Nuts and Buried (14 page)

Her eyebrows flew up. “Heard you took her to the Chaunceys'. Imagine that. They were at our party, too. Always thought of Miranda and Melody as friends. Guess I was wrong.”

“Sorry, Elizabeth,” I said and meant it. Maybe we were all ganging up on her, because of her way with people. Still, she'd lost her brother just like Jeannie lost her husband. “It's just that Jeannie's grieving and maybe not up to dealing with estates and things like that on her own.”

“That's too bad. I'm not up to it either, but when a family has money, that's what happens. If you're born to money, you know what to expect and do your duty. When you're not, well, you act like Jeannie's acting. Going around trying
to get sympathy from everybody. Putting your problems on somebody else's shoulders.”

With that, she stood. “Since you're Jeannie's friend now and not a friend of the Wheatleys', I guess I might as well tell you as tell Jeannie, or that awful mother of hers. She's not going to get millions out of me. I want to be fair and there are some things not in the family trust Eugene and I put together right after his first wife died so tragically. There won't be much that will go to her, you can tell her that for me. And tell her that she was only married a few weeks to a Wheatley. I'll be happy to see she gets a few weeks' worth of pay. But that's all. No use dragging me into court. The lawyers will be the only ones to benefit and she'll lose in the end.”

I rose slowly and gave Meemaw a hand because the settee was soft and didn't give up people easily.

“I don't think I'll be passing on any kind of message like that,” I said. “Money is between the two of you. I was a friend of Eugene's. I think I know what he'd like to have happen and it's not what you're planning. But he's not here to defend himself or his wife so I guess what's going to come of all of this will just have to come.”

She sniffed and looked down her nose at me. “I'll have to ask you to leave. I'm meeting friends out at the stable.”

I could see whichever poor beast she would be riding was going to get a workout.

“You take a gun out with you?” Meemaw pointed to the holster at her hip.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You know this wild country, Miss Amelia. Rattlers everywhere. Wild hogs. They scared my horse in the past. I take care of them first now.”

“Must be a good shot.” Meemaw shook her head, admiring Elizabeth's courage.

“Good as I have to be.” Elizabeth smiled. “I'll see you
all this evening. Make certain Jeannie's there. As I said, I don't want people talking any more than they are already.”

“Me either.” I tried to smile. “Hope tonight's going to be about Eugene and that's all.”

She hesitated, turning away from me, then back. “Maybe you'd like to stand and say a few words. I guess you're about the only person in Riverville who remembers Eugene from school.”

I supposed being asked to speak at a Wheatley memorial was an honor, but I wanted to get up in front of those warring people about as much as I wanted to get up and sing
Madame Butterfly
.

She didn't wait for me to agree. “Peter will be driving to the church with me. I know you and Peter have gotten . . . well . . . to know each other, but I think I'd rather have a pleasant man at my side today and I imagine Hunter will be bringing you.”

I opened my mouth because a decent human being would want to at least warn her about Peter Franklin and that he might not be completely as he presented himself.

I shut my mouth without saying a word. If Peter Franklin was what it took to keep her happy that night, she was welcome to him.

The main sanctuary of the Rushing to Calvary Church was filled before we got there. It looked like every living soul in Riverville was hurrying to get good seats. I had a suspicion that not all of them knew Eugene but he was the talk of the town since being shot to death and, after all, going to church was free.

Or maybe I was wrong and all my neighbors wanted to pay their last respects to a dead member of an old Riverville family. Guess I do tend to be cynical at times, but then, in my defense, I'd lived in the area all my life and knew how folks liked a good scandal, especially one swirling around rich folks. Add in murder and you're sure to draw a crowd.

There was no body to make over, just a sealed urn of ashes sitting up front on a long table covered with an embroidered white cloth and a lot of photographs of Eugene from the time he was a baby on up until his wedding to Jeannie. I noticed, because I couldn't help it, that Elizabeth had put photos of his marriage to Sally up, too. Kind of mean, I thought, but
what did I know about etiquette at the memorial of a man who was married twice. I supposed it was something that had to be acknowledged, just as when there were kids involved.

I liked Sally's smiling face and missed her all over again. When she died, we were already at the point where we told each other things we didn't need to say were secret, even though they were. I couldn't remember any of Sally's secrets, but I'd blurted out a few things in my time, like when I told Bethany she was adopted from Africa and she believed me. And how mad Mama got at that one. But how Meemaw asked Bethany if she really believed she came from Africa, with all that white skin of hers, and Bethany said, “No, but Lindy scared me. I'm afraid of lions.”

And the times Hunter and me went skinny-dipping in the Colorado. Couldn't keep that quiet either. I loved reminding him. To this day he colors up so red you'd think he's on fire.

There was a line of people behind me so I moved on in. Elizabeth wasn't there yet, I noticed. Probably a grand entrance to make. I'd come with Meemaw and Mama, who stood at the back, talking with friends and neighbors. I saw Jeannie walk in flanked by the Chauncey twins in their very best old jackets and Stetson hats, which they removed as they entered the church, placing them over their hearts. They looked like bodyguards to me. If I ever needed a bodyguard, these were the people I'd choose. No matter they were eighty-eight or thereabouts.

Justin walked in behind Jeannie and the twins. He escorted Jeannie up front, found her a seat in the first row, then sat in the pew directly behind her. Jeannie looked small and alone, up there by herself. The blond hair was brushed down to her shoulders, not really neat, just there, like nobody cared. It looked like maybe Melody fixed it for her, claiming all her years of experience grooming horses. There was no bright yellow today. Jeannie wore a navy blue dress with a white collar. Her shoes were white and low-heeled. She
looked like a librarian. Subdued. Not in deep mourning, just respectful, and sad. I started up to talk to her, but others surrounded her as they turned from the table with the ashes. I could see she was in good hands. No matter what Elizabeth had been spreading around town, people were there to support Jeannie and express their condolences.

Made me think I'd been hard on everybody in Riverville. Bet most of them had come because they thought Jeannie was getting a bad deal. That made me proud of our town. I often went back and forth like that, most of it having to do with how I was feeling about myself at the moment. Nothing like seeing bad in others when you're feeling it in yourself.

I saw Jessie with her parents, Martin and Juanita. She waved.

Hunter stood in the vestibule. When the inside door opened, he was just on the other side, in full uniform. He nodded as people walked past him and sometimes shared a word or two. The door closed and I couldn't see him anymore. I took a seat in a middle pew. I had a paper in my pocket with the few things I remembered about Eugene written down. I certainly wasn't going to talk about bullying him or picking on him because he let me do it. I remembered one time when we were in a play, a teacher had written about the Incas and Eugene had to carry a live parrot on his shoulder. The parrot bent down from time to time and bit his ear, causing him to yell out at one serious moment in the play, “Damn bird!”

Maybe that wasn't the kind of thing you said at memorials. I'd never done this before. Now I was nervous. I didn't have much else. Just that he walked me all the way home once, with his chauffeur driving slowly along behind and what a nice person he turned out to be and how sorry I was for what happened to him.

I stopped pretending I had nothing else on my mind, got up, and went to talk to Hunter.

First I had that dark man to tell him about. Then what Elizabeth believed about the Trulys. Then how Ethelred and Freda were stirring up all kinds of misery with their cockamamie theories. Then I wanted to know who the hell that blonde was and what he was doing with her at that out-of-the-way restaurant in Schulenberg, and just what the heck was he pulling anyway? Weren't we a couple? I mean, if you came right down to it, we'd been practically engaged for ten years now. All the time I was in college—seven years—I dated other men, but never thought much about any of them. I'd always supposed he dated other women, too. I'd just never seen real evidence of it before.

I leaned up, tugging on his arm, and said I had a few things to talk to him about and could he get away for just a minute.

Hunter frowned down at me, stiff and official in that uniform he loved so much. “Bad time, Lindy. Sheriff Higsby told me to stay in here and keep a watch on who comes in.”

“Are you looking for that dark-haired waiter from the party?”

“One of 'em.”

“I saw him yesterday in town. I followed him and he saw me. Took off like a bat out of hell, into the park. I wasn't going to chase him. Still, I thought I should tell you he's hanging around town. Can't imagine why. Nobody seems to know him. I asked Elizabeth Wheatley and she said she didn't do any of the hiring for the party. Chantal Kronos did. I asked Chantal but she said she didn't hire him. Oh, and she also said . . .”

I took a breath just as Morton Shrift and some of the waitresses from the Barking Coyote came in. Finula Prentiss's face broke in half with a wide grin when she saw Hunter.

“Why, Deputy Austen, I knew you'd be here, protecting all of us from that awful person who did it. Hope I can sit next to you in church, just so I feel as safe as I can feel.”

She grinned up at him. I stared hard at her. Came to the
memorial in a black dress all right. Tight as the casing on a sausage. Short as one of Morton's Garrison's on the rocks. Made up like somebody was throwing makeup out a window when she passed by. And black hair—blacker than hair has ever been in all of time—tied up into some kind of knot on the top of her head and stuck through with a big rhinestone pin.

“Sorry, Finula.” Hunter's voice had a lot of laughter to it. “I'll be busy with traffic and helping people. Keeping an eye on things, I guess.”

She pouted up at him, reached out to touch the collar of his shirt, smoothed it down, and patted it a few times before moving on with the others.

My first instinct was to put a hand on Hunter's arm and pull him back a step or two, out of the crowd pushing into the church.

He frowned as he looked down into my eyes. “I'm on duty, Lindy,” he protested, turning his head so as not to miss anyone entering or leaving.

“Well, so am I. I've kept my mouth shut since the other night. I want to know who that blonde was you were with.”

He gave me a guilty look. “You mean in that restaurant over to Schulenberg? Weren't you there with that Peter Franklin? Seems like maybe you've got no right—”

“You know I was stuck with that man. I don't care what you say. And I found out something about him you've got to know.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about now?”

“What I said. I had Jessie look him up. You should—”

The blonde walked in and Hunter didn't hear anything I said after that. He took her by the arm and walked her into the church. I watched as he saw that she got a good seat near the back and bent to talk to her. Solicitous. Her huge blue eyes stayed on his face. She nodded to whatever he said to her, looking up worried, like she was just going to be so afraid if he left her all alone.

He was being a jerk the way men are always jerks when a new pretty face comes to town.

As I stood fuming, Elizabeth Wheatley swept in on Dr. Franklin's arm, ignoring me. I went back to my seat. The service was starting.

First came the prelude and we were soon singing “Crossing the Bar,” and then into Pastor Rogan's opening remarks. He was new to the church, a nice man with a sweet wife and two little girls. He raised his hands and began with a sermon on the brevity of life, tying it to scriptures.

Then we were singing again. I let rip on “There Is a Calm for Those Who Weep,” since I loved singing in church and feeling all those other voices rumbling through me. Made me feel like such a good person.

But then I wasn't there to feel good. I was there to testify to the goodness and humanness of the man I knew, Eugene Wheatley. The pastor called on those of us who were speaking—one after the other.

I was the last. I figured I was stuck on after Elizabeth found herself one short.

The talks were all good. People talking about his charity and kindness. I pulled out my slip of paper again and read over what I'd written, wanting to change all of it. But then it was my turn and I went to the altar and took my paper out and spread it on the lectern—once, and then once more, before I looked up and out at all the expectant faces. Crap. How could I talk about the time I gave him a black eye just because he told me I was pretty?

I opened my mouth. I was going to wing it. What good friends we'd always been. Lie if I had to.

I didn't get out a single word. Loud noise came from over by one of the side doors, making everyone turn. I saw Hunter blocking someone from entering the church. Other men got up to help him. Everybody in the church turned to watch. People stood up to see. A quiet whispering spread across
the room. I heard Elizabeth Wheatley barking orders from her place at the front and then Jeannie gasped. The organist began playing “How Sweet the Hour of Closing Day” but soon let the organ grind down with a painful squawk as a woman burst through the ring of men and dashed toward the altar.

Wanda Truly, of course. I knew enough about the woman already to recognize her sense of high drama. This wasn't a moment when she was going to be kept out of the spotlight, dressed so appropriately in a pink blouse with pink coral beads doubled and doubled again around her neck. Pink pants. Hair flying everywhere, away from the pink hairband she wore. Her elbows were pumping, knees stepping high, as she scurried to the front and elbowed me away from the lectern.

“I'm Eugene Wheatley's mother-in-law, Wanda Truly.” The microphone squawked. “Jeannie, there, is my daughter. I don't know why Gene's sister, Elizabeth, didn't want me to get up here and speak, but she didn't, so I came anyway. You all understand, don't ya?” She looked around hard at the people, who stared back openmouthed. “My Jeannie was Gene's wife and she deserves a lot better than she's getting here in this town. My son, Billy, and I . . .” She gestured to the back where Billy stood with his head down, as usual. “We came to see that my little girl gets justice from the Wheatley family. I don't know if you all heard, but that Elizabeth is trying to keep my daughter from getting a single thing Gene would've wanted her to have. It's terrible, what's going on. And I thought people should know—”

I started back up the aisle, away from Wanda. Nobody paid any attention to me; they were fixed on what was happening at the front. Hunter and some of the others whispered together at the back of the room, guarding Billy as if he were the one to fear.

I ignored Hunter, the sheriff, other deputies, a group of
church leaders, and went straight to Billy Truly. He didn't look up when I said his name. He kept his head down, shaking it as I spoke to him.

Mostly I whispered. “Billy, your mother's hurting Jeannie all over again. You can stop her. Stop her right here and right now. You have to do something. You know, don't you, what she's put you and Jeannie through in the past. Don't let it happen again. Maybe she's right about the money and what Elizabeth is trying to do, but this isn't the place to fight about it. This is a man's memorial. He deserves better than the scene Wanda's making.”

Billy thought awhile then lifted his head and looked me straight in the eye. Sad eyes. Kind of sorry eyes. He stiffened his back and moved his wide shoulders under the plaid shirt he wore. I said a little more of the same thing. Billy nodded only once before he started up the aisle.

Hunter reached out to grab him, but I knocked Hunter's hand away and warned, “Leave him alone.”