One Fete in the Grave

by Vickie Fee

  Paging through a stack of photos, I couldn’t help but smile. Mama wearing jeans and boots, a rarity for her, at a barbecue for friends out on Earl’s property. Mama and Earl all dressed up for some fancy affair at the country club. Earl standing proudly next to Mama in her prize-winning Mrs. Peacock costume, holding her trophy, at the murder mystery fund-raiser dinner last Halloween. One thing all the pictures had in common was that Mama looked happy. This strengthened my resolve to make sure Earl Daniels did not get packed off to prison.

  After commenting on some of the photos and telling my mother which were my favorites, I got down to business.

  “Mama, the main reason we dropped by is that I have a little job I need you to do for me—something that might help me track down Bubba’s real killer.”

  “You know I’d do anything to clear Earl’s name. What do you want me to do?”

  “I need hair samples from Bubba Rowland. I failed in my attempt to procure them while no one was around. Now I need you to collect them at the viewing while everyone is there without anybody knowing what you’re doing. My idea is that if you get very emotional and bend over the casket boohooing, you’ll be able to snatch a few hairs before anyone is the wiser.”

  “You need these hair samples for the lab to test for some kind of poison or drugs?”

  “Something like that. I really can’t go into details until I know for sure.”

  Mama quickly agreed to her assignment and I told her I’d drive her to the viewing. I had a feeling Earl wasn’t planning to go.

  I dropped Di off at her place and called Larry Joe to see if he knew when he’d be home. He said he already was.

  “Why didn’t you call or text me?”

  “I figured you were busy. Besides I just walked in a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Is there anything in the fridge that looks appealing or should I drive through and pick us up something to eat?”

  “I’ll look. Hmm,” he said, apparently gazing into the icebox.

  “What’s it look like?”

  “It looks like we’ll be eating something from Taco Belles for supper.”

  * * *

  On Friday, I called Holly to check in. At my behest, she had been making phone calls and responding to e-mails for Liv 4 Fun. I figured at least one of us should be taking care of business.

  “Hi, Holly. Anything going on I should know about?”

  “There was an e-mail about the retirement party from the CEO’s secretary. She wanted to be sure you understood that attire for the dinner would be business formal, not a casual affair.”

  “That would have been my guess,” I said. “Have you had any inspired ideas about working Mr. Clenk’s passion for stamp collecting into the event?”

  “Maybe he could play post office with his secretary,” she said.

  The thought of Miss Payne playing the post office kissing game with anyone made me laugh out loud.

  * * *

  I enlisted Di to go along to the funeral home with Mama and me for the viewing that evening. We would be forming the defensive line keeping other people from getting too close to the casket once Mama launched into her mourning scene.

  After we arrived at Mama’s, I got into the driver’s seat of her Cadillac and Di climbed into the backseat. Mama, who was dressed in a black jacket dress with a hanky tucked in the sleeve, got in on the passenger side.

  “Now, Mama, remember we need six or seven hairs from Bubba. And we need them plucked out with the root end still intact. He’s dead, so it’s not like he’s going to feel anything when you snatch them off his head.”

  “And drop them into this little paper envelope,” Di said, passing the collection packet to Mama from the backseat.

  “I’ve got it, hon,” Mama said. “We may have to wait a bit for the crowd to clear away from the casket. I’ll make a pass by to scope things out and then mingle until it seems like a good time to go back up and say my final farewells to Bubba.”

  “Sounds good. Once you make your move, Di and I will flank you on either side to run interference if anybody tries to approach.”

  * * *

  We pulled into the parking lot of Frank’s Funeral Home and it was packed. This gave me some cause for concern. But I hoped some people would just do a quick in and out to offer condolences to the family.

  I was secretly worried that someone might be bold enough to make a snotty remark to Mama about Earl, or even about her coming to the viewing since she’s Earl’s fiancée. I did see a couple of busybodies give Mama a sideways glance, but I was hoping she was too focused on her mission to notice them.

  Di and I followed Mama on her first pass by the coffin. Bubba looked better than he ever looked when he was alive, wearing a blue suit with his hair neatly combed and a blush to his cheeks.

  Mama sat down on a chair against the wall next to a lady in her Sunday school class. I got in line to speak to Bruce and Carrie. Di wandered over to look at a memorial display of photos.

  “Bruce, I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to lose your brother to violence, and so soon after the passing of your sister-in-law and nephew.”

  “Thanks, Liv. Yeah, it’s hard to believe the whole branch of my brother’s family is gone.”

  “If there’s anything we can do ... ,” I said, using the tired line people always say at funerals.

  I moved on to Carrie, standing a couple of feet beyond Bruce, to let the next person in line talk to the weary-looking brother of the deceased.

  “Carrie, how is Bruce holding up? He looks tired.”

  “He is. It’s been stressful and he hasn’t been sleeping well. Maybe once we make it through the funeral tomorrow, he’ll be able to rest,” she said.

  “I hope so.”

  “I’m so glad your mama came. Bubba always thought highly of her and I know she was a good neighbor to him and Faye. And, just so you know, I don’t for a minute believe that Earl Daniels killed Bubba.”

  “Thank you, Carrie. I appreciate you saying so.”

  I joined Di to look over the photo collection, which included some of Bubba and Bruce as children; a wedding photo of Bubba and Faye, him holding Bubba Jr.; one of him standing between Bruce and Carrie, squeezing them to him in a big hug; and one of him being sworn in as a town councilman. The most recent was one of him standing next to his niece, Jennifer, who was wearing her sash and tiara as the newly crowned Miss Dixie.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mama working the room, which had cleared out considerably since we’d arrived. Carrie walked over and gave her a hug. I saw Mama dab a tear from her eye with her hanky. I sensed she was getting ready to make her move. There was no one standing by the casket.

  I gave Di a knowing look and we strolled in the general direction of the casket. In a moment Mama started soaking the handkerchief with her tears as she walked to the casket. Di and I took our places on either side of Mama, a few feet away from the casket.

  Fortunately, next to the end of the coffin near Bubba’s head was a large plant, which gave Mama a bit of cover. Mama leaned over the casket and her whole body shuddered as she sobbed. Just about everyone in the room was looking her way by this time. I spotted a woman from her Sunday school class approaching with a look of concern and headed her off by going over and putting my arm around Mama in a consoling embrace. In a moment Mama looked over to me and nodded.

  I kept my arm around her as we walked away, and she just shook her tear-streaked face as she clasped the hanky to her considerable bosom.

  I led her to the ladies’ room and Di followed, keeping guard outside the door after we went in.

  After making sure there was no one in the stall, I asked, “Did you get them?”

  “Of course I got them,” Mama said. She pulled the little envelope out of her cleavage and handed it to me. I pulled the tab off to seal it and put it in the side pocket of my purse.

  Mama took a powder compact out of her purse and fixed her face. I reached over and
patted her on the arm as I gave her reflection an admiring look in the mirror.

  “That was an Oscar-worthy performance, Mama.”

  “You say that like you’re surprised,” she said before rubbing her lips together to even out her lipsick.

  * * *

  After Di and I dropped Mama off at her house, we drove to Di’s. She invited me in for some refreshment in the form of strawberry daiquiris. I felt like we’d earned it.

  “Your mama’s a hoot. I never would’ve believed she could pull off a performance like that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Most people didn’t even look surprised.”

  “Mama has a history when it comes to drama.”

  “So are you going to pack Jennifer’s and Bubba’s DNA samples off to the lab in the morning?”

  “No. We still need one more,” I said, taking a big sip of my frosty drink.

  “One more DNA sample? Whose?”

  “I think we should get Bruce’s, because if it turns out Bubba’s not Jennifer’s father we still won’t know with absolute certainty that Bruce is. I think we might as well cover all our bases.”

  “Okay, but a hairstylist snatching a few hairs off a girl’s head while she’s getting her hair cut and colored and your mama ripping hairs from a dead man’s head is one thing. How do you propose we get a sample from Bruce?”

  “I checked the DNA lab Web site and it says high-quality samples can include shavings from an electric razor and also the person’s toothbrush. We’ll go to the funeral lunch tomorrow at Bruce’s house. In fact, I think we should drop by during the funeral before the crowd makes it to the house for the luncheon. We can raid the master bathroom and take what we need without anyone being the wiser.”

  Chapter 23

  It was going to be a complicated maneuver to skip the funeral without giving an explanation to Larry Joe and Mama.

  I gave Di a quick call.

  “Hey, are you about ready to pick me up?” she asked.

  “Actually, I wanted your advice. I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to tell Larry Joe about why I’m not going to the funeral. I don’t like to lie to him. Any ideas?”

  “Just tell him I’ve asked you to help me with something,” Di said.

  “That would be like raising a red flag to a bull. He’d immediately suspect we were snooping.”

  “It’s not like you were close to Bubba. Why don’t you tell him you already went to the viewing and offered your condolences to Bruce and Carrie, and you don’t feel obligated to attend the funeral as well.”

  “You know, that’s not half bad.”

  “What are you going to tell your mama? I have a feeling she won’t let you off the hook so easily.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I’m not going to tell her anything. I’ll just avoid talking to her until after the funeral. As soon as Larry Joe leaves for the funeral home, I’ll drive over and pick you up.”

  * * *

  I pulled up in front of Di’s place. She jogged over and got in.

  “Do you know when you’ll be getting your car back from the shop?”

  “Yeah. As soon as I can afford to pay for it.”

  “I’ll pay the mechanic. Just let me know when you get the bill.”

  Di shook her head and simply said, “No.”

  “At least let me pay half of the cost of repairs since chasing after Aaron Rankin is what led to the damage. And I feel bad that it was your car we wrecked, since we were driving to Jackson for my shopping needs.”

  “Dave offered to pay for the repairs, too, since we aided in the capture of a fugitive. I’ll tell you what I told him: ‘Thank you and no.’”

  “Don’t let false pride keep you from having transportation.”

  “Between you and Dave and one of the other mail carriers, I haven’t had any problem with transportation. So what’s the game plan here?”

  “We’ll go to Bruce’s house to collect some DNA evidence before everyone goes to the house after the funeral.”

  “Do you know if they leave their doors unlocked, or should I get a screwdriver out of my car in case we have to break in?” Di asked.

  “I don’t know if they lock the doors or not, but we’re not breaking in.”

  “No?”

  “No. I’m sure people have been dropping by with food and flowers all morning. Somebody will be there, either a cousin or a neighbor,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah. I guess you’re right,” Di said. “So how do we play this?”

  “We’ll stop by the diner and pick up a pie. We can’t very well arrive empty-handed. We’ll take it into the kitchen and hand it over to whoever’s looking after things. After exchanging pleasantries, one of us will excuse herself to use the restroom—the master bathroom is probably our best bet. Remember we need a toothbrush or shavings from an electric razor.” Taking two envelopes out of the package in my purse and handing them to her I said, “Here’re a couple of those little collection envelopes.” .

  “How do we know which toothbrush belongs to Bruce?”

  “If one is pink and one is blue, I’d grab the blue one. Otherwise, just take them both.”

  “Won’t they think it’s weird if they come in to find their toothbrushes have been stolen?”

  “Probably. But there will be a whole lot of people traipsing through the house after the funeral. They’ll probably assume some kids stole them. And chances are good, if they’re anything like us, they have a spare toothbrush or two in the cabinet that the dentist sent home with them after their last visit.”

  * * *

  I pulled up in front of the diner, which was nearly empty—an unusual occurrence. But a lot of people were at the funeral and it was between normal breakfast and lunch hours. We got out of the car and walked in. The bell on the door alerted Mabel to our entrance. She emerged from the kitchen and stepped to the counter, drying her hands on her apron.

  “What can I do for y’all?”

  “We’re picking up a pie to take over to Bruce and Carrie’s,” I said.

  “What kind you want?”

  “Well, I’m assuming some other folks have also picked up pies for the same reason. Can you suggest something that hasn’t been purchased for the Rowlands, as far as you know?”

  “Let me see,” she said, scrolling through the cash register entries. “As far as whole pies, not slices, we’ve sold apple, strawberry, chocolate, and lemon icebox this morning. That would leave chess and coconut cream.”

  “What do you think?” I said, looking over to Di for her opinion.

  “I’m leaning toward coconut.”

  “Okay, could you box up a coconut cream for us, Mabel?”

  “Sure thing, hon.”

  I got my credit card out of my wallet while Mabel pulled a pie from the display case and placed it in a white cardboard box.

  * * *

  Bruce and Carrie Rowland live about fifteen minutes outside of town in the house where Bruce and Bubba grew up. “We have samples now from Jennifer and Bubba, so we just need the one from Bruce. How long will it take to get results from the DNA lab once we turn in the samples?” Di asked as I drove along winding roads past fields green with alfalfa.

  “If I pay the expedited fee, we can have results in three business days.”

  “That’s fast.”

  I pulled up the gravel driveway and onto the parched grass. The Rowlands’ homestead features a foursquare house with a broad front porch, a barn and other outbuildings behind the house, and just beyond the barn a picture-postcard view of cows grazing in green pasture framed by a barbed-wire fence. The faded front door was open and the screen door unlatched. I called out, “Anybody home?” as we walked in.

  “Yes, ma’am,” a voice called out. In a moment a short, stout woman with a cloud of white hair stuck her head through the doorway into the front room. I recognized her as the Rowlands’ neighbor Lettie Perry.

  “Come on through to the kitchen,” she said with a little backward wave.

  Lettie th
anked us as she took the pie and added it to a stack of boxed pies on the counter. On the countertops and large farm table it appeared there was enough food to feed the whole county.

  “Looks like you’ve got more than enough food here,” Di said.

  “Yeah. People just want to do something for the family in times like these. Carrie already told me that whatever we don’t slice into, I should wrap up and take to some of the shut-ins from my church. My husband will drop off some desserts at the volunteer fire station. So we’ll try to make sure nothing goes to waste.”

  “Good. I’m so glad to hear it,” I said. “Is there anything we can do to help? Maybe set up some chairs before the crowd arrives?”

  “No, hon. I think we’re good.”

  Just then I heard a car door slam. Lettie headed toward the front room and I told her we were going to make a quick stop in the restroom. Best I could remember the bedrooms were all on the second floor, so Di and I hurried up the back staircase before whoever had just arrived caught sight of us. I didn’t want to get detained by more obligatory chitchat.

  The bathroom was on the hall, on the right, and looked a lot like the bathroom at my house, except all the plumbing appeared to be operational. We went in and pushed the door to.

  “You know, I think I really do have to pee,” I said.

  I availed myself of the toilet while Di surveyed the items on the bathroom counter. Since there were two sinks, I assumed the original bathroom had been updated at some point, but the dated fixtures suggested it had been a while.

  As I washed my hands, Di bagged the toothbrushes in separate paper envelopes and slipped them in her purse.

  “Give me another envelope and I’ll dump the razor shavings into it,” she said. I pulled a paper envelope from my purse and handed it to her. Di was gently tapping the shavings into it when the bathroom door suddenly swung open.

  Carrie was standing in the doorway pointing a gun at us.

  “Ladies, you can leave the razor and that envelope right there. We’re going to take a little walk.”

  She backed up a couple of paces and motioned with the gun for us to step into the hall.