Mama Pursues Murderous Shadows (11 page)

Mama’s shoulders relaxed. “Fine with me,” she said, sounding preoccupied.

The Community Center building, one of the largest ones in Otis, is made of precut logs. The hall
itself is big enough to hold three hundred people comfortably, and it’s a pleasant place, bright and airy. While the Community Center is available for functions like my parents’ anniversary party, one of its main uses is for senior citizens’ activities. On Saturdays these stately folks get together for a potluck lunch, quilting, knitting, and lots of good gossip. As we arrived, the ladies who made up this week’s cleanup crew were putting the last few pots and pans back in the kitchen cupboards. Mama and I greeted them, then I went on into the hall and left Mama behind to chat with her contemporaries.

I looked around, thinking of the party. There was a hardwood floor that was in need of polishing. Stacks of folding chairs were in the corner. Were there enough tables to seat all our guests? We still had to plan the guest list.…

Next we drove to Sarah Jenkins’s house.

We found Sarah Jenkins, Carrie Smalls, and Annie Mae Gregory once again sitting on Sarah’s front porch.

“It’s good to see you ladies enjoying the fresh air,” Mama commented.

“I need money to pay off my taxes,” Sarah said anxiously. “Did you find out anything, anything at all?”

As Mama sat, I swatted a mosquito, then sat on the porch near a rosebush. Its sweet scent filled the
air. My mind wandered back to when I was a little girl who believed that time stood still and everything in the world was at peace.

“I’m still looking into it,” Mama told her, no doubt feeling that there was more at stake than helping Sarah get Ruby’s insurance money.

Now, I’ve told you before that these three women are the town historians. They know something about every soul who lives in Otis. I knew that Mama counted on them as a source. What I didn’t know until today was that they counted on Mama to use their knowledge.

“You’ve heard that Herman has found Betty Jo dead?” Mama asked, as if she was fairly certain that this news was not going to come as a shock to these women.

From the confident tilt of their heads, I knew that despite Sarah’s illness and financial problems, they’d already done some research on Betty Jo’s death. And they wouldn’t have been satisfied with just listening to the radio or reading the paper. Delight flickered in Carrie Smalls’s eyes. She particularly was proud that Mama considered them an important resource. And she for one wouldn’t let her down.

“Talk is that Betty Jo and Herman had a knockdown-drag-out fight last night,” she said. “I talked to old man Capers, who cleans floors at the morgue. He told me that Betty Jo had fresh bruises on her face and neck when they brought her body in.”

“Let me tell you something else I just learned,”
Sarah said. “I got a call this morning from Delcena, the bank teller. She wanted to know how I was doing. During our conversation, Delcena told me that she told Herman that she’d given Ruby a lot of money in cash, and he acted like he didn’t care nothing about that.”

Mama showed no emotion. Sarah’s information was old news to her, since Abe had already told us about his talk with Delcena.

“Delcena told me that she also told Herman that she’d given Ruby most of the money in hundred-dollar bills but that Ruby requested two thousand dollars in twenty-dollar bills,” Sarah added.

Now Mama seemed interested. “Ruby got two thousand dollars in twenty-dollar bills?”

“That’s what Delcena told me she told Herman,” Sarah said, her voice a little stronger, as if she was satisfied that what she said held Mama’s interest. “Delcena went on to tell me that she thought it was foolish for Ruby to have had all that money, but then she knew that Ruby wasn’t the kind of person you could say that to.” She shook her head.

“By the way, Candi.” Annie Mae’s tone indicated that she wasn’t about to be topped by Sarah’s news. “I talked to my cousin Christine that lives in Philadelphia. You know I told you I’d ask her to check on Ruby’s aunt for you.”

“Yes,” Mama said politely. “I was hoping you’d receive some news.”

“Christine told me that Ruby’s aunt Laura died in the old folks’ home about three months back. Laura
left Ruby an insurance policy worth seven thousand dollars.”

Learning that Ruby had received an insurance inheritance was indeed news to Mama. “So, Ruby had seven thousand dollars. Why would she carry that much cash on her person?”

“What I want to know,” I interjected, remembering that Abe had told us that there wasn’t even a dollar in the motel room where Ruby had been killed, “is what happened to all that money!”

Mama looked at me but didn’t respond.

“Somebody killed poor Ruby,” Sarah wailed. “There ain’t no reason for a woman with all that money to kill herself! Ruby was killed and I won’t be able to hold my head up in this town like the respectable woman that I am until I get my tax money and pay my taxes on time!”

Mama didn’t say anything but her silence told me that Ruby’s death was more important to her than Sarah’s reputation.

Supper was over. My father and Cliff were in the backyard, doing what they enjoyed most—drinking cold beer and swapping stories. Mama and I were in the kitchen doing what I liked least—finishing up the dishes. “I’ve got sample invitations,” I told her.

“Young lady, I’ll do you one better! I’ve got a menu and the guest list.” She walked over to the desk that sits in a corner of the kitchen, pulled out
two neatly typed documents, and handed them to me.

I was more than pleased.

“So, what else do you need from me?” Mama asked, the look on her face saying that she’d finally decided to work with me on whipping this party into shape.

“What about a photographer? We’ll need family pictures.”

“James’s buddy Coal takes pictures for weddings and christenings. James has already spoken to him.”

“Your dress?” I asked.

“I’ve got a few things I can wear.”

“You’ll need a
new
dress, Mama. Something very chic.”

“Okay, I’ll buy a dress.”

“And Daddy will need a tux,” I continued.

“James can rent a tux,” she replied, then said, “Simone, have James or I ever made you ashamed by what we had on?”

“No, of course not, Mama,” I said quickly.

“Then we’ll be fine for the party, I promise you. Let me tell you what I’ve planned for the entertainment,” she said, instantly forgiving me. “James has a buddy who deejays for various functions. James asked him to play music for us.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“James is going to pick the music, so expect oldies but goodies,” she warned me. “So, what else is left to plan?”

“It sounds like we’ve got everything in order.”

“Good,” Mama said firmly, walking back to the desk and pulling out a yellow pad and a ballpoint pen. She handed them to me, “Now that we’ve gotten that settled, I want you to write down what we know about Ruby Spikes’s death.” I recognized the determined look in her eyes and knew we’d be staying up late. When it comes to being persistent, Mama’s a lot like me.

R
ight after lunch the next day, Cliff and I left Mama’s house for Atlanta. All the while we were driving, I was going over what I still needed to do for the party, but the thought of the two attempts on Mama’s life—and on mine—kept coming back to me.

“Cliff,” I finally confided. “There is something I need to tell you, but you have to promise not to tell my father.”

Cliff looked at me, surprised.

“It’s about Mama,” I started, then I told him of both the deliberate push into the ditch the week before, and how my mother and I had been shot at at Betty Jo’s house and how the cat had been stolen from the backseat of the car.

“Simone! You’d better tell your father—all kinds of bad things can happen to Miss Candi! This game
you and your mother insist on playing is getting out of control! Neither you nor your mother are detectives … you have no idea of how the criminal mind works!”

“Things usually turn out okay,” I reminded him, almost offended by his lack of respect for the positive results of our past investigations.

“There is always the chance that you’ll both come out dead!” he snapped, unimpressed. “As soon as you get home, call your father. Tell him that your mother is in danger!”

“But I promised Mama that I wouldn’t tell him.”

“You need to tell somebody,” Cliff insisted.

“I’ll call Abe as soon as I get home.”

Satisfied that calling Abe and telling him to keep an eye on Mama was the right thing to do, my mind once again wandered to the party. I knew I could count on Cliff and my girlfriend Yasmine and her husband Ernest. They’d all promised to help. Now I gave Cliff his assignment: taking charge of the beverages.

“What kind of liquor do you want to serve?” he asked.

“Beer,” I told him. “My father’s favorite is Heineken. And wine.”

“Nothing else?”

“No,” I said. “Select a wine that will go with turkey and ham. The beer will be for Daddy’s cronies; they won’t know what to do with wine.”

“Who’s going to serve the liquor?” Cliff asked.
The glint in his eyes told me that he didn’t want to be the bartender.

“Ernest offered to tend the bar,” I told him.

“You sure you don’t want mixed drinks?”

“I’ll call and discuss the drinks with my brothers. It’ll give me some idea of how much of our budget I should put into liquor.”

“When are you going to take everything to Otis?” Cliff asked me.

“I’d like to take the beer and wine home next Saturday.”

“I’ll go with you again,” he said. “Somebody has got to protect you and your mother from yourselves!”

I smiled. “No problem. By the way, Daddy is handling the music.”

“Sounds like we’re going to be swinging to the oldies.”

I laughed. “You can be sure of that!”

“Do you have the Otis Community Center reserved?”

“Yes, but Mama remarked that Lois Eager, the woman who makes the reservations for the center, has a habit of booking two occasions at the same time. So I’m going to give Lois a second
and
a third reminder call.” Then I remembered something. “Dinner plates and silverware!” I shouted in poor Cliff’s ear. “I’ve got to find a place to rent dishes and silverware!”

Cliff shook his head. “Honey, there ain’t no place
to rent dinnerware or silver within a hundred miles of Otis.”

“Then I’ll have to rent them in Atlanta and bring them to Otis.”

He frowned. “Simone, that sounds like a lot of trouble you’re putting yourself through.”

“Nothing is too much trouble for my parents’ anniversary party. I won’t have Mama’s guests eat off paper plates. She’d have a fit.”

“I have to admit that paper plates ain’t Miss Candi’s style,” he said, nodding.

“Where can I get enough plates—”

“How many people are you expecting?”

“One hundred. That number includes people from out of town, friends my parents have kept in touch with over the years. That means I’ve got to find a place for all those people to stay.” I groaned. Every time I solved one problem, two more cropped up.