by C. L. Bevill
* * *
Bubba escorted his wife to the county car and helped Willodean inside even though she did not need help. He put the to-go box on the passenger seat where she could help herself if she was so inclined and made certain all the doors were locked. He watched as she drove off. She understood that he would be “helping” Bam Bam for a period of time and that he would be home as soon as possible.
Willodean is the best gal ever, Bubba thought. Then he made a mental reminder to accidently disconnect wires from Officer Smithson’s Monterey maroon metallic 2002 Chevrolet Camaro Z28 the next time it came in the shop for service. It would be a shame if that 105 amp alternator wouldn’t work one day or if the fuel pump suddenly went belly up. Clearly Smithson hadn’t thought ahead for future car care in that he regularly brought his vehicle to Culpepper’s Garage where Bubba was gainfully employed, except on his days off which were Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays. (Gideon Culpepper, the owner, had recently become fanatical about four-day work weeks and was trying it out.)
Of course Bubba knew that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. There was still a body in the back of the club, and there was still a murderer lurking about. The next thing to do was to figure out who had access to guns, assuming that the perpetrator hadn’t used John J. Johnson’s own weapon. If John had been a spook, it seemed unlikely that someone had taken his own gun from him and used it on him, but if there was another spook involved, it was possible.
Bubba was starting to get a headache. All this thinking about who might have done what and to whom and with which was harder than a woodpecker’s lips.
“So is she mad?” someone asked from beside him.
Bubba jerked a little, but he wasn’t that surprised. One of the dancers stood there lighting a cigarette with a gold Zippo lighter. She had dark-brown hair that spilled to her waist and doe brown eyes. He tried to remember her name. It was one of the messed up stage names that all of the dancers had, a change for which he couldn’t fathom the purpose.
It popped into Bubba’s head and he nearly winced. Gummi something. Gummi Worm? Was that it?
“I don’t think so,” Bubba said. “I’m lucky that way.”
“She seems like the kind that wouldn’t hold it against you,” Gummi said with a short puff on her cig. There was something about the twentysomething woman that Bubba thought that he should remember, but it was escaping him. He had so many things already on his mind that one more thing simply slipped out of his thoughts.
“But then she is a cop,” Gummi added, “and I bet she brings that gun home every night.”
“There’s all kinds of guns in the mansion,” Bubba said.
“Mansion?” Gummi repeated. “Oh yes, the Snoddy Mansion. Miz Demetrice is your mother. How exciting it must be to live in a mansion!”
“I don’t live there, but the truth ain’t so grand,” Bubba said. “Two of the columns are about to fall over. The floor in the kitchen needs to be jacked up before someone ends up in the crawlspace. Might be lead and asbestos in the paint on account that the place is so old. But the paint ain’t peeling because we just finished doing the outside. Had this nice fella and his wife he’p with that. They have two children, too. In any case, the mansion is a big stinkin’ pile of hot mess. Have to put a pot load of money in it, and ain’t none of us won the lottery.”
Gummi smoked her cigarette while listening to Bubba meander verbally. On the inside he was trying to think of ways to find out the killer or persuade Bam Bam to simply call the police. A few hours wouldn’t make a difference but longer than that would be increasingly hard to explain.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Bubba said, “but do I know you? Your name sounds familiar.”
Gummi’s eyebrows went up. Bubba thought she looked surprised. “I guess you might. I used to live in Dallas. Bam Bam told me about when you went up there looking for your wife.”
Bubba blinked. It was a distant conversation that he’d had with Bam Bam when the other man had been in the independent entrepreneurial business. When Bubba had told the man he was looking for a woman (Willodean Gray at the time), Bam Bam had taken that to mean that Bubba was looking for any woman and offered to hook him up with Gummi Worm. “So when Bam Bam bought Bazooka Bob’s, you came down with him.”
Gummi shrugged. “It was a good time to get out of Dallas.”
Bubba could see that. He had needed to get out of Dallas upon two separate occasions. There was a police detective that told him he wasn’t welcome there until the city forgot about the boot that had been put on his truck. (Bubba had taken the boot off, and it had consequently vanished, although he wasn’t sure what a common thief would want to do with such an object.) Never mind that Bubba had paid for the boot, but apparently the law enforcement people in Dallas had the memories of elephants. (This was offset by the fact that most of his in-laws were law enforcement people in the Dallas area.)
“So Pegram County, right?” Bubba asked. “Did you come to the wedding?”
Gummi shrugged again. “Oh yes. I was there with Bam Bam, although he ditched me pretty quick after we got there. It was okay, since I hung out with a guy named Foot and drank about eight mimosas. I can honestly say that was the most interesting wedding I’ve ever been to. And I’ve been to four as bridesmaids. One in Vegas, two in Dallas, and one in Corpus Christi.” She crossed her arms over her chest and rested the base of her thumb against her chin so that she easily insert the end of the cigarette into her mouth when she wanted. There was a distinctly wistful expression on her face. “There’s nothing better than when working girls get to be married. They know a good man when they find one because they’ve known all the bad ones already. I don’t think any of those girls will ever get divorced.”
Bubba puzzled over that. When Gummi said “working girls,” she meant women who worked, not women who worked. Wasn’t that what Bam Bam had implied about her when he discussed her in Dallas?
“Are all the girls here…?” he asked.
“No,” Gummi said shortly. “Folks think that exotic dancers equal hookers, but it isn’t the truth. We don’t even do lap dances here, so it’s pretty frisky clean.”
“I don’t think that,” Bubba protested. He hadn’t ever thought about that before. It seemed like the girls dancing on the stage were working as hard as anyone. He hadn’t seen what Cayenne Pepper had done with her lemons, but it had sounded intense.
“Uh-huh,” Gummi replied, looking him up and down. “Why are you here, then?”
“Just he’ping Bam Bam out,” Bubba said. He was getting tired of the company line. It would be much better to simply blurt out, “There’s a dang dead body in the bathroom, and we’re trying to figure out who kilt the poor bastard!” Of course, it would have been much easier, but when was life ever easy? “Were you around last night?”
“Of course. There were five of us dancing together like synchronized swimmers. We take batons and light the ends on fire and then—”
“She’s joking, Bubba,” Cayenne Pepper said as she stepped outside. “B.B.’s is closed on Mondays. No one about except maybe Bam Bam.”
Gummi snorted smoke out of the side of her mouth. “If you can believe that,” she said. She held out her Zippo for Cayenne when the other woman pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims and tapped one out.
“You’re saying Bam Bam wasn’t here,” Bubba said.
“Not what I said,” Gummi snapped. Cayenne cupped her hand over the end of the cigarette and the lighter so she could get the end lit. “I meant you can’t always believe him.”
Cayenne sputtered smoke. “You’re just mad because he dumped you.”
Bubba glanced at Cayenne and then at Gummi. “You mad at Bam Bam?”
“Of course not,” Gummi denied. “I dumped him. Not the other way around.” She threw down her cigarette, stamped it out with a stiletto heel, and hurried inside.
Bubba didn’t quite understand how those famous detectives got information out of folks. It seemed like more trouble than it
was worth.
Chapter 10
Bubba and the Consequences
of Untoward Actions
Tuesday, August 22nd
Upon returning to the inside of Bazooka Bob’s, Bubba discovered that most, if not all, of the women who worked at the gentlemen’s club were circled around Bam Bam Jones in a manner that was reminiscent of a pride of lions circling a lone crippled gazelle. The gazelle frantically looked for a way to escape but was well and thoroughly trapped by the looming horde of rapacious predators. The gazelle quickly sighted its only hope. It looked directly at its solitary chance, and its face twisted piteously.
“Bubba!” Bam Bam yelped quickly. “You need to he’p me, right?”
“You said there was an all-hands-on meeting today,” Granny Goodbang interjected accusingly. “You said it would be in fifteen minutes and that was like two hours ago. I have a manicure and a facial in twenty minutes, buddy boy. And a figure like mine needs Zumba on a daily basis. Twice on Mondays.”
“Uh,” Bam Bam said. He looked about again, very much like the desperate ungulate who knew very well that he was about to be devoured live on the hoof.
“Girl walkers!” yelled Diamond, or it might have been Destiny. Some of the others took up the call. “Girl walkers! Girl walkers! Girl walkers!”
Bam Bam cast a sour look in Miz Demetrice’s direction as she was examining the buffet for possible seconds. Bubba’s mother shrugged delicately as she was wont to do in a situation that she had likely caused.
“Twenty minutes!” Bam Bam suddenly yelled. “I’ll explain everything in twenty minutes in the practice room!” He beckoned at Bubba with one hand and quickly threaded his way through the voracious but subdued lionesses.
Bubba was afraid to go through the crowd, so he carefully walked around. Precious had found a second wind after a quick nap near the kitchen door, so she clambered to her feet and trotted after her master just in case more errant chicken breast meat was arbitrarily dropped on the floor near her mouth. A canine never knew when blessed fortune would shine upon her hairy head, or on the floor as the case may be.
Bam Bam shooed Bubba and Precious through a set of doors and then into his office, closing it behind him and leaning against the door to prevent any of the others from following them inside. He eyed his desk as if he might pull it in front of the door as a makeshift barricade. “I think we should run for it, Bubba. Ain’t nothing to be done now.”
“Kin I call the po-lice now?” Bubba asked politely.
“Your wife was just here,” Bam Bam said instead of answering. “Don’t you think you should have told her then?”
“I wanted to,” Bubba said pointedly.
“You could say you didn’t discover the body until after she’d come and gone,” Bam Bam suggested helpfully.
Bubba knew that he would do no such thing, but it wasn’t the worst lie he’d ever heard.
“Can I have that key to my drawer now, Bubba?” Bam asked. “I need another shot, and if I don’t get the good stuff, I’m going for the rotgut behind the bar. There’s booze back there that tastes like it’s two-thirds water. I don’t know what Bob was doing watering it down so much. Folks do notice when you’ve been tampering with their alcohol. It gets ugly when whiskey tastes more like H2O than hootch.”
Without hesitation Bubba found the key and passed it over. It took Bam Bam about a minute, but he unlocked the drawer, rooted around for the scotch, opened it, and poured himself a glass. He tilted the bottle at Bubba who shook his head, closed it, and then put the bottle back in the drawer. He locked it again and shoved the key back at Bubba. Then Bam Bam sat in his desk chair and looked at the full shot glass longingly.
“So we call the po-lice,” Bubba said, “and tell them that you found the body but were afraid to call the po-lice. Willodean will understand.” She might understand. Or she would understand why Bubba had done it but only after she had something good to eat. She wasn’t one to hold things against Bubba, but her being in a good mood definitely helped.
“But will Sheriff John?”
“Prolly not,” Bubba said. “I reckon you could lie and say you dint find it until today, but I don’t hold truck with lying much, Bam Bam. It usually gets you in more trouble than it’s worth.”
“It does generally get one in more misfortune,” Bam Bam agreed, “but this ain’t one of those white-lie type of situations. This is the big lie that will keep me from going to jail or possibly from staying in jail on a permanent basis.”
“You could say nothing at all,” Bubba said. “Open up the bathroom and wait for Leslie to find the body. Then you wouldn’t be lying, exactly.” Would Bam Bam be lying? By omission, unless someone specifically asked him what he’d been doing, and someone was going to ask him once they figured out that John J. Johnson the Third had died the night before. That probably wasn’t the best idea, either. Maybe Bam Bam was right; they should call Brownie for advice. That precocious little snot would likely tell them exactly how to extract themselves from this wretched scenario.
Bam Bam stroked the side of the shot glass. He was clearly savoring the impending moment he would swallow down the pricey liquor and feel its welcome effects. “I guess,” he said and snatched up the scotch to pour it down his throat. It didn’t even look like he swallowed, but he put the empty glass down on his desk and sighed heavily. There wasn’t even a tiny dribble to indicate that he’d missed any. “That’s the stuff,” he muttered.
“What were you going to tell your employees at this meeting?” Bubba asked, a marginal amount of relief flowing through him. This nightmare that could have been a bigger nightmare was about to be over. Bam Bam was going to concede. Bubba was going to have to do some explaining and then all would be good.
“The down and dirty truth about the club,” Bam Bam said. “It’s folding, union or not, and it’s just a matter of weeks before the doors shut but good. I just wanted to give them girls a chance to find other work before I couldn’t pay them anymore. Finding my dead relative is probably the kiss of death. Not that I kissed him or that I killed him or that anyone I know killed him by kissing him. You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, Bubba did know what Bam Bam meant. “So let’s go open that bathroom door and then I will leave,” Bubba said. “First, I’ll pay the cover charge for myself, Ma, and Willodean, and thusly I won’t feel guilty about that. Ma will give you some hell, but I’ll be in the barn sweating mightily over the baby crib I’ll be making. It won’t be so bad. I’ll even call Lawyer Petrie when I get home, so he’ll know to wait for your call from jail.” He scratched the side of his nose. “I’ve found that telling the truth he’ps when talking to the law. Plus Sheriff John will figure out that you dint do it as a matter of course.”
Bam Bam obviously didn’t like the sound of any of that based on his dumbstruck expression. However, Bubba didn’t bring this on himself; he’d been duped and rightly he should be outraged with Bam Bam for dragging him into the situation.
“All right,” Bam Bam finally said. “Leave the key for the scotch on the desk. I’ll be needing that in a few minutes.”
Bubba put the key on the desk and gestured at the door.
Bam Bam got up with a sigh and trudged to the door. He unlocked it, and both Precious and Bubba followed him down the hallway to the bathroom. Bam Bam looked around before he reached for the set of keys in his pocket. He froze as he stared at the door. “Um,” he said nervously, “Didn’t I lock this door?”
Bubba’s stomach dropped into the seventh level of hell. It might have been into the eighth level of hell, but he always got the levels of hell mixed up. The words “Didn’t I lock this door?” were the inevitable prelude to something that neither of them wanted to happen. It didn’t take a soothsayer to foretell the ominous future in that.
“Yep, you locked it,” Bubba said because nothing else sprang to his lips. On the inside he thought, How could I have avoided this situation? I could have run over Cayenne Pepper. I could have just i
nsisted that I fix the Gremlin. I could have just driven past a woman who clearly needed he’p. I had options. I need to think these things through in the future. Yep. That’s goin’ to be my motto from here on out. Think it through, dumbass.
“It’s open now.”
“Who has the keys to the bathroom?”
“Beats me,” Bam Bam said. “I don’t expect they’re as common as the folks who have the keys to the front doors, but Bob didn’t give me a list.”
“Next time you should just change all the locks.”
“Next time,” Bam Bam agreed. “Next time I shouldn’t buy the gentlemen’s club from a shady character. Next time I should just invest in Amazon stock like my stockbroker wanted me to do.”
Wow. Bam Bam had a stockbroker. Who knew?
Bam Bam pushed the door open with the same finger that had been pulling the shot glass of scotch closer to him. He leaned forward as if someone would unexpectedly bounce at him and say, “Boo!” Bubba had to restrain himself from poking Bam Bam in the back while yelling, “Boo!” It was a momentary urge that quickly passed considering the seriousness of the circumstances.
Bam Bam looked back at Bubba, and his brown eyes were inordinately large in his face. “Empty.”
Bubba’s face crinkled. Precious whined unhappily and trotted back down the hall as if she knew that a shoe had dropped, and the other shoe was about to drop except it would be a shoe that weighed a ton and smelled like the ass end of a skunk that had been living in a dumpster behind the Chinese food restaurant. (Pegramville had only one Chinese food restaurant, and Bubba didn’t really think that a skunk was living in the dumpster behind it. It was named Wok This Way and owned by Sam Jones, who in all probability wasn’t related to Bam Bam. However, Bubba was digressing possibly because he didn’t want to think about what a missing murdered person would mean to his plans.)
