Bubba and the Curious Cadaver

by C. L. Bevill

  Bubba shifted his weight to his other leg. He was getting uncomfortable in a way that suggested that his mother was trying to make him feel guilty for questioning her. He’d been the recipient of this tactic for more years than he’d care to count, so he took a breath and waited.

  “So I’m leaving,” she announced.

  Miz Demetrice didn’t move. Neither did Bubba.

  “I was just supposed to keep an eye on Bazooka Bob’s and Bam Bam,” she finally muttered. “See what was going on and all.”

  That made sense. Ralph had said something of the same ilk. So had some of the other people. There had been government people about. No one knew what was happening. Then one dark and stormy night (it could have been dark and stormy) John J. Johnson the Third showed up to warn his long-lost brother of impending stuff.

  “And you met with Agent Peterson before,” Bubba said.

  “There might have been tea involved,” she admitted. “Possibly crumpets. And some of those delightful cucumber sandwiches. I haven’t had such a delicious cucumber sandwich since 1998 when I met with Hillary Clinton in Barbados.”

  Bubba thought about it. If Peterson had known Demetrice Snoddy, then why had he climbed on Bubba’s back? Probably because Peterson thought that Bubba was an unknown quantity even if he was Miz Demetrice’s son. Furthermore, he had illicit connections to crime world people like Bam Bam Jones and Big Mama in Dallas. Who knew what all of that really meant? (It meant NOTHING! Bubba yelled internally.) But Bubba had shown up and started asking questions of people and calling numbers he shouldn’t have called. Bubba had suddenly appeared like a person of interest.

  “And they asked you to keep an eye out,” Bubba stated.

  “There might have bin some other things, too,” Miz Demetrice allowed.

  “Like what?”

  “One of Peterson’s fellas asked me to give him a ride to Bazooka Bob’s on Monday,” she said quickly.

  “The one who looks a lot like Bam Bam,” Bubba guessed.

  “I almost had apoplexy when he climbed into the Caddy,” Miz Demetrice said. “Thought it was Bam Bam. Then he spoke quickly and convinced me that he was someone else. Ain’t too many people who kin talk like they was born north of Mason-Dixon Line unless they was born north of the Mason-Dixon Line.”

  “I think he was from D.C., Ma,” Bubba rumbled.

  “So?”

  “Mason-Dixon Line was north of Maryland,” Bubba explained.

  Miz Demetrice shrugged delicately as if niggling facts couldn’t be bothered with.

  “It was you who dropped him off at Bazooka Bob’s,” Bubba said. That part made sense. John J. Johnson the Third was planning on staying at the club, maybe even protecting his long-lost brother. Perhaps he had intended to take Bam Bam’s place while Bam Bam hared off to Las Vegas. Who really knew the answers to all of those questions?

  “How was I to know that someone was going to kill him?” Miz Demetrice asked petulantly. “Bodies pop up everywhere in Pegram County.” She paused and then quickly added, “It wasn’t like I saw anyone else that evening. I dint see anyone else, and I left most promptly. I was somewhat unnerved that someone might see me at Bazooka Bob’s when it was closed. Those awful gossips. You know there’s a special place in hell for gossips?”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “I don’t think so,” Miz Demetrice said. Then she put a finger to her lower lip. “There’s an ongoing pool on the sex and name of your child. I might have put in some money. I’m thinking it’s a boy, and you’re naming him after my father.”

  “Fletcher Napoleon?” Bubba asked, but it wasn’t really a question. The very idea horrified him, and it would probably make Willodean barf up her toenails.

  “I should have some advantage,” she said arrogantly, “because I am your mother.”

  “We don’t know ifin it’s a boy or a girl, Ma,” he said. “You know that. And you also know we cain’t make up our minds about the name.”

  There was another delicate shrug that said volumes about those pesky niggling facts and their inconsequentiality to it all.

  “Kin I assume that your connection to them gov’ment people has bin…oh, severed?” he asked.

  “You can assume,” she said.

  “Ma?”

  “Peterson hasn’t called me for anything,” Miz Demetrice said haughtily.

  “You do know that they tasered me and drugged me?” Bubba asked.

  Her face wrinkled. “Maybe ifin you’d introduced yourself,” she suggested as if being polite in a purely southern manner would have allowed him to avoid that particular unpleasant experience.

  Bubba shook his head. “We made a deal, he and I. I expect you won’t be at Bazooka Bob’s tonight.”

  “You kin expect anything you’d like, dearest,” Miz Demetrice said and edged around him like the pro she was at that exact maneuver. She swiftly petted Precious who was flopped on the grass and then hurried away to her car.

  Bubba winced, not really interested in stopping his mother. He’d have to tie her up to keep her away from Bazooka Bob’s. Then he’d have to tie up his wife. Neither of whom would take it well. He looked at his hound. “Well, you kin stay home, Precious woobie bubbie woo, cain’t you?”

  Precious looked up at her master and decided he’d lost his ever loving mind.

  * * *

  When Bubba walked in his front door with a to-go bag from the Hogfather’s, Willodean was wearing the Spongebob robe with the matching slippers. (Her feet went into Spongebob’s great smiling mouth.) A large bag of Lay’s Classic Potato Chips sat in her lap, and a tall glass of iced tea sat on the table to her side. The television was on, and she watched Dean and Sam Winchester arguing about demons or somesuch thing.

  Willodean looked up at him and smiled brilliantly. “Good, you’re in time to save me from eating the whole bag of chips,” she said.

  When Willodean smiled at Bubba like that, it felt like a supernova went off in his chest. He leaned in for a kiss that involved a slight amount of potato chip crumbs. (This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.) When he was done, she said, “I’m going to have to pour that iced tea down my front now, cowboy.”

  Bubba sat on the floor at her feet, putting the to-go bag aside, and gingerly extracted one from its Spongebob slipper. He looked at her ankles and was pleased to see that nothing was swelling. He carefully rubbed her foot with his large fingers until Willodean moaned. Then he replaced her slipper and did the other foot just the same.

  “When you do that, I’d do anything for you,” she muttered.

  Bubba brightened. “Gotta go back to Bazooka Bob’s tonight,” he said. “Something’s goin’ to happen. Mebe tonight or tomorrow. Possibly Friday, but not after that.”

  “If you were another man,” Willodean said, “I would suspect that was a convoluted line.”

  “Ain’t a line.”

  “I know, sweetheart. Why can’t I come?” Willodean had jumped to the crux of the matter like a pro. It wasn’t her first Bubba rodeo by any means.

  “Could be dangerous.”

  “That isn’t a good reason.”

  Bubba glowered. “You’re pregnant.”

  “I have a pregnancy-sized bulletproof vest. I’ll look like a blimp, but all will be well.”

  “Ifin you come, it might look suspicious,” Bubba attempted to sideline her with acute aplomb.

  Willodean digested that reason for a bit. “I can stake out the place. John will back me up. He loves stakeouts.”

  Bubba would have groaned, but he knew wouldn’t do him any good. “Will you stay out of the place?”

  “You know I can’t promise that,” Willodean said.

  Bubba gently put her foot back into its Spongebob slipper and sighed. “Wouldn’t be you otherwise.”

  “You could kiss me again,” Willodean suggested helpfully.

  Bubba perked up. It was possible that he hadn’t gone through all of the ways that he could be most persuasive. He climbed to his feet an
d collected Willodean into his arms.

  Willodean made a protesting noise. “I’m too heavy,” she said.

  “Nonsense,” Bubba said as he carried her toward the stairs. Willodean reciprocated by wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re a sylph, a feather, a sexy mosquito.”

  All that was left were giggles for some time.

  And also there was the sound of paper being crinkled and undone as Precious took care of the to-go bag from the Hogfather’s.

  * * *

  Bubba should have known that nothing in life was ever easy. He was certain he’d said those very words before. It should have been on the front of his t-shirt or on a baseball cap. It should have been proclaimed on the largest billboard. It should have screamed from the highest cliff: NOTHING IN LIFE IS EVER EASY!

  Once he had finished loving his wife (not that he would ever really finish loving on the beauteous sheriff’s deputy), he’d made a few phone calls. Then Willodean had made a few phone calls. They’d both showered and dressed. Bubba was in jeans, a button-down shirt, and his favorite Stetson, which had been a gift from his wife. Willodean was in her maternity sheriff’s deputy uniform, complete with the specialized bulletproof vest. (The Gray family had a lot of female law enforcement officers, and the vest made the rounds as the various Grays married and procreated in their way.)

  Bubba stopped by the Pegram County Sheriff’s Department offices to drop off Willodean. Sheriff John waved after Bubba had finished thoroughly kissing his wife goodbye for the moment. “Try not to go inside,” Bubba insisted, “also to duck, and not to worry about me.”

  “I’ll try,” Willodean said, and she turned to watch him drive off. “You, too!”

  They’d left Precious at the caretaker’s house. The hound hadn’t been happy despite a bribe of three Milk-Bones, which she hadn’t deserved or needed, since she had eaten most of the barbeque from The Hogfather’s. She knew when she was being ditched. Bubba would have been cheerfully, indecently gleeful if he could have ditched his wife and mother along with his hound, but that wasn’t happening. As a matter of fact, Miz Demetrice’s Caddy had been suspiciously absent when they’d left the house around 6 p.m. (His mother wouldn’t make anything easy for him.)

  When Bubba ran into a traffic jam on FM Route 35, he was mildly surprised. His mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that so many people were about on a Wednesday evening on a road that was typically light on traffic on the busiest days.

  Accident? Bubba wondered. He hoped not. Of course, it wasn’t an accident. What it was was nearly every person who lived in Pegram County were all going to the same place: Bazooka Bob’s.

  Bubba slumped inside the cab of Ol’ Green. That wasn’t good. It meant that everyone was coming to see what was happening with the Department of Homeland Security. (To Bubba’s knowledge the entrance of that particular agency was a first for Pegram County.) He passed a Ford truck parked on the shoulder he recognized as belonging to Bryan McGee, and Bryan rolled down his window and waved at Bubba.

  Ol’ Green’s windows were nearly always rolled down in the summertime, so Bubba turned his head.

  “I’m calling my brother and my two cousins, Bubba,” Bryan called, holding up his cellphone. “We’re rounding up a tushyload of support for all of this.”

  A Toyota Tacoma sat in front of Bubba and a VW bus behind him, so Bubba was stuck there for the moment. His face crinkled as he considered Bryan’s words. “Support,” he repeated loudly.

  “That’s right. Those poor unfortunate women need our he’p,” Bryan called.

  “Yeah!” yelled the guy in the Toyota in front of Bubba. Bubba didn’t know the guy, but clearly the guy had overheard Bryan.

  “Just that?” Bubba asked Bryan.

  “What else is there?” Bryan called back. When Bubba didn’t immediately answer, Bryan added, “Seriously, those are nearly destitute women who take off their clothes and dance for a living. What else is there?”

  Chapter 24

  Bubba and the Bizarre

  Feeling of Indubitableness

  Wednesday, August 23rd

  What there was, was a completely jammed parking lot. Three of the exotic dancers were outside directing traffic and guiding people to parking places. Bubba recognized Alotta Fagina, who cheerfully waved at him. Tomi Knockers and Queen Vajayjay also waved at him. Lots of orange traffic cones had been quickly supplied by someone or someplace unknown that routed traffic to where the three dancers wanted them to go. Furthermore, there was a fire-breathing busker keeping people occupied while he produced ten-feet-long gouts of flame that arched dramatically into the air. Down the way from the fire-spitting street performer was a juggler who was switching from bowling pins to chainsaws. (Small chainsaws but chainsaws nonetheless, and more importantly, the man hadn’t yet started them up.) There was even a food truck that was selling churros and other quick items that tempted Bubba for a slight moment before he brought himself back on track. People were lined up and were taking away paper trays full of chocolate-and sugar-coated Spanish sweets.

  Bubba goggled. It was a demented circus, which pretty much described Pegram County to a T.

  Alotta yelled at him, “Bam Bam saved you a spot next to his Gremlin.”

  Bubba had to weave his truck through the throngs of people who were milling about or waiting to go inside Bazooka Bob’s. Finally, he located the purple metallic AMC with the gold curb feelers and the empty spot next to it. One of the other dancers, Pop Tart Smith, if Bubba remembered correctly, pointed at him and then helpfully removed the traffic cones that were reserving the spot for him. It was three spots down from the front door of Bazooka Bob’s, and obviously denoted a place of honor for the recipient. Bubba didn’t exactly feel honored, especially since a few people shot him glares for getting the good parking when they had obviously parked in the field next door to the establishment.

  Bubba parked Ol’ Green and got out, craning his neck to see all of the people about him. Some of them he recognized. Some of them he didn’t. Everyone was laughing or smiling or seemed happy to be there. He wouldn’t think that was the case if they were expecting some kind of big bust. In fact, if a bust was expected then the place probably would be like a ghost town during a blizzard while a famine was occurring and a plague of locusts was about to descend in a biblical fashion.

  Bubba placed his Stetson on his head and wondered where all the key players were located as well as the cameras. His right side was definitely his best. After all, if he was going to be on digital, then he should have his best side showing. He reconsidered the Stetson because it really had been a gift from Willodean, and he didn’t want it to be crushed when the inevitable happened. He carefully put it back into the truck and locked the doors. Then he reconsidered again because the truck’s doors weren’t exactly a deterrent to someone helping themselves to something that was sitting on the bench seat. He put the hat back on because he didn’t have a choice. He could leave it in Bam Bam’s office, of course.

  “BUBBA!” someone yelled, and Bubba looked to see it was a combination of three people. Daniel Lewis Gollihugh loomed over him while wearing what had to be a specially made suit with a red tie. He also had a pin on the lapel that said, “If anything is worth doing, do it with all your heart. – Buddha.” Then there was Bam Bam, who was wearing the suit he’d talked about previously. It was a suit made out of some sort of shiny material that twinkled in the light cast by the giant neon Bazooka Bob’s sign. (Girls! Girls! Girls! Free Buffet on Tuesdays!) He also wore a lavender shirt under the jacket with a tie that was about three shades darker lavender. The ensemble was complete with black and white spats. The third member of their party and the third one to yell, “BUBBA!” in concert with the others was none other than David Beathard. He wore…

  Bubba had to blink. It was a full-length gown in multiple animal-print fabrics. The top was zebra. The middle was cheetah. The bottom was giraffe. It hugged David’s visibly girdled figure like he had been sewn into it. He was also wea
ring the strawberry-colored wig again except that all of the hair had been scooped up into a frou frou bun that was contained by an elaborate rhinestone tiara that would have been appropriate in a beauty contest finale.

  The three men gathered around Bubba and looked surreptitiously about them, except they were about as surreptitious as two blind men having a conversation in sign language.

  “What’s the plan, Bubba?” Bam Bam asked.

  “Waiting,” Bubba said. He could get a churro instead of wading through the inevitable crowd on the inside. Hadn’t a free buffet been mentioned? Had he paid for himself, his wife, and his mother from the last time? He couldn’t remember. But there are churros. Willodean would want one of those later.

  “I ain’t seen no one what looks like a man in black,” Dan said.

  “They won’t be in black today,” David chided. “They’ll be undercover.”

  Dan eyed David suspiciously. “How do I know you ain’t one?”

  “Would a man in black live at the Dogley Institute of Mental Well-Being?”

  Dan suddenly smiled. “I reckon not. ‘Sides you’re Snuggles Palomino now. Ain’t no way you’re a man in black. Mebe a stripper in black.”

  Churros. Churros. Churros, Bubba thought deliberately.

  “So what do we do?” Bam Bam asked.

  “I think we’re supposed to be inconspicuous,” Bubba said dryly. The crowd was as about as inconspicuous as a hog sitting on a sofa watching a soap opera.

  “I had no idea that the news would spread,” Bam Bam said defensively. “Didn’t someone tell me that they ran Bazooka Bob’s out of town years ago? Where did all the love suddenly come from?”

  “It was right next to a church,” Bubba said. “Prolly a school, too. I think a daycare might have bin around the corner. Think Bob was trying to get the church choir to come in after they was done singing. There were reasons.” He glanced around him. It was all likely that Agent Peterson wasn’t going to like this scenario. He was probably seething wherever he was located. Furthermore, how likely was it that whoever he wanted was going to be showing up in this hot mess on toast?