before letting myself in.
Di was making strawberry daiquiris in a blender.
“I knew you were supposed to continue your interrogation with Dave this afternoon, so I figured you might like one of these,” Di said as I set my purse on the table and plopped down on the sofa.
“Believe it or not, I’ve got bigger news than a murder investigation,” I said. Di turned off the blender and turned to face me.
“Guess who’s sporting a great big engagement ring?”
“I give up.”
“Virginia Walford, although I guess she’ll be Virginia Daniels after the wedding.”
“Your mama and Earl are engaged? That’s wonderful!” After a pause Di added, “That is wonderful, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I admitted. “I’m just afraid my little sister’s going to give Mama a hard time about it.”
“Emma’s so busy with her own family, raising a baby and a preschooler, she shouldn’t have time to run your mother’s life. What’s her problem with Earl, anyway?”
“He’s not her daddy.”
“That’s going to be true of anybody your mama marries,” Di said, bringing over a frozen daiquiri and setting it on the coffee table.
“I know. It’s ridiculous.”
I took a sip of the frosty concoction, which really hit the spot on a hot July day.
“So, have they set a date, and has your mama already got you busy planning the wedding? I expect she’ll have some definite ideas about what she wants.”
I sat there wordless, staring off into space for a moment. “She is going to expect me to plan the wedding, isn’t she?” I finally said as the reality of it hit me.
“I think you can count on it,” Di said.
The two of us erupted in a fit of giggles as we speculated on some of the outrageous ideas Mama might come up with for her wedding.
Little did I know.
“You want another glassful?” Di asked.
“Give me about a third of a glass more. I’d better pace myself since I have to drive home.”
Di ripped open a bag of pretzels and brought them over.
“Here. This will soak up some of the alcohol.”
* * *
I left after a couple of hours. On the drive home I was seized by the abject terror of having Mama for a client. This must have been written all over my face because as soon as I walked into the den, where Larry Joe was sitting at the computer, he said, “Did Dave give you a rough time with the questioning?”
“No, it’s worse than that. Di pointed out the obvious. Mama is going to expect me to plan her wedding. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me right away. Can you imagine Mama as a client? Especially for a wedding,” I said.
My head began to throb at the thought of it.
“Actually I had thought of that, but I decided it was probably better not to mention it.”
Chapter 3
When I awoke Monday morning, I rolled over and opened a bleary eye to peek at the alarm clock. It was 9:00 AM. I was usually at the office by now, but what’s the point of being your own boss if you can’t bend the schedule now and then.
I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. What I needed was coffee. Lots of coffee. I knew Larry Joe had long since left for work. He usually gets to the office at the family trucking business by seven o’clock. I hoped to find that he had left me at least some coffee dregs. To my surprise there was a full pot. He had left a note, saying he had set the timer on the coffeemaker to start brewing at 8:00 AM. He didn’t think I’d rouse before then. He was only off by an hour, but the warming plate stays on for two hours, which meant the coffee was still piping hot.
I retrieved a giant mug from the cabinet, filled it with coffee, and added a splash of milk. I quickly sucked down the contents of the first mug for the caffeine hit. For the second mugful I sat at the kitchen table and savored it as I checked e-mail and messages on my phone. Some mornings I would be disappointed to find no messages. But today I figured no news was good news.
It was a quarter past ten when I pulled into a parking space on the square. My office is above Sweet Deal Realty and accessed via a street-front glass door that opens onto a steep staircase. Before heading up to my office, I stepped into the real estate office. Nathan Sweet, my landlord, was nowhere to be seen, but agent Winette King was at her desk and on the phone. From what I could hear it sounded like she was scheduling a house tour for prospective buyers. She waved and motioned for me to take a seat. Winette looked fresh pressed in a lavender jacket. She was absently fiddling with a pen, drawing attention to her immaculate manicure. I looked at the distressing state of my own fingernails, which I had painted a bright red for July 4th, but which were already starting to peel.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Winette said in a singsong voice. “You’re late getting in today, even for you. But then you had kind of a busy weekend, what with the festival and the murder and all.”
“The murder had absolutely nothing to do with me,” I said, feeling peeved that everyone seemed to think my presence at an event somehow invites homicide.
“No, of course not. But still . . . it’s funny how you always seem to be on the spot when a body turns up. I’m surprised Sheriff Davidson hasn’t hired you to work like one of those hounds that sniffs out corpses. What’re they called?”
“Cadaver dogs,” I said. “I actually stopped in to share some happy news with you, but I’m not sure I care to anymore,” I said, getting up from my chair.
“Oh, don’t be that way, Liv. I’m just having fun with you. What’s your good news?”
“It’s not exactly my good news,
but I am happy about it. Mama and Earl got engaged.”
“Oh, glory be,” Winette said, clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad your mama has found her a good man. They’re in short supply, you know.”
“Yeah, we’re very fond of Earl. At least most of us are.”
“Uh-oh,” Winette said. “Who’s not on board with this engagement?”
“Emma. She’s always viewed Earl as an intruder trying to take her daddy’s place, I’m afraid.”
“Humpf. You need to set little sister straight right quickly. She’s got a husband and two young children, but she thinks your mama should live all by herself in a big, empty house keeping vigil over her daddy’s memory. That’s nothing but selfish,” Winette said, quickly cutting to the heart of the matter, something she has a gift for. “So have they set a date for the wedding?”
“Honestly, I didn’t even ask. I was so surprised by the engagement announcement. Earl gave her quite a rock, though, a great big emerald framed with diamonds.”
“Ooh, Lordy. Next time I see her I’ll have to ask to take a look at it.”
“I doubt you’ll have to ask.”
* * *
Before going up to my office, I made a quick stop in the ladies’ room. This amenity is included in my rent since there’s no restroom upstairs. It’s not the most convenient arrangement, but the rent’s cheap. I walked out the front door of the real estate office, turned left, walked a few steps, and unlocked the street entrance to my office—which is the only entrance or exit other than the fire escape out back. The green awning over the front door is emblazoned with “Liv 4 Fun.” I had to choose a short business name since the plate glass door is the entirety of my street frontage.
I took a seat at the desk in my paneled office with acoustical tile ceiling and checked voicemail. There was a panicked message from Heather Mann, a client for a baby shower coming up this weekend.
“Liv, this is Heather. I’m worried we won’t have enough food for the shower. Everyone we invited has RSVP’d that they’re coming. And my Aunt Rose is a big eater. Call me back when you have a chance. Thanks.”
Click.
I pulled out the folder for the baby shower and looked over the menu and guest list. I knew the planned brunch menu would more than adequately feed a crowd, including a pregnant woman and her ravenous aunt. But I needed to reassure my nervous client, who was dealing with hormonal ups and downs along with the usual hostess anxiety. I decided to hand off that task to my assistant, Holly, who was scheduled to come in around noon. You wouldn’t guess it to look at her, with her somewhat eccentric fashion sense, but Holly has a calming effect on people, including me. She could always make me believe that even a seemingly impossible task was doable.
I caught up on some paperwork and printed out some invoices that needed to be sent out. I stuffed and stamped the envelopes and left, locking the door behind me. As I struck out across the town square, heat shimmered in waves above the sidewalk. The day was another scorcher. I paused to drop the invoices in the mailbox in front of the courthouse, before continuing across the one-way street on the opposite side of the courthouse to the diner.
“Hey there, Liv,” Mabel said as I stepped up to the counter. Customers and waitresses buzzed past. Town Square Diner was always packed for lunch, with friends, acquaintances, and sometimes even complete strangers sharing tables during the rush. There was a brisk take-out business, as well.
“Hi, Mabel. I see business is booming, as usual. I’d like to order two chef’s salads and two large sweet teas to go.”
“Sure, hon. You want ranch dressing with that?”
“I’ll take one ranch and one bleu cheese.”
Mabel retrieved two salads, made fresh that morning, from the under-counter fridge and rang up my bill.
“You tell your mama I’m pleased as punch for her and Earl. They’re a cute couple,” Mabel said as she handed me change.
“Thank you, I sure will.”
I wasn’t all that surprised Mabel Cross had already heard about the engagement since nearly half the town passes through her doors each day, but I was looking forward to telling the good news to Holly.
* * *
Back in the office, I cleared space on my desk for our lunch. In a couple of minutes I heard Holly clicking up the stairs. She breezed in wearing a black sleeveless top with black and white hound’s-tooth capris. Oversized orange sunglasses sat atop her white, pageboy-styled hair, and an orange pedicure peeked out from her strappy white sandals. Holly’s fashion vibe could be described as Jackie Kennedy, the Onassis years.
“Awlright, darlin’,” Holly said, her r ’s polished smooth by a proper Southern finishing school. “Let’s get to work. Oh, by the way, my congratulations to your mama and Earl. I’m so happy for them.”
“Did you run into Mama this morning?” I asked, feeling a little let down I didn’t get to reveal the big news to Holly.
“No, hon. Sylvia called me earlier and mentioned it.”
I should have guessed that Mama’s friend, Sylvia, had already spread the news like the town crier.
Holly intuited my disappointment. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to steal your thunder,” she said before adding, “You are pleased about the engagement, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. Little sister is another story, though. I think Emma is going to need some convincing.”
“Your mama can be pretty persuasive.”
“That she can,” I acknowledged.
After we finished lunch, I filled Holly in on Heather’s concern about lack of food for the shower and asked her to make a reassuring phone call. Holly is amazing. By the time she hung up, she had even me wondering if we’d have too much food.
Holly is a dream assistant and one I could never afford if I had to pay her based on her resumé. Fortunately for me, she enjoys the work. She’s the widow of a retired admiral and has entertained diplomats and military brass around the world. She’s also from an old and moneyed Dixie family. While Holly is completely down to earth, her pedigree reassures some of our snootier clients.
The two of us reviewed the details for the baby shower set for Saturday. We had a meeting scheduled with Heather at 3:30 PM. While Heather’s sister, Tiffany, was listed as the hostess on the shower invitations that were sent out, for propriety’s sake, Heather is our actual client—the one writing the checks. Tiffany is the official hostess, since it would be considered improper for a mom-to-be to host her own shower. But it was Heather’s desire to do a gender-reveal party, and she didn’t trust anyone other than her sister to keep her mouth shut about whether it was a boy or a girl until the shower. Plus, Heather said she wanted food other than grocery store cake and some stale mints and mixed nuts, which are standard fare at many church hall showers put on by the ladies’ auxiliary.
Many of our clients prefer to let me and my part-time and as-needed staff, which, in addition to Holly, includes Harold the electrician and Kenny the carpenter, both all-around handymen, handle everything. Other clients, like Heather, hire Liv 4 Fun to plan the event and source materials, while they do most of the work themselves. This saves the client a good bit of money. While I enjoy the huge, over-the-top events we put together, I also really enjoy helping clients throw a fabulous party on a very modest budget.
For the shower decorations I had ordered discount-priced supplies and given Heather and Tiffany a short training session on how to put things together. Now Holly and I were going by to check on their progress.
* * *
Tiffany greeted us at the front door and Heather walked behind her, approaching us sway-backed and tottering as if she were being pulled along by the baby in her bulging belly. I couldn’t help but worry she might go into labor before or during the shower. I leaned over her stomach to give her a shoulder hug.
She and Tiffany were eager to show us their craft projects. I’m always a little worried at this point. Even though we try to make any decorating projects as simple as possible, some
people are just challenged when it comes to cutting or gluing and such. But Heather and Tiffany were rightfully proud. The little favor bags with take-home treats for the guests looked adorable.
The supplies we had given them were heavy-duty white lunch sacks, entwined pink and white ribbon, pale pink cardboard, and darker pink tulle. From those materials they had crafted little tulle tutus, topped by cardboard ballerina tops on the side of each bag. They had punched holes in the tops of the bags and pulled ribbon through the holes so it could be tied into a bow to secure the goodies once they were inside. They had also filled baby food–sized jars with pink and white jelly beans and affixed pink-checked labels that said “Heather’s Baby Shower,” along with the date. The other items for the gift bags were rubber ducky–shaped soaps, which I’d gotten at a real bargain on clearance from a wholesaler. The sisters had already filled and tied up the bows on all but a couple of the bags.
A fun element of this shower—one that I’d never done before—is that it would announce that a baby girl is expected. Holly and I were sworn to secrecy—even the grandmothers didn’t know yet. So little pink items that would give the secret away, like the ballerina gift bags, would have to be hidden away until the right moment.
We went over the rest of the arrangements for the shower and where everything would be positioned. We told Heather we would be there an hour and fifteen minutes before the shower to help put the finishing touches in place.
After we said our good-byes to Heather and Tiffany, I dropped Holly off by the office to pick up her car and then I started toward home. Just as I pulled into my garage, my phone dinged, alerting me that I had a new text message. It was from Sheriff Dave.
Please e-mail me the names of any professional photographers or videographers who covered any of the events on July 4th, as well as a list of any people you can recall shooting photographs, and especially video.—Thanks, Dave
