Tied With a Bow and No Place to Go (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 3) (10 page)

“Annie Mae’s keeping Gracie and I’m off this morning. What
are your plans?”

“I don’t like for you to do undercover work.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be with Jinx. What about Momma’s prints
on the whiskey bottle?”

“Yeah?”

Tizzy sat up and crossed her legs Indian style. She kept her
tone soft and steady. “Do they make her a suspect?”

“If your mom committed murder, she’s smart enough not to
leave fingerprints. She made the delivery so it’s not unusual for her prints to
be found. In addition, as far as I can tell, she doesn’t have a motive.”

Tizzy leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“Darlin’, no need for thanks. That’s just logical. Until
something other than an explainable fingerprint ties her to the crime, she’s
not a suspect.”

Tizzy sighed. The worry lines disappeared. “What did you say
you were doing today?”

“I didn’t, but I’m going to take a look the mayor’s husband.
Then there’s the guy who bought the strawberries. Since his only distinguishing
marks are two tattoos of number thirteen, I’ll concentrate on those.”

“Do those mean he’s double unlucky?”

“Just the opposite. Two negatives make a positive. I’ll send
his description to surrounding counties. Maybe he’s served time and they’ll
recognize him.”

“I’ve been thinking, too. Since Nana said he headed east, it
might be a good idea to check the cameras on the new toll road and the stop
lights going into Tyler on Highway-31. If you don’t get a lead from either of
those, there’s a chance he didn’t go that far and you might be able to
backtrack.”

“Damn smart of you, Darlin’.” He pulled her face to his and
kissed the tip of her nose.

She scooted to the end of the bed and slung her feet to the
floor.

When she stood, he said, “You’re a smart woman with a great
ass.”

She smirked over one shoulder and stuck out her butt. “Thank
you. You’re the third man this week who told me that.”

He jumped from the bed, picked her up and tossed her onto
the covers and straddled her. “Third one, huh?”

Cuddles ran under the bed.

Tizzy laughed and squirmed to get free. “Stop! I’m kidding.
I’m kidding.”

He kissed her. Hard at first, then soft, and she relaxed
under him. When the kiss ended, he stood and pulled her up with him. “I love
you, babe,” he said, slapped her on the butt, and disappeared to take a shower.

~~*~~

An hour later, Ridge sat in his home office staring at the
white board, throwing a tennis ball into the air, a habit that helped him
concentrate. He tossed it again, caught it, and rolled it between his palms.
Then he picked up a marker, went to the board and drew horizontal and vertical
columns. Across the top, he wrote, SUSPECTS. Next to that, RIBBON, and last,
ALIBI.

He’d taken time to transfer his notes to the iPad, so he
picked it up and scrolled to the list of former classmates and added the names
to the board under Suspects. Although he kept information electronically, he
continued to keep the pocket notebook and the white board, a habit from his
days as a detective in Philly. The three references helped him keep cases
orderly in his mind.

He studied the screen. So far, he had: wives #1, Kassie Hobbs
Shields, #2&4, Molly Hobbs Hix, and #3, Deborah Hobbs Hester. To the white
board, he added Mayor Lounell Patton, Doyle Patton, and Mystery Man. Below the
next heading; he noted the ribbon colors for the three exes. When he questioned
Lounell, he’d find out if she was part of Jay Roy’s rainbow.

He picked up the ball and tossed it again.

Cuddles strolled in, sat by his feet and bobbed her head
with each lob.

Focusing back on the list, Ridge spoke to the cat, “Okay,
here are Neely Simpson, Janie Sue Thompson, Stella Chilton, and Mary Jo Bryant.
I’ll have Rita call and set up appointments. Good idea?”

Cuddles stared, waiting for the next toss and he smiled at
her. “I thought you’d agree.” He pitched the ball into the air, caught it, then
placed it on the desk and studied the list of suspects again.

Cuddles studied him.

“Who do you like for it? One of the ex-wives? The mayor’s
husband? The strawberry man in the old truck?”

Cuddles meowed.

“Yeah. He’s bugging me too. I may as well get to it.” Ridge
put on his hat and picked up Cuddles. “I better put you in the washroom. Tizzy
doesn’t want you to have full run of the house when nobody’s here.” Once he had
the cat settled, he went to his car and headed to the station.

~~*~~

Tizzy parked by the bar and went in through a side door.
“Hey! Anybody home?”

Jinx popped up from behind the counter and glanced at his
watch. “You’re early.”

“I want to get this over.”

“Me too. Rayann said Bubba leaves after she goes to work. I
thought we’d park in the woods near their house. That will give us a good view
of the road, but we’ll be far enough back he won’t notice the car.”

Jinx unpacked bottles of liquor from a wooden crate and
placed them on the shelf behind him. “We’ll need to be in position a half-hour
before she leaves the house, which means we need to leave in thirty minutes.
That gives us time for the tour you wanted, so step right this way.”

She followed him to the back of the bar passing through
plastic sheeting hung in the doorway. Once they entered the construction, they
walked around stacks of sheet rock and lumber.

Jinx pointed to the left. “On this side, there’ll be two
private offices with a common reception station. On the other side of them, a
full bath. Over here,” he said, sweeping his hand through the air, “will be a
stairway to my apartment.”

Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t know you were building living
quarters.”

“Mom and Dad have been nice enough to let me live with them
since I came home, but I’m a grown ass man. I need my own place, plus, it’s
convenient to work.”

“I love it. You have to promise to let me help you decorate.
I can see it now.” She framed her hands toward one area and then another.
“Sleek lines. Lots of marble and mirrors. A mixture of contemporary and antique
furniture.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold your horses, Decorating Diva. I
don’t want mirrors and marble. I want simple and rustic. Wood paneling and
stained concrete. Nothing fancy.”

“Oh. Well, that might work. I’m sure we can reach a
compromise.”

“Right,” Jinx said “We better get a move on.”

After a short drive, Jinx positioned his car down a lane
shaded by overhanging trees. From that vantage point, they’d see when Rayann
left the house.

Tizzy babbled while he kept a watchful eye. “I need to talk
to you. Ridge decided those brownies Nana brought to the luncheon were laced
with pot.”

“No shit?”

“Yes, shit.”

“Well, Om must be growing it, because Nana wouldn’t know how
to do anything like that.”

“We should check out her property to find his crop and get
rid of it.”

“I can’t do it today, but tomorrow will work.”

“Now, moving to another subject. We need to come up with a
name for your PI business. Since you’ve combined it with the bar, what do you
think of Booze and Bloodhounds?”

“Uh-uh. Sounds like drunken dogs.”

“Okay. Spirits and Sleuths?”

“Nope. Sounds like I rely on ghosts for help.”

“Libations and Inquiries?”

“Nobody in Texas says libations and half the rednecks in
this county don’t even know what that word means.”

“Good point.” She opened her mouth to say more, but Jinx
held up his finger.

“Hold that thought. Here comes Rayann.”

“If she’s right, Bubba won’t be far behind,” Tizzy said.

Ten minutes passed. “There he goes. We’ll ease to the edge
of the road to see which way he turns, then follow a few clicks back,” Jinx
said.

When Bubba turned right, Tizzy and Jinx followed. “Well, at
least he’s going in the direction of potential fishing spots. He could be
headed to Lake Palestine or Lake Tyler,” she said.

“We’ll know if it’s Lake Palestine in ten minutes. If that’s
where he’s headed, he’ll turn.”

When Bubba reached the first red light going east, he hung a
right.

Tizzy breathed a sigh of relief. He headed toward a lake.
When they reached the road, Jinx hung back before turning behind Bubba.

Within fifteen minutes, Bubba veered onto a blacktop. Jinx
and Tizzy followed him past a slough bordered by mobile homes in need of
repair. Trash littered overgrown yards. Three mangy dogs, too scrawny to care
about strangers, sat on the steps of the trailer nearest the road.

Tizzy’s stomach flipped. The location looked like a place
you’d go to buy drugs. Soon, pavement converted to gravel, and the road
narrowed. Up ahead, Bubba’s tail lights disappeared into trees.

“What do we do now?” Tizzy asked.

“I see a spot where we can park. You can stay with the car.
I’ll follow on foot.”

“No, I’m going with you. This place is spooky.”

“Fine.” He eased into the trees and killed the motor. They
left the car and kept close to the tree line. The smell of rotting fish made
Tizzy queasy. When they reached a small clearing, Jinx got his binoculars.
“There’s a houseboat.”

“Let me look.”

Jinx passed the field glasses and she refocused them. The
boat didn’t appear water-worthy. Void of paint, the old wood creaked as it
rocked with the waves. Bubba walked onto the deck, set down his tackle box and
rod and reel. Then he opened a door and disappeared.

“Oh, Crap. He’s not fishing. He’s gone into the house part.
Damn, damn, double damn. I can’t believe it. Oh—wait, he’s coming back out
again.”

Bubba picked up his rod and plopped into one of two yellow
and blue lawn chairs on the deck. “How did he find this place?”

“No idea. But the important thing is he’s telling the truth
and Rayann is nuts.”

“Oh shit,” Tizzy said, still glued to the lens.

“What is it?”

“A woman just came out of the houseboat and brought Bubba a
drink.

The next morning, Tizzy’s mouth dropped open when Nana
answered the door. Her grandmother’s usual stiff blue curls stood on end and
her lipstick looked as if it’d been applied during an earthquake. Tizzy pushed
past Nana, with Synola and Jinx right behind.

“What’s going on?” Tizzy asked.

Nana twirled around, her floral muumuu fluttered in the air
like flowers being thrown from a rose parade float. “Come in,” she trilled.
“I’m so glad to see y’all.” Then she stopped spinning, and stretched her eyes
wide, as if trying to focus. “There’s not anything wrong, is there?”

“Oh, there’s something wrong, all right,” Synola said. “You
are in a shit load of trouble, Granny!”

Nana frowned, then brightened. “Y’all want something to
drink or a brownie? Fresh out of the oven and they’re extra delicious with
butter on them. I just finished my third one, but there’s plenty left.” She
motioned them forward and danced into the kitchen.

On the counter, pans of brownies and cookies shaped into dog
bones covered the surface. Tizzy inhaled a deep breath. The air hung heavy with
an odd mixture of what she thought smelled like chocolate and crayons.

Synola reached for a brownie and Tizzy slapped her hand.

“Sorry,” Synola said. “Those things are so damn good, one
more won’t hurt me.” She went for the brownie again and brought it to her lips.
“Mmmm.”

“Nana, I need to see the ingredients you’re using to make
this,” Jinx said, sweeping his hand over the countertop.

“Oh, okay. I add extra eggs so they’ll be more like cake. I
don’t enjoy gooey brownies.” She pointed to her work island, where sacks of
flour and sugar sat next to butter and eggs. Jinx lifted the lid from a metal
canister and brought it to his nose. “Whew. What’s this?”

“That’s Om’s special herbs. He grows them. They have done
wonders for Princess Mirabella’s depression. See for yourself.” Nana cupped her
mouth with her hand and raised her voice an octave. “Mira-bell-aaaaa!”

Within a minute, the poodle ran in, first spinning in a
circle at Nana’s feet, then yo-yoing, yipping on the upswing.

“See how frisky she is. Until Om put his herbs in my
homemade dog treats, all she did was sleep. Now, she’s got more energy than
ever.”

“Where is Om?” Tizzy asked.

Nana raked crumbs from the counter into her hand and lowered
her palm for Mirabella to lick it clean. “He’s out back. He’s been studying
Native American culture. Turns out, he’s one sixteenth Navajo, so he built a
sweat lodge for purification rituals. He purifies every day seeking spiritual
guidance.”

Synola snorted. “From what spirit—Chief Mare-ah-ja-wanna?”

“Oh dear Lord,” Tizzy said.

“Where does he grow these herbs?” Jinx asked.

Nana walked to the sink, washed her hands and dried them on
a tea towel. “In your grandfather’s old calf pen. The soil is so rich there,
the herbs and mushrooms flourish.”

“You check out the crop,” Tizzy said to Jinx, “Synola and I
will get Om.”

Jinx left and Tizzy and Synola stepped out onto the back
porch. In the corner of the yard sat a wooden domed hut, with smoke billowing
from the structure. They crossed the lawn, threw open the cloth door covering,
and stooped to enter. Om sat Indian style in the middle of the hut. Naked
except for a loin cloth draped between his legs, and war paint on his cheeks, he
looked up and smiled. Long braids hung over his shoulders with what appeared to
be chicken feathers sticking from each one. On top of a shallow fire pit, a
pile of dried leaves burned.

Tizzy and Synola coughed from the smoke. “Listen to me,
Ommmm,” Synola said. “Are you aware you’re implicating Nana in illegal drug
use? What’s the matter with you?”

Om shifted his position, making Tizzy and Synola gasp.