“You could call her Mrs. Walters, since she’s my wife!” Big Bill growled.
Aunt Maggie took pity on Burt. “That’s a mite too formal for every day,” she said. “I don’t think you’d feel right calling me Maggie, and I’m not your mama, so we won’t even go there. Why not call me Aunt Maggie? Would that go down easier?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Burt said. “I mean, yes, Aunt Maggie.” Before his father could chide him again, he added, “It’s good to see you, too, Laurie Anne, Richard. That must be the new baby I’ve heard so much about.”
“Yes, sir, this is Alice.”
“Now, don’t call me ‘sir,’” Burt said. “Like Daddy said, we’re all family now.” He beamed at his father, looking like a puppy hoping to be rewarded for a clever trick.
Unfortunately, the only treat he got was Big Bill barking, “What in the Sam Hill is going on down there at the mill? These numbers are a joke!”
Burt hurried to his father’s side. “Let me explain what I’ve done,” he started, and the two of them started speaking business or accounting or some other language I don’t know.
While they were distracted, I decided that Alice had nursed long enough and managed to detach her, hand her off to Richard for burping, and get my shirt put together again. While I knew mothers who assured me that breastfeeding was as natural as breathing and that there was no reason on earth a woman shouldn’t nurse her child anywhere, I still didn’t like doing it in public.
Burt and Big Bill finished their money talk, with Big Bill looking disgruntled and Burt looking worried. But Burt managed to pull up another smile and stepped over to Richard.
“Now, that is a pretty baby,” he said to Richard as he gently chucked her under the chin. “Every inch a Burnette, too.”
“Her head is shaped like Richard’s,” I said again.
“Do you want to come to Uncle Burt?” he cooed at Alice, then stopped. “Or is it Cousin Burt? I’m all confused now.”
“That’s hardly news,” Big Bill said sarcastically.
“Would you like to hold her?” Richard asked, ignoring Big Bill, and passed her over. Burt held her gingerly, but he looked delighted to have a baby in his arms. Maybe this mixing of Burnettes and Walterses was going to work out after all.
Then Big Bill said, “It’s just as well you didn’t have any children, Burt. Having a child that disappoints you is the worst thing on earth.”
Burt’s face went white. Not only was his father being insulting, but the reminder of his childlessness must have stung even more. Burt and his wife had wanted a family, but Dorcas couldn’t carry a child, and the doctors had insisted on a hysterectomy after her last miscarriage.
In a choked voice Burt said, “I better get these reports straightened out.” He handed Alice back to Richard and left without saying another word.
Big Bill stared after him, and I realized Alice was starting to get anxious again. It was amazing how much an infant could pick up on bad feelings, and there were definitely bad feelings between Big Bill and his son. Not to mention my feelings—I was appalled that Big Bill would talk to Burt that way.
Of course, I didn’t think they’d ever had a normal relationship. Big Bill had always favored Small Bill, his firstborn son, even after he got word of Small Bill’s death in Vietnam. Burt had spent his whole life trying to earn the regard his father gave to Small Bill unconditionally, and had never quite managed it. If that weren’t complicated enough, there were facts about Small Bill’s death that Big Bill didn’t know, things I’d discovered almost by accident. Still, I’d never seen Big Bill treat Burt that way in public. Had Burt objected to his father’s new marriage, or was there something else going on?
“Well,” I said, breaking the awkward silence, “Richard and I better get going so we can get ready for the party. Aunt Maggie, are you sure you don’t mind our staying at your place? At your other place, I mean.” Aunt Maggie was the current owner of the Burnette home place, the house where I’d lived myself when being raised by my grandfather Paw, and we usually stayed with her when we were in town.
“Of course I don’t mind,” she said.
“Why don’t you stay here?” Big Bill said, shaking himself out of his angry mood. “There’s plenty of room.”
I looked at Richard, but he shrugged, leaving it up to me. “Thanks, but we’ll be fine at Aunt Maggie’s. Aunt Nora’s already got a crib set up for Alice.”
“All right, then. We’ll see you tonight.”
Richard grabbed the diaper bag, and Aunt Maggie said, “I’ll walk y’all out. Bobbin needs to take a trip to the yard, and I hate to think what Irene Duffield would do if she had an accident.”
I was just as glad, because after seeing the way Big Bill was with Burt, I was starting to realize that there was something missing in what he’d told us, and I thought I knew what it was. The question was, did Aunt Maggie know?
Once we were outside, I let Richard get Alice settled into her car seat while I walked a piece with Aunt Maggie so Bobbin could do her business. “Aunt Maggie, Big Bill thinks he knows who’s trying to kill him, doesn’t he?”
“He says he doesn’t,” she said, but didn’t meet my eyes.
“Then why this marriage?”
“We told you. So he’d have somebody to watch his back.” I hesitated, but had to ask the next question. “Has Big Bill changed his will since y’all got married?”
“If you think I only married him for his money—”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“So why bring it up?”
She was being deliberately ornery, and I knew she was trying to get me off the subject, so I held onto my temper as best I could. “The three big reasons for killing are revenge, sex, and money. Your marriage wouldn’t stop anybody from killing Big Bill for revenge or sex, so there would have been no reason for y’all to get married if either of those were the motive. But money—that’s a different matter.”
“Anybody with as much money as Bill has is always a target,” she said, but still didn’t look me in the eye.
“If Big Bill had died last week, who would have benefited?”
“There are a lot of names in the will.”
“I’m sure he made some bequests, but everybody in town knows that Burt is supposed to inherit everything else. Only now that y’all are married, he’s left it all to you, hasn’t he?” She didn’t answer, but she didn’t contradict me, either, so I followed the thought to its logical conclusion. “Big Bill thinks Burt is trying to kill him, doesn’t he?”
Aunt Maggie didn’t say anything for a long time, just watched Bobbin sniff around the grass. “He hasn’t said so, Laurie Anne, not even to me, but I think you’re right. He just can’t say it out loud. Can you imagine thinking such a thing about your own flesh and blood?”
Seeing how cruel Big Bill had been to Burt, I didn’t feel so kindly toward him. Besides, I’d realized something else. “Aunt Maggie, don’t you realize that Big Bill’s set you up as a target, too?”
“He’s done no such thing!” Aunt Maggie snapped.
“Then what happens if you die before Big Bill, or if you die together? The money will go to Burt after all, won’t it?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point.”
“But—”
“I knew all along that I’d be in danger if Bill and I went through with the wedding. I’m not stupid, Laurie Anne.”
“I know you’re not—”
“Is that right? Then why did you assume that I didn’t realize what was going on?”
“I didn’t assume…” Then I stopped, not sure I’d be telling the truth. “Okay, maybe I did. I’m just worried about you, Aunt Maggie. Big Bill’s got a lot of enemies, whether or not Burt is one of them.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here. Bill doesn’t have anybody else he can trust right now. And nobody, not even Big Bill Walters, should be all by his lonesome when there’s a killer after him. Laurie Anne, when you get to be my age, you’ll re
alize being alone is scarier than just about anything else.”
I tried to understand what she was saying. I had no particular fear of being alone myself, not with Richard and Alice, plus all my cousins and aunts and uncles. But Big Bill was in a very different place, both because he didn’t have as much family and because of the way he’d lived his life. It was easy to say that he deserved to be alone, but who was I to judge anybody else?
I finally said, “All right, Aunt Maggie, as long as you know what you’re doing, and as long as you know you can call on me or Richard any time you need us.”
“I do know that, Laurie Anne, and I appreciate it.” Then she grinned. “You know, nobody’s tried to mother me since my own mama died—and she didn’t try it all that often. I think your having Alice has gone to your head.”
I wanted to argue with her, but she started laughing, so I figured it wasn’t worth the trouble. She was still laughing at me when we left.
Chapter 4
As I drove toward Aunt Maggie’s house, I told Richard what I’d guessed and how Aunt Maggie had confirmed it.
“So Big Bill thinks his own son is trying to kill him,” he said. “There’s plenty of precedent for it, of course. All the way back to Oedipus killing Laius, and Goneril and Regan going after Lear.”
Not to mention an incident in Byerly we’d been involved in, I thought to myself.
Richard said, “Do you think Burt is a killer?” I considered it. “I can’t know for sure, Richard, but I sure don’t see it. Burt doesn’t seem like the murdering kind, for one, and he’s going to get Big Bill’s money eventually anyway.”
“Maybe he needs money in a hurry. Gambling debts or something like that. If he still has an eye for the ladies, that can cause unexpected expenses.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but I think he’s got a fair amount of money of his own, and surely he’d be able to raise more, just by virtue of being Burt Walters. Besides, I really think he loves his father.”
“Even with the way Big Bill treats him?”
“Wasn’t that awful? Big Bill never used to be that bad. I think he’s only acting that nasty now because he suspects him. Though he may be missing a suspect.”
“Who?”
“Dorcas. Burt’s wife would have just as much to gain from Big Bill’s death as Burt would.”
“They could be in it together,” Richard pointed out.
“True.” Alice picked that moment to start babbling from the backseat. I said, “Alice, please don’t ever try to kill your father.”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Richard warned me. “Come to think of it, how much longer do we have to speak freely around Alice?”
“According to Aunt Maggie, no time at all, at least where swear words are concerned. Why?”
“I was just thinking that we’re going to have to be careful not to talk about the murders we’ve been involved in. Though I suppose she’ll find out about them someday.”
“In this family? Count on it.”
“What do you suppose she’ll think of it all?”
“If she’s like most kids, she’ll think we’re the biggest geeks on earth, and that our entire goal in life is to embarrass her at every opportunity.”
“Only when she’s a teenager.”
I shuddered. Having a baby had been scary enough, but a teenager… “Maybe she’ll be a natural-born sleuth and help us.”
“No way!” Richard said. “She stays out of it!”
I looked at him in surprise. “That’s awfully Neanderthal of you.”
“I mean it. I’m not letting our little girl put herself in danger.”
“If she acts like my side of the family as much as she looks like it, I don’t know that we’ll have a choice.” Seeing the fierce look on my husband’s face, I reached over and patted his leg reassuringly. “Richard, she’s seven months old. We don’t have to worry about this for a while yet.”
“Maybe not,” he conceded, “but I’ve been thinking about it.”
“I thought we had this discussion when I was pregnant. We decided that as long as we were careful, we shouldn’t let a baby completely change who we are.”
“But it’s not ‘a baby’ anymore. It’s Alice.”
“You lost me.”
“I’m not sure I understand this myself, Laura. It’s just that I feel so protective of Alice now that she’s here. I can’t stand the idea of her facing the kinds of danger we’ve been in.”
“Richard, we’re not going to carry Alice into a shoot-out.”
“I know, but we’ve also got a responsibility to take care of ourselves, for her sake. I don’t want our child to be an orphan.”
“I don’t want any child to be an orphan,” I said, thinking of my own parents, who’d died in a car crash when I was fifteen. Aunt Maggie had talked about how scary it was for an older person to be alone, but I thought that it was even more terrifying for a child or a teenager. I remembered how I’d felt, even though I’d known I had people who loved me, and the idea of Alice going through that sickened me.
Of course, my parents couldn’t help what happened to them—they’d been driving safely, wearing their seat belts, when a tractor-trailer jackknifed because of another driver’s antics. Still, there were things I could do to take care of myself and Richard. “Here’s what I think,” I said. “Whether or not we get involved in Big Bill’s problems, or anybody else’s, we have to swear not to put ourselves in jeopardy if there’s any way we can avoid it. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
A minute later, I pulled into the carport at Aunt Maggie’s house. When most people think of Southern houses, they probably either think of mansions like the Walterses’ or tarpaper shacks. What I think of is the Burnette home place, an old farmhouse that started out small but grew as the family did. And just as siblings don’t always favor each other, the house’s additions don’t look much like one another. Still, they’ve managed to hold together well enough for an awful lot of Burnettes to be born there, live there, and sometimes die there.
I’d lived there with Paw, and when he died, he passed it on to his sister, Aunt Maggie. I wondered what she’d do with it now that she was ensconced at the Walters mansion. Whatever she decided, I knew she’d never sell it. I think any of the Burnettes would rather have sold our right arm than that house.
I had my own key, and when I opened the door, I was surprised by how empty the house felt, even though Aunt Maggie had moved out less than two weeks before. Not that there was any dust to be seen. When they’d heard Richard and I were bringing Alice down, a bevy of aunts had converged to make sure everything was ready for us—it was probably cleaner than when Aunt Maggie was living there.
There was a stack of used but clean baby toys in a milk crate in the living room, and when we carried our suitcases upstairs to the bedroom, we found a crib set up, complete with a Mickey Mouse mobile dangling overhead. Somebody had even put a changing table in the bathroom.
They’d also stocked the refrigerator: I recognized Aunt Nora’s fried chicken, Aunt Daphine’s apple cobbler, and a dish of lasagna that had been made with Richard’s recipe. If that weren’t enough, they’d left sandwich fixings and a big pitcher of iced tea, too.
“You know, my aunts could give the people at the Four Seasons in Boston lessons in welcoming guests,” I told Richard.
“I suppose we’ll be having dinner at the party,” he said regretfully, eyeing the fried chicken.
“Aunt Nora said they were having a buffet,” I said, but I was tempted, too. “You know, it wouldn’t hurt to grab a bite now. In case we get too busy visiting to eat anything later.”
“Good point,” he said, and reached for the chicken. “I wonder if Aunt Nora brought biscuits.”
She had, of course, and we ate enough so that we wouldn’t need to eat anything at the party, and probably not for breakfast, either. I almost felt sorry for Alice for not getting to share in the bounty, but decided I was only eating that much for her benefit, anywa
y.
Once we were finished and I fed Alice, it was time to get ready for the party. “Does this look all right?” I asked Richard. I hadn’t had much of a choice when I was packing for the trip, because I only had two nice outfits that buttoned down the front so I could nurse Alice. I’d picked my aqua suit because I thought it wouldn’t show spit-up as much as my navy blue dress.
“You look fine.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to look bad next to the Walterses.”
“Laurie Anne, how does Aunt Maggie dress?”
“She’s not going to wear a T-shirt to her wedding reception.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” I had to say. “Anyway, nobody is going to notice me anyway, not as long as I’m holding this baby.” Richard’s mother had given me the dress I’d put on Alice, and while I objected to dressing little girls in pink and ruffles all the time, I was willing to let one slip in now and then. Besides, it had the cutest little hat to go with it.
I’d pulled the car right up to the front door when we went to visit Aunt Maggie that afternoon, but by the time we got back, there wasn’t room left to get in the driveway. Instead, a woman in a Byerly police uniform waved us to a nearby church parking lot that was a third full already.
“That wasn’t Junior, was it?” Richard asked.
“Not unless she’s grown a foot and gained a good fifty pounds,” I said. “I think it was Belva Tucker. I heard she’d come to work for Junior.”
“The deputy from Rocky Shoals?”
I nodded. We’d had a disagreement with Belva a while back, but Junior had needed an experienced deputy after losing her own, and I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
I recognized most of the other people who drove or walked past us. They were dressed up, too, and almost certainly on their way to the party. Aunt Maggie hadn’t been kidding when she said Vasti had invited everybody in Byerly. There are so many of us Burnettes that we can fill a church hall all by ourselves, but we were going to be in the minority this time.
Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 08 - Wed and Buried Page 3