Murder for a Rainy Day (Pecan Bayou Book 6) (8 page)

"Sure."

"That baby already has more style than you ever will."

"Even from the other side, you continue to criticize."

"Some things you don't lose. Of course that extra twenty you've put on is another story…"

Vanessa started to fade as I felt my back starting to ache. I straightened up in the chair, putting my feet on the floor. That was the third strange dream I had experienced in this chair. Maybe I needed a different chair in this room.

I was beginning to feel like Ebenezer Scrooge, but with really rude ghosts. It was nice of Vanessa to thank me even if she probably didn't mean it. I thought about the feeling of her presence. It wasn't like watching a movie—I could see and feel the shape of her. She was so real and so annoying, I shook my head to be rid of her.

I had heard about pregnant women dreaming, but never really experienced anything until now. Why would I be dreaming about murder victims? Wasn't I supposed to be dreaming of walking with the baby in a field of flowers or something? Shouldn't everything be all in soft pastels with Mozart playing gently in the background? My dream visitors felt more like a midnight break-in than a fantasy. I pulled myself up from the chair and glanced at the time. I had been sleeping for over two hours. Shouldn't Leo have called by now? Had he flown into the hurricane yet?  It was late in the afternoon, and hopefully he was on the ground and heading back for Pecan Bayou.

Trying not to panic, I called him for a change.

When he answered on the second ring, I was felt a flood of relief that the whole hurricane hunter thing was over, and he was back in contact. "How are you doing, Leo?"

"Are you in labor? I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Leo…"

"I put your to-go bag by the door."

"Leo…"

"Is your cell phone charged?"

"Leo. I'm not having the baby. I just called to check in."

"Oh, sorry. I got busy and forgot to call."

"I noticed. You usually wake me up from my nap and I ended up sleeping a couple of hours."

"That's great, Bets. Just what you should be doing right now. I’m headed home. Hitting some scattered showers, but it shouldn’t slow me down too much."

"I’m so glad to hear that. Did you hear the cow was stolen from in front of the Cattleman's Call today?"

His voice took on an added Texas drawl. "What's that you say little lady? Cattle rustlers attacked the one cow herd in front of the steakhouse?" I laughed, resisting the urge to pee. Another bonus of pregnancy.

"Oh, we think it's funny, but the new owner Lonnie Carello is furious. He's sure that losing that plastic cow is the end of his business."

"Well, you never know what triggers a craving for a juicy ribeye. As a matter fact, I could use a big fat steak right now."

"When was the last time you ate something?" I had been so obsessed with my own stomach I didn't think about Leo and his long hours at work. Leo could work all day and forget to eat. That was probably why there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. Thanks to Vanessa for reminding me that I had gained a little more than baby weight.

"Don't worry. I had a sandwich before I left Mississippi. Nate, one of the pilots, wanted to talk to me, so we had lunch together."

"That's good. I had another one of those dreams."

"What dreams?"

"You know, one of
those
dreams." There was soft laughter on the other end.

"Oh," he said knowingly. "One of
those
dreams."

I hurried to correct him. "No! Not one of those."

"Darn. I was hoping you were going to tell me about it."

"The next one I have, I promise you'll be the first to know."

"The first?"

"Whoops. The only one to know."

"So what did you dream about?"

"I had a visit from Vanessa Markham."

"The Vanessa Markham who was murdered?"

"That's the one. She sort of thanked me for finding her killer."

"That was kind of her."

"And then she said something about things we hide from each other. Oh, and she said I was fat."

"… Yeah. Hey Bets, I have to go. The storm’s picking up and I need to concentrate. Talk to you later."

There's nothing like telling other people your dreams to get them to hang up the phone quickly, I thought. Still, though, I couldn't get Vanessa Markham's face out of my memory. She was a pain in life and it looked as if death hadn’t changed her.

With the phone still in my hand, I decided to call Rocky and talk to him about my city council piece. Maybe talking to Rocky would wipe Vanessa out of my head.

"It's about time you called me," Rocky said a few minutes later.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I'm running a little late. I'm moving pretty slowly these days."

"Understandable."

"I have the city council grill-off piece finished. I can email it over to you in the next hour."

"So how was your experience interviewing the candidates? Get any good stuff?"

"Well, I collected a couple of recipes, which is why you sent me on the interviews."

"Yes, I know, but we could use some better dirt to spice up this race. People are holed up inside their houses under the air conditioners, and once the hurricane blows through life in this town will go back to boring. I have to fill up a newspaper, you know."

"I know."

"So, what did you pick up on with these two guys? Who was more helpful? Who did you like more? Anything we can use to pit one against the other? Give me the scoop."

I debated what to say. I could tell him about seeing Digby at the motel, or I could keep it to myself. Maybe he already knew about Digby and was just trying to see if I knew?

"That Digby fellow is as slippery as they come," he said. That was it. He did know. In a town this small, an affair would be difficult to hide.

"So you know?"

"Uh, you’re going to have to be more specific."

"You know? About Baxter Digby?"

Rocky paused for a moment and then continued. "Of course. Just tell me what you know, and I’ll tell you what I know."

"Come off of it, Rocky. Either you know or you don’t."

"You first."

I was beginning to think Rocky didn’t know anything about Baxter Digby and the motel. He was just trying to trick me into saying it.

"Now you have to tell me," Rocky said.

"No, I don’t."

"Yes, you do. You’re sitting on top of something about Digby."

I sighed, giving in to him. "I’m probably jumping to conclusions, but I’ve seen his car at the Super Stay Motel twice in the last two days, right at lunch time."

I could hear Rocky’s chair squeak as he leaned back. "Isn't this interesting? Did you see anybody with him?"

"Rocky, I didn't even see him. I only saw his car."

"That's good enough for me." Waves of guilt started washing over me. What if Rocky ran with this and embarrassed Baxter Digby, or worse, embarrassed his wife? I should've kept quiet about it.

"You have to promise me that even if you find out he is having an affair, you don't put it in the newspaper."

"I don't have to promise anything. News is news, and you should know that by now."

"Rocky. A story like this could destroy a man's life. Have you thought of that?"

"And do we want a morally corrupt politician in city council? Wait—let me rephrase that. Do we want
another
morally corrupt politician in city council?"

   Sometimes all Rocky could see of the world was black-and-white newsprint, and this was one of those occasions. "Okay, now that I've blurted out what is probably wrong, I can see I’m going to have to prove to you that Baxter Digby is not having an affair."

"That would just about do it."

"Then that's what I'm going to do. If you put this in the paper, I will never forgive myself."

"Then you'd better invest in a therapist, darlin’," he said as he hung up the phone.

I sent off my article wishing I had never called. If Baxter Digby was having an affair, there was one predictable source that would know.

"Betsy," Ruby Green said as I entered The Best Little Hairhouse in Texas. She put down her movie magazine and came over, putting her arm around me. "Come on and put your feet up. Pearly? Get Betsy a cold drink."

I sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting area. Ruby wore a bright green smock and neon green capri pants. At her neck she wore a flame colored red and orange scarf, and her earrings were two red orange and black macaw parrots. Pearly returned with a can of soda.

"I know this much sugar is probably not good for the baby, but one little Coke isn't going to hurt you." Pearly smiled hunching her shoulders as she shared this little indulgence.

"Sure, a little bit can't hurt me." I had been so careful watching what I ate, especially if I didn’t count my trips to Bennie’s Barbecue. I gulped down the cool drink.

"There you go, honey, that will cool you down. Being pregnant in Texas in the summer is like being at the doorway to hell."

"I know what you mean. I can’t wait for holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving because I won’t be pregnant anymore and the temperature will finally be below 90.

"So what brings you here today? Come to get your hair done before the delivery?"

I reached up and touched my brown curls, which had grown to shoulder length in the last year. "No, I just wondered if I could talk to you about something…" I paused and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "…in private."

Ruby’s artfully lined eyes widened. "Oh Betsy," she exclaimed. "Any time, darlin’. You know you're like a second daughter to me."

I looked around the crowded salon. All eyes were now upon me. I might as well have used a megaphone and announced my request up and down Main Street.

"Do you think we could go into your back room?"

Ruby put her hand at my elbow. "Of course." She helped me out of the chair and hustled us to her storage room, a small space with a stained sink and boxes of various kinds of beauty supplies. I started to ask my question about Baxter Digby, but paused when I heard footsteps coming near us. 

Hearing them too, Ruby knocked on the door. "We hear you, ladies." I then heard the rustle of feet moving back into the salon. Ruby reached over and turned on the water, the splashing sounds filling the room.

"I saw this once in a spy movie," Ruby said. "Never thought I'd actually find myself ducking in a storage room to pass secret messages." She giggled. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you have ever heard anything about somebody having an affair here in town."

"Well, I hear all kinds of stories around here. That doesn’t mean any of them are true." Ruby jumped. "Oh no! Are you saying you think Leo is having an affair?"

"No. No it's not Leo. It's somebody else."

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. "Is it you?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"No."

"Because if you were, in your condition, I would be totally re-evaluating my opinion of you. So, Leo's not having an affair, and you're not having an affair and yet you want to talk about somebody doin’ the hootchy coochy. Can you at least give me some clues?"

"Baxter Digby."

"Baxter Digby?" She asked as if it were the last name she expected to hear.

"I've seen Baxter Digby's car in front of the Super Stay Motel for two days in a row. I stupidly said something to Rocky about it, and maybe there’s nothing going on, you know?"

"Sure."

"… And now Rocky is determined to prove that Baxter Digby is having an affair. I can't let him do that. I never should've said anything. Now I feel like I have to prove that Baxter Digby was at the hotel for some other reason."

"And what reason would that be?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know, but I thought if he was having an affair you might know who he would be with."

"Well, I thank you for your faith in me, but believe it or not I don't know everything that goes on in this town. The best thing I can tell you to do is to wait outside the Super Stay and see who is going into that room. Then you'll have your answer. Oh, and when you do find out, come on back here and tell me about it. On the QT of course."

"According to these directions, there should be something right here to steady it," I said.

I sat in the nursery holding the instructions that came with the changing table, which was now partially assembled, but listing to the left. 

My dad sat underneath the table, armed with a screwdriver and losing his patience. Try as we may, our table looked nothing like the diagram on the instruction sheet.