by C. L. Bevill
Bubba shrugged. He had ducked. It hadn’t done much good. “I’d git you somethin’ to et, but I think about a dozen or more folks had their hands in the buffet. In the buffet.” He demonstrated with his hand simulating a scooping and throwing motion.
“This all wrapped up?” Sheriff John asked.
“I think Big Joe tromped over your jurisdictional rights,” Bubba said.
“Oh yeah,” Sheriff John said. “Wait until Ralph’s lawyer sees that part on the intake papers. The judge is goin’ to yell ‘dismissed’ faster than a striped lizard on hot asphalt. I ain’t one to correct a fellow law enforcement official, though. Big Joe’s a big boy. He can take the heat.”
Willodean inched up and leaned her head back for a kiss. Bubba carefully bent down, making certain not to get fake Jell-O and various food stuffs on her uniform. She smiled when he pulled back. “I think there’s a tarp in the back of the truck,” she said. “You can sit on that.”
Bubba looked around. “I reckon there ain’t much more to do around here.” In truth, he was still troubled by the Leslie/dead John J. Johnson the Third thing. He didn’t think that Leslie had shot Johnson, but there wasn’t anything that could be proven. Furthermore, if he followed that reasoning as he had done before, then everyone in the club who had a set of keys was a suspect.
The thought of so many suspects made Bubba’s head hurt and made about as much sense if meatballs had suddenly developed wings and started to fly.
Meatballs. It was then that Bubba remembered where he’d seen Leslie before. On Monday night at the Odd Fellows’ fundraiser, Leslie had been the one making the delicious meatballs that had gone over so well. Dang good meatballs.
That meant one thing, well two things. People were going to miss Leslie’s cooking, and Leslie couldn’t have been the one to shoot Johnson because he had the exact same alibi as Bubba.
Sheriff John and Willodean watched as people streamed out of the club, each trying to determinedly wipe stuff from their bodies. Some people only had Jell-O and potatoes on their knees and below because of the ponchos they’d been wearing. One might say they were the lucky ones.
“Did I mention that we came over here last night, no that was early this morning, looking for you?” Willodean asked Bubba. “It was funny. I think all those girls were scared of me. Hey, is Dan kissing a stripper?”
“No, that’s Trixiebelle,” Bubba said.
“Trixiebelle’s a stripper?”
“Exotic dancer,” David Beathard said as he approached them. “I’m never going to get this gravy out of this chiffon. Who started throwing food from the buffet?”
“Did we miss the fan dance?” Sheriff John asked.
“It was the finale,” David said sadly, “and I didn’t get to perform.”
Then Bubba thought about what Ralph had said about the woman he’d seen at the club the night of the murder. “It was the one throwing Jell-O at Bam Bam.” Which one of the dancers had been throwing fake Jell-O at Bam Bam? It was on the edge of Bubba’s consciousness. There had been so much going on in the last ten minutes that it was blurred. He looked around trying to find clarification.
“Did anything happen when you came to the club last night?” Bubba asked. Sometimes Willodean noticed things that he wouldn’t have thought twice about.
“We were looking for you,” she said. Willodean indicated Sheriff John. She eyed Bubba with the scrutiny of a wife who has swiftly become aware that Bubba was onto something. Her lovely face made a frown as her eyebrows came together, and she thought about it. She said slowly, “Bam Bam confessed to the whole luring you in to find a body thing. Not sure what we can do about that since there isn’t a body, and I don’t think Homeland Security wants us to find a body.”
Sheriff John glanced around Bazooka Bob’s. “First, Bam Bam dint really want to tell us. He did tell us you went to the Cedarblooms looking for Ralph.”
“Then we asked to search the place,” Willodean said. “Did we ask, John? I don’t remember.”
“You did ask, Willodean,” Sheriff John stated, “but there was mace involved. Certain implications were made.”
Willodean shrugged. If Bubba didn’t know better, he would have sworn she was taking lessons on shrugging from his mother. “Several of those dancers ran for the back like they were hiding stuff,” she said.
“We’ve seen that before,” Sheriff John said. “People throw their dime bags out the window when we pull them over. Folks always want to hide something from the po-lice.”
Hide something, Bubba thought. John J. Johnson the Third’s own gun is missing. Dint think to ask those gov’ment peoples about it. We searched the bathroom, but what if the murderer hid it in their locker or something? Prolly cain’t search all the lockers.
Bubba frowned as Sheriff John, Willodean, and David all watched him.
Cain’t be Bam Bam because he wouldn’t have called me. Prolly wouldn’t have, Bubba determined. Wouldn’t make sense no how. He would have just rolled the body out to the Gremlin and took it to the river.
Bubba scratched the side of his head. Cain’t be Leslie because he was at Odd Fellows making meatballs.
Has to be one of them dancers, Bubba concluded. There was the lipstick tube in the bathroom. There was no evidence of breaking in, although John J. Johnson the Third had broken in. (Must be part of his gov’ment training to pick locks, Bubba decided.)
And if John J. Johnson the Third wasn’t the intended victim, then Bam Bam was, Bubba thought. He glanced at Bam Bam who was trying to sweep fake Jell-O into the corner.
Sheriff John’s shoulder mike crackled, and he bent his head to listen. Willodean turned, and they heard the call. “Fire outside,” Willodean explained. “Someone’s car is on fire.”
Bubba gave his wife a quick peck before they hurried outside, followed by just about everyone else. Hiding something, he thought again. Where would I hide something that had my fingerprints on it?
“Bam Bam,” he called, and the other man looked up. The club had emptied out of nearly everyone but Dan, Trixiebelle, and David. “Kin I clean up in the bathroom?”
“Sure,” Bam Bam said. “Got the keys right here.”
“You’ve kept that bathroom locked up?”
“You bet, you’re rootin’ tootin’,” he said. “I’ll unlock it for you. I guess I don’t need to worry about that no more.”
Bubba and Bam Bam walked through the kitchen and down the hallway. Once the music had stopped, all the people had filed out, and the place was empty, it seemed too quiet.
Bam Bam unlocked the door and pocketed the keys. “I’ll get your hat, but if you want to leave it here because your hands and hair are still covered with stuff, you can pick it up tomorrow.”
“Willodean can carry it,” Bubba said. “I’ll wash my hands. I kin come back tomorrow and he’p clean. Ma kin bring some folks, too.” He knew he was distracted. He was thinking about how something might have happened. All alone in the bathroom he said, “This fella came in the club looking just like Bam Bam. He warned Bam Bam and then went to leave, but he ran into someone else. Someone who was lookin’ for Bam Bam. So that someone thought that Johnson the Third was Bam Bam, on account that they’re twins, and ain’t no one knows about it because both were adopted separately.” He nodded. “So that someone mebe snuggles up to Bam Bam like she knows he likes because they bin together before. Mebe Johnson realized that someone didn’t know he wasn’t Bam Bam and played Bam Bam for the moment until he could walk away clean. But someone found the gun in Johnson’s holster and snatched it.”
Bubba looked around. It was a longshot story, but it fit the details.
“Bam,” Bubba said making his hand the shape of a gun and pointing toward an imaginary head. “There goes the agent from Homeland Security.” He put his hands on his hips and made a sound when he found a pork chop sticking there. He peeled it off, and it fell to the floor. “What does someone do with the gun? Everyone knows it’s got fingerprints on it. Could wipe it of
f and leave it here but they dint.” He pursed his lips. “Could take it with them and dispose of it later.”
Bubba’s eyes settled on the air vent high on the wall. It was a simple aluminum affair with little hooks that kept it in place so the air filter could easily be changed. “Really?”
He stepped up, undid the hooks, and put the cover on the ground. Then he tugged out the air filter and saw the weapon lying there. He didn’t know it was except that it looked like one of his mother’s Glocks, and he wasn’t going to touch it either to see if he could read the name on the side. Someone had been in a terrible hurry. They had probably meant to come back. He said it out loud. “Someone meant to come back on account of them fingerprints, but there were other things goin’ on. Mebe they even closed this grill up quicklike because they heard someone like Bam Bam coming. And mebe they took Johnson’s cellphone with them because they dint know what else to do. Then when they came back…”
“The bathroom was always locked except when those agents came to get his body,” someone said. “Also, you were always around. I couldn’t break into the bathroom because everyone would know. I had to wait. I thought all of you would go out and watch the firetrucks. But noooo, you had to come back here.”
Bubba turned his head. He’d been so absorbed in his theory that he hadn’t heard the door open. “You were the one throwing fake Jell-O at Bam Bam,” he said. “And you tole me that when Willodean and Sheriff John came that you flushed something down the potty. Bam Bam said someone had flushed a cellphone down the toilet, so that must have bin Johnson’s.” He didn’t wait for an answer but went on. “You were the one who left their car in the lot. The Lincoln, right?” Again, he didn’t wait for an answer. “And you also have a new gun.”
“Diamond keeps a Ruger Super Blackhawk .44 Magnum in her purse,” the someone said, showing the side of the weapon quickly to Bubba before they pointed at him again. “And she doesn’t lock her locker. It made everything easier.”
“Was I right?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” she said. “I thought he was Bam Bam, but he wasn’t. When I followed him in the bathroom, he got twitchy, and when I went to kiss him, I felt the gun because my hands were wrapped around his waist inside his jacket. I don’t think he realized I had it until the second before.”
“And you dropped your lipstick, too,” Bubba said.
“My what?”
“Hey, Bubba,” Bam Bam said. “I got your hat, and hey, Gummi, I didn’t know you were still here—” he hesitated as he saw the gun swivel around and point at him. Bubba took a step forward, but Gummi scuttled into the corner and made little forays with the end of the gun toward both of them. “I’ll just go back and see if I can find a bucket,” Bam Bam said as if he hadn’t seen the gun. There was a split second where Bubba thought Bam Bam was going to pull it off, but then the someone, who was named Gummi Worm for the purposes of illicit and some not so illicit doings, jabbed it in Bam Bam’s direction.
“Stay there!” Gummi ordered.
“Gummi, baby, did you sit in a pile of sugar? Because you have a sweet tushie,” Bam Bam said quickly. “I want to live in your socks, so I can be with you every step of the day. Is your name ChapStick? Because you dah balm!”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Gummi yelled. “I can’t think when you do that!”
Bam Bam shut up, but it was obvious that he wanted to go on and try his best to charm Gummi out of killing them.
“Mebe it was just a struggle,” Bubba suggested. “You dint mean to kill that fella that done looked just like Bam Bam. You grabbed his gun, and it just went off, right?”
“Right,” Bam Bam agreed. “I knows me lots of people whose guns just went off. It be a genuine defense. Guns be goin’ off accidentally every five minutes.”
Gummi appeared confused.
“I got a good lawyer,” Bubba said. “Lawyer Petrie will go to bat for you. Remember I said I’d fix your car, right?” Strippermobile darted into his head, and he thought that wasn’t going to help at all. The Lincoln Continental had been in the parking lot because Gummi was inside Bazooka Bob’s on Monday night killing Johnson. Then when she had gone to flee, it was likely that the car refused to start, and she’d found another way home, or maybe she’d slept in the car. That part didn’t matter.
“Or I could just kill the two of you and walk away,” Gummi said. “Besides, that car is history now. Two gallons of gas and a match will do that to a car. I had to get those police officers out of the club, didn’t I?”
“Baby,” Bam Bam said easily, “why you bein’ so mean to me? We meant to be together. Remember, you dumped me.”
“Because you wouldn’t marry me!” Gummi shrieked. “I NEED to be married! My biological clock is TICKING!”
“I wasn’t ready for it,” Bam Bam said quickly. “I can see I’ve made a mistake. This doesn’t have to go down like this. It can be you and me together forever. Just like the song.”
“Maybe,” Gummi agreed, and the gun went to point at Bubba, “but he’s got to go. You seem like you like him better than me. You called him to help you out. You hung out with him. You talked to him. Not me.”
“Bubba knows about these things, sweetibuns,” Bam Bam said soothingly.
“He’s got to die!”
Bubba hoped that Willodean would stay in the parking lot until Gummi had left with Bam Bam. “Make it quick,” he said.
“I’m just going to—” Gummi started but someone came up to the still-open bathroom door and said, “Bam Bam, have you seen my—”
Diamond stopped talking as she saw Bubba standing stock-still, and then her eyes traveled to Gummi, and she finished with— “gun?” Bubba assumed it was Diamond because he still couldn’t tell which twin was which, which was what the case had been with Bam Bam and John J. Johnson the Third. However, Diamond was the one who’d owned up to having the protection of the very large revolver, so it had to be her.
The weapon swiftly came around to Diamond and Gummi said, “Don’t move, Diamond. I’ll use it if I have to.”
Diamond was just as still as the two men for a long amount of time. But then she said, “Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not being silly!” Gummi said loudly. “Bam Bam wouldn’t marry me. Bubba got in the way. That other fella got in the way.”
“The one in the suit?” Diamond asked.
Bubba nodded.
“So it wasn’t Bam Bam playing a joke,” Diamond said. “I knew it! You killed him? Not with my gun, did you?”
“She used his own gun,” Bubba said. “It’s in the vent.”
“And it’s going with us,” Gummi said. “I’ll throw it in the nearest river. There won’t be a lick of evidence.”
“So you’re going to kill Bubba and then Bam Bam and me, too?” Diamond asked plaintively. “I loaned you my best six-inch high, metallic-gold stilettos.”
“I won’t kill you or Bam Bam,” Gummi denied. “Just Bubba.”
“Bubba ain’t that bad,” Diamond said. “Girl, you need to think this over.”
“I have to do something!” Gummi shrieked.
Diamond sighed. She stepped forward, and Gummi shrieked again, “Don’t come any closer!”
Diamond took another step, and Gummi suddenly attempted to pull the trigger with a great jerk of her shoulders as if the movement of her shoulder would help with the pulling. The trigger didn’t move. She did it again. Then she looked at the massive revolver in her hand and tried to depress the hammer with her thumb. It didn’t move. She made a sound that was not unlike a chipmunk caught under a cat’s paw.
Diamond sensibly took the weapon away from Gummi, careful to not break her long, lacquered nails. “You need to take lessons, sistah. This gun’s got a transfer bar that blocks the hammer until someone is ready to shoot. Plus, there ain’t no bullets in it. I forgot to buy some bullets yesterday when I target practiced. All empty like.”
Bubba sighed. With a swift movement, Gummi lunged for the air vent and a
weapon that she had previously shot someone with just fine, but he blocked her easily. Then Gummi spun and ran for the door. Unfortunately, she slipped on the pork chop Bubba dropped. (Some of the fake Jell-O also might have hindered her ability to stay upright.) Without warning her feet scooted out from underneath her lickety-split and went straight up in the air as her head hit the tile with a resounding clump.
All three people stared at Gummi as she lay very still on the bathroom floor. Finally, Diamond knelt and checked for a pulse. “She’s still breathing, but she’s out cold,” she said. “Who’s going to call an ambulance and the police?”
Epilogue
Bubba and the Epilogue-est
Epilogue That Ever Epilogued
Wednesday, August 23rd
Bam Bam had cleaned enough of the bar so that all the people there could sit on the barstools. Bubba had cleaned off two chairs. One was for Willodean and the other one was for her feet. The rest of the people who sat down were Miz Demetrice, Sheriff John, David, Dan, and Trixiebelle. Everyone else had fled for safer climes. Even the firetrucks that put out the fire that Gummi had set in the Lincoln Continental had departed, happy to have done their part. Ultimately, Bam Bam poured drinks for everyone in the form of the special scotch he’d retrieved from his office, although Willodean got a virgin margarita.
Bubba pulled another chair up next to Willodean’s and cleaned it off with a napkin. There was fake Jell-O and food everywhere. Literally.
Gummi had been taken away by Deputy Simms to be booked in the Pegram County Jail.
“We only got her on assault, intent with a deadly weapon, and attempted murder,” Sheriff John said. “Cain’t prove the murder thing. Not unless them fellas from Homeland Security cooperate. I cain’t see that happening.”
“You mean she might get out in a few years,” Bam Bam said and shuddered. He passed out shots of scotch and then slid over the virgin margarita to Bubba, who handed it to Willodean.
“Or less, ifin she’s good,” Sheriff John said.