Etta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day

by Ann B. Ross

  “Let him have it!” Mrs. Springer screamed, as Hazel Marie tried to hold her back. “The idea, comin’ to a party without a gift. That is just not done!”

  Roy held on to me with one hand, while he warded off the candelabrum with his other arm, as Granny kept poking it at him.

  “Get away, Granny!” I screamed. “Don’t hurt her! Stop it, don’t you hurt her!” I clawed at Roy’s face as he tried to brush Granny aside. She whaled the daylights out of him with the candelabrum that was almost as big as she was, slinging hot wax and burning candles all over him and me and the first Mrs. Connard’s mahogany breakfront and Chippendale chairs.

  “Get her off me!” Roy yelled. “Harley! Get over here an’ help me!” He was cringing behind one arm, fending off Granny and her silver-plated weapon, and trying to hold on to me. I kicked and clawed at him, and between Granny and me, we pushed him into the kitchen. Mrs. Springer came rushing in behind us, yelling her head off about teaching him some manners.

  Emmett stood by the counter, holding on to it with a dazed look on his face. As the four of us stumbled and fell into the room, I heard Lurline and Jennie screaming at Harley and a choked-off yell from him. The bonging sound of solid silver as it whacked against his back rang throughout two rooms.

  Betty Sue came running into the kitchen, a silver sandwich tray raised over her head. With her face all screwed up and a determined look in her eyes, she crashed that tray down on Roy’s head. It just about rang his bell. He crumpled at the knees, pulling me down with him.

  Betty Sue stood over him, breathing hard. “I always did want to do that,” she said. “To somebody.”

  Mrs. Springer got in a good one, too, just to be on the safe side, daintily leaning over and whanging the ladle against Roy’s head. Granny pushed her aside and poked Roy again with the candelabrum, jabbing the branches against his face. He turned me loose and scrooched up in a corner of the kitchen, covering his head with his arms.

  I scrambled to my hands and knees, my clothes twisted every whichaway, and got a whack on the bottom, as Hazel Marie came barreling through the swinging door.

  Hazel Marie stooped down to help me up. “Are you all right?”

  “Pull that woman’s skirt down,” Mrs. Springer said. “I can see her drawers. Now, I want to know what’s goin’ on here.”

  Nothing good, that was for sure, but I didn’t have time to answer her. I was worried about Granny, but she still had Roy cornered and cowering.

  “Look smart, boy,” Granny said, waving to Emmett, as she wedged Roy’s head against the wall with the spokes of the candelabrum, black smoke from the snuffed candles curling around them both. “Lend me a knife or something over here.”

  “Hey, hey!” Roy yelled, trying to get himself free. The branches of the candelabrum pinned him in the corner like a forked stick trapping a snake. “Get away from me, ole woman! I’m gonna hurt you!”

  “Hurt me? Hurt me? I’ll show you some hurtin’, you little pissant! You come in here, tryin’ to hurt my grandbaby, I’ll skin you alive! Where’s that knife? Give it here, boy!”

  She snatched the knife Emmett handed to her. How she held on to both the knife and the candelabrum, I didn’t know, nor what she was going to do with either one.

  “Granny,” I said, as I scrambled over to her, “let’s get ’em out of here. They’ve had all they can take.” I was more worried about her than them, although she was holding her own and Roy, at least, was getting the worst of it.

  Harley didn’t sound in too good a shape, either, if the commotion from the dining room was any indication.

  “Hah!” Granny said, looking at the long electric knife that Emmett had grabbed from the counter. “Plug ’er in, boy, I’m gonna fix this lowlife so he won’t never touch a woman again!”

  “I’ll do it!” Mrs. Springer yelled. “Gimme that thing and stand back!” She grabbed the cord and plugged it into a wall socket, looking more than happy to do it. The electric knife hummed in Granny’s hand as the double blades began sawing against each other. “Go to it, honey!”

  “Mrs. Springer! Granny! No, don’t cut him!” I yelled. I could just see them both in a jail cell for the rest of their lives. “Just hold him there, Granny, I’m calling the sheriff. Don’t let him move.”

  “He’s not movin’,” Mrs. Springer said, as she took a stand beside Granny and placed a Red Cross–shod foot on an especially tender spot of Roy’s anatomy. “We’ll teach him how to act around ladies. Right, Granny?”

  “Damn right,” Granny said.

  Keeping an eye on them so they wouldn’t do the kind of damage that would get them in the newspaper and a courtroom, I dialed 9-1-1.

  Chapter 44

  Three cop cars showed up, two of which were the entire night force for Delmont. The other one came from Abbotsville. When help was needed at the Connard place, they all turned out. They came, one after the other, up the long drive into the parking area, throwing up gravel as they jerked to a stop. Leaving car doors open and blue lights flashing across the first Mrs. Connard’s garden, they ran past Emmett, guns drawn, as he held the back door open for them.

  “What’s going on here? What’s the trouble?” Clyde Maybry panted, his breathing loud and rasping. Wendell and the Abbotsville officer bounced in behind him.

  “Come on in, boys!” Lurline swayed, trying to focus her eyes. Then they rolled back in her head, and she kind of melted down into a chair. She slowly lowered her head to the kitchen table, and that was it. Zonked out of her mind.

  Clyde looked around, his mouth falling open as he took in Granny standing over Roy, electric knife at the ready. He cringed when he noticed Mrs. Springer’s foot placement.

  “Put that gun up, boy,” Granny told Clyde, “and get them cuffs out. We’re right before doing some major damage here.”

  “You tell ’em, honey,” Mrs. Springer said.

  Wendell holstered his gun and, stepping gingerly around Granny, quickly handcuffed Roy. “Oh, man,” Roy said to him, “I’m glad to see you. Them crazy women was about to cut me.”

  Granny leaned over and got right in his face. “It’s called gelding for your information.”

  Gladys and Jennie were still guarding Harley where he lay sprawled on the dining room floor. They bonged him with silver trays every time he twitched. He wasn’t doing a lot of it, though, since they’d already pretty much dimmed his lights.

  I give Clyde credit. Not much, but some, because it didn’t take long for him to organize the arrests. And this time he got it right, leaving me alone except for a lot of frowning and shaking of his head in my direction.

  I did some of that, too, as I looked around at the mess in the dining room. Cakes, with icing smushed into the Oriental rug, various silver plates and trays, and leaking cups and pitchers of punch cluttered the table and the floor. To say nothing of overturned chairs and blue-dyed carnations everywhere you looked.

  Before they took Roy out, safely handcuffed, I got in his face. “Roy, listen to me and listen to me good. I don’t know where Skip Taggert is, or when, or if, he’s ever coming back. He ran out on me years ago, and he’s done it again. So, if you have tracking him down in mind, if you ever get out of this mess, don’t come looking to me. I can’t help you.”

  Clyde hoisted Roy up on his tiptoes as he headed toward the door. “I don’t think you got to worry about that, Etta Mae,” he said. “These boys is three-time losers. They gonna be gone a long time.

  “And speaking of that,” he went on, giving me a hard look, “I’d appreciate it if you’d take a long trip, too, and stay gone for a real long time. Maybe you can’t help it, Etta Mae, but trouble seems to pop up wherever you are. What’re you doin’ here, anyway, and what kinda blowout are you havin’ in Mr. Connard’s house? I’m gonna want some answers from you, soon as I get these assholes on the way.”

  Mrs. Springer jolted upright, clearly o
utraged at Clyde’s language. Before she could correct him, though, Granny waved the knife in Clyde’s face and said, “Watch yore mouth, boy. I’ll plug this thing in again.”

  “Disarm her,” Clyde told Wendell, with a jerk of his head toward Granny. Granny was about used up by that time, so when Wendell held out his hand, she surrendered the knife without a word. Even unplugged it for him.

  Betty Sue put her arm around Granny, saying, “I’ll get her home and put her to bed. You think I ought to take Lurline, too, Etta Mae?”

  “If you will,” I said, lifting Lurline’s dazed face from the table. “She’s pretty much wasted. She can get her car tomorrow.”

  “Me and Gladys’ll help you, Betty Sue,” Cindy said. “If you don’t mind dropping us off. We came with Lurline.”

  “That leaves me, and I’ll be going, too.” Jennie put her arm around me. “It was a great party. I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun, and put two criminals in jail, too. Look, honey, I hate to leave this mess for you to clean up. Want me to stay a while and help you?”

  “I appreciate that, Jennie, but you go on home. Emmett’ll help me, or we might just leave it till tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, looking back into the dining room. “He’s already at it.” And sure enough, Emmett was on his hands and knees, blotting up punch from the rug. “Besides, this is your wedding night, remember?”

  Well, it had slipped my mind for a little while, what with all the noise and excitement. Now I began to worry about Mr. Howard, if he’d heard the commotion and was lying back there wondering if his house was still standing. The whole mess just came down on me like a ton of bricks. Here I’d wanted to show him and people like Julia Springer that there was more to me than bottle-blond hair and a perky personality, and all I’d done was confirm what they’d always thought. I could’ve cried.

  Until I saw Mrs. Springer leaning against Hazel Marie with a satisfied smile on her face. “I guess we fixed their sweet patooties, didn’t we? Oh, my,” she said, reaching for the back of a chair, “I’m a little dizzy.”

  “Hold on to me,” Hazel Marie said. “We need to get you home. Etta Mae, I’m just so sorry about Harley and Roy. They’re my kinfolks, you know, third cousins or something, but I wish I didn’t have to claim them.”

  “Oh, Hazel Marie,” I said, “it’s not your fault. I know about family, believe me, I do.”

  “Ha!” Mrs. Springer said, pulling out of her slump. “Ask me about family and I’ll give you an earful! Where’s Emmett? I want that recipe.”

  Hazel Marie patted her on the back, saying they’d get it tomorrow, and eased her toward the front door. “Etta Mae,” she said, “we’ll just get our purses and go. I need to get Miss Julia in bed, but I want you to know that I wish you every happiness in your marriage.”

  “Oh, yes, and lovely party, my dear,” Mrs. Springer said, remembering her manners, as she brushed the hair off her face. Swaying in her tracks, she tried to focus on me. “Thank you so much for having us. You must come for tea sometime soon.”

  When they left, I walked out on the back stoop, watching as two cop cars followed them down the drive. Clyde’s was the only sheriff’s car left. He was half sitting in it, with the door open, talking on his handset.

  Waiting for him, I crossed my arms across my chest and shivered. Not from the weather, even though there was a definite fall chill in the air, but from the thought of how I’d ruined Mr. Howard’s house, and brought a criminal element into it, too. And I’d not been in it a full twenty-four hours yet.

  “Etta Mae,” Clyde said as he lumbered over to me, the gravel crunching under his boots, “Wendell tells me that you’ve gone and married Mr. Connard. That right?”

  I nodded my head.

  “So I guess you live here now?”

  I nodded my head again.

  He just shook his. “Well, I guess if you want to tear up your own husband’s house, it’s no skin off my nose. But you better watch yourself, Etta Mae, he can get rid of you as quick as he took you on. He’s got lawyers up the you-know-what.”

  “Clyde . . .”

  “Wait a minute.” He held a hand up. “This is just between you and me, now. I know why you married him, and I don’t guess I blame you. But he won’t be able to satisfy you, Etta Mae, and, well, I’m always around if you need anything.”

  I jerked my head up like he’d slapped me. “Clyde Maybry, I’ll have you know that I am Mrs. Howard Connard, Senior, now, and you can’t talk to me that way anymore.”

  He smiled, showing tiny teeth that didn’t belong in his fat face. “Don’t matter what your name is, Etta Mae. I know who you are. Just remember I’ll be around.”

  “Get out of here,” I snarled. “Take your nasty self off my husband’s property and don’t come back.”

  He shrugged, still smiling. But he left, and I stood there, feeling the cool mountain air on my skin and wondering if the Connard name had any meaning at all. It hadn’t to the Pucketts, and now Clyde had acted like it was nothing to him, either. So if it didn’t put me above trash like that, what was I doing with it?

  I went back into the house and began helping Emmett clean and pick up the mess we’d made. I opened my mouth to apologize for bringing the Pucketts into this fine home, and for my friends getting sloshed, and for the party turning into a free-for-all, and for the way things had turned out in general.

  Before I could start, though, he said, “Miss Etta, I’m real sorry ’bout all this. They come in on me ’fore I knew it, an’ knocked me windin’. Couldn’t get my breath ’fore they was in here, jumpin’ on you and yo’ lady friends.” He stood there, shaking his head. “I shoulda been on my toes better’n that.”

  “Oh, Emmett, you couldn’t help it. Nobody could’ve stopped them. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. It was me they were after—well, not me exactly. But that big ole boy I’ve been trying to hide in the floorboard of my car for two days. They were really after him, but they’ve been following me and watching Lurline’s house all this time. I’m thinking they must’ve followed her over here, hoping she’d lead them to Skip. But he’s long gone, and I hope he stays gone.

  “Anyway, they’re put away, and for good, I hope. I just hope my friends will be better behaved after this, and not tear up the house like they did tonight.” I could feel tears of shame welling up in my eyes.

  “Good thing they was here, Miss Etta,” Emmett said, a soft smile beginning on his face. “Boy howdy, they sho’ tore into them two, didn’t they? If it just me and you here by ourselves, no telling what might happen when them two crazy men come bustin’ in. That Miss Granny, she something else, an’ that Miss Julia Springer, she a lady an’ a half.”

  I brushed at my eyes and laughed with relief. “She is that. Emmett, I better go check on Mr. Howard. No telling how upset he is.”

  “I looked in on him while you was outside. He still sleepin’. Look like he didn’t hear a thing, so he all right. Now, Miss Etta, I got this rug clean, an’ I’m gonna wrap up these few cakes left over, an’ leave the rest of it till morning. I don’t us’lly do that, you know, but this a special night. So I’m jus’ gonna do that, an’ go on to my ’partment. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

  He was telling me it was time for me to go to my new husband, and he was right.

  • • •

  As he went into the kitchen and began wrapping the leftovers in Saran Wrap, I went into the drawing room and picked up my gifts. After stacking the boxes in a pile, I turned off the lamps and gathered my silk, satin, and chiffon gowns, babydoll pajamas, bikinis, thongs, and so forth to take to the bedroom, wondering if Mr. Howard was in any shape to appreciate any of them that night.

  Hearing the back door close and lock as Emmett left for his apartment over the garage, I opened the door to Mr. Howard’s room. The bedside lamp was on, and Mr. Howard was sitting st
raight up in bed. He’d pulled himself up by the handrails. His pajama top was off, his scrawny, white-haired chest in full view.

  There was a big half smile on his face, and his eyes were as bright and sparkling as I’d ever seen them.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” I think he said, along with a few other things that nobody else would’ve understood.

  And, yes, in case anyone is interested, he was in shape to appreciate not only my new lingerie, but a few other things as well.

  Chapter 45

  The room was so quiet that I could barely hear the squeak of rubber soles on the polished floor out in the hall and the whispered voices of nurses and doctors as they passed. Mr. Sitton had insisted that he talk to me in a private place, so they’d led me out of the waiting room to this small, dim office.

  They were all gone now—Mr. Sitton, the doctor, the ambulance men, and the nurses—at least for a while, and I was left alone to gather my wits and decide what to do next.

  “He didn’t have time,” Mr. Sitton had told me. “I am confident that that was what he wanted to see me about today. I know that he wanted you taken care of—he’d intimated as much on a previous occasion. As much as I’d like to reassure you on the matter, I am afraid I can’t. The way things stand now, with everything in trust, my hands are tied.”

  “Emmett?” I asked, my hands knotting in my lap. “What about Emmett?”

  Mr. Sitton studied me for a minute, then he said, “Emmett is taken care of. He’d been with Howard a long time, but you . . .” He sighed with what I thought might have been compassion or maybe just plain pity.

  I’d shaken my head, still too stunned to take in all he was saying. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter,” he said. “And I intend to speak to Junior about it. He may feel an obligation, a moral duty so to speak, to see that something comes to you, even a small amount. Howard would’ve wanted you to have something.”