by Vickie Fee
“Di can look after herself. She’s got two men vying for her attention. I’ve just got the one man, and I’d like to spend some time with him,” I said, walking into the bathroom, stepping up behind him at the sink and wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, his reflection grinning at me in the mirror.
“Where should we go?” I said.
“You think Little Junior would have room for us to tag along on the grand tour?” he said with a smirk.
I smacked his backside.
“We’ll ask the concierge for some ideas,” he continued. “No, wait, Liv. I haven’t seen you do anything in the casino, except maybe sit at the bar. You haven’t so much as pulled the arm on a one-armed bandit since we’ve been here, have you?”
“I hid behind a slot machine for a few minutes, watching Di and Jimmy.”
“That’s pretty exciting. How about we leave the Strip and go downtown to one of the old-school casinos.”
“I’m sorry, honey, but losing money isn’t my idea of fun,” I said.
“That’s just it. We can experience a little of what Vegas was like back in the day. And we don’t have to gamble a lot of money to do it.
“I was reading somewhere online,” he said, staring at his smartphone and scrolling with his thumb. “I thought I bookmarked it.... Here it is. At some of the downtown casinos, they have minimum wagers of only three to five dollars at the blackjack and craps tables. And, it says at El Cortez you can take a spin on the roulette wheel for just a dollar bid. What do you say?”
What I said was yes, though somewhat reluctantly. But he seemed pumped up about the idea. I’ve certainly gone along with more outrageous ideas. Like going to an Elvis chapel in Vegas with Mama. I owed it to Larry Joe to humor him once in a while. So we took a taxi and headed downtown.
Walking through the lobby of Golden Gate Casino, we did view a little of that “back in the day” Vegas. There was a row of the original one-armed bandits—just for looks, and the first telephone in Vegas. The phone number was 1.
I’d never played the tables, blackjack and such, back home at the Tunica, Mississippi, casinos because I’d always thought those games were for high rollers. So it was totally worth it to slap down a few dollars just to be able to say stuff like “hit me” and “let it ride.”
We tossed one-dollar bills and quarters around with abandon and then hit the bar where rat packers like Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. used to get liquored up. They served us cocktails in coffee mugs, a nod and a wink back to the days of prohibition.
We dined at a classic eatery with very private high-backed booths and ordered a bottle of wine with lunch, which seemed decadent—for us anyway.
“Larry Joe, I’m glad you talked me into the old-school casino tour. This has been fun. And this dressing is really good, definitely homemade,” I said, spearing a forkful of salad.
“Yeah, hon, it’s been a nice break, getting away from the folks a bit with you—not that I don’t love them dearly.”
“Always dearly, just not always near me, is that it?”
“Something like that. Speaking of dearly, Dave told me he saw Jimmy drop Di off in front of the chapel last night. Did she tell you she was seeing him again?”
“She didn’t, but I had gathered as much when she texted to let me know she wouldn’t be riding with us to the chapel. Said she’d meet us there.”
“So has her ex become her regular taxi service, or is there more to it?”
“There’s nothing romantic, if that’s what you mean,” I said.
“Are you sure, because Dave was crying in his beer, going on about how Di was wearing this pretty dress he’d never seen her wear before. How she was running around Vegas, buying new clothes to get all dolled up for her ex.”
“Okay, I know Dave’s feeling jealous, but he’s making some assumptions that just aren’t true. First off, Di didn’t buy that new dress for her ex; she bought it for the wedding. And she didn’t buy it when she and I were out shopping in Vegas; she bought it back in Dixie—and on sale at that store next to Rascal’s on the highway.”
“That’s good to know. I just feel bad for Dave. Di is kind of ignoring him. And he’s crazy about her, you know,” he said.
“I know. But they’ll have to work things out for themselves.”
* * *
It had been a fun day. We caught a taxi back to the hotel for some more private couple time and a nap. I silently resolved that, when we got home, in between planning parties for other people, I was going to plan more date nights for Larry Joe and me.
I was just checking messages when Mama texted. She said they were headed back to the hotel and she’d like all of us to meet in the lobby for dinner at about five-thirty.
We got dressed and steeled ourselves for more family time.
“Honey, I hope Mama’s feeling better after the grand tour today,” I said.
“How could she not be? She spent the day with her two favorite fellas.”
They were running a few minutes late, so the rest of us were already gathered in the lobby waiting when Mama and Earl came in through the front door.
“Little Junior and Crystal will be joining us for dinner,” Mama said. “He’s just gone to park the car. I’m telling y’all, we had the most wonderful day, didn’t we, Earl?”
“You know, I have to admit I really enjoyed it.”
Earl sounded sincere, so it seemed my cousin’s grand tour was a hit.
While we were all standing in a circle waiting for Little Junior so we could go to dinner, Di and Dave were standing on opposite sides. Something they seemed to be doing a lot of lately. Di spotted a cop from the wedding chapel standing near the door and nudged me.
“Uh-oh, looks like dinner might get delayed by more questions from the cops,” she whispered.
Little Junior entered the hotel sporting a big smile and walking with a bounce to his step. But no sooner had he made it through the front door when the cop we recognized from the chapel was joined by two uniformed officers standing on the opposite side of the lobby. The three of them walked briskly over to Little Junior, placed him under arrest, and handcuffed him. He looked shocked and confused as they started to walk him out.
Mama rushed toward him, but Earl and Larry Joe restrained her.
“Don’t make a scene, Virginia,” Earl said in an intense whisper. “It’ll only make things worse for Little Junior. Let Dave find out what’s going on.”
Dave hurried over to the cop he’d talked with at the chapel, but he didn’t seem receptive to a chat just now. Dave walked back over to our group.
“He was being tight-lipped. But I heard one of the officers reading Little Junior his Miranda rights. That indicates he’s under arrest.”
“For what?” Miss Betty said in disbelief.
“Based on that guy’s coloring when I was performing CPR, I’m guessing the flask that was taken into evidence contained some kind of poison as well as whiskey,” Dave said.
Mama broke down boohoo-ing the way she does at funerals. Earl and Larry Joe took her arm on either side and I followed along behind them to the elevator. People gawked and whispered as we walked by.
Crystal came in from the casino just after they’d taken Little Junior away, thinking she was meeting us all for dinner. Di took her aside to explain things.
Everyone had lost their appetite, except Daddy Wayne, but I heard Miss Betty tell him they could order room service. They joined the procession to the elevators behind my inconsolable mother.
As we stepped off the elevator on our floor, Mama suddenly cried out, “We have to call Junior. I don’t know if my brother’s heart will be able to handle his only child being arrested for murder.”
I told Mama to go lie down and that I’d take care of calling Uncle Junior. She broke down wailing again as Larry Joe and Earl physically kept her on her feet to the hotel room door.
I made the dreaded phone call to my uncle and broke the news as ge
ntly as I could. After a moment of silence on the line, he said he’d throw a few things in a suitcase and hit the road in fifteen minutes.
Chapter Nine
Larry Joe and I stayed up and waited for Uncle Junior to make it in. I had promised Mama that we would, and encouraged her to try to get some sleep. She should have been on her honeymoon by now. She and Earl had planned to leave first thing this morning for their honeymoon on wheels across the Southwest. Now our biggest concern was Little Junior.
It was about a five-hour drive from Phoenix to Vegas. Uncle Junior made it in just before midnight. We were able to get him a room on the same floor with the rest of us. After the long drive, he was dead on his feet—and so were we. Larry Joe carried his suitcase. We said our good nights in the hall outside his door.
I slept only in fits and starts, thinking about my cousin sleeping on a jail cot, and even worse, thinking about my mama worrying and crying over him and his daddy. I’d been awake since 5:30 a.m. and decided to go ahead and get up a little after 6:00. Larry Joe was already in the shower. I knew Mama and Earl were generally early risers, but I decided to wait until 6:30 to call, just in case Mama was sleeping in after a difficult night.
“Mama, I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Don’t be silly, hon. I’ve been up since before five. Earl and I are having breakfast with your Uncle Junior now, courtesy of room service. I thought we could talk privately about family matters better here. Plus you can’t hear thunder down at that buffet with the clatter of dishes and hundreds of people talking at once.”
“Oh, good,” I said, glad they were eating something. Not that I’ve ever known my mother to lose her appetite, even in a crisis. “How’s Uncle Junior holding up?”
“He’s in Earl’s room right now on the phone with some man he knows here, trying to track down a good attorney for Little Junior. I’m hoping Dave can help us with the police, or at least to get Junior in to see his son.”
“I hope so, too. So, Mama, what do you want to do today? Do you want me to book us for massages at the hotel spa? We can talk about rescheduling the wedding. Whatever you want, just name it.”
“I don’t want a massage—and I can’t think about the wedding until things are straightened out with Little Junior. What I really want is for you and Di to do that thing you do when somebody you know has been falsely accused of murder. I want you to find the real killer.”
“Mama, you know I’ll do what I can, but this isn’t Dixie. We don’t really know anybody here and—”
Mama interrupted. “I’ve gotta let you go, hon. Junior just got off the phone and is trying to tell us something about the lawyer. Check in later to let me know how your investigation is coming along.”
Larry Joe emerged from the bathroom, his loins wrapped in a towel. “How are your mama and Uncle Junior this morning?”
“Worried.”
“Me too. I can’t see Little Junior faring well in prison,” Larry Joe said. “I suppose your mama wants you and Di to do some snooping.”
“She mentioned it.”
“I guess you have to. But stay in well-populated areas. Don’t go off into lonely spaces with a potential killer at large. Maybe you should take Crystal with you, since she knows the city well. And keep Dave in the loop, even if he and Di are fussing. Tell her it’s not about them right now. And let me know what’s going on, too. I better check on Mama and Daddy and see if Earl needs to return the Winnebago.”
Larry Joe got dressed while I started trying to tame my hair and slap on some makeup. He stuck his head through the bathroom door before he headed out.
“Be careful,” he said, with a concerned but resigned look. “I’m serious. Be careful.”
“I promise.”
He gave me a quick kiss before he left. I texted Di.
Your room or mine?
She replied almost instantly: Come here.
I grabbed my hotel room key card and purse, walked down the hall, and tapped on her door. She opened it, hiding partly behind the door, still in her pajamas.
“I wondered when I’d hear from you this morning. So what’s your plan for getting Little Junior out of jail?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have one. But Mama seems to have every confidence that you and I will find the real killer and have Little Junior home by supper time. Any ideas?”
“I know the cops aren’t saying so, but since the only evidence they collected at the chapel was that flask hidden behind the flowers, Reverend Elvis must have been poisoned. I think I read somewhere that women are more likely to use poison, while men use guns and knives and such. So, who do we like for killing Elvis in the chapel with the poison?”
“Taylor, the wedding planner,” I said. “She and the deceased obviously had something going on. Mama and Earl saw them together, quarreling, then cuddling in the chapel. And she would have known all about Steve’s drinking and where he stashed his flask during weddings. I think we should talk to her. But first, let’s talk to Crystal. She used to date Steve, so maybe we can dig a bit into his background. Plus, Larry Joe suggested we ask Crystal to go along with us since she’s a local and we don’t know our way around town.”
“How do we get in touch with her unless she’s at work? We don’t even know her last name, do we?”
“No. But I’m pretty sure she and Little Junior are cohabiting—even though they were careful not to say so in front of Mama. I’ll call Uncle Junior and ask for her home number. I don’t imagine Little Junior would have felt the need to hide his living arrangements from his daddy.”
“Good idea. But despite how much your mama seems to like her, we can’t rule Crystal out as a suspect. She did date Steve before she got together with Little Junior. And, in my experience, being in a relationship with any man usually brings with it grounds for justifiable homicide.”
“I won’t argue with that. But I can guarantee you that all of Crystal’s shine will turn dull for Mama in a minute if throwing her under the bus will get Little Junior off the hook.”
I phoned Uncle Junior and, as I suspected, he had a home phone number for Crystal. Crystal’s shift didn’t start until five and she somewhat grudgingly agreed to drive us to the Burning Love Wedding Chapel. She seemed more enthusiastic about it after I said I’d fill her in on where things stood with getting a lawyer for Little Junior. Although, she might be disappointed with my depth of knowledge on the subject. After talking to my uncle, about all I knew was he had one.
Crystal was supposed to pick us up at the hotel entrance in about thirty minutes. I sat in the desk chair in Di’s room, while she stood in front of the bathroom mirror to put on her makeup.
Talking to her without having to make eye contact made it easier for me to ask, “Where do things stand with you and Dave? It seemed a bit chilly between you two at the chapel last night.”
“As you know, I’d gone to meet with Jimmy and didn’t make it back to the hotel in time to ride to the chapel with you and your mama, so Jimmy dropped me off there. I was prepared to give Dave another chance after he acted like a mule’s backside when he met Jimmy. But he was standing at the front door of the chapel and saw me get out of Jimmy’s car. When I came in, he just glared at me as I walked past, without saying a word. He makes me so mad I could spit nails. So that’s where things stand between me and Dave.”
I decided a follow-up question wouldn’t be welcome and changed the subject.
Di and I had been waiting for a few minutes when Crystal pulled up in an old Volkswagen Beetle, adorned with flower power stickers and rust. I climbed in and perched my haunches on the narrow back bench, letting Di have the front passenger bucket seat. I had to lean forward to keep from hitting the roof, which positioned my head between the front seats, nearly aligned with Crystal’s and Di’s heads.
When Crystal pushed the stick shift into gear, the car lurched forward and I almost tumbled onto the console. I grabbed the headrests on the front seats to steady myself. The ride continued herky-jerky as Crysta
l navigated through traffic. Either the transmission was slipping, or she didn’t know how to drive a stick.
“So, tell me about the lawyer for Little Junior,” Crystal said.
“His daddy checked around with some folks he knows here and got a really good one. The lawyer was going to meet Uncle Junior at the jail. And, our friend Dave, who you met, is the sheriff back home in Dixie. He’s going to help smooth the way with the cops.”
I decided to move on to other subjects before she questioned me further, since I didn’t know anything further.
“So, Crystal, do you know anything about Taylor, the wedding planner?”
“Not really. I gathered she was sleeping with Steve. But there’s a long list of women in that category. I do know that she’s not likely to talk to you two if you just waltz in there trying to interrogate her. Your best bet would be to pretend you want to reschedule your mama’s wedding. And, she doesn’t care much for me, so I’ll wait in the car.”
Crystal parked and I climbed over the passenger seat that Di had leaned forward for me, my exit from the vehicle managing somehow to be even less ladylike than when I had climbed in.
“Did you notice Crystal said she doesn’t really know Taylor? Yet, Taylor knows her well enough to not like her?” I said.
“Maybe she just assumes Taylor doesn’t like her since she dated Steve in the past,” Di said, as we walked across the parking lot to the door.
Taylor wasn’t at her usual spot when we entered, but I caught a glimpse of Gordy, the photographer, walking by in the side hall leading to the smaller chapels.
“Why don’t we go see what we can find out from Gordy, while Taylor’s not around?” I said. “Hopefully, he’s not shooting a wedding at the moment.”
A ceremony was in progress in the chapel where we’d seen Steve performing a wedding our first night in town. We walked quietly down to the chapel where Steve had died and spotted Gordy sitting on the back row of seats sorting through his camera bag.
“Hi, it’s Gordy, right?” I said as we stepped into the empty chapel.