Murder Gets a Life (10 page)

“I guess so.” The woman concentrated on a stitch she had dropped, retrieved it, and looked up with a lovely smile. “You just startled me.”

“She does that a lot.” I quickly tucked my legs as
far under the blue fiberglass chair as I could to avoid the kick I knew was coming.

But Mary Alice just pointed toward the green afghan. “It’s so nice to see a young woman doing handwork.”

“Vanna White crochets afghans,” I said, looking at the TV.

“And that’s nice, you know? Good practice for turning letters. Things going in the right slot.”

The woman smiled as if Sister had made sense. “I enjoy it.” She stretched her fingers and then bent to her work again. The conversation had obviously worn down for her.

But the subject matter hadn’t. “Patricia Anne,” Sister said, “you know how the prettiest one of Mama’s rugs is the one with the Easter lilies on it? I’m thinking about giving it to Ray and Sunshine. I think they’ll appreciate it, don’t you?”

“On a boat? No way. Give it to one of the girls.”

“I guess you’re right.” Mary Alice glanced at her watch. “You must need batteries. We sure didn’t have time for a sandwich.” She got up and walked to the window. Just at that moment, a voice on the intercom announced the arrival of Delta flight 180 from Atlanta. I joined her to watch the plane taxiing in.

Ray was the first person up the ramp and we let him walk right by. We had seen the wedding tape and knew he had a beard, but we weren’t expecting a Viking. We were waiting for the Ray who was still our youngest child.

“Mama. Aunt Pat.” He stood behind us, at least fifty pounds heavier and grinning through a bush of golden blond hair. “You didn’t recognize me.”

Mary Alice clutched her chest. “My Lord.” Ray
hugged her, almost picking her up. Me he nearly threw over his shoulder. Then he gave each of us a big kiss which surprisingly, considering all the hair, was a familiar Ray smack.

“Y’all okay?” He looked around. “Sunshine’s not here?”

“We haven’t heard any more from her,” Sister said, coming in for another hug. “Hey, my darling. How was your trip?”

“Long.” He waved at someone over our shoulders. We turned and saw a huge bearded man walking toward us. Had I missed something? Were beards coming back in style? The last couple of days we had certainly seen a lot of them.

“Mama. Aunt Pat. This is my good buddy Buck Owens. Buck’s my right-hand man on the boat.”

“Ladies. I’ve heard a lot about both of you.” Buck appeared to be about twenty years older than Ray, in his early fifties. His hairline was receding from his bronzed creased forehead, and there was as much gray in his beard as there was brown. Like Ray, he was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. His smile was that of a much younger man, though—a flash of white, even teeth.

“Here, Ray,” he said, handing him a large paper sack. “Hold my Georgia suitcase for me and let me get hugs.”

He was a very competent hugger. I even got a little pat on the behind, and I think Sister did, too. She looked at me, grinning. Sometimes I think the whole feminist movement missed us.

“Heard any more from Sunshine?” Buck asked as we were walking toward the baggage claim.

“Nothing,” Sister said. “There’s sure been a lot happening, though.”

“Buck knows all about it, Mama.”

“Yeah. Sounds like a mess. I grew up in Nectar, and I know the Turketts, every one of them. Nice people. Course Meemaw’s a little strange since she saw the flying saucer, but that happens sometimes. You know?”

“Of course,” Sister agreed. Just an everyday occurrence.

We reached the baggage carousel and waited.

“The funny thing,” Ray said, “is that Sunshine had been on the boat for two days before Buck realized he knew her family.”

“Didn’t recognize the name Dabbs. Like to have had a fit when I found out she was Kerrigan’s daughter.” There was a buzz and the bags clunked down the ramp and began to circle. “I said, ‘Lord, Lord, what a small world.’”

“Here, Buck.” Ray reached over, grabbed a bag, and handed it to Buck.

“Thanks. I’m so jet-lagged, I’m cross-eyed.”

“Are you going out to Nectar tonight?” Mary Alice asked. “Do you want us to take you?”

He nodded. “My mama’s expecting me. She’s the main reason I came home. I came to help Ray, too, but the main reason is my mama. I’ve been away too long. And I appreciate the offer, but I’ll grab me some coffee and rent a car. It’s no distance.”

“We’ll be happy to take you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. But I’ll be fine, and I’ll need a car up there.” Buck Owens picked up his bag. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Ray.”

“Okay, Buck. Thanks.”

“Bye, ladies.”

I watched him walk away carrying the suitcase, paper sack under the other arm. I didn’t know how
long Buck had been working on boats, but he had the slight roll of a sailor. Nice man, I thought.

“If that man lost a hundred pounds, he’d be a knockout,” Mary Alice said to Ray. “Did you meet him in Bora Bora or did you already know him?”

“I met him in Bora Bora. In fact, I bought his boat. I saw it advertised and went to see him. When I opened my mouth, he said, ‘Man, you’ve got to be from Alabama.’ We got a kick out of that.”

“How come he was selling the boat?” I asked.

“He’d never had the money to fix it up for dive groups coming from the United States and Australia. They want nice accommodations and good food and they’re willing to pay good money for it. Old Buck’s a great diver, but he’s not much for the amenities.” Ray reached over and grabbed a bag. “Anyway, he stayed with me and it’s worked out fine for both of us.” He straightened. “Okay, let’s go.”

Mary Alice pointed to the bag. “That’s all you brought?”

“I’ve got a closet full of clothes at home, Mama, unless you’ve given them to the Goodwill.”

“They’re there.” And they would all fit a man several sizes smaller. Ray had forgotten about that.

“Jeez!” he exclaimed as we stepped through the door. “What’s the temperature?”

“I think it made it to a hundred five.” Mary Alice looked at Ray with concern. Sweat was streaming down his forehead, the only part of his face we could see. “Are you okay?”

“Jet-lagged to hell and back. And you’re sure it’s only a hundred five?”

“That’s not counting the humidity,” I said. “The heat index is something like a hundred fifteen.”

“Well, good. I thought I’d suddenly been hit by a truck.”

“You look like it, too,” Mary Alice said. “Let’s get you where it’s cool and get some fluids down you.”

“And tell me all about Sunshine. You’re sure she’s okay?”

“Positive,” we both lied.

A
n hour later, we were sitting in Sister’s air-conditioned sunroom. The plants and white wicker furniture make it an oasis on a day like this. Below us, Jones Valley simmered in deep twilight.

Ray, showered and dressed in shorts and tee shirt, an outfit he must have brought with him because it fit, sat on the sofa eating pasta salad and drinking iced tea.

“I didn’t think I was hungry,” he said. “But I guess I am.”

“Here, have some more tea, sweetheart.” Mary Alice filled his glass. “That’s what you need when you’re jet-lagged. And eat those apple wedges. They’re good for you, too.”

I had eaten while Ray was showering and now I had my chair turned sideways so I could see the whole valley and the statue of Vulcan guarding it. Behind Vulcan, down a tree-lined street, was a man walking from his den to his bedroom trying to digest collards and keep up with the Braves game. I had called him as soon as we got to Sister’s and he said the vegetables were delicious and he had eaten every
bite. “Walk,” I reminded him. “And take some Maalox.”

Ray put his plate on the coffee table. “Thanks, Mama. That was great. Now y’all tell me everything that’s happened.”

“We don’t know,” I said.

“I mean everything in general, Aunt Pat. I think I’m missing a lot of what’s been going on.”

“That’s for sure.” Sister looked over at me. “I’ll tell him about the dinner party, Mouse, and you tell him about the dead Indian. Okay?”

“Sure.”

Mary Alice sat down across from Ray. “Well, Henry did the cooking and we had Rock Cornish hens, but Debbie didn’t feel like coming so I invited Haley who, incidentally, is marrying Dr. Philip Nachman Saturday and going to live in Warsaw for six months. Bless her heart. They were going to the city hall and having a judge do it but I stepped in and said, ‘Listen, Haley, a person doesn’t get married very often so you ought to make it special.’”

Ray reached over and patted his mother on her knee. “What about Sunshine, Mama?”

“Well, she had on a pink sundress with spaghetti straps and looked just like a Barbie doll. Her Meemaw is something else, though. I hope your children don’t look like her, Ray. Little squenchy eyes.” Sister made little binoculars with her fingers and held them to her eyes. “Real squenchy and her face all puffy. You know how steroids do you?” She turned to me. “I hadn’t thought of that, Mouse. Did Meemaw say anything about taking steroids? I swear so much has happened I can’t remember it all.”

I shrugged that I didn’t know.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter except we don’t want
something wrong with her that your children could inherit.” Mary Alice paused. “Where was I?”

“The dinner party,” Ray said.

“Of course. Well, we were sitting in here having drinks and Sunshine said she had a tape of the wedding for us to see, but she’d left it in the car which she should have known better than to do because they warp in this heat. But anyway, she went and got it, but it wasn’t a tape of your wedding. It was a movie her mother starred in.” Sister looked at me for help but she got it from Ray.

“She told me her mother makes porn movies.”

“But she’s real nice, son.”

“And beautiful,” I added.

“Okay, tell me about the dead Indian.”

It was my turn. I told him about running into Meemaw and going to the Compound, about the dogs—

“Pick up a stick if you go out there,” Sister interrupted.

I told him about the Indian who really wasn’t an Indian but who chiefed at Crystal Caverns, about the hog-butchering knife, and Sunshine’s disappearance. And Pawpaw.

Together Sister and I told him about the morning’s search, and he listened to Sunshine’s message.

“I’m more jet-lagged than I thought,” he said. “None of this is adding up. I guess I thought Sunshine would have shown up by now with some explanations. Unless she’s really been kidnapped. But”—he pointed toward the phone—”if she were, she wouldn’t have left that message.”

“Well, we’re not going to solve it tonight and you need some rest.” I got up and stretched. “Are you going to take me home, Sister, or do you want me to call Fred?”

“I’ll take you. Let me find my keys.”

I kissed Ray and told him to sleep well. He followed me down the hall toward the front door.

“Thank you, Aunt Pat, for everything.”

“I’ve done nothing, darling. I wish there were something I could do.”

“I found them,” Mary Alice called.

Ray opened the front door and I stepped out and fell flat. I don’t mean a sort of glide-down or stumble-around. I mean flat, right on the terrazzo tile and the welcome mat.

“My God, Aunt Pat. Are you all right?” He stepped out to help me and ended up on the tile, too, though I could tell from the noise and the fact that he didn’t land on top of me that his fall was the stumble-around-before-you-settle variety.

“What are y’all doing down there?” Sister asked.

“Don’t come out, Mama.” Ray touched my shoulder. “Are you all right, Aunt Pat?”

“I just don’t know.” I moved my arms and legs. They were working. There was no sharp pain in my hips. I saw only one Sister and Ray, and I knew who the President was. I turned on my side and felt a squishy mess under my stomach. I reached down and touched it. “Maybe you’d better call 911. I think my intestines are falling out.” I don’t even remember being afraid, just surprised that my insides had suddenly gushed out.

“Yuck,” Ray said. “It’s a dead turkey.”

“Roll over, Mouse. You’ve killed a turkey. Are you okay?” Sister knelt down with much groaning. “Lord, I’m getting out of shape.”

I rolled over and sat up gingerly. All my bones still seemed to be connected. There was a burning sensation on my forehead, though. I reached up and
felt a knot already popping up. Ray and Mary Alice were examining a turkey which, as far as I could tell, was split down the middle, viscera spilling out. I closed my eyes against sudden nausea and held on to a pot of geraniums.

“I didn’t kill that turkey,” I managed to say.

“What the hell kind of deal is this?” Ray stood up, brushing himself off.

Sister poked at the turkey. “And he was just lying here when y’all stepped out?”

“Of course, Mama. How come you think Aunt Pat and I ended up on the porch?” This reminded Ray. He came over and gently lifted me to my feet. The world whirled around dizzily.

I held on for dear life. “Don’t let me go.”

“God, look at that goose egg,” Ray said.

Sister looked around. “There’s an egg, too?”

“On Aunt Pat’s head, Mama.” He picked me up and carried me in to the den sofa. “We’ve got to get some ice on that.”

Sister followed us, looking worried.

“I’m okay,” I told her.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to look awful at Haley’s wedding.”

The wedding. I felt my forehead. She was right. I was going to have the shiner of all times.

Ray was back in a minute with ice wrapped in a paper towel. “Maybe we ought to take you to the emergency room,” he said. “That’s really a big bump.”

“Get the flashlight out of the junk drawer and let’s see if her pupils are dilated,” Sister said. Ray trotted off and was back in a moment shining a big yellow flashlight in my eyes.

“What do you think?” He turned the light off and
on while he and Sister watched to see what happened in my eyes.

“I think you’re crazy.” I snatched the flashlight away and sat up. The room was reasonably still. “I’m going home. I’m going to take a very long hot shower and throw these dead turkey clothes away. Yuck. And then I’m going to take a whole bottle of aspirin and put an ice pack on my head and go to bed. Is that clear?”

“I’ll take you,” Mary Alice said.

Fred was asleep in his recliner when I went in which was a relief. I wanted to get cleaned up before he saw me. The knot on my head would be bad enough; I didn’t want him to see dead turkey all down the front of my good beige linen pants which, regardless of what Mary Alice said, I bet the cleaners couldn’t do a thing with.

I crept into the bedroom, closed the door quietly so I wouldn’t wake him up, and shucked off the bloody turkey clothes which I figured were probably strep and staph incubators by now. I took the plastic liner from the bathroom wastebasket and wrapped them in it. Then I got in the shower and, for the second time that day, began to bawl. My head ached, I was going to have a black eye, and every joint in my body was stiffening. Every bit of it was Sister’s fault.

The hot water felt good on my neck and shoulders. I put my head back far enough so some of it ran down my forehead and blended with the tears. It actually felt soothing going over the bump. I wet a washrag and draped it over my head and forehead. Haley was to blame, too. Springing a wedding on us and moving to Europe like that.

Mary Alice and Haley. If I ended up on Prozac, they’d be to blame. If I ended up in Brookwood Hospital’s psych ward, it would be their fault. “
No
,” I would say to Fred. “
Tell Haley she mustn’t come all the way across the Atlantic to see about me even though I know she’s eaten up with guilt
.”

I began to feel a lot more cheerful. “
And tell Sister that the doctor says she is to remember my fragile emotional state. No more bossing me around or calling me Mouse
.”

“
Yes, my darling. You’re the cornerstone of this family. We all know that now
.” Fred would lean over and brush my lips with a kiss. “
You just get your head back on straight
.”

Hmmm. He could have phrased that better.

The shower door opened just a little. “Can I get in with you?” Fred asked.

“You can get in but not with me. I’m getting out.”

“That’s okay. I’ve already had a shower.”

I turned off the water and reached for a towel.

“I’ll dry your back,” Fred said helpfully.

“Not until you see my head.” I stepped out and pushed my wet hair back so he could get a good look.

“My Lord, honey, how’d you get that bruise?”

“I fell over a turkey.”

He held me by my shoulders. “Come over here in the light where I can get a good look at that thing. What do you mean you fell over a turkey?”

“I mean there was a turkey on Sister’s porch. A dead one. I fell over it.” I closed my eyes as Fred tilted my head toward the fluorescent light over the medicine cabinet. “It’s all Sister’s fault.”

“I’m sure it is, honey.” He circled the bump gently
with his fingers. “Do you feel okay? Dizzy or anything?”

“I was at first. I’m okay now. Except everything hurts.”

“Well, damn.” He handed me my nightgown which was hanging behind the door. “Here, honey, put this on. I think I’d better call the doctor.”

But I had an inspiration. “Why don’t you call Haley?”

“Good idea. She needs to come over and check you out.” Fred held out my summer robe. “And I want you to come sit in the den until she gets here or until I get the doctor. I don’t think you ought to go to sleep.”

I was feeling much better. “Haley is probably at Philip’s, you know.”

Fred led me gently down the hall. “I’ll find her. I can’t believe Mary Alice didn’t do something about this.”

Much, much better.

“A turkey?”

Maybe I imagined I heard a tiny snicker.

“Advil’s about the best you can do for something like this, Mama. You got any?” Haley sat on the edge of the couch in the den.

“I’ve got a litle package that came in the mail with some coupons.”

“Well, take a couple of them. I really don’t see any signs of a concussion. You might want to check with the doctor, but I’m sure he’d just say call him if you have any symptoms like nausea.”

“That’s some knot, isn’t it?” her father said admiringly.

“If that turkey had been an ostrich, she’d be dead.” Haley and Fred both giggled. I knew I’d be hearing
“
Remember the time Mama fell over the turkey?
” until the day I died.

I shifted the ice pack to my other hand. “I’m going to look like hell at your wedding.”

“So am I at the rate I’m going. I’m only halfway packed and I keep thinking of things to do, like stop the paper.”

“What are you doing about your job?”

“Della St. Clair is coming back. She quit when her little girl was born, but she’s three now and Della jumped at the chance. By the way, Mama, y’all will keep Muffin for me, won’t you? She’s not a bit of trouble. I don’t think she and Woofer will bother each other at all.”

“Sure we will,” Fred agreed. “But no heating pads on the kitchen counter.”

They both laughed at that. Mary Alice’s fat cat, Bubba, sleeps on a heating pad on her counter. Not only is it a terrible fire hazard, but it’s a wonder all of us don’t have hair balls.

“Back to the turkey, though. It was split down the middle?” Haley asked.

“With its insides falling out. It was awful.”