Harley Jean Davidson 03 - Evil Elvis (30 page)

“Nana!”

“Just kidding about the last one. Jeez, where’s your sense of humor?”

“Speaking of,” Tootsie said, and Harley saw from the glazed look in his eyes that he’d had enough of the conversational topic, “did they drop the charges for horse theft?”

“Mr. Griffin said he took care of it all.” Nana nodded happily. “He always knows what to do. Smart as a whip, even if he does cost too much. Lawyers.”

“My fingerprints are now on file,” Harley said with a sigh. “And they’ve got my mug shot in the system. Not exactly a recommendation for future employment or my credit history.”

“You’re thinking of leaving Tour Tyme?” Tootsie sounded surprised.

“No. Not anytime soon, anyway. I’m just trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. I can’t be a tour guide forever.”

“Tell that to Carlton Chambers.”

Carlton Chambers had to be pushing ninety, but his employment records claimed he was only eighty-three. Wizened but tough, he’d been driving for Tour Tyme since the company had been established. Before that, he’d been at one of the other companies until they went under.

Once, he’d driven for MATA, the city buses that were rarely full these days and had to be losing money annually. It was the only form of public transportation Memphis had, however, other than taxis or Nikes. And the downtown trolley that didn’t go very far, but now streets were being torn up to extend the rails farther. Nana had said she remembered when they tore up the streets to remove the rails, spending too much taxpayer money when they were just going to lay them back down fifty years later.

“I can’t see myself still hauling tourists around when I’m in my eighties,” Harley said. “I’ll have snapped by then. One too many Elvis weeks.”

Tootsie grinned. “You’ll make it. I have faith in you.”

“If only I had that much faith in me. I guess you can put me back on the schedule.”

“Now that the murderer’s been arrested, it should be safe for you to work. Not that we’ve got that many clients left.” Tootsie looked discouraged.

“Things will pick up. After all, like you said, a Tour Tyme employee is responsible for the apprehension, and that’ll play big in the papers. And on the news. Too bad a news crew wasn’t there to catch it on video. That would have helped.”

Nana leaned forward, over the now bare ribs on her plate. “Alex and Marybeth should have been there.”

“They’re not reporters, Nana. They’re anchors on that morning show, Live at Nine.”

“Don’t care. I like the way they talk. And that Alex is a cutie.” She made a clicking noise with her teeth. “Why do you think Hughes was arrested for only one of the murders?”

“They’re probably still gathering evidence,” Tootsie said. “Just an eyewitness account isn’t enough for an arrest. They need other things, like the murder weapon, fingerprints, opportunity and motive.”

“So they must have all that stuff, huh, or they wouldn’t have arrested him?” Nana asked.

Tootsie nodded. “They must.”

“Good. Let’s hope they keep him in jail and don’t let him out. Wonder why he did it?”

Harley answered Nana’s question. “He wanted to win the contest.”

Nana shook her head. “Now he’s lost everything. The idiot.”

“Hey,” Harley said to Tootsie, “what’s the story with the ogre’s son? Family feud? Drugs? Bad seed?”

“Some of the second, mostly the last. Larry’s given Penney a pretty rough time. He’s smart enough, just hates his dad.”

“Normally, I’d say that’s understandable, but I saw a side of the ogre today I didn’t know existed. He never seemed to have a soft side, but he’s really broken up about Lydia. So is Larry an only child?”

“No, just the only son. Penney tried to give him everything growing up. Best clothes, new cars, best schools—somewhere around twenty-three he decided his dad owed him all that and he shouldn’t have to work for it. Penney disagreed. Junior got pissed, took off for Europe on his father’s credit cards, and came back with an even worse attitude.”

“Kids today.” Harley thought about Larry Penney and wondered just how badly he hated his father. Enough to try to ruin him?

She looked up at Tootsie and knew he was thinking the same thing.

Nana said bluntly, “I’d be looking at that kid, if I were you two. Kids brought up with that sense of entitlement rarely turn out well. Sounds like a sociopath to me.”

Harley blinked. “What do you know about sociopaths?”

“What, you think I lived this long without learning anything? Take John Dillinger, for instance. Sociopath. Al Capone. Sociopath. I wouldn’t rule out most of Congress, either.”

Tootsie laughed. “You are such a darling.”

“So are you, princess.” Nana winked and clicked her teeth. “Too bad you don’t swing our way.”

“If I did, you’d be first on my list.”

“And I’d give you a run for your money, baby doll.”

Harley looked at them with her hands on her hips. “Please, your mutual love-fest is leaving me nauseous.”

After they left Corky’s, Harley went back to Whispering Pines and packed her few clothes before tackling Sam. She’d need a rest before attempting to wedge him into his carrier.

“Sure you want to leave? You can stay another night or two,” Nana said.

“I’ve paid my rent this month and hate to waste it, but thanks. Now that Hughes is in jail, it’s safe for me to go home. And it’s a lot closer to work. Maybe business will pick up again since the murderer’s been caught. Tootsie’s pretty worried about it. Job security isn’t something to take lightly.”

“Well, I hope it works out. That Tootsie is a nice girl.”

“I’ll pass along the compliment.”

“Time for my shuffleboard tournament. Think this looks all right?” Nana turned for Harley to admire her outfit. She wore a soft blue sweatshirt under her pearl necklace, a long jersey skirt, and rolled down athletic socks with her running shoes. Atop her head perched an Atlanta Braves baseball cap.

“Perfect,” Harley said.

“Good. I hate good-byes. Don’t stay away so long next time.”

“I won’t.”

Nana smiled and reached up to pat her cheek. “You’re a good girl. I don’t care what everyone else says about you.”

“Thanks. Wait—who? What do they say?”

Laughing as she went out the door, Nana stuck her head back inside to say, “Psych!” then was gone.

“You’re a terrible old woman,” Harley said to the closed door, and smiled.

Harley went home, released an annoyed Sam into familiar territory, washed her scratches with hydrogen peroxide, and lay down across her bed. She fell asleep almost immediately.

It was dark when she woke. Only the nightlight in the hall provided any illumination. She felt drugged. It’d been a while since she’d been able to sleep soundly.

Yawning, she got up and went into the kitchen, where the nightlight over Sam’s litter box put him in silhouette as he took advantage of the facilities.

“Nothing like the smell of fresh cat doody to wake a person up,” she muttered, but Sam was still sulking over the indignity of being dumped rear end first into the cat carrier and didn’t answer. He was like that sometimes. He’d get over it.

After getting a glass of iced tea, Harley went out onto her balcony to sit in the fresh air and wake up a little. It smelled like rain. Wind rustled the thick, leathery leaves of the huge magnolia and felt damp on her face. Wind chimes clanged nearby. Tammy Sprague next door must have hung them. It reminded Harley of Diva, and that made her think of what Diva had told Tootsie. It didn’t make much sense, but that wasn’t so unusual. There were times Diva was right on the money, but most of the time, she said obscure things that no one could figure out until later. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, as the saying went. Lord. Now she even thought in clichés. Nana was a bad influence.

Leaning her head against the back of the chair, she tried to connect the dots between what Diva had said and the killer. It wasn’t easy. Some of it was obvious, like being caught between the past and present. Hughes was still mad at being disqualified, so transferred that anger to all things Elvis. Tour Tyme was caught between. And of course, the hidden Elvis only meant that he’d been in hiding since committing the murders. But the candlelight reference ... What could that mean? The vigil or just that Hughes was in shadow?

A sudden shadow on the table next to her made Harley spill her iced tea and leap up from her chair. Heart pounding, a shriek caught in her throat, and then she recognized the reason.

“Sam, what are you doing out here? You know you’re an inside cat. I signed an agreement promising not to let you outside. Cami would repossess you if I reneged. She said so. And I could tell she wasn’t kidding. Now come on, go back inside and stop scaring the bejesus out of me.”

Sam deigned to offer a reply, with a rather indignant miaaow loud enough to wake up the lions in the zoo across the road. Maybe it was his way of making up after a quarrel. She took him in with her and shut the balcony doors.

When the phone rang, Harley looked at the clock. A little after nine. She picked up the phone a bit warily.

Cami said, “I didn’t wake you up or anything, did I?”

“If you mean by anything am I involved in something hot and sweaty, no. Unfortunately. I think I’m awake. My eyes are open, so it must be true.”

“Not necessarily. I remember a sleep-over with your cousin Madelyn. She sleeps with her eyes open.”

“Makes you wonder if she doesn’t do that during the day too, doesn’t it. So what’s up?”

Cami hesitated, and then said, “I have a big favor to ask you.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve Elvis, I’m good with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wait a minute. I recognize that tone of voice. It’s your This isn’t going to hurt at all voice.”

“Well, it won’t hurt. It’ll just take up a little time. And space. It won’t be for very long, I promise.”

“Cami—”

“You’ll be saving a life, Harley.”

“Yours?”

“Possibly. Definitely Frank’s.”

“Frank?”

“Frank Burns.”

A deep suspicion ignited. “Frank Burns, like in MASH on TV?”

“That’s who he’s named for, yes.”

“Cami, tell me it’s not another cat.”

“It’s not another cat.”

“Thank God—wait. Or a dog?”

“Or a dog.”

Harley closed her eyes and sighed. Cami really did take her animal rescue bit too far at times. Now she’d branched out into relatives. “Okay,” she said. “But just for a few days.”

“I knew you’d come through for me, Harley. We’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“If you collected dollar bills like you collect strays, you’d have more money than Donald Trump. Frank can stay a night or two, but he has to sleep on my couch. I don’t give up my bed for anyone.”

“That’s okay. He’s got his own bed.”

Cami hung up before Harley could ask why a relative carried around his own bed. Uh oh. This did not bode well. She decided to be optimistic. Maybe it was a fish.