Thirty-Three and a Half Shenanigans
Page 5

After Daniel Crocker, the previous crime lord, had died—at my own hands—his business had been put up for auction by his second-in-command. Before Crocker’s death, Skeeter had been the second most powerful criminal in the county, but he didn’t like playing second fiddle to anyone. So it wasn’t hard to figure out that he wanted Crocker’s business something fierce, which is why I’d gone to him with information about the guys who’d been robbing businesses around town—my bank deposit included—to collect money in an effort to outbid him. I’d hoped we would part ways permanently after he returned my money to me. I’d been naïve. Not that Bruce Wayne hadn’t warned me.
“Don’t worry, Rose,” Bruce Wayne said. “We’ll figure something out. You’re not alone in this.”
Neely Kate grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you. But Skeeter Malcolm is bad news.”
“I know. I’m trying to get out of it.”
Neely Kate’s newest ringtone—“Wildflower” by The JaneDear Girls—broke the silence. She dug into her rhinestone-covered purse and pulled out her phone. “Huh. It’s my aunt. She never calls.” She answered the phone. “Hey, Aunt Thelma.”
Bruce Wayne grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. “Rose, I’m gonna run by the hardware store to get more hangers so we can put up the other two pictures.”
“Good idea. Thanks, Bruce Wayne.”
I caught part of Neely Kate’s conversation as he went out the door.
“Nope, I haven’t seen her,” she said. “Did you check with Billy Jack? Last I heard, she was kinda living with him . . . What about her work?” She frowned. “Huh. Okay, let me know if you hear anything.”
She stuffed her phone into her coat pocket and plopped down in my office chair. I grabbed Bruce Wayne’s and rolled it next to her.
“Everything okay?” I asked, sitting down.
“My aunt’s worried because she hasn’t talked to my cousin in a couple of days.” Her teeth tugged on her lower lip. “Dolly usually checks in with her momma every day, but she’s been known to disappear for a day or two when she hooks up with a new guy. Still, this is a long time, even for her.”
I sucked in a breath. “Do you think something happened to her?”
Neely Kate shook her head. “Naw. She’s probably okay. Aunt Thelma’s branch of the family tree is a bit shaky.” Her mouth tipped up into a grin. “My aunt married a mucker.”
“Excuse me?”
“He mucks out pig pens. It’s dirty, stinky work.”
“And that makes her family tree branch shaky?”
“Heck no. There’s no shame in being a mucker, but it’s all he talks about. He’s a few cans shy of a six pack.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway.” She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. “Aunt Thelma married Melvin the Mucker—”
I held up my hands. “Wait. That’s what you call him?”
Neely Kate gave me a blank stare. “Well . . . yeah.”
“Okay, go on.”
“And they had three kids—Alan Jackson, Dolly Parton, and Tommy Lee.”
My mouth dropped. “Oh, no.”
Her grin spread across her face. “Oh, yes.”
“Why didn’t I meet them at your wedding?”
She hesitated. “They couldn’t go. Uncle Melvin had a family reunion in Louisiana they had to attend. Dolly was supposed to be a bridesmaid, but her grandma on her dad’s side threatened to disown her if she didn’t show up for the forty-sixth annual Muston Family Fish Fry. Her granny’s half-owner of a shrimp boat, so you can see Dolly’s dilemma.”
I didn’t see the dilemma, but I wasn’t about to ask. Instead, I shook my head, still stuck on their names. “I get the country singers, but Tommy Lee . . . ?”
She shrugged. “Granny says Aunt Thelma went through a rebellious hard rock stage.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “We don’t like to talk about it.”
“Okay . . .” I wanted to point out that his name made it pretty hard to keep something like that under wraps, but I let it drop.
“And would you know, Tommy Lee is this meek little thing in his late teens, and Alan Jackson is in his mid-twenties and hell on wheels.”
“And Dolly Parton?”
“She’s the middle child and a blend of both of the boys. A little wild sometimes, but she always runs home. Still, Aunt Thelma’s worried.”
“What’s she gonna do?”
“She’s gonna wait a day or so for her to turn up before doin’ anything.”
I shook my head. I had enough troubles of my own. I didn’t need to get mixed up in someone else’s. “Say, you don’t happen to know a bookkeeper, do you? Violet kept the books, and I don’t have the time to do ’em myself even if I did understand them.”
“My Aunt Wilma would have been great, but she’s in prison now, so she can’t be of any help.”
“You’d recommend your imprisoned aunt? Seriously?”
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Why not? She was the best bookkeeper in northern Fenton County, although her reign at best was short-lived.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh! You think she embezzled money or something.”
I gave her a sheepish half-shrug. “It crossed my mind.”