Die a Yellow Ribbon

by Teresa Trent

  “With whom?” Leo asked.

  She gave a pouty smirk. “I’m really not sure. Some sort of shady types, Vic said.”

  Now this was interesting, I thought. “Do you know who any of those shady suppliers were? It might give the police a starting point in their investigation.”

  She took in a breath, making her ample bosom rise. “I know he had a meeting with that Bosco guy.” She glanced around the room. “I don’t trust that guy as far as you can throw him.”

  I remembered the large man from the opening ceremonies of the golden pecan hunt. I didn’t realize he was in the muscle-building business, but he certainly had the physique for it. “You mean Earl’s brother?”

  “That’s the dude. He was so rough looking you would almost think he was a criminal or something.”

  Vic returned to the table. “Are you ready, my dear?”

  “Sure.” Sarah grabbed her purse and looked back at us. “Thanks for the talk. Not everyone in this town takes the time to be nice if you know what I mean.”

  “We need to talk to Bosco,” I told Leo, once the Butlers were out the door.

  “No. We need to tell the police to talk to Bosco. We’re trying to win a contest, not solve a murder.” Leo reminded me.

  “Fine,” I said as Celia came out of the kitchen, balancing our milkshakes on a tray. Just as she started to turn, another diner bumped into her and our drinks tumbled, splashing the sweet milky drink against a poster of this year’s football schedule. Football is a big deal in Texas, so the Friday night lights crowd would be expecting a clean schedule post haste. My father always said that if a young man can throw a football endless distances and can think under pressure, he can achieve anything.

  “Benny just put that schedule up,” Leo said as chocolate shake dripped over the center bar of the uprights. “Tyler was checking it last week to see when the first game was.”

  The bar. “That’s it. I’ve got it. I know what the bar means.”

  Leo’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “We have to go.”

  “But our food. They’re remaking our shakes—” he protested.

  “Make it a to-go order, and we’ll pick it up in twenty minutes.”

  After getting Celia’s promise to hold the food, we ran to LBJ High, Pecan Bayou’s only high school, named after Lyndon Baines Johnson. Even though it was a hive of activity during the school year, right now it was peaceful. The football stadium was behind the school and surrounded by fencing with no gates. The principal said the configuration was for security, so they could keep track of people attending sporting events, but I think it was because it routed everyone by the snack bar and souvenir table. I sprinted across the field to the far goal post. There was an envelope on the center bar of the goal post but much too high for either of us to reach.

  “What will we do?” I asked.

  Leo looked up at the yellow envelope. Judging by the pristine state of the clue box, it didn’t look like anyone else had been here. “Get up on my shoulders,” he said.

  “Are you sure? I do weigh a few more pounds than Coco.” Our daughter loved to ride around on his shoulders, and as much as I loved watching it, I never considered doing it myself.

  “Just do it.”

  Clumsily I climbed up on his shoulders as if we were about to play chicken in the pool. I heard him groan at my added weight. Once we seemed stable enough, I reached up to the waiting packet of clues. My hands barely reached it at full stretch. When I extended my legs to grasp the paper, Leo lost his hold. We warbled like a too-tall stack of LEGOs and collapsed onto the grass.

  “Oooh, that’s going to hurt tomorrow,” Leo said.

  “Maybe so,” I said, rolling over. “But we’ll be busy…” I pulled out the clue. “…planning our seven-day cruise!”

  He grabbed the clue, laughed, and kissed me. “Oh yeah, baby.”

  “Well, ain’t this sweet? Rollin’ around on the ground with a clue.” Bosco stood above us, his beefy arms crossed. Earl stood next to him, his focus on the goal post.

  “How did you get up there?” Earl asked.

  I gathered myself and rose from the deep grass of the football field. Knocking the dirt off with my hands, I answered, “It wasn’t easy.”

  Bosco put a hand to his chin as he considered the solution. “I get it. Only way you could have reached it was on his shoulders.” He locked his hands together as if offering to help me mount a horse. “What do you say, little lady? Care to help out a couple of nice guys?”

  He seriously wanted my help? I stared at his hands.

  “Come on, I don’t bite. Well, not unless you ask me to.” He raised an eyebrow, and now my skin was crawling. No wonder Sarah didn’t like the guy.

  “You’re on your own, guys. We have to head out.” Leo pulled me toward him.

  “One more thing,” I said to Bosco. “I heard you knew Mark Valencia. But I thought you were new to town.”

  Bosco’s features hardened. “What’s it to you?”

  “I was just curious.”

  “Well, curiosity can be dangerous.” His gaze slid to the clue box. “Tell you what. Climb up and get that clue for me, and I’ll spill my guts. How does that sound?”

  “Betsy.” There was a warning tone in Leo’s voice.

  “I’d be glad to help…if you’ll talk to me.” I walked back over, put my foot into Bosco’s extended hands, and he boosted me up to the goal post. Once I grabbed the clue, he brought me down with his hands on my waist. We were so close I could smell the coconut mocha coffee on his breath.

  “We have to keep meeting like this,” he whispered and then gave a low chuckle.

  “Not if I can help it,” Leo pulled me away.

  Bosco started opening the clue.

  “Wait,” I said. “A deal’s a deal. I want to know how you know Mark Valencia.”

  Bosco didn’t even look up. “I sold him some stuff I picked up in Houston.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Well, duh. What do you think? Stuff to make those high school boys get big muscles.”

  “That’s it? Just run-of-the-mill nutritional supplements?”

  “Yeah,” his lips began to move as he read the clue to himself, Earl reading over his shoulder.

  “Nothing illegal?”

  He stopped suddenly. “What are you saying exactly? You accusing me of something?”

  “Uh, nothing,” Leo said. “We’ll be going.”

  We ran to the back of the bleachers, and Leo ripped open our clue.

  There were three sisters

  In Summer would wallow.

  Two in front

  The little one followed.

  If you can find the key,

  You might find yourself on the sea.

  “This must be the last clue,” I said.

  “Whose family has three sisters?” Leo asked.

  “Bunny Donaldson.”

  Chapter 7

  Bunny Donaldson lived with her sister Belinda in a quiet, two-story brick home with a big front porch. Some of the paint on the window frames had blistered in the Texas heat over the years and the roof needed repairing. The Donaldson women were the only set of three sisters we knew in Pecan Bayou, and this was where the two surviving sisters lived. We saw no sign of a clue box but we did see Bunny’s car in the driveway. She was at home. We tapped on the dilapidated screen door. The solid door was open, and inside a soft whirr of new-age flute music played.

  “What do you want?” Bunny asked, speaking through the mesh of the screen, her nose nearly touching the door.

  I didn’t know quite where to start, so I tried being civil. “Hi, Bunny.”

  “What do you want?” she repeated slowly, as if trying to speak to someone in a different language.

  “Uh, right. We think you might be connected to a clue in the treasure hunt.”

  Leo stepped up. “You are one of three sisters.”

  “Two sisters,” she corrected. “Poppy’s dead.”

>   “Yes, we heard. We’re so sorry for your loss.”

  Bunny continued on, almost as if we weren’t there. “I should have known the way she flitted from job to job that she wasn’t long for this life. Belinda hasn’t stopped knitting since it happened. It’s her form of therapy. We’re a house in mourning. Go away.”

  “But you are the only set of three sisters in town.”

  “So?” Bunny started to close the door.

  I gave her my most convincing smile. “Could we look around your house for just a minute?”

  “You mean, come inside?”

  “This is the house you grew up in, right?” I asked.

  “Listen to me. I’ve just gotten back from the police station, and I have a terrible headache. You think some half-assed clue led you to my house? I don’t give a damn about that ridiculous nut, or this contest, so go away.”

  “You were questioned about Mark’s murder?” I asked. I was surprised she was let go already with so much evidence pointing directly to her.

  “What do you think?”

  I suddenly felt guilty for what had to be a very uncomfortable interview with the police. They wouldn’t have questioned her if I hadn’t steered them in that direction. “I guess we should tell you that we told the police about you throwing bottles and your plans to confront Mark.”

  She shook her head and squinted her eyes. “Should have known it would be you. But what about it? I had every right to confront him. He was selling poison. What’s worse, he was selling it to children. He had to be stopped.”

  I dipped my chin down and asked, “By stopped, are you saying—”

  “I killed him? Of course not! I’m a pacifist. Just count the number of cats running around this place. I don’t believe in killing anything—even something as undeserving as Mark Valencia, the poison peddler.”

  “You have to admit it looked pretty bad. You were the last person to argue with him before he was murdered. It also doesn’t look good that he was murdered with his own products—the ones you were seen throwing around.”

  “I know exactly how it looks. I threw a few of those so-called vitamin bottles around, but only a few were made of glass. Most of them were plastic, just like the everything else in this over-packaged nation. Don’t they know plastic will be here longer than the sun?”

  “Did you know anything about other substances being sold there?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Steroids?”

  “Of course. Everyone in town knew. He was a scavenger on the bones of our youth. Besides that, when he was being given his just reward, I was back at my store, restocking the hummus. It sells out very quickly.”

  “Were there any customers there who can vouch for you?” I asked.

  “Excuse me, why would I need to justify my whereabouts to you? You’re not a cop. Frankly, I think you’re as annoying as your father. Go on and get back to your treasure hunting.”

  Even with the shade of the front porch, the heat surrounded us like an overstuffed quilt. The voices of other treasure hunters were growing closer. “We were just trying to help. I would think you’d want to clear your name,” Leo said.

  “If I want your help, I’ll ask for it. I’m an innocent woman, and that’s all I need to clear my name.”

  Even though it had nothing to do with Mark’s death, I asked one more question. “Why do you hate Sarah Butler so much?”

  Bunny’s lips drew together in a thin line. “Seriously? Can’t you see she’s just as plastic as those little bottles of poison? She’s not a real woman. She’s a Barbie doll.”

  “You hate her because she’s had breast implants?”

  “Breast, jawline, booty. I bet if you pushed her in a pool, she’d bounce like a beachball. What would possess a woman to fill her body with so many artificial substances? I haven’t had any work done, and I have the same figure I had when I was eighteen.”

  Bunny clearly wasn’t going to confide in us, and it was likely we would need her cooperation in the future, so I tried to smooth things over. “You’re a testament to healthy living. Listen, sorry we had to tell the police about your argument with Mark.”

  Bunny smirked. “Do me a favor?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay out of my business from now on. I don’t need any more favors from the likes of you.” She slammed the door in our faces.

  Well great. Bunny could be sitting on the final link to the golden pecan and not even know it. Even though I had told Ruby I had no idea how Rocky thought, I realized crafting part of the puzzle around a person no one liked would be just his idea of fun. I knocked on the screen door.

  She yanked it open and glared. “What?”

  “Read this.” I thrust the paper in front of her face.

  “It’s a clue in the hunt for the golden pecan,” Leo said. “You’re the only one we know with two sisters.”

  As Bunny began to read, her mouth dropped.

  “Are you telling me that every yeehaw in Pecan Bayou is going to come running to my house looking for that stupid pecan?” She walked toward the back of her house and returned shortly with an ancient-looking shotgun. I could see rust on the trigger. If she shot that thing, there was a chance it might backfire on her. “There is no clue to that toxic nut at the Donaldson residence. You hear?”

  We backed off the porch, taking careful steps not to trigger anything. “We hear,” I said, my hand in front of me as if I could stop a bullet.

  “There will be others,” Leo said.

  “And I have the same exact answer for them. Bang. Bang.”

  As we left Bunny’s house, Leo’s phone beeped.

  “It’s work. I’ll be right back.” He walked off with the phone to his ear. Leo was a meteorologist, and this time of year, we were deep into hurricane season. It was like being married to an obstetrician nine months after a full moon.

  “Betsy!” Maggie came power-walking across the park, Ruby behind her with a more stylized walk. “I need to ask a favor.”

  “Okay,” I answered, noticing how flushed her face was. I knew I was hot, but how was the heat treating my elderly aunt? Maybe she really didn’t want to go on that cruise after all.

  “It’s Danny. Do you think we could get the boys to watch him too?”

  “Sure. Is he still at the library?”

  “Yes. I’m just afraid of what he might be hearing over there. People do talk, especially when it involves murder. Ruby and I can pick him up and drop him at your house.”

  “No problem.”

  “Thank goodness for your boys. They’re so responsible.”

  I almost agreed with her. There were days when they were anything but responsible. But this year, with the help of Marie Kondo, I had tidied up that area of my life as well. There would be no “I’m bored” coming out of the mouths of my children. I created summer schedules—laminated and hung prominently in the kitchen—to keep the kids on task. This would not be a summer wasted on hanging out. I had both boys’ summer reading lists posted, as well as little nudges to review their math skills during the summer. Take a minute to do a little something, and it can change your life. Kids today don’t have enough self-discipline, and I was doing my best to combat the pull of phones and computers. All a part of the Marie Kondo method.

  “How are you doing on the clues?” I asked.

  “Not good,” Ruby said. “How about you?”

  “We’re stuck.”

  Leo walked over to us, holding his phone out slightly. “I need to deal with this.”

  “Sure, that’s fine. I need to help Aunt Maggie get Danny situated at our house anyway. I can also check on our responsible babysitters.”

  Leo gave a curious smile as he walked toward the car with his phone. Could it be he didn’t quite trust my description of our sons?

  When I walked into the house, Coco was in the living room by herself, painting flowers on paper plates. And furniture. And walls. And the carpet. Butch trotted out of the kitchen at the sound of my
voice and his tail, wagging away, was now a bright purple.

  “Where are the boys?” I asked Coco.

  “Tyler went to some lady’s house, and Zach is upstairs on his ‘puter.” I picked up the paint pots before she could do any more damage.

  “You go to the bathroom and start washing up in the sink. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Clean up Butch’s tail too. That can’t be good for his skin. I’m going to have a talk with your brother.”

  Her smile deflated. “Don’t you like my flowers?”

  “I like the ones you painted on the paper plates. All the rest I don’t like. You know better than to paint on the walls. And the dog.”

  Coco stuck out her lower lip. “You don’t like my flowers.”

  “I do, but— Oh, just go wash up.” Coco launched into a wail that could challenge a fire siren. Zach came bounding out of his room.

  “Coco?” He spotted me on the stairs. “Oh. Hi Mom. Back already?”

  He sounded so casual as if his sister hadn’t personally redecorated the den with primary colors.

  “Where’s your brother?”

  “He went out. Some lady called him and said he could make some cash.”

  “Who?”

  He put both hands up in the air and shrugged. “How should I know. He told me to watch Coco, and he would be back.”

  I pulled him gently down the stairs. “And this is how you watch her?”

  “Oh, my God.” As he took in the damage, he began to laugh. “Oh, God.”

  “Coco is not the only one to blame here. Being in your room with the door shut is not watching her. I hold you both responsible.”

  Zach’s eyes widened. “What? I was upstairs reading a book. A book from my reading list. I thought you’d be happy. What about Tyler? He completely split. Doesn’t he get some of the blame too? That isn’t fair.”

  “Oh, Tyler is in a whole other batch of trouble. Don’t you worry about that. Go get the paper towels and the household cleaner and start washing down the walls. I’ll put Coco in the tub.”

  Zach began plodding toward the kitchen, mumbling, his hands in his pockets. “Really? I have to do all the work while Tyler’s out with the hottest woman in town?”