Miss Ruffles Inherits Everything

by Nancy Martin

When she was out of earshot, Ten turned back to me and said, “So what’s going on here, Bubba?”

  “Sorry, Ten. I shouldn’t say without—”

  “You can say whatever you like,” I said, wrapping up my lollipop. “Mr. Tennyson is my lawyer.”

  “You need a lawyer now?” Ten asked. “What for?”

  “A restraining order.” I showed him the papers, which he skimmed. “I have to show up for a hearing in two weeks.”

  Ten handed the paper back to me. “What’s with this?” He directed his question to Assistant Deputy Appleby. “Your sister Posie’s afraid of Miss Ruffles? Or…?”

  Appleby gave up trying to be a cop “Aw, you know how Posie gets, Ten. Nobody can work up a head of steam like her. Why, the whole department still talks about the day she found those old barrels of toxic stuff near their new house. She practically wanted the National Guard mobilized. Well, now she’s got a bee in her bonnet that Miss Ruffles is dangerous. At least, that was my take on it when she came in last night.”

  “What time last night?” I asked. “After the football game? Before seven?”

  With a frown, Bubba said, “It was around eight, I guess.”

  After Miss Ruffles had been abducted, I thought. While I was looking for her.

  Ten asked, “Why do you want to know?”

  I tried to wipe all suspicion off my face. “Just curious.”

  Ten accepted that answer after a second’s hesitation. “All right, well, let me consult with my client, Bubba, and we’ll see you in two weeks.”

  “Thanks, Ten. Bye, Miss McKillip. Nice meeting you.” Bubba smiled with a sweet, lingering twinkle. He tipped his hat to me before returning to his cruiser. As he strolled away, the rear view of the handsome prince was just as breathtaking as the front. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, tight behind. A manful stride. At the gate, he turned and waved at me one more time. The sunshine glinted off his perfect teeth.

  Standing beside me, Ten said, “You’ve turned his head.”

  “What does that mean?”

  As if English were my second language, Ten looked down at me and said clearly, “He likes you.”

  “He thinks I’m a criminal!”

  “That’ll pass.” Ten was still grouchy. “You be nice to him, hear? He’s the sensitive type.”

  “Is that why he failed his police exam so many times? His sensitivity?”

  “He’s also not too bright,” Ten admitted, “which I don’t want to say in front of his sisters, but that’s how it is. He’s not exactly your type.”

  “What’s my type?” I demanded, ready to be offended again.

  “Somebody who doesn’t flunk tests.”

  Gruffly, I said, “Well, he’s very cute.”

  “Right. Don’t tell his sisters, but he falls hard and gets himself lured into bed too soon, and then he gets dumped because he’s … well, I guess once you put your clothes back on he’s not exactly scintillating company.”

  On a laugh, I asked, “What man gets himself lured into bed these days?”

  “I’m serious. That’s exactly what happens. So watch yourself with him.”

  “Get your mind out of the bedroom, please. I’m not taking off my clothes for anybody,” I said, feeling prickly. “Certainly not for the cop who just served me with a restraining order.”

  “He’s all right. We all went to high school together. Bubba and I rodeoed, and Poppy probably helped him pass remedial math.”

  “He obviously loves his sister Poppy.”

  “Everybody loves Poppy.”

  “Let me guess. Homecoming queen?”

  “And president of the Honor Society,” Ten shot back, “not to mention most every other club she belonged to, so don’t let your prejudices run away with you. She might talk slow and smile a lot, but she’s every bit as smart as you.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your future wife. She seems … very nice. I hope you’ll be very happy together.”

  Ten was glaring at me again. “How come when I see you your mouth is always some unnatural color?”

  “It has nothing to do with you. I was having a lollipop.” I poked out my tongue. “See?”

  “I do see. The whole town can see.” He switched back to being a lawyer again and indicated my envelope. “You going to tell me what happened?”

  I knew what he meant. “With Posie Hensley? Nothing happened. This is out of the blue. Last I spoke with her was after you read the will. She came outside and got her kids and left. I haven’t seen her since. Except in traffic last night when she … Look, I don’t know what Posie’s problem is, but Miss Ruffles wouldn’t hurt her children.”

  “You sure about that?”

  I hesitated. “Pretty sure.”

  Ten grabbed the front door. “Is Miss Ruffles out back? Is she going to frighten Poppy?”

  I didn’t think Poppy could be frightened by much of anything. And although this was my chance to tell Ten the truth, I decided to lie because he was soon marrying the dognapper’s sister.

  “No. Miss Ruffles is … she’s not in the yard.” Before he went into the house, I said, “Listen, thanks for agreeing to be my lawyer. That was very nice of you. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to pay for your services.”

  “Well, you’ll get exactly what you pay for because I’m not really a lawyer until I get my bar exam results. C’mon. Let’s go find Poppy.”

  We walked through the quiet house, and Ten appreciatively breathed the aroma of Mae Mae’s cooking. When we got to the kitchen, we could hear Poppy speaking authoritatively on her cell phone out on the patio.

  Neither one of us felt like interrupting her—at least, I certainly didn’t—so we hung around the kitchen for a minute. I could only hear snatches of her conversation. She was giving orders with military precision.

  I said, “She sounds like she’s already organizing a television program.”

  “She’ll be running that station in a few years.”

  I stepped on the trash can pedal and dropped my lollipop into the can. “She’s obviously a catch.”

  Ten lingered by the stove and lifted the lid on Mae Mae’s pot. He sniffed and sighed. “If only she could cook like Mae Mae.”

  “You could learn to cook yourself, you know. That’s how it’s done these days.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” He set the lid back down and turned to me.

  We looked at each other through the spicy steam, and Poppy’s voice faded as she walked away across the patio. Whatever I was going to say next evaporated out of my head, and we shared a moment there in the cozy kitchen, the two of us alone. An expression came over his face, and I knew he was thinking about my lollipop mouth, and I started thinking about his mouth, too, and wondering what it might taste like, and for a few unsteady heartbeats, we almost gave in to a temptation that was clear and strong in both our minds, but wrong, wrong, wrong.

  I turned away first.

  I opened the nearest drawer. “There’s a tape measure around here somewhere if you want to measure the gazebo for a dance floor or an altar, or whatever you’ve got planned for your wedding.”

  He didn’t have time to answer, because outside on the patio Poppy let out a bloodcurdling scream. And a gunshot went off.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Texas girls have an amazing sense of purpose when they lose it. They’re the best girls in the world. They’re loyal and fun. But when they get mad, they’ll try to kill you.

  —JOHN CUSACK

  Ten and I jumbled out the back door onto the porch like a couple of stooges, and Ten nearly fell over one of Honeybelle’s big flowerpots. I caught him by the arm, and we both rocked to a stop on the steps, hanging on to each other for balance.

  Poppy was standing on top of one of the patio tables, holding on to the umbrella pole and shrieking. “It’s a rat! A rat! I saw a rat!” She pointed a shaking finger. “And dammit, I missed him!”

  It wasn’t a rat. A frightened prairie dog scampered across the pool terrace, heading for
the back fence, making his escape. He ran as if his tail were on fire.

  Poppy’s little gun lay on the pool terrace, still spinning from the momentum of having been thrown after her departing target. She had lost one of her shoes, too, and I could see her cell phone sinking into the deep end of the pool, where she must have thrown it when she pulled her gun.

  Ten ran clumsily down the steps and over to the table. “It’s gone now, honey, but I think you might’ve winged him.” He helped her down.

  “I hate rodents! Rats, squirrels, prairie dogs—they’re all the same! Posie had a guinea pig once, and the little bastard bit me!” She hit Ten in the chest with her open hand.

  He was laughing. “Calm down, now, Poppy. You’re cussin’.”

  She started to laugh, too, but shakily. “He surprised me, that’s all. I’m no ninny.”

  “I know you’re not.” He pulled her close. Her hands slid around his shoulders. They had a moment, still laughing, but gentle with each other.

  There wasn’t anything for me to do except to kick off my shoes and go into the pool after her cell phone. I dove down and found it on the bottom, gently sliding toward the drain. I grabbed it and took my time getting to the surface, not in any rush to see them in each other’s arms. In the sunshine again, I ducked under the water one last time to skim my hair off my face, and then I waded into the shallow end. By the time I climbed out, gushing pool water from my clothes, Poppy had pulled herself together and wore both shoes again.

  Ten handed her the peashooter, and she put it into her purse.

  To me, she said, “Did I scare you?”

  “I’m not used to guns,” I admitted.

  “Sorry.” Her smile was big again. “I have a tendency to shoot first, ask questions later.”

  I twisted the tail of my T-shirt to get rid of the excess water, but it still clung to me like a second skin. My shorts sagged on my hips, dripping. I was never going to win a wet T-shirt contest, but I plucked the shirt away from my chest anyway. Feeling bedraggled and silly, I gave the wet phone to her.

  She thanked me as she shook it in a vain attempt to get rid of the water. To Ten, she said, “I don’t want to have our wedding here if there are prairie dogs. I don’t care how pretty that rose garden is.”

  Ten grinned. “The groomsmen could run a little target practice before the ceremony.”

  “We’re going to get rid of them very soon,” I said, not completely sure he was joking. “Critter Control is coming.”

  Ten said, “Why doesn’t Miss Ruffles chase them off?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they’re her kindred spirits or something.” I smiled. “You know how she likes to cause trouble.”

  Maybe Poppy didn’t like that I shared anything whatsoever with Ten. She forgot about her phone and glared openly at me.

  “Sorry,” I said, feeling wet and foolish. “I don’t mean to … that is, prairie dogs are a kind of squirrel, actually. And they’re herbivores, although they do eat some insects. Anyway, they’re harmless. More afraid of you than—”

  “I’m not afraid, Miss Know It All,” Poppy snapped. “I was startled, that’s all.”

  “Poppy, maybe we ought to get a move on.” Ten’s voice was still indulgent. “We don’t want to be late for Sunday supper with your sister, now, do we? Your phone’s going to be good as new, right?”

  I said, “Put it in a box of kitty litter. In a few hours it’ll be—” I saw his expression and stopped. Miss Know It All, indeed.

  “Thanks for letting us have a look around,” he said, one hand already on Poppy’s back to propel her away. “We’ll be in touch.”

  I stripped off most of my sodden clothes in the kitchen and left them in the sink. In my undies, I went upstairs to take a shower. I took one look at my lollipop mouth in the mirror and brushed my teeth with whitening toothpaste.

  Dressed again, I cleaned up the kitchen and tried to think about how to get around a restraining order. When Mr. Carver and Mae Mae returned, I met them in the garage. I went to help a windblown Mae Mae out of the convertible’s passenger seat while Mr. Carver made a fussy business of shutting off the car and running his handkerchief over the dashboard to remove any hint of dust.

  “Who’s that parked across the street?” Mae Mae asked. “There’s two black cars over there.”

  “Somebody visiting the neighbors, I guess. How was church?” I held Mae Mae’s stout arm and pulled.

  “It wouldn’t do you any harm to find that out for yourself,” she said. “What have you been doing all morning?”

  “Keeping Miss Ruffles out of trouble.”

  Mae Mae glanced around, as if expecting Miss Ruffles to come charging out from under the bushes. “Where’s that animal now?”

  Keeping the dog’s whereabouts a secret was definitely going to be a problem. “She’s probably hunting for prairie dogs. Poppy Appleby and Ten Tennyson were here, looking at the backyard for their wedding. They were grossed out by the prairie dogs.”

  Mr. Carver said, “Critter Control is coming on Tuesday.”

  “Good to know. Mr. Carver, I was wondering if I could borrow Honeybelle’s car this afternoon.”

  “For what purpose?” he asked, frowning as he came around the trunk of the car.

  I had my lie ready. “To take Miss Ruffles over to the football field to practice with a Frisbee.”

  “Is it safe for her over there?”

  “It will be empty today. I’m supposed to teach her tricks for the football games. I don’t want to risk breaking any windows here.”

  That convinced Mr. Carver right away. “You may take the car.” He handed over the keys. “Put a towel on the seat so Miss Ruffles doesn’t dirty the upholstery.”

  I hung around the garage while they shuffled into the house for lunch, and then I got into Honeybelle’s car. I put the convertible top up, hoping to drive past the Blues Brothers without alerting them to my departure. They weren’t used to seeing me driving a car. Luck was finally with me, because they remained parked by the curb as I drove by.

  I had spent the last hour trying to come up with various ways to get Miss Ruffles back from Posie. First I needed to do some reconnaissance.

  I knew the way to the housing development out by the interstate where the Hensleys lived. Big brick pillars flanked the turn-in. Posie’s house must have been some designer’s idea of a French country gentleman’s estate, except with a vinyl fence around it. I had delivered some flowers there for Honeybelle. On the inside, it had been elaborately decorated with big, plush family furniture. On the outside, someone had planted cactus around piles of rocks.

  I parked behind a small rise where a water tower stood, got out, and crept up to the top. Standing in the water tower’s shade, I peered across the curving arrangement of huge houses, all with air conditioners humming outside. A couple of cars were moving slowly along the serpentine streets—one headed out of the neighborhood, the other probably delivering a family home from church. Some of the houses had big yards with green grass, obviously sustained with water sprinklers. The majority of homes had dry yards with desert plants to perk them up.

  Posie’s house had the largest piece of property and the most plantings—none of which required additional water. Honeybelle had sniffed at Posie’s lack of flowers. But standing under the huge water tank with the West Texas scrub spreading endlessly in all directions, I wondered if Posie had the right idea. Mule Stop was a place that couldn’t afford to waste any of its precious water supply. I felt a pang of guilt for running the water in Mae Mae’s kitchen sink.

  Beside a big cactus, I could see Ten’s Jeep parked in the driveway. He and Poppy had gone to Posie’s home for Sunday supper.

  I don’t know what I hoped to see while standing under the water tower. Maybe Miss Ruffles cavorting in the backyard, safe and happy.

  I spotted a backyard shed and stood looking at it for a long time. It was the kind of shed where homeowners stored lawn mowers and bicycles. Might Posie have concealed Mi
ss Ruffles there?

  I couldn’t very well march down and search the house or the shed. Not with a restraining order in place. Feeling very disappointed, I went back to the car and headed into town.

  I had driven past the local animal shelter on my way to Posie’s house. It was a long, low building the same color of the scrubland around it. As if drawn by a magnet, I impulsively pulled into the pitted gravel driveway. The shelter’s front doors were propped wide, and the noise of yelping dogs could be heard from the parking lot.

  Maybe Posie had dumped Miss Ruffles at the shelter. A tiny part of me still held out hope that Miss Ruffles escaped on her own. Or maybe she had found her way here. It was a long shot, but it couldn’t hurt to check.

  A woman with her long hair pinned up to stay cool was sweeping the floor behind the check-in counter. She wore a long skirt and a faded T-shirt. A mischievous black cat with a lashing tail sat on the counter watching her work. Behind the woman was a wall of cages, each with a meowing cat in it. Tabby cats, calico cats, gray cats, white cats, black cats, dozens of ordinary cats.

  The woman didn’t look up from her task. “Can I help you?”

  In the car, I had decided on a plausible story that didn’t make me look like a bad pet owner who carelessly let her dog run away. I said, “I’m here to see if you have any Texas cattle curs.”

  She looked around at last, and I realized she was none other than Crazy Mary.

  “Hi,” I said uncertainly. “Remember me? I’m Sunny.”

  “I know who you are.” Without her banjo or violin, she pulled the broom handle close as if for protection.

  I said the first thing that came into my head. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  She shrugged. “I volunteer on Sundays. It’s hard to get people to work on Sundays. Everybody else goes to church.”

  “That’s … nice of you to volunteer.”

  ”Did you find Miss Ruffles?”

  “Uh, not yet. Are you … Did you really hear her bark last night?”

  “I heard Miss Ruffles yip, yes. She was in a car. What do you want with another Texas cattle cur?”

  I was caught flat-footed. I wasn’t a good liar, and I couldn’t come up with anything that sounded remotely plausible.