by C. L. Bevill
No matter what had happened, today was not an exception. “Thank you, God,” he murmured appropriately. “You’re the god, God.”
Willodean, however, wasn’t quite her typical self. It was true she wore her wedding dress. Bubba couldn’t tell much about the wedding dress because her top half was covered with a camouflaged Kevlar vest. She had another camouflaged Kevlar vest tied around her waist which protected her from mid stomach on down, and when she moved incrementally, he could see that there was a third camouflaged Kevlar best attached in back. Furthermore, her gorgeous features were covered with the lens of a flak helmet which was also camouflaged. (He’d seen a few of these in the military. The acronym was PASGT or Personnel Armor System for Ground Troops, if one wanted to know all the right words. Troops called them Pass-gets. It was clear to Bubba that the National Guard unit down the street from the Red Door Inn had participated in Willodean’s personal protection.)
Willodean also had a shotgun held capably in both hands as she surveyed the landscape, and her sister, Hattie, held, was that a Soviet submarine gun with a drum magazine?, in her hands. Hattie was similarly attired in protective armor and wore a Sam Browne belt with all types of law enforcement goodies attached. (Several fragmentary grenades were attached next to smoke ones.)
The various and sundry police in the area got riled up for a moment until Sheriff John and Big Joe waved them down.
Celestine appeared and opened her mouth.
Willodean said, “Can it, Ma, or do we want to talk about the time you arrested three gang members two months before I was born?”
Bubba was amazed that Celestine seemed momentarily dumbstruck. Evan appeared and saluted Willodean with an unsteady hand.
“Just what kind of wedding are we having here?” Willodean asked as she approached Bubba.
“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Peyton shrieked from somewhere nearby.
“Too late,” Willodean said. “There are bodies, shooters, and a whole parcel of police officers who weren’t invited to the original wedding. I’d say we were having bad luck way before I ever showed up.”
“But camouflage doesn’t go with antique white,” Peyton protested.
Willodean stepped up next to Bubba and he smiled at her ruefully. He could see the end of her hair but her eyes and mouth were concealed by the visor. She deftly took a hand and flipped it open so that she could stare him in the face. Her hand touched his face next to where the Steri-Strip held the cut together. “What happened to your face?”
“I think camouflage looks wonderful with antique white,” he said, “and someone decided to pop off a few rounds. Ain’t nothing to it.”
Willodean’s lovely lips twitched. “You find that body yet?”
“No, but I gotta few ideas,” he said. “You upset?”
“Not as much as you would think,” Willodean said. “In the back of my mind I was thinking that it would never be typical. With everything that’s happened, how could it be? And surprise Morgan Newbrough escapes a month before. I wouldn’t have been surprised if aliens had invaded and the Avengers showed up in Pegram County just because. Of course, you would give Thor a run for his money. I bet you could lift his hammer.”
Bubba sighed. He put his long arm around Willodean’s shoulder and pulled her in for a long belated hug. Despite the Kevlar vests and the helmet, she fit like he always knew she would. He hadn’t seen her for three and a half days. He was truly overdue.
There was an extended collective sigh from the throng of rapt observers. Someone even said, “Aw, shucks.”
“No body,” Willodean finally said from the area of his shoulder. “And no shooter either? The least you could have left me with was a shooter, you know.”
“He left a weapon,” Bubba said, pulling back so he could look down into her face.
Willodean read his expression just fine. “One of Miz D’s?”
“I’m a goin’ to find them all and lock them up,” Bubba vowed. “Even if it takes me a year.”
“Good luck with that. Last month she horse-traded for a China Lake Grenade Launcher.”
“A grenade launcher?”
“I haven’t a clue where she’ll get the ammo,” Willodean said wistfully. “It actually uses 40 mm cartridges as ammunition. You can get them from this guy out of Waxahachie. He makes them from scratch, but they’re not in a local store.”
Bubba eyed Hattie over Willodean’s head. “Your sister found some.”
“Old Army buddy,” Willodean explained. “Her first love. He still has a thing for her. They’ve got a tank, too. At the end of the road. So if the governor calls later, that’s why.”
“What did Ma trade for a grenade launcher?”
“A horse, just like I said,” Willodean said. “I don’t know where she got the horse from, but he’s a Preakness place winner, didn’t you notice the horse trailer from a few weeks ago? The guy she traded with is a Viet Nam vet and a former Navy Seal. He said they only made six of those China Lake models for the Navy, and they—” she caught Bubba’s expression and trailed off.
“You tested it, too,” Bubba stated. His innate unhappiness with that thought bubbled up.
“Of course not,” Willodean protested. “I only watched. It knocked your mother tushy over teakettle. She killed a 1969 Volkswagen Van. The grenade went through the side door. I only wish I had my cellphone on at the time.”
“We’ll come back to that later,” Bubba grated. He glanced around. “Damn. Where did Lloyd go?”
“Lloyd Goshorn?”
“He’s on Nancy’s visiting list,” Bubba said.
Willodean pulled back, adjusting the shotgun in her right hand. “Morgan was murdered here and Lloyd Goshorn is on his sister’s visiting list in prison. Hmm.”
“Yep.”
“But it couldn’t be Lloyd,” Willodean said. “He doesn’t drive.”
“They’ve got surveillance, so I reckon we’ll get a look at the fella soon enough,” Bubba said.
Bubba could almost see the cogs in Willodean’s head working. “You think someone used Lloyd’s name to see Nancy.”
“And prolly to see Morgan Newbrough, too,” Bubba said. “It ain’t the most well thought out of plans, since they had to know they’d get caught. Then they would be identified, but mebe they thought they’d be gone by then.”
“They have to be planning Nancy’s escape,” Willodean said. “I’ll call the prison.”
“You got a cellphone?”
“Of course I have a cellphone,” Willodean said. “Who doesn’t bring a cellphone to the wedding— oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”
“You were protecting me,” Bubba said.
“I was. I am.”
“Well, okay then. You need something like a cup of tea, to put your feet up?” Bubba asked gently.
“No, I’m okay.”
“You ain’t sick today?”
“No, but I have a longing for something with pickles and peppermints,” Willodean said and sighed. “It doesn’t sound right. There was a woman at the obstetrician’s office yesterday who said she was hankering for dirt. Dirt. So pickles and peppermints doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”
“You stay here,” Bubba said to Willodean.
“Haha,” Willodean said. “You know you have a baby carrier on your chest.”
“I had a baby in there earlier,” Bubba said. “She was a lot of he’p, but she poops prodigiously.”
“Get used to it.”
“Dan,” Bubba called to Dan Gollihugh. Dan turned toward Bubba. He nodded genially at Willodean. Dan said out of the side of his mouth, “She don’t have the mace with her, do she?”
“She might,” Bubba allowed.
“I might,” Willodean said. “A good woman doesn’t go anywhere without her mace.”
“I ain’t afraid of the shotgun, but that mace tickles my nose something fierce,” Dan said.
“Find Lloyd, will you?” Bubba asked.
“I kin do that,�
� Dan said. “He took off into the brush. I reckon he thought that he’d have a better chance of gettin’ away from you that way.”
“Hattie,” Willodean called to her sister. Hattie turned in their direction, eyed Dan Gollihugh in his seven feet of glory, and fingered one of the hand grenades. “We need a guy named Lloyd Goshorn. This guy will point him out for you. Sic him.”
Hattie nodded. “You want him conscious?”
Bubba nodded. “Yep. Need him talking.”
Dan went into the woods and Hattie followed. Bubba heard Dan ask Hattie, “You believe in the power of karma?”
“Lloyd said something about his identification going missing a few years ago,” Bubba said softly, tugging Willodean to the side so that they could speak quietly.
“Years ago?”
“Yep, Nancy’s smart,” Bubba said. “Her brother wasn’t so much. He done trusted the wrong fella. I don’t expect that he was supposed to kill Morgan.”
“So they sneaked onto the estate this morning, and the other guy killed Morgan?”
“Left him in my living room and then called the po-lice,” Bubba said.
“Sheriff John said something about that,” Willodean said. “I thought it was a joke. So did everyone else.”
“Then someone moved the body,” Bubba went on.
“And someone moved the body,” Willodean repeated.
“I already tole you, darlin’. Then someone moved the body back.” Bubba let out a breath. “Just like I said before.”
“I know, I know, but I didn’t really believe you,” Willodean said. “What is it that you think?”
“I think the killer will try to move the body back into my living room,” Bubba said.
“That’s absolutely fricking insane,” Willodean pronounced.
“If it was sane, it wouldn’t happen in Pegram County,” Bubba stated.
“Baby, you ain’t just whistling Dixie,” Willodean said.
Bubba turned to look at the crowd. Once the momentary panic over Willodean and Hattie’s appearance had lapsed, they went back to doing whatever it was they were doing before. Mayor Leroy had an arm wrapped around the largest piece of the keg and was quoting drunkenly, “‘It was beauty killed the beast.’” A few others were dunking red cups into what pools of beer remained. Several people had returned to sitting in the lawn chairs because apparently everything that was happening was more entertaining than the WWE.
Bubba’s gaze shot back to the man in the Dallas Cowboys hat because he was still asleep or possibly he had woken up and then passed out. He wasn’t the only one because there was another person wrapped up in a Bevo throw. The Texas Longhorn mascot for the University of Texas was prominent across the burnt orange colored blanket. The only parts visible on that person were the tips of his tennis shoes and the brim of a plain baseball cap. There were others who relaxed in the sun, their heads leaning back on the back of lawn chairs, and where had some of the camp chairs come from?
Based on developing events, it wouldn’t be long before people would simply start taking alcoholic induced naps on the front lawn.
The police milled around with only Sheriff John processing people for gunshot residue. The state police couldn’t seem to decide whether they should be part of the fun or to sit down and watch. The FBI agents had given up and were watching Hornbuckle dig a hole in the edge of the forest with an entrenching tool she’d discovered somewhere. It looked like the one he’d been issued when he was in the Army. In the military, whilst in the field, the entrenching tool was used primarily for finding a spot to go to the bathroom and pretty much nothing else, but the agent had found a new use for it as she braced her cast at a distinct angle to her body so that she could maximize her digging capability.
Miz Adelia appeared on the veranda along with her group of minions. Each carried a large tray of canapés. (So much for not making any more food.) The housekeeper and old family friend swept through the police first, saying, “Those are potato cakes with smoked salmon and cream cheese. That second tray are sweet potato and ginger parcels. That last tray are Swedish cranberry meatballs. I got that idea from Ikea. Don’t make me slap your hand, Mr. Po-liceman.”
Bubba’s stomach growled at the thought of food. It had been a long time since breakfast and a lot of investigating had been going on since that time. A big fella had to work to maintain his levels of energy. “There’s a jar of peanut butter in the kitchen, Willodean,” he said to the woman at his side, offering his arm to his favorite girl. “There might even be some pickles and peppermints. I don’t guarantee it, but I will look.”
Willodean shifted the shotgun to her other hand and took his arm.
* * *
They were joined in the kitchen by Baron Von Blackcap the Revenger, Kiki Rutkowski, and Miz Demetrice. Precious trailed behind giving David Beathard a hard case of stinky eye. Bubba found a jar of Extra Crunchy Skippy’s Super Chunk and a large spoon and presented it to Willodean who made a happy-squealy sound. She sat at the table, jostling her vests in a way that allowed her to sit. The lid went flying and the spoon began to move in earnest.
Bubba heated a pot of water and got mugs out for tea. From the large overfilled countertop, Miz Demetrice snatched a tray of biscuits with a bowl of melted butter and slices of country ham on the side. Kiki found some napkins and paper plates.
Precious received two Milk-Bones and withdrew to the sanctity of the kitchen table’s shadow.
Bubba served tea accompanied with milk and wedges of lemon. For a nontraditional day, it was all aboveboard and seemingly normal for that single moment in time. They were joined by Miz Adelia who said, “Them po-lice will et anything. One of them thought the paper doilies were appetizing. Biscuits? Jasmine made those. She makes good biscuits.”
“You have any pickles?” Willodean asked around a spoonful of peanut butter.
Miz Adelia winced. “I’ll put it on the grocery list.”
“Too bad,” Willodean said.
“What’s next?” Kiki asked.
“I’m goin’ to assume that none of you is in collusion with Nancy Musgrave,” Bubba said as he basted butter generously on his biscuit before covering it with a slice of ham.
“I was once,” David said. “That should be in the open, but now that I’m a steampunk super villain, Nancy is beneath my notice. Are you ready for your wedding gift, Bubba? And you really need to put your suit on so I can check it off my list.”
“No, I ain’t ready for the gift, David,” Bubba said gently, “and I’m not rightly shore if I’m wearing the suit or not today.”
Willodean patted Bubba’s hand as he sat down next to her at the large kitchen table. “It’s all gravy,” she said. “Ooo, do we have gravy?”
Miz Adelia got a gravy boat from the commercial sized refrigerator. “I’ll just heat this up.”
“No, you don’t need to,” Willodean said, motioning with her free hand. “I’ll take it cold.”
Everyone at the table grimaced.
“What?” Willodean asked. “The baby wants cold gravy. The baby gets cold gravy.” The spoon she’d been using went straight into the gravy and everyone made a mutual noise that was equal parts repugnance and wonder.
Virtna and Fudge wandered in and saw the impromptu meal. Cookie was still in Virtna’s arms. The infant immediately noticed Bubba and said, “Boo BAH!” Virtna handed Cookie to Bubba. Bubba did the gentlemanly thing and obligingly took the infant. Cookie said, “Mrg pah,” in a distinctly satisfied tone as she settled in.
“I’m goin’ to go outside in a minute,” Bubba told Virtna and Fudge. “Someone might be aiming for me again, so I cain’t take Cookie with me.” He glanced at his mother. “It all depends on how many guns were left about.”
Miz Demetrice looked out the window. “My goodness, look, it’s the trained elephants we ordered.” She took her ham biscuit and fled the kitchen.
“Which means there are more guns lying about,” Bubba concluded.
“You kin hold Cookie
for the moment,” Fudge said generously.
“You and Virtna ain’t in collusion with Nancy Musgrave, are you?” Bubba had to ask.
“The Christmas Killer?” Virtna said as she piled biscuits on a plate. “Good God, no. Does she have any antique furniture?”
Willodean burped loudly. “Excuse me,” she muttered, “but that feels so much better.”
Celestine and Evan came into the kitchen. Celestine took a look and said, “Biscuits. I love biscuits with melted butter. I could eat these all day long.”
Evan said, “Is there more champagne? I’m starting to sober up and well, my daughter is wearing three bulletproof vests so I don’t think I want to sober up. Wait, are my other daughters wearing bulletproof vests?”
“Yes, Hattie and Anora are both loaded for bear,” Celestine said.
“And Janie?” Evan persisted. “That kid is outside telling the state police how to do their job. She’s got a clipboard and an evidence bag. She’s reciting straight out of a manual and their sergeant is actually listening to her.”
“I’ll get one on her, too,” Celestine said. She stuffed a biscuit into her mouth and grinned at Bubba. “And I thought your wedding would be lackluster.” It didn’t sound exactly like the words because her mouth was full, but Bubba got the gist of it.
Fudge swabbed a biscuit generously with melted butter and said, “I’d of said Brownie needed a bulletproof vest, but he don’t. Bullets prolly bounce off his little evil head. Did you know he was looking through your house for fireworks?”
Bubba stared at Fudge. He was starting to get some ideas in his head. It should have been a good thing, but it wasn’t exactly.
Chapter 23
Bubba and the Pursuit of Truth
Saturday, April 27th around 1:15 PM