False Nails and Tall Tales (The Teasen and Pleasen Hair Salon Cozy Mystery Series Book 5)

by Constance Barker

  "I think they do have buffalo ranches," she said, "even though the ones that are careful and try to be correct are called bison ranches. I read an article about the Durham Bison Ranch in Wyoming. It was originally the Durham Meat Company.”

  "The point being?"

  "That places where they raise animals usually called kennels or ranches and places they grow things are called farms, but fish and alligators are both animals."

  "So they are. But I think they use the term ranches to refer to places that have lots of grazing land and alligators and fish don’t graze."

  She considered it. "I can accept that. I don’t like it though. It’s imprecise.”

  I grinned. "How about we agree that it is something you and I will have to put on the list of nonsensical things. We aren't likely to get anyone to change it."

  "Like daylight saving time," she said.

  "I suppose."

  "You can't save daylight, no matter what you do."

  "I've never managed it," I admitted.

  "Okay then. If we agree it doesn’t make sense, we can let them use it."

  I looked at the bleachers. They were arranged so that you looked down into the pit. "I assume the fight will be down there where the gator is. Where do you want to watch the main event from?" I asked. "There are plenty of seats to choose from if we move now.'

  "Can we do something else while they fight?"

  She sounded a bit concerned. Maybe she thought I’d be disappointed, but I was surprised. "What? We came all the way out here and you don’t want to see Sanders’ big event?"

  "I thought I would want to see it, but now that I’ve seen the alligator and that pit… I mean, I’m glad we came. We want to support our friends, right?"

  "That’s what we do, you and I."

  "And we should stay around but I don't really care to see it happen."

  "Fair enough," I said. The truth was that I was having second thoughts about watching it myself. I'm not that big on sports in general, and watching a man I liked put himself in harm's way wasn't going to be all that enjoyable. The alligator looked formidable and even if Sanders actually knew what he was doing, I wasn’t sure about cheering for either side.

  "I can wait in the car," she suggested. "You don’t need to miss it just because I changed my mind. I will want to see them both after it’s over, see for myself they are all right.”

  "I have another idea that I will put on the table for discussion. How about if, while the match is going on, we do something more interesting?”

  "More interesting?"

  “To us. See, I’m betting that once the match starts there won't be much of a line at the Bayou BBQ booth. You and I could wait around here long enough to applaud Sanders when he makes his entry, give him support, cheer a couple of times for the gator, then we can sneak off and get ourselves a BBQ beef sandwich and a glass of lemonade. There’s an inviting looking table under the canopy they set up."

  "Yeah!" she said. "That sounds good. And we'll be close by if anything happens."

  "And close enough to congratulate him afterwards."

  Her eyes sparkled. "Perfect."

  So when Freddie announced it was time for the contest and the crowd made for the bleachers, Sarah Jameson and I stood to one side, by a railing. We watched Sanders come in, shed his tracksuit, which left him in a pair of swim trunks. We applauded noisily, then headed over to the vendor section to get our lunch and settle ourselves down to eat with cheers and laughter from the crowd drifting over to us.

  "I think you are gonna have to pay that gator to wake up, much less fight," someone hollered.

  We grinned at each other and followed the progress of the match through the crowd’s play-by-play.

  "Jump up and down on him, Sanders."

  "Watch out!"

  "Dang that gator is quick."

  "Nice move, old man."

  "Watch that tail!"

  "You better keep hopping."

  We’d barely finished our sandwiches when there was a huge cheer from the crowd.

  "I think Sanders must’ve won," Sarah said.

  "I think you are right. They are cheering and as you said, he definitely has more fans here than the alligator does, at least fans who will cheer.”

  "You’re being silly," she said.

  "I am. And I think Sanders is being silly in a different way."

  "Risking his life?"

  "Exactly. Risking his life just for show.”

  Sarah screwed up her face.” Does it matter why he risked his life? I don’t understand why he wanted to wrestle the alligator, or why he wanted to do it in front of people, but would that make a difference? If he did it to show off is that worse than doing it for money?”

  I had to consider that. "I suppose it would matter and we can’t really know his real reason. There might be something that we don’t know about that makes it important it him to take the risk.”

  "And we don’t have to know what it is for it to be a good reason, right?"

  "Not really. If he had a great reason and told it to us, all that would do is make us feel better. But reasons are good or bad, right or wrong, all on their own."

  She considered that. "Okay. Like Ginny’s mom’s reasons for leaving Knockemstiff?"

  I should’ve known the girls would know all about that by now. "I suppose exactly like that. We don’t even have to agree that they are good reasons if they make sense to them, because it’s a personal decision. The reasons have to make sense to Ginny and her mom."

  "You like her, Ginny’s mom, don’t you?"

  "I do. I’d be sorry to see her leave. I’d like to get to know her better."

  "Like you do Miz Phlint?"

  "Like that."

  "I think if they stayed, Ginny and I would be friends like you and Miz Phlint are. I think everyone should have a friend like that."

  "It couldn’t hurt a thing if everyone did," I said. Her eyes told me that Sarah had considered this issue a lot more than she was letting on and her comments suggested she’d formed some opinions on the future. I swallowed. Serious discussions were on the horizon. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, here comes the crowd." The people were abandoning the stands and we caught a few comments that gave us an idea of how the match went.

  "That little thing should heal up real quick."

  "Did you ever see anything move as fast as that gator?"

  "Sanders probably is gonna think twice about another show off event. He coulda been hurt bad."

  Sarah looked at me. "I think he got hurt."

  "Sounds like it. Why don’t we go check on him?"

  When we got to the pit we saw Freddie Anders wrapping a bandage around Sanders’ chest. "You okay, Sanders," I called down.

  He waved back. "Merely a flesh wound," he said. "I paid an acceptable price for taking on a challenge."

  "Okay," I said, happy to hear the pleasure and pride in his voice.

  "I think him getting hurt made him happier," Sarah said.

  "I agree. It made the idea that his life was in danger more real. For whatever reason, he needed that.”

  “People are the strangest animals,” Sarah said.

  That was hard to argue with.

  # # #

  I had to admire Sanders for his determination and his prowess, for that matter, but I was pretty sure that we hadn’t missed anything by sitting out the contest. For that matter I didn’t need to see any alligator wrestling. I felt like I did about bullfighting. Even though the animal had a chance to win and some pretty serious weapons, the odds were against it.

  Besides, the human was doing it for sport and the animal had to be forced into fighting. That didn’t seem right to me. I wouldn’t campaign to ban either one, but I didn’t feel the need to watch, either.

  As I walked along with the crowd to my car I saw a familiar face coming the other way. I felt my pulse race—it was Investigator James Woodley. "Savannah!" He called as he came up to me and gave me a hug that lifted me off
my feet. "It’s so good to see you."

  "But you came here for work," I said, my voice sounding sharper than I’d intended.

  "True. You know it’s hard for me to get away. There are always ongoing investigations that I need to be around to follow up on." It was true. "That doesn’t mean that I wasn’t thrilled when the boss decided I was the one to investigate the case, given my knowledge of the town and its criminal element."

  "Our criminal element is mostly behind bars in New Orleans."

  "A result of effective and dedicated police work, or so I tell my boss."

  "Taking all the credit for it.”

  "Of course. There isn’t any point in mentioning to him that solving crimes in Knockemstiff is made easier because I have the advantage of a special alliance with the Teasen and Pleasen Irregulars." He grinned at Sarah. "And our ace analyst." She squirmed happily at being included.

  I smiled. “I can’t think of a reason at all, unless you thought it might convince him to station you here. After all we need trained professionals to get us into shape as a more regular unit."

  "Can’t see that happening. He wouldn’t have the imagination to see the possibilities. It took some work to get him to believe that me putting Knockemstiff on the reports wasn’t a joke and that it was a real place. Besides, I can’t see the bunch of you taking orders in… an orderly fashion. Especially Nellie. Pete might."

  "No, Nellie wouldn’t for sure. Speaking of Nellie, you do know that we, she actually, has a personal connection to the case, don’t you?"

  "There is some sketchy information along those lines in the case file." He grinned. "I was hoping you might fill me in on the details."

  His smile and obvious delight in seeing me warmed my heart, perhaps dangerously so. “We are on the way home now. If you were come by the house and bring a bottle of wine you might coax the facts out of me."

  "That sounds delightful."

  "Marshé Grosri food mart has a nice Pinot Grigio," I told him.

  He beamed with pleasure. "Done. And what’s your favorite beverage, Sarah?"

  "Pinot mango," she said laughing.

  “Is that a thing?”

  “It is, but you’d have to go to Paramabet’s for it. Rashmi keeps it in stock for her, but she calls it mango juice.”

  He nodded. "Then I will take care of business here, do some shopping and see you two later." He looked around the crowd. "I understand Deputy Hayes is around here somewhere."

  "The whole town is," Sarah said.

  "I think he’s over at the pit getting Sander’s autograph. He’s feeling his age and Sanders, being older and still a daredevil has become his hero."

  “Wrestling an alligator in his seventies? The man might be my hero too. Well, I have to track down Digby and get him to explain a few of his rather cryptic notes. Then I’ll be over with wine and mango juice."

  "I can start a pizza."

  "That would make it even better."

  "And two pizzas would make sure no one went hungry," Sarah said.

  "No one, meaning you?”

  She nodded.” I do have a big appetite for pizza."

  "Even after a BBQ beef sandwich."

  "Maybe even more so after a beef sandwich."

  "Okay. If you help me make them, we can do two pizzas."

  "Yay!"

  I smiled at Woodley. "Then we will see you soon."

  I completed the walk to my car with a spring in my step. The day was starting to feel good, if not perfect. Sanders had managed to not get eaten or lose a limb and now James Woodley was coming over for the evening. Good thoughts and anticipation made the rest of the walk to my car far more pleasant than the first half had been.

  I realized that Sarah was clutching my hand tightly. She was looking at Rudy, who was walking toward his truck, carrying a rifle. "Miz Jeffries, is Miz Phlint’s family in danger?"

  "Rudy often carries a rifle around. Is there a reason you are asking that?"

  "I saw Aubrey in town yesterday and he told me that they think whoever killed Old Joe might be after them. They are all keeping a watch, taking turns."

  That explained Nellie’s rough look lately. I guessed that she wasn’t getting much sleep.

  My first instinct was to dismiss the idea out of hand and just reassure her that everything was okay. But Sarah Jameson was no ordinary seven-year old. "We can’t honestly know right now," I said. "The family is worried that someone killed Joe so he wouldn’t compete with their moonshine or something like that. And that’s possible, I suppose. It’s certainly enough reason for them to worry that the same person might want to hurt them as well.”

  “So they worry forever?”

  “Well, the only way to know for certain is to find out the real reason Old Joe was killed. Right now we have no facts.”

  Sarah smiled. "And Investigator, never Inspector, James Woodley and you will do that. And then he will catch the killer and they will be safe."

  "Don’t get ahead of things, but that’s why he’s here. To investigate."

  "You two are a good team. Even better with my help."

  "Well that last part goes without saying."

  "It’s still important to say it, just in case anyone forgets.”

  "Okay then. We are a better team with your help."

  “The Teasen and Pleasen Irregulars,” she said happily.

  “And the ace analyst.”

  She nodded, then ran to the passenger side of the car and got in almost like a regular seven-year old who had nothing more on her mind than a future filled with lots of pizza and mango juice.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When James arrived with the wine and mango juice, Sarah and I had a pizza number one of two baking in the oven. We opened the wine and juice, toasted Sander’s victory, and ate together.

  “And now Sarah has to do her homework so the adults can talk,” she said.

  “Does Sarah speak about herself in the third person often,” Woodley asked grinning.

  “She does when she wants to sound official and so she can make remarks like reminding Miz Jeffries that while the adults are talking she should keep in mind the situation with Ginny and her mom.”

  Woodley gave me a questioning look.

  “I should, should I?”

  “Of course. All the factors have to be… analyzed. Oh… can I watch television after I’m done with my homework?”

  “That depends on what the program is.”

  "There’s a documentary on some new discoveries about the Neanderthal people and their interactions with our ancestors."

  "Sounds riveting," Woodley said.

  "Sure," I told her.

  And then we were alone.

  “Ginny and her mom?”

  “They are considering moving to the city.”

  “Smart ladies,” he said.

  So I told him about the school situation and that Sarah graduating meant that one way or another I would have to find a new school and how that had me considering all the options. And then he summarized his position succinctly. “You know what I want.”

  “I don’t know what I truly want,” I told him. “I haven’t had a heart-to-heart with Sarah yet, and there is so much to consider.” I looked around at my house and let my thoughts flick over the idea of leaving my salon. Change was going to be gut wrenching, but there was no avoiding some changes. Such was a my circular logic.

  As confused as I was, I did know that I always enjoyed spending time with James Woodley. I also knew that although I liked him but the relationship was odd and uncertain. We weren’t at all like other couples. Whenever we were together our conversation would inevitably drift to the topic of an unresolved death. We talked more about our theories and speculations, clues and evidence than personal feelings. It made me wonder how much of our relationship was based on our common interest in mysteries and how much on an actual attraction to each other. I wasn’t even sure I could separate the two. And the thing that galled was not being able to decide if that was treach
erous ground or if we were a match made in heaven—for all I knew we were perfect for each other.

  Right now we were together, he was in town because of the suspicious circumstances of Joe’s death. That was also the stated reason for him coming to the house—despite the social nature of the evening and the good wine we’d been brought together by another death.

  The truth was I had to expect that and accept it. Whether I lived here or in the city, whether we lived together or apart, around Woodley would be mystery and death. Untangling crimes, taking the mystery out of mysterious deaths, was what he did for a living. It was also who he was. I was similar in that regard. I couldn’t resist trying to work out puzzles, especially when they involved figuring out who did something and working out why they did it. Even when there were other important things that needed to be addressed, personal things, I could be easily distracted onto the subject of a murder. That put things like what the future might hold for us in second place.

  That could be good or bad. It gave us a bond, but it made me wonder if we’d ever be able to really talk seriously about personal issues. If we were going to have a real relationship then we’d have to be able to do that.

  With those thoughts bouncing around my head, when James got out the file on the case I wanted to stop him—part of me did. We needed to talk more about the future, about us. But the case was between us now, in the form of that file and I decided we could do that first.

  "Motive," he said. “I can’t seem to find one that makes sense. I don’t even see anyone in the files who had a grudge against the old man," he said. "It seemed that he was even helpful to his competitors."

  "What about the Ratkovich family? I’ve never quite believed Bogdan’s story about just dropping by for a chat. He strikes me as more… more calculated than that."

  "I’ll talk to him. Digby believed him, or at least in his innocence, although he didn’t buy him just dropping by for a chat. He says that if Bogdan killed him it would have been the easiest thing in the world to just slip away. No one would ever have known he was there and you and Nellie would’ve found the body."

  "That’s true. And certainly he wouldn’t kill him and then call it in. But the reason for his visit might tell us something. It’s just that I think there is more to his visit than he’s letting on. He might have followed someone else there, someone who killed Joe. He might call it in but be unwilling to do more.”