One Fete in the Grave

by Vickie Fee

  Chapter 20

  I made it to the office before nine on Tuesday and got right to work, but as was usual lately it had nothing to do with actually running my business—a routine I was going to have to break out of soon if Liv 4 Fun was to remain solvent.

  After dinner at the Chinese place last night, Di and I formulated a plan to collect DNA samples ourselves and have them tested. I dropped Di off at her place and headed home to do some research.

  I checked out paternity-testing labs online to learn how to proceed. For knowing participants in DNA testing, cheek swabs, which are rubbed against the inside of the subject’s cheek, are generally used. Since we were being clandestine, that wasn’t really an option. However, hairs pulled from the subject’s head with the root still intact were an acceptable substitute for DNA testing. And DNA testing is extremely accurate when done properly, according to the Frequently Asked Questions section.

  Instructions said DNA samples should be placed in unused paper envelopes because plastic bags can promote the growth of bacteria.

  Having the DNA tests done was going to be a bit pricy, especially if I paid to have them expedited. But I planned to count it as my wedding gift to Mama and Earl.

  I was looking at some other lab options online when Larry Joe came in. I had quickly closed the window on the computer screen. I knew Larry Joe said he was 100 percent behind me on this investigation, but my best guess was he wouldn’t be completely supportive of our covert DNA collection plans.

  As much as I wanted to keep our little scheme for DNA testing under wraps, I had no choice but to enlist some help. And I was going to have to rely on someone I knew lacked discretion. But desperate times call for desperate measures, so I punched in the number for Dixie Dolls Hair Salon and asked the receptionist to put my hairdresser on the phone.

  “Nell, I have a favor to ask. Is it okay if I drop by the salon right after closing this evening?” I said.

  “No, hon, don’t come to the shop. I’ve got the floor people coming in to wax tonight. Come on by the house anytime after seven. Billy’s got a catering job and Billy Jr.’s friend is sleeping over, so they’ll probably be holed up in his room playing video games. We should be free to talk.”

  “All right, sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  After I’d set up my after-hours appointment with Nell, I checked e-mail. Holly had already come up with some good ideas for Mama’s bouquet. She suggested looking for wildflowers in shades of purple and pink and pinning rhinestone brooches or earrings to the cotton bolls to coordinate with the dress Mama had bought.

  About midmorning I walked to the gift and stationery store on the next block to buy some sturdy envelopes that would fit the bill for collecting DNA samples.

  * * *

  With the freight mix-up Monday Larry Joe hadn’t made it home until almost ten o’clock the night before and he was beat. At that point, I had decided not to ask how things were going between him and his dad or if they’d made up since their scrap at the country club on Sunday.

  I hoped he’d be in a good mood when he got home from work tonight, but just to smooth the way I had picked up some catfish filets, a favorite of his, at the market.

  I mixed a bag of shredded cabbage and carrots with dressing to make the slaw, then breaded and fried the catfish in a skillet.

  After he came in through the back door, I gave him a big kiss. He lit up like a Christmas tree. I’d like to think it was my kiss that caused the reaction, but I felt pretty sure it was a glance over my shoulder at the catfish sizzling in the pan that had set him aglow.

  He washed his hands at the kitchen sink before filling glasses with ice cubes and sweet tea. I plated up our catfish and slaw, adding some sliced tomatoes and pickles to the plates.

  “Mmm, this is good, hon.”

  “It’s been a while since we’ve had some catfish. I thought it’d be a nice change. So how were things at work today? Any fallout from that freight problem last night?”

  “No, we made the shipment on time—just barely.”

  “How are you and your dad getting on?” I said, hoping for the best.

  “Don’t worry, I made nice with the old man. I decided I would just grin and bear it if he started talking about his plans to become a vending machine magnate. But I was pleasantly surprised when he started talking about how he thought he might look for ways to help out with projects around Dixie, including volunteering with Residential Rehab. How it would give him a chance to put his woodworking skills to good use.”

  I just smiled and said that sounded good.

  “Thanks, Liv,” he said, leaning over and giving me a peck on the cheek. “I felt pretty sure you’re the one who put the bug in his ear about RR. It’s a brilliant idea. And you’re a sweetheart to put up with me and my dad.”

  “You both have your moments.”

  Larry Joe cleared the dishes and I put two scoops of Chubby Hubby ice cream in a bowl for him.

  “None for you?”

  “No, I’m going to run over to Nell Tucker’s for a bit. She said she wanted to talk to me about something.”

  That wasn’t an out-and-out lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth, either. But I couldn’t very well tell Larry Joe that I was going to Nell’s to ask her to retrieve a DNA sample from Jennifer Rowland. Some lies fall into the category of “for the greater good.” Or at least that’s what I told my conscience.

  * * *

  I drove over to Nell’s, and just to be neighborly, I brought along a six-pack of hard cider, since I knew she was partial to it.

  She opened the door as I came up the front steps.

  “This must be a big favor if you think you need to bribe me with alcohol,” she said, holding the door open and motioning for me to go through.

  “I just had some on hand and remembered you were fond of cider,” I lied. I had stopped by the store to pick it up on my way over.

  “Come on back to the kitchen. Can’t offer any hors d’oeuvres, but I’ve got pretzels and brownies if you want.”

  “I never turn down brownies,” I said.

  She twisted the cap off a bottle of cider and asked me if I’d like one.

  “No, thanks. But I’ll take a Coke if you have one.”

  “Diet okay?”

  “Sure. In fact, I prefer it.”

  She slid the six-pack into the fridge and handed me a can of Diet Coke. She opened a Tupperware container of brownies sitting on the counter and placed it on the dining table. I took a seat and she sat down across from me.

  “I hate to ask . . .” I started.

  “Don’t be coy. I owe you at least a couple of favors with all that happened after the last murder in town. You’re just calling one in.”

  “I’m not sure you owe me a favor, but I’ll ask just the same. I know part of Jennifer Rowland’s prize as the new Miss Dixie includes having her hair cut and styled at Dixie Dolls Hair Salon—”

  “Permed and colored, too, if she wants,” Nell interjected.

  “Right. Has she had her appointment with you yet?”

  “No, she’s scheduled to come in tomorrow.”

  Billy Jr., Nell’s middle school–aged son, and his best friend, Gavin, barged through the back door, stomping and laughing—and smelling foul. Billy had been over at Gavin’s house and they smelled so bad I put my hand over my nose as soon as they entered the kitchen.

  “What in the world?” Nell said, looking Billy up and down. “Is that manure on your shoes, son?”

  “I must have stepped in a cow pie,” Billy said.

  “Well, both of you go outside and take your shoes off on the back porch. You’re not tracking that filth through the house. Go on now.”

  I laughed when the kids went back outside.

  “Honestly, what boys get into,” she said, looking over at me.

  Billy and Gavin returned a moment later in their sock feet. Billy opened the fridge door and both boys peered into it before Billy pulled out a jug of milk and grabbed two plast
ic cups out of the dishwasher and filled them.

  “What were you two doing out in a cow pasture anyway?”

  “We were just cutting through the pasture to this place that Gavin’s brother likes to get off to.”

  “Yeah, get off,” Gavin said, and they both started snickering again.

  “And just where is this place, Billy Jr.? Have you two been riding around with some of those older boys? You know you’re not supposed to get in a car with anybody without me or your daddy saying it’s okay.”

  “Don’t worry, mom. Gavin and I were riding our bikes out near his house. It’s just a scenic spot, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, it’s purdy,” Gavin said. “Garrett and his girlfriend think it’s the bomb.”

  The boys were trying without success to suppress their giggles.

  “Liv, you want another brownie?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Here, Billy. You and Gavin take your milk and these brownies and go on up to your room. Miss Liv and I are trying to have a chat.”

  As we heard the boys bounding up the stairs she said, “I don’t like him riding in cars with some of those older boys, including Gavin’s brother, Garrett. I’m sure you’ve seen him. He’s Jennifer Rowland’s boyfriend. Anyway he’s graduated from high school now, and I worry about him and his buddies drinking and driving with his little brother and Billy Jr. in the car.”

  “Billy and Gavin didn’t step in cow manure on the street or in the backseat of a car. They were probably safe enough tonight.”

  “You’re right. I’m a mom; I can’t help but worry even when there’s no need. So what’s this favor you were going to ask me?”

  “There’s something I need you to get from Jennifer Rowland for me when she comes for her hair appointment. Do you think you could pull seven or eight hairs out of her head with the follicle still attached?”

  “Without her noticing?”

  “It might be hard to do without her noticing, unless she’s unconscious,” I said. “Just come up with some plausible explanation for doing it, like you’re going to do a quick color test on them before you put dye on her whole head or something like that.”

  “I suppose I can do that. But, Liv, I’ve watched enough ‘Who’s the daddy?’ shows on TV to know you’re asking me to collect a DNA sample. It doesn’t take much of a leap to assume you’re thinking Bubba Rowland may have been Jennifer’s daddy. What makes you think so?”

  “Probably just desperation. I’m grasping at any straw trying to clear Earl’s name, so he’s free to marry my mama. She’s got her heart set on it. Plus, I know Earl wouldn’t kill anybody. But, for obvious reasons, you have to promise not to mention this to anyone.”

  “Don’t worry. I admit I like to gossip as much as the next person. And it’s kind of expected by some of my customers. And while I don’t give a cheese sandwich for Bubba Rowland or his reputation, I think too much of Jennifer and her mom to let a rumor like that creep down the grapevine.”

  “Thanks. You’ll need to wear gloves when you pull the hairs out, and if you use tweezers to pluck them out make sure you sterilize them first—and try not to touch the roots.” After retrieving a paper sample collection envelope from my purse and handing it to her, I said, “Place the hairs in here.”

  * * *

  Larry Joe was watching Ice Road Truckers when I got home. I had just settled in next to him on the sofa in the den when my cell phone buzzed. It was Mama.

  “Liv, I just wanted to give you an update on the list. I’ve got seventeen more names we have to add.”

  Mama talks loudly enough that anybody in the room could hear her part of the conversation as well as mine. I looked over at Larry Joe, who had a great big smirk on his face. I elbowed him and shot him a look that said, “I’m not amused.”

  “Mama—”

  She cut me off.

  “I know I said I’d try not to add any more people to the list, but not all of these are mine. Three of ’em are people Earl wanted to add—and I can’t very well tell him he can’t invite who he wants.”

  I badly wanted to tell her to add Earl’s three guests and scratch off the other fourteen she had added, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  “We’ll need to set up some more tables and chairs on the lawn, of course. But I’ve been thinking we should put tents up over them to keep people from getting too much sun—or in case it starts to sprinkle. Do you think it would be better to put up one big tent or several little ones?”

  “I don’t—”

  “I’ll leave that decision up to you and Holly,” she said, interrupting again. “After all, you’re the pros. I won’t keep you, hon. Tell Larry Joe hello.” Click.

  “So what’s the guest list total up to now?” Larry Joe asked, laughing under his breath.

  “I’m not sure. What’s the population of Dixie?”

  Chapter 21

  I got to the office a little before nine and spent most of the morning busily accomplishing not much. But I did find time to work in a coffee break with Winette. I asked her if she’d heard anything more about the developer Aaron Rankin.

  “I did casually ask Mr. Sweet if there was a particular reason he decided against investing in the new development.” She looked over her shoulder and through the open door of the back office, where Mr. Sweet was engaged in a phone conversation, before continuing in a hushed voice. “He said there were several things in the proposal that didn’t look right. But he told me he knew he wouldn’t invest before he even looked at the proposal. Said Aaron Rankin is one of those men who doesn’t look you in the eye when he shakes your hand. And that always makes Mr. Sweet think they’re eyeing his wallet.”

  I went back upstairs and looked up examples of wildflower bouquets on the Internet. I didn’t see any that featured cotton bolls, so Mama’s would be original, if nothing else.

  Just before noon, I was on the phone when I looked up and saw Nell standing in my doorway. I motioned for her to come in and take a seat while I wrapped up the call.

  As soon as I hung up, she waved the little DNA collection envelope at me.

  “You got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Jennifer only squealed a little when I started snatching hairs off her head. But she bought the line about testing the hairs for a color match. I was worried for a minute when she wanted to see the color on the test hairs. I had to tell her I’d already thrown them away and she’d just have to trust me. When will you get the DNA results?”

  “I still have to get a sample from Bubba before I can send them in. I don’t suppose you’re doing hair or make-up on the dearly departed councilman?”

  “Bubba didn’t have much hair to speak of. And that strange mortician, the younger one, likes to do the make-up himself. I only do it if the family special requests it.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll think of something,” I said.

  “Update me when you know something for sure.”

  I insincerely told her I would, knowing I wouldn’t be able to tell the results to anyone but Dave—and he wasn’t going to like it.

  “I’d better get back to the shop before my next appointment,” Nell said before taking off.

  I texted Di to let her know we had Jennifer’s sample in hand, and asked if she’d like to ride with me up to Jackson, Tennessee, later on, sometime after five. She texted back, I’ll drive. Pick u up 5:15.

  I shot back a thumbs-up.

  * * *

  I had texted Larry Joe to let him know Di and I were making a quick run to Jackson. I was beginning to think I’d have to leave before he made it home when I heard the garage door open and his truck rumble into the garage. As the garage door was going down, I looked out the window and saw Di pulling into the driveway. I grabbed my purse and stood ready to tell Larry Joe a quick good-bye before I exited through the front door.

  He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.

  “Whoa,” he said, suddenly looking up and taking a short step back. “You startl
ed me, hon. Why are you standing at the back door like a puppy that needs to be let out?”

  “Di pulled into the drive behind you. I just wanted to give you a quick kiss before I go.”

  “Oh, okay. Before you leave, did you hear about Aaron Rankin?”

  “No, what about him?”

  “I just ran into Dave at the gas station. He said the TBI went to arrest Rankin and he did a runner. Somebody must’ve tipped him off. Anyway, Dave said that law enforcement statewide have been alerted to be on the lookout for him.”

  “I guess this has to do with him ripping off investors?”

  “Yep. Why are you two off to Jackson? And does this mean I’m on my own for supper?”

  “I need to pick up a gift there, and yes. There’s leftover roast in the fridge you can heat up in the microwave.”

  He went quiet for a moment and then said, “I’m still waiting for my kiss.”

  He smiled and I gave him a big smack on the lips, followed by a short kiss for good measure.

  I hopped in Di’s 1972 Buick Riviera and buckled up. The body wasn’t exactly in mint condition, but under the hood there was a rebuilt engine with only 77,000 miles on it, courtesy of Di’s ex-husband. Jimmy Souther didn’t have much use for it since he was currently residing in the Texas State Penitentiary.

  “I’d be glad to drive, since this is my errand. Why did you want to drive tonight?”

  “Because you almost always drive and I haven’t put any highway miles on the Buick lately.”

  “Oh. Larry Joe just told me Aaron Rankin’s on the run from the cops.”

  “Why? It’s not about Bubba’s murder, is it?” she asked.

  “No, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation is after him for some kind of investment fraud. But it may involve some investors in Dixie, as well as in East Tennessee.”

  “Wow. Okay, tell me again why we’re driving to Jackson to buy a set of salt and pepper shakers. They have those at Walmart, you know,” Di said.

  “Not like these. Holly met a group of old friends for lunch at the Old Country Store recently and she spotted a set of Elvis shakers. It’s Elvis wearing a black leather jacket like the one he wore in the 1968 comeback special, holding a guitar. The guitar detaches; it’s the pepper shaker. Elvis is the salt shaker.”