When Bobbie Sang the Blues (8 page)

Thursday

T
he next day, at five minutes till twelve, Christy and Bobbie climbed the steps to Miz B’s carrying a strange object covered in two huge, black garbage bags. Bobbie wore a purple silk pantsuit and red tam. Christy, in a flowing skirt and matching shirt, followed.

Joy McCall met them at the door of the party room, a welcoming smile on her face. Joy was a blonde with lively blue eyes and a friendly smile. Christy couldn’t remember ever seeing her frown. She wore a purple jersey dress decorated with red hat memorabilia and a sassy red hat complete with sequins and feathers.

“Good morning, you two,” she said, a twinkle in her eyes. They hadn’t told her how they were using the pins when she had delivered them to Christy’s house the previous evening. “Welcome to our Sassy Snowbird luncheon.”

“Sassy Snowbird?” Bobbie asked.

Joy explained. “The chapter was founded when some of the snowbirds who wintered on the Emerald Coast wanted to meet other women. Two belonged to Red Hat chapters in other states
and decided to form a chapter in Summer Breeze, drawing in the locals as well.”

She led them into the party room. “We can’t wait to hear how you create this magic. And we’ll be your best customers when you get your shop open.”

Christy’s Aunt Dianna came up to greet them. “Bobbie! Welcome to Summer Breeze. I’m sorry I haven’t called you, but my hubby and I just got back from Gulf Shores.” Dianna was tall with short auburn hair, vivid green eyes, and a nice figure. She put the spark in the club with jokes and fun. She turned to Christy. “Hey, cutie.”

“Hey, fashion queen,” Christy teased back. It was a secret joke between the two that they both could shop until they dropped—literally.

Other ladies stepped forward to welcome Bobbie and Christy, all dressed in various types of decorative red hats and purple outfits.

“Okay, girls,” Joy called out, “give the server your orders. And don’t forget, today Miz B made blackberry cobbler. Then I’ll introduce you to a very nice, very creative lady.”

Bobbie and Christy placed the disguised object in the corner of the party room and took a seat at the table. Christy smiled across the table at her aunt Dianna, whose eyes glowed with curiosity.

Joy tapped her water glass with a spoon. “Okay, ladies, quiet down. What do you say we leave business until later and let our distinguished guest show us how she made whatever that mysterious thing is in the corner.” She gestured over her shoulder. “And to add
a little mystery to her charm, let me tell you that Bobbie can sing the blues like you wouldn’t believe.”

Upon hearing this, Miz B stuck her head through the doorway and yelled to the crowd, “Can that lady ever sing the blues! I’ve heard her, and she’ll put goose bumps on your skin and tears in your eyes! Now go on with your introduction, Joy.”

The questions flew as the Red Hats stared with glee at the mysterious black-shrouded object.

Joy looked at Christy. “Would you like to introduce your other aunt?”

“My pleasure,” she said, standing. “This is my mother’s sister, Bobbie Bodine, and she has an amazing talent for restoring old things. She’s just moved to Summer Breeze and soon will be opening a shop where she’ll carry all sorts of interesting treasures. I think she plans to offer classes as well.”

“Hear! Hear!” a new arrival from England called out.

Christy watched the ladies squirm, whisper to one another, and stare at the black object as though something live might burst through the packaging. She didn’t want to keep them guessing.

“Please welcome Bobbie Bodine, a lady of many talents!” she said.

A round of applause followed as Bobbie stepped to the podium, looked around the room, and flashed a million-dollar smile. Her big blue eyes glowed with a passion for people as she began to speak.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for inviting me to talk about my favorite subject: finding treasures. I have an obsession for restoring
the beauty in old objects or family heirlooms that have been cast aside. I call it looking beyond the flaws and finding the promise.

“For example, I found an old post from the Castleman farm in Beth and Grant’s garage. It was sentimental to Grant, so he kept it, although Beth kept saying, ‘What do you plan to do with that splintered old post?’”

Bobbie motioned to Christy, and she stepped forward to help. They carried the black object to the center of the room where everyone could see. Christy peeled away the garbage bags, and a purple coatrack appeared. The gold pegs held four red hats, varying in size and shape. Bobbie turned on the buttons, and dozens of tiny red hats attached up and down the post began to twinkle.

“That’s the neatest thing I’ve ever seen!” a woman named Valerie said, standing up so quickly her red cowboy hat slid over her forehead.

Everyone was talking at once—“How did you do that” and “Tell us what to do” and “What made you think of it”—when a door slammed behind them and Deputy Arnold entered the room. He did not appear to be in a party mood.

“Hey, Deputy Arnold,” Joy called out. “Are you going to join us?”

Everyone laughed at first, but the laughter died away as a grim Deputy Arnold looked back. He marched down the side of the room and approached Christy. “Which one’s Mrs. Bodine?”

Christy felt her heart sink, like the ball dropping on New Year’s Eve in Times Square. She grabbed a breath and tried to smile as she
looped her arm through Bobbies. She made the introduction, and Bobbie turned on the charm, but it didn’t work on the big deputy.

“Well, Mrs. Bodine,” he said, his voice booming, “I thought you’d like to know there’s something ripe in your pickle barrel—and it ain’t pickles! I need to speak with you in private.”

He led Bobbie out of the room, and Christy quickly followed, barely clearing the door before he slammed it.

Outside the door, Bobbie spoke in a low voice. “My pickle barrel is in storage,” she said, looking confused.

“Yeah, I know. Hornsby called me out there this morning. He’d been smelling something foul coming out of your unit and couldn’t reach you on your cell phone. He went inside, and what he found prompted him to call me.”

Christy could hear movement on the other side of the door. She could even hear whispers. She imagined all the ladies pressed against the door, their red hats askew.

“Wh-what did you find?” Bobbie asked. She honestly seemed to have no idea what he was talking about. Christy suspected where this was going, and Deputy Arnold’s next sentence confirmed her fears.

“We found the man who has been missing since Monday night, your ex-husband, Eddie Bodine. He was struck in the back of the head and shoved into the barrel. The medical examiner is doing an autopsy now. What do you know about this?”

Bobbie swallowed. “I don’t know anything about it! We learned he was missing when his girlfriend called Christy.”

Deputy Arnolds gray eyes swung toward the closed door of the party room, where voices rose in protest. “Well, I think you have a fan club working in there, so before they come after me with hat pins and steak knives, we need to leave.”

“Where are we going?” Bobbie asked, rooted to the spot.

“You’re gonna need to come down to headquarters and answer some questions.” He turned and walked toward the restaurant exit. Bobbie lowered her head and followed.

“Big Bob, you don’t have to be so dramatic,” Christy whispered as the three of them entered the foyer.

Miz B, a mass of purple and red, met them holding a huge platter of fried chicken. “Bob, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Save me some chicken,” he said, hurrying Bobbie out the door. Once they reached the parking lot, he turned to Christy. “I don’t recall inviting you to come along.”

“She’s my aunt. She doesn’t know anyone here, and besides,
Dep-u-ty
Arnold, she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

The big man sized up the tiny blond woman for the first time. She opened her purse and reached for her bottle of pills, her face pale.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, peering at the pill bottle.

“Taking my medication,” Bobbie answered.

Christy glared at him. “Why are you being so mean and unreasonable? My aunt would never murder anyone. You’re putting too much emphasis on the fact that they had a disagreement in a public place.”

“I have to ask this little lady if she stole ten thousand dollars from
Eddie Bodine, which he came here to retrieve. But before he could do that, he wound up dead in his prime suspect’s pickle barrel. In her locked storage unit.” He leaned toward Christy. “Now do you think I’m being unreasonable?” He turned back to Bobbie. “Who else has a key to that unit?”

Bobbie shook her head as she continued to wrestle with the bottle cap.

Automatically, Christy took the bottle from her, pushed down hard and twisted, and then handed it back. “I’ll get a bottle of water from the car,” she added.

“Thanks,” Bobbie said.

When Christy returned with the water, Bobbie swallowed the pill and then turned to Deputy Arnold. “About the storage unit, that guy Hornsby probably keeps a spare key to every unit.”

“Did you loan your key to anyone else?”

Bobbie opened her purse and looked inside. Christy and Deputy Arnold watched as she fished out a key ring and lifted one of the keys. “Here it is, but I haven’t been back to that unit since Christy and I were there on Monday.”

Christy stepped in. “Can’t you see she isn’t strong enough to overpower Eddie?”

“Maybe she had help.”

Christy thought of Jack and the threats he had made in the parking lot of the Blues Club. Jack wouldn’t have killed Eddie Bodine, and neither would Bobbie. But had someone framed them?

Her thoughts whirled like sand in a storm as they walked toward the deputy’s big SUV.

“Look,” Deputy Arnold said, softening a bit, “I’m just following orders. We need to ask you some questions.” He opened the back door and gestured for Bobbie to get in.

“Just a minute.” Christy tugged at Bobbie’s sleeve. “I’d like to speak with her privately.”

Deputy Arnold scowled.

“Just remember who solved your last murder case for you,” Christy reminded him.

He said nothing, just walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side.

Christy led Bobbie away from Big Bob, finding privacy on the other side of a parked car. “Bobbie,” she whispered, “if you had anything to do with this, tell me now. It’s the only way I can help you.”

Bobbie shook her head. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Do you have any idea who would try to frame you?”

Bobbie looked off in the distance and hesitated. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know, Christy. I can’t think. My mind’s muddled.”

“I understand.” Christy sighed. “I’ll follow you down to the station. Just answer them truthfully and try to relax.”

Bobbie nodded and walked to the deputy’s car. As soon as she’d climbed into the backseat and shut the door, Deputy Arnold drove off. Christy raced toward her car.

She was driving out of the parking lot when Miz B waved her down.

“What can we do to help?” she asked, her plump hands clasping and unclasping.

Christy sighed. “Just pray. It’s all a mistake.”

B
obbie sat in the interrogation room facing a serious-looking detective, young and sharp, who introduced himself as Mike Johanson. She knew she had to get a grip on her emotions. She had cried all the way to Panama City.

Christy had been forced to wait outside the interrogation room. Bobbie had waived her right to a lawyer; however, Christy told her to answer only the basic questions, then ask for a lawyer or call for Christy the minute she felt pressed.

“I want to hear your version of that night at the Blues Club,” Detective Johanson said.

Bobbie leaned forward in her chair, looking him straight in the eye. “I haven’t seen Eddie since Monday night at the club. And I have no idea who killed him or how he got in my storage unit.”

“What time did you leave the club?”

“I left with Jack Watson just after eleven. I was staying with my sister and brother-in-law, Beth and Grant Castleman, and we got to their house about ten minutes later. I believe I entered the house around eleven thirty.”

“Did your sister or her husband see you when you came in?”

“No, they had gone to bed. But Beth may have heard me. She’s a light sleeper.”

He scribbled something in his notebook, then looked at her. “So you’re saying Jack Watson left you around eleven fifteen.”

“That’s right.” Bobbie studied this man and his poker face. He showed no reaction to anything she said.

“What is your reaction to the deceased’s reference to the vacuum cleaner the night of your quarrel at the Blues Club?” he asked. “Roseann Cole claims Eddie told her you knew he hid money in the vacuum cleaner.”

“That’s right. I did know that. But when I went back to the house to pick up pots and pans, pictures, and the vacuum cleaner, I took them straight over to my apartment where the moving van was waiting.”

He looked up from his notes. “What would keep me from thinking you looked in the vacuum cleaner bag either at his house or on the way to your apartment?”

“Because I was paying those moving guys by the hour when they loaded from my shop and home. Looking in the vacuum cleaner was the last thing on my mind. Last I heard, Eddie was flat broke.”

“Could you give me the name of a contact with the moving company?”

She reached in her purse for her billfold and shuffled through dozens of business cards until she found the one for the moving company. “There’s the name and phone number of the manager in the Memphis area. He can give you the names of the men who loaded my stuff. And on the back of that card, you’ll see the phone
number for my storage unit in Memphis.” She snapped her billfold closed and returned it to her purse.

Johanson studied the card for a moment, then laid it on the desk. “All right. Let’s talk about your storage unit here. Who else has a key?”

“The manager of the facility.”

“Did you loan your key out to anyone at any time?”

She shook her head. “No. I haven’t had the unit that long.”

“When was the last time you were out there?”

Bobbie thought for a minute. “I was there Monday morning with my niece to unload some items from my truck.”

“Like what? Besides that barrel, I mean.”

“Some boxes, an extra can of oil, a flashlight, and a jack and jack handle for my tires.”

“How long was that jack handle?” he asked, looking more intense.

She instantly went on guard, suspicious about where he was leading but determined to be calm. She spread her hands in front of her. “About this long.”

“Say, twenty to twenty-four inches?” he pressed. For the first time, a sly grin curled his lips. “Let’s talk about that jack and jack handle. Why wouldn’t you leave those items in your truck?”

“For the same reason I decided to remove the other things. My truck was loaded down, and I didn’t have room behind the seat. I didn’t want to listen to that jack and handle slam around in the bed of my truck anymore.”

“Where did you leave the jack handle in your unit?”

Bobbie was thinking as quickly as the detective. Deputy Arnold said someone smashed in Eddie’s head and dumped him in the pickle barrel. That someone must have used the jack. She took her time answering, trying to be exact. “I placed those items on the floor just inside the door.”

“That made it convenient, having that jack handle close to a sixty-gallon barrel, didn’t it?”

“It’s a pickle barrel,” she said, lifting her chin and cutting him up and down with her eyes. “I believe I may want to get a lawyer now. These questions seem to have gone from basic to sarcastic.”

“I’m not trying to be sarcastic, Mrs. Bodine, but you can see our dilemma. We find your ex-husband—with whom you’ve had words the night before—in your locked unit, stuffed in a barrel. I’m sure you can understand why we would want to question you.”

“Of course I can,” she snapped. “But I have no idea how he got inside that unit…” She paused, thinking.

Johanson watched her.

“You know,” Bobbie said, staring over his head, trying to remember, “I was in a hurry and thought I’d be coming back with more stuff. I could have left it unlocked.” She nodded, hoping she was right as she studied his face, watching for some clue. There was none. His dark eyes bored through her.
This guy never lets up
, she thought, taking a deep breath. “That’s all I know to tell you.”

He flipped back a few pages, and she could tell he was reviewing other notes he had taken. Then he looked back at her.

“All right, you’re free to go. But don’t go far. We’ll need to talk with you again.”

She stood. “Thank you.”

Turning, she did her best to walk gracefully out of the room, but she felt about as solid as Jell-O.

Deputy Arnold waited with Christy while two detectives conferred quietly at the end of the hall. One of the detectives walked up to shake hands with Deputy Arnold, then turned to Christy.

“I’m going to need everybody’s alibi for Monday night and Tuesday. We’ll start with you.”

“I left the club around ten thirty, ten forty-five, with Dan Brockman,” Christy said.

“This was after Dan threw Eddie and his girlfriend out of the club and threatened them?” the detective pressed.

“He didn’t threaten them.” Christy tried to keep her tone level. “He just said he would wait until he saw their taillights leaving the parking lot.”

“So you were outside and heard this?”

Christy hesitated. “I came outside just afterward.”

“Then I’ll stick with the statements of the three people who were actually there.” He flipped a page in his notebook and studied a few names.

Christy’s hands tightened on her purse. “But this man, Eddie, made a terrible scene, and he was half-drunk.”

The detective clicked his pen twice. “It’s not my job to judge his character, Miz Castleman. My job is to find out who killed him.”

Christy swallowed, her thoughts returning to Dan. “Mr. Bodine
was in a drunken rage. Dan and Jack were only trying to protect Bobbie.”

Deputy Arnold and the detective exchanged glances, and the detective looked as though he already knew what Jack had said…or done. Whatever that was.

“What time did you say good night to Dan?” he asked, studying a page of scribbles in the notebook in his hand.

Christy tried to think. She could see now why people seemed to have trouble remembering exact times when faced with a serious interrogation. She took a deep breath. “After midnight. Between twelve thirty and one, I think.”

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Bobbie stepped out with Detective Johanson. Her eyes darted around the group and came to rest on Christy. She hurried toward her.

“You’re free to go, Mrs. Bodine,” Detective Johanson said, falling in step with her. “But as they say, don’t leave town.”

“She’ll be staying with me.” Christy gave her address and phone number and linked her arm through her aunt’s. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Bobbie nodded. “I just need something cold to drink.”

On their way out of the station, they stopped at a drink machine, and Christy bought two bottles of soda. She handed one to Bobbie, and they hurried out to the parking lot.

“Thanks so much for coming along,” Bobbie said, sipping her drink. “I’ve had about as much of these people as I can handle for one day.”

Christy nodded, unlocking the passenger door. Bobbie slid in
and laid her head back against the headrest. Christy closed the door and quickly moved to the driver’s side. As she slid behind the wheel, her head spun. She started the engine, anxious to get out of the Panama City traffic and onto the highway that led to Summer Breeze.

“I can’t believe Eddie’s dead,” Bobbie said. A tear slipped beneath her lashes and slid down her cheek. “We were together for a long time,” she sobbed. Christy handed her a Kleenex. “In the beginning, we were happy, and then…things changed. He changed. And I guess I changed too.”

Bobbie dabbed her eyes with the Kleenex. “Eddie had an awful temper. I used to call him Banty when he got mad because he flared up like a banty rooster and went into a strut.” A tiny grin hovered on her pale lips, then faded. “He started gambling, and that brought on the drinking, and…he started to get abusive with me. One night we had the mother of all fights, and that’s when I got the terrible pain in my chest.”

Christy gasped. “We didn’t know that. Why didn’t you call us? Mom would have—”

“Would have what? Dropped everything and rushed to my side, forsaking all her church and wifely duties?”

“I would have come, Bobbie.”

Bobbie reached over and patted Christy’s arm. “Bless you. The truth is, I didn’t want to upset anyone’s life because I’d made such a mess of my own. I had friends in Memphis who helped me, but friends don’t replace family. After being with you guys, I realize the importance of family more than I ever did before.”

“Mom loves you, Bobbie,” Christy said firmly. “I’m sure you two will overcome your differences and realize how important family is—particularly at a time like this.”

Bobbie nodded, twisting the Kleenex in her hands.

As Christy replayed the events in her mind, one aspect of Bobbie’s story troubled her. Christy tried to phrase her words as gently as possible. “If only Eddie hadn’t been yelling about money he claimed you stole from him.”

“That’s a lie.” Bobbie straightened, her features pinched. “How was I supposed to know there was money in that vacuum cleaner?”

“They’ll be asking you this question over and over, so get ready. You seem to know something about his money-hiding habits.”

Bobbie nodded, the anger on her face melting into weariness. “One Sunday last year, he told me not to use the vacuum cleaner for a couple of days. Said he needed to repair it. I knew it wasn’t broken, so I looked inside. In the vacuum cleaner bag, I found a Ziploc bag with some hundreds in it. So I didn’t use the vacuum cleaner. And I didn’t take his money. Not then, not now.”

Bobbie turned in the seat, dabbing at her wet cheeks. “Christy, you couldn’t possibly believe—”

“Of course not. I’m just trying to prepare you.” She frowned. “I’m afraid Roseann’s conversation made your actions sound a bit suspicious; also, she reiterated the part about Jack and Dan being angry. I honestly don’t think she realized she was incriminating anyone. She just wanted to reveal her limited knowledge.”

“Yeah, well, her knowledge may not be so limited. It’s hard not
to know what’s going on with Eddie. He isn’t…wasn’t real smart, but then neither is she. Sorry.” Bobbie sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She stared at the road, and neither spoke for a few minutes. Christy exited the highway and entered Summer Breeze.

“Well,” Bobbie said, turning away from the window, “it’s obvious I’ve been framed. The question is who and why.”

“To Roseann’s credit, she did say something that should make the inspectors look in another direction,” Christy said. “She claimed Eddie owed some bookies money and was afraid they were following him. After the two left the Blues Club, they stopped at a bar, and apparently Eddie got real jumpy. Roseann said he kept looking over his shoulder. When they went back to the motel, she went to take a shower and left him in the chair watching TV.

“When she came back into the room, he was gone. Deputy Arnold doesn’t think he’d have gone out if he knew the bookies were looking for him. Roseann said she was singing in the shower and wouldn’t have heard a knock on the door.”

Bobbie rolled her eyes. “Those guys don’t knock. They grab the desk clerk by the throat, get a key, and go in.”

“Then maybe that’s what happened. When they found out he didn’t have the money…” Christy let her statement hang in the air.

Bobbie nodded. “Yeah, and I can see Eddie giving them a story about the money being in my storage unit—if he knew I had one. He’d probably found out from Hornsby. I mean, that’s the only storage facility close by, right?”

“Right.”

“Maybe he’d been over there snooping around, thinking I stashed the vacuum cleaner in my unit. Maybe he bribed Hornsby with his story and he let him in my unit.”

“Even though that’s illegal, I could see Hornsby doing it,” Christy said. “He didn’t ask you what you wanted to store or give you any rules when you began pulling out bills.” Christy turned into her driveway and cut the engine.