by Vickie Fee
“Was Earl there with your mama?”
I thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think he was.”
“Well, all this talk about cake is making me hungry,” Di said.
We walked to the ice cream stand a couple of blocks away. It’s just a walk-up counter with a couple of picnic tables sitting in front of the tiny building. We each ordered a scoop on a cone—pistachio for me, Rocky Road for Di—and walked back to the park.
The calories from the ice cream probably canceled out any benefit from our walk, but there wasn’t a breeze stirring and it was still pretty warm even in the shade.
“How far up the track had we made it?” Di asked.
I stopped and looked around to get my bearings.
“The contestants’ tent for the Miss Dixie pageant was here,” I said, pointing to a void. “But I didn’t go in there. It was where the girls were getting dressed and primping. I did run off a couple of boys who looked to be in the third or fourth grade. They were trying to peer into the tent. So the little peepers would know more about what went on inside the tent than I would.
“Next to that tent, to the right here, was the winners’ tent. That’s where they served a barbecue dinner to all the contest winners from the day. I did go in there during the dinner. Bubba was at one of the tables. He always talks—talked—so loud he was hard to miss.”
“Was he politicking or was he one of the people invited to the dinner?” Di asked.
“He was eating. In fact, most people were just getting their desserts when I came by. Nonie Jones, Cassie Latham’s grandmother; and Bernice Halford were at the back of the tent cutting cakes and slicing pies, and some high school girls were carrying the desserts to the tables. I remember Bernice delivering a slice of her award-winning chocolate cake to Bubba and some pie for the mayor. I’m not sure if Bubba was at the dinner with the family because his niece won or because he had served as a judge. Or maybe all the town council members were invited. Anyway, Nonie Jones offered me some cake, which I declined. I figured I’d eaten more than my share of junk food by that time. I went around and congratulated several of the winners.”
“Were Cassie and her mom at the dinner?”
“I don’t recall seeing them. But I don’t know if the runners-up were invited. The first and second runners-up were included later with the group on the stage when they introduced all the winners from the day to the crowd, just before the fireworks show. Of course, by the time of the dinner, Cassie’s mom had already had way too much to drink and had had her tearful and very public confrontation with Bubba.”
* * *
Larry Joe was still at the computer in the den when I got home.
“Have you been going over paperwork for McKay’s the whole time I’ve been gone?”
“Yeah, just a lot of odds and ends mostly. Some of it’s because of new contracts, so that’s actually good news. But I’m fixin’ to go upstairs and work an hour or so on the house before bedtime.”
“Honey, I know you’re a do-it-yourselfer, but with your dad cutting back his hours and the business growing, don’t you think you should hire someone to help work on the house? You could hire Kenny. You know he’s a good carpenter and hard worker—and easy to get along with. Your dad is handy, but you two would kill each other. Plus y’all spend enough time working together as it is.”
“I probably will hire Kenny to help with some of the woodworking when I get to it. And I’m just about caught up on the trucking business now. Don’t worry, the upstairs bath will be in full working order before Labor Day.”
He put the computer in sleep mode and kissed the top of my head as he walked past. The landline rang just as he walked into the kitchen.
“It’s your mama, you want me to grab it for you?”
“Yeah, might as well.”
“Hi, Mama Walford, here’s Liv,” he said as he quickly passed the phone off to me.
“Have you talked to your sister today?”
“Why do you ask?” I said with an uneasy feeling.
“She left a message asking me to call her.”
“I wouldn’t call her just yet if I were you. You remember her friend from high school, Nicole?”
“I never did like her, always thought she was kind of low class.”
“Well, apparently she still is. She called to tell Emma about Earl’s . . . ” I struggled for a moment looking for the right word. “Troubles,” I said. “It might be best to give Emma a day or two to calm down before giving her a call.”
“Okay. I think that’s probably sage advice. By the way, Liv, the guest list for the wedding is going to be a little longer than I told you. I was just talking off the top of my head when I estimated sixty people.”
“How many people are on the guest list now?”
“A hundred and forty-six.”
It took me a minute to catch my breath.
“Okay. You know if it rains we’ll have to move all the guests into the barn. So, I need to go out to Earl’s place and do some measurements to see exactly how many people we can accommodate. We may need to make some adjustments.”
“Thanks, hon. I knew you’d find a way to make it work. I’d better let you go. Earl’s calling to me from the back porch.”
Chapter 10
I went to the office Monday morning and got right to work—trying to clear Earl’s name. I knew I was going to have to pass off some of the party-planning work to Holly, while I worked on getting to the bottom of Bubba’s murder. Fortunately, I was due a nice check from the city for my work on the festival and I didn’t have an event scheduled this week. I decided to think of Earl as my main client, since he had told me he was willing to write the checks for his and Mama’s wedding. I had no intention, presently at least, to charge for my time, but I was more than willing to let him pay for expenses, especially the more outrageous items on Mama’s wish list.
I phoned Dorothy at city hall to ask about the town council race. I needed to know if Webster Flack would have the field to himself now that Bubba was out of the picture, or if there was still time for someone else to make it onto the ballot.
“Hon, the ballot for the August primary is set,” she said. “Webster’s and Bubba’s names will be on it. Since Webster will now be unopposed in his party, he’ll be on the ballot in the general election in November, as well. But there’s still time for other candidates to qualify to run in November as a candidate in the opposing party or as an independent.”
“So you’re saying even with Bubba out of the way Webster still may not win in November?” I asked, trying to understand the strange workings of politics.
“That’s right,” Dorothy said. “Probably won’t do much for his self-esteem if he loses. But honestly I wouldn’t be surprised. Just about anybody who gets enough certified signatures on a petition to get them on the November ballot has a better than good chance of winning. There’re plenty of folks who think Webster’s a nut. And people who were put off by his ugly campaign against Bubba are likely to feel even less affection for him since Bubba’s murder.
“Liv, why don’t you consider running? It’s been a few years since we’ve had a woman on the council. People like you. And if you’re interested, running against Webster in November would be almost like running unopposed.”
“So you feel pretty certain he won’t win?”
“Not a chance in Hades.”
“Thanks, Dorothy.”
“Will you give running for office some thought?”
“Not a chance in Hades,” I said before saying good-bye.
I supposed it was flattering Dorothy wanted me to run for office, even if she suggested the only reason I’d win was because I’d practically be running unopposed.
I got up from my desk with the intention of making a pot of coffee. I have no running water upstairs but keep bottled water on hand for hydration and coffee-making purposes. The coffee bag was empty. So I grabbed my mug and headed downstairs to Sweet Deal Realty to help myself to a cup of t
heir coffee.
I walked in the front door to hear the gurgling noise of a fresh pot brewing.
“Mornin,’ sunshine,” Winette said with her usual perk as she walked in from Mr. Sweet’s office-cum-storeroom, carrying a “For Sale” sign.
“I just came down for some coffee. Looks like you have a new client.”
“Yes, indeed. Business is booming. I have a closing scheduled on Thursday. How’re things in the party-planning universe?”
“It’s a bit slow in my little galaxy, but I’m not complaining. I’ll be getting a nice check from the city for the festival, and Earl has asked me to keep Mama busy planning the wedding so she doesn’t have time to worry over him.”
“He’s a nice man. I hope you’re able to get him out of his current troubles.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Winette is usually doling out advice about how I should keep my nose out of any murder investigation. I guess she noticed my jaw hitting the floor.
“I’m sure you’re surprised to hear me encouraging your snooping. But let’s be honest, you’re going to do it anyway. And you can’t very well stand by and let them lock up the man your mama’s going to marry. What kind of daughter would you be?”
Winette said she needed to get going and I walked over to the coffeemaker just as it stopped sputtering and poured myself a cup. Mr. Sweet wandered in, probably from the barbershop across the street, where he regularly hangs out talking to other old men.
“Hi, Mr. Sweet.”
“Hi, Liv. You know, if you keep pilfering our coffee I’m going to have to raise your rent.”
“You know you’d be hard pressed to find another tenant willing to commute to use the restroom,” I said.
He just muttered something under his breath and disappeared into his office.
With a mug of steaming coffee in hand, I went back up to my office. I needed to get a few things organized before Holly arrived later in the morning. During weeks when we had downtime, we were working on some marketing materials and a new Liv 4 Fun brochure. The brochure needed updating anyway and we were also getting ready for a big chamber of commerce business expo in Hartville in the fall, with an eye to increasing our profile on that side of the county.
After Holly arrived, we looked through scores of digital images from various events, trying to decide which ones to include in the brochure and which we might want to blow up to poster size for the expo. We wanted to be sure to include a mix of large and smaller events and venues to suit a wide variety of budgets.
We sorted through photos for events we had planned, putting our favorites into a folder on the computer desktop.
“By the way, I talked to Mama last night and she’s revised her guest list for the wedding.”
“I never believed for a minute she’d keep her list down to sixty people. How many people is she planning to invite now?”
“A hundred and forty-six.”
“That may require an adjustment to our plans,” she said.
Holly was meeting a friend for lunch at one o’clock, so we wrapped things up about a quarter till. Mama had called and wanted me to come over so we could talk more about the wedding. I managed to put her off another day. I needed to put some time into looking for a suspect to replace Earl. I wanted to ensure Mama’s dream wedding day included the groom.
* * *
I drove through Wendy’s and got a junior cheeseburger, which I ate in the car before driving to Earl’s business. Daniels Lumber and Hardware sits at the corner of Front Street and the highway, where it had been located for thirty years. If Earl was starting his business today he would never be able to afford this parcel of land. I’d imagine it stuck in Bubba Rowland’s craw that his biggest competitor’s store was situated in such a prime location. The highway is a busy corridor funneling rural commuters into Memphis, Collierville, and Germantown. Dixie businesses, especially those right on the highway, profit greatly from this regular stream of traffic.
Daniels Lumber and Hardware is a flat-roofed building with a brick façade and a large window in front, next to the entrance. While it is good sized, it could in no way be mistaken for one of the big-box stores on the highway a bit farther west.
I walked inside and noticed the display of ice chests, pool noodles, and lawn chairs near the door. I knew Earl was most likely in his office in the back of the store.
This being Dixie, I ran into two people I knew on the short trek through the store. A nice older man who goes to my church was looking at glow-in-the-dark duct tape. I made a mental note to come back and look at that. There had to be some handy use for glow-in-the-dark tape I just hadn’t thought of yet. He spoke and inquired after my mama’s health. This is an example of one of the everyday neighborly encounters that recommends small-town life.
Next I ran into my neighbor Edna Cleats. Neighbors like her are the reason people decide to bolt from small towns in search of the blissful anonymity of big-city life.
By the time I spotted her, it was too late to hide.
“Hi, Liv,” she said, giving me a tootles wave. “It’s a shame we’re neighbors and yet sometimes we’ll go days at a time without seeing one another.”
I forced a smile and a nod.
“I’m so sorry for what your mama’s going through right now. Imagine having her fiancé arrested for murder.”
“Mama has no doubts about Earl’s innocence—and neither do I.”
“Of course not, hon. Still, it has to be difficult. And expensive, too. I heard Earl had to dole out a quarter of a million dollars to get out of jail, at least temporarily. That’s sure a beautiful ring he gave Virginia. I hope they don’t end up having to sell it to cover Earl’s legal expenses. That would be such a shame.”
I was speechless. Unfortunately, I was the only one who was.
“Tell your mother to call me if she needs anything. And tell her I’m so sorry about her coming in second in the chocolate cake contest at the festival. I’m sure it was a very close call for the judges. I’d better get going. Mr. Winky will be expecting his dinner.”
Mr. Winky was her cat.
I finally made it to the back of the store.
Through the window behind the back counter where sales staff write up special orders, I could see Earl in his office with his feet propped up on his desk. He glanced up and motioned for me to come through.
In his gentlemanly manner, Earl stood up and waited for me to take a seat in the chair facing his desk before he sat back down in his chair.
“Hey, Liv. What can I do you for?”
“I’ve just been wondering about who benefits most financially as a consequence of Bubba’s death. I figured you’d know, or at least have a pretty good idea, about how things stand for Bruce businesswise now that big brother’s out of the picture.”
“I expect they had a partnership arrangement that passes Bubba’s interest in the business to Bruce, making him sole proprietor. But if the business were in financial trouble, which I don’t believe it is, it wouldn’t help pay the bills. If the business is solid financially, the only way it would put extra money in Bruce’s pocket is if he sells, which I can’t imagine he would.”
“What about stuff like life insurance?” I asked.
“I don’t know if Bruce is the beneficiary of that or not, to be honest. I’m sure Faye was sole beneficiary before. After she died two years ago, I don’t know what changes Bubba made. He may have left it to Bruce or put it in trust for Jennifer. He may have left some or all of it to his church. There’s also his house, next door to your Mama. It’s a nice house, but not exactly worth a fortune.”
“Okay,” I said. “What about Bubba’s relationship with Bruce? Was it all brotherly love or was sibling rivalry in play?”
“To the best of my knowledge they’ve always gotten along well enough. In fact, if anything, I’d say they were probably closer the last couple of years. You know there was no love lost between me and Bubba Rowland. But losing his son in a car crash and then losing h
is wife to cancer the very next year is a tough break for anybody. And I think Bruce tried to be there for him.”
“So no bad blood between the brothers, not even old jealousies, like one of them being their daddy’s favorite or one of them coming out poorly on the money side when their parents passed away?”
“No . . . no, nothing like that,” he said.
The long pause in Earl’s answer to my last question worried me, so I pressed.
“Nothing like that, but there was something, wasn’t there?”
“Maybe, but it was a long time ago and I’m pretty sure Bruce and Faye never knew about it.”
He pursed his lips together and stared at his desk, obviously reluctant to continue.
“Earl Daniels,” I said, feeling exasperated, “tell me what you know, no matter how long ago or how trivial you think it may be. You’ve been charged with murder, remember? And I’m just trying to help.”
Earl leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk, before speaking in a hushed tone.
“All right. I already told the sheriff when he pressed so I might as well tell you. Back when Bruce and Carrie were first married they had trouble, like lots of newlyweds, adjusting to married life. There was lots of fussing and fighting and tears, and Carrie running home to her mama once or twice.
“They eventually worked it out and started a family. But Bubba Rowland always was a sleazy opportunist, ready to swoop in on innocent prey if he caught a whiff of weakness.
“I was delivering lumber over on Route 3 one day and I spotted Bubba’s old Cadillac parked in front of that cheap little out-of-the-way motel near Bucks Road. It’s been closed for years now. Anyway, I saw Bubba come out of one of the rooms strutting like a rooster. And a minute later I saw Carrie come out of the same room, looking shamefaced.
“I may be wrong, but my guess is that was the only time it happened. Next time I saw Bruce and Carrie they were holding hands and acting more the way newlyweds should. I don’t think Bruce or Faye ever knew and I certainly wasn’t going to tell them. If Bruce knew, he waited an awful long time to seek revenge. Plus, as I already said, they’ve seemed closer since Bubba lost Faye and Bubba Jr.
