Etta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day (11 page)

Checking my watch as I headed back toward downtown Delmont, I worried about getting everything on my list done. Time was the problem. I had to have Mr. Howard at the Abbot County Courthouse to get our license before the Register of Deeds office closed at five o’clock, and I personally wanted to be there early enough to get the entire deed done today. Both license and ceremony, considering that Junior might be home tomorrow with a clear head and a change of heart.

I wasn’t worried about finding either the Register of Deeds office or the magistrate’s office if we didn’t have time to get to the Reverend Haliday’s church. I’d made that civil circuit twice before on my marital rounds. It seemed to me, though, that it was time for me to have a church wedding, even if nobody attended but the immediate wedding party, and it was held in a country church instead of the First Methodist.

I could just picture Mr. Howard waiting in his wheelchair—I didn’t want to put a strain on him by making him stand at the altar—and me walking down the aisle toward him.

Flowers!
I’d forgotten about flowers. Every bride ought to have flowers, even if it was only a white orchid corsage on her shoulder or, even better, strapped on her wrist. What I’d really like, though, was a nice spray of baby’s breath and white roses. Well, maybe pink ones would be more proper. Whatever, I wanted one with a handle underneath that I could hold at my waist as I walked down the aisle. Sadie’s Floral Shop could make one up, that was no problem. The problem was time. And heat. Even if everything went according to plan, my wedding bouquet would be a wilted mess by the time the knot was ready to be tied.

So, glancing at my watch again, I decided to forget about florist flowers. I could pick something from Mrs. Howard Connard, Senior’s garden, if it came to that. And if anything was blooming.

I slowed as I entered Main Street and drove toward the center of town, watching the street signs. The Laundromat I was looking for was on Maple, just a few doors off Main. There was good parking beside it, and it was the cleanest and quietest one in town.

As I parked, fuming over having to wash clothes on my special day, I had to calm myself down with the reminder that you have to take things as they come. You just have to deal with the unexpected, even if it tears your plans all to hell and back.

Thinking of whoever’d trashed my trailer the night before—and it had to’ve been those filthy Pucketts—made me mad all over again. I didn’t need to be washing and drying clothes on my wedding day. Whoever heard of such a thing? Yet I couldn’t bring myself to go into married life with dirty clothes, especially underclothes, considering the way they’d gotten that way with you-know-whose nasty hands all over them. I could’ve asked Emmett to run them through at Mr. Howard’s house while we went to get the license. That would’ve relieved my anxiety about time, but I just couldn’t ask Emmett to deal with my lingerie. It’s so personal, you know. As the second Mrs. Howard Connard, Senior, I needed to be aware of such niceties.

So, bundling up my clothes from the backseat, I went into the moist heat of the Laundromat. Thank goodness, it wasn’t crowded, but it was hot as hell. I began to perspire again as I loaded a washing machine, purchased a package of Tide and one of fabric softener, and pushed quarters into the slot.

When the machine started filling, I left to find a cool place to wait. I could feel my hair frizzing, but thanks to Kathie Lee, my dress was still wrinkle-free.

As I started down the sidewalk toward Freeman’s Soda Shop for an icy cherry Coke, I found myself walking side by side with Mr. Ernest Sitton, Esquire.

“Mr. Sitton,” I said, startled at finding him so available, even though it was on a public sidewalk. “I want to thank you again for rescuing me last night. I appreciate it more than I can say. And I paid my bill right on time this morning, like I said I would, although I have to tell you that your receptionist isn’t the friendliest person in the world, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

He kept walking as he looked at me over the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, frowning as if I’d interrupted some serious concentration. “Do I know you, young lady?”

“Yessir, you do. You kept me from being arrested last night, remember? I called you in the middle of the night, and you came right over to the jail and you put Deputy Maybry in his place, with no two ways about it. It was a pleasure to see you work, Mr. Sitton, sir.”

“Ah, yes. Got me out of bed, too, didn’t you?” He stepped around the roots where one of the trees that lined Main Street had lifted the sidewalk. I glanced at him and saw just the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and I knew I’d found his weak spot. Every man has one, and it’s usually the same one with all of them.

“Yessir, and I’m sorry about that, but when you said you’d be right down, well, I just can’t tell you how my heart lifted up. Everybody in town, and I wouldn’t be surprised if everybody in the state, knows that you’re the best lawyer anywhere.”

“Do they now?” Another twitch of his mouth. Could’ve been a tic that I hadn’t noticed the night before, but I was betting on a response to flattery. It works most every time.

“Yessir, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say, ‘If you’re ever in trouble, call Mr. Ernest Sitton. He’s the one you want.’ Why, you’re known far and wide as the man to have, especially if you’re guilty. But I wasn’t and I’m not. Guilty, that is. But when I felt the long arm of the law after me, you were the first and only lawyer I thought of.”

He gave me a quick glance, frowning now with no hint of a smile. “Tell me again who you are.”

“Etta Mae Wiggins.”

“Wiggins,” he said. “Hm-m-m, Wiggins. Daddy, name of Rufe?”

“Well, I am guilty of that, but I hope you won’t hold it against me. He passed away some years ago. And I’m doing real good. Good enough, in fact, to be able to afford the best lawyer in town.”

He frowned at me again, and I gave him my best, admiring smile. And that twitch of his mouth wasn’t a tic at all, for he smiled back. He had to wet his lips first, though, since it didn’t look as if he’d had much practice at it.

As we neared Freeman’s, I said, mentally counting the change in my purse, “Mr. Sitton, it’d be a real honor if you’d care to join me in a cherry Coke. Or whatever you’d like as a refreshment. I’d like to show my appreciation for being my lawyer, and maybe discuss some future dealings we might have.”

He stopped walking, seeming confused and at a loss for words. Maybe nobody’d ever offered to treat him before and he didn’t know how to act. “Ms. Wiggins,” he said, “the only appreciation I want from you or anybody is the timely payment of my bill.”

“Done!” I said, giving him the benefit of another dazzling smile. “At nine-fifteen this morning, just like I said I would.”

“And,” he said, as if the payment of my bill was an accepted fact, “as far as future dealings between you and me are concerned, all I can do is recommend that you stay out of trouble. Recidivists are not my favorite clients, and I very quickly refuse their business.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, so I figured it didn’t apply to me. It did bother me, though, that a man as smart as Lawyer Sitton used bad grammar. You’d think anybody with his education would know that
between you and I
is a more refined way of speaking than
between you and me
. But his mind was taken up with more important things.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t make myself clear,” I said. “I didn’t mean future dealings with the sheriff, especially Clyde Maybry, or any other kind of trouble. It’s just, well, I’ll soon be in a position to, ah, work closely with you, and I just wanted to be on good terms with you. And, also, to kind of prepare you for some, maybe, necessary changes in the matter of, well, a longtime client, which you already have.”

“Well, I must say you’ve piqued my interest, young lady. However, I’m on a tight schedule, so I’m going to have to delay any discussion about this intriguing matter. I’m certainly interested in anything that concerns a client of mine. Make an appointment with Miss Willet and we’ll discuss it in the privacy of my office.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll be happy to, in fact, I’d prefer to do it in your office. But, Mr. Sitton, you need to speak to that redheaded witch you have out front and tell her you want me to have an appointment. She’s losing business for you. She told me to go to some other lawyer, that you couldn’t see me. She’s not good for your business, Mr. Sitton, and I’m just telling you this as a favor. You ought to have somebody in there who’d reflect the kind of man, and the kind of excellent lawyer, you are. Not some dried-up old prune who’s not doing you a bit of good.”

He nodded, looked down the street, and twitched his mouth again. “Miss Willet has been with me a long time, and she knows where the bodies are buried,” he said, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. “But I’ll tell her to give you an appointment whenever you call.”

“It may take me a week or so,” I said, beaming at him. I’d always gotten along with men better than women, and this was just another for instance. “I’m going to be awful busy in the next few days, but I need to see you, and you’re going to be real surprised. And pleased, I hope.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, with a nod of his head almost like the bow of a gentleman.

Feeling like I’d done a good thing, I watched as he walked away, then I went into the soda shop.

 • • • 

After going back to the Laundromat and putting my clothes in a dryer, I waited on a hard plastic chair and skimmed through a six-month-old
People
magazine. I hadn’t felt so good since before Lurline let the cat out of the bag to Junior. Things were looking up, even though time was running out. At least, to get everything on my list done in one day.

See, even when you have to do something like a load of dirty clothes on your wedding day, it can all work for the best. If I hadn’t been at the Laundromat, I’d’ve never met Mr. Sitton on the street, and never known how nice a man he was. Much less have gotten past Miss High-and-Mighty Willet to make an appointment that he was looking forward to.

I had even peaked his interest, and all because I’d been at the right place at the right time, even though the hours of the day were ticking away.

By the time I got my clothes folded and stacked on the backseat, it was past time to get to Mr. Howard’s house. Even though striking off number 9 on my list gave me a sense of accomplishment, I was way off schedule, timewise. The three most important things were yet to do, with not much of the day left to do them in. I got so nervous just thinking about it that my hands were shaking.

Pulling into Mr. Howard’s drive, I parked under the trees next to Emmett’s staircase on the side of the garage. Junior’s Cadillac Seville was nowhere to be seen, and for the first time, I wondered where it could be. He’d left in it while I was talking with Emmett the night before, and ended up unconscious on my couch, so where had he left it? I hoped the deputies had thought about his means of transportation before this and were looking for it, but it might not’ve entered Clyde’s head.

Maybe I should call Bobby Lee.

Maybe I shouldn’t. He’d want to know how I knew when and by what means Junior had left his daddy’s house last night.

I walked to the side door of the house, tapped as I usually did, and went into the kitchen.

“Hi, Emmett.”

He looked up from the sink where he was rinsing dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher. “Miss Etta Mae,” he said, putting a salad plate carefully on the counter. “Miss Etta, what you doin’ here? I don’t need no trouble.”

“I don’t either, Emmett. But don’t worry, I’ve been to see Junior over at the hospital and he knows I’m here.”

He turned back to the sink and picked up the plate, relieved that he didn’t have to throw me out. “Mr. Junior doin’ all right?”

“Seemed to be. He was talking, but I doubt he’s ready for a ten-mile race. Listen, Emmett, have any deputies questioned you about last night?”

“They sho’ have. Two of ’em this morning, askin’ when Mr. Junior left, where he goin’, when I ’spectin’ him back, an’ I don’t know what all.”

I drew in a breath between my teeth. “Did you tell them I was here when he left?”

“They didn’t ax me nothin’ like that, an’ I didn’t offer nothin’ but coffee and sweet rolls.”

“Good,” I said. “You and me both know I had nothing to do with Junior getting hurt.” He cut his eyes over at me like he wasn’t sure what he knew. “So,” I hurried on, “how’s Mr. Howard today?”

“He settin’ in there waitin’ on you, an’ mad as a wet hen ’bout Mr. Junior takin’ him to Raleigh. Miss Etta Mae, I had to tell him why them deputies was here, but I didn’t tell him Mr. Junior be over to your trailer.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, because the fact of the matter is I didn’t know he was over there till I got home and found him knocked out cold on my new couch.”

Emmett kept his eyes on the dishes, not saying anything for several seconds, while I stood there knowing he still wasn’t happy about something.

Finally, without looking up, he said, “You left here right after Mr. Junior pulled out. Some people might figure you followed him, an’ some people might figure you got in a fight with him ’bout Mr. Howard.”

“Some people would be wrong, too. I’d parked my car down by the Skyway, so I had several blocks to walk to get back to it. And after that, I got something to eat, so I didn’t get home till around midnight.

“Emmett, listen, I didn’t see Junior last night. I didn’t talk to him, and I certainly didn’t have a fight with him. Besides, he’d make about three of me, so no way could I’ve done anything to him. And another thing, since everybody’s doubting my story, the big question is what was Junior doing there in the first place? Do you realize he had to
break the lock
to get in? I mean, that’s a criminal offense! I’m not the one who ought to be worried around here.”

“Mr. Junior did that?”

“Well,
I
certainly didn’t break into my own trailer. I’ll tell you, Emmett, Junior doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to me and Mr. Howard. Not now, he doesn’t. I could sue him from here to kingdom come, and ruin his reputation, too. And make that skinny witch he’s married to wish she’d never heard of me.”

Emmett started smiling. He raised his head and looked out the window across the yard, and smiled some more. “Mr. Junior over the barrel now,” he said.

“You got it. So some things are going to be changing around here, Emmett. And the first one is this: you’re not going anywhere and neither is Mr. Howard. Are you with me on this?”

“Yessum, I sho’ is.” He let the water drain out of the sink, then said, “How you gonna manage all that?”

“The same way the first Mrs. Howard Connard, Senior, did.”

His eyes got big as he stared at me. “You mean . . . ?”

“I sure do. Me and Mr. Howard have been talking about it for a long time, but I didn’t want anybody thinking I was taking advantage. But now, now with this threat to Mr. Howard’s well-being, I think it’s time I took a hand in what happens to him. Don’t you?”

He stepped back from the sink, picked up a dishrag, and started drying his hands. “That need some thinkin’ about,” he said, carefully folding the dishrag and draping it over the faucet. “An’ I b’lieve I just done all the thinkin’ needin’ to be done. It’ll take some gettin’ used to, but seem to me it be good, ’cause Mr. Junior, he can’t do no more mischief ’round here.”

Then a sudden thought stopped him. “When the happy day? You better move fast, Miss Etta, ’cause Junior be outta the hospital pretty soon, an’ even though he not able to make trouble, that Miss Valerie, she somethin’ else.”

“Is she ever! I had the pleasure of meeting her at the hospital and, frankly, she’s the one I’m worried about now. She’s so cold, I don’t think it’d bother her if I had Junior arrested and locked up.”

“She cold, all right. She done called to tell me to fix up one of the bedrooms upstairs. She gon’ spend the night here.”

“Oh, Lord,” I said, my heart skipping a beat. “When’s she coming?”

“She just say tonight, an’ to not fix no supper for her, she make a salat when she come in.”

“Whew,” I said, fanning my face with my hand. “That’ll be enough time. I hope.”

“Time for what? What you plannin’ for?”

“A wedding, Emmett. I’m planning for a wedding in”—I looked at my watch—“about an hour and a half. If I can get everything done.”

His eyes bugged out, and he said, “Do Mr. Howard know ’bout this?”

“Not yet,” I said, laughing, “but he will in just a few minutes.”