by C. L. Bevill
“I think Jules Verne covered that one already,” Bubba said, double-checking Cookie’s carrier.
“It’s been done?” David asked, plainly crestfallen. Then he brightened. “I’m certain I can come up with something better. Flying monkeys?”
“First, cancel the wedding, and then the po-lice,” Bubba said. “Git everyone off the property including Ma and Miz Adelia. Finally, hunt for the body. It has to be done. We cain’t have a wedding when there’s a murderer running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” He reconsidered. “That’s an awful comparison. I shouldn’t have said it.”
“I won’t get to finish my check list,” David lamented.
“You’ll finish it the next time,” Bubba said.
David shrugged. “I won’t guarantee I will be Baron Von Blackcap the Revenger then.”
“Exactly what are you revenging?”
“The loss of my innocence,” David said promptly. “It was very disconcerting.”
Bubba steeled his shoulders. “Okay, we’re goin’ to talk to my mother. This might be ugly. But she’s got to see reason.”
“Why does Miz Demetrice need to see reason?” David asked. “She’s never seen reason before. I’m sure that she’s never even met reason before. If she was formally introduced to Lord Reason of Reasonableness at the Queen’s ball, your mother would instantly disregard the introduction.”
“Good point,” Bubba said, “but I reckon she was the one who moved the body the second time as she was completely bamboozled when there was nothing in the crawlspace below the trapdoor.”
David rubbed his chin and his brass monocular buzzed and clicked as if it was irritated and confused. “How do you come to that conclusion?”
“As she viewed the crawlspace, Ma said, ‘Huh,’ which is the shortest sentence that I can recollect her is saying in the past few years.” Bubba nodded firmly. “She knew something was supposed to be there, and it wasn’t. Ergo, the body. The body came back to the living room. She saw it before me, and found the nearest convenient place to dump it. She don’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds, and she cain’t be lifting it or carrying it off. Therefore she shoved it into the door leading to the crawlspace. It’s a matter of physics.”
“I think you’re underestimating your mother,” David said, “however, your reasoning isn’t entirely skewed. Is it possible that your mother is secretly Lady Whiteshade? Miz Demetrice is rather demonically influential.”
“Anything is possible,” Bubba said.
They went outside and immediately ran into Daniel Gollihugh along with Jeffrey Carnicon.
“Bubba!” Dan called. “It’s good to see you. I bin hearing things about you. We just came over for the wedding, but sounds like lots of rumors goin’ around.”
Bubba looked up, up, up. Daniel was a big man, likely the tallest man in Pegramville County. He had a temper and was prone to be locked up. His most infamous act was to urinate on a police officer’s car while the police officer was still in the car. (It wasn’t known what the police officer had thought of that particular act.) He stood a shade over seven feet tall, and law enforcement knew to be wary when coming to deal with the man. His saving grace was that he had discovered Buddhism while in the pokey on his last stint. While Dan wasn’t consistent about his practice of the ancient religion, it had mellowed him out somewhat. He hadn’t been in a fight for weeks, possibly months. However, the day wasn’t over, yet.
“‘Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened,’” Dan quoted philosophically. Bubba thought it was some kind of Buddhist quote but he was far from an expert on Buddhism.
“‘The invisible and the non-existent look very much alike,’” Jeffrey said immediately, obviously not to be out done.
Daniel looked down at Jeffrey in the way that he would look down upon most people except possibly professional basketball players. “‘The greatest worth is self-mastery,’” he said prosaically.
“‘On the first day, man created God,’” Jeffrey pronounced.
“I’m goin’ to—” Dan started to say and Bubba interrupted with, “Hey ya’ll, no fussing today, am I right?”
Dan grumbled. “No fussin’.”
Jeffrey shrugged.
David said, “Are you certain about this, Bubba? I mean, no check marks for me. I could turn into something really odd, like Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber.” He winced.
“There is goin’ to be a weddin’ today,” Dan asked, “right?”
Bubba opened his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words that would end the day. It didn’t matter if the heavens opened up and rained a whirlwind’s worth of dead bodies upon him, he would still want to marry Willodean Gray.
“You know, Miz Demetrice’s got folks out looking for people who’ve gone missing,” Jeffrey said. “There’s this fella from Dogley. A social worker. He took that Blake Landry guy’s place. Just like Blake Landry took Nancy Musgrave’s place. Dogley’s had no luck at all when it comes to social workers.”
“And a newspaper fella,” Dan added. “We all saw you chase the other two down the lane.” He chuckled. “My wife kin run in high heels, but not that fast. You dint hurt those two, did you?”
“They drove off in a Jeep,” Bubba said. To him, the implication was obvious. They’d driven off before he could hurt them, although he hadn’t really wanted to catch them. (Reporters were like stray puppies; if a fella let one in his house, then he had to train them and feed them. They would stay forever, and he couldn’t even leave them at the pound. Who wanted to do that?)
“I dint think so.”
“And then there was Newt Durley,” Jeffrey said. “He went missing last night. Last time he was seen was at Grubbo’s. However, someone said they saw him running down the lane maybe a half hour ago. Like someone was chasing him, excepting there wasn’t anyone chasing him.”
“There’s the mailman fella, too,” Dan said amicably. “Someone saw him last night. Then he and his mail truck vanished.”
“The mail truck ain’t vanished. It’s parked out on the lane,” Bubba said. “It dented a tree. I don’t reckon the tree is happy about that.”
“Say Bubba,” David said, “the day is not getting shorter, if you’re going to stick with that agenda you discussed.”
“What are you supposed to be, boy?” Daniel asked David. “You was born on Crazy Creek, weren’t ya?”
“I am— ” David straightened his brocade tailcoat and top hat— “a steampunk super villain. Tomorrow you shall awaken and be covered with mechanized, brass gear encrusted squids that will suck the marrow out of your bones before logging onto your Facebook account and posting odd photos of your willy.”
Dan considered David carefully. “I ain’t got a Facebook account,” he said finally. “Perhaps we should go look for that mailman around the truck, Jeff.”
“As long as we swing past the open bar again, I’m easy,” Jeffrey said. “Do you have odd photos of your willy?”
“You don’t?” Dan asked as they walked away.
Bubba shook his head. “Ma,” he said to himself. “Po-lice. Kick everyone out. Find that body. Say, David, you don’t think that body is the mailman, do you?”
“I haven’t met the body, Bubba,” David said. “Nor, as I recall, have I met the mailman. I would remember the mailman since I was once, in the past, a mailman.”
“Do you think the body could be the new social worker?”
“What did the body look like?”
“Medium tall fella with dyed hair,” Bubba said.
“Peter is about six feet tall,” David said. “He’s got gray hair. Well he’s got some gray hair. Mostly he’s bald on top.”
“Ain’t him,” Bubba said.
Precious bounced out of the house behind them, and Bubba went back to close and lock the door, even though it didn’t seem to do any good.
Cookie said, “Moop.”
“And I have to git Cookie ba
ck to her mama or her daddy perty dang quick,” Bubba added.
“What’s the rush? Air Gunner First Class Arabella Millicent appears comfortable. She’s even smiling broadly. Almost evilly. I approve.”
“That’s because she’s taking a little dumpenetta again,” Bubba said, contorting his face so that he only breathed through his mouth. “Virtna and Fudge need to change the diapers on their own child for a turn.”
David promptly turned and fled, which was what Bubba would have done, if he had the chance. Precious took the opportunity to flee after him, her long ears trailing in the air behind her.
Chapter 14
Brownie and Janie and All the
People Who Came and Went
Saturday, April 27th around 10:20 AM and so on
Brownie settled in a spot where they could see the front door and the path around the side of the caretaker’s house. He spun his racket in the palm of his hand for entertainment. Janie thought they should split up so they could see both front and back. Or even better, she could go retrieve her surveillance camera from the Mansion so they could watch one while looking who was going in or out of the back.
“And how are you goin’ to get that camera down from the chandelier in front of all them people?” Brownie asked, ever aware of the possibility and probabilities of “getting caught.”
Janie frowned. “That is a problem. I needed a ladder to put it up. I don’t think people would stand there and watch me take it down without asking…questions.” Clearly those would have been the type of questions that Janie didn’t want to answer like “What is that you’re taking down?” and “Why was there a camera in the chandelier?” and “How long has that been there?” and most importantly, “Exactly where did you get this surveillance camera from, Janie Gray Redgrave?”
“It was a good thought,” Brownie admitted. “Ain’t like you thought that there would be a killer running around and you would need the camera in another spot. Besides it ain’t safe to split up. It’s just like them movies. The one who suggests we split up is usually the one who gits it first.”
“I thought the front entrance would be busiest for the camera. I didn’t think about having to move it while everyone was around,” Janie admitted. She glanced around. “We could sit in those bushes and see almost everything. Someone would have to sneak around the side of the Mansion and through the trees on the north side to get past us without us seeing them. Most perps are lazy, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yes, take for example the disposal of dead bodies,” Janie said, matter-of-factly.
“We have had recent experience with this,” Brownie said.
“Well, a perp will take the body downhill when given the chance 97% of the time,” Janie said. She settled against a tree. “You know, when there’s a choice of going downhill or uphill.”
“We dint have a choice of a hill,” Brownie said. “Only a throw rug and a wheelbarrow, which were both good choices, ifin you ask me.”
“We didn’t kill the victim,” Janie said.
“We should use your tablet and see who’s missing,” Brownie said. “Mebe we could identify him.”
Janie brought the tablet out and connected with the Snoddy’s wireless router. Brownie helpfully supplied the password. Brownie watched the door while Janie surfed and chattered about who was missing.
“…this guy went missing in January. No, he’s five feet two inches, so that’s not him. This one is sixteen and missing from Houston. I don’t think that was him. This one is ninety-five years old and went missing from a nursing home. Gee, I hope he just went to Vegas for a last big fling.”
“Look, there’s David Beathard,” Brownie said, looking at the yard. “I think he’s on those kind of drugs that make you hyper.”
They watched as David ran into the house. A minute later, David ran out.
Bubba came out a few minutes later and still had Cookie on his chest and Precious at his heels. He strode toward the mansion without looking back.
“Bubba saw the body,” Brownie said firmly.
“Yeah,” Janie said, “but he left the lawyer inside.”
“What do we do?”
“Move the body again?” Janie asked. “The lawyer might see us. My mother calls them ambulance chasers. Sometimes Granny calls them shysters.”
“I don’t think we should move the body again,” Brownie said. “It dint work the first time.”
A while later, Thelda danced past them wearing a leather corset over her three sweaters. She waved at the children while saying, “Thou currish beef-witted bladders!” Then she darted toward the other side of the Mansion, making the long loop. Seeing as how Thelda was loopy, Brownie thought it was seemly.
A few minutes later, Miz Demetrice walked up to the house in her tangerine suit. She produced a key, unlocked the door, and went inside.
Brownie said, “Uh-oh.” He thought that his great aunt might scream at her soon-to-be discovery of the deceased person, but there was nothing but silence that followed. It was the uncomfortable type of silence that says “I just know something is going on.”
“Miz D. told me yesterday that she murdered her husband by driving a Segway over his head, so I think she’s going to be boss about finding a dead body,” Janie said.
“She drove a Segway over his head,” Brownie repeated. “How is that even possible? I want to drive a Segway. We could get a watermelon and do an experiment.”
“She’s your great auntie,” Janie said.
Then a few minutes later, Caressa strolled up to the caretaker’s house, and went inside.
Brownie paused for about thirty seconds, waiting for the not-so-inevitable screams that simply did not come, and finally said, “They’re both looking at the body.”
“Do you think they’re trying to figure out what to do with it?”
Brownie cocked his head and listened for police sirens. Since he didn’t hear any, he nodded. “Mebe they are.”
Janie checked her watch. Precisely ten minutes later, Miz Demetrice, Caressa, and Lawyer Petrie came out. Lawyer Petrie was now dressed in a t-shirt and jeans that dragged behind him like wings. He was also supported by both women.
“They’re both rumpled,” Brownie said. “They did something.”
“Maybe it was a struggle with the lawyer,” Janie said. “He is dressed now. I don’t get the t-shirt. Ho Lee Chit. What does that mean?”
“It’s an Asian phrase,” Brownie said sagely. “It means stuff is happening.”
“Oh.”
More time passed.
Brownie said, “I’m getting thirsty. Bubba has R.C. Colas inside. I’ll be back. Hold my racket, and don’t touch the red button on the handle.”
“Better be quick,” Janie advised. She took the racket and held it gingerly as if it might bite her.
Brownie was back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, bearing two frosty bottles of R.C. Colas. He even had two MoonPies, although they were a tad smooshed from being carried under his arm. “Body’s gone,” he said.
Janie took one MoonPie and one cola after handing the racket back to Brownie. “Really?”
“Yep. Gone. Cain’t tell where. I suppose they could have taken it out the back door. If that’s so, then it cain’t have gone far.” He produced a Darth Vader shaped bottle opener and held it for Janie so that she could pop the lid on the R.C. Cola.
“Maybe they hid it in a closet,” Janie said.
“I looked in all the closets,” Brownie said. “Ain’t downstairs and ifin you’re right about killers moving things downhill, them two old ladies dint take it upstairs.”
“You were quick,” Janie said with admiration.
That was about the time that Newt Durley tottered past them. He was more than a little mussed. His hair stuck up in dusty clumps. His shirt was ripped on one sleeve. One pant leg had a hole in it about the size of a baseball revealing the pale white calf of his leg. He had a row of postage stamps attached to his forehead. (Six of A Charlie Brown
Christmas commemorative stamps from one side of his head to the other, Brownie was bemused to note.) The stamps did not conceal the large red bump on the upper part of his forehead.
Newt gained speed as he went along. His wild eyes did not even notice the two startled children watching him with matching amazed expressions. He vanished around the corner of the Mansion, but Brownie could hear his thundering steps as he continued to run.
“Do you suppose he saw the body?” Janie asked.
“Look,” Brownie pointed. “He came out of the crawlspace. That man drinks too much alcohol ifin he was under Bubba and Willodean’s house.”
They heard a distant yell. “It’s the UNCERTAINTY PRINCIPLE!”
“I’m uncertain,” Brownie admitted. “You?”
Janie nodded. “Uncertain, but entertained. This is the best wedding ever, even if they never get down the aisle.”
Brownie squinted at the still open side door to the crawlspace. There was a shape that lay halfway out which was reminiscent of an arm. “Is that—?”
Janie sat up straight, holding the R.C. Cola awkwardly in one hand, peering at the door. “Yeah, it is.”
“There’s a trapdoor to the crawlspace in the pantry,” Brownie said. “I think that Miz Demetrice stuck the body in that.”
“That’s how she got all rumpled,” Janie said. “I didn’t think she could ever get rumpled.”
“And the body fell on or near Newt Durley,” Brownie said.
“Who freaked out.” Janie nodded. “I would freak out, too.”
“Newt is prolly still three sheets to the wind. I smelt the alcohol on him when he passed us. Papa Derryberry would say he was lit up like a possum lickin’ a light socket.”
“How did the body get all the way to the side of the house? It wasn’t like it crawled there.”
“Newt dragged it,” Brownie said with a shrug. “We should do something.”