The Devil Diet

by Nancy Bell

  When we came to the outskirts of town, we saw the storm’s path again. It had wiped out the Fresh-As-a-Daisy café. The big sign for the Big Eight Motel lay across the parking lot, and our only convenience store, the Wag ‘n’ Bag, was nothing but a pile of rubble.

  “Well, it looks like it missed the main part of town,” Biggie said, with a sigh. “I can’t wait to get back home.”

  As Rosebud pulled the car into the driveway, I could see Willie Mae sitting on the front porch watching for us. She got up and came down the front steps. “I knew y’all was all right,” she said. But I could see a tear creeping out of the corner of her eye as she grabbed me in a big hug. “Come on in the kitchen. I got cookies and coffee already set out.”

  “Willie Mae, how did you know when we’d be here?”

  I might as well have saved my breath. Willie Mae is a voodoo lady, and she never gives away her secrets.

  “I want to go to my house,” Monica said, in a little bitty voice.

  Biggie put her arm around her. “Honey, I know you do. Rosebud will take you in a little while. In fact, we’ll all go.”

  Inside the front hall, I took a deep breath, drinking in the smells of Biggie’s house, furniture polish and talcum powder and, best of all, chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. We followed Biggie into the kitchen where we sat around the table eating cookies and telling Willie Mae everything that had happened.

  “And now I’ve got a new granddaddy,” I said.

  Just then, my dog, Bingo, came skidding into the room chasing Booger, who jumped up on the counter and sat licking himself. Willie Mae swatted him with a towel.

  “Hey,” Monica said. “I thought you were keeping Prissy Moody.”

  I put down my milk glass. “I forgot! Willie Mae, have you seen her?”

  Willie Mae shook her head.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Monica said. “Willie Mae, why don’t you do a voodoo spell to bring her back?”

  “Yeah!” I’ve seen Willie Mae do some amazing things in my time.

  “I got a better idea,” Willie Mae said. “Why don’t you two go looking for her?”

  “Come on.” Monica headed for the back door. “I bet I find her before you do.”

  I didn’t have much hope of finding her after two days and a bad storm to boot, but I walked around the house and down the sidewalk thinking it wouldn’t hurt to ask the neighbors if they’d seen her. Monica disappeared behind Mrs. Moody’s garage. I knocked on every door on our block and some on the next block over, but nobody had seen her. As I walked back home, I thought maybe I could make some signs and nail them on utility poles around town. But the minute I opened the front door, I heard a familiar sound, a shrill, annoying bark. Prissy! I hurried to the kitchen and there she was, growling at Booger around mouthfuls of Alpo. Monica was sitting at the kitchen table with a satisfied grin on her face.

  “Where was she?” I didn’t know whether to be relieved or ticked off.

  “Under her own back steps, of course. She’d gone home. J.R., you’re such a dodo. Why didn’t you look there in the first place?”

  I chose not to answer that.

  Later, we all got back into the car and drove out to Monica’s. The farm belongs to Biggie, but the Sontags, Monica and her parents, live there rent-free for taking care of the place. When we drove into the rutty driveway, Mr. and Mrs. Sontag came running out of the house. Monica jumped out of the car and ran toward them.

  “Did y’all see that storm?” she babbled. “We did. Boy, was it a doozy. Blew away half the town. I’m not kidding.”

  Monica has a tendency to exaggerate.

  Mr. Sontag pointed toward the barn. Its roof was gone. The chicken house was nowhere to be seen. The corral fences were broken in several places. And Buster, Monica’s dog, came limping out from under the house.

  “Buster!” Monica knelt to pet him. “What happened?” She looked up at Mrs. Sontag.

  Mrs. Sontag, who is round and rosy like an apple, smiled. “He’s just bunged up a little, honey. Daddy found him under a piece of tin that blew off the henhouse. He’ll be okay in a day or two.”

  After Biggie wrote out a check to have the buildings replaced, we got back in the car and headed for town. Personally, I don’t remember ever being so glad to get rid of Monica. She was really getting on my nerves.

  After supper, Butch and Miss Mattie dropped by to find out how things had gone at the ranch.

  “What kind of diet do they have those girls on?” Miss Mattie wanted to know. “I’m putting on a little myself. I might want to try it.”

  Butch eyed her. “More than a little, if you ask me. Mattie, you ought to exercise more. Me, I never gain an ounce. It’s my metabolism. Mama used to always say, ‘Butchy, honey, slow down once in a while; you’re just wired like a fiddle string.’ And I am. I can eat anything I want.” He patted his flat stomach.

  Miss Mattie ignored him. “So, tell us, Biggie, did you see Rex?”

  “I saw him,” Biggie said. “He seems to be in real poor health— but happy to meet J.R.”

  “I bet he was glad to see you, too,” Butch said.

  “That, too, of course.”

  “The diet,” Miss Mattie prodded.

  “I’m not sure,” Biggie said. “They seemed to eat the same as everybody else.”

  “Not exactly, Biggie,” I said. “Remember, they drank something before we ate.” I turned to Butch. “They drank it out of coconut shells.”

  “Did they make a face when they drank it?” Butch sipped his tea with his pinkie raised.

  “Not that I could tell,” I said. “We’re going back tomorrow. I’ll see if I can find out what it is.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind,” Biggie said. “It’s none of our business. Now, you scoot up to bed. I want to talk to Butch and Mattie alone.”

  * * *

  I stayed awake until Biggie came upstairs. I went to her room and stood at the door in my pajamas. She stopped brushing her hair and looked at me. “What?” I told her what Monica and I had overheard. “Well,” she said, “I’m not surprised they’re upset at having you show up out of the blue. Don’t worry about it. They can’t do any harm. Now, scoot off to bed.”

  Lying in my bed, I thought about Monica, wondering why she got on my nerves so much lately. She had always been my best friend. I admired her for so many things. She could ride and hunt and fish with the best of them, and if she ever met old Freddy Kruger face to face, she’d probably just walk up and spit in his eye. Next to Rosebud, she was the bravest person I knew. Why then, all of a sudden, did she seem so…? I couldn’t put words to it. I was still trying to figure that one out when I fell asleep. You would think, under the circumstances, I would have dreamed of Monica that night. But I didn’t; I dreamed about Misty Caldwell instead.

  12

  Rosebud parked the big, black limo in front of the ranch house at six o’clock Friday evening. Fat cows grazed in the pasture while the horses hung their heads over the corral looking for all the world like they were were saying, Welcome back. One even curled his lips and gave a friendly whinny. The sun, red and low in the sky, seemed to color the whole place a soft, peach color.

  “My, isn’t this peaceful,” Biggie said. “Makes me miss the old days on the farm.”

  “Not me,” I said. “I like living in town. It’s too quiet out here.”

  Rosebud got out and came around the car to open the door for Biggie while I hopped out on the other side and ran up the gravel walk to ring the doorbell. Babe opened the door.

  “Oh, it’s you.” She turned and walked away from us toward the bedrooms. “The others are in the great room,” she said over her shoulder.

  Abner Putnam stood up as we came into the living room. Laura sat on a leather chair near the fireplace holding a glass of wine, while Grace Higgins sat in a matching chair opposite her. Jeremy Polk, a drink in his hand, stood facing Laura in front of the mantel. Laura jumped to her feet and walked over to Biggie, hands outstretche
d.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “Rex has been asking for you all day.” She hooked her arm through Biggie’s. “Would you see him now? I know it’s rude not to offer you a drink first, but he seems so very anxious to see you.”

  “Of course,” Biggie said. “Does he want J.R., too?”

  “Yes, absolutely. He insisted on that.” She lowered her voice. “I’m afraid my poor sweet baby’s not feeling well. I hope you’ll understand if I ask you not to stay long.”

  She led us down the hall and opened the door to Rex’s room. He looked smaller than he had two days ago, and his face was the color of wood ashes. Pillows on both sides kept him upright in his recliner, and I wondered if he might just tumble over like one of those round-bottom dolls if you took them away. After Laura closed the door behind her, he motioned us to come closer. Biggie pulled up a straight chair and sat facing him.

  “What’s happened to you?” she asked.

  A smile tried to pass across his face. “That’s my Fiona,” he said. “You never did mince words, did you?”

  Biggie shook her head impatiently. “In two days’ time, honey, you’ve gone down quite a bit. Are you sick? Has the doctor seen you?”

  He waved his big hand. “No, not that. I have days like this, dear. It comes and goes. Now listen, we haven’t got much time before I have to take another dose of that dratted medicine. After that, I’ll be as worthless as a canceled stamp.”

  I moved in closer so I could hear.

  “I’ve changed my will to include young J.R. here. Fiona, I know you’re a smart woman, so I’m counting on you not to let any of them pull a fast one. Understand?”

  Biggie nodded. “Where is your will?”

  He tried to turn in his chair and point toward the chest of drawers behind him, but the effort was too much. He slumped lower in his chair and shook his head. “It’s in the—”

  Just then someone knocked loudly on the door and Jeremy Polk came in. He nodded to us and walked across the room and stood in front of Rex. “Sorry to interrupt, friend, but I’ve got to get back to Dallas tonight. I just need a few minutes of your time— to finalize what we talked about earlier.”

  Rex looked irritated, but nodded. “Will you come back later?” His eyes pleaded with Biggie. “I’ll put off the damned medicine somehow.”

  Biggie bent down and kissed the top of his head, and when she did, I saw a tear in her eye. “Sure we will.”

  When we got back to the living room it was dark outside. The deer horn chandelier over the couch cast weird shadows over the room. Babe was standing at a table against the wall that served as a bar pouring herself a big belt of whiskey while her husband, Rob, watched.

  “That’s my darling,” he said, “a woman of lusty appetites.”

  Babe turned around, and if looks could kill, Rob would have been a dead man. She opened her mouth to speak, but then she glanced at me and snapped it shut.

  “Where’s Rosebud?” I asked.

  “He went to the kitchen to have a beer with Abner,” Grace Higgins said.

  “I believe I’ll go, too.” I headed for the door.

  “I want you to stay here with me.” I could tell from Biggie’s voice that it wasn’t going to do any good to argue, so I sat beside her on the couch.

  Laura spoke up. “Babe, honey, why don’t you fix our guests a drink?”

  “Sure. What’ll you have?”

  “I’ll have a Big Red,” I said, surprised to see that they had added two cans of my favorite soda to the other drinks on the table.

  “Just a small glass of wine for me.” Biggie sat down next to Laura. “What’s wrong with Rex?” she asked, straight out.

  Laura looked flustered. “Well, I… he woke up feeling poorly this morning. I thought he’d be better by now. He was so looking forward to your visit. If he’s not better by morning, I’ll call the doctor.”

  “He said something about his medicine.” Biggie watched Laura over her wineglass. “What’s he taking?”

  “Well, he’s diabetic, you know, so he has to take his insulin. Then, let me see, there’s the heart medicine and painkillers. They make him a little confused….”

  Just then the front door flew open and Stacie burst in. Her shirttail was half in and half out, her hair was sticking out all over her head, and her cheeks, red and blotchy, were tearstained.

  “Why, Stacie darling.” Laura half rose to her feet.

  “Don’t ‘Stacie darling’ me, you bitch.” The girl’s voice was hoarse and low. “I know who you are, remember?”

  “Get a grip, kid.” Babe weaved a little as she made her way to a chair. “Why don’t you go back to the barn with the other cows?”

  Stacie ignored her. “I’ve had it.” Her voice rose. “I’m not staying here, and you can’t make me.”

  “But, darling, where would you go?” Laura’s voice was low.

  “Stacie, stop it!” Grace rose to her feet and approached Stacie. “Stay out of this, Laura. I can handle it.”

  But she couldn’t. Stacie made a horrible face as she grabbed Laura by the arm. Then I saw something shiny in her hand. It was a gun, and it was pointed at Laura’s temple. For an instant everyone was too surprised to move.

  Then Laura began speaking softly to Stacie. She spoke in a singsong voice. I couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded a little like baby talk. After what seemed like a long time, Stacie’s eyes softened and the hand holding the gun dropped to her side. Laura kept chanting while Grace slowly began edging her way toward them. Just as she got near enough to reach out and grab the gun, Stacie snapped out of it.

  “No!” she shouted; and dragging Laura, she ran to a door, pulled it open, and disappeared into the next room, taking Laura with her. We heard the lock click into place.

  “What is that room?” Biggie asked.

  “Laura’s study,” Grace gasped. “We’ve got to get in there.”

  But before she had time to move, a shot rang out, then another, then a few moments later one more. Somebody screamed from behind the door.

  It must have been five seconds before anybody moved. Biggie was the first to react. “Someone phone 911,” she said. “I’ll go find the men.”

  Just then the lights went out and the room turned black as a well digger’s pocket. I sat there stunned until the tiniest bit of light entered the room. I could barely make out Biggie’s figure against the window. Feeling my way across the room, I came and stood next to her. She had opened the drapes, letting in a little moonlight. We both watched as something moved out on the patio; then the lights came back on, and Abner Putnam entered followed by Rosebud.

  “Nothing to be alarmed about,” Abner said. “But I’d like to get my hands on the SOB who tripped the breaker switch. Most likely one of those gals playing a stunt. Hey, what’s the matter with everybody?”

  Grace pointed toward the closed door. “It’s Stacie. She’s locked herself in with Laura. Hurry! She’s got a gun.”

  In unison, Abner and Rosebud approached the door. Abner knocked and called out, “Open up, Stacie. Now, I mean it!”

  Silence.

  “We’ve got to break it down,” Rosebud said.

  Abner nodded and together they prepared to ram the door with their shoulders. But at that moment, the door opened and Laura stood there holding the gun. Behind her, we could see Stacie crumpled on the floor.

  “Oh, my God! Is she shot?” Grace tried to push past Laura.

  “No, of course not. Nobody’s shot.” Laura turned back and knelt beside the girl. “She’s just upset. Come on, honey, stand up now.”

  I stood in the doorway and watched the scene. The lamp on the desk made a splash of yellow on the polished wood. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with bookcases all holding big, dull-looking books. A huge dictionary stand stood in one corner with an open book on it. The heavy brocade curtains moved slightly from the breeze outside. Stacie began to stir.

  Between them, Laura and Grace got Stacie to
her feet and brought her, sobbing, to the sofa.

  “Somebody get her a glass of water,” Grace ordered. “And get Laura something stronger.”

  Babe turned toward the drinks table but stopped when Jeremy Polk came in from the hall, his hands and face covered with blood.

  “Call the police. Somebody killed Rex.”

  13

  The doctor came and pronounced Rex dead from a slug through the heart. He was tending to Jeremy, whose ear had been nicked, when the Texas Ranger, Red Upchurch, came to the door.

  Biggie met him and filled him in on what had happened. They were old friends. Biggie’d helped him solve a few cases in the past, and the ranger knew he could rely on her. I guess that’s why he asked her to assist him in questioning the witnesses. He told everybody to wait in the great room, and he turned the dining room into an interrogation room. I followed them in.

  “Hey, what’s the kid going for?” Babe seemed to be pretty drunk by now.

  “Shut up, Babe.” I thought for a minute that Rob was going to hit her.

  Ranger Upchurch opened his briefcase and took out a small tape recorder. He placed that on the table along with a yellow legal pad and a black pen. He pulled out a chair at the head of the table and motioned for Biggie to sit at his right. I sat in a chair against the wall, intending to be as inconspicuous as possible so they wouldn’t send me away. Now the ranger went to the door.

  “Mrs. Barnwell, will you come in?”

  Laura sat down and crossed her hands in front of her to stop the shaking. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes red and teary. Ranger Upchurch turned on his tape recorder. After getting her to state her name and relation to the deceased, he started questioning her.

  “Now then, Mrs. Barnwell, just relax and tell me what happened here tonight.”

  She blotted her eyes with a wadded-up tissue, then spoke in a small voice. “Well, we had planned a quiet dinner with our friends from town.” She nodded toward Biggie. “Rex was eager to see them. You see, he had just found out he had a grandson he never knew he had— young J.R. here.” She half-smiled at me then went on. “It seems that years ago, he and Mrs. Weatherford were…”