by Tegan Maher
I would have objected, but I was running on empty.
"Thanks. I'm going to." I gave her a quick hug and headed out the back door. I stopped short when I saw the rear tire of my truck was flat as a pancake. I leaned back against the driver's door and clunked my head on the window.
Just flippin’ fabulous.
Yes, I knew how to change the tire, but being the intelligent, prepared person I am, I hadn't switched the good jack over from Bessie yet. And I was running on empty; I didn't have it in me magically or mortally to use the stupid, hand-crank one.
I sighed and pulled my phone out to call Skeeter, the owner of Skeeter's Automotive and Appliances. Great guy, great work, great prices.. When I dialed his number, it went straight to voice mail, so I fired off a text to his cell phone explaining my problem.
I waited a few minutes for him to answer but he must have been elbow-deep in grease. I went back inside and dialed Hunter to see if he could give me a ride. When he didn't answer either, I dropped my head on the counter and bounced my forehead off it a couple times in frustration. It had been a rough couple of days, and I was exhausted.
"Aw, honey," Raeann said, giving me a quick squeeze. "It's no big deal. Let me finish up here and I’ll give you a ride home."
I barely had the energy to move, but Rae was going to a movie. "No way. You have plans. I think I’m going to go get my nails done while I’m waiting. Might as well go see what the rumor mill is grinding out today."
“If you’re sure, because I don’t mind.”
“I’m positive. Besides, I’ve been gone for a week. What if Mrs. Snodgrass hung her hooker panties on her line again? The outrage!”
“Shut up and go,” she said, laughing and shoving me toward the door. “Be sure to call me and fill me in. You know how important Mrs. Snodgrass’s choice in underwear is to me.”
“Yeah, I’ll take notes so I don’t miss anything important.” I gave her a final hug and headed down the street toward the Clip N Curl. If I weren't so exhausted, I'd be looking forward to the gab session. Those gals had a phone tree that spread news faster than the clap in a cathouse and I was anxious to see what they'd dug up on Max.
Chapter Seven
The smell of Aqua Net and acetone assaulted my nose when I pulled the door open to the Clip N Curl. The place was empty except for Coralee, the owner, and Belle, the resident ghost and previous owner of the shop.
They were arguing over something but zipped it when I walked in. I narrowed my eyes and looked back and forth between them. "Were you two just talking about me?"
"What? No! Of course not," Coralee said, but she couldn't quite look me in the eyes when she said it.
"Yes we were," Belle said, crossing her arms and glaring at Coralee. "The girl needs to know what the town's saying about her."
Oh boy. I couldn't wait to hear this.
She scowled at her predecessor. "The town ain't saying nothin' about her; a handful of you judgmental old biddies are just gathering up your righteous indignation when you know good and well it's a matter of the pot callin' the kettle black."
"Okay, ladies," I said before things got any more heated than they already were. "What have I done now that's causing such a stir?"
Belle floated forward. "Your mama, bless her soul, didn't raise you to go runnin' off on clandestine weekend trysts with strange men. It's not proper."
It was all I could do not to laugh. "It was hardly clandestine, and I doubt Mama would disapprove. If you remember, it was during just such one of those weekends that I was conceived. And unless I'm mistaken, didn't you tell me once about how Clive Dowdy took you up to those very same cabins a month or so after you met?" Clive had been the first of her four husbands.
Coralee coughed in her hand. Belle struggled to find a rebuttal, but when nothing came to mind, she just growled in frustration, muttered something about smart-mouth kids today, and popped out of view.
Coralee grinned at me. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"
"I was hoping to get a mani-pedi. Yesterday was a nightmare, I was up half the night baking, then came in early to help Rae open, and when I went to leave, I had a flat tire. Skeet didn’t answer his phone and Hunter doesn't get off for another couple of hours, so I have some time to kill."
She shot me a knowing look. "And is that the only reason?"
Somehow, the woman had a bullshit meter that was better than any polygraph, so there was no use trying to deny it. "Okay, fine. I also hoped to pick up some goss— information about what everybody thinks about the Max situation."
Coralee pulled me over to the pedicure chair just as Jo Ellen Burr's daughter Alyse walked in the door carrying a brown paper bag. Jo Ellen was one of Coralee's friends, and Alyse had just graduated from the cosmetology school at Keyhole Lake Community College. Alyse needed a job and Coralee wanted Friday afternoons off to play bingo with Jo Ellen and the rest of the group, so it was a match made in heaven.
The smell of burgers and fries wafted across the room.
"If you two were getting ready to eat, take your time. I'll just keep you company," I said.
"No, no." Alyse said. "I'll get you going, then eat while you soak, so sit back and relax. Did you already pick a color?" She handed the bag over to Coralee, sprinkled some smell-good salt into the pedi tub, and turned on the water.
"Nah, I just figured I'd let you pick." She was a magician when it came to picking colors to match skin tones and attitudes. And I don't mean she's a witch, though she may have a touch of that, too; I'm not one to pry. Okay, I am, but not about stuff like that.
She squinted and appraised me for a minute. "Plucky Plum. It says I'm sassy but classy. What do you think?" She turned off the water and swirled it a bit.
"Perfect," I sighed as she placed my feet in the warm water.
I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling while they divided the food.
"So, have y'all cleared Joe Sneed yet?" Coralee asked as she dragged a french fry through her ketchup.
"I have no idea," I replied. "I'm not really involved in it beyond being there when Max was found. Hunter was going to talk to him today. Why?"
"Because looking at him is a waste of time." She waved her hand dismissively. "There's not a snowball's chance in Hades that he did it. He don't have it in him. Kaye's been married to him almost forty years, and she's always griping that he won't take up for himself."
"You never know what somebody can do if they're mad enough," I said, swirling my feet in the water.
"Tell her, Alyse."
Instead of echoing Coralee's ringing endorsement, Alyse busied herself with adding more mayo to her burger, smearing it around with the packet.
"Alyse?"
The girl looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"I don't know, Coralee," she said, not taking her eyes off her burger. "I've seen him get all riled up over piddlin’ things a couple of times. Once, I saw him belt Oscar Wells for buyin' a tractor out from underneath him. And then there was the time he and Duke Sizemore butted heads over who actually shot that buck."
Coralee waved it off. "That's all boys-will-be-boys crap. A couple of fights does not a killer make."
"You're probably right. I'm just saying, maybe Noelle has a point. After all, somebody did it, and it almost had to be one of us." She took the last bite of her cheeseburger and stuffed her to-go container in the trash. "You've soaked long enough, sugar. Let's get you finished before your toes turn into prunes."
Normally, she'd be right. About it being one of us, not about my toes. But the fishing tournament had started Friday, so that may change things.
When she started massaging my feet, I leaned back and closed my eyes. At that point, somebody could have whacked me in the head with a toilet-tank lid and I'd have died a happy woman. That girl knew exactly what spots to hit.
I found myself drifting off and just enjoyed the massage. When she pulled the plug and toweled off my feet, I forced my eyes open and shook my head in an attempt to wake up a bit.
"So if you don't think Joe did it, then who? Surely y'all have come up with some ideas."
Coralee leaned back in her barber's chair and crossed her legs. "As a matter of fact, we do. You know he gave Basil Bennett his walkin' papers, right?"
"Yeah. Y'all were talking about that in the car yesterday. What about that stuff about Max cheating? Do you think there's anything to it?"
I paid close attention to her expression; often with her, it's not what she says, it's what she leaves out. She had a knack for telling the truth but leaving out the uglier details. She didn't pause when she answered me, so she probably wasn't going to do any cherry-picking right then.
"All I know for sure is that Emily says things weren't adding up. He was bidding jobs way lower than normal, sometimes barely enough to cover the costs. And he's disappeared for an hour or two a time a few times over the last couple of months with no explanation."
She pulled my polish off the rack beside her and handed it to Alyse. "Anyway, they had a big ole bruhaha about it Saturday right in front of the library when he picked her up from work, but he said she was making a mountain out of a molehill." I cringed. After forty years of marriage, you'd think a man would know better.
Needless to say," Coralee continued, "she was fit to be tied. Told him he could sleep at the shop. I can't even imagine how horrible she's feeling right now."
She paused long enough to clean up the remains of their lunch, then continued. "Personally, I don't see Max as the cheating type. I mean, why start now? Though if Emily felt that something was fishy, that's usually a pretty good sign that it is. A woman knows."
I thought about what she'd said about Max bidding low. I'd gotten a few estimates for my pool project, but had only ended up going with Max because he estimated he could have it done a couple of weeks faster than anybody else. He was a little cheaper, but only by a small percentage—definitely not as much as Coralee was talking about.
I decided to keep that tidbit to myself, at least for the time being. If I said anything, the gossip chain would have him running off with a Tassels girl by morning, and Emily was dealing with enough - assuming she didn't kill him herself.
"You said Emily works at the library?"
"Yeah, she's the head librarian. Knowing her, she's probably working today. She hasn't missed a day of work in twenty years, except when her mama died.
Maybe it was time for me to visit the library.
"That's all you've come up with?" They'd had a full twenty-four hours to speculate. I'd expected a list.
Alyse motioned me over to the manicure table and I waddled over, careful not to dislodge the foam toe separators.
She started massaging my hands, and her brow was furrowed like she had something to add.
"You have any ideas?" I asked her. As the spring chicken in the group, she tended to keep her opinions to herself unless asked. She'd no doubt get over that after hanging out there for a few months. They dealt just as much in speculation as they did beauty.
She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "I just remembered something, but I'm not sure if it amounts to a hill of beans." Coralee arched a brow. Apparently, this was news to her, too.
"Max played poker every Friday night with a group down at the Moose Lodge. Daddy plays too, and he mentioned a couple weeks ago that Max was leavin' ahead by quite a bit almost every week. Larry Huffman bowed up at him about it a couple weeks ago because he reckoned Max should be giving him a chance to win his money back."
"What did Max do?" Coralee asked, leaning forward as Alyse slicked the clear coat over my new Plucky Plum nails.
She shrugged. "Told him if he couldn't afford to lose, he couldn't afford to play. Daddy said Larry was all bent out of shape about it, mostly because he bets high and loses because his left eye ticks when he's bluffin'. Course, ain't nobody told him that."
I don't reckon they would.
Before Alyse could say anything else, Belle popped back in, all signs of outrage gone now that the conversation was getting juicy. "Did you say Larry Huffman? I don't mean to spread gossip,"—of course she didn’t—"but word has it Larry and his missus are having some problems. She wants to move her mama in with them."
Alyse gasped and put her hand to her chest. "Shut the front door! Why?"
I was lost. I didn't know these people from Adam, but apparently, this was akin to giving away the man’s best coon dog. "What?" I asked. "Why is it so horrible that she wants to move her mama in?"
Coralee put her and up and shook her head. "Oh, honey. You'd only have to meet Marylou Simmons once and you'd know. Frankly, I'm amazed any man was willing to marry one of those girls, knowin' upfront there was even an outside chance they'd have to take in mama at some point, too."
Belle nodded. "That woman would argue with an empty room. She's meaner'n a snake, and now she's losing her mind to boot. She needs to go to a home, but none of the ones here'll take her because they know her, and the ones in Atlanta are too expensive. They want at least a couple grand a month and the state don't cover nowhere near that."
"And he's on salary as a manager out at the Walmart, so he can't get overtime," Alyse said.
I considered that for a minute. It sure explained why Larry was gambling the way he was, and why he was so mad that Max would take his money and run. For that matter, it probably explained his nervous tick. From the sound of it, the man had a lot riding on that money.
"Yeah, but do you think somebody would kill just so he'd have the money to put his mother-in-law in a home?"
"Sugar," Alyse said, her eyes big, "if I had to choose between killin' somebody and livin' with Scarylou Simmons, I'd pull that trigger—or swing that toilet tank lid—every time. Though I don't know why Candy doesn't get a job, or why he don't get a second one, or both for that matter."
"Candy?" I asked.
Coralee barked out a laugh. "Yes, with a 'y'. That's Larry's wife. Her sisters are Cinnamon, Bambi, and Roxy."
I rolled my eyes and made a mental note to ask Cheri Lynn if any of them fulfilled their destinies at Tassels.
Belle shook her head. "I'm not sayin' Larry's lazy, but I will say all the men in that family like to whine about bein' broke way more than they like to work to fix it."
So, lazy guy, crappy job, with an impending invasion by the mother-in-law from hell. Men had killed for much, much less.
Chapter Eight
Alyse had just finished the top coat on my nails when my phone chimed with an incoming text from Skeeter. He was on his way to Brew to fix my tire. I texted him back and told him I'd meet him there.
I paid and headed back toward the shop, admiring my new polish and turning things over in my head as I walked. I admit that I was also daydreaming about my "clandestine" weekend. For the first time ever, I was actually considering a long-term relationship. I was jerked out of my reverie when I collided with somebody.
"Jeez, lady! Watch where you're going." A redheaded kid with a dusting of freckles across his nose was brushing himself off and glaring at me. If I had to guess, I'd say he was ten or so. I looked around for his parents but we were the only people on this side of the street.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie! I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?" I reached down to pick up his backpack for him, but he snatched it up before I could touch it.
"Yeah, I'm fine." With a final glare, he stomped off in the other direction.
He turned a corner, and I still didn’t see any sign of his folks. Some people.
By the time I reached my truck, Skeeter was already there and had my spare beside the truck. He's a lanky guy that's always smiling, and has dug me out of more than one automotive catastrophe over the years. Honestly, he knows my vehicles better than I do.
"Hey Skeet. Thanks a ton for bailing me out again."
"Anytime, Noe. How ya been?"
I barked out a laugh. "Let's just say it's been a mean couple days."
He glanced at me as he loosened the lug nuts then jacked the truck up. "Yeah. I heard y'all found
Max Wheeler's body out at his shop. Any idea who done it?"
"Nothing solid. I've probably heard the same rumors you have. I was here all day and haven't talked to Hunter."
"I heard y'all are lookin’ at Joe Sneed."
I shrugged a shoulder, waiting to hear the same song that everybody else was singing about how Joe was innocent. Instead, he nodded.
"I can see that. Joe don't get mad very often but when he does, it ain't pretty and you don't see it coming. He's like a stick of dynamite—one big bang. And he and Max aren't exactly peas and carrots right now. You've heard about the boat, right?"
I bent down to hand him my lug nuts when he lifted my spare and settled it into place. "Yeah, I have. I gotta say, you're in the minority on this one. Most everybody else says there's no way Joe coulda done it."
"Most folks haven't worked on his vehicles or been fishin’ with him," he said as he released the jack and tightened my lugs. "Trust me, I've beat more than one fist- or boot-sized dent out of his truck and watched him sling more than one good pole overboard when things weren't goin’ his way."
He pushed to his feet and wiped his hands on a grubby bandana that he'd pulled from his back pocket. I reached into my purse and dug for my wallet, but it was gone. I dug deeper, pulling out my hairbrush, a handful of receipts and a beat-up pack of gum. It wasn't there.
An image of crashing into the scrawny brat on the sidewalk popped into my head and I growled. Just. Freakin'. Lovely. Would this day end already? I braced my hands on the truck and hung my head for a minute, then stuffed everything back into my purse.
Moving to the back door, I said, "C'mon into the shop, Skeet. I have to grab my tips so I can pay you."
He followed me through the back door, but said, "How about you make me up a triple latte and we'll call it even?"
We wound our way around tables to the front. "I'll gladly throw the coffee in, but I don't feel right not paying you."
He waved it off. "I was done for the day and on my way back to the shop when you called. I'da probably seen you and stopped to help anyway."