Here Today, Gone Tamale (25 page)

“What about you?” she asked as an afterthought.

“We'll stay here.” Aunt Linda and I would stay with the sheriff and Elaine. Only minutes earlier, she'd threatened me with a pistol, but I wasn't afraid. If my aunt chose to be a comfort to Elaine, the killer committee chairwoman, then I chose to be a comfort to my aunt.

I found a spiral notebook and a gel pen for Elaine. As long as Aunt Linda stayed by her side, she was content to pour out the whole confusing and sordid truth.

It turned out that Elaine had always wanted to throw pots and own her own pottery shop as a girl, but no one believed in her abilities. She'd sucked it up and married Mr. Burnett, raised her girls, and started Elaine's Pies
,
all the while wishing she could follow her dream.

By the time Elaine lowered her pen, Lenny was snoring in the middle of my bed, and I was wondering how rude it would be if I left Aunt Linda to chaperone the confession while I joined him for a quick snooze.

Sheriff Wallace placed his hat on his head and hiked his belt. “Time to take you down to the station, Elaine. There's no getting around it.”

“If you say so, sheriff. I voted for you because you're a man of integrity.” With Aunt Linda's help, Elaine rose to her feet, lifted her chin high in the air, and followed Wallace down the stairs. Aunt Linda and I watched them go in silence. With one mind, we turned to each other and
hugged.

On Monday night, Milagro closed its weary doors for a much needed respite after the end of a bumpy, but successful, Wild Wild West Festival. Or rather, the festival was as successful as it could be, considering the fact the festival committee chairwoman murdered Broken Boot's premier jewelry designer.

Funny, but most folks didn't think that unsavory detail affected the popularity of the festival as a whole.

Though it was our usual night off, it might as well have been a Friday night on Austin's Sixth Street. The festival committee, sans their unhinged chairwoman, gathered as planned for the annual festival postmortem. All aspects of the weekend from attendance and revenues to talent and murder would be evaluated, discussed, and raked over the coals.

No one even considered cancelling after Elaine's arrest. What did it matter that a murderess placed the meeting on the calendar? The committee would not be swayed.

Senora Mari planned on making tamales, but we talked her out of it. When I closed my eyes I could still envision Elaine Bennett choking on our most popular menu item. If I
didn't see another tamale until Labor Day, that would be fine by me. Instead our tamale maven grudgingly supervised the preparation of fried ice cream, jalapeno poppers, and steamed tilapia with roasted vegetables.

I popped into the kitchen to check on the evening's fare. “
Hola
,” I said, making sure to greet Carlos, our cook, and Senora Mari in a friendly, nonthreatening way. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, our executive chef was as worn out as an old leather boot.

“
Ah, Dios!
Take out more chips and salsa if they're so hungry,” Senora Mari growled as she removed a tray of jalapeno poppers from the industrial oven.

I grabbed a few serving plates and hurried to her side. “Shh, no one's complaining,
abuela
.” Together we gingerly plated the appetizers. “Thanks for changing the menu. I know you're disappointed.”

She clutched me in her arms. After a long pause she said, “Never disappointed in you. I thank God you're alive.” She backed away, her eyes bright and full of unshed tears. “Even if you are a pain in my backside.”

The kitchen doors swung open and a young, dark-haired waiter stepped inside. “What can I do to help?”

“Anthony, take these out with additional napkins,” I said with a warm smile. Sheriff Wallace had wasted no time in releasing our newest waiter into the arms of his family.

“Yes, ma'am.” He gave Senora Mari a wink and headed into the dining room with the first course.

“Go, go,” she said, shooing me out the door. “Go make margaritas or something.”

Back in the dining room, Mayor Cogburn cleared his throat. “Congratulations, y'all, on the best Wild Wild West Festival ever.” Everyone cheered, and Bubba and Uncle Eddie whooped. “In spite of everything,” the mayor continued, “we overcame adversity and persevered to . . .” The mayor, trying to make eye contact with everyone in the room, locked eyes
with his wife. They smiled at each other like two teenagers on their way to prom.

“Celebrate another day,” said Mrs. Mayor, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. It was the first time I could remember her ever finishing one of her husband's sentences. The room burst into applause.

“Guess what Felicia told me, not two minutes ago, outside the ladies' room?” Aunt Linda whispered from behind me.

“Do tell,” I whispered back, resisting the urge to turn around.

“She and the mayor have been driving to El Paso for couples counseling for the past six months.” I could hear the barely restrained laughter in her voice. “Working on intimacy issues . . . if you know what I mean.”

Well, shut my mouth.

No wonder the mayor paid Dixie to stop spreading his business up and down Main Street.

After several minutes of listening to Mayor Cogburn field the same questions about the murder without any sign of discussing the festival, Aunt Linda escaped into her office, complaining of a headache. If I knew my aunt, she'd already kicked her feet up on her desk and was scanning the Internet for pictures of Chuck Norris to add to her electronic scrapbook.

I refilled several glasses of sweet tea and left the committee to wrangle it out. Unlike last week, Uncle Eddie was behind the bar mixing margaritas with loving attention to detail, though he sometimes added salt when none was wanted and vice versa. I found a booth nearby, put up my feet, and rested my head against the stucco.

The cowbell over the front door clanged. “Must be nice to be such a celebrity,” Ryan said. “You think you can do as you please, don't you?” He grabbed my left boot with both hands as if he meant to pull it off.

“Hey, stop that!” He meant well, but I didn't need cheering
up. I was simply in a thoughtful mood, reflecting on the good things in my life. Elaine had tried to steal them away, but instead, my everyday blessings—my best friend, my family, and my dog—had all saved
me
.

The sheriff and his deputies ultimately rescued me from crazy Elaine, but the people I loved the most had saved me from heartbreak.

“What are you up to?” I asked, lowering my feet.

He took me up on my invitation and sat down across from me. “Looking for Eddie, of course.”

I glanced at the bar and discovered Uncle Eddie had miraculously vanished.

Ryan gazed into my eyes and I gazed right back. I couldn't resist asking one last time, “What's Hell-on-Wheels up to tonight?” The former beauty queen and I shouldn't have any reason to speak until next year's festival. Watching Ryan formulate his reply, I wondered if Hillary would notice if I disappeared into thin air each time they came to dine.

Then again, why should I give her that much power over me?

“I don't know.” Ryan looked away, stared at the clock, checked his watch, and then scratched his thumb with a fork.

“What did you do to hack her off?”

His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Now you mention it, I seem to remember telling her I didn't want to see her anymore.”

All my thoughts evaporated like dew on a cactus in the morning heat. My pulse rushed through my veins, and suddenly I was fighting mad. “Why the heck did you do that?”

“What's wrong with you? It's not as if you liked her.”

My heart was thumping with rage. “I couldn't stand her, but that doesn't mean you had to break up with her.”

“You make no sense, as usual,” he muttered.

Uncle Eddie wandered back in. “Hey man, what's going on? I thought you were heading out of town to Southlake to meet some prospective parents.”

“Had to postpone a day,” he said and glanced my way. “I thought I had some business here.”

“You thought wrong.” I could tolerate Ryan if he had a girlfriend. But I didn't want him, and I didn't want him to think I wanted him. And he had another think coming if he thought I was putting myself out there to get my nose lobbed off again, to be told I was a great friend, but not a girlfriend—which was what had happened last time he and I dated.

Plus, we backed different football teams.

“Jo Jo, you okay?” my uncle asked, stepping out from behind the bar.

I smiled. “I'm fine.” He would be overly protective for the next few days until football drew him back into her jealous arms.

“Yip, yip,” a familiar voice called.

Before I could stop him, Ryan ducked into the stockroom and came out with the Lenster. With his new buzz cut, he resembled a ferret, but he held his pointed head high. In return for saving my life, I'd given him a bath and many tasty treats.

“Hey, Lenny, how's it going?” Ryan crooned. “When do we get to read your first blog post?”

“Yip,” the brave Chi answered. Elaine had merely shaved him instead of doing far worse, and for that blessing I would be eternally grateful.

“He's decided to take a sabbatical until I finish writing my follow-up articles on Elaine's arrest,” I said.

Ryan tipped his head down to Lenny's mouth. “Right.” He nodded his head in agreement. “She's mean to me too, meaner than a snake at a rattlesnake rodeo.”

I whistled and Lenny jumped from Ryan's arms and came running. I scooped him into my lap. “Don't listen to the Neanderthal football coach, he's a bad influence.”

“Tell me about Southlake,” Uncle Eddie interrupted. He gave me a sharp glance, warning me, in no uncertain terms, not to treat football or his friend with disrespect.

Without the benefit of the cowbell, Lightfoot walked into
the bar area from the kitchen. “You know I could write you a ticket for having that animal in here.”

I grinned. “Dream on. Last time I checked you weren't the health inspector.” I bolted out of my seat and hurried toward him with my arms open wide.

His eyes widened in fear like a horse about to bolt for the pasture until my favorite Goth princess stepped out from behind him. I threw my arms around her. “Patti!”

Yesterday, for the first time in forever, she'd hung a sign on the door of the Broken Boot Feed and Supply:

CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

We'd hung out at her place, baking cookies, painting our toenails, and processing our near-death adventure.

Only two nights after Elaine's pistol-packing rampage, Patti was as feisty as ever. Her eyes shone with mirth as she shot a glance at Lightfoot and back at me.

I shook my head in mock dismay. I didn't think he was a good fit for her. What did he know about artistic, intelligent women? Would he support her need to run her family business and pursue her photography? No. He'd work long hours and expect her to kowtow to his demands and work schedule.

Whoa.

Inside, I groaned. When would I stop projecting Brooks onto every man I met? I kept saying love stinks. But maybe it wasn't love, but how I acted when I was in love that stank up the joint.

“Y'all come on and join us.” I gave Patti a wink when Lightfoot wasn't looking.

He tossed his hat on a table and sat down. “I don't care about your rat of a dog. I'm now officially off the clock.”

“What are you two up to?” Uncle Eddie asked. “Want some dinner?”

Lightfoot's eyes widened and his brown cheeks darkened. “Uh, we're not together.” I couldn't get a read on him. Why
was he embarrassed? If Patti could handle him, she could have him.

“Oh, no,” my best friend said, “we just happened to walk in together.”

“I hope you're hungry. You can't get better tilapia in this county.” Ryan pulled up a chair as well.

“That's not saying much,” Patti said, pulling a face.

“Uncle Eddie, will you do the honors?” I asked.

“Sure thing.”

“Hey, bring me a taco salad with grilled chicken,” Patti called to his retreating back.

As I joined them, Lenny reached over and licked Lightfoot's arm.

“What was that?” He wrinkled his face in disgust.

“That was the seal of approval.”

“Yip,” Lenny said.

My friends all laughed in agreement.

“Something's been nagging at me,” Lightfoot began, reaching into his jacket. “Why did I find Patti's camera in your oven?” He placed a familiar Nikon in the center of the table.

I shrugged. With all the excitement, I'd forgotten all about it.

“As soon as Elaine started banging on the door of Josie's apartment, she demanded my camera.” Patti leaned forward. “I didn't know why she wanted it, but I sure as shootin' wasn't going to give it to her.”

The intoxicating aroma of spicy fish tickled our noses seconds before Uncle Eddie entered the room with our dinner.

“Don't worry,” he said to Patti. “I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail with that salad.”

After eating nearly half of his fish in three bites, Ryan paused. “Why do you think she wanted your camera?”

“I've been trying to figure that out since Saturday.” Ryan tried to raise a bite of fish to Patti's mouth, but she batted his arm away. “All it had on it were some pictures that Dixie asked me to take of her jewelry.”

“What else?”

“Nothing except a few photos from the tamale party.”

I grabbed her by the arm. “Show us.”

Slowly Lightfoot lowered his fork. “Right now.”

With a shrug, Patti turned on the camera and started scrolling through her pictures.

“Who all did you take a picture of?” Ryan asked as he looked longingly at my untouched plate.

She adjusted her chair. “Everybody. Elaine, Bubba, Frederick, Hillary, Ryan, Melanie, Suellen, Mayor Cogburn and his wife.” She rubbed the back of her hand back and forth across her forehead. “A few were posed, but most were candid shots of the committee members making tamales.”

“Did you take a picture of me too?” Senora Mari asked as she joined us.

“Shh,” I said to the older woman, taking my life in my hands. “Was Elaine making tamales?” I held my breath.