Divas Do Tell (27 page)

By the time we got Chen Ling slung into the car and the door shut on her high-pitched protests, Bitty up off the ground and her shoe back on her foot, I was breathless and sweating. If my face looked like Rayna’s, it was probably a mottled red from our exertions. With the pug out of range, the coonhound gave up its pursuit and snuffled off toward the double-wide. I was a bit surprised Latricia hadn’t heard the commotion and come outside. Of course, there was always the possibility that she was standing inside looking out a window and laughing at the crazy white women.

That’s what I would have been doing if I was her.

Once we were all in the car and headed back down the goat track to civilization, I turned to look at Bitty in the back seat checking Chitling for any possible injuries. “I hope you realize,” I said in my harshest tone, “that one day that dog is going to get us killed.”

“Don’t be silly, Trinket,” she replied calmly. “It wasn’t her fault that beast charged us. I hope it wasn’t rabid. My poor precious was just terrified.”

I turned back around and stared out the windshield for the next five miles, stewing over the insanity that always seems to accompany Bitty and her familiar.

Rayna didn’t say a word until we were back on Highway 5 and headed to Ashland. Then she just asked if we wanted to stop and get a Coke. We stopped at the Citgo gas station/deli at the curve of Highway 5 and Ripley Avenue, then headed back up Highway 4 toward Holly Springs. I took some satisfaction in the stares Bitty had gotten in the gas station that smelled like fried chicken and coffee. Dust coated her navy skirt and jacket, and her beautiful stilettos looked like they’d been dragged through a dust bin as well; I had found it amusing that she saw someone she knew from one of her endless social clubs. Bitty hadn’t acted as if she was aware she looked like we’d dragged her behind the car, but smiled pleasantly at the woman and promised to include her name on the committee for the preservation of wildflowers along the highways.

A part of me had to admire her aplomb in the face of what was for her, social disaster. It would take more than a little dust and bedraggled appearance to daunt our heroine, it seemed. If not for the fact I was still so blamed irritated at her for insisting upon carting her dog around with her everywhere, I might have appreciated her talent for stomping through a fertilizer farm and still come out smelling like a rose.

As usual, it didn’t take long for my irritation to evaporate. By the time we hit the Holly Springs town limits all I felt was exhaustion.

When we got to Delta Inn, Rayna politely asked if we wanted to come inside. I was quite grateful that Bitty didn’t want to, since all I wanted was to go home and feed critters, then sit in front of the TV and pretend everything was rosy.

Since my car was at Bitty’s, I rode back with her in the BMW. It still smelled new. I held Chitling in my lap rather than force her into a doggy car seat in the back; it was only a couple of blocks. I was exhausted, and I imagined Bitty had to be just as tired. It’d been a long day as far as activity, even though it was only mid-afternoon.

“I’m not cut out for this,” I said gloomily. “All I want to do is go home and go to bed. I don’t have the least inclination to do one more minute’s research into whoever killed Billy Joe, Abby, or J.R. Ewing.”

“J.R.? There’s a blast from the past,” said Bitty. “
Dallas
used to be my favorite guilty pleasure. A lovely prime-time soap opera. Now TV has grungy people wearing scraggly clothes trying to out-bitch each other on some remote island, or people with two left feet trying to win a dance contest. Whatever happened to real TV?”

We lamented the state of lame broadcasts the rest of the way to her house. My car was parked in front, and when I got out of Bitty’s snazzy little sports car I wondered if I’d make it all the way to the front curb without falling down. Apparently Bitty noticed.

“Trinket, you look too exhausted to go anywhere right now. Come on in the house, and we’ll have some hot tea or Irish coffee.”

“I’ll take the tea. I don’t want to risk a ride with Officer Farrell. He isn’t so pleased with me since finding Daddy’s John Deere on the court house lawn. Did you talk to the police about that yet?”

Trotting toward the house on those beautiful, expensive stilts she insists upon wearing, she waggled a hand over her shoulder at me. “Just come inside, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

That didn’t bode well. Of course, Jackson Lee wasn’t back yet, and she could be waiting for his return to go in and tackle the police, but she shouldn’t wait too long. Farrell had looked pretty serious when he said she needed to come in to talk to them.

Bitty forgot I’d made her set the alarm before we left, so when it began making that loud beeping sound that meant sirens and lights would start going crazy, Chitling would bark, and the police would show up, I got to it just in time to punch in her code. She was busy unwrapping the pug and setting her on the floor and didn’t even notice. She’d have noticed if it’d gone off. It had to be the loudest alarm I’d ever heard.

While Bitty fussed over her furry little child, I put on the kettle to make hot tea. It had just begun to whistle when my cell phone rang. I barely heard it since Bitty’s grumpy gremlin was demanding an early dinner, and Bitty was asking her what she wanted. I rolled my eyes as I pulled my phone out of my purse.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Rayna said before I even got out my “hello,” “but Mira Waller was seen sneaking into Buck Prentiss’s house last night.”

I was immediately intrigued. While I like to pretend on occasion that I don’t indulge in such awful things as gossip, I am my mother’s daughter. My mother won’t admit it either, but we both enjoy a juicy tidbit of news about friends, family, and especially people we don’t like very well. It’s one of my biggest flaws. Fortunately, it’s also one of Bitty’s.

Even though she was busy tying a bib on her gargoyle, Bitty suddenly sensed a change in the air, and her head turned, her eyes gleamed, and she gave me a look that obviously said, “What?” I just smiled and continued listening to Rayna’s report.

“Gaynelle saw her park her rented car down the street, then walk up to the house Buck is renting. Well,” Rayna continued a little breathlessly, “Mira had on a hooded coat pulled all tight around her, but you know how Gaynelle is—after thirty years of teaching no one gets much by her, and she knew who it was because Mira wore the same shoes she’d had on earlier during the shoot. Gaynelle just happened to see them filming that scene. Apparently the shoes are pretty noticeable. Anyway, the front porch light was off, and she ran up the steps, and he opened the door real quick like he was expecting her, and the next thing you knew, the front room light went off, and the upstairs light came on.”

I had to put my finger in my other ear because Bitty had started asking me who, what, and where in a very demanding tone.

“Where was Gaynelle that she could stand there that long and watch?” I wanted to know, trying to visualize the street and houses. The trouble with being gone from my hometown so long was that people don’t always stay in the same places, and you have to relearn everything.

“Oh, she was visiting old Mrs. Clark. She goes once a week, takes homemade goodies and a stack of tabloids. Mrs. Clark has been just drooling over all the celebrities in and out, and she has a ringside seat for Buck Prentiss’s activities. Apparently he has some loud parties as well as some discreet moments. Who would have thought it—Mira and Buck?”

“Well,
I
wouldn’t have guessed it, that’s for sure,” I said. “I can’t believe she did that.”

“What?” Bitty asked for like the tenth time. “Who are you talking about? What did they do? What did Gaynelle see that we want to know about? Talk to me!”

The last was a rather testy demand.

I gave in and eased her inquiring mind. “Mira Waller snuck into Buck Prentiss’s house last night, and they turned off the lights almost immediately.”

Bitty’s beady little blue eyes gleamed. “
No
,” she breathed. “Why, that sneaky little cat.”

“Talk about life imitating art,” I said. “Lovers on and off the screen. That’s so Brad and Angelina.”

“Oh, you never did get over him leaving Jennifer Aniston,” said Bitty. “Movie stars do that all the time. Look at Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor.”

“What amazes me,” I said to both Bitty and Rayna at the same time, “is that Brad Pitt couldn’t have found anyone more the opposite of his wholesome little wife, but now that they’re together Angelina’s become Earth mother to a half dozen children. I wonder what Buck and Mira will do. It should be interesting.”

“They’re both young and single,” said Rayna, “so it really doesn’t matter what they do. They’re consenting adults. Or at least, I think Mira is an adult. She’s playing a fourteen-year-old, and when she’s in costume and on the set, she really looks it.”

“Well, Buck doesn’t look young and innocent, even in makeup. Of course, I guess he’s not supposed to be since Billy Joe was so much older than Susana at the time.” I had to slap at Bitty’s hand when she tried to take away my phone. “Hold on there, lady. I’ll let you talk to her in just a minute.”

When Bitty narrowed her eyes at me, I decided I’d teased her enough. “Hold on, Rayna. Bitty’s just dying to talk to you,” I said, and then Bitty had my phone in her hand and pressed to her ear and started firing questions at Rayna. I rubbed my ear where her fingernail had scratched me getting the phone away. “Trim your claws, Cat Woman,” I muttered.

I heard Bitty say, “But wasn’t Mira having an affair with Simon, too? Are you sure? I think Gaynelle may have seen someone else. Is she positive? I mean, based on shoes, can a positive identification be made?” Then she gasped. “No! That
bitch
!”

Bitty doesn’t use that word lightly. I listened with growing interest. What dreadful thing could have caused her to use the epithet so freely? It had to be something serious. I could see her face flush as she seethed. I grabbed the screaming tea kettle off the burner and set it aside.

“What?” I asked. “Why is who a bitch?”

Bitty looked over at me and said, “Mira has shoes exactly like mine.”

I rolled my eyes. “She may be a murderer, but she’s only a bitch if she has shoes like yours? Priorities, Bitty, priorities.”

“Trinket, that is a priority. Maybe not as important as catching a killer, but I paid a lot of money for those shoes and had the only pair in Holly Springs like them. Until now. Now I’ll have to give them to a thrift store or something.”

“Sell them on eBay,” I heard Rayna say. “What size are they? Maybe I can wear them.”

Bitty put the phone back to her ear. “Five and a half. I used to wear A width, but now I like to be comfortable so they’re B.”

I thought about my size nines, eight and a half in some styles, D width for comfort. I’m big-boned. Really. At five nine I’d look rather silly with size five feet. Still, sometimes Bitty makes me feel like an Amazon. Sometimes Bitty calls me an Amazon. Sometimes I call her shrink wrapped.

It works for us.

“When you’re through talking about shoes,” I said loudly, “maybe we can get back to the subject of Mira Waller and Buck Prentiss.”

“Someone is getting cranky,” said Bitty to Rayna, and after a brief moment discussing the difference between expensive shoes and cheap ones, she hung up my phone and handed it to me. “I think we should do a stakeout. You know, hide and wait and watch and see what Mira does next.”

I stared at her. “A stakeout. Like the police do? Sit in a car and watch the house while our suspect goes out the back door? Is that what you mean?”

“Not exactly. Why did you turn off the tea kettle? I thought we were having tea.”

“It’s getting late. I think I’ll go home.”

Bitty looked dismayed. “Did I upset you? It wasn’t the shoes, was it? I mean, expensive shoes aren’t your thing, but I know you like to do investigations.”

I shook my head in amazement. “You don’t know me at all, do you? I don’t like to do investigations. I don’t like being scared.”

“It’s not scary to just sit in a car and watch people. I have binoculars.”

“Just what do you have in mind, pray tell? Do you expect her to go skulking around like a character in a B movie? Hiding in shadows?”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t expect her to do anything like that at all. We just have to follow her.”

“Bitty, I hate to rain on your parade, but we could sit in a car and watch her for a week, but unless she’s a serial killer on a rampage, it’s not going to help anything. Besides, you’re just mad because she has shoes like yours.”

She crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Fine. Then you think of something.”

“I will, but you can bet it won’t be sitting in a car waiting for someone to commit murder. I’ve tried that. It didn’t work out well.”

“You’re just easily discouraged. Are you really leaving?”

“Yes. I’ve had enough excitement for the day. I have animals to feed and TV to watch.”

“Okay. Maybe we should go talk to Buck Prentiss next. What do you think?”

I nodded thoughtfully. “That might be helpful. We can’t let on we know about him and Mira, though. We’ll just see what he has to say.”