The Fame Equation

by Lisa Wysocky

  She nodded as she eyed the crowd.

  “But don’t reporters sometimes turn up things police can’t?” I asked. “You worked for a newspaper. Don’t reporters sometimes inadvertently take a photo that shows a glance between two people, or some other clue that can help solve the case?”

  “Sometimes,” she agreed. “But the reporters have to be good––and they have to be honorable enough to turn over anything that might mean something to the police. I’m not sure that lot out there has either qualification.”

  She left to talk to Keith and I headed toward the food.

  “Hungry?” Tony asked, coming up behind me. “The food looks great.”

  It did. Verna Mae’s, a mom and pop restaurant in Bellevue, a commuter city between Kingston Springs and Nashville, had catered, and Verna’s home cooking always made my mouth water. For a year or so, Darcy and I had a standing Wednesday night dinner date at Verna Mae’s. It was mostly so I could catch up with her, ask about her schoolwork and boyfriends, that kind of thing. But since she moved in, we didn’t feel the need. After all, we saw each other every day. But I had missed Verna Mae’s.

  I smiled and nodded at two of Verna’s humongous granddaughters, who lumbered behind the serving table. They were almost as big as their muumuu-clad grandmother, who didn’t seem to be present. The girls obviously made good work of their grandmother’s turnip green salads, vinegar slaw, sweet potato casseroles, hot biscuits, buttery grits, fried catfish, melt in your mouth barbecue, and chess and key lime pies.

  There was all that and more here, and even though I put tiny amounts of almost everything on my plate, it was heaping by the time I picked up my sweet tea, and Tony and I headed to sit with Jon, Darcy, and Annie.

  “Good food,” Tony said, digging in.

  “Like get this,” said Darcy between bites of a carob and sweet potato cookie. “I heard Pastor Ruthie say that the record label paid for the whole thing.”

  “They did.” Keith set his tea down first, then sat to my right and across from Darcy. Jon was across from me, Annie to my left and Tony was across from her. Under normal circumstances my heart would do little flippy-flops if Keith was this close to me, but today it kept right on beating its usual slow, steady rhythm.

  “Well, the label paid for the reception,” Keith said, taking a sip of his tea. He must be practicing Artist Manners 101: the unwritten rule that stated no artist shall ever eat anything in public. Wouldn’t want a piece of broccoli or egg salad to be photographed hanging between the pearly whites. Also would not want a photo of a celebrity, mouth wide open, waiting to chomp down on a sandwich. I looked around the room. No cameras here as far as I could tell, but Keith apparently wasn’t taking any chances. Either that or the Artist Rules were so in-grained that it didn’t occur to him that he could eat.

  “Davis is taking care of the rest of the expenses out of Melody’s accounts,” said Buffy plopping down next to Keith. “Melody had life insurance, so I guess the estate will get reimbursed when that comes through.” She looked around the table. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. This is so depressing.”

  Just then Brandyne Potts came over, Claudine and Bodine in tow. “Which of y’all was my sister’s friend?” she asked.

  Buffy jumped up, ready to head off trouble. “We all were, Brandyne,” Buffy said. “But Cat and Melody had been close friends for some time now.”

  Buffy nodded at me, and I wiped my hands on a paper napkin and stood up to introduce myself. In her hot pink heels, Brandyne was eye to eye with me. I was so busy looking at all her makeup that I didn’t notice her reach back with her right hand until her purse clubbed me on the side of my head. Before I knew it, Brandyne was all over me.

  “You didn’t keep her safe!” she shouted as she went for my hair. “What kind of no account friend are you?”

  It happened so fast that all I had were impressions. Claudine began to wail again. Keith put his arms around my waist and tried to drag me away from Brandyne, but her hands were wrapped in my hair. Maybe I needed that salon appointment with Bill after all. A shorter cut might have helped here.

  I saw Davis, Augie, and Chas out of the corner of my eye. Davis comforted Claudine, who screeched Brandyne’s name over and over. The security guards pulled Bodine away from the fray, then Bodine wrenched himself free and rushed to his sister. Next thing I knew he had put his cuffed hands over her head and shoulders and wrapped the link between his handcuffs across the front of Brandyne’s throat. It worked. She let go of my hair to try to pull the handcuffs away.

  Next thing I knew, Keith and I were in the center of a circle of tall men made up of Martin, and Keith’s security team. They hustled Keith and me to the other side of the room, and somehow, Keith’s arms remained around me. Bodine and his guards left, presumably to head back to prison, and Brandyne collapsed into a chair, Ruthie by her side. What had just happened?

  “You okay?” Buffy asked, hurrying over.

  I touched the side of my head where Brandyne’s purse had made contact. Fortunately for me, she traveled light so I didn’t think there would be any lasting damage. The circle of tall men around Keith and me dissolved, and Martin said, “Miz Cat? Do you want to press charges? Miz Potts gave you a big wallop, so you’re entitled.”

  I looked across the room at Brandyne, who still looked like she wanted to knock me into next week. Then I shook my head.

  “She’s not worth it, Martin.” When he raised his eyebrows I added. “Let’s just chalk it up to funeral tension and let it go.” Besides, if I filed charges the tabloids were sure to find out, and I didn’t want any trash talk surrounding our goodbyes to Melody.

  By this time church ushers were picking up cups and plates, and directing people out the door. When it was just our group and what remained of the Potts family, Buffy assessed us and said, “Here’s how this is going to work. Tony, Jon, and Darcy will ride home with Keith in Keith’s truck.” They all nodded. “Keith, you do not need to be seen at the burial, but we will make a statement for you this afternoon about your friendship with Melody. Davis or I will text it to you and your publicist for an okay before we send it.” Keith nodded.

  “Now, to avoid further scandal,” Buffy shot a look at Brandyne who was getting to her feet with Ruthie’s help, “Annie and Cat will go to the burial and stand next to the Potts family. Mrs. Potts,” she said to Claudine, “does that meet with your approval?”

  “Yes, honey,” said Claudine, extracting herself from Davis and wiping her eyes at the same time. “Yes, that will be fine.” She, too, shot a look at Brandyne.

  With the manner of a Marine Corps drill sergeant, Buffy had Keith’s group leave the church first, followed a minute later by our group of Brandyne, Claudine, Annie, and me. Buffy and the rest of Melody’s team were last, and walked somberly out the door with Ruthie.

  When we hit the sidewalk, Claudine raised a trembling hand and waved at no one in particular. Was she, too, looking for camera time? Brandyne perked up then, and looked around. She must have seen the glint of a lens in a tree across the way, as she put on her best bereavement face as she looked in that direction.

  “Don’t think this is over,” she hissed as we walked. “I am definitely not done with you.”

  I had no idea what it was about me that set her off. But, if I hadn’t loved Melody so much, I would have taken my own purse and decked Brandyne right then, smack dab in front of all the hidden cameras and tele-photo lenses. And just so you know, I don’t travel all that light.

  Cat’s Horse Tip #8

  “Across the globe, there are more than four hundred different breeds of horses.”

  12

  THE CEMETERY FOR THE HOLY Church of the Mighty Happy was a mile or so away, on the other side of town on top of Pinnacle Hill. The land where the church and riding center were located, next to the Harpeth River, was low, so the church could not get approval for a cemetery there.

  It was a pretty place, I thought. While I did not kno
w if Melody had ever visited the cemetery, it was a place she would have liked. It was a small acreage, and there were less than a dozen graves. Allen saw me looking at the dates on the gravestones.

  “You must remember that we are a very young church,” he said. “And as congregations go, ours is not large.”

  I nodded, suddenly overcome by the fact that this would be Melody’s final resting place.

  Annie held out a hand and together we walked the few feet to the gravesite. I might have drawn comfort from Ruthie’s words, had I been able to hear them over the wailing of Claudine and Brandyne. It seemed as if they were trying to out-do each other. One would stop to catch a breath and the other would jump right in. The noise was deafening and, I thought, a tad contrived.

  In due time, Melody’s casket was lowered into the ground along with a big piece of my heart. Annie and I took a final look, and then walked back to her truck. Along the way we were joined by Robert Griggs. When he took riding lessons from me he had a way of walking up silently, and startling me unintentionally in the process. He still had that ability.

  “She was too young, Robert,” I said. “Too young to die.”

  “Maybe so,” Robert said, “but––”

  I looked at him and whatever he was going to say he swallowed back up. I thought he might say something to the effect of “the Lord knows best,” or “she’s in a better place.” Both of those statements might be true, but I did not want to hear anything along those lines right now.

  Instead, Robert said, “Just a reminder about our new volunteer orientation Tuesday night, that’s tomorrow. Bubba can come, too. I know we can keep him busy in the barn. There is always something to do. The orientation is from six to eight-thirty and you’d all, well, you’d all be welcome additions.”

  I wanted to come to support Darcy, but would have to talk to Hill. I still wasn’t sure he would okay Bubba volunteering. It would be good for Bubba, I thought, but there was school to think of, and transportation.

  On the ride home I was glad to be a passenger in Annie’s truck, as I wasn’t up to driving.

  “Sad day,” said Annie.

  I nodded but had no words. Annie tried again. “I’m sure the police will find the culprit soon enough.”

  “They have to,” the words exploded out of me, startling us both. I do admit that my Irish temper sometimes gets the best of me.

  “They will,” Annie said with certainty. “Melody ran with an eclectic group of people, from the church, to the riding center, to her career. My money, though, is on the career side. Music is a big business and you never know what she saw someone do, or who saw her as a threat. Interesting looks, though.”

  “Looks? I don’t follow.”

  “Between Buffy and your neighbor.”

  “Keith? Between Buffy and Keith?”

  “Big time. Didn’t you see?”

  To be honest, I hadn’t. It hadn’t even occurred to me to look for something like that.

  “It was like they were warning each other with their eyes to not say or not do something. It was very odd. That’s why I noticed it.”

  Keith and Buffy? I let Annie’s thoughts digest for a few minutes. I had no idea what a mysterious look between the two could mean, but if Annie said she saw it, I had no doubt that it occurred.

  We ended up behind Bubba’s school bus the last mile or so. Annie stopped at the top of my drive so we could see Bubba get off the bus at the end of his driveway. He spotted us, waved, then ran down the long dirt drive to the single-wide trailer he and Hill lived in. A few minutes later, Bubba banged on my kitchen door.

  “My dad, he ain’t home yet,” said Bubba when I let him in.

  Annie and I exchanged a look. She was well aware of the situation, as I had vented to her about Hill many times over the phone. I picked up my cell and dialed Hill’s number, only to get his voice mail.

  “Why don’t you and I go over to your house, and look for clues that will tell us when he might be back,” I said after I left yet another message for Hill. Bubba was eleven, and I knew I was at the tail end of enticing him through spy games, but today it worked.

  “I like figurin’ stuff out like I did when we caught that scum-bag that kilt Glenda.”

  Bubba hadn’t exactly caught the killer. I hadn’t either. But Bubba had helped both of us get out of a life or death situation, and for that I was grateful.

  “Ya wanna come, Miz Annie?” Bubba asked.

  I gave my head an almost imperceptible shake. “No, you two go on,” she said. “I’ll head to the barn to see what Jon and Tony are up to. I think Darcy might be out there as well.”

  Bubba and I slipped between the boards of the fence that divided my property from Fairbanks. We crossed the wide Fairbanks strip of lawn, then crawled between the boards on the other side.

  Hill had chosen to decorate his trailer in early Confederate flag. They were everywhere, even on the ceiling. The result was dark rooms, highlighted by the pungent smell of stale fast food, cigarettes, and mold. I’d only been in the house once before, and I hadn’t been invited. Bubba had been missing so I had taken it upon myself to see if he was home.

  Today I was just as angry as I had been during my visit (okay, break in) earlier this year. Bubba should not have to live in such deplorable conditions. I was torn between being furious with Hill for being one brick short of a pile, and worried that something terrible had happened to him.

  I started by opening drawers in a desk in the living room. At two bedrooms, the house was too small to have a separate office. There was an office of sorts in the barn, but Hill had two Dobermans running loose in there and they didn’t seem to like me much.

  “What are we lookin’ for?” Bubba asked, opening and closing drawers without checking the contents.

  “Mail from anyone in Mississippi or Alabama. Notes your dad might have written in the past few days. Maybe an address book.”

  “Won’t be no address book,” said Bubba. “My dad, he keeps ever’thing in his phone now. Keeps people from stealin’ his private information.”

  People like me, I thought. I knew better than to ask about numbers for family members. What family Hill and Bubba had left hadn’t spoken to them in years. Even if I had a number to call I doubted the person on the other end would be of any help.

  We searched next in the kitchen and finally in Hill’s bedroom. I stifled my urge to say “eeewww” every time I touched something in Hill’s room. Finally, I put my hands on my hips, tousled Bubba’s dark hair and said, “C’mon kiddo. We’ve got barn chores to do, then I bet Annie will have a nice dinner fixed for us.”

  After that I’d try to help Bubba with his homework, if he had any. I might also put a discreet call in to Martin, just to give him a heads up about Hill. Before we left we walked up to Hill’s barn. I thought Hill’s “man” might be there to see to the horses. The dogs kept us out of the barn, but I wrote a note asking the man to contact me, and wedged it into the outer frame of the office door on the side of the barn.

  Back in my barn, Annie, Tony, Jon, and Darcy stood outside Sally Blue’s stall.

  “She’s been lying like that lately,” said Jon. “Our massage therapist said it was a good shoulder stretch. Maybe that’s what she’s doing.”

  I peeked inside to find Sally lying with her front legs straight out, but crossed again just below the knee with the hoof of her top leg pointing toward her tail.

  Annie, who had recently been convinced that Sally was psychic, said, “X marks the spot?”

  “We already thought of that,” I said. “Maybe we need to concentrate on her pointed toes and look for a murderous ballerina.”

  “Or a figure skater,” said Tony.

  “A high diver!” said Bubba.

  “No way. Don’t you see?” said Darcy. “She’s making a cross in honor of Melody. Melody Cross.”

  I loved each of these people so much. Melody should be here, too. The thought burst from my brain. Then a lump formed in my throat and the
pleasant moment was gone.

  Tony and Jon had already fed the horses their evening grain, but we all made sure the horses had enough hay and water, and that the stalls were picked clean. Both dogs helped by running circles around the wheelbarrow when Jon used it to get shavings. Then we went to admire Ringo, who seemed to be adjusting well to his new home.

  “When will you start working with him?” Tony asked.

  I looked at Jon. “We’ll give him another day, then do a full evaluation on him on Wednesday,” I said.

  A thorough horse evaluation could take an hour or two, and covered everything from a gait analysis to flexibility tests to figuring out what the horse already knew and where the gaps in his education were. I sure hoped this horse was everything his owner promised. Right now, the rest of my career was riding on him.

  Cat’s Horse Tip #9

  “To spot a rear leg lameness, look to see if the movement of the horse is rhythmic and even across the top of the hips, rather than looking at the legs.”

  13

  IT WAS GETTING TO BE my regular routine. Get up at the crack of early, get Darcy off to school, then get Bubba on his way. When had I turned into a soccer mom? I didn’t even have any kids. I couldn’t say that I disliked the schedule, but it was totally unexpected.

  This morning I also had to say goodbye to Annie and Tony. I could never ask for better friends and I have to say I felt a teeny bit guilty about Ringo. Then the voice of reason stepped in and reminded me that Ringo’s owner could have chosen Tony and Annie to train his horse––but Gusher Black hadn’t. He had chosen me. I now just needed to deliver. No pressure there. None at all.

  I hugged my friends, and Jon even came out to shake Tony’s hand. Was it possibly that this short visit had put their relationship on slightly less rocky ground? That would be nice. After pulling a reluctant Hank out of their back seat, hugging Mickey, and then sending the Zinners down the drive, Hank, Jon, and I headed for the barn. Jon and I had not had time the past few days to work with Petey, and needed to resume his driving lessons. Christmas was inching closer every day and I was determined that Petey would give Darcy the surprise of her life.