“Yeah.” “She’s inside getting me a drink. She oughta be right back.”
Like a stage cue, Eula Mae appeared on her porch with a glass of iced tea. She came down the stairs, her baggy dress hanging about her bony, fortyish body and fluttering in the breeze. Her hair was its usual explosion of red curls, pulled into a semblance of order with a paisley scarf. She wore large earrings that looked like they were handmade in Africa. Her hands were elegantly bejeweled and her nails were long and lacquered; I wonder how she typed on her keyboard. I’d known Eula Mae a long time; her daddy and my daddy had been friends.
Since she was a little over ten years older than me, we hadn’t been close when I was a kid. But when I moved back to town, she’d been my staunchest supporter in the library wars with Beta. She handed Hally the drink and favored me with a sly eye. “Here you go, Hally, dear.
Drink up.” “Thanks, Miz Quiff,” Hally said, gulping down the tea. I saw Eula Mae ogling him, her avid eyes locked on where his thick neck met his broad shoulders. I coughed. “I’m sorry to interrupt your labors, Eula Mae, but I need to speak with you.” “Of course, Jordy.
Where are my manners? Come sit on the porch with me and have some tea.” I turned to Hally. “You going to be here for a while?” He nodded. “Still got a fair amount of weeding to do.” “Okay. I’d like to talk with you when I’m done visiting with Eula Mae.” If Hally seemed surprised, he didn’t show it. He just nodded and knelt back to his gardening. Eula Mae and I walked up the long path to her gracious home. It reminded me of a shrunken antebellum mansion, one you might find on a Hollywood lot. She’d lived there alone since her terminally shy sister Patty died ten years ago. I’d always wondered if Patty simply succumbed to Eula Mae’s ego. She gestured languidly toward a porch chair and went inside. Loose pages, lying on a wicker table, caught the breeze at their corners and gently turned up. Printing and red marks covered the paper. Eula Mae’s latest. I leaned forward to peek, and one of Eula Mae’s multitude of cats yowled at me from a white whicker chair. I stuck my tongue out and the cat raised its head snidely. My hostess returned with another glass of tea and handed it to me. Absently, she shoved the cat out of the chair. The cat mewled in protest at the declining social standards on the porch while Eula Mae kept an eye on her gardener. “Jesus, Eula Mae. Why don’t you just go out there and undress the poor kid?” She looked at me with reproach. “Simply because I find your cousin aesthetically pleasing doesn’t mean I want my way with him. Please. I’m doing research.”
“Research?” The displaced cat growled again, and Eula Mae scooped him into her lap. She stroked his fur contritely, and he allowed her to place her cheek on him while she spoke. “Yes, Jordy. That boy is going to be the hero of my next work. Well, someone very like him in form.”
“What about in mind?” Hally was a good kid and a great athlete, but not a straight-A student. “My hero will have a bit more on the ball than Hally, but nothing more in terms of physical endowment,” Eula Mae answered. “We must always look for inspiration and never turn it away.
He’d look divine painted on the cover of my next novel.” “I think you could find all sorts of inspiration round here if you were writing a murder mystery,” I observed dryly. “I was working up to that,” Eula Mae answered, “but I didn’t know your mental state. You over your shock, sugar pie?” She patted my knee in a friendly way. The cat glared balefully at me. “The shock of finding her body? Yes, for the time being. The shock of being suspected of killing her? Not quite yet.” Eula Mae played dreamily with one of her errant curls. “Yes, the police have already been here asking me about you and our beloved Beta.” She saw me tense and shook her head. “Junebug can’t possibly think you killed her. You know he’s really a sweet boy underneath all that bluster. Billy Ray’s a different story, though, and Junebug gets pressure from him.” She paused, giving me a speculative stare. “So what was your quote?” I told her. She shook her head, the ringlets dancing around her face. “Makes as much sense as mine. Job 31:35: My desire is, that the Almighty would answer me, and that mine adversary had written a book. Well, I’ve written several award-winning books and I was her adversary. Big whoop. What’s the damn point of it all?” “I take it Junebug shared the list with you.” “Just my part. He wouldn’t divulge who else was on it.” I did. She sat and listened thoughtfully, harrumping at Tamma Hufnagel and Bob Don Goertz’s names. At my mother and Hally Schneider’s names, she frowned. “Don’t understand that at all. How could she hate or want to hurt someone with Alzheimer’s and”-she gestured in the direction of her gardener-“someone as sweet as Hally?” I shrugged. “Mama can’t remember any connection with her.
And I don’t know about Hally. Maybe it’s some sick way of striking at me or Janice Schneider.” “My Lord,” Eula Mae said, but not to me. Her eyes were back in the garden. Hally had removed his shirt and his bunched muscles moved smoothly as he worked. Eula Mae sighed like a dieter in front of a candy store. “Youth is wasted on the young, Jordy. Remember that.” With Hally out of reach, she appraised me. “You and Hally do favor each other, you know. You both got those fine Schneider looks. Shame you’re still just an infant compared to me. But of course Candace is a different story-” I rolled my eyes. “Look, Eula Mae, let’s concentrate. You know damn well that I didn’t kill Beta and I’m willing to give you the same benefit of doubt-” “Are you so sure?” she interrupted, her voice as sweet and fake as sno-cone syrup. I stopped dead. “I’m kidding!” she exclaimed, but her eyes showed merriment at my discomfort. I ran a tongue over dry lips. “So when was the last time you saw her?” I asked. “Oh, that nastiness in the library. When she slapped the tar out of you.” “Not since?” “No, Jordy. Lord, what do you want, an accounting of my movements? All right, Perry Mason, I’ll be delighted to oblige. Murder’s one of the few crimes I’m still innocent of and I want to keep my unstained reputation. After that little scene at the library, I came back here, did some work on the newest book-it features Charity Keepwell, who I am sure you’ll remember from my very well- received Lily of the Alamo two books back. Then I had my dinner, watched some television, did a little editing, and went to bed.” “What time was that?” “Around ten.
And alone.” She seemed to have spotted something interesting on her nail. The cat batted her sleeve, wanting attention. “I see. And you don’t know of anyone who had a motive to kill Beta?” “Lord, sure I did. That crazy Matt Blalock for one. And I suppose even you. ” I tried not to look menacing. “I hope you didn’t make any such statement to the police.” Eula Mae leaned close to me and I could smell the slightly sour odor of old perfume. “No, sugar pie, I didn’t. Motive, yes; but you’re not stupid enough to commit murder. But someone like Matt Blalock is, or that Ruth Wills.” “Ruth?” My dinner date? That possibility didn’t promote good digestion-and it might make conversation just a tad strained. “Surely you could tell there’s no love lost between Ruth and Beta.” “I knew they didn’t get along, but-”
“Are you keeping your ears in a jar? Beta tried to get Ruth fired.”
Eula Mae leaned back, delighted in the miniature drama she’d caused. A beringed hand ran through her curly mane to heighten the effect. “What for?” “I don’t know all the details. I just heard about it from my friend Joan. She’s a secretary over at the hospital and a very ardent fan of mine. Of course sheer numbers preclude my having a real relationship with most of my fans, but I’ve made an exception for Joan. Such a perceptive reader and an extremely reliable source. Joan said Beta claimed Ruth tried to poison her when she was in the hospital last January.” “What?” This was news to me. “Oh, the hospital shut it up because it was groundless,” Eula Mae sniffed. “Just Beta getting a visitation from Satan and blaming it on Ruth. No one filed charges or anything; I think the D.A. over in Bavary talked Beta out of it ’cause it was so blasted silly.” “So what happened between them?” Eula Mae waved her hand, dismissing the need for details. “I don’t know. Apparently Beta was in the hospital-she’d had some chest pains and they were keeping her for observation-and she said Ruth entered her room and tried to give her an injection, when she’d just been given some medication by another nurse. According to Beta, Ruth told her she was going to get hers -and Ruth tried to stick the needle in her. Beta screamed bloody murder-you know what a set of lungs the old witch had-and some other nurses rushed in. Of course Ruth denied the whole crazy thing and there was no evidence to support Beta’s charge.” “I don’t get it. Even if it were true, why would Ruth want to kill Beta?” “Back then, who knows? Community service, perhaps? It’s a lot of bullcrap if you ask me. But now”-Eula Mae slid her glance slyly over her shoulder-“who knows? I mean, Beta did try to ruin her career.” “But she failed. Ruth didn’t lose her job. They didn’t even file charges. Why kill Beta now?” This made little sense to me. “I don’t know what else might have transpired between them. Ruth supported you in the censorship fight. Maybe there’s some other dark secret between them.” Eula Mae’s eyes glowed with creativity, as though she were plotting her next potboiler. “Was Ruth on that list?
What was her quote?” Ruth’s was easy to remember, especially in light of this revelation. It was 2 Kings 4:40-to wit: There is death in the pot. When I read it earlier, I had no story such as this to relate it to. Now it sounded like Beta considered Ruth as Mirabeau’s own Lucrezia Borgia. I repeated the quote to Eula Mae and enjoyed the momentary silence. “Well, my Lord. Sounds like Beta still held a grudge.” “Great. I have a dinner date with Ruth tonight.” My enthusiasm waned. “Mind your cocktail, sweetie.” Eula Mae laughed.
Then her merry face darkened and grew serious. “Well, what if it’s not bullcrap and Beta was right? Maybe you shouldn’t go.” “For God’s sake, even if it was true, she’d have no reason to poison me.” I stood and watched
