going to have a heart attack watching this. Let’s teach Cora Mae to drive another time when we aren’t in a hurry. The dance will be over before we get there.”
“I’m just starting to get the hang of it,” Driving Momma said with some defensive huff in her voice.
“We’re out on the highway, and you’re going fifteen miles an hour in a sorry excuse for a straight line.”
Kitty’s curls bobbed to the beat while she came around the car and traded places with Cora Mae.
In spite of the initial delays, we made it to the dance in record time. Kitty’s hot foot led the way, while my truck’s lights and sirens cleared a path right down the middle of US 41.
The dance crowd had loosened up thanks to a keg of beer behind a makeshift bar in the corner of a large open room. One or two couples swung across the dance floor. Another group made up mostly of men clumped around the keg of beer. Long metal tables beside the dance floor were filled with women gossiping about this and that.
“Where are the single unattached men?” Cora Mae asked over the din, her head swiveling like a she-cat picking her night’s prey. “I don’t see a single one.”
“Focus, Cora Mae,” I said, watching her chest puff up in attack mode. “We aren’t here for the men. We’re working tonight.”
“I’ll see if I can find Tony,” she said, stalking toward the male gathering.
“Look at that woman’s walk,” Kitty said, watching her. “I should take lessons.”
“What’s our plan?” I said, studying the crowd.
“We’re winging it,” she replied. “Let’s spread out.”
Sue, the credit union manager’s wife, sat at one of the tables. She was as good a place to start as any. “Hi, Gertie,” she said when I sat down next to her. Judging by the glassy cast to her eyes, she’d had a few beers already. “Heard you were in the credit union when that robber was killed.”
I nodded. “How’s Dave doing?”
“He’s having a hard time of it. The sheriff is treating it like Dave masterminded the whole thing. Sheriff Snell is convinced he did it and has been following him around.”
The beat of the music stepped up a notch. Cora Mae swung onto the dance floor with a man I’d never seen before and did some kind of tango thing in her spiked heels. The entire room of people stopped what they were doing to watch her moves.
I had to practically shout to be heard. “I didn’t notice Dickey around tonight. Someone on the roof killed the guy who robbed the credit union. I witnessed it. Why would Dickey bothering Dave?”
I knew about the missing money, but wanted to hear her version.
“I’m surprised you don’t know, what with the gossips in this town. Some money’s missing and Dave can’t account for it. They think he stole it.”
“We all know that couldn’t be true,” I said to reassure her, even though he was the most likely candidate. I scanned Sue’s outfit-worn stretch pants, scoffed shoes, and not a bit of jewelry other than her wedding ring. If Dave stole the money, he wasn’t spending it on his wife.
Cora Mae’s theatrics and a lively song drew out a group of women. Kitty danced by, her seldom-combed-out curls formed into bouncing ringlets that reminded me of miniature slinkys.
“You help out at the credit union, right?” I had to roar over the music the DJ had cranked up several notches.
“Good thing I didn’t work yesterday.” She took a chug of beer, long and hard like she couldn’t face their problems. “I wouldn’t have been able to take it. You know, the guns and all.”
“What do you do at the credit union? I never saw you behind the counter.”
“I work in the office, doing whatever needs to be done. Why?”
“No reason,” I said. “Want another beer?”
“Sure.”
While I waited in the beer line, I thought about Dave and Sue. They’d had a shotgun wedding. Two teenagers having fun before realizing what work it could be. Three kids and fifteen years later, they were still together. Their dream, like every other parent’s around here, was a good college education for their offspring. A hundred thousand dollars certainly would go a long way.
As the path ahead of me cleared, I saw Tony and Lyla serving beer from the tapped keg. “What can I get you, Gertie?” Tony smiled. Lyla made some kind of eye motion that told me to play it cool. Don’t give her away.
“Two beers,” I replied.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” Tony said. “Or my wife is going to get suspicious.”
Lyla’s eyes narrowed. “Ohhh?” she said, making it the longest word I’ve ever heard. Later tonight I expected a phone call from the Trouble Busters’ one and only client. She’d fire us if we continued to lose Tony, or kept tripping over him while trailing him. I was embarrassed, but tried not to let it show.
Tony laughed easy. “Just kidding, Lyla. Gertie was out in the woods this morning. The game warden had her treed. I see he let you go.” Tony laughed again while he poured beer into a cup. “That Rolly sure takes his job serious.”
“He’s dangerous,” I said, paying Lyla for the beers and picking them up. “See ya.” At least I wouldn’t have to worry about surveillance for awhile. My target was planted with the beer.
When I turned away, I noticed Angie Gates sitting at a table close to the keg. She was alone.
“Glad you’re out of the hospital,” I said, stopping by to be polite. “How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good,” she said, but she had her mind on something else. Angie checked her watch like the exact time really mattered to her.
“Meeting someone?” I said.
“No. What makes you think that?”
I shrugged. “Guess I better deliver this beer before it warms up.”
Angie had already glanced away. I moved past, then stopped to watch her. She seemed fidgety-nervous and wary. Maybe the blow to her head accounted for the edginess.
The seat where I’d left Sue was empty. I sat down, put the beers on the table, and took a sip from one. Where was Sue? Cora Mae had coaxed quite a crowd onto the dance floor, making it impossible to find anyone in the mass of humanity.
We were supposed to be interrogating suspects. Instead, Cora Mae was working everyone up to the point of collapse. How could she get any pertinent robber information out on the floor? While my eyes roamed the room without spotting my other Trouble Buster partner, someone sat down next to me. “I hope this seat isn’t taken?” my man George said.
“Reserved for you.” I grinned and passed the other beer to him. “I even have a cold beer ready.”
“I like a woman who serves her man.” George took off his cowboy hat with the snake curled around the brim and set it on the table.
“Let’s not get carried away,” I answered.
George looked great. He didn’t have to wear oversized shirts to hide middle-aged flab, because he didn’t have any. He kept active by building things and tearing down other things, and he has a healthy interest in the world around him. While other men his age pound down six-packs of calories while watching sporting events on television, George maintains a scrappy, fit-and-trim physique.
I, on the other hand, could stand to lose a few before my relationship with George went any farther than holding hands. I set down the beer as a first start toward better health. Fewer sugar doughnuts, less beer, more exercise, I reminded myself.
It’s amazing what the possibility of romance can do to you. I’m self-conscious now in ways I never was before. George has been my friend for years, but until recently it never occurred to me to worry about my appearance.
“Want to go over to the church and see who’s winning at bingo?” George asked. I translated that to mean he wanted to spend a few minutes alone with me. A warm thrill ran through my body, tingling my spine, making me feel flushed. Any kind of alone time wasn’t easy to find ever since Grandma Johnson moved in.
We walked out to the edge of the parking lot where the lights didn’t dilute the night stars quite as much. The air was cool and crisp. With George by my side and the sound of the dance behind me, I could have remained there all night.
I followed the stars of the Big Dipper from the top of the handle to the bottom of the dipper. I silently apologized to Barney for holding hands with another man. Two years had passed since he died. Part of me felt I was moving ahead too soon. The other part thought it was way past time.
