Darcy shot our instructor a sharp look before pointedly returning her gaze to her phone.
Miss Mary Ellen scowled, then seemed to realize she was creating wrinkles. She quickly stopped and lightly patted her forehead as though to undo the damage. When she dropped her hand, she said in a firm tone, “Any mention of bodily functions is impolite, regardless of the terms used. In fact, this is a good time to point out that when you are at a meal, you do not need to announce you are going to pee, to whiz, or to take a dump. You should not identify any of the things a person might void in the restroom. You simply say excuse me, get up, take care of your business, then return to your seat. No report of what happened in the washroom is necessary.”
“Excuse me,” Darcy said with a mischievous grin, then stood.
“Get back in your seat, Darcy Wiggins!” Miss Mary Ellen barked and everyone jumped.
I quickly grabbed my sparkly gold notebook and matching pen out of my bag and jotted down my first note.
Don’t talk about poop at the table.
Everyone was quiet, and when I glanced up to see why, every pair of eyes was on me. Even Darcy had her eyes on me, and the way her phone was raised, her finger hovering over the screen, implied she’d stopped midtext.
“I don’t want to forget anything,” I said with a sheepish look.
Approval filled Miss Mary Ellen’s eyes. “At least someone is takin’ this seriously.”
“I’m takin’ it seriously,” Darcy said, putting her phone in her lap. “My daddy’s buyin’ me a Volkswagen convertible if I finish this class.”
“Your daddy wanted you to take the class?” one of the other girls asked in disbelief.
“No,” Darcy said. “My momma did, but we argued about it so much that Daddy said if I took the class and finished to Momma’s satisfaction, he’d buy me my car to get us both to shut up.”
A few of the girls nodded or studied Darcy with new appreciation, but Amanda frowned her disapproval. “I’m takin’ Miss Mary Ellen’s class to become a better person.”
The girls weren’t sure how to respond to that.
“Brownnoser,” the woman across from me said under her breath.
“Well,” Rose said, forcing cheeriness into her voice. “No matter what our reasons for bein’ here, we can all learn good table manners, isn’t that right, Neely Kate?”
I nodded. “That’s right, Rose.”
Everyone was silent for a moment. Then Miss Mary Ellen stood. “Let’s begin our lesson. Rule one of table manners is no phones at the table.” She walked around the table and stopped next to Darcy’s chair.
Darcy was so absorbed in her phone she didn’t notice the instructor’s stealthy approach until Miss Mary Ellen cleared her throat and held out her hand.
“You don’t expect me to give you my phone, do you?” Darcy asked with plenty of attitude.
Miss Mary Ellen snatched the phone from her hand, then tucked it into the side pocket of her dress. “I think that answers your question.”
“You can’t take that!” Darcy protested.
“You can send your amusing tweedles after class.”
“Tweets!” Darcy said in a snit. “And it was Snapchat.”
Miss Mary Ellen returned to her place at the head of the table. “Social media has no place in etiquette.” Then a sly grin lit up her eyes. “And you did say you had to complete this class to your mother’s satisfaction to get your car.” She batted her eyelashes.
Score one for Miss Mary Ellen.
The woman across from me narrowed her eyes. “Say, I’ve seen you two before.”
“Us?” I asked in surprise. She didn’t look familiar, but then I’d met a lot of people through my job at Rose’s landscaping business. We’d encountered even more in our side work as amateur private investigators, although we hadn’t had a case since our last investigation two weeks ago, which had ended in disaster.
“Yeah, I’m just tryin’ to figure out where.”
Rose gave her a blank look. Obviously she didn’t recognize her either.
“Where do you work, Tina?” Darcy asked. “Maybe you met them there.”
Tina gave a tiny shrug. “I doubt it.”
“Tina, how old are you?” asked one of the other girls.
Miss Mary Ellen shook as though she’d been electrocuted. “Girls! We never ask a lady her age.”
“Oh, I don’t mind answering,” Tina said with a grin that turned wicked. “I’m old enough to be legal, and that’s all you need to know.” She winked as she placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’m here to grow professionally.”
“Elbows off the table,” our mentor said. “Ladies keep their elbows at their sides, not all akimbo, and definitely not on the table.”
I wrote elbows at sides, not akimbo.
Darcy rephrased her question. “What profession are you in?”
“I’m a stripper. I work at the Bunny Ranch south of town, but I do a little entertaining on the side. That’s why I’m here… to see if there’s any truth to the saying men want a lady at the table and freak in the stable.”
Miss Mary Ellen looked like she was about to pass out.
Darcy burst out laughing. “That’s not the saying.”
Tina’s head jutted back, and she shot Darcy a glare. “And how would you know? You’re not a woman of experience like I am.” Then she shrugged. “Considerin’ what all y’all do nowadays, maybe you are.”
Darcy sat up straighter and a grin tipped up the corners of her mouth.
“It’s a lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets,” said one girl who had up until now been quiet, barely glancing up. “That’s the sayin’.”
“Well, I like mine better,” Tina said, bobbing her head back and forth.
Miss Mary Ellen’s face had gone a deathly pale, and she placed a hand on her stomach as she took a deep breath. “That’s quite enough of that. Mrs. Colson, please enlighten us as to why you’re here under such emergent conditions.”
“I prefer Rivers… Neely Kate Rivers. And I’m here because I need to be ready for a high society dinner on Saturday night.”
“High society?” Miss Mary Ellen asked.
“High society,” Tina said, pointing to me and Rose. “Have you two ever been to the Bunny Ranch with high rollers?”
Rose’s eyes grew wide. “Uh… no.”
Skeeter Malcolm owned the Bunny Ranch, and Jed used to run it. My cousin Dolly Parton had worked there, but I’d never been there, and as far as I knew, Rose had never been there either.
“No,” I said, “we haven’t.” Then I hastily added, “not that I’m knockin’ your profession. You might know my cousin—her real name’s Dolly Parton Parker. She danced at the Bunny Ranch before she turned traitor and danced at Gems.”
“Such crass talk,” Miss Mary Ellen said in an uppity tone.
“Oh, I know how you know her,” Darcy said. “That one is Rose Gardner and she killed that important business man. J.P. Simpson.”
Rose’s expression dropped. Of course, Rose hadn’t killed him at all—my brother had—but pointing that out would do little to divert their attention from us.
One of the girls slightly raised her hand. “Uh… I think his name was J.R. Simmons.”
“So she’s a murderer?” another asked, but instead of acting horrified, she seemed excited. “And I was sure this was gonna be boring as hell.”
“Language,” Miss Mary Ellen said, giving the girl the evil eye.
“Nope,” Tina said, tapping her chin. “That’s not it.”
“Why don’t we move along, shall we?” Miss Mary Ellen said.
“Good idea,” I said, forcing myself to relax.
“My daddy says all of the criminals in this county are going to the state pen,” said Amanda, the girl who’d mentioned corruption, “and that likely includes you, Rose Gardner.”
Rose sat as still as a pin, but my anger flared. “What on earth possessed you to say such a thing?”
“Ladies,” Miss Mary Ellen scolded.
I turned my wrath on her. “Surely that’s not table talk.”
“Agreed,” Miss Mary Ellen said with a sigh. “Politics is never polite conversation. Now, if you’ll notice the table arrangement—”
Tina snapped her fingers. “I know where I saw you both! Dancing at Gems, the strip club that burned to the ground last fall.”