Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) (10 page)

"Not yet."

"I'm just hoping this baby isn't born during the storm. Does the storm have an official name yet?"

"I heard it was Ezra."

"I guess that's fitting. If it's a boy you can call him Ezra, and if it's a girl you can call her Esther." Maggie grinned.

"Hope you don't mind me passing on that suggestion. I was watching the forecast the other day, and Hurricane Hal has two charts up on it in NUTV. One to track the incoming hurricane and one to predict the arrival of my baby."

Aunt Maggie laughed. "You have to be kidding me."

"Yes, and then I heard about a betting pool going down over at Bubba's Beer and Bait."

"Who told you that?"

"Dad. He put a ten spot on next Thursday."

"It hardly seems fair. He has insider information."

"Whatever. I'll just be happy for the hurricane to be over and my baby to come into the world safe and sound."

"Do you ever worry about Down Syndrome? What with Danny and all?"

"No. Not really. I have to admit the thought has crossed my mind here and there, but watching you and Danny all of these years has taken a lot of the fear of the unknown away for me. Danny isn't like other men, but he's Danny. He's a wonderful, loving, sweet cousin and friend. I wouldn’t want him any other way. One time Zach asked Pastor Green what Danny would be like in Heaven. The reverend told him just like he is now, because he's already perfect."

"He’s right." Danny said from the other room. "I’m already perfect."

"Oh my." Aunt Maggie reached for the handkerchief in her purse and with a snort said, "Enough of that now. It's not hard to make an old lady cry, you know."

"You're right," I said, wiping a tear out of my own eye.

"Have we addressed enough cards for everyone on the list?
"
Maggie asked.

"
I think so, unless somebody moves into town in the next week."

"Are you hungry? I think Danny and I will head over to Birdie’s for a cinnamon roll. Can I get you one?"

"No, thank you. Better not."

"Good girl. Somewhere along the line you go from baby weight to ten extra pounds and nowhere to put it." She patted me on the shoulder as she rose to go.

What she didn't know was I was already thinking about picking up my piece of pie over at Benny's. Yes, I could do with some pie.

An hour later I waited at the takeout counter at Benny’s Barbecue. I was a little later than my normal time, and the lunch rush was in full swing. Benny was ringing sales up on the register, while his father was manning the kitchen in the back.

Benny pulled my bag out from under the counter. "Here you go, Betsy. Enjoy."

"Thank you." I grabbed my bag and looked around for Benny’s new waitress.

"Where’s Sasha today?" I asked.

"Oh, um… she took a lunch break."

"You give lunch breaks at a place that serves lunch?"

"Yeah, I know it's silly, but she goes out right around noon every day to check on her mother. Her mom needs help with her noon meal, and it just worked out for her."

Benny really was too nice of a guy. He had been Zach’s scout leader and served as a positive male role model in Zach’s life when I was a single mom. Zach also spent time with Benny’s three boys, which prepared Zach for having a brother of his own in Tyler.

"What does Celia think of the help leaving during the lunch hour?"

"My wife doesn't know much about Sasha’s lunch runs yet. As a matter fact it might be a good idea not to mention it at all. We wouldn't want to worry her." 

Celia had a reputation for running a tight ship at the restaurant.

The door behind me jangled as more hungry customers filed in behind me.  Benny glanced at his watch. I felt sorry for the guy. I picked up my bag to go.

"How much longer?" he asked.

"About two weeks."

"Well, I guess it couldn’t last forever. I was hoping your cravings would help me finance a new wing on the restaurant, or at least hire another waitress. Oh, and by the way, I put twenty dollars down over at Bubba's Beer and Bait betting you have the baby during the hurricane."

"That is, if you know when the hurricane is going to hit."

"I figured I could just ask your significant other. He ought to know."

"Leo went up with the Air Force yesterday to watch them take some measurements."

"Boy howdy. Sounds dangerous."

"I know, but he’s on the ground now, and his hazardous storm chasing is over."

"You must be relieved. If I had done something like that when Celia was pregnant there would have been hell to pay. And not just from her, but from her mama. You don’t want to cross my mother-in-law if you plan to live to tell about it."

I laughed and waved goodbye as I made room for the next customer in line.

As I drove back home, I couldn't help myself. I slowed down in front of the Super Stay Motel to scope out the parking lot. Sure enough, there sat Baxter Digby's car, with the now familiar blue Subaru next to it.

As interesting as this was, I was more alarmed by what I saw across the street from the motel. Rocky sat in his green pickup, camouflaged by a row of bushes. He was trying to catch Digby.

I parked and walked over Rocky’s truck and tapped on the window. His air conditioner was running full blast and Willie Nelson blared on the radio. Rocky jumped. The window buzzed as he it rolled down.

"Rocky! What are you doing?"

"And how are you today Miss Betsy? I see you’re still in the family way."

"I was doing pretty well until I drove down the street and found you spying on Baxter Digby."

"Like I always say, news is news."

"Rocky!" I scolded, reaching for the camera in his hand. He pulled it away and readjusted the camera’s focus on the motel. I looked around, opened the door, and climbed into the cab with him.

"So have you seen anything?"

"Maybe."

"What you mean?"

"Whoever our Salesman of the Year is meeting at this motel was already here when he arrived. I'm guessing our lady friend is the owner of the blue Subaru you see there. From the looks of the paint job, whoever might be driving it is pretty down on her luck." 

Rocky straightened as the motel door opened and Baxter Digby stepped out. A woman reached out and grabbed him around the neck, pulling him back into the room. They kissed. As his arms went around her, she came out onto the sidewalk, dressed only in a towel.

It was easy to identify the mystery woman as Sasha Holman from Benny’s. And it was clearly not her elderly mother she was taking care of. Rocky started clicking off pictures as fast as he could.

I turned to Rocky.

"You can't use those pictures."

"Why not?"

"Because it will ruin this man's career."

"Betsy, I think you’re a little mixed up. The person who is ruining Baxter Digby's career is Baxter Digby. If he can't control his impulses with a woman other than his wife, what's he going to do once he gets in office? What about when he gets his hands on Pecan Bayou’s city funds? Why, he could be spending our money on a whole group of mistresses. We’ll have to put in a new motel chain just to meet his needs."

I was amazed at how quickly Rocky’s mind went from fact to fiction.

"You just cannot use those pictures. I know Digby isn’t the nicest man in town, but he still deserves to know he’s been caught cheating before reading about it in the paper."

Rocky wasn’t accustomed to being challenged on his editorial decisions. I could tell he was losing his temper.

"Listen to me, young lady. I’ve been doing this for years around here. I’m what you might call the voice of the people. You know I would never do anything to hurt a person on purpose. Right?"

I thought about all the times he had printed stuff about me and my father. I started to answer honestly, but he cut me off.

"…So I will at least talk to Baxter Digby before I put these pictures in the paper. And what about the woman? Aren’t you being a little sexist not worrying about me harming
her
professional life?"

"She’s a waitress, and she’s newly divorced."

"How do you know that?" Rocky asked.

"I just do."

"For a helpful hints columnist, you’re pretty in-the-know. I promise you, before I print anything, I’ll try to let Digby know."

"Well, how thoughtful of you. When will you be calling him? Will it be before or after the morning edition hits his front stoop?"

Rocky smiled. "I haven’t decided." His response told me he would give Baxter Digby very little warning.

"You know, don't worry about it. I’ll tell Baxter Digby."

I clambered out of his truck and headed back to my car. After buckling my seatbelt, I decided against confronting Diby in a motel room, with his mistress in a towel. I would go see Digby after a little rest.

Back home and digging into my afternoon pie, I thought about Baxter Digby and Sasha Holman. What was it that made men in political office unable to control their sexual urges? Did Sasha know she had traded a smiley face painter to a jealous, obsessive manipulator? 

I ate half the piece of pie and set down my fork. Relaxing in the rocking chair, I was hoping for another dream. Dreaming about dead people was weird, but it fascinated me.

I found myself walking in a field of Texas bluebonnets mixed in with a swath of burnt orange Indian paintbrushes. The birds were singing, and I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I felt the same giddiness I always experience in springtime, the air warm enough but not too warm. I felt my soul being renewed as I shook off all the heat and weight of my long pregnant summer. Water rushed in the distance, the sound playing on my ears.

As I moved closer to the sound, the tinkling began to morph from a gentle rhythm of cascading water to an irritating buzz. The smell of the flowers came up into my nostrils, almost overpowering me with a sweet cloying scent. The bee boxes from Stokes Flower Farm stood in a line like little square tanks filled with buzzing soldiers.

Suddenly, beekeeper Lenny Stokes stepped out from behind a sweeping magnolia tree, dressed in his white wife-beater t-shirt and droopy khaki pants. 

The last time I had seen Lenny, he was lying on the ground next to these same white bee boxes. At his death, his skin was mottled and swollen from hundreds of bee stings. Now the bites had disappeared, and he looked healthy and cleaner than I remembered him in real life. The bees grew quiet as Lenny made his way toward me. His upper lip curled to show a row of healthy pink gums absent of teeth.

"About time you showed up." A bee flew up from a box and rested on his bald head. While others might swat it away, he wasn’t bothered by it.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

He surveyed my belly. "I’m supposin’ you have your reasons." Maybe he was a little kinder in the place he rested now than he had been in life. 

"You wanted to speak with me?" Just like all the others, he had to have some kind of weird message for me.

"What are you blabbering about, girlie?"

"Trust me."

He reached up and removed the little bee from his forehead. He petted it gently with his index finger. "My life was never what I thought it would be."

The old man reached out and carefully replaced the bee into the buzzing box behind him.  More bees flew out and landed on his arm. I counted ten, and then twenty, resting peacefully on his bony reach.

"I had everything with my Martha. It was all good, but then I turned angry. It was as if the right in my world cracked open and the bad came flying out. The boogey men. The shadow people. Things that can make a good man go bad."

"So, your message from the beyond is you feel bad about your life?" His gaze shifted from the bees to me.

"I know I should be saying thank you. You’re a problem solver. You can’t help yourself sometimes." True to form, he left me with an insult, as he started to fade out from me. "You always did have your nose in other people’s business."

I woke with a gasp and choked, thinking a bee might have flown into my throat. As I became more awake, I realized there was no bee. My visit from Lenny was stranger than the other dreams. As I felt heat on the back of my neck, now damp, I remembered the refreshing spring air. Butch, alarmed at sudden movement, was now licking my hand.

"I’m okay, boy," I reassured him, petting him on the head.

Too bad I had to run into the beekeeper. I wished I could sprint across that field, skinny again, with Leo waiting for me to jump into his arms. We would make love in the bluebonnets with the warm sun shining down on us and the smell of the flowers encircling us. Instead, I run into a grumpy beekeeper who couldn’t even thank me without insulting me.