by C. L. Bevill
In any case, the boom was lowering fast. Precious would likely nose her way out of the club and head for the hills because she wasn’t a stupid hound.
There was also a niggling feeling of déjà vu for Bubba.
He stuck his head in the room and ascertained that it was empty. Specifically, the dead body of John J. Johnson the Third was no longer lying on the floor. The plain six-by-six inch tiles were remarkably devoid of all things dead. “Yep,” Bubba said. “It’s empty.” Then he craned his head to the side to make sure that the body hadn’t moved in some type of mystical fashion. It hadn’t.
Bam Bam looked carefully around the bathroom and then yelled, “Yee-haw! Problem solved!”
* * *
Oh, the problem was NOT solved, thought Bubba. The problem had simply eluded them for the time being. In fact, the problem was likely dangling over their heads like the spinning, electrified, tassel-encrusted sword of Damocles he’d thought about earlier. (That would be a very special sword only found in gentlemen’s clubs.)
Bam Bam strutted out to the front to round up all of the employees for the meeting he’d called them in for. Once the issue of a murdered relative had seemingly been solved for the man in the purple boots, the other issue of the business closing down wasn’t such a bad thing.
Bubba thought about grabbing his mother and his dog and running for his truck, but that wasn’t going to help. John was about somewhere. John and his body, too. Bam Bam might be deluded for the moment but Bubba wasn’t.
They left the bathroom, and Bubba followed Bam Bam down the hall. Bam Bam was very nearly dancing as he went, obviously deliriously happy with the recent turn of events. As they neared the kitchen, Leslie said, “Those fellas in the black van came through and fixed that bathroom, Bam Bam. Then they carried out the bad part, whatever that was, in a big plastic bag. By the size of it, it must have bin a toilet. Although that bag was a lot bigger than any toilet I’ve seen.”
Bam Bam stopped dancing. His head dropped on his chest. His chin rested there for a long moment before he brought it up and asked, “What men?”
Leslie adjusted his toque as he considered the answer. “Well, they didn’t seem like the kind of plumbers I’ve ever seen before. Three of ‘em. They wore plastic coveralls. And dark sunglasses. One of ‘em stood right where you are and waited for the others to finish. He had an iPad or some kind of pad. Tapped away on it. Asked if I knew what had happened to the toilet. Then they packed up PDQ and left. I don’t think they were back there a whole ten minutes, but I expect they’ll ask you to pay for the whole hour. Contractors, you know. Plus, they dint want to look at that other toilet what’s clogged up.”
“Did they have suits on under the plastic coveralls?” Bubba asked.
“As a matter of fact they did,” Leslie agreed. He adjusted the toque again. “Thinking of barbeque again for next Tuesday’s buffet. Them ribs I did last week got cleaned out like clockwork. It made them folks happier than a coon in a cornfield with the dogs tied up. We should advertise.”
“Did they leave a bill by chance?” Bubba asked.
“Goin’ to need a mess of ribs and corn on the cob. There’s a farmer’s market that has the best corn, but it’s a county over. Beans. A big mess of beans. Sure, those customers will be farting into the next century, but they’ll be full and happy for what they ate. I’m thinking rolls, too. There’s this kind that’s just a little sweet.” Leslie tapped the immaculately clean countertop with his beefy fingers. “Or do you think biscuits would be better? My mama’s recipe for biscuits will make you so happy you’ll kiss an ugly tree just because you can.”
“Did they leave a bill?” Bubba repeated slowing the words so that Leslie would be better able to understand.
“Biscuits, ribs, beans, corn, and mebe some more of them armadillo eggs, am I right, Bubba?”
“Love them eggs,” Bubba agreed. “Bill?”
“Oh, no they dint leave nothing that I know of,” Leslie said. “I reckon they’ll bill you. Most companies will do that. They won’t forget you owe them somethin’.” He tilted his head. “I don’t even remember what their company name was, but they won’t forget you, like I said.”
“They won’t forget,” Bubba repeated ominously and glanced at Bam Bam. He was no longer happy, and he wasn’t apt to kiss an ugly tree just because he could.
“Reminds me, Bam Bam,” Leslie said. “Company credit card got refused the last time I used it. I think it was on account of those little doodads the markets stick on their phones to swipe cards. Don’t trust those little things. They plug into anyone’s phone, you know. So I got the fella to extend us a little credit on account that I dint have any money with me. Just to let you know. Left the bill on your desk.”
“Right, those little doodads,” Bam Bam said in a dazed manner. “Them doodads always be messing up the credit cards.”
Leslie rubbed his hands together and then systematically cracked all his knuckles. “Well fellas, unless you be interested in cleaning chicken wings or chopping vegetables, I needs be working on the food for the dinner rush, so make like an atom and split. Let a genius get to work.”
“Come on, Bubba,” Bam Bam said, pulling the larger man along with him. “I still need to talk to them girls.”
“Uh,” Bubba said. That didn’t sound like a better idea than leaving Bazooka Boobs, er, Bob’s, at flank speed on his way home to get a snack and get to work on the baby’s crib. That wood sitting in the truck was just baking in the sun outside, and he didn’t think that could be a good thing. Besides, wasn’t it supposed to rain?
Bam Bam leaned into Bubba and whispered, “Someone stole the body. Someone stole the motherbleeping body.” Of course, Bam Bam didn’t use the word “motherbleeping,” but it was quite understandable under the circumstances. “They walked right in pretending to be plumbers or such and then carried it out in a plastic bag like it was a broken commode. Oh, my great horned toads of lesser Africa, what can that mean?”
“In my experience, it means that someone thought they were doing something good, or in one case, something evil. I think it was just the one case. So I think ifin you were interested in statistical analysis, that would mean that it’s about a 75% chance that it was someone trying to do you a favor.” Bubba nodded as they moved out of the range of Leslie’s hearing, although Bubba didn’t think the chef could hear them while he was belting out a rendition of Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band’s “Old Time Rock and Roll.” Thankfully though, he wasn’t sliding around like Tom Cruise in his socks and underwear.
Bam Bam hesitated and glared at Bubba. “That don’t help me.”
They found the door that was marked “PRACTICE” in uppercase letters, and Bubba assumed it was the practice room of which Bam Bam had spoken earlier. It hadn’t actually been twenty minutes since Bam Bam had told his employees he would have a meeting, so no one was there. But there was a half-sized mock runway with several poles attached to floor and ceiling. There was a stereo system on one side and a bookcase with a small selection of CDs. In one corner sat a pile of mats and a set of smaller barbells.
Bam Bam shut the door behind him and muttered, “I thought we was out of the woods, but I reckon we’re still in deep. No trail or lumber road in sight, neither. And I’m thinking there’s a great big grizzly bear who thinks we look like ice cream with whipped cream, yo.”
Bubba nodded. That was generally the way such things were prone to go, yo.
Chapter 11
Bubba and the Further
Deterioration of Events
Tuesday, August 22nd
Bam Bam’s meeting with his employees did not go well. It pretty much went the direct opposite of well. In fact, in the history of all meetings with one’s employees, it would have been rated in the bottom ten percent of meetings going well. However, it would have made the top ten percent of meetings going badly, if someone had created such a list and a way to gauge what constituted a level of badness. Truthfully no one died and no
one was arrested, so there was that, but there was battery upon Bam Bam’s person as Alotta Fagina proceeded to hit him over the head with Cayenne Pepper’s sequined clutch. Then Tomi Knockers started throwing green seedless grapes at him. Bubba had to pick those up before Precious had a mind to eat them since grapes were bad for canines. The remainder of the women began yelling, “Girl WALKERS!” every time Bam Bam started to speak, so he zipped up his screaming howler because he was being yelled at, hit with a purse, or hit with green seedless grapes. Everything culminated in all of the employees walking out en masse except for Leslie, who shook his head sadly as he went back to the kitchen.
Bam Bam stared at the empty room and said, “They got grapes on the practice poles. I don’t know what to say.”
Bubba shrugged. “Better than telling them that everything is hunky dory.”
“I wish,” Bam Bam said longingly. “I should have just taken the money and bought a time share in the Bahamas. At least I’d enjoy it for two weeks a year.”
Precious attempted to eat an errant grape, and Bubba wrestled it out of her mouth. “Heel, girl,” he said loudly, but since dropped food was on the menu, she wasn’t in the mood to listen much less to heel. Instead she began to sniff along the floor for any fruit that Bubba might have missed. She even sniffed the practice poles.
“Now what’ll we do?” Bam Bam asked.
“I’m goin’ home,” Bubba said. “I got a baby crib to build. You know for the baby that my wife is carrying. Ain’t got time for this nonsense. Ain’t no body now. I believe things are looking up.” Somewhere deep inside Bubba felt just a tiny, little, itty-bitty tad of guilt over abandoning Bam Bam, but it was just an incremental smidgeon of guilt, so he thought he could live with it.
“Oh, she’s not going to give birth for at least what, three months,” Bam Bam disagreed. “Then you’ll be super busy making formula, changing diapers, and watching Finding Nemo three times a week. You’ll be sorry you missed out when you’re carrying a load of kaka bombs to the diaper pail.”
Bubba snatched another grape out of Precious’s reach while Bam Bam continued, “And did you child proof your house? There’s these little plastic things that go over the outlets, and you can put locks on your cupboards. That can go on the refrigerator, too. I knew a gal who had to put one of those on her garbage can! That was when the kid started cruising and holding on to stuff that was about his height. Almost caught his hands in the pop top of the garbage can. Those little fingers are mighty tender.” He paused for obvious consideration. “Of course, you have more time to do that than with the crib. You won’t have to worry about it until the baby starts to crawl. What is that? Five, six months? Something like that.”
Bubba stared at Bam Bam. “How do you know all this stuff?”
Bam Bam waved his hands in a gesture that indicated the whole club. “Most of these ladies have children, and they be talking about that stuff all the time. Well, most of the time. I learned things that no unmarried man should ever know.” He shuddered briefly.
“Prolly be different when you have one,” Bubba said idly. The thought of changing a diaper didn’t bother him. He’d done it many times before, and the important rule to remember when changing a diaper was a universal truth that too few people never learned: poopy washes off. It was a motto that he should have remembered on a daily basis. No matter how much of the excrement was flung in his direction, it wouldn’t stick, and even if a little got on him, it would come off in the shower.
Bam Bam collected a grape from his shoulder and dumped it into a nearby garbage can even while Precious screwed up her dogly face in dismay.
“Do I report it?” Bam Bam asked. “Do I pretend I didn’t see it? I be confused.”
“Me be, too,” Bubba agreed. He was being tugged to the door by the invisible force called shuffle-off-to-Buffalo-quick, but there was another invisible force called oh-how-could-you-leave-now? that was keeping his feet in place. The truth was a little more disheartening. The fella, John J. Johnson the Third, had been murdered by person or persons unknown in Bazooka Bob’s, specifically in the rear men’s bathroom. Then the fella who was a corpse had disappeared when people in a black van had appeared and taken him away. It made Bubba think about things that he didn’t want to think about because thinking about such things always gave him a headache.
“How do you know DEA agents haven’t bin in the club?” Bubba asked.
“One of them police women pointed them out to me at the wedding,” Bam Bam explained. “I believe she was kin to your wife. One of Willodean’s sisters? She had about five of them mimosas, and she was telling everyone’s life story in criminal detail. Did you know your mother once got arrested for picketing a U.S. President? Can’t recall which one it was.”
“It was more than one,” Bubba muttered darkly, “not to mention a few congressmen and one governor. So you’re saying since you didn’t see any of the same DEA guys here, then you don’t think they were here?”
Bam Bam nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“Something niggling at the back of my brain,” Bubba said. “That fella looked like a spook. We’ve seen a few of those around. It wasn’t them who arrested my mother; I believe it was the Secret Service that time, er two times. Ma has a good lawyer, and I don’t mean Lawyer Petrie, although he’s getting better in criminal cases.”
“Good to remember,” Bam Bam acknowledged. “Well, then that’s what I mean. There’s regulars who come in. I know a bunch from Pegramville, and there’s some that come from other counties. Don’t make no never mind to me. There’s the odd irregular fella. Sometimes gals come in. You know that lady who runs the gym? She loves to watch Cayenne Pepper’s twisting lemon show. Tips real nice too. I can’t afford the gym right now, so I dance around here to Elvis music when no one’s around.”
Bubba cringed. That bit of information was bordering on too much. He was never going to be able to listen to the King again.
More importantly he couldn’t think of why governmental agencies with lots of initials that stood for things that no one understood would be interested in Bazooka Bob’s. The NSA collected data, and according to Miz Demetrice, that was the reason the phone clicked when they made or took calls in the mansion. There wasn’t any reason to be interested in a gentlemen’s club. Then there was the CIA, who was interested in foreign intelligence, and as far as Bubba could tell, there weren’t any foreign nationals at Bazooka Bob’s (there was the man in the Panama hat, but Bubba didn’t know if he was or wasn’t an American citizen). Also, there didn’t seem to be any intelligence nearby that would appeal to a foreign government. (It wasn’t like NATO or the United Nations met regularly at B.B.’s to discuss critical foreign affairs.) There was, however, the FBI who had been in Pegram County for various and sundry reasons. Domestic intelligence and security issues within the US of A were their purview.
“Might you have something goin’ on with the FBI?” Bubba asked.
“The FBI? Good God, no,” Bam Bam said. “I ain’t kidnapped no one. I don’t believe I’ve done anything that might interest them.”
The DEA seemed most likely. Illegal drugs did come through Pegram County on its way to northern locales. Ralph Cedarbloom was the only example that Bubba could think of in terms of illegal marijuana production, and he was strictly small time. There were also the Durleys who had a still, but they had nearly made their business legal by investing in proper equipment and adhering to local regulations concerning alcohol production. The Durleys had to invest in lawyers, land, code enforcement, and a few other things in order to legally distill liquor, and as far as Bubba knew, they were still waiting on the proper licensure from the state of Texas. In any case, if what they were doing was illegal, and it had been, then it would have been the ATF who would have been knocking at their doors. (Or at their thicket as the case may have been.) (And of course, since the town’s drunkest drunk was Newt Durley, the ATF might not actually find any moonshine left in the still if Newt had been on a recent ben
der.)
Maybe Bubba was being biased, but since Bob Shufflebottom had gone south, he couldn’t help but wonder if Bob had been doing some off the side business in the form of illegal drugs. A fella could come into Bazooka Bob’s, see a girl do a show, and leave with a brick of something that would get them an extended visit at Huntsville if they were caught. Even Ralph Cedarbloom came calling at Bazooka Bob’s once in a while, and Bubba had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t only to see girls dancing.
Bam Bam stared at Bubba. “What you thinking, Bubba?”
“I’m thinking your brother was a federal employee and that somehow he found out about you. Mebe it was just serendipity. Then he decided to come down and warn you. Dint he say something about danger?”
“He said it wasn’t safe and that he needed to talk to me,” Bam Bam said slowly. “I guess he could be a fed or something of that like. Wouldn’t that just twist your knickers all up? One brotha on the wrong side and one brotha on the right. How about that?” Then his face wrinkled in confusion. “How do you tell if a fella is a fed? I mean, what are you basing this on, Bubba?”
“It’s the same principle as when you recognize an undercover po-lice officer,” Bubba explained. “They have a certain look, a certain walk, and they stare at you like they was a Great White shark and you was a seal. I think they watch Animal Planet a lot. You know, for inspiration.”
“And you’re basing that this guy, maybe my brother, was one of them, on his suit? You didn’t talk to him. You didn’t see him walking.”
“He’s got next to nothing in his wallet. He’s got the black suit,” Bubba explained.
“I got a black suit,” Bam Bam said, but then he pursed his lips and added, “although it’s this shiny vinyl pleather material. Looks good in the sunshine. It sparkles.”
“And ifin you were wearing it, ain’t no one who would think you was a fed,” Bubba said as if he had won the argument.