Misalignment and Murder

by Cathy Tully

“I thought we were just supposed to snoop around,” said Angie.

  “Snoop, but with a little grace and decorum.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Angie mocked. “I’ll see if I can find some decorum in my pocketbook.”

  “You know what I mean.” Susannah tapped her sister’s arm. “Don’t make it obvious. No one is expecting us to be hanging over his coffin in despair. But we are in mourn—”

  “Got it. I’ll be appropriately bereft, but in a classy, understated kinda way.”

  “At the cemetery, keep an eye out for anywhere Travis might have been hiding.”

  Susannah steered her Jeep into the parking lot of the First Methodist Church. Bitsy’s SUV was already in the parking lot, and Susannah felt relieved that she would know someone in the church besides the deceased. Entering, she noticed Bitsy in a pew at the middle of the church, seated next to a woman who had to be Cousin Shanice. Bitsy’s peach-colored fringed shawl highlighted her black, long-sleeved dress. She had a way of making her unorthodox clothing choices work.

  As Susannah queued up to give her condolences, she locked eyes with Randy Laughton at the rear of the church and quickly looked away. At the front of the church, Crystal Keene stood next to an elderly couple and a middle-aged man who favored Travis. His parents and brother, perhaps? Crystal looked as hardboiled as ever, wearing a white blouse tucked into a dark pair of skinny jeans that clung to her thin legs. Her makeup was too heavy. Her lipstick, though light pink, somehow seemed a few shades too dark. She sported a pair of brown scuffed cowboy boots and her blond hair was piled on top of her head in an untidy bun.

  “That girl needs a stylist,” Angie whispered.

  As they neared the altar, Susannah became aware of whispering. She turned to see Maggie Hibbard at the entryway, wearing a red dress. An audible hum began as more and more mourners twisted in their seats to look.

  Bitsy left her pew and sidled up next to Susannah, whispering, “I thought the devil came in a blue dress.”

  Susannah bit her lip, but Angie let out a guffaw at Bitsy’s reference to an old movie and an even older song. Maggie shot a look at them and then at the front of the church. Susannah swallowed, unable to look away as Maggie strode down the main aisle, her dress swishing in the now-silent church. Her high-heeled sandals, open-toed with black-and-white zebra stripes, clacked on the floor.

  “Those’re safari night at the disco shoes,” Angie commented. Susannah discreetly swatted her.

  Crystal leaned in and spoke to her in-laws, who stiffened. There was a collective sigh of relief as Maggie chose a pew about halfway back from the altar. Bitsy grinned. Maggie had chosen the pew right in front of Cousin Shanice.

  Bitsy gave Susannah a nudge and whispered, “Gotta go.” She tiptoed into the pew and swiftly settled in next to Shanice.

  “Sorry, sis,” Angie said sotto voce and quickly crossed the aisle and squeezed in next to Bitsy.

  No sooner had Angie’s backside hit the pew than Crystal, clearing her throat loudly, gripped her brother-in-law’s arm and said, “I’ll take care of this.” She strode down the main aisle with an air of self-satisfaction. Stopping at Maggie’s pew, she leaned her arm on the pew end and said, “You might should leave right now before things get ugly.”

  “I think they already are ugly,” Maggie snarled at Crystal, taking her in from her stringy blond hair to her scuffed-up cowboy boots.

  Crystal stepped back and gazed at Maggie. “Girl, you haven’t got the sense that God gave you.” A wan smile flitted across Crystal’s face and then faded. Her smug expression returned. “Travis told me you were a loudmouth.”

  “And Travis told me you were a lush.” Maggie wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face as if she smelled something unpleasant. “Which is why he left you and started seeing me.”

  Crystal froze, her expression of triumph erased, her mouth and eyes rigid. Susannah noticed a twitch in her left eye.

  “Now, get your nasty breath out of my face,” Maggie finished, placing her black patent leather handbag on her lap and leaning back in the pew.

  Crystal’s face cracked. Grabbing Maggie’s handbag, she yanked it out of her hands and threw it on the floor. “Travis loved me.” She gritted her teeth and ground the patent leather under the heel of her boot, then poked Maggie’s shoulder. “He was just using you. And when he was done with his business, he was going to leave you too.” She hoisted her heel and stomped on the bag, scarring the leather, then nudged the toe of her boot under the handbag, lifting it.

  Maggie stared in horror. “That’s Kate Spade!”

  “You”—Crystal glared at Maggie, her eyes slitted—“were just another one of his deals.”

  With a snap of her ankle, Crystal lifted Maggie’s purse off the floor and launched it into the air. The scratched black projectile flew to the rear of the church, spewing its contents as it went. It landed with a slap. The church was silent for a moment, and then Crystal began to laugh, a long, low cackle.

  “Fly away, little magpie.” Crystal waved her hand at Maggie as she wheezed with laughter. The woman had obviously smoked one too many cigarettes.

  “Travis was right!” Maggie jumped up, her eyes wide. She pointed at Crystal. “You’re not just a drunk, you are deranged.” With all eyes on her, she pushed past Crystal and fled down the aisle.

  Maggie strode down the main aisle of the church, and Susannah met her at the last pew. Once Crystal had sent the bag airborne, Susannah had made her peace with not giving her condolences to Travis’s family and bolted for the door. Bitsy and Angie sat stunned for a moment, then they too rose and followed the red-clad Maggie to the door.

  Doyle Etheridge sat in the last pew next to Maggie’s flattened purse. As she bent to pick up the remains of her bag, Doyle tilted his head and whispered to her, “Nice exit. Love them kicks.” He wore a delighted smile and winked as he handed her a few personal items, including a tampon that had landed in his lap. Maggie didn’t reply but stooped to pick up some makeup and her wallet.

  Crab-walking into the next pew, Susannah retrieved Maggie’s keys. Doyle twisted in his seat and in a stage whisper said, “Like I said, Doc, it’s the live ones we have to worry about.” Susannah patted his arm and followed Angie and Bitsy out the door and down the steps of the church, pursued by a few others, including the pastor.

  Outside, Bitsy stood facing Maggie. “You all right?”

  Maggie looked dazed.

  “You certainly showed off your fashion superiority to them.”

  “Well, that wasn’t my intention,” Maggie said, then paused. “Or maybe it was. Not that it means much to that clan of troglodytes.”

  “Good one, Miss Maggie,” Bitsy cooed at her. “You don’t hear that kinda vocabulary every day.”

  Maggie raised one eyebrow at Bitsy. “Mostly I just wanted Crystal to see that I wasn’t going to be cowed by her.”

  Susannah approached them. “Maybe we should get out of the way,” she said as Crystal stuck her head out of the double doors, then pushed the doors open wide.

  “You still here?” Crystal sneered at Maggie. “I’m fixin’ to make you wish—”

  “Wish this.” Maggie winged her handbag at Crystal like she was throwing a patent leather Frisbee. It flew true and hit Crystal in the head. She wobbled and slumped forward slightly, grasping the doors for support. Susannah moved into action, retrieving the purse, taking Angie under her arm, and then nudging Bitsy, who pushed Maggie from behind toward the parking lot.

  “Step on it, girl, we gotta move,” Bitsy said as Maggie burst into tears. “Now, don’t go doing that. Travis is in a better place.”

  “I know!” she wailed, pushing her face into the shoulder of Bitsy’s black funeral dress. She inhaled, heaving. “And I know he was still seeing that bleach-blond stringy-haired witch.” Tears poured down her face. Bitsy took one arm, Susannah the other, and they propelled her through the parking lot.

  “You can ride with me,” Susannah said, and handed Magg
ie her purse. “I’ll take you home.”

  Maggie straightened and then began to cry again. “I need a tissue.”

  Angie pulled a flattened tissue pack out of her bag and handed it to Maggie.

  The black-suited pastor followed them into the parking lot and paused as Maggie honked loudly into first one tissue and then another. Susannah also noticed that Owen Chaffin had appeared on the steps but stayed put, viewing the circus from a distance.

  Bitsy patted Maggie’s back like she was a baby and said, “There, there.”

  The pastor approached, his face somber and his hands outstretched. “I’m very sorry, Miss. You have my condolences on your loss.” He reached out to Maggie, but she backed away. “I hope you don’t take Mrs. Keene’s actions as a reflection on the First Methodist as a church.”

  Susannah wondered if he had seen Maggie’s retaliatory patent leather Frisbee fling. Was do-unto-others part of the First Methodist playbook?

  Maggie wiped her nose with a balled-up tissue and straightened her spine. Susannah could almost see her thoughts, and they weren’t ones of peace, love, and reconciliation. Even her stripy-strappy sandals seemed straighter. “I suspected Travis wasn’t being honest with me, but I took my chances believing that he was a good man.” She pulled a clean tissue from the pack, looking up at the man with eyes that now matched her dress. “But if he was married to that mess”—she tilted her head toward the church to indicate Crystal—“then that’s all the proof I need that he was demented himself.”

  The pastor looked away, then back. “Just as long as you don’t hold it against us none. Everyone grieves differently, Miss.”

  Maggie waved her purse in front of the pastor’s face. “‘Grieves differently’? I came here to pay my respects to a man I thought I was going to marry. And that lunatic smashes up a $250 handbag.” She ignored the man and spoke to the women. “I just want to find my keys and go home. Has anyone seen them?”

  The pastor shrugged and walked away. Susannah handed Maggie her keys along with a pen and another tampon. Maggie took the keys and stared at the feminine protection, then said, “Why did I get involved with him?” Instead of more tears, Maggie stamped her foot and spluttered. “And why did I have to get my period this morning? It wouldn’t have been so bad if my Tampax hadn’t been flying around consecrated spaces.”

  Bitsy leaned in and patted her arm. “I know,” she said in her most soothing tone. “My first day is always the heaviest too.”

  With that, Maggie giggled, and the women all joined in until Susannah had tears in her eyes. “Let’s get you home. I can take you if you don’t want to drive.”

  “I can drive myself,” Maggie said, raising her keys. “Thanks for the offer.”

  Susannah and Angie headed toward the Jeep. Maggie opened her car door and threw the purse on the passenger seat.

  Bitsy nudged Susannah. “Here comes Crystal, and she looks mad.”

  The women exchanged glances. Susannah helped Maggie into her car and shut the door. On the steps of the church, Crystal waved Randy away and teetered into the parking lot. Bitsy sprinted to her SUV, jumping in and mashing the door lock button.

  As Crystal neared, a weird, lopsided grimace on her face, a horn sounded. Angie was in the driver’s seat of Susannah’s Jeep. The engine came to life, and she maneuvered the vehicle between Crystal and Susannah.

  “Get in!” Angie yelled at Susannah, who hopped into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut faster than she would have thought possible. Apparently, extra caffeine came in handy in funeral emergencies. Angie peeled out of the parking lot and into the street without a backward look.

  In the mirror, Susannah watched as Crystal leaned on the hearse, rubbing her forehead.

  Angie grinned. “I think I’m getting used to Southern life.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sherlock Hound

  Susannah glanced over at her sister and laughed. “I’ve never seen a funeral like that before.”

  “Madonna! You and me both.” Angie laughed. “I thought my friends at the bowling alley were wild. These people weren’t even drinking!”

  “Well, we don’t know that for sure.”

  “That Crystal is a real gavone. She was out for blood. And Maggie, that girl is a hoot! Who goes to a funeral in a red dress and four-inch heels?”

  “I guess a jilted hairdresser does,” Susannah replied.

  “What now, Captain? Do you have a plan B?”

  Susannah had pulled her phone from her thankfully intact purse. About to call Bitsy, she paused midtap. “Plan B?”

  “Yeah, ya know. We were supposed to follow the funeral procession to the cemetery. Right?”

  “Yeessss.” Susannah stretched out the word. “We were.”

  “Well, should we go there now? Or come back for some post-funeral snooping?”

  Quickly looking over her shoulder, Susannah made sure Crystal wasn’t following them. She had the feeling that someone was staring at her, boring a hole into the back of her head with their eyes. But no one was there. It was just Catholic guilt.

  “Let’s go now.” A few more taps, and Bitsy picked up. “Hey, we’re doing a pre-funeral snoop of the cemetery.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Bitsy said.

  Susannah shot a look at Angie.

  “I think we’ll need all hands on deck.” Susannah heard Bitsy chuckling as she hung up.

  Angie pulled into the cemetery, driving through a wrought iron gate set into stone pillars. Susannah remembered Travis’s unseeing eyes and shuddered. They passed a towering oak, and acorns popped under the Jeep’s tires as they wound their way around the paths.

  “This looks like the place.” Susannah pointed. “That’s where I saw Travis before he was shot.”

  “Don’t ya mean his doppelganger?” Angie chuckled as she put the Jeep into park. They got out, and Susannah walked toward the tree, sure now that it had been him and no doppelganger. The area was newer and better kept than where she had found his body. Here, there was nothing to see and nowhere to hide.

  “What’s this?” Angie poked something with the toe of her shoe.

  A cigarette butt lay flattened in the road. Susannah bent to examine it. “A Marlboro.” She leaned into the Jeep and pulled her phone out of her purse and took a photo. “Only the most popular brand of cigarettes in the country.”

  “Also Crystal’s brand. And look.” Pointing at the tip of the filter, Angie squinted. “There’s lipstick on it.”

  Crystal’s shade of pink. Picking up the butt with her fingernails, Susannah put it in her pocket.

  “Ew, Suzie.”

  “Let’s go.” Susannah climbed into the passenger seat. “There’s nothing else here. Follow this road. I think it will take us into the older section by the haunted house.”

  “You were right.” Guiding the car around the asphalt road, Angie murmured, “Travis and Crystal were here. But I’m not sure how that’s going to help us now. Unless, maybe Crystal did kill Travis.”

  “A cigarette butt isn’t going to prove that.”

  Angie nodded and tapped the brakes. There was no mistaking where Travis had been found. Crime scene tape flapped in the breeze. They got out, and Angie came around the car and grabbed Susannah’s hand and they walked across the grass and past several headstones.

  “I’m sorry you have to keep tripping over dead guys.” Angie squeezed her hand. “But I don’t know what we’re gonna find that the crime scene techs didn’t.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.” They stood silently for a moment. Susannah turned as the sound of a dog’s angry barking came down the road. She squeezed Angie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Her sister reached into her shoulder bag. “I think I have some hair spray in here.” She looked up at Susannah. “You know, in case a dog attacks.”

  A canine squeal rang out, and both women jumped.

  “Is it a feral dog?” Angie stepped back.

  The growls and yip
-yaps neared. Susannah checked out the distance to the Jeep. An obelisk monument with a wide, stair-stepped base stood between it and them. “Maybe we should go this way.”

  “Good idea,” Removing a trial-sized can of Aqua Net from her bag, Angie took the top off and shook it frantically. Beside her, Susannah crept behind the base of the monument. “If it attacks, I’ll be ready.”

  As the sound came closer, they crouched. Angie held the mini-Aqua Net out in front of her, hand much steadier than Susannah’s would have been.

  “Yoo-hoo!”

  At Bitsy’s call, Susannah stiffened. Hadn’t Bitsy heard the barking? “Over here.” Trying to keep her voice low, she sounded hoarse. Bitsy came into view, her phone out, tapping on the screen. With Angie at her side and still aiming, Susannah stepped out from behind the memorial.

  “What are you all doing?” Bitsy lowered her phone as she tiptoed into the grass. Her heels were almost as high as Maggie’s. “Did you find something back there?”

  “Madonna,” Angie berated. “Get over here. Don’t you hear that wild dog?”

  Hand on her hip, Bitsy shook her head. “Are you funnin’ me? Is this some kind of Yankee Halloween prank?”

  Moving to Bitsy’s side, Susannah listened. The barking was close now, but the closer the sound came, the more she realized it was not that of a wild dog. It sounded more like a painful yapping than a ferocious growl. She tugged at Angie’s sleeve and motioned toward the path behind Bitsy with her chin. “I don’t think you’re going to need that.”

  A forlorn-looking Basset hound wearing a cape and a hat padded into view. He gave a few more yaps and a growl as he twisted around, chewing and snapping at the costume. Angie chuckled and called the dog. “Aw, sweetie, come here.” She pronounced come here as her com-ear, but the dog seemed to understand Brooklynese and trotted over. “Are you stuck in that bad costume? I probably have some nail scissors in here.” Angie looked into her bag. “We can cut it off.”

  Spreading her arms wide, Bitsy stooped down and shielded the dog. “You’re not ruinin’ Apollo’s costume.”