by C. L. Bevill
“There’s the gun,” Bubba said. “John J. Johnson the Third’s service weapon is in the air vent. Gummi implied that it’s got her fingerprints on it. How is Homeland Security goin’ to explain what his weapon is doin’ in Pegram County where they were just doin’ a secret operation to capture an internationally wanted terrorist? Bet them reporters would love to hear about that part. I could do an interview. They’re always asking me about doin’ an interview.”
Everyone cogitated on that except Dan and Trixiebelle, who snuggled and cooed to each other.
Sheriff John nodded. “I do believe that would do the trick. I reckon I’ll go search that bathroom right now.”
“The vent on the far wall,” Bubba said helpfully as Sheriff John went through the kitchen door.
“And speaking of the devil, I gotta call from that Peterson fella,” Bam Bam said. “Think he felt a bit sorry for me and all. Tole me that those people from Maryland, the Johnsons, the ones who adopted my brother, wanted to meet me. Big family. Adopted five children who are all grown up now and some of whom have kids, too. They all want to meet John’s brother. So I’m goin’. Driving up that way day after tomorrow after I get this mess taken care of. Not certain when I’ll be back.”
“That’ll be interesting,” Miz Demetrice said, “but you’ll still need to sign those papers.”
“I’ll keep in touch,” Bam Bam said. “You can FedEx them to me. I’ll have them notarized and all. I reckon those people in Maryland will keep me straight. They’s all law enforcement people. The parents are FBI. One chile is CIA, one is Secret Service, one is naval intelligence, and the other one is Maryland State Police. I guess it runs in the family. At least it runs in their family.”
“What papers?” Willodean asked.
“Bam Bam agreed to sell Bazooka Bob’s to all the dancers,” Miz Demetrice said. “They’re going to form a consortium. They’ll be offering pole dancing classes during the day, amongst other things, and starting a burlesque club at night. They’ve got investors lined up already.”
David nodded. “They want me to do my fan dance once a week.”
Bubba suddenly thought of something. “I figured the general was the Latin fella in the Panama hat, so I reckon I was wrong.”
“Panama hat?” Bam Bam repeated. His face cleared. “Oh, you mean Greg. He’s from Guatemala. He runs the pet store on Main Street. He only comes in for the peanuts. He thinks of the girls as his daughters. You really thought he was a terrorist? He’s like a grandfather of ten and won’t step on an ant. He brings puppies to the old folk’s home on Saturdays.”
Bubba shook his head and then patted Willodean’s arm. “You want to go by someplace to git somethin’ to et on the way home?”
“No, I had two more churros while I was waiting for something to happen,” Willodean said as she observed the remnants of the buffet. “What a waste of food.”
“Well, okay then, I reckon we should go home and let the hound out before she chews a hole in the door,” Bubba said. He patted his pockets for his keys and then found the tube of lipstick he’d found in the bathroom. He pulled it out and held it up. It twinkled in the light and caught everyone’s attention. “I guess this will be a mystery.”
“My lipstick!” David cried.
Bubba stared at David. “It was in the men’s bathroom.”
“Well, duh,” David said. Bubba tossed it over with a shake of his head.
Dan and Trixiebelle stood up, arms still wrapped around each other and Dan said, “We’re driving up to the Buddhist temple in Dallas to renew our vows tomorrow, ifin any of you is interested. I know it’s last minute but we’re determined.”
Trixiebelle giggled.
The pair strolled toward the door.
“I’m going to help Bam Bam clean up,” David said.
“Be back in the morning,” Bubba said.
Miz Demetrice nodded. “I know some people who need something good to do, so we’ll bring some cleaning supplies.”
Sheriff John came out of the back holding in one hand a plastic baggie with the Glock in it. “Got it,” he said. “Let those gov’ment peoples talk themselves out of that one.”
Bubba and Willodean walked Miz Demetrice to her Caddy and watched as she drove off. Then Bubba found the tarp in the back of his Chevy truck and set it up on the bench seat. It was either that or drive home naked; it was a choice upon which he pondered only briefly.
After a minute of consideration and a quick smell of himself, Bubba decided that the latter was the best idea.
“I sure hope that none of the other officers pull us over,” Willodean said with a smile, “not that I mind.”
Bubba threw his clothes in the truck bed and climbed in. “I’ll just say it was your fault,” he told her. “I just couldn’t he’p myself.”
They were silent as Bubba started up the truck. Then Willodean said, “Just one more thing, huh?”
“Shore.”
“No more dead bodies this year, okay?”
Bubba grinned at his beloved wife. “I’ll do my best, swear to God.”
– THE END –
Note from the Author: This one took me more time to finish than most. Rotator cuff surgery, illness, and a death in the family all conspired against me. Apologies but all events that could not be helped. You know who to talk to if you have a complaint.
As usual, a profound thanks to my husband, Woodrow, who suffers endlessly as the husband of a woman who loses herself in the throes of writing. (It’s kind of like a mental disorder except that it’s not listed officially in the DSM V.) Anyway, he’s a trouper, and I’m thankful that he’s my sounding board for very weird questions, of which he does not blink. Thanks to my daughter, Crescencia Rose, who also puts up with my weirdness. No thanks to the two dipso felines in the family. One thinks sticking his claws in my butt is like ringing the attention-gong. The other one thinks that if I’m out of his sight all the food in the world will vanish. They are not helpful, except for stress relief and petting and cuddles and some other stuff that negates the first two things.
Thanks to Mary E. Bates, my editor and proofreader, who saves me from ultimate doom. However, let us not forget that even though she is my editor and proofreader, all mistakes are mine in the end.
Thanks to the Fiction Works and Ray Hoy for formatting. He can be reached at www.fictionworks.com if you have need of their services.
Thanks to Deranged Doctor Design at www.derangeddoctordesign.com who didn’t actually design the cover but helped with the neon lettering so that it would look cool. Great, great graphic artists there!
Finally, as always, the ones I should thank the most are the fine people who read my books and spread the word. Thank you sincerely for all your support!
Sincerely,
Caren
About the Author: C.L. Bevill has lived in Texas, Virginia, Arizona, and Oregon. She once was in the U.S. Army and a graphic illustrator. She holds degrees in social psychology and counseling. She is the author of Bubba and the Dead Woman, Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas, Bubba and the Missing Woman, Bayou Moon, and Shadow People, among others. Presently she lives with her husband and her daughter and continues to constantly write. She often leaves Easter eggs in her stuff just to see if anyone notices. On her very first parachute jump, the jumpmaster pushed her out of the plane; a fact for which she was not grateful despite being attached to a static line. C.L. Bevill can be reached at www.clbevill.com or you can read her blog at www.carwoo.blogspot.com.
Other Novels by C.L. Bevill
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Mysteries:
Bubba and the Dead Woman
Bubba and the 12 Deadly Days of Christmas
Bubba and the Missing Woman
Brownie and the Dame (3.5)
Bubba and the Mysterious Murder Note
The Ransom of Brownie (4.5)
Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies
Bubba and the Ten Little Loonies
Bubba and the Wacky Wedding Wick
edness
Bubba and the Curious Cadaver
The Bubba Mysteries Collection
(Novels 1 -6 and the Brownie Novellas)
Bayou Moon
Crimson Bayou
Paranormal Romance:
Veiled Eyes (Lake People)
Disembodied Bones (Lake People)
Arcanorum (Lake People)
Death Twitches (Lake People)
The Moon Trilogy (Novellas):
Black Moon (The Moon Trilogy 1)
Amber Moon (The Moon Trilogy 2)
Silver Moon (The Moon Trilogy 3)
Cat Clan Novellas:
Harvest Moon
Blood Moon
Crescent Moon
Hunter’s Moon
Shadow People
Sea of Dreams
Mountains of Dreams (Dreams 2)
Forests of Dreams (Dreams 3)
Ruins of Dreams (Dreams 4)
Suspense:
The Flight of the Scarlet Tanager
Black Comedy:
The Life and Death of Bayou Billy
Missile Rats
Chicklet:
Dial ‘M’ For Mascara
Urban Fantasy:
Deadsville