In High Cotton

by Kelsey Browning

  Chapter 4

  When Maggie hit the kitchen for a midmorning snack of cereal and coffee, Sera, dressed in a neon pink long-sleeved T-shirt and florescent tie-dyed skirt, was beaming with joy. If Maggie didn’t love her so much, sometimes Sera would be too bright to look at straight on. “You’re in an awfully good mood this morning.”

  “It’s a gorgeous day.” Sera did a little ballet leap, bounding across the kitchen like a deer with a strawberry blond hide. She poured coffee, pirouetted and handed the cup to Maggie. Even though she didn’t drink coffee herself, Sera was always a sweetheart about making it for Maggie and Abby Ruth. “A perfect day to get started on Hollis Dooley’s case.”

  “Case may be overstating.”

  Sera pointed to the desk drawer where they’d locked the cash he’d given her last night. “If the man is willing to pay us that much money, then the least we can do is call it a case.”

  “Still say he’s a nutcase,” Abby Ruth grumbled as she walked in the door and made directly for the coffeemaker.

  “You’re entitled to your opinion, but Hollis offered cash,” Sera said. “We can’t take the man’s money and blow him off.”

  Abby Ruth poured coffee up to the tiptop of her cup, raised it to her face and sniffed. “This chicory smells great, but with that sheep missing from our very own garage, I still think something stinks like Roquefort cheese. If we didn’t move it, then it means someone else did. Ever think about that?”

  Maggie tugged at the collar of her shirt, one of her favorites, embroidered with tulips and bluebirds. Abby Ruth was right. Here they were trying to figure out two mysteries when their safety might be at risk. “I wonder if we should install a security system.”

  “We don’t need a security system.” Abby Ruth frowned and patted her ribcage. “I got all the security we need right here. Say hello to Mr. Glock.”

  A thread of panic wound through Maggie. She’d be darned if she wanted Abby Ruth to play security around here. That woman would as soon shoot as ask questions, and that worried Maggie more than the bad guys.

  A security system was a much better idea, although she hadn’t tackled one of those in over twenty years, and now the security systems were all computerized, not mechanical. It took some technological know-how. Over her head.

  But a bright thought tickled her brain. Security probably wouldn’t be over Bruce Shellenberger’s head. They’d seen each other around town now and again since the Halloween party last fall. That night, Maggie had worn a risqué Maid Marian costume, and the way Bruce had looked at her, his gaze warm and appreciative, she’d thought he might call and ask her out. Then again, even though his wife had passed away a couple of years ago, he might not be ready yet.

  She understood. She’d gone back and forth on the topic of dating lately herself. How did a person ever know when she was ready?

  “If we go check out the dump for Hollis, we’d have the money for a security system.” Sera’s hopeful smile reminded Maggie of her grandkids begging for triple ice cream cones.

  Really, what would it hurt to spend an hour at the dump, or as Bartell County called it, the Waste Disposition Center?

  Sera’s cell phone rang, and she pulled it from under her shirt where she always seemed to have it tucked into her skimpy bra. “Hello.”

  She immediately turned away from Maggie and Abby Ruth, making tracks toward the hallway. Still, Maggie heard her say, “Baby, this isn’t a good time.”

  “Who do you think that is?” Maggie asked Abby Ruth. Sera rarely received phone calls and Maggie had never heard her call anyone baby before.

  “Maybe it’s Hollis and they’re setting up a date.”

  “Seriously, you need to stop the teasing.”

  “Fine.”

  When Sera returned a few minutes later, her face wasn’t nearly so animated, and something about her expression told Maggie this wasn’t the time to butt into her friend’s business, so she just said, “Let’s get moving, gals. We’ve got a date with the dump.”

  It was a little after eleven when they turned onto Lavender Hill Road, and Sera’s van jounced over the pitted gravel and dirt track. Abby Ruth pointed out the front window. “Looks like we’re not gonna stroll right in.”

  Sure enough, the front gates were locked. Maggie wanted to pop herself on the forehead. She knew the place wasn’t open on Fridays. “I guess we’ll have to come back another time.”

  “Now what’s the fun in that?” Abby Ruth asked. “You hauled us all the way out here. We might as well have a look-see.”

  They got out of the truck and Maggie said, “Remind me what we’re looking for.”

  Because honestly, how would they know if a couple of cardboard boxes and soiled diapers had been taken? Hollis was a much better judge than they’d ever be. Then again, that gave some merit to his claim things were missing. He would know, wouldn’t he?

  Sera piped up, “The universe has a way of leading us in the direction we need to go.”

  “Then why the hell are ninety-nine percent of the men in this world lost and won’t stop to ask for directions?”

  Maggie snickered. Abby Ruth had a point. Her George had been one of those men who’d drive all the way to Timbuktu claiming the whole time he was headed for Tallahassee.

  “Fine,” Maggie said, even though she felt a tad uneasy snooping around when the place was closed. This probably wasn’t what Hollis had had in mind. “But how will we know if we’ve found something important?”

  “I have a feeling it’s like a lot of things in the world,” Abby Ruth said. “We’ll know it when we find it. I say let’s start by scouting the perimeter. Ol’ Hollis probably sits up in that booth all day long. No way he could get all the way around this fence using his walker.”

  True. Gopher holes dotted the ground around the eight-foot chain link fence. Hollis would wedge one leg of his walker in a hole and topple over like a bowling pin.

  They trooped single file, scanning the hole-pocked and scraggly ground. About two-thirds of the way around, Maggie spotted a pile of items outside the fence line. A rickety yellow footstool, a beat-up ancient stand mixer in an awful shade of green with one beater missing, and a bathmat that appeared to have been feasted on by moths.

  Although they could see the stash of trash, it wouldn’t be in the line of sight of anyone sitting in the security booth.

  “Clues,” Sera squealed.

  “Looks like a mound of crap to me,” Abby Ruth said.

  “What about this?” Sera grabbed hold of the fence and pulled, revealing a section that had been cut, with a gap just big enough for a person to slip through.

  A part of Maggie—the part excited to jump into a new adventure—sat down, sighed and put up its feet. Case already closed. “Well, we know Hollis was right. Someone has been taking things from the dumpsters. But this is harmless. Probably just some broke kids trying to outfit their first apartment.”

  “Oh.” Sera’s shoulders folded in and her face clouded.

  Abby Ruth waved a hand in front of Sera’s nose. “Don’t know why you’re so down in the mouth. We made over three grand in less than ten minutes.”

  “Not exactly,” Sera said, pushing at the fence and slipping halfway inside. “We may know stuff is being stolen, but we don’t know who’s doing the stealing.”

  “And you think going in there will help us figure it out?”

  Sera’s hopeful smile lit up her face. “Can’t hurt.”

  Lord, the things Maggie had gotten herself into since she met these women—breaking into a high-rise condo in Hilton Head, a beekeeping date, even wearing thong underwear. One thing was for darned sure, as long as Sera and Abby Ruth were around, she’d never be bored.

  Following Sera, Abby Ruth ducked to ease her lanky body inside the fence. Maggie did the same, pretty dang happy when the exposed fence wire barely grazed her hips.

  Sera rounded a large metal trash container and stood looking up at it. Unfortunately, Maggie wasn’t paying enough at
tention to where she was going and her foot sank into something. She closed her eyes and swallowed. Anything but cabbage. She couldn’t stand the rank smell of cooked cabbage.

  One glance down told her it wasn’t much better. She’d stepped in a heap of used coffee grounds, cigarette butts, and what was either the remnants from a guy’s dip cup or prune juice.

  Abby Ruth stopped and looked back at her, then down at her own boots. “Oh, sugar. That’s not good. Handy you’re wearing tennis shoes instead of good leather like me.”

  Unfortunately, Maggie’s sneakers were made of canvas, and she could already feel the prune-juice-spit cocktail seeping into her sock.

  Abby Ruth called to Sera, “You see any shoe protection in there?”

  Sera moved closer to the dumpster and snatched out a couple of bags. “How about these?”

  “I’d prefer something made of industrial grade plastic, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” Abby Ruth took the bread bags and with a frown, dumped out the moldy bread. Somehow, she was able to turn the bags inside out without getting a speck of green gunk on her hands. Pretty as you please, she slipped the bags over her cowboy boots and tucked the tops down between the shaft and her jeans to secure them. “All set.”

  “We should look inside these bins,” Sera said.

  Maggie shook her foot, trying to dislodge specs of coffee, but her white sneakers were now the color of the cesspool that had flooded Summer Haven’s yard not so long ago. The thought of climbing into that trash made her insides shrink and hide. Sure, she could muck around in the septic system without a problem, but something about other people’s trash gave her the willies.

  “I’ll do it.” As easy as if she were skipping up Summer Haven’s steps, Sera boosted herself onto the bin’s exterior latch and then the rim, about the width of a paperback book. She held out her arms and placed one foot in front of the other as though she’d been walking on a balance beam her entire life. Not a wiggle. Not a wobble.

  Sera continued to make her way around the bin’s perimeter, all the while staring into its depths. “Aha,” she said when she was halfway around.

  Abby Ruth went on her tiptoes, trying to get a look at Sera’s aha inspiration. “Whatcha find?”

  Gracefully, Sera rotated her body and sank into what Maggie knew from watching a few of her granddaughter’s ballet lessons was a second position turnout plié. At fifty-something, Sera had perfect form—back straight, hips tucked in, and knees over toes. As though she did this Swan Lake Dumpster Dive every day, she reached down and plucked something from the mound. When she stood, she held a bright red slow cooker in her arms.

  She scampered back around the bin’s edge, tossed the appliance to Abby Ruth and dismounted with a flourish.

  “Dang,” Abby Ruth said. “I thought maybe you’d come across a stash of Playgirl magazines.”

  Maggie choked. “Do they really still publish that?” She’d only ever actually seen one issue. The one with Burt Reynolds. Quite honestly, she’d kind of preferred the mystery of his clothes on.

  “Saw one down at the Curl Up and Read Bookstore the other day.”

  Lord have mercy on them all. Word would get out that Abby Ruth was ogling naked men, and the people of Summer Shoals would decide they were a bunch of aging Jezebels out there at Summer Haven.

  Abby Ruth let out a howl. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Maggie. They don’t stock those at the bookstore.”

  “You’re a regular comedian.”

  Sera took the slow cooker from Abby Ruth. “You do know what this means, right?”

  “That someone’s not having pot roast tonight?”

  “If someone was really collecting all that stuff outside the fence to outfit an apartment, don’t you think they would’ve grabbed this too?”

  “Sugar, if this trash stealer is a man, he wouldn’t give a hoot in hell about this thing. Only thing I’ve ever seen a man cook in one of these is deer-sausage cheese dip.”

  “Ew,” Sera groaned.

  “It doesn’t even have a power cord. Looks like it’s been chewed off by a rat.”

  Sera fumbled the cooker, and Maggie caught it before it fell on her foot. “That’s easy enough to fix. Plus, it’s a new latch model where you can cook and carry. We could use one of these at Summer Haven.” She tucked it under her arm, and then had second thoughts. They’d come to find a trash thief, and now she was about to steal something herself. “Do you think Hollis would consider this stealing?”

  Sera gave Maggie a smile. “I’ll let him know we took it as evidence. I doubt he’ll mind a bit.”

  And once Maggie stopped by the grocery store and Holloway’s Hardware, they’d be having pot roast for dinner tonight.

  Early spring storm clouds were gathering as Sera pulled around to the back of Summer Haven and the three of them piled out of her van. “We better strip down out here before going in. I don’t think I’ve ever smelled this bad in my life.”

  A mouse-like squeak escaped from the passenger seat. Her mouth agape, Maggie was pointing at the open garage door. She stammered, “H-h-how did we forget to put the car up last night?”

  From the back seat, Abby Ruth poked her head between Sera and Maggie. “I don’t know. You flash thousands of dollars in front of people, they get a little sidetracked, I guess. It’s fine. I’ll pull it back inside.”

  “No.” Maggie reached for the door handle. “I saw the way you moved that car out of the garage last night. Looked like a NASA rocket launch. I’ll put it away as soon as I get my shoes off. If I track kitty litter and grocery guts onto the floor mat, Lil would never forgive me.”

  “I said I can do it.” Abby Ruth slid open the side door of the van and hopped to the ground, swatting at the dirt on her pants. She’d tossed the plastic bread bags back in a dumpster at the landfill.

  “Why don’t you go see if Jenny knows anything about the buyers down in Palm Beach? That might be time better spent,” Maggie said, her tone no-nonsense. She was rarely short-tempered, but both Sera and Abby Ruth had learned not to push her.

  Abby Ruth disappeared into the house without another word.

  Trying to change the subject and soften Maggie’s mood, Sera said, “I feel a little bad for taking Hollis’ money for this case. He’s paying us a lot of money for something anyone could’ve done. Plus, we got a crockpot out of the deal.”

  Maggie put her shoes on the porch and peeled off her soiled socks. “Me too, but it wasn’t like we set the price. We could give some of the money back to him, but then again, maybe this is one of those good karma things. Who’re we to deny that? Besides, once we find the trash culprit, we can move on to Colton’s case.” She pushed herself up from the porch. “I’ll move the car, then we can check the garage again for any clues as to who might’ve taken that sculpture. If someone had broken in, I would have noticed. It doesn’t make any sense how someone took it without us knowing. Something’s not right.”

  “You don’t think one of us really sold it, do you?”

  “I don’t know what I think…except something going missing is real odd.”

  Sera noticed the deep lines in Maggie’s forehead. It was like her to take accountability for the incident. It would have been so much easier for someone to have stolen one piece of the nativity scene while it was out in the yard. Breaking and entering, that was a real crime. Not like pilfering discarded kitchen appliances.

  Huge raindrops began to plop against Sera’s van like a warning from God. Maybe he was trying to tell them they weren’t safe here. What if one of them had surprised the intruder? That could have been really bad news.

  “I better get the Torpedo inside,” Maggie said.

  Sera watched Maggie take off into a jog across the yard. She was proud to see her new friend getting more and more fit. When they’d first met, Maggie probably would’ve had to stop and take a breather at the halfway point between the house and garage. But now, she made it all the way and jumped into the car, started the engine, then beg
an to slowly edge it forward toward the garage opening.

  A roll of thunder shimmied the earth, so loud it seared Sera’s eardrums. Surely, the lightning was still miles—Crack!

  Sera screamed. Oh, not good. “Maggie, we need to get inside!”

  That one-two punch meant the lightning was less than three miles away. It could hit Summer Haven next.

  The next crack of lightning proved her right, flashing above her. Sera dropped to her knees and covered her head with her arms. “Maaaggie!”

  As if in slow motion, an old oak belched a wad of smoke. The ripping sound of a limb coming loose set off a shiver deep in Sera’s muscles and jolted her heart. The branch’s descent seemed almost languid, graceful as she watched it fall.

  Until it hit the apex of the garage, changed trajectory, and spiraled one end over the other. The thick, ragged edge of the limb landed on the Tucker’s hood with a sick thud.

  Abby Ruth ran outside in her sock feet. “What in blue blazes was that?”

  Sera clutched her chest and stumbled to her feet, trying to force some get-up-and-go back into her thighs. Her run across the yard probably looked as if she was dragging her legs rather than they were propelling her.

  When Sera made it to the driver’s side window, Maggie was sitting inside the car with her hands wrapped so tightly around the skinny white steering wheel, her knuckles gleamed.

  “Are you okay?” Sera fumbled for the door handle, but it was locked. “Maggie, open up.”

  She didn’t budge.

  Across the car roof, Sera called to Abby Ruth, “I think she’s in shock.”

  Abby Ruth crawled through the passenger side to Maggie. “Sugar, are you okay?” She snapped in front of Maggie’s face. When Maggie blinked, but still didn’t utter a sound, Abby Ruth gave her a light tap on the cheek. “Talk to me.”

  “Lil’s car,” Maggie said brokenly.

  At the sound of her friend’s voice, Sera lay her face against the car’s cool surface and let the rain mix with her tears.