by Duffy Brown
“Did he kiss you?”
“How’d you know?”
“You say his name and get a dopey look. Got any idea who did in Conway?”
Here’s the thing with Auntie KiKi . . . she was family. Getting her involved in dangerous situations was something I really tried to avoid, but I seldom succeeded. Still, I had to try. “Uncle Putter’s not going to be happy if you get mixed up in this. It’s bound to be risky. He’ll have a hissy.”
KiKi took a sip of martini and gave me her devil smile. I knew I was going to lose the argument before she opened her mouth. “This is Walker Boone we’re talking about. He caught me when I fell off that there fire escape some months back, your own mamma put him through law school, and he showed Putter how to birdie the sixth hole out at Sweet Marsh Country Club, for which my dear husband will be forever grateful. I wouldn’t be one bit surprised if Walker Boone was hiding under our bed this very minute with Putter’s blessing.”
“Uncle Putter would harbor a fugitive?”
“In the name of golf, all things are possible.” KiKi winked and poured a refill martini from the shaker. “While keeping BW company and waiting for you to get home, I’ve been making a list of who could have done in Conway. I didn’t know the man all that well, personally, but I got it firsthand that he was into doing the horizontal hula with the marrieds. Maybe a jealous husband did the deed. Then again, there was no love lost between Conway and his other son, Tucker. Tucker got raised in the big house with all the money and private school and the like, but maybe Tucker had enough of Daddy Dear driving him crazy for thirty-something years and pulled the trigger. Best I can tell from the kudzu vine is that Tucker and Conway never got along, and lately things had gotten even worse.”
“Murder’s a lot of not getting along.”
Something crashed inside the house, shattering the night quiet. I jumped, KiKi sloshed her martini, and BW didn’t flinch a muscle. KiKi’s eyes rounded, the white circles against the green facial goop giving the appearance of a hard-boiled egg in a salad. Sensible women would scream, call 911, grab the martinis and dog, and run like the dickens. Auntie KiKi and I were many things, but I don’t remember sensible being on the list.
I set my glass beside KiKi’s and grabbed Old Yeller, my indestructible yellow pleather purse that had saved my behind on more than one occasion. KiKi snapped up the silver cocktail shaker for either whacking or drinking; with Auntie KiKi it was hard to tell which. We stepped over the sweetest pet but worst watchdog on the planet and opened the door to the entrance hall and once-upon-a-time dining room just beyond.
Moonlight spilled in through the rear windows, silhouetting the racks of dresses to the left; blouses, pants, and jackets to the right; and the table in the center with jewelry and evening purses. I flipped on the switch for the chandelier.
“Who’s there?” I called out.
Footsteps skittered across the floor over our heads. I had either a big rodent problem or a break-in. Beady eyes? Whiskers? Skinny tail? Yikes! Truth be told, I was hoping for the break-in. I tore up the steps, with KiKi right behind me. We turned the corner at the top and faced a big guy with alcohol-infused breath and wild-looking bloodshot eyes that I could make out even in the dark. I had a break-in and a rodent problem. The guy took a swing at me and missed. KiKi threw the rest of the martini in his face and I added an Old Yeller uppercut to his jaw.
“I give up! I give up!” The guy stumbled back against the wall and slithered down to the floor as I switched on the hall lights.
“Tucker Adkins?” KiKi said as the guy swiped at his eyes. “What in the world are you doing in this here house uninvited? You should be home taking care of your family and your daddy’s funeral arrangements.”
“What I’m doing is taking care of my daddy’s killer.” Tucker staggered to his feet. “I’m here looking for Walker Boone. Why else would somebody like me be in a secondhand clothing store?”
I hadn’t seen Conway Adkins very often, but from what I remembered Tucker had his daddy’s rounded chubby face and receding hairline. Tucker pointed in my direction. “You were driving Boone’s car; you were wearing his jacket and helping him get away. I saw the whole thing on Twitter. I figured the cops would have you locked up for doing such a thing, and since you and Boone are obviously an item he’d be in your house hiding out. I saw green-curler girl here out on the porch with the mangy mutt so I got in through the back; it was a piece of cake. You really need a better hiding place for your key.”
“You’re here looking for Boone?” I asked.
“He killed my father, my own daddy, and he needs to pay for it and I’m going to find him.”
Drat! This was just what Ross said would happen. Because I was driving Boone’s car, everyone would think I was helping him escape the long arm of the law no matter what. On the other hand, if it seemed like Boone and I were enemies and I made up some spiel as to why I didn’t like him, others who had it in for Boone might confide in me and I could find out who had it in for him. Heck, it was worth a try.
“Are you kidding? Boone means nothing to me,” I blurted. “Fact is, we’re enemies. Yeah, big-time enemies.” I parked my hands on my hips and went for the ticked-off wounded-victim look. “Boone took me to the cleaners in my divorce a couple years ago, and this is my chance to see him knocked down a peg or two. That guy thinks he’s so special, that he’s hot stuff, a real know-it-all if ever there was one, and good-looking. Actually he really is good looking with dark eyes and he has a terrific butt and—”
KiKi kicked my ankle, snapping me back to the situation at hand, which was not fixating on Boone’s butt. “Look,” I continued. “I took Boone’s car because he owes me, and with him on the run this was my chance to even the score a little. I lost everything in that divorce, including my own car that I paid for. Do you believe that? I want Walker Boone behind bars as much as you. If he were here in my house I’d call the police myself and applaud as they hauled his very nice-looking butt out of here.”
Tucker leaned in a little closer. “You got kind of a dopey look on your face.”
“That’s revenge,” KiKi chimed in.
“Sure doesn’t look like revenge.”
KiKi dropped the shaker on my foot.
“Ouch!” I yelped, an expression of pain and agony now replacing the dopey look, least I hoped so.
“Boone’s hiding somewhere in this city,” Tucker said. “I’d bet my last dollar on it. He’s going to try his best to pin Daddy’s murder on someone else, and I’m going to make sure he’s the one who goes to jail like he deserves.”
“And I’ll help you,” I said, lying my little heart out as Tucker started for the steps. “I’m sorry about your father,” I called after him. “Even if you two didn’t get along, it’s mighty hard to lose a parent,” I added, doing a little digging of my own.
Tucker stopped and trudged back up the steps, his eyes trying to focus. “What are you talking about? My daddy and I got along fine. We were best of pals.”
“Except he left the Old Harbor Inn to Walker Boone and not you,” I said, remembering what Ross told me earlier at the police station. “There had to be a good reason why he did such a thing.”
“Yeah, there is.” Conway’s eyes got even angrier than before. “Boone talked my daddy into changing his will is what happened. Boone threatened him, and Daddy had to do what he said because Daddy was afraid of Boone. He was a gang member, for crying out loud. You don’t mess with the gang, everyone knows that.”
“If Boone was into extortion, why not just demand money? Why the inn?”
Tucker’s face reddened, his eyes blazing mad. “How the heck should I know? Ask Boone, he’s the guilty one.” Tucker stumbled down the stairs and out the back door, as KiKi and I stared after him.
“I really do need to find a better hiding place for my spare key,” I said to myself as much as KiKi. “Do you think
Tucker was poking around here looking for Walker because he’s so distraught over his daddy on a slab over at House of Eternal Slumber?”
KiKi picked up the shaker. “I don’t know about the distraught part, but there’s no doubt that Tucker wants Walker in jail and the sooner the better.”
I grabbed a towel from the hall closet to mop up the martini. “What if he’s the one who set Walker up to take the rap for the murder he committed? I bet Tucker didn’t much like that Daddy left the inn to Walker. That had to tick him off.”
“Except Tucker’s mamma was from money and left him the bulk of the estate when she died four years ago. It’s hard to imagine Tucker Adkins giving a hoot about fluffing pillows and room service. Maybe he truly is distraught over losing Conway.”
KiKi and I exchanged a yeah, when pigs fly look and KiKi added, “There’s some reason the old boy’s got a bee in his bonnet, and it’s more about finding Walker and putting him away than revenging poor dead Daddy. I wonder what Tucker Adkins is up to.”
“And how did Boone wind up in the middle of it.” I looked around the upstairs. “He’s out there, somewhere close.”
KiKi yawned and headed for the stairs. “You never know about Walker; he could be right under your nose and you’d ever see him unless he wanted you to.”
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