One Foot in the Grove (32 page)

“Well, in that case, hurry up with my sandwich, Miss Precious,” said Pep, laughing. “I'm so hungry I could eat a bear!”

The good thing about farm living was that there were always all sorts of useful vehicles around. Tractors, trucks, ATVs . . . whatever was needed to do the job at hand. And on that particular sunny day, I was happy about Daddy's many farm vehicles for two reasons. First, I had no car of my own. The BMW was totaled. Moreover, because I'd forgotten to pay my insurance and I was flat broke, prospects for a new replacement car were not looking good. So, for the foreseeable future, if I needed to drive to town—or anywhere off the plantation—I'd need to get a ride or borrow a vehicle.

The second reason I was grateful for Daddy's motor vehicles was that he owned a Kubota RTV utility vehicle—kind of like a mini two-seater jeep, with a roll bar and a dump bed in back. It was the perfect conveyance for tootling around the farm. I was too beat up for any long walking—any walking at all, really. Still, I wanted to revisit the place where Leonard had died, to pay my respects and to spend some quiet time setting the events of the past few days straight in my head.

Although I'd finally gotten some sleep in the morning after the craziness in the woods, I'd spent several hours tossing and turning as my mind raced, trying to figure everything out. I still hadn't put all the pieces together. The Kubota was just the ticket for a little me-time and some fresh air.

So, after Precious Darling's delicious lunch in the big house and a quick stop in the cottage, I headed out on the bright orange Kubota with Dolly standing next to me on the bench seat, her nose to the air, ears flapping in the wind. As we cruised over the lawn, headed for the woods, I caught a glimpse of two giant heads bobbing in the gazebo near the pond. Judi and Bambi were having their quiet picnic together. And Pep had been right. Tammy Fae had gone all out. The women from New York had the biggest, poofiest hair I'd ever seen. If Bambi's hair had been pink, she'd have looked like a cotton candy cone. From across the lawn, I saw Judi raise a champagne flute to her lips.

“Looks like the ladies are content to have their husbands locked up, Dolly. Now, there's no one around to yell at them anymore.”

I jammed the brake hard. Dolly nearly fell off the seat next to me. I remembered how the women had been clear with Detective Gibbit about how they'd
not
been with their husbands for several hours on the night of the murder. They said they'd been together in the living room. Then, both men had slept alone in their respective bathrooms. In fact, it was the wives statements that had been the most damning with regard to their spouses whereabouts during the night in question. And now their husbands were surely going to jail.

Dolly and I sat there, idling in the Kubota, watching across the lawn as the women talked in the gazebo, with their giant beehive heads close together. I thought about what I wanted to say for another minute or two. Finally, I decided that a “Northern” approach would be best. I turned the steering wheel hard and headed toward the gazebo.

Decked out in their gold jewelry, wearing their velour running suits, Judi and Bambi were seated inside the raised octagonal pavilion at a little wrought iron table. The table
was set with a pretty floral tablecloth and some of Daphne's best china place settings. Already, their crystal champagne flutes were nearly empty. There was an open picnic basket with more desserts and another bottle of sparkling wine on a smaller table. Daphne'd figured with their husbands in the slammer, the two women could use a special treat and some bubbly. She'd gone all out to try to make them feel better. The duo looked up as I motored over to the gazebo.

“Hi, ladies.”

I parked alongside the six-sided folly and shut off the Kubota engine. Yankee-style, I didn't waste any time getting to the point.

“I want in,” I said.

“You want what?” Judi Malagutti stared at me, sandwich in hand, surprised.

“I said, I want in. Your business, that is.” I slid out of the Kubota and climbed the gazebo stairs, which were flanked with potted pink geraniums. Dolly followed me and started sniffing the painted wooden floor under the table for crumbs.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” snapped Judi. She put her sandwich down and took a gulp of the sparkling wine. It was pink and had a big strawberry floating in it.

“Sure you do. I'm talking about your new olive oil business. I've heard you two talking about it a bunch of times. Everyone has,” I said.

The two women looked at each other.

“And now, with your husbands safely locked away—I doubt they'll be getting out anytime soon—you can go ahead with your scheme. Only, I know that it'll mean you still plan on taking over my family's plantation.” Already, the bottle of bubbly was about half empty. I poured more of the sparkling wine into each of their glasses. “And I want a piece of the action.”

Judi and Bambi stared at me in stunned silence.

“Ahh, a Pol Roger rosé. One of my favorites! I see that Daphne's sent you some of her best.”

I reached into the basket and pulled out a champagne flute. There'd been four in the basket. Apparently no one
had removed the extras. I poured myself a little champagne and raised my glass.

“Salut!”

“Why would we give you a piece of
our
business?” asked Bambi, raising her glass and sipping her champagne. She dipped a crostini into some feta and olive salsa and pushed the treat between her pouty lips.

“Shut up, stupid,” whispered Judi.

“Because I know what you did,” I said.

“And what's that?” asked Judi.

“You killed Lenny the Doughboy, then framed your husbands for the murder.”

Bambi's mouth dropped open. Judi shot her a glance.

“That's crazy,” said Judi.

I reached into my pocket then pulled my hand out and opened my palm. “Look here,” I said.

“What's that?” asked Judi.

“Oh! I know!” said Bambi.

“I bet you do, Missus Gambini,” I said. “It's a bat-sized false eyelash. And it's one of yours.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Yes, well, that's where this gets interesting,” I said. “I found it late last night. In the woods, of all places!”

“Really?” said Judi, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. It was on the ground. Next to the grave that I was in. The same grave your husbands fell into when they were chasing me. But I digress,” I said. “My dog, Dolly, was sniffing the eyelash when the sheriff pulled me out of the grave.”

The two women just stared at me. Then, each took a drink.

“Lucky for you two, I neglected to share this little ditty with the sheriff.” I held up the eyelash and smiled wickedly. “And if I had, that'd mean that he'd have found out, like I did, that you'd been out in the woods, at the grave.”

“Really? And why would you do us the favor of keeping your mouth shut?”

“You've done a great job framing your husbands. They
deserve it. And, I'd hate to see them wriggle free. After all, they threatened me and my family and I owe them one.” To be honest, I'd been so distressed and out of my mind after Buck had hauled me out from the grave that I'd neglected to give him the eyelash when I'd discovered it. I'd just shoved into my pocket and forgot about it until morning.

“I see.”

“Besides, even if I were to let the authorities know, given the choice of who to prosecute, I'm willing to bet that they'd choose to go after hardened known criminals over a couple of disgruntled housewives. You might spend a little time in jail for something; however, your husbands will still probably go down for the murder.”

Judi sipped her sparkling wine.

“Anyway,” I continued, “I can read the writing on the wall. You two are too smart and powerful for the likes of Southern backwater folks like my family. My folks don't stand a chance of fighting your family ‘associates' for the plantation.”

“You got that right!” squealed Bambi.

Judi put her hand on Bambi's arm as she narrowed her eyes.

“So, you know how the saying goes . . . If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Right? The way I see it, once your ‘associates' from New York help you to expand your territory to Abundance, and you manage to ‘acquire' my family's farm, you're going to need some help with public opinion. That's where I come in.”

“Really? How's that?” asked Judi. She sipped her drink thoughtfully.

I had her attention.

“As you know, I've spent years living up North. And I'm a lot savvier than most folks down here. Including the bumpkin sheriff and his ridiculous sidekick Detective Gibbit. After I help you swing local public opinion to your side, I can come up with a national marketing campaign that will blow your minds.”

“Maybe we got our own marketing people. Maybe that's
what I'm gonna do myself,” said Judi. “Of course, I'm not saying that any of what you're saying is true.”

“I hope not. You're too smart for that—doing your own marketing, I mean. Working on the marketing would only be a distraction to what you do best. You're the business brains; you need to focus on running your business. Let me handle the fluff.”

“Well, I
do
have a great mind for business.”

“Of course you do. And, obviously, I know how to get the word out. After all, I've gotten myself coverage in all sorts of media.”

“You got a point there.”

“What about me?” asked Bambi. “What am I gonna do?”

“You're the face of the business,” I said. “Kind of the public spokesperson. You'd do the personal appearances, commercials, stuff like that.”

“Aww, I like that!”

Judi looked at Bambi and rolled her eyes.

“And, assuming that what you're saying about us is true, why should we let you in?”

“Because if you don't, I'll tell the sheriff what I know. If your fingerprints aren't on the shovel that I used to hit your husband, I know where the other shovel is.”

“The other shovel?”

“Yes. The one at the bottom of the pond.”

Judi and Bambi exchanged glances.

“And it was probably the one you used to hit Loretta on the back of the head when she stepped out of Lenny's cabin the other night.”

“You said the sheriff was a bumpkin.”

“He is. But then, there's only so much evidence that even a bumpkin can overlook.”

“I still don't think anyone around here would believe you,” said Judi.

“Yeah, we heard all sorts of stuff about you when we had our hair done,” said Bambi.

“Right. Exactly, no one around here much likes me. And
the feeling is mutual. Then again, people are talking about me all over the country. And I can have them talking about you and your business, too. That's what counts, right?”

“Oohh, we could be famous!” cried Bambi.

“What about your family?”

“I've never fit in. Look at my sister Daphne. Do I act like her?”

“Well, no . . .”

“Miss prim and proper. No one is good enough for her. Even me. And my other sister, Pep. Who can take anyone who looks like that seriously? She's an embarrassment. I'm happy to take this place from them. Besides, are you willing to take the chance that no one would believe me?”

“Well, certainly, if you're dead, no one will be the wiser.” Judi smiled.

That was the magical moment I'd been waiting for. The moment when I knew that I'd been right. I didn't know how or why; however, the two of them had killed Leonard. I was sure of it. So, for another ten minutes, the three of us batted threats and innuendo back and forth. Judi and Bambi finished their bottle of champagne, and we opened a second bottle. They didn't seem to notice that I drank less than a quarter of what they drank. I poured them each another full glass—we were nearly through the second bottle.

I figured it was now or never.

“Of course this sounds corny, but you both must realize that I've got this all written down,” I said. “And it's in a safe place. You know, just in case something ‘unfortunate' were to happen to me. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, ladies.”

“I'm not saying that you're right about any of this. Regardless, your offer does intrigue me,” said Judi with a polite smile.

“So, do we have a deal?”

“We might consider it.”

“Good. Because I'm not wanting to stay down here in bumpkinville for the rest of my life. A product like yours
has international appeal. Women all over the world will love it. Especially if it's a company started by women, run by women. I aim to help you get rich off it.”

“Ooooh, I like the sound of that!” cooed Bambi.

“Look, we've all gotten the shaft from the men around us. It's time that we take the business that should've been ours in the first place. I tell you what. I'll share a secret with you. Something guaranteed to rid you of your competition and put you ahead in your business right off the bat. In fact, why don't we trade? As a show of good faith.”