What Are You Wearing to Die?

by Patricia Sprinkle

  “Right, except the name was an illegible scrawl and the address doesn’t exist.”

  “You poor dear!”

  I merely said what I was thinking, but it did the trick. He exhaled, and I could see the anger leaving him. He spoke for the first time that morning in a reasonable voice. “What frustrates me most is that if you all had called my office to deal with the dog in the first place, we could have staked out the house and maybe caught the owner. Instead, by barging in to…”

  He stopped like he couldn’t think of a way to describe what we’d done.

  “To do a good deed?” I suggested. “To save a starving animal and keep two children from worrying? We did call your office first, by the way. Your folks were stretched real thin by the earlier events of the weekend, and very willing to let us take on responsibility for the dog.” I saw no reason to mention Grumpy. I would deal with him later, on my own.

  I went on in what I hoped was a reasonable tone. “None of us knew what that animal was guarding. Or that he was such a vicious beast. Now sit down like a sensible person, stop puffing smoke from your nostrils, and let’s think if there’s any other way to trap that fellow.”

  He slapped his hat against his thigh again and exhaled more frustration. “I can’t stay. I’ve got more stuff to do today than I’ll get done all week. But would you all please stay out of this? Judge, you run the store. Joe Riddley, take care of Little Bit. That’s your job.”

  I saw my husband flinch.

  “Sorry. It won’t happen again. You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

  Buster squeezed his shoulder and left without looking at me.

  I waited until I saw the cruiser pull out of our parking lot, then demanded, “What was that about it being your ‘job’ to take care of me?”

  “Nothing. Just a deal we made years ago.”

  “What kind of a deal?”

  “A men-only deal.” He swiveled his chair to face mine. “I didn’t hear you voicing your promise to stay out of Buster’s case.”

  I was afraid he had noticed, but how could I? I’d made an earlier promise to four children. To distract him, I asked, “You want to know what happened to Evelyn?”

  He laid his letter opener on the desk, propped his feet up again, and folded his hands across his stomach. “Sure. But we aren’t finished with my prior question.”

  “We aren’t finished with my prior question, either. But let me fill you in.” I told him the whole thing, ending with, “She ought to have shoved Hubert out the door and let him find another room.”

  “Don’t bad-mouth poor old Hubert. He’s not real wise when it comes to women.”

  “You’d think he’d be wise enough not to invite a woman to Mardi Gras unless he was interested in her. I mean, you wouldn’t ask somebody of the other sex to go along as your buddy—would you?”

  “I wouldn’t ask somebody of the other sex to go, period. You’d be sitting right behind us on the plane. However, we are talking about Hubert. He never has known how to treat a woman. Remember him in high school? Or maybe, being two grades behind us, you didn’t notice.”

  “What was there to notice? He was smart and short.”

  “And shy.”

  “Hubert? Mr. Glad-hand? He’s never been shy. Wasn’t he elected Most Congenial? And look at how he was shaking hands all over town last fall, running for mayor.”

  “He’s okay with men. It’s just women that make him shy.”

  “Not me.”

  “That’s because you’ve been off-limits as long as he’s known you. He hasn’t thought of you as dating material. I don’t think he asked a single girl out during high school.”

  “Get out your yearbook and think again. He was always running around with cheerleaders and beauty queens.”

  “He trotted around after cheerleaders and beauty queens, doing little favors, basking in traveling in their orbits. That’s all it amounted to.”

  “I remember him coming home from Tech bragging to me about the great ‘lookers’ he’d met from Agnes Scott. The way he talked about them, he made me feel like chopped liver.”

  “But I’d bet he didn’t date a single one of those lookers—or ask out any woman who might have accepted his invitation. Hubert was more naive about love than most twelve-year-olds.”

  “He’s past sixty now,” I pointed out, “and was married for years. He got married six months before we did.”

  “Because Edna set her cap for him after he came home from college, and maneuvered him into it. I don’t think Hubert loved her, but he loved the notion that some woman liked him. And she loved the fact that he would own Spence’s Appliances one day.”

  Hubert’s wife had been a large, bossy woman with no softness or comfort about her. She never worked in the store, but was always telling Hubert how to improve it.

  “They neither one got much joy out of the marriage, did they? The only thing they had in common was that they were both tighter than jeans washed in hot water.”

  “Hubert got that from his mother. She always acted like they didn’t have a penny. And yet he can be generous when he thinks of it. Remember how he loaned us those televisions for my birthday party one year? And he always fixed our appliances for nothing.”

  “Well, Evelyn could have been good for Hubert. I’m sorry that blew up. Still, she doesn’t need a cheapskate. She’s not a spendthrift, but she likes nice things. And she needs somebody she can love who will love her back.”

  “You don’t know that Hubert doesn’t love her, Little Bit.”

  “Oh, really? After he tells a woman it’s okay to share a room because he isn’t interested in her that way?”

  “I’d bet he was trying to reassure her that he’s a gentleman, that he wasn’t going to treat her like a woman of the streets. Wasn’t that what she’d accused him of wanting? Poor Hubert. I’ll bet he had no clue what she was really wanting.”

  I replayed the conversation in my head. “It’s possible it was just a big misunderstanding, but he was still too cheap. Do you reckon he could be interested in her?”

  “He’s been squiring her around for several months.”

  “You think he’s capable of love?”

  “He fell pretty hard for that woman who was in town for her nephew’s gubernatorial campaign, didn’t he? She seemed to like him back, too. Hubert can be likable if he’s not feeling threatened. That’s when he gets on his high horse. On the other hand, his relationship with Evelyn has seemed to consist of movies, dinners, and walks so far, not unbridled passion.”

  That made me laugh, but I had to ask, “How do you know that?”

  “Heck, Little Bit, the whole town would have known if Hubert was engaged in unbridled passion. The only folks who can get away with anything around here are folks without friends or relations.”

  That sobered me. “Like Robin Parker/Roberta Poynter.”

  23

  After Joe Riddley took Bo and headed to the nursery, I spent a restless hour trying to shove Evelyn, Hubert, Robin’s murder, Grady, Uncle Billy, three little kids who had lost their mothers, and one angry sheriff out of my mind so I could concentrate on my work. As I was finally buckling down to it, the sheriff strode back in without knocking.

  “Where’s Joe Riddley?”

  “At the nursery.”

  “You’ve both got to get out of town at once.”

  “As in ‘Flee, all is discovered’?”

  “It’s no laughing matter. I went by to talk to the guy from animal control who was on duty yesterday, the one who signed the dog out. He remembered something he hadn’t put in his report. The man who picked up the dog said he’d really like to thank the people who rescued his pet, so the dummy gave him your names and told him he could find you here today.”

  Buster’s hands were shaking and I wasn’t breathing too good myself.

  “You think he’ll come with the dog—”

  I couldn’t even finish the thought.

  “I don’t know, but I want both of you
out of town. Immediately.”

  “We can’t leave town. Joe Riddley’s got Session at church tonight, he’s presiding at that breakfast benefit tomorrow for the work-release house for prison inmates, I’ve got the program at garden club tomorrow afternoon—it’s not feasible.”

  “What’s not feasible is for me to provide twenty-four-hour protection for the both of you. I’m investigating a murder here. I don’t need complications.”

  We faced off like two angry schoolkids on the playground. Have you ever noticed how we tend to relate to folks the same way we did when we first met them?

  Maybe one of us ought to act like an adult.

  I tried. “Joe Riddley’s down at the nursery, shifting sod around with the forklift, so he ought to be okay. Our folks wouldn’t let a dog into the nursery.”

  His eyes narrowed. “There are things called rifles, Judge.”

  That took my breath again. I looked at the sheriff and knew we had the same picture in our minds: Joe Riddley happily lifting loads of sod (he loves working that forklift) while somebody got him in their telescopic sights.

  He made a quick, impatient motion with one hand. “Get Joe Riddley on the phone and tell him to meet you at the house, pack yourselves a bag, and get out of town. Call me to say where you are, and I’ll call you back when it’s safe to come home.”

  Normally I’d be delighted to tell Joe Riddley we were commanded to take a vacation, but right then it wasn’t possible. Not only did we both have a lot to do, but I had a promise to keep to four small children.

  “How about if we go to Ridd and Martha’s? Ridd left town this morning for a high school math competition, so Martha would probably like having other adults around. This Uncle Billy character won’t be looking for us there. I don’t know if I can talk Joe Riddley out of going to church tonight or the breakfast meeting tomorrow, but I’ll try, and I’ll definitely skip the garden club, since announcements about my program are plastered all over town. Evelyn can make the speech. It’s about summer blooming perennials, so she knows everything I planned to say. We can instruct her not to tell anybody where we’ve gone. That would give you time to look for this character. You could even work out a system with Evelyn to get him if he shows up here.”

  The sheriff considered. “That could work. It may take longer than twenty-four hours to catch him, but if he doesn’t come around here today, I’m pretty sure he’ll leave the region. Call Evelyn in.”

  When she arrived, we put her in the picture.

  She looked from one of us to the other. “Let me get this straight. We’re expecting a man to show up at the store with a vicious dog, and I’m supposed to lie to him about where the bosses have gone?”

  “Not lie.” I corrected her. “Simply say you aren’t sure where we are—we have left the store. You won’t be sure where we are, exactly. I could be in Martha’s living room, den, or bathroom, and Joe Riddley—”

  “I get the picture, Mac, but I’m not crazy about talking to men with vicious dogs.”

  “I doubt he’d bring the dog into the store on his reconnaissance trip,” the sheriff said, hoping to calm her. “He’ll probably come in asking for the Yarbroughs, expecting you to point him in their direction. The important thing is that you don’t tell anybody—and I do mean anybody, including Gladys—where they are. In fact, it might be better if you pretend you think Mac is here. If somebody you don’t know comes in asking for either one of them, tell them you’ll check the office to see if the judge is in, then come back here and call 911. We’ll have somebody in the store within five minutes. You’ll need to stall them that long. Can you do it?”

  “Maybe. I could pretend to check the loading dock and the bathrooms, too.”

  “Good idea. Even ask for a name and phone number where Joe Riddley can reach him.” He glowered at me. “Okay, Mac, hit the road. I’ll head down to the nursery and explain the situation to your hardheaded husband. I don’t want to see hide nor hair of either one of you until I give a green light. Stay down at Ridd’s and don’t show your faces in town. You got that?”

  “Right. After I stop by the house to pack us both a few things. Tell Joe Riddley to come straight to Ridd’s.”

  I was already grabbing my pocketbook. The thought of that dog on the loose was enough to churn my butter.

  On my way home I called Martha to say she was getting a couple more guests for a day or two. “I’ll explain why when I get there.”

  When I arrived at the house, our cook, Clarinda, was fixing to start dinner. We usually went home for our midday meal.

  “Forget dinner,” I called over my shoulder as I headed to our room. “We won’t be here today or tomorrow. We’ve been suddenly called away. In fact, I don’t know how long we’ll be gone, so why don’t you take a vacation? Go on home, right this minute.”

  She came to the bedroom door and propped both fists on her plump hips. “What you up to now?”

  I didn’t reply, being occupied with reaching my suitcase down from the top shelf of the closet.

  “It’s something about that murder, isn’t it? You investigating it?”

  I laid the suitcase on the bed and started filling it with clothes for two days. “No, I’m trying to keep from being the next victim. Joe Riddley and I went over to Robin Parker’s house yesterday to feed a dog Martha thought might be there—”

  She started to cackle. “I heard all about that. Dog was in the basement, but it got loose, so you jumped up on the fridge and the judge ran out the door and down the block.” Joe Riddley would always be “the judge” to Clarinda. “I surely would have loved to see you scrambling up on top of a fridge with that animal nipping at your heels.”

  “That’s not at all how it happened. Joe Riddley asked me to climb up on the refrigerator to watch the beast, and then he put drugged meat on the kitchen floor and threw a wad of raw meat down the basement steps to distract the dog in order to give himself time to get the basement door open and get out of the kitchen. He did not run ‘down the block,’ either. He heroically dashed across the kitchen a few steps ahead of the critter, and he stayed on the back porch the whole time while I watched the dog to see when it fell asleep. Joe Riddley would have stayed himself, but there wasn’t any place he would be safe.”

  “Ha.” Clarinda rocked back and forth, preferring her own version. “I can see you now, on top of that fridge, hoping that vicious animal wouldn’t get up there to keep you company. Weren’t you scared stiff?”

  “There were moments. The problem now is that somebody told the owner of the dog where we work and he can find out where we live from almost anybody in town, so Buster’s afraid he may come by to give the dog a second chance at my heels.”

  “Because of them drugs you all found?”

  I gave her a short nod. Like I have said repeatedly, nothing is secret in Hopemore. I wondered how many versions of the story were floating on the breeze.

  “Whoo-ee. No wonder you’re leaving town. On sheriff’s orders?”

  “That’s about it.” I fetched our toothbrushes and other paraphernalia from the bathroom.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t put you in his cruiser and take you out of town his own self, if he thinks you’re in that much danger. How come he let you drive home alone?”

  “He had to go tell Joe Riddley. You know how he feels about Joe Riddley.”

  “I know how he feels about you, too.”

  “Yeah, he likes me, but he and Joe Riddley are halves of the same onion.”

  Clarinda made a rude noise. “They’re tight, all right, but if anything ever happens to the judge? Won’t nobody but you be surprised when the sheriff starts hanging around here. I always did think he’s as sweet on you as the judge is.”

  I packed our pajamas. “Don’t be silly. Buster Gibbons is our best friend, that’s all. Now hush a minute. I need to think what else to take.” I added socks for Joe Riddley and panty hose for me. “Hopefully we won’t be gone long, and I’ll call you when we get back to town. I c
an’t tell you where we’ll be, but if you call Martha, she can find us.”

  “Oh. So you’re goin’ down there.”

  “I didn’t say we were going down there.”

  “Didn’t have to. After all these years, I can read you like a book.”

  I saw no need to protest. It was true.

  “Don’t tell a soul—and I do mean a soul—where we are. Okay? Say we had a hankering to get out of town for a few days.”

  By the time I finished packing, she had her coat on and was standing by the door. “Thought I’d see you out. In case something happened to you, I’d always regret it if I hadn’t said good-bye.” She grabbed the handle of the suitcase and took it to my car.

  When I pulled out of our drive and headed toward Martha’s, Clarinda pulled out behind me and followed me into town. Maybe she needed to stop by the Bi-Lo on her way home.

  Down on Oglethorpe Street—the only four-lane road in town—I had to stop for the light. I wasn’t paying attention to traffic around me until I heard an engine gunning on my left. I turned to frown at the driver of a dusty green Dodge pickup, and saw a huge black and tan head pressed against the passenger window. Beyond the dog, the driver had long blond hair and sunglasses.

  When he saw me looking his way, he gave me an evil smile and a small salute. Lulu saw the dog and sent up a volley of barks warning him away from her territory.

  I had slung my pocketbook in the backseat so she could ride up front, so my cell phone was out of reach.

  What should I do?

  I wasn’t going to lead that fiend to Ridd’s.

  If only there was some way I could motion Clarinda to get his license plate number and call the sheriff.

  The light changed. I pulled away fast. The truck slid in behind me, separating me from Clarinda. Next time I looked in my mirror, the dog had its head lolling out the window. His owner must have lowered the glass. They were having a chilly ride.

  I made a quick decision. At the next intersection, I turned right. The truck turned right. Clarinda turned right.