Merry Wives of Maggody (16 page)

Jim Bob toppled his chair as he stood up. “Ridner was a true golfer, and he’d want us to finish. Maybe we can dedicate it to him or something. I got to shower and make some calls. Mrs. Jim Bob’s over at the golf course, getting ready for today’s round. Get on over there and tell her what happened, Arly.”

“I’m on my way,” I said unenthusiastically as he dashed out of the room without so much as a
petit jeté
of joy. “I hope she sees it the same way,” I continued to Frederick. “If she cancels the tournament, I might have a rebellion on my hands. Make that a full-scale revolution.”

“Would you like me to go with you? She might be less inclined to pitch a fit in front of me. She doesn’t seem to be… well, fond of you. Do you have a history with her?”

“Nothing that keeps me awake at night. She’s convinced I’m already on my way to hell in a handbasket. Yeah, you can come along if you want to. I need to stop by Earl and Eileen’s house to have a word with Bony.”

“Bonaparte turned in the lowest score yesterday,” Frederick commented as he took his cup and saucer to the sink. “He’s determined to win the tournament to prove that he’s not washed up yet. I’m not so sure. And of course he can’t allow himself to lose to the blond girl. That would be the ultimate insult to his manhood.”

We walked toward the front door. “It’s not about the boat?” I asked.

“Winning the boat would be nice.”

“Nice? Half the married couples in this town aren’t speaking to each other because of the boat. It’s likely that Tommy Ridner was murdered because of the boat. Most of them would use a stronger word than ‘nice.’ ”

Frederick opened my car door and smiled at me.

It wasn’t worth the effort to be rude. As we drove down the driveway, I said, “Where’s your car, by the way?”

“It’s a classic. Even Jim Bob was impressed. Mrs. Jim Bob insisted that I park it in the garage. I haven’t had much reason to drive it in town, and it might as well be protected from bird droppings for the time being. It has more than two hundred thousand miles on it, but it rarely complains or causes me grief. Very few people can say that about a relationship.”

“True,” I said, wondering if Jack and I could go that distance.

Neither of us was high-maintenance, but everybody needs occasional tune-ups. And Jack certainly knew how to rotate my tires.

I realized I was blushing as I parked behind Earl’s pickup. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Eileen answered the door. “Good morning, Arly,” she said.

“Won’t you come in and have a cup of coffee? Is that Mr. Cartier in your car? I can make a batch of biscuits to go with my homemade strawberry jam. It won’t take a minute. How about bacon and eggs, or an omelet?”

“Thanks, but I’m in a hurry,” I said. I gave her a brief explanation of the situation and asked her to tell Bony not to leave town.

She was still gaping when I got back in the car. “If you’re in the mood for breakfast, Eileen will be delighted to fix it for you.”

“I think not. You need to speak to Mrs. Jim Bob as soon as possible, and I want to be hovering nearby should you require support. Today’s round is scheduled to start at ten o’clock. That’s in a little more than an hour, unless the storm comes in. I don’t think she’ll be popular if she cancels it.”

“She’s more likely to be lynched. If the mob decides to string her up from a rafter in Raz’s barn, then he’ll come out blazing. A lot of the good ol’ boys around here keep hunting rifles and shotguns in their trucks.” I took one hand off the steering wheel to rub my eyes. If ever I needed caffeine, this was the time. Regrettably, it was off my list for the next seven months. All I had to look forward to when I woke up was morning sickness and the inevitable questions from Ruby Bee and Estelle about my future.

I could hear Mrs. Jim Bob’s voice as I parked behind her pink Cadillac. Elsie McMay hurried past us, a cylindrical coffeemaker in one arm and a tower of foam cups in the other. Millicent, clutching poster boards and markers, skittered toward the tent. Darla Jean followed her with several shoe boxes. Sleepy high school girls taped white paper on the long tables. I gathered from what I could hear that there was a crisis involving doughnuts and certain volunteers who would never be offered membership in the Missionary Society.

“Well?” Mrs. Jim Bob was snapping at Crystal Whitby, who was shrinking into the ground. “What do you expect me to do about it now? Stop sniveling and take responsibility. Don’t be surprised if your name is mentioned next week from the pulpit of the Voice of the Almighty Lord.”

I nudged Crystal out of the line of fire. “I need to talk to you, Mrs. Jim Bob. There’s a problem.”

“There are a passel of problems! Look at the sky. The last thing I need is a storm. How will it look if somebody gets hit by lightning? What’s more, last night I spent hours making a poster with today’s tee times, but I have no idea how many foursomes we’ll have. Complaints, criticism, whining—these golfers are worse than the Sunday school kindergarten class.” She turned away and shouted, “Darla Jean! Stop gossiping and make yourself useful. Elsie needs help with the coffeemaker. Eula, cover the doughnuts with napkins before the flies carry them off.”

I took a breath and said, “Mrs. Jim Bob, there was a death last night.”

She spun around as if I’d pinched her butt. “Whose? Please don’t tell me it was someone involved with the tournament. after all I’ve done to make it run smoothly, I’m not in the mood to watch it crumble. I can’t remember when I last had a decent night’s sleep. I have a list of lists. I can’t trust anyone to handle even the tiniest assignment, so I have assumed the burden of doing everything myself.”

“One of the golfers.”

“No doubt while driving home drunk. I did what I could to control the consumption of alcohol, but some of the people refused to listen to me. I was against serving it, but I allowed other people to override my decision.” She gave Frederick a piercing look. “The Bible warns us against the evils of alcohol. It leads to fornication and degradation. It’s a cobblestone on the road to eternal damnation.”

“I believe Bonaparte is the one who told you that it’s customary,” Frederick said, although he stayed well out of her reach. “I merely confirmed it.”

“The death wasn’t caused by a drunken driver,” I said. “It was a different kind of driver. Tommy Ridner was beaten to death sometime after midnight. His body was discovered early this morning in the bass boat. I guess you didn’t notice the sheriff’s department vehicles in the SuperSaver parking lot on your way here.”

She clamped her lips together and stared at me. “Is this another one of your nasty jokes?” she finally said. “If it is, you can consider yourself fired as of right now, Chief Hanks. If Jim Bob doesn’t back me up, he’ll find himself sleeping in the utility room ’til Boone Creek freezes over.”

“Did I mention he’s a suspect—and you as well?”

Seven

K
ale, honey,” Kathleen Wasson said as she tiptoed into the motel room, “I brought you a sausage biscuit and a glass of milk. You have less than an hour before the second round. You need to shower, get dressed, and eat before we go.”

A voice from under the blanket said something that Kathleen pretended not to understand. “You have to get up now,” she went on brightly. “You’re only two shots off the lead, you know. It’s a wonderful opportunity for you to beat that sleazy PGA player. The state newspaper might mention it in the sports section. I must make sure to send them a photograph. I’m very disappointed that they don’t have anyone here to cover the tournament. You must be, too.”

“Heartbroken. Where’re my clothes?”

She opened the closed door. “I brought my travel iron in case your trousers got wrinkled in the suitcase. Where’s your lucky blue shirt, the one you wore at the state junior tournament last summer? I could have sworn I packed it.”

Shrugging, Kale went into the bathroom. Kathleen sat on the bed, her hands folded in her lap, and waited while he showered.

When he reappeared, she said, “I heard the most unsettling news this morning. Tommy Ridner was murdered late last night.”

She finally caught Kale’s attention. He dropped the shirt and turned around to stare at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I would never joke about such a thing. His body was found in the bass boat. That explains why the police officer came earlier and asked that we not leave town until we made statements. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“A cop came here?” Kale’s fingers fumbled as he tried to buckle his belt. He gave up and sat down on the bed across from his mother. “What’d the cop say? Did he want to talk to me?”

“
She
didn’t say anything other than everyone has to make a statement before leaving town. It’s not as though either of us has anything to tell her. I’m sorry about Tommy Ridner, of course. He was uncouth, but he did spend a lot of time conducting golf classes for underprivileged children and signing autographs at the celebrity events to raise money. I must find out if he was married so that I can write a condolence note to his wife. Do you know, dear?”

Kale shook his head. “Are you sure this cop didn’t ask about me?”

“Why would she?” Kathleen said. “It happened after midnight. You were in bed, fast asleep, at ten o’clock.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

• • •

“Unless some idiot gets lucky today,” Phil Proodle said into the telephone receiver, “the boat will be at my lot tomorrow afternoon. You need to make the back payments in cash. after that, it’s yours.” He listened for a moment. “No, it has to be cash. Until then, the boat stays on the lot. Don’t try anything funny after dark. The fence is topped with barb wire and the two guard dogs are vicious.”

While he dressed, he calculated how much cash he had in various bank accounts. How much could a modest house on a beach in Mexico or the Ca rib be an cost? He could exist on bananas and mangos, as long as liquor was cheap. His passport was valid. Eventually he could open a small boatyard and keep expanding it until he could afford a mansion and a sexy young mistress. Or better yet, no one would make a blasted hole-in-one and he’d be done with the boat mess on Monday.

Phil was feeling much better as he headed for Ruby Bee’s Bar &

Grill for a breakfast of eggs, grits, biscuits, and ham with redeye gravy. The only dark cloud on his horizon was the one settling over Maggody.

• • •

“A shame about Tommy,” Amanda said as she put down the mascara brush before she poked her eye out. Her hand would be steadier after she’d had coffee, she thought as she regarded her face in the mirror. Her eyelids were puffy, and her hair was frizzled by the high humidity. At the moment she looked more haggard than some of the frumpy old biddies at the golf tournament.

Dennis put his wallet in his back pocket. “At least he was feeling no pain. I didn’t think he could stagger that far without falling on his face. I’m going to miss him.” He smiled as he remembered some of Tommy’s more outrageous moments. No one could believe they were such close friends, he in his expensive, tailored clothes and Tommy in shorts and dirty T-shirts. His soft-spoken voice, drowned out by Tommy’s guffaws. His composure versus Tommy’s unrestrained passion. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d bailed Tommy out of jail because of some crazy prank. “I guess we ought to head for the golf course, although I don’t want to play golf today—or ever again. It won’t be the same.”

Amanda was not known for her sentimentality. “Thank gawd we won’t have to listen to Tommy chortle any more about his damn hole-in-one. He was so obnoxious about it last night that I was ready to scream. Someone else must not have had my self-control.”

She dabbed some liquid makeup under her eyes to hide the dark crescents. Her hair was hopeless. “Are you going to make the funeral arrangements? It might be nice to have the reception afterward at the club. Tommy practically lived there.”

“Aren’t you curious who killed Tommy?”

She pulled on a white tank top that emphasized her tan. “Of course I am. Tommy was your best friend. I said it was a shame, didn’t I? Do you think these shorts are too risqué for the locals? Maybe they all dress like Quakers on Sundays and ride around in buggies.”

“The shorts are fine. We only have thirty minutes. There’ll be coffee and doughnuts at the tent.”

“What I think,” Amanda said as they went out to the Jaguar, “is that Tommy must have been killed by one of these peculiar people who live here. Remember the guy with the live chicken? Did you see that man who lives in the shack next to the course? I saw him walking into the woods with an enormous, hideous, drooling pig on a leash. And while you were on the course yesterday, this creepy man with more fingers than teeth came over to me and asked if I wanted to ‘waller’ with him. I was so overwhelmed with revulsion that I gagged.”

Dennis put on his sunglasses, then buckled his seat belt and adjusted the rearview mirror. “It makes sense that the killer is one of the locals. Tommy was waving money around. He had one of the caddies go buy him some cigars at the grocery store, then tipped him twenty dollars. after his coup de grace on thirteen, he sent the observer to fetch a bottle of champagne and cups from his trunk. The kid got twenty dollars, too.” He braked at the edge of the road to let an RV drive by. “He gave the checkout girl a ten dollar tip when we stopped at the grocery store to buy tonic water and limes. Once the word got out, any one of them or their friends could have done it.” Despite the total lack of vehicles in either direction, he put on the blinker. “Money is a powerful motive.”

Amanda twisted the rearview mirror so she could apply lipstick.

“You’d think Tommy had better sense than that, but he never did. Last week one of the attendants found him taking a shower in the ladies’ locker room. He claimed he was looking for a partner for the mixed scramble, but Lissie Barquette said he was so drunk she and the attendant had to literally drag him out and put his clothes on him.”

“May he rest in peace.”

“I hope the golf course in heaven has a nineteenth hole.” She dropped the lipstick tube into her purse. “Not that it’ll matter to Tommy.”

• • •