Tied With a Bow and No Place to Go (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 3) (15 page)

“I’m sorry,” Vienna said. “You’re right. I have no excuse.”

That wasn’t the response Tizzy expected. She’d prepared for
a heated exchange and now with Vienna’s apology and admitted shame, Tizzy
didn’t have a retort. But the woman didn’t deserve sympathy. Vienna still
behaved in a fashion unbecoming to southern women everywhere. “Have you always
lived in Texas?” Tizzy asked.

“No, I moved here from New Jersey when I was a teenager.”

Tizzy smirked. “That explains a lot.”

“Well, now that we have this explained,” Ridge began, “I
expect your calls to stop.”

“They will. But I have another reason for contacting you.”

His brows rose. “What?”

Vienna reached into her purse again. “The description you
sent of the guy with the tattoos. I remember a local inmate with the same ones.
He matches age, hair and eye color.”

Ridge breathed a sigh of relief, clearly relieved she’d moved
on to another subject. “You have a name?”

“Sure do,” she said, and produced a photo. “It’s been at
least three years ago. He served six months for bad checks. Here’s his picture,
name and last known address.”

“You could have emailed me this information and saved a
trip,” Ridge said.

She hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

He accepted the information and read out loud. “Justin
Pruett. Eight sixteen Palmer Street, Malakoff, Texas.” He passed it to Tizzy.
“Is this the guy you saw at the festival?”

She studied the photo for a second. “That’s him.”

Back at home, and happy to be rid of Vienna, Ridge sat next
to Tizzy on the porch swing, and watched Gracie play in her sandbox. He enjoyed
the backyard this time of year. Shrubs fully leafed, flowers bursting with
blooms, and hummingbirds darting from feeder to feeder. The gentle sway of the
swing relaxed him. He put his arm around Tizzy and twirled a lock of her hair
on his finger.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “What are you thinking
about?”

He chuckled. “How this scene is so much more calm than the
one in the bar a few hours ago.”

“Sorry. I got carried away. I made a fool of myself.”

“No, you didn’t. Your feistiness is one of the things I
love. You felt threatened, so you defended yourself—and your property.”

She lifted her head to look at him, but didn’t say anything,
so he said, “I belong to you, so it’s your right to fight off all the
sex-crazed women trying to get at me.” He broke into a full laugh.

She poked his shoulder. “All the women? Should I expect
more?”

“Oh, yeah. There’s a line of them from Philly to Texas.”

“Now, you’ve gone to lying.”

He tipped her chin up and kissed her. “I tease. I don’t lie.
I just wish everyone else was as truthful as I am. If they were, I’d have an
easy job.”

“So what now? You’ll search for the tattooed guy?”

“Yes. If you want, tomorrow after church, I thought we’d
take Gracie and go to the festival. I can mix business with pleasure. I called
Malakoff PD and they sent a man to Justin’s last address and he doesn’t live
there anymore. Even if I get his current location, he’s long-gone by now, but I
have to start somewhere.”

Gracie came to the porch and held up a mud pie decorated
with flowers and leaves. “Is this pretty?”

“That’s awesome, Baby,” Ridge said.

Tizzy pointed to the fence. “Set it on that landscape timber
and let it bake in the sun. When it’s done, you can serve Daddy and me a
piece.”

Gracie ran toward the sunny spot and Tizzy turned back to
Ridge. “Are you leaning more toward Pruett being the number one suspect over
the women?”

“For now, he is. According to your mother, he delivered the
poison, but someone could have paid him to do that. The guy is innocent if he
didn’t know the whiskey was tainted.”

“If that’s true, he can furnish the name of who hired him.
So either way, you’ll get your killer.”

“I hope it’s as easy as you make it sound. But I can tell
you from experience, it rarely is.”

The following afternoon at two o’clock, Ridge drove to the
entry of Maplewood Renaissance Festival. In the second row of the van, Gracie,
sound asleep, slumped in her car seat. Synola sat next to her and Jinx sat
behind them.

“Oh great. This case is in my head so much, those colored
flags flying in the wind remind me of Jay Roy’s Ribbons,” Ridge said.

“Oh, you mean his Ribbons of Romance.” Synola said.

Tizzy laughed. “His Streamers of Sex.”

“Decorations of Desire,” Synola added.

“Banners of Booty,” Jinx said.

Tizzy leaned across the seat toward Ridge. “Oooh, Lengths of
Love.”

“That’s a good one.” Synola grinned. “How ‘bout Flags of Fu
. . .”

“Whoa! Ridge threw his hand in the air. “That’s enough!
Jesus. This case is making me crazy enough without y’all giving it a title.”

“Is it the weirdest one you’ve ever had?” Jinx asked.

Ridge wheeled into a parking spot. “Yeah. Wake Gracie. Jinx,
come with me if you want. I called earlier to find out if the festival office
is open today, so I’m going to start there. They should have Pruett’s contact
information.” He looked at his wife. “We’ll meet up when I’m done. I’ll text to
find out where you are.”

~~*~~

After conquering the Pirate Maze, riding the Joust A’ bout,
and throwing coins into the Fairy Wishing Well, Tizzy, Synola, and Gracie
headed toward the Treasure Hunt area to search for gold doubloons. The sound of
a blacksmith’s hammer rang out as they passed the horse barn. A jester tying
balloon animals presented Gracie with a bright red flower.

When they reached the shipwrecked Black Swan, the first mate
called out, “Ahoy, me hearties! Avast ye.” He handed Gracie a small shovel and
pail. “Ye no landlubber, are ye, lassie?”

Tizzy smiled at Gracie and leaned over to whisper in her
ear.

Gracie nodded, then smiled back at the man. “No sir.”

“Make ye way to the poopdeck, lassie. Thar you can dig for
pieces of eight. Careful not to let some scallywag pillage ye find. Savvy?”

Gracie stared back at her mother. Tizzy nodded again and
Gracie said to the man, “Yes, sir.” Then she spoke to Tizzy. “He talks funny.
Is he a real pirate?”

“Yes,” Tizzy said.

After fifteen minutes of searching for treasure, Tizzy
counted Gracie’s loot and determined she had enough to win a stuffed animal.
Satisfied with that, the three walked to the selection booth.

When the vendor turned around, Tizzy and Synola locked eyes.
Drench-a-Wench stared at them.

“You,” she said, pointing at Synola, “almost drowned me
yesterday.”

Synola sucked in a deep breath. “About that. Sorry. I
thought you were someone else.”

Tizzy lifted Gracie onto the counter and she presented her
coins. “What can I get for this much?” Gracie asked.

“Any of these,” the girl said, pointing to the middle
section.

Tizzy’s phone chirped. She read the text and responded, then
spoke to Synola. “That was Ridge. He and Jinx will be here in a minute.”

“I want that one!” Gracie squealed, and pointed to a pink
monkey.

“Good choice,” the wench said.

Ridge and Jinx joined them. Gracie jumped into her daddy’s
arms. “See what I won!”

“A funky monkey for a chunky monkey!” He kissed Gracie’s
cheek.

“Did you find out anything useful?” Tizzy asked.

Ridge held up the photo. “You’re sure this is the man you
saw here yesterday.”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, I haven’t shown this picture to your mother,” Ridge
began, “but if she identifies him as the man who came for the strawberries and
arranged the delivery, then we have a problem.”

“But it’s him. I’m positive. What problem?”

“The guy has an alibi, babe. The woman in the office said he
worked that day.” Ridge’s shoulders went up in a shrug. “He couldn’t have been
in Brownsboro at the time Pattiecake said he was.”

The pink and white striped awning stretched across the front
of Sweet Thangs Bakery provided the prettiest storefront in town. Ridge decided
that the lace valances hanging in the windows added almost as much southern
charm as its owners. He parked in front and recalled the first time he’d
visited the establishment. Just over a year ago, he’d met Tizzy and couldn’t
get her out of his head.

The lights inside the dining room came on and a pang of
panic rose in his chest. Although he didn’t consider Pattiecake a suspect, he
hated having to come back and question her again. He got out of the car and
tapped on the glass with his key. Within a few seconds, she appeared, unlocked
the door, and flung it open.

“Good morning, how’s my favorite momma-in-law?”

“Oh, no. When a man starts out with sweet talk, there’s
usually something wrong, so what is it?”

He flashed a grin. “No ma’am. Everything’s fine. I need to
show you a picture and see if you can ID him as the guy who arranged the
delivery to Jay Roy.” Ridge followed as she removed her apron, grabbed a new
one from under the counter and tied it around her waist. “Do you want coffee?”

“That’d be great.”

“Gracie wanted her pink monkey to swim with her yesterday. I
convinced her to let him lie out by the pool.” Pattiecake filled a cup, and set
it in front of him.

“She loves that thing.” Ridge pulled the card from his shirt
pocket and showed it to her. “Is this the guy?” He flipped a package of
sweetener back and forth against his finger, then ripped it open, and added it
to his coffee. While he stirred, she studied the photo. “Take your time. I want
you to be sure.”

“I think that’s the guy, but I can’t be a hundred percent
positive. His hair was longer and I’ve just remembered he had the beginning of
a beard. I only noticed the color of his eyes because his hair fell across his
forehead. I guess I paid more attention to how he was dressed than his physical
features.”

“Okay. Would you say you’re eighty-percent sure? Ninety?”

“Ninety. Why? Did you find him?”

“Not yet.”

He slurped the coffee and reminded himself how unreliable
eye witness identifications were. Pattiecake admitting to ninety percent
certainty wasn’t any less encouraging than claiming a hundred percent. As he
mulled over his next move, Pattiecake slid a hot blueberry muffin across the
counter.

Soon, Sugarpie brought jelly and jam choices. “Good morning,
Ridge. I recommend the blackberry jam. Pattiecake and I made it yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he said, and broke open the small cake. A trail
of steam rose and carried the aroma to his nose, causing his mouth to water.
After slathering on butter and jam, he took a bite, then spoke. “Damn, this is
delicious.” The warm drink enhanced the flavor. “I need a half-dozen to go.
Wait a minute. It’s not time for blackberries to be ripe.”

“We freeze them and then make jam as we need it. Comes out
like fresh-picked. I’ll get that to-go order,” Sugarpie said, and retreated to
the kitchen.

He made notes as he ate, putting a daily to-do list in
order: Check on the status of the traffic videos.
If the guy comes up on
film, I can connect him to an undisputable time stamp.
Next, run a check
with the DMV to see if any vehicle might be registered to Justin Pruett.
I’ll
issue a Be on the Lookout, if nothing else pops.
Then conduct classmate
interviews and if time permits, revisit the festival and question other
employees to verify office manager’s statement.
Does she have reason to lie
for the boy?

He put the spiral back in his pocket as Pattiecake delivered
his order. “I put in a small jar of jam along with the muffins.”

“Thank you. I may entice Rita to ditch her diet for one of
these. “He pulled a bill from his wallet and offered it.

“Your money is no good here,” Pattiecake said. “A benefit of
being married to the owner’s daughter.” She winked. “You’ll pay big-time later.
Aren’t you going to help Saint bale hay this summer?”

“That’s the plan,” he said, gulped the last bit from his cup
and then walked toward the door.

Five minutes later, he arrived at the police station. Only
Rita’s car was parked out front. When he opened the door, she offered a weak
smile. “My eye patch is gone, so no pirate jokes today.”

“Already? I didn’t think it was time for it to come off.”

“Well . . .” She tilted her head to one side. “As you can
see, the surgery didn’t work. I still have a lazy eye. The doctor told me at my
age there was only a slight chance of success, but I was hopeful.”

He set the bakery bag on her desk. “This will cheer you up.
I brought blueberry muffins and blackberry jam. I got to tell you the
combination is excellent. Come on back. I’ve already eaten one, but I’ll have
another if you join me.”

“Okay. But first, I need to uncover Willie Nelson,” Rita
said.

Ridge helped himself to another cup of coffee then sat at
the table. He started to pour Rita one, but remembered she preferred sodas.

The bird squawked.
“Good morning, Rita! I need to pee!”

Rita came back shaking her head. “Willie is learning more
and more words.” She went to the small fridge and removed a soft drink, then
joined Ridge at the table. “You’re busting my diet.”

“I’m a bad influence. But I can tell you’ve lost weight, so
consider this a reward for your hard work.”

Her face brightened. “Twelve pounds.”

“You’re fine the way you are, Rita. Why put so much pressure
on yourself? Surgery. Diet.”

She smiled. “I’ve been seeing someone. We’ve only had a few
dates, but I like him.”

Ridge eyed her. He’d guessed as much. In his experience, a
man or woman didn’t make drastic changes to their appearance unless the opposite
sex was involved. “That’s great. Anybody I know?”