Flamingo Fatale (A Trailer Park Mystery Book 1)

by Jimmie Ruth Evans

  Elmer Lee was a dangerous man to cross. She’d always thought so, but for a long time she’d been able to keep out of his way. Now she didn’t seem to have any choice. She worried about what the next day would bring, but gradually sleep overtook her, and she drifted off.

  Wanda Nell got home from her shift at Budget Mart the next morning just in time to see Juliet off on the school bus.

  “Remember, honey, you wait there at school till we come to get you. If we’re late, it won’t be but a few minutes.”

  “Yes, Mama, I will,” Juliet promised, giving her mother a quick peck on the check before boarding the bus.

  Wanda Nell watched for a moment until the bus had rounded a curve in the road, then walked slowly back to her trailer. The early morning air was cool, and there was a hint of rain in the sky. Maybe it would hold off until she and Mayrene got back from Greenville.

  Miranda was feeding Lavon when she stepped into the trailer. “Morning, Mama,” she said. “How was work?” Lavon waved his hands and giggled at her as Miranda stuck a spoon in his mouth.

  “It was fine,” Wanda Nell said, setting her purse down on a table near the door. She yawned. “But I’m plumb worn out, honey. I’m gonna go lie down for a couple hours before we head out.” She came over to give Lavon a kiss on one of his sticky cheeks. She narrowly evaded an equally sticky hand intent on wiping mashed bananas in her hair.

  “We’ll be quiet, Mama,” Miranda said, “so you just go on and lay down. You want me to get you up about nine-thirty?”

  “That’s fine, honey,” Wanda Nell said. She touched Miranda’s cheek with her hand, and Miranda smiled.

  Miranda could be sweet when she wanted to, Wanda Nell reflected as she walked down the hall to her bedroom. Yawning again, she pulled off her clothes and climbed into bed. Problem was, Miranda didn’t want to be sweet often enough.

  Too tired to think much about the day’s plans, Wanda Nell fell asleep soon after her head hit the pillow.

  Some time later she felt someone shaking her gently and telling her it was time to get up.

  Wanda Nell came slowly awake, blinking at the sunlight streaming through her window. She mumbled something, and Miranda laughed. “Sorry to wake you, Mama, but you wanted me to get you up.”

  Stretching, Wanda Nell regarded her daughter. “I know, honey,” she said, vainly trying to suppress a yawn. “Lord knows I’d rather stay in bed, but I guess we got to do this.”

  “You really think it’ll help get T.J. out of jail?” Miranda asked.

  Wanda Nell pushed herself out of the bed and stretched again. “If the Good Lord is willing, it will.” She patted her daughter’s arm. “Now, you go and get Lavon ready, and all the things you’ll need over at Laquita’s today, while I jump in the shower. I won’t be long.”

  “I done it all already, Mama,” Miranda said proudly.

  Touched, Wanda Nell kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Miranda. I appreciate all your help.”

  Dimpling with pleasure, Miranda left the room. Wanda Nell stumbled to the shower. She luxuriated in the hot water for five minutes, then washed herself and got reluctantly out of the shower. How nice it would be just to stay here for a while, she thought. But she forced herself to finish dressing in record time.

  Mayrene was waiting for her in the living room, and Miranda and Lavon were ready to go. They put Miranda, the baby, and all the stuff they’d need into the backseat of Wanda Nell’s car, and then they were off. It was just about nine-forty-five.

  Laquita’s house was on the way out of town, and after a quick greeting, Wanda Nell and Mayrene were back in the car. They headed out Highway 7 towards Greenwood. From there they’d hit 82 and take it all the way in to Greenville.

  Wanda Nell wasn’t much in the mood for conversation this morning, and Mayrene for once didn’t try to fill the silence with chatter. At one point, when they were nearing Greenwood, Wanda Nell reached over and squeezed Mayrene’s hand. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

  Mayrene laughed. “Now, honey, don’t start all that again. You know I’m glad to help.” She laughed again. “Besides, this is a helluva lot more interesting than listening to gossip at the beauty shop.”

  Wanda Nell had to laugh, too. “You’re gonna have a few good stories to tell yourself, once this is all over.”

  “I reckon so, Wanda Nell, I reckon so.” She sighed. “Honey, how about stopping soon? I got to pee, and you must be dying for something to eat. Did you have any breakfast?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Wanda Nell admitted. “Now that you mention it, I sure am hungry.” She peered at the fuel gauge. “And I guess I could stand to fill up the car, too.”

  A few minutes later she pulled into a service station on the outskirts of Greenwood. While Mayrene hurried to the ladies’ room, Wanda Nell filled the tank. Inside, she found some halfway fresh-looking doughnuts in a case and bought half a dozen, along with a large cup of hot coffee.

  “Want any coffee?” she asked as Mayrene joined her at the counter.

  “Sure,” Mayrene said, and Wanda Nell paid while Mayrene fixed her coffee.

  Back in the car, Wanda Nell finished a doughnut before starting the car. The bag of doughnuts sat on the seat between them, and Wanda Nell motioned for Mayrene to help herself.

  “I really shouldn’t.” Mayrene sighed heavily. “I got to do something to shed a few pounds.” Her hand hovered over the bag. “But not today.” The hand reached into the bag and came out with a doughnut. She munched happily and sipped at her coffee as Wanda Nell pulled back onto the highway.

  Before long they were on 82, headed for Greenville. They made it all the way to Leland before they both needed to stop for the bathroom again.

  “That coffee just goes right through me,” Mayrene complained as they got out of the car.

  On the road once again, Mayrene said, “Now, honey, what’s the plan? How are we gonna find this woman?”

  “Real simple,” Wanda Nell said. “We’re gonna look in the phone book, and then try to find her house.” She drained the last of her coffee from the cup and set the empty down on the seat beside her. “T.J. told me her name. Can’t be too many Miz Turnipseeds in the book.”

  Mayrene laughed. “No, I guess not. What a name!”

  It was about eleven-twenty when they reached Greenville. Wanda Nell watched for a likely place to stop and look at a phone book. A service station seemed as good a place as any, so she pulled the car into the first clean-looking place she spotted. Mayrene followed her inside.

  Wanda Nell scanned the shelves first for something to buy. She figured the man behind the counter might be inclined to be more helpful if she was buying something. She grabbed a couple of Baby Ruth candy bars from a box and approached the counter.

  “That be all for you?” The man smiled brightly at them both, but his eyes lingered on Mayrene’s buxom figure. His name tag read “Luther.”

  Wanda Nell didn’t have a chance to respond. Taking the man’s interest as her cue, Mayrene leaned forward, resting her bosom on the high counter, and batted her eyelashes at him.

  “Why, Luther, honey, there is something else you can do for us. That is, if you don’t mind helping two ladies who don’t know their way around this big ol’ town very well.”

  Wanda Nell had to turn her head to hide her grin. The poor man was practically drooling on the counter at the sight of Mayrene’s chest plopped down on his counter that way.

  “Why, I reckon I’d be glad to help.” The man’s voice came out a bit higher than before.

  “You sure are a gentleman,” Mayrene cooed at him. “Do you mind letting us use your phone book?”

  “ ’Course not,” he said, fumbling blindly around under the counter. He couldn’t even tear his eyes away long enough to look underneath.

  Wanda Nell wanted to giggle when he yelped in pain. He had poked himself on something sharp, and he stuck the injured finger in his mouth. He goggled foolishly at them for a moment, then bent down to finish rummag
ing under the counter.

  He placed the phone book on the counter with a flourish.

  “Thank you, Luther, honey,” Mayrene said, her voice

  husky. She pulled the book toward her, and Wanda Nell leaned over her shoulder as she thumbed through the pages.

  Quickly Mayrene found the right place, and her finger skimmed down the page, coming to rest on three entries for Turnipseed. “Well, look at that,” she said, “who’d’a thought there’d be more’n one.”

  Wanda Nell frowned at the entries. There were a David L. Turnipseed, an L.J. Turnipseed, and a T.R. Turnipseed. They all lived on different streets. She turned the book around and pushed it toward the man. Tapping her finger on the spot where the Turnipseeds were listed, she asked, “Can you tell us if any of these addresses are anywhere near the casino?” “You mean the ones for Turnipseed?”

  “Yes,” Wanda Nell and Mayrene chorused.

  He leaned over and examined them. “I guess this one here,” he said. “This L.J. Turnipseed. That’s not far from the casino.”

  Wanda Nell and Mayrene looked at each other. “Might as well try that one first,” Wanda Nell said. Reaching into her purse, she copied down the address and the phone number for L.J. Turnipseed. She also jotted down the information on the other two, just in case. Almost stuttering with happiness, the man gave them directions.

  Mayrene handed the phone book back to the man, saying in her throatiest tone, “Luther, honey, you sure have been a big help.” She breathed deeply. “And we sure do appreciate it.”

  Wanda Nell barely made it to the car before she burst out laughing. “You are shameless, Mayrene. That little man didn’t know what hit him.”

  Mayrene settled herself into the car. Grinning complacently, she said, “Well, honey, you just got to use whatever the Good Lord gives you.” She glanced down at her bosom.

  “I reckon I ain’t hurting nobody, and it sure did give him a thrill he ain’t gonna forget anytime soon.”

  Still chuckling, Wanda Nell drove off.

  It took them about fifteen minutes to find the quiet, slightly shabby street where L.J. Turnipseed lived. “Even numbers on this side,” Mayrene said, squinting through the sunlight. “So it’s over here. Next block, though.”

  Wanda Nell drove on and, three houses down from the corner in the next block, pulled the car to a stop in front of a large three-story brick house. The yard, unlike some others on the block, was well-tended. The grass had been mown recently, and the flower beds sported masses of color.

  As Wanda Nell got out of the car, she glanced down the street. A large black car was parked, facing them, about four houses down, on the other side of the street. Wanda Nell thought she saw someone sitting inside, but with the sun in her eyes, she couldn’t be sure.

  Mayrene claimed her attention. “Look at this, Wanda Nell,” she said. Wanda Nell’s eyes followed the pointing finger to a spot in one of the flower beds near the front door.

  “Isn’t it just too sweet?” Mayrene said. “Maybe you should get something like this to take the place of your flamingoes.”

  Wanda Nell regarded the figures with interest. Two stone frogs, one male and the other female, sat facing each other on a love seat. An open stone umbrella shaded them as they gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes. The whole thing stood about two feet tall.

  “It is cute,” Wanda Nell said. “I’ll have to think about it.” She wasn’t too fond of frogs, ever since her little brother Rusty used to shove them down her dress.

  She stepped past Mayrene, still lost in admiration, to ring the doorbell. As soon as the bell sounded, dogs began barking somewhere inside the house. Big dogs, too, Wanda Nell thought uneasily. She didn’t like big dogs, either.

  The door began to open, and Wanda Nell heard a childish voice scolding the dogs.

  “Now you just hush, boys,” the voice said. “Company’s here, and y’all don’t be rude.”

  The small figure at the door stood slightly in the shadow, and Wanda Nell couldn’t see her clearly. She looked and sounded like she was about eight years old. Then she stepped into the light, and Wanda Nell almost gasped.

  An elderly, wrinkled face beamed up at her. “Good morning, honey, what can I do for you?”

  Wanda Nell stared down at her. She wasn’t even five feet tall. Realizing she was being rude, Wanda Nell spoke hastily. “Good morning. I’m sorry to trouble you like this, but my name is Wanda Nell Culpepper, and—”

  That was as far as she got. “Oh, I do declare, you must be Bobby Ray’s wife,” the little old woman said. “Now, you just come right on in here, and tell me what that scallywag has been up to.” She stepped back and motioned for Wanda Nell and Mayrene to come inside.

  Wanda Nell stopped in alarm before she had taken three steps into the house. Three very large, very black dogs sat at the foot of the stairs, tongues hanging out. They were all big enough that their little hostess could ride them like horses.

  After shutting the door, the woman moved around in front of her visitors. “Now, y’all just don’t pay my boys any attention at all. They are sweet, sweet boys, and I know they look ferocious. But they’re just Mama’s little lambs, aren’t they?” Still cooing, she approached the dogs and rubbed their heads, one after the other.

  Neither Wanda Nell nor Mayrene had advanced any farther into the hall.

  “You’re sure they won’t bite?” Mayrene asked.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sure. Now, if you was somebody trying to break in here, why then they might just eat you up. But they know you’re friendly, and as long as you’re friendly, they won’t bother you.”

  Wanda Nell understood the threat in that gentle sentence, and she was sure Mayrene did, too.

  Wanda Nell made an effort to smile. “Oh, we’re friendly, ma’am. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “No, ma’am,” Mayrene said.

  “Good, then y’all just come on into my parlor. Boys, you stay here.” Their hostess tottered across the hall and through a door.

  Casting uneasy glances over their shoulders, Wanda Nell and Mayrene followed the little woman.

  Using a step stool, their hostess climbed onto a chair. Waving a hand, she indicated that Wanda Nell and Mayrene should seat themselves on a sofa.

  “Now, Miz Culpepper, what can I do for you and your friend, before you tell me all about what Bobby Ray’s been doing?”

  “This is Mayrene Lancaster, ma’am,” Wanda Nell said. “And you must be Miz Turnipseed.”

  “That’s Miss Turnipseed,” she corrected smilingly. “Miss Lucinda Jane Turnipseed, dear. Pleased to meet you, Miz Lancaster.”

  “Likewise, I’m sure,” Mayrene said.

  Wanda Nell glanced around the room. Every inch of it was crammed with things. Pictures, little figurines, cushions, just about every knickknack you could imagine perched on every available surface. The room was spotless, however. Wanda Nell figured the poor dear must spend every minute of her day dusting and cleaning, even though she must be eighty.

  “About Bobby Ray,” Wanda Nell began.

  “Oh, isn’t he just the handsomest thing,” Miss Turnipseed said, clapping her hands together. “And such a smooth talker, too. I can’t imagine how you could bear to let him live over here and work in Greenville, and you over there in Tullahoma with your children.” She sighed. “And he misses those children dreadfully.”

  Wanda Nell and Mayrene exchanged startled glances. “Is that what he told you?” Wanda Nell asked finally.

  “Oh, my, yes,” Miss Turnipseed said. “You should see all the pictures he has in his room. He told me all about T.J., and Miranda, and little Juliet.” She beamed at them. “Such a proud father.”

  “Um, I suppose so,” Wanda Nell said. She shouldn’t be surprised that Bobby Ray had fed this old lady such a line of crap. He sure wouldn’t have told her the truth. And no telling how old and out-of-date those pictures of the kids were.

  “When he gets back from his trip,” Miss Turnipseed was sayin
g as Wanda Nell tuned in again, “he said he would be moving back to Tullahoma permanently. I sure hate to lose him, he’s been such a good lodger. But a man’s place is with his family, after all.”

  “Where did he tell you he was going, Miss Turnipseed?” Mayrene asked.

  “Why, to Texas, of course,” Miss Turnipseed said, puzzled. ‘To claim his lottery prize. But surely you know all about that.”

  Chapter 17

  “A lottery ticket?” Mayrene’s voice rose on each syllable. “You have gotta be kidding me.”

  “Why, yes, Miz Lancaster,” Miss Turnipseed replied. “A friend in Texas sent it to him, Bobby Ray said. It was a birthday present, I believe.” She smiled. “And what a lovely present, too. Winning all that money, and him so down on his luck before that. He so wants to be able to do things for you and the children.”

  Wanda Nell stared at her, unable to respond.

  “Oh, yes,” Miss Turnipseed went on, “the three months he’s been here in Greenville have been just torture to him, the poor boy. He just can’t stand being away from you and the children. He surely doesn’t like working at that casino, being around all that gambling and drinking and Lord-knows-what kind of carrying on.”

  “Oh, really,” Mayrene said. “Now hold on just a minute.”

  Quickly, Wanda Nell jabbed an elbow into her friend’s side, none too gently. Mayrene subsided with a grunt.

  “Miss Turnipseed,” Wanda Nell said slowly, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. I don’t know how to tell you this, but Bobby Ray is dead.”

  “Oh, my,” Miss Turnipseed said before she fainted.

  Alarmed, Wanda Nell jumped up from the sofa and scurried over to Miss Turnipseed. Kneeling on the floor, Wanda Nell clasped one of her tiny hands in her own and rubbed it gently. “Try to find her some water or something,” she instructed Mayrene.

  While Mayrene went looking for some kind of restorative, Wanda Nell continued chafing those small hands. Slowly, Miss Turnipseed showed signs of stirring.

  “Oh, my,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Freeing one of her hands from Wanda Nell, she fumbled in the bosom of her dress and withdrew a small bottle. She handed it to Wanda Nell. “Could you open it for me, please?”