Bring Your Own Poison (8 page)

She woke up a couple times during the night, tossing and turning a bit before falling back asleep. By the time she woke on Sunday morning around eight, she felt good despite the interrupted sleep.

Leaving her bathroom several minutes later, Wanda Nell picked up a housecoat and slipped it on. She tied the belt loosely as she walked down the short hall toward the living room and kitchen.

Juliet sat at the table, toying with the cereal in her bowl. She looked up, her face wan, as her mother entered the room.

“Morning, Mama,” she said.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Wanda Nell said. “You don't sound like you feel too good. Are you getting sick?”

Juliet shrugged. “I guess so. I don't feel all that good.” She grimaced. “My throat's a little sore this morning, and my nose is getting stuffy.”

Wanda Nell felt her forehead. “You've got a little fever, too. Have you taken anything?”

“No, ma'am,” Juliet said.

Wanda Nell went to the cabinet over the sink where she kept a few medications on hand. Selecting a bottle of liquid sinus medicine, she measured out a dose into the accompanying plastic cup and brought it to Juliet. “Drink this, honey.”

Juliet made a face. “That stuff tastes awful.” She took the cup, however, and drank down the contents. She made another face as she handed the empty cup back to her mother. “Yuck. It's even worse than I remembered.”

“I know,” said Wanda Nell, smiling in sympathy. “But it will help. You'll get sleepy soon, and resting will be good for you, too.”

“I don't feel like doing anything anyway,” Juliet said. She picked up her spoon and had a couple more mouthfuls of cereal. “That helps get rid of some of the bad taste.” She dropped the spoon into the nearly empty bowl.

Wanda Nell picked it up and carried it over to the sink. She placed it in the sink and ran some water in the bowl. She was about to make coffee when the phone rang.

She reached for the receiver. “Hello.”

“Hello. Wanda Nell, is that you?”

Wanda Nell started getting a headache the moment she recognized that voice. It was her former mother-in-law, Lucretia Culpepper. What on earth was she doing calling on a Sunday morning?

Suppressing a sigh, Wanda Nell said, “Yes, Miz Culpepper, it's me. Is there something I can do for you?”

“There certainly is. Maybe you can tell me why Tuck's car is parked in front of my house, and there's not a sign of him or that grandson of mine anywhere around.” The old lady's voice was tart, but Wanda Nell could tell she was worried.

She was worried, too. What on earth could have happened to Tuck?

“Wanda Nell! Are you there?” Old Mrs. Culpepper's voice shrilled in her ear as Wanda Nell tried to keep from panicking.

“Now, Lucretia dear, don't you go getting poor Wanda Nell upset. I'm sure there's some logical explanation for this.”

The new voice belonged to Mrs. Culpepper's spinster cousin, Belle Meriwether, who had moved in with her a few months ago to keep house for the older woman and serve as her companion. As she usually did, Belle had picked up another phone so she could join in on the conversation.

“Oh hush, Belle,” Mrs. Culpepper said. “I'm sure Wanda Nell's not upset. Are you?”

“I'm okay,” Wanda Nell said, exasperated with the old woman. “Tuck probably just had car trouble on the way home last night, and I guess in front of your house is where it happened.”

“I sure didn't hear a thing,” Mrs. Culpepper said. “Did you, Belle?”

“No, Lucretia, I sure didn't either,” Belle replied. “But you know how sound I sleep. Somebody will have to poke me with a stick, I reckon, when the angel Gabriel blows the trumpet to summon us all to glory. That's how sound I sleep. But is it the angel Gabriel? Maybe it's Michael, and is he an archangel? I'll have to go get my Bible and check.”

The moment Belle paused for a breath, Wanda Nell spoke, cutting Mrs. Culpepper off at the same time. “Let me call Tuck and T.J. and find out what's going on. I'll call you back in a few minutes, Miz Culpepper. Okay?”

Mrs. Culpepper grumbled for a moment but then she agreed. Belle didn't say anything more. Wanda Nell figured she had put the phone down and gone off in search of her Bible.

If she hadn't been so worried she would have had a good laugh over Belle. That woman could talk the hind legs off a donkey, but at least she meant well. She wasn't malicious, the way Mrs. Culpepper could be when she had a mind to.

Her hand trembling slightly, Wanda punched in the number of T.J.'s cell phone. Her breath shallow, she waited, hoping he would answer quickly.

After four rings, Wanda Nell thought the call would go to voice mail, but then a sleepy voice spoke in her ear. “Hello, Mama. Is something wrong?”

“Honey, that's what I'm calling to ask you,” Wanda Nell said, her heartbeat starting to slow down a bit. “Are you okay? And is Tuck okay?”

“We're both fine, Mama,” T.J. said, more alert. “Tuck's sound asleep right here. Let me go in the other room. I don't want to wake him up.”

Wanda Nell could hear the faint rustle of sheets as T.J. got out of bed. She waited as patiently as she could until he spoke again.

“Okay now,” he said. “I'm in the kitchen. What's going on? Why are you so worried, Mama?”

“Your grandmother just called me, asking me if I knew what Tuck's car was doing on the street in front of her house. That's what I want to know, too. Did something happen last night?”

“Sorry, Mama, I guess I'm just not awake enough yet,” T.J. said. She heard him yawn before he went on. “I'd forgotten about that. Yeah, Tuck had some car trouble on the way home last night. It happened while he was coming down Main Street, and he just happened to end up right there in front of Grandmother's house. He called me, and I went and picked him up. There wasn't anything we could do about his car last night, so we came on home. It was pretty late when we finally got to bed.”

Somewhat relieved, Wanda Nell asked, “What was wrong with his car? It's only a couple of years old, isn't it?”

T.J. didn't answer right away, and that made Wanda Nell more anxious. “What was wrong with his car, T.J.? Tell me the truth now.”

“Okay,” T.J. said, expelling a long breath. “Something was wrong with his brakes. They started acting funny a few minutes after he left the jail. He thought he could make it home, but they gave out almost completely when he was coming down Main Street. He wasn't going very fast, thank goodness. He was able to stop the car without hurting himself, and he was in front of Grandmother's house when he stopped.”

Mrs. Culpepper's house on Main Street was only about seven or eight blocks from the town square, where the courthouse and the county jail were located.

“Thank the Lord he's okay,” Wanda Nell said. “But what was wrong with his brakes?”

Again, T.J. paused before answering. “We think somebody cut his brake line while he was at the jail.”

Wanda Nell went cold all over. “Good Lord, what if he had been going fast? He might have been hurt real bad, or worse.”

“I know, Mama,” T.J. said. “I thought about that, too.”

Wanda Nell heard the worry in his voice. “Has anything like this happened before?”

“Not exactly,” T.J. said.

“What does that mean?”

T.J. sighed into the phone again. “Stuff has happened, but nothing as serious as this. Sugar in his gas tank a couple of times, his tires slashed three or four times. Just stupid stuff like that. Nothing really dangerous, just annoying as hell.” He paused a moment. “They've done the same thing to my truck a few times, too.”

“Oh my Lord,” Wanda Nell said, appalled. “Who is doing this? Do y'all have any ideas?”

“It could be anybody, I guess,” T.J. said, “but we figure it's got to be somebody connected with the courthouse, or maybe the police department or sheriff's department. Things usually seem to happen when our vehicles are downtown.”

The building where Tuck had his office was on the square, just across the street from the jail and the courthouse. That meant anyone working around there had easy access to their vehicles.

“And I don't guess anybody would even think twice if they saw a cop or a deputy looking over somebody's car,” Wanda Nell said.

“Nope,” T.J. replied. “But it seems to happen most often when we've had to work late, after most everything else downtown is closed for the evening.”

“I'd love to get my hands on whoever is doing this,” Wanda Nell said. “I swear, if I had a gun, I'd go and shoot their you-know-whats off.”

“I know how you feel,” T.J. said. “And if I ever catch somebody in the act, well, I don't care who he is, I'm going to teach him a thing or two. Somebody may end up in the hospital, but it won't be me or Tuck, I can tell you that.”

“Oh, honey, I hope it doesn't come to that,” Wanda Nell said. T.J. in his wild teenage years had been in a lot of fights, but he had never been badly hurt. He had put a couple guys in the hospital, though, and that's how he ended up in jail. Wanda Nell hated even thinking about those days.

“Other than that,” Wanda Nell said, “what can you do about this?”

“Tuck has been keeping a record of it all, and we've talked to Elmer Lee Johnson about it, too, so he's aware of what's going on.”

“What did he say?”

“There wasn't much he could say. Until there's clear evidence of who's doing this, he can't do anything—the police either.”

“Especially if it's somebody on the police force or in the sheriff's department who's behind it,” Wanda Nell said. And as she said that, it hit her. “T.J., do you think Bill Warren had anything to do with what happened last night?”

“I don't know,” T.J. said. “I sure wouldn't put it past him, but I doubt he'd do it himself. He'd put somebody else up to it. He wouldn't get his hands dirty.”

“That creep,” Wanda Nell said. “I'm glad I slapped him last night. I just wish I'd slapped him even harder a second time.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

“What on earth are you talking about?” T.J. asked. “What were you doing slapping a state cop?” He laughed. “I sure would love to have seen it, though.”

“It was at the restaurant last night,” Wanda Nell said. “He said something I didn't like, and before I thought about it, I let him have it. Elmer Lee was standing right there, and he backed me up, thank goodness. He heard what Bill said, too, and he didn't like it either.”

“Did he insult you?” T.J. asked, his voice becoming heated. “That bastard.”

“No, not me,” Wanda Nell said. “And I'd rather not dwell on it anymore, okay? It's over and done with.” She realized, however, that it wasn't. Maybe her defense of Tuck, and his defiance of Warren last night had caused Bill to retaliate by cutting Tuck's brake lines, or having them cut.

She hoped she did see Bill Warren again, and soon. She was going to tell him a thing or two, and by the time she finished with him, he was going to wish he had never come back to Tullahoma.

“Make sure you tell Elmer Lee about this latest thing,” Wanda Nell said. “This is getting more serious, and maybe he can put a stop to it.”

“We'll talk to him,” T.J. said. “Tuck's going back to the jail this morning to check on Gerald anyway.”

“Did they arrest him?”

“No, but they kept him overnight for questioning. You know they can hold him awhile without charging him with anything.”

“Did Tuck say anything about it?”

“Not really,” T.J. said. “He doesn't think they have much of a case, even if they find Gerald's fingerprints on that glass tube. They'd still have to prove it contained poison, if that's what really killed Travis, and they'd have to prove Gerald had access to it, or bought it somewhere.”

“But if it wasn't Gerald, who could it have been?” Wanda Nell said. “It had to be somebody in the room last night.”

“Yeah, that's what Tuck thinks, too,” T.J. said. “We're going to start looking into just who was at that party and who might have a reason to want Travis Blakeley dead.”

Wanda Nell heard him yawn again. “Look, honey, you get some rest, and you both be careful, you hear?”

“We will,” T.J. said. “I think I am going back to bed for a while.”

They said good-bye, and Wanda Nell hung up the phone.

It rang, startling her out of her reverie. She answered. “Hello.”

“Wanda Nell, who have you been talking to all this time? When you didn't call back right away, I got even more worried. I've been calling and calling, but the line was busy.”

Wanda Nell winced as Mrs. Culpepper's voice battered at her ear. “I'm sorry, Miz Culpepper, I was talking to T.J.”

“Is he okay? And what about Tuck? Why did they leave that car out in front of my house?”

“Now, Lucretia, calm down, dear. If you don't, I'm going to have to give you an extra dose of your heart medicine, and you know you hate that.” Belle Meriwether spoke in what she thought were soothing tones.

“Oh hush, woman,” Mrs. Culpepper said. “I'm perfectly fine. I just need answers to my questions.”

Wanda Nell looked around for something to snap in two with her free hand. Mrs. Culpepper was the most aggravating person she had ever known. “Both T.J. and Tuck are just fine. It was like I told you earlier, Tuck had some trouble with his car. He just happened to stop in front of your house. He'd been down at the jail with a client, and he was on his way home. They couldn't do anything about the car last night because it was so late, so he just called T.J. to come and get him. I'm sure they'll take care of the car sometime this morning if they can.”

Amazed that she had been able to get in that many words without being interrupted by either Mrs. Culpepper or Belle, Wanda Nell paused for a deep breath.

Mrs. Culpepper sniffed into the phone. “Well, they should have called me first thing this morning to let me know what was going on. I wouldn't have worried so.”

“Now, Lucretia,” Belle said, “you heard Wanda Nell. It was real late last night when all this happened, and those poor boys were probably worn out. I'm sure T.J. would have called you otherwise, but they need their rest, just like you and me.”

“When I was their age, I could dance at a party till three in the morning and still be up in time for breakfast with my daddy before he went to work,” Mrs. Culpepper said, apparently still miffed.

Wanda Nell couldn't think of a thing to say. She was trying too hard to imagine Mrs. Culpepper as a young woman partying until the wee hours of the morning.

Belle chuckled. “Oh, Lucretia, you truly are something. They're only men, honey, and you know men don't have the stamina us women do.”

“Well, that's true,” Mrs. Culpepper said. “When I remember the things I used to do at that age, well, they couldn't keep up with me, I know that for a fact.”

Wanda Nell seized her chance. “Ladies, it's been a pleasure chatting with you, but I need to see about some breakfast here. Y'all have a good day.” She hung up the phone before either of the older women could start chattering again.

“Lord have mercy,” Wanda Nell muttered. She finished getting the coffee on and then went to the refrigerator, intent on fixing breakfast for herself, Miranda, and Lavon. She glanced at the clock and frowned. It was almost eight-thirty. Miranda and Lavon were both usually up by now. She shut the refrigerator and went to check on them.