by Webb, Peggy
Elvis and the Rock-A-Hula Baby Capers
A Southern Cousins Mystery
By
Peggy Webb
Elvis and the Rock-a-hula Baby Capers by Peggy Webb
Published by Westmoreland House
Smashwords Edition
Copyright ©2015 by Peggy Webb
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2015, cover original art by Cecilia Griffith
Cover design by Vicki Hinze
Edited by Lee Einhaus
Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States by Westmoreland House, Mooreville, Mississippi.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Elvis’ Opinion #1 on Marriage, Babies and T-bone Steak
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Elvis’ Opinion #2 on Harleys, Rubber Babies and Boys’ Night Out
Chapter 3
Elvis’ Opinion #3 on Futile Missions, Ugly Face and Gorilla Glue
Chapter 4
Elvis’ Opinion #4 on Treats, Lies and Resurrection
Chapter 5
Elvis’ Opinion #5 on Road Trips, Danger and Trysts with Stray Dogs
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Elvis’ Opinion #6 on Good Luck, Bad Luck and Chicken Livers
Chapter 8
Elvis’ Opinion #7 on Pot Shots, Bad Shots and Crack Pots
Chapter 9
Elvis’ Opinion #8 on Heroes, Love and Canine Camp Outs
Chapter 10
Elvis’ Opinion #9 Beauty, Canine Divorce and Responsibility
Lovie’s Luscious Soups
If You Enjoyed This Book…
About Peggy Webb
Other E-Books from Peggy Webb
Letter from the Author
Elvis’ Opinion #1 on Marriage, Babies and T-bone Steak
Things have been looking up for this famous dog since my human parents re-tied the knot. My human daddy, Jack Jones, knows his way around a grill, and he’s not above making sure yours truly has his very own T-bone steak just the way I like it, lots of fat streaks and a substantial bone I can bury in the backyard where that upstart Hoyt can’t find it. Not that it takes much to fool a silly cocker spaniel. I’ll pit my stupendous basset brain against his any hot day in Mississippi.
And let me tell you, it’s blazing here. If it gets any hotter the Valentine clan will have to grill inside for the fourth of July and hold the fireworks. Of course, the way things stand, I’m the only one around here even thinking about Independence Day. Ever since Callie finally convinced Jack they’d waited long enough to have a baby, the whole Valentine family has been in an uproar. Particularly Callie’s mama, Ruby Nell.
“Let’s keep it a secret a while, Cal,” Jack told my human mom, and she said, “Of course. From everybody except Lovie and Mama.”
Jack didn’t protest, mainly because he’s too glad to have Callie back to fight with her, but also because he knows Callie tells her cousin Lovie everything, always has and always will. And naturally he didn’t want to hurt Ruby Nell’s feelings either. His mother-in-law thinks he walks on water.
Of course, whatever Ruby Nell knows, so does Fayrene, her best bud, Mooreville’s own Mrs. Malaprop and entrepreneur at Gas, Grits and Guts.
“But you can’t tell a soul, yet,” Ruby Nell told her. “You know how private Jack is, and Callie wants to keep it just in the family until she’s sure there’s a baby on the way.”
“Naturally. Dumb’s the word, Ruby Nell. Except, of course, I’ll have to tell Darlene. My daughter would never get over it if she was the last to find out, her sitting up there in Callie’s beauty saloon day in and day out dispensing manicures like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Ruby Nell said. “But nobody else.”
“What do you take me for, a bladder mouth? But you know good and well she’ll have to tell Bobby.”
Bobby Huckabee with his psychic eye has been a fixture in the séance room at the back of Gas, Grits and Guts ever since he started dating Fayrene’s daughter.
“Flitter, Fayrene, I don’t see why Bobby has to know. Jack and Callie are still in the trying stage.”
“Because if this baby’s going to be born with a bad aurora, Bobby’s the one who’d know. And if its aurora is bad, it’ll be left up to you and me to figure out how to fix it. We might have to sacrifice a chicken.”
I could have told them it’s too early to start sacrificing chickens. I’ve seen the discarded pregnancy sticks in the bathroom wastebasket and the look of disappointment that even this talented dog can’t wipe off Callie’s face.
Still, she didn’t let a little thing like not being pregnant didn’t stop her from signing up for baby boot camp.
Jack wasn’t too pleased about the idea, and even ventured to say, “Baby boot camp might be a little premature.”
“But just think about it, Jack. It will give us a wonderful opportunity to make friends with other young parents. And when our little girl is born, she’ll have somebody to play with.”
“He might want to make his own friends, Cal.”
“Please, Jack.” When Callie stands on tiptoe like that and kisses my human dad, he’d walk through fire for her. “It’ll just be you and me and our little secret.”
I could have told her that Fayrene is in the back room at Gas, Grits and Guts, even as we speak, printing up flyers.
Name Callie and Jack’s Baby!
Your best guess is FREE with a purchase of ten gallons of gas.
Winner will receive a carton of pickled pigs’ lips.
Chapter 1
Baby Boot Camp, Secrets and Nasty Surprises
I know Jack wants a boy, but I would love to have a little girl who could follow in my footsteps to beauty. I can just see her standing up in one of my pink chairs at Hair.Net watching me dispense styles that make Mooreville’s glitterati the envy of everybody in northeast Mississippi. I could shop at Baby Gap and dress her in the cutest little girl shoes you ever saw.
Since Jack agreed that we’d waited long enough to try for a baby, I’ve been noticing the children’s shoes at Walmart, and I saw some of the sassiest red sequined Mary Janes ever! I can just picture me waltzing around the house in my Jimmy Choo heels with my daughter in her red shoes while Elvis croons Somewhere Over the Rainbow.
I’m talking about my dog, not the real icon. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not crazy, but I know what I know. There’s something about my basset hound that makes me wonder if he really is the singer reincarnated – the way he drags that old black wig out of the closet and cocks his head when I put on an Elvis CD and refuses to wear any dog collar I buy unless it’s pink, which just happens to be Elvis’ signature color.
I’m wearing pink, too, hoping my eggs will take the hint. Jack comes in just as I’m zipping my candy pink capris.
“I can think of a few things I’d rather do than go to baby boot camp.” He picks up my matching tee shirt and he’s got that look in his eyes. Ordinarily I’d be happy for him to unzip my way to paradise.
“Don’t you even think about it, Jack Jones.” I snatch the tee shirt and haul it over my head. “I don’t wan
t to be late.”
“Late for what, Cal? How much intelligence does it take to change a baby’s diaper?”
“They’ll be teaching other things.”
“Like what?”
“How would I know? This is my first class.” I snap on Elvis’s hot pink leash.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“We’ll be at Elvis Presley Lake! He’ll have his feelings hurt if we don’t take him.”
Elvis wags his tail in total agreement, and Jack scoops him up and bounds down the stairs. Might I add that Jack is whistling? He’s just like a kid with that dog. Which is one of the reasons I knew from the get-go I wanted to marry him. He’s good with dogs and kids and he’s going to be a great daddy.
We put the top down on Jack’s vintage silver Jag and head toward Tupelo. It doesn’t take me long to spot someone tailing us. Lovie and I have been responsible for apprehending more than one criminal in Lee County and I’m getting good at this. Of course, it’s hard to miss a neon green hearse with hot pink lettering on the side that screams, Gas, Grits and Guts!
I twist around to see Fayrene behind the wheel with Mama right beside her.
“I’m not believing this!” I push my sunglasses into my hair, a nice brown pageboy that looks good blowing in the wind, even if I do say so myself. Still, I’m hoping my daughter will get Jack’s hair. It’s this great shade of black that shines like patent leather. It’s thick, too, with just a hint of curl that drives me mad. In a good way, of course.
“I see them, Cal. Maybe they’re just going shopping.”
The words are no sooner out of his mouth than Fayrene turns onto the park road right behind us.
“Holy cow! The mall’s the other direction.”
“I know.”
“I told Mama not to tell anybody.”
He parks under a shade tree and Fayrene wheels into the spot next to us. Jack puts his hand on my knee and gives me this smile, which is another reason I love him. He has a smile that can melt the chrome off my Dodge Ram, not to mention my other personal properties.
“It’s okay, Cal. They mean well.”
He’s opening my car door when Fayrene barrels out of the hearse in a pair of pants a size too small. I know for a fact that she’s a sixteen but buys fourteen’s in stretchy fabric and then cuts the label out and tells everybody they’re twelve’s. Plus, she won’t wear anything unless it’s green. She tells everybody that she dresses in the color of money. I hate to burst her bubble, but today her pants are the color of celery and her mismatched tee shirt is the exact shade of broccoli. I don’t know whether to hug her or dice her up for a salad. And I mean that in the best of ways. When they invented loyal, they used Fayrene as the prime example.
“Yoohoo!” Fayrene is so loud, we’ve already attracted the attention of everybody in the parking lot. “I thought Ruby Nell was going to have a heat prostate attack before we ever saw you and Jack pulling onto the highway.”
I must be losing my touch. They were hanging out at Gas, Grits and Guts in that van you can see clear from China, just waiting for me to make a move, and I never even saw them till they got on the highway.
“I told Fayrene to just go on, but no, she wanted to arrive at the exact same time.” Mama’s wearing this rainbow colored caftan that makes me dizzy to look at it. Plus, she’s already so hot she’s stirring the air with a cardboard fan from Uncle Charlie’s funeral home. Eternal Rest, the fan says. It’s never too early to plan for the hereafter.
This gives me the shivers. If I believed in omens, I’d head home, ice down my throat, make a big glass of sweet tea and forget all about baby boot camp.
“Mama, are you sure it’s a good idea for you and Fayrene to be here? This heat is brutal and it’s going to get worse before class is over.”
“Flitter, I can take anything this weather dishes out. And I don’t plan to miss a thing relating to my grandchild.”
“Ruby Nell’s got a stronger consternation that you might think,” Fayrene tells me. “Besides, if this baby boot camp teaches anything about NBA, we’ll be able to figure out just what he’ll look like, and then we can tell Bobby and he can have a séance and put everybody in the hereafter on alert to make sure this baby comes into the world in perfect working condition.”
“Holy cow,” I say and Jack says, “Amen.”
“Shall we go?” Fayrene eases between us and links arms, while Mama links up on my right side. “The clock’s ticking and my colander is full today. I’ve got go get back to the store and oversee the restocking of toilet paper then I’ve got to take Jarvetis’ dog to the vegetarian.”
Jack winks at me over her head, and I smile. In fact, it is kind of sweet that Mama and Fayrene are taking such an interest in my future little girl.
I’m going to enjoy everything about this baby boot camp, including the scenery. It’s a still, hot day and there’s not a ripple on the lake. Some of the participants have already arrived, most of them women, some with kids and some obviously pregnant. I’m not going to think about my own unoccupied womb. It’s a temporary state, I hope.
Instead, I concentrate on the cheerful surroundings. There’s a confused old man sitting on the park bench by the lake, feeding the ducks. I say confused because his white hair is sticking out from under an Ole Miss baseball cap and he’s wearing a Mississippi State tee shirt that says, Go Bulldogs. Two kiosks are set up around the park. One is selling ice cream and snow cones and the other is selling hot dogs and balloons. There’s even a clown wandering around tying balloons into animals for the children.
“Jack, this is going to be wonderful.”
“If you say so, Cal.”
I start to feel sad because he’s not more enthusiastic about this part of the parenting process, but then I remember that I’m married to a Company man who is so stealthy and lethal in the field, he’s called the Black Panther. Compared to being undercover all over the world and using weapons whose names I don’t even want to think about, baby boot camp must feel like wading in a kiddie pool filled with jello. At least he’s here, and that says a lot about his commitment to me and project baby.
A woman who looks to be about ten years older than I am separates from the pack and heads our way. She has this gorgeous strawberry blond hair that I can tell right away is her natural color, but she could use some advice about her cut. It’s choppy and makes her chin look too big. Maybe I’ll give her one of my cards after I get to know her better. Still, she’s pretty in an outdoorsy way, and her smile is genuine.
Two little blond-haired boys, probably around six years old, trail along behind her. When they spot Elvis, they make a beeline, squealing, “Can we play with the dog?”
“You’ll have to ask first.” The woman extends her hand to Jack and then me. “Hi, I’m Betty Sue Simmons, your boot camp leader, and these are my twins, Tom and Tim.”
Elvis’ tail is wagging to beat the band. He’s a great judge of character, and I immediately feel comfortable taking him off his leash and telling the boys they can play with him, but to make sure he drinks plenty of water and doesn’t run too much in this heat.
The boys and Elvis race off, and we all settle onto yellow mats Betty Sue has spread in the shade. The first thing she does is pass out sheets of paper that list everybody’s name, address and telephone number so we can get to know each other and be one big happy family.
Then she says, “Today, everybody is having a baby!” We all clap while she passes out cute little latex baby dolls. “If you’re here as a couple, let me know. You don’t want to have twins right off the bat.” Her grin is infectious. “Believe me, I know.”
Our baby has blue glass eyes and a head full of thick black hair, which I take as a good omen. Both Jack and I have dark eyes, but then Mama and Lovie have blue. There might be a slim chance of a blue-eyed baby, and wouldn’t that be beautiful?
This latex baby comes with her own bottle and her own little bathroom ability. When Betty Sue demonstrates how the liquid
goes right through to her tiny diaper, we discover the doll also has a very loud cry box.
I glance at Jack and notice he’s gone a little pale. But his expression is what I call his Black Panther mask. You couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, even if you were Einstein. My IQ is impressive, but not that big.
“You and your spouse will be taking turns caring for your baby. We’ll start with the mommy and then tomorrow swap off to the daddy.” Betty Sue then goes into this long explanation about baby carriers and the new ones that let you tote the baby in four different positions. I pat myself on the back that I’m way ahead of the pack on this one. I’ve already bought a baby carrier in daisy white and sunshine yellow, which will go with either sex. I can’t wait to get home and start toting Jackie Nell in it.
That’s going to be my baby’s name, but I haven’t told Jack or Mama either one. Listen, I know how to keep a secret. The only person I’ve told is Lovie, and she’s a hundred percent in favor of the name.
“That’s perfect, Callie,” she told me, though to be honest about it, I think she was a little disappointed that I’m not planning to name the baby after her.
“I’m naming the next one after you,” I told her, and she perked up so much she made a batch of brownies then ate half of them.
Our leader is now instructing us in the art of feeding and burping. I immediately get the hang of it with my latex baby, but I glance at Jack who appears to be going into shell shock. Though his expression could be less about burping a baby and more about the noise level around the park.
Most of the mothers are here the second or third time around. Toddlers and little kids are running every which way, screeching and laughing and crying. I can’t wait for my daughter to be a part of all this fun.
