Murder of the Cat's Meow: A Scumble River Mystery (27 page)

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fter exchanging a few words with Earl, Skye told him that she didn’t have time to say “howdy” to the rest of the clan that had gathered. While he was still nodding, she slipped away and quickly returned to where Wally and the mayor were standing. She pulled Wally to one side and whispered, “The Dooziers are here.”

“All of them?” Wally’s tone was a mixture of disbelief and horror.

“Just Earl, Glenda, MeMa, Junior, and Cletus,” Skye reported.

“That’s more than enough.” Wally grimaced. “What are they doing here?”

“Hunting for treasure,” Skye explained. “Glenda saw some TV show where people were buying old stuff at yard sales and making big bucks selling it online. So when Earl noticed Dante’s ad in the paper about this auction, he figured it was easier to buy a bunch of junk in one place than to go from garage sale to garage sale.”

“Shit!” Wally scowled. “I can’t think of any valid reason to ask them to leave.”

“Me, neither.”

“But it would probably be best if we don’t mention
their presence to Dante.” Wally glanced over at the mayor, who was screaming into his cell phone and shaking his fist in the air.

“Absolutely.” Skye heartily agreed. “What my uncle doesn’t know won’t hurt us.” Although she didn’t know why, Dante had a profound hatred of the Dooziers. He wouldn’t care about the niceties of the law; he would simply order the family’s removal whether the action was legal or not. “Do you want me to distract the mayor?” Skye asked. “I speak fluent patriarchy even though it isn’t my mother tongue.”

It took Wally a second, but he finally chuckled and said, “I’ll deal with Dante.” He tipped his head at the crowd. “How about you hang around with Earl and his merry band while the sale is in progress?”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Skye smiled bravely. Best-case scenario, she could act as a buffer between the family and the rest of the attendees. Worst-case scenario—no, she didn’t even want to think of the worst-case scenario, since it would probably involve her getting between an enraged gang of Dooziers and an even more infuriated mob.

While Wally headed back toward the mayor, Skye went looking for the Dooziers. Earl wasn’t where she had left him, so by the time she found the family, her uncle and his police escort had made their way to the front of the crowd and the mayor was trying to get everyone’s attention.

He wasn’t having much luck until the woman standing beside him handed him a megaphone, which he used to shout, “Okay, folks, listen up.”

Apart from the scuffle of feet and the heavy breathing, people quieted. Everyone, that is, except Glenda Doozier, a tall, meaty blonde wearing a camouflage miniskirt and a matching crop top that were riding up to reveal stretches of dead-white skin both above- and be-lowdecks. Hair dyed one shade beyond believability was
swept into a towering beehive with a huge swirl riding low over her forehead. Her earrings, made from bullet casings, dangled nearly into her cleavage.

Peering out from behind the enormous curl, Glenda narrowed her rodentlike brown eyes and said to Skye in a high-pitched, pain-inducing voice, “Cain’t you find nowheres else to stand than beside my man?”

Earl’s wife was not a fan of Skye’s, and she was vocally unhappy that her husband didn’t feel the same way. Earl had learned through painful experience that disagreeing with his wife was futile, but he darted an apologetic glance at Skye and made a distressed sound.

MeMa cackled at the drama unfolding between Glenda and Skye. The elderly woman had a face like a sock puppet, and was the clan matriarch as well as Earl’s grandmother—or maybe great-grandmother. It was hard to keep track of the Dooziers’ twisted family tree since every time someone shook it a bunch of nuts fell out.

Wearing a neon orange muumuu and her signature red high-top sneakers, MeMa was clearly having a wonderful time. She leaned on a debonair-looking black cane, which she used to prod anyone who got in her way, while voicing loud opinions of the weight, attractiveness, and intellect of those around her.

Next to MeMa, Junior and Cletus, Earl’s son and nephew, respectively, giggled and elbowed each other in the side. Skye noticed that they both had large backpacks strapped across their shoulders and she wondered what was in them. In times past, she had warned Earl about allowing the teens to carry guns and he’d promised they would leave the weapons at home. She hoped he had kept his word.

Dante squinted in the direction of the Dooziers and Skye held her breath. She crossed her fingers that because her uncle was too vain to wear his glasses, he wouldn’t be able to detect their faces in the crowd.

Apparently Dante didn’t spot the Dooziers among the other people, since after a few seconds, he continued with his speech. “Cash is king. I’m not taking credit cards, checks, IOUs, or sob stories.”

A discontented murmur rose from the audience, but Earl hooted, “I’s got the money, Sonny. So let’s stop wastin’ my time.”

Dante frowned, seemingly still unable to see who was heckling him, then raised his voice. “Here are my rules. Once the door of the locker is opened, you got five minutes to look around. You can’t go inside, open any boxes, or touch anything. I don’t want any rough stuff and if you bid, you better have the dough.”

With that, Dante nodded to the woman next to him. “This here’s Willie Jo. She manages this place for me and will be collecting the payments.”

A statuesque platinum blonde waved a bunch of keys in one hand and a pair of bolt cutters in the other, then yelled, “Let’s go!”

Dante stuck out his arm, Willie Jo rested her hand on it, and the mismatched couple led the way through a maze of lockers. As Skye struggled to keep up with Earl and his family, she examined the attendees. They ranged in age from teenagers to octogenarians, affluent to hard up, diminutive to gargantuan, and average-looking to downright odd. For once, the Dooziers fit right in.

Skye hadn’t realized the facility was so large. Previously, she’d seen only the front strip of lockers. But finally, after trekking down row after row, Dante and Willie Jo stopped in front of one of the larger units.

Dante shouted, “This is a ten by twenty-five. Cut the lock, Willie Jo.”

The blonde snipped off the padlock, rolled the metal door up, and quickly stepped aside as the pack descended. Skye stuck to Earl’s side, peeking into the dark,
somewhat spooky interior. It held old appliances, particleboard furniture, and a mountain of bulging black plastic trash bags.

Earl turned to his wife and whispered furiously, gesturing avidly at the locker.

“I don’t care if you saw somebody’s great-aunt’s girdle go for a thousand dollars on eBay,” Glenda hissed. “We may a’ got married for better or worse—you couldn’t do no better and I couldn’t do no worse—but…” She pulled the V-neck of her camo crop top away from her body and pointed down to her boobs. “Iffen you go over two hunert, you’ll never play with these babies again.”

“But, honey pie,” Earl whined. “Don’t youse see that big ol’ doll thingy in the back? I bets we could get a ton a money for that.”

Glenda bent forward and Skye quickly moved behind her to block the view as the woman’s camo micro mini crept up, revealing a dimpled derriere that should never have made the acquaintance of a thong. All they needed was Earl having to defend his ladylove’s honor from some guy with a smart mouth or a fast hand.

“Two hunert,” Glenda repeated. “Ain’t no headless green plastic woman with a phone in her belly worth more than that. The furniture’s nothin’ but cheap crap, and we don’t got no idea what’s in those bags.”

Earl’s bid was quickly overtaken by a tall guy with slicked-back hair. His neck was the size of a Sunday ham, and he was dressed in tight black pants and a red silk shirt. He carried a small leather bag.

As he passed the Doozier clan to claim his locker, the man smirked and said to Earl, “Step aside for a real player, Shorty.”

Skye recoiled, waiting for the first punch.

But Earl just narrowed his beady little eyes and said, “Dumbass, I ain’t short. I is fun size.”

Mr. Silk Shirt paused as if to turn back and say something more, but someone from the crowd said to him, “Word to the wise. Let it go.”

Word to the wise? Skye shook her head. Really? Shouldn’t that be word to the stupid?

Earl murmured something to Glenda, who nodded, and the pair moved on.

The next few units were filled with brown paper grocery sacks overflowing with used clothing and more black trash bags holding who knew what. A couple of them smelled so bad they made Skye’s eyes water. She’d seen everything from dirty diapers to unwashed dishes, and couldn’t believe the rubbish people paid good money to keep in storage.

The bidding had been lackluster, but the final locker of the sale perked everyone up. According to Dante, it was ten by thirty feet and big enough to store the contents of an entire moving van. As the lock was cut, a wave of excited chatter rose from the attendees, and immediately the crowd surged forward to get a better view. The unit was packed with what appeared to be new merchandise.

Skye was shoved over the threshold and into a stack of cartons. Steadying herself on a pile of boxes that bore pictures of lawn mowers, weed whackers, and leaf blowers, she noticed the words stamped in red ink along the sides and top:
PROPERTY OF THE CITY OF VIDERVILLE
.

She frowned. Viderville was a municipality about twice the size of Scumble River, located fifteen miles south of her hometown. Why was its property being stored in Laurel? Almost before Skye could form the question, her uncle grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the locker.

Shouting above the multitude of excited voices, the mayor addressed the crowd. “Sorry, folks. Wrong unit. The ink was smudged. This is three-six-six and we wanted eight-six-six.”

Grumbling, the mob followed Dante and Willie Jo to another large locker. This one contained an industrial oven, several rolling metal racks, and a mixer the size of a ten-year-old. There were also fifty-pound bags of flour, cornstarch, and sugar, as well as a huge white plastic tub of rainbow sprinkles and several gallon jugs of cooking oil. It looked like a bakery had gone out of business, and Skye heard the folks around her murmuring appreciatively.

After a quick huddle with his wife, grandmother, son, and nephew, Earl started the bidding at two hundred dollars. It swiftly climbed upward, and the potential buyers dropped out one by one until Earl and Mr. Silk Shirt were the only two left.

Glenda tugged furiously at her husband’s hand as he shouted, “A thousand!”

“Is that all you got in you?” Mr. Silk Shirt sneered. Then he yelled, “Eleven hundred.”

“Twelve,” Earl countered. “Youse got more than that in your itty bitty purse, Mr. Girly Man?”

Skye overheard Glenda hiss at her husband, “If youse fell into our fishpond, we’d be skimming stupid offen the top for a month.”

“But, sweetums…”

“Don’t sweetums me.” Glenda dug her nails into Earl’s arm. “We only got thirteen hundert on us. Do youse want to give Leofanti a reason to mess with us?”

Silk Shirt checked the black leather bag hanging from his wrist, then screamed, red in the face, “Twelve fifty.” Hatred shooting from his eyes like flames, he taunted, “Beat that, you river rat.”

“Twelve seventy-five.” Earl shook off Glenda’s restraining hand.

Skye winced. Earl would surely pay for that insubordination.

“Dante, let me write you a check,” Silk Shirt pleaded. “You know I’m good for it.”

“Cash on the barrelhead.” Dante crossed his arms. “And if you bid more than you got, I’ll have you arrested.” He nodded in Wally’s direction.

“Jerkwad,” Mr. Silk Shirt snarled, but he didn’t raise Earl’s bid.

“Going once.” Dante scanned the throng of people. “Going twice.” He paused, and when no one raised the bid he said, “Sold for twelve hundred and seventy-five dollars to the man in the purple cap.”

Skye pursed her lips. Apparently her uncle still hadn’t recognized the Dooziers. Either that or he didn’t care that they were attending the sale as long as they had the cash to pay him.

The crowd quickly dispersed. Those who had bought lockers settled up with Willie Jo and went to find out if they had hit it rich, and those who were departing empty-handed hurried toward the parking lot.

The mayor insisted that Wally accompany him and the money box to the office. Before leaving, Wally shot Skye a look, and she nodded that she was okay. She pointed behind her, indicating that she would stay with the Dooziers for a little while longer. The family had disappeared into their unit and she could hear excited exclamations as they discovered new treasures.

As Willie Jo, Dante, and Wally vanished around a corner, Skye let out a sigh of relief that the auction hadn’t resulted in a Doozier dustup. However, before she could fully relax, a smirking Mr. Silk Shirt sauntered into sight. With him were two muscle-bound men armed with baseball bats and badass expressions.

Shoot!
Skye looked around. They were at the end of a corridor and there was no other way out. She dug in her purse for her cell and her can of pepper spray, wishing she had her Taser.

She was willing her phone to hurry and find a signal when Earl stepped into the locker’s open doorway. He
looked at the men coming toward him and fished a pair of spiked brass knuckles out of his pocket. Instantly, Glenda and MeMa materialized next to him. Glenda reached into her ankle-length high-heeled boot and pulled out a switchblade, and MeMa unscrewed the handle of her cane, revealing a fifteen-inch stainless-steel blade.

It always amazed Skye that the Dooziers seemed to be able to sense when one of their own was in trouble, and they appeared as if out of nowhere to fight side by side. Did they have some sort of psychic bond or did they emit a pheromone like a queen bee signaling her drones? And speaking of drones, where were Cletus and Junior?

While Earl, MeMa, and Glenda lined up, blocking the entrance of their unit, Skye moved as far away as she could get. If the boys appeared, she’d have to try to protect them, but the adults were on their own. She told herself that facing your fears might build strength of character, but running from them offered a terrific cardio workout.