by Anne George
Eddie Turkett’s house was not one of the modern ones. It was a large dark red brick, two stories, probably built in the 1920s and perfectly maintained. The huge lawn of St. Augustine grass didn’t seem to be wilting in the heat, and the two old oak trees that sat on either side of the driveway had been there when Jones Valley was settled. Across the front of the property was a black wrought-iron fence, the kind with little spears on it at intervals.
The street was deserted so Sister stopped. “Look, Mouse. Lightning rods in the trees. That’s what I should have gotten for that big oak of mine I’m still trying to save.”
I looked at one of the trees and saw what looked like a TV antenna sticking up.
“It’s costing me a fortune trying to save that tree.” Sister pointed. “And look at that fountain.”
In front of the house, the driveway circled around a fountain that was spitting water into the air.
“Not much water pressure,” I said.
“But Eddie Turkett’s not on his way to the poorhouse, is he?”
“I’d say not. It’s a beautiful house.”
“An expensive one, anyway. What did Meemaw say about Eddie’s wife?”
“She said something like he and Howard occasionally had wives and children and that’s why they needed the trailers as a getaway.”
“How can you have an occasional wife?”
I shrugged. Mary Alice occasionally has husbands, but I thought it best not to mention this. Instead I said, “There doesn’t seem to be anybody at home now.” This was true. The house seemed deserted. In fact, the whole neighborhood seemed deserted. No one was out in the yards, not even the Chem-lawn people. Not a single car had passed us; no dog barked. I thought of my own neighborhood. Certainly not as fancy, but people were walking down the sidewalks and cars were passing.
“It’s nice up here,” Mary Alice said as if she were reading my thoughts.
“It’s too isolated.”
“Not really. Everybody up here’s got binoculars and a telescope.”
“Dear Lord,” I said. “You need to get married again.”
Sister giggled. “Maybe you’re right.”
That got my attention. “Is there something I need to know?”
“Not really.” She giggled again. “Well, maybe.” A long pause. “Bill’s back again.”
Bill Adams is Mary Alice’s off-again, on-again line-dancing boyfriend, a handsome man in his early seventies. Several times I’ve thought they were getting serious and each time they drifted apart. Bill spends the winters in Florida, for one thing, and Sister doesn’t tolerate separation well.
“Good,” I said, knowing full well that if Sister did get married again, it wouldn’t be to Bill.
“He’s been calling me all summer but I kept telling him I had other plans. I figured he’d catch on after a while. And then you know what he did?”
“What?” I really wanted to know. This sounded romantic.
“He developed a kidney stone. Had them call me from the emergency room at Brookwood Hospital. In all that pain and he wanted me. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?”
“Precious.”
“Well, it was.”
“Is he okay now?”
“Oh, sure. Good as new. They smushed it with sound waves.”
“And they say, ‘Say it with flowers.’”
Another giggle. Maybe I was wrong about how serious Sister was about Bill.
She pointed toward Eddie Turkett’s house. “You really think Sunshine might be hiding up there?”
“I don’t have any idea. I just know she lives there part of the time.”
“At least she has room to hang up her clothes.”
“Obviously.”
“Hmmm,” Sister said. “You want to go knock on the door?”
“No. Besides, she wouldn’t come if she’s hiding.”
“She’s not hiding from us. She’s hiding from the person who killed the Indian.”
“What if somebody else comes to the door, like Eddie’s wife?”
“We’ll tell them we’re Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“Absolutely not.”
Mary Alice reached in her purse and pulled out a small pair of binoculars which she aimed at the house.
“Put those up!” I grabbed at them.
She ducked. “I’m just looking, for heaven’s sake.”
“You’re spying.”
“Well, of course I am. Why else did we come up here?”
I thought about that for a moment while Mary Alice focused the binoculars and looked. “See anything?” I asked.
“No. But I’ll tell you, Mouse, it’s damn confusing. I just can’t figure out exactly if these people are trash or not. I hate not being able to figure that out, don’t you?”
“Hmmm.” Having binoculars trained on a house was pretty trashy. Best not say anything.
“I think somebody’s up on the second floor looking through the curtains. See what you think.”
Trashy or not, I took the binoculars. “I don’t see anything.”
A white car pulled up beside us and a familiar figure got out.
Officer Bo Mitchell of the Birmingham Police Department motioned for Mary Alice to let down her window.
“I was listening to the dispatcher and I told myself, I said, ‘Bo, girl, that can’t be who it sounds like, two women in a Jaguar skirting around looking for a house to hit on Redmont Crest.’ But I was wrong, wasn’t I? It’s y’all. Is this the house you’ve decided on?”
“Hey, Bo,” we both said.
“Everybody on the street’s called.”
“Doesn’t look like anybody’s at home.”
“Don’t kid yourself.” Bo wiped her forehead with a handkerchief she took from her pocket. “Let me in your backseat. I’m dying out here.”
Mary Alice unlocked the door and Bo got in.
“Lord, what a day.” She leaned forward and grinned. “Well, hello, my two favorite felons. What’s going on?”
“You’ve lost more weight,” I said.
Bo nodded. “One hundred thirty-two. If Oprah can do it, I can do it.”
“You look great.” She did. Bo’s skin is the color of light chocolate, and her wide-set eyes have a slightly Oriental slant to them.
“You don’t. What’d you do to your head?”
“Fell over a turkey.”
“Sounds reasonable to me.” Bo laughed. “Y’all want to tell me what you’re up to?”
“It’s a long story,” Sister said.
“I love to hear y’all’s stories. Let’s go down to Hardee’s and you can take your time. I could use a Coke and a potty.”
“My house is closer,” Mary Alice said. “And this really is a complicated story.”
“Do, Jesus. A complicated story. I’ll follow you.”
Twelve
Ray was sitting in the sunroom eating cereal and watching The Price Is Right when we came in. He had on khaki shorts and a faded blue shirt that looked as if it had seen many a diving trip. He looked considerably more rested than he had the night before.
We introduced him to Bo Mitchell who informed him she had apprehended us lurking around on Redmont Crest.
“It’s where Eddie Turkett lives,” Mary Alice explained to Ray. “Sunshine gave that as her address at Jeff State, so we were just looking around.”
“Clue me in.” Bo leaned back in a wicker chair and took the Coke I offered her. “Take your time.”
“It’s a long story,” Mary Alice repeated.
“Suits me.”
So we told her the whole story of Sunshine (with help from Ray), of the Turketts, all of them, and of the dead Indian who wasn’t an Indian but a man from Bradford named Dudley Cross which probably meant everybody called him Double Cross. Sister showed her the note that said regards to her son, and I told her about the turkey and how I nearly knocked my brains out falling over it.
Bo looked pleased as we finished our story. “Y’all are the only people I know th
at keep falling over dead bodies. It’s just a real talent.”
“It’s not me. It’s Mary Alice,” I insisted. “She gets involved with weird people.”
Ray hopped to his wife’s defense. “Sunshine’s not weird.”
“No, she’s not,” I agreed. “I didn’t mean Sunshine.”
“That whole trailer camp’s weird, though. Wait till you see it, Ray.” Mary Alice poured him some more orange juice. “You have to have a stick in your hand so the pit bulls won’t attack you.”
Ray put the juice glass on the table. “You have to hit the dogs?”
“No. Of course not. You just show them the stick. And you have to yell at Pawpaw because he was in a Port-o-John when a rocket went off.”
“Which was sad,” I added.
Bo turned to Ray. “You listen to these women. You realize how lucky you are? How blessed among men?”
Ray grinned. “Sometimes.”
Bo held out her Coke glass for a refill. “Lord, it’s hot today.” She held it up, said “Cheers,” took a big swig, and burped slightly. “Rockets and pit bulls aside for the moment, you think this sweet child’s wife is really over there at her uncle’s house?”
“It’s a possibility,” I said.
Bo drained the rest of her Coke. “Let me go potty and I’ll check it out.”
“How will you check it out?” Sister asked.
“Do what any normal person would do. I’ll knock on the door and ask if Sunshine Dabbs Crane is there. And if they say no, I’ll say it’s too bad because she’s been elected Miss Jefferson State and I’m there to deliver her tiara.”
“I don’t think they’ll buy that,” Sister said.
Bo sighed. “I know it. I’ll try to think of something else on the way over there.” She got up and headed for the bathroom. “Maybe you could be dying, Mary Alice, and asking for her.”
“Try something else,” Sister called down the hall.
Ray was wiping his beard with a paper napkin.
“Are you sure all that hair is sanitary?” his mother asked.
Ray thumped his chest. “Me Tarzan.”
“Tarzan didn’t have a beard.” Mary Alice turned and looked at me. “How come Tarzan didn’t have a beard, Mouse?”
“Jane wouldn’t put up with it.”
“No. I mean how could he shave? Seems like I remember seeing Jane cut his hair once. And that’s another thing. Where did she get scissors?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “I was too busy worrying about somebody finding the elephants’ graveyard.”
“The alligators always scared me,” Ray said. “Just lying around the edge of the water waiting on Tarzan.”
“And how come lightning didn’t hit them up there in that tree? Or the tree house get blown down? Don’t you know everything stayed soaking wet?” Sister was getting into this. “And think how Cheetah must have stunk. And he slept right there with them. Loaded with fleas, I’ll bet you. Do they have fleas in Bora Bora, Ray?”
“Sure. Ticks, too.”
Mary Alice rubbed her forehead. “Ticks. I hadn’t thought about that. It’s a wonder Tarzan and Jane didn’t die of Lyme disease.”
“And Boy, too,” I added.
“I never liked Boy,” Mary Alice said.
Bo came back in. “You’re right,” Ray told her. “I’m blessed among men.”
Bo hoisted her purse to her shoulder. “I’ll call you if I run up on anything. The neighbors up there’ll know what’s going on. I’ll ask around.”
“We’d appreciate it.” Ray stood up. “I’ll walk out to your car with you.”
“Hmmm,” Sister said as the front door closed. “I wonder what that’s about.”
“He’s just being polite.”
“Ray? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“He’s a very polite man.”
“Did I say he wasn’t?”
This was getting us nowhere. “Get your purse,” I said. “I need that makeup.”
“You sure do,” Sister agreed.
We were headed out the door as Ray came in. “What are you going to do this morning, son?” Mary Alice asked.
“I’m going out to the Turkett Compound. Buck’s going with me.”
“Well, carry a big stick.”
“And walk softly,” I added.
“How come he needs to walk softly?” Sister asked.
“It’s just what Teddy Roosevelt said. ‘Walk softly and carry a big stick.’”
“What does Teddy Roosevelt have to do with the Turketts?”
“Not a damn thing. Get in the car.”
The Big, Bold, and Beautiful Shoppe always smells wonderful, flowery but with a delicate citrus undertone. The perfume is never overwhelming; you catch a whiff of it as you enter and then it becomes simply part of the pleasure of the shop. Mary Alice wanted to buy some and was taken by our friend, Bonnie Blue Butler, back to a storeroom where a small machine stuck on the wall went psst every hour and spit out the perfumed air cleanser. When Sister found out it was from a janitorial supply house, she changed her mind, though it seems to me a smell is a smell. And this one is good. It was especially good and cool on this hot day.
Bonnie Blue was glad to see us. She had worked at the Skoot ’n’ Boot and nearly gotten herself killed along with us. Now she’s manager of the Big, Bold, and Beautiful Shoppe and loving it. Her very words are, “I could eat these clothes up.”
She came to us with her arms outstretched for hugs. “Lord have mercy. Mary Alice, you been beating up on this child again?”
“Not enough. She’s still sassy.”
Bonnie Blue examined my forehead. “How’d you do that?”
“Fell over a turkey.”
“Figured it was something reasonable. Let’s sit down and have some coffee. I want to hear about this.” Bonnie Blue pointed to a corner where there was a nice seating arrangement. “We’re not overrun with customers this morning. Anybody comes in, Katrinka can wait on them.” She grinned. “Katrinka. And they say us black folks give their kids funny names. You rather have a Coke?”
“I would,” I said.
“I’ll be back in a minute. You here, Mary Alice, to buy a whole fall wardrobe, I hope?”
“Haley’s getting married tomorrow. I’m looking for a dress.”
“Haley’s marrying that doctor?”
We nodded yes.
“Great. And we got a big summer sale going. You just wait.”
We watched Bonnie Blue disappear into the back, and if Sister was thinking what I was, it was how fond we were of this large black woman who had come into our lives under such traumatic conditions and become a friend.
“Okay.” Bonnie Blue put the Coke and a plate of cookies on the coffee table. “It’s not diet, either. You need all the calories you can get, Patricia Anne. You’re not big as a flea.” She poured Sister and herself coffee. “Now tell me what’s been going on.”
We took turns telling about the Turketts, and Ray’s marriage to Sunshine, and finding the body.
Bonnie Blue put her coffee down. “Old Double Cross? The one who chiefs down at Crystal Caverns? I know him. He used to come in the Skoot ’n’ Boot all the time. Always ordered boilermakers.”
“You know anything about him?” Sister asked.
“Not really. Seemed like a right good old fellow. I think everybody liked him pretty good. He’d always have on a suit. Or at least a tie and dress shirt.”
“He had on a suit when he was killed,” I said. “A gray one.” Goose bumps popped up on my arms. “It’s cold in here.”
“No, it’s not.” Sister leaned forward and helped herself to a couple of cookies. “Did he have any special friends?”
Bonnie Blue shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t keep up with everybody. I just remember the boilermakers.”
The door opened and a definite potential customer came in. Katrinka, blonde and a size four, maybe, came from the back smiling.
“Are you sure Katrinka’s good for busine
ss?” Mary Alice whispered to Bonnie Blue.
“You just watch. That woman will buy the store out.”
“I hope not. I’ve got to get a dress for the wedding.”
“And I know just which one. Now y’all tell me what else has been happening. How’s Debbie’s morning sickness?”
“Lasting all day,” Sister said.
“Bless her heart.”
“She’s going back to the doctor today. I hope he can help her.”
“And Haley’s moving to Warsaw.” Tears welled up in my eyes.
“You mean like in Poland?” Bonnie Blue asked.
“Just for a few months,” Sister said as if it were nothing.
“Well, do.”
Do, indeed, I thought. I brushed my eyes with the back of my hand.
“Let’s look at those dresses,” Bonnie Blue said. “When you said wedding I thought about this off-white one, a two-piece with real fancy pearl and gold buttons.” She got up. “Patricia Anne, I can’t do much about fitting you, but the new People magazine just came in.”
“That’s fine.” I took the magazine she handed me and settled down to wait. Mary Alice usually doesn’t take a long time trying on clothes and chances were that if she liked the dress Bonnie Blue was talking about and it fit, she would buy it.
Not even the article on the clinic for sexually addicted movie stars interested me, though. For one thing, my eyes were blurry. I took off my glasses and rubbed my eyes, wincing as I hit my bruise. I blinked and looked outside and then blinked again. Sunshine Dabbs was walking down the sidewalk across the street. There was no mistaking her. She was even wearing the pink sundress that she had worn to the dinner party.
“Mary Alice!” I yelled, jumping up and dropping the magazine. “It’s Sunshine!” And even as I was yelling, the pink-clad figure disappeared into a hardware store directly across the street.
I didn’t wait for Sister. I ran out of the dress shop and crossed the street, holding up my arm for cars to stop. Fortunately, it was not the busy time of the day and I made it to the other side with only a couple of obscene gestures aimed at me.
