Toni L.P. Kelner - Laura Fleming 08 - Wed and Buried

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  “Then why the letters?” I asked.

  Wynette looked exasperated. “Duke put her up to it. He figured Big Bill Walters might send her some money just to shut her up. Aunt Molly knew better—Walters wouldn’t have any money left if he paid off everybody who asked for it. She just wrote the letters so Duke would quit pestering her.”

  “Duke is your brother?” I asked, wondering if Bill Haley or Roy Orbison hadn’t appreciated their father’s musical taste, and decided to use a nickname.

  “My husband. My ex-husband now. But like I said, we never expected anything to come from it, and until now, we never heard anything from Walters. Which is just as well. If Walters had sent Aunt Molly any money, Duke would have found some way to get his hands on it.” She shrugged. “Aunt Molly’s gone now, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  Richard said, “Then nobody in your family intends to pursue this any further?”

  “What’s the point?” Wynette said. “Not that a few dollars wouldn’t come in handy with the new baby on the way.” She rubbed her tummy, just like I had when pregnant.

  She sure didn’t sound bloodthirsty. Maybe her ex-husband had been hoping for some money, but killing Big Bill was hardly a way to line his pockets, especially since he and Wynette were divorced. I was still curious about Wynette’s child’s father—there was no wedding band on her finger, but she hadn’t gotten pregnant by herself.

  Wynette must have been thinking while I considered the possibilities, because she said, “Laura Fleming… Aren’t you one of the Burnettes? The one from Boston?”

  “I’m surprised you’ve heard of me; I thought you just moved to town.”

  “We did, but Belva hears all the gossip.”

  “Belva Tucker?” I asked.

  “That’s right. She said y’all were working with Chief Norton to see who tried to kill Big Bill Walters. Am I one of your suspects?”

  I looked at Richard, but he looked as nonplussed as I felt. “Well, sort of, but—”

  Wynette giggled. “I’m just trying to picture myself killing somebody while looking like this.”

  “We didn’t know you were pregnant before we met you,” I explained.

  “Of course not,” she said as another giggle escaped.

  “We’ve just been going through some threatening letters sent to Big Bill—”

  “From what I’ve heard about Big Bill Walters, he must have a stack of threatening letters, and I bet most of them are a lot nastier than anything Aunt Molly wrote.” Then she sobered. “I’m sorry—I forgot that he’s your uncle.”

  “Only by marriage,” I said, “and to tell you the truth, you can’t say anything about Big Bill that I haven’t heard before.” I looked at Richard, and he shrugged. It looked as if he’d been right and we’d been wasting our time. “I apologize for disturbing you. If I’d known you were a friend of Belva’s, I wouldn’t have come by like this.”

  “That’s all right,” she said, levering herself out of her chair to walk us to the door. “Not many people know about us, because Belva’s still kind of shy about it.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “About us. Me and Belva.” She must have been able to tell from the look on my face that I wasn’t following her. “Belva and I are partners. We’re a couple.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t realized that Belva was a—I mean, I didn’t know that.” I didn’t mean to, but I looked at her swollen stomach.

  “Sperm donor,” Wynette said. “Belva and I both really wanted kids.”

  “Kids are great,” I said, feeling like an idiot. I lived in Boston, for goodness’ sake—I was supposed to be sophisticated about things like same-sex couples.

  Wynette went on. “Belva had a hard time in Rocky Shoals when word got out about us, which is part of the reason we moved here.”

  “Is Byerly any better?” I said.

  “Oh, the people react about the same. Some folks are rude, and some act funny, but most are okay. But the important thing is that Belva’s so much better off at work here than she was in Rocky Shoals.”

  “Chief Monroe had problems with it?” I’d dealt with him in the past and had thought better of him.

  “He tried not to, but he couldn’t seem to keep it from bothering him. The other officers were the real problem—they teased Belva something fierce, and I don’t mean friendly teasing. She doesn’t have to worry about that here. Chief Norton doesn’t care, so Belva is a lot happier now.”

  “Junior’s a class act,” I said, proud of my friend. “Belva thinks the world of her, especially after she went to the bat for her.”

  “Oh?”

  “Some of those old farts on the city council weren’t too happy with the situation. Of course, I hear they were happy with the previous deputy, and that didn’t turn out too well.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” I’d had a hand in the downfall of Junior’s last deputy myself.

  “Junior called in some favors to get them to give Belva a probationary period, and things have been going just fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Give our best to Belva, and it’s nice to have met you.”

  Wynette waved as we drove off, which I thought was awfully nice, considering that we’d suspected her of murder.

  “I’ll refrain from saying ‘I told you so,’ ” Richard said.

  “Don’t be so smug. Didn’t you hear what Wynette said about the Byerly City Council? Big Bill runs that council. If Big Bill was trying to keep Belva off the force, that makes a lovely motive.”

  “That still leaves us the problem of Wynette sneaking around in places where she’d hardly go unnoticed.”

  “That’s true of Wynette, but not Belva. Might I remind you that Belva was at the party?”

  “Outside, directing cars,” Richard said.

  “But nobody would have noticed if she’d come inside.” I speculated for a minute. “Still, I sure hope it wasn’t Belva.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because Junior will shoot me if I cost her another deputy.”

  Chapter 16

  We were now definitely out of ideas, and were heading back to Aunt Nellie and Uncle Ruben’s to pick up Alice when my cell phone rang. Since I was driving, I said, “Richard, can you get that?”

  “Sure,” he said, and pulled it from my purse. “Hello?… Hi, Aunt Maggie…. On our way to Aunt Nellie’s to get Alice…. I suppose we could. Let me check with Laura.” He held his hand over the phone and said, “Aunt Maggie wants to know if we can come by the mansion and tell Big Bill what we’ve been doing.”

  “We’ve been twiddling our thumbs,” I said with more than a little irritation. “What does he think we’ve been doing?”

  He didn’t answer, just waited patiently.

  I relented, as he’d known I would. “All right, tell her we’re on our way.”

  He lifted the phone back up. “We’d be happy to. See you in a few minutes.”

  I groused as I turned down a side street to turn around and head toward the Walters mansion. “Are we going to have to report back to them all the time? Don’t you think it’s kind of insulting? Not to mention a waste of time.”

  “Neither of which you’d mind if you had any progress to report,” he said blandly.

  “I really hate it when you’re right.” As I pulled back onto the main road, I noticed that a tan Taurus had made the turn along with us. I slowed down, hoping to get a better look at the driver, but the other car slowed down, too. I sped up to a reasonable speed, and said, “Richard, I think that car is following us.”

  “Really?” he said, but was too smart to turn around to look. “Are you sure? What does it look like?”

  “It’s a tan or beige sedan. A Taurus, I think.”

  “You know, I saw a tan car parked near ours when we left Marlyn’s house. I only noticed it because it’s got the same rental company sticker on it as this one has.”

  “Interesting. I can’t see the driver very well, but I don’t think it’s one of
our suspects.” I saw that the light at the intersection we were approaching had just gone to yellow. “Hang on,” I said, and hit the brakes. There’d been plenty of time to get through, so the driver behind me was caught by surprise, and barely stopped his car in time. That meant he was right on our bumper, close enough for me to get a good look at him in my rearview mirror. He looked mighty peeved at my driving, but more important, he looked familiar.

  “Richard, do you remember that man with the funny dent in his head?”

  “The one we saw at Pigwick’s?”

  “That’s the man who’s following us. I bet he followed us to Pigwick’s, too.”

  “Surely he knows that we’ve spotted him now,” Richard said.

  The light turned green, and when I drove off, the Taurus was right behind me. “Apparently not. He’s still behind us.” If I’d been alone at night, I’d have called the police or driven to the station. Looking foolish didn’t bother me nearly as much as the possible alternatives. But it was broad daylight, and if this guy wanted to try something, he’d had plenty of chances.

  So when Richard asked, “What do we do now?” I answered, “Nothing. Let’s see what he does.”

  Though the Taurus didn’t tailgate, it stayed right with us until we got to the Walterses’ driveway. The man drove on past, but I had a hunch he hadn’t gone far.

  “Now what?” Richard asked.

  “Now we go inside,” I said. “I’ve got an idea.”

  Miz Duffield must have been getting used to us, or at least resigned to our frequent appearances, because she let us in the door without making us wait for Aunt Maggie’s say-so. She still had to lead us upstairs, of course, and I startled her when I said, “Can we go up to the third floor? I need to look out the window.”

  “I suppose it—” she started to say, and I broke in with, “Wonderful. We’ll find our own way.” I trotted up the stairs with Richard, leaving Miz Duffield squawking indignantly behind us.

  I’d have opened closed doors if I’d had to, which probably would have given Miz Duffield a conniption, but fortunately the upstairs landing included a window facing the right way. I could see all the way down the block in both directions, and it only took a moment to spot the tan car, even though the driver had parked behind a large hedge. “There he is.”

  “Whoever it is,” Richard said.

  “I’ve got an idea about that, too, and if I’m right, I’m about to blister Big Bill’s ears! Come on.”

  Miz Duffield was still standing on the stairs, but we breezed past her on our way to Big Bill’s room. I knocked sharply on the door and just barely managed to hold on to my temper long enough for Vivian to let us in. Then she retreated to a corner of the room where she could read and we could pretend she wasn’t there.

  Aunt Maggie had an open magazine in her lap, and Big Bill was watching something on TV. I went in and stood right in front of the screen and said, “Big Bill, do you trust us?”

  “Of course I do,” he said.

  “Do you really want us to find out who it is trying to kill you?”

  “What kind of question is that? Haven’t I answered all your questions, even those that can’t possibly have anything to do with this business? Haven’t I done everything you wanted me to do?”

  “Yes, you have. I’m just wondering if you’ve done something else.”

  He turned to Aunt Maggie. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  “No, and I’m waiting for her to explain why she’s acting this way,” she said, not at all happy with me.

  But I wasn’t real happy myself right then. “A man has been following Richard and me all through Byerly.”

  “Who?” Aunt Maggie asked.

  “That’s what I want to know.” I glared at Big Bill.

  “What are you getting at, Laurie Anne?” he asked.

  “Did you hire a private detective to keep an eye on us?”

  “A private detective?” he said. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you don’t think Richard and I are up to the job.” Then I decided to add a more charitable interpretation. “Or maybe you’re worried that we’re in danger, and wanted to protect us.”

  But Big Bill was shaking his head. “I swear to you that I haven’t hired anybody.”

  He sounded sincere, and besides, I didn’t think he’d risk lying to me in front of Aunt Maggie. “Do you think Burt might have hired somebody? Or Dorcas?”

  “Not without consulting me.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling more than a little foolish. “I’m sure this guy is following us. We’ve seen him all around town, and he’s parked down the street right now. I even saw him at your party.”

  What does he look like?” Big Bill asked.

  “Balding, but what hair he’s got is gray. Older—maybe around y’all’s age.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Aunt Maggie said.

  “Sorry. Not real tall, but not short, either.” Being on the short side myself, I’m no good at estimating heights.

  “About five foot eight or nine,” Richard put in.

  “He’s tanned, like he works outside. Kind of a big nose, not huge, but sort of round.”

  “That’s not ringing any bells for me,” Big Bill said. “How about you, Maggie?”

  She shook her head.

  “What about his head?” Richard reminded me.

  “Oh, right. Most of the time he’s been wearing a ball cap, but we’ve seen him without it, and he’s got the weirdest dent on his head. U-shaped, I think almost a quarter of an inch deep.”

  Aunt Maggie stiffened. “Like a horseshoe?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What color are his eyes?” she demanded.

  “I haven’t been close enough to know for sure, but I think they’re light.”

  “Light blue?”

  “Maybe. Aunt Maggie, do you know this man?”

  Big Bill looked as if he wanted to hear what she had to say, too.

  Aunt Maggie didn’t answer right away, and when she did, her voice sounded as if it came from a million miles away. “Could it be Pudd’nhead, after all this time?”

  “Pudd’nhead?” Richard asked incredulously. “Like Pudd’nhead Wilson?”

  “You say he’s outside?” she said.

  I said, “He was a minute ago, parked just out of sight of the front door.”

  Without hesitating, she started for the bedroom door.

  “What are you doing, Maggie?” Big Bill called after her. “You don’t know that the man they’re talking about is Pudd’nhead Wilson. Maybe it’s the man who’s trying to kill me.”

  Aunt Maggie didn’t even hesitate, and Bobbin eagerly trotted along beside her.

  “Maggie Burnette, you come back here,” Big Bill said in his most authoritative voice, but he might as well not have spoken.

  Richard and I looked at each other, shrugged, and hurried after her. Catching up wasn’t easy, because Aunt Maggie moves awfully quickly when she wants to, and this time she wanted to. She didn’t seem to notice us walking behind her down the stairs, through the house, and out the front door, but as we followed her down the driveway, she said, “Which way?”

  “Left,” I answered.

  She turned that way, and sure enough, the tan Taurus was still parked there. The man inside sat up straight when he saw us, no doubt alarmed at my aunt bearing down on him with such a forbidding expression. He reached for the key, and I figured he meant to drive away before we could get to him. Then the engine shut off, the door opened, and he stepped out and stood there, waiting for us. Or rather, waiting for Aunt Maggie, because he sure didn’t have eyes for anybody but her. He yanked his cap off, revealing that horseshoe-shaped dent.

  Aunt Maggie got right up to him and studied his face, and he seemed to be looking at her just as thoroughly. Then she reached up, pulled his face down to hers, and gave him one of the most passionate kisses I’ve ever seen. Their arms went around each other, not in a vulgar way, but there sure wasn’t any sp
ace between them. My mouth fell open, and I probably should have turned away, but I just stood there gawking. Bobbin whined in confusion, not knowing if she should be protecting her mistress or not.

  Finally, they pulled back and looked into each other’s eyes. The man’s were light blue, just as Aunt Maggie had said they were.

  “Hey there, Troy,” she said softly, using a tone of voice I’d never expected to hear from her.

  “Hey, Maggie. Damn, you look good.”

  “Yes, I do. But I’m surprised you even remember what I look like, let alone my name!” Then she turned on her heel and strode past Richard and me on her way back to the house, with Bobbin beside her. The door slammed loud enough to be heard halfway across Byerly.

  The expression on the face of the man Aunt Maggie had called Troy should have been funny, but instead it was sad. If ever I’d seen a man with his heart on his sleeve, it was him, and his love for my great-aunt was painfully obvious.

  After one of the most awkward moments I’d ever endured, Richard said, “Hello. I’m Richard Fleming, and this is my wife, Laura.” Richard offered his hand, and Troy took it automatically.

  “Troy Wilson,” he said, “but most folks call me Pudd’nhead.”

  That’s when I remembered when I’d heard his name before. I’d been helping Aunt Maggie sort through a load of stuff she’d picked up at an auction, and at one point she’d pulled out a red felt baseball pennant for the Byerly Bobbins and whispered his name. The Bobbins had been part of the textile league, back when there was such a thing. At that point, professional ball players didn’t have spring training. Instead, they’d played down South during the winter, supposedly working for the mills but in truth, playing as ringers on various mill teams. According to what Aunt Maggie had told me that day, Pudd’nhead Wilson had been Big Bill’s ringer.

  “You used to play for the Bobbins,” I said to him.

  “Yes, I did, and for plenty of other teams. I played catcher mostly.”

  “You knew Aunt Maggie then?”