Dixie Divas (19 page)

“He can be charming, can’t he? If he just didn’t smell like cows all the time.”

The inference didn’t escape me. “I take it he’s not married?”

“Widowed. Widowered? You know, Meg Ryan had a good point in that movie. Why are women widowed, and men not widowered if we call them a widower? Anyway, his wife died a few years back. Maybe as long as six, I don’t quite remember. Oh, she was a fiery little thing! I think he met her up north somewhere, I never could keep that straight, but I liked her right off. Of course, they lived up in Memphis then and I didn’t see much of them, but she always came down with Jackson Lee to visit family. Tiny, with dark hair and eyes, and a regular little spitfire. Knew how to make Jackson Lee toe the line, as well as their boys. I sure do miss Carmella.”

Bitty sounded rather sad, so I asked, “Mama and Daddy are supposed to leave day after tomorrow on their cruise down the river. Want to go up to Memphis with me to see them off?”

“I’d love it. A change of scenery would be just the thing. We can eat in one of those little places that look over the river. Watch the barges go past. Or we could go to The Peabody and sit in the lobby, see who walks past. One time that I was there, I saw an Arab sheik and Tom Cruise. They weren’t together, of course. Tom Cruise was still with Nicole Kidman then.”

“These days, his better choice would be the Arab sheik,” I said dryly, but my reference to the high price of oil went right over Bitty’s head.

“I’ve always wondered if he didn’t swing both ways. You know. Being so pretty and all.”

I decided to ignore that.

“Since it’s obviously been a while since you’ve sat in The Peabody lobby,” I said, “it might be nice to go watch the ducks in the fountain. But it’ll have to be after Mama and Daddy get on the Delta Queen, because they need to check in early.”

We made our plans, and I hung up and went to the living room to visit with my parents. It was a pleasant evening, with only a few remarks about the subject at the back of all our minds, until the evening news came on at ten. We have cable that shows Memphis and local channels.

About ten minutes into the broadcast detailing verbal skirmishes between the Memphis mayor and the city council, the Memphis mayor and the media, and the Memphis mayor and the city and county citizens, an anchorman said, “And in Holly Springs, Mississippi today, the body of Senator Philip Hollandale was discovered in the cellar of his ex-wife’s home. Police are still investigating, and while Elisabeth Hollandale is being questioned, she has not yet been charged in connection to his death.”

Mama said indignantly, “He makes it sound like Bitty is going to be tried for murder!”

Since that does seem likely, Daddy patted Mama on the hand and said, “Jackson Lee has it under control, honey. Things will be just fine.”

The tone of Daddy’s voice, however, indicated the opposite, and neither Mama nor I were much comforted by his assurance.

I caught the last part of the anchorman’s usual information about Philip’s age and party affiliation—at which Mama sniffed and observed that no
Democrat
would be found dead in his ex-wife’s cellar, completely ignoring national and local scandals involving illustrious members of the Democratic party—then the serious-faced anchorman went on to say, “And in what may be related news, Sherman Sanders, a Holly Springs resident being sought for questioning in the senator’s death, has been missing for five days. Mr. Sanders is five feet-six inches tall, seventy-six years old, and may be suffering from a stroke or senile dementia. It is thought that the recent death of his only companion, an elderly hound dog that was found dead of natural causes at his home, may have precipitated Mr. Sanders’ current condition. If anyone has seen or does see a man answering to the description now shown on your television screens, please call the Holly Springs police at the number listed . . . . ”

My ears heard what he said after the
hound dog dead of natural causes
part, but my mind had ceased absorption. Do natural causes include caved in ribs and blood? If so, Parchman prison is no doubt crowded with innocent men convicted of murder.

Ten seconds later the phone rang. I stood up. “It’s Bitty,” I said without bothering to look at the Caller ID, and Mama and Daddy nodded. I went into the kitchen to take the call.

“I thought you said that dog was all bloody?” Bitty asked before I even got out the usual polite telephone greeting.

“Yes, that’s what I said because that’s what it was.” I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to see poor old Tuck’s body.

“How can natural causes be bloody?”

“An interesting question. I suggest we ask someone who can answer it.”

After a brief silence, Bitty said, “Since your parents are leaving day after tomorrow, why don’t I just keep their little dog for a few hours when we come home?”

“
No.
” The possibilities for trouble if Bitty and a neurotic dog like Brownie get together are too much like the possibilities created by splitting the atom.

“Fine then. Luann Carey lives over on Higdon Street. She’s always got extra dogs.”

I rubbed at the recent crease permanently formed between my eyebrows and sighed. “I’m sure Jackson Lee will know about Sanders’ dog. Why not just ask him?”

“At five hundred dollars an hour, I’d just as soon keep our professional conversations at a minimum.”

“Good Lord, Bitty! Is that what it cost for Jackson Lee to pick me up at the jail and—”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Trinket. He did that for free. He does a lot of what he calls
pro bono
. I think it means legal aid for poor people. Anyway, he’ll be in New Albany most of tomorrow.”

I let her insinuation of me as one of the poor slide, since alas, it’s very close to being true. “Is there really a big hurry to find out if Tuck died of natural causes or not?” I asked.

“I suppose not. But if he did, then why did Sherman Sanders kill Philip?”

“You’re assuming Philip killed the dog, then Sanders killed Philip and ran away?”

“That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

I thought about that for a moment. There are times Bitty sounds very logical. Normally, those times incite caution. Now, however, I had to agree with her. It really was the only thing that made sense.

What I said was, “My head hurts, Bitty. I’m going to bed.”

“We have an appointment with Jackson Lee tomorrow afternoon at four.”

“We can ask him then about the dog.”

“And my rug. Get some sleep, Trinket. You really do sound tired.”

Bitty sounded wired, and I suspected she’d been sampling some of the wine Jackson Lee saved from the locked cellar. “You too,” I said anyway. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I went back into the living room. Daddy looked up at me. “They made a mistake.” When I looked at him blankly, he said, “On the news. Sherman Sanders isn’t seventy-six. He’s eighty-one, five years older than me. We were drafted together, and he was in my squad in Okinawa right after the war. Stayed after I left, though. He’d met some Japanese girl named Nobi or Sato or something like that. Wanted to marry her, but because he wasn’t discharged yet and some of the states over here didn’t allow Japanese across their borders then, he couldn’t bring her back with him. I remember he talked about desertion, but in the end, he didn’t do it. Wonder what ever happened to that girl? He never did talk about her after he came home, just sat out there in that big empty house and got older every day.”

“I wonder why he never got married,” Mama mused.

Daddy shrugged. “Probably never did find another girl he fancied like he did Nobi. Or Sato. I never can remember which it is. Pretty little thing, though. I met her once when she came out to our base in Tachikawa. I could see why Sherman wanted to marry her.”

After I got into bed and turned out my lights, I lay there with moonlight making oblong patches on my rug atop heart pine floors and thought about Sherman Sanders leaving behind a woman he loved. I guess most people have some tragedy in their lives, whether they talk about it or not.

Chapter Ten

At twenty minutes to four the next day, I showed up at Bitty’s front door. I hadn’t heard from her all day, which I thought unusual, and had left a message on her home answering machine as well as her cell phone, but she hadn’t called back. If I hadn’t gone by Sharita Stone’s shop to buy a basket of muffins and jellies to give Mama and Daddy, and heard that Bitty had been in earlier, I’d have worried that she’d been rearrested, or disappeared into the same black hole that seemed to have swallowed Sherman Sanders.

To my consternation, when I turned the antique doorbell to announce my arrival, I heard the ferocious barking of a dog. It didn’t sound like a large dog, but nonetheless, it was a
loud
dog. I knew right then that Bitty had done just what she’d said she was going to do: gone out to Willow Bend Animal Clinic with a dog to get information from the new vet, who most likely wouldn’t be familiar with her methods of extracting information. Jackson Lee and Bitty could make a devastating team. Both of them have loads of charm and ulterior motives.

I heard Bitty coming down the hallway into the spacious entrance hall and speak to the dog, but the barking didn’t abate. I braced myself, expecting to find an ankle biter at my feet, but when Bitty opened the door, I saw that she held the animal in her arms. It barked. I blinked.

“What is that?”

Bitty smiled. “A Chinese pug.”

“What’s a pug? Chinese for a cross between a pig and ugly?”

“Don’t be insulting, Trinket. This is Lady O-ya Moon Chen Ling. She’s very exotic. Not at all like other dogs.”

I had to agree with the last. Lady O-ya Moon Chen Ling looks like a cross between a pig and a teddy bear. Cuddly, in a homely kind of way.

“Lady Ling is dribbling snot all over your sleeve,” I said instead, seeing that Bitty meant to defend not only her reason for temporarily possessing the dog, but her choice of breed.

Bitty made some kind of cooing noise and left me to come in and shut the door behind me as she went to what looked like a diaper bag sitting on the table by the telephone. Bemused, I closed the door and watched while she wiped the dog’s nose with a tissue, then tied a bib around its neck. Dark brown bug eyes stared at me over Bitty’s arm, and I swear the animal had a smug smile.

“That wasn’t snot,” she explained, “Chen Ling drools. She can’t help it. She has an awful underbite.”

“I can see that.” Indeed, anyone within a hundred yards can see it. Chen Ling has the underbite of a Louisiana alligator. When Bitty put her on the floor, I also noticed bowed legs and pigeon toes. The back legs turn out. “Are they supposed to have legs like that?” I asked.

“I can see you know absolutely nothing about dogs, Trinket. Luann Carey assured me that Chen Ling has papers a mile long. Her coloring is called fawn and silver, with chocolate something or other. I can’t remember the last.”

“Uh hunh. How long is Chen Ling going to be with you?”

“Oh, I just borrowed her for the day. Luann rescued her from someone who intended to have her put to sleep. Can you imagine? Just because she’s a little past her prime and has a few medical problems. Besides the dental work, and her jaw being a little out of synch so she drools all the time, and her being born with some kind of congenital thing that makes her toes turn in a little bit too much in the front, why, she’s just fine.”

Inhaling deeply, I asked, “Have you talked to Clayton and Brandon lately?”

Bitty looked up in surprise. “Just last night. I called Ole Miss to assure them that I’d be quite all right and not to worry if they heard anything on TV that says different. Why?”

“It seems to me that you’re getting a little broody.”

“Oh Trinket, I’m way past that. I don’t want to mother anyone, I just borrowed Chen Ling for the day. Luann said I can take her back anytime.”

Bitty smiled at Chen Ling and then kissed her right on top of her furry little head. I stared at both of them. Chen Ling obviously had mastered the situation, but I wasn’t at all sure about Bitty.

“Well, put her out in the back yard or wherever you’re going to leave her so we can go,” I said, and Bitty gave me a startled look.

“I’m not leaving Chen Ling here by herself.”

“Good heavens, Bitty, then where does Luann Carey live? We don’t have much time if we have to make too many stops on the way to the law offices, and since Jackson Lee has been kind enough to come back from New Albany just to see us, I’d think you’d want to be prompt.”

“Luann hasn’t answered my calls, and when I tried to leave Chen Ling alone earlier she made such a fuss that I thought it best to take her with me. She does just fine. No car sickness or anything. Stop looking at me like that. I have a little carrier for her, and while we’re on the way to the office, I’ll tell you all about our visit to Dr. Coltrane.”

Since there wasn’t enough room in Bitty’s Miata for us all to ride in the front and I had no intention of holding Chen Ling, we took my car. I threatened Bitty with all kinds of terrible reprisals if that dog threw up, but both she and the dog didn’t seem to be paying any attention.

“About that new vet,” Bitty said as I pulled out of her driveway, “the rumors are true. He is absolutely gorgeous. I’ve thought about it, and decided that he’d be perfect for you, Trinket.”

Still a little miffed that she always gets her way, and that Chen Ling kept staring at me as if to say
ha ha
while sitting in that ridiculous looking baby sling Bitty had next to her chest,
I said quite coolly, “If I decide I want a man, I’ll find one myself, thank you very much.”

“No, you won’t. I know you. You’ll just wither away on the vine out there at Cherryhill, and never have a single orgasm before you die.”

“Bitty!”

“You deserve an orgasm, Trinket. I intend to see that you get at least one.”

I almost ran up on the curb at the intersection of College and Randolph. “I’m not going to point out the sound of that, and I do
not
want to discuss my sex life,” I got out when I managed to get the car straightened up again and headed for Center Street.