Divas Are Forever

by Virginia Brown

  “What’d you do?” Rayna asked, and I shrugged.

  “No idea.” I pulled over at the gas station next to the Methodist church and parked. I recognized the officer as he emerged from the patrol car and walked toward me. Officer Stewart. Maybe he was just checking on the taillight. Maybe Royal had complained we’d questioned him.

  He bent down and said, “Did you get your new license yet, Miz Truevine?”

  I gulped. “Yes, I did that first thing this morning.”

  “Good. May I see it, please?”

  I glanced at Rayna, who gave me a smile somewhere between concerned and tickled. I knew what was about to happen, but what choice did I have? I took my license out of my red wallet and handed it to him. He frowned at it, then squinted up at me.

  “European Treevine?”

  “There was a miscommunication.” I tried a smile. “The young lady who entered the data misread my birth certificate. And apparently my work ID.”

  “Uh huh. Do you have those with you?”

  I sighed. “Yes, I do.”

  When I handed the birth certificate and ID to him, he scanned the former and then lifted his brows at the latter. “Hot Pants and Hot Slots? Is this your stripper ID?”

  Rayna tried to muffle a snort of laughter, but I heard her.

  With as much dignity as I could muster, I replied, “No, it’s a casino in Nevada, and I was in Human Resources. It was the only photo ID I still have, so I used it. My others were stolen, but I’ve just been told that my purse was located by the Corinth Police Department, so I hope to have my original license and ID returned soon.”

  After a moment, Stewart blew out a heavy breath. “You know, you’re either the worst con-woman I’ve ever met, or you’re telling the truth. Since I recognize Miz Blue, I’ll go with the last. If I’m wrong, I’ll find you.”

  That sounded ominous. He handed me my license and photo ID, and I slipped them into my purse. “If you contact the Corinth Police, they’ll verify what I told you.”

  He nodded. “I might do that. Good day, Miz Blue, Miz Truevine.”

  As he walked back to his patrol car, Rayna managed to ask with a straight face, “Why didn’t you tell him Sergeant Maxwell can verify your identity? Or Deputy Farrell?”

  I started the car. “Are you serious? Either of those two would be very happy to see me do a nickel in the pen.”

  Rayna snorted laughter through her nose. It was very unladylike. “Where did you hear that phrase?”

  “I think it was Law & Order reruns. Or it could be The Big Bang Theory. Who knows.”

  “Trinket, hanging out with you and Bitty can be traumatic, but you never disappoint,” Rayna said, and I feared she was right.

  Just to be polite, I stopped by Bitty’s house before I went home. I had to work the next day and wanted to be home early to recover from my trauma. Jackson Lee had gone, and Bitty came to the door to let me in, wearing a pug in a sling. It was a familiar style for her. I avoided the front fangs of a grumpy pug and sidled in the door.

  “I’m on my way home but thought I’d stop by for a minute. Really, doesn’t that hurt your neck? That sling looks uncomfortable, and Chitling isn’t that light.”

  “Fifteen pounds, and sometimes it does ache. Where have you been? I wish you’d replace your cell phone.”

  “They’re mailing me a new one. Then I’ll have to figure out how to use it again.”

  “It should be easy enough, since it’s just like your last one, Trinket,” Bitty said over her shoulder as she headed to the kitchen with me behind her.

  “No, of course they’ve discontinued the last model I had, and now I’ll have a new one with new features, and—just keep me away from hammers for the first week, and I’ll be okay after that.”

  “Are you hungry?” Bitty asked, opening her refrigerator, and I shook my head.

  “I had a sandwich at Rayna’s. She had fresh strawberries. I think they were from Mexico or California, though. It’ll be nice when they ripen here. Wait—what is that?”

  “Carpenter’s is open. They have ripe strawberries.”

  I put my purse on the counter as she pulled out a tub of strawberries. Greed gleamed in my eyes, I was sure. “Do you have whipped cream?”

  “Of course. Sharita sliced strawberries earlier, so you can have whole ones or sliced ones. Take your pick.”

  We ended up with both. Bitty ladled strawberries atop shortcake, added whipped cream, another shortcake, more berries, then more whipped cream, and we cautiously carried our towering structures of deliciousness to the kitchen table. We might have tried the parlor, but we both knew we’d never make it that far.

  Halfway through, I said as I dipped a whole strawberry into the container of whipped cream Sharita had left, “Rayna and I talked to Royal Stewart.”

  “Without me?” Bitty paused with a strawberry poised in front of her mouth, and the pug she wore decided it must be meant for her. Chen Ling grabbed for it, Bitty tried to pull back, but the pug won. She chomped delightedly on whipped cream and strawberry. Bitty shrugged and reached for another one. “I can’t believe you went without me.”

  “You were busy with Jackson Lee. You don’t feed her grapes, I hope. They’re deadly for dogs.”

  “I’m happy you care about Chen Ling’s health, but you know I don’t feed her grapes. So what did y’all find out? Anything good?”

  Rayna and I had decided to limit the information so Bitty wouldn’t get her hopes up too high, and I relayed the bare details about our conversation with Royal.

  “Maybe we should go see Skip Whalen tomorrow,” Bitty said as we reached the last bit of strawberries and shortcake. She fed Chitling a strawberry without whipped cream. The pug grunted happily, sounding similar to how we’d sounded moments before, I’m sure.

  “I have to work tomorrow, but Rayna and I talked to Skip after we talked to Royal. He’s pretty obnoxious. But so are his parents, so I can understand where he gets it.”

  “I see,” Bitty said, eying me over the depleted plates of strawberries. “You did all that without me.”

  “Did you really want me to come drag you away from Jackson Lee? He didn’t look in the mood to let you out of his sight.”

  “Well, he could have, and I’d be fine with it. All he did was fuss at me for trying to get my rifle. It wasn’t like I was going to steal it, not really. How can you steal what you own? And besides, I just know there’s something not right about those rifles. I want to see it and hold it, not just look at pictures.”

  “You know since it’s the murder weapon, they have to keep it until they arrest someone and they go to trial.”

  “Which means I’ll never get my rifle back,” Bitty said glumly. “Jackson Lee said he’d see about arranging a visit tomorrow so I can see the rifle, but the prosecutor is protesting.”

  That told me Jackson Lee truly did think the rifle may not be the murder weapon. Unless he was stalling Bitty until he was certain. That was possible. I felt duplicitous for not saying anything to her about it but reasoned it was for her own protection. One more midnight raid at the police station may see her learning to make license plates at Parchman.

  “You’d think the prosecutor would want the truth instead of putting obstacles in the way,” I said as I put dirty dishes in the sink and started rinse water.

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” Bitty agreed. “You don’t have to rinse those, you know. The dishwasher does it all.”

  “Habit. And unless your dishwasher has a disposal grinding up food left on plates—not that we left much—it’s more sanitary. Did Jackson Lee say what he thinks about the prosecutor? I know lawyers like to get together even when they’re on opposite sides, but just wondered if he had an opinion on him yet.”

  “He’s reliably vague. Wine or tea?”

  I
thought a moment. “I really need to go home. So, tea. I don’t want to get stopped again today and have to French kiss a breathalyzer.”

  “Again today? You’re making a bad habit of that.”

  “I know. Meeting law enforcement in strained circumstances is getting old.”

  We took our tea out to the front porch. Her lawn service had tidied everything up and trimmed bushes, raked leaves, planted spring flowers, and removed any pug piles.

  “Did you know there’s a dog poop service?” I asked, dredging up trivia from a brain sated with strawberries and whipped cream.

  Bitty looked at me. “To make deposits or clean it up?”

  “The last. They come on scheduled visits, clean up poop, dispose of it properly, and charge a fee. I read about it somewhere.”

  “Is there one in Holly Springs?”

  “No idea. There’s always something for entrepreneurs to do. Just look at Mrs. Tyree. She started out cleaning houses, built a reputation, added more houses, hired help, and when she sold the business years ago, it was worth a fortune. Put her kids and grandkids through college. All it takes is ingenuity and hard work.”

  Bitty was silent for a moment, then said, “I married rich men.”

  I lifted my tea glass in a salute. “And prospered. I’d rather clean houses, myself, but I know you didn’t marry them for money.”

  “I’ve thought about that. I think perhaps I married Franklin for his money, although at the time I thought it was love. It just didn’t work out.”

  “Probably because you were still trying to get over Frank. You even married a man with a similar name. You were broke and frantic and had young sons. You did the best you could.”

  “Marrying for love is really the only reason to get married, I’ve come to realize.”

  “You married Philip Hollandale for love, and look how that turned out. Never mind, Bitty. You’re smarter now. Experience has taught you a few things. When you marry again, it will be for all the right reasons.”

  She looked at me. “Jackson Lee brought up marriage.”

  I stared at her. When she didn’t elaborate, I said, “And? Did he propose? Give you a ring? Buy you a car?”

  “Don’t be silly. He just suggested that when we marry, I retire from the Divas.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. It was one thing for him to get exasperated at the dumb things we do, but quite another to try to control her choice of friends, including crazy ones.

  “And what did you say?” I asked cautiously.

  “I said that any man who expects me to give up friends isn’t the right man for me.”

  She sounded rather sad. So I said, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  “That’s what he said. He said he meant Diva activity like trying to solve murders. I understand that. But now I’m wondering if we did get that serious, would he change down the road? Would he expect me to give up friends? And if I did, what next? Give up family for him? My dog? I can’t do that, Trinket. I won’t do that.”

  “Bitty, I think you’ve had a traumatic day and may be overly sensitive. Jackson Lee has never struck me as the kind of man who demands control. He already has enough control in his daily work, and he’s not at all insecure. You’re especially careful about that because of Philip. But he was a completely different kind of man. Wait and see. Y’all have been together for about a year, and this is the first time he’s said anything like this, so just take it slow and easy and see what happens.”

  Bitty sighed. “You’re right. And it has been traumatic. I almost lost my precious girl, and that scared me.”

  Precious Girl looked at me smugly as Bitty hugged her. I decided it was time to leave the two alone to snuggle. Bitty walked me to my car.

  “Come by tomorrow after work. If I get in to see my rifle, I’ll give you an update on our case.”

  I nodded wisely, thinking all the time that the only case we really had was our shared mental instability. I asked my mother about it when I got home.

  “Mama, were Bitty and I always crazy, or is this some kind of midlife crisis we’re going through?”

  Mama looked over at me, a faint smile on her face as she chopped vegetables at the sink. “Well, hon, Sarah and I used to ask each other if it was healthy for you two to be together so often. You just seemed to gravitate toward trouble. We tried to keep you apart at times, but it never really helped. I blame the Truevine genes.”

  “So it’s genetic?”

  “Oh no, honey. I think it’s just you two are so much alike.”

  That stunned me. “Alike as in how?” I finally got up the courage to ask. “I don’t think we’re anything alike.”

  “Really?” Mama looked thoughtful. Then she went back to chopping carrots. I got the point: We’ve always been crazy. That thought lingered with me the rest of the day.

  Kit called me that night, sounding weary. “A long day, a bowel resection, and two dogs hit by cars. Almost lost one of them, but I think he’s got a good chance. I brought him home with me for the night because Mrs. Taylor worried about him dying alone.”

  One of the things I appreciate most about Kit is his compassion for not only the pets he treats but their owners. He knows that most of them think of their dog or cat or bunny as a member of the family.

  “You probably won’t get much sleep tonight,” I said, and he chuckled.

  “Probably not. I’m monitoring Rebel pretty close, but his vitals are good. So what have you ladies been doing the past few days?”

  We hadn’t seen each other much lately. Sometimes it’s like that. But we always picked up right where we left off when we got together, and I really appreciated that, too.

  I gave him a brief rundown of the past few days and what Rayna and I had learned from Royal and Skip, and added, “And Jackson Lee thinks the rifle may not be Bitty’s.”

  “He said that?”

  “No. He’s a lawyer. He said there are discrepancies. I read between the lines.”

  Kit laughed. “Jackson Lee is a cautious man. I’d be careful with the Whalen family, though.”

  My ears perked up. I hadn’t mentioned my suspicions that Skip might be involved in the death of Walter, whether by design or accident. It could be he was trying to kill Royal, or he could have been trying to frame Brandon or Clayton, although the last was pretty weak. It’d take too much planning and machinations, and he didn’t seem bright enough for that. Skip was more a reactive kind of guy, in my opinion.

  At any rate, I asked, “Why do you say that?” about the Whalen family.

  After a pause, Kit said, “I base my opinions of people on how they treat their pets a lot of the time. It’s usually a pretty close indicator of their characters.”

  It was what he didn’t say that really grabbed my attention. “Are the Whalens your clients at the clinic?”

  “They were. I wasn’t impressed with their compassion.”

  If Kit said something negative about someone, I listened. He usually tried to stay in a middle-of-the-road mode. I didn’t ask for details, and I don’t think he would have shared them anyway.

  “I see,” I finally said. “They’re no longer clients?”

  “No. Their pet died despite all I could do. They’re a sporting family. Used to have dogs.”

  That said a lot. “Sporting. Like hunting?”

  “Yep. The entire family.”

  “Oh.” That meant either Skip or his father could be marksman enough to shoot straight. Which meant if they were going to shoot someone, it wouldn’t be an accident. “I’ll keep my distance during deer season,” I said lightly, and we went on to talk about going up to Memphis for the barbecue contest in May. Memphis in May is always crowded, usually turns out to be Memphis in Mud, but it’s great fun, and the barbecue is delicious if you know
someone who’s cooking. Even if not, you can get delirious on the tempting fumes. We made plans to go.

  There are times when I miss something important that’s right under my nose.

  Chapter 14

  “DO YOU THINK Bitty and I are alike?” I asked Carolann at work the next day.

  She looked over at me, brows lifted, a faint smile on her face. “I didn’t used to think that. You always seemed more cautious.”

  “But now you do?”

  Carolann hesitated. It was obvious she didn’t want to distress me. I sighed. She put a hand on my arm, her voice earnest.

  “Oh Trinket, it’s a good thing, most of the time. Really. If not for you, Bitty would be dead or in prison by now. But then again, I don’t recall her ever finding a body before you got back to town, so it’s possible that the universe has put you together again for a reason.”

  Entertainment? Vengeance? What on earth could the universe have to do with me and Bitty and our newfound predilection for finding bodies and creating chaos? I was stymied.

  But I only said, “Yes, I suppose that’s possible.”

  Carolann smiled and nodded. “Synchronicity is a strange thing, but Carl Jung made very good points that coincidences can be connected for a purpose. Perhaps the purpose is to learn why you and Bitty have recently been involved in helping to solve murders.”

  That sounded as reasonable as anything else I’d heard. I nodded. “You know, that makes me feel better. I think. Thank you, Carolann.”

  She laughed. “You’re not convinced.”

  “Well, no. But it still sounds better than just being crazy.”

  Bitty showed up just as I got off work and was walking out to my car. I’d parked behind the store in a small area for employees. She angled her huge Mercedes into the lot, rolled down her window, and said, “Get in, Trinket.”

  I hesitated. Did the universe expect me to go off with Bitty on an obvious mission? It could create combustion like splitting the atom. Was the universe ready for that? I didn’t know how to request or receive answers, and Carolann was busy, so I got into Bitty’s car.