Nancy Bell

by Biggie;the Devil Diet

  "Oh, a book! Then you're an author! How exciting. What's it about?"

  "It's a novel— a serious novel."

  "My gracious, aren't you smart. Do tell me about it. I'm so interested in reading."

  I hid a smile. Biggie never reads anything except the newspaper. She's too busy doing other things.

  "It's about good and evil, love and hate, power and corruption."

  "My, oh my," Biggie said. "Tell me more."

  Rob couldn't resist. The way I saw it, probably not many people asked him to talk about his work.

  "Well, there's this young man, he's a kind of Christ character. Good, you know, and pure. Well, he sells his soul to the devil for gold and power."

  "How original," Biggie murmured.

  "Yes, I thought so. So, anyway, he meets this rich man, and the man has a daughter. She's very beautiful but evil. The boy is bewitched by her charms, and soon they are married. The rich man gives his daughter a fortune for a dowry."

  "How nice," Biggie said.

  Rob frowned at her. "No, you miss the point. It was not nice at all. The young groom had planned to use the money for good, but his wife has other ideas. She spends recklessly on frivolities. The young man begs her to stop, but she only spends more, so he goes to the father for help. He tries to reason with him, earnestly pleading that the money be used for humanitarian purposes. The father laughs in the young man's face, for he is Beelzebub himself, you see. In the end the girl becomes a drunken shrew. She mocks the boy and makes his life a living hell."

  "And what happens to the father?" Biggie looked sharply at Rob.

  "Justice prevails." Rob picked up the papers and began sorting them in neat piles. "I haven't got it all worked out yet."

  "One more question, honey," Biggie said. "This is so interesting…. I was just wondering, does the old man have a wife?"

  Rob's face took on a goofy look. "Yes, he does. A beautiful creature, as good as she is kind. Try as they might, the old man and his evil daughter cannot corrupt her. In the end, she and the young man—"

  "Well, that sounds just wonderful." Biggie stood up and went and stood at the French door that led to the patio. "Oh, there goes Grace. Sorry to rush off, honey, but I really want to compliment her on the fine job she's doing out here with the girls."

  I rolled my eyes and followed Biggie outside. "Biggie, how do you know she's doing a good job?"

  "I don't, but I want to talk to her. Now, hush, here she comes."

  Grace Higgins looked like a woman with a purpose when she stepped from the grass onto the brick patio. She nodded curtly when she saw Biggie heading her way, and tried to step around her, but Biggie was too quick and grabbed her in a big hug. "Honey, we just came out to offer condolences. I know you all must be so broken up about poor…"

  Grace stood with her arms hanging at her side looking down at Biggie. "That's nice of you, but I have to—"

  "See Laura, I'll bet," Biggie said. "She's taken a pill and gone to bed, so I'm afraid you'll have to wait. There doesn't seem to be anyone else around, so I thought you and I might have a little chat."

  Grace thought a minute, then I guess good manners got the best of her. "Oh… all right. I have a minute or two."

  "Good." Biggie drew two chairs up to a wrought-iron table and took a seat, leaving the other for Grace.

  "Now." Biggie's tone suddenly got businesslike. "I haven't been entirely honest with you. I'm here because the ranger asked me to help him investigate poor Rex's murder. You can help a lot if you'll just answer a few questions."

  Grace's mouth dropped open. "He asked you?"

  "In the past, I've done my bit to help the authorities when murder's been done. Of course, I'm only an amateur…"

  "Well, I don't know what I can tell you." Grace folded her hands in front of her. "You were there when the ranger questioned me last night."

  "Yes, but I have a feeling that you're a bright woman and a good judge of character. Am I right?"

  "I try." Grace relaxed in her chair. "Okay, ask away."

  "Let's start with Rex," Biggie said. "How long have he and Laura been married?"

  "Umm…" Grace wrinkled her brow. "About eleven years, to the best of my memory. Soon after I returned from the Peace Corps, I ran into Laura in Lansing, Michigan. Soon after, we became roommates. We both had jobs but just barely scraped by. Rex had quit racing by then and was designing futuristic prototypes for new cars. He and Laura met at a car wash, if you can believe that. Romantic, huh? But he apparently was swept off his feet by her, as who wouldn't be. And Laura? Well, what girl could help but… I mean he rushed her something awful. She was impressed with all that money and power." Grace gripped her hands together until her knuckles turned white. "I really, I don't think she ever really loved him, but she was dazzled. He was handsome then and drove a hot little sports car…." Her voice faded and she stared at the pasture beyond the house.

  "So how did you all come together here?" Biggie asked.

  Grace kind of jumped like Biggie's voice had startled her. "It was about two years ago. By then I had gone back to school to become a dietitian, and Laura knew it. We'd kept in touch, you see. So when she called me all excited about this project for the girls, I'll admit, it gripped my imagination, too. So, as they say, the rest is…"

  "… history, I know," Biggie said. "So what are your thoughts on Babe and Rob?"

  "Leeches, the two of them. Babe has been bad news all her life as far as I can tell. Her mother divorced Rex when Babe was very young, and the kid never had much to do with her daddy until she heard he'd married Laura. Then out of the blue she showed up, all lovey-dovey and wanting to be part of his life. Rex, of course, was flattered and welcomed her with open arms. As for Rob— well, you've met him. Enough said?"

  Biggie nodded. "Well, thanks for your time. Are there any plans yet for a funeral?"

  "Yes. As soon as they release the body, he'll be buried here on the ranch. Graveside services only. Rex wasn't much for religion, and those were his wishes." She got to her feet. "Now, I really do need to talk to Laura."

  "Sure, honey. Run along now. You've been a big help."

  We watched as Grace disappeared through the French doors, then Biggie jumped up. "Come on," she said. "Let's find the ranger. I want to have a word with him."

  15

  We found Ranger Upchurch talking to Hamp out by the horse barn. Misty, looking cute as a basket of kittens, in jeans and cowboy boots, was saddling a horse. I went over to talk to her.

  "Goin' for a ride?" My mouth was full of cotton, and I couldn't think of another thing to say.

  She smiled at me. "Uh-huh. Want to come along? I can saddle Blade for you. He's real gentle."

  I looked at that saddle. "I, um… I don't know. I may have to be getting back to town."

  She must have read my mind. "I could put a western saddle on him."

  "I'll see," I said, and headed back to where Biggie was standing beside the ranger.

  "Go," she said when I asked her. "Just be back in an hour."

  We walked the horses past the corral and the riding ring and across the pasture until we came to a grove of trees.

  "Watch your head and legs," Misty said. "Old Blade will try to knock you off. He'll either cut too close to a fence post, or sometimes he'll head for a low limb and try to scrape you off that way."

  "I thought you said he was gentle," I said.

  Misty laughed. "You always have to be smarter than the horse. They're just like people; they have their little quirks."

  I ducked as we passed under an oak tree and followed Misty through the woods into a wide clearing bordered on both sides by planted pines.

  "This is a pipeline right-of-way," she said. "They keep it mowed, so it's a perfect place to run the horses. Come on!"

  She nudged her horse with her heels and cantered away. I gave Blade a nudge, but all he did was speed up to a trot, all the time trying to get his head down to the green grass below. Finally, I gave him a good kick a
nd held on to the saddle horn as he galloped after Misty. We must have ridden a half mile when we came in sight of a blacktop road up ahead. Misty reined in her horse and waited for Blade to catch up.

  "This is the end of the trail," she said. "I know a good place to rest and let the horses drink. Follow me."

  We turned the horses left and entered an even denser wood than before. Grapevines trailed from the trees and ran along the ground, causing the horses to step high to avoid them. I could hear gurgling water, and soon we broke into a clearing beside a creek bank. Misty jumped from her horse and led it to the water. I followed suit. After the horses had a drink, we tied them to a low-hanging branch and sat down on the mossy ground.

  "I didn't know you rode," Misty said, smiling.

  "Oh, sure." I didn't tell her that the only riding I'd ever done, except for the ponies at the county fair, was on Mr. Sontag's old mule.

  "You should come out and ride often." She leaned back on her hands and looked sideways at me. "That is, if we're staying here, me and Daddy, I mean."

  I sat up straight. "Why shouldn't you?"

  "I heard them talking, Abner and Daddy. Abner was saying they might have to sell the ranch. He said Rex had already settled a bunch of cash on Laura, and he wasn't leaving her anything in his will."

  "That's awful." I watched two beetles crawling across the green moss pushing a ball of dung. "What will y'all do?"

  "Daddy'll move on to another job, I guess. He's a wonderful trainer. Before we came here, he trained quarter horses, you know, for racing. That's big business, and good trainers get paid a lot. Actually, what Daddy really wants to do is settle down with his own stables, but you have to have lots of money for that."

  "Where's your mom?"

  "She's married again and living in Arizona. I've got a little brother there, but I've never even seen him. When she and Daddy divorced, she gave me to Daddy. I guess she didn't want me." Misty didn't look sad, just matter of fact.

  "Cool— I didn't mean that. It's not cool when your mom doesn't want you around. What I meant to say is, my mom didn't want me either. I guess we have something in common. Does it bother you her not wanting you?"

  "Uh-uh." Misty waved away a gnat that was buzzing around her face. "I'd lots rather live with Dad."

  "Me, too— I mean, I'd rather live here in Job's Crossing with Biggie."

  Misty turned and put her face close to mine. "J.R., I've never met a boy as nice as you. Have you ever heard of soul mates?"

  "Huh?" I was having a hard time breathing.

  "Soul mates. People who were meant to be together. I was reading this book one time…"

  "Would you like to go to the junior high homecoming dance with me?" I knew my face was turning red, but I forced myself to look straight at her. "It's next Friday night, and Rosebud could drive me out to pick you up. We'd bring you home, too."

  Misty's face lit up with a big smile. "Sure! You are just the sweetest boy to ask me." With that, she gave me a kiss right on the lips. I hate to admit it, but I was so surprised I fell over backward and rolled down the hill, just barely stopping myself before I fell into the creek. When I looked up, Misty was laughing her head off. I laughed, too, because what else could I do?

  * * *

  Back at the horse barn, I said good-bye to Misty and went to find Biggie. I found her sitting at a picnic table under some trees talking with Rosebud and the ranger.

  "He had a gun," Ranger Upchurch was saying.

  "He always kept it in his bureau drawer. Anybody could have gotten their hands on it."

  "And in the shape poor Rex was in, he'd never have known." Biggie's lips drew into a thin line.

  "The funny thing is," the ranger said, "the gun the kid had— it had been fired. Rex's gun, we're not too sure about."

  "Did anybody find a slug?" Rosebud asked. "In the study, I mean."

  Ranger Upchurch shook his head. "Not a sign. And Mrs. Barnwell says Stacie never fired the gun."

  Biggie opened the car door and got in. Then holding the door open, she said, "Red, I'm worried about the daughter, Babe."

  "I am, too," the ranger said. "I plan to have a talk with her before I leave here today. The funeral, such as it is, is tomorrow. Will you be coming out?"

  "I haven't been invited," Biggie said. "Still, I believe it's my Christian duty to comfort the grieved, so I might just bring along a casserole for the family."

  "That's my girl." The ranger grinned and slammed the door. He stood watching as Rosebud turned the car around and drove away.

  * * *

  That night at dinner, I told my news. "Misty's going to the dance with me. I asked her, and she said yes. Rosebud, I told her you'd drive me out to pick her up." I spooned gravy on my mashed potatoes. "I might need to borrow some money to buy her a mum. I want Butch to make a big, fancy one with lots of streamers hanging down— and little doodads attached to the streamers, just like the high school girls have. Will you loan me the money, Biggie? I'll rake leaves or chop wood—" Suddenly, I noticed everybody had stopped eating. "What? What's the matter?"

  Biggie had been cutting her chicken-fried steak. "J.R., you've already asked Monica to the dance."

  I had forgotten. Two weeks ago, Monica and I had gone fishing at Wooten's Creek. I had caught a big catfish. For once Monica had bragged on me a lot, telling me not just anybody could have landed him, that it took a real fisherman to do that. Later, we had fired up Mr. Sontag's outdoor fryer, and we'd cooked my fish and eaten him for supper. After supper, we sat out on Monica's back steps and tried to pick out the constellations in the summer sky. Just when I was getting ready to leave, full of catfish and pride, I had asked Monica to go to the dance with me.

  "Well." I thought fast. "I don't… I don't really think Monica's into that kind of thing. She goes to that little country school… she wouldn't know anybody… and besides, she probably doesn't even have a dress to wear." I took a sip of tea. "She'd more than likely be embarrassed when nobody asked her to dance. Isn't that right, Rosebud?" I looked at Rosebud, but he was cutting his meat. "I guess I'll just call her and tell her…" What would I tell her? Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. "May I be excused?"

  Biggie nodded. Nobody said a word as I got up from the table and went up the stairs to my room.

  16

  The next morning when I came down for breakfast, Willie Mae was making my favorite breakfast, French toast made from thick slices of homemade bread with lots of cinnamon and powdered sugar sprinkled on top. A pitcher of warm maple syrup sat on the table.

  "Hurry up and eat," she said, "you gonna be late for school."

  "I don't feel like going today." I pulled the syrup pitcher toward me. "I think I've taken a virus."

  "The love bug done bit you," Rosebud said, coming in from the back porch. He sat down at the table. "When that old love bug bites, he causes a feller to do stupid things."

  "Rosebud, I don't…"

  Just then the telephone rang. Biggie, dressed in her turquoise jogging suit, came down the backstairs and picked it up. "Hello. Um-hum… How did you find out? Well, Julia, I don't know about that, all of us going… Oh, you're going anyway?… Well, okay. We'll pick you up at four…. You're taking baked beans? I don't know yet. I have to talk to Willie Mae about it. All right. You be ready now, you hear? Okay, bye."

  "What was that all about?" Willie Mae wanted to know.

  Biggie went to the stove and poured herself a cup of black Louisiana coffee, then sat down at the table. "Oh, it's Julia and them. Julia's found out the funeral is this afternoon, and she insists that we all go out and take food to the family. Says it's our duty as good Christians."

  "Well, Biggie, you said the same thing…."

  "Don't be a smart mouth." Biggie poured syrup on her French toast. "I intended to go by myself. They'll just be in the way. Oh well, it's done. Rosebud, can you drive us out at four?"

  Rosebud nodded. "I got to get the oil changed first."

  "Biggie, I don't feel like going
to school today."

  Biggie felt my forehead. "There's not a thing wrong with you."

  "Well, don't you need me to go to the ranch with you? You always say I'm a big help…."

  "J.R., we're not going until four. Just get yourself home right after the bell rings."

  The trunk of the limousine was filled with casseroles and fried chicken and potato salad when we finally drove out of town. Biggie's club, the Daughters, which she's president of, had organized a food committee. Miss Julia and Mrs. Muckleroy had been appointed to go along and serve.

  "Stop by the shop and pick up Butch," Mrs. Muckleroy said when we picked her up. "He wants to ride out with us."

  "Why didn't we just put a notice in the paper and invite the whole town?" Biggie grumbled.

  "Why, Biggie, we couldn't do that!" Miss Julia was shocked. "Half the riff-raff in the county would invite themselves along. Ooh, there's Butch. Stop here, Rosebud."

  Rosebud pulled the car up to the curb in front of Hickley's House of Flowers and Butch, wearing black velvet jeans and his white ruffly shirt got in. He held a covered cake plate.

  "Did you bake a cake?" Miss Julia asked.

  "Not likely," Butch replied. "I got one of Populus's cherry pies. They're my favorite. Which kind do you like, Ruby?"