Fran Rizer - Callie Parrish 05 - Mother Hubbard Has a Corpse in the Cupboard (10 page)

“Molotov cocktail?”

“A homemade fire bomb.”

“I know what it is. I just can’t imagine why anyone would do that or how they would do it with Rizzie and Tyrone sitting across the lot.”

“That’s why I want to talk to Rizzie, but I’m hesitant to tell her when her grandmother’s condition is so serious.”

“But if someone did that on purpose, Rizzie could be in danger. I think you have to tell her, Wayne.”

“I’d like you there when I talk to her.”

“I’m headed there now.”

“I’m right behind you.”

I thought he’d been speaking figuratively, but when I glanced into my rearview mirror, I saw the sheriff’s tan cruiser.

7

Maum looked awful, and Rizzie didn’t look much better. Maum’s eyes and cheeks had sunk into her face, and I wondered if she were dehydrating, but the IV solutions she was receiving should be taking care of that. The room felt like an oven, and sweat popped out on my forehead immediately, just like on Rizzie’s. Maum was covered in several blankets pulled up to her chin and tucked around her neck.

“Where’s Tyrone?” I asked. He wasn’t in the room, and the bathroom door was partly open, so I could see he wasn’t in there.

“Mad at me. I jumped him about the lunch money you gave him. He got all defensive, but he couldn’t show me the money or a receipt for putting it on his lunch ticket. He stormed off down the hall to the waiting room. I guess he’s watching television.”

“I brought you a waffle and some coffee.” I set the food bag on the bedside table. “I didn’t know if I should bring Maum something or not.”

“Not,” Rizzie said as she opened the container, tore off a fourth of the waffle, and bit into it like a piece of toast. She didn’t bother with the packets of butter and syrup.

“Maum can’t have anything to eat at all. They’re hoping to get an okay for her surgery today. Dr. Midlands came by earlier and said he would operate as soon as the heart doctors let him, even if it’s tonight.”

“Good,” I said as the sheriff walked in, “the sooner, the better.”

Rizzie told Wayne the same information she’d given me while she continued eating the waffle without all the good stuff I like to slather all over mine. When she finished, she dropped the little packets into the drawer of the bedside table, then tossed the bag and the tray into the trash.

I could see that Wayne was about to tell her about the van when Maum’s body stiffened and she moaned. Rizzie leaned over and whispered comforting words in her ear while caressing her cheek with one hand and pressing the call button for the nurse with the other. Soon the nurse came in with the hypodermic. She released the medicine into the IV line and within minutes, Maum relaxed and appeared to be sleeping again.

Rizzie popped the top off the cup I’d brought and nodded toward the door. “There’s coffee available at the nurses’ station if either of you want a cup. I’ve been drinking it all day.”

“No, thanks,” I said. I’d been wishing I’d brought her a milkshake or something cold. The room was way too sweltering for anyone to be drinking hot coffee.

“Any doughnuts down there?” Wayne joked and winked at me. I know it’s tacky, but I’ve never denied being tacky sometimes, and I tease him a lot about cops eating doughnuts.

“If there’d been any,” Rizzie said. “I wouldn’t have inhaled that waffle. There’s a snack machine, but it’s broken, and I didn’t want to be gone from Maum long enough to go to another floor. I was starving.”

Wayne motioned toward the empty chair by the bed. “Sit down, Rizzie. I want to talk to you a minute.”

“What is it? Don’t tell me Ty’s in trouble. Maum and I have kept a tight rein on him since he was caught playing hooky last year.”

“No, nothing to do with Tyrone,” Wayne said. “Do you know of a reason someone would want to do something against you or Tyrone?”

“Not that I know of. What are you talking about?” She panicked. “What’s happened?”

“It appears that your running into that pole didn’t cause the fire,” the sheriff said. “Somebody put a firebomb in your van.”

“Was it on a timer? How could they do that?”

“Nothing so fancy as a timer. It was very crude and would have had to be put in right before the fire.”

“That’s impossible,” Rizzie protested.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Didn’t Tyrone say he saw someone there?”

“I don’t know. I hardly know what
I’m
saying, much less what anyone else says.”

“Think about it, and call me if you think of anything that might be related.” The sheriff headed toward the door. “I’ll stop by the waiting room and ask Tyrone if he saw someone by the van before the fire.”

“If I think of anything, anything at all, I’ll call you,” Rizzie assured Wayne as he left.

I visited with Rizzie before going to the waiting room where I found Tyrone, wearing a sullen expression, slouched on a couch in front of the television, looking for all the world like a grumpy old man.

“Did the sheriff talk to you?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t see anyone do anything to the Econoline.”

“Well, come on back and tell Rizzie goodbye before we leave,” I told him.

“I’m not speaking to her.”

“At least go in there and kiss Maum goodnight.”

His face crumpled into tears, and, right before my eyes, he changed from rough and tough teenager to a little boy. People talk all the time about pubescent girls and their hormones, but I believe teenaged males are completely unpredictable because of
their
hormones. I tried to put my arm around him, but Tyrone pulled away. Finally, he gained enough control to convert his blubbering to sniffling. He dried his face with the sleeve of his shirt. That wasn’t the most courteous thing to do, but at least it wasn’t upchuck like Jane had wiped on her arm.

When we reached Room 407, Tyrone told Rizzie, “I’m sorry about the money. I spent it, but I’ll pay it back to you as soon as we reopen the restaurant.”

“Not to me, to Callie.”

I wanted to say, “Forget it,” but I kept my mouth shut for a change. Rizzie wasn’t as concerned about the money as she was about Tyrone developing a good moral code. We’d discussed that in the past.

Tyrone turned to me. “I’ll pay you back, Callie. I promise.”

He kissed Rizzie and his grandmother goodnight, then cautioned Rizzie, “Please don’t let them operate on Maum without calling me.” He looked toward me. “Will you bring me back if she calls?”

“Of course.”

• • •

Getting into the Mustang, I picked the newspaper up from the seat and showed the front page to Tyrone. “Ever seen him before?” I asked.

“Nope,” he lied. I knew he wasn’t telling the truth because he answered too fast and he looked over my shoulder instead of at my face. I didn’t push the issue because I learned a long time ago that sneakiness works better than confrontation to get information.

“What do you want for dinner?” I asked as we pulled out of the parking lot.

“Are you cooking?”

“No, I thought we’d stop somewhere or pick up something at a drive-through.” I was kind of sorry I’d turned down Jane’s offer to cook for us.

“If you don’t mind driving out to the island, I want to get some more clothes. We need to take Rizzie some of her things, too. She freezes individual dinners when we have leftovers at the diner. We could microwave a couple of plates at the house or take them back to your apartment. In fact, we can pick up some for the next couple of days.” He looked at me sheepishly. “I’ll still pay you back, but at least that way you don’t have to spend money to feed me while I’m staying with you.”

I called Daddy to check on him. Mike answered the telephone. Since Bill moved in with Molly when he married her and Frankie stays with Jane most of the time, the only one of my brothers living with Daddy right then was Mike. In the past, all of them except Jim, who’s in the Navy, and John, who was happily married and lived in Atlanta, moved in and out of Daddy’s house like it had swinging doors anytime they broke up with their wives or girlfriends.

“Yellow,” Mike said instead of “hello.” He thinks that’s funny. I don’t know why because I think it’s silly, but my brothers aren’t known for their cultured behavior.

I could barely hear Mike because Daddy was howling with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Pa’s watching TV.”

“What show?”

“He’s watching a rerun marathon of
Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.
He says that show makes him feel like we’re sophisticated.”

My daddy is the exact image of a sixty-five-year-old Larry the Cable Guy, including the shirts with no sleeves. I love him, but he’s about as classy as a sardine and onion sandwich on mushy white bread.

“Ask him if he wants to talk to me,” I instructed Mike.

I heard mumbling and laughing before Mike said, “He says he’ll talk to you later. He doesn’t want to miss any of his show.”

Right before I turned onto the bridge to Surcie Island, Tyrone pointed to the side of the road and said, “Look at that!” The Crime Watch sign by the road had been spray painted with some sort of symbol.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, and I could tell he was lying again.

Rain began, pattering softly on the rag top, almost as though it were timed to coincide with our reaching the house. The headlights glared against the front of the building, making the bright blue front door stand out. I hadn’t been to their house recently because since Rizzie opened Gastric Gullah, I generally saw her in town.

“When did you paint the door?” I asked.

“Couple of weeks ago. Painted the window trim, too. Maum got upset because she said the blue they were painted had faded to gray. All Gullahs have blue trim on their houses. It’s for good luck. Haven’t you ever noticed that?”

“Not that I remember. To tell the truth, I’ve had Gullah friends before, but your family is the only ones I’ve ever visited on the island.”

“You can sit in the car while I go in and get me and Rizzie some clothes and food, lots of food. That way you won’t get wet.” He got out and dashed to the front porch.

I admit I spent the time he was inside wondering what he’d bring for dinner. I was hungry, and I’d never eaten anything Rizzie or Maum cooked that wasn’t delectable.

The teenager must have rushed around inside because he was out fast, loaded down with bags. He had two canned Cokes with him, too.

“I brought us a drink for the ride back to town and a lot of food, so you can pick what you want when we get to your place.”

And that’s exactly what we did after we took Big Boy out for his usual squatting and walk. Tyrone had brought all kinds of food—oyster pie, Beaufort stew, shrimp bog, and vegetable dishes like potato pone and tomato pie. For dinner, he chose a creole type dish with chicken and shrimp. I picked the oyster pie. I love that stuff.

While Tyrone showered, I called Jane.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

When I explained, she told me she’d thought maybe I’d stayed at the hospital with Rizzie.

“No, she’s adamant that Tyrone is to be in school every day. He’s staying with me while she’s at the hospital. What are you and Frankie doing?”

“He just stormed out of here to go to your father’s. Probably gonna spend the night there. He’s
demanding
I quit my job. I know he’s your brother and I shouldn’t complain to you about him, but I don’t see how I can quit when he’s just working part-time here, there, and yonder. Then he suggested we could get married and move into the Parrish house with Mike and Pa. I flatly refused. He got mad and left. I didn’t call to complain to you. Just wanted you to know I didn’t cook.”

She didn’t sound upset, but I offered, “Want to come next door for a while?”

“Nope. Roxanne is going to burn this phone up for the rest of the night. I’ve got to make some money to pay my bills.”

I hung up feeling really bad. I’d known this would happen when my best friend hooked up with my brother. When they fuss, I feel guilty. When she makes him mad, I feel sorry for him. When he makes her mad, I feel sorry for her.

Tyrone was taking a long shower, so I called Patel. If I hadn’t quit swearing, I’d swear I could
see
him smiling over the telephone, and I don’t have one of those fancy phones that can have visual chats.

“I’m glad you called. Did you change your mind or should I start trying to talk you into it?” he said.

“I don’t know. Tyrone’s getting a shower, and we should stay here and go to bed early, but I thought I’d check and see if you’d already invited someone else to join you for that corndog or if the fair had been rained out.”

“No, it’s stopped raining here, and I haven’t invited anyone else. I don’t very often ask women I meet on the fair circuit to join me for dinner at a restaurant or here at the fair. I’m only in town two to three weeks each place. I guess I should make that clear to you, too. I’ll only be here another week and a half, but I’d love to show you and the young man around tonight or any night while I’m here.”