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

by Webb, Peggy

  I’d tell you what all this about, but for once I don’t have a clue. All I know is we’re all following Fayrene’s lead. Don’t ask me why. The last time we followed her lead, we ended up in the jungle sacrificing a chicken.

  Chapter 6

  Sugar, Setbacks, and Secrets

  Our plan backfired. Swifty has returned with food, all right, but he also came back with enough rope to lash me to the bed. The only good thing I can say about this situation is that they left Lovie and me behind closed doors long enough for her to re-stuff her bra with a potpourri of drugs.

  Just as I’m celebrating that victory, plus the fact that they walk out this time and leave my door wide open, Ralph chains Lovie to the stove.

  “Hey! What are you doing? How can I cook in this contraption?”

  “It’s either this or eat rice,” Ralph tells her.

  “Fine then. Eat rice. Get sick on rat droppings. See if I care!”

  Ralph jerks open the cupboard doors and piles pots and pans within Lovie’s reach.

  “Get cooking and shut up.”

  Lovie shrugs her shoulders and starts cooking. This is not Lovie taking orders: this is Lovie with a plan.

  The brothers stand over Lovie’s shoulder a while, watching. Finally, they nod at each other, satisfied that they’re in control, and walk outside for a kidnapper’s conference.

  Lovie shoots me the V for victory sign and then reaches into her bra for her potpourri of drugs. As she dumps them into the gravy, I’m hoping she knows what she’s doing. She’s got enough stolen drugs to kill them. I’d hate to spend the rest of my child-bearing years behind bars.

  Finished with her deadly gravy, Lovie dumps something from a suspicious looking bottle into the mashed potatoes and roast beef.

  “In case they don’t eat enough gravy.” She winks at me, then starts melting Ex-lax. “Dessert’s going to be a real blast,” she says, and I nearly fall off the bed laughing.

  When she’s melted enough Ex-lax to undo everybody in Texas, she bolts to the window, chain and all, and flattens herself against the wall.

  I’m desperate to know what the Bronson brothers are saying. Lovie knows this. You can’t be best friends your entire life and not know what the other is thinking.

  I wait, my mind churning with possibilities. After what feels like an eternity, Lovie turns to me and starts signing. It’s not American Sign Language. When we were little kids, we made up our own secret language. It came in handy when we wanted to tell secrets right in front of Mama or Uncle Charlie. They never did crack our code. I don’t think they tried very hard. Once I overheard Mama telling Uncle Charlie that if making up a secret language helped me cope with my daddy’s death, she was glad to play along.

  See, that’s why I will never let Mama get on my last nerve. Underneath her outrageous outfits and her bluster, she’s all heart.

  I wonder what she’s doing now, how she’s holding up. That kind of thinking is ready made for the blues, so I jerk myself back to the moment and pay attention to what Lovie is telling me.

  They’re on the phone with the boss, she signs. Wait a minute…

  With my arms lashed to the bed, I can do nothing but wait. Lovie ought to know this.

  I can’t tell who it is, she signs. They’re off now and splitting a big wad of cash. Kidnapping money. No, wait. They sold your truck. OMG, Cal, you know what this means!

  Of course, I do. He must have had his buyer lined up, a bit of advance planning I’d never have guessed from either of them. The best part is that now my truck is out there and can lead Jack back to me.

  Suddenly Lovie hustles back to the stove and starts making the icing for the cake. The real icing, this time. Within minutes, the Bronson brothers are back inside, their mood considerably elevated.

  Lovie digs into the chocolate icing and comes up with a gob on her finger. Turning to the evil brothers, she slowly licks it off.

  Ralph ignores her, but Swifty makes no bones about his interest. He stands a little taller and puffs out his chest. I’ll bet his face is red as a firecracker behind that mask.

  “After I ice the cake, do you want to lick the bowl?” Lovie is all sugar and no spice.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Swifty marches over and stands at her elbow while she spreads the cake with icing. Then he grabs a wooden stirring spoon and starts gobbling up leftovers. The opening for his mouth is small, and he gets chocolate all over his mask.

  It’s all part of the plan. Gaining their trust. Ensuring they don’t suspect a thing as she smears the melted laxative on top of their cake, right in front of their noses.

  “That’s the best icing I’ve had since I was a little boy and my mama made me a birthday cake,” Swifty says, but I wish he hadn’t. It makes me see him in another light, a real human being who took a wrong turn somewhere down the line and ended up being somebody’s stooge in a kidnapping.

  “I told you I was the best.” Lovie holds out her chained wrist. “Unhook me so we can have dinner. I’m starving.”

  Swifty has the key out of his pocket when Ralph intervenes.

  “Who said anything about you having dinner with us?” He slaps Swifty’s hand away then snatches up the pot of roast beef and marches to the table.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her, Ralph. What’s the harm?”

  “Plenty, you idiot. She’ll break for the door the minute you turn her loose.” He grabs the rest of the food and plops it onto the table. “Are you going to eat, or are you going to stand there all day gawking at Miss Fluffy Universe?”

  I can tell buy the look on Lovie’s face she’s going to let loose a barrage of language that will turn the air blue. I shake my head and she clamps her mouth shut.

  For a while there is not a sound except the brother’s slurping as they try to eat through the little mouth openings. Finally, they both shove there masks up to uncover their lips, and I’ve never heard such loud chewing. They need somebody to teach them manners. They probably need good haircuts, as well, but I wouldn’t pass out business cards to these two, even if I could.

  I keep watching for some kind of reaction from Lovie’s lethal cocktail of drugs, but the Bronson brothers apparently have cast iron stomachs. Or did Lovie put everything in the gravy? I’m so exhausted I can’t remember.

  “Hey, you,” she yells. “Save some of that roast beef for me! And leave plenty of gravy. I like gravy!”

  “Who says you’re going to get any gravy?” Ralph dumps the whole bowlful over his potatoes then starts shoveling it in.

  Meantime, Swifty has gone on to dessert. And he’s starting to lean a little to left in his chair.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ralph says.

  “I didn’t get enough sleep.”

  “You can sleep when this is over. Somewhere on a beach in Miami.”

  “Or Hawaii? What about Hawaii, Ralph…Ralph?”

  Ralph doesn’t answer. He can’t. He’s slumped over the table with his face in his food.

  “What the devil…” But Swifty doesn’t have time to finish his sentence. With a howl, he races to the toilet hanging onto his exploding britches. He bangs the door shut behind him, and then I hear a loud thud.

  “Don’t you know all that sugar is bad for you?” Lovie says, ever so sweetly, and then she bends over laughing.

  “Don’t laugh yet, Lovie. How in the devil are we going to get out of this?”

  I’m roped and she’s chained. And I don’t have a clue how long the Bronson brothers are down for the count.

  “Don’t worry, Callie. I’ve never seen a lock I can’t pick. If I can just find something to pick it with.”

  Lovie starts rambling around in the kitchen drawers while I strain against the ropes, hoping to pull some of it loose. But these ropes are brand new, and I get the feeling I could be tied to this bed until my eggs are shriveled and I’ve lost all hope of remarrying Jack and starting a family.

  I glance toward Ralph, looking for signs of activity, but he’s still slumped ove
r his plate.

  “Do you think you killed him, Lovie?”

  “One could hope.”

  “Holy cow!”

  “Just kidding.” Suddenly she lets out a shriek. “Eureka!”

  My cousin in holding onto a rusty ice pick. It takes her less time to get out of her chains than it takes for me to apply perm solution to a client’s hair. Before I can even say, “Bravo,” she’s in the bedroom untying my ropes.

  “You’re a goddess, Lovie!”

  “I know.”

  I race from the bedroom, bend over Ralph and start rifling through his pockets. When I straighten back up with a wad of cash stuffed into my pocket, Lovie asks no questions. That’s the way of good friends. When the chips are down, we can read each other’s minds.

  There’s no telling what we’re going to find out there in the woods, and a little borrowed cash will make it easier. Never mind that this is money the kidnappers got for my truck. I’ll get my truck back and the hapless buyer will get his money back. At least, that’s the way I hope all this ends.

  Lovie grabs my hand and we sprint through the door. The sun has already set and we’re afoot, deep in the woods without a clue which way to go. Still, we link arms and start walking. I’m not about to mention snakes and ravines and any number of disasters we could encounter in the dark.

  Thank goodness, neither does Lovie.

  After what seems like three hours but is probably closer to one, we see a light beaming from a clearing just up ahead.

  “What do you think it is, Cal?”

  “I don’t know, but it can’t be any worse than what we left behind.”

  Elvis’ Opinion #7 on Criminal Minds, Psychic Eyes and Fried Chicken

  It’s crowded in Fayrene’s hearse, and so quiet you’d think we were all dead and headed to our heavenly reward. Or, in the case of Cake Girl - hellish punishment. The smell wafting off her is not her gardenia perfume, but something more pungent – the scent of lies and fear. Furthermore, this whole hearse is filled with the stench of secrets. And I’m just the dog to uncover them.

  When Fayrene parks in Ruby Nell’s yard, I don’t waste any time sniffing out the truth. I follow Fayrene and Ruby Nell into the kitchen, barely making it through before Callie’s mom shuts the door and locks it.

  “What’s this all about, Fayrene? Why all of a sudden are you and Darlene buddy-buddy with that slut?”

  “I saw her aurora, Ruby Nell. It’s black as the ace of spades.”

  “Don’t I know it? She’s out to get her hooks into my son-in-law.”

  “Oh, it’s more than that, my friend. While you were on the phone with Jack, Darlene took me aside and told me something she remembered in her integration of Billy Jessup.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there and make me guess! What is it?”

  “You know Billy was out with Linda the night of the girls got carted off to the boondogs.”

  “Flitter, Fayrene. You don’t have to keep repeating stuff I already know.”

  “When Linda showed up like she did in the séance room, it jogged Darlene’s memory. In the process of her integration of Billy, Darlene found out that Linda took a break from their smooching the night of the kidnapping to make a phone call.”

  “Maybe she just wanted to powder her nose and call her mama.”

  “Who in her right mind would leave Billy mid-smooch? He’s the hottest man in Mooreville.”

  “You’re forgetting my son-in-law, Fayrene!”

  “Well, besides Jack. Anyhow, I think Billy was nothing more than Linda’s alibi.”

  “Get rid of the bride so she could grab the groom?”

  “Exactly, Ruby Nell! Darlene got Linda all contracted with painting her fingernails while I stole her cell phone and checked her messages for that night. She did make a call.”

  “Maybe it was an old friend. Or a cousin.”

  “Maybe. But look at this.” Fayrene pulls the purloined mobile phone out of her pants pocket and scrolls through Linda’s recent calls. “See! She placed sixteen calls to these two numbers over the past week!”

  There’s a timid knock on the kitchen door and Bobby Huckabee calls through. “Ruby Nell? Fayrene? Is everything all right in there?”

  “Just dandy,” Ruby Nell yells back. “You go back and keep an eye on our guest.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay? Darlene wanted me to find out.”

  “Tell her we’re busy frying chicken in here,” Fayrene yells. “And straining fresh beans in the calendar!”

  Bobby walks off, and I don’t have to see to know his blue eye is twitching up a storm. My human mom sometimes gets impatient that Bobby’s prediction is usually danger from a dark eyed stranger, but I’m here to tell you that if the afterworld can send a singing sensation back in a dog suit they can certainly send messages to a man with a psychic eye.

  Ruby Nell presses her ear to the door till Bobby’s footsteps fade. Then she pours a bowl of flour, grabs two chickens out of the refrigerator and starts hacking then to pieces. I’m glad I didn’t come back as a fowl.

  Fayrene grabs the fresh beans and the colander. Before I can howl one verse of Stranger in the Crowd, a big hint that Fayrene is on the right track with the woman who smells of secrets, flour is fogging the kitchen and grease is sizzling on the stove.

  “Have you tried calling either one of those numbers?” Ruby Nell asks.

  “I have, but there’s no answer. Still, I think this LeLane woman has got something to do with the kidnapping. Especially since Darlene’s been seeing signs in twos. But I can’t prove anything.”

  “I can.” Ruby Nell slings chicken in the hot grease and I sashay my fine self out of the way of popping grease. “Get the heifer in here. I’ll find out the truth.”

  “Lord, Ruby Nell. Settle down or you’re going to get historical!”

  “Just get her in here. I don’t care how.”

  “Maybe we ought to just keep calm till Jack and Charlie get here. I don’t want to have an alteration.”

  “I’m not going to whack her over the head with the frying pan, Fayrene. Just get that heifer in here.”

  This, I’ve got to see. I amble along behind Fayrene like I’ve got nothing better to do than walk about look devilishly handsome.

  Linda LeLane is sandwiched between Bobby and Darlene tighter than salami on wheat bread. Darlene’s droning on about Cake Girl’s horoscope and Bobby’s got his green eye peeled on his girlfriend while his blue eye twitches faster than my tail can wag when I sniff a good T-bone steak.

  Fayrene props her hands on her hips and poses a while. And don’t try to tell me any different. In my other life, I acted in more movies than some people go to see in a whole lifetime.

  “You girls need to get in the kitchen and help Ruby Nell.”

  “Of course, she does. Silly me.” Here’s the reason Callie hired Darlene as the one and only manicurist at the one and only, very best beauty shop in Mooreville, Mississippi. Darlene’s got brains. And then some.

  She jumps off the couch but Linda sits there like she’s trying to hatch eggs.

  “I don’t know the least thing about cooking,” she says.

  “It’s high time you learn.” Darlene grabs one of her arms and Bobby grabs the other. There’s a flash of something dangerous in Linda’s eyes, and for a minute I think she’ll send us all to Glory Land with a few lethal karate moves. You can’t fool this dog. Back in the day, I had those moves down pat.

  Darlene is quick to asses the situation. She pats Linda’s arm and uses her most soothing voice, the one I’ve seen her use on a customer who didn’t want green polish until Darlene convinced her it was a color she couldn’t live without.

  “This is our opportunity to learn from a master chef,” she says, then winks. “The way a man’s heart, and all that.”

  At that, Linda LeLane trots along to the kitchen.

  Ruby Nell is at the stove with sweat running into her eyes and grease popping up from the skillet like lava from the fi
res of hell. I’ve seen her cook chicken a hundred times, and she’s never done it like this.

  “Darlene, grab that mixer and start in on those mashed potatoes,” she says. “Linda, flour that chicken and keep it coming. I’ve just got two hands. This grease is getting hot and I know how Jack likes his chicken.”

  Linda perks up all over. Even her ears. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she is heading for reincarnation as one of the lesser canine breeds. That is, assuming she makes it through the Pearly Gates.

  “How does Jack like his chicken?” she asks.

  “Juicy but not overdone.” Ruby Nell shoots her a sly glance. “Like Callie.”

  Linda’s hand tightens on a raw drumstick, and it shoots across the room. “Oops, sorry about that. I’m just so upset about your daughter, Ruby Nell.”

  “I’ll just bet you are!” When Ruby Nell wants to, she can make her eyes look as mean as a snake. “Where’s Callie?”

  “As soon as we track down that lead in New Orleans, we’ll know. Meanwhile, you just have to trust me. And Jack.” Linda’s all dreamy-eyed as she turns back to the bowlful of raw chicken parts.

  Wouldn’t you know it? The tinny sound of The Wedding March splits the air, and Linda jerks like somebody shot.

  “My phone! That’s Jack!” The sound shrills again, and Fayrene has put her hands over her pockets in a vain attempt to stop the inevitable. “What are you doing with my phone?”

  Linda jerks up the carving knife Ruby Nell forgot about and left lying on the carving board. She roars across the room, screaming words even Lovie doesn’t use.

  Then everything happens at once, like a B grade movie reel gone bad. Darlene screams, Fayrene tosses the drumstick at Linda and misses, Bobby jumps in front of Fayrene, and Ruby Nell goes after Linda with the frying pan.

  “Drop that knife, heifer, or I’ll be frying more than chicken.”

  Linda whirls on Ruby Nell, knife poised in a killing position across her throat.

  “How about if I just take you out first, and then the brothers can finish off your daughter? All nice and neat. No inconveniences left to distract Jack.”