by Tonya Kappes
“Trudy Bull,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you and I’m so glad you helped me.” She put her hands in prayer pose with a small bow.
“I can write down some directions, that way no one will bother me with it,” Queenie grumbled and walked over to the book shelf where there was a pad of paper and pens stuck in a coffee mug.
After I helped Trudy, I thought it was about time to start taking responsibilities for all of my actions and not just Paul. I headed outside and ignored Dottie’s under breath comments on how I wasn’t invited to their little party.
“I’m crashing it.” I sat down on the curb next to her and realized I’d never sat on a curb before. “I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean for you to think I thought you killed Paul. I know he did wrong and even though he was a criminal, he was my ex-husband and was great up until the FBI raided our house. I’m trying to work through all those feelings I have. Was he the real man I fell in love with five years ago and married only a couple of years ago? Was he the man that took everyone’s money and a criminal? Did he get caught up into something that he just couldn’t get out of?” I shook my head. “These are questions as someone who is trying to make his actions right, that I’m asking myself. I think I need to figure out who killed him and why in order to move on.”
“In the process you’re willing to say that I did it to Hank?” Dottie asked. “I never once asked if you killed Paul.”
“You didn’t. He asked if I knew anyone who in the RV park would want Paul dead. Trust me, you’re not the only one. I told him that someone got to Paul before me.” Both of us laughed. “I’m sorry.”
“If you wanted to know about the conversation, I’m more than happy to tell you,” she said and put the cigarette out on the edge of the curb. “He came by once a month to collect any lot fees and I gave you the print out. A few of the people on the list, I paid their fee with what little money I’d got paid from Paul. He must’ve known something was coming down the pipeline with all his dealings because the last time I heard from him, he told me that he was going to come live here and take over. When I asked him about my job, he said and I repeat, ‘Toots, times are hard. I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.’”
“She didn’t take to kindly to being called Toots,” Queenie said in a matter of fact way with a hard nod. “I was there. Me and Henry. She had a good comeback.”
“I’m afraid that comeback just might be what will get me trouble.” Dottie twirled the edge of the curl around her finger. “I told him which way was which and how ashamed he should be about taking people’s money. I wasn’t stupid. I watch them big news channels. When I started talking to people around here, they started telling me how he’d been investing their money or something like that. I’m not gonna lie no more. I was the one who called the FBI. I gave the tip and I even warned Paul, telling him that I was gonna get him back.”
“Do you think he was on his way here after he broke out of jail to come confront you?” I asked.
“I don’t know why he came here. I figured it was for you, but then I wondered if like you, he had no other place to go.” She shrugged.
We all looked up as we heard a car approaching, Hank’s car. We stood up and waited for him to park.
“You didn’t tell the FBI who you were?” I asked.
“No. I called anonymously. I even did it from a pay phone in another town.” She put her hand over her brows to shield the sun. “He looks like he means business.” She dropped her hand and greeted him after he made it over to us.
“Dottie. Ladies.” He looked at me last. There was a bit of a smirk on his face. “Dottie, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure, Hank.” She walked over to the side where he’d pointed and he followed.
“Hey, you two.” Betts walked up with a couple of bags in her hands. She leaned to look around us. “What’s going on?”
“We don’t know. Well, we have an idea.” Queenie cocked a brow. “We won’t even bother giving you a free guess.”
“Paul West?” She asked.
“Mmmhhhhm,” My nose drew a big line up in the air and an equally big one down to my chin. “Let’s go inside and give them some space.”
Queenie held the door open for us to walk in.
“I’ve got some good stuff for you.” Betts held the bags up a little when she walked into laundry mat. “I went back to the Tough Nickle after how he treated you this morning. I told him how ashamed he should be treating you that way when I see him every Sunday sitting in the front pew next to his wife.”
Queenie nudged me. “That’s why we keep her in the group. She’s good at using what we like to call our mama’s God guilt.”
She pulled out twinkly lights, flower necklaces, some blow up palm trees and beach themed paper cups with napkins along with a couple of those flamingo lawn ornaments. They’d seen better days, but wasn’t all the chipping looking stuff coming back in style?
“I’ve got tons more in my car.” She beamed with pride. “I told Lester what you were doing and how you were going to bring back the tourists to Normal and how good it was going to be for the community to see you in church. We had a lot of left overs from our beach themed vacation bible school, that Lester donated it all.”
“Did you say see me in church?” I pointed to myself.
“Why yes. You are now part of the community.” Her smile faded when she realized I wasn’t smiling. “You do believe in church, right?”
“I. Um.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, but I’ve not been in a long, and I mean long time, so maybe you should take it all back.” I gulped.
“Don’t be silly. We will see you in church on Sunday.” She patted me and headed back into the door that read office in rectangle, uneven letters.
“You just got mama God guilted.” Queenie drew her hands up over her head and tipped over at the waist, bending down to touch the ground. “I’ve got to go to class. You want to go? Good for stress.”
“No. I want to talk to Dottie and get a jump on cleaning up the RV park.” I watched out the door when I saw that Hank was walking back to his car and left Dottie standing there with her shoulders slumped.
“Strike class is in the morning.” Queenie did some sort of move that I think was supposed to resemble her hitting a punching bag, but it looked more like a wet noodle to me. “You should come.”
“Maybe one day.” I was promising a lot of one days to people around here. One day church, one day Jazzercise. I wondered if that one day would come. I pushed the door open and poked my head out. “Are you okay?”
Queenie pushed past me and gave a wave over her shoulder. “I’ve got to get to class, but I’ll call after Dance Mix.”
Dottie acknowledged her.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Queenie said to Dottie, only this time she kicked her leg out to the side.
“I’m going to head on back home.” Dottie let out a big sigh. “Do you need a ride?”
“I was hoping you’d ask.” I offered a peace offering smile.
“Then we can talk about it on the way.” She dug her keys out of her pocket.
“Let me grab the stuff Betts brought and tell her goodbye. I’ll be right back.” I swung the door open and walked over to Betts’s office door, knocking on it.
She called for me to come in.
“Hey, I’m heading back home with Dottie. Do you want me to grab the stuff from you?” I asked.
“I can bring it over in the morning when I give you a ride to the library, that is if you need a ride.” She was sorting through some paperwork on her desk.
“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I looked at Betts for a moment longer before I headed out to meet Dottie’s old pickup truck.
“Hank said I’m a suspect.” Dottie spoke with the unlit cigarette stuck between the corners of her lip. She jerked the gearshift that was on the neck of the stearing wheel down into drive. “He said that he had some folks come forward with some information about my conversa
tion with him. I actually thought Paul and I were friends up until the last time he’d called.”
“I’m sorry. He made everyone feel like they were important in his life. Just look at all the people who invested with him and gave them all their money.” I looked out the window as we headed out of town.
“I’m one payment away from my camper being taken away from me.” She curled her lips together. “Like Henry, I had some savings. My husband and son were killed in a car crash.”
I looked over at her. She swallowed, hard.
“The trucking company that hit and killed them gave me a real big settlement,” her voice trailed off.
“Please don’t tell me that you. . .” I didn’t have to finish my sentence. By the look on her face, I knew the answer to my question. “Can you stop?”
Dottie brought the car to a halt in the middle of the street right in front of Normal Diner.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I forgot I was going to meet someone about the fundraiser at the diner.” I planted my palm on my forehead. “I’m forgetting a lot of things lately.”
“Do you want me to wait?” she asked.
“No. You go on home and get some rest. We’re going to figure out who did this to Paul.” I pinched a smile. “You aren’t the only one in Normal that wanted to kill Paul.”
TEN
The diner was actually really cute. Just like the rest of the shops in Normal, it was cozy and very southern, small townish. It was shot-gun style with a long counter down one side with the kitchen and working guts behind it and a row of red-sparkly leather booths along the other side that butted up to a long row of windows.
The smell of grease, bacon, beef, and cinnamon filled the air along with the sounds of chatter and utensils hitting the plates. I looked around and the only seat not taken was at the counter. It just so happened to be located right in front of a pie stand.
I stepped up on the platform where all the single chairs along the counter were bolted down and slid up on the red-sparkly leather which was the same sparkly leather on the benches. I swiveled the chair seat around with my hands folded on top of the counter.
“Hiya.” Trudy Bull was standing in front of me with an apron tied around her waist, a pen stuck behind her ear. The diner logo was a coffee cup with steam curling out the top was embroidered on the front. “What do you want to eat?” She tapped the top of the pie stand with her pen. “Or you can go straight for a slice of apple pie. Best around.”
Now it made sense why Queenie told Trudy people didn’t want to smell mildew while she was serving food.
“Tell me first what’s good?” I asked and plucked a menu from between the salt and pepper shakers.
“Everything. Now.” She leaned over and whispered, “I wouldn’t have said that about six months ago because our head chef wasn’t here then, but now.” She put her lips together and kissed the tips of her fingers in an Italian sort of way. “The new chef makes the grease taste good.”
“I’ll have whatever you think is good.” I picked up the menu and put it back where I’d found it. “What happened six months ago?”
“The chef’s dad, well the dad was the chef and he’s the owner,” she flip flopped her hand. “had a heart attack. Apparently, it was about that guy they found in the lake over at the trailer park.”
“RV Park,” I corrected her. “I live there. It’s RVs and campers.” She gave me an odd look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you there.”
“It’s because you haven’t, Trudy.” Ty Randal appeared in the in between window between the diner and the kitchen. “She’s the new owner of Happy Trails. Or should I say the owner all along.”
“The own…ooooooo,” her lips formed a dramatic O. “You mean that you’re Mae West.”
“And how did you hear about me?” I asked. “As far as I know, I’m just the nice lady that helped you figure out the dryers at The Laundry Club.”
She smiled but it quickly faded when Ty hit the dingy bell.
“Table six up!” He yelled extra loud. The entire diner fell silent.
“I knew I was going to like you when I heard your name.” She winked. “One order of campfire hash coming right up.” She jerked her head to gesture towards Ty. “He’s how I know who you are.”
Trudy moved out of the way, exposing the pass-through window. Ty was still staring at me. He whipped the towel off his shoulder and disappeared, only to reappear through the swinging kitchen door at the far side of the counter. He hurried past the counter and found his way between me and the customer next to me.
“Sorry, Dan.” He nudged Dan and took his ticket. “Suppers is on me tonight. You’ve got to move or go, but I need this seat.”
“Here’s your hat and what’s your hurry, Ty,” Dan said with some sarcasm as he stood up and picked up his bowl of soup.
“Why are you here? I told you I’ll have your money.” Ty sat down next to me, his knees touching my seat and keeping me from swiveling it away. “There’s no need to harass me at work like your ex. I told him and now I’m going to tell you,” his voice trailed off. He ran his hand down his face before his chest rose in a big inhale.
“What did you tell my ex?” I was curious.
“Listen,” he jerked my chair around so I faced him. He got so close to me that I could smell a mix of a musk cologne and grease. I’m not going to lie, it was a nice smell and his blue eyes was what I attributed the flip in my stomach to. “I won’t have you come in here again or I’ll call Hank Sharp.”
“Are you telling me that Hank Sharp hasn’t come in here to ask you about Paul’s death?” I wondered, but knew I was putting a little voice in his head.
“I’m not telling you anything. I don’t know you. I don’t need to tell you anything. All you need to know is that I’m going to have your money to you and I’m looking for a new place for me and the boys.” He planted his hands on the counter. “If you’ll excuse me now,” he said in a huff, “ and get out of my diner.”
“One camp hash,” Trudy started to say and put down the plate that looked so good, but Ty jerked it out of her hands.
“She’s leaving,” he told Trudy and took the plate, disappearing with it back into the kitchen from where he’d come.
There was no sense in trying to stay somewhere where I was obviously not welcome. True, I didn’t go in there to eat, but to get some information. I wasn’t looking forward to a walk back to the campground. It was that weird time of the late afternoon, almost night,where it was still light out until around nine thirty in the evening. Since it was only 6 p.m., the sun was still out and the only place that looked to be open was the bank.
There was no better time to look into a line of credit and come to do what I was going to do with some of the cash from Paul’s sock drawer.
The bank wasn’t exactly what I’d pictured it to be. . .a regular bank. Nope. Normal Trust Co. had one teller window and one office. There was a small table in the middle where there were some extra deposit and withdraw slips like a regular bank would have but on a very small scale.
“Is that a real Gucci?” The lady behind the only teller desk looked at my purse. She pushed up on her elbows to lean over the counter and get a better look.
“It is.” It was one gift that I’d smuggled out of the pile of items the FBI had seized. My love for designer bag days were over for now and I had this one last one to cling to.
“Hmm.” She gave me the side-eye. “I’ve never seen a real one. Only the ones in the magazine down at the Safeway.”
“Safeway?” I asked.
“The grocery store.” She straightened her posture and pulled back her shoulders. “How can I help you?” She looked at her watch. “And make it quick because I’ve got three minutes until six according to my watch and I don’t care what I’m in the middle of, it just stops.”
“Is someone here to talk to me about a line of credit?” I pointed to the desk.
“Mr. Deters!” She yelled towards the
open bank vault that was next to her desk.
“Deters?” I questioned. “Any relation to Alvin Deters?” I asked.
“You can’t get any more relation than the real guy.” Alvin walked out of the vault. “Mrs. West, I figured you’d been here earlier, but Ann said I didn’t have any visitors other than my wife. She brings me lunch everyday at the store so I can come over here in the afternoon to work my banking hours.”
“I should’ve know.” I brushed my hand through my hair, my fingers got hung in the curls. “You are the bank manager?”
“That’s right and that’s why I told you to come to the bank.” He pinched a tight smile and used his pointer finger to push the tip of his cowboy hat up a smidgen. “But as you can see, it’s closing time and we’ve only got about forty seconds to do some business.”
“Fine. I’m going to make an anonymous deposit.” I dug down into my purse and pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills. “Ann,” I looked at the name plate on top of the counter. “Ann Rose, do you know Dottie Swaggert?”
“I do,” she said but her eyes were focused on the hundreds.
“Can you please deposit this into her account?” I asked.
“Where’d that money come from?” Alvin demanded to know. “Don’t take that if that’s blood money.”
My cell phone rang. I tried to keep my breathing and hands steady when I saw it was Grandy Cox, Paul’s long time friend and one of the investors on the list that I’d mention to Hank. I sent it to voicemail and slipped my phone into my pocket. I’d call him back when I was ready to talk to him. I’m sure he just wanted me to know what he thought of Paul. He wouldn’t be the first person to have called me.
“It’s not blood money. I did have a life before I was married, and this is mine.” So I might’ve told a little white lie but it was for the good of helping someone out. They didn’t need to know. I just wanted to do something right. “I told you earlier that I was going to make it right with people in Normal. Dottie practically worked for free the past couple of years and I don’t want her to do that anymore now that I’m the new owner.”