19
You should've been there, Willie Mae, she was broken up awful bad. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she isn't dead by now. Blood was running down all over from a big old cut on her head, and she was skint up like you wouldn't believe."
Willie Mae set a pan of potatoes and a knife next to me. "Peel these while you talk," she said.
I picked up the knife and commenced peeling the potatoes. "Where you want me to put the peelings?"
"Get you a sack out of the pantry. Where'd the ambulance take her?"
"To the hospital, of course." I went and grabbed a grocery sack out of the pile in the pantry and set it on the floor at my feet to catch the potato peels. "Willie Mae, you ought to know that."
"Don't be smart. I mean did they take her here or over to Tyler?"
"Here, I guess. Biggie and Rosebud are there now."
"No, I ain't," Rosebud said, coming in the back door. "Miss Biggie sent me home and said she'd call when she's ready for me to fetch her. Is this coffee fresh?"
Willie Mae nodded, and he poured himself a cup and sat down at the table.
"How's the lady doin'?" Willie Mae asked.
"Not well," Rosebud said. "She won't wake up. And she's got a whole bunch of broken bones. They're afraid to try to set them on account of the anesthetic, doncha know, her bein' in a coma and all. Then that there Grace Higgins is going around getting in everybody's way and telling the doctors what to do."
"Well, I don't see why Biggie has to stay," I grumbled.
"Sounds to me like they needs somebody what gots some sense out there." Willie Mae peered into the refrigerator. "I need some butter to go in these potatoes."
"I'll go," I said, shoving the pot full of potatoes toward Rosebud, "if Rosebud will finish peeling."
"You all heart," Rosebud said, picking up the knife and plucking a potato out of the pot.
I jumped on my bike and headed downtown to the Piggly Wiggly, where I picked up a pound of butter for Willie Mae. On the way back, I happened to pass the Owl Café. Sitting inside at the big round table in the middle of the room was Butch, eating a big piece of apple pie and talking with Miss Julia, Norman Thripp, and Mr. Populus, who owns the café. The pie looked awfully good, so I decided to join them.
"Hey, J.R.," Butch said, talking around a mouthful of pie. "Hey," I said, taking a seat at the table. "What kind of pie you got today?" I asked Mr. Populus.
"Chocolate, cherry, lemon, opple, and peenopple," Mr. Populus said. Being Greek, Mr. Populus doesn't speak English too well.
"I'll have chocolate," I said, "and a Big Red."
Butch and Miss Julia looked at each other and made faces.
"What?" I asked.
"Just doesn't sound very good," Butch said. "What's Biggie up to?"
"She's at the hospital." I watched as Mr. Populus set my pie and drink in front of me, then I took a bite.
Norman Thripp, who is as long and thin as a mashed snake, looked at me with his ball-bearing eyes. "How come she's at the hospital? She sick?"
"Uh-uh." I took a swig of my Big Red and remembered to wipe my chin with my napkin.
"Oh, Lordy," Butch said. "Has something happened to Rosebud— or Willie Mae?"
"Uh-uh. Biggie's out there seeing about Miz Laura Barnwell, who fell off a horse and is pretty near dead. It happened right after they read my granddaddy's will, which said I'm going to get five hundred thousand dollars." I took another bite of pie.
"My soul." Miss Julia took her little notebook out of her handbag. "Tell me the facts, J.R."
I told her everything I could remember, not leaving out the part about Stacie acting like a crazy person. "I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't in the hospital, too. More than likely wrapped up in a strait jacket."
"And he didn't leave his own daughter any money?" Norman Thripp said. "That don't seem right."
"Well, he did leave her a big, huge diamond ring," I said.
"I'd sure like to see that," Butch said.
Just then the front door darkened, and Rosebud strode in. He pointed to me.
"Oops," I picked up my sack of butter. "I got to go." I dropped some money on the table and followed Rosebud outside to the sidewalk.
"You better get to the house fast," he said. "Miss Biggie's done home, and Willie Mae's ready for her butter."
When I got to the house, the table was set in the dining room. I went straight to the kitchen and saw that Willie Mae had made chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, butterbeans, and hot biscuits.
"How come we're not eating in here?" I asked, handing Willie Mae the butter.
"Miss Biggie's invited that Ranger Upchurch for supper," she said. "You go get washed up."
I went up the stairs and found Biggie sitting at her dressing table combing her hair. I plopped down on her bed and waited for her to say something.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
"Downtown," I said. "Willie Mae sent me on an errand. How's Laura? Is she dead?"
"No, she's not dead— not yet anyway. She's in bad shape, J.R."
"What about Stacie? I was tellin' 'um down at the café. I said I bet they had her tied up in a strait jacket by now. That girl's not right, Biggie."
"I agree." Biggie opened a bottle of hand lotion and poured a little in her palm. "Only she's not in the hospital"— she rubbed her hands together—"she's run away." Just then the doorbell rang. Biggie stood up. "That must be Red. Go get washed up as fast as you can. Supper's about ready."
Boy, can that ranger eat. I ate two big slabs of chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, gravy, and two biscuits. But he ate three and then piled on another helping of potatoes and beans for good measure.
"My, oh my, I like to see a man with an appetite," Biggie said, passing around the biscuits. "But don't forget to save room for pie. We'll have that in the parlor with our coffee."
Biggie had roses in her cheeks, and I noticed she'd powdered her nose and put on a little pink lipstick.
For some reason I was already full of pie, so I sat and watched Booger and Bingo while the others had their dessert. Bingo was taking a nap in front of the gas logs. He wouldn't have been sleeping so good if he'd known Booger was stalking him. Booger walked into the room, sniffed Bingo's tail, and went and crouched under the coffee table shaking his behind. The cat sprang. Bingo yelped as Booger's claws sank into his ears; and before you could blink, he took off after Booger, who streaked out of the room with his ears back.
Biggie shook her head. "J.R., go put those two outside."
I caught both animals and shoved them out the back door. When I got back the ranger had opened a file and he and Biggie were looking at the papers in it. "So, Biggie, as you can see by the ballistics report, the bullet that killed Rex and the one that grazed Jeremy Polk came from the gun Stacie had, not Rex's gun."
"How?" I asked. "I mean that gun never left the study."
"That's right." Biggie looked at the papers. "Laura had it in her hand. We all saw."
"And they never left the room," I said. "We were all outside the study door."
"What about fingerprints?" Biggie asked.
"Just what you'd expect," Ranger Upchurch said. "Stacie's and Laura's only. Rex's gun had his prints along with Abner's. Abner says he cleaned the gun for Rex just last week."
Biggie took a sip of coffee. "Did your people dust the breaker switch for prints?"
"Naturally." The ranger took another sheet of paper from the pile. "They lifted only one good print, and it was Abner Putnam's. Of course that switch is just big enough for one finger at a time. When he turned it back on, he could have obliterated any prints that might have been on there before."
Biggie nodded. "So what do you think, Red?"
"I think it's too damn bad Mrs. Barnwell is out of commission. She has some explaining to do. In the meantime, I've got to question the girl, Stacie. She may be the only one who can give us any answers— ever."
"Is Laura gonna die?" I asked.
"Maybe," Biggie said. "She's in bad shape. The doctor says her brain is swelling. If they can't stop it, she will either die or be left with brain damage. That could happen even if they do stop the swelling." She looked at the ranger. "So how many bullets were fired from the gun Stacie had?"
"Three. We dug one slug from the bookcase in the study. One was lodged in Rex's body, and the third…"
"The one you found, Biggie," I said.
"Right. That had to be the bullet that grazed Jeremy Polk."
"What's next?" Biggie asked.
"I was hoping you had an idea." The ranger frowned.
"I'd like to go back out tomorrow and have another look," Biggie said. "Want to come along?"
"Can't." He drained his coffee cup and watched while Biggie refilled it from the china pot on the table. "I have to be in court in Center Point. I'd sure appreciate it if you would take another look— maybe ask a few more questions. Somebody might be sitting on information they don't even know is important. Oops, excuse me." He pulled his pager from his pocket and examined the little screen. "Mind if I use your phone, Biggie?"
Biggie nodded. "Use the one in the hall."
We waited quietly until he came back, Biggie examining the papers on the coffee table and me staring at the blue-and-orange flames darting up from the fake logs in the fireplace. When the ranger came back, he had his hat in his hand.
"I need to get out to the Barnwell ranch. Abner Putnam wants to organize a search party to find Stacie."
"Good idea," Biggie said, following him to the door.