“Sounds good to me.”
Hubert turned in his chair. “You can’t leave Hopemore, Evelyn.”
She looked flustered. “Why not?”
He looked puzzled, as if he didn’t know the answer, either. “Because…because…because I’m here! Why don’t you move into our house and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast? It would be great for that. It’s even got an elevator.”
“What would Nana do?” Meriwether inquired. “Serve breakfast?”
“I’d move into that apartment upstairs in Wainwright House,” Gusta told her. “I’d get my old room back where I could see the courthouse.”
“Is that possible?” Jed asked Maynard.
“I don’t see why not. She’d need to put in an elevator.”
“I think I could manage that,” Gusta said in the tone of one stretching her resources to their outermost limit. “Florine will come live with me,” she warned Hubert. “You won’t have her around to help with your bed-and-breakfast.”
“Lottie might help with it,” Otis volunteered. “But not right away and not living in. We’ve been thinking of getting our own place and taking a trip or two.”
Hubert rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful! Then it’s settled.”
Evelyn was still staring at Hubert as if she hadn’t heard anything for several minutes. “I can’t move in with you.”
“Why not? You want to run a bed-and-breakfast, and I’ve got a great house for one. I’ll even help. I cook a mean breakfast.”
“It’s not…your house.” She floundered around like she wanted to say something else.
“I’ll buy it. Gusta, Jed, can I buy you all out?”
“Absolutely,” Jed said, getting into the spirit of the thing.
“If I can rent Maynard’s apartment,” Gusta said, wheeling and dealing as usual.
“It wouldn’t be proper!” Evelyn was as pink as a boiled shrimp, but she had her chin in the air and a spark in her eyes.
Hubert colored up. “Proper? I’ll show you proper, woman! We’ll get married.” He slid his eyes my way. “The judge here will do it—won’t you, Judge?”
“I did one wedding once,” I allowed. “Married Valerie, the girl who used to live with Edie Burkett, and her biker friend.8But it’s customary to have a proposal first, Hubert. That’s the way things are done.”
He looked over at Evelyn. She still had her chin in the air, but she nodded.
He took her hand. “I’m sorry about New Orleans, hon.” His voice was husky. “You willing to give me another chance? I think we could have a lot of fun together, and like I said, I cook a mean breakfast.”
Evelyn gave a choky laugh. “Okay,” was the only word she managed to get out.
As we drove home to dinner (Clarinda having agreed to cut her vacation short), I said, “Here I’ve been so worried about Otis and Lottie, and Gusta, and Hubert and Evelyn, and Selena and Maynard, and they didn’t need my help at all. They managed quite well on their own.”
Joe Riddley gave a grunt. “Hold on to that thought, Little Bit. Worry ages folks terribly. Giving it up might net you a few more years. But I’d better tell you, the sheriff called while Hubert and Evelyn were billing and cooing a while ago. He said he’ll meet us at the house around three. There’s still some loose ends to tie up, he said.”
That sobered me in an instant. “The biggest one is Bradley. You don’t reckon Selena and Maynard would adopt him, do you?”
“That will be entirely up to them. You can’t arrange everybody’s life to come out right.”
I sighed. “Heck, I can’t even arrange mine to come out right.” I was already wondering what I was going to do with all the free time I’d have now that the store was gone.
When Buster arrived, we sat in the living room. Although it was a gray, cold day outside, nobody suggested that we light a fire. We’d had all the fire we would need that winter. The house still smelled smoky, and I wondered if I’d ever get that odor out of my nostrils and my taste buds.
Clarinda brought in coffee and some of her pecan pound cake, and I curled up on the couch and told the sheriff about my two afternoon visitors the day before. I told him about Trevor’s confession, and Billy’s boasts. Then I told him how Trevor had tried to save Billy.
“Do we have to make it public that Trevor killed Robin?” I asked.
Joe Riddley asked from his recliner, “What is it the Bible says? ‘Let the dead bury their dead.’”
The sheriff nodded. “I don’t plan to say anything about it at all. However, if word gets around somehow that it was Billy, I don’t plan to contradict the report.”
“And I don’t think Natalie ever need know he was her birth father, either, do you?” I asked.
“Not until she’s grown, at least,” he said.
“Poor Bradley. I hope we can help him remember what a fine man his granddaddy was.”
We sat quiet for a few minutes of tribute to a hometown hero.
Joe Riddley looked at me over his cup. “Whose life you planning now, Little Bit?”
“Nobody’s. Not even mine. I was just wondering what I’ll do now.”
Buster stood. “I’d better be getting on. Just wanted to finish up the case. Walk me out, Judge?”
I got up and walked him to the door. He paused on the threshold. “About what you should do next, well, I’ve been thinking. This is the slow time for your business anyway, right? Even if a fire hadn’t wiped out part of it?”
I nodded. “Pretty slow for a few weeks now.”
“I don’t recall ever giving you all much in the way of birthday presents, anniversary presents, or Christmas gifts. So it seems to me I might owe you something for all the years you’ve put up with me.” He reached into his pocket and brought out an envelope. “Consider this a partial payment on that debt.” He handed it to me, then hurried down the steps.
I opened the envelope, and shrieked. “Joe Riddley, look! He’s bought tickets for a cruise for two. In the Far East! Three weeks! Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia…” The words sounded like music to my ears.
Joe Riddley took the tickets from me with a sour look. “I see he got the nonrefundable kind.”
From the kitchen I heard Clarinda. “Um-hmm. What did I tell you? Judge, you better take good care of this lady, or I know somebody who will.”
That’s why we are heading off next week on an airplane to Hong Kong. Once he gets his feet wet on the cruise, Joe Riddley may like foreign travel. He may want to see India, Africa, the Middle East, and Europe. So if you don’t hear from us for a while, picture us standing on a balcony in some distant place with smiles on our faces and the world at our feet. We’ll send you a postcard.
MANY THANKS
One year we arrived at a family reunion to find a huge white bear on the back doorstep of our hotel. It turned out to be not an escaped polar bear but a taxidermist’s form. That weekend we were invited to visit the exhibitors hall and competition exhibit of the North Carolina Taxidermists Association. After that, I knew that a taxidermist would have to figure in one of MacLauren Yarbrough’s mysteries.
To get acquainted with the hands-on mechanics of taxidermy, I visited Artistry in Nature Taxidermy in Dallas, Georgia, where owner Mickey Wright and taxidermists Steve Blackstone and Chris Agan introduced me to their world. What I got right is due to their diligence in teaching. What I missed was my own fault.
Helen Machida and Shafer Gray helped me create an accurate text message, since I am as ignorant of the world of text messaging as MacLauren was. It is good to have knowledgeable friends from a younger generation.
Throughout this series, I have relied on Judge Mildred Ann Palmer as my inspiration for Mac. Anytime I need to remember how Mac sounds or help with a detail, she has been a phone call away. Thanks, Judge Palmer! I am also indebted to my editor, Ellen Edwards, who does such a good job of honing these books and helping me shape them. She is not only an invaluable editor, but a friend as well. I am grateful for my agent, Nancy Yost, who ke
eps the contracts coming and encourages me when I falter, and for Bob, who puts up with a wife who gets engrossed in a world that isn’t there. Most of all, I’m grateful to you, the readers who have made this series not only possible but fun. Thanks to you all!
8Who Killed the Queen of Clubs?
7Who Let That Killer in the House?
6When Will the Dead Lady Sing?
5Guess Who’s Coming to Die?
4But Why Shoot the Magistrate?
3Who Left That Body in the Rain?
2Did You Declare the Corpse?
1Who Invited the Dead Man?
What Are You Wearing to Die? Page 27
