Val Fremden Mystery Box Set 3

by Margaret Lashley

“Yes, Mom.”

  “Well, what are y’all waitin’ for?” she barked. “Get inside a’fore you let all the AC out.”

  We followed Mom inside. She waved a ham-hock sized arm at a plaid couch that nearly matched the hideous chair of Tom’s that I’d laid waste to last month with my Hammer of Justice.

  Huh. Maybe that’s why I hated that chair so much....

  “Y’all have a seat,” Mom said.

  Goober headed for a brown recliner and was about to make butt-fall when Mom yelled, “Not there!”

  He made a hasty reversal and joined me and Winky on the ugly couch. The three of us watched like mesmerized puppies as Mom backed her sizeable derriere up to the brown recliner, leaned backward, and let gravity take her the rest of the way down. The worn-out recliner creaked in protest. Its groans echoed off the dusty knick-knacks and wood-paneled walls surrounding us.

  I breathed in the smell of the place. It was comfortingly familiar, even if it was an odor best described as the comingling of stale farts, old cheese, and Jergens hand lotion. I probably would’ve been more embarrassed if I hadn’t been so mortified about the old pictures of me hanging on the walls.

  Mixed in among a hodgepodge of classic Olan Mills family portraits, images of me could be found in various stages of my life, including without teeth, without boobs, and without hope.

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” Goober said without the slightest bit of irony.

  He really is a good friend.

  “Hrrmph,” Mom grunted. “You know how it is. When you got kids, you got nothin’ else.”

  “Mom, you haven’t had any kids in here for thirty years.”

  “No thanks to you, Valliant. Couldn’t see fit to make me a grand-baby.”

  For a second, I thought about showing her a picture of Snogs. But I knew it wouldn’t fly. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “Y’all hungry?” Mom asked.

  “I thought we’d all go out to eat,” I offered, mostly because I didn’t feel like having to scrounge through the leftovers in her refrigerator and then wash all the containers. “Where’s the Hosta...husband.... Uh...where’s Dale, Mom?”

  “He’s off in that blamed golf cart with Tiny McMullen.”

  “I remember that feller,” Winky said. “He’s the one what fixed Tom’s 4Runner when we had that axle-dent when we was up here last.”

  “Yep,” Mom said. “That’s right. Too bad Tom ain’t here, too. Val, you ain’t no prize poultry no more. It’s time you learned how to hold onto a man.”

  “I told you, Mom. We’re still together. He just couldn’t come. He’s working on a missing person case.”

  Mom eyed me skeptically. “Uh-huh. I’d say he’s the one’s gone missin’.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you think Tiny might be able to take a look at Goober’s RV?”

  “I don’t know, Vallie. Ask him yoreself. They just pulled up.”

  I ran out the front door to greet Dale. He’d come into my life after I was grown, but he’d been worth the wait. Unlike my mother, I’d never heard him say an unkind word about anyone. The poor little guy was as blind as he was kind. With glasses as thick as coke bottles, Dale never saw me coming.

  I wrapped my arms around him. “Hi, Dale!”

  “Is that you, Val?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well I’ll be,” he said, and hugged me tight against him. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You, too.”

  “You remember Tiny McMullen, don’t you?”

  “Sure.” I shook hands with a man so tall and big around he probably wouldn’t fit inside a large chest freezer. Then I worried about why I would make such an odd observation.

  “Howdy, Dale, Howdy, Tiny,” Winky’s voice sounded behind me.

  “I see he’s still out,” Tiny whispered to me.

  “Huh?” Then I remembered at our last visit. I’d told Tiny we were transporting Winky to Chattahoochee mental hospital. It had been a joke. But it had apparently stuck. “Oh! Yes. He’s all better now.”

  Tiny eyed Winky, then the flaming hearse, and asked, “That your vehicle?”

  “Yep,” Winky answered.

  “She’s a beaut. Mind if I look under the hood?”

  “Be glad to show you, Tiny. She’s got herself a diesel V8, you know.”

  Tiny shook his enormous head and grunted appreciatively. “I’ll be.”

  “Maybe when you two are done we could run up to Betty Jean’s Beauty & Feed and have a look at my RV,” Goober said from the porch. “It needs some major work.”

  Winky shot a knowing look at Tiny. “Busted pistons.”

  “You don’t say,” Tiny said with a grin. “That’s my favorite kind.”

  “TINY SURE LOVES WORKING on engines, doesn’t he?” I asked Mom as we stood on the front porch and watched the guys climb into the hearse. “Sure you don’t want to go along for the ride?”

  “Nope,” Mom said. “I’ll just wait right here.”

  “Me, too.”

  Mom shot me a look. “I got dibs on the bathroom.”

  Crap!

  “Well, hurry up.”

  “You cain’t hurry perfection,” Mom said, and hobbled down the hallway.

  Great.

  Some women had synchronized periods. My mother and I had synchronized bowels. Whenever I needed to go, you could bet the farm that she did, too. Her place only had one toilet, and she always beat me to it without fail.

  “SO, HOW’VE YOU BEEN Mom?” I asked, and handed her a glass of iced tea.

  “Meh. Fair to middlin’. I come into this world with nothin’, Val, and as you can see, I still got most of it left.”

  “Mom!”

  “But at least I’m better off than you. I still got Dale.”

  “Mom, I really am still with Tom.”

  “You ain’t married. You ever plannin’ to?”

  “No plans as yet. I want to take it slow. I don’t want to make another big mistake.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Valliant. Tom ain’t no mistake. I like him.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure. I’ve learnt over the years to never underestimate the value of a man who bathes regular.”

  I took a sip of sweet tea and sucked my teeth.

  “Yeah. Well, Mom, you’re right. Tom does have that going for him.”

  Chapter Thirty

  I was lost in the pine woods alone. The pounding of heavy footsteps drew nearer. Some horrid creature was after me! The sound of its panting and growling grew louder as it got nearer...ever nearer.

  I held my breath and braved a peek through a scrub palm. Gadzooks! It was a huge brown bear! Its eyes locked on me. Suddenly, it began to barrel toward me, crashing through the scrub, causing the earth underneath me to reverberate with each pounding step.

  I tried to get up, to run – but my legs were paralyzed! Before I could move, the bear leapt on top of me. It threw back its hideous head and let out a horrible, gravely howl. It put its nose up against mine. The hairs on its head were frizzed like a bad perm. I could feel the hot saliva draining from the bear’s lips onto my face. It opened its mouth and let out a roar not unlike the sound of a toilet flushing....

  I awoke with a start. In the moonlight filtering through the dust particles, I could see I was in my mother’s living room. I’d fallen asleep on the couch.

  I sat up on one elbow and wiped the drool from my chin. Someone had covered me with a blanket. Lying beside me was a teddy bear. The same one Winky had given Goober at the hospital.

  Slow, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. A door creaked closed. I sighed and leaned back onto the pillow. I pulled the stuffed bear to my chest, smiled, and closed my eyes.

  I WOKE AGAIN SOME TIME later, feeling as if I had gotten a new lease on life. With the help of Winky and Goober, I’d survived the evening with my mother. All I had to do now was get through breakfast and I was home free.

  I stumbled into the kitchen and scooped a whole cup of Folgers into a
filter, poured a carafe of water into the Mr. Coffee machine, and hit the “on” switch.

  So far, so good.

  But I should have known my luck wouldn’t hold.

  Goober was the first to emerge from the guest room down the hall, where he and Winky had shared a full-sized bed for the night.

  “Morning,” he said, and rubbed his bald pate.

  “Morning,” I said. “Coffee?”

  “Please and thank you, ma’am.” He shook his head. “You know, Val, I had no idea Lucille was your mom.

  “Yesterday you offered me your condolences. Why? What did you hear about her?”

  “Well, it’s probably just old-lady gossip, but I heard she can be a tad self-absorbed.”

  “You think?” I deadpanned.

  Goober snickered. “I heard she missed her best friend’s wedding because she was getting her hair done.”

  “That’s a totally true story. What else did you hear?”

  “Well, I know this for a fact, because I do her hair. Your mother’s got a bald spot on the back of her head as big as a goose egg.”

  “What from? She’s not sick is she?”

  “No. Just scrubbed it off sitting in that Barcalounger all day.”

  “Oh my word! She’d be mortified to know that.”

  Goober started to say something, but was interrupted by a round of sneezing that sounded like an asthmatic donkey.

  “That would be my mother. She’s prone to sneezing spells.”

  “Is she allergic?” Goober asked.

  “Yeah. To cleaning, I think.”

  Goober looked around. “Well, from the looks of this place, I think that’s a true story as well.”

  I TOOK MY TIME GETTING dressed while Mom and Winky sat at the dining room table drinking coffee. The three of us were waiting on Dale and Goober to get back from IGA. They’d taken the golf cart there to get donuts.

  As I walked back into the dining room, Winky was finishing up a story I was kind of glad I’d missed.

  “But that’s the honest truth, Mrs. Short,” he said. “I didn’t bite the feller. I just closed my mouth and his ear was in it.”

  “It could a happened to anyone,” Mom said in the conciliatory tone she usually reserved for the elderly folks at her church.

  “So, how’s yore momma?” Mom asked Winky.

  “She ain’t been the same since she lost her false teeth in that leaf-blower incident.”

  “Is that a fact,” Mom said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, she loved them choppers. She got herself a new set, but they wasn’t never the same. After that, she kind a lost her confidence, you know? The spunk went out of her like a fart out of a whoopee cushion.”

  “It’s a hard thing when a woman’s looks start to fade,” Mom said. She shot me a look. “Ain’t it, Val?”

  I felt what was left of my self-worth implode. “Absolutely,” I said, and wished I had some gin to pour in my coffee.

  The sight of the golf cart pulling up in the front yard made me nearly jump for joy. Until I saw Goober, that is. He was wearing that yellow pantsuit and that darned Mohawk. He made it to the door before I had time to stop him.

  “Elmira?” Mom asked as he came through to the dining room. “What are you doing here?”

  Winky laughed. “Goober, you sure make one ugly woman.”

  “Goober?” Mom asked. “You? You’re Elmira? From the beauty shop?”

  Oh, crap! Now Mom’s going to think he’s a cross dresser.

  “Yes, I am one and the same,” Goober said. He set the box of donuts on the table and bowed with a flourish.

  “Are you leaving today with Val?” she asked, a horrified look on her face.

  “Yes, ma’am. Tiny said he can tow the RV back to St. Pete for me.”

  I closed my eyes. Oh, no. Here comes the judge....

  “Well, I sure am sorry to hear that,” Mom said in a tone that sounded genuine. “I hate to see you go.”

  My eyes flew open with surprise.

  “Why, thank you, Mrs. Short,” Goober said.

  Mom opened the box of donuts, picked out a cruller, and took a huge bite. “Goober, darlin’,” she said sweetly, “could you do me a favor and tease my hair up real good one more time before you go?”

  THE TV WAS BLARING out The Price is Right at ten million decibels, but Mom actually got out of her Barcalounger to see us off this time. She and Dale stood with me on the front porch and we watched Goober and Winky help Tiny McMullen secure the Minnie Winnie to Tiny’s tow truck. The fellows had already said their goodbyes to Mom and Dale.

  “Well, I guess we’ll be going,” I said.

  “It was great to see you again,” Dale said.

  “You, too, Dale.” He gave me a hug and went back inside.

  “Why you got to run off?” Mom asked.

  “I told you. I’ve got that luau party tomorrow.”

  “You and your fancy city life. Whoever heard of giving a luau for a pig?”

  “It’s not exactly for a pig,” I said, then realized it actually was. The whole stupid thing had been concocted to save Randolph’s hide.

  I’m living my life around the needs of my neighbor’s pet pig! Geeze! I need to start setting better priorities!

  “So long, Mom.” I started to step off the porch. Mom grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to one side.

  “I just want you to know something, Vallie. I liked Tom better’n Goober. Even though I got to admit, that man can tease hair like nobody’s business.”

  She patted her hair, which, thanks to Goober, was the size and shape of a honeydew melon.

  “Mom, like I told you. I’m not with Goober. I’m still with Tom.”

  “Good. ‘Cause I like to think of you settled Val. In your own place and all.”

  “Thanks, m –”

  Mom turned and yelled inside the house. “Dale! Keep yore hands off my crullers! You hear me?”

  She turned back to me. “You should be with somebody you love and respect, Vallie. You know. Like me n’ Dale.”

  “Right, Mom.”

  “That Tom feller. You better hold onto him. You ain’t getting’ any younger, Vallie. And that behind of yours ain’t getting any smaller.”

  That’s like the sow calling the piglet fat....Just how much of this was I supposed to take?

  “Well, you know what Mom? You’ve got a bal–”

  Mom’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What, Vallie? I’ve got a what?”

  “You’ve got a bunch of family that loves you.”

  Mom blew out a breath and shrugged. “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  As always, it was an odd, mashed-up feeling to watch my mom as she stood on the front porch, shrinking down to the size of an ant in the rearview mirror. Or maybe, in her case, to the size of a dung beetle.

  The child in me was leaving home. The adult in me was escaping prison. I was sad. I was happy. I was turned inside-out from confliction.

  I guess it showed on my face.

  “Nothing feels quite as double-edged as cutting your losses,” Goober said to me from the backseat of the hearse.

  My furrowed brow released its pensive grip. I turned in my seat to face Goober. “That’s it exactly. How did you know?”

  Goober grinned and shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve got relatives, too.”

  I smiled, then sighed and looked past Goober out the back window to the cloud of orange dust rising up from the road. It nearly obliterated the view of Tiny McMullen’s tow truck as it followed behind us, pulling the old RV.

  “I guess nobody’s all good or all evil,” I said.

  “Tell that to my preacher,” Winky said, elbowing me. “He’s always askin’ us, ‘When Jesus comes, you want to be in the smoking or non-smoking section?’”

  I grinned at Goober, then turned back around in my seat, content to watch the countryside as the hearse wound its way toward the interstate.

  “SHOULD WE STOP FOR lun
ch in Lake City?” I asked when we were about twenty miles from the junction of I-10 and I-75.

  “We could go to Taco Schnell,” Goober said.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of tacos?” I asked him.

  “Negatory.”

  I thought about the broccoli salad Tom was probably preparing for tonight’s dinner. “Taco Schnell sounds good to me.”

  “Why not,” Winky said. “The hearse needs gas. If we go there, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Nice one, Winky,” I said.

  “What?” he asked. “I been meanin’ to try Taco Schnell. To tell the truth, I think Winnie might be addicted to it. She picks up lunch for us nearly every day. She gets me KFC but she always eats Taco Schnell.”

  “Why do you get KFC instead?” I asked.

  “I ain’t too big on ethnic food.”

  “Right.”

  “But if my gal Winnie likes it so much, maybe I should try to like it, too. That stuff must be good for your digestion. After lunch, Winnie goes directly to the toilet. I hear her flushin’ it three or four times.”

  “You really haven’t eaten at Taco Schnell, have you?” Goober said. “It’s tasty. But they do put the ‘schnell’ in gastric momentum.”

  “And they got parkin’ for tractor trailers,” Winky said.

  “Yes,” Goober said. “And there’s that, too.”

  “I AIN’T EAT HERE IN a coon’s age,” Tiny said as we grabbed our bags of tacos and headed for a table. “Not since my Aunt Vera got herself arrested in the one in Dothan.”

  “Arrested?” I asked. “What’d she do?”

  “They accused her of shoplifting a pile a hot sauce packets, but they was trumped-up charges. Downright ridiculous, really. Anybody could a seen the nightgown she was wearin’ at the time didn’t even have any pockets.”

  And I thought Winky was a hick....

  Desperate to change the subject, I blurted out something I’d been saving for the second half of the trip back to St. Pete. I slid into the booth beside Goober.

  “Goober, I’ve been meaning to ask you. I found the note you left me.”