by Riley Adams
“No, the portrait hasn’t shown up. It’s all right.... She’s not that worried about it. But I guess it’s just another mystery from that night.”
Steffi frowned. “If I come across it, I’ll give her a call. I hate to think of her doing all that work and then having the portrait disappear like that.” She looked blankly at her pulled-pork sandwich as she thought. “I wonder if Dee Dee took it for some reason. Maybe that’s why she was sneaking around at the party.”
“You said something about that at the funeral,” said Marlowe. “Why did you get the impression she was acting suspicious?”
“She was actually looking over her shoulder a couple of times to see if anyone was looking at her. And she was kind of lurking around. It seemed suspicious to me,” said Steffi.
“You didn’t ask her what she was doing at the time?” asked Lulu.
“It really wasn’t my place to find out what she was up to. It wasn’t my house anymore, after all—Mother had kicked me out. Honestly, I didn’t really care what she was doing. I figured, anyway, that it had something to do with the top-secret pageant stuff that she and Mother were always doing.” Steffi smiled. “All the cheating they were doing.”
Marlowe perked up. “Cheating?”
“She and Dee Dee had been throwing pageants for years. Girls would come into Dee Dee’s shop and get fitted for dresses. And, like these girls do, they’d start to talk. They’d blab about their talent and what kind of dress or swimsuit they were going to wear. They’d talk about the other girls, too. Dee Dee would take notes and then Mother would pay her to give her the scoop. It was a nice little gig.”
Marlowe said thoughtfully, “Insider information. I see. So what would Tristan do with the information?”
“It’s really how she got to be such a successful coach. If she knew the other girls were all singing, she’d have her contestant dance—so she’d stand out. If all the girls were wearing short dresses, she’d choose a long one. She made sure that her contestants really stood out for the judges,” said Steffi.
“Do you think,” said Lulu carefully, “that Dee Dee could have had some reason to murder your mother?”
“The way I see it,” said Steffi harshly, “Mother and Dee Dee were doing something crooked. Mother was using information that nobody else had to help her girls win. Maybe something started going wrong with their system. Maybe Dee Dee wanted to stop being the snoop.... People could have started catching on. She could have told my mother that she wanted out and then Mother could have refused and said she’d tell people what Dee Dee had done. Because, really, the person who would have been hurt most if it all came out would have been Dee Dee. She’d have lost all that business for her shop.”
Lulu thought back to the tiara on the murdered Tristan’s head. Did Dee Dee really feel that much hatred for Tristan? She hadn’t seemed to. She’d have said that Dee Dee had a purely business relationship with Tristan and that if she had murdered her, it would have been in a very businesslike and unemotional way.
“There was something else I wanted to ask you,” said Lulu, trying to sound as gossipy as she could, “and then we’ve really got to get off this subject and talk about other things. But somebody was telling me that they saw Colleen and Pansy at Tristan’s party that night.”
Chapter 12
Marlowe laughed. “Sounds like somebody didn’t have her contact lenses in! Colleen and Pansy couldn’t stand Tristan. They sure weren’t going to go to her house for a party. Tristan wouldn’t have invited them, for one. And then they wouldn’t have wanted to be closer than a mile to her, even if she had invited them.”
Steffi smiled a little. “They’ve always been really supportive of me—they felt like Mother had done me wrong, and they were even madder at her than they usually were. In fact, Pansy had just written something that day on her Facebook page about Mother. She told me later that Mother had called her on the phone and made some kind of dire threat to get her to take off what she said.... One of the girls Mother had coached was friends with Pansy on Facebook and saw the comment and told her about it.”
Lulu knit her brows. “Facebook. Right.” Lulu had managed so far to totally avoid Facebook. But she knew enough to understand that when one person writes something on his or her Facebook page, all of that person’s friends can read it. So Tristan would have been upset with Pansy.... Could she have made Pansy mad enough to crash Tristan’s party to confront her about it? Maybe Tristan threatened to make Pansy lose more pageants?
Lulu decided it would be better to change the subject, since Steffi was starting to close up. “So, are y’all starting to get settled in now? I know Steffi was so glad to be able to move in with you, Marlowe.”
Marlowe smiled. “Well, Steffi and I have always been pretty close. I was glad to offer her my home as her own.”
Steffi’s expression softened a little. “Marlowe is like the mother I always wanted.”
There was another interruption as Dolly stuck her head in the door and studiously ignored Lulu and Cherry, the interlopers. “Now, y’all, you should be in pretty good shape, foodwise. We labeled and froze the things that could go into the freezer, and the rest is in the fridge. Y’all are on the prayer list for the next two weeks, although you can certainly ask Pastor Phillip to get that extended. You’re also on the casserole rotation, so you’ll get supper each day from the casserole committee. And Sue Ann couldn’t make it today because of her rheumatoid flaring up, but she said to tell you that she’s got one of her famous pound cakes ready to bring to you tomorrow.”
Dolly frowned at Steffi’s plate. “Eat some of the aspic, hon. It’s renowned. As soon as I heard that Tristan had passed, I came straight home from my Circle meeting at church to cook it up.”
Dolly quickly popped back out again.
“I think her girdle is on too tight,” grumbled Cherry. “It’s cutting off circulation to her brain somehow.”
Marlowe looked to be trying to remember the thread of the conversation again. “So, yes, I think we’ve gotten into a bit of a routine. While I’m at work, Steffi has been trying to sort through some of her mother’s things. I helped her last weekend—it’s a big job with a house that size.” A look of irritation passed over Marlowe’s face as if the size of Tristan’s house had been a sticking point between them in the past.
“I’m ready to go back to work at Aunt Pat’s, too, if that’s okay. Thanks for letting me have some time off,” said Steffi.
“Oh, honey, that’s no problem at all—I told you that you could take as much time as you needed. I know sometimes it helps to stay busy, but sometimes it’s good to just take some time off, too,” said Lulu.
Marlowe said, “So we’re getting there, Lulu. Steffi has a new home, she’s ready to go back to work—she may even have a boyfriend entering into the equation,” she added slyly, and Steffi flushed. Obviously, thought Lulu, it wasn’t something she was ready to talk about yet.
Marlowe must have come to the same conclusion because she said, “And once we get Tristan’s will sorted out, then we’ll be even better. Not that I think there was a lot there to sort,” she said, shaking her head. “Tristan was very good at spending money she didn’t have.”
“Maybe we’ll be surprised,” said Steffi quietly. “Maybe there’ll be more there than we think.”
“Or maybe,” said Marlowe with a short laugh, “there’ll be less.”
Cherry hunkered over the booth at Aunt Pat’s and said, “Okay, Lulu—give me the lowdown. Who’s next on the suspect list that you need to talk to?”
“I haven’t met with Pansy yet,” said Lulu thoughtfully. “So she should probably be next on my list. And I probably need to talk to Colleen again, too.”
Cherry shook her finger thoughtfully. “Know what we should do? We should beard the lions in their den. We should go over to a pageant and really sit down and talk to them. You’re probably not going to catch up with Pansy anywhere else—Aunt Pat’s is Colleen’s place to eat but not Pansy’s.”
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bsp; “We?” asked Lulu. This sidekick thing was really starting to get out of hand with Cherry.
“It’ll be perfect, Lulu. I’ll distract one of them while you question the other one. Sara could tell us which pageant they’ll be in next. Or Coco could—she’s always telling everybody about the pageants.”
“Whether they want to hear about them or not!” agreed Lulu. “But Cherry, you’ve never expressed any kind of interest in beauty pageants. What kind of an excuse can we give for you being there that won’t make us look suspicious?”
Cherry said, “I’ll just say that after hearing so much about pageant coaches that I thought it would be something I could try to get into myself.”
Lulu said slowly, “So you’re planning on telling everyone that you’re interested in becoming a beauty-pageant coach.”
“Yes!” Cherry beamed.
“But honey, you haven’t had any pageant experience, have you? Won’t they have expected you to have done pageants when you were young or something? What will you say when they ask you what your talent is?”
Cherry waved her hand in the air. “Oh, I’ll make it up as I go along. It’s not like they’re going to know one way or the other whether I was in pageants as a teen or not. I grew up in Mississippi, remember? I could say I was Miss Mississippi, and nobody’s going to know the difference. Besides, I was in sort of a pageant once.”
“You were?”
“I was prom queen,” said Cherry. “Back in the day.”
Lulu blinked. “Somehow I’d never pictured you as prom queen, Cherry. That’s such a conventional kind of thing, and I see you as really eclectic and colorful and . . . you.”
“That’s the thing—everybody was ready for something different. Something fresh. And maybe that’ll be the case in the beauty-pageant world, too. Maybe those folks will be tired of the Tristan Pembroke–type of coach—all snooty and unapproachable. Maybe they want a new sheriff in town . . . fresh, and funny, and a real straight-shooter.”
Cherry was really warming to her subject. Lulu was starting to wonder if maybe she’d really end up as a pageant coach by the end of the case. “Sounds like a great idea. But I think the next pageant was supposed to be out of town—Coco was fussing about it because Sara didn’t want to drive her.”
Cherry clapped her hands together. “Even better! We’ll look even less suspicious. You’ll be the good grandma, taking Coco to the pageant, and I’ll be along for the ride and learning more about becoming a pageant coach. Can we check real quick and make sure she can still sign up as a late entry?”
“And Cherry,” said Lulu, in what she hoped was a stern voice. “Let’s be really, really careful. We’re poking around an awful lot, and somebody out there is a killer. Pretty soon that murderer might start putting two and two together—we don’t want to be victims two and three.”
After Cherry left, Lulu rocked awhile in the front-porch rocking chair and spent a little time thinking about the case. At least there was no shortage of suspects. She really would have been worried if Sara was the only one the police were investigating.
The Labs, B. B. and Elvis, were snoozing on the front porch. The warmth of the afternoon and the sound of the ceiling fans clacking above her all conspired to make Lulu drowsy. Before she knew it, she had dropped off to sleep.
She woke up to the sound of the screen door slamming and the Labradors jumping up to greet a new guest. Lulu rubbed her eyes to clear the dreams from them and sat up to see, to her horror, Gordon McDonald.
“Taking a little nap?” he asked with a smile. “Ben called me and told me that it was so quiet over here that you were snoozing on the porch with the dogs. He thought this might be a good time for you to show me around Memphis.”
Lulu had dark thoughts about her son.
“He also mentioned, since food is a big interest of mine, that you’d cooked up a southern delicacy for me to try.”
Lulu’s thoughts turned more to the murderous side. Clearly Ben was cooking for her and claiming that Lulu had concocted it just for Gordon. And Ben was a darned good cook, too. If the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, then whatever Ben had cooked up was surely going to make Gordon head over heels with her. Drat him.
“Well . . . yes. There’s a southern delicacy for you to sample back in the kitchen if you want to head back there. Ben is getting things ready for the supper rush, so you’re free to go in there. And—sure, I’m happy to drive you around a little bit and kind of give you an overview of Memphis.” It just wasn’t in Lulu to be rude to the man—or anyone, really. Old habits—and old manners—died hard.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what’s the delicacy? That you cooked?”
Lulu answered sweetly. “Why don’t we have it be a surprise? You could take a bite and see what you think? You might know what it is after you eat it.” Who knows what Ben cooked up in there? He might have gone the sweet-and-sugary route or he might have really done some off-the-wall but interesting southern dish.
Ben popped out on the porch, saw Gordon with his mother, and looked pleased. “Oh, good—you made it by,” he said quickly. “And just in time—I think Mother’s shrimp and garlic cheese grits is ready to be savored. It’s so creamy and delicious that you won’t believe your mouth, Gordon.”
Ahh, thought Lulu. Shrimp and grits.
“Mother, why don’t you take Gordon back and show him the famous Aunt Pat’s kitchen? I know Gordon will love seeing it, but I’ve got to get ready for the evening rush. Do you mind doing the honors?”
Lulu was seriously thinking about creative ways to murder her son. He was absolutely bent on making sure she spent as much time as possible with this man. But out loud she said, “Of course. Come on back, Gordon.” She managed to squelch her irritation. It wasn’t Gordon’s fault, after all.
As usual, when Lulu was showing off the Aunt Pat’s kitchen to a visitor, she warmed to her subject.
“Aunt Pat,” she explained to Gordon, “was the wonderful lady who raised me. She brought me up with lots of love, laughter—and the most savory food you’ve ever put in your mouth. Aunt Pat was the most talented cook I’ve ever come across. She’d take a basic southern dish, like fried chicken, and make it magical. Every day I’d come straight to the restaurant after school and plop down on the wooden stool and tell Aunt Pat all about my day while she chopped vegetables and mixed up the rub for the barbeque. This kitchen is my favorite place on earth.” She looked around with satisfaction at the shiny copper pots hanging on the pegboard and the long counter where Aunt Pat taught her how to cook.
Gordon sat down on one of the wooden stools while Lulu put a good-sized helping of shrimp and grits on his plate. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, “but I’ve never even eaten grits before. I could only find the instant kind at the stores up north and thought that I’d be shortchanging myself if that was my introduction to the food.”
“You’re a wise man,” said Lulu, nodding. “I think you’re really going to enjoy your first experience with grits. It’s a lot like your polenta, I think—I know y’all eat that up there. It’s great as it is, but it’s also a really tasty base for other things to be mixed in there. Garlic cheese grits is really delectable, especially if you run it in the oven for a while and bake it. Plain old grits with butter or cream cheese is also tasty. And of course, there’s the famous shrimp and grits.” She put the plate down in front of him and watched with a smile as he let a forkful cool for a few seconds, then put it in his mouth.
Gordon’s eyes closed. “Delicious,” he said. Or at least, that’s what Lulu thought he said. It was hard to tell with his mouth so full of food. He swallowed and said, “And the grits taste so creamy! I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Oh, we’re all about adding cream and butter here at the restaurant,” said Lulu with a laugh. “It’s comfort on a plate.”
Lulu could tell that she wasn’t going to get out of being a tour guide. It wasn’t in her to be rude, even though she hadn’t si
gned up for any of this. Ben, on the other hand, would definitely have some rudeness directed his way some time in his very near future. “Where were you interested in going, Gordon? I know Ben was saying that you were brand-new to Memphis, but have you had a chance to look around at all?”
“Not at all, Lulu,” said Gordon, still working hard at eating up his shrimp and grits. “But I’ve read a little bit online about Memphis. And, of course, I’ve seen Beale Street—that was one of my first stops. I mean, really seeing it, not just coming to Aunt Pat’s. I don’t want to wear you out, Lulu, by having you go all over town in one day. I was thinking that maybe we could see Memphis in several days and focus on a few things a day—like Graceland one day, Sun Records another, Mud Island one day, etc.”
“Great,” said Lulu. She was afraid her voice might have been the teensiest bit sarcastic, but Gordon didn’t seem to notice.
“Today I’d love to start out by going to the famous Peabody Hotel,” said Gordon, his face lighting up. “I saw some pictures of the lobby, and it looked amazing. All that dark wood and the fountain right in the middle of the lobby . . . and the bar and restaurants.”
“Then that will be our first stop,” said Lulu with more enthusiasm than she actually felt. “Although our timing is a little off—we won’t have a chance to see the duck parade.”
“Shoot. Oh well, we can still see them swimming in the fountain, right? And then we can go up and see the royal duck palace?” he asked eagerly. “You can tell that I’ve done some research. They have their own little palace, right?”
“They surely do—right on the top of the roof. Maybe the royal duckmaster will also be there, and we can talk to him. He’s always an interesting fellow to talk with.”
The Peabody was bustling when Lulu and Gordon arrived. The bar was packed, the ducks were happily swimming in their fountain, and people were browsing in the shops adjacent to the lobby. Gordon was busily taking pictures and jotting down notes. Lulu discovered that Gordon was very interested in the restaurants in the hotel—interested enough to go find the chef of one of the restaurants. “If it’s okay with you,” said Gordon to Lulu, “I’m going to order a meal here and take some pictures of it. I told the chef I wanted to feature his restaurant on my blog, and he was thrilled.”