by Joan Hess
“Him?” Janna said. “Is this for real?”
He stumbled into a table and sprawled in front of us. “I made a hole-in-one!” he gasped. He grabbed Lottie’s ankle. “Write it down!”
“Wait just a minute!” yelled Mrs. Jim Bob, approaching briskly with a driver in one hand and her purse in the other. She saw Jim Bob, who was bent over, gasping. “Did I hear him a few minutes ago? Is he in need of medical assistance?”
“I made a hole-in-one,” he grunted.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her hand tightened around the club. “I made a hole-in-one at precisely noon. He’s drunk. You may record it, Lottie.”
“I made mine first—at eleven fifty-nine!” Jim Bob said. He was so agitated that his face resembled a puffer fish. Not an appetizing sight.
“I made mine at eleven fifty-eight!” Mrs. Jim Bob countered.
“Mine was first, so I win the bass boat!” She looked more like a great white shark.
“No way!” he snarled. “I win the bass boat!”
“Nobody wins the blasted boat!” Proodle said as he pushed his way through the crowd. “Don’t you morons know the boat’s impounded? Do I need to define the word for you? It’s in a pound surrounded by a chain-link fence and barb wire.”
The remainder of the golfers picked their way through various botanical entanglements and approached. The college boys were joking and shoving each other, apparently handling their disappointment well. Natalie kept her face lowered as she joined the increasingly rowdy group. Jim Bob and Mrs. Jim Bob continued to shout at each other, and at Lottie, who was hanging on to the clipboard for dear life. Proodle tried to drown them out by shouting the word “impounded” at them as if it were his mantra. The men had dark expressions as they came out from behind a line of scrub oaks. Audley, Eileen, Cora, and the other wives looked as though their soufflés had sunk. They all felt the need to voice their opinions at the top of their lungs.
I watched at a safe distance. As long as the violence kept to bloody noses and black eyes, I wasn’t about to jump in. It was getting tedious when Lottie climbed onto a table and blew a whistle loudly enough to set dogs howling in Tibia.
“Your attention, please!” she said. “We are not going to get this settled by behaving in an uncivilized manner. We will allow each claimant to make his or her case. Arly and I will then consult with the hole monitors to verify the details.”
“Why her?” demanded Jim Bob.
Lottie regarded him through her bifocals. “Because she is an unbiased party.”
“Unbiased, my ass.”
“That’s a violation of the obscenity rule!” Mrs. Jim Bob said as she shoved him aside. “He received two warnings on Saturday. The rules on the registration form make it clear that a third violation results in expulsion. He cannot win the boat.”
He stuck his face in hers. “I already won the boat when I made the hole-in-one fifteen minutes ago. What ever happens now don’t count for squat.”
“The boat’s been impounded,” Proodle added for good measure.
“Nobody can win the boat!”
“Stuff it!” Earl roared at him. “The boat ain’t gonna be impounded forever. Jim Bob won fair and square.” His tontine cohorts all nodded.
“The Missionary Society claims title to the boat,” Crystal said.
“It’s going to pay for a memorial park to benefit the community.”
Mrs. Jim Bob moistened her lips. “A generous share of the profit from the sale, that is. This tournament is meant to raise money for golf widows, not to give certain parties an excuse to loll about in the middle of a lake. We cannot have menfolk missing Sunday morning ser vices out of sloth. Sloth is a deadly sin, as we all know.”
“A sloth is also a mammal that hangs upside-down in trees,” Roy said. “I don’t reckon it’s deadly, though. Just slow and lazy.”
“Precisely!” Mrs. Jim Bob said.
Lottie blew her whistle again. “I want everyone to sit down right this minute and be quiet. We will mind our manners and watch our language.” They must have feared after-school detention, because they did as ordered. “Now then, we shall wait for the hole monitors to return. No talking, understood?”
I held up my hand. When she nodded at me, I said, “As long as we’re waiting, there are a few things I’d like to clear up. Let’s begin with the bass boat. Not only is it a fancy and very expensive toy, it’s also responsible for two deaths.”
“Boats don’t kill people,” one of the college boys said. “Golf clubs do.”
I glared at him. “Take your buddies and leave before I think of something to charge you with. Public drunkenness comes to mind.”
He gave me a look of disbelief. Rather than mention that public drunkenness was epidemic, he and the other two boys trudged up the slope. Seconds later, they drove off. I spotted Raz on his porch, cradling a shotgun. Just what I needed.
“No,” I continued, “boats don’t kill people, as a rule. This boat is different. This boat is very, very valuable. It’s a whole lot more valuable than it was the day Proodle sold it to a man who calls himself Da King, who’s currently serving time at the state prison.”
“No, he’s not,” Proodle said, then stopped.
“Did you think he was threatening you on the phone?” I asked.
“He wasn’t, unless you were accepting collect calls from the Cummins Unit. Whoever it was really had you scared. What was it: broken kneecaps, pulverized organs, decapitation?”
“Worse,” Proodle said. “But it had to be this King man. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, like a knife scraping sandpaper. He called two weeks ago and demanded that I return his boat. He knew I’d repossessed it and put it on the lot for sale.”
I held up my finger. “Or he told someone about it. A fellow inmate, for instance. The only person here who’s done prison time in this state is Luke. Did you happen to run across Da King while you were chopping cotton?”
Luke shrugged. “Yeah. Everybody there knew he was furious about losing the boat. It’s all he ever talked about. I was damn glad I had nothing to do with it. He’s one mean dude.”
“Do you know why he cared so much?” I asked.
“Not really. It was expensive, but he was a heavy-duty drug trafficker. Before he got caught, he was pulling in several grand a week. He had a real thing about it, though. I finally got sick of listening to him and pointed out he could afford to replace it. He damn near scalped me with his teeth.”
“He must have named the boat for his sweetheart,” Elsie contributed brightly.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “He bought the boat not only for status, but also as a safe deposit box. The crime squad found a box welded under the deck, way at the front end of the boat. The box contained twenty kilos of cocaine, estimated street value of more than half a million dollars.”
“Half a million dollars?” Jim Bob gurgled.
“It doesn’t come with the boat,” I said.
Proodle’s mouth fell open and his eyes bulged like marbles.
“In the Ranger? I can’t believe it. Don’t go thinking I knew anything about that, missy. The boys cleaned it up and put it back on the lot. I never touched it.” He stood up and began to back away.
“Luke knew. That’s why he pretended to be King and made the calls. Last night he said he was gonna feed my liver to the geese in the park!”
“Wait just a friggin’ minute!” Luke sputtered. “I’ve never called you. It must have been somebody in Da King’s organization. I wouldn’t know what to do with a kilo of cocaine if it fell on my head. And I’m afraid of geese, on account of being attacked when I was a kid.”
I gestured at Proodle to sit down. “I don’t think Luke made the calls. It would have been in his best interest to lie low and wait. He didn’t come to Maggody for the boat. You want to elaborate, Luke?”
“I heard about the golf tournament.” His attempted smirk was unconvincing, but I gave him points for quick thinking. “I haven’t played in years,
and I thought it sounded fun. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.”
“What about me?” Bopeep squeaked. “You told me that you wanted to move in because I excited you and made you feel like a real man.” Her forehead crinkled as she worked on it for a moment.
“Reckon that was the day after the local newspaper mentioned the golf tournament. You were using me, weren’t you? You slime bag! You want to know the truth? I felt sorry for you ’cause you’re a loser. You and your itsy-bitsy prick.”
“An itsy-bitsy teeny weenie?” Bony said with exaggerated innocence.
“It is not!” Natalie said, then inhaled sharply. “I mean, that’s a cruel thing to say. You shouldn’t talk about anybody like that. The Hollywood studs aren’t pounding on your trailer door, Bopeep Buchanon or what ever your name is.”
“They’re the only ones who aren’t,” Eula said out of the corner of her mouth.
Bopeep curled her fingers. I decided it was time to return to the topic at hand. “Did you tell anybody about Da King’s boat, Luke?”
“Her,” he muttered, tilting his head in Bopeep’s direction.
Proodle’s jowls quivered. “You made those threatening calls, you common hussy? You deserve time at a prison. Chief Hanks, arrest her for terrorist threatening!”
“Not yet.” I saw Harve and his deputies park behind my car. At least they’d save me from having to transport the perp to Farberville and locate an available cell. Boys with red bandanas on their arms had gathered behind my audience. It was going to be interesting to hear what they had to say about the purported holes-in-one, but it could wait. “I did consider the possibility that Bopeep might have killed Tommy Ridner to make sure Proodle got the boat back. He could then be coerced into handing it over or paying twenty or thirty thousand.”
“She demanded fifty,” Proodle said. “I was supposed to get it tomorrow and wait for instructions. Small, unmarked bills and that nonsense. Why haven’t you arrested her?”
“Kiss my ass,” Bopeep said in her own defense.
“We’re getting there,” I said, irritated at all of them. No one had so much as mentioned the two murders that had taken place in the last thirty-six hours. I would never again look at any boat without being repulsed. I made a mental note to tell Jack that a honeymoon cruise was out.
Mrs. Jim Bob had regained her authoritarian demeanor, although she was somewhat stymied. Lottie had the ultimate symbol of power—the clipboard. I watched her assess the potential loss of dignity if she hitched up her skirt to climb onto the table.
She opted to stand on the bench. “This is all very interesting, I’m sure. However, the awards presentation is scheduled for two o’clock sharp. Since no one bothered to finish the round, the first place trophy will be awarded to yesterday’s winner—Bonaparte Buchanon.”
“And the bass boat?” demanded Jim Bob.
“Well, I did make the first hole-in-one. Filbert Buchanon was the hole monitor on the twelfth hole and will certify the time of my shot.”
Jim Bob growled. “Axle Hammerjack’ll certify my time at one minute earlier than your time. Ain’t that right, Axle?”
“He most certainly will not,” Mrs. Jim Bob said firmly. “Go ahead, Filbert—tell them I made the first hole-in-one. You do remember, don’t you?”
“Axle,” Jim Bob said, “speak up afore I choke it out of you.”
Axle was too busy looking for an escape hatch to reply. Filbert was twitching like a palsied frog. Everyone stared at them, and a lot of eyebrows were rising. The average IQ in Maggody doesn’t approach triple digits, but most everybody comes in out of the rain eventually. Even Kevin was getting suspicious. Filbert broke first. Howling, he took off down the road past Raz’s shack. Axle caught up with him before they disappeared from view.
Lottie handed me her whistle, and I blew it until I had center stage. “No one is going anywhere or doing anything until these murders are cleared up. The boat is just a… well, just a boat with half a million dollars’ worth of cocaine in its bow. Two men died yesterday, one after midnight and the other early in the afternoon. And on my watch.” I took a deep breath as I looked them over. Did I want to raise a child in this environment? I’d endured it only because Ruby Bee wasn’t a bigot, a drunk, or a fool. Decidedly in the minority.
“Uh, Arly,” Kevin said, “you ain’t wearing a watch.”
I gave the whistle back to Lottie so I could put my hands on my hips. “All right, we now know why Proodle was so upset when Tommy made the hole-in-one. He may have wanted to kill him, but he’s all bluster, no guts. If he’d known about the cocaine, it wouldn’t have been in the boat. The same goes for Luke, who had plenty of opportunities to remove the cocaine the last few nights.”
Bopeep wiggled her finger at Luke. “What if he tried last night, and Tommy caught him in the act?”
“Tommy was too drunk to do anything,” I said. “Whoever wanted to get to the cocaine might have had to wait for a few minutes, until Tommy staggered away or passed out. There was no reason to kill him. I believe nobody in town knew about the cocaine, with the exception of the gentleman from the DEA.” I gestured at the man who’d been haunting Ruby Bee’s. “He wanted to see if Da King had tipped off a supplier.”
“Then no one here had anything to do with it,” Mrs. Jim Bob said. “Now that we’ve settled that, I think it’s time to—”
“It’s time to consider other motives for the two murders,” I continued. “Kathleen Wasson, for example, wanted the boat because it was worth a lot of money. Kale had a reasonable chance of winning it, once Tommy was out of the picture. Money, bragging rights, publicity—one step closer to a golf scholarship.”
“I can understand why you thought that, Chief Hanks,” she said in a mild voice. “It crossed my mind while I was driving to Tibia. It was only when I got home that I realized Kale had taken his blue shirt out of his suitcase intentionally. He is still my son, and I will defend him, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to put up with his shit any longer.” She spun around and looked him in the eye. “You’d better get a job if you want to go to college, because I’m not paying for any more golf tournaments. That nice Mr. Thigpen who lives on the corner wants me to go line dancing with him. I need a new wardrobe.”
Kale retreated a few inches. “You got it all wrong, Ma. I never touched my shirt. You’re the one who screwed up. I had to have it so I could have a second chance to win the boat for you. I swear it.”
“Stuff it,” she said.
I waited a moment in case she wanted to bawl him out for a while longer. When she looked away, I said, “Since you’re in the limelight, Kale, let’s discuss your motive. You didn’t care all that much about the boat, did you? You cared about Natalie, and well beyond infatuation. Not only couldn’t you have her, you had to watch Tommy hugging and caressing her Friday and Saturday night in the barroom. An old guy with a belly, groping her in front of your face. That must have made you angry.”
“He didn’t deserve her,” Kale said, his expression surly. “So what if I was angry? I didn’t kill the guy.”
“But did you break into his room and trash it?” I asked.
“The door wasn’t locked. Anybody could have done it.”
“How do you know the door wasn’t locked?”
Kale ducked his face, but his ears resembled red rose petals.
“Okay, so maybe I went in his room. I only had a couple of minutes before I had to get to my room. I figured my mother could be back anytime after midnight. I kept an eye out for her while we were taking shots at the stoplight, just in case she drove back into town.”
“That’s why Proodle didn’t see you in the back parking lot,” I said. “You were already in Tommy’s room.” I did not mention whom Proodle had seen. It would surface at some point, and the ensuing melee would make the Battle of Manassas look like a Labor Day picnic. Janna, Natalie, Luke, Kale, and Bopeep; none of them would back down, and none of them would take prisoners.
“He was a jer
k,” Kale muttered. “I thought maybe he left his wallet in there.”
“It was in the boat,” I said. “There was cash in it, so I had to rule out scavengers. I had great hope I could still pin the murders on one of our local citizens, but it wouldn’t fly. The wives had flounced home in their petticoats, so they couldn’t have known about the stoplight nonsense. As for husbands, they were too drunk to scratch their balls. From what I heard, none of them was capable of crawling to the SuperSaver parking lot. Forget climbing in the boat. They’re all wearing the clothes they had on Saturday morning, and nobody’s sporting bloodstains. Grease and ketchup stains, yes. The stench of whiskey and beer, sweat, and muck could kill a skunk. Let’s hope PETA doesn’t hear about this.”
Mrs. Jim Bob tapped on her wristwatch. “It’s five minutes ’til two.”
I gave her enough of a nudge to force her off the bench. “So we come to Natalie and Janna. Janna didn’t need money, and she had no idle time to go fishing. She wanted Natalie to win the tournament. Bony was leading the field, but she wasn’t worried about him.”
“I’m a professional golfer!” Bony said, outraged. “She damn well should have worried about me. I won the Rapid City invitational three years ago, and came in second at the Florida Hideaway Homes tournament. I made the cut in Tucson last summer. I can’t remember the number of times I made the cut in Augusta.”
“Zero,” Janna said.
“Moving right along,” I said, “Janna did have a motive. She thought Tommy was fooling around with Natalie, whose reputation was as important as her golf game. Tommy may have been a good guy, but he was the classic loose cannon when he was drinking. Which was often, and in the presence of the media and the inner-circle golfers. Janna thought it was vital to keep Natalie away from Tommy.”
“So I killed him to keep his mouth shut?” she countered skeptically.
“And Dennis saw me, right? That’s why I killed him.” She held out her fists. “Go ahead and handcuff me, Chief Hanks. The sheriff’s here. He can take me in, book me, fingerprint me, interrogate me, and throw me in the dungeon. I’ll plead not guilty, but the jury will convict me and I’ll end up on death row.”