Who Left That Body in the Rain?

by Patricia Sprinkle

  “Thanks,” Skell told him. “Please tell Rosita again I’m real sorry.”

  As he hurried outside, we heard the distant rumble of thunder.

  5

  Rosa didn’t come out of the kitchen again, so in between talking with Cindy and Jessica, I amused myself watching Marilee glower at Skye. He had no clue, of course—he’d had the good sense to sit with his back to her—but he did go over and speak to her before he paid his bill. He looked pleasant enough, but she pouted as she watched him leave. Since Joe Riddley was still eating slowly in those days, we were just starting our dessert when the MacDonalds headed home.

  We were almost home ourselves when the cell phone rang in my pocketbook. I carry it so deputies can get me at all times, but in a town the size of Hopemore, the thing is more nuisance than needed, just one more weight in a pocketbook that is already too heavy.

  Clarinda’s voice filled the car. “. . . over here about to cause trouble. You all need to get over here before somebody gets hurt.”

  “Where are you?” I demanded. “Maynard’s?”

  “Yeah. The rehearsal went long, and they just got here a few minutes ago. Now Skell’s come in sayin’ Maynard has to give back that car and buy another one. Maynard says no way; it’s the one he wants. They started out polite, but now they’re yelling. They gonna fight if somebody don’t step in. You gotta come.”

  “Call the police.”

  “And spoil this nice party? You know Chief Muggins. Now that he knows Maynard’s got a little money, he’d come himself instead of sending a deputy. Then he’d hang around here moochin’ himself a dinner.” Clarinda’s got less affection than I have for our police chief.

  “Who’s that?” Joe Riddley growled, turning onto our gravel road.

  I covered the mouthpiece. “Clarinda. Skell’s over at Maynard’s insisting that Maynard give back the car. She doesn’t want to call the police and have Charlie horning in on the party.”

  Without a word, Joe Riddley turned the car around and headed back to town. Sometimes it’s hard to figure out whether Clarinda works for us or we work for her.

  He took the last turn so fast I had to grab the armrest. “That was a come-over-darling turn,” I fussed. “We’re not in high school anymore, you know.”

  “Can’t come over anyway, with seat belts.” He let up on the pedal a tad and peered down the street. “Where’d all these cars come from? There’s not a parking place on the dadgummed block.” He double-parked by Maynard’s green Saturn. “Drive around the block while I go in.”

  I opened my door. “You drive around while I go in. Look, there’s somebody coming out in the next block. You can have the umbrella. It’s starting to rain.” Before he could object, I jumped out and started up the walk.

  He rolled down the window. “Don’t you go in there without me.”

  Heralded by only a few drops, the rain suddenly descended in a deluge. I had to scoot up the walk so fast, how could I pay attention to what he was saying?

  I heard Skell shouting as soon as I got to the porch. “Come on, Maynard, I’ll practically give you any car on the lot. I’ve got stuff on the line here, man. You gotta deal. You gotta.”

  Maynard’s voice was tight with fury. “I bought the car I want. You tell your other customer he can have any other car on the lot. He can’t have mine. Now stop spoiling my party.”

  “If you don’t give me that car back, it’s gonna spoil a lot more than that. Where is it?”

  I rang the bell and pounded on the door, but nobody heard me with all that racket.

  “None of your business. It’s my car and my house. Now get out.”

  “Come on, man, deal with me. You don’t understand. It was promised.”

  I tried the knob. In the excitement of getting married, Maynard had forgotten his New York training and left his door unlocked. I entered what should have been a vibrant, happy home. Heart-pine floors gleamed beneath white fourteen-foot ceilings. Between them, Maynard had painted the walls a soft coral that would look great with Selena’s red hair.

  The color didn’t do a thing for Maynard and Skell’s red faces.

  They stood practically nose to nose in the middle of the hall while the wedding party huddled in the dining room, listening to every word. The only member I recognized was our granddaughter Bethany. Most were friends of Maynard’s from New York or nursing classmates of Selena’s. I sure hated for them to think this was how folks behaved in Hopemore.

  Clarinda peered around the swinging door at the back of the hall that led to the kitchen and gave a grunt of relief when she saw me. “Un-hunh. Now you’ll have to break it up.”

  Bethany gave a strangled cry, “Me-mama!” and started toward me, but I waved her back and marched over to glare up at the men.

  “You all running a competition to see who can yell the loudest? Sound the meanest? I’d say right now it’s a draw. And you’d better be careful, or your faces will freeze like that, and we’ll have to get a couple of paper bags so you don’t scare the children. Is this how your mamas raised you to behave?”

  They pulled apart, ashamed. Skell adjusted his tweed jacket and Maynard tugged down the sleeves of the navy suede suit he’d dressed up in for the rehearsal. He’d even tied his ponytail with a navy suede ribbon and put a small diamond stud in his ear. “You’d be two mighty handsome young men if you’d rearrange your faces.” I gave each of them a little pat.

  Their truce lasted as long as it took to draw a deep breath. Then both started talking. “My ears don’t work separately,” I informed them. “I can’t listen to both of you at once.”

  They took another deep breath and both started in again. This time, Skell reached out and grabbed Maynard’s shirt. Maynard had drawn back his fist to hit Skell when Joe Riddley strode across the hall. He hadn’t bothered with the umbrella, so he splashed on me as he grabbed a shoulder of each. “Hold on, there.” He forced them to step apart. “What’s going on here?”

  Skell raised a furious face. “Daddy sold Maynard a car this morning that’s promised to somebody else. He’s coming tomorrow to get it, and I can’t afford to lose this customer. I’ve told Maynard I’ll make him a great deal on any other car on the lot.” He turned back to Maynard. “Or I’ll get you one just like it in a week or so, and lend you my car for your honeymoon.”

  Now that was an offer. Skell drove a silver Porsche he treated like it was sterling.

  “That’s a mighty good offer.” Joe Riddley looked at Maynard.

  Maynard shook his head. “I’ve got the car I want. He can’t promise me that exact car in that color and condition, with so few miles on it. Can you?” He glared, breathing hard.

  “Not all those things,” Skell admitted, “but as close as I can get. I can’t break my word to the other buyer. Daddy had no right to sell it. You gotta help me out of a hole here.”

  Seemed to me Maynard should feel enough goodwill on the night before his wedding to give in, but I could already tell that his new car meant more to him than sheet metal, bolts, and wheels. I’d seen each of my own boys go through that phase with one particular car. They put their hands on the wheel and the car became part of them. I’ve never understood what it is about males and cars, but I knew Maynard would no more give up that BMW than he’d give up Selena.

  Joe Riddley seemed to realize that, too, because he shook Skell gently while holding Maynard at arm’s length. “I think you’re going to need to explain to your other customer, son. Tell him that car has gone on its honeymoon.”

  “He’s not going to care.” Skell’s eyes were big dark holes. “He wants that car. He’s gonna kill me.” He glared at Maynard again, chest heaving.

  Joe Riddley dropped his hands. “Well, you aren’t accomplishing anything here tonight. Maynard has a wedding rehearsal dinner going on, and you’re spoiling it. Go on home, or I’m going to have to call the police. You don’t want that. Go on home, now.”

  Skell took a deep breath and held it; then he let it out and gla
red at Maynard. “I’ll go tonight, but this isn’t over. Daddy didn’t have the right to sell that car. I’m going to tell him he’s got to make you give it back.” He headed for the door, paused a second when he realized the rain was bucketing down, then hurled himself through it.

  Joe Riddley advised the party, “You all have a good time and forget all this. Skell will sleep on it and be fine in the morning. He’s afraid he’s lost a sale and maybe a customer. He’ll be all right in the morning,” he repeated. With a wave he headed for the door, grabbing me on his way out and pushing me ahead of him.

  “We are soaked,” I grumbled when we got back in the car, “but I’m right proud of you.”

  “I’m not proud of you. I told you to stay outside until I got there. You could have gotten hurt, Little Bit.”

  “They wouldn’t hurt me. I practically raised them both. But why do you reckon Skell is so upset about that particular car?” I jabbed up the heater and hoped my teeth wouldn’t chip from chattering before I got warm.

  “Maybe he’s finally trying to show Skye he can handle the used-car business. When Skye stepped in and sold a car he’d promised to somebody else, it made Skell look real bad. You know, sometimes I’m real glad our boys decided not to come into our business.”

  I reached out and held on to his arm. “I was thinking the very same thing.”

  “Great minds run in the same direction,” he said with satisfaction.

  It’s a pity those two great minds could drive all the way home without a single premonition.

  When we got home, he paused at the door to the den. “You wanna watch a little TV?”

  “Might as well. But let’s get out of these wet clothes first.” We put on our pajamas, he settled in his recliner, and I snuggled under an afghan to watch a couple of mindless shows.

  I hauled myself erect around eleven, but Joe Riddley said, “Wait for the weather.”

  “Go look at the sky. Your guess is as good as Marilee’s.”

  I have long maintained that when the weather people say “twenty percent chance of rain,” it means they’ve called ten friends and two voted for rain. Seems to me that most meteorologists are accurate about as often as astrologers.

  However, because staying was easier and cosier than going, I settled back to see what Marilee read in the cloud-covered stars for tomorrow.

  Joe Riddley peered at the screen. “Does she look a little frazzled to you?”

  “A bit. Her skirt’s crooked and her hair could use some brushing. Of course, it generally looks like she just came out of a wind tunnel, but tonight it seems more haphazard than usual.”

  “She must have driven back to Augusta too late to allow herself time to get fixed up.” He rested his head and prepared to listen to his favorite oracle. He particularly liked the end of her program, when she’d recently started giving friendly little messages.

  That night Marilee seemed not only frazzled, but rattled. She may have had one too many margaritas, because she burbled a couple of words and once put up the wrong slide for what she was talking about. Finally, though, she wound up with a summary and concluded, with a charming smile, “Well, I know we’re having a bit of stormy weather right now, but it’s not going to last much longer. Everything’s going to be fine. You have a great day tomorrow, now, you hear me?”

  Joe Riddley went upstairs as satisfied as if she’d been talking directly to him.

  I slipped into bed to the sound of steady rain on our tin porch roof.

  6

  Bless Marilee’s heart, the sun did come up beaming Saturday for Maynard and Selena’s wedding, and at ten-thirty, St. Philip Episcopal was respectably full. Selena’s parents had left their old home and retired to Florida, so she’d decided to get married in the church she and Maynard planned to attend the rest of their lives. Folks who’d helped raise Maynard were delighted, of course, and so was the chamber of commerce. The big motel up on I-20 and every bed and breakfast in town were packed with out-of-town guests.

  Hubert, Maynard’s daddy, had bathed for the occasion, which was an occasion in itself. He was a short, plump little man with a pink face, and he and Joe Riddley had been neighbors literally since they were born. They disagreed about everything from preachers to politics, but we were fond of Hubert and he seemed touched we’d sit with him on the groom’s family pew.

  Selena was radiant, her hair hidden by a soft tulle net. Her dress, sure enough, looked like something my four-greats grandmother might have worn, but styles are so varied these days that I’ll bet most people had no idea she was supposed to look historical. Maynard looked pretty historical himself, in a black suit with tails that Jefferson Davis would have been proud to wear.

  As he stepped forward to meet Selena at the blue plush steps, Joe Riddley muttered in my ear, “If he smiles any wider, his jaw’s gonna drop off.”

  The cutest person in the whole wedding party was Ridd’s little Cricket, four, who carried the rings with aplomb. The prettiest bridesmaid, of course, was Crick’s big sister, Bethany, whose dress showed curves that made her granddaddy frown and brought a lump to my throat.

  We missed hearing the vows, though. The second they started saying them, those dratted chimes started playing “Fight the Good Fight” right over our heads, at a volume and tempo that almost inspired the whole congregation to go do battle with whoever forgot to turn them off.

  We all went to the country club afterwards. I’d let Maynard use our name to get the ballroom, since cheap old Hubert dropped his membership to Golf Only after his wife died, and I’d consulted with Selena about the menu, flowers, and music, and I’d suggested who ought to bake her cake, but otherwise, I hadn’t done a thing.

  In the dessert line, I heard a couple of teenagers complaining that they couldn’t find Maynard’s BMW. As I went to join Martha and Ridd, I said, “Sounds like every boy in town already knows about Maynard’s new car, and from what I’m hearing, it’s now missing. Skell was hoping to get Maynard to sell it back to him—you reckon he did?”

  “Fat chance,” Ridd said with a grin. “He came in his old Saturn in case anybody decided to send him away all decorated.”

  Walker sauntered up, sat down by me with a full plate of cake, and echoed what I’d just said. “Maynard hasn’t told a soul where he’s hidden that new car.”

  “You still eat dessert like you’ve got a football game next week,” I observed, wiping sweet gooey frosting from my own lips. “You’d better start slacking off.”

  “I’m gonna do that.” He winked at Martha. “I’ll start the day Mama stops telling me how to eat. You know where the car is?” he asked Ridd between bites.

  “Yep.” Ridd heaped his own fork like cake was being taken off the approved-eating list in another minute. He made us wait while he chewed and swallowed. “In my garage.” Ridd and Martha had a comfortable old bungalow across town with a small detached garage. “I put on a padlock and gave Maynard the key. In fact, Bro, I need a favor. I’ll leave the key in the Saturn, and I need you to run it down to the used-car lot later today. I told him I’d do that, but I’d forgotten we had a plane to catch. You don’t have to wash it. Skye said they’ll do that while they’re cleaning it up to sell.”

  “I might mosey out and have a look at the Saturn then.” Walker pulled a bottle of white shoe polish out of his pocket. As he stood, he added, “You can finish my cake, Mama.” He’d left all of three crumbs.

  “Don’t ruin that car,” Ridd warned. “I’m thinking of buying it for Bethany.”

  “Walker will never grow up,” I muttered as he swaggered out.

  Martha chuckled. “If he does, it will kill you both.”

  “Speaking of killing, did you all hear what happened at the rehearsal dinner last night?”

  Ridd scowled. “Bethany told us. Said you sailed in on your dignity and took care of things.”

  “The truth is, my knees were knocking, and your daddy was the one who really calmed things down. Those boys were as close as peanut butte
r and jelly to knocking each other’s teeth out. Think what that would have done to Maynard’s wedding pictures.”

  By the time they told me of their skiing plans (they were taking Bethany out of school and would be gone all the next week), we heard a commotion that meant Maynard and Selena were coming. He’d exchanged his tux for a gray suit and a shirt of deep green. She had taken off her wedding gown and put on a brown dress so tacky I knew it had to be the latest style. Selena wasn’t as hipped on history as her new husband.

  We all hurried outside. The poor Saturn sported enough shoe polish to whiten Selena’s nursing shoes for a year. “Know which ones I wrote?” Walker murmured in my ear.

  “Sure,” I told him. “The ones that make your mama blush.” He snorted, but didn’t deny it.

  Martha shaded her eyes and looked at dark clouds massing in the west. “The wind’s rising,” she announced, holding her full red skirt. “We’ll get more rain by nightfall, but we can use it. Everything’s been so dry.” She grew up on a farm and knew more about weather than Marilee.

  “Don’t they look fine?” Clarinda breathed at my shoulder. She looked real fine, too, in a dark green dress with satin trim. “I’m glad he saw the light and took back that high-falutin’ car.”

  “He didn’t take it back,” I enlightened her. “He just hid it in Ridd’s garage so it wouldn’t get messed up. They’re going to get it right now.”

  She grunted her disappointment.

  The newlyweds dashed through a gamut of jests and a hail of birdseed. Maynard helped Selena in, and kissed her thoroughly. As he slammed his door, I wondered how many of the car artists suspected he would only drive it a few blocks—or if they cared.

  As they drove away, a silver Porsche pulled out of the parking lot and followed them. “Ridd”—I jiggled his elbow—“that’s Skell.”

  He shaded his eyes to be sure, then nodded. “I’d better go after them, to be sure everything’s all right. Tell Martha I’ll come back for her, all right?”