Murder Boogies With Elvis (13 page)

I couldn’t imagine what and decided not to ask. I rubbed my head, which was beginning to ache again. What a weird day this was turning out to be.

“Let’s just go over again what you know about each of the people who were at the dinner party,” Timmy suggested. “Maybe you’re forgetting something.”

I simply repeated what I had told him earlier. All I knew was that Virgil, Jr., was an Elvis impersonator; Larry Ludmiller was some kind of talent promoter; Olivia Ludmiller, his sister, seemed smitten by Virgil, Jr.; and Tammy Sue sold real estate. We had had a nice supper with steaks because my sister and Virgil were going to tell his kids that they were getting married, which they did, but Virgil, Sr., had had to leave early and Tiffany, the Magic Maid, had left to go on a date, but she didn’t know anything about what was going on, I was sure.

Timmy looked at me as if he expected more.

I shrugged. “That’s it.”

Timmy closed his notebook and stood up. “Thanks, Mrs. Hollowell.”

“I didn’t tell you much, did I?” I said, following him to the door.

“Actually, you did.”

“What?”

He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Don’t you tell my mama I arrested you.” And then he was gone, turning halfway down the walk to wave.

What the hell had I told him?

The sun was low in the sky, but the weather was still pleasantly warm. The best thing for my headache, I decided, was a walk. I watched Timmy drive away and, still puzzled, went to get Woofer’s leash.

The lights were on in Mitzi’s sunroom, so the group was back from Tannehill. It looked, this time, as if Sister were really going to do it, get married. I paused for Woofer to sniff at a telephone pole, and let that fact sink in. There have always been men in Sister’s life, other than her three husbands, whose time with her had been short. But sweet, she reminds me. Men love her, all two hundred fifty unpredictable pounds of her. And I can understand it. Yes, she has the nerve of a bad tooth, like Fred says, but she has a zest for life that’s contagious and wonderful. I hoped that Virgil would appreciate that. Surely he would.

I walked along the sidewalk scuffing a few pinecones out of the way and thinking about the dinner party and the switchblade knife. It was scary to think that one of those people so close to Virgil was probably responsible for putting the knife in my purse. For putting the knife in Griffin Mooncloth’s back. I shivered. Tammy Sue had been sitting by me, so she was ruled out. Had Olivia been at the Alabama? Virgil, Jr., and Larry certainly had. Right next to Griffin.

But what motive could there have been? According to Virgil, Jr., and Larry, they had no idea who Griffin Mooncloth was. Did Olivia? Was there some connection there that Tim Hawkins knew about that I had verified when I talked to him? I thought about Olivia and how she had been clinging to Virgil, Jr.

“It makes no sense,” I told Woofer, who looked around at me and nodded in agreement. “A man gets
killed right in the middle of a thousand people and no one sees it happen.” I paused. “Well, Larry Ludmiller got a glimpse, so he said, but Tammy Sue says he can’t see anything without his glasses.”

Woofer looked at me as if he were puzzling over it, too.

“And if Dusk Armstrong hadn’t been in one of the Mooncloth guy’s dance classes, no one would have been able to identify him. At least right away.”

Woofer sighed and sat down. It was indeed a mystery. But my thinking of Dusk Armstrong reminded me that I hadn’t returned her mother’s call. It was chillier outside than I had thought, too.

“I’ve got no business out in the cold, Woofer,” I said. “I’m courting pneumonia.”

He turned back toward the house agreeably. Some days you walk a mile. Some days you walk a block. But a treat was always waiting.

“Dusk is much better,” Bernice said when I asked. “She wouldn’t let me take her to the doctor, but she’s been able to eat some today. It might have been a virus, but I think it was the shock of seeing that man that she knew killed at the Alabama. Lord knows it would upset my stomach seeing someone I knew stabbed like that, dead as a doornail, let alone falling into an orchestra pit.”

I agreed that it would be unnerving to say the least and that I was glad she was feeling better.

“What I wanted to tell you, though, was that I’ve got the most wonderful rocking chair that you’re welcome to. Mitzi told me that you were looking for one for Haley, and this is one that I bought for Dawn when she
was pregnant the first time. It’s one that a man made for Prime Time Treasures, you know the handicraft shop in Homewood where senior citizens sell their work? I was so excited when I found it. I swear to you, Patricia Anne, it’s absolutely perfect for rocking a baby. Comfortable and even creaks just a little bit. Anyway, it was what I took to Dawn’s shower. Even gift wrapped it, if you can believe. You’ve never seen so much paper and tape, and then I had to take Jerry’s van because I couldn’t get it in my car.” Bernice paused to catch her breath. “And would you believe that was what Mary Lou Rider, Dawn’s mother-in-law, brought her, too? Out of everything in Birmingham to buy for babies, we bought the same thing. Of course, Dawn felt like she had to keep the one Mary Lou brought. Didn’t want to hurt her feelings, which I could understand. Not that I could tell an ounce of difference.”

“You couldn’t take it back?”

“No, but that’s okay. I figured Day or Dusk would use it someday, but they tell me I might as well give up. Neither one of them is planning on having children. They’re both totally into their careers.”

“Maybe they’ll change their minds.”

“I doubt it. But if they do, Dawn can pass along her rocker. Her children are eight and twelve now. Can you believe?”

I could imagine Bernice shaking her head the way I do when I think about my two grandsons, Charlie and Sam, fast approaching teen age in Atlanta.

“Come over in the morning,” Bernice continued. “It’s up in the attic, and it won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t think it’s as wonderful as I do. But I’d love to
think of Haley rocking her little one in it. You wouldn’t believe how wonderful she was to all of us when Jerry had his heart surgery, Patricia Anne. I hope she doesn’t give up nursing.”

There’s nothing much better than hearing such nice things about one of your children. I thanked Bernice and told her that I would definitely be over the next morning, sinuses willing. I hung up smiling, got a can of Dinty Moore beef stew out of the pantry, popped open a can of biscuits for a topping, and had supper ready for Fred when he came in.

“Smells good in here,” he said. He gave me a hug and went to the refrigerator for a beer.

“I got arrested today,” I said.

“Really?” He popped open the can, took a long swig, and headed down the hall.

I waited.

In a minute he was back, a startled look on his face. “You what?”

“We’d better sit down for this one,” I said.

L
arry Ludmiller didn’t come home last night,” Yul Brynner announced as she came into my kitchen the next morning. “Virgil just called me. Tammy Sue is having a fit.”

I was sitting at the kitchen table and had just taken a bite of French toast. I chewed, swallowed, and looked at Sister as she sat down across from me.

“Did they have a fight or something?”

She shook her head. “Apparently not. Virgil said she had supper all ready for him, and he never showed up. And she’d told him she was going to cook a pot roast.”

“He called here yesterday looking for her. Right after y’all left for Tannehill. I gave him your car phone number.”

“We never heard from him.” Sister got up and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Tammy Sue called Vir
gil about two o’clock this morning and said Larry hadn’t shown up.”

“Maybe he was with one of the acts that he handles at some club. Is that a possibility?”

Sister sat back down and reached for the sugar. “That’s what I said, and Virgil said that it was highly unlikely and that he would have called anyway, that he never worries Tammy Sue like that. Besides, she was cooking a pot roast. I asked him if he wanted me to come up there, if there was anything I could do, and he said no, that he and Tammy Sue had called everywhere and they were going to go out looking.” She stirred her coffee. “He said Larry’s got a couple of apartments on Valley Avenue that his out-of-town acts stay in. They’re going to go over there.” She put her spoon down. “He didn’t say they were going to look in ditches on the way, but I’m sure they are.”

I pushed my French toast away. “This sure doesn’t sound good, does it?”

“Sounds scary as hell. I told Virgil I was on my way to my martial arts class and he said to go on, that there wasn’t anything I could do, but I just didn’t have the heart for it.”

“Well, maybe Larry’s all right. Maybe he left a message that got erased or something.” Little Miss Sunshine not believing a word of what she was saying.

“I hope so.” Sister looked over at me. “You feeling better this morning?”

“I was.”

“I know what you mean.”

We were quiet for a few minutes, both of us lost in thought.

“There could be a girlfriend,” I suggested.

“I don’t think so.”

“But it’s possible.”

“I doubt it.” She eyed my French toast. “Any more of that left?”

I shook my head. “But there’s some Sister Schubert’s orange rolls in the refrigerator. Nuke them for about fifteen seconds.”

“I like Tammy Sue,” she said, wrapping a couple of the orange rolls in paper towels and sticking them in the microwave. “Down to earth. Said she thought the long sunflower bridesmaids dresses would be great.” The microwave dinged. She took the sweet rolls out and came back to the table.

So Sister wasn’t the only one trying to get along here.

She blew on the sweet roll and then took a bite. “We walked down to the creek at Tannehill and there was a big old water moccasin slithering out of the water, and she grabbed a pistol out of her purse and shot at that snake before he could even blink.” Sister swallowed and took a sip of coffee. “Missed him but scared the hell out of him and us, too. Just as well that Debbie was in the car feeding Brother. He’d still be yelling.”

“She just snatched a gun out and shot it?”

Sister nodded. “She’s had training. She said she’d have hit the snake if she’d wanted to. And I think she would have. It just wasn’t that snake’s time to go.”

“A stepdaughter to appreciate.”

“That’s what I’m beginning to realize. She was going to take me to see a cabin up at Smith Lake this afternoon, but I guess since her husband’s missing, that’s off.”

“You’re buying some lake property?”

“Might as well.” Sister popped the rest of the sweet roll into her mouth and wiped her hands on a paper
towel. “You know what I forgot, though? Deena just slipped out of my mind totally.”

“Who’s Deena?”

“Virgil’s other daughter. The one who lives in Texas. I just plain forgot he had three children, and he hasn’t said a thing about it when I’ve talked about the wedding. I guess I’ll have to ask her to be in it. And she’s got a couple of little girls, and if Fay and May are going to be in it, I guess her girls will have to be, too, except Tammy Sue says that Deena has a tendency to have panic attacks and might not be interested. I’ll have to ask her, though.”

“Panic attacks?”

“Well, Tammy Sue says she’s been known to faint dead away and twitch. Sounds awful, bless her heart. But she’s on medication now and a lot better.”

“Reckon she carries a gun, too?”

Sister narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “I don’t know, Patricia Anne, but there’s something to be said for a woman who can sell a piece of property, shoot a snake, and cook a pot roast in a Crock-Pot all at the same time. Neither of us could do it. Or our daughters, either.”

She had me there. “You’re marrying into rugged stock,” I said.

“If you discount impersonating Elvis and panic attacks.”

“Well, no family’s perfect.”

“True.”

We grinned at each other.

“Speaking of which,” Sister said, “Marilyn hasn’t been in touch with you any more has she?”

“No, and there’s nothing wrong with Marilyn.”

“Of course there is. If she’d had any common sense, she’d have snatched Charlie Boudreau up years ago and had a bunch of kids by now.”

“She said she couldn’t live with him.”

“That’s just an excuse.”

No way I could figure that one out. I got up and put my dishes in the dishwasher.

“You over being arrested yet?” Sister asked, handing me her coffee cup.

“Fred made me feel better. He said he was going to go down to the police station and beat them all up. And then he fixed me hot chocolate with marshmallows and we watched
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire
.” I closed the dishwasher. “I’m going to go over to Bernice Armstrong’s house this morning. She’s got a rocking chair that she says would be perfect for Haley.”

“You want me to take you? You couldn’t get it in your car if you decided you wanted it.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to go to your karate class?”

“I’m not in the mood. Go get dressed while I call and see if Larry’s shown up.” She reached for the phone. “I declare I hope he’s in one piece somewhere.”

I shared that wish fervently.

The Armstrongs live in a beautiful old part of Birmingham called Forest Park. Most of the homes here were built in the early 1900s, large homes on level lots and lush lawns with huge old trees. Many of the detached garages were probably built for carriages originally. There are sidewalks and small parks, and a ride through this neighborhood is a trip to a more gracious time. One can imagine the ladies sitting in wicker
chairs on the large, cool porches visiting and drinking tea while the cooks cooked supper, the yardmen cut the grass, the cleaning ladies cleaned, and the nannies took the children to the park. Now the Magic Maids come in once a week, a yard service does the yard, and the kids are at Mother’s Day Out or day care. Still no bad deal. And a few lucky ones still have a nanny. As for the cooking, the ladies go to the Piggly Wiggly or the Winn-Dixie like the rest of us. The houses are still treasured, though. And it shows.

The Armstrongs’ house is a three-storied dark brick set well back from the sidewalk. When Mary Alice and I pulled into the driveway, Sandy’s Lawn Service was hard at work. One young man was circling on a riding lawn mower, one was weed-eating around the trees, and one was planting red and white begonias in a triangular flower bed between the drive and the walkway.

“Those things are going to freeze,” Mary Alice informed him as we walked by on our way to the front door. “North of Montgomery you don’t plant flowers until the first Sunday after the first full moon after March twenty-first.”

He looked up and smiled. “Sometimes you gotta take a chance, lady. And begonias are right hardy.”

“They do look pretty,” I assured him. And to Sister, “That first full moon thing is the date for Easter.”

“Which is the right time to plant flowers. You miss blackberry winter.”

She was confused but she had a point. Blackberry winter is the last cold snap we get in the deep South. It invariably falls at Easter and kills the blackberry blooms as well as a lot of other flowers.

We walked through the spring smell of newly cut grass and rang the doorbell. Sister looked around at the
well-kept house and lawn. “The insurance business must be doing all right by Jerry Armstrong,” she said. “But didn’t I hear he was sick or something?”

“He had open-heart surgery. He’s doing fine now. Haley was the scrub nurse and that’s why Bernice wants her to have the rocker. She said Haley was wonderful.”

“Hmm. You know, Mouse, we’ve got to decide no later than today what we’re going to do to welcome she and Nephew home. It’s just a couple of weeks away.”

“
Her
. You don’t welcome ‘she.’”

Sister scowled. For a second I thought she was going to reach over and pinch my arm, something she learned how to do sixty years ago without leaving a bruise. It has something to do with the way she rolls her fingers. It hurts like hell, and you have no proof that Miss Innocent has done a thing.

Fortunately the front door opened.

“Hey, y’all,” Bernice said. “Come in. Day and Dusk and I are just having coffee in the sunroom. Y’all come on back.”

We stepped into the foyer and both of us shrieked. A monster stood there, arms raised to attack. Sister and I grabbed each other. (Later on we would both swear we were trying to protect the other.)

“Oh, I’m sorry, y’all,” Bernice said calmly. “I forgot to warn you about Maurice. I know it’s tacky having him here right at the front door, but we haven’t decided where to put him, and this is as far as we got. You wouldn’t believe how bunglesome he is, and how heavy.”

I peeked around Mary Alice’s arm and saw that Maurice was a grizzly bear, larger than any bear I had ever seen in a zoo. Standing on his hind legs, he was in
an attack mode. Only the glass eyes gave away the fact that those six-inch-long claws weren’t going to rip us open at any given moment.

“It’s a stuffed bear,” I said, peeling Sister off of me.

“My God,” she said when she opened her eyes and looked. “What the hell?”

“I apologize.” Bernice reached way up and patted Maurice’s chest. A chunk of fur slid down and over his belly. “Bless his heart. He’s molting and falling apart. But Jerry treasures him. His uncle left it to him when he died last month. He supposedly shot it in Alaska when he was a boy, the uncle that is, but knowing Uncle Hardy, I have an idea that the poor bear died a natural death, and Uncle Hardy just stumbled upon him. At least, I hope so.”

Mary Alice and I looked at Maurice and he looked back, glassily. My heart was slowing down, and I hoped Sister’s was, too.

“I know he’s tacky here in the foyer,” Bernice repeated. “I mean, how many people in Birmingham have a whole, stuffed grizzly bear in their house, and them an endangered species to boot. It’s embarrassing. But what are you going to do when your husband thinks something is wonderful and it was a gift from his own dead uncle?”

Mary Alice reached over and touched Maurice. Fur drifted to the floor. “Dustbust him?”

Bernice shook her head. “Jerry would have another heart attack. I just don’t understand men. Do y’all?”

“Fortunately it’s not necessary.” Sister paused to give Maurice another pat as we walked by on our way down the hall.

Day and Dusk were standing by the window in a
deep conversation as we came into the sunroom, though Day seemed to be doing most of the talking. It was eerie the way they matched their names. Blond Day was dressed in a jade green suit; dark-haired Dusk had on a black leotard and tights. They both looked up.

“Heard you greeting Maurice,” Dusk said, grinning. “Mama really needs to warn people.”

“I’m going to send him back to New York with you,” Bernice said. “He’d be better than all those chains and bolts you weight your door down with.”

“That’s for sure. Her door has so much metal on it you can hardly open it.” Day motioned to a wicker love seat. “Y’all sit down, and I’ll get you some coffee.”

“I’ll do it,” Dusk offered. “You need to get back to work.”

Day glanced at her watch. “I guess I’d better, but I hate to. Y’all come see me at the bank, ladies. We’ve got great CD rates.”

Bernice gave her a hug. “Go peddle your wares somewhere else.”

“Bye, ladies. I’ll call you later, Mama.” We heard her tell Maurice to behave himself as she went out the front door.

Tiny Dusk poured each of us a cup of coffee and offered us sugar and cream.

“Are you feeling okay now?” I asked, taking the napkin she offered.

“Much better, thanks.”

“It was the shock of seeing that Griffin Mooncloth dead,” Bernice said. “Y’all want some cookies or something?”

We both shook our heads.