Tangled Thing Called Love (34 page)

“You should now lie back and rest,” the doctor told Mazie. “However, should you feel up to it, a friend is waiting outside and wishes to know whether—”

“Holly—is that you out there?” Mazie called.

“Bet your sweet ass.” Holly Greenberg poked her head through the curtains. She was still wearing her pageant gown, its fabric grease-stained beyond repair, but her eyes were dancing with excitement and she was ear-to-ear smiles. She came in and gingerly hugged Mazie, who introduced her to Dr. Ringwalla.

“It must be nearly midnight,” Mazie said. “You should be home with your family.”

“Are you nuts? My biggest excitement for the past fourteen years has been discovering that the little stick hadn’t turned blue that month. No way am I missing out on all the drama. TV vans are parked wall to wall on Main Street, half a dozen more are outside this hospital, and I think I just saw a nurse that looks suspiciously like Wolf Blitzer.”

Mazie laughed. The image was just too grotesque.

“How are you feel—” Holly began.

“Never mind about that. Tell me everything I missed. How come you and the Avenging Beauty Queens showed up when you did?”

Holly moved a blood pressure cuff off a chair and plopped down. “After you left the boat, us remaining queens held a powwow. Since you now had an ironclad alibi for your whereabouts—you were busy boffing Mr. Buff; and I’ll never be able to suck a Life Saver again without getting twinges to my girlie parts—that left only one person who could have shoved Sophie. Who, we asked ourselves, wanted to win the pageant badly enough to kill for it?”

“Just taking a winger here, but—Channing?”

“Bingo. When we started comparing notes, we discovered that Channing was also the only person who could have slashed your dress and syruped your keyboard.”

Mazie nodded. “She admitted it to me. Just before she tried to beat out my brains.”

“What normal thirtysomething woman pulls those middle school stunts?”

“I think
stunted
is more like it. Emotionally, Channing is about twelve years old.”

“Yeah, but a dangerous twelve,” Holly said. “It finally occurred to us that if she’d tried to kill Sophie, who was tied for first place, she might do something to you, too. That was the point where we decided we’d better check up on you. It was actually Tritt who organized the rescue party.”

“I’d figured she was more likely to run over me with that Hummer than rescue me.”

“I guess I’ll have to take back some of the things I said about her.”

“Me too.”

“But not all of them.”

They laughed. “I still can’t believe you actually knocked Oscar Woods’ gun out of his hand with a wrench,” Mazie said. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“I’ve been practicing. It was going to be my talent.”

“Really?”

“No, you credulous fool! It was sheer, dumb luck. Did you see the look on Oscar’s face when his gun went flying?”

“Priceless.”

Ben backed his way through the curtains, carrying a hospital tray loaded with slices of microwave pizza and two Sprites in paper cups.

“Oops,” he said when he saw Holly. “I’ll go and get more. The cafeteria was closed and this was the best I could find in the vending machines.”

“No, that’s okay,” Holly said. “I’ll snitch off Mazie. Wouldn’t want her to get fat.”

They all dug in. The crust was soggy, the cheese was stringy, and the pepperoni had a flavor like Necco wafers, but they were too hungry to care.

“Pizza is like sex,” Holly commented. “Even when it’s bad it’s good.”

Ben pointed an accusing finger at Holly. “I’m still mad at you for not telling me you were taking off for the garage. I came running down the gangplank, half-dressed, just in time to see the Hummer vanishing down the street.”

“Sorry,” Holly said. “But you managed just fine without wheels. I think you did two miles in five minutes flat. In the rain. Without shirt or socks.”

“You were utterly incredible,” Mazie told Ben, bestowing a kiss on his pizza-greasy
lips, and then, channeling Scarlett O’Hara, added, “You big, strong, macho, hunky ol’ thing, you!”

It was fun watching his ears turning red. He gave Mazie a sip of his soda. “You still haven’t told us what happened when you got to the garage.”

Mazie told them everything. It took a long time, because she had to backtrack to explain the events of thirteen years ago.

Holly set down her pizza slice, and suddenly she didn’t look so hungry anymore. “Channing really strangled Fawn? That wasn’t just a delusion?”

Mazie shook her head. “When that grease pit is drained, I think they’ll find Fawn’s remains down there. It was Derek’s idea originally—he’s the one who thought of hiding her body in the pit, figuring the chemicals would dissolve her body and cover up any odors.”

Ben finished his drink and crumpled the paper cup. “Ralston was always the loose screw in the whole thing. Knowing that Channing killed Fawn gave him an awful lot of power.”

“But helping Channing hide the body made him almost as guilty,” Mazie said. “If he turned Channing in, she could drag him down with her.”

“To help keep Derek quiet, Bodelle started subsidizing his meth-making operations,” Ben said. “Bodelle had been siphoning off the profits from Buzzy’s shop for years. She was pretty safe doing it, since Buzzy could barely add or subtract and she kept his books.”

“How do you know that?” Mazie asked, staring at Ben.

“Because while you two were strutting down runways, I was doing research.”

“Impressive,” Holly said.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “Plus, I have a nasty habit of listening outside doors. When I came back from getting the pizza, I heard voices from the room where Channing was being questioned. I accidentally—purely by chance—eavesdropped on the conversation.”

“Accidents happen,” Holly said, grinning.

“I hope the two detectives who were questioning her told her she had the right to remain silent, because she was babbling like a brook.”

“No wonder the pizza was cold,” Mazie said. “What else did you find out?”

Ben went to the curtain and peered out to make sure no one was listening. “Apparently, a few months after Channing killed Fawn, Derek Ralston got drunk at Oscar’s one night, started bragging that he knew what happened to Fawn, and dropped enough hints for Oscar to put two and two together.”

“Which Oscar should have reported to the police,” Holly said.

“Of course, but Oscar was the ultimate opportunist. He saw Fawn as his golden goose. Fawn’s body being found would be just a one-day sensation, whereas Fawn, the mysteriously vanished beauty queen, was worth money and could be exploited for years. Oscar went to Bodelle and threatened to expose her daughter as a psycho murderer if Bodelle didn’t go along with his scheme.”

“You mean starting the Fawn Foundation?” Mazie asked.

“Right. As it turned out, Bodelle’s organizational savvy is what turned the charity from a nickel-and-dime operation into a money-generating machine. She started a website, got television stations to run free on-air ads, encouraged every wild Fawn rumor, went around the country speaking to groups of parents who had missing kids, and told donors that the money raised by the charity would go toward following up leads and hiring private detectives.”

“How much of the money raised actually went to into looking for missing kids?” Mazie asked.

Holly snorted. “I’m guessing zero. I bet every penny went into Bodelle’s and Oscar’s pockets. We’re talking about a substantial amount of money here—enough that Oscar could buy that bar and Bodelle could drive around in a Mercedes and go on shopping expeditions to Chicago. They probably threw a few bones to Gil Fanchon, too, to keep him happy.”

“And to Ralston,” Ben said. “To keep him quiet.”

Holly picked up a string of cold mozzarella and popped it in her mouth. “So everything was humming along sweetly until you guys showed up—poking around the files, filming, opening up a thirteen-year-old can of worms. Oscar and Bodelle must have been sweating bullets. Remember that day we were at Gil’s trailer, Mazie, and he came home early? Oscar must have overheard us talking about searching Gil’s trailer. He phoned
Gil and tipped him off.”

“And Channing’s the one who overheard me telling you that Ben and I were doing the Fawn reenactment that night. She told Bodelle, who sicced Derek on us.”

“Why was he wearing a werewolf costume?” Holly asked.

“I think Ralston’s had that outfit for years,” Ben said. “Probably enjoyed running around the woods scaring people. Which might explain why Mazie and I are still alive—Ralston got off on terrorizing us, but he didn’t have the stomach for murder. If he’d really wanted to kill us in the woods he could have.”

“But Oscar
did
have the stomach for murder,” Holly said. “You said he was the one who shot Derek?”

Mazie nodded. “Derek was badly burned, but he managed to drive himself back to town and went straight to the back door of Oscar’s Bar, begging for help.”

“I think Oscar told Derek he’d drive him to the emergency room,” Ben said. “Instead he drove him to the dark lot behind the grain elevator, shot him, left his body there in the van, and walked back to his bar. The whole thing probably only took about five minutes. Most of Oscar’s customers wouldn’t even have noticed he was gone.”

Holly collected their trash and dumped it in a wastebasket. “But Derek tried to run you off the road that first day, Mazie—before he even knew who you were.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Ben said. “I think that was just the way Ralston rolled—you see a bicyclist, you run ’em off the road. No reason. Just because he was a jerk.”

“What about him trying to kill Mazie with the falling bucket?” Holly asked.

“Probably orders from Bodelle,” Ben said. “She must have heard we were planning a Fawn documentary—it was all over town by then. If Mazie was hurt or killed, we would have abandoned the documentary.”

Dr. Ringwalla returned, inspected a beeping machine Mazie assumed was a heart monitor, and made notes on a chart. She smiled. “Miss Maguire, you will be happy to know that you are being released. However, you need to avoid strenuous activities and must report to me immediately if you have symptoms of nausea, headache, or dizziness. You must carefully monitor yourself for any unusual symptoms.”

“I’ll monitor Miss Maguire.” Ben gave Mazie a look that sent her
electrocardiogram into gyrating spikes. “I
like
monitoring.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

“She sure poops a lot,” Joey observed, watching his baby sister being changed.

Emily smiled. “You did too when you were her age.”

“And your poops were stinkier,” Scully said, tousling Joey’s head.

The household was even more chaotic than usual this afternoon. Emily had just come home from the hospital with the baby. A delivery truck had dropped off six months’ worth of diapers, which were now stacked in towering heaps in the living room. Neighbors and family members had stopped by with casseroles and pies. Emily’s mother was moving in to help out while her daughter recovered, and Mazie was struggling to pack her own things while helping Emily’s mom move into her bedroom.

It wouldn’t be Mazie’s bedroom much longer. Next time she came to visit the room would have been turned into a nursery. The thought brought a pang. It truly is the end of your childhood when the new generation takes over, Mazie thought, and she might even have squeezed out a few nostalgic tears if she hadn’t been so busy.

Muffin was in a state of high excitement; fascinated by the new baby, sniffing at all the new and exotic smells, and getting under everyone’s feet. He’d made himself at home here. He adored the boys; he still had a few scores to settle with the barn cats; and he had established a nice routine of barking at the thug turkeys, digging up the flower beds, and wee-weeing on the tractor tires. For Muffin, farm life was an endless adventure.

“Can’t he stay?” Sam asked for the thousandth time.

Leave her best buddy behind? The prospect of a Muffin-less life was depressing, but Mazie surprised herself by saying, “Okay. For two weeks. And you and Joey will be responsible for him. Your mom will have her hands full with the new baby.”

The boys hadn’t heard anything after the
okay
. But Mazie knew they’d take good care of Muffin, because they’d been doing just that all along. Anyway, it was only for two weeks, until she and Ben had to return for grand jury testimony.

Finally it was time to say their good-byes. Sam and Joey gave Mazie enthusiastic hugs and didn’t even wipe their cheeks after she kissed them.

“You don’t need me to read
Caddie Woodlawn
to you,” she reminded them.

“Dumb girl book,” Sam said, though Mazie had seen the twins sprawled in the hammock yesterday, reading the book aloud to each other.

A dozen kisses for the baby, hugs from Emily and Scully, and a quick exit, because Mazie knew that if she lingered she’d start crying. Katie Maguire was waiting for her on the porch, wearing a pale green pantsuit, a floral scarf, and the Miss Quail Hollow tiara.

“I’m never taking it off,” Gran said, beaming as Ben and Mazie walked out, hauling their suitcases. “I always wanted to be a beauty queen.”

“You always were,” Mazie said, kissing her on the cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Are you sure those girls are all okay with this?” Gran asked.

“It was unanimous,” Mazie assured her.

Yesterday, Sunday, had been an exhausting day. Everyone involved in the pageant had been extensively questioned by the police—as well as by the FBI, the county sheriff’s department, and officials from the EPA. The BZ Garage was not only a crime scene but a biohazard site.

An IRS agent had also shown up, because it appeared that the Fawn Foundation had violated its tax-exempt status in dozens of ways. If Oscar and Bodelle managed to wriggle out of the other charges against them, they’d be nailed for tax evasion.

Then there was the media frenzy. No one could set foot outside the courthouse without being mobbed by dozens of reporters and cameramen. The Fawn story was even bigger news now than the day she’d disappeared. Late in the afternoon the remaining Miss Quail Hollow contestants had met one last time in the only place they could be sure of having privacy: the ladies’ loo in the courthouse, an old-fashioned, high-ceilinged room with a chandelier and a marble floor.