Elvis and the Buried Brides (A Southern Cousins Mystery, plus bonus short story)

by Webb, Peggy

  “That seems a long shot to me,” Darlene says.

  “Well, have you got a better idea, missy?” It doesn’t take much for Fayrene to get miffed at her daughter.

  “What about Jewel Moffett?” Darlene says.

  “Flitter, Darlene.” Ruby Nell taps her pen on her notepad. “She’s in prison.”

  “Yes, but who sent her there?”

  It was my human mom, of course. Not only is Callie the best hair stylist in Mooreville, but she’s also a crackerjack amateur sleuth. Mostly, she’s a reluctant detective, but when she gets backed into a corner, she comes out fighting.

  I try not to think about the corner she’s backed into now.

  The women exchange knowing looks, and Darlene adds, “Jewel could be using her connections outside to get even with Callie for sending her to jail.”

  “It’s a long shot, but if Jewel is the mastermind behind the kidnapping, she’d pick Callie’s wedding to do it.” Ruby Nell adds Jewel’s name to the list.

  I’ll go along with this latest suspect. Jewel would probably call it poetic justice to kidnap Callie right before she walks down the altar.

  “If you ask me,” Fayrene says, “Leonora Moffett is more likely to have done this than her mama. She was in the store day before yesterday and she just looked prostate with grief.”

  “Well, who wouldn’t be, Mama? She was so upset over the way Jim Boy Sloan died by the wash and rinse sinks, she quit coming to Hair.Net.”

  “See. That’s what I’m talking about!” Fayrene nudges Ruby Nell. “Put her down. She blames Callie for his murder.”

  “I don’t see why.” Ruby Nell digs her heels in. “Her own mama’s the one who got carried off in handcuffs.”

  “I can read people’s auroras, Ruby Nell. Leonora’s is turning brown. And she’s letting her hygiene go, to boot. Sometimes people who have as much trouble as she did just go off into a state of Bolivia.”

  “All right. I’m convinced.” Ruby Nell adds Leonora’s name to the suspect list. “Anybody else?”

  Everybody shrugs, and Darlene says, “We need a plan.”

  “Let’s go integrate Billy first since he’s the closest.”

  Fayrene’s right . Mooreville’s Feed and Seed is just across the street. He took it over after his uncle went to that great feed store in the sky. I’m not kidding. That’s what Ruby Nell put on Roy Jessup’s tombstone. Callie argued with her about that one, but his nephew said it was a kick.

  Fayrene and Ruby Nell gather their purses, but Darlene holds up her hand like she’s directing traffic.

  “Wait a minute. We can’t all go traipsing over there. We’ll look like a team of vigilantes. Everybody sit tight and I’ll go. ”

  Ruby Nell and Fayrene exchange one of their famous looks that means they’re heading for trouble, and it probably involves carousing. Then they both tell Darlene what a great idea she’s had and she should hurry on off and get right to it.

  Darlene hustles out and drives off in her car, satisfied, no doubt, that she’s cracking the case and taking care of her mama and Ruby Nell at the same time. After all, what can they do without a car?

  Plenty, I’m here to tell you. The only good thing I can say about the plan they hatch behind Darlene’s back is that I’m here to make sure they don’t get killed.

  Chapter 4

  Weapons, Half Baked Plans and the Elephant of Surprise

  I don’t know how long Lovie and I stand in the deep hole listening for the Bronson brothers. In total blackness, it’s hard to keep track of time.

  “I think they’ve gone, Lovie. Do you hear anything?”

  “No. But if they’re as hungry as I am, they’ve left to get food.”

  “Could be. They don’t seem like the types who would figure out that one of them needs to stand guard.” I grope in the dark until I find the ladder.

  “What are you doing, Cal?”

  “Climbing back up to see if I can open the trap door.”

  I navigate the ladder by feel. If my calculations are right, I’m about halfway up when one of the metal rungs gives way.

  “Watch out below, Lovie!”

  There’s a thud followed by a series of words I’ll never let Lovie say around my children….if I get out of this hole and marry Jack again and convince him that parenthood and a station wagon are better than a Harley.

  “Did it hit you, Lovie?”

  “It missed killing me, but now I’ve got a weapon. This baby will do some damage!”

  “Great.”

  I climb with renewed vigor. As I near the top, my sixth sense kicks in and I slow down so I won’t bang my head on the covering.

  “Are you there yet?”

  “Just about.” I reach upward and grope around until my hand meets metal. “Got it, Lovie!”

  Clinging to the ladder with one hand, I push with the other. The covering doesn’t move, not even one little bit.

  “Any luck, Cal?”

  “Not yet.”

  She says a word that would wilt spinach and I ease upward to put my shoulders to the task. I’m stouter than I look. A woman responsible for the beauty of the entire population of Mooreville has to keep herself fit. I jog every morning, usually with Elvis, who fancies himself the King collecting admiring glances from the neighbors. I don’t have the heart to tell him they’re just making sure he doesn’t pee on their hydrangeas.

  I shove until I’m exhausted, and get no more results than I did the first time.

  “I can’t do it, Lovie. We’re stuck in here.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “I don’t know how you can say that.”

  “Because I have a plan. Get your butt back down here.”

  With my shoulders aching and my spirits sagging, I climb back down, slower this time so I won’t lose my footing because of the missing rung.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Do you think these Bronson brothers are capable of killing, Cal?”

  “Holy cow! What kind of question is that? They threatened to slit my throat.”

  “Yeah, but do you think they’d do it?”

  Lovie always defers to me in matters like this. You’re the one with the genius IQ she’s always telling me.

  I rack my poor, tired brain, trying to recall everything the kidnappers have said.

  Suddenly, the answer is clear as a bell.

  “No. They wouldn’t.”

  “You’re sure about that, Cal.”

  “Positive. They said, and I quote, ‘I didn’t count on killing.’ ”

  “Great. I have a plan, but it’s going to depend on Fayrene’s elephant of surprise.”

  It feels good to find something to laugh about.

  We get in a huddle while Lovie outlines a far-fetched plan that has little to no chance of success. Still, it’s better than nothing.

  *

  After what seems like a small eternity, Lovie and I hear noises from above. The Bronson brothers stomp around our hole in the ground and snarl at each other in what sounds like a continuation of an on-going argument.

  “What are we going to do about it, Ralph?”

  “You figure it out. It was your big idea.”

  ”We might as well make a little profit on the side. That truck will fetch a pretty penny.”

  They stomp off, and I can no longer hear what they’re saying.

  “Holy cow, Lovie,” I whisper. “Did you hear that?’

  “Yeah, looks like they’re going to sell your truck.”

  “The sooner the better. It’ll lead Jack right to us.”

  We try to give each other high fives in the dark and I end up smashing Lovie in the shoulder. Then we collapse against each other in nervous giggles.

  I hear mumbling that gets more distinct as the Bronson brothers head back to our underground prison.

  “Get that plate down there,” Ralph says. “We’ve got a job to do here.”

  “I ain’t taking that food down there, and that’s final. That hole’s
full of spiders.”

  “Idiot! How do you expect them to stay alive if they don’t eat?”

  “Watch who you’re calling idiot? Whose idea was it to put them in the hole, in the first place?”

  “I figured that’s the only way to hold onto Callie. The boss said she’s too smart for her own good.”

  The boss? Lovie and I squeeze each other’s arms, secret sign language for wait and see what else we can learn before we put our plan in motion.

  “The boss is somebody who knows me,” I whisper to Lovie. “Who hates me enough to do this?”

  “Could be, they just know of you, Cal.”

  The Bronson brothers begin pacing around, occasionally stepping onto the metal covering. The sound ricochets off the walls of our underground prison and I cover my ears.

  Lovie punches me in the ribs. “It’s time.”

  I don’t need a second invitation. Opening my mouth, I let out a blood-curdling scream.

  “Did you hear that?” Swifty says.

  “Of course, I did, fool. I’m not deaf.”

  I scream again, louder this time, and follow up with a series of gut-wrenching moans.

  One of our captors stomps on the metal covering. “What’s going on down there?”

  “Callie’s sick,” Lovie yells up.

  “It ain’t our problem,” Swifty yells back.

  “It’s going to be your problem when she dies,” Lovie bellows.

  “We ain’t worried about the law.”

  Lovie jabs me with an elbow, and I turn loose another series of ear-splitting screams.

  Above us, Ralph says a word that’s not even in the dictionary.

  My cousin gives this diabolical laugh that even sends chills over me. “It’s not the law you ought to be worried about. It’s Jack Jones. When he finds Callie dead, he won’t wait for the law. He’ll kill you himself. The slow way.”

  She punches me again, and hisses, “Tone it down a bit. Act like you’re dying.”

  It feels like the hole is suddenly closing in on me. “I am.”

  “Not today, Cal.”

  I turn loose a series of moans that send the Bronson brothers into a frenzy of pacing and arguing.

  “What you think we ought to do?” This is Ralph, the certain one. I take his uncertainty as a good sign.

  “Now you’re asking?”

  “What does it sound like, idiot?”

  “Call me that one more time, and I’m out of here.”

  “I guess you don’t want to get paid.”

  I turn my performance up a notch. The brothers cease pacing to stomp on the metal cover.

  “Stop that racket. We can’t think.”

  “What else is new?” Lovie mutters, and my moans turn to giggles. I cover my mouth and fake a coughing fit.

  “All right! Shut up down there! “ This is Ralph, trying to act as if he’s in charge of things. “We’re going to get you out, but if you’re faking, your goose is cooked. Understand?”

  “She’s not faking,” Lovie yells. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  Here comes Phase Two of our half-baked plan. I can’t wait to see this.

  Elvis Opinion #5 on Suspects, Sleuthing and the Art of Geriatric Seduction

  Darlene’s no sooner out of sight then Fayrene whips out her cell phone to call her husband. Naturally, my super hero ears perk up.

  “Jarvetis, hon, I need the hearse.”

  “Are you dead, Fayrene?”

  “Ha, ha. That’s not funny. If you hadn’t had that heart castration, I’d be planning your urology. Just get it over here and make it snappy.”

  When she pockets her cell phone, Ruby Nell’s got a glass of ice tea waiting for her.

  “Is anything in here?”

  “Just a little nip of Grey Goose.”

  “I’ll be driving.”

  “Flitter, Fayrene. What does that matter? I’ll be back-seat driving.”

  They lift their glasses for a toast, never mind that yours truly is sitting here patient as can be with nothing to drink except the tepid water from my bowl Ruby Nell keeps in the kitchen. I howl a short chorus of Walk a Mile in my Shoes, and she hustles back to the kitchen for some PupPeroni.

  Thank you, thank you very much.

  While they wait for transportation, the two women sit down with their tea and elaborate on their sleuthing scheme. I won’t go into details. They might scare the faint-hearted into one of Fayrene’s Cadillac arrests.

  Before long, Jarvetis drives up in the hearse. I don’t know why they chose to go off in a vehicles emblazoned with Gas, Grits and Guts in huge neon pink lettering.

  Ruby Nell peers out into the parking lot. “Maybe we ought to take my car. You can see that hearse coming a mile.”

  “Who cares? It’s not like we plan to remain unanimous.”

  Exactly! They stow their glasses in the kitchen and are sitting there prim as two church ladies when Jarvetis comes in.

  “Ladies. Are you ready?”

  He tips his cap, a battered old maroon and white from Mississippi State. His red hair is sticking up in spikes all over his narrow head. I’d suggest a good haircut from my human mom, but my best buddy Trey tells me Jarvetis wouldn’t be caught dead in a beauty shop.

  Nobody would call the other half of Gas, Grits and Guts handsome, but he’s won this famous but humble dog over. I’ve never set foot in the store without him giving me a snack of pickled pigs’ lips.

  “I was born ready, Jarvetis,” Fayrene says, and her husband’s ears turn the color of his hair.

  The women trot toward the door, and I’m right behind them. Listen, with Jack gone, I’m in charge. If these two think they’re going to shake, rattle and roll without me, they’d better think again!

  “Maybe Elvis ought to stay here and wait for Darlene.”

  “Flitter, Fayrene! What’s he going to tell her?” Ruby Nell gives me a boost into the back seat and I sit straight up in case they roll down the windows and my ears can catch a breeze.

  Fayrene lets the unsuspecting Jarvetis drive across the street to drop him off at Gas, Grits and Guts. He gets out and escorts his wife around to the driver’s seat. A real gentleman. They don’t make them like him and Charlie anymore. Except, of course, my human dad.

  “Where’re you two going?” Jarvetis asks Fayrene.

  “Shopping, hon. They’ve got a sale on yarn.”

  “What do you need with yarn?”

  “I’m planning to hand crochet another African.”

  Fayrene settles behind the wheel and drives sedately off. She turns left at the four-way stop and heads down to Ruby Nell’s farm.

  “Wait here, Elvis,” Ruby Nell tells me when we get there.

  Who does she think she’s fooling? I heard everything they said, and understood it, too. Listen, I’m the brilliant but modest icon who could hear a song one time and then sit down at the piano and play it. Of course, that was back when I had two legs and opposable digits. Still, I haven’t lost one bit of my intelligence. Or charm, either.

  I sit in the car, grateful it’s not summer or I’d be baked by the time they come out of the house. They’ve ditched their feathered headdresses, but what they’re now wearing won’t do to tell. Suffice it to say, they have the modesty to cover themselves with two black trench coats before they leave Ruby Nell’s front porch.

  Fayrene slides behind the wheel, and we’re off toward trouble. As we pass back by the feed store, Ruby Nell says, “I wonder what Darlene found out?”

  “Knowing her, she got sidetracked talking to Billy and forgot he’s a suspect. She’ll call when she’s got something to report.”

  “By then it will be too late.”

  She can say that again! Fayrene narrowly misses a mailbox, but Ruby Nell doesn’t let out a peep. So much for back-seat driving. On the other hand, I’m having a hard time holding onto my PupPeroni.

  When Ruby Nell’s cell phone rings, both women jump. Fayrene swerves and the back of the hearse takes out a hydrange
a bush. It’s bumping along behind us like something deranged.

  “Who is it, Ruby Nell?”

  “Jack.” She puts her phone to her ear and shouts, “How’s it going?”

  “The good news is that Charlie and I have some topnotch help.” There’s some wind noise in the backseat because this hearse is not air tight. I lean my handsome head toward the front seat so I won’t miss the latest news.

  “What kind of help?”

  “An old friend who used to be in law enforcement.”

  “Do I know him?”

  “Her. It’s Linda LeLane. And she’s as good as they come on kidnapping.”

  Listen, I saw the way Cake Girl acted around Jack. If you ask me, she’s not in this because of her expertise in catching criminals. She wants to play Adam and Evil.

  “Ruby Nell, are you still there?”

  “I’m here, Jack. Do you have any leads?”

  “I can’t talk about that right now. You and Elvis just sit tight. Are you still with Fayrene?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Don’t get into trouble.”

  “For Pete’s sake, Jack. What kind of trouble could we get in?” She tells him goodbye and stows her phone before he can find out they are headed straight for disaster.

  “What’d he say?” Fayrene wants to know.

  “Nothing. That’s the way men are. Even Jack.”

  “Maybe you ought to call him back and tell him we didn’t find any ransom notes at your shop or the house, either.”

  “Flitter, and have him give me the third degree? Keep driving, Fayrene. And try not to run over another hydrangea bush.”

  “When? Where?”

  “Back yonder somewhere.”

  “If somebody planted a bush in the middle of the road, they need some help with landscaping.”

  “Amen!”

  When we come to Highland Circle in Tupelo, Fayrene slows down and cruises the neighborhood.

  “Which house is his, Ruby Nell?”