Down Home and Deadly

by Christine Lynxwiler

She really was totally self-centered. “Speaking of Larry,” I said. I sort of felt odd calling him Larry. I’d always hear him referred to as Lawrence, but Bob and Lisa both called him Larry, so I decided to follow their example. “How did he feel about you and J.D.?”

  “Poor Larry.” Lisa lost some of her composure. “That’s my biggest fear.” She swiped at a tear. It even looked real. Maybe there was a heart in there somewhere. “He was so jealous. What if he decided to have it out with J.D. and just lost control? I don’t think I could bear to be the wife of a murderer.” She shivered and continued. “Besides, if Larry killed J.D., it was partly my fault. He was always possessive. That’s one reason I left him. I just had to have some breathing room.”

  “Oh. I thought—” I came to a stop.

  “You thought what?” Comprehension washed over her face. “Ooh. Dad told you that story I told him. About how Larry was abusive. Well, I had to say something. Dad adores me. But he expects me to stay married unless I have a good reason not to. So I gave him a good reason.” She shrugged.

  I just shook my head. This girl was the queen of situation ethics.

  “I’m curious about something.” I hadn’t planned to ask this question, but now that I was here, I had to know.

  “What about?”

  “Rumor has it that there was a towel under your car seat with J.D.’s blood on it. Do you know how it got there?”

  She frowned. “I heard that, too, but I had no idea it was there.”

  “Wonder how it got there?”

  “Well, Sherlock, I suppose it had to be either one of two things. Either J.D. cut himself shaving or something and stuffed the towel under there himself. Or someone planted it.”

  I ignored her ‘Sherlock’ dig in favor of getting information. “Which do you think happened?”

  She shrugged. “Since someone stole my gun, my guess is the same person planted the towel in my car. I just can’t figure out who would want to hurt me like that.” She reached over and rubbed Fluffy’s head. “Or hurt my precious baby, either.”

  “They hurt your dog?” I asked, eyeing the tiny ball of fluff. Other than occasionally baring its teeth, it looked fine to me.

  She put her hands over the dog’s ears. “Fluffy’s not just a dog. She’s my baby.” I was wrong. Lisa wasn’t totally self-centered. After all, she had spared a thought for her “baby.” “And if I’m upset, she gets upset.”

  “I understand.” I had a neurotic cat didn’t I? “Some animals are sensitive to their master’s moods.” And I’m sure if any animal was sensitive, it would be Fluffy. And Lisa probably had more moods than most.

  “I think I’ll call Dad and have him take Fluffy out to Larry. He’s the only person who loves her as much as I do.”

  Just one more errand for poor Bob to do for his princess. On the other hand, this would be a perfect opportunity for me to check out Larry in person. “Or I can run Fluffy out to Larry’s.”

  “Oh.” She gave me a measured look. “I suppose that would work.”

  Talk about gratitude. Not that I expected any.

  She called Larry and told him I was coming then gave me directions and stressed that Fluffy only traveled in a cage. At least she got out of bed long enough to get all of the dog’s things together. She actually packed a suitcase for the canine.

  I lugged the suitcase to my car first then came back for the dog.

  “Remind Larry this is only temporary,” she told me. “As soon as this mess is behind me, I get her back.”

  “I’ll tell him,” I promised.

  I was almost to the top of the stairs when Lisa called me back. And to think I’d thought my days of being summoned by her were over when I quit the club. “Yes?” I said. I lugged the small dog carrier back up to her room.

  She looked up from her novel as if I were bothering her. “Oh. I wanted to ask you something. I don’t usually listen to rumors, but I heard J.D.’s ex-wife was in town. They say she’s really trashy. Is that true?”

  I stared at her. I was taking her dog to her husband until she could get over her boyfriend’s murder. And she was asking me if someone else was “trashy.” “You’d have to be your own judge of that, Lisa,” I said softly and let myself out the door.

  “I’ll see for myself at the funeral tomorrow anyway,” she called haughtily as I walked down the stairs.

  Fluffy, in the carrier by my side, barked in reply. But I just kept walking.

  *****

  *****

  Chapter Fifteen

  Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick

  “How do you talk me into these things?” Carly settled into her seat and buckled in.

  “You mean you don’t enjoy going with me to confront possible murderers?”

  “Don’t act so surprised,” she drawled. “I told you the first time you dragged me into trying to solve a murder that I’m a big chicken.”

  “Well now that we know he didn’t abuse Lisa, what do think the chances are that Larry did it?” I asked.

  “You said he’s really jealous, so I’m not sure.” She glanced at Fluffy in her carrier in the backseat. “I guess it all depends on how he treats the dog.”

  I grinned as I guided the car into the fringes of Lake View’s ritziest neighborhood. “So murderers are mean to animals as a general rule?”

  “Probably. You’re the expert on murder, not me.”

  I turned into a private drive and drove through the imposing gates and up a long driveway to an even more impressive house.

  We sat for a second rubbernecking at the mansion on the hill. “Doesn’t that just make you want to call the butler to bring high tea, dahling?” My English accent was atrocious, flavored as it was by an Arkansas drawl.

  “Ignore her,” Carly muttered to Fluffy as she got the carrier out of the backseat. “She gets goofier when she’s nervous.”

  “She’s the one you need to watch out for,” I said to the dog. “She gets clumsy when she’s nervous.”

  Carly snickered. “True.”

  In spite of our warnings to Fluffy, we made it to the front door without incident. When I pushed the doorbell, loud, rich chimes sounded inside.

  A middle-aged woman wearing a white blouse tucked neatly in a knee-length black skirt opened the door. We told her our names, and she showed us to a spacious room with floor to ceiling bookshelves and a bay window complete with window seat. Fluffy jumped wildly in her carrier, making sharp yelping noises and scrabbling around. Carly handed me the plastic box, and I set it on the floor but left the door latched.

  “Mr. Hall will be with you in a moment.” She backed out and closed the double doors behind us. It occurred to me that was what they always meant in old books when they said someone withdrew.

  “This must be the withdrawing room,” I whispered to Carly. She looked at me as if I’d lost it. “Never mind,” I muttered. Jokes that have to be explained are never funny.

  Before we had time to get nosy, the double doors opened again. “Good afternoon.” Lawrence Hall was a good twenty-five years Lisa’s senior, but his white hair and sharp blue eyes gave him a distinguished man-about-town look. All smiles and gracious host, today he did remind me of Mr. Rourke from Fantasy Island.

  “Ah, I see you’ve brought my baby home.” He bent down toward the carrier where Fluffy was making happy squeaky noises. “Thank you.” He opened the carrier and lifted Fluffy out. He was rewarded with a long pink tongue licking him all over the face.

  While he was talking baby talk to Fluffy, Carly looked at me and shrugged. I knew she was remembering our conversation in the car about whether murderers were nice to animals.

  Larry gave us a sheepish grin. “I’ve missed her.”

  I smiled. No kidding. We’d never have guessed.

  He sat down in a leather recliner with Fluffy on his lap.

  “Would you ladies care for some refreshment?” Without waiting for a reply, he rang a bell on the table beside his chair. The woman who had shown us in ent
ered with a tray holding three glasses of iced tea and a plate of home-baked chocolate chip cookies.

  Larry handed us each a glass of tea and held out the plate for us to get a napkin and a cookie.

  “Thanks,” we chorused.

  “Nice weather for September, isn’t it?” he said just as Carly and I bit into our cookies. I’ve always wondered why people offer someone food then immediately start a conversation.

  We nodded.

  He cleared his throat and tried again. “The Cardinals look like they might go all the way this year.”

  I took a sip of my tea. “If they can keep their offense hitting like they have the last few games, they definitely have a chance.”

  Larry’s aristocratic eyebrows rose. “Ah, a fellow baseball fan.”

  “She went to St. Louis to a game the other night and sat eight rows behind home plate,” Carly said.

  Larry looked at me and nodded. “Nice seats. . .Sometimes I think we miss the feel of being a part of the crowd in our private box.”

  “Daddy always says if you can’t smell the popcorn, you might as well be watching it on TV,” I said without thinking.

  And that was the end of the baseball conversation.

  Carly and I exchanged a glance. I’d wanted to talk to Larry, but the atmosphere was so stilted that it was hard to ask questions like I usually did. I cleared my throat. “We’d better be going.”

  “Wait.” Larry leaned forward and set his glass down. “How’s Lisa?”

  “She’s having a pretty hard time.”

  “We all reap what we sow, don’t we?” His voice was hard.

  I winced. “Yes, I guess we do. But then again, we all make mistakes.” I wasn’t sure Lisa had hit rock bottom yet. And it obviously wouldn’t hurt her to do some serious soul searching, but I still pitied her.

  Larry rang the bell, and the maid appeared. “Please take Fluffy outside for a walk,” he commanded.

  The maid quickly took the little white dog and left the room.

  Larry turned back to us and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I offered to hire a lawyer for her, but she said Bob was taking care of it.” A strange expression crossed his face. “Looks like she’s going to need a good one.”

  “Do you think she killed him?” Carly asked, and he and I both looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. “You know her a lot better than we do.”

  He considered her question then shook his head slowly. “She’s been tired of me for at least three years, and she didn’t try to kill me. Why would she decide to murder to get rid of a boyfriend?” When he said the word “boyfriend,” the veins in his neck stood out and his face grew red.

  Thoughts of Debbie and her cell phone secret flitted through my mind. But after visiting Lisa, I was convinced that she didn’t know about J.D. and Debbie. No one was that good an actress.

  “But if she did have a strong motive, do you think she’s capable of murder?” Carly persisted. I gave her a mental thumbs-up sign. Sometimes when I least expected it, her inner Nancy Drew kicked in. It always made me proud.

  “Aren’t we all capable of murder in the right circumstances?” Larry gave Carly an enigmatic smile.

  She stiffened, and I waited for righteous indignation to spew forth. She surprised me.

  “In what circumstance would you, for instance, be capable of murder?” She smiled sweetly at him, tilted her head to one side, and waited for an answer.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It would take more than my wife running off with a guy for me to kill him, if that’s what you’re getting at.” And he smiled right back at her. “I might be tempted to kill her in that instance. But not him.”

  “And yet. . .”

  “And yet, Lisa’s not dead.” He smiled. “It’s all wrong, isn’t it? Is that why you came out here? To ask me if I killed this guy?”

  “Well.” Following Carly’s lead, I spoke more boldly than I normally would. “Do you have an alibi?”

  “I don’t need one. Unless you have a badge stashed somewhere on your person, and I don’t think you do, I don’t have to answer to you.”

  “So you refuse to say where you were the night of the murder?”

  “I refuse to answer impertinent questions from meddling women who should be minding their own business. There. Is that blunt enough for you?”

  His chilly smile never faltered as he stood and gestured to the door.

  “Ladies? Let me show you out. Thank you for bringing Fluffy. Give Lisa my regards.” His voice hardened. “And tell her I won’t wait forever for her to come to her senses. Good-bye, ladies.” And with a mocking bow, he ushered us out the front door. It closed with a definite click.

  “That went well,” Carly commented wryly as we exited the gates and headed home.

  *****

  “I hate funerals,” I complained to Carly as I pulled on one black shoe and looked around for the other one. “If Jolene hadn’t pressured me, I wouldn’t go.”

  “Oh, who are you kidding?” Carly pitched me my other shoe from the closet. “I’m the one who should be complaining about being dragged along. You know what you always say about the murderer returning to the scene of the crime. You wouldn’t miss this, and you know it.”

  I ducked my head. “You know me too well. But I do feel sorry for Jolene. She’s kind of obnoxious, but she doesn’t know anyone in town, and she was once married to J.D.”

  “I feel sorry for her, too, I guess. But I could do it from a distance. Especially since most of my employees seem to be taking off to go.”

  “Most of your employees? Who besides Debbie?” I gave her a sheepish grin. “And me?”

  “Marco.”

  “Marco?” That was a surprise.

  “Apparently Gail asked him to go with her. I think they kind of like each other, but they’re both too busy or too shy to do much about it.”

  “Wonder why Gail is going?” I’d understood she hadn’t been fond of J.D. when they worked together.

  “Gail’s a younger version of us, Jenna. Raised by a Southern mama to do the right thing whether you want to or not. He was a coworker, and it’s the right thing to go to coworkers’ funerals.”

  “I wonder if any of his grandmother’s friends will be there.”

  “They might. But with all the trouble he apparently gave her, they might not.”

  “But he did come to her funeral,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, probably just to see what he could get.” Once again my sister sounded cynical. “Are you almost ready?”

  “Yeah, Jolene wanted to pick us up here, but I convinced her to meet us at the funeral home. Wonder how Tom will do with the funeral?”

  “Oh, I think he can handle it. Assuming no one gets shot.” Carly referred to the last funeral we’d attended.

  “Don’t even think that!” I shuddered. “I just meant since he didn’t know J.D. And since at least one current girlfriend, and possibly two, along with the ex-wife will probably all attend. It could be awkward.”

  “Or it could be illuminating. Maybe someone will confess to his murder.”

  I shook my head. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  *****

  As soon as Carly and I entered the funeral home chapel, Jolene strutted toward us. In deference to the solemn occasion, she had on her black halter today with a black leather skirt and black boots that came up over her knees. Her snake tattoo matched her eye liner perfectly.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Carly hissed in my ear from behind.

  “Serious as a heart attack,” I murmured. “Just wait.” I’d tried to paint her a word picture of J.D.’s ex-wife, but obviously my description had fallen short of the reality.

  I introduced the two women, and Carly expressed polite condolences.

  Jolene slapped my arm with the back of her hand. “Girlfriend, didn’t you tell your sister that dying was the best thing Jimmy Dean ever did for me?”

  Carly’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word. She and Mama were b
oth so blessed with knowing the right thing to say that I kind of felt better that Jolene left her speechless.

  Tom LeMay, the funeral director, motioned Jolene toward the back. She waved at him and turned back to us. “When this is done, we need to go out and celebrate.”

  Again Carly didn’t utter a word. Not even an “It was nice meeting you.”

  When Jolene was gone, we found a seat halfway down the aisle, and Carly suddenly rediscovered her voice. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. That woman is crazy.”

  I shrugged. “She’s odd. But she’s honest. Sometimes that’s refreshing.”

  Carly’s face paled. “What do you mean by that?”

  I frowned. “I don’t mean anything by that. Why?”

  Before she could answer, a stir at the back of the small crowd drew our attention. Lisa, dressed in an elegant black dress and flanked by her parents, walked past Jolene as if she weren’t there. Lisa held a dainty handkerchief to her eyes, but Bob and Wilma looked grimly forward. Each held one of Lisa’s elbows, but she didn’t look heartbroken enough to faint. In fact, either her mascara was very waterproof or the handkerchief was a show. I saw no tears. They took a seat across the aisle from us, but they didn’t look our way.

  A murmured conversation behind us caused me to look back just as Tiffany and Ricky slid into the pew behind us.

  She leaned forward. “Hi.” She spoke in the low tones people often adopt in funeral situations. “I don’t usually cover funerals, but since this guy was murdered, I figured I might get a column out of it for the paper.”

  “I doubt there will be many people here,” I responded.

  “That’s why I dragged Ricky along.” She patted his hand tucked around her elbow. “I thought it’d look more respectful if there were a few people attending.”

  “I brought Carly for the same reason,” I said.

  Like Carly, Rick looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here, but he mustered a smile.

  “Yep, that’s me. The pew-filler,” he muttered.

  “It’s so nice to have someone who doesn’t mind giving up his free time when I need him.” Tiffany gave Rick a dazzling smile.