A Rip Roaring Good Time

by Jeanne Glidewell

  "I know Lexie's not guilty, Ms. Ripple. I didn't mean to insinuate that I thought she was. I merely misspoke. The detectives think she's guilty though. Don't they?" Georgia asked before answering her own question. "I saw Leonard Smith on TV just a couple of minutes ago. The chief was giving a statement on the courthouse steps. He certainly seemed confident they had his son's killer behind bars and was appalled the judge was forcing the police department to release her."

  "Yeah, well, too bad for Chief Smith and his piece-of-work stepson!" I said, cutting Georgia off. But as if I hadn't even spoken, she continued.

  "Chief Smith still believes her blood on the murder weapon proves she's the guilty party. However, Judge Jueti insisted Lexie's explanation of having sliced her finger while attempting to cut the cake, rather than cutting it as she was wielding the weapon against the chief's stepson, was credible enough to demand her release since there was nothing to prove otherwise. The chief also thought the photo that one lady took just as the lights flashed on should be enough to warrant her arrest. But the judge insisted it was purely circumstantial; possibly a case of the accused being in the wrong place at the wrong time." Georgia recited what she'd seen on TV very matter-of-factly, almost as if she'd taken notes and had been rehearsing her discussion with me.

  "Judge Jueti is correct," I replied in Lexie's defense. I wasn't quite sure where Georgia Piney stood on the matter, but it appeared to me she was straddling the fence about Lexie's involvement in the murder. I had not yet heard about the press release, so I was happy that she was sharing the information with me. But I was also pondering about why she'd ask me what was going on with the case when she appeared to know more about it than I did. "Didn't the chief mention in his remarks that Lexie had been released from custody?"

  "Um, yes." She answered simply. With that, she effectively ended the conversation by opening the door and telling me to have a nice day, and thanking me once again for returning the platter. She didn't seem to want to get into a debate about why she'd prompted the conversation by asking me what was going on with the case when clearly she already knew the answer.

  As I stepped toward the door, a photo prominently displayed on the china hutch caught my attention. It was a photo of two pre-pubescent young girls in matching frilly pink and white costumes, grinning broadly as they showed off a number of colorfully decorated eggs in their woven Easter baskets. I was certain one of the girls was Lori, but I couldn't tell which one, because the other girl had to be Lori's identical twin.

  Georgia visibly winced when she caught me studying the photo. I thought back to when I'd come to her home to discuss the party menu. She'd told me she had only one living child when I asked her if she had children. The inference that she'd had at least one other child who was no longer alive had not really registered. At the time, I'd been making idle chatter to keep from letting our conversation slide into an uncomfortable silence as conversations often do when the two parties had only just met for the first time and have nothing in common to talk about.

  In the discussion we'd just had, she'd mentioned having known of Trotter Hayes through her daughters, as in more than just Lori, the one I was familiar with. I had to assume Lori's twin had died and Georgia might not have wanted to converse with me about it. Due to the fact Lori's twin sister was obviously young at the time of her death, if the twin was truly dead, and not just "dead to Georgia", it was understandable that discussing the loss of her child might be too painful to bear. Identical twins share the exact same DNA, and the extremely close bond between most twins would have no doubt made her sister's death a devastating blow to Lori too.

  If Lori's twin really was deceased, what had happened to her? I wondered.

  I asked myself if questioning Georgia about the photo would seem too intrusive of me. Then I answered myself by thinking, Of course it would, but when has that ever stopped me before? I was a little too long in the tooth to change my nature now; to become all sensitive and non-interfering with other people's business when there was something important at stake.

  "What adorable girls!" I said, pointing to the photo. "That's Lori, and what I'd have to assume is her twin sister, isn't it?"

  Georgia nodded as her eyes misted over. I was mentally kicking myself in the rear end for not trying harder to restrain myself from asking her about the framed eight-by-ten print. I was standing there like a fool, trying to figure out what to do or say next, when Georgia surprised me by replying, "Yes. But Tori passed away about ten years ago."

  As if reading my mind, before I could get the next question out of my mouth, she answered it by saying, "She took her own life."

  "Oh, my! I'm so sorry, Georgia. I shouldn't have even asked about the photo. I was just curious, but I really shouldn't—"

  "That's all right. You had no way of knowing."

  I wanted to tell her I actually did have a way of knowing. Now that I could Google practically anything on the Internet, there was very little information I didn't have access to. It occurred to me then that maybe Georgia was unaware of this thing called the World Wide Web, as Mattie had called it. So, instead, I simply apologized once more and gave her a quick hug before walking out her front door.

  Chapter 13

  When I arrived at the inn, I found Lexie sitting in a wicker chair on the back porch, deep in thought, with a cup of coffee in her hand. She looked up when she heard me shut the door behind me.

  "Oh, my goodness, it's so good to see you!" I said. "You are surely a sight for sore eyes, my dear."

  Lexie stood up and folded her arms around me in a long and warm embrace. "It's great to be home and to be back in the company of those I hold dear. Not to mention, folks who don't reek of cigarettes, booze, vomit, and God knows what else. One of my cellmates had such a nasty stench it made me throw up in the shiny throne, with the stinkpot watching me all the while. Stone told me you and Rip have been busy trying to get to the bottom of this unbelievable ordeal. And Wendy mentioned you returned the Pineys' platter. I appreciate your help more than you know, Rapella."

  "It was well worth the trip to the Pineys, I assure you!"

  "Why? What happened?" I went on to tell her about my encounter with Georgia. She was even more surprised than I was, having never heard Georgia mention the fact she had a twin daughter who had died.

  Lexie said, "And we chat after church every week. But I can see why it'd be a painful subject for her to discuss. Tori's death occurred well before I moved to Rockdale, so it stands to reason I wouldn't have read about it in the paper either."

  "But wouldn't you reckon it was covered by the press at the time it occurred, especially when the suicide involved such a young person who left behind an identical twin?"

  "Yes, it must have been big news at the time. Things like that don't happen regularly in a town this size. When it was announced the new Panera Bread you three gals had lunch at today was going to be located here, you'd have thought they were moving the White House to Main Street in downtown Rockdale. But that's a good thought, Rapella! It's something we need to look into for sure. Speaking of twins, are you sure you and I weren't twins who were separated at birth?"

  I laughed at the ridiculousness of her remark and set my iPad down on the glass tabletop between us. "That's where this handy little critter comes in. Mattie gave me a lesson on its usefulness and I've been fiddling with it ever since. You won't believe what I discovered last night. I poked this doo-dad Mattie called an icon, and suddenly, out of nowhere, there were these images on the screen. Can you believe that I can actually play solitaire without even needing a deck of cards now? I guess Reggie put that game in this thing before she gave it to us last Christmas."

  Lexie laughed. "Honey, with that iPad you have access to a zillion different games in what's called the 'app store'. See, it's this icon right here," she explained, pointing at the screen on the device.

  I started to say that I knew what an icon was. Lexie had probably forgotten she was talking to someone who was well-versed in tec
hnical lingo now. To be polite, though, I merely nodded as she continued. "I could download a few games for you if you'd like. Or, better yet, show you how to do it yourself. Do you like Mahjong?"

  "Love it! Used to play it at the senior citizen's center back home."

  "Great! Then I'll download it to your tablet. How about Scrabble?"

  "Oh, goodness, yes!" I loved beating the socks off Rip with words like qua and zoa. Most evenings Rip enjoyed TV shows where approximately two thousand rounds of ammunition are exchanged in shootouts between cops and criminals and, miraculously, not one character suffers a gunshot wound. He particularly enjoys scenes where healthy young thugs are run down by roly-poly police officers well past their prime. In real life, it'd be doubtful if they could run down a sloth.

  Meanwhile, I'm scanning the dictionary for little-known words, seldom-used by mankind but having high-point-value letters, to use in scrabble competitions against my husband. I kind of enjoyed increasing my vocabulary at the same time.

  "I'll add Scrabble then. How about a slots game or two?" Lexie asked.

  "Nah, not wild about playing slots."

  "Really? How come? I thought casinos were like magnets to people on social security."

  "A lot of them perhaps. But not me. I suspect the games might be fixed."

  "I can guarantee you, Rapella, all slots machines are fixed!"

  "So why do people enjoy them so much?" I asked. "I've heard of people who lost every dime they had at casinos because they became addicted to gambling."

  "People enjoy the excitement of possibly winning big jackpots," Lexie said.

  "Big jackpots? Yeah, right," was my scuffing reply. "We were traveling through Mississippi a few years back and Rip thought it'd be fun to stop at a casino in Biloxi to splurge on their seafood buffet for supper. Afterward, just for kicks we decided to each put a ten dollar bill in one of their many slot machines."

  "That sounds like it'd be fun," Lexie said.

  "You'd think! But here's what actually happened. With my very first spin the machine made a bunch of dinging, bell-ringing sounds and lights were flashing like crazy. The screen up above read 'Winner.' For a couple of seconds I had visions of a brand new travel trailer in my mind. As much as I'd hate to get rid of the old Chartreuse Caboose, it is kind of like my husband, falling apart piece by piece."

  "Your trailer's still quite eye-catching though." Lexie's response went without saying.

  "So, anyway, there I was jumping up and down like an over-caffeinated lunatic who'd just won the Powerball lottery. People were staring at me like I was nuts, but I didn't care. After all, I was a 'winner' and going to be walking in tall cotton after the attendant had come over to the ringing, dinging, flashing machine and paid me off. Then Rip tugged on my shirt, and said, 'Bring it down a notch, darling. You only won fifteen cents.' Imagine that! I won fifteen cents after all the carrying-on that thieving machine went through. Winner, my well-padded behind! I didn't even get my entire twenty-five cent investment back. The screen should have read 'loser', or more appropriately, 'sucker'. Well, I cashed the rest of my money in and got the heck out of that rip-off joint! Rip foolishly played his ten dollars out and wasn't but about forty-five seconds behind me. You can bet we learned our lesson about slot machines that night."

  For some reason, Lexie started laughing so hard she could barely breathe. I thought I might have to perform CPR on her at any minute. She finally caught her breath and said, "Oh, Rapella, you are such a delight to have around! You're absolutely one of a kind, sweetheart."

  "Thank you." I wasn't sure what had tickled her funny bone and didn't know whether to be flattered or offended, so I changed the subject, "It sure is a blessing to have you out of that jail cell. I bet you're relieved to have that nightmare behind you."

  Lexie's laughter turned into a somber sigh. "Yes, it's nice to be home. But I won't have this all behind me until the real killer is captured and brought to justice. In the meantime, the chief's going to be trying to conjure up anything he can to get Judge Jueti to change her mind about not arresting me."

  "I don't see how they could dig up anything that would incriminate you in a murder you didn't commit. You are innocent, so how could they find anything that proves otherwise?" I asked.

  "I think we'd all be surprised to know the truth about how many innocent prisoners are doing life behind bars for murders they had nothing to do with," Lexie said.

  "I know you're right, but I still can't see what he could possibly come up with to make the judge think you're guilty."

  "I don't know, but if there's a way, the chief will find it. Chief Smith and I have had not-so-pleasant dealings in the past. I've gotten under his craw several times, I'm afraid. The judge was almost swayed by a statement a witness made. Remember Alice Runcan, the gal who took the infamous photos? She was also the one who walked up behind us just as I remarked that I'd be tempted to do something totally horrid to Trotter given half the chance. Well, she was all too happy to pass that little juicy quote on to the investigating team too."

  "But you were only joking!"

  "Tell that to the judge, my friend," Lexie said, before shifting gears. "Let's just enjoy some much-deserved peace and quiet for a few minutes. I'll run and grab us each a refill."

  "Sounds good to me." My vow to limit my caffeine intake while staying at the inn had fizzled out two days ago. I was now using it to keep my motor running so I wouldn't be tempted to lounge around on the porch and spend my time studying unusual words in the dictionary instead of thinking of ways to track down a killer.

  When Lexie returned with fresh cups of coffee, her cell phone was ringing in her back pocket. After a short conversation with her daughter, she ended the call and told me what they'd been discussing.

  "Wendy wants to come over here in about an hour to meet with the two of us. She plans to discuss with us what we know about our suspects so far, and what we should do to dig deeper. Mattie called to say she'd finish her stint at the hospital in just under an hour and asked to join us too in case she can help out in any form or fashion. I realize the three of you just met for lunch but I need to be brought up to date so I can be of some assistance too. After all, it's me who stands to gain or lose by any success we might achieve."

  "Great idea! I was contemplating calling such a pow-wow myself," I replied. "Four minds are better than three any day."

  As I sipped on my coffee, Lexie dozed in her chair, no doubt exhausted by the last few days of being locked up in a cage like a laboratory rat waiting for its execution. I went through the notes I'd scribbled in my notebook, hoping there was something there to spark an idea that would cast our net a little wider. A niggling thought in the back of my mind was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

  That thought was that maybe the opposite was true. Maybe we needed to narrow our search instead of widening it. Couldn't there be someone right in front of our faces we were overlooking? Maybe some individual with the desire to see Trotter eliminated and the will and means to make it happen.

  * * *

  Our meeting began with Wendy relating everything she knew about the case and the investigation. There was little additional information we didn't already know about. She was clearly aggravated by the police chief and county coroner's joint decision to keep her as far removed from the investigation as possible, maintaining that her involvement in the case was an egregious conflict of interest. Her boss, Nate, tried to placate her by explaining the policy was in place to protect her as much as anything. She was fuming when she said, "Like hell that so-called policy's in place to protect me! Do they think I'm an idiot?"

  "That's okay, honey," Lexie said, putting her arm around her daughter. "Maybe it's best you don't get in too deep under the circumstances. You are in line to potentially take the deputy coroner's place when he retires. I can't imagine anyone else being appointed to the position besides you."

  "After this murder case involving my mother?" Wendy asked. "Are you nuts?"

 
; Lexie's expression changed to one of despair. In an apologetic tone she said, "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't deliberately try to sabotage your chances on being promoted. If there's anything I can do to—"

  "No, wait, Mom. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I know it's not your fault, and everyone else will know that too, as soon as the real killer is taken off the streets. And if I don't get the promotion, it's no big deal. Getting this infuriating monkey off your back is the only thing that matters right now." With her sincere apology, Wendy reached over and gave her mom a hug.

  Afterward, Wendy continued, "As I think you all know, Stone and Rip tried to get in to see Chief Smith so they could discuss the situation with him. He told them he had no openings in his hectic schedule to see them at that time, which could be true given the circumstances, but could also just be an excuse to avoid a confrontation with the man he believes is married to his son's killer. The chief told them they'd have to make an appointment to see him sometime in the future, like two months in the future, according to Stone."

  "Rip told me this morning they are trying to set up a meeting with the lead detective now, who is Detective Russell," I remarked.

  "Good. I hope they have better luck with the detective than they did with Chief Smith," Lexie said. "Now let's see what Rapella has unearthed about potential suspects in the last few days."

  Referring to my notebook, I said, "Okay, here's what I know so far about a few people I see as likely suspects. There's Joy White, who attended the party with the victim. She and Falcon Jons split ways when he caught her cheating on him with Trotter. She then learned she was pregnant with Trotter's child, which she had aborted almost immediately. Mattie believes she was pushed into agreeing to the abortion by Trotter."

  "I'd bet my life on it," Mattie interjected.

  "Me too," Wendy added.

  "But when I conversed with her after the pole-dancing class, she seemed genuinely upset about Trotter's death," I said. "Although it appears she wasn't so upset she couldn't find it in herself to teach that class this morning. With occasional signs of glee, I might add. In fact, she laughed as loud as anyone when I attempted the 'hair chopper' maneuver."