Elvis and the Bridegroom Stiffs (A Southern Cousins Mystery)

by Webb, Peggy

  Obviously he was born under the sign of Scorpio because that stare of his is enough to set even the innocent to squirming. I place the half-empty drink can on a stained cardboard coaster on the edge of Sheriff Trice’s desk, then cross my legs. Only to get comfortable, you understand, but I notice him noticing.

  “Since when did you take over Sheriff Trice’s office?”

  “That comes under the heading none of your business, Cal.”

  “Well, you don’t have to act so personal about it. If you’ll care to remember, we no longer share the same bed.”

  “A situation I plan to remedy.”

  “In your dreams, Jack Jones.” I uncross my legs in a hurry, let me tell you. “I’d like to see that rhinestone pin again.”

  For once he doesn’t argue. I look around the sheriff’s office while Jack goes to the evidence room to get it. This is a man’s room, from the large, battered wooden desk to the swivel desk chair with the butt-sprung seat to metal filing cabinets painted an awful green that reminds me of being seasick once when Mama and I went fishing on the Gulf Coast with Uncle Charlie and Lovie.

  Speaking of Lovie, there’s her latest conquest, back again with the plastic sack containing the rhinestone hairpin. Jack hands the bag over then skewers me with his Scorpio look while I examine its contents. The clip has tiny rhinestone hearts intertwined, definitely not like the ones Fayrene had in Wal-Mart. Hers were interlocking circles, though, of course, they were brand new and didn’t preclude her having some with hearts at home.

  Still, I don’t see her as the murdering type, and definitely not killing in a jealous rage. Fayrene is more likely to tickle you to death than to kill you with a pair of scissors.

  I don’t think the hair clip belongs to Leonora or Alice Ann, either. For one thing, I’ve never seen them wear a hair ornament. For another, they’d go for a more expensive look if they did.

  For the time being, I memorize everything about the clip in evidence so I can check it against the ones worn by my clients.

  I hand the plastic bag back to Jack and stand up to leave.

  “Not so fast, Callie. Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home.”

  “Not before you tell me what was so all-fired important you had to drag me back in here.”

  “I wanted to see the hair ornament again, that’s all.”

  “You said you had something important to tell me. What is it?”

  No way am I going to tell Jack about Fayrene’s purchase and set him to hounding her. I’d have to have a lot more evidence than that to put her on the hot seat with a Company man.

  “I thought I remembered something about the pins, but I was wrong.”

  He doesn’t say a word, but you could fling his thoughts against the wall and knock a hole in it. Sweat inches down the side of my face and beads my upper lip. Just like somebody guilty.

  “Don’t mess with me, Callie.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of messing with you.” I know a thing or two about haughty silence, and believe me, he feels the sting. I see how his ears turn red. “I’m more selective than that.”

  I march out the door while I still have a chance. With Jack Jones, you don’t stick around for consequences.

  When I get back to home I hole up with Romeo and Juliet and don’t even answer the phone. Murder will wear you out… and probably create wrinkles, too.

  Before I go to bed I slather on some extra night repair cream.

  o0o

  It’s a relief when Friday comes. I’m ready for an ordinary day with nothing more stressful than Mama’s beauty shop appointment. Thank goodness, she won’t be coming until two o’clock, so I have most of the day to enjoy

  I dress in yellow to fit my good mood, then get into my kitchen expecting to enjoy a bowl of Wheaties, but no sooner do I get comfortable than my phone rings.

  It’s Lovie.

  “I have to talk to you, Callie. Come over and have breakfast.”

  “I don’t eat with the enemy.”

  “Good grief!”

  Lovie hangs up, which isn’t exactly the best way in the world to start the morning, but I’m determined not to let it ruin my day. I turn on the radio and sing “Blue Christmas” with Elvis. I’ll have to say we make a good team, him singing the melody and me singing harmony.

  I can harmonize with anybody on any song. I got my ear for music from Daddy, who used to sit on the front porch at night playing a guitar.

  When I find a permanent man, not a Jack Jones will ‘o the wisp type, I’m going to make sure he plays an instrument. Besides mine, that is. I guess that’s what drew me to the Elvis impersonator I once dated – his guitar. Goodness knows, he didn’t have any other assets to speak of.

  After breakfast, I load my basset into my truck, flip on the radio and sing Christmas songs all the way to Hair.Net. I’m still singing when I go into my office to stow my purse and check my messages.

  Elvis gives a warning growl and I turn around from my desk to see Jewel standing in my doorway. I jump like a nervous cat.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, Callie.”

  “It’s Jim Boy’s murder. It’s got me skittish.” I put my hand on Elvis’ collar. “Hush up, boy. It’s just Jewel.”

  “The murder’s got all of us spooked. Even your dog.”

  She’s not so spooked that she’s given up the tanning bed, I notice. Naturally she just came on through the front door the way she always has. In spite of Mama’s dire predictions, I’m still leaving it unlocked.

  “Your tan looks nice, Jewel.”

  “Thanks. I don’t know why I bother. Certainly not for men. They’re not worth the effort.”

  This strikes me as an odd statement coming from the woman who has been giving me dating advice for years. But then, everything strikes me the wrong way since Jim Boy’s murder. I wonder if I’ll ever be myself again.

  “I’m glad I caught you before I left,” Jewel adds. “I wanted to talk to you about Leonora. Has she said anything else to you?”

  “As a matter of fact, she has.”

  Jewel gets this funny look on her face, then comes into my office and shuts the door. Since we are the only ones in the shop, it’s not as if somebody will hear.

  “Tell me what she said.”

  “She asked me to talk to you. Present her case, I guess you might say. I understand how you must feel to see your daughter bear an illegitimate baby, especially under the circumstances, but that little baby is innocent. It deserves all the love we can give it. And I’m willing to help in any way I can.”

  “I know you are, Callie. Thanks.” Jewel looks at her watch. “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all.”

  “Let me get out of here before anybody else comes.” She winks at me. “This is our little secret, Callie.”

  “Absolutely.”

  I don’t know whether she’s talking about the tanning bed or our conversation, but you can rest assured that I’ve never betrayed a customer’s confidence. Jewel knows this. I don’t know why she feels compelled to remind me.

  Trailing a cloud of her new fragrance, Jewel leaves through the back door just as my first customer arrives through the front. It’s Patti Lacey, wife of TV personality Cody Lacey, who has driven all the way from Tupelo just to do get me to do her hair.

  If I were the bragging type, I’d get the big head over this, but I view it as my just due. When you cut hair as well I do, word is bound to get around. Shoot, before you know it, I’ll be making enough money to open a satellite shop in Tupelo.

  Pattie is the talkative kind, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. With everybody in Lee County and beyond tuned in to hear her husband on the morning news, it’s only natural that she’d find outlets elsewhere. She probably talks to anybody who’ll listen, because I’ll bet she can’t get a word in edgewise at home.

  She’s telling about her cruise to the Bahamas when Mama swoops in wearing a hot pink caftan featuring Frosty the Snowman and carrying h
er book of cross word puzzles and a base ball bat.

  “I thought I’d come early,” she says, then plops into a pink chair and proceeds to make herself right at home. She pulls up an empty chair to prop her feet up, then leans the baseball bat against it and digs around in her purse for her bifocals.

  “You’re about six hours early, Mama.” That’s all I need: Mama losing touch with reality. Early Alzheimer’s.

  “I can tell time.” She jerks open a New York Times crossword puzzle book and flips to the middle.

  “What’s that baseball bat for?”

  “Somebody’s got to come up here and make sure you’re safe. There’s a murderer on the loose.”

  I roll my eyes. Fortunely my new customer doesn’t bolt out of her chair and run screaming out my door. If she had, she’d have collided with Alice Ann who is rushing like she’s being chased by a herd of mad cows.

  “Callie, I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “Not now, Alice Ann. I’m right in the middle of a cut.” I put enough emphasis on the word so she’ll notice that this isn’t just anybody sitting in my chair, but a brand new customer. And one with clout, at that.

  “Oh, do go ahead and talk,” Patti Lacey says. “That’s one of the things I love about small town beauty shops. Nobody’s in a hurry. Everybody has time for his neighbor.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands. “Please…go on. Really. I find it charming.”

  I usher Alice Ann into my office and shut the door. “You know who that is, Alice Ann?”

  “Yeah, the TV guy’s wife, but this is really important, Callie. I know something I haven’t been telling, and I’m going to go crazy if I don’t get it off my chest.”

  The words that had once been music to my ears now sound like the hounds of hell baying at my heels. If I ever get through this murder investigation, I’m going to turn over a new leaf. I’m not going to talk to my customers about anything more significant than the weather.

  Still, old habits die hard.

  “What’s up, Alice Ann?”

  “I was here when Jim Boy was murdered.”

  “Good grief! Why haven’t you told Jack?”

  “Because I was afraid Leonora did it.”

  Sitting in my swivel desk chair, I say, “You’d better tell me everything, Alice.”

  “I’d been meeting Jim Boy at Booger Bill’s begging him to marry Leonora and give his baby a name. When that didn’t work, we decided to enlist Jewel’s help. The night before Jim Boy died, Leonora and I went up there and told her everything. She was furious.”

  “I already know that from what Leonora has told me.”

  “Jewel told us to leave and not come back.” Alice draws a shaky breath. “I thought Leonora was going to fall to pieces on me, but she’d calmed down by the time we got to her house. She said, I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to confront Jim Boy in the morning and tell him that if he doesn’t marry me, I’m fixing to spill the beans to Trixie. I told her I’d go with her.”

  “So, the two of you killed Jim Boy?”

  “No, no! Leonora didn’t even come. I swear it.”

  “What happened?”

  “She called Jim Boy the night before he was killed, and he said to meet him here. We were going to come together, two against one, so to speak, but she called me at four o’clock that morning and said she just couldn’t do it. So I decided to talk to him by myself.” Alice put her hands over her mouth as if she’s going to throw up.

  This is a full-fledged disaster. I rush to the refrigerator and pour a big glass of Prohibition punch, then race back to the office.

  “Drink this.”

  She drinks half of it before she puts the glass down.

  “The front door was open,” she says.

  “I know. It always is.”

  “When I walked in I thought I heard a noise, so I called out Jim Boy’s name. There was no answer, but then I definitely heard something. It was footsteps, running. I froze for a minute, then I tiptoed to the back room and saw Jim Boy with the scissors in his neck. I went to the bathroom and threw up.”

  “Did you see anybody or hear anything else? A car cranking up? Anything?”

  “No, nothing. I was too scared. I went home and waited for Leonora to pick me up for our hair appointment.”

  “Did you call and tell her about it?”

  “Lord, no. She didn’t know it until we got here with the twins.”

  “You’re certain she didn’t know?”

  “Absolutely positive. She swore up and down she didn’t have a thing to do with it. She would never do a thing like that.” Alice Ann takes another big swig of wine. “Would she?”

  “No, of course not.” I’m not so sure I believe this anymore. Still, there’s Leonora’s baby to think about. “Look, there’s no need for anybody else to know this, Alice Ann. Leonora’s had about all she can take without more questioning from Jack and Sheriff Trice.”

  Alice Ann bolts out her chair to hug me. “Thank you, Callie. I knew I could count on you.”

  Am I wrong to tell her to keep quiet? Tomorrow will tell. I’m driving up to Memphis to find a killer.

  After Alice Ann leaves I sit in my chair a minute to catch my breath. Spying the little tad of wine in the glass, I tip it up. If anybody deserves some of the family cure, it’s me.

  “Look at it this way,” I say to Elvis, who is sprawled on his pink silk pillow. “Things can’t get any worse.”

  Boy, am I wrong!

  Chapter Eleven

  Mixups, Ho Ho Ho Nail Polish and Hullabaloo

  When I get back to the front of my shop, Darlene has arrived, thank goodness. Mama’s sitting at the manicure table looking harmless while Darlene paints her nails a new color I bought just for Christmas—Ho Ho Ho Red. I breathe a sigh of relief. Mama wouldn’t dare pick up a baseball bat and ruin her wet nails.

  Patti’s still in the chair thumbing through People magazine. I thank her for waiting, and then finish her cut. No sooner do I start blowing her hair dry than Billy strolls in, tight jeans, aviator sunglasses, earring in the wrong ear, and all. I nearly drop the dryer.

  Amidst all the hullabaloo, I’d forgotten to call him.

  Trying to appear casual I say, “Hi, Billy? What can I do for you?”

  “Plenty,” he says, and Mama comes up from the manicure table like a hound sniffing a rabbit.

  “I’m busy, as you can see.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  Usually I can concentrate on a customer’s hair even if a tornado is blowing down the middle of highway 371. Between Alice Ann’s confession and Mama sitting there eyeing her baseball bat, I’m losing my ability to focus.

  Billy straddles a chair, and Mama just flat out stares. What he does to a pink chair in a beauty shop makes the centerfold of Playgirl look tame.

  Lord, no wonder Roy Jessup is worried about this kid.

  The only way I know to get Billy out of my shop is to tell him the truth, but there’s no way I’m going to blurt out, “Look, kid, I won’t be going with you bowling tonight,” while Mama’s sitting there all ears, and the wife of a television celebrity is sitting in my styling chair. I figure the best course of action is to keep on working and hope he’ll go away.

  I put down the dryer and Patti twists around to view her cut from all angles.

  “I love that, Callie.”

  “Good. Wait till you see what a few twists of the curling iron will do.”

  I have the hot iron in my hand when Lovie bursts through my front door. Without regard to anybody or anything, she flings herself at me.

  “Oh, Callie. I’ve been such a fool.”

  “Wait a minute, Lovie.”

  That straightens her fast, I can tell you. She draws back and gives me a look that would melt asphalt.

  “Caroline Jones, I never knew you had such a hard heart.”

  “I don’t have a hard heart. I was fixing to burn my new customer’s ear with my curling iron.”

  Calling attention to my j
ob and the customer in my chair doesn’t faze Lovie. When she gets something on her mind, she won’t stop till she’s spelled it out from a all the way to z.

  “Nothing’s worth losing you, and so I marched right into the sheriff’s office and killed two birds with one stone.”

  “What birds, Lovie?” Mama says. Naturally she’s all ears when it comes to my business.

  “Jack Jones and Sheriff Trice. I told the sheriff he was on the wrong track if he thought my cousin committed murder, and I told Jack he’d better explain to you what I was doing over there in his apartment, because I’m not about to lose my best friend over him, especially since you’ve got the hots for him.”

  “Wait a minute!” Billy gets up so fast his chair topples. “Callie, have you got the hots for that old man?”

  Mama comes unglued and out of her chair at the same time. “Watch your language, young man. Jack Jones is a hero in this family.”

  “Holy cow! I might as well be trying to fix hair in the middle of the Memphis Zoo.”

  My new customer is the only one who seems amused.

  “This is choice. It’s like being in the middle of a soap opera.”

  “It’s not always like this, Patti,” I tell her.

  “Oh, don’t disappoint me,” she says, and Lovie doesn’t.

  “There I was,” she says, “baring my soul in front of Jack and God and the entire Lee County Sheriff’s department, and the sheriff, had the gall to say he was going to cuff me if I didn’t stop turning his office into a Dr. Phil show.”

  “He said that? Nobody talks to my best friend that way.”

  “If it hadn’t been for Jack, I guess I’d have ended up in jail.”

  “What did Jack do?” inquiring minds want to know. That would be Mama, stepping right into the middle of my business.

  Lovie turns toward Mama. “Hey, Aunt Ruby Nell. I didn’t see you.”

  “Obviously. You were carrying on like a dying heifer in a hailstorm.” She points to her bat. “Take that and go knock some sense into the sheriff. And anybody else who gets in your way.”