Dixie Diva Blues (25 page)

“So,” Gaynelle interrupted, “you put this in your pocket and the police didn’t find it?”

Bitty nodded. “I didn’t get searched like Trinket. At first they thought she’d taken me hostage, but then figured out pretty quickly that she wasn’t the bad guy. Or even a guy. Then I saw our cousin Jake and he told the officers that he’d get the information from me. After that, I didn’t even think about it again until I came home. When I emptied my pockets, I found it again. I wanted to ask somebody right then, but Trinket was mad at me and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Gaynelle nodded. I leaned forward.

“I had an idea,” I said. “Jake Hankins is our cousin and he’s now a detective on the force. Since he
is
our cousin, he may not want to be responsible for putting us in jail.”

Gaynelle said, “I know Jake Hankins. He’s a fine detective, I hear, which is nice, because he was an unruly student. I would say that’s your best chance to relinquish evidence without getting charged for obstruction of justice. We should give him a call immediately.”

That’s how our second cousin got involved with us in what turned out to be the biggest mess the Holly Springs Police Department had ever seen.

While we waited for Jake
to show up at Bitty’s, Jackson Lee came in with Chen Ling. The disgruntled pug trotted immediately to Bitty, who scooped her up with words of endearment I always thought reserved only for one’s spiritual soul-mate. Nonetheless, the dog took it as her just due, and allowed herself to be lavished with love, praise, and two or three special doggy biscuits.

In his spare time from being a lawyer, Jackson Lee tends to his cattle ranch between Holly Springs and Snow Lake. He’s adroit at picking out the heifer he wants separated from the rest of the herd, and this time he wasn’t even on a horse.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Trinket,” he said to me in a low voice.

“So what’s up?” I asked a little nervously. “I take it I’m still the number one suspect for killing Lee Hazen?”

Jackson Lee shook his head and grinned at me. “Nope. You’re off the hook. Your prints were nowhere on the murder weapon, though there were several tables in the area that you’d touched.”

Relief flooded through me. My knees actually got weak, and I felt a bit light-headed. I put out a hand to steady myself. “Really?” I got out. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Sugar, I wouldn’t do that. Of course, I can’t think of a single cop in Marshall County that wants to hear yours or Bitty’s name any time soon, but you’re cleared on the murder charge.” He paused, looked at Bitty, then back at me. “Whatever possessed you two to pull that stunt at the storage facility? You had half the force out there ready to shoot whoever came out of that unit. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard about it.”

Because Bitty and I had just made a truce, I decided not to answer that question. Not truthfully, anyway.

“Have I been officially released?” I asked instead.

Jackson Lee had taken off his cowboy hat when he came in, and now he scratched his head and looked at me. “Since you were never officially charged, you don’t have to worry about that. So, what was it that made y’all act so crazy? Bitty won’t discuss it with me, but I know you will, Trinket.”

“Care for some sweet tea?” I asked rather than address his question. “Bitty has a big pitcher made up.”

“You’re avoiding my questions, Trinket.”

“Yes. Please don’t be angry. It’s just best you know as little as possible.”

Jackson Lee sighed. “It usually is, but I know I’ll find out more than I want to know sooner or later. I always do. I’ll make sure y’all get bonded out. Sweet tea will be fine. It’s hot as blazes out there. Near one hundred in the shade earlier.”

“Oh, no, sugar,” said Bitty, “I’m afraid I’m out of tea. Why don’t you run along now and I’ll call you later when I have some made?”

She set Chitling on the floor and went to Jackson Lee and put her hand through the crook of his arm, leading him toward the front door while she rattled on. “It’s been such a long day for me, and I feel quite out of sorts. As soon as Gaynelle and Trinket leave I’m going to lie down for a nap, but I’ll be up and ready to see you again soon, if you still want to see me?”

“Of course, I do, darlin’, but I don’t have to have sweet tea. Just ice water will do, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I could tell that Jackson Lee was mystified, and if I didn’t know that Jake was on his way and Bitty probably wanted free rein to talk without an attorney present, I might have been as mystified myself. As it was, I did the wise thing and let her completely confuse him.

“My icemaker went out. I’m having to run to the Piggly Wiggly for ice every time I want a cool drink. Terrible inconvenience.”

“Let me look at it.” Jackson Lee stopped right in front of the door before she could get him through it. “You probably just pushed the lever up to stop it from filling. I think that I’ve fixed that for you several times already.”

“No, no, you need to run on, my honeybunch. I wouldn’t dream of putting you to work on such a hot day. No, not at all. Oh, is that a wasp?”

Jackson Lee looked down, Bitty opened the half-glass oak door and angled him through it, then said, “It was just a horsefly. It’s gone now. You run on, sweet-ums, and I’ll give you a call in just a little bit, okay?”

Since by then he was standing on the front porch and she was already closing the screen door, he had little option but to nod, but I knew from the look on his face that he had suspicions. Jackson Lee is not easily fooled. Especially by Bitty being so obvious.

Once he was gone, I looked at Bitty and said, “You know he’s wondering what you’re up to.”

She sighed. “I know. He’s not an easy man to fool. Still, I had to get him out of here before Jake gets here. If my lawyer’s standing by me, I don’t think Jake would be as willing to help. Why is it the police always hate it when you call in your attorney?”

“Probably because they know that attorneys keep their clients from telling the truth. Or the whole truth, anyway. It’s in their job description, I’m sure.”

“Do you think Brandon is really going to be a lawyer?” Bitty asked next as she led the way back into her kitchen. “He said he’s taking pre-law classes. I just don’t know if that’s what he should do.”

Brandon is one of Bitty’s sons, older by minutes than his twin, Clayton. Since twins seem to run in the Truevine genes, I had quite a few nervous moments while I was pregnant with my daughter. Fortunately, I escaped the family curse. My twin sister has two sets of twins. I had the good sense—or good fortune—to stop while I was ahead. My one and only chick is happily married and childless—so far—in Atlanta. So the question of Brandon’s future occupation did not carry the anxiety for me as it did for his mother, I’m sure. I shrugged.

“Why not? Brandon is smart and personable. He’d probably be a great lawyer.”

“Yes, but lawyers seem to make a lot of enemies. Sort of like bail bondsmen.”

I looked at Gaynelle, and she nodded agreement. “She has a point, you know.”

“Besides the one on her head?” I countered, and we both smiled.

“Well,” said Bitty as she opened the refrigerator and took out the pitcher of tea she’d just told Jackson Lee she didn’t have, “you do agree with me, right?”

“To a point,” I replied, keeping in the same general theme. “If you’re referring to Rob, which I assume you are, as you once said it’s a wonder something similar to this hasn’t already happened since he’s around criminals so often. I imagine the same holds true with lawyers. Didn’t Jackson Lee have a disgruntled client threaten him a few times? Yet no one’s ever tried to kill him.”

“Yes. But Jackson Lee is not my son. I know he’s quite capable of dealing with a few hotheads. Besides, I’m not really sure being a lawyer isn’t the same thing as being a politician these days. They both carry a rather—disreputable—taint, don’t you think?”

“So says the woman who was married to a senator and is now keeping company with an attorney,” Gaynelle pointed out. “I’m not at all certain I want to know what you consider a reputable occupation. A scientist, perhaps?”

I shook my head. “No, no, I think she approves of astronomers. At least, those who can predict her future. Or am I thinking of psychics?”

“Psychics with psychoses?” Gaynelle suggested.

“You two are very droll,” said Bitty. “Now help me fix a tea tray for Jake. I’m not sure if a detective on the force drinks off-duty…tea should be just the thing. And those little cakes Sharita made when she was here earlier. They’re here somewhere . . .”

While Bitty dug about in the pantry, Gaynelle and I got out the silver tea tray and set it with Bitty’s second best tea set. Her first best met with a dreadful accident not long ago, so has been temporarily retired until she can bring herself to either find replacement pieces, or just bury the remains and forget the entire thing.

By the time Jake arrived, we had the tea tray loaded with enough goodies to feed the entire Holly Springs Police Department. Bitty’s idea of a light tea is anything but light.

Bitty’s usual choice for the police officers who come to her house—it’s become a ritual of sorts in the past few months—is to seat them on her uncomfortable horsehair-stuffed antique settee in the living room. But since she hoped to charm and cajole, we had tea in the parlor across the hall. Really, it’s Bitty’s office, but since she doesn’t work that I’ve ever been able to tell, it’s used as a semi-formal gathering place. The parlor we use most often is a smaller room and furnished quite comfortably.

Jake eyed the tea tray set upon a vintage table in front of the couch, and took the chair from the roll-top antique desk and turned it around to face the table and us.

“I’ll sit here,” he said, and no one was inclined to argue with his choice. Maybe it was because he sounded quite definite about it.

So we took our seats on the rose-flowered couch opposite him. Jake looked far too big for Bitty’s chair, one of those wooden office chairs with wheels that she’d once used as a form of transportation around the house. But he seemed far more comfortable than I felt. I cleared my throat.

“We asked you to come here this afternoon,” I began, “because we think we may have found something helpful to your investigation.”

Jake just nodded. He didn’t even ask which investigation. I’m sure he didn’t have to ask.

Bitty pulled the flash drive out of her right front pocket, but held it in her palm. She looked a bit nervous. “This was inside the saxophone at the storage unit.”

Jake got up from the chair and leaned over the table to look at it. Then he sat back down in the chair without taking it or saying anything. Silence stretched for a lot longer than was comfortable.

Really nervous now, Bitty laid the flash drive on the vintage oak table and started pouring tea. The cup rattled loudly in its saucer as she held it out to Jake, and he took it still without saying anything. Bitty was using her Royal Albert tea service, and the plates held cups and small sandwiches. She’d decided at the last minute that hot tea would be more appropriate. Maybe because the temperature had gone from triple digits down to just the two-digit level. Still in the 90s, but cool enough for hot tea, I suppose.

Chen Ling, who had started barking the second she spied Jake at the front door, sat like a grumpy Buddha between me and Bitty. Since she had her little bug eyes right on the sandwiches, I had hold of her by the bib strings. These were not the sandwiches like Sharita usually makes up for special occasions; these were man-size offerings of thick slices of roast beef, thin slices of Swiss cheese, and whatever else we could think of to put on them that might tempt the taste buds of a man we needed to bribe. Chen Ling would snatch one of them if she got close enough, so my job was to keep her sedate and cordial. Not an easy task.

Shutting the dog behind closed doors and away from food hasn’t worked so well in the past, and we were trying to learn from our mistakes.

Jake settled back into the desk chair with his sandwich, tea, and assorted nuts. Our cousin is the kind of tall man who looks slightly ridiculous sitting in a feminine setting; the only thing that saved him from it was the straight-back wooden desk chair. The drawback was the fact that it rolls. Every time he moved, the chair moved with him. This was due to well-oiled wheels since Bitty’s use of it as a makeshift wheelchair a couple months earlier.

After demolishing his first sandwich, Jake finally asked a question. “Why did you take it?”

Bitty looked a little flustered. “Well, it sort of shot out at me when Trinket bashed that man over the head. I guess it was just a natural reflex to pick it up. I didn’t really look at it until I found it in my pocket later. Then I saw what it was, and since it came out of the saxophone that belonged to Larry Whittier, I thought it might be important.”

“How many people have touched it since you picked it up?”

“Just me. I think—did you touch it, Trinket? Gaynelle?”

“I did,” said Gaynelle at the same time as I said, “Not me.”

Jake held out his empty plate, and Bitty went to put a sandwich on it. “No,” he said, “the flash drive, please.”

Chen Ling—obviously threatened by the fact that our guest might eat another bite of food before she could get to it—lunged forward and I barely held on to her. For a small dog that’s old as the hills, she can be quite active.