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

by Webb, Peggy

  “We’ll have to read the mailboxes.”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “Flitter, I didn’t say I knew the house. Just the neighborhood. You’re the one who told me he’d moved. Remember?”

  “I don’t remember any such thing. This business is making me so confused I’m liable to go home and take a nap on my sexual sofa.”

  “Not till we finish this interrogation.” Ruby Nell leans forward and points to a large Tudor with a large “W” over the entryway. “That has to be him.”

  Fayrene eases the hearse into the driveway, and we all bail out. With me still in this wedding tuxedo and the two of them sporting trench coats, we look like the mafia.

  Thomas does a double take when he comes to the door.

  “Ruby Nell? Is that you?”

  “It is, Thomas.”

  “Well, I swear and declare. I can’t believe it. After all this time.”

  “And this is Fayrene. You remember her.”

  “Of course. Do you still have that mirror ball dance trophy, Fayrene?”

  “Didn’t you see it last week when you were at Gas, Grits and Guts? It’s right over the pickled pig’s lips.”

  “Invite us in, Thomas.” Ruby Nell is flirting with him. She’s good at it, too. That must be where Lovie learned all her tricks.

  “Sure.” He leads us down a polished hallway and into a living room that is decorated with my signature color. There’s pink everywhere. Who knew Thomas Whitenton of the bobbing Adam’s apple had so much good taste?

  “Let me take your coats,” he says.

  “Not yet.” Ruby Nell crosses her legs and whips out her 1930s cigarette holder. He leaps up to give her a light. “I’m surprised you didn’t come to Callie’s wedding, Thomas. You were invited, you know.”

  His face flushes and he runs his hand around his collar. It looks like guilt to me, but I’m not convinced this wimpy man is capable of pulling off a kidnapping and then facing the victim’s mother.

  “I meant to. But I, ah, had some other things to do.”

  “It was the society wedding of the Mooreville,” Fayrene says. “It’s not every day you get to see a basket hound in a tuxedo.”

  “I see.” Thomas slides a glance at me, and I notice how his hands shake as he rakes them through his thinning hair. “So…the wedding went off, did it?”

  Now, what kind of question is that? Unless the Mooreville grapevine is moving at the speed of light, Thomas Whitenton would have no way of knowing the wedding didn’t take place…unless he stole the bride.

  From the looks Fayrene and Ruby Nell are exchanging, I see they’re thinking along the same lines. Ruby Nell scratches the bridge of her nose, their signal for let’s get this show on the road.

  “Let’s just cut the small talk. Shall we?” Ruby Nell stands up and reaches for Thomas’ hand.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Thomas Whitenton! I’ve come to give you exactly what you’ve always wanted.”

  He gets boggle-eyed. “Are you kidding?”

  Ruby Nell throws back her trench coat and strikes a pose in her skimpy sequins and lace. If Charlie ever saw her like this, he’d have a heart attack. Then she cracks the whip she’s been hiding under her coat.

  “Do I look like a woman who’s kidding?”

  “Ditto!” Fayrene yells.

  When she throws back her trench coat, I nearly keel over. Let me tell you, her glittery cat suit looks like it came from the heyday of brothels. It’s so old the seams are splitting and parts of Fayrene are hanging out. It’s enough to make Thomas swear off ménage a’ trois forever.

  Instead, the old coot can’t get to his bedroom fast enough. If he knew what Fayrene and Ruby Nell planned, he’d be running the other way.

  “Take it off, take it all off,” the women chant, and that old fool actually struts around while he sheds his clothes.

  When he’s naked as an over-boiled egg and just as tasteless, he swaggers up to Ruby Nell and tries to grab her.

  She sidesteps and shoves him onto the bed.

  “Not yet, you naughty boy. We have a surprise for you.”

  “I hope it’s a good one, sugar.”

  “I promise you, Thomas. This is a day you’ll never forget.”

  She and Fayrene take the handcuffs out of their trench coat pockets and cuff the silly codger to the bed.

  “I like it already,” he says. “You girls give me everything you’ve got.”

  “Oh, we will,” Ruby Nell says. “I promise you.”

  She cracks the whip so close above his head, she nearly leaves a bald spot.

  “Hey, sugar. Take it easy. That was a close call.”

  Swinging the whip like an aging female Zorro, she cracks it against his thigh, pulling back just enough to leave a faint red streak.

  “Is that better?”

  “Hey, what the heck, Ruby Nell? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Probably.” She tosses the whip to Fayrene. “Your turn.”

  Fayrene twirls the whip and takes out the lamp. Thomas screeches like a wild hog. She pops the whip again, this time destroying an imitation Ming vase and a statue of Buddha.

  “Reckon I can do a castration with this thing?” she asks Ruby Nell.

  “Why don’t you give it a try?”

  “What’s wrong with you women?” Thomas screams. “Have you gone stark raving mad?”

  “No, but you’re about to.” Ruby Nell catches the whip Fayrene tosses her way, and then rams the hilt it into Thomas’ private parts, hard enough to make him tear up. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “What are you talking about? She’s with her groom!”

  Ruby Nell presses the hilt closer, and Thomas shrieks like a little girl.

  “Let’s try this again. Where’s my daughter?”

  “Don’t forget about Lovie,” Fayrene says. “She’s one of the futilities, too.”

  Thomas says a string of words I used to hear on the back lot at the movie studio.

  “Now, Thomas. Is that any way to talk to ladies?” Ruby Nell presses down on the hilt again. Whatever ideas he once had about fun and games have now turned to mush.

  “If you’re a lady, I’m a banana.”

  “Not even close, Thomas. What do you think, Fayrene?”

  Ruby Nell tosses the whip and Fayrene cracks it against the bottom of Thomas’ feet.

  “A baby carrot, maybe. But I don’t give him an inch more.” Fayrene snaps the whip in the air. “What do you think about that castration, Ruby Nell? Can I do it now?”

  “Why not?” Ruby Nell leans in close to Thomas’ red, sweaty, tear-stained face. “Unless you’re ready to start talking.”

  “I don’t know anything! If I did, don’t you think I’d tell you crazy broads?” He lunges against his handcuffs. “When I get out of here, I’m calling the police.”

  “How rash of you, Thomas.” Ruby Nell whips her mobile phone out of her trench coat pocket and snaps his picture. “Now, who do you think the cops will believe? A silly old naked man who let himself get handcuffed to his own bed, or two mature business women who came for coffee and found themselves in this embarrassing predicament?”

  “Get me out of these things!”

  “What do you think, Fayrene? Is Thomas telling the truth about the kidnapping?”

  “Why don’t we let him think about it a while longer, Ruby Nell?”

  “Great idea. Let’s get hamburgers. Stress always makes me crave red meat.”

  They link arms and head toward the door with me trotting along behind. I almost feel sorry for the old coot.

  His screeches follow us all the way to the front door. It’s only when we get into the hearse that we can no longer hear the hapless Thomas.

  “Are you sure Thomas’ maid comes tomorrow, Fayrene?”

  “How the heck would I know? You’re the one who mesmerized the maid’s schedule.”

  “That was back when Thomas and I were dating.” Ruby Nell rub
s her head. “Flitter, I can’t think when I’m hungry.”

  “McDonald’s or Burger King?”

  “Whatever is closer.”

  Within ten minutes we’re in the fast food lane at McDonald’s. I hum a little tune so Ruby Nell will remember that this loyal dog was with them every step of the way.

  “Don’t forget Elvis,” she says. “He likes cheese on his burger, no onions.”

  Now, that’s what I’m talking about! When our order comes, Ruby Nell unwraps mine and passes it to me in the back seat. This is heaven, a loyal dog riding along while two of his favorite humans try to sort through the Thomas escapade.

  “Do you think he knows something he wasn’t telling, Fayrene?”

  “He’s lying. He’s not as wimpy as he acted.”

  “Maybe we ought to go back and ask a few more questions.”

  “He’s tied up and we don’t have the key.”

  “Flitter, I forgot. Maybe we’ll go back tomorrow, after the maid turns him loose.”

  “He won’t be so quick to let us in the door again, Ruby Nell. Not after that episode of The Old and the Foolish.”

  They look at each other and both crack up. It’s good to see Ruby Nell finding something to laugh about with Callie still missing. We all munch on burgers and French fries for a while, and then she says, “We’d better head home before Charlie finds out what I’m up to.”

  “Let me finish my burger first. And you’d better button up your trench coat or you’re going to get us both arrested for decent exposure.”

  Fayrene polishes off the last of her double cheeseburger and is cranking up when Ruby Nell’s cell phone rings.

  It’s Darlene, fresh from questioning Billy Jessup.

  “What did you find out?” Ruby Nell asks her.

  “He’s still got the hots for Callie. That much is a dead-certain cinch.”

  “That’s not news, Darlene.”

  “But he didn’t kidnap her. Or Lovie either.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He was out last night with Linda Lelane.”

  My ears perk up. The way Billy was kissing her at Jack’s bachelor party, I don’t doubt his claim. Still, I don’t think she has any interest in Billy Jessup.

  “How do you know for sure? I thought she was helping Jack with the investigation.”

  “She is. But he was out with somebody last night. I saw hickeys all over his neck. And besides, I didn’t get a single vibe that Billy’s capable of kidnapping.”

  “You’re getting as psychic as Bobby Huckabee.”

  Fayrene leans over to hear what her daughter is saying and nearly wrecks the hearse.

  “Watch out!” Ruby Nell yells, and Fayrene corrects course to keep us from driving right through McDonald’s golden arches.

  “What’s going on, Ruby Nell? Are you and Mama okay?”

  “We’re fit as a fiddle.”

  “Where are you?”

  “We got hungry and went to McDonald’s for a hamburger.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right? Charlie won’t like it if I let you two get into trouble.”

  “Flitter. Since when is hunger a crime? You just go on and call Bobby. Let us know when you get him lined up for a séance.”

  After Ruby Nell hangs up, Fayrene asks, “What did she say?”

  “Billy’s not the kidnapper.”

  “I’m not ruling anybody out till Bobby Huckabee commutes with the dead.”

  “Amen!”

  This dog offers no opinion. There’re still clues out there, and I’m just the dog to sniff them out.

  Chapter 5

  Bad Acting, Bad Food and the Art of the Con

  When Dumb and Dumber lift the cover off our hole in the ground and I see daylight, I start crying.

  Lovie squeezes my arm. “Crying is good, Cal,” she whispers. “It makes you look sick. But keep it together. We’re almost out of here.”

  Usually I’m the one calling the shots. But today, our roles are reversed. Call it wedding jitters. Call it fear. Call it anything you want. The great thing about having a friend and cousin like Lovie, is that I can fall apart with the certain knowledge that she’s always there to put me back together.

  “Are you broads coming or what?” Swifty yells down the hole.

  “I’m bringing her up,” Lovie yells back, “and you dudes had better start praying she lives.” She hands me the rusty ladder rung and whispers in my ear. “Hide it.”

  I don’t have to be told twice that this so-called weapon might be our only chance to escape. I hide it in the folds of my skirt and then start up the ladder. It’s slow going trying to climb with our weapon. I groan every step, occasionally stopping to hang limp while Lovie screeches behind me, “You can do it, Callie. Come on now. Keep climbing.”

  I haven’t done this much acting since I was a dancing turnip in the second grade play. I was bad then and I’m bad now. Fortunately, the Bronson brothers have bought Lovie’s story about Jack’s revenge.

  They reach into the hole, grab me under the arms and pull me the last few feet. My wedding veil gets hung and what’s left of it rips off my head. Frankly, it’s ruined anyway, and I’m glad to see it go. I don’t need any more reminders that I missed my wedding.

  I take a deep breath and assess my surroundings. My maroon truck is parked a few yards away, and it appears to still be in one piece. We’re surrounded by deep woods as far as I can see. Not a single sign or landmark identifies this place.

  As much as I hate to, I sag against Swifty on the side where I’ve got our secret weapon hidden. The other brother grabs Lovie, and they lead us to a cottage, if that’s what you could call it. It’s a rectangle of concrete blocks with one measly window.

  We step into a big room with cots and a sagging couch on one end, and a small kitchenette with table and chairs on the other. There are two doors on the back wall, and I’m not long in finding out where one of them leads.

  “She needs the bathroom and some medicine,” Lovie says.

  “Does this look like a medical clinic to you?” Ralph comes to a dead halt in the middle of the great room. With his face hidden behind a stocking cap, I can’t tell if he’s planning to treat me nice or kill me.

  “You’re going to be sorry when she hurls all over your shoes!” Lovie says.

  Ralph jumps away from me like he’s been shot. I lean heavily against Swifty and groan.

  “Through that door.” Swifty points, and Lovie hustles me toward the left. “And don’t try any funny stuff, you hear me? Ralph will kill you.”

  “Shut your big trap.” Ralph cuffs his brother on the head, and I keep up my dancing turnip/dying victim act until Lovie and I are behind closed doors. I hear the lock click behind us.

  This toilet is so primitive it’s barely one step above an outdoor privy. It has no windows, a rusty cubicle of a shower and a wall hung sink that looks like the least little thing would send it crashing to the floor. Still it’s a relief to have running water.

  When I spot myself in the cracked mirror of the medicine cabinet over the sink, I scream. My face is scratched, my hair is limp and my wedding veil is gone.

  “That’s it, Cal. Keep it convincing and step back a bit.”

  I start washing the grime off myself while Lovie goes through the medicine cabinet.

  “Well, what do we have here?” She holds up a box with the half the label peeled away.

  “What?”

  “Ex-Lax!”

  “Holy cow, Lovie. I don’t need that stuff.”

  “Yes, but I know somebody who does.”

  “I don’t know how you’re going to accomplish that.”

  “Just watch me, Cal.”

  We’re speaking in fierce whispers, but when a big boot kicks the door, I jump six miles. If they hear us, we’re liable to join the dearly departed.

  “Hurry up in there,” Swifty yells.

  “Give her some time! She’s sick.” Lovie punches me and I start groaning and carrying on.
<
br />   “She’d better be,” Ralph says. “If she ain’t, she’s dead.”

  Lovie hands me the Ex-Lax. “Hang onto that, and whatever you do, don’t let them see it.”

  If I hide anything else on my person, I’m going to look six months pregnant. Still, I palm the box and manage to hide it along with the ladder rung in the folds of my hopelessly tattered yellow dress. Meantime, she gathers everything she can find in the medicine cabinet and stuffs it down her cleavage, which is substantial. Still, if you look closely, Lovie appears to have grown to a double D cup.

  “You can open up now,” she yells. “I’ve done all I can in here.”

  The lock turns and the door swings open. I lean against Lovie, trapping the laxative and the weapon between us.

  “What’s that you’ve got in your hand?” Ralph narrows his eyes at Lovie and I fake a swoon against her.

  “Some aspirin for Callie.” She holds the bottle in plain view. “Get me a glass so she can take some. And make it snappy.”

  Swifty, who has gone boggled-eyed leering at Lovie, hustles over to the kitchen and grabs a glass out of the cabinet. He turns it upside down and gives it a good shake. I wouldn’t be surprised if a spider fell out.

  He hands the glass to Lovie, and before I know what she’s up to, she pops an aspirin into my mouth and tilts the glass to my lips. I’m not about to swallow that pill. It’s probably as old as Noah’s Ark, and it might not even be aspirin. It might be something nasty left behind by the careless people who don’t care enough about health and hygiene to clean up this cabin.

  “Enough of this coddling.” Ralph opens the other door against the back wall and shoves us into a windowless room. It has a double bed without any covers, a rickety desk, a trash can, and a cane-bottomed chair with most of the caning gone.

  I collapse onto the bare mattress, and I’m not acting, either. The only performance I put on is to roll to the left where I’m desperately trying to hide the Ex-Lax and the rusty ladder rung.

  “What about food?” When Lovie stands with her hands on her hips like that, somebody had better watch out.

  The bumbling brothers look at each other as if maybe aliens came and took the food. And then the tall one, Ralph, heads toward the door, with his brother tagging along behind.