Killer in Crinolines (12 page)

I put my arm around Bridesmaid and BW parked his big head in her lap offering doggie sympathy. I needed to get Bridesmaid some coffee and a cab. “Waynetta doesn’t control all of Savannah, you know,” I said in consolation. “There are those out there who don’t give a flying fig what she thinks.” I considered Bridesmaid’s social circle and realized my last statement was a complete lie. “You’ll find someone.”

“A janitor no doubt.”

“I bet he’ll be a really nice janitor.”

• • •

“Pecan chicken, grits, bad kisser,” I mumbled to Auntie KiKi at the crack of dawn the next morning. She was standing over my bed shaking me awake.

KiKi plopped down beside me. “How did you know I was going to ask about your date?”

I pulled the sheet over my head. “You’re obsessed about Doc Hunky and you know where I hide my spare key.”

“Well, don’t fret about the kissing part. I’m willing to bet he’s a right fast learner. Is he going to ask you out again? I bet he is. Look at you, you’re lovely. Well, not now of course, you look like something trapped in the woods.” I heard KiKi pacing the floor. “Call him. You need to call him today, tell him you had a great time. Ask him over for dinner. No! You’re a lousy cook, no dinner. Wash his car, men love it when you take care of them. Send him flowers. Do women send men flowers?”

I peeled back the sheet and propped myself up on one elbow, the alarm clock reading six
A.M
. BW was still fast asleep. My dog had a better life than I did. “How many cups of coffee this morning?”

“Three, four, maybe five . . . and a half. Putter’s off to a conference in Atlanta and was up early to make the drive with Doc Hunky. So now I’m awake and so should you be.” Meaning if KiKi was awake, the whole world was awake especially if they happened to be on a date the night before. She had on a pink housecoat, a hint of floral nightgown underneath, matching slippers, and pink rollers in her hair. Auntie KiKi color coordinated in sleep and beyond.

“Did he hold your hand?” KiKi grinned, pupils dilated. “Bet he’s a great hand-holder, being a surgeon and all.”

The only way to get out of a blow-by-blow recounting of my date with a doctor was to offer up something better. “Why don’t we head on down to Cakery Bakery for out-of-the-oven doughnuts, hmm? They open at six. They start baking at four thirty. Everything will be fresh. We’ll be one of the first in line. Can’t you just see the glaze melting off the warm doughnuts, white icing dripping down the sides, the aroma of things cooling on big racks?”

“I’m supposed to be on a diet of sorts. Then again, I did use skim milk in my coffee.”

“Well, there you go.” And fifteen minutes later we were in the Beemer, because walking was not near fast enough with the promise of fresh pastries at the other end of the journey. As we drove, the city stirred to life, hazy morning gray surrendering to full sunlight. People with dogs and cups of coffee in hand took to the sidewalks while others snatched newspapers off the front porch or headed for work.

“So, did you wear something nice? Show some cleavage? Maybe that kept his eyes off your roots.”

Even doughnuts couldn’t save me. “We had good food and wine and split bread pudding for dessert. That was my low-fat concession for dating a heart guy.”

“Thought I saw Walker Boone’s car parked out front.”

“Must have been another ’57 red convertible. Look, the lights are on in the bakery. We’re just in time.”

KiKi parked and locked up. “I’ve never been here just when they pull the first batch from the oven,” she said, taking off in a fast trot.

“And with a little luck it’ll never happen again.” I opened the green door with a cupcake stenciled on the window as Hollis came out. Every bleached hair in place, teeth buffed to a high gloss. As far as I knew the man never got out of bed before ten.

“What are you doing up at his hour?” he asked me, a sarcastic edge in his voice. “Making a doughnut run?” His eyes drifted to my middle, brow arching in disapproval.

“I have an early meeting with the mayor,” he said, his usual I-am-God attitude firmly in place. “Thought I’d bring some doughnuts for the office. Selling some property to the city. Going to make a nice commission.” Hollis folded his arms. “Are you ready to let me sell Cherry House? Bankruptcy isn’t pretty, Reagan.”

“When I’m ready to sell, you’ll be the last to know.” I pushed past Hollis before I lost my appetite completely and met up with KiKi at the display case, the sight of fresh gooey things reviving my spirits.

“What did Hollis want?” KiKi asked, a touch of doughnut drool at the corner of her mouth.

“To drive me nuts, and he’s succeeding. I should have let him rot in jail.”

“But then you would have lost Cherry House.”

“There is that.”

Early-bird pastry lovers trooped in, Delta and two other counter gals all smiles and greeting people. The way I figured it, Savannah was divided into two parts, the morning people and the night people. Sometimes the parts ran into each other, like when the morning people got up extra early or the night people got in extra late or there were extenuating circumstances like a buttinsky auntie throwing everything out of whack.

Most of the bakery orders were takeout for offices and people on the go. Only a few customers occupied the tables. GracieAnn and repairman Percy, toolbox at his side, sat by the window sharing a strawberry Danish. GracieAnn smiled at Percy and fed him a dollop of filling that he licked off her finger. She squeezed his hand, then pushed back her chair and headed for the counter to help Delta wait on customers. Either Percy was a natural at undercover work or something else was going on. I left KiKi to memorize the display case and wandered over to Percy, keeping my back to GracieAnn. “How are things?” I asked Percy in a near whisper. “Any news I might be interested in?”

“Oh my goodness, yes.” Percy didn’t look up at me but stared straight ahead toward the counter. “Isn’t she the most wonderful girl in the world?”

I glanced back to GracieAnn to make sure that’s who Percy had in his sights. Yep, it was GracieAnn all right.

“I’m in love, I truly am.” Percy blushed, his usually pale cheeks the color of his hair. “I’m a man smitten.”

I sat down in the chair GracieAnn had just vacated and looked Percy straight in the eyes. “Chantilly? Murder? Any of this sound familiar? We’re trying to find a killer here, remember? Someone GracieAnn knows may have offed Simon. Any leads? I need leads, Percy. I’m a desperate woman here. Focus, man, focus.”

“GracieAnn wouldn’t know a killer. She’s sweet and kind and loving and she always smells like warm cookies. We’re good together. GracieAnn keeps breaking things in the bakery so I have to stay around here to repair them. Isn’t that the most romantic thing you every heard? Today I’m fixing the deep fryer for the doughnuts. She cut the electric wires just for me. What a girl.”

“What happens when she finds out you’re Chantilly’s lawyer?”

Percy gasped, then put his finger over his lips. “I can’t tell her that,” he said under his fingers. “She hates Chantilly. She loves me, she truly does.” Percy let out a deep sigh, the dopey smile back. He propped his elbow on the table, his chin in his palm gazing at the woman of his dreams.

I met up with KiKi, balancing two doughnuts on a plate and two cups. I snagged the cups. “Any more caffeine and you can flap your arms and fly back to East Gaston.”

“Decaf, honey, just decaf and the doughnuts are baked, not the glazed. I figure that puts me about fifty calories to the good and it’s only six thirty. I like this diet.” I followed KiKi outside to the tables and selected the doughnut with sprinkles. “So what’s Percy found out?” KiKi asked.

“That he’s in love with GracieAnn.”

KiKi’s eyes rounded over her chocolate doughnut with chocolate icing. “Now that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that God does indeed work in mysterious ways. How’d that happen?”

“Maybe God had a little help and GracieAnn recognized Percy as Chantilly’s lawyer and she’s making a play for him. She could be protecting the real killer by keeping Percy occupied and not concentrating on the case.”

“Maybe she’s guilty and keeping the heat off herself. Anyone who bakes dead-guy cookies has my vote.” KiKi took a bite and closed her eyes to savor the moment, the first taste always the best with the little flavor buds on your tongue alive and happy. “We’ll get into Simon’s place today,” KiKi said around a mouthful. “I bet he has a list of people he lent money to. The thing is, that list will make our list of killers even longer. We don’t need longer. Did anyone like that guy besides his mamma?”

My doughnut suddenly tasted like glue. “Uh, I sort of already had a look around Simon’s place. There’s this guy Beau that I know.” I did sort of know Beau . . . now. “He lives in Simon’s building and he let me in. I couldn’t pass up a great opportunity like that, now could I?”

KiKi placed her unfinished doughnut back on the plate and folded her hands on the table like she was praying in church. Auntie KiKi not finishing her one and only doughnut allotment for the day was not a good sign. Folded hands meant drama was on the way. “You cut me out of the loop.”

“No loop cutting, it just happened. It was a dead end anyway. I didn’t find anything that would help.” I couldn’t tell her I found the book and it got stolen. She’d have a fit saying it would never have happened if we’d both been there. Truth is we would have both wound up under the bookcase.

KiKi stirred her coffee, deep in thought. Either she was mentally cutting me out of the will or she had an idea. She said, “These days everyone keeps information on a computer or iPhone, but Simon would have a hard copy of vital information stashed somewhere. He was mean and conniving and heartless and a swindler and a two-timing rodent, but he wasn’t stupid.”

Lord be praised, she bought the Beau explanation!
I was off the hook.

“Computers crash, iPhones get dropped in toilets and other watery places,” she went on. “I bet Simon used one of those flash-drive things for backup.” KiKi kept stirring her coffee, brain cells fully caffeinated. “His mamma said he was moving out to Waverly Farms right after the honeymoon. I bet a lot of his things are out there right now.”

“He wouldn’t leave incriminating information out in plain sight for anyone to pick up, especially out there at Waverly Farms.”

“It wouldn’t be all that obvious. Everyone has flash drives, dime a dozen, just another piece of plastic lying around. If you didn’t find anything at the condo, then Waverly Farms is the next place for us to look for Simon’s backup information. Its two days since the funeral and without a proper wake I should be paying a call out there. I do believe a covered dish is in order now that I think about it. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

“The Waverlys have two cooks and three maids. I think they’re covered.”

“They don’t have KiKi Vanderpool’s deviled eggs, now do they, and everyone knows mine are even better than Paula’s. Here’s what we’ll do, you chat it up with Waynetta and I’ll snoop around the place and see what I can find out.”

I dropped my doughnut in my coffee, splashing it everywhere. What happened to off the hook? “No way. Waynetta barely knows me, hates what she does know about me, and you can’t go wandering all over the Waverly house pawing through things.”

“Honey, Waynetta hates everyone unless they’re rich or famous. If that catfight out at Bonaventure was any indication how things are out at Waverly Farms, my guess is Waynetta has Simon’s belongings packed up somewhere and ready to dump them at his mamma’s or just the nearest swamp. Besides, it’s my turn to snoop. You got to do the condo with Beau, remember.” She tipped her chin. “Or do you think I’m too old to snoop around?”

“What if you get caught? It could be downright embarrassing.”

“It’s a big house. I’ll say I’m lost.”

I was trapped and it was all for nothing. There was no flash drive or book because I already found the blasted book at the condo and had it stolen right out from under me. Not that I could tell KiKi that. I’d be admitting that I lied and indeed cut her out of the action. At least Waverly Farms wasn’t someplace dangerous to be roaming around. It wasn’t the middle of the hood at midnight. How much trouble could KiKi get into? “Okay, I’m in.”

“I knew you’d see things my way.” KiKi scarfed down the last bit of doughnut. “Chantilly can mind the Fox till noon. We should go to the Waverlys first thing this morning. Everyone will be bringing out a covered dish today and we want to beat the crowd with me snooping around the place. It is a pity we can’t do this later on in the day. Reese Waverly makes a mighty fine martini and I do so hate to miss it. I’ll put on the eggs as soon as we’re home and use Grandma Vanderpool’s Old Country Roses bone china deviled egg plate. Things always taste better on a nice china plate, don’t you think.”

What I thought was,
This is how God gets you when you lie to your auntie.

“Y
OU!”
Waynetta snarled at me when she opened the front door. “There’re no more packages to pick up here. Go away.”

Undaunted, Auntie KiKi held out the Old Country Rose plate. “Oh, honey, we were wondering how you’re getting on these days?”

“You brought me eggs?” Waynetta stared, her lip curling at the corner. Waynetta Waverly, the soul of gratitude and good manners.

“We are mighty sorry for all that you and your dear daddy have suffered and wanted to pay our respects,” KiKi gushed, ignoring the curl and patting Waynetta’s cheek.

Paying respects
is one of those phrases that gets you automatic entry to any house in Savannah. Waynetta stepped aside and I followed Auntie KiKi into the living room. Summer curtains filtered the blasting sun’s rays to a soft glow, sparing the antiques and Oriental rug. I sat on the blue davenport, KiKi beside me, Waynetta in a chair with a gilded back and brocade seat that looked remarkably like a throne.

“It’s been such a long ride,” Auntie KiKi said to Waynetta after she summoned Bessy May for tea. “Hot as the dickens even at this hour. I’d like to freshen up a bit if you don’t mind.”

Waynetta gave directions. I racked my brain for something to talk about as KiKi disappeared down the hall. At least Simon and I had Rocky Road in common.

“How are you?” I asked Waynetta. I did feel bad for her and all her troubles. She may sit on a throne, but she was a perfect example of how money can’t buy happiness.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not well at all.” Waynetta dabbed her tearing eyes. “Daddy told me the most dreadful news this morning and I just don’t know if I can bear it. I’m supposed to be in mourning for a year, a whole twelve months, can you imagine such a thing! That means no parties or social events till next August. Whatever will I do with myself? How will I survive? I’m in charge of the Christmas Cotillion, for heaven’s sake. Who made up this stupid mourning rule, anyway? Sounds like something out of the Dark Ages if you ask me.”

“Well, you weren’t actually married to Simon; maybe six months would be long enough?”

“You think so?” Waynetta’s eyes sparkled. “Maybe even three months since Simon was cheating on me. That should count for something. What a great idea, thank you kindly.” Waynetta gave me a quick once-over. “How did you resign yourself to your plight?”

“Plight?”

“After your divorce did it get easier to accept the fact that you’ll wind up a spinster? You are just precious, you know.”

“Spinster?”
Precious?
I was still getting over plight.

“You don’t have to take care of yourself any longer and that has to be a relief. You can just let yourself go, be free as a bird. I must say earthy is a fine look for you. Flip-flops, khaki pants, recycled blouse, mousy brown hair coming in nice and bushy. Next week I’m off to Atlanta for a new wardrobe. Now where can Bessy May be with that tea? All these problems have me parched as desert cactus. And where is Miss KiKi?”

A crash sounded from upstairs followed by a scream. For a second I thought the scream came from me. After
plight
,
spinster
, and
precious
followed by
earthy
I had a right. A maid ran into the room wringing her hands. “You best come quick, Miss Waynetta. That dance teacher lady passed right out in the upstairs hallway.”

According to Cher via Auntie KiKi
there aren’t many scripts floating around for fifty-year-old chicks
but my guess was KiKi just invented one. I took the steps behind Waynetta and found Reese Waverly helping KiKi to sit up.

“I came around the corner,” Reese said, looking trim and rich in a hundred-dollar haircut and two-hundred-dollar slacks. “And there KiKi was in the hallway. She just sort of slowly sank to the floor right in front of me.” Reese looked to me. “Should I call the ambulance? Did she have a stroke? Has she been ill?”

“Are you all right?” I asked KiKi, kneeling down beside her, patting her cheek.

“Well, I do declare,” she said, eyes fluttering open, a little wink added for my benefit. “I think the heat got to me and then I was disoriented and flustered in this big, beautiful house. It was simply too much to take in. I’m fine as can be now. Maybe a martini to revive my spirits.”

I gave KiKi the bug-eyed look and she added, “Or a glass of water would be fine, too.”

The doorbell sounded downstairs and Waynetta let out a long-suffering sign. “Holy Moses and blessed Saint Mary, this place is busier than a stump full of ants. Must be more visitors, no doubt. I swear if I could kill Simon Ambrose all over again for what he’s put me though, I’d do it in a New York minute.”

Kiki gulped some water the maid gave her then Reese assisted her down the steps. A contingency from the Daughters of the Confederacy filed into the living room, covered china dishes in hand. We all exchanged greetings then I charged up the Beemer and KiKi and I headed down the gravel drive.

“Did you hear that?” I said to KiKi not having the patience to wait till we got off the property. “Waynetta said she wanted to kill Simon
again
, meaning she could have very well caused his demise the first time around. And there’s something else, last night I ran into Bridesmaid and she seemed to think Waynetta was more than capable of killing off Simon. What’s going on around here?”

“Oh, honey, you bet your sweet tomato a lot’s going on but I’m not sure it has anything to do with Waynetta.” KiKi fished around in her cleavage as if she had a bad case of poison ivy in that most inconvenient spot. “Looky what I found in Reese Waverly’s office.”

KiKi pulled out a black flash drive and held it up like she’d won first prize. “This here is why I had to faint like I did. I didn’t want Reese to suspect I filched this little old thing right off his computer, and you should see the man’s office. He must have just had it redone. Maybe I can get Putter up there for some ideas. His office needs an updating and—”

I jammed on the breaks, leaving skid marks. “You stole that thing out of Reese’s office!”

“Borrowed for an extended period of time.”

“How do you know it has anything to do with Simon?”

“
SA
written right here.” KiKi pointed to the letters on the flat side in red marker. “Simon Ambrose. I bet Reese found this in Simon’s stuff when packing it up. It had to be important for him to still have it connected to his computer like it was.”

“KiKi, honey, think about this. You were upstairs by his office. Reese is going to know you took the flash drive. Simon could have died because of that information. Reese has guns, lots of guns, big guns and knows how to use them. I’ve seen him in action. This is not good.”

KiKi tsked and waved her hand in the air. “I’m the little old dance teacher who goes around quoting Cher. No one will suspect me of anything. I’m harmless.”

“You’re the dance teacher who gets into everyone’s knickers!”

“There’s going to be people in and out of that there house all day long. Reese will think someone else took it. I’m telling you we’re home free.”

Except I didn’t feel free, I felt like there was a big old bull’s-eye on my back and now one on KiKi’s back as well. I should have leveled with her about the stolen notebook, but I swear on a stack of Bibles I thought going out to Waverly Farms was safe as going to a church picnic.

It was noon when I pulled into KiKi’s driveway. A few cars I didn’t recognize lined the curb out front of our houses along with one sweet-looking Harley. KiKi said she’d bring over her computer and the flash drive later on, but right now she had another dance lesson with Bernard Thayer. He’d been Mr. Weather on WSAV more years than I’d been alive and was determined to get on
Dancing with the Stars
or die trying. KiKi was close to granting him the latter option.

The Fox was hopping with customers sorting through dresses and jackets and trying on shoes. A rack of newly consigned clothes hung off to the side ready to be tagged and put out. I savored the moment and stifled the
yippee alleluia
squeal of joy creeping up my throat. Chantilly had great instincts when it came to business but not so much when it came to men. Not only did she hook up with Simon the sleaze of Savannah but next to her behind the checkout at this very moment was Mr. Pillsbury of Seventeenth Street fame and fortune.

He had on True Religion jeans that had nothing to do with church on Sunday and everything to do with costing plenty. Only a hint of the piggy bank and dollar-sign tattoos on his biceps peeked out from the sleeve of a navy T-shirt. The customers didn’t seem to mind a little eye candy behind the counter. Fact is, every woman loves the bad boy and Pillsbury would never ever be taken for anything but.

He gave Chantilly a friendly kiss on the cheek, BW a pat on the head, nodded to me, then sauntered out the front door and down the steps. The roar of his bike vibrated into the Fox. I wrote up a sale for a denim jacket and brown leather bag, then asked Chantilly, “Have you lost your ever-loving mind!”

She giggled like a schoolgirl and turned red. “I do believe I have. He likes me.”

I gripped her shoulders and looked into her starry eyes. “This is one of those times to think about what you’re doing. Your daddy’s retired police. Pillsbury’s working hood. Things could get messy.”

“Look at me, Reagan. My life’s nothing but messy. I can trust Pillsbury, I know I can. He’d never hurt me like Simon did. He’d never betray me.”

Oddly enough I agreed. The Seventeenth Street gang had issues to be sure. Ask anyone who’d had their car stolen, house broken into, was in need of untraceable firepower, bookie, or dealer for whatever purpose, but word had it the boys kept drugs, guns, and other nasty things away from schools, parks, and churches, which was a big chunk of Savannah real estate and something the cops never could pull off.

“He gave me a present.”

“A Mercedes with the VIN filed off?”

Chantilly held out her hand sporting a lovely gold ring with a small sapphire. “It was his mamma’s. He wanted me to have it. We got to be friendly when I made UPS deliveries. I can’t help how I feel.”

“Guess that’s not the worst I’ve heard today. Percy’s fallen for GracieAnn and she bakes dead-people cookies.”

“Must be a full moon.”

• • •

Chantilly left and by six I had most of the newly consigned clothes priced and put out on the racks. I had better sales than all the previous week combined. I subtracted 10 percent for the cannon, wrote a check to the daughters that would go out in the morning mail, then stuffed the cash in the freezer. I turned around to KiKi coming through the back door, a jar of plump green olives balanced on her laptop, a sweaty pitcher of ice-cold martinis in her hand. Sometimes KiKi’s visits were a lot more enjoyable than others.

“Figure we needed a little libation,” she said, kicking off her shoes. “My big toe barely survived Bernard and you’ve been entertaining the boys from the hood. The kudzu vine knows all.”

“Chantilly has no man sense.”

“Honey, when it comes to men, at one time or another none of us has any sense.” We shoved aside a display of jewelry on the dining room table and KiKi flipped open her laptop. We sat down, poured out the martinis, then plugged in the flash drive.

“A golf course?” KiKi said, both of us staring at an architect’s drawing on the screen. “I don’t recognize the clubhouse and I’ve probably visited every single one of those things in the area with Putter for some benefit or another. Maybe this course is in the planning stage.”

“Why would Simon be interested in a golf course? Was he into loan-sharking to build it?”

KiKi sat back and sipped. “This sort of thing is way out of Simon’s league. Golf courses cost millions, they have investors and backers and sponsors and endorsements. Maybe Simon wanted to get Reese involved, get money from him to invest in it.” KiKi sat up, eyes wide. “Maybe Simon was out to swindle Reese and that’s how he wound up dead.”

“He was going to marry Waynetta. Why double-cross her father?” I said to KiKi.

“We’ve been assuming all along that Simon would fall into tons of money when he married Waynetta but what if he signed a prenup? If Simon did, he’d get nothing when Waynetta got tired of him and as we all know, Waynetta gets tired of everyone but herself sooner or later. This golf course hoax was one way for Simon to walk off with a chunk of Reese’s cash. That also explains why Simon kept Icy on the string too and others like Chantilly. He wasn’t going to be as well off as we thought, marrying Waynetta. He planned on marrying her to get to her daddy. Also, if Simon signed a prenup he looked all the more trustworthy to Reese and then could rope him in for the kill on the golf course.”

“Except the kill part backfired. So you mean the golf course isn’t for real?” I said, trying to put this together from Simon’s viewpoint. “Reese Waverly then finds out he’s been taken to the cleaners by Simon and gets Sugar-Ray to kill him. No one scams Reese Waverly and gets away with it and Sugar-Ray needed the money.” I chewed an olive. “But there’s still the fact that Reese would get his attorneys to investigate the golf course before he laid out money.”