Flamingo Fatale (A Trailer Park Mystery Book 1)

by Jimmie Ruth Evans

  Tucker walked over to a cabinet and opened a door. He reached for a bottle, took out the stopper, and poured some-thing into a glass. He brought the glass over to Wanda Nell. “Drink this,” he commanded.

  “What is it?” Wanda Nell eyed the tea-colored liquid suspiciously.

  “Brandy,” Tucker replied. “A little bit won’t hurt you. I think you could use it right about now.”

  Cautiously, Wanda Nell sipped at it. She wasn’t sure she liked the taste, but she let it slide down her throat. In a few seconds, as she continued to sip, her shivers subsided, and she felt warmth spreading through her body.

  “That’s better,” Tucker said. He had resumed his seat behind the desk.

  “Thank you,” Wanda Nell said. “I never had brandy before.”

  “It’s useful, on occasion.” He smiled at her again. “Now, let’s talk about your son’s case.”

  “I can’t afford to pay you much,” Wanda Nell interrupted. “But if you’ll let me pay it out over time, I’ll pay you whatever it takes, I swear.” She’d have to stop making extra payments on the trailer, for one thing. And if she put her mind to it, there were bound to be other ways she could find more money.

  “It may not cost as much as you think,” Tucker told her kindly. “But don’t worry about it. Please. In certain cases, I’m willing to work for less than my usual fee. I think this qualifies as one of those cases.”

  “Thank you,” Wanda Nell mumbled, embarrassed. Any other time she would have argued, but in this situation, she couldn’t afford to be too proud to accept help.

  She drank down the last of the brandy and set the glass on the edge of Tucker’s desk. “Can she really do it?” she asked abruptly. “I mean, can she really get a judge to take my girls away from me?”

  “I doubt it,” Tucker replied. Leaning back in his chair, he restlessly played with a pen as he regarded her. “At least, not as easily as she seems to think. She certainly has her own ideas about reality, but in this case, she’s way off base. You don’t need to worry about her, Mrs. Culpepper.”

  Wanda Nell shuddered again. “I hate that name! Whenever I hear somebody call me that, it makes me think of that old witch. Please, can’t you just call me Wanda Nell?” Tucker grinned boyishly at her, and Wanda Nell couldn’t help responding. He sure was good-looking, and she noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Stop that, she admonished herself. What are you thinking?

  “I will,” he said, “if you’ll call me Tuck.” He twirled his pen in his fingers, then laid it aside. “Now, down to business. Let’s talk about T.J.”

  “You saw him?” Wanda Nell asked. “Is he okay? Are they treating him decent?”

  “He’s fine, Wanda Nell. Don’t you worry. They’re not going to do anything to him.” He leaned forward on the desk. “T.J. told me the sheriff and your father were good friends, once upon a time. Is that true?”

  Wanda Nell nodded. “Until about a year before my daddy died, they were real close. And the sheriff has always been real good to me, when T.J. was in trouble before.”

  “That’s what T.J. said, and if that’s the case, then I don’t think you need to worry. Nobody’s going to cross the sheriff when he takes a personal interest in someone.”

  “No, I guess not,” Wanda Nell conceded. She felt part of the weight lifting off her heart. “But we still got to prove that he didn’t kill his daddy.”

  “I’ll be working on that. I had a long talk with T.J., and what he told me, I believe. I don’t think your son is guilty, Wanda Nell, but it’s going to take some time to get everything sorted out.”

  “What’s going to happen now? I reckon it’s different from the other times when he was in trouble. This being such a serious case.”

  “Well, first, T.J. has to go before a magistrate. The sheriff ’s department will tell the magistrate why they think T.J. is guilty and should be charged with the crime, and the magistrate will decide whether T.J. should be bound over to the grand jury for indictment.”

  “Okay,” Wanda Nell said. “When will they do that? And will T.J. be able to get out on bond?”

  “They have forty-eight hours to take him before a magistrate, and it’s up to the magistrate to set the bond.” He hesitated. “Don’t get your hopes up, Wanda Nell. The magistrate most likely will set the bond so high that T.J. won’t be released. Given his previous record, they’ll probably consider him a flight risk.”

  “Then he’ll have to stay in jail,” Wanda Nell said. Her head bent, she fumbled in her purse for a Kleenex. She couldn’t find one. She looked up to see Tucker leaning across the desk, a box in his hand. “Thank you.” She plucked out several and dabbed at her eyes with one.

  “Yes, he’ll probably have to stay in jail,” Tucker replied. “But we’re going to do our best to get him out of there. The grand jury isn’t scheduled to meet for several months.”

  “Several months?” Wanda Nell couldn’t bear to think about that.

  “I know it sounds awful,” Tucker said with sympathy. “But unless the district attorney decides that the grand jury needs to be called sooner, I’m afraid that’s the way it has to be. But the good thing is that it gives me plenty of time to develop T.J.’s defense, should it be necessary.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’ll know more when T.J. goes before the magistrate. At that point, the sheriff’s department will have to say what evidence they have against T.J. Till then I won’t really know what kind of case they have against him. But based on what T.J. has told me, I have to say that the case against him has to be pretty shaky. I’m confident that we can prove he’s innocent.”

  “What did he tell you?” Wanda Nell asked.

  “I’m afraid I can’t really tell you,” Tucker said, his face expressing his regret. “That falls under attorney-client privilege. But it doesn’t mean that T.J. can’t tell you himself, when you see him.”

  “Okay, I guess.” Wanda Nell said. She wondered whether T.J. would really talk to her. She tried to push her doubts away. “When am I going to be able to see him?”

  “Normally, the jail has strict visiting hours, two days a week, but in your case, since the sheriff is a friend of the family, I imagine you might be able to get around the rules.” Wanda Nell hated asking anyone for favors, and she felt uncomfortable at the thought of calling the sheriff. Tucker evidently read her discomfort in her face. “I can call the sheriff for you, Wanda Nell. Just leave it to me.”

  Relieved, Wanda Nell smiled. “Thank you, Tuck.” The nickname sounded funny when she finally said it, but she would have to get used to it. She couldn’t call him “Mr. Tucker” with him calling her “Wanda Nell.”

  “Let me get your phone number, Wanda Nell.”

  She gave it to him, along with her cell phone number and the numbers of the Kountry Kitchen and Budget Mart, just in case.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to ask you a few questions. T.J. was able to tell me a lot, but I need to hear some of it directly from you.”

  Wanda Nell nodded. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

  Tuck hesitated. “Why don’t you start with the last time you saw your ex-husband, and go from there.”

  “Okay.” Wanda Nell took a deep breath, then started talking. Tuck occasionally jotted something down on the pad on the desk, but most of the time he simply sat and listened. She faltered a bit when she came to tell him how she had found Bobby Ray’s body.

  “We don’t have to talk about that right now if it will distress you,” Tuck said, but Wanda Nell shook her head, insisting that she was fine.

  It took her a while, but she told him everything she could think of. The only thing she left out was the incident with Mrs. Culpepper in the parking lot at Budget Mart. He didn’t need any further evidence that the old lazy was crazy as a Betsy bug.

  “Thank you, Wanda Nell,” Tuck said, putting his pen aside. “I’ve got a better overall picture of the situation. The next thing is hearing what the sheriff’s depart
ment has to say about their case when T.J. goes before the magistrate. That might be tomorrow, but possibly not till the next day. In the meantime, don’t worry. I’ve got everything well in hand.” He beamed at her.

  Wanda Nell took heart from his confidence, but she would have felt better if he’d told her exactly what he was going to do. She figured, though, he knew what he was doing. Best let him get on with it.

  She stood up. “You said you’d let me know about seeing T.J. I guess you can just call me when you know something.”

  Tuck stood also and came around the desk to see her out. “I’ll see if I can’t get through to the sheriff sometime this afternoon, and I’ll call you right away.” He shook hands with her and escorted her to the door.

  “Thank you, Tuck. I really appreciate it,” she said, pausing on the threshold. She wanted to say more, since he had been so generous about the subject of his fee, but she couldn’t find the words to convey exactly how she felt.

  “I’m glad to do it,” he said, his eyes twinkling at her. “You just go on and don’t worry about a thing.” He closed the door.

  Blanche greeted her with a smile. “He’s something else, isn’t he, Wanda Nell? Good-looking, and nice, too. He’s a good guy, and if he tells you not to worry, well, you just listen to what he tells you.”

  “Thanks, Blanche,” Wanda Nell said, approaching her desk. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what he’s doing and what you did, too. If it hadn’t been for you and Mayrene, I wouldn’t’ve known who to call.”

  Blanche waved her gratitude away. “All in a day’s work. Now, do you need a ride somewheres? That old battle-ax’s done gone off and left you, you know.”

  Wanda Nell smiled ruefully. “I know, and I tell you, I don’t mind walking back to where my car is. I couldn’t stand the thought of getting back in her car with her.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. The walk’ll do me good,” Wanda Nell assured her. “Bye.”

  She made her way downstairs and out the front door. The afternoon was warm, but there was a pleasant breeze. Wanda Nell walked slowly around the square and down Main Street toward the Culpepper mansion. It took her about fifteen minutes to reach her car. She was surprised the old witch hadn’t had it towed.

  Before she unlocked the car, Wanda Nell examined the house for signs of life. Just looking at it gave her the willies. Two old women inside, waiting to die, or so it seemed to her. Poor Charlesetta had better get out of there while she could.

  Wanda Nell turned up the air-conditioning to cool off the inside of the car, then put it in gear and drove off. Before she had gone three blocks, she heard her cell phone ringing in her purse. Hanging on to the steering wheel with her left hand, she fumbled in her purse with her right.

  Her hand closed on the phone, and she snatched it out. She didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID “Hello?”

  “Wanda Nell, it’s Blanche. Mr. Tucker got right through to the sheriff, and he said it was okay for you to come over to the jail right now and talk to your son.”

  “Thanks, Blanche,” Wanda Nell said. She pulled over in front of the funeral home and put the car in park. “Tell him I appreciate it. I’m going right now.”

  She stowed the phone away in her purse and looked in her rearview mirror. She waited for a truck to pass, then she made a U-turn in the street and headed back in the direction of the jail. Her heart was fluttering at the thought of seeing T.J. She had some hard questions to ask him, and she wanted answers. She just hoped they were answers she could bear to hear.

  Wanda Nell spent ten anxious minutes before they ushered her into the room where the visits with prisoners were held. T.J. sat at a desk behind a mesh screen, and a guard stood discreetly in the corner. The air was stale and cold, and Wanda Nell shivered slightly.

  As she sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk from T.J., she remembered other scenes like this. Those other times T.J. had been sullen, defiant, even abusive, but now he just looked sad. The drab jumpsuit he wore made his skin sallow.

  “Honey, are you doing okay?”

  T.J. smiled briefly. “Well, this wasn’t where I wanted to be spending any of my time. Mama. But it ain’t so bad. This new jail sure is better than the old one.”

  Wanda Nell didn’t want to dwell on any of the past

  escapades that had put T.J. behind bars. “I talked to the lawyer, T.J. Mr. Tucker seems real sharp, and he talks like everything’s gonna be just fine.”

  T.J. snorted. “Easy for him to say. He ain’t the one sitting here. I just wanna get out of here, Mama.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “I swore I wasn’t ever gonna be in jail again, and look at me. And this time I didn’t do a damn thing.”

  “We’re gonna get you out as soon as we can, honey,” Wanda Nell promised him. “But you’ve got to help me. You’ve got to tell me the truth, T.J. About everything.” “Like what?”

  She had always known when he was lying to her. His eyes gave him away. He couldn’t look her straight in the face when he lied. Probably nobody would believe her if she told them that, but she knew it in her gut and in her heart.

  “Did you kill your daddy?”

  “No.” His gaze never wavered.

  “Or Ricky Ratliff ?”

  “No.” Still he faced her without shying away.

  The constriction in her chest eased. “I believe you.”

  His face softened for a moment. He swallowed hard. “Thank you, Mama.”

  Wanda Nell wanted to cry, seeing the tears glistening in his eyes. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “It’s okay, honey. Now, you gotta tell me. They said they had a witness seen you arguing with your daddy. You didn’t tell me you seen him here in Tullahoma. I thought you didn’t see him after Greenville.”

  She waited for his answer. He watched her face for a moment before replying. “I guess I shoulda told you, Mama, but I didn’t think it mattered.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Me and Jackie was out running around that night. I’d just got into town, and I called him up. And first thing he wanted to do was hit a coupla places we always used to hang out.”

  Wanda Nell frowned. She knew about those places, and she remembered the times T.J. had gotten in trouble at them. He’d never been able to hold his liquor, and he had a mean temper when he drank. Just like his daddy.

  T.J. sighed. “I shoulda known better, but I hadn’t seen ol’ Jackie for two years, I guess, and all he wanted to do was party. Me and him had a lot of catching up to do, and you know how it is, Mama. Before you know it, you done had two or three beers, and after that, it sure is easy just to keep drinking.”

  “I know, T.J. And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t drink.” Wanda Nell hated that tone in her voice, but she couldn’t help herself. This was the way most of her arguments with Bobby Ray had started.

  T.J. didn’t seem to take offense, the way he would have before. “Yeah, Mama, I realize that now. If I hadn’t been drinking that night, I might not be here right now.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I had me a few beers, and Jackie and me were thinking about heading somewhere else, and Daddy walked in. I saw him go swanning up to the bar, and he pulled out a big wad of cash. Other people was noticing it, too. I waited till he had him a drink, and I got up and went over to him.” T.J. frowned. “He didn’t act like he was too glad to see me, especially when I told him he better be careful about flashing all that money around.”

  “And knowing Bobby Ray, he didn’t like anybody telling him he shouldn’t do something.”

  “Yeah, that just made him mad. He’d already had a snootful, and you know it don’t take much to rile him up when he’s been drinking.” TJ. shook his head. “I shoulda just left him alone, but I wadn’t thinking too clear myself. So I grabbed ahold of his arm and started trying to get him over to where Jackie and me was sitting. He didn’t like that, neither.”

  “I guess I know what happened then.” Wanda Nell closed her
eyes for a moment. The scene was all too clear in her mind.

  “Yeah, he took a swing at me,” T.J. said. “And he almost hit me. I was a little slow on the uptake, but I managed to duck it in time. He spun around and spilled his drink, and then he started cussing me out like I was somebody off the street he never seen before.”

  He tried to hide it, but the memory of that scene hurt him, and Wanda Nell wished she could take his hand and hold it.

  “And then Jackie came up and got into it, and it just got worse from there. Daddy was trying to get a hand on both of us, but he was too drunk to do much damage.”

  “What happened then?” Wanda Nell prompted when he fell silent.

  “Daddy said some things to me, and I didn’t like it. So I told him I was going to beat the crap out of him if he didn’t shut up.”

  Appalled, Wanda Nell stared at her son. This was much worse than she had imagined. What had gotten into Bobby Ray for him to treat his son like this? “What did he say to you, T.J.?”

  “Just stupid stuff. I don’t even remember exactly what he said.” T.J. blinked a couple of times, then looked down at his hands.

  Why wouldn’t he tell her what Bobby Ray had said? She knew good and well T.J. remembered. He just didn’t want to tell her for some reason. What awful things had Bobby Ray said to his son?

  “Well, I guess it don’t matter, honey,” Wanda Nell said gently. “I just hope nobody that heard it says anything to the sheriff’s department.”

  T.J. shifted in his chair, still refusing to meet her eyes. “I can’t help that, Mama, but there ain’t no telling what some-body might say. It don’t really have a thing to do with this mess.”

  Best then to move on to something else, Wanda Nell decided. “T.J., they said they’d found your fingerprints in Ricky Ratliff’s truck. Do you know how that could’ve happened?”