I noted that all the stories were told with affection. Talking about someone after they’re gone tends to free people up to speak their mind. For all the comments you hear that start, "Not to speak ill of the dead," many of the things people say about the departed are little more than the airing of grievances that they kept to themselves when the person was alive. So, as far as I was concerned the nature of these stories spoke volumes about the man they called Old Joe. Volumes of good things. That I hadn’t known him was my loss, and kind of surprising in a town with a population hovering close to eight-hundred souls.
So the kind of isolation I worried about in a city existed even here. That was something else to consider, and I needed more factors to consider like I needed a hole in my head.
CHAPTER SIX
"So how are things going?" I asked Paula as we sat down to coffee at BaconUp.
The moment we sat in a booth Marge swooped in with her two pots and poured us steaming mugs. "You look like you need coffee," she said.
"I always look that way," I said.
"And I’m always happy to pour," she grinned. She tossed her head, showing off the new cut Pete had given her. "What do you think?"
"It looks good on you," Paula said.
"He modified his prize-winning style just to suit me," she said happily. "I’m hoping it gets me more tips."
"Good luck," I said.
When she’d gone, Paula reached out and put her hand on mine. "I wanted to talk to you about something important. The thing is… I, Ginny and I, are thinking of moving."
I stared at her, feeling a chill. "You are thinking of leaving Knockemstiff?"
She nodded. "You’ve been a good friend and the girls are so tight, that I wanted to warn you, give you a head’s up."
That shook me. "Moving where? And why?"
Paula sipped her coffee. "Where? That’s the big question."
"So no place in mind? You aren’t being drawn somewhere?"
"I’ve been doing some serious thinking. With Ginny and Sarah graduating from Mrs. Lacey’s school this year, I need to pick a school for her. I started looking at what the other schools in the area have to offer." She looked at me. "What are you going to do for Sarah?"
"I don’t know yet. And I should."
She sighed. "The schools here don’t offer much that would help Ginny. They aren’t bad schools, but the only two I could get Ginny in are sports oriented. They don’t have much math or science and don’t do so well compared to the rest of the State on academics. As bright as Ginny is, she needs and deserves a good school."
I felt a stab of guilt. "She does. And so does Sarah Jameson." We both thought the two girls were evenly matched when it came to smarts, not to mention personality. The right school would let them thrive.
"I’m excited and nervous about this—trying to see it as an opportunity instead of a problem. For the first time in a long time I’m confronted by some difficult situations, but this time I have the ability to make some choices. I want to see if I can make the best ones for myself and Ginny."
"That sounds good."
"It is. There are a number of things at play here. This transcription business that Investigator Woodley helped me get into is taking off. The State is using a number of freelancers to do the growing work. We started our own chat room to compare notes. It turns out, most of the others are sick of the uncertainties of freelancing and have been trying to get on as employees. Unfortunately, although there is money for the work, there is a hiring freeze. The head of the department suggested to me that if I was closer to them, in New Orleans, he’d be happy to give me a contract for the whole mess."
"You’d do it all by yourself? Is that even possible?"
"No. The idea he came up with was that I could start a company and hire the other freelancers. He’d give me a contract as their sole outsourcing agency if I guarantee the quality of the work. He bounced the idea off the other freelancers and his boss, and everyone thinks it would be great. Hard work for me, of course, but I have enough experience running a company that I could do that."
"And is that what you want to do?"
"To be honest, I’m not sure, but with the option of having my own business, building something for us, I have to look at it seriously. I could ensure our future. And besides the business and school issues, there is one other factor—a limitation of our lovely town."
"Which is?"
"Despite all the wonderful people here, one problem with Knockemstiff is that it is a white bread town."
"White bread?"
"There are very few other black people here." She grinned. "You might have noticed. I do every day. And recently I’ve been thinking that Ginny should be in a place where she knows a few other black people. It’s one thing to be a minority, but in Knockemstiff black people are practically invisible. There’s just a handful. That’s not a bad thing, but I’d like Ginny to know a little more about her own people and to have a chance to meet young people, people her own age, that are of her race."
"All good arguments, but again, is that what you want to do?"
She shook her head. "I don’t know. Like I said, there is a mix of issues. The business idea is great. I’m sure I could make a go of that. Living in a small town… well it’s safe, and quiet, and we feel at home here, but then there is the issue of schools and the rest. Things have to change next year, so we need to decide if we want to minimize the disruption to our lives or go ahead and jump on board the idea of change and try to move forward."
I saw her eyes shifting. She was trying to imagine living in a city. I understood that. Her hand was still on mine and I turned mine over and squeezed hers. "Paula, you aren’t the only one wondering. The school thing is a big issue. Like you I vacillate between not wanting to uproot Sarah from a place she’s happy, and thinking I owe it to her, and myself to move somewhere where there is more to life. Unlike you, I’ve tried to put those concerns into the background and deny I have to make decisions."
"Not to mention that Knockemstiff is changing. Ellen is talking to some developers about them putting in an industrial park. The old Turner farm went belly up and all that land right at the edge of town is for sale. Imagine how that would change things. If it works before you know it we will have fast food places and strip malls moving in."
I laughed. "And here is another rumor that didn’t make it to my salon yet. It seems that Knockemstiff as we knew here is changing daily."
"It has to," Paula said. "The reality is that it’s dying now. Ellen is desperately looking for a way to keep this place alive without making it nothing but a bedroom community. Look around. Other than the new cell phone shop, most of the local businesses are struggling to get by."
"True enough. If I didn’t own my home outright I’d be worried about the future."
"So what will you do?"
"I’ve been trying to decide. And I’m glad we are talking because if you and Ginny are leaving that takes away another important anchor for Sarah and I. You two have become an important part of our lives."
"I bet that Investigator Woodley would dearly love it if you were considering New Orleans as a place where Sarah could get a good education."
I laughed again. "I guess everyone knows I like him."
"They sure know he is keen on you, coming here for holidays just to see you."
"That, unfortunately is another thing to be uncertain about. A relationship, a real one, with a man would complicate my life considerably."
"Maybe your life needs a little complication that pushes it in a new direction."
I stared at Paula's face, seeing the flicker of delight in her eyes. "You unabashed matchmaker."
"Well, I have to confess that an attraction of moving to the city for me is the opportunity to meet new people. Being a single mom has it’s rewards but finding an adult to share things with, the right person, often seems like a mighty nice thing."
I sighed. "Yes, that’s true."
"And despite the urge to meet
new people, if some old friends were moving at the same time we’d have a natural support group."
"Sneaky and manipulative, Paula."
"Yes it is," she said. "Ginny and I don’t want to lose you guys. But for the moment, nothing is decided."
"And that is part of my problem. I hate having things undecided."
"Decide too early and then you have to work harder to make your vision fit with the real world. Have a little patience and maybe opportunity will show itself."
She was right. "You know, Paula, you are a nice person but you have the disagreeable trait of managing to be right about things while disagreeing with me."
Paula grinned. "Isn’t that just the worst thing? It’s an absolutely hateful way to treat friends."
I sighed. "We have to let this decision making be a process. Woodley is in town, and I should at least talk with him seriously about it."
"And I need to talk to an accountant and a lawyer about the challenges I’d face if I want to start a business."
"Have you told Ellen anything about this?"
"She offered me a loan if I need it for getting set up."
That sounded like Ellen. "Promise to keep me informed about what you actually decide."
"You do the same."
I nodded. "Of course. And I can’t decide anything until I talk to Sarah, which I’ve been putting off."
Paula winced. "I haven’t talked to Ginny in any real detail either. I wanted to have a few facts, some options on hand first. I’ve actually printed out information on schools here and in New Orleans, in some districts we might be able to afford to live."
"Part of your presentation to the director?"
"Something like that. Ginny will want to know about the actual programs the schools offer, not just hear my opinion on the relative benefits of the schools."
"It’s a little unsettling having your reasoning questioned by a seven-year old, isn’t it?"
She smiled. "I don’t even want smart appliances around. A smart kid is more than enough to handle and in a blink they’ll both be smart-aleck teens."
"It’s good to know, reassuring for me, that raising these geniuses from birth doesn’t make dealing with them any easier."
"Not in the least."
We finished our coffee and I headed back to the salon wondering what I was going to do. The threads of my life weren’t exactly unravelling but I couldn’t ignore that I was moving toward a point where a decision would be necessary. My life, and Sarah’s, had some changes ahead of it, and waiting until the decisions had to be made wasn’t clever. Paula was smart by being proactive. She was a good model.
I was also concerned about the rumor processing machinery at the salon. It had broken down and I wondered if it could be repaired. When it had worked I’d never really paid attention to how it worked. What was so different now? I was pretty sure the only reason I cared was that this was something else I’d taken for granted. I’d gone along thinking I had things settled. I lived in a safe little small town that was changing. Sarah’s school not only wouldn’t go on forever, it wouldn’t go on for another year. And James Woodley was a patient man, but you couldn’t expect a relationship, or a potential relationship, to hover in limbo indefinitely. Even if I didn’t break it off, without me taking steps forward it would atrophy and die.
That gave me two mysteries and some life changing (or life staying the same) decisions to make. And Paula thought my life needed more complications?
# # #
Sanders was beaming when he came into the salon the next morning. "You folks ready for a great show this Saturday?”
“That all depends," Nellie said. "The Epps high school production of My Fair Lady wouldn’t get me excited."
“The guy who plays the professor was cute,” Pete said. He was a theater buff.
"I’m talking gator wrestling," he said. “Your local boy, The Bald Eagle goes ‘mano a en garra’ with a gator this weekend.”
“My high school Spanish is rusty but doesn’t that mean hand to claw?" Pete asked.
Sanders grinned. "Sure does."
“Then shouldn’t it be more of a ‘mano a la del diente’? I mean an alligator is more likely to bite your arm off than claw it."
"Or ‘de la mano a la cola’ even," Nadine Hines said, laughing.
"Hand to tail?" Pete said.
"Sure. A big ol’ gator like Freddie’s got on his place is more likely to crack that bald skull open with his tail before Sanders can even lay one of his manos on him."
"Laugh all you want," Sanders said, waving a handbill. "But I know you’ll want to see me in combat with La Ènorme Mordre. It will be The Knockemstiff Bald Eagle versus the swamp creature.”
"I’ve heard of that big gator," Nellie said.
"I’m confused," Pete said. "Here you were wrestling him in Spanish, but he’s French?”
Nellie nodded. “And as I recall my French that translates to ‘the big bite’."
Sanders chuckled.” We’re both multilingual, the gator and I. This is Louisiana French, bayou French, anyway. Consider it an inclusive, multicultural event. There will be some music, food provided by Bayou BBQ and a good time had by all."
"All, except for the loser of your match," I said. "Of course, you probably won’t hurt the gator."
"No. I will simply wrestle him to submission."
“Simply?” Nadine asked.
I shook my head. “Despite your intentions, the problem is that I don’t think we can count on him being so noble. I’m quite certain he hasn’t agreed to particular rules of combat. He would have his own rules when it comes to it.”
Sanders pulled his shoulders back. “That’s the entire point of this. That’s where the danger, the excitement comes in. It’s a lone man squaring off with a savage beast."
“They don’t really hurt things unless they are hungry,” Nellie said. “Gators are generally bullies and cowards. So unless you square off against a hungry gator… Oh, and I assume you know that none of the professional wrestlers working for Freddie Anders has wanted to take that fella on?" Nellie smiled. “My boys like to go out to watch the wrestling, and I get an earful. It seems that one’s been at the farm for a year now and in an unprecedented fit of sanity, assuming that someone who does that sort of thing for a living can be said to demonstrate any semblance of sanity, none of them has been willing to fight that one. I mean that creature is over ten feet long."
"Most of that is tail," Sanders said, trying to sound casual.
“Freddie’s looking for a sucker to take him on.”
"Ten feet of solid, yet hungry muscle," Pete pointed out. “A tail that is, as Nadine pointed out, deadly."
"Good eating though," Nellie said. "Take it from a girl who lives in the swamp… properly cooked, those tails are delicious."
Nadine made a hissing noise. "The only reason I can see someone tackling a gator without heavy artillery is in self defense."
Nellie agreed. "Even then you’d want to eat the tail to make it all worthwhile. If you win can we have a cookout?"
"They are protected, Nellie," I said.
"From poachers. Not from my menu," she said. "And if Sanders does manage to get a death grip on the brute… well, wasting food is a sin."
"This is sport," Sanders said.
"And I’m sure everyone will be there to see it, Sanders," I reassured him. "No one will want to miss it."
Nellie laughed. "Of course we will be there. This is a unique chance for everyone to see what happens when someone is killed or maimed and they won’t have to wait for any gossip."
I hadn’t thought of it that way.
"Freddie thinks I’m ready," Sanders said.
Nellie laughed. “The same Freddie who gets the money from admissions and a kickback from concessions, right?"
I glared at Nellie. She was being mean. Unfortunately I thought she might be right.
CHAPTER SEVEN
There are events that are circus-like and then there are events that ar
e circuses. That Saturday Sarah and I arrived at the gator farm and found what felt like a real circus that was in full force, Sanders was wandering through the growing crowd dressed in a bright blue track suit talking to people, shaking hands, and getting well wishes. Not only was Bayou BBQ going full tilt, but other vendors were selling cotton candy, caramel corn, hot dogs, and all sorts of things. There was even a "moonshine tent" where adults could go in and get a drink. I saw Rudy inside pouring drinks.
"Let’s see the alligator," Sarah said. I was curious too, so we wandered over to a pit where we could look down at The Big Bite, in whatever language we wished. "He’s kind of ugly," I said.
“I doubt he’s ugly to other alligators," Sarah said.
"Probably not." Looking at the beast, and seeing how it moved, I had to admire Sanders’ confidence.
"I hope he doesn’t hurt the alligator," Sarah said,
"I was a little more concerned about Sanders," I said.
"But all of Sanders’ friends are here supporting him. The gator doesn’t have anyone on his side, worrying about him. Everyone came to see Sanders. That doesn’t seem fair. It has to make the alligator feel bad."
"I hadn’t thought about it that way," I said, because I hadn’t. “The truth is that we hope neither of them gets hurt."
Sarah smiled. "That’s the best way to think about it, isn’t it? We hope it’s a good match and no one is hurt."
That was easy to agree with.
"Why is it a gator farm and not a gator ranch?" Sarah said.
"I suppose it's the same reason fish farms are called farms," I said.
She scowled. "But that doesn't make sense either. Farms are places that they grow crops."
"But they don’t have cow ranches and buffalo ranches either. They’re just ranches."
False Nails and Tall Tales (The Teasen and Pleasen Hair Salon Cozy Mystery Series Book 5) Page 8
