by Vickie Fee
Still suffering from a cumulative sleep deficit, I heated a cup of leftover coffee in the microwave and stepped out onto the patio for a breath of fresh air and a hit of sunshine to warm me up.
The way Southerners cope with our sweltering summers is a bit of an enigma. When it’s miserably hot outside, we keep it cold enough indoors to hang meat. If the temperature were to drop that low in the winter, we’d be cranking up the heat and pulling on sweaters.
An overnight rain and plentiful sunlight made it seem like the grass had grown an inch or two just since yesterday. And it was already a bit shabby before Larry Joe’s dad went in the hospital. So I phoned Kenny Mitchell to see if his handyman skills extended to lawn care. He seemed happy to pick up a quick thirty bucks.
I tried for a few minutes to rearrange my hair into something approaching normal looking, to no avail. I accepted the ugly truth that I’d have to leave the house sometime before my perm grew out. I grabbed a straw hat out of the hall closet and pulled it down on my head as far as it would go. My voluminous hair made it spring back up, and it sat like a tiny clown hat on the top of my head. I tossed the hat onto the kitchen table and headed out to pick up Kenny.
I dropped Kenny off at the house and told him I’d be back to pick him up in an hour or so, but to call me if he finished up sooner or had any questions. After opening the garage so he could access the lawn equipment, I drove to the hospital to check on my father-in-law.
I tapped on the door as I entered his hospital room. My mother-in-law was sitting in the chair next to the bed. The head of the bed was raised, putting Daddy Wayne nearly in a sitting position. His coloring had definitely improved; his cheeks were starting to pink up. He even looked over and said hello as I walked in. I couldn’t help but smile. What a difference a day can make!
I gave my father-in-law a peck on the cheek and walked around the bed to give Miss Betty a hug. My mother-in-law’s eyes scanned my hair, but she was too polite to comment. Daddy Wayne, being a man, probably didn’t even notice.
“Larry Joe has gone to the office for a while,” she said. “But he said he’d check in later and stay the night if Wayne needs him to.”
“I don’t need anybody to stay the night,” he said, his hackles up. “I’ve got a bevy of nurses that come running if I push this button,” he added, pointing to the call button dangling by a cord from the bed rail. “Besides, the doc will probably let me go home tomorrow.”
“We’ll see,” Miss Betty said doubtfully.
I shared her skepticism that the doctor would let him go home so soon. But it was really good to see Daddy Wayne full of spit and vinegar, like his old self.
My father-in-law was on the mend. I had an appointment with a new client. The Feds were on Bobo’s trail. It was shaping up to be a pretty good day, except for the perm debacle, which I tried to put out of my mind.
I returned home and stepped into my formerly shabby backyard to find a finely manicured lawn. Kenny had not only cut the grass in a neat crisscross pattern, but had even edged along the walkway and patio.
Kenny finished sweeping up the walk and stowed the lawn equipment in the garage. As we walked to the car, I noticed his perspiration-streaked face. I cranked up the air-conditioning. On the way back to his apartment, I drove through one of the fast-food joints to order a couple of flavored slushy drinks.
“Kenny, do you prefer cherry or cola flavor?”
“Cherry, definitely.”
“Me too.”
While we slurped our frosty drinks in air-conditioned comfort, I gave Kenny a physical description of Ralph Harvey and asked if he remembered ever seeing him around the apartments with the Farrells or Ray or Bobo.
“Can’t say as I do. But that don’t mean much. I’d go days sometimes without catching sight of Duane or Darrell coming and going.”
As I drove along, both of us silent, I nearly sprained my brain trying to think of any pertinent questions about the Farrells I should ask Kenny while I had the opportunity. Finally, one popped into my head.
“Kenny, you mentioned before that you thought Darrell invited everyone in the apartments to that Fourth of July party as an excuse to get to know the girls who had moved in downstairs. Did he ever get together with one of them, or was there any particular girl you know of that he went with for a while?”
“I don’t think things ever heated up between him and Amy. She’s the new neighbor he had his eyes on. But he was crazy about the girl that was living in that apartment before Amy and her roommate moved in.”
“What was her name?”
“Candy,” he said. “She was on again, off again with some guy named Brad. Whenever Brad was out, Darrell was in, you know.”
“Do you know why she moved out of her apartment?”
“Can’t say for sure, but my guess is that Brad didn’t want her so handy to Darrell. He was the jealous type big-time. I heard him yelling and banging on her door late one night, saying he knew she had some guy in there, and she’d better open up, or he’d break the door down. She told him to go away and sober up, but he kept at it. It finally got quiet, and I looked through the blinds to see if he was leaving. I didn’t see him, so I figured she had let him in. Thing is, just a few seconds later I see Darrell coming from around the side of the building and sneaking up the stairs, real quiet like. He was carrying his shoes and didn’t have a shirt on. I ciphered he had slipped out the back window at Candy’s place before she let Brad in. Not too long after that, she moved out.”
“Do you have any idea where she works or where she lives now?”
“No, ma’am, but I know she really liked going to karaoke night at that little bar out on Bass Road, halfway between here and Hartville.”
“What does Candy look like?”
“Dark hair. Small waist. Big everything else,” he said.
“What about her boyfriend?”
“He looks like trouble.”
I thanked Kenny, then handed him his pay, including a fat tip, before he got out of the car.
“Anytime, Ms. Mac.”
I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few necessities, like toilet paper, and decided to get the fixings for a nice supper. Larry Joe had been surviving on fast food and hospital cafeteria fare since his dad had been in the ICU. It would be nice to have a sit-down meal at home, just the two of us. It would be even nicer to have him back in our bed, since I felt certain his dad would flatly refuse to let anybody stay with him overnight at the hospital.
I quickly mixed together some mayonnaise, celery seed, cider vinegar, salt, pepper, and sugar in a mason jar, then shook it well and put it in the fridge to chill. Next, I dusted some fresh catfish fillets with seasoned cornmeal and a bit of flour, carefully laid each piece in a pan sizzling with melted shortening, and cooked them for three or four minutes on each side. With the fried catfish fillets draining on paper towels, I mixed a bag of shredded cabbage and carrots with the coleslaw dressing I’d prepared in the mason jar.
The aroma of fresh fried fish brought a broad smile to my husband’s face as he walked into the kitchen, and this was followed by a big kiss on the lips for the cook. He stepped back, did a double take, and said, “Your hair looks kinda big. Did you do something different to it?”
“No,” I said in a tone that let him know I didn’t want to talk about it. We’d been married long enough that he knew to let it go.
Larry Joe filled glasses with ice and tea, while I plated up our supper and retrieved a jar of sweet pickles and a squeeze bottle of tartar sauce from the refrigerator. We held hands as Larry Joe said a heartfelt thanks for our meal and his dad’s improving health, before he stabbed a fork into his catfish.
After we’d topped off our meal with some fresh blackberries and whipped cream, we ambled into the den, turned on Wheel of Fortune, and flopped down on the sofa. I leaned back against Larry Joe’s chest as he wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head, or more accurately, on top of four inches of spring-loade
d hair.
“Thanks for the nice supper, hon. I don’t think I could face another plate of that hospital slop.”
Larry Joe then told me that things seemed to be settling down at work, that everyone had been pulling together since his dad’s heart attack. I wanted so much to warn him that Ralph Harvey might not be as trustworthy as we had thought. But I had promised Ted I wouldn’t say anything. Besides, we really didn’t know anything for certain, just gossip. There was no need to lay another burden on Larry Joe’s broad shoulders, unless it became absolutely necessary, I reasoned.
“As nice as this is,” he said, giving me a peck on the cheek, “I better get down to the hospital. I don’t plan to stay the night, unless it’s the only way I can get Mama to go home. With the geezer laid up, we sure don’t want Mama making herself sick.”
“I think your dad will help you on that front. He seemed to be feeling pretty feisty earlier today. I bet he tells you both to go home.”
After Larry Joe headed for the hospital, I phoned Di to fill her in on what Ted had said over lunch, as well as on what I’d picked up at the beauty shop. She suggested I come by her place and tell her about it over a glass of wine.
Di opened the front door and said, “Hey, you’ve got kind of a retro thing going on with your hair. I didn’t know you were thinking about changing hairstyles.”
“It wasn’t exactly intentional. I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Uh, okay.”
After settling into Di’s recliner, I kicked off my shoes and took a couple of sips of wine. “Mmm. This is pretty tasty. What is it?”
“I don’t know,” Di said, stretched out on the sofa. “It comes in a box.”
I told her what I’d learned from Ted.
“Milton, huh? No wonder he goes by Bobo.”
“It’s a good thing you sent that photo,” I said. “At least now the FBI is back on Bobo’s trail.”
“I’ve seen Ralph a bunch of times coming in or out of his mama’s house in the mornings,” she said. “In fact, I doubt I would’ve thought anything about seeing him talking to that guy, if it hadn’t been for your vivid description of Bobo.”
“Well,” I sighed, “maybe there is some reasonable explanation as to why Bobo was there. I can’t believe Ralph would bring a thug to his mother’s house.”
“I wouldn’t let him off the hook so quick,” she said. “Wait a minute.”
Di went to the fridge and placed our glasses under the wine box tap for refills; then she said that she’d talked to Dave this afternoon. Apparently, he was still trying to smooth things over with her after the nasty inquisition he put us through at the sheriff’s office.
“They checked a little into Ralph’s finances and found out he’s been having some money troubles. Seems his wife cleaned him out in the divorce, his daughter’s at an expensive college, and he also helps out his mom financially.” She drew a long sip of wine. “And yet he recently bought a new bass boat. The dealer in Hartville says he paid cash for it.” Di punctuated the sentence with raised eyebrows.
Her eyebrows went up, and my shoulders sagged, along with my heart and pretty much every part of my being, except my hair. I had sacrificed my hair and half my afternoon for absolutely no reason. Dave had told Di every single thing I had “learned” from Nell.
I went straight home and washed my hair with laundry detergent.
Still nothing.
Chapter 20
I woke up the next morning nuzzled against the prickly, unshaven face of my gently snoring husband and started to nibble on his earlobe. He roused in more ways than one. We had a little time before the alarm was set to go off. Lazy cuddling led to more aerobic activity, which reached a heart-racing conclusion in sync with the alarm clock buzzer.
Larry Joe headed out the kitchen door with a travel mug of coffee and a smile on his face. He planned to run by the hospital to look in on his dad before going to the office.
I hummed during my shower, towel-dried my hair, since blow-drying it was out of the question, and took extra care putting on my makeup before donning a white skirt and a striped, nautical-inspired blouse. I’m not generally a hair bow person, but I stuck a navy-blue bow on top of my head in an attempt to minimize my hair’s height. I was meeting with the new clients about planning an engagement party and wanted to look my best, such as it was.
I stopped by the bakery and picked up some fresh-baked apple-walnut mini muffins and brewed a pot of freshly ground Kona coffee to offer Mr. and Mrs. Dodd. They wanted to discuss a formal party to officially announce the engagement of their Ole Miss – schooled daughter to a Mississippi State graduate. If the bride-to-be’s family and her fiancé’s family started talking football at the party, a brawl could break out. But the meeting went great, and they hired me to plan the party.
After starting a file for the Dodds’ event, I freshened my lipstick and headed to the hospital, stopping by the convenience store on the way to pick up a couple of magazines I thought my father-in-law might enjoy paging through. On the way into the hospital, I ran into Ralph Harvey, who was on his way out.
“Oh, hey, Ralph. I suppose we’re here to see the same patient.”
“Yes, ma’am. I just dropped off a get-well card that a bunch of the guys had signed for Mr. McKay.”
“That’s nice. How’s he doing?”
“He seems okay. He was complaining about how there’s nothing on the television worth watching. I see you’ve brought a couple of magazines. He might enjoy looking at those, or maybe you could bring up some videotapes—if you happen to have any just lying around the house,” Ralph said with a knowing look. I had more than an inkling that he was trying to let me know that he knew I had filched the security tapes from the office. Maybe he even knew somehow that I had tipped off the cops about Bobo.
“Are you trying to tell me something, Ralph?”
“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t presume to tell you anything. I’m the kind of guy who tries to mind his own business. Seems like a good policy to me.” Ralph tugged at the bill of his ball cap while giving a nod and said, “G’day, Ms. McKay,” before sauntering away.
I seethed at the thought that Ralph was trying to menace me with some kind of subtle blackmail. What I knew that he didn’t was that the sheriff already had in his possession the security tapes I had taken. Of course, Larry Joe and his dad didn’t know about the tapes, and I’d just as soon keep it that way. Still, under no circumstances would I let Ralph Harvey get away with running drugs through McKay Trucking Company—or maybe even committing murder.
My face flushed hot with anger. I knew I needed to calm down a bit before I made an attempt to cheer up Daddy Wayne. After wandering into the gift shop, I left my magazines with the cashier while I browsed. I hoped that gazing at angel statues, teddy bears, and key chains inscribed with Bible verses would bring me serenity. After about fifteen minutes, I figured I had summoned all the inner peace I could muster and headed to the elevator.
When I walked in the room, Miss Betty was sitting on the loveseat, listening to their neighbor, Mrs. Finch, chatter nonstop, while Daddy Wayne looked as if his head might explode. He was genuinely pleased to see me.
“Liv, darlin’, come on in,” he said.
I gave him a peck on the cheek, along with his magazines, which he started perusing immediately. Mrs. Finch stood and said she’d better be going since Wayne had more company. Even my ever polite mother-in-law didn’t try to dissuade her from leaving. After hugs all around, she departed, with promises to keep Daddy Wayne in her prayers.
When she was a safe distance down the hall, my father-in-law said, “I’ll say a prayer. Thank you, Jesus.” He raised his hands to heaven. “I thought she’d never leave.”
“I have to admit, I was ready for her to go home,” Miss Betty said.
“Did she catch you up on any good gossip?” I asked my mother-in-law.
“Now, Olivia, you know I don’t listen to gossip,” she said loudly. Then, as she hugged me, she wh
ispered, “I’ll fill you in later.”
Flipping through the fishing magazine I’d handed him launched Daddy Wayne into a familiar story about the one that got away. He lit up as he described the event in animated detail. We both listened attentively, in a deliberate attempt to boost his morale. After he finished his fish tale, he started to get out of bed.
“Wayne, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to the bathroom, woman. They finally took out that damn catheter, remember?”
“You know you’re not supposed to get up without help,” she said, leaning across the bed and pushing his call button to the nurses’ station.
“I think I can go to the bathroom by myself. Been doing it for years,” he said gruffly.
I walked around the end of the bed to try to steady my father-in-law. After about two steps, he stumbled forward, and we both nearly took a tumble onto the cold tile floor. Fortunately, Larry Joe walked through the door just in time to grab hold of his dad.
“Guess I’m still not too steady on my feet,” Daddy Wayne said, obviously embarrassed, as Larry Joe helped him into the bathroom.
After they had closed the door, Miss Betty said, “His leg, where they ran the heart catheter, is giving him trouble. But he wants to go home so badly, he won’t admit it.”
After visiting a bit, Larry Joe tried to get his mom to go with me to get a bite to eat. She said she’d eaten a late lunch, and insisted the two of us go out for dinner instead.
She walked us to the elevators. “Son, I’m not sure your dad should be on his own tonight.”
“Don’t worry, Mama. I’m going to come back and stay the night. I think I should,” he said, looking over at me.
“I agree, honey. The last thing we want is for your dad to end up falling and maybe breaking something.”
Chapter 21
Larry Joe drove to Town Square Diner, where we both ordered a plate of pinto beans and crawfish corn bread. During dinner three different people stopped by the table with well wishes for Larry Joe’s dad—one of the nice things about living in a small town. Of course, everybody knowing your business can have its downside, as well.