Drop Dead Divas (14 page)

“Is she sick?”

What I really meant was,
Is she hung over
, but as it’s rather rude to ask him that about his mother, I used tact.

“No, ma’am. She’s just fine.” Brandon is an astute young man and knew exactly what I had asked him, and as we walked through the iron gate and up to the front porch, he said, “We got in late last night and called her to find out where she was, and she told us what happened. She was staying the night with Rayna, but came right over when she found out we’re home. We stayed up late talking.”

“How is she doing after . . . everything?”

“Pretty good, considering the shock of finding Naomi’s body. I think she feels a little guilty. You know, after saying all those mean things about her.”

Guilty? Bitty? I doubted that, but then, stranger things have happened.

Not that Bitty is mean or malicious. There’s not a truly mean bone in her body. If she has been wronged, however, she feels it keenly and is not shy about telling people what’s on her mind. While it’s not nice to speak ill of the dead, Naomi Spencer did do Bitty terribly wrong.

It was a point I was certain the police would investigate, unfortunately.

To my surprise, Gaynelle was sitting in the parlor with Bitty. They both had their shoes off and feet up on ottomans, and looked totally relaxed. Since I was anything but relaxed, and not at all sure I wanted to ask Bitty questions with anyone else around, I sat down on the edge of a sofa to indicate I wasn’t staying long.

“Aunt Anna said you were really stressed out,” Bitty remarked. “Are you feeling better now?”

“A little, yes.” How nice of my mother to run interference for me. And she hadn’t even said anything to me about it. “How are you doing? And you, Gaynelle?”

Bitty waved a hand dramatically. “It’s been dreadful! The phone hasn’t stopped ringing—how many people have called, do you think, Gaynelle, just since you’ve been here?”

“At least ten or twelve. I stopped counting after eight. Nosy gossips, all they want is information they can spread around town.”

Gaynelle looked downright disapproving. I completely understood. Friends and family members you haven’t heard from in ages always seem to remember your phone number when you come into money or are involved in scandals. Like murder.

“It was just the same way when Philip and I were getting a divorce,” said Bitty. “And of course, when he went and got himself murdered, it was even worse. So many people called—Trinket do you remember our cousin Jobert? Well, he’s my cousin on my mama’s side, but he always showed up at the family reunions and we had to be nice and play with him. He was the one that talked me into climbing up that big ole oak tree and then took away the ladder.”

“Oh yeah, I remember him. Skinny kid who always wore suspenders. Everybody was out looking for you for hours, and he never said anything about you being stuck up in that tree. If not for my daddy hearing you pitching a hissy fit up on that tree limb, we might never have found you.”

“I was so mad! And Mama wouldn’t let me hit him or anything. She said we had to feel sorry for anyone mean enough to do that sort of thing and pray for him.” Bitty slid me a wicked smile. “I prayed he wouldn’t come back to anymore of our reunions. It worked, too.”

“Not that prayer doesn’t work,” I said, “but he didn’t come back because your daddy threatened to whip him with a hickory switch if he ever did anything like that again.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, Jobert had the nerve to call me after Philip died. Said he knew I must have come into a lot of money and asked if I’d be interested in investing in some new invention of his.”

“I hope you told him no,” Gaynelle said.

“You bet I did. I told him I hadn’t just fallen off the watermelon wagon, and he wouldn’t ever get another chance to trick me again.”

Bitty sounded quite satisfied with herself. I waited patiently for whatever this waltz down memory lane had to do with the present. Surely, there must be a reason for her bringing this up now.

“So what on earth does your cousin Jobert have to do with anything?” Gaynelle wanted to know. “Or are we just wandering through past injustices to feel better?”

Chen Ling, who had been sitting in Bitty’s lap, sat up with a yawn. She has a really long tongue, and it curls up over her face when she yawns. Kind of cute, in a doggy sort of way.

“Even Chitling is bored by that story,” I said to prod Bitty into connecting the dots. “Did Jobert call you again?”

“No, of course not. He may be about as bright as a burned out light bulb, but he’s not completely stupid. No, Jobert just made me think about Trina Madewell, that’s all.”

Gaynelle and I looked at each other. Then I asked, “Bitty, what’s in your tea?”

“Lipton and sugar. Really, don’t you see the connection? Jobert fooled me once, and even though it had been a long time ago, he still thought I’d be just as naïve. The same thing with Trina. She came to my tea thinking I’d still be as unsuspecting as I was when we were in the garden club together, and she’d be able to put one over on me.”

After a moment of silence, I said, “Well, she seems to have done a pretty good job of it. Miranda’s column was quite nasty.”

Bitty waved a hand as if that didn’t matter at all. Which made me quite certain she had spiked her tea.

“Even if Chen Ling hadn’t knocked over the tea tray and you hadn’t put whiskey in the teapot, she would have found something ugly to say. That’s just her nature. But why did she come here? It couldn’t be just curiosity, could it? I mean, I know I said that her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d want to go away and say mean things—although I had no idea she would go and have them printed in the paper for everyone to see—but thinking back on it, Race was found in her parents’ cottage. Maybe Trina knew I’d dated him recently and thought I had something to do with his murder?”

She’d said the last as a question, and I shook my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. What, did she think she’d show up here and you’d suddenly feel guilty and confess to killing him?”

“Trinket's right,” said Gaynelle thoughtfully. “There must be more to it than that.”

“Or it could be as simple as Bitty first thought. Trina hasn’t been inside Six Chimneys since losing the bid and she wanted to be able to tell everyone Bitty has atrocious taste. Then Trina actually got here, saw that Bitty’s taste is impeccable,” I quickly added when Bitty made an indignant sound, “and so Trina had to go and exaggerate about what happened.”

Somewhat mollified, Bitty nodded. “That could be it, of course. Still, now that I think about it, it seems odd that Trina would show up. She was so pleasant on the phone when I called to invite her, though she did sound shocked at first, that it was probably to cover up some deep, dark reason for accepting.”

I looked at her. “Bitty,
you
had a deep, dark reason for inviting her.”

“Not really. I mean, yes, I did have a reason, but just so we could all find out what happened when Race was shot. And we do know more details now than we did, you have to admit.”

My thoughts went immediately to the image Trina had conjured up of how she’d found Race lying naked across the bed with his . . . business . . . standing at attention. That mental image brought back the recent shock of seeing a dozen rubber soldiers in all their erect glory. I had to fan my face, my cheeks burned so badly.

When I glanced at Bitty and Gaynelle, they had the same glazed eyes I figured I had, so I knew we were thinking along the same lines. I leaned forward and lowered my voice so none of the hundred or so kids running in and out of the house could overhear me.

“Bitty. Have you been . . . in Carolann Barnett’s shop?”

She looked at me. “Of course I have. Wasn’t I the one who told you she has a sign in her window looking for help?”

“Probably. But that’s not what I mean. Have you ever been all through her shop? Lately? You know, in every room?”

“Every room? She has rooms? I don’t know. I suppose. Why?”

I glanced at Gaynelle, who looked as clueless as Bitty as to where I was going with this, so I knew neither of them had been into the Blue Room. I briefly debated my choice of words.

“I was there today about the open position for clerk. It’s been filled. But while I was there, I met her business partner.”

“Rose Allgood. Yes, I’d heard they joined business ventures.”

Allgood didn’t seem quite the suitable name for Rose, but I ignored that and went on. “Rose seems to have stocked the shop with . . . .” Here I stopped. I couldn’t think how to go on without either laughing out loud or cringing. No proper word came to me.

“With what, Trinket?” Gaynelle asked sharply, and I could imagine her doing the same thing to legions of school kids. It produced similar results. I blurted out the answer immediately.

“Dildos.”

“What?”

“Dildos. You know. Imitation . . . man things.”

“Imitation
man things
?” Bitty echoed, then started laughing.

I felt my face flush even redder, and heat beat its way down my neck to my chest and probably all the way to my toes. I should have listened to my better instincts and kept my mouth shut. I gathered what was left of my dignity and stood up to leave.

“Wait . . . Trinket . . . don’t leave . . . .” Bitty gasped out between bouts of laughter. She put out a hand as if to stop me, and Chen Ling started barking. Even Gaynelle, who had to have heard almost everything in her years of teaching, was giggling.

I gave them my coolest glance and stuck my nose in the air. Definitely time to go. If even the dog was laughing—

“No . . . wait!” Bitty leaned toward me with her hand still outstretched, and her foot nudged Chen Ling. The dog fell off the ottoman and onto the plush rug spread over the wood floors. She barked even more furiously and seemed to blame me for her fall. Before I could move, the pug grabbed my pants leg with her three teeth and shook it like a rat.

“Call off your mutt,” I said.

“Promise you won’t . . . won’t leave.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Chitling can go along for the ride if she doesn’t let go.”

“C’mon, Trinket, it just sounded so . . . so funny! Especially coming from you.”

“I do live to entertain.”

“Oh, lighten up. Or I’ll . . . I’ll smack you with . . . with . . ..”

“A
man thing
?” Gaynelle chimed in, then dissolved into hysterical laughter. That set Bitty off, and she rolled to her back and drummed her heels on the ottoman. They both shrieked with laughter, while Chitling mauled my pants leg and I stood there with my hands on my hips glaring at them.

They must have been making more noise than the pack of wild co-eds down in the basement playroom, because Brandon and Clayton appeared in the parlor doorway right behind me.

“Is everything okay?” Clayton asked. He hooked an arm on the door frame and leaned in to look at his mother. She was still beating her bare heels against the ottoman upholstery and laughing. It was very annoying.

“No,” I said. “Your mother is having a seizure of some kind. She needs to be doused with a bucket of ice water immediately.”

Clayton gave me an uncertain look while Brandon just grinned. Chen Ling still had hold of my pants leg, and I briefly considered lifting my leg high enough to give her vertigo. Or punt her back over to Bitty.

I did neither. It took great restraint.

Brandon nudged me. “What’s so funny?”

“Your mama’s face,” I said, reverting to my grade school days. If Bitty heard me, she let it pass. She was still laughing and holding her sides.

“Want me to unhitch the dog from your pants?” Brandon asked instead of getting upset at my insult. He was used to Bitty and me by now. We trade insults a lot.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

Brandon bent down to untangle Chitling from the ruined hem of my slacks, and I saw Clayton slip away. Smart. He had no intention of remaining close enough to get in the line of fire.

“There you go, Aunt Trinket,” said Brandon and stood up with the disgruntled dog under his arm. He grinned. “I think she needs to go outside, so I’ll take her.”

“Good idea. Careful. She pees randomly.”

He stuck his arms straight out and carried Chitling toward the back door. I could hear her still growling all the way down the hall.

Gaynelle wiped tears from her eyes and shook her head. “Do stay, Trinket. You know it wasn’t anything personal. You just had this
look
on your face when you said that—well, it was funny!”

I tried to sound as cool and composed as Rose Allgood. “So glad I can entertain you both.”

“Get the stick out of your rear,” said Bitty and patted the ottoman at her feet. “Then come over here and tell us about the, uh, merchandise in Carolann’s shop.”

“You don’t deserve to know. You are both wicked, wicked people.”

“So? You’re one of us, my dear. Now come on. You know you’re just dying to tell us all about it.”

Because she was right, I made her coax me some more before I gave in, but I sat down in a chair just so she didn’t get her way entirely. After I relayed the episode as best I could without going into too much detail, Bitty put a hand over her mouth.

It was Gaynelle who asked without laughing, “So, what book did you buy?”

“I have no idea. Heather—the girl Carolann just hired—picked it out for me. It has a half-naked man on the cover, that’s all I know.”

“Well,” Bitty said after a moment, “I see that I must make a trip soon to buy some lingerie.”

“You have more lingerie than Macy’s,” I said. “You just want to go look at . . . at the
man things
.”

That started them off again, and this time I laughed with them. Really, thinking about it, it was kind of funny. As I got into the spirit of the moment, I said, “You should have just seen them, all lined up there like little soldiers in helmets, in all these different colors—”

“Different colors?” interrupted Gaynelle in a hushed tone, sounding shocked. “Well, I
never!
”

“Like a rainbow.”

“Well,
I
never!”

I knew what Gaynelle meant. “Me neither.”

“You ladies need a trip to the French Quarter,” said Bitty, sitting up in her chair to reach for her tea glass. “Or out on Summer Avenue in Memphis.”