I stirred sleepily as the door opened and light streamed in from the hall. “Richard?”
He closed the door behind him, sauntered into the room, and fell onto the bed.
“Are you all right?” I asked, switching on the bedside lamp.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” I sniffed suspiciously, and wrinkled my nose when I caught the unmistakable aroma of beer. “You’re drunk!”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He tittered. “‘Doth it not show vilely in me to desire small beer?’ King Henry IV, Part II, Act II,…” He suddenly looked stricken. “Oh no! I forgot the scene number!”
“Get up off of the bed and take those clothes off,” I said. “You smell like a brewery.”
He stood unsteadily, leaned over to pull off his left sneaker, and toppled over onto the floor. I jumped up to see if he was hurt, then shook my head ruefully. He had curled into a ball, one hand still around his left sneaker, and was grinning up at me.
“Ooops,” he said.
With an exasperated sigh, I got down on the floor with him, yanked off his shoes, and peeled off his jeans and shirt. He stood there grinning for a moment, clad only in his jockey shorts. Then he jumped into the bed, rolled to the center, flung his arms wide, and said, “Come to Papa!”
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I started laughing. Richard joined in loudly, though I would have bet that he didn’t know what he was laughing at. Finally I remembered that Aunt Maggie might not appreciate the humor of the situation, and stifled my giggles. Richard, released by the alcohol from such concerns, continued unabated until I placed my hand over his mouth.
His eyes filled with injury, but this was replaced with a licentious gleam when I joined him in bed and removed my hand from his mouth so I could kiss him. He returned the kiss with uncertain accuracy and sidled up to me, his intent plain.
“Good night, Richard,” I said firmly.
“Good night? Don’t you want to…?”
“Not tonight.”
His brow wrinkled in concern. “Headache?”
“Not as bad as the one you’re going to have in the morning. I’m just tired.”
“Maybe later?”
“Good night, Richard.”
“Good night.”
I woke the next morning to the sounds of piteous moans. Richard was sitting on the side of the bed, his head buried in his hands.
“What’s the matter?”
“My head is trying to come off,” he whispered.
As I had predicted, Richard had one heck of a hangover. I didn’t know whether I should be concerned about or amused by his condition.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, grabbing my bathrobe. Aunt Maggie was in the kitchen, the ubiquitous Hardee’s bag by her side.
“You’re up bright and early,” Aunt Maggie said.
“Richard woke me. Aunt Maggie, what do you do for a hangover?”
She chuckled and said, “I thought I heard him stumbling by in the wee hours.”
“He came in as drunk as a skunk.”
“Well he’s going to suffer for it. Get him some aspirin out of the medicine cabinet and give him lots of coffee. He probably won’t want anything to eat.” She turned back to her biscuit. “Maybe next time he’ll know better.”
I poured two cups of coffee, grabbed a sausage biscuit, and stopped in the bathroom for aspirin. When I got back to our room, I saw that Richard’s condition hadn’t improved.
“Take these,” I said, handing him two aspirin and one of the coffee cups. He washed down the tablets with the entire cup.
“Better?” I asked.
“A little. Any more coffee?”
I handed him my cup, and he drained it, too.
“Want a biscuit?” I asked.
He shuddered, and I ate it myself on the way back to the kitchen for more coffee.
“How’s he doing?” Aunt Maggie asked.
“‘He receives comfort like cold porridge’,” I quoted with a grin. “The Tempest.”
“Well, I’ve got to get going. You’re still coming out to the flea market this afternoon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll see you then.”
After the third cup of coffee, Richard was well on his way back up the evolutionary ladder.
“So?” I asked. “What did you find out?”
“To never drink that much again.”
“Richard! What did Paw tell Roger about Uncle Conrad?”
He leaned back on the bed. “Can’t it wait?”
“No!”
He sighed heavily but started speaking in his most professorial tone. “I spent most of yesterday slaving over my syllabus, wondering what havoc my wife was wreaking on our credit cards.” At this, he regarded me reproachfully for a few seconds before going on. “At about three, Roger called. He said he and the boys were playing at a pig picking, and asked if we would like to come. Admittedly I had no idea of what a pig picking might be, but I thought it might be a good time to find out exactly what it was that Paw had said to him. One of us had to keep the investigation moving.”
“I was investigating,” I said, but Richard looked pointedly at the pile of shopping bags on top of my suitcase before continuing.
“I found out from Aunt Maggie why it was we were going to pick on this pig, and Roger and his band of merry men picked me up at around five. There was an enormous cooler in the band’s minibus, and by the time we reached the festivities, a number of cold beers had already been consumed. Once we arrived, kegs were available to accompany the roast beast.”
“Obviously you found it necessary to share in this bounty.”
“I had to blend in, didn’t I?”
“I suppose if everyone got so drunk they couldn’t see straight, you would indeed blend in.”
He sniffed loudly.
“Do you remember whether or not you talked to Roger?”
“Of course I remember. I pulled Roger away between sets and asked him, man-to-man, whether he really had reason to believe Uncle Conrad was being unfaithful. At first he objected that he didn’t want to spread dirt about a fellow lodge brother, but after about thirty seconds of persuasion, he gave in.”
“And?”
“He told me that Paw had asked him whether or not Uncle Conrad had spent the entire evening at the lodge Friday night. Roger told him that Uncle Conrad had been absent for a good while. This was a welcome meeting for new members, and the lodge brother in charge of procurement woefully underestimated the amount of beer required. Uncle Conrad volunteered to go pick up more, but he called some time later and asked for Uncle Loman. His car had broken down, and Uncle Loman had to go and help get it started. Uncle Loman and he were gone an additional hour or two. During this time another lodge brother was dispatched for and returned with more beer, so the two were barely missed.”
“Did Roger say where Uncle Conrad’s car broke down?”
“Yes, and he said that Paw asked the same question. Uncle Loman told them it broke down on Russell Avenue, but when Roger told this to Paw, Paw did not look relieved. Roger tried to get more information from Paw, but did not succeed. This is when he decided that Paw must have seen Uncle Conrad somewhere suspicious, and Roger jumped to the conclusion that Uncle Conrad was sleeping around.”
“Russell Avenue,” I said thoughtfully, and pulled Paw’s map from my pocketbook. “Rats!” I said after a minute. “It’s a dead end.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
“Figuratively. Russell Avenue is nowhere near where Melanie’s car was found, and it’s not close to Marley, either.”
“Maybe Uncle Conrad lied. I’d say he’s a pretty hot suspect, all the way around,” he said with more than a little satisfaction.
I should have felt guilty about bursting his bubble, but I didn’t. “Sorry, love. Uncle Conrad’s already been cleared. I don’t know what he was up to Friday, but he never left his house Sunday.”
“What?”
I ga
ve him a quick rundown of everyone’s alibis, and finished up with, “That only leaves Uncle Ruben, Arthur, and Thaddeous.”
“What about Uncle Loman? According to Roger, he was also out of the lodge for a while Friday night.”
“I don’t know where he was Sunday,” I said, “but I don’t think he was gone long enough Friday night. He would have had to pick up Melanie, take her somewhere and attack her, dump her body in Marley, and get back to Uncle Conrad. You said he was only gone an hour or two.”
“That’s what Roger said.”
“You’re not convinced?”
“I just don’t like Uncle Loman. ‘A man whose blood is very snow-broth; one who never feels the wanton stings and motions of the sense.’ Measure for Measure, Act I, Scene 1.”
“I don’t care for him much myself,” I admitted, “but he’s such a cold fish that I don’t think he could have done it. Melanie’s murder was a crime of passion, and Uncle Loman’s not got enough passion to jaywalk.”
Something dawned on Richard. “If you verified Uncle Conrad’s innocence yesterday, then I have this headache for nothing.”
“Not at all,” I said quickly. “This helps pinpoint Paw’s location. We know he saw Uncle Conrad somewhere Friday night, and we have an idea of where he could have seen him. That could be important.”
“I guess so,” he said, only partially mollified.
I checked the clock. “I’m afraid we better get a move on and get ready for church.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. You know Aunt Nora expects us to be there and we’re having Sunday dinner at her place, too. I’ll be nice and take my shower first.”
His ungrateful response to my generosity was to fling a pillow at me.
Chapter 34
Though I hadn’t attended church regularly since I started college, I usually ended up going when I was in Byerly. Enough Burnettes still attended services next door to make it seem like a family outing. Aunt Nora, Uncle Buddy, Thaddeous, and Willis arrived just as Richard and I got to church.
“Don’t you two look nice,” Aunt Nora said, tactfully ignoring the obvious signs that Richard was more concerned with trials of the flesh than in joys of the spirit. Come to think of it, I thought, he had enjoyed his share of spirits last night.
On the lawn of the church was a large sign with a ladder painted on it. Apparently it was supposed to represent Jacob’s ladder, with rungs filled in as the church approached its heavenly goal: a new organ. Reverend Glass was famous for fund-raising drives, and Paw had once complained that he used larger collection plates to encourage donations.
I had been in no mood to notice at Paw’s funeral, but the church looked the same as ever, despite Glass’s constant money-making schemes. The outside was white clapboard with a respectable steeple, while the inside was light pine paneling and deep maroon carpet. The lines of the furnishings were clean and simple, the only ornamentation the large vases of fresh flowers donated weekly by a local florist and church member.
One thing Glass had added was an expensive sound system whose high-pitched whines ensured that no one dozed off during his sermons. It was probably a good thing. Otherwise his droning would have put me to sleep in about ten minutes.
Aunt Edna was sitting proudly in the front pew, and we went to sit with her. We chatted until the organist started playing and Reverend Glass came out. Before beginning his sermon, Glass mentioned Paw’s death and praised his long-standing support of the church. Unfortunately this message clashed with the sermon, which was titled “The Wages of Sin Are Death.” Forgiveness might be divine, but I suspected that Glass was holding a grudge for missing out on the Burnette house.
After the service ended, Aunt Edna headed for Reverend Glass and engaged him in earnest conversation. Uncle Buddy, Thaddeous, and Willis went to talk with a neighbor while Aunt Nora, Richard, and I went on outside. An older woman wearing a neat blue pillbox hat stopped us on the steps of the church.
“Nora, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your father. I’ve known Ellis since he and my late husband worked together.”
“I appreciate it, Mrs. Harper. I’ve been meaning to call and thank you for that pecan pie you sent us. It was real good.”
Mrs. Harper waved the compliment aside. “That wasn’t anything. I just happened to have made an extra one, that’s all.”
“Do you know my niece Laurie Anne and her husband Richard? They’re down from Boston.”
We exchanged smiles and nods.
“Nora, are you going to be talking to Nellie or Ruben anytime soon?” Mrs. Harper asked.
“I expect so. Why do you ask?”
“Well, Ruben stopped by my house last week and sold me some floor polish. I guess I wasn’t paying attention when he told me how to use it because I was watching the tail end of America’s Most Wanted, but I don’t think it worked the way it’s supposed to.”
“Did it not get your floor clean?”
“It’s not that, it’s just that I’ve got my kitchen all done in light blue. That polish turned my floor tiles bright green and now they don’t match.”
Aunt Nora sighed. “I’ll be sure and tell Ruben to call you,” she promised.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered to Richard.
“I sure did. Remind me never to buy anything from your Uncle Ruben.”
“Anybody with a lick of sense already knows that. What I mean is that we can take Uncle Ruben off of our list.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Mrs. Harper said she was watching America’s Most Wanted, and if I remember correctly, America’s Most Wanted is on from eight to nine on Friday. If Uncle Ruben was selling Mrs. Harper floor polish at nine o’clock, he couldn’t have killed Melanie.”
“Aunt Nora! Laurie Anne!” Vasti, following her habit of yelling in inappropriate places, was at the top of the church steps. After we waved to let her know she had been heard, she came clattering down the steps to join us, followed by Arthur at a more sedate pace.
“I didn’t get a chance to say hello before the sermon,” Vasti said. “We were running late because Arthur had to stop and get gas.” She gave him a disapproving glance, and then said, “I didn’t think you went to church anymore, Laurie Anne.”
“I make it in occasionally.”
“Anyway, I wanted to show you our new car. The one I told you about.”
“They don’t want to see that,” Arthur said with a trace of embarrassment.
“Yes they do.” Catching sight of Aunt Edna still inside, she yelled, “Aunt Edna, come on out here. I want to show you something.” She took hold of my right arm and Aunt Nora’s left, and pulled us into the parking lot.
I spotted the new Cadillac long before we got to it. First off, it was parked in the plainly marked “NO PARKING” zone near the entrance to the parking lot, making it nigh onto impossible for other church members to maneuver past it. Second, it was the reddest car I had ever seen. A candy apple would have looked pale beside it.
Vasti brought us to a halt in front of it. “Now isn’t that something?”
“It certainly is,” I said truthfully.
“That is one nice-looking automobile,” Aunt Nora said, and if there was the slightest speck of sarcasm in her voice, I couldn’t detect it.
Richard and Arthur caught up with us, along with the rest of the available Burnettes. While the men followed tradition and lifted the hood so they could admire the car’s technical points, Vasti opened up the front door, and waved her arms wide in the manner of a game show hostess displaying a particularly grand prize. “All leather interior, and look at how thick the carpet is. Isn’t it just beautiful?”
“Beautiful,” Aunt Nora agreed.
Aunt Edna joined us and at Vasti’s insistence, we all climbed into the car to fully experience the comfort of the upholstery.
“What kind of mileage does it get?” I asked.
“Oh, Arthur takes care of all that for me. Let me show yo
u how the sun-roof works.”
Once everyone had admired the new Cadillac, Aunt Edna left and Aunt Nora said, “Well, we better go on so I can get dinner on the table.”
“I guess Arthur and I need to get going, too,” Vasti said. “We’re going out for Sunday dinner because I haven’t had two minutes to do my shopping this week. We’ll probably have to wait in line forever. All the good places fill up so quickly after church, and Arthur just hates to wait.” She sighed heavily. “Maybe we’ll just get us a hamburger at Hardee’s.”
“Why don’t y’all come over and have a bite to eat with us, Vasti?” Aunt Nora said. “I cooked a whole ham so there’s plenty for two more.”
“Oh, we don’t want to be a bother,” Vasti said.
Of course you do, I thought, or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. After a few minutes of polite protests counteracted by equally polite encouragement, it was agreed. Aunt Nora and Willis rode with Vasti and Arthur to sample more of the Cadillac’s charms, while the rest of us piled into Uncle Buddy’s less flamboyant Buick.
“What do you think of that car, Daddy?” Thaddeous asked as we drove back to Aunt Nora’s.
“Well,” Uncle Buddy said thoughtfully, “if they’d had another nickel, they’d have bought themselves a red car.” He, Thaddeous, and I chuckled, but Richard only looked mystified.
“I don’t get it,” he whispered to me.
“You know, if someone gets a bright-colored shirt you joke and say that if he’d had another nickel he’d have bought a brighter one.”
He looked at me blankly.
“Well, Paw used to say it,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I guess it doesn’t translate.”
“Not into English, it doesn’t,” Richard said.
“You Yankees just don’t know how to talk right.”
“Is that so?” he replied, and we spent the rest of the ride to Aunt Nora’s debating English usage while Uncle Buddy and Thaddeous snickered.
Chapter 35
As usual, Aunt Nora refused all offers of help in the kitchen, insisting that everything was nearly ready. I had no trouble slipping into the living-room to check her copy of TV Guide to confirm that America’s Most Wanted came on at eight o’clock Friday nights. Uncle Ruben was in the clear.
Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 01 - Down Home Murder Page 19
