Divas Do Tell (8 page)

“Excellent. I wasn’t sure you’d be available since all the new people have come to town. Those movie people always seem to just take over, don’t they?”

“I guess. Couldn’t say. What make and model is your car?”

“A Toyota Camry. It’s been a good car, and I want to be sure I take care of it.”

He nodded. “When do you want to bring it in, Miz Bishop?”

“Let’s see, I know there are movie people here shooting scenes in the town this week so maybe next week sometime? I can call for an appointment.”

“That’s fine. Tell Randy the checkup is free. Don’t want to charge you if no need to.”

“Thank you, Billy Joe. It’s good to see you’re not affected by all the notoriety this movie is causing. Everyone else is just up in arms over it.”

A dull red flush crept up his neck to stain his face. “It don’t have nothing to do with me. Just a bunch of made-up stories about stuff that never happened.”

Gaynelle nodded. “I’m glad you aren’t letting all the gossip bother you. Dixie Lee’s book has certainly stirred up a lot of people.”

Billy Joe’s right eye twitched. “Dixie Lee Forsythe just better be careful. I hear there’s more than one person in this town who wouldn’t mind seeing her run out on a rail.”

“I’m sure there isn’t. And I’m sure the police would look quite unkindly on anyone who tried to harm Dixie Lee, no matter what they think of her. But I seriously doubt it will come to that.”

“And I’m pretty sure it will. She’s wrote a lot of stupid things about some folks, and she might think she’s smart enough to cover it up, but I’ve heard people know who she means. She just better watch her step, is what I say.”

“Yes, I certainly hope she does. Thank you, Billy Joe.”

Once we were back in the car I said, “He’s the one. I’m sure he’s the one sending those letters.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Gaynelle agreed.

Seated behind the wheel, Rayna turned to look at us and said, “Should we bother talking to the other two suspects?”

“Yes,” said Gaynelle. “If for no other reason than to rule them out completely.”

Within ten minutes we found ourselves on Chulahoma Road in front of Maybelle Greer’s house. It’s a nice house set back off the street in a wide yard, with a neat picket fence running across the front and a big bay window overlooking the garden. For a moment we sat in the car and discussed our strategy. Since I didn’t know Maybelle, Rayna thought I should be the one to talk to her.

“After all, Trinket, you were already gone when all that happened. She may not recognize you and feel freer to talk about everything.”

“If she hasn’t heard of me by now, she doesn’t read the newspapers or watch TV,” I said. “We’ve been notorious lately, if you’ll recall. And Trinket Truevine is not the most common name. I’ve been told it’s fairly memorable.”

“That’s very true,” agreed Gaynelle. “Maybe we should just announce ourselves and see where it goes from there.”

So that’s what we did. At first I think Maybelle was more curious than anything. After all, why would three people she barely knew show up on her doorstep for no reason? And of course, she’d heard about the book and the movie.

Maybelle’s short gray hair was stylish, and she wore a black velvet lounging outfit suitable for an afternoon by a cozy fire. Her house was furnished comfortably, family photographs set atop tables and hung on the walls, and she seemed very much at ease. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth as she regarded us with obvious amusement.

“Is that why you’re here?” Maybelle arched her brows, looking from me to Gaynelle and then to Rayna. “Because of that old feud with Dixie Lee? Good lord. That was so long ago I can’t even remember why it mattered back then. We were young.”

“Have you read the book?” I asked.

“From cover to cover. Dixie Lee certainly didn’t leave out many scandals.”

“So it doesn’t bother you that she’d write all about your dating her ex-husband? Or her dating your father?”

“Honey, we live in a small town. Everyone knows everything sooner or later. If you don’t get talked about, then you’re not doing anything worth being talked about, so you might as well just sit life out on a bench somewhere. I’ve moved on since then. I don’t dwell in the past, and if Dixie Lee can write about ancient history and make a little money off it, then more power to her. I found the book to be quite entertaining, even though it’s not at all my usual reading material. Maybe I enjoyed it because I know the people and places, even with all the names changed and the events altered.”

“So what do you think of the movie being made? I mean, it includes a lot of these scenes in the book that people might consider degrading.”

“I seriously doubt someone in Poughkeepsie will associate Maybelle Greer with Melody Gooch. Or have ever heard of either of us, movie or not. Besides, so many minor scenes end up on the cutting room floor, I’ve heard. The main focus is the scandal about Joe Don Battles and Sharona Smith. Really, my biggest complaint about the book is the aliases Dixie Lee chose for her characters. Wherever did she get those monikers—from a redneck’s guide to baby names?”

“Probably,” I said. “But then, my real name is just as odd, so I don’t have room to talk. My mother was still under the influence of ether when she named me and my sister.”

Maybelle walked us to the door, smiling as we left, and it wasn’t until I glanced back at her as she stood in the doorway watching us that I saw what could only be described as an expression of utter fury on her face. Maybe Maybelle wasn’t as tolerant of the book and publicity as she claimed.

Since my car was at Bitty’s house, Rayna dropped me off after we all settled on a time to go down to Hickory Flat to talk to the last suspect on our list, Johnny Payne, alias Jimmy Patterson. I had to work at Silk Promises, Carolann Barnett’s lingerie shop on the square, but would be free in the morning to go with them to the tiny community about twenty miles down the road.

My car was parked on the street in front of Bitty’s house. Even in winter the house is lovely, with a manicured front lawn behind a wrought iron fence, a bricked walk up to a front porch that goes all the way across the front and down the sides, and crystal porch chandeliers made just for outside. The house is painted pink with blue shutters, and the wicker chairs on the porch normally hold blue cushions. During winter weather Bitty has a storm door on the front of the house to keep out the cold. In the summertime an antique screen hangs there, often open to allow in cool breezes. Mississippi has approximately four months of perfect weather, two in the spring and two in the fall. The other months are either too hot or too cold. According to Southern standards, anyway. Northerners might think our winters mild. We don’t. We like sweater weather. Few Northerners can survive a Mississippi summer unscathed. They go back home wrung out like an old dishrag, often too weak to stand, moaning about killer heat. They’re right. We’re a tough crowd down here.

“So did you decide who’s trying to kill Dixie Lee?” Bitty asked when I went into the house and found her in the kitchen. It’s been newly remodeled due to the unfortunate fire of the year before. Now it has lovely granite counters that aren’t exactly period accurate but are much less likely to catch fire when a skillet of bacon gets out of control.

“We’re pretty much decided on who’s sending the death threats anyway,” I said as I opened the refrigerator and took out a pitcher of sweet tea. “Billy Joe Cramer gets the prize, we think. Of course, we haven’t talked to Johnny Payne alias Jimmy Patterson yet, so it’s not a hundred percent. Are these dishes in the dishwasher clean?”

“Yes. So what’d you think of Maybelle Pruitt?”

“Is that her last name now? I didn’t ask. She talks a good game, but she’s not as okay with the book and movie as she likes to pretend. She was all sweet and amused to our face, but I happened to catch her watching us when we left, and she looked as mad as a possum on a pole. Forgive the colloquialism.” I pulled a clean glass out of the dishwasher, shaking my head.

Bitty laughed. “Finally. You’re beginning to talk normal again.”

“Lord. It’s contagious. You’re rubbing off on me.”

“It could be worse. And before you say anything—I have good news.”

“Good for who? Me or you?” I poured sweet tea over my ice, drank half of it, then topped it off again. Sharita makes excellent sweet tea—sweet without being too syrupy, strong without being bitter, and plenty of it so Bitty doesn’t run out.

“For both of us. We’re going to be extras in the movie.”

“Extra what?”

“Extras. You know. People in the background. Pedestrians, diners, things like that. I ran into a movie person today. I think she’s the director’s assistant. Anyway, she said they’re going to need extras in a lot of the scenes. The one they’re shooting next is a period shot, so we get to wear clothes from the sixties. Isn’t that exciting?”

“All of my clothes from the sixties are in Mama’s ragbag. Why would you think I have clothes from the sixties?”

“For heaven’s sake, Trinket, we can fake it. We’ll just go to a thrift store and look for dresses that we can get altered. We have two days before we’re needed.”

“Bitty, I remember the sixties. Dress hems were between our knees and our ya-has. I have no intention of showing my thighs or my ya-ha, thank you very much.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to do either one, isn’t it? We’re going as adults, not as Twiggy or Ann Margret. Our hemlines will be below the knees. Our hair will be teased. We’ll be elegant. Think Jackie Kennedy.”

“I don’t want to do it.”

“Don’t you want to be infamous?”

“You mean famous, and no, I don’t.”

Bitty smiled. “No, I meant infamous. Think about it. We’re going to be on the set of a movie that has the entire town in an uproar. What fun!”

“Something will go wrong. Something always goes wrong when you think it’s going to be fun. I know that. I know better than to let you talk me into anything, too. So no. I don’t want to do it.”

Why do I ever bother resisting? Bitty always gets her way. I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to overcome all objections and common sense to talk me into doing something I know isn’t a good idea. Sometimes I think it’s not Bitty who’s so dangerous; it’s me for going along with her.

Chapter 5

EARLY THE NEXT morning saw me, Rayna, and Gaynelle traveling down 78 Highway to Hickory Flat. It’s not much more than a collection of houses, a few stores, and a nice school that’s grown with the influx of kids from the surrounding areas. Railroad tracks run right in front of the school, and Johnny Payne lives on a street parallel to the school gymnasium. It’s a nice little house, snug and pretty with red brick and a yard with a white picket fence. Small town America. As we got out of the SUV, a train rattled down the tracks with a terrific noise.

“Are you sure he’ll be here?” I raised my voice to ask Rayna, and she nodded.

“He works second shift at the Walmart distribution center in New Albany. He’s a manager now.”

After his arrest and time in prison for kidnapping, Johnny Payne had spent years trying to get a decent job. Felons have very few choices. I was sure he regretted his impulsive decision to abduct Dixie Lee. Sometimes adolescents do foolish things.

A blue painted metal glider sat on the front porch, shifting slightly in the breeze as we waited for someone to answer our knock. Finally the door opened. A little girl looked up at us from under a mop of dark curls. She was about four or five and had on a Hello Kitty nightgown.

“Is your daddy home?” Rayna asked, and she shook her head.

“My daddy’s at work.”

“Is there another grown-up here?”

“My grandpa. He’s in the kitchen.”

Rayna smiled. “Would you ask him to come to the door?”

The little girl nodded and left the door open as she went to find her grandfather. Rayna whispered to us, “Grandpa is probably Johnny.”

Johnny Payne came to the door a few minutes later. He was a handsome man, with thick blond hair and sleepy green eyes. He lifted a brow inquiringly and said, “Are you selling Girl Scout cookies?”

“Not this year,” Rayna replied with a smile. “We’re from Holly Springs, and we want to ask you a few questions about Dixie Lee Forsythe.”

His smile vanished, and his expression turned grim. “I don’t have a damn thing to say about her.”

“Wait,” Gaynelle said as he started to close the door, “we know you weren’t really to blame for all that happened.”

As far as I knew we didn’t know any such thing, but Gaynelle had caught his attention.

“Yeah?” he said. “And just how do you know that?”

“Because I remember your mother saying that Dixie Lee went off with you willingly. Did she?”

Johnny leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nobody wanted to listen to that back then. I don’t think anybody cares about it now. Dixie Lee wouldn’t know the truth if it bit her in the ass.”

“But the truth is that the two of you ran off together, and when her daddy found out she got scared and said you’d taken her against her will. Is that right?”

After a hesitation, he nodded. “Yeah. I tried to tell him that, but he wasn’t about to hear anything I had to say.”