by C. L. Bevill
“They’re just lucky you dint have your Auntie Wills’ mace,” Brownie said, wondering where Willodean’s mace was presently located, and what he might be able to do about it, or more importantly, with it. He swished a racket in front of him as if he was aiming for an errant relative.
“You going to play badminton?” Janie asked.
Brownie smiled mysteriously. “Ain’t a badminton racket.”
“Okay, then what is it?”
Brownie ignored the question as he stomped up Bubba’s front steps and tried the handle. “It’s locked. Man, they don’t trust anyone around here.”
Janie said, “I know where Auntie Wills keeps a spare. There’s a hide-a-key rock in the back for the rear door. It’s not very safe because most crooks know all about hide-a-key rocks, and now you know, too. Promise you won’t use it for harming Bubba or Wills.”
“I promise,” Brownie said obediently. The closest he’d come to hurting Bubba was to draw on his face with Sharpie markers. Brownie had pictures. He’d shared them on his Facebook page. (He wasn’t supposed to have a Facebook page until he was thirteen but his mother had created it when he’d taken out the Christmas Killer with a homemade Taser. The page wasn’t as popular as it used to be, but Brownie thought it was still great fun.)
The pair trudged around the back of the house, and Janie produced the rock from under a bush. Brownie was amazed how rock-like the rock looked. He’d seen them before but this was a higher end version so it actually could fool the average thief. Janie held up the key as if it was a prize she’d won. “I know where they keep the camp lighters,” she said as she unlocked the door.
Janie stopped. “The door is already unlocked.” She put the key back into the hide-a-key rock and replaced the rock where she’d found it.
“And look, the glass in that panel is gone.” Brownie demonstrated by sticking his fist through the hole. It hadn’t been readily apparent but the glass in one lower hand right square was absent. It was also the panel nearest the locks.
“A break-in,” Brownie said.
“Epic,” Janie said. “The perp or perps may still be inside.”
“Shall we go in?”
“Of course,” Janie replied. “They’ll see you and run like hell.”
“Shh,” Brownie said. “Listen.”
They both listened and heard nothing.
Janie carefully opened the door, using the bottom of her shirt so as not to get fingerprints on the knob. They slipped inside and stopped to listen again. Brownie could hear the Kit-Cat Clock in the kitchen waving its tail in concert with the rolling eyes. He couldn’t hear anything else. Then Precious rushed up to them and licked Janie on her hand. Janie paused to properly scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“It’s safe, I think,” he whispered to Janie.
Janie carefully peered around the corner of the hallway. “I don’t see anyone,” she whispered back. Precious whined a little.
Brownie advanced carefully. He could see into the kitchen and it was empty. He peeked around the corner of the living room and froze. Janie bumped into his back.
“What is it?” she muttered.
“Um,” Brownie said. “Don’t recollect if I ever saw one of them before. Heard of ‘em, of course. Folks talked about ‘em. Don’t think I ever actually saw one.”
“A one of what?”
“A D.B.”
“No-oo.” Janie suppressed a noise that Brownie suspected was a giggle. She clearly didn’t believe him. She leaned around him to see. “Oh my.”
“Looks dead,” Brownie said matter-of-factly.
“Let’s check his pulse,” Janie said. “Maybe he’s just out cold.”
“I don’t want to touch a dead guy. I might get dead guy cooties. There’s a good reason why folks bury them so quickly.”
“Maybe if I just nudge his leg with my toe,” Janie said. She dashed out, stuck her right foot out, touched the side of the man’s leg, and retreated quickly to her position behind Brownie. Precious whined again.
“He dint move,” Brownie said. “Don’t mean he’s dead.”
“It’s Bubba’s house, stupid,” Janie said. “Of course he’s dead. This is where everyone goes to die.”
“Not everyone.”
“Wait,” Janie said. “I hear something.”
“It’s Bubba talking with Peyton the wedding planner guy,” Brownie said in a rush. “We should hide.”
“Quick, behind the couch,” Janie said.
Brownie and Janie took cover in time to hear Bubba rattle the front door knob. He pulled the racket in just as they heard the door open. Precious click-click-clicked to the door, and then the door shut. They both sighed in relief as it became obvious that Bubba was still outside. He spoke with Peyton again and then he spoke to…Cookie. Then he spoke to Peyton again and it became apparent that Bubba was holding Brownie’s infant sister, Cookie, in his arms. Finally, a car drove up which was followed by a conversation with Bubba and David Beathard. Janie peered out the corner of the window to see Bubba approaching the front door a minute later.
“Don’t say anything,” Brownie whispered. “We’ll sneak out as soon as Bubba goes to use the phone.”
“But none of the phones are working,” Janie murmured. “And what will this mean about the wedding?”
“Ain’t goin’ to be a wedding today,” Brownie whispered. “Hush up.”
They crouched together and endeavored not to move. They heard Bubba clomp inside and they heard him take a quick breath that was almost a gasp of disbelief. His footsteps sounded like he approached the body just as Janie had. They heard the swish of his clothing as he moved and Brownie had an idea that Bubba was trying to check whether the man was still alive or not.
They very nearly jumped when Bubba suddenly yelled, “SELF-FULFILLING PROPHECY, my hindquarters!”
Chapter 5
Brownie and Janie and the Dead Guy
Saturday, April 27th around 9:30 AM
The two listened to Bubba go back outside.
Janie tugged on Brownie’s arm. “What do you mean there won’t be a wedding today?”
“I mean, dead body equals no wedding,” Brownie said, jabbing a finger in the direction of the corpse. “The po-lice will come. The guests will freak out. Someone’s goin’ to say something about Bubba’s bad luck. Sheriff John might take a mind to throw Bubba in the pokey. It’s all south from here.” He paused for effect. “I never saw a dead guy before. I’m right sorry I don’t have my cellphone with which to take photographs.”
Janie stood up and looked around in a desperate manner. Brownie edged around the couch and peered at the man lying on the living room floor.
“We need to do something,” Janie said urgently.
“He’s dead,” Brownie said. “I ain’t Jesus Christ.”
“But the wedding,” Janie said in nearly half a whine. She edged around the couch and stopped at the dead man’s head.
Brownie’s ears perked up and he looked at Janie. “It isn’t the end of the world,” he said gently. “Ain’t like Bubba kilt him. They’ll clear it up a few days and everything will go back to normal…eventually.”
“But they’re all in a state of confusion and such,” Janie said hurriedly. “If we could just…”
“Just…?”
“He’s lying on a throw rug,” Janie said. She moved her arms in a gesture that said let’s-pull-it.
“You do know that would be a lot different from ripping the tag that says DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW.” Brownie considered. “We are still minors, however.”
Janie got on the end of the rug, picked it up with both hands. She gave it a big tug and the body easily moved about a foot. “See. Good thing this is a hardwood floor.”
“And I saw a wheelbarrow out back,” Brownie said helpfully.
“Bubba’s going to be back any minute,” Janie said impatiently.
Brownie got on the other side of her, tucked his racket into the back of his pants, and took ho
ld of one corner of the throw rug. “You really want this wedding to happen.”
“Well, yeah,” Janie said and yanked hard. “Usually Grays go to the courthouse and see a judge or a justice of the peace. This ceremony is a…ug, he’s heavy…huge deal. If it doesn’t happen, my grandmother might cry, and no one, I repeat, no one wants to see Sergeant Celestine Gray cry.”
Once they got the body going it wasn’t all that hard to slide him all the way down the hall and out the door. The problem was getting him into the wheelbarrow. As it turned out, it wasn’t easy since the dead guy weighed more than both of them combined, but Brownie was inventive and this wasn’t his first let’s-move-something-large rodeo.
* * *
Bubba and Some Amount
of Mysteriousness
Around 9:45 AM
Miz Demetrice was helping with the seating. Bubba couldn’t believe that people were already trickling in, and places had to be found for them to sit. Furthermore, Miz Adelia and two of her nieces were going around with platters of hors d’oeuvres to serve the early birds.
Bubba was quietly dumbfounded. “Ma,” he said. “Might I have a word?” He adjusted Cookie in his arms and realized the infant was fast asleep and snoring around the vampire teeth binky. The whole dead body issue hadn’t even phased the youngest Snoddy. (Ostensibly, DNA ran true.)
David Beathard trailed after Bubba, quietly steampunkish. Occasionally Bubba would hear the monocular buzzing and he wondered where the batteries were inserted.
Precious bumped up against a leg and quietly whined.
“Bubba, dearest,” his mother said. “Why aren’t you in a suit?”
“It’s early,” Bubba said, and on the inside he finished with, “And there’s a dead body in my house, except it’s not there anymore.”
Miz Demetrice looked very presentable in her tangerine two piece suit. It brought out the snowy quality of her hair and emphasized her blue eyes. She was even wearing pumps the exact same shade as the suit dress. She stepped toward her son, and whispered, “Did you invite a woman named—” she sighed and then finished quickly—“Cella Montague LaPierre Mitchell Blankenship? Dear Lord, I hope I got that name correct.”
The stout woman at issue stood at the far end of the seating area, chatting with Thelda of the multiple sweaters, who was another resident of Dogley Institute of Mental Well-Being. Mrs. Montague LaPierre Mitchell Blankenship was wearing the same poppy covered dress with matching hat he’d last seen her in. She waved cheerily at Bubba while trying to gulp down two mimosas at the same time.
“Cella?” Bubba repeated. “Oh yes. She’s from Dogley. I think she’s related to Pocahontas and Mamie Eisenhower. Or mebe it was Ladybird Johnson? I don’t recollect.”
“She’s demanding cocktail weenies and jumbo shrimp,” Miz Demetrice said. “She said you promised her.”
“I said maybe we would serve those at the reception. And it’s hell and gone from when the reception is starting. Give her a can of cocktail shrimp and a hot dog and tell her she’ll just have to be patient.” Bubba winced at what he’d just said. “No pun intended.”
“I’ll serve her some extra mimosas,” Miz Demetrice said happily. “Perhaps I’ll slip a valium in there. Of course, the new social worker is here, too. You know the one who took Blake Landry’s place.”
Bubba frowned. “No, I dint know that. Who is it?”
“Oh, he’s around here somewhere. His name is Peter something or other. He seems nice enough.”
“Who invited him?”
“I’m not sure,” Miz Demetrice said. “Is it important?”
It was important in the fact that every social worker from the Dogley Institute of Mental Well-Being had turned out to be a murderer. It put Bubba in the frame of mind that when Hogwarts got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher something was generally up. Just another suspicious fact for him to sort through.
Miz Demetrice carefully eyed Bubba. “Whatever is wrong, Bubba dear?”
Bubba leaned in. “There’sadeadbodyatmyhouse,” he whispered very quickly so that it was all one word.
Miz Demetrice leaned back. Bubba didn’t know how she managed to keep her face neutral, but she did. It was likely the reason that she managed to bluff while playing illegal poker games.
David the Revenger took the moment to helpfully add, “But it’s not there right now.”
Miz Demetrice put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. One hand fluttered up from her hip and two fingers touched her lips. “I specifically stated none of those were invited to this wedding,” she murmured. “It was on the invitations, I’m quite certain.”
“I have a doubt that this fella was invited as I don’t recognize him, but then I don’t know the new social worker, either,” Bubba said. “I need a phone to call the sheriff.”
“Sheriff John will be here in a few hours,” Miz Demetrice said. “Or possibly anytime in the next thirty minutes with all the other early birds. I would have never shown up so early to a wedding. Is it because it’s a mansion or is it because we’re Snoddys?”
“Cellphone, Ma,” Bubba said shortly.
Miz Demetrice eyed her son again. “This isn’t a trick to get a cellphone, is it?”
“Dead person, Ma,” Bubba said succinctly.
“Wedding, Bubba,” his mother said, just as succinctly. “Cain’t this wait until the reception?”
Bubba’s mouth opened and closed and reopened and reclosed.
“You’re sure about this, Bubba darling?” Miz Demetrice asked. “It wasn’t someone you know…or knew?”
Bubba digested that for a long minute. “I ain’t never seen the fella before until I saw him lying on my living room floor.” However, there was a definite case of déjà vu. He didn’t think he knew the man, but for some reason the dead person seemed familiar.
Miz Adelia wandered up holding a large silver tray. “Canapé, Bubba?”
“I ain’t hungry,” he said.
The housekeeper and old friend nodded her head sagely. “Best to drink a glass of buttermilk to settle your stomach. Don’t need you to pass out whilst standing next to the minister.” She paused to giggle. “This is getting taped, right, Miz Demetrice? We have to have something to look at tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Miz Demetrice said. “Is that the chicken puff pastry?”
“Perty darn good, too,” Miz Adelia agreed.
It occurred to Bubba that his mother didn’t really believe him. He would probably have to locate the corpse and carry it down the aisle before someone took him seriously. After all, how many times could it happen to a single redneck fella? (Bubba had an urgent need for a statistician.)
“This one is an avocado crostini,” Miz Adelia said, pointing with her free hand. “Best to eat those quickly on account that someone forgot to put in lime juice. Those ‘cados are goin’ brown nippily.”
David took two of those.
Miz Adelia looked at his brocade tailcoat and his top hat. She blinked when she got to the brass monocular. “Perhaps you should just eat the rest of those, David,” she said.
“It’s Baron Von Blackcap the Revenger,” David corrected her while scooping up a handful of canapés. His monocular elongated itself so that Miz Adelia could have a better look.
“Of course,” Miz Adelia said. “I’ll just go back for some more appetizers.” She cast one last wary look at David and sauntered away.
“Cellphone, Ma,” Bubba whispered.
“If the body is gone, then what is the problem?” she asked.
“Jesus Christ, Ma,” Bubba swore.
“None of your lip, young man,” she snapped. “Really, today, Bubba? David, was the man dead or not?”
“I did not see the body,” David said around a mouthful of avocado crostini. “That’s got some jalapeno in it,” he added with a little surprise. “Extreme steampunk super villains and jalapenos do not go together. I need a drink. Bwa.”
Miz Demetrice pointed toward the mansion. “There’s an
open bar in the living room.” She looked at her son. “Now you. Go comb your hair because there’s a hank sticking up and pointing at the moon. Put on your wedding suit because I know that you don’t want to miss the wedding. Make sure you don’t have spots on that white shirt. Have someone help you with the bow tie. Peyton and David will come get you after a while. Watch some…I mean, read a book and relax. You want someone to come with you?”
“How about you take this baby?”
Miz Demetrice laughed. “Good practice for you. Gives you something to do.”
She’d turned away when Bubba asked, “Is there something I need to know about, Ma? I ain’t goin’ to like hearing about it after the fact.”
“Nothing for you to fret upon, Bubba sweetgums,” Miz Demetrice said as she walked away with purpose written all over her spine.
Bubba was left alone in a solitary spot while scurrying busy people went around him leaving a large berth. He was used to a certain amount of disbelief but today was dreamlike and fantastic.
Cookie snorted loudly and opened one eye.
He said, “What would I do ifin this was a regular day?”
Cookie snorted again and sucked on her binky.
“I would call the po-lice,” Bubba said. “I would get thrown in jail, possibly. Someone would hit me on the head. I would figure out who did it. But first, I would figure out who the dead person is. Er, was. Also where his body done gone.”
Cookie pulled out the binky and made a questioning noise while blowing a large spit bubble.
“You’re absolutely right, Cookie,” Bubba said. “First your diaper and a baba. Then we look for that dadgummed body.”
* * *
Brownie and Janie and the Matter
of the Conspicuous Corpse
Around 9:35 AM*
*Which is Before Bubba Talked to his Mother,